So, this is my very, very first Harry Potter fanfic. I've never felt confident enough to write a story about it, because it's such a wonderful series, and I feel like nothing I write would do it justice. I recently started reading the whole series all over again. I'm currently on the fifth book (is it just me or is Harry kind of a dick in this one?) Anyway, now that I have it fresh in my mind, and I've done some research on the magical world, I thought I'd finally give writing my own story with my own characters a shot. I can't guarantee that this will last. This is merely experimental.
This story takes place when Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks are in their sixth year. I took the quiz on Pottermore, and I found out that I'm most likely to be in Gryffindor. This is kind of an issue, though, because I've always been curious to find out what it's like to be in the other houses. Therefore, I'm going to write this story from the perspective of a Slytherin, just because I find it interesting. So, forgive me if I screw anything up, and I hope you enjoy my various OCs, and my take at your average Hogwarts year.
Steam billowed from the Hogwarts Express as the Malfoy family emerged from the solid wall separating platforms nine and ten. Platform nine and three-quarters stretched before them, just beginning to fill up with Hogwarts students and their parents. Most of the students were clad in Muggle clothes in order to blend into the crowded train station. Some parents followed suit, but more strict wizards, such as Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, decided that they would rather flaunt their pure blood than to settle for the uncomfortable trousers and suit jackets that Muggles found fashionable these days. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy covered themselves with tasteful wizarding robes, hers a dark green, his silver and black.
Narcissa held her nine-year-old son, Draco, firmly by the hand, dragging him along, while their sixteen-year-old daughter, Lyra, brought up the rear, dragging her trunk and the cage holding her cat behind her. She looked around, her white-blond curtain of hair shaking with the movement. She, unlike her parents, chose to wear a pair of blue jeans and a lose t-shirt. She kept her wand safely in the bag slung over her shoulder, and she trailed behind her parents with an apprehensive look about her sharp face.
A few minutes remained before the train was to set off. With her father's help, Lyra pulled her trunk into the train, stowing it safely into an empty compartment. They both went back out afterwards, reuniting with Narcissa and Draco.
"Have you got everything, then?" Narcissa asked, brushing dust off her daughter's shoulder. "All your books? Your wand? Your badge?"
Lyra nodded. "Yes, Mother, I made sure I had all of it around the fourth time you asked."
Her mother's lips pursed a bit, but she carried on making sure that Lyra's appearance was acceptable while her father looked at the families around them with distaste.
"Can't I go?" Draco asked, looking longingly at the train. "Lyra can take care of me."
"It is not your time yet, Draco," Lucius said curtly. "But believe me, I expect you to do just as well as your sister when you are sent to Hogwarts." He looked fondly at his daughter. "First in her class, prefect of Slytherin house, ten O. and well on her way to becoming Head Girl," he smiled, a rare occurrence. "I'm sure you'll live up to your family's name, Lyra."
"I know I will," Lyra said with confidence.
"Hey Lyra!" The family looked around the see a tall girl with short black hair coming towards them.
"Hello Thalia," Lyra replied, embracing the taller girl. "Good summer?"
"Amazing," Thalia said, a large grin on her face. "You know how I'm in the Muggle Studies class? We had this homework assignment to shop in a Muggle shopping center to get an idea of what it's like. You have no idea how twisted they are," she laughed gleefully. "They have strange money, and I found this store called the Apple store!"
"They have a whole store just for apples?" Lyra asked, incredulous.
"Not at all!" Thalia replied. "They sell these little gadgets in there. You put these little wires in your ears and music comes out! How ridiculous is that?"
"Seems a little…misnamed," Lyra said with a shrug.
"No kidding," Thalia said. "I wrote my whole essay on that." She looked over Lyra's shoulder. "Heads up. Your suitor's coming."
"I haven't got a suitor," Lyra said, rolling her eyes. "Hello, Nico." She turned to see a tall, dark haired, pale boy behind her, a bored expression on his handsome face. He was already in his Hogwarts robes, a tie in the Slytherin colors adorning his neck, and a prefect's badge pinned to his chest.
"Hello, Lyra," Nico replied. He turned to her parents. "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. I trust things are going well?"
"Quite well, Nico, thank you," Lucius replied. "And how is your father. I don't see him around."
"I'm afraid he was called into the Ministry on urgent business," Nico replied, his voice as bored as ever. "He asked me if I wanted an escort, but I told him I was quite alright on my own." He turned back to Lyra. "I was hoping you'd accept to sharing a compartment with me on our journey back. I'm sure it would give us a chance to catch up."
Before she could reply, Lucius said, "I'm sure she'd be delighted, wouldn't you, Lyra?"
Lyra glanced at her father, suppressing an eye roll. Thalia giggled next to her. "Of course," she said. She turned to her mother. "Goodbye, mother," she kissed her cheek. "Father," she kissed his cheek. She leaned down at kissed Draco on the forehead. "Be good," she said to him.
Lyra was about to turn away when something heavy hit her, causing the wind to be knocked out of her lungs. Before she could topple over, though, she felt herself caught by two different pairs of hands. She felt her back fall from her shoulder, scattering ink bottles, quills, and her wand around the station's floor. She looked up, seeing what had crashed into her, or rather, who.
"I am so sorry!" A tall boy with a mop of brown hair and bright, amber eyes said, crouching down to pick up the things. "I didn't see you there. I'm so," he looked up, suddenly cut off when he saw who he'd crashed into. "Oh."
"Michael," Lyra said, pulling herself upright. "I see you're as clumsy as ever."
The boy, Michael, finished picking up the stuff, and Lyra noticed a blush creeping up his neck. He stood, handing the bag back. "I'm sorry, Miss Malfoy. It won't happen again."
"That's what you said last time," Lyra muttered, watching him sidle away.
"Who was that?" Lucius asked, glaring at Michael's retreating figure.
"Michael Wilson," Thalia replied. "He's a prefect for Ravenclaw. He's also a Muggle-born, and clumsier than a boggart on wheels. He's trying to beat Lyra for first in the class."
"He hasn't got a chance, though," Lyra said. She turned to Nico and Thalia. "Let's go, we mustn't miss the train." She waved at her parents and led her friends onto the compartment where she'd left her trunk. The other two stored their own luggage, sitting down just as the train began to set off. Lyra opened her cage, pulling out her small, black cat and setting him gently on the ground, letting him run about.
"Shouldn't you two be up at the prefect's carriage?" Thalia asked, settling back into her seat.
"Not right away," Nico said. "They'll only be running some rules and regulations by us, then we have to do regular checks on the students every now and then. The fifth year prefects get to hear the whole lecture. Can you believe that they elected that ghastly Barreda as Head Boy? As if we need another Gryffindor telling us what to do."
"Who got Head Girl?" Thalia asked, although she wasn't particularly interested.
"A Ravenclaw," Nico replied. "I don't know her at all, though. She wasn't a prefect."
They continued to chatter away, watching the countryside speed past them. About two hours later, Lyra and Nico headed to the front of the train, entering a larger compartment where a group of about twenty or so people had assembled. Lyra caught sight of Michael sitting across from her next to a seventh-year Hufflepuff named Lisa and a sixth-year Gryffindor named Charlie. The last few people came in, making twenty-six people in total.
"Okay fifth years," the Head Boy, Emilio Barreda, said as the last person entered. "Since we've already explained your duties, you are free to find compartments to remain in for the rest of the journey. I would like you to patrol the corridor periodically. You are allowed to give detention to any trouble-makers, but please don't abuse that power." He gave the Slytherin fifth years a significant look. Lyra rolled her eyes, but waited quietly as the eight new prefects filed out of the compartment.
Emilio and the Head Girl, a short, somewhat stocky Ravenclaw girl with curly brown hair and big freckles, looked back at the remaining prefects.
"Dumbledore wanted us to congratulate the group on your success last year," the Ravenclaw said. "Aside from a few minor…episodes, we managed to get through the year smoothly." Lyra knew she was referring to the few times during meetings when arguments broken out amongst the different houses. She looked at the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws apprehensively. She got a bad reputation for being in Slytherin, and it didn't help that they did their best to stick her into some sort of stereotype of the dark, Mudblood-hating witch she was supposed to be. She had never done anything remotely hateful towards any of them, but they still managed to make her feel terrible. Well, there was that time when she'd slipped a few moonstones into Michael's Vanishing Potion during class to make it smoke and turn the wrong color, and she had put a charm on one of the Gryffindor's brooms during their Quidditch practice, although only to get back at him for calling her a Muggle-hater during double Transfiguration.
The truth was that Lyra did not really hold any real hatred towards Muggles or Muggle-born wizards, no matter what she had been taught in her family. She knew how her mother and father felt about the matter, and she often channeled their feelings when they were around, but on her own, Lyra was as equal to pure-bloods as she was to any other form of witch or wizard. If she didn't like them, they suffered.
"It's rather unfortunate," Nico said as they headed down the corridor again back towards their compartment. "Having to follow rules so strictly. I simply despise some of the rules imposed on us. And having to impose them on others makes me sick sometimes."
"Didn't know you had such a merciful spirit, Nico," Lyra replied. "Wouldn't you like it better that they suffer rather than you?"
"I'm sure that's how you'd like it, Malfoy," she heard someone say behind her. "Since you just love watching people suffer, unless they're fellow Slytherins, of course."
She turned back to see Michael, along with the prefect from Gryffindor, Charlie, who was broad-shouldered and had flaming red hair.
"Only if they deserve it," Lyra replied easily, not feeling up to defending herself.
"Oh, so I deserved that nose-dive, did I?" Charlie asked, pointing to his nose, which had broken after the incident.
"And I deserved that failing grade from Snape?" Michael asked, crossing his arms.
"You insulted my family's name," Lyra replied, looking at the Gryffindor. She turned to Michael. "And you dropped a bag of Dungbombs into my school bag. I can't recall either of you being particularly nice to me in our past years together."
"I keep telling you that that was an accident!" Michael said. "I just tripped and my bag of Dungbombs fell out of my hand. It wasn't my fault that your school bag got in the way."
"You keep blaming everything you do to me on accidents," Lyra said. "But don't you think they've happened a little too often to be a coincidence? You're lucky my father didn't blow your face off today at the station. He hates your sort."
"What sort is that, Malfoy?" Michael asked, his eyes flashing. "Mudbloods? Are ickle Malfoy and her daddy afraid of a little impurity?"
"I never said—"
"I'm sure you'd love to put a curse on me, wouldn't you, Malfoy," Michael said. "Your whole family could pitch in. Or better yet, you could resurrect You-Know-Who and have him do it for you!"
"Stop it, you—"
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of my impurity. Or are you just afraid to speak up in the presence of someone so foul?"
Crack!
There was a stillness in time as the four of them wondered what had just happened. Lyra realized that her hand was held out in front of her, and it was stinging a little. She looked at Michael's face, an angry red mark appearing just below his left eye. He looked at her, shocked, raising his hand to feel the injured cheek. Lyra looked down at her hand, tears stinging her gray eyes. She turned on her heel, stalking off to her compartment. Nico glared at Michael and Charlie, which was the most emotion his face had shown, then turned around to follow her.
Lyra reached her compartment, wrenching the door open and throwing herself onto the seat. Nico followed her inside, closing the door gently behind them. Thalia looked up from the book she was reading. Lyra burst into tears. Thalia turned to Nico, her look questioning. Nico sat next to Lyra, putting his arm around her.
"I just c-can't stand it…" she said burying her face in the handkerchief that Thalia passed her. "People stopping me in the hall, calling me names, acting like I'm such a t-terrible person. They think I'm evil because of my f-family; because I'm in Slytherin. They never…even try to get to know me."
Thalia leaned across the seat, grabbing her friend's hand. "They're idiots, the lot of them. They don't know how hard you work. Besides, there's nothing wrong with your family. Your father was cleared, remember?"
"But they're right, aren't they?" Lyra replied, wiping her eyes on her t-shirt. "My parents served the Dark Lord, and now everyone acts like I'll be following in their footsteps."
"I personally believe they're being melodramatic about the whole thing," Nico said, his face returning to its bored default. "The Dark Lord is gone now, and there isn't much to be done about that. Perhaps it's time people forgot he even existed."
"But I can't forget," Lyra said. "Not while my father breathes air. All this holiday, he kept reminding me about the family's pride and honor, how I have to maintain it, find a good, pure-blood husband. One mention of Muggles and he's ready to perform the Unforgiveable Curses. And here I am trying to make peace with everyone just so that I'm not tormented day after day." She sniffed.
"You're not the only one," Thalia laughed, trying to comfort her friend. "Really, if any House gets a bad reputation, it's Slytherin. Everyone is always expecting us to be rude and evil. The best thing we can do is exceed their expectations."
Lyra laughed at this in spite of herself. She wiped away the last of her tears. "You're right," she said. "Nobody ever solved a single thing by crying about it."
Just then, the witch pushing the food trolley came by. Nico treated them by buying as many sweets as he could carry. They sat together for a while longer, talking about the things they'd done over the summer and discussing the N.E.W.T classes they'd be taking. Lyra, as one of the best potion makers, had been accepted into Snape's class. She was also taking Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures along with the rest of the usual classes. Nico and Lyra left to patrol the corridors, but nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Upon returning, the three of them embarked on a long conversation about Quidditch. All three of them were on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Nico, being incredibly lithe and impossible to see at the best of times, was the team's Seeker. Thalia played Beater, and Lyra was a Chaser. Thalia and Lyra had been on the team since their third year, and Nico had joined them in their fifth year after the last Seeker left Hogwarts.
Night had fallen by the time they reached the Hogsmeade Station. Lyra and Nico went to help the first years find Hagrid, who was swinging a large lantern in front of him.
"A'right, Lyra?" Hagrid asked, smiling down at the blonde girl. "Good summer?"
"Good enough," Lyra replied.
Lyra and Nico followed Thalia into one of the many carriages which pulled themselves towards the large, imposing castle that was Hogwarts. Lights shone brightly through the windows, and the warm, September night caressed Lyra's face as she leaned out the carriage window to see the castle where she'd be living for the next ten months. They ascended the stone steps, crossed the entrance hall, and found their seats at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, amongst their fellow classmates. Lyra looked longingly down at the golden plates. She had finished her last chocolate frog over an hour ago.
"Hope they get the sorting over with soon," Thalia said, her stomach rumbling. "I'm hungrier than a giant."
Soon enough, a line of first years was steered into the Great Hall, and Professor McGonagall placed the wooden stool and Sorting Hat in front of the room. A rip suddenly appeared over the hat's brim, and it began to sing, its voice carrying over the five tables in the hall.
Long ago
To the castle there came,
Four witches and wizards,
Their goal quite the same.
They held in their hats
The knowledge of old,
Taught young of the land
About wizarding folk.
Gryffindor chose
The bravest of all,
To pass on his knowledge
And carry his call.
Slytherin chose
Those with ambition.
For no one can fight
Without a great vision.
Ravenclaw used logic,
She took those who were wise,
And taught them to hear
The truth within lies.
Hufflepuff, sweet,
She took the rest,
For she always knew
That we all have our best.
So come forth, young chaps,
Do not be afraid.
Greatness awaits you
Who shall not be swayed.
I am the hat,
Powerful and strong,
I can tell you your fate,
So won't you try me on?
The brim shut and the room burst into applause. McGonagall stepped forward, a scroll of parchment in her hand. She began calling out names, and the first years, looking terrified, stepped forward and put the hat on when their names were called. Lyra clapped heartily whenever the hat called "Slytherin!" She remembered her first year, when she'd been so nervous that she almost forgot to take the hat off when her House was called. Finally, after what seemed like hours, "Weasley, Fred," and "Weasley, George," were sorted into Gryffindor along with their two older brothers, and Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, stood before his students.
"I must make another beginning of term speech," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "But first, tuck in."
Thalia smiled widely as food appeared before them. She piled her plate high with as much food as she could reach, then began to stuff her mouth.
"A bit of decorum never hurt anybody," Nico said, stabbing a pork chop with his fork and looking disapprovingly at Thalia. The girl ignored him, or was merely too focused on her meal to acknowledge the comment.
Lyra ate and drank her fill, delighted to see that her favorite chocolate and cream pudding had been added to the desserts. She talked animatedly with her classmates, then laughed as the Bloody Baron swooped through a first year, causing the poor boy to jump about three feet into the air. Then, feeling content and quite sleepy, she waited for the food to be cleared and for Dumbledore's speech, which would, no doubt, be similar to the rest of the speeches he usually gave at the beginning of the year.
The hall quieted once again as the food disappeared and Dumbledore stood again.
"I would like to welcome all of our new students to what will hopefully be some of your fondest times," Dumbledore began, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "And to those of you who have already made some of those fond memories, welcome back! This year is bound to be exciting and magical, but, as always, there are a few things I must remind you of.
"The Forbidden Forest is, as the name implies, forbidden to any student. Go there at the risk of being eaten by something large and smelly, or detention. Our caretaker, Argus Filch, wanted me to remind you that magic is not allowed in the corridors between classes.
"Quidditch tryouts are to be held at the end of this month, followed by the first game of the season, which is to take place the week before Halloween. Anyone interested in playing for their House team, please contact Madam Hootch," There was a murmur of excitement, especially among the Slytherins, who had won the Quidditch Cup for the last four years running, and were eager to continue that streak.
"Finally, choir practices have been moved from Tuesday to Thursday evenings. So, now that we have all been fed and watered, off to bed with you!"
There was a clattering of feet and scraping wood as the students in the hall stood and began to make their way out into the corridors. The fifth year prefects were given the task of steering the first years to their common room. Nico, Lyra, and Thalia walked together down to the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was hidden behind a large stone wall.
"Snargaluff," Lyra said, repeating the password that had been given to her on the train. The wall slid open, revealing a passageway that allowed them into the Slytherin common room. It was large and round, and comfortable chairs and couches lay scattered around. A large fire burned brightly under the Slytherin crest.
"'Night!" Lyra and Thalia called to Nico as they went up the stairs to the girl's dormitory. A door on the right was marked "sixth years." They opened it, finding their trunks already at the foot of their beds. The other three Slytherin girls with whom they shared the room were already there, getting ready for bed and talking about their O.
"I got six," short girl with strawberry blond hair named Ella was saying. "Dad wasn't very happy about it. He said it's time for me to start applying myself or something. Said I wasn't going to go anywhere in life if I didn't stop being so lazy."
"But six is actually pretty good," Beatrice, a heavy-set girl with glasses, said. "I only got three, and I was seriously debating whether it was even worth me coming back to Hogwarts. My parents wouldn't allow me not to, though."
"How did you do, Lyra?" Sybil, a tanned, athletic girl asked.
"Probably got all ten of yours, didn't you?" Ella asked.
Lyra nodded. "I didn't feel very confident during the exams, but I'm pleased to say that I got O's on seven, and E's on the rest."
"No surprise there," Sybil said, rolling her eyes. "I don't know why the Ministry of Magic hasn't made you the youngest Minister yet."
"Well," Thalia said. "I'm pretty damn happy with the seven that I got. At least I have plenty of free time now."
"You're so lucky," Beatrice said, sighing. "I don't know what I'm going to do now. There's no way I'll find a job with how badly I've done. My career is ruined."
"Don't give up yet," Ella said. "There's no reason for you not to do well in the classes you have gotten into. You're a lot better at Transfiguration than a lot of us."
"Yeah," Thalia said, patting her a bit harshly on the back. "You'll be alright."
The five girls settled into their beds, pulling the drapes around them. Within a few minutes, Lyra heard Beatrice's soft snores. Everyone else fell asleep soon after, but Lyra lay awake for a little while, thinking. She hadn't given her career much thought, not even while preparing for her O. . She had put an equal amount of work into all of the classes she had chosen to take, and none of them appealed to her in particular. She did, of course, have a natural gift for potions, as Professor Snape often liked to point out, but she couldn't see herself devoting her life to such a thing. What if she couldn't find something to do?
She did, of course, have her family's fortune to support her in case she couldn't find a suitable pastime. She had never really been pressured into finding a good career, only to be a good student, probably for bragging rights. The only thing that was actually expected of her was to marry a pure-blood, which was a reason for why her father was trying to push her onto Nico, whose family was one of the oldest wizarding families from Sweden. She had no real objection to this. She liked Nico a lot, despite his lack of interest in most aspects of the world, and both had agreed that upon turning seventeen, they'd forget any sort of promise they'd made about marrying each other. As long as they could keep their parents happy for the next year, they'd be free to do as they pleased — that is, as long as they both stuck to marrying pure-bloods.
Eventually, Lyra managed to quiet her mind and fall asleep. She dreamt she was flying on her nimbus, cold wind whipping through her hair, making her green Quidditch robes billow behind her. It took her a moment to realize that there was someone flying next to her. She couldn't see him clearly, but it felt nice to have him there. They flew and swooped together, not really going anywhere in particular. The wind suddenly went from blowing in her face to scratching her sharply. She felt confused at first, almost falling off her broom.
Lyra opened her eyes, realizing that it wasn't the wind scratching her at all, it was her little cat, Prospero. He was swiping at her face, meowing. She looked around, confused, and saw that there was sunlight streaming through the window. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and checked her watch. She pulled the drapes apart and began to dress. The others were just starting to stir.
Thalia yawned loudly.
"I hope they have sausage at breakfast," she muttered, pulling on her socks. "I could use about twenty of those."
"What do you think the first class is going to be?" Sybil asked.
"Dear lord, I hope it's something easy," Ella replied, buttoning up her shirt. "If they start us off with Binns, I think I might cry."
Lyra led the others down the stairs, where parties of twos and threes were making their way to the Great Hall. She paused in front of the announcement board. There was a schedule of Quidditch practices, a study group sign-up sheet, the date for the next Hogsmeade weekend, and the list of forbidden items that Argus Filch had compiled together. Nico came down from the boy's dorms, his prefect's badge shining on his black robes. Lyra noticed a few third-year girls giggling when they saw him, but he took no notice.
"Shall we?" He asked, joining Lyra and Thalia.
They went into the Great Hall, and Thalia was delighted to see that there were indeed plenty of fried sausages, as well as eggs, bacon, toast, and flagons of pumpkin juice. The post came about ten minutes later. Lyra looked up to see the Malfoy family's eagle owl, Faustus, flying towards her with a large package dangling from his beak. Lyra moved her goblet to give him room to land. She scratched him fondly, taking the package, which was full of sweets and a letter from her mother. Faustus hooted, then flew off again.
Snape went down the table, handing out course schedules. Lyra studied hers, chewing her toast.
"Study of Ancient Runes," she said. "Then Defense Against the Dark Arts and Double Potions with the Ravenclaws."
"Muggle Studies for me," Thalia said, looking slightly crestfallen.
"Hey, at least it isn't History of Magic," Lyra replied. They left the Great Hall together, passing by the Slytherin Dungeon to pick up their bags, then Thalia left them and Nico and Lyra headed to their Ancient Runes class. They found seats near the front of the classroom and took out the book they'd been required to purchase for the class. Professor Babbling launched into her lecture on theory of runic magic, and Lyra took as many notes as she could manage. They were assigned an essay at the end of class.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was more hands-on than Ancient Runes. Professor August, a Scottish wizard in his early thirties, liked to teach them how to avoid spells and jinxes by having them practice the spells and jinxes themselves. They read articles and accounts from famous witches and wizards. They hardly ever received homework, and it was by far one of their favorite classes. Lyra, Nico, and Thalia entered the classroom at the end of break.
"Welcome back!" Professor August said pleasantly. "Looks like another great year, doesn't it?"
The three of them found seats towards the front of the classroom, but did not take anything out besides their wands, since they knew that soon they'd be moving the desks aside to practice more spells. The class filled up quickly, and there was an eager silence as August began to speak.
"Now then," he said, smiling brightly. "You guys have gotten past your O. , and if you're still in this class, it means that you must've done rather well. But those are behind you now, and you have something bigger and harder to work towards, and those are your N.E. . This next year, you will be practicing the most advanced defensive magic you will ever learn, so, wands out!"
The lesson went by smoothly. At the end of it, Professor August passed out an article for them to read as homework. They stuffed it into their bags and left the classroom, feeling very good about the new school year. The three of them went down to lunch, and as Thalia shoveled down a bowl of stew, Nico and Lyra talked brightly about the Defense lesson, which had involved learning how to perform nonverbal spells.
When the bell sounded once more, the three of them headed to double Potions. The O.W.L requirement had been very high for this class, so Lyra wasn't surprised to see a much smaller number of people lined up in the dungeon. Lyra, Thalia, Nico, and two other boys named Elliot and Brandon were the only Slytherins who had been accepted. The Ravenclaws included Michael, another boy named Ryan, and four girls named Susan, Evelyn, Sadhya, and Wendy. They waited quietly until Snape opened the door to his classroom, and the eleven students filed in quietly.
Snape went to the front of the classroom and looked them over.
"I'm pleased to see that at least some students were mentally capable of passing the Potions O.W.L." Snape said coldly. "Do not think that it is going to get any easier from here. Any slacking on your part will result in immediate dismissal from this course." He took out his wand and rapped the chalk board. A list of instructions appeared for an Amortentia potion. "You have until the end of class."
"A love potion," Thalia said, grinning. "I hope he lets us keep some of it. I'd love to test it on that cute prefect from Hufflepuff."
Lyra rolled her eyes. "That's technically cheating, you know. All it actually does is make them believe they're in love. It can be terribly abused. I'd rather be poisoned then fed Amortentia. It must be terribly embarrassing. Creating actual love is impossible."
"Still," Thalia said. "Dumbledore did say we should create memories. And what's more memorable than fooling a boy into believing he's in love with you?" She lowered her voice. "Why would Snape be teaching us how to make this?"
"So that we'll know how to avoid it if we encounter it, no doubt," Lyra replied. "Amotentia smells like the things you like the most."
Lyra heated her cauldron and followed the instructions closely. Before long, different aromas began to fill the room, depending on who smelled it. Lyra smelled rain, hot chocolate and warm vanilla. She resisted the temptation to try her own potion. She filled a vial, stoppered it, and took it up to Snape.
"I despise this potion," Snape said as he studied her vial. "It's abused far too often." He looked at her. "Full marks, Miss Malfoy. I'm pleased to see that your potion-making is improving quite nicely." He looked past her. Michael was behind her, his own vial in his hand. Snape studied it. "The coloration is slightly off, Wilson. I see you neglected to add the proper amount of Ashwinder eggs."
Michael's eyes widened slightly as he turned to the board, realizing that he had, indeed, misread the number of eggs needed for the potion.
"Perhaps next time," Snape said coldly. "You will use the full time allotted to you, rather than rushing through it in order to show off. Partial marks will be given to this potion."
Michael turned around, stalking back to his seat. He began to clear away his things, and almost upset his jar of powdered moonstone, which Ryan caught just in time.
"He just can't get over that you're better than him, can he?" Thalia said in a low voice, pouring her own potion into a glass vial.
"Let it go," Lyra said. "I don't want him getting mad at me."
"Well, it isn't your fault he can't read instructions," Nico replied. "Aren't Ravenclaws supposed to be smart?"
Lyra risked a glance at Michael. He was sitting back in his chair, an angry look on his face, as the rest of the class went forward with their own potions. Their eyes met momentarily before Lyra looked away, feeling embarrassed. She went on clearing up, glad to be able to vanish her potion, since the smell was making her mouth water. She returned the ingredients to the storage cupboard.
Snape assigned them an essay on the properties of Ashwinder eggs, no doubt in order to illustrate Michael's mistake, which made him feel worse. The other Slytherins threw him angry looks as they left the dungeon, and Evelyn did her best to comfort him as they left the dungeon. Lyra made sure to leave the dungeon before them, hoping to get away from them quickly.
"Sure must be easy to pass a class like that when you're the teacher's pet, huh Malfoy?" Michael called after her.
"Shut your mouth, Wilson," Thalia called back, but Lyra said nothing. They went back to the Slytherin and dropped their stuff off, then went to dinner. Lyra caught sight of Michael sitting at the Ravenclaw table, and every so often, he'd turn to glare at her, along with his friends.
"I don't understand why he hates me," Lyra muttered, picking at her steak and kidney pie.
"He's jealous," Thalia said. "But don't worry. He'll probably end up failing Snape's course anyway."
"I hope so," Nico said. "I can't stand him."
They spent their free time in the common room working on the homework assignments they'd been given. The Runes homework and the article for their Defense class were easy enough, but the essay for Potions took longer than they'd expected. It was well past ten o'clock before Lyra was done with hers, and she stuck around to wait for Thalia and Nico to finish their own essays. Afterwards, Thalia and Lyra returned to their dorm, and Lyra fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
There it is then. My first chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and the plot doesn't become incredibly obvious. Although it might. I don't believe myself to have any actual powers of irony, although that would be fantastic. I hope you're having a good end of summer. I'm still working my butt off at the movie theater, and I start college applications tomorrow (yay!). I've also been offered a gig with a local choir, which means I'm actually getting somewhere with my singing. Well, may your final few weeks of freedom be enjoyable and quite memorable!