Doré
Her face peered behind low-lying branches of trees. She was breathing fast, like she had just run a marathon. It was almost true; she had ran past sand dunes, along a wide-stretched beach, trying to escape the horrors of school. The castle was perched atop a cliff, looming over a grand ocean. It looked majestic, and had the most wonderful view. She bolted out of the clump of trees and ran across a sandy beach.
She really couldn't care less about the beach, or the view, or anything other than leaving. She rested on a rock, panting, her knees close to her chest. A look of fear was on her face: fear of being caught, and fear of what might happen if she was caught.
She had crossed the line this time, she really had. She had attacked a teacher (a simple stupefying spell, nothing life-threatening), a few students (Leg-Locking Curse), and the two dementors by the door (dealt with by using her Patronus), all the while leaving rooms, halls, and corridors in shambles. It was not a wonderful sight.
She heaved herself into the ocean. When she surfaced, she shook her head, sending droplets flying onto the sand and rocks. Small waves crashed against her and the white sand. She took a deep breath and dove underwater.
She opened her eyes, the saltwater stinging her eyes and the
numerous cuts on her arms and legs. She dove down deeper, swimming faster. She
lunged forward, and found she couldn't move. Her foot was caught in an old,
sunken fishing net. The net sliced into he flesh, causing the water to turn
reddish-purplish as it mixed with her blood. She couldn't breathe. Her
fingertips barely touched the surface. She wove her hands above her head
frantically. She saw tiny droplets of water splash back onto the salty water.
Everything was growing dimmer, her head growing dizzyingly light. She tugged at
the net. She pulled harder. She yanked hard, and it broke, sending her further
downward. She fell into a state of deep unconsciousness.
~ * ~
"Professor, how did this happen?"
She woke to a woman's voice she knew well: the school nurse. Her eyes fluttered open to find her back turned, and a very worried Headmistress Marion sighed.
"I don't know, she just… won't cooperate," Marion sighed again. She shook her head and went to exit the office.
She looked up from examining her now healed arms and said softly, "What's going to happen to me, Professor?"
"Well, I was thinking of sending you to a new school," Marion said, turning, "Hogwarts, to be exact. The Headmaster there and I go back a long way. I'm sure he would accept you there with open arms."
"Hogwarts… that's in Britain, isn't it?" she asked in the same soft voice.
"Yes, is it," Marion nodded. "You'll go there two days before the start of term. You'll stay here until then." And with that, she swept out of the office.
She rolled over, and fell asleep.
~Two months later~
"Floo powder?" she asked shrilly, "I'd rather take a broom!"
"It will only last about two minutes. Brooms take hours." Marion took a pinch of Floo powder, and threw it into the red flames. They turned emerald and leapt twice as high as before.
She dragged her trunk into the green flames, coughing, and said "Hogwarts!" She closed her eyes as she began to spin rapidly. When she opened her eyes, she saw a huge scarlet bird and a white-haired man smiling at her.
She stumbled out, brushing soot and ashes off her black robes. She ran her fingers through her sooty hair. She lugged her trunk out of the flames and it landed with a loud thump! next to her. "Would you be Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, looking at the smiling white-haired man. He had a long nose that looked like it had been broken numerous times and reset poorly. He nodded.
"And you would be Miss Sierra Reddington."
* * *
Harry Potter rolled over, burying his face in a pillow. It was too early to be up. Ron, on the other hand, did not agree.
"C'mon, Harry! Wake up! Mum made breakfast, and it's getting cold! Get dressed!" Ron urged, shaking him.
"All right, all right! I'm up!" Harry said into his pillow. Ron backed off, and went downstairs. The smell of breakfast wafted into the room, and Harry rolled over, sat up, and yawned. He put his glasses on and got dressed.
He was halfway down the stairs when Percy appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Good morning, Harry," Percy said pompously. "Er… morning, Percy." Harry said. He shook his head as Percy walked to the kitchen. He had Apparated downstairs every morning and it was beginning to get annoying. Only two more days until school started, Harry thought.
As he entered the kitchen, a chorus of cheerful, "Morning, Harry!" greeted him. "Morning," he said, and sat down, helping himself to everything.
"Harry, Fred and I were thinking," George said ungracefully through a mouth a sausage. "That's dangerous," Ron said, grinning. "Stuff it Ron," George said, "Anyway, Fred an I were thinking of practicing Quidditch. We really don't need to practice anymore, but we thought you two could use it, seeing as the team'll need new Beaters and a Keeper." Fred nodded, "But, truthfully speaking, no one could ever replace us, right, George?" George grinned at his twin and nodded.
"Okay, sure," Harry said cheerfully. "Sounds like fun, and I need the practice."
"Great. You two grab your brooms, and we'll meet you at the paddock. Kay?" Fred said. Ron and Harry nodded.
* * *
"A hat." Sierra looked up at a smiling Dumbledore. "You're joking."
"No," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "Put the hat on, and it will sort you into a house."
Sierra complied, and put the hat on. The large hat covered her face, her chin barely peeking out from under the brim. Okay, hat, where do I belong? she thought sarcastically.
I don't know… a voice said. Sierra stiffened. The voice was in her head! Tricky customer, aren't you. Very tricky. You're brave, to say the least, not very patient--
Thank you, for stating the obvious, Sierra thought sourly. You're cunning, a Slytherin trait… very wise in the way of the world, but you don't do well in your studies. You don't pay attention, do you? The hat asked.
Ah. But I do believe you would do well in GRYFFINDOR!
Sierra yanked the hat off. "It talked. In my head," she stuttered. "Odd hat."
"I know," Dumbledore agreed.
* * *
The air was crisp and clear, the sun shining down on Harry and Ron as they walked to the paddock, brooms slung over their shoulders. They were discussing how well the Cannons were doing this season.
"Can you believe it?! Fifth in the league! Fifth!" Ron said cheerfully. Harry nodded. He really didn't have a favorite team, but was glad that he Cannons were doing well. Ron deserved some breaks.
They reached the paddock, to be pelted with lit Filibuster Fireworks. "I knew something like this was going to happen!"
After the fireworks subsided, they practiced Quidditch for real. Three 'games,' thought they really weren't games. It was more of trying to shoot a soccer ball into a bucket with the bottom removed. Harry and Ron won two of the three. They then all had a turn on Harry's Firebolt, catching apples and such. They played until Ginny came and fetched them.
"Mum says lunch in almost ready," she said to Ron. She looked cautiously at Fred and George, seeing if they were going to turn her hair green behind her back, and finally at Harry. "'Lo, Harry," she said., and left quickly.
"We'd better go in before Mum has our heads," Ron grinned. Fred and George swooped down, followed by Harry and Ron. They walked back to the Burrow, tired, in very good spirits.
* * *
"…and this will be your common room. Your dorm," Dumbledore said at Sierra's confused face.
"Common rooms, lorries, boot, lifts… I don't think I can handle this," Sierra shook her head as she walked along side Dumbledore in her new Hogwarts uniform.
"You'll do fine," Dumbledore reassured her, "Bookshelf," he said to the portrait of a fat woman in a pink gown. Sierra raised an eyebrow, and nearly got smacked in the face as the portrait swung forth. She dove down and re-emerged, smoothing her hair. Dumbledore, but some stretch of the imagination, had gotten through the portrait hole and was motioning Sierra to crawl through the portrait hole. She did so, and ended up, falling to the ground. "Professor, I think you underestimate the power of a door." Sierra said.
"It's more fun with a portrait than a door," Dumbledore replied. "The entire Gryffindor tower is yours for the remainder of the two days. I'll leave you to your own devises. If you have any questions, you know where my office is." And with that, he left.
Sierra looked at the red-themed room, the crackling fireplace, the bay window and red window seat, the red, overstuffed couches and chairs, the table in the back corner, and the Gryffindor coat of arms about the fireplace. She sank into an overstuffed chair and cried. She had never felt so alone.
*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Like it? I'm going to write from Sierra's point of view, mostly, but I might switch off to Harry when I need to. It'll be pretty easy to tell whose who. Also, the title is French for "gold." No clue why I picked it, I just liked it. So tell me what you think. be kind, and review!