In Which Rhian Goes to a Boring Party

The Christmas ball was today. I had woken up this morning with a dress hung on a hook across from my bed. My room at Uncle B's use to be small, but I snuck around it and gave a few engorgement charms on my closet, so I could fit what I wanted to in there. The main room was next to tiny, so I only had my bed and nightstand in there. I decked out my room in Slytherin colors so I was reminded that I had homework, and kept a magical alarm clock and a couple of new muggle novels on my bedside table. Everything else was in my closet. The dress glared at me until I ripped it off the hook and threw it into my closet, not even caring where it landed. I did NOT want to go this year. I had more important things to do. Like train. I dressed warmly and tiptoed down stairs, just incase Uncle B was still sleeping, even though he never was. As I thought, he was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. The pictures waved and moved, and I caught a few of the titles, none of them interesting.

"'Morning. Any news?" I asked hopefully. Maybe something exciting would come up and he'd need my help. Too bad I wouldn't be able to go the ball… My hopes were dashed again.

"No. Your father expects you to be ready to travel by Floo at 5 o'clock. But until then, sword training." I was stoked. Now that the sword chose me, he had to teach me! At least I had gotten something I wanted. Speaking of the sword, I hadn't touched it since we went to Diagon Alley. Uncle B told me to put it somewhere safe until I was good enough to use a real blade. I had put it under a loose floorboard under my bed with locking charms. Voice activated and all.

Sword training was grueling. We practiced in his personal training area. It was about the size of a normal gym with racks of all kinds weapons on the far walls and practice dummies on the nearest when you walked in the room. He had a punching bag in the far corner, and had a large square blocked off in the middle to act as a mini battleground, or boxing ring. It was pretty sweet. First and foremost during practice, he taught me a move, which was well enough. Then, he had me to the same move 100 times on a dummy. Correctly. He watched me like a hawk, having me do it again if I messed up. Then he had me do the move another 100 times in sparring. I hated the sparring part. Not only did my arms burn with the effort of keeping the sword up, but also he moved around and hit me if I let my guard down even a little bit. And we weren't even using regular swords, but wooden ones that were weighted. My sword was definitely not this heavy. By the end of our session, I was sweating, tired, bruised and wanting to crawl in a corner and cry. But instead, I had to take a shower, put on some makeup and get dressed for that stupid Ball. I wanted to take a nap.

5 o'clock rolled around, and to my surprise I learned that my uncle would be coming with me, and that he looked slightly ridiculous in a tuxedo. He had his long dark hair slicked back, shirt tucked in and everything. One would say he was even dashing, if you didn't know him.

"Uncle B, I think every woman in that entire ballroom will fawn all over you." He grunted and turned away, not even commenting on how pretty I looked. Not that I was, really. It was just polite. I always thought I was a pretty girl, back when I was young. Everyone told me so. But then I realized that I wasn't really all that pretty, everyone just said it to be nice and because my Father is rich. If I really looked at myself (which I try not to do) I was quite plain. The only striking things about me were my eyes, which were a deep sea blue with a touch of green. I had a small straight nose and pale complexion, contrasting horribly with dark hair. But looks weren't important anymore.

The dress that was sent to me was plain as well, compared to my past outfits. It was blue, which matched my eyes, with sparkles, which pretty much ruined it. I was still technically a kid at this party, even though I'm already 15. But I won't dwell on that. I'm pretty sure I have to graduate to be considered an adult. Or get married, whichever. It was tea length, which meant it came to about my shins, fluffing out at my hips. It itched.

Uncle B threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire and stated in a clear voice our destination. He disappeared into the green flames and I stood there alone, half wanting to run away half not wanting to get in trouble. I pinched the powder, tossed it into the dying flames and stepped inside.

"Fakar Manor!" the green flames flared around me and spat me out the other side. I caught myself before I fell, thank goodness. The party hadn't started yet, but my mother would quite disapprove if I fell out on my ass. I looked up and around our massive ballroom that I had fallen in. It was the same as I remember: tall columns of white marble all the way around, the same marble shined and buffed under my feet. I had had many good times in here, and many more bad times. The butler helped me catch my balance and welcomed me back home. The second time I came back home after I started training, I had apologized for my violent actions against him. He liked me now. I finally learned his name, which was Alfred (Al for short). It was kind of ironic, now that I had read so many muggle mystery novels, that his name was Alfred. But I seriously doubt he would try to kill my Father, the master of this house. He would probably get incinerated.

He helped me dust the ashes off and lead me to my Father (who was talking to Uncle B) and Mother, then left me to inspection. My mother looked me over with a critical eye, frowning at any imperfections I had. I curtsied a little to them, and my Father turned away, of course, not even breaking his conversation. He didn't like me much. He would have been perfectly fine had I not been born.

"You'll do, for now." Great. I passed. I was half hoping she would send me up to my old room to get fixed, and then I'd accidentally lose my way until the party ended. At that moment, my bother, Adrian stepped out of the fire and came to greet us. Al, trying to dust off the soot from the fireplace, followed him. I use to like my brother. Then I realized he was cruel and unkind, treating the servants and pretty much everyone else that was no use to him with scorn and ugliness. That included me.

"Father, Mother." He shook Father's hand and gave Mother a kiss on the cheek, not even noticing my presence, a merely nodding to Uncle B.

"Father if I may speak with you…" He trailed off and they went away quickly, leaving Mother, Uncle B, and myself alone, watching them walk away. If Mother hadn't been there, I would have started cussing after them. They returned a few minutes later, just as the first of the guests arrived. By then, I was at the snack bar. We hadn't really had time to eat dinner, and the training always makes me hungry. I tried to look composed and aloof while I was stuffing my face. I'm not sure if it worked.

By six thirty, everyone had arrived, their kids included. All of them were ushered into the side room, which served as the 'kids party room' and the door shut. At least they had a snack bar. The ages of the children ranged from 7 to 17, all of them rich and spoiled and none of them genuinely nice. My snobbish princess friend was there, along with my best friend, the mute. Petunia Parkinson and Malcolm Bulstrode were the only ones who would be seen with me. Petunia because she and I were long time playmates and Malcolm because he was also in a similar situation at school: no one liked him. He never really talked, but I could always tell what was on his mind. Whereas Petunia always talked and I never really knew if there was anything going on up there. We stood by the snack bar, this one a bit better than the one in the main ballroom. It had candy, which was awesome considering my Mother hated sweets, and sandwiches that magically transformed to your favorite kind when you picked it up. I had already had three corned beef and mayonnaise sandwiches and working on my fourth. I had an inkling that our kindly cook had gone sneaking around to give us what we wanted. If it were up to our parents, I'm sure; we'd all be snacking on carrots and broccoli.

There was some popular music blaring, and most of the kids were dancing. Malcolm and Petunia didn't like to dance much, and I abhorred it. I was a fighter, not a dancer. We stood around a while, munching, while Petunia talked until we got bored and she ran out of adjectives to describe her new wardrobe. The music got too loud, and I didn't like this band anyway. The Weird Sisters were much better. I motioned them to follow me, and we snuck out and out into the hall.

"Lets do something fun!" Petunia squealed.

"What do you suggest?" I asked. Petunia's idea of 'fun' was putting on makeup and doing each other's hair. I didn't think Mal would like that. In fact, he was starting to look a little afraid.

"Ummm…." She had no idea.

"Let's play Quiddich." Completely uncharacteristic, Mal spoke his opinion. Most likely out of fear. He usually did what ever we did, normally. I liked his idea. We all agreed and headed to the indoor pitch that dominated the second floor. It wasn't a full sized pitch, but it would do for three people. We grabbed brooms from the utility closet, the latest model, and swung up into the air.

Hours later, Mal and I collapsed exhaustedly on the floor. Petunia had quit quite some time ago, and resigned to cheering us on as we played one on one.

"Good game, good game." I gasped. He nodded. I let him win. Petunia started to chatter about something, and I could faintly hear a voice calling my name. Only it wasn't my name.

"Shush." Petunia trailed off. Our rapid breath quieted, and the voice became more persistent.

"what is it?" Petunia whispered.

"Do you not hear that?"

"No…" I looked to Mal. He shook his head.

"Someone is calling me." I stood up, and heard it again. "There!" They looked at me like I was crazy.

"Honey, there's no one calling you." I knitted my eyebrows, and glared at them.

"I know what I hear! And I'll prove it." I dashed out, running through the mansion. I never found the source of the voice. It was always out of my reach, right around the corner, or behind me. I could never hear it clearly either. It stopped, just as it had started.

Petunia and Mal gave up trying to follow me, and found their way back to the ballroom, where the party was dying down. When I got to them, there were only a handful of people milling about. Uncle B was nowhere in sight.

"I'm not crazy." Petunia nodded pitifully. Mal made no comment.

Once Uncle B came back from wherever he was, we Flooed back home. I should have been exhausted, I trained hard, went to a stressful party, and played Quiddich; but I was so hyped up from hearing that voice again, I lied in bed with my eyes wide open until I saw the sun rising.

I didn't hear the voice for the rest of the break, and it started to drive me crazy. I started to research ghost voices, spells that make you hear things, and even schizophrenia. Uncle B continued teaching me the basics of sword fighting, and taught me moves to practice when I returned to school.

We arrived early to the train station. The big red train was as usual, and there were numerous witches and wizards bustling back and forth across the platform. I could hear excited squeals and "OMG what did you get for Christmas?" all around. It was going to be a long ride.

Uncle B nodded his silent good bye, and handed my trunk off to me. I hadn't even opened my presents; I just threw them in my trunk for later. They were probably some useless trinkets anyway.

I boarded the train and picked an empty compartment. Hopefully I wouldn't be bothered for at least 5 more minutes. Since I hadn't slept well lately, I decided it was time for a nap. I had already changed into my school uniform, so I just draped my robe over me like a blanket, used my current research book as a pillow, and threw the hood over my face. I fell asleep as soon as I shut my eyes.

The train was moving when I woke up. There were some hushed whispers, and I was immediately on alert. There were two boys and one girl. One of them was berating the girl for something. Bullying? Yes, she was being bullied. By a Slytherin, named Davidson. I remember a girl in my house and a couple of years younger than I named Heather Davidson, and she was a huge bitch. There was no doubt this girl was probably being harassed by her.

It was none of my business, but I sat up anyway, the robe falling off my face. I pretended like I had just woken up, yawning and rubbing my eyes. Then I saw who it was, and they were all glaring at me.

"Sorry, I didn't know who you were. We'll move." James Potter said icily. Apparently the whole thing with his dad didn't fly with him. I opened my mouth, wanting to apologize, but I just stuttered, not able to get anything that actually sounded like an English word out. I gave up and took a breath, and was able to form semi-intelligent words.

"No, I'll leave. Three against one, right?" I stood up. The girl, who was a little redheaded thing, looked at me pitifully.

"No, don't go. We can all share a compartment." She piped up. James elbowed her. "James, she helped me pick up my books once. She's nice." I did? I couldn't remember a specific time, but I do remember helping several people over the course of the year with their books. None of their faces stood out. Though there was a faint memory of red hair.

James considered it, and nodded his consent. "I guess you can stay." Thank you, Your Highness.

I sat down again and we all stared at each other awkwardly. The other boy was slightly younger, with red hair also, though not as bright as his sister's. James was the only one with brown hair, and even then you could see a slight red tint to it. They were all definitely family.

"Okay…I'm just going to read. Please continue… whatever you were doing." I hefted my book onto my lap and flipped it open to where I had left off.

"What are you reading?" The redheaded girl asked, switching seats to read over my shoulder.

"Uhh… just some research on an extra credit assignment I'm doing for umm… Charms." I lied like a rug. What was I suppose to say? 'I'm hearing voices inside my head that call my name, but not my name, and I'm trying to figure out if I'm crazy or not.' Heck no.

"Oh that's cool." James looked at me suspiciously.

"I never heard of any extra credit assignments."

"It's for special people who are failing the class." I replied dryly. Not that I was in anyway failing Charms. You had to be a blind newt to fail that class. He still looked suspicious, but he accepted my explanation.

"My name is Lily, by the way. Lily Potter." The girl next to me piped up.

"Rhiannon Fakar. But you can call me Rhian, if you want." She nodded happily. She looked like a 1st year, but if my memory was correct, she was a 2nd year, which made her only 3 years younger than me. She was kind of cute, like a kitten.

"And I'm Al Potter." The other Potter announced. I nodded, committing the names to memory. I looked at James, who crossed his arms.

"No way you don't know me." There was no way I wouldn't know any of them.

"It's polite to introduce yourself." I could see that he was taken aback. I had practically told him he was rude.

"James Potter." I raised my eyebrow.

"I know who you are." I couldn't keep the grin off my face. The other two laughed and the look on James' face was priceless. I went from being totally unapproachable to the Potter's to being funny, and nice. This was a good change.

Lily started to prattle on about her classes, much like Petunia does, only more intelligently. I half listened to her, and half studied the siblings. Especially James, though him extra discreetly. He was very lithe, and muscular, like a fighter. But I knew that was only a Seeker's body, the position awarded to him his 2nd year. It was a big ordeal, James following in his father's footsteps. There was no way he knew how to fight, other than brawl like a boy.

Eventually Petunia and Mal found us, the former exclaiming hysterically that she had been looking for me EVERYWHERE. Petunia was slightly confused when she realized who I was sharing a compartment with, but when I introduced them, she seemed to relax a little. Our houses never got along in the first place, but my two lackeys were able to get along with the Potter's well. Mal never spoke anyway, and Petunia would talk to a plant.

The train screeched to a halt in Hogsmeade, and everyone filed out, pushing and shoving to get a carriage. The Thestrals stamped their hooves and shook their heads, impatient to get moving. Mal, Petunia and I chose a carriage, and I put my hand out for the Thestral to nuzzle. It did, and I whispered my thanks for a safe journey. We had lost the Potters in the crowd; it would have been bad for us to be seen together in public anyway.

The ride didn't take long, and soon we were sitting at the Slytherin table, with the Gryffindor table in the perfect line of vision. More specifically, the back of James Potter's head.

The headmistress gave her speech, and everyone dug in. The feast after the holidays was always the best, with all the delicious Christmas food and pudding. I spent most of my time on the pudding.

Getting settled into the dorm was quick, everything was where they had left it, and it took only a simple flick of the wrist to hang the clothes in the wardrobe. There were 5 girls in the room, including Petunia and I. The other three girls kept away from me, though they generally accepted Petunia due to the fact that she gave great makeovers. After they had all gone to bed, I pulled all the presents from my trunk and settled them on my bed and drew the curtains across, hiding me from view. My bed was the farthest from the others, in a corner where the window was. The Slytherin dorm was in the dungeons, however, all the dorm rooms were up in a very tall tower, so we were afforded an outside view. It had a wonderful little ledge to it as well, which became the perfect spot to sit and read a book.

I opened my presents and was rewarded with my prediction. Useless trinkets. However, there was one particular wrapped gift that I hadn't remembered packing. Unlike all the others that were decorated with shiny bows and metallic paper, this one was ties with a dirty string and enveloped with brown paper. It was thick, large, and square; obviously a book.

Slipping the wrapping off, the book was titled "The History of Dangerous Magical Creatures". The book gave the history of every dangerous magical creature known to wizard, and then some. It also listed dangerous objects, weapons, and general people to watch out for.

This should be an interesting read. Looking in the front cover, there was a note written from Uncle Boris.

Rhian,

Happy Christmas

Uncle B

It was a wonderful, inspiring letter. I shut the book and slipped it under my pillow. I threw the rest of the trinkets into a drawer in my wardrobe and crawled into bed. Despite my nap earlier, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

My dreams were filled with a certain brown-eyed Gryffindor.