Hey, burrito!
As you will notice, there is a fictional character named Arista Grace. She's best friends with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, so it's basically the Golden Quad. Just thought you should know! Hope ya enjoy the story... *booming female voice* Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show...
*Note: MUST read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince before reading this. There are lots of holes, which you won't understand if you haven't read the real book. Sorry if this is an inconvenience, there were just some parts that I thought were to unimportant for a fanfic. Thanks!
Chapter One
The Hogwarts Express steamed down the rustic railway, swaying a little around each bend. Arista Grace peered out the window, gripping the glass with her frigid fingers. Rain drops slid past her eyes, following the tracks before them. Squinting, she tried to make out what was beyond the cold glass. Was tha--
"Ris? Ris! Arista!"
Ron Weasley prodded her arm with a distorted chocolate frog.
"What?" she snapped, elbowing his ribs harshly. Instantly, her eyes widened and she recoiled as far away from him as she could, pressing her back into the corner. "I'm sorry," she half spoke, half whispered. Then, she squeezed her eyes closed and leaned her head back into the seat.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged taken aback glances, but remained silent. Something was up, but they weren't going to ask her... now.
Suddenly, the compartment door slid open. They heard a kind, familiar voice.
"Would you like something, dearies?" the old lady asked, pushing forward her cart of snacks. Ron and Harry of course, pulled out their coin bags and emptied them, pointing energetically at what they wanted. After the lady left, they sat back contentedly, each with a pile of sweets that would suffice for a round trip to Pluto.
However, almost immediately after the food cart vanished, the door flew open again, this time banging so hard it almost closed. A very well-dressed blond boy sauntered in, followed by two quite large cohorts. Or rather, bodyguards.
"Potty and Weasel having a little afternoon snack, hmm?" Draco Malfoy asked in a sly, drawling tone. Then he turned to look squarely at Ron. "I bet Pothead had to buy those for you, seeing as your big Weasel mommy and daddy can't pay for a pair of matching socks."
Ron turned scarlet and shuffled his feet, so that his pants covered more of his ankles. Harry clenched his fist in his pocket.
"You better get the hell out of here, you git," he growled.
"And you, Pottyface, better shut it quick. You don't know who's watching you these days."
And with that, he smirked, waltzed out, and slammed the sliding door.
Arista
Malfoy seems awfully happy. And, like Harry says, whatever makes Malfoy happy cannot be good.
Speaking of Harry, where is Harry? Hermione, like me, is scanning the crowd for any sign of tousled black hair and green eyes. The Sorting's halfway done and he's still n--
Wait, wait, wait. Hermione, shakes my shoulder lightly and points.
I see him coming towards us, politely cutting through the line of frozen first years, awaiting their turn to be sorted. His face is covered in blood. Stifling a gasp, I jump out of my seat. Smothering the impulse to run, I calmly walk towards him, as not to draw unwanted attention.
When I reach him, I grab his collar, drag him back over to Hermione, and brusquely seat him for questioning.
"What did you do this time?" Hermione and I both ask in unison. Ron looks up from his turkey.
"O 'i aey," he says, his mouth full of half-chewed food.
Harry however, does not answer, just looks pointedly at Dumbledore, who's about to start his speech. I roll my eyes. Like Harry would ever listen to a speech. He's just evading the question.
Grudgingly, I fix his nose and turn, also, to hear the Headmaster talk.
I know it was Malfoy. Many will rejoice the day that I decide to hex his face in and stuff his carcass with tomatoes.
Kannilia: Well, what do you think? Good start? Bad start? Horrid? Reviews please, reviews!