Good day, fellow Potterheads. Here is a brand spanking new Fic that will use characters no one really cares about. But hey, do I care? Nope.
Also, for this fic please discard all images you've ever had of Theodore Nott! He will be very different to what he is perceived as in the book.
The romance progression will be unfortunately slow, for I want the chemistry to be realistic for the characters.
HAVE FUN!
"Have you got everything?"
"Yes mum." Elizabeth Penley pushed the too big sleeves of her brand new robes further up her arms.
"Wand?"
"Yes." Elizabeth produced her eleven-and-three-quarter inch slightly springy yew with phoenix feather core from her pocket and waved it in front of her mother.
"Owl?"
"Yes."
"Books? Cauldron?"
"Yes mum!" Elizabeth jumped up to give her mum and dad a big hug. She turned to join her older sister at the door of the carriage.
"You'll be in all red and gold soon!" Her mother said proudly.
"Have fun sweetheart, okay? We'll see you at Christmas! Make sure you write to us!" Her father shouted from the platform.
"I will!" Elizabeth waved furiously to her parents as the train began to move from the station.
"Come on Lizzie, we need to get a seat." Her big sister Rowan said, dragging her along by the arm.
…
This was it. This was what she had waited her whole life for. This was what she had wanted for as long as she could remember. Elizabeth Penley was about to join her siblings in the best house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Gryffindor.
Lizzie confidently strode down the centre of the great hall with the rest of the first year students, passing the faces of her soon-to-be house-mates. As she approached her sister Rowan, she gave the widest smile she ever given anyone ever, which was returned with a reassuring pat on her back. Elizabeth was still looking for her brother William when the crowd stopped moving and she bumped into the person in front.
"Sorry," said Lizzie, smoothing down her robes.
A boy with shaggy black hair and big round glasses turned around and smiled at her. "It's okay," He said politely. "I'm Harry,"
"Lizzie." she grinned as she shook his hand.
The batty old lady at the front began to speak about the strange pointed hat she held in her hand. That's it! Lizzie thought. That's the sorting hat!
Her excitement bubbled to a whole new level as other first years were sorted. That strange looking Professor McGonagall was calling out each student's name, but Lizzie was too deep in her own imagination to notice. It was only when the Professor called out her name did her trance break.
"Penley, Elizabeth," McGonagall spoke with the hat in her hand. Lizzie's heart was beating so rapidly in her chest that she was worried it might break through her ribs. She scanned the Gryffindor table to see the smiling faces of her brother and sister before the hat darkened her vision.
"Hmm," it whispered to her. "I see your courage and bravery, yes, no doubting that, and I see you come from a whole of family Gryffindors, right back to your great-grandparents. But this," he paused to deliberate the decision, and Lizzie's heart had jumped into her throat with anticipation. "This is different. You're not like your family; you have more cunning and ambition to be great than they'll ever have, and it seems your strong sense of friendship sets you apart, too. So it seems it must be- SLYTHERIN!"
WHAT?!
Had she just heard it right? Slytherin?
The hat rose from her head and her eyes were almost brimming with tears. She saw the faces of Rowan and William who were shocked beyond belief, and then she shifted her gaze to the cheering and clapping Slytherin table. Slowly, Lizzie made her way over to her new house.
She was upset. No, upset wasn't the word. Mortified, devastated, crushed, shattered and trampled were better words to describe how she felt. This wasn't right; she was supposed to be sat with her siblings in the Lion's den, not here in the snake pit!
"I'm Pansy," a little dark haired girl called from directly across the table, reaching out to shake Lizzie's hand. "Pansy Parkinson."
"Elizabeth Penley." replied Lizzie timidly, taking her new house-mate's hand.
"Can I call you Lizzie?" said Pansy.
"Okay," Elizabeth beginning to question whether or not her siblings had been telling the truth about who Slytherins were really. That Pansy girl seemed nice enough, but what would the others be like?
"Now that is some mane of hair you've got,"
Lizzie looked to the right of Pansy, her eyes settling on a thin, brown haired boy who she had seen sorted into Slytherin during the ceremony. He kept moving his brown-eyed gaze around her hair as if it were as tall as a skyscraper.
"Um, thank you?" Lizzie said uncertainly, wondering whether the boy meant it as a compliment or an insult.
Of course, Lizzie had been waiting for someone to comment on her aggressively curly hair, tangling around her like bramble left to grow for a hundred years. The dark brown curls stopped just short of her waist, as she wanted them to grow thinking it would calm the tresses as the weight increased on her roots.
Needless to say, it didn't work.
Her mane was still as wild as ever, surrounding her round cheeks like someone had just dragged her through a bush backwards. Lizzie was quite positive it would reach her knees if ever straightened.
"Theodore Nott," the brunette boy said, reaching out to shake Lizzie's had just the same as Pansy did. Well, if there was one good impression she was getting from these people, it was politeness.
"Lizzie," she said, taking the Theodore's pale hand.
The feast began when the last person to be sorted –a dark skinned student called Blaise Zabini- sauntered over to the Slytherin table. He promptly sat down in between Pansy and a platinum-haired boy, earning a look of distaste from her.
Lizzie didn't really eat much, although she was hungry enough to eat the entire tables' worth of food. She was picking at her half eaten chocolate éclair when it disappeared from her plate. The Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, was talking about some banned corridor or something, and that first years shouldn't go into the Forbidden Forest. When he finally stopped talking, a tall 7th year girl with short black hair stood and shouted, "First years, with me!"
Lizzie rose to her feet to stand beside Pansy as the group left the great hall and weaved their way through the many corridors of the castle. "Where are going? And who's that older student in front?" Lizzie asked Pansy after a long while.
"To the Slytherin Common Room; it's in the dungeons, you see, under the Black Lake. And she is a Prefect. It's like you're a police officer of Hogwarts, you get to give out detentions and take away points and everything. I hope to be one when I get to 5th year." said Pansy in one long breath.
Lizzie's eyes widened. "The dungeons? Are you serious?" she squealed quietly, completely ignoring Pansy's ramble about the Prefect.
"Deadly. My brother says that during the day, the common room's green because of the light on the lake. He says it's really nice, actually."
Lizzie's tears began to resurface. She should've been making her way towards the rooms of red and gold right now, but instead she was doomed to green and silver for the rest of her Hogwarts Education.
Bloody brilliant.
…
When Lizzie had finally made it up to her bed in the dorm, she'd met every one of her roommates. There was Pansy Parkinson, a chubby girl called Millicent Bulstrode, a tall and blonde haired girl called Daphne Greengrass (who made Lizzie feel very intimidated) and a strange looking glasses-wearing girl called Tracey Davis.
It was simple, her room. It was just a large, round space with five four-poster beds pushed against the walls, each separated by a grand window. The bed sheets were a bright emerald green, and the drapes were the same shade and lined with slivers of silver.
"So," Pansy began, flopping onto her green-and-silver four poster bed. "I'm a pure-blood. Best there is, really. What about you, Millicent?"
The round faced girl sat down on her own bed cross-legged with her quilt draped around her shoulders. "Same, I'm a pure-blood too."
Pansy's eyes widened. "Daphne, Tracey?" Both girls nodded excitedly from their beds. "This is brilliant! We've got a pure-blood dorm!"
Pansy finally turned to Elizabeth. "You're a pure-blood, aren't you Lizzie?"
In truth, Elizabeth was not a pure-blood. She was a half-blood, her mother being a muggle and her father the wizard. Lizzie had grown up without any prejudices towards blood-purity, but she didn't think it was the same for her roommates.
"No, actually," Lizzie started, her nerves suddenly building up as Pansy gasped. "My mum is a muggle, and my dad is a pure-blood."
No-one spoke for a while. Pansy was staring daggers at Lizzie with such a painful intensity that Lizzie had to break the stare. Of course, Lizzie had guessed that she had upset the delicate pure-blood balance of the dorm.
"Well, at least you're not a one of those mudbloods."
...
Little flustered Lizzie was on her way to her first lesson, the Slytherin tie around her neck like a ball-and-chain. Hundreds of students were milling around in the corridors, barging and bumping into Lizzie as she passed through.
"Lizzie!" she heard a voice call from behind her.
She turned to see her big sister striding towards her like an angry storm, with several large and heavy-looking books in her arms and her blonde hair flying around wildly in the wind. William followed three steps behind. Not unlike Lizzie, Rowan's hair was just as curly, like golden rays of sunshine around her face. William seemed to be the only sibling who didn't inherit his mother's wild hair, as his own brown locks fell in almost-straight waves cropped close to his ears.
"What did you do?" Rowan questioned like a rampaging Veela.
"I didn't do anything! It knew about the rest of our family being Gryffindors and it said something about courage but it said I was different-"
"What did it mean by 'different'?" Will demanded. The corridors were beginning to empty, and his thunderous voice was echoing on the ancient stone walls.
Lizzie lowered her tone. "It said I had more ambition than the rest of you," Lizzie paused to gauge her elder siblings' reaction, but their expressions remained in the furious position it had been in before, their green eyes piercing down to her soul with pure rage. "And I had a strong sense of loyalty or something."
William rubbed his thumb and index finger over his brow, letting out a long sigh as he did. "There's got to be a mistake," he said.
"Does it really matter that I'm not in the same house as you? I mean, we can still see each other after lessons and at dinner and stuff?" said Lizzie hopefully.
"Of course we can't!" Rowan burst out. "We can't sit together at dinner because you have to sit at your own house's table," Her fury somehow reaching a new height. "And if I'm seen with you anywhere else in the castle my friends won't like me anymore!"
Lizzie gasped. Was her sister really putting her prejudices ahead of her own sister? Her mouth widened in shock as Rowan's snapped shut.
"It's not… not my-" Lizzie to a deep breath before screaming. "I couldn't help it!" Lizzie stormed off with an angry sadness in her chest and tears rolling down her face.
Lizzie could not believe what Rowan had just said. She began to question whether her sister should have been put in Gryffindor in the first place. Was her reputation more important than family?
"Late on the first day, Miss Penley," a strict, nasal voice called.
Oops.
Lizzie had walked into her potions lesson ten minutes late. There was a man all clad in black at the front of the dark classroom, with greasy hair matching the colour of his robes. He had stern looking features, a large nose like a crow's and a down-turning mouth.
Each head in the classroom had turned to face her little frame in the doorway, and swore she could feel each pair of eyes watching her every move with a critical stare.
"I-I'm sorry p-professor," Lizzie stuttered, trying to come up with a weak excuse and wiping the fat tears from her cheeks. "I got lost."
...
Lizzie couldn't really complain about her first day. Aside from a disastrous purple explosion in potions (which, strangely, left her with dark blue hair) and her incident with Professor Flitwick when she hit him in the head with a cup as she tried to perform a Wingardium Leviosa, she had managed to make a few friends.
Lizzie had managed to wash out most of the blue tinge leftover from potions, but she was still shaking plum coloured dust from her dark curls as she made her way back to her dorm room. When she did finally arrive, her roommates were all sat in the centre whispering quietly and giggling. As Lizzie crested the stairs, each head turned to stare daggers at her for the second time today.
It was Pansy who spoke first. "We've all had a discussion," she said, gesturing to the other girls who nodded confidently. "And we've decided you can't join our group."
"What group?" said Lizzie, furrowing her brows in confusion.
Daphne spoke next, her perfect blonde curls bouncing as she moved. "Well, sorry Lizzie, but you're not like us. You're not a pure-blood. So we don't want to be friends with you."
Pansy's mouth opened, but chubby Millicent butted in. "It's not that. If your mum was a witch we'd be friends with you. But she's not. She's a Muggle."
Surprisingly, Tracey Davis was remaining stoically quiet, looking down occasionally to push her glasses further up her nose.
Pansy finally got a word in. "You can't talk to us. Don't act like you know us when you see us around school, and don't even bother telling anyone. They won't listen."
Lizzie gulped and nodded, holding back tears. "Okay then."
The girls turned around, and promptly began giggling. Lizzie dragged her feet across the floor and climbed slowly into bed.
First, her sister had practically disowned her for something she couldn't help, and second, she'd been kicked out of a friendship group she'd been in for all of five minutes. To make that matter worse, she'd be spending seven years with the very same girls.
It probably could've gone better.
That night, Elizabeth took back everything she'd ever thought about each house.
Thoughts would be greatly appreciated in reviews (which you will get a metaphorical cookie for).
~Rain