Hello again! I have posted yet another story. I know this chappie is a long one, but I wanted to get the sorting in!
Disclaimer: I own lots of ideas, not Harry Potter
Chapter 1:birthday surprises
I stared at the crimson steam engine with a multitude of emotions, the first one being complete and utter shock. This is real. I thought. I always thought they were bedtime stories and fairytales, but now I know that it's real! And I got to be a part of it.
I remembered how I first found that I was a witch. It was my sister, Jessamine's and mine, eleventh birthday (yes, we're twins) when we heard a knock coming from the front door. My mum asked my sister to fetch the door, but being the brat she was, demanded I open it instead. And of course my mum complied with Jess' wish, because it was her birthday. But not mine? I thought at the time. Anyway, just as I was about to wrench open the door— I was in an awful mood— a letter slid through the mail slot. I was utterly bewildered at that because it was, in fact, a Sunday. And who has ever heard of mail on a Sunday? Yet my curiosity got the best of me and I reached down and gingerly plucked up the strange letter. I tentatively read who it was addressed to and y eyes widened in surprise when I read that it was a letter for me. But it was just my luck that Jessamine had to enter the foyer at that time and see the letter in my hand.
"Give that to me," she demanded in that better-than-thou tone of voice.
I pulled back warily, "why?" I asked. It wasn't her letter. What right did she have, looking at it?
"Because it's obviously mine," her tone of voice then implied that that was obvious. I raised my eyebrows at that. "Oh come on now," she snapped. Jess wasn't known for her patience, "who would send you mail? Are you in touch with the prince himself? No! Do you personally know the prime ministers granddaughter? No! So who on earth is important enough to send a letter on a Sunday that you would know?" Her shrill voice had reached screeching point by then.
"Jessie!" my mum chastised, entering the room, "what is all the screeching about? You're going to wake the dead!"
Jess pointed at me accusingly, "Citriana refuses to give me that letter which is obviously mine!"
"No it's not!" I cut in, "it clearly states my name! See?" I show my mother the envelope and she reads it aloud, "Citriana Erica Oliver, The Bedroom on the Left, 25 Old Broad Street, London. You're right Ria, this is for you," Jessamine pouted at that, "It's okay Jessie, I'm sure there will be mail for you tomorrow, and plenty of it," Jessamine immediately stopped pouting and instantly smiled her brilliant smile. I rolled my eyes, she sure was an attention hog. My mum was just about to open the letter, when the door burst open and in strolled a strange old woman. She had very wrinkly skin, though still looked soft, her hair was pulled into a tight bun that looked extremely uncomfortable and was wearing the most peculiar clothing. It looked as if she was wearing some sort of robe, only it was emerald green. She looked around at our shocked expression and sighed. "I take it you haven't read the letter yet?" she asked with a twinge of disappointment in her voice.
"Excuse me," Jessamine said rather rudely, "but who the bloody hell are you?"
"Jessie!" my mum cried, looking horror stricken. She then turned to the woman in green, "I apologize. My daughter, it's her birthday…"
"It is also your other daughters, Citriana, birthday, is it not?" the woman asked with raised eyebrows.
"Y-y-yes, b-but," my mum stuttered but was interrupted by the other woman, "my name is Minerva McGonagall, but you," she addressed me, "may call me Professor McGonagall. Now I apologize, but I'm on a tight schedule so if you would please read your letter," Professor McGonagall plucked the letter out of my mum's hands with a slightly disgusted look and placed it in my hands. As soon as it touched my eager fingers, I ripped it open and began reading. As I did so, my eyes kept getting wider and wider. When I finished reading, I looked up at Professor McGonagall—sorry, Headmaster McGonagall— with wide eyes and an open mouth. The Professor, correctly, took that to mean that I was finished reading. She then turned to my whole family, with another slightly disgusted look at my sister, and began reciting something that, by the tone of her voice, implied she had recited it many times before. Listening to this, I was in complete shock. There are such things as witches and wizards. I thought. And I'm a witch!
The sound of a train whistle snapped me out of my reverie and I quickly looked around. All the other student were boarding, or had already boarded the train. Upon seeing this, I quickly grabbed my trunk and owl (a birthday present) and made my way onto the train. As I looked for an empty or semi-empty compartment, I couldn't help but notice a group of children that everyone was staring at. Being muggle-born and all, I had absolutely no idea who they were. All I knew was that two had dark brown, almost black, hair (not unlike my own) and the other had flaming red hair and freckles; lots and lots of freckles. I turned away, not being one to openly stare at people, and continued my search for a compartment. I eventually happened to find one that had only one other person in it. I swiftly walked to the door before anyone else could claim it. I slid open the door and pocked my head in.
"Can I come in?" I asked in my most pleasant voice.
"No," said the person in the compartment, who turned out to be a boy.
"Well it's not like it's full. You're the only person in here!" I said rather loudly. A few students in the corridor turned to look at me, "mind your own business," I snapped at them and they spectators turned away.
"Just don't make any more of a scene, please," the boy said, "it's not good for my reputation."
Taken aback, I wrenched open the door and stepped in, closing the door behind me with a bang. Turning back to him, I saw that he was glaring at me. "What did I tell you about not making a scene?" he asked, or more like snapped at me.
"We excusé moi for closing the door," I snapped back, just as testily.
"Well no matter, the deed is done," he smoothed down his clothes, "My name is Ethan James Channon, but you may refer to me as Ethan. You're welcome."
"For what?" I asked, still glaring at him.
"Gracing you with my presence," he stated, as if it was completely obvious.
"Well then, since we're doing introductions, I am—" I started, but Ethan cut me off.
"A muggle-born. Yes, I can tell by the look of wonder in your eyes, or well the look that used to be in your eyes. Now all I see is annoyance."
"Well you're quite the people reader."
"Yes, yes I am."
"And oh so modest," I shot back sarcastically.
"Yes indeed," he smiled, he actually smiled! "I expect I'll be in Slytherin," he changed the subject abruptly, "Where all the great wizards were, or at least the ones who make something out of themselves."
"Oh, you mean like Death Eaters?" a new voice said. I turned in the direction of the voice and saw a girl standing in the doorway. She was a slight girl, the type you wouldn't expect to grow over 5 feet tall, with straight dark brown hair the reaches to about halfway down her neck and curls in at the end with the tips dyed neon green. Her eyes were a deep blue like the night sky and seemed just as endlessly deep. In her arms was a small black cat with piercing eyes and a right ear that was dyed neon green.
Ethan ignored her and kept talking, "But don't worry, a muggle-born hasn't been in Slytherin in at least 500 years, so you won't be in that house, but I expect you'll be in Hufflepuff," he said with a wave of his hand.
The other girl snorted, "honestly, who would want to be in Hufflepuff? I think I'd just about leave. I'm Ursula, by the way. Ursula Williams," I nodded, "At least it's better than Gryffindor," she continued, "They're such suck ups. Not to mention goody-too-shoes. Especially this one girl, Sara Brown. My brother, Sebastian, told me about her. Rather nosy that one, like to get in other people's business and loves playing the hero. Honestly," she sighed in exasperation.
"Yes, yes. Well you can stop talking now and go back to whatever compartment you came from, Half-Blood," Ethan sneered.
Ursula suddenly shot up from her seat and glared at him menacingly. If looks could kill. "Do you have a problem with that?" she screeched at the same time I asked, "How do you know she's a half-blood?"
Ethan turned to me first, "because I do. It's obvious once you know how to tell," he said, once again implying that it was obvious, and turned to Ursula, "I don't have a problem, per-say, but you know what they say, a half-blood has only half the talent and a mud— I mean muggle-born has…well…you can guess by the first part."
Ursula looked like she was about to explode, "WHAT DID YOU SAY? HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT CALLING HER THAT, THAT FILTHY WORD! YOU PREJUDICED PUREBLOOD! AND I DO NOT HAVE 'HALF THE TALENT'!" she yelled at the top of her lungs so loud several other students popped their heads out of their compartments too see what on earth was going on. Just then our compartment door burst open and a girl who looked about 17 stood before us. "What the devilis going on here?"
"Now look what you did, filthy half-blood," Ethan muttered and Ursula and I both shot him a nasty look.
"I don't think it's any of your business," I said sweetly.
"Actually, I think it is, considering I'm Head Girl," she replied testily.
"Hmm, yeah I really don't think so."
"Well, funny thing, I do. What. Is. Going. On?"
"We were just having a heated discussion."
"About?"
I glance around, "something," I flashed a smile.
"I demand to know what you three were talking about."
"I demand that you stop demanding me to do things." The Head Girl looks a little shocked at that.
"Well then I suggest you get in your robes, we're due to arrive soon," she puts on what I assume to be her business face. I nod in response and slam the door closed with more force than necessary. Turning to Ursula, I ask, "I'm guessing that was Sara Brown?" Ursula nods in response.
Just as Sara predicted, we arrived at the platform within the hour. To the first years' surprise, there was a rather large man already waiting with a huge lantern in his hand yelling, "Firs' years this way!" Having disembarked the train together, Ursula and I made our way, along with the other first years, to the large man. He introduced himself as Hagrid, the gamekeeper and told us to follow him to "the boats" whatever that was. To my surprise, "the boats" were, in fact, boats sitting on a lake that looked black in the light of the moon. Ursula and I headed towards one of the boats and as we did so, I noticed Ethan turn and walk in the exact opposite direction as us. I smirked at his back and was just about to say something to Ursula when I heard a faint cough from behind me. I turned and say the same girl I saw on the platform, the one everyone was staring at.
"Do you mind if I sit here? All the other boats are full," she asked in a shy voice. I nodded and made room for her. "I'm Rose Weasley, by the way," she added.
"Citriana Oliver," I introduced myself, "but you can call me Ria. And this is Ursula," I pointed to Ursula sitting at the front of the boat and Rose waved. Ursula looked kinda queasy. I was about to ask her what's wrong when the boat lurched and started moving forward on it's own. I looked around on wonder. How did it do that?
"I take it you're muggle-born?" Rose asked.
I grimaced, "Is it really that obvious?"
Rose laughed and patted my arm, "It's fine, and there's nothing wrong with being a muggle-born. My mum is and she was the top of her class when she went to Hogwarts." I nod absentmindedly.
Soon enough, we reached the magnificent castle. All of us first years were ushered into a side room as soon as we entered.
"Now, now," I heard someone say. I turned and noticed a man in his mid-30's with graying hair standing before us with a knowing smile on his face. He began to lecture us on what was going to happen after went into the Great Hall. He explained how we were going to get sorted into four houses. I tuned it out, seeing as it was the same thing Professor McGonagall said to me on my birthday. When the speech was done, he pushed open the doors and we walked into the magnificent Hall. The ceiling was filled with stars just as the night sky and floating candles bobbed up and down throughout the room. But my eyes had fallen upon an old stool and an even older hat that was sitting on the stool. We lined up, just as the man, Professor Longbottom I learned, had told us. I wondered what on earth might happen next, when the most peculiar thing happened. The old hat started to sing. I was utterly bewildered, but then thought, oh well this is a school of magic
Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall.
For I'm the Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor
Where dwell the brave at hear
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a thinking cap!
I was utterly bewildered, but then thought, oh well this is a school of magic. And then the rest of the school burst into applause as I heard someone behind me whisper, "that was the song the Sorting Hat sang when my mum was sorted." I think that persons name was something Parkinson. I turned my attention back to Professor Longbottom, as he began to call out peoples names.
"Bluestone, Peter!" A tall, yet thin boy with black hair olive skin and grey eyes walked up to the stool and the Hat was put on his head. It took a few moments, but the Sorting Hat called out "Slytherin!" and the Slytherin table clapped and cheered wildly as Peter joined them. I could tell it would take some time to reach my name to I tuned out most of the sortings. I did listen for Ethan. He was a Slytherin as well. At least he got what he wanted.
Soon enough it was my turn to be sorted. I was nervous. And I never ever get nervous. But nonetheless, I walked up to the stool and Professor Longbottom put the Hat on my head.
Hm…A muggle-born, the hat said in my head
It talks?
Yes I talk! Now where to put you…
You mean you don't know where to put me?
Patience…yes, I see you don't have much of that, or a want to learn
School is overrated
Definitely not Ravenclaw. No, no, no. I see you want to make something out of yourself, yes. And you definitely aren't afraid of getting in trouble…hmm…But you definitely are competitive and love proving yourself…
Just hurry up and sort me already!
Testy, testy. Well, since your in such a rush, better be… SLYTHERIN!
A/N: thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! it is my fuel to keep writing. thanks a million and a half!
~~Badass. Slytherin. Boys