A/N: & so it officially starts...
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter One
The trolley lady was missing.
"No, actually, she's up front talking to the conductor," Lauren informed them helpfully. "As for me, I'm making sure no one steals the sweets." She shot him a meaningful look.
No one asked, Daryl thought irritably.
"That's great, but we only need a couple of chocolate frogs. We'll leave the money with you and you can give it to her later." Marty said pleasantly.
Lauren looked unconvinced. "No can do," she said smugly, crossing her arms.
Daryl glared at her. "I don't see why not. She gets paid and we get our chocolate frogs."
"I'm sorry, but I really can't. You can wait a while, can't you?"
"No, we can't." Daryl said stubbornly.
"Well then, you'll have to." Lauren snapped. "I'm not selling them to you, so you can both stand there and wait or buy them when the trolley lady comes by just like everyone else."
Daryl felt like pulling his hair out in frustration. "But we come here every year and she sells it to us just fine!"
"Unluckily for you, this year she left me in charge." Lauren boomed, her face twisting unattractively.
Yikes, she was scary when she wanted to be.
"No problem, I'll wait here." Marty cut in quickly. He shot a glance at Daryl which clearly meant, 'She's gonna blow her top soon. Disappear now.'
"I'll get us a compartment." Daryl said, deliberately not looking at Lauren.
He started up the Hogwarts Express, fuming. To compound his lovely mood that day, all the compartments were either full or occupied by a couple of first years. Daryl Jones, share a compartment with first years? The idea sounded absurd even in his mind. The only time he had done that was when he himself was a first year.
Finally he spotted one that looked to be empty. His mood lifted for a moment before crashing down again at the sight of… of a first year occupying the compartment. She was hunched up in a corner reading a book, so it was no wonder he hadn't see her.
Damn…what am I gonna do now? This is all Lauren's fault! He seriously felt like hitting something at that instant. He glanced up and down the corridor. There was no one in the vicinity. Normally, Daryl wouldn't be caught dead doing this but… well, desperate times called for desperate measures.
He slumped to the ground.
Niles would throw a fit if he saw what Daryl was doing to his carefully-ironed and previously wrinkle-free clothes. But Daryl dismissed that thought, as more important matters were at hand.
It was time for what had made the sorting hat put him in Ravenclaw to kick in. Think, Daryl, think.
He glanced at the empty corridor again. Everyone is in their compartments. Except Marty and her, but they don't count. Right. Everyone is in their compartments, therefore the compartments are full. Everyone is out of their compartments, therefore the compartments are empty. What would make them come out? The trolley lady. Instantly his mind flashed back to chocolate frogs. Argh! Okay, other than that. Chaos, disruption, something that causes a crowd to gather…how about a first year being bullied?
Well, he had never actually bullied a first year before. He preferred to stay well away from them. It was best not to associate with inferior minds and lowly intellectuals.
He just wanted to draw a crowd, not do something completely against the rules. He had no desire for a detention, something foreign and downright degrading to him. Right…so I'll shake her up a bit, make enough noise to draw a crowd, and then saunter out as they part for me, before heading straight into an empty compartment. He had not consciously picked the first year in the compartment behind him as his first victim, but he figured it was more convenient that way.
Standing up, he studied himself carefully. Did he look like a bully? He mussed his hair up a bit more, making it stick out at odd angles. He loosened his tie, untied his shoelaces (on second thought, no, he might trip and wouldn't that be embarrassing), tied his shoelaces, unbuttoned his shirt and put on what he hoped was an intimidating face. Now, practice walking like a guy not to be messed with. He hunched his shoulders, looked grouchy and started walking with a limp. Ah…that should do it.
Resisting the urge to straighten his tie, he placed one hand on the door handle. Here goes.
"BANG!" He stormed in, momentarily forgetting about his supposed limp. He was taken aback when the girl did not even look up. Did she not hear me? He limped over to her. Her head was bent over the book on her lap, brown locks hiding her face from view. For a moment his bookish side took over and he wondered what book she was reading, for her to be so engrossed in it. And then like a mental slap he remembered what he was there for.
Grab the book, yes grab the book! He grabbed the book and threw it into a corner. He could see the girl stiffen and she looked up at him. Her wide brown eyes were filled with terror, until she looked back down quickly, afraid to meet his eyes. A wave of uncertainty washed over him. For a moment he wasn't sure he could go through with it.
He glanced towards the door. A dozen curious eyes peered in at them. Daryl took a step towards them and, quick as a blink, they disappeared from sight. This wasn't working well at all. He needed them to be so stunned that he would walk out and they would linger there, wondering what had just happened. He gritted his teeth. He would finish what he had started.
"Hey, first year." Daryl started. She remained frozen on the seat. Had she even heard him? He tried again. "First year, I'm talking to you."
"First year, it's rude to disrespect your elders," Hmmm, no, that hadn't come out right. Be more threatening, more threats! "You know what I can do, first year?" At that point he decided if he kept calling her 'first year' it was going to sound ridiculous before long.
He leaned close. "Hey, what's your name?" he whispered in the general direction of her ear. The noise outside the door increased. They probably thought he was going to rape her or something.
She remained silent for a moment, and then he heard it--a fragile, trembling voice--, "Fran."
"Fran!" he exclaimed, straightening his back. Ouch, that was starting to hurt. Oh, the perils of being a bully.
"Fran, do you know what you are?" he gave the customary pause, "you are a first year, and in my book that means that you're even lower than a flobberworm, a monkey, or a-" Wait, what was that? Did he hear a giggle? Someone outside was giggling at him. No one giggled at Daryl Jones!
Everyone took him in deadly earnest because he was top of his house, top of his year even. Every word he said was like a priceless gem dropping from his lips. Well… to everyone except a certain redhead. And that only because she was an intransigent vegetarian while he, a fervent meat-lover. But he digressed. It's time to step it up a bit. Okay, a lot.
"Or a mudblood." He finished. Fran looked up suddenly, and he saw a flash of pure anger in her eyes, but was distracted by the fact that his hair was on fire. "Argh!" he yelled, swatting at it with his hands, which seemed to only make it worse. "Put it out!" he yelled, cursing the fact that Fran seemed disinclined to do much of anything.
"Aguamenti!"
That was weird. He thought he heard the water spell. But they didn't learn that until sixth yea- Splash!
Daryl felt the water drip from his hair and seep into his robes. In short, he was drenched to the bone.
Laughter rang out from the other side of the door. Oh no…no you don't.
He lost it right then and there. "Why, you-!" he strode towards her, but was halted by a new voice.
"I suggest you rethink that." The girl in the doorway said. She was abnormally short, even for a first year, and she was holding a guitar in one hand. Her other fist was clenched as she gestured it at him threateningly. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
The words came out of his mouth even before he registered them. "I guess that rules you out then."
Instantly, a cat he hadn't noticed before jumped out from behind her and hissed at him, baring its teeth. To be honest, he was torn between amusement and the need to save his fast crumbling reputation.
Thankfully, Marty chose this moment to appear.
"What's going on?" Marty surveyed the chaos. "Oh."
"Oh indeed." Daryl muttered, pulling at his ruined clothes. He took out his wand and cast a drying spell on them. There, much better. Oh, and the hair too.
Marty leaned closer. "So, um, is this how you planned on getting us a compartment?" he asked.
"Actually… yes it is." Daryl felt a grin spread across his face. So there was a bright side after all!
Cat girl placed a hand on her hip and glared.
"Right…" Marty said doubtfully. "Come on, let's go. I saw loads of empty compartments on the way here."
Daryl couldn't resist. "I'll be back," he informed them ominously, before leaving with a swish of his robes.
It was just as he had imagined; the crowd parted for them like the red sea for Moses, and it was a cinch finding an empty compartment. So all in all, Daryl considered this a successful venture, minus the humiliation of being drenched by a first year or being hissed at by a clearly deranged cat (not to mention owner).
"Chocolate frog?" Marty offered.
"Nothing better," Daryl grinned.
Robin scowled and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I don't believe this." She said. "Look at them, they're totally destroyed!"
"No Robbie, they look gorgeous." Juliet hastened to placate her. They splayed their fingers beside each others for comparison. It was true; Robin's long, slender fingers looked better than Juliet's short, stumpy ones, no matter how chipped the nail polish had gotten.
"You don't count," Robin said dismissively. She took out her wand and tapped the offending nails. "Disappearo," she muttered, and the nail polish disappeared (self-explanatory). She would have to go nude for now, but she was certainly going to splash a new coat on the moment they got back to their dorms. For now though, they were due in the Great Hall for the sorting.
"Follow me," she ordered, and strut into the Great Hall.
Thirty minutes later…
"Yawn." Robin said, rather loudly, earning her a glare from a Professor.
Juliet giggled.
It was the middle of the sorting, and Robin was glad it took place only once a year. There had been no names of any interest this year, except the next heir to the Malfoy fortune, who looked kind of like his father, and yet not. His whole demeanor was different, which for Robin just translated to: ZERO POTENTIAL.
"Marchetta, Elvira."
Now that made her sit up and take notice. Of course she knew that the most genius, brilliant, not to mention sizzling hot designer had a daughter. But no one had told her she was a witch!
"What are you smiling about, Robbie?" Juliet asked.
"Nothing." Robin replied, crossing her arms.
The thought that Robin had the strangest smile on her face drifted across Juliet's mind, before being replaced by a craving for cupcakes.
"Potter, Albus."
The Gryffindor table cheered as Albus walked towards the Sorting Hat.
Even after all those years, Hogwarts still used the same system of sorting students. The Sorting Hat looked more tattered than ever, and it had a tendency to forget the lyrics right in the middle of a song, which naturally left the new students very confused.
"Go, Al!" Rose cheered from the line of first-years, and then blushed as several heads swiveled towards her.
Al Potter resisted the urge to throw up (even though he had not eaten much on the train, really) and concentrated on going up the steps without tripping and making a fool of himself in front of the whole school.
Truth be told, it was a relief when he sat down on the stool. For a second he could see everyone's eyes focused on him, before his view was blocked by McGonagall placing the hat on his head. The hat was so big… and floppy that it went halfway down his nose.
Silence…
"Um… hello?" he ventured.
Oh yes! My boy! Sorry, I dozed off for a second. Getting old, getting old… Forgive me, young man.
"Um, sure." Al said. His father had mentioned that the hat had been there since the beginning of Hogwarts, and that was, to Al, ancient.
Now what have we here?
Al had the sudden uncomfortable feeling of someone digging into his mind.
He tried valiantly to push the unsettling imagery from his head.
Ha ha, interesting mind you have here! Just like your dad, you are.
Al beamed, proud to be compared to his father.
Ooh, but what's this here? You have cunning, young man. Know how to get yourself out of trouble, do you?
Uh-oh. Alarm bells started going off in Al's head.
Silence…
"Um, hat?"
You would do well in…
"SLYTHERIN!"
The hat yelled the last word out.
Al froze, unable to believe his ears.
The hall was so quiet you could hear a flobberworm munch lettuce.
Light flooded into his eyes as Professor McGonagall removed the hat from his head. He looked at her pleadingly, but she refused to meet his eyes, her lips set in a grim line.
He saw fear, surprise, indifferent faces and faces with contradicting emotions darting over them.
Somehow he managed to get up shakily and make his way down the steps.
He had to pass the Gryffindor table to get to his new House.
"Pataki, Reggie." McGonagall finally said.
The hushed silence was broken and conversation flowed once again.
He averted his eyes when the hat yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!" for Rose.
Peeves was peeved that all the other ghosts were at dinner while he was left to wander Hogwarts' hallowed halls.
McGonagall had banned him from attending the feast a hundred years ago (yes the old bat was that old). Then Peeves did a very dangerous thing. He began to think.
'I'm bored!' were his exact thoughts.
You don't want to be around when Peeves gets bored.
Let's just say, there were screams in the night.
A/N: A tear. That was my first 'second chapter'. :) Review, I accept anything.
