Shades of Grey

By: dearolddumbles77 and ArdelliaBlade


Disclaimer:

Dearolddumbles77: Don't own shit, otherwise I wouldn't be here...

ArdelliaBlade: I second that, but I must point out that the entire Harry Potter franchise is the property of one J.K. Rowling until such time in the very very very distant future that it is so old that it becomes public domain.

Dearolddumbles77: I second that...

ArdelliaBlade: I already did that.

Both: We present... (menacing music)... Shades of Grey.


Chapter One: Halloween 1991 Revisited

Quirinus Quirrell tripped over the hem of his overly long robes as he ran towards the front doors of the castle. He had one chance and one chance only. Damn Severus Snape! The infuriating man was onto his plans. The Dark Lord repeatedly told Quirrell that he believed the former Death Eater to still be on their side. But no one was to know of the parasitic Lord Voldemort that clung to the back of Quirrell's head, below the heavily garlic scented turban.

Bent nearly double over a disgusting bit of slime, Argus Filch muttered darkly to himself in the entrance hall. He strongly suspected the Weasley twins of the "prank" that was causing his back to ache with fierce intensity.

He caught sight of a flash of purple out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps it was a student, a little firsty to torment. But all the students would be at the feast. He turned to get a better look at the interloper.

The twitchy professor that tripped over his own robes was the perfect target for some festive fun.

"Quirrell, we need to talk. That mess I had to clean up last Friday was revolting." The already pallid professor blanched.

"I—I ...um...really don't have the t—time... t—t—to discuss this... I'm... late f—f—for the f—feast." He nervously looked back and forth between the large front doors and the slightly smaller pair that led to the Great Hall.

"Well, get going then!" Said Filch his ire evident as he brandished his scrubbing cloth at the young professor.

Quirrell meekly wandered towards the doors of the Great Hall, trying to ignore the anger that he would face from his ever present master.

A small hiss escaped from the turban, and the scent of garlic filled the Great Hall as Quirrell took his place at the staff table.

Severus Snape looked over at the man next to him, a smirk on his thin lips.


Hermione Granger was truly infuriated.

I'm a nightmare? Has he looked in the mirror recently? She thought scornfully of his red mane of hair, even though it was more orderly than Harry Potter's.

That brought up another thought.

If Harry Potter is supposed to be such a great wizard, why can't he keep lackey from tormenting me?

Perhaps the books were wrong about him. He didn't seem any different from the boys that he shared a room with in Gryffindor Tower. But that was preposterous, books couldn't lie, or at least that was what Hermione Granger had always believed.

Her thoughts swirled in her head, leading her back to one inevitable conclusion. She would have to go down to the feast. It was probably against the rules to be sulking in a bathroom during a holiday.

She wandered through the empty corridors, keeping a careful eye out for Filch. Everyone knew he hated the students with intensity to rival Professor Snape's own. A few suits of armour shifted noisily on their pedestals as she moved past.

Will I ever get used to it? She wondered, worriedly. Do I really belong in this world? The other students make fun of me. Even the other muggle-borns. Maybe I should have been a Ravenclaw. Then at least no one would be surprised that I'm smarter than they are.

She entered the Great Hall unnoticed by her fellow student. Not that that was anything new for her.

Catching a glimpse of red hair from across the room, she began to grumble softly.

"Inane, vile, dim-witted..." She kept up her stream of overly intelligent babble as she passed the Slytherin table, finally adding, "...prolific, cruel Weasley."

A very blonde head turned in the direction of the vengeful, red-eyed witch. He had heard about her foray into the girl's bathroom for a good sob. He had to admit that the Weasel had a point about her, she was rather a nightmare. But then again, she seemed to dislike the blood traitor just as much as he did...

"Oi, Granger, over here!" He called out.

The bushy haired witch's head swivelled around, looking for the person who had called her name.

Draco raised one hand in a lazy fashion, drawing her attention to the Slytherin table. She approached cautiously. The pointy faced boy had never spoken to her before, but she had overheard stories about him, and he had after all stolen Neville's Rememberall.

"Shove off, Crabbe, can't you see we've got to make room for the lady?"

Was Malfoy seriously inviting her to sit at the Slytherin table? She was a Gryffindor, everyone knew that the two houses never got along; it said so in Hogwarts: a History.

Pansy Parkinson glared at her from down the table and Millicent Bulstrode cracked her knuckles menacingly. Crabbe and Goyle merely looked puzzled as they moved further down the table to make room for her to sit.

With one last fortifying glance over at the Gryffindor table, Hermione sat primly next to the prince of Slytherin.

"So, what did Weaselbee do this time?" Draco's voice dripped with distain as he lingered over the purposeful mispronunciation of Ron's surname.

Hermione was wary. Could she trust the Slytherin boy who sat beside her? But then she realized that she could not even trust the kind things said about her own house. How could she trust the supposedly "evil" disposition that landed students in Slytherin?


Author's Notes:

Taco Bell inspires insanity. Or maybe the fault lies solely with the large amount of Cinnamon Twists that we consumed this afternoon.

Our prompt for ourselves: What if the mountain troll never got into Hogwarts first year?

We humbly bring to you the ravings of our slightly mad minds and hope that you don't flame us so badly that the doctors will believe we were hit with napalm.

Please review, we have Cinnamon Twists...