"It's her!" You heard a shout, pointing at you as if you were on display.

There you stood- a rather peculiar attraction to the prying eyes of the students of Heartslabyul. Your joints snapped and clicked whenever you moved, and even one small stumble would cause fractures in your skin. After many years of fixing those cracks with paint and glue, you gave up on it. Pieces of your "skin" that you had lost left an empty void, now exposed until healing. No flesh. No bones. Just... emptiness. Hauntingly beautiful. You, the renowned porcelain woman, cursed with glossy, delicate glass skin since you were two when you touched an accursed doll in an antique shop. When you were in sophomore year, you transferred from Pomefiore to Heartslabyul. You were not kicked out, in fact, you were still known for your beauty. No, you left yourself, after undergoing belittling for your broken, abandoned look.

You... could move. It didn't do much harm to yourself. However, you spent most of your time pouring tea for unbirthday parties, too fearful of anything else. Was this all you were to be? A worthless figurine until death? Well... it seemed not- at least, not to Riddle, the man everyone in Heartslabyul feared.

It was almost scary how caring he was- though he showed it in tough love. He escorted you to class every day, not minding if he was late... unless it happened more than once every two weeks. He sat with you in the garden, examining how your many cracks healed themselves... if you tried hard enough. He even spent every Sunday in the alchemy classroom, researching antidotes for curses... however, none had been recorded for glass dolls, and he had attempted and failed at combining two things together- the quartz skin cure and the spell that made a doll come alive. Why was he not scared of you? Why did he care for you?

There he sat, practically glowing in the evening light, not giving you a look of horror or disturbance. He was the only one that treated you like a human being. You were grateful for it.