Okay...hi?
My name is I am the Poptart, and I am the poptart.
SO! I'm assuming you've all heard about "My Immortal", havent'cha? Hmm, wasn't that a stinker? However, I, being the nutjob that I am, thought one day, "If one took 'My Immortal' and spun it on its head, one could get a decent story!" So, I did that, and I just BARELY have this planned out, am making the chapters up as we speak, and on top of that I haven't read all the books yet (only made it partway through the third before I stopped for SOME reason, and that was a long while ago)! I could just be proving myself wrong! So, if I get anything inaccurate as far as canon goes, (turns around) I insist that you kick me. I promise that I'll read the rest as soon as possible *determined fist pump!*. So…I guess that I'll start?
Chapter 1—A Bit of a Queer Group
Harry Potter wandered down the aisles of the train, just behind Ronald Weasley, looking for a seat. It was quite an odd train, or not the normal kind to say the very least. This was a magical train, a magical train to a magical place. In that place they had experienced plenty already, even though it was only their third year. One would think that Harry would not ever really worry over anything, being the most famous wizard in the world, but then again, perhaps he should. He was, after all, but a young child.
"Hey, Potter!" a taunting voice cried out. It belonged to a Slytherin—undoubtedly a friend of Malfoy's. The student produced an Every-Flavor bean from a small packet, and threw it at Harry's head. It missed by mere centimeters. Grumbling to himself, Harry continued walking, irritated, though he said nothing to the Slytherin student.
The only other thing he saw that was almost notable was a rather odd group of students. Not for how they looked (which was, admittedly rather odd as well, for they were clustered together as though they had less room than they did and were all quite varied), but rather, for the bit of conversation he'd picked up from them as he walked past. Two of the students were holding some sort of debate, the content of it involving a rat with a battleaxe, a blind old woman with a machine gun, and a third member of the party with a pint of milk. When Harry had heard this, he almost stopped in his tracks to simply hear the rest of the argument. But, Ron was getting a bit ahead of him, so he quickly went on.
Now, forgive me, but we will now lose focus on Harry to observe the odd group of students. And what a queer group they were! A scrawny one of medium height was hunched forth, hands folded in his lap, fighting with the girl across from him. His short, scruffy brown hair and wide, glaring blue eyes—though concealed by his green hood, one could just tell that they were like this—went along perfectly with the pestered tone that he was using. His name was Norris Cunningham.
"I don't care if the gun has unlimited ammo, she'll just keep firing into oblivion! Besides, this rat is smart! He'll dodge the bullets and get the old biddy in the ankles!"
The short, plump girl across from him raised an eyebrow. She slumped back in her seat, her pink blouse tucking in and out of her trousers, twirling a lock of her silky black hair around her finger. Her name was Madeline Lorresby, and her brown eyes gleamed with amusement as she replied,
"Well, you seem to have forgotten that a rat, no matter how smart, can't lift an axe up, or even really operate it. The lady can get the rat, and Roselle can surely take the lady down!"
"How? How can Roselle possibly kill a blind old lady with a CARTON OF MILK?"
"Because it's Roselle! She can get you tonight armed with nothing but a toothpick and a tube of toothpaste!" Madeline replied smugly, as though she had just completely won the debate.
"Oh, why am I involved in this stupid argument? And why do I have a carton of milk instead of my wand?" a third girl intervened. She was the tallest out of everyone in the cluster, and certainly the one who cared most about her appearance. Her white blouse was well-ironed and tucked neatly into her skirt; one couldn't find a single wrinkle on her despite the outfit clinging sadly on to her thin frame. Her red hair was tucked nicely into a bun that sat on top of her head. Her blue eyes, however, were quite bloodshot, probably from her lack of sleep. She was Roselle Fiore Hussley, but sometimes even she called herself Roselle Huffy instead. "I honestly can't stand it when you have these stupid, stupid arguments!"
"Oh, it's not that dumb." Said the fourth. Her sweater vest was slightly covering her white shorts. A pair of square glasses was over her green eyes, slightly crooked on her face. Her blonde hair was quite ruffled, and cut slightly uneven. She was Ivory Johnson, and she wasn't nearly as gracious as her name would imply. "But I do have to ask—what kind of milk?"
"What does THAT matter?" Norris asked in shock.
"It only changes the whole situation!" Ivory replied, indignant. Roselle sighed and shook her head.
"I suppose," She muttered audibly, "That this is what I get for picking all of you to sit with. I swear that the next time we board this train I will sit as far away from you as I possibly can!
"Now then," she said, finally calm, "So I can make my mum think I'm smart, I've gotten a history book all about Hogwarts." Roselle gestured to the massive open book in her lap. "It has some old documents in it, see? Before the school was even established. It says that they're complaints about the wizards in the community poorly using their magic and—oh, drat."
"What?" Madeline asked curiously.
"I wanted to look at these documents, but they're in the Elven language." Roselle said in disappointment. Then she asked, as though she might actually get an answer, "Do any of you speak Elven?"
"Roselle, I'm a doctor, not a linguist!" Norris announced. He turned to Ivory, who appeared confused, and taunted, "I'm sorry, was that too obscure for you?"
Ivory rolled her eyes. She was just about to give him an equally teasing answer when the lights on the train flickered out.
Poptart Footnotes: Well, now, how awful was that? :3