A/N: This is based on the story Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. It takes place during the events of Harry Potter Goblet and Fire. As such, there are snippets of conversations from GOF. That belongs to JKR and I mean no harm by using it.
Chapter One: Welcome Back To Hogwarts
Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.
-Chapter 4:Waking Up, New Moon, Stephanie Meyer
I'm standing in the torrential rain outside of King's Cross Station and getting soaked to the bone. I'm wearing a horrible pink skirt that can't be returned and that is slowly giving me a rash. My trunk is on one of those rolling cart things behind me and the owl my father got me over the summer is hooting glumly. It doesn't want to go inside either. People are staring at me as they pass under their umbrellas, thinking I'm a statue. You can do it, I tell myself. Just go in and sit down. I open the door and walk inside.
The clock on the wall reads 8:45. I have two hours and fifteen minutes before the train leaves. Only the muggles are here, going to who-knows-where. I sit down near the barrier that would take me to Platform 9 3/4 and watched the Men in Funny Suits run around with briefcases mutter, mutter, curse, curse. They're late.
At 9:05, a conductor passes by my seat for the fifth time. He is watching me out of the corner of his eye. There is no "Good morning." or "Are you lost, dear?" from him. This man doesn't bother with pleasantries. I may be a runaway in his mind. Who knows? Maybe I am.
But then why am I running towards my problems?
When he is gone, I get up and lean casually against the barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. Before my eyes Platform Nine and Three-Quarters materializes. It doesn't look like it did the last time I was here. Nobody's here yet, except for the Cart Lady and Conductor Man. Conductor Man smiles at me as he passes by to inspect the carriages one last time.
"You're my first passenger of the day, kid," he says. "Pick any seat you want."
You are too kind, I want to tell him. Instead, I pull the hood of my grey sweatshirt up over my head and drag my trunk over to the first compartment I find. I push my trunk up and stow away the owl. Something falls out of my pocket. I can see my face reflected in the shiny blue and bronze badge. I bend down to pick it up, running my hand over the silver P embedded into it. I can't believe they did this to me. Money must have changed hands.
I want to curl up into a tiny ball and close my eyes, go to sleep, but I've got to find Cho. See if she is choosing to speak to me yet.
The train's first whistle makes me jump. It's time already? I look out the window. I can't see much from where I am, but I imagined what I might see: The older students finding their friends and exchanging stories about what happened over the summer. The newer students reassured by their parents that they would have a great time. I remember what it was like to be a first year. I had been to Hogwarts already, my father being the Potions Master. Maybe that's why the castle never had that magical feeling to me. My magic has disappeared.
Nobody would be interested in what I did over the summer. I spent most of it shut away in my room, eating greasy potato chips and watching old movies on a muggle television my father had gotten. I received no invitations to the Quidditch World Cup and rejected the ones offered by my father. I was just there. A Nobody.
I feel restless. I can't be in this compartment anymore. Standing in the tiny corridor, I'm in a herd of teenagers. Instincts tell predators to go for the weak or sick. A predator approaches. But I know this one.
"Tacey!" Benjamin Mellincamp calls. It's hard to hear over all the noise. "You're the other prefect?"
Prefect. Noun. A student who is given some authority over other pupils in matters of discipline in a private school. I looked it up when I got my annual Hogwarts Letter. Is also known as my own personal hell manifested. I show him my badge as way of explanation.
"Well, come on!" he says. "We're supposed to be in the prefects compartment."
Wait, there's a compartment just for prefects? I let Benjamin drag me through the crowd to the front on the train, where the prefect's compartment is located.
There are approximately twenty four prefects at Hogwarts. Two from each year from fifth year and up. That's six for each house. Multiply that by four, and you get the number of prefects. There is also a head boy and girl, to inform the new recruits of our duties as prefects. So, in total, there are twenty six kids to enforce the rules on the other two hundred and fifty four students in the school. Yippee. But only the new recruits and a few others are in this particular compartment.
Almost all of them glare at me as I walk in. I avoid their gazes as I sit down closest to the door. I would much rather be in my compartment than in here with them. Maybe I can give my prefect duties to someone else. I don't want to be a prefect.
THE FIRST TEN LIES THEY TELL YOU AS PREFECTS
1. You are prefects because your leadership potential.
2. The head boy and girl will always be here to help
3. You will have plenty of time for homework along with your prefect duties
4. People will respect your authority.
5. Your friends will not make fun of you.
6. The school dress code should be enforced
7. Only prefects can become head boy or girl.
8. Being a prefect is one of the greatest honors you can receive.
9. The rules still apply to prefects.
10. You will look back on these years and smile.
People are staring at me. And its not because of the badge pinned to my uniform. They laugh and point. Whispering behind their hands. I bite my lip and taste the blood. Darn it. I pass by open compartments and can hear pieces of their occupant's conversations
"Did you see Cedric out on the platform?" "He is so cute!" "You should totally ask him out Jen!" "Oh no. I couldn't..."
"I heard Victor Krum still goes to school." "Yeah, I heard he goes to Durmstrang..."
"Oh, Cho! I didn't see you there!"
I whip around. There she is. Cho Chang, my ex-best friend. Talking to a bunch of other kids. Cho sees me watching her and makes a face. "That's Tacey Snape," she whispers. She says something in an undertone that makes the others laugh. I swallow and close my eyes. I can see the last time I talked to Cho.
"How did you get us in?" I ask.
Cho smiles conspiratorially. "That's my little secret. Now, come on. What should I wear?"
"Definitely the green jumper."
"But my mom got me that jumper!"
"It looks cute on you."
"But my mom got it!"
"Okay, wear that ugly pink one then," I tell her. "C'mon, the green matches your shoes great."
"Fine then," Cho agrees. "But if anybody asks, you got it for me."
"Deal."
Tears are forming in my eyes, threatening to burst. Cho looks back at me. "I hate you," she mouths.
My throat tickles. This is Cho. She was the one there during all the teasing in our first year. This was the girl that invited me to stay over every summer. If there is anybody in the entire world I want to tell, it is Cho.
Cho forms an L with her right hand and laughs. I can't help it, the dam breaks and I take off for the bathroom.
In the bathroom, I sit down on the toilet and let the tears fall. I should have expected it. Cho would have remembered.
Deep breaths, I say. Do like they do in those old movies. Just take several deep breaths. There, there. It's okay. Cho's dealing with PMS. That's why she didn't talk to you.
Only I know this is a lie. She won't forgive me. But she doesn't know what really happened. I don't think I even know. I get up and wash my face in the sink. Maybe I should just stick my head outside the window and let the rain wash away the tears. I look at myself in the mirror. Purple-like bruises under the eyes from countless nights of no sleep. Lips that belong in a horror movie. I could probably play Dracula. All I need are some fangs. I hurry out of the bathroom...
... and run straight into a boy. I hit the floor. Hard.
"I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"
I look up and find myself looking into a pair of grey eyes. I feel myself go red. What's the matter with me? I nod.
The boy seems amused for some reason. Hufflepuff, no doubt. They always find something funny in any situation. He extends a hand. "Do you need help?"
I grab his hand and he pulls me up.
"I'm Cedric," the boy tells me. "Cedric Diggory."
It one of the prefects from the compartment. One that didn't glare at me. He smiles at me. Say something idiot.
"Tacey Snape," I say after a minute.
"You're Professor Snape's daughter?"
I give up on talking and nod.
"That must be cool," Cedric says.
I shrug. Cedric seems to realize that it is pointless to talk to me, because he says goodbye and leaves. I fly back to the shelter of my compartment. People are sitting there, chatting up a storm.
Darn it.
-----
Off the train, the rain that has steadily grown worse during the train ride, now comes at us in full force. I run-head first into the first carriage I can find. The people inside are watching me. I hide my face under the veil that is my hair. I try to ignore the whispering.
Inside the castle, Peeves is throwing water balloons. Again. I inch my way across the hall and into the Great Hall. I feel the gazes of people and I stumble. Embarrassed, I make my way to the end of the Ravenclaw table.
Professor McGonagall enters with the new first years. I remember what it was like being one. A first year, I mean. I wish badly I can go back to being so blissfully ignorant. A clean slate. That would be perfect.
After the sorting, Professor Dumbledore stands up. I have always wondered how he keeps his long beard and hair so shiny. Mine looks like something that has been ran over several times.
"I have only two words for you," Professor Dumbledore says, smiling. What he has to be so damn cheerful about, I don't know. "Tuck in."
At once, the golden plates fills with food. I get my share before the vultures can devour it all. I gnaw at a chicken leg while others rip apart pork chops and steak. I wish I could go to the dormitory. I just want to get some rest.
At Hogwarts, we are divided into four groups called houses. There's Hufflepuff, for those that don't fit in anywhere else; Gryffindor, for the people that superheroes are modeled after; Ravenclaw, for the next mad scientists; and Slytherin, the ones most likely to desert the first chance they got. I'm in Ravenclaw. I am supposed to be this incredibly smart person. I am supposed to be at the top of my class. But no, I pass most of my classes with an Acceptable. On the intelligence scale, I am a four.
After everyone eats, Professor Dumbledore starts talking again. It's mostly about rules and regulations. I heard it from the head boy. I tune him out, dreaming of a nice warm shower. After walking in that storm, I really need to spend some time with my Suave shampoo and conditioner. I hope none of the others will be in there. Best to avoid confrontations.
"YOUR JOKING!"
I start. Did I miss something? Obviously.
Professor Dumbledore laughs. "No, Mr. Weasley, I am not joking. No for those who know what the Triwizard Tournament entails, allow your attention to wander freely as I explain to those that don't."
Although I don't know what the tournament was, I don't pay attention to Dumbledore. I look down the table, hoping to catch the eye of one of my old friends. But there really is no point looking for them. Joan has started to hang out with the Ravenclaws that are really serious about their grades. They're the Super Nerds. Trina has joined the band and choir headed by Professor Flitwick. I see her trying to play the drums with forks and one of the golden plates. And Cho… well, Cho does what Cho does. I spot Cho talking to Marietta Edgecomb. This surprises me. Cho always hated Marietta, called her a cow. I can't breath. It's like my lungs have shriveled up. I try to pay attention to Dumbledore.
"-those that can enter their names must be of age, that is to say, seventeen or older. The Ministry feels that this is necessary due to the complexity of the tasks. Those below sixth and seventh year simply won't be able to handle it."
I bet. I look around again and see that many are not happy by Dumbledore's remarks. Probably those with big egos.
"And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bed time! Chop chop!"
I follow the stream of people exiting the Great Hall. Ravenclaw Tower is situated at the other end of the school, opposite Gryffindor Tower. I trudge silently up to my dorm behind Bushy Hair and Company and their friends. They are talking about the tournament.
I finally reach the dormitory. Before anyone can say anything to me, I grab my toiletry bag and high tail it to the showers. Everybody is headed to bed. I am assured quiet.
I stand under the showerhead, allowing the icy cold water out of the hot faucet to drown out my tears.
After a few minutes, I turn off the water and wrap myself in a towel. I reach for my bag, but can't find it. I rip back the curtain. A note is where my bag should be. The food I ate earlier now wants to come back. I steady myself against the wall. Even without my glasses, I can read the black writing.
SQUEALER.