A/N: Hello! Thanks for clicking on the link which has led you to this page. This is a big scary project that was supposed to be shouldered by three people but two have abandoned ship and left little ol' me frantically steering in the middle of a snow storm--you get the picture. There are three main OCs (all female) in this so if you hate OCs beyond all reason you'd better hop off at once. It's next gen (if you couldn't tell by the title) so I can't help it with the OC thing. If you're willing to give this a chance (I hope you are) the prologue features the three OCs so that you can get an idea of what they're like and such forth. Okay now read!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Prologue
"Max, do I look fat in this?"
"Well…"
Smack.
"Alright, alright, just kidding!" He laughed. "You look great."
"Don't lie."
Max sighed and said in a defeated manner, "I tried."
"Try harder next time." She put on a stern face.
"Yes, ma'am," he saluted her.
She tried to keep her STARN on, but failed miserably as a giggle escaped.
Max was shocked. "She giggles! Ladies and gentlemen, she does have a heart after all! We had suspicions, you see…"
"Max, if you don't stop talking to an imaginary audience you'd better check yourself into St. Mungo's."
"Was that a joke, ladies and gentlemen? I do believe it was! Hell has frozen over-"
"Max," now she sounded irritated. "Enough. Come on, let's go."
With a final look in the mirror, she strode over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of green powder and threw it into the fireplace. The fire rose up, roaring merrily.
"Diagon Alley!" Fran felt herself being whisked away.
RANDOM
"Nanny, those books over there seem really interesting, perhaps I could just…"
"No dear, I was explicitly ordered by your parents, that means under no condition are you to leave my sight or otherwise stray too far without my permission."
"Not even to the loo?"
"I will go with you."
Her ward scrunched her nose in disgust. "I do believe, Nanny, that the cubicle is too small for the both of us."
"Good heavens, child! No more talk of this blasphemy!"
"What else do you need?"
"Um…" Fran's finger skimmed down her booklist. "I still have to get my schoolbooks. We can buy those from Flourish and Blott's. It's right around the corner."
"Anything else after that? There's this Quidditch shop I want to check out, I heard they have the absolute latest in Quidditch supplies."
Fran rolled her eyes; Max and Quidditch, two words that belonged together in the same sentence. Whichever house he got into would be lucky to have him on their team. That is, if Durmstrang had houses. She knew Hogwarts had them, because of her dad's old copy of Hogwarts; A History, which she had found absolutely fascinating.
Her heart plummeted. She and Max would be starting at different wizarding schools that year. She suddenly felt the great distance between them, even though he was standing right next to her. She missed him already.
"Don't tell my mother, but I was thinking of getting an owl… they're really useful and all, and-"
"And we could keep in touch by sending letters to each other." He finished. His voice was unusually quiet.
Fran nodded, feeling all of a sudden miserable. It had been a perfectly good day, why did she have to go and ruin it by bringing this up? Why did she always ruin everything?
For the first time since she could remember, there was a silence between them that was not altogether comfortable.
"Well now, no need to get our knickers in a knot," Max declared, breaking the spell of gloom that had hung over them just a second ago. "We weren't best friends all these years by accident, and we jolly well will continue to be friends on purpose!"
Fran couldn't help smiling. Why did Max always know the right thing to say? Her smile became a grin as he placed his arm around her shoulder and they walked towards Flourish and Blott's. Nothing could ever come between us two, she thought, before screaming as Max jumped straight into a puddle of water, splashing them both, with Fran reprimanding him loudly afterwards.
"Hey there, hot hunky-dory fish fillet." The girl drawled and blinked her overly made-up eyes at Max in what Fran supposed she thought was a seductive manner. She must have been what, fifteen? And Max was only eleven, for Merlin's sake. Fran rolled her eyes and made to tug Max away from potential goo-goo eyes mc chicken jelly but Max's feet seemed to have grown roots and he refused to budge.
The girl then proceeded to rhapsodize about Max's outstanding points, namely his way-too-good looks. And Fran, to her dismay, found that on every count she found herself thinking, "Yep, he does have awfully nice eyes, oh and nice hair, oh yes and suspiciously white teeth too!" She could do nothing but glare at the girl with all the hatred she could muster for making her think this way about her best friend. It made her feel all queasy inside.
"Let's go," she muttered to Max. The girl left with a last big smile and before handing a crushed piece of paper with her number on it.
"I… think…. that… that… was… my… first… encounter… with… a… girl." Max spoke very slowly, as if he was still in shock. What am I, a decomposed burger? Fran thought irritably, but decided to stand by her friend in his time of need. She plucked the offending piece of paper from his hands and threw it into a nearby rubbish bin.
"Then it's good that you're going to Durmstrang, if they affect you like this."
"I s'pose so."
Somehow, Fran didn't think that he meant it, but she chose not to pursue the subject. She was a bit distracted by the way the sunlight reflected off his hair, revealing streaks of gold in the brown. It was quite a breath-taking effect.
Stop thinking of him like that!
Like what? A boy?
Yes! It's wrong! I mean, he is, but—arrrgghhh!
She needed pie.
"Hey Thommy, what's with the 'do?"
"Eh? Eh, ain't nothing much, s'all the rage now, feather." Thomas flipped his ponytail in a somewhat girlish manner and winked at Art, to the obvious consternation of a group of people nearby.
"Is it, whiskey? I don't believe you, coconuts are high in protein!"
"Gummy bear, I fed Santa midnight cookies."
"The temple of Bambooism is the Eighth wonder of the world."
"The cow shouldn't jump over the moon. The spoon is unhealthy."
By now the group of people had moved on down the street, though Art could see them giving Thomas and her peculiar looks.
They burst out laughing, holding onto each other for support.
"Wh-what's next?" Thomas wheezed, clutching his sides.
"Textbooks," Art made a face.
"Oh stitch it; it seems the money to purchase said bookseludes me. What say you we play a round of Zeppelin, feather?"
"'Tis a pity, but I suppose it will do."
Having said that, they plopped down onto the cobblestoned street and Thomas strummed 'Stairway to Heaven' with Art on vocals. This impromptu two-man performance was, nevertheless, met with a moderate amount of enthusiasm by passers-by. Before long they had acquired enough money to buy the required textbooks, plus drop by for ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to go.
Fran and Max lugged the heavy bag of books out onto the street. With each person holding each side of the bag they just managed to barely lift it. The shop assistant had offered to shrink the bag for them but Fran was skeptical that she would be able to get it back to its normal size, as she claimed she wanted to read up before she started at Hogwarts. A head start on the other students wouldn't hurt, she thought happily.
"How far do you think we can make it?" Max asked, his voice somewhat strained.
"We'll take a break at the corner. Hang in there, once we reach the stone wall we're home free." Fran gave him an encouraging smile.
They struggled past a crowd from which they could hear strains of music; both were too exhausted to even toss a coin to the musicians, which looked to be a young girl and an older man with a ponytail.
"Not…much…further," Fran said cheerfully, which earned a tired smile from Max. She wondered what a strange sight they would make, two eleven-year-olds making their way down the street with a bag overflowing with books between them.
"Here we are!" Both lost no time to let go of the bag, where it fell to the ground with a loud thump. They stumbled into the Leaky Cauldron where a kind old man named Tom immediately offered them a cold glass of water which they gratefully accepted. Fran thought that water had never tasted so good in her life.
Bloody hell, was all Art could think as she stared at the tray in her hands and the ice cream on the girl's shirt. This was wrong. The ice cream was supposed to be on the tray, not slowly melting on the girl's shirt, which looked very expensive by the way, and dripping down the front.
She officially hated puddles, especially the one she had slipped on, thus getting her into this effing great mess.
Then the shrieking began. And Art had a natural human reaction to this. She clasped her hands over her ears and yelled right along with the girl.
"I can't hear you! I can't hear you!" she chanted, feeling her mouth moving but hearing nothing except a sort of odd buzzing. The girl's mouth went slack in shock as her icy blue eyes widened and Art deemed it safe to her eardrums to remove the protective layer of hand.
Unfortunately, the girl recovered after about a second or so and immediately started barking orders to the… Art wasn't sure what it was exactly that was beside the girl, only that it had unusually big floppy ears and was wearing a one-piece rag of a cloth. She immediately felt sorry for it as the girl ordered it to clean up the mess on her shirt and oh, her shirt was ruined forever like yada yada did this girl ever shut up? The… creature just bowed and nodded and nodded as the girl whined on and on.
Shut up! Art wanted to scream. Instead, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She reached into her pocket for her handy-dandy hankerchief (which had saved her life on two occasions) and proceeded to throw it straight at the girl's mouth. Well, actually she was aiming at her shirt but decided that the mouth would be a more satisfying target.
The girl finally shut up, but not for long as she pulled the hankerchief from her mouth and flung it away with a yell of fury, eyes blazing as she lurched towards Art. Art sprung back so that the girl missed her, her fists balled up and ready to fight. She had had plenty of experience fighting back in school, and with opponents twice her size too. She supposed speed did make up for their considerable hulk advantage.
Art and the girl would have commenced an all-out catfight if not for two things happening simultaneously. One, Thomas returning from behind counter (he had been busy counting out the sickles they had received) and two, the creature saying something so softly that Art had to shout, "Pardon?" as the girl's claws (ahhh sharpened fingernails!) came flying towards her.
"Halt! Your friend said something." Art commanded with authority.
"Friend?" The girl sneered. "That's my house elf, you mud blood."
"Oh, is that what it is? Anyway, SHUT UP, he's saying something!"
"SHUT UP? I DON'T TH-"
"M-Mistress h-has given me c-clothes."
Art was confused, but the girl got it quicker than she did. She looked torn between wanting to tear Art into little pieces with her razor sharp claws and hitting the house elf.
Elvy admired herself in the mirror. Well, mirrors, actually, for she had had the room fitted with mirrors all around the walls. All the better for getting a three hundred and sixty degree view of her cute behind and not-lacking front.
She even tried on various faces in the mirror, before settling on a pout that she thought best showed off her large brown eyes and damn straight nose.
After practicing her catwalk for thirty-five minutes she deemed herself ready to head downstairs for breakfast. She looked in distaste at her outfits strewn on the marble flooring, a result of her inability to choose the just perfect outfit to show up at breakfast in.
She snapped her fingers, adding a sprinkle of attitude just 'cos she felt like it.
With a loud crack! A house elf promptly appeared.
"Darling, do be a dear and clean up this mess." Elvy purred as she flipped her hair and strut out the door, not sparing a glance back.
Perhaps she would have a carrot stick, but she was watching her diet.
The pink or the white? That was the question.
Elvy knew that the right accessory could make or break an outfit. It was all about the details.
"Mon cherie, what is your opinion?" Amato Marchetta, big-name designer in the fashion world and all-around hunk, enquired Elvy's thoughts on the matter. He gestured to the two willowy models by his side, dressed in his latest design.
There were several reasons a designer of his caliber would be asking an eleven-year-old her opinion on such things. One, she surpassed him in style and fashion sense, or…
"Well, it's all a bit off, if you know what I mean, papa. I suggest going with the grey beret, which would be too darling!"
…she was his daughter.
"Now tell me papa, which should I wear tomorrow? The pink or the white hair band? I'm in such a dilemma!"
A/N: REVIEW! I accept anything.