A wandering moon
Read this fanfic as if it were a part of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, as if it were integrated in as a separate thread of the story. Using this premise, I'm going to skip over anything you would know by reading the book, and I'm starting at the moment after Harry meets Luna Lovegood.
The weird little blonde girl had just finished introducing herself when Harry noticed a hooded figure jumping into the carriage in front of them immediately before it took off. The figure seemed to appear out of nowhere, but quickly took off his hood and introduced himself. Harry wouldn't have taken notice of it further, except that a few moments later, another hooded figure leapt into their own carriage just before it clamored into life. Instead of sitting on the bench like everyone else, the figure leaned against the front of the carriage and stood, unmoving, staring at the floor. An awkward silence filled the carriage. Hermione and Ron looked at each other with the same puzzled expression, Neville seemed stunned to silence, Luna seemed not to have taken notice of the visitor, but Harry stared at the person. The cloak was nothing he had ever seen before, and certainly not part of Hogwarts' uniform. It was black and so large that none of the figure beneath it could be seen, with silvery intricate patterns slicing through the black. Harry could just make out that the inside was white, with the same pattern in gold. Nothing he had ever seen before. But the persistent silence of the figure bothered Harry more than its intriguing clothes. So, he was the first to break the silence.
"It's very rude to barge in on one's carriage and not introduce yourself."
The figure raised its head at this, and turned to Harry, chuckling, "And what would you like to know?"
American, and a woman. Harry thought, though not surprised at the former, the latter seemed astounding. Usually women had better manners.
"I'd like to see to whom I'm speaking, and know your name." Harry straightened himself to his full height, attempting to be commanding.
"As you wish." She said simply, pulling her hood down and throwing back her cloak. He heard Ron gasp beside him and Hermione's smack that quickly followed, but he barely took notice. The woman before them was simultaneously beautiful and frightening. She had long, flowing waves of black hair, darker than midnight, and eyes the color of ash and morning mist somehow impossibly rolled into a hauntingly pale blue-gray. Her skin was inhumanly pale, which set off her plump, red lips and raven hair perfectly. Harry felt as he looked at her that he was staring at the moon itself, brought down among them. Her figure was no exception to her beauty; she was shorter than Hermione, but had willowy limbs that looked both graceful and strong, like the lean limbs of a jungle cat. She was scantily clad enough to show off her frame, wearing tiny shorts and a tank top, both black, with black boots that reached to her knees and black forearm guards. She should've looked ridiculous, but somehow, she didn't; perhaps due to her overbearing confidence.
And yet, despite every appealing part of her, every inch of her that would have made any straight man's heart jump, Harry felt she could not be trusted. Like a beautiful pitcher plant that smells like honey, Harry imagined her pulling in her victims with her charms, and then devouring them.
"You know, it's rude to stare." She addressed Harry. She smiled and scooted to sit on the edge of the bumping carriage, an act that would've surely caused any normal person to fall overboard at the slightest jostle, but she remained too still.
Harry shook his head slightly, suddenly aware of how he must've looked a moment ago. "Sorry." He reluctantly replied.
"No problem," she grinned at him, "I'm quite used to it. It's a blessing and a curse."
"Oh, hello." Luna smiled at the raven woman, apparently just coming out of her reverie.
"I'm Abbey." the raven woman waved at Luna congenially.
"Luna Lovegood." Luna smiled and gave an odd sort of cross-armed salute.
"I-I'm Neville Longbottom." Neville shakily introduced himself. He was blushing and trembling slightly. Abbey's grin widened.
Hermione shot a quick glance at Harry before smiling at Abbey, "Hello, Hermione Granger, nice to make your acquaintance."
"Pleasure to meet you." Abbey bowed her head slightly.
Ron jumped up and rushed over to shake Abbey's hand, "Ron Weasley, great to meet you." He spoke with a goofy grin glued to his face.
Abbey didn't miss the venomous look Hermione shot them both at Ron's enthusiasm and she coolly shook Ron's hand. Ron stumbled back to his seat and Abbey turned her attention to Harry.
"And you are Harry Potter, are you not?" She asked in her velvet voice. Too perfect. Harry thought. He did not trust his voice not to betray his feelings, so he made do with a stiff nod.
Abbey's answering giggle and smile were too saccharine, "Oh come now, Harry, we should be able to speak to each other. We're going to be great friends, you and I."
At that, the carriage stopped in front of the castle, and Abbey was the first to jump off, walking calmly over to a group of 4 cloaked similarly.
"I don't understand, they aren't Hogwarts students. What are they doing here?" Ron asked, a little too much curiosity in his voice. Hermione rolled her eyes and got off the carriage, the others following, Harry exiting last.
Any trepidations Harry felt at the unexpected visitor were soon pushed to the back of his mind. He was home. As he walked through the familiar archway, he decided to forget about the strange Abbey girl. With any luck, she would simply have business with one of the professors and he'd never see her again. He was even laughing with Ron and Hermione as the first years were sorted out, and was ready to begin the feast when Dumbledore stood and the room immediately grew silent.
"We have a surprise this year. We will be welcoming foreign exchange students from America. Their education is vastly different than yours, so help them adjust and allow them to teach you in turn." Harry did not miss how Dumbledore's gaze met his. "Welcome them heartily as we sort them into their houses." Dumbledore motioned to McGonagall, who opened the doors the first years had come through.
Five people walked through the door, arranged by what Harry assumed to be age, a tall, beautiful boy leading the way, and Abbey in the middle. Harry felt his stomach drop. He heard Fred's low whistle, "Wow. Very beautiful girls. We should have exchange Americans more often."
Followed by George's, "I hope all the girls are Gryffindors. We can show them the ropes."
Harry nodded and tried to look amused, but he quickly was staring back at the group. They all walked with that same grace and strength, though they were all completely different looking.
The tallest boy was, indeed, very tall. He was well over 6 feet, with wavy, sandy blonde hair and a muscular build. McGonagall called his name, Sean McRowan, and he gracefully approached the stool and placed the hat on his head. The hat had probably never sorted someone so old before, but it was no match for the hat, for in seconds it announced "Hufflepuff!", and cheers rang out to greet him.
The next woman was just as unnaturally tall, and astoundingly beautiful. She didn't have the same haunting appearance as Abbey, but she was curvy and thin, built like a model, with wavy wheat-colored hair cascading down her back. McGonagall called her name out, Victoria Venoir, and she walked, slightly swinging her hips, to the stool. The hat barely touched her head before it yelled "Slytherin!" and a very enthusiastic greeting (which sounded like mostly boys) rang out from her new house table.
Abbey was next up, and Harry found himself wishing as hard as he could, not Gryffindor. But When McGonagall called out her name, all his thoughts seemed to melt away and grow stronger simultaneously. It was like a car crash, how everything seconds before seemed unimportant, and how everything in those few seconds seemed more real than it should. "Abaddon Riddle." Harry felt shock wave through him. He was sure anyone around him would notice his reaction, but it was everything he could do not to scream out; he couldn't stop the sweat that trickled down his temple or the fact that all the color drained out of him. The hat took longer to deliberate her, and nearly a full minute had passed before it triumphantly yelled out, "Gryffindor!"
As the cheers broke out all around him and Abbey grinned and nearly ran toward them, Harry glanced at Dumbledore, hoping to see some flicker of hope that Dumbledore's mind reflected his own, but the headmaster was smiling and clapping as the next name was called. The Weasley twins made room between them for Abbey, so she sat, laughing between them, and watched as the last two of her classmates were sorted. Harry glanced at Hermione, who noticed immediately and met his gaze. She nodded, as if to say, "I know," and then turned toward her now filled plate and began to chat cheerily to Ron while cutting her food to keep up appearances.
Harry ate absentmindedly, which meant he barely ate at all, while his mind was reeling. He didn't think things could get worse until after the feast, when the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was introduced. The knot in Harry's stomach seemed nearly too much to bear, and he lagged behind the other Gryffindors with Ron and Hermione to tell them his suspicions before he burst.
"I can't believe I didn't see it before. She looks just like her father." Harry nearly spat with fury as he spoke.
"Calm down, Harry. Riddle isn't an exclusive name to Voldemort, and she's not even British. She's American. It could just be a coincidence. And besides, Dumbledore would not have let her into this school if he had any worries about her intentions. He's wiser than us, Harry. He would know if she was a spy." Hermione reassured them with her logic, which Harry always seemed to resist.
"I just don't trust her. She seems too charming, like she wants us to like her too much. She's trying too hard to get into everyone's favor."
"Oh back off it, Harry." Ron patted him on the back. "She probably just wants to fit in. She's the only one of her friends to end up in Gryffindor, so of course she wants people to like her."
They climbed through the portrait hole and stopped a few steps in. Abbey was sitting on the couch, Fred and George sitting close beside her with their arms around her, and everyone in Gryffindor pressed close in, almost worshipping her, hanging on her every word.
"- you see, we don't use wands in America, sorcery is done through our hands, so it was quite a shock for Ollivander when we sauntered up to him and asked to buy wands." Abbey giggled. "Now I've got it, I'm not exactly sure what to do with it. I suppose I'll have to figure it out. And I guess no more battle training." Abbey sighed dreamily, which caused hundreds of questions from excited people to be hurtled at her.
She finally noticed the three standing in the doorway, and she jumped up and exclaimed, "Harry!" and ran towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. The room was filled with whispers, whistles, and giggles instantly. Harry was too stunned to throw her off, but she detached herself anyway and whispered, "I told you we'd be great friends," and winked at him. She skipped back to the couch and sat back down between Fred and George.
"Ron, I've just met your lovely brothers, and they've assured me we're all going to be 'chums' as you crazy Brits call it." Abbey smiled at Ron, which seemed to melt him into stuttering, "S-sure."
"Well, I'm off to bed, boys." Abbey announced as she jumped up. Voices of disappointment and sighs followed, but Abbey simply kissed Fred and George each on the cheek before skipping up to Hermione, "Would you show me the way up? They haven't let me stop telling stories long enough to show me around." Hermione managed to smile and nod before Abbey grabbed her hand and stole her away, leaving Harry and Ron to stare at each other.
"Real evil spy, that one." Ron whispered, rolling his eyes, before heading up to the boys' dorm.
As Harry flopped down on his own bed, his muscles were sore from being tense for so long and they longed for sleep's gentle relaxation, but his mind wouldn't stop spinning. Could she be a spy? Voldemort's daughter? Could she be both and have got past Dumbledore? And what about this Umbridge woman? What horrors would she face Harry with? Harry felt much older than he was when he finally drifted to sleep, feeling like a lifetime's worth of stress had piled on him in a day.