Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, if I did I would not be sitting here. Would you really think this is JK Rowling standard anyway? Nah. It's just a hobby.
So, starting a fanfiction for the first time and I feel a bit of a fool, but here goes. I know what I write won't be perfect (far from it), but I like it as a hobby and I hope you kind of enjoy reading. It's pretty quick paced, I'm only thinking about five chapters max, and they're not the longest of things, but that's okay, right? I'm a newbie here so it's pretty much one huge blur to me.
Aoife Jenkins was a lot of things, but a weepy, hysterical, hormonal teenager was not one of them. In short, Aoife Jenkins was not a cryer.
However, she had counted that she had used eight Kleenexes half an hour into her first Hogwarts train journey, which averaged at about 0.26 a minute- not a healthy sign. She had worked this tricky sum out wholly to take her mind of the matter, and it had worked temporarely, but had soon ceased. Now, her sole thought was Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts.
Most young fifteen year olds would be thrilled to find out they were, respectively, magical, and that they would be embarking upon some journey at a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, ran by a batty old man with a beard to his belly button. But for Aoife, she already knew she possessed magical ability, and she had already been through the whole first day palava. Her last day at Ghaulia School Of Arts had ended rather horrifically, involving a whole law suit with the leadership team after her Potions teacher, Professor Finch, had to put it nicely, inappropriately touched her after lesson. He had always been turning that way, and students had always joked about his acts of paedophilia, but to Aoife these had proved to be legitimate and the incident had terrifed her to her very core. She didn't even want to so much as turn her head back to look at the school- Hogwarts had been her only option. She wasn't trying to say this bitterly, she knew that the school had a fabulous reputation, but she hated being the new kid- everyone else had been used to the place for four years now. Aoife had only ever been 'the new kid' once in her life, at Fairhurst Primary school when she was nine and her parents had moved house, and it was awful. No one wanted to be that freak who would actually talk to her.
Now not only did she have no friends, she had no parents who felt anything fond towards her (they had argued stubbornly before she was seen off at Kings Cross Station about this very matter), and here she was, sitting in her own sad little compartment whilst everyone else shared banter from over the summer in flocks of four or five. The only interest she had been shown by anyone on the vessel was from a bumbling boy named Neville Longbottom who had asked if she was new, (in which she replied "I transferred" and quickly ended the conversation- she could tell he was the lost sort) and the trolley lady, in which she bought a pumpkin pasty from. It lay forgotten and half eaten on the seat opposite her- she wasn't hungry and her stomach was clenching painfully, plus it made it look as though the seat was taken to passerbys.
A pumpkin pasty as company to confuse other students. Wow, she really was going stir crazy if she thought that was a liable excuse to be alone.
Drawing her wand from her pocket, Aoife turned it over in her hand and smiled subconciously, her tears ceasing and confidence returning. The type of brief smile she used to have when she was pretending to be asleep with her parents in the room, and it really only looked like she was having a happy dream. It was a rather ugly looking thing, but she kind of liked its quirkiness, and how different it was to normal, sleek wands you saw in the shop window of Ollivanders. Blackthorn, bonded with a unicorn core, 10 inches. "Unyielding." Its most interesting quality was the sharp bend in the middle, like some kind of dark, jagged stick, and it bore powerful magic that Aoife could proudly say she had mastered and learnt to control. Even with little training, she was a bright girl, she knew what she wanted, and would go to great lengths to achieve it. She had always been rather well liked by her teachers, which grated on her- if she did ever step a toe out of line, the school would have an uproar on their hands. They guessed that was why they whipped her out of sight so quickly, after the whole 'incident'.
"I need some air," she decided quietly, fixing her dark mass of hair in the condensated window of the train. Not great, but okay. She looked a little tired from the early start- mornings were not her thing, to say the least.
Rising from her seat and tucking a thick curl behind her ear, she slid open the carridge door, the cold air instantly greeting and refreshing her. God, it was stuffy in there, she thought bitterly, stepping out of the compartment and edging down the hall, crowded with students already in their uniforms. Madam Maulkins had supplied her with a substantial cloak, and she had fished some money out of her bank for new school shirts, so she supposed that would do.
"Watch where you're going, new kid," a tall boy with smart blonde hair sniggered at her, and she stared at him, startled from their collision. Half of her had a right mind to slap the stupid grin off his face as he had bumped into her, but the other half wanted to applaud him for actually realising that there was a new face on board the Hogwarts Express.
"Excuse me?" She decided it would be option one, if times got that desperate. She'd start with an angry retort, that seemed about right.
"You know, you should really learn that these halls are for people who've been at Hogwarts long enough to know their way around," he smirked to a pair of minions behind him, and they laughed dryly. One was square jawed, with mousse coloured hair, the other of African ethnicity, his build toned and muscular.
"It's a train," she said shortly, narrowing her eyes at him. It irritated her deeply that he was at least a head taller than her; she found herself stretching on her toes whilst trying to look as natural and non-constipated as possible, "I didn't think you needed to know your way around to walk down the hallway of a train."
The blonde boy licked his lip nervously, his cockiness shrivelling a little- he had expected her to mumble sorry and try to scoot past, rather than face him head on. The square jawed boy snickered, which resulted in an elbow to the ribs.
Smiling to herself, Aoife didn't shift her eyes from his. How pathetic.
Muttering to his friends, he sent them off down the crowded hallway (they obeyed immediately- maybe they were even more pathetic than him), leaving the pair alone. Folding her arms, Aoife tilted her head and sneered at him, "You thought you could push the new girl around?"
"I do that to everybody," he snapped in annoyance, glancing around the hallway. She squinted at him a little, observing his figure carefully. He was tall, that was for certain, and skinny, his hair white blonde and his face pale and drawn. His incredibly blue eyes were the only thing that saved his appearance from becoming rat-like- instead he just looked like a confused ferret baby. Poor kid.
"Whatever," she snarled, withdrawing back to her cabin and sliding the door firmly shut, leaving the blonde boy with a flabbergasted frown on his face. Well, some journey that was. I ventured about two metres out of my hole. But I guess I showed him, he's probably not used to people saying 'No' to him.
Deciding her next move would be to change into her uniform like the rest of the train apparently had, she opened her satchel with a click, plunged her hand into it (Undetectable extension charm) and rummaged around for her clothes. Her hand found them, and she grasped the material with her fingers, pulling them from the bag one by one and straightening them out. Laying them down and moving to the door, she drew the curtains on either side and fumbled for the lock.
The lock however, was almost non existant, just a sorry affair of torn metal and nails- obviously tampered with by the last people to sit in the compartment.
"Idiots," she muttered under her breath, plucking her wand from the spot where she had left it, "Reparo!"
The metal wriggled feebly and the jagged edges where it had been torn curled up a little, but other than that, no real difference was made. There was so little lock left to build upon that she would have been better off summoning a new one.
Hoping desperately that nobody would venture over to her end of the train, she made sure the drapes were shut again, (this became a very thorough job, as she only found herself satisfied when not even an inch of light was peeking through), and slowly retreated back to her seat. She couldn't help but feel that now the members of the Scottish countryside (maybe not people, but goats and whatever) were watching her change as she tore her simple, grey off-the-shoulder T-shirt over her head and cast it aside. Aoife had always had a rather scrawny frame, with no real shape to her- her chest was despicably small, her collarbone protruding, a sheer drop where her curves should be. She could only blame her late development on this lack of womanly confidence, but her face was rather pretty- angular, with large, wandering eyes the same shade of brown as her hair, and clear, pale skin. A few delicate curls fell around her face delicately as they were shifted by the motion of her T-Shirt, which she swept back with her hand and reached for her new school blouse. Slinging it over her eight-year-old-girl arms and buttoning it carefully, she left her tie hanging loose around her neck and unzipped her jeans, glancing warily back to the unlocked door. Wriggling out of them in a inept manner that she knew other students would have laughed at, she palmed around for her black tights, sniffing as she caught sight of them in her satchel, one foot left carelessly hanging over the zipper. Sighing, she stretched over, her fingertips splaying and catching the light material, and pulled them to her chest. As she uncrumpled them and began to put them on, she found herself in the awkward position where one tight was halfway up her knee, the other her ankle, and both were refusing to budge an inch.
"Oh Christ," she muttered desperately, tugging at them in the same mannerism that an injured seal would. If seals had fingers. Or whatever. Sighing dramatically, she hooked her finger into the material and pulled desperately, light gasping through the nylon where it was being pulled at its tightest and thinnest.
And that was when the door swung open.
"Out! Get out!" she squeaked, falling back onto the seat and floundering. Her grasp left her tights, leaving them hanging lankly around her legs. As she glanced up at the intruder, her mouth opened and closed numerously, for it was none other than the boy who had pushed her in the hall earlier. Well it would be you, wouldn't it, she thought to herself bitterly.
Turning away and cringing into his palm, the boy spoke plainly in a manner that was evident he very much did not want to be there. Aoife suspected it wasn't just because she was sprawled half naked in the most awkwardly inelegant position imaginable, "I have to give you something."
Grabbing her t-shirt, she used it to cover herself and frowned up at him, "What is it?"
He pulled a battered scroll from his trouser pocket and passed it to her, still staring deeply at the opposite wall of the cabin, in a way that made him look as if it was a rather interesting piece of architecture.
Opening it uneasily, Aoife used her spare hand to hold it open whilst she read.
Aoife Jenkins, (this part was written by hand, whereas the rest had been printed previously in the least subtle way possible)
We are very pleased that you will be joining us in this month of September (Pfft, of course they were), where you will start your journey at Hogwarts from the fifth year (This part had also been written by hand- the variables were clear). We hope you will enjoy your time at this school and we are sure that you will soon become a small but bright light of this year's selection of students- your teachers and classmates will be sure to help you in all of your endeveours.
After arriving at Hogwarts, you will head to Professor Dumbledore's office where you will be sorted into one of four houses. The options are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff- all bearing distinguishing qualities. Gryffindor, ran by myself, is famous for its daring, nerve and chivalry. Slytherin, ran by Professor Snape, head of Potions, (She hoped this man wouldn't turn out to be like her last Potions Master) is home to students exhibiting traits of cunning and ambition. Ravenclaw, ran by Professor Flitwick, head of Charms, show qualities of intellect and wit. Finally, Hufflepuff, ran by Professor Sprout, head of Herbology, allows students who display a great deal of loyalty and appreciation of fair play. We hope you feel at home in whatever house you are sorted into, and you will enjoy achieving there for the rest of your school life at Hogwarts.
We assure that you will have been given this introductory letter by the prefect we entrusted it to, in this case that prefect was Draco Malfoy (This had also been handwritten, but in a very different style- scrawled and messy) who, for the first week of lessons at Hogwarts, you will share a twin timetable with. After that week you will go on to receive your own timetable, relevant to your house and what you have chosen to go on and be tested at O.W.L level for.
It was at this point in which Aoife stopped reading and glared up at 'Draco Malfoy' furiously, hot air steaming through her nose and adding to the window condensation. Of course he didn't realise she was the new face of Hogwarts, he had been stuck with her like a limpet because he was a supposed Prefect; brilliant. She felt like crying again.
"I'm stuck with you for a week," she muttered, slackening against the seat a little, "Bloody brilliant."
"Hey, I'm not too thrilled either!" he retorted, folding his arms. The pair had both seemed to cast away the fact Aoife was half naked, and if she was honest, she didn't care. She just wanted to go home, sharpish.
"Only because you thought I'd let you bully me to avoid boredom," she mused grumpily, finally hoisting her tights above her knees and slipping them on, "Couldn't you have knocked?"
"I thought you would have locked the door," he snickered, that irritating smirk returning, and Aoife glared at him with a deathly stare.
"Oh, shove off!" she snapped, grabbing her pleated school skirt and quickly putting it on. She didn't appreciate the fact that Draco's eyes didn't leave hers while she changed- what a creep.
"What are you not seduced by my handsome face and rich boy charm?" he taunted as she grimaced at him.
"Far from it," she groaned, finally throwing her cloak over her shoulders and folding her arms tautly, "If you don't remember, it's not yet ten minutes since you shoved me before even saying hello."
"I'm joking for God's sake", he snorted, "As if I'd go for you. Though I have to say, with a name like 'Aoife Jenkins' I was expecting some speccy ginger kid who hopped fresh off the special needs bus. I had to ask McGonogall how to say it for starters."
"You don't mean that," she glared at him, "You're only doing it to annoy me. It's your hobby, right?"
"I won't lie about the last part."
"Leave, then."
"Fine," he decided with a snigger, opening the door and making his way back down the hallway. He didn't even bother to shut it. How charming.
But, underneath those ratlike proportions, he was rather handsome, which she despised the most.
Author's note: Aaaaaaaaaaaaah. First chapter finished. I hope it wasn't too dreadful. If you noticed, like the unoriginal girl that I am, Aoife's wand is my wand on Pottermore- I just decided to use it. And also, about the title, Luna will be introduced a little later! Review if you want! It would be insanely appreciated and it would help me make the next chapter better. I haven't decided when to update it next, but there you go. I'm gonna regret putting this up straight away, but oh well. Thanks!
- Niamh.