AN: It seems, or at least lately, that I've been having extreme writer's block when it comes to stories that are on continuance. But this story happened to come to me late the other night, and I'm in love with it.
I suppose you could call it the sequel to "Returning Home". It's the story of Marcy's years at Hogwarts. I'm not really sure how I'm going to go about writing this, whether its going to be 1 chapter per year or a few chapters per year. I want to have a few sneak peaks into the life of Ginny and Draco after the whole scenario in "Returning Home", whether through flashbacks or letters or something. I don't really know yet. But please, stick around, because I'm really excited that I got this off the ground.
Disclaimer: The characters of this story, or at least the non-canon characters, are indeed mine. Marcy, Michael, Andrew: They are all mine. But everything they are involved in, this entire plot, everything that has come from this plot, it is the property of the wonderful J.K.Rowling. As I have said a million times, my fan fiction is the result of me twiddling my thumbs until 7/16/05
Personal Disclaimer: If you do not ready "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" and "Returning Home" I am afraid you will be HIGHLY confused throughout this story. Please read those first.
ONWARD:
The Hogwarts Express was exactly as Michael had spent the summer describing it to be, and yet nothing could have prepared Marcy Malfoy for her first sighting of it on platform 9 and ¾. It was the color of burgundy wine and was etched in wonderful chrome that shined in the midday sun. The entire steam engine looked as if it had been swept down with grease until it was gleaming; even the billowing clouds of soot looked picture perfect against the unusually blue London sky. Marcy smiled and brushed a piece of her long strawberry blonde hair out of her face as she studied the magnificent machine, her cobalt and mercury eyes skimming it with newfound awe.
What had surprised her, something Michael had failed to warn her about, was the amount of people on the platform. For a platform that seemed to only appear after running head first into a barrier, it held a large quantity of people regardless of its seemingly miniscule size. There were hundreds of people all around her wheeling metallic trolleys holding trunks, owls, and other different addends. Many families made up the busy crowd, most of them including mothers crying into handkerchiefs and bidding goodbye to their children (most of which appeared to be her age). Other larger groups were huddled in corners, laughing and giggling over the Daily Prophet or the Quibbler (two of the wizarding worlds' most popular printed newspapers, Hermione had informed her). She herself had arrived to the platform only moments before with Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron, and Michael, but Michael had already made his disappearing act into a large group of bubbling teenagers a few meters away.
"Now Marcy…" Ron knelt as if to say something but Hermione shushed him, pulling him back properly to his feet and stepping forward herself to be in line with Marcy's face. Hermione pulled back a piece of the girl's strawberry blonde and tucked it behind her ear, brushing the side of the girl's face as if to remove dirt. She skimmed her hands down the front of Marcy's blouse, smoothing out imperfections that seemed as if they were only visible to a mother's eye. Hermione smiled, tears beckoning her large brown eyes, and she kissed Marcy tentatively on the forehead.
"Have a good year." She whispered before pulling away to lean into Ron's arms, waving just a bit as Marcy took her trolley and headed for the Hogwarts Express, for it was exactly 11 o'clock.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Hey…Hey you!" A small boy with hair the color of cornstalks shouted at Marcy as she clanked along the train, looking for a compartment. When she finally stopped and turned to look at him, she realized he was shorter than her and he was missing two teeth in the front, "You looking for a spot?" He asked out of breath, "Because we have room in here…come on!" He grabbed at her trunk and pulled her by her wrist into the closest compartment.
The compartments were relatively small. The doors were made of painted glass, the seats a wonderful forest green velvet, and the floors were carpeted in a lovely design of moving flying beasts. A mermaid was smiling up at her as she was plopped down next to a girl with hair similar to Lillian's who barely looked up at her from the book she was reading. The cornstalks boy sat across from her and immediately took off his overcoat, throwing it on a pile of other things in the corner. A very small kitten was sitting on the seat next to him, napping in the growing midday sun.
"I'm Charlie." The boy spoke quickly, smiling just a bit, "I'm from Kilkenny."
"Nice to meet you Charlie from Kilkenny. I'm Marcy. From Ottery St. Catchpole." The words rolled off her tongue as if she had always lived there and she smirked a bit, crossing her arms across her chest.
"That is Abigail." He whispered, pointing to the ebony haired girl sitting next to Marcy, "She's not normally this quiet, at home she's usually bubbling about…"
"…that's because at home Charlie I'm usually entertaining you. Seems as if here you finally found someone else to keep you company." Her voice, although tinted with sarcasm and bitterness, was elegant and seemed to fill the compartment. She dropped the book she had been reading, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, on the seat and turned to look directly at Marcy, "Charlie is just being a child, the name is Abbie, don't call me anything otherwise."
To say that Abbie was simply pretty wasn't giving her justice. Her ebony hair, which was tied back by a single purple ribbon, framed her extremely pale skin but was off-set by a slight blush to her cheek bones and the rosy color of her lips. Her eyes, which Marcy at first hadn't noticed, were the color of lilacs and seemed to sparkle. Marcy looked self consciously at her own hair, which was falling about her face haphazardly. For an 11 year old, Abbie put everyone else to shame.
"You two are brother and sister?" Marcy asked, trying to concentrate on something other than her own self esteem.
"Twins actually." Charlie beamed.
"It's our first year here. Mum was so excited when we got our Hogwarts letters." Abbie replied with refinement, folding her hands against her lap, "Do you have any siblings Marcy?"
"A brother Julian."
"That's rather nice. Are you excited about learning to be a witch? Mother helped me buy my first wand and everything." Charlie quipped, pulling a long piece of wood from his pile of things on the floor, "Look its rosewood and has a core of dragon heartstring."
Marcy was about to ask to see a few spells when a portly witch pulled up to the compartment, pushing a rather large trolley that was piled with foods of different sizes and shapes. Big billowing clouds of pastel smoke were coming from every direction and the witch smiled a rather toothy grin at the three passengers.
"Want anything from the trolley dears?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was a hat, a horribly patched old hat with rather long ties that called a rickety wooden stool its home. It was sitting at the front of what had been called "The Great Hall" underneath spotlights that were being cast from an enchanted ceiling. Or at least that was what Abbie had called it, for Marcy hadn't the smallest clue what "enchantments" really were and wasn't about to ask. Abbie had said she had read about it. An aging witch with tiny glasses and a very pointed nose (regardless of it all, she looked like a woman not to be crossed) had said the hat was "extremely important, an artifact of noble history". Marcy couldn't understand the logic behind an old wizard's hat being important, but from the anxious whispers about her, others must have understood the hat's purpose.
"Charlie what is that thing?" She asked, pointing at the hat.
"That? That would be the sorting hat. Hogwarts has used it for years to sort the first years into the houses." He turned to the back of the hall and pointed one by one at the extremely long tables that were at the moment full of teenagers, all looking anxiously to the front of the room, "See? There's Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor." Marcy smiled as she remembered the things Andrew had told her about Gryffindor and sure enough, sitting at the middle of the table talking with friends, she could just make out the light brown mop of hair that belonged to Andrew Potter. She could feel a bit of crimson rising to her cheeks as she turned away from him and smiled to herself. Although she wouldn't tell anyone, she hoped that (however the thing went about it) the hat would put her into Gryffindor.
The hat was singing now. Really singing. Many of the students about her were staring at it in awe and giggling, so it was almost impossible to hear its song, but it seemed rather joyful anyway. The older witch that had brought it into the room hushed the crowd as it finished and pulled a long roll of paper out of her robes (Ron and Hermione had finally showed Marcy what true wizards wore) and allowed it to fall to the floor, pushing her glasses up to the bridge of her nose.
"When I call your name you are to rise, allow the hat to rest upon your head, and as one of the houses is called out you will join your housemates along the sides of the room. Please, the rest of you, be courteous as your fellow schoolmates are sorted." She cleared her throat before thumbing down to the first name on the list, "Boot, Laurie". A small girl with mousey brown hair rose from the crowd and sat upon the stool, shoving the hat down onto her head. The room seemed to grow quiet as a face appeared on the old hat, its lips moving about as if it was mumbling to itself.
RAVENCLAW!
"Brown, Tallie"
HUFFLEPUFF!
"Creevy, Justin"
GRYFFINDOR!
"Edgecombe, Marcellus"
HUFFLEPUFF!
"Kent, Patricia"
SLYTHERIN!
"Lawson, Abigail". Marcy gave the girl a hearty hug before she went to the front of the room and placed herself rather daintily against the stool, smoothing out her hair and her robes before allowing the hat to fall against the crown of her head. It seemed to think only a minute before it shouted loudly…
GRYFFINDOR!
"Lawson, Charlie". The old witch read as Abbie gave Marcy a large thumbs up before sitting herself down next to Justin Creevy.
GRYFFINDOR!
Marcy beamed as Charlie too made his way over to the Gryffindor table, giving his sister a rough punch on the shoulder before sitting across from her and collapsing against the table.
"Marcy Malfoy"
The room grew abnormally quiet for the briefest of seconds as Marcy made her way to the front of the room. Even the witch seemed to stare at her with the utmost confusion as she sat down on the stool, pulling the horribly patched and slightly moldy hat down onto her head. Everyone seemed to be concentrating on her, or to be more exact, the moving lips on her head. It seemed then that she could hear the hat talking to her, saying things that no one else in the room could understand.
Yes...yes...I wondered when I would see a Malfoy in my school again...it was only a matter of time...but where to put you. You have everything the Malfoys' have always had: strength, presence, darkness, a need to prove yourself, a want for power...but there's something else, something right underneath the surface. You're mother was...no...it couldn't be...ANOTHER Weasley? Well regardless of the Slytherin blood in you, I cannot break tradition...
GRYFFINDOR!
Marcy smiled and stepped off the stool but unlike the children before her, she was not greeted with a short burst of applause. Instead the entire audience of students began to whisper excitedly, some pointing at her while others simply stared. She searched the Gryffindor table for Charlie and Abbie and, upon finding them, seated herself next to Charlie. The entire Gryffindor table was staring at her, most of them with their jaws hanging open. Michael and Andrew, although not close enough to directly talk to her, were smiling on slightly as if trying to pretend they weren't really pleased for her. Hadn't Andrew told her over the summer that he hoped she was in Gryffindor? That it was…indeed…the best house?
"Why didn't you tell us you were a Malfoy? On the train?" Charlie asked; bewilderment inscribed on has face. Abbie was staring at her as well, her lilac eyes mixed with something that mirrored puzzlement.
"I didn't think it was a big deal." Marcy replied, obviously confused, "I mean…my father is Draco Malfoy but…I…I didn't know…"
"Oh…being a Malfoy is quite a big deal." An older boy responded from his place two down from Charlie, an ugly scowl stamped across his face, "My father was a few years older than Draco Malfoy, and believe me he was no saint in school. His father was a Death Eater you know, one of those people that followed You-Know-Who around like a lap dog." A few people gasped around her, some refusing to meet her eye. She noticed Andrew stand up from his place at the middle of the table and move towards her, gripping her shoulder when he reached her side.
"Come on Erik, she isn't her father…" Andrew spoke, his voice full of concern.
"She obviously isn't!" Abbie spoke, her lilac eyes blazing with a mix of puzzlement and utter amazement, "It talks all about it in Hogwarts: A History. Certain families have always been sorted into certain places. The Black's, other than Sirius, were always in Slytherin. The Chang's were always in Ravenclaw. So on and so forth." She stopped, as if to gather more people to listen to her, and then continued, "The Malfoy's have been sorted into Slytherin since the beginning of Hogwarts itself. That is…until you Marcy. You're the first Malfoy sorted out of Slytherin in over a century."