Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize.
A/N: The band is inspired by one of my favorite bands, Sleater-kinney. That's kind of how I picture their sound. I apologize if there are any errors grammatically or otherwise . I tried to edit it as best as I could. I am going to try to keep this story going, unlike my other two which just sort of died until I feel inspired again. Reviews would keep me going.
Chapter One.
It had been a long trip from America to the London train station, but Helda didn't notice the exhaustion setting in, or at least she pretended not to. All she could feel was the excitement coursing through her veins. Or maybe it was adrenaline. Regardless, it offset any exhaustion she should've been feeling. When she passed through the barrier leading to platform nine-and-three-quarters, it took everything she had in her to not be bouncing off the balls of her feet. She had to act cool, she reminded herself. She was a musician, cool should've come naturally. But right now was one of those moments where she found that to be a fallacy.
"H-face," her band's singer and bassist, Joey Keony, said, putting a clawed hand on her head, "chill."
She was trying, she really was! It wasn't her fault that her life couldn't get any better, was it? She was finally out of that orphanage, her band was finally getting noticed as a real band, and she was now a legal adult! Not to mention that she was in London, England! No, none of that was her fault. Well, maybe a little. After all, she was the one that got herself kicked out of yet another magical school.
A smiled flitted across her lips as she remembered Headmistress Peogeny's reaction to the series of underground shows and parties Helda had hosted the year before. She didn't see what the big problem was—nobody got hurt and it was all in good fun.
Beauxbatons had been more fun to get kicked out of. She had left a nice layer of butter on the floors as a "senior prank", like what American muggles would've done. The only problem was that she wasn't a "senior", or a muggle. It had been great to watch people slide through the halls before ungracefully falling on their bottoms or faces. She had hated it there, but one of the nuns at the orphanage had insisted that she get the best education possible.
Hogwarts sounded like it was going to be fun, especially since it was her last year of school. She glanced around the crowded train station eagerly, trying to spot out who she knew she would become friends with and who would make a nice target for a prank.
The whistle rang deafeningly through the air and Helda gave Joey and Arty, the drummer, one last hug before jumping on the train. The door closed behind her just as the train started moving, chugging along at a slow speed. When she turned around to wave out the window, she saw the two women running and skipping down the platform with the train, several people jumping out of their way. Oh, it was going to be a great year.
Helda sat alone for most of the train ride, tapping out chords on her leg or napping. She didn't really feel like making a statement yet, which was odd for her, since she loved attention. Maybe it was because she had spent so much time with the band and this was going to be the longest time she had spent away from them. Maybe she was growing out of her usual ways. Whatever the cause, she was glad when the train finally pulled into the Hogsmead station.
"Firs' years!" A giant of a man was calling, holding a brightly lit lantern. "Firs' years this way!"
Was she supposed to go with him? It was her first year in the school, after all.
"Excuse me!" She called, heading for him. She had to shove through the crowd, but eventually got to the rather large man. He must've had some giant blood in him, she decided. "I don't know where I'm supposed to go."
He turned and looked at her, giving her the once-over. "Are yeh Helda Sholt?"
She nodded rather zealously, her curly chocolate hair bouncing up and down. "Do I go with the first years?"
He thought about it for a second before nodding, not quite as enthusiastically.
"Come this way," he said, leading her with the rest of the first years to a bunch of small boats. "No more than three to a boat!"
She climbed in uneasily to the nearest empty boat. Everyone else was already grouped off into little cliques. Oh how she hated cliqui-ness. No body joined her in her boat, probably because it was so small. And then the boats were off, cutting smoothly through the water.
Seeing the castle from the lake was quite the spectacle. It was all lit up, the lights looking vaguely reminiscent of faery lights, and the tall towers sliced through the night sky, barely visible if not for the twinkle here and there of distant lanterns. That was one of the things she loved and hated about the wizarding world—the complete lack of electricity. But they had magic to make up for it, which also meant less equipment to lug around to and from shows. Helda ooed and awed with the rest of the first years as they unloaded themselves from the boats and headed up the great stone steps to be greeted by a severe looking woman in a pointed hat with square-rimmed glasses.
"Come along now," she said, ushering them into the warm entrance hall. "Miss Sholt!"
"Yes?" Helda stopped, hoping she hadn't already gotten into trouble.
"You will be sorted last, after all of the other first years." The woman said before addressing the others. Helda zoned out, but caught the basic drift. They would be sorted into different houses, which would be like their families. If they got in trouble, their house suffered and lost points. Points were important because… she didn't care. It didn't matter where she got placed—she was still going to prank the castle to rubble. It was her last year to do this—she had to make the best of it.
The woman, Professor McGonagall, led them through the heavy doors into the Great Hall. And Helda's jaw dropped. Beauxbatons had been extravagant, sure, but it was nothing like this. The ceiling, enchanted to match the sky outside, was a clear night sky, the stars twinkling brightly down at her. Candle's floated through the air, though that was really nothing. The room was big enough to pack a large audience if her band played there. Her band. Thinking of them brought an unfamiliar pain to her chest.
And then the sorting began. She waited as patiently as she could, switching from foot to foot, while the younger students were put in there Houses. The number of kids left slowly dwindled down, until it was just her and two little girls, twins by the look of it.
"Willims, Katrine." McGonagall's voice called.
The little girl bounced up to the stool, her blonde hair billowing behind her. Helda let her eyes wander around the room, taking everything in. An entire list of pranks scrolled through her head. And then she saw him, with his lank hair and hook-nose. He was watching Katrine's sorting with an air of boredom. He looked like one of the rock n' roll boys she tried dating back in America—she could totally picture him in tight leather pants and a ripped up shirt, the legs of his black pants tucked into biker bots. It was a look that would suit him well. The green tie he wore told her that he was in Slytherin. For the first time that night she felt excited to be sorted and hoped to end up there.
"Sholt, Helda!" McGonagall called, snapping her from her fanatasies about him.
Helda walked up to the minute stool with a sense of purpose, telling herself that she did not care what rocker-boy, as she had dubbed him in her mind, thought of her, and sat down. No sooner had the moldy hat been placed on her head than the hat yelled to the watchful eyes, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Cheers erupted from the table next to rocker-boy's table and she got up, bowing to everyone dramatically before skipping over to the table where a place was made for her.
"Aren't you a bit big to be eleven?" A near-by boy asked.
Helda looked up at the speaker and again felt her heart melt. He was absolutely breath-taking in a reckless way. She could see him, also, being in some sort of punk band.
"I'm a seventh-year," she recited, having practiced this answer on the train ride. Thw whole idea of it being seventh year instead of seventh grade was still foreign to her. "Tansfer student."
He looked impressed, to say the least. "Didn't know that could happen," he said, sounding awed.
"Well, I had certain extinuating circumstances. This isn't the first time I've transferred." Helda explained, unsure of how people would except that she had now been expelled twice. "Speaking of," she added, having to know the answer to her question, "how strict in punishment here?"
Now a smile broke on his devilishly good looking face. "And just why would you ask that?"
She too grinned mischievously, tugging on a strand of hair. "Just wondering," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
He shook his head, laughing softly. "I'm Sirius, by the way."
She watched him extend a hand to her and wondered if she had missed something. "About what?" Helda asked, eyeing his hand. Was he expecting her to give him something?
He laughed again, thought this time a heartier laugh and , taking his hand back, shook his head. "No, no," he chuckled, "that's my name. Sirius Black, at you service."
Her lips formed a little "o" and she blushed a little at her mishap. "Sorry," she said in a small, embarrassed voice, "I'm Helda. Helda Sholt."
"Where are you from?" Sirius asked, scooting closer. By now, a couple other students were craning their heads to get a better look at the transfer student.
Helda, who loved attention, smiled to the others that were watching, and said, "Florida. I'm a beach babe," she joked, but nobody else saw her response a witty.
"Who's your new friend, Padfoot?" A boy with sloppy black hair and glasses that were slightly askewed asked. He had a shiny badge pinned to his chest.
"What's with the pin?" Helda asked, interupting Sirius.
"I'm Headboy this year," he said importantly. "James Potter, and you are?"
"I have a feeling that I should just wear a name tag to keep from having to answer that question," she complained. "Helda Sholt."
"Helda Sholt," James repeated, shaking her hand, "the beach babe."
"Excuse me," a loud voice boomed over to them. Helda looked over her shoulder and saw that the Headmaster had stood up and was now making a speech. Silence fell over the students. "I would like to welcome our new students and our returning faces. I have been asked to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is, as it always has been, off limits to students. And that any students out of their houses after dark will receive detention. But enough rules, let's eat!"
Heelda grinned as he clapped once and food, lots and lots of food, appeared on the table. She had never seen this much food, even when she was at Beauxbatons, but she was usually stuck in detention over there. At once, she shoveled mouintins of food onto her plate, not even noticing what she was eating.
"Ah, man," she complained, "I am going to get so fat here!"
"It's not like you couldn't use some meat on your bones," Sirius joked, poking her from across the table.
She mockingly sneered at him, but then smiled. "Are you saying that I'm too skinny?" She accused, feigning offense.
For a minute he looked afraid, like he thpought he had really hurt her, but then he saw that she was just joking and smiled back at her. "No, but there is always room for improvement. Just be glad you aren't as ugly at Wormy here."
The boy he motioned to was watching her in awe. He didn't even seem to notice that he had just been insulted.
"So," James said, changing the subject, "do you play Qudditch?"
Helda shook her head. "No, never had time to learn it. But I want to."
"Never had time? What kind of excuse is that?"
She laughed, anticipating their reactions to her other life. "I'm in a band," she bragged. "And in between gigs and practice, I never really had time for much of anything, aside from the occasional prank."
Sirius grinned dubiously. "So you're a prankster?"
She shrugged, not really wanting to give away to much about her past to a bunch of strangers. The rest of the conversation was spent trying to evade questions from the boys, who she learned dubbed themselves the Marauders, and remanicing about her summer with the band, touring London and playing gigs at both muggle bars and the Leaky Cauldron.
"I think we saw you!" James exclaimed excitedly, grabbing onto Sirius's arm. "Remember Padfoot? That night at Diagon Alley?" He turned back to Helda. "We stopped by the Leaky Cauldron to grab some butterbeers before heading home and there was his wicked band performing."
"Three girls playing horribly on purpose?" She asked, her eyes shining. Nobody had ever called her band wicked before! At least in that sense of the word, anyways.
"Yeah!" James said, now getting totally animated, scaring a couple first years.
And then all they talked about was the band. James wanted to know what they were called, Sirius asked about her bandmates, and Peter, she had learned was his real name, watched er with wonderment still in his beady eyes. At one point near the end, Helda glanced over to rocker-boy and found him glaring at her. In truth, the look sent shivers down her spine, thought not from fear. She smiled at him, sending a wink his way. Unfortunately, the wink did not go unnoticed.
"Who did you just wink to?" Sirius asked, craning his neck around.
"Wait, H-face is winking at someone?" James asked, joing in the search for the reciever of the gesture. "It's not a Slytherin, is it?"
"Yes it is," Helda sniffed, "and I would appreciate you two keeping your big noses out of it."
"Speaking of big noses," Sirius said, rather loudly. "Is it just me, or did Snivellus's get bigger over summer?"
James laughed and said something else, but she wasn't paying attention to the nosy gossips. She was aagain staring at him. And he stared back, though his eyes were full of contempt. She didn't understand it, what had she done. But then she saw the boys casting him dirty looks and it all became too clear.
"Is Snivellus the boy over there?" She asked, discretely pointing to rocker-boy.
Sirius nodded, a nasty look crossing his face. "Please tell me that it wasn't him that you winked at."
Helda blushed, giving herself away.
"Gro-oss!" James complained, pushing himself away fromm her. "You have bad taste."
She laughed at his reaction, but then thought of something. "Why do you guys hate him so much?"
"Because he is a slime ball." Said Sirius.
"Because he called my Lilly a mudblood." James said solemnly.
"He needs to get a nose job and wash his hair," Peter added, surprising every one. It was the first time he had spoken that night.
"He's a future Death Eater," Sirius grumbled, tossing Snivellus a dirty look.
That night, as Helda lay in bed, all she could think about was Snivellus. She wasn't sure if that was his real name or not, since the boys had nicknames for every one, but that didn't stop her from dreaming about him. In her dreams, he was dressed in tight leathers and holding a guitar, with which he serenaded her. It was a very good dream, one that she didn't want to wake up from. Ever.