Hi, thankyou for not being deterred by the awful summary - this is my first fanfiction but I've been writing it for a while, so I hope you like it!
I recommend you view in Sans-Serif and 3/4 to 1/2 - it's the closest to how the story looks on Word.
Disclaimer: I do not own, in any form, the characters or places mentioned in this novel that were published previous to this fiction. Rights of said creations go to J.K. Rowling.
The story takes place during Prisoner of Azkaban, though some side plots (e.g. Buckbeak) have been omitted or tweaked.
Chapter One: She Sleeps
The rushing countryside soon parted to reveal a stone platform lit at regular intervals by old-fashioned gas lanterns that cast a thick yellow fog hanging in the air. As the train squealed steadily to a halt, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George naturally looked out of their window – only to clap eyes on a peculiar sight. Their vision was clouded due to the pelting rain outside, and even after Ron had wiped his sleeve against the condensation covered glass, it was difficult to make out the shapes before them.
What appeared to be a young, female figure was lying still on the stone. She was clothed in some sort of white cloak, and her hair was a short and bouncy platinum blonde.
"Is she one of ours?" Harry asked, his voice clogged with worry.
Before his question could be answered, however, a large brown blur appeared, leaning over the mystery female. Within a minute, another figure, cloaked in robes of a brilliant purple, had Apparated from thin air, a woman in jade at his side. These three adults were easily recognisable as Rubeus Hagrid, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall: the school groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, a huge man with a heart of gold and a love for every being, be it clawed or fanged or able to tear a man to shreds with the smallest of efforts; the Headmaster of Hogwarts, a wise and powerful wizard whose half-moon glasses couldn't disguise the sparkle in his eyes, and who had a particular fondness for sherbet lemons; and the Deputy Headmistress who cared deeply under her strict and stern exterior, and could transfigure into a tabby cat at will. The odd trio were not looking happy. They were immersed in conversation, each frowning and shaking their heads in dismay. Then, strangely, Dumbledore lifted his head and gazed directly at their compartment. He raised his aged hand and muttered a few words – the spatters of rain immediately cleared from their window, allowing the astonished children to fully comprehend the situation.
Hagrid lifted the girl in white, holding her in an upright position. She looked roughly fifteen and had a petite frame, but a feminine figure. With the new view it was plain to see that she was wearing a costume wig; her eyes were closed and her cheekbones prominent. Her lips had been painted a vivid ruby and a small mole graced her right cheek, just above them.
Hermione let out a gasp.
"Marilyn Monroe," she breathed. The boys were bewildered – the reason being that they had no idea who the person Hermione had mentioned was. "She was an American movie starlet of the 1950s, a national – and global – sensation. Many believe her acting career was built mostly on her appearance and figure, but nevertheless the world was in shock when she was discovered dead at home in her early thirties."
"That's great, Hermione – but who's this girl?" Ron asked, puzzled.
"If you'd let me finish," Hermione snapped irritably, "Marilyn was immortalised in an infamous scene from a movie she starred in, in which she stood above a subway – train system, you know – grate and the skirt of her dress billowed upwards. This girl is clearly emulating her for some reason... maybe she was attending a fancy dress party?"
Throughout the entirety of Hermione's long-winded explanation, Dumbledore had been watching with a tiny smile on his bearded face. He excused himself from Hagrid and McGonagall's sides before pacing directly to their carriage on the train. A moment later, the doors to their compartment were sliding open.
"Miss Granger, you have just been extremely helpful in saving me to explain. Ten points to Gryffindor house. Now, if the five of you would care to step off the train and follow me, please..."
Feeling the eyes of every other student aboard the Hogwarts Express boring into them, the boys and Hermione hurried after their headmaster to the perplexing scene.
"Rubeus, Minerva," Dumbledore began, in a cautious and polite tone, "I have enlisted the help of these fine students – you both have other duties regarding the remainder of the pupils to attend to. I'm sure they will all be fervent to find out more about this occurrence, but I highly recommend we keep it under our hoods for now."
Professor McGonagall nodded, her eyebrows knitted together with worry, but Hagrid opened his mouth – which was surrounded by a knotted mass of thick beard – to protest.
"Who's gon' ter carry her then? I can' take her ter the lake with the firs' years, now, can I?"
Dumbledore twiddled his own silvery beard and examined the children before him. His scrutinising gaze rested on the very tall Fred and George, whose stares were transfixed on the unknown girl.
"Excellent point, Rubeus – but I'm sure these two strapping chaps can take care of her to the castle. Mr and Mr Weasley, I'm certain you won't mind, hm?" he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement.
The twins looked like they had just won a thousand gold Galleons, but remembering the solemnity of the setting, they tried to tame their eager grins into serious expressions.
"I'm sure we could do that for you, yes," Fred said, and a second later the girl was being cradled between him and George. Her head tipped back before George could move his hand to support it, causing her blonde wig to drop to the floor and reveal a fan of wavy, gently layered honey-blonde hair that probably hung a few inches past her shoulder when she was standing. Harry stooped to collect the wig, and the group proceeded through the dwindling rain to the long line of hooded carriages that would take them to Hogwarts. These carriages would appear to move at will – students had trivially wondered for years whether they were enchanted or pulled by invisible creatures.
Professor Dumbledore stopped at the nearest one and spun around to face his silent students.
"There are too many of us to squeeze in, so I shall make my own way to my office and leave you to it. When you reach the castle, meet me in there. Ice mice," he muttered, before tipping his hat to them and beginning to murmur to himself. "Not the time for this, not at all..." With a small pop, he had vanished, leaving the baffled students with the problem of arranging themselves in the carriage.
"You can't prop her upright, it'd be ghastly," Hermione shuddered. The group stood thinking for a minute, until Ron suggested they lie her down on one side of the coach and sit on the other. The idea proved to be useless ("We couldn't all possibly fit on one side, they only seat three,"), but it did spark a solution from Fred.
"Me and George can sit on one side and lay her across our laps," he proclaimed rather enthusiastically, "but we might need someone else, actually, to support her..."
Ron jumped up to the plate, and so the girl was handed over to Harry whilst the others climbed in. It was like holding a feather, Harry noticed, his arms barely registered her weight. He then ensued to pass her to Hermione, climb inside the carriage, then take her back and lay her across the Weasley boys' knees.
"Watch her hair there, George, that's better..."
Once all were ready, the carriage began to ease steadily up the steep hill to the school. The gravel path was rough; everyone's heads kept knocking against the framework. Their journey provided an excellent opportunity to theorise over the girl's identity and the mysterious circumstances surrounding her.
"She might be a witch, though that wouldn't be congruent with her costume and why she's unconscious – she is only unconscious, right? Check her neck for a pulse," Hermione worried. George tried to test for a pulse, but it was of no use with the jerks of the carriage as it knocked over lumps on the path.
"We could always try for a heartbeat..." offered Fred, an impish grin on his face, his palm facing her chest.
"Not while she's wearing that dress, you won't!" Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes. Everyone smirked, excepting Harry, who looked troubled.
"D'you – you don't think she's a Muggle, do you?"
His words caused an uneasy silence, which wasn't filled as just then, the carriage juddered to a halt outside the school. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry comprised of a magnificent castle that was surrounded by vast grounds and a lake that was home to a giant squid, among no doubt many other more sinister creatures. In the dreadful weather, the castle was illuminated by the partly hidden crescent of a moon that threw an eerie light over it, making it seem intimidating to the new first-years, who were most probably still on the traditional boat journey across the dark lake, accompanied by Hagrid.
The school was laden with many anti-Muggle charms around its circumference, causing every non-magic human to see ugly ruins instead of a grand castle. If a Muggle attempted to draw close to it, Memory Charms had been put in place and made the Muggle forget what exactly they had been trying to do, and want to go home for a steaming mug of tea. These precautions meant that if the anonymous teenager they had found really was a Muggle, the charms had not worked on her, and instead she had somehow been knocked out. The five students dawned on the same conclusion as she was hoisted out of the carriage and carried through the cavernous Entrance Hall and up the stairs to Dumbledore's office.