Hey, I just got into the whole Marriage law challenge thing, so I decided to make a story of my own! I wasn't sure which to do, however, DracoHermione, SnapeHermione or HagridMcGonagall. Eventually I decided on none of them!! I decided to write my very first self-inserted fic, with the main character being just like me, except we shall call her Ran. Yes, for tyhose who noticed, I borrowed the namer Halliwell from Charmed, and must therefor proclaim my DISCLAIMER: i DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR CHARMED IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM, ALTHOUGH I WISH I DID. Ran is Nordic, for Sea Goddess.
Please review, flames welcome!
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Severus Snape put down his newspaper angrily, hardly daring to believe the Minstry's latest harebrained scam. A marriage law?! How dare they?
He was sitting at the staff table in the Great Hall on a lovely Saturday, and sat glaring mutinously at his water goblet, as if wishing it a very painfull death. First McGonagall walks into his office, uninvited, and announces the imminent arrival of a new staff member within the next day and a half, and that he would probably be working along side him in a seperate classroom; now this. He had to get married and find a wife in a matter of weeks or they would send him to Azkaban for disobedience. He had always thought the Minuistry a bunch of brainless morons, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back, in his opinion. He absolutely would not do it.
Just then, a second owl stopped by and he snatched the plain whhite envelope and openend it. It bore the Ministry seal.
Dear Severus Snape,
We decided to send this letter along after your newspaper, as I didn't believe you would take the new law seriously. I beg to remind you that noncomplience will result in sentencing to Azkaban, or a very heavy fine. As you know, the defeat of the Darkes twizard of all time has also depleted our numbers as well, and children just aren't being born fast enough.
You have a month. Good luck, and best wishes,
Roary Buckler, Marriage and Wizarding Law Attourney
Attourneys; they were the same in both worlds, he thought bitterly, scrunching the letter up in one large, bony white fist.
His dark eyes scanned the children in the Hall and came to rest on the front doors as they began to slowly open. A short, slim, dark figure slowly revealed itself, wearing heavy, billowing black robes, a slightly droopy black hat that covered his or her eyes and a pair of lethal looking black leeather boots with silver skull and crossbones buckles on them. The Hall slowly fell silent, and the figure walked into the Hall as if nothing were the matter. Severus, himself, was vaguely interested to know who this newcomer was, then remembered McGonagall's earlier warning. This must be the newest staff member, who would be taking up the newly instated position of Explosives and Chemical Weapons. It was an odd choice, one that a lot of the school boards thought was unneccesary, but then Snape remembered all the times in his Potions class when one student or another had neglected to remember the explosive properties of one or more ingredients, and thought it wise.
As the figure approached, they lifted their head and Snape was surprised to see a pale, heart-shaped face, very large, light-colored eyes with long lashes, full, perfect lips and a cold, uncaring look about her person. She was very beautiful, in a cute sort of way, and he berated himself for thinking this word. She looked hardly older than some of the students.
She took the vacant seat two down from Snape himself, swept off her hat and shook out a main of thick, bright copper hair. It was even brighter than the Weasley's, and then noted that it was because one side of her head was done in a bright splash of violent raspberry.
She must be a Metamorphmagus, he thought nonchalantly, picking up his fork and spearing a bit of scrambled egg.
He ate slowly, eyes scanning the Hall for Potter and his friends, and noticed that Potter and the femal Weasley were not there. He figured they were out strolling the grounds and almost rolled his eyes at the thought. Potter, who looked so like his disgusting father, fancied a redhead just like his mother, but so much less atractive, in his opinion. He wondered if the muggle borns in the Hall knew of the newly instated law, then noticed by Hermione Granger's expression in particular, that they did.
"May I have everyone's attention for a moment, please?" called McGonagall, tapping a fork on the edge of her crystal goblet, and the Hall slowly fell quiet.
"I have an announcement to make. We are instating a brand new class called Explosievs and Chemical Weapons this term, and I expect most O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students in Potions to sign up immediately, please. Your new teacher's name is Professor Halliwell," she announced clearly, and there was a lot of muttering at this. Only a few student clapped for her.
Halliwell? Could she possibly be realated to the Halliwells of Salem, Ameica? He had heard only vaguely of them in his studies years ago. Supposedly, they were the o nly surviving line of Witches from the original Salem Witch Trial days, and they were an old family of very powerfull witches and wizards, though most of them were very old. He glanced again her way, and saw her examining him just as ardently, and he quickly looked away and resumed eating.
Judging by the way she was glancing around at things like the silverware and the food, he assumed she wasn't from Great Britain.
He was just starting on his bacon when Professor Sinistra handed him a spare bit of parchemnt, on which was scribbled a hastily written note in blood-red ink. The writing was very sloppy and a bit messy, but legible.
Dear Professor Snape,
I have heard all about you, from Professor McGonagall, and she says that I am to be working alongside you, even though Slughorn is the Potions master now. She claimes you were always better, or something. I just wanted to introduce myself properly, since we are to be working together somewhat.
My name is Ran Hallliwell, and yes, as you correctly assume, I am descended from the Halliwells of Salem, Mass., although I am muggle-born. I'm afraid we don't get along much these past few decades, however, so I would appreciate it if you would keep it quite because I don't want to be answering any awkward questions.
Look forward to working with you, whichever class you may teach,
Ranikara J. Halliwell
He read and re read the note a few times before setting fire to it with a candle floating nearby, and looking down, he saw that Miss. Halliwell was eating, head bowed, hair hiding her face behind a sheer curtan of coppery-orange curls.
He decided then that his free time couldn't come soon enough. He needed time to think.
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Well, what do you think?? More detailed than my previous HP fics? Please review and tell me what you think!