The inhabitants of the houses along the Rue Montmarte were used to hearing strange noises at strange times, and none of them so much as glanced up from their work on that Saturday morning as they heard a scream of fury reverberating from the old gray house on the hill. "Poor Monsieur van Goetham," They said to each other, shaking their heads and sighing. "Having to put up with that daughter of his. Like a harpy, that one,"
Inside the house, the same Mr. Edward van Goetham looked up at his sixteen year old daughter, a look of surprise on his somewhat pudgy face.
"England!?!?!?!" She shrieked, looking every bit like her deceased mother in her worst tantrums. "You're making me move to ENGLAND?"
"I thought that you'd be happy, darling," He said frantically, hurrying to get a word in as she took a deep breath. He knew that the worst was over from previous experience; the yells and crying only ever lasted during the initial shock.
"You know that I have to go to Romania to do some research, and then I'm going straight to America, and there is simply no way that you can come with me," He looked up at her, trying to make it seem like he hadn't just dropped a bombshell. A major bombshell.
She sat with a sound like all the air that was holding her aloft was leaving her body, collapsing into an overstuffed armchair, looking at the fireplace where she would, no doubt, be thrust into.
"England?" She said again, this time with a hint of desperation in her voice. Her father sighed, removing his glasses. "It's what your mother would have wanted, darling," He said softly. "Now, go and pack."
And without a word, she ran up the stairs, giving her father one last glare. She wouldn't be going easy.
England.. bloody hell.
It was one of those days where normal people would stay inside, wrapped in a thick blanket, probably reading a nonsensical book. But since the villagers of Hogsmeade would be considered anything but normal, it shouldn't have surprised anyone that they were doing just the opposite of sitting at home and reading.
Rain was falling in thick sheets, torrents; the sky was black with clouds, though it was no later then four in the afternoon. Shoppers hurried by, hardly pausing; they did not seem at all hindered by the fact that they were getting enough water to fill two large oceans dumped down their necks.
Inside the warmth of The Three Broomsticks, Aminta van Goetham wrinkled her nose in distaste as someone opened the door of the pub, letting in the wind and dripping water onto the floor. Aminta was just now remembering, sitting alone at a four-person table, how much she disliked being wet. And being cold- the combination of the two made everything about the day worse. She wrapped her hands even tighter around the steaming mug of chocolate in front of her. She drained her cup, and then glanced over at the table next to her with a smile. A group of Hogwarts teachers gulped down firewhisky, brandy, and malt whiskey, their eyes flickering towards the clock mounted on the wall. Aminta snickered: tonight the Hogwarts students would arrive at the castle for the start of term. It took a few seconds for that bit of information to sink in. Tomorrow… tomorrow she would be starting her own studies at Hogwarts. The familiar snakes of nervousness twined around and around in her stomach. If she could, she would gladly perform any hex, any curse, on her tutor. Who cared if he wasn't qualified to teach NEWT level classes? So what? Who cared about her future? All she cared about was the one, gnawing fact that tomorrow she would be forced up the hill towards the castle, to attend her first day of classes as a Hogwarts student.
It was enough to make her want to heave. Or hit something. Or someone… her father or her worthless magics tutor. Or both.
"Miss van Goetham?" Aminta looked up and gave the stern looking woman a polite smile which she returned, sitting with her own drink.
"I am Professor McGonagall," The stern woman said, peering at Aminta over the edge of her glass. Aminta murmured something indistinct and polite.
To be frank, Aminta didn't really care about "protocol" and "curfews" and "student regulations"; once she heard that she would be expected in the Great Hall first thing the next morning, and that she would be allowed to stay with her sister as long as she "didn't think it would be too dangerous to wander around Hogsmeade at all hours" she was set. It wasn't like she was planning on joining the Quidditch team or any of the clubs… it was just two years worth of classes, and then she would be free. Thank Merlin.
"Now, I want to be quite clear," The Professor said, and Aminta looked at her, listening a little guiltily. "Your… situation is very unusual. We have hardly any transfers or non-boarding students. If your work is not quite up to the mark, or you don't perform to the standard that Hogwarts expects… I am afraid that the consequences would leave much to be desired. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly. Crystal clear, actually," Aminta said, giving her version of a sweet smile; McGonagall didn't look very convinced. She sighed.
"And you know that you'll be a part of Gryffindor House, right?" Aminta nodded- she had already been up to the castle the hour before, and had already dealt with the horrid, old hat. She could feel her nose wrinkling at the thought of all those mothballs.
It was clear then that McGonagall didn't have anything else to say, but Aminta didn't quite know how to make a graceful exit. It wasn't as though she wanted to leave the pub- it was warm, after all, and dry. After a few silent, tense moments, McGonagall looked at the clock on the wall and nodded.
"Right. I should be going… students will be arriving soon, you know…" She straightened her hat and gave what she obviously thought was a comforting smile. "I'm sure that you'll enjoy your time at Hogwarts. I'll see you in class tomorrow, Miss van Goetham,"
And with that, she and the other teachers reluctantly made their way outside.
On the morning of the first day of the school term, a very tired Neville Longbottom was rudely poked in the side by one Dean Thomas. It took a few moments (Dean had chosen the second beforehand to stuff his mouth with bacon) but after a few grunts and a great deal of pointing and gesturing, the entire group of sixth year Gryffindors (and quite a few other students) looked to find what had caused the excitement.
A girl stood at the great double doors of the hall, her robes and blonde hair wet from the still-falling rain. Even Neville, clueless as he was to many things, could see the excitement about this. All the students knew each other, at least by name, and many of them had been with the same seven people in class for five, six, seven years. The appearance of a new student so late in their schooling was not something that happened often. In fact, it had never happened in the years that Neville had attended Hogwarts School. And it probably helped that she so happened to be quite pretty; several boys where looking her way, probably due to that fact.
The girl paused, her light eyes almost narrowing (it would appear that she noticed the pointing fingers, all directed at her); she faltered, looking quite out of place and nervous. Neville felt a bit sorry for her.
"Miss van Goetham!"
With a sigh of relief, Aminta turned towards the voice, pointedly ignoring the fact that the skinny dark-haired boy at the closest table was staring at her with a most unbecoming curiosity.
"Professor, I wondered… er… about my schedule?" McGonagall nodded once, with what could almost be a smile crossing her face.
"Yes, of course. Here," And she handed Aminta a piece of parchment.
Aminta looked at her classes, nodding once. Everything was in order… Defense against the Dark arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Ancient Runes. Plus the standard study halls that she knew she would enjoy. The only problem….
"Er… Professor…" She stopped, not at all sure how to explain her predicament.
Aminta had, quite possibly, the worse sense of direction. Even getting to the Great Hall was hard for her- she had almost ended up in the dungeons, and it was only because of the startled first year boy who had pointed out the hall that she had managed to make it to the bloody hall in the first place. And now that she was actually there, she wasn't at all thrilled about it; she raised her eyebrows at the sandy-haired Gryffindor, who had the decency to look a little chagrined at being caught.
"How… do I get to…" She glanced down at her schedule and then looked back at the professor, "Ancient Runes?"
"Ah, yes," McGonagall nodded once, and then gestured to a girl behind her.
"Miss Granger will go with you."