files of a slytherin reject
Greta Lestrange looked cautiously through her trunk, prepared for something to jump out. It was customary for this to happen… two years ago, it had been a plastic iguana, and last year Wen had gotten more creative, and put a plastic iguana with a stink-bomb taped haphazardly to its back in her luggage.
Naturally, Greta bet that there would be a plastic iguana involved.
Not that it mattered, but Greta was aware that the plastic iguana was the same each year. She had scratched its eye out as a means of identification, and there was an odd red stripe down its pale belly.
But next year, it would be a new iguana.
Greta knew this well, because she would be the one to stab the present one beyond the reparo spell. She hated it more than she hated Wen himself, even though that wasn't that much. He was a good guy as older brothers went, but that wasn't too far either. And the plastic iguana needed to pay, no matter what it took.
Her arm brushed something that definitely didn't belong… taking it and looking closer, Greta smugly grinned. It was the plastic iguana.
Taking out her spork from lunch, Greta muttered, "Steelio," and the once plastic spork became metal with the rather unique, advanced spell. It was one of Greta's own, but most of the people she tried to teach failed miserably.
But back to business.
Raising the metal kitchen utensil above her head, Greta slammed her arm down on the unsuspecting iguana, ripping it only a bit.
Needless to say, it took quite a while to disintegrate the entire thing. But from there, the Plastic Iguana was a beautiful thing, its malformed body seemed to have spontaneously combusted, its Styrofoam and plastic guts spilling over the luggage.
And then came the surprise.
Wen had been very creative this year.
Plastic Iguanas started popping up at random places throughout the room. They were spilling over desks, smothering everything else.
"Wen, I'm gonna kill you!" Greta shouted.
This was just a trivial part of her very… interesting life.
Part 1It was the first day of Hogwarts, and having moved from Beauxbatons, Greta needed to be sorted.
"Platform 9 and three quarters… showy bastards," Greta mumbled under her breath. "They couldn't use the standard 7 and a half, no…" her trunk floated behind her, near to the ground so that muggles would not notice its lack of propulsion or gravity. She looked up, glared at the wall, and walked through it, composure never taking a single stone, Wen stumbling after her.
The train stood before them, and Greta couldn't help but grin. It was large and red… just like Thomas the "Choochoo" that the girl she'd babysat for used to like. But now she liked other things… Greta still remembered how she had squealed so happily when she had watched "Troy"…
Not caring enough to wait for Wen, Greta loped onto the train to immediately be confronted by a girl with sort of bushy hair wearing red-trimmed robes.
"What are you doing? We aren't allowed to do magic out of school. Truly, are you trying to get expelled?" she exclaimed, and Greta just raised her eyes.
"Hi. Nice to meet you too," Greta pushed past the girl and found an empty compartment. Stupid goody-goodies. She shook her head with disdain, stuffing her laden trunk under the seat.
Staring out the window, reservedly, Greta thought about the landscape. It wasn't worth it to think about Hogwarts; it could only be so good or bad. The landscape, on the other hand, was worth thought.
It all passed rather quickly, and none of it looked quite right, but the rolling hills were rather beautiful, and the sky was the perfect shade of blue…
Greta heard the compartment door open and close with a smack.
Without bothering to look in his direction, Greta monotoned, "Hey, Wen."
"Greta, you know what I want."
Turning to look at him, Greta said, "What?" just a bit too innocently.
"Hand it over, Greta."
"You mean this?" she waved a mutilated plastic iguana under his nose, tauntingly.
"Greta, I'm gonna kill you," he stated in a perfectly calm voice, grinning slightly, and shaking his head.
Smiling, she invited, "here, sit down."
Good-tempered, Wen shook his head. "Nah, I've met a few other guys, and we're gonna plot your demise, you just wait." He smiled and laughed.
"Suit yourself, sir," Greta turned back to the window, and dove back into the fabricated landscape, immediately dismissing Wen and thinking about how to write a spell that would burn her signature into an object viewable only to students, and undetectable by anything magic or muggle.
The compartment door slid open once more, interrupting Greta's train of thought.
"What is it this time, Wen?" she asked before turning, and immediately swallowed her words.
Standing, and still filtering into the tiny space, were four guys and a blond-haired, actually rather pretty, girl. Wen followed them into what was now a rather crowded compartment.
Bored with Wen's antics, and wanting to get back to emptily staring at the countryside, Greta started shouting, "Out. Everyone, out, please. There's no room here." She muttered a spell under her breath, making everyone, including her, feel claustrophobic.
As intended, the four boys and the girl started to chaotically file out, but Wen, bless his stupid, cruel heart, laughed, saying the countercurse.
"Greta, do you hate us already? And this place is obviously empty. Trust me, I wouldn't want to make anyone here put up with you – or you embarrass me in front of them," he gave her a meaningful glance "but everywhere else was full."
Glaring genuinely at Wen, Greta sneered, "fine. I'll remind you of this incident when you're begging me not to make your life hell," and turned back to the window.
"Pardon me," said a cold voice, obviously not meaning the polite phrase, "but I believe there is a misunderstanding." The voice suggested something less like a misunderstanding and more like a threat. Greta turned back to the small congregation.
"What?" she asked bluntly.
"My name," said a blond, blue-eyed guy, stepping forward, "is Draco Malfoy. You would do well to respect me."
"Not necessarily," Greta turned to look back out the window, uncaring of who Malfoy was. She heard Wen sigh exasperatedly.
"Come on, Greta. Wouldn't you at least like to know who you're sharing your precious compartment with?"
"No, Wen, not particularly." Greta continued to stare out the window. Now it appeared that they were somewhere in the Alps… odd…
"This is not a choice Greta."
"It is if I want it to be."
Malfoy butted in rudely, possibly trying to seem charming, but failing miserably. This finally made Greta turn her head, if only to see the pathetic person standing before her. "Come on, Greta, don't you want to meet-"
"First things first, Malfoy. Sorry if I seem discriminatory, but I've already got bad vibes from you. You're a git, in the case that you didn't understand that. Second of all, don't you dare call me Greta. Call me Les. Friends call me Greta. And no, I don't want to meet." Applause rang through the compartment, and Greta noticed a few new entries from the back.
"Great job!" a tall, red-haired boy pretended to cry with joy, "I don't think I could have said something better myself."
The blonde boy, Malfoy, turned around in a flash. "What's your problem Weasley? And where's Potter? And the rest of your mudblood crowd? I thought, oh, wait, there he is, hiding behind you as usual, I see."
The boy called Potter, with black-brown hair adjusted his glasses. "Malfoy, what a pleasant surprise. We'd just heard that you were down here, thought we'd stop by for a courtesy call. Didn't know you'd be forcing your 'etiquette' on some poor new soul."
Greta had taken this diversion to go back to the window in appearance only. Under her breath, she muttered, "Bastard. Clemens Draconem portat." Latin. Greta had discovered the old spell case, often overlooked, when looking through a muggle Latin book. Angry, she had been jabbing her wand wildly and screaming the Latin phrases, irate with her own misunderstanding, when the floor and everything on it had started floating beneath her.
And thus the new spell case had been discovered, this certain one proclaiming that Clemens would carry Draco. And Clemens did.
Malfoy was suspended in mid air, held by an apparition only he could see or feel.
Sighing, Wen declared, "Greta, please, I don't know where you found all those Latin spells. Take it off him, and we'll leave you alone." The hovering Malfoy grunted something that sounded like 'yeah right,' but Wen shushed him.
"Fine." Greta muttered the Latin opposite and jabbed her wand in the proper manner. "Now leave."
Though Malfoy and his cronies filed out, Wen waited until most of them were gone. "You know Greta, It'd be great if you gave them a chance." And he left. Then three others filed in.
-----
Draco Malfoy thought as he exited the compartment. Ok, so 'thought' and 'exited' wouldn't be quite accurate.
Draco Malfoy swooned.
His heart was in the clouds, though why he thought he had a chance with Greta Lestrange escaped even the brightest of souls. What did he think when she had dangled him upside down from the compartment roof? What did he think of her jibes, directed at him?
Apparently not what Greta meant by them.
Crabbe and Goyle motioned the delusional Malfoy into another, mostly empty compartment, the only other passenger being asleep. Crabbe and Goyle were disturbed. Malfoy was never daydreaming.
They sat down, and a few moments later, Wen joined them.
"May I have a private word with Draco, please?"
Still smiling dreamily, Malfoy agreed, and stepped into the hall, the face of Greta Lestrange looming in his mind. "Sure."
Wen could see through facial expressions alone what Draco was thinking, not to mention the show of politeness he had shown Greta originally. This was not good. "Draco…"
"What?" a frown crossed the Malfoy's face as he came back to reality.
"Let's just cut to the chase. It wouldn't do well for you to hit on my sister."