Disclaimer: Potterverse stuff is Rowling's, and the Poetic Edda, as far as I know, is in the public domain.
Chapter I
Hljóðs bið ek allar helgar kindir,
meiri ok minni mögu Heimdallar;
viltu, at ek, Valföðr! vel framtelja forn spjöll fíra,
þau er fremst um man.
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My name is Freyja Tristessa Moonsorrow Ravendark Explosion. I have long black hair - it's naturally blonde, but I color it with a charm - and blue-gray eyes the color of a clear winter sky reflected off polished steel. I'm five-foot-nine, and I'm pretty buff but not in a manly looking way, whatever Malfoy says. (The little weasel's just bitter because I beat both of his minions in the Inter-House Arm Wrestling Competition. Honestly! Some people need to learn to stop being afraid of strong women.) I also have big boobs, but that doesn't make me a slut. I'm a quarter Valkyrie on my mother's side, but I don't have a flying horse or anything. (Just a raven.) I'm also a witch. My mother taught me seidhr, the ancient art of Norse witchcraft, but I'm currently a sixth-year student at Hogwarts studying southern-style magic. I'm also a huge metalhead, and I love all things grim, brutal, and Nordic. Today I was wearing the Hogwarts uniform skirt and robe with black fishnet stockings, black combat boots, studded leather bracers, my favorite Amon Amarth t-shirt, my silver Thor's Hammer pendant, a silver serpent brooch, a bronze wire dragon head torque, and silver and amber Celtic knot earrings. I don't normally wear much makeup, but I had on some mascara to bring out my eyelashes - they're very long, but since they're normally blonde like my hair this isn't always obvious. I was also wearing black eyeliner.
It was a grim afternoon in November, with the gray sky barely illuminated by the last rays of the dying sun. It was somewhere between snowing and raining, and the fat, wet flakes of slush stung when they hit my skin, like the drops of venom falling on the face of Loki, only not literally, since the clouds were just clouds and not giant drooling poisonous snakes, even if that would have been pretty badass. "Brutal," I said.
"Hey, Freyja!" someone shouted. It was... Neville Longbottom!
"Hei!" I said. (I speak Norwegian.) What's up, Neville?"
"Er, nothing," he said shyly. "Um, it looks like it wants to freeze tonight. I'd better bring in my umbrella flowers. Goodbye!"
I wondered what all that was about, but I heard my friends call and I joined them instead of following Neville.