Probity

Shortly after the sun had settled beneath the trees, Lena saw small dots of light across the lake; lanterns, she realized. In a matter of minutes, students would be flooding into the castle. Lena couldn't decide if that was good or bad. A hand fell on her shoulder, and she stiffened. The old man beside her simply smiled sagely and informed her of what she already knew: that the students were en route. He guided to where she was to wait until the first years arrived.

She didn't have to wait long, as it so happened. Within twenty minutes, small eleven years olds were being herded into the room, lumping together in a massive group. More of them than she would have liked took an interest in her, going from trying - and failing - to subtly get a good look at her and whispering amongst their newfound friends. Lena slumped further into the shadowy corner until she was as hidden as possible.

Evidently, they did not like the looks of her, as when Professor McGonagall opened the door, one of the bolder ones pointed her out to the older woman. "She is being sorted today as well," she explained to the curious children, and they thankfully let that be the end of it. Lena thought it had something to do with the look McGonagall shot them, though.

Lena remained shrunken against the stone as the woman explained some of the rules and general proceedings at Hogwarts, as well as some overly cryptic advice about finding true friends. It was then that she lined them all up - sort of, it was really too many children for them to obey anything. The gaggle of preteens were huddled in a vaguely-reminiscent-of-a-line clump. The group was charged with excitement, wonder, and a titch of anxiety has the doors were opened, allowing them to surge ahead. The much taller girl followed behind, at a bit of a distance, ahead of only McGonagall. As they were ushered in the Great Hall, Lena could feel hundreds of eyes on her. She had tried, unsuccessfully, to be sorted before summer ended, so she could avoid precisely this. The Headmaster, it seemed, was a bit to partial to theatrics for that. He went on an endless tirade of how it was a 'rite of passage', but now, looking at him, Lena could tell he just wanted to see the other students' reactions, even at her expense.

The dark haired girl lingered toward the door, ready to make a quick escape should the need arise. She was alright for now, but all bets were off if someone decided to call her out specifically. Luckily, any attention focused on her was quickly redirected as the other kids learned she was not going to do anything particularly interesting, unlike the mobile piece of cloth across the room.

It waxed some rather bizarre poetry before the garment was placed upon head after head, deeming their fates for the next seven years. When, at long last, all of the incoming first years had been assigned a house, Professor Minerva McGonagall spoke crisply. "Harris, Eileen."

The hall fell almost silent as Lena strode forward, forcing herself to exude nothing but the easy confidence and nonchalance she most certainly did not possess. She held her head high and even as she walked alongside the tables and shot at glare at the man seated at the end of the table ahead of her before spinning and sitting on the stool. Immediately, the wretched hat was on top of her head, wiggling ever so slightly as it began to speak. Ah, interesting, indeed. I was expecting you four years ago, Miss Harris, the hat admonished. Then again, you've been missing for, oh, thirteen years, is it?

"You know damn well how long it's been. Don't play dumb; it doesn't work with sentient cloth," she hissed under her breath, eager to be free of this hat and the eyes transfixed with her beginnings of an argument with cotton. Not that they knew the last part, of course.

Oh my, bit of a temper, have we? It teased. Hmm, loyalty of a Hufflepuff, surely, but neither the diligence nor the patience. Creative and witty, good traits of any Ravenclaw. Mmm, perhaps. Ambitious and clever; yes, Slytherin would suit you fine.

"No," she said firmly. She refused to be in the house run by that nuisance. She saw him enough as it was.

Ooo, very interesting. Hmm, well, you definitely have nerve, and I can sense that bit of bravery in you yet, girl. Now, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor?

She very nearly smirked. She knew, without a doubt, which house she wanted to be in. She'd heard the name enough in the last three or so months, always in the same sneering tone. Sure, it was spiteful and probably not a good idea in the long run, but she wanted him as far away from her as possible, even if it meant she persuade the damn cloth to place her in the house. "Gryffindor," she told him.

Really? My dear, you have surprised me. Are you sure? She nodded imperceptibly in the affirmative, and he bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The table adorned with gold and red cheered, directing her where to go. The table was mostly filled, leaving her to squeeze into the biggest opening. After she was seated, the old man spoke the usual reminders and such, and then the feast was underway as plates after plates popped - quite literally, in fact - onto the tables. She piled food onto her plate liberally. If there was one thing she'd learned in her week in the castle, it was that the food could not be beat. She'd gained at least two pounds during her stay, not that it was a bad thing; she was still as lanky as ever. She was a fan of food back in America, and now it was only enhanced by the quality of the school's food. She supposed the food was ample retribution for the public humiliation.

She had been expecting this, of course; she was not a complete idiot. However, she had been hoping to delay the inevitable at least until morning. She was fat and happy, and all she wanted to do was go to her new dormitory and fall asleep.

She was not in the mood for meeting her roommates, nor did she know there would be so many of them.

They were are milling about the shared dorm room when she arrived. One of them, a short blonde literally skipped over to her, her long blonde hair flowing behind her. She looked like she could've been one of those first years that had been gawking at her an hour and a half ago. She stopped just in front of Lena and raised herself on her tiptoes. She then grabbed Lena's face and gave her a peck on each cheek. "We saw the extra bed, and we figured you'd be joining us," she said excitedly, bouncing a little in her her exuberance. "I'm Leslie Preece, and that's Shannon, Alicia, Angelina, and Lindsey." She pointed at each girl as she listed their names, but Lena could barely keep up with how fast she was talking.

Another blonde smiled patiently, as if she'd been dealing with Leslie's antics her whole life. "Remember what Aunt Oenone tells you, Leslie," she chided, though it was clear she meant nothing behind those words. Lena could see the family resemblance between the two, although their demeanors seemed to be polar opposites. For all the energy Leslie seemed to possess, this girl was the epitome of peace. She too had long blonde locks, tucked into her robes. One strand stuck out though, falling against her cheek and ending just above her chest. She approached Lena, holding her hand out. Lena took it, and the girl introduced herself. "Shannon Mitchem."

"Lena Harris," she said in turn.

"Oh, you're American," Leslie exclaimed. "That's so fascinating! What's America like?" Her brown eyes were shining with wonder, no doubt imagining what life in America would be like.

Lena blinked. "Oh, um, it's pretty good, I guess. I don't have much to compare it to. I've only been here a few months," she explained.

"So, you're family moved?"

"Leslie," Shannon scolded. "Haven't any of Aunt Oenone's etiquette lessons gotten through to you?"

Leslie pretended to think for a moment. "Nope," she said, popping the last syllable and leaving her cousin rolling her eyes.

One by one, she was introduced to the other three girls. The two girls with mocha-skin and strong builds were Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. They were on the quidditch team together, hence their builds. The other girl, the one with pixie-cut brown hair, was Lindsey Albright. She was tall and lanky, much like Lena, however her academic motivation far surpassed her. She was one of the best in their year, a fact she prided herself in but not boastfully.

The six stayed awake a while longer. Lena found she did not completely hate their company, an event she had prepared and was very glad had not come to pass. It might be nice to live with people she could actually tolerate. Not that she hadn't before, but her experience in the wizarding world was not a positive one as of yet. Finally, when Lena could barely keep her eyes open, the girls bid each other goodnight and went to bed, mentally preparing themselves for the classes awaiting them the next morning.

Lena was extremely grateful his was the last class of the day. She knew she could not have dealt with him in the morning, and now she only had to endure that class and she was free for the day. There would be no brewing either, being the first class of the term. Instead, they just had to listen to his plans for the year and turn in their summer assignments, which meant she was free to tune him out. She walked into the classroom, settling herself in the very back. Lindsey sat beside her. Leslie and Shannon selected the table next to them, with Alicia and Angelina in front of them. Two redheads took the table in front of Lena and Lindsey. They were laughing about something, she did not know what. "Fred, George," Lindsey called to them and they turned, easy smiles on their faces. "How was your summer?"

"Bloody hot," They said together, making Lena's eyes widen for a moment. "Went to see Bill in Egypt."

It was at that moment that Professor Snape strode in, slamming the heavy door shut behind him. "Weasley, face forward," he barked, and the two boys spun back around. Lena rolled her eyes. He then began reiterating what the group had been hearing all day: the importance of the OWLs and that they would not be allowed to continue in the class without a qualifying score. The older man's eyes swept over the students he had taught for four years, except one. Who was currently talking to those infernal twins again. "Messrs. Weasley, ten points from Gryffindor."

Lena could tell he didn't like the boys, even when they weren't misbehaving, although such instances seemed few and far between. Interesting, she thought. She just may have to befriend them.

It was a little over two weeks later when Lena accidently let slip that she didn't know how to ride a broom. She was chatting with Leslie and Shannon at the time, though the entire group was together, having claimed a shady spot on the grounds. Discussion stopped around them, and Lena turned to find out why. Fred and George - whom she had indeed befriended and it had worked out splendidly - had paused their conversations and turned toward the girl, identical mischievous grins on their faces. It was a little unsettling, as the angle they had contorted into to view her looked nearly painful and was no doubt bad for their spines.

"Never ridden a broom, you say?" Fred questioned.

"I say this could be fun, brother, wouldn't you agree," George said, glancing at his twin, who nodded enthusiastically.

They then turned back to her, not saying anything. Lena watched them for a moment, then spoke, "What are you two plotting now?" She had an idea, and by the looks they were giving her, she couldn't be sure it was completely safe.

"Meet us in the common room right before curfew," Fred told her. "Wear something comfortable."

The plan was, as Lena feared, to teach her how to fly. That wasn't bad in and of itself, but doing it under the guise of night while they were supposed to be sleeping most decidedly was. Five minutes before curfew, she'd done exactly as they'd instructed. She donned her oldest and comfiest pair of jeans and an old jumper she'd stolen from her friend Ezra several months ago.

The twins were already waiting for her when she arrived. Fred had two brooms over his shoulders, and George had one. They smiled when they saw her, and the three made their way out of the common room. Once in the hall, George pulled out what looked to be a bit of folded parchment. He unfolded it and tapped his wand to it, saying something in a whisper. The parchment transformed into a map, and the two boys spent a few moments deciding the best route out of the castle.

Once outside, the three went down to the pitch. It was well-lit for nighttime, thanks to the full moon above them, and allowed the girl to get a good view of the pitch. Lena had never seen one before, and she couldn't make heads nor tails of it. From what she'd gathered from listening to the twins and now looking at the pitch, it appeared to be a mix of soccer and polo with magic thrown in. The goals suggested that it was played way higher in the air than were her preferences, and she pitied whoever was made to watch after three goals simultaneously.

They stopped once the reached the middle of the pitch, and Fred handed her one of the brooms he'd been carrying. The twins stood side by side facing her, and she watched them as they set their brooms on the ground beside them in unison. She followed their actions. They proceeded to teach her much in the same way the first years were taught by Madame Hooch. Calling the broom up to her hand was fairly easy, she supposed. As one, they mounted their brooms, and the twins immediately began hovering, their legs dangling two and a half feet off the ground. "Now, you try," George encouraged as she stood below them, trepidation clear in her features.

Slowly, she allowed the broom to rise until there was only a foot difference between them. Lena was, in fact, quite terrified. The fact that there was only a thin branch separating her from certain injury, even at that altitude, was discomforting, to say the least. She didn't bother trying to look down, as she knew all that would do was send her into a panic. Instead, she allowed herself to ascend until she was level with her friends.

The next thing they taught her was how to steer and move around on the broom. The first attempt was an utter disaster, sending Lena skidding across the pitch. The twins raced to her immediately, helping her stand. Grass was stuck in her hair, and the material covering her right knee was torn, having caught on a stray rock hidden in the grass. Her hands were red and raw, her palms scuffed from trying to lessen her momentum. The boys each took an arm and hauled her to her feet. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured, dispelling their questions before they could ask. "Show me again." She marched away, retrieving the broom and mounting it once more. Fred and George shook their heads and showed her how to properly fly.

She picked it up rather quickly after that. Eventually, they progressed to the point where Lena was as high as the goalposts. She hovered in one of the rings while the boys flew about. "Come on, Lena!" She couldn't tell which was which when they were so far away. She left the goalpost, propelling herself forward until she joined them.

"What now?" she asked. The air was much colder up there; she was glad to have chosen a jumper for this endeavour. Even with the thick material, she was shivering.

The twins beamed. "We were thinking-" Fred began.

"You might enjoy-"

"A change of pace," he finished as they both zoomed off above her, their shirts and hair billowing behind them.

They fell into a pattern after that. The twins would fly to some new location and proceed to egg Lena on until she reached them. She was glad for it because it kept her from worrying about the height. She flew as fast as she could to wherever her friends were, and she grew more and more confident on the broom. The wind stung her face as she raced to the boys, and she laughed as they praised her like a child.

They stayed out so long that the sun had begun climbing in the air. They sat together in the stands and watched the sunrise. Fred and George announced shortly afterward that breakfast was starting, which meant they could sneak in with no one the wiser. George stashed the brooms with the team equipment, and the trio set off for the castle, joining the throng of people in the Great Hall with no one the wiser. Except their dormmates, of course, who only asked for where they'd been.

It seemed, however, that someone else had noticed their absence, resulting in Lena standing in the office of the dreaded potions master. Her head rested on her elbow, which was propped on one of his many shelves of ingredients and potions lining the room. The potions master himself was pacing around the room, raging at her about how reckless and irresponsible her actions were. "Why did you sneak out of your dormitory last night?" He finally asked her, turned to look at the girl, who sighed heavily.

"Because I wanted to," she answered plainly. She, quite frankly, was furious with him. Without her knowledge or consent, he had cast a tracking charm on her so he could monitor her every movement. She would be sure to cancel it as soon as she could. He had called her to his office after breakfast, via a note delivered by owl. And so, she had strolled down to the dungeon, ensuring her trip take as long as possible.

"You were in incredible danger last night."

Lena laughed. "Hardly."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Your trousers are freshly ripped, and your palms are scabbed," he stated almost as if he meant it as evidence.

"Irrelevant," she argued. "I was most certainly not in danger."

"Who were you with?"

"What? I wasn't with anyone."

Snape scowled. "You went right to the quidditch pitch. You don't know the grounds," he pointed out. "Who were you with?"

"No one!"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Harris," he sneered. "It was the Weasley boys in your year, was it not?"

"No," she refuted. She wasn't getting her friends in trouble if she could help it.

"You have the loyalty of a Hufflepuff," he spat, like it was an insult.

She rolled her eyes. "But neither the diligence nor the patience," she repeated what the hat had said to her. "May I go now?"

"Come back after dinner for detention," he said as a dismissal, even though she was already halfway out the door, throwing an "Of course!" over her shoulder. Once the door was closed and he was alone, he sunk in his chair. His daughter would be the death of him, he decided.

Yay, it's done.

So, yeaaaa, welcome to the beginning of a (very long) journey with my OC, Eileen Harris. Hopefully, you'll stick around for the ride. :) This is a trilogy, so I've got a lot of ground to cover. Haha... (kill me). The entire trilogy is focused around Eileen (or Lena). The golden trio might be mentioned here and there, but Lena won't become their best friend or anything. Do not fear though, she has plenty of her own adventures (and she's not stronger than Harry or looking to take down Voldy either... promise!)

I'm aiming for two chapters a month - let's see how long that lasts. This is my New Year's resolution, and I'm pretty committed, so hopefully Probity will be done in a year or so.

If you have any questions or need clarification, feel free to PM me! :) I don't bite

Until next time!