Chapter 3: What's In A Name?
Harry's Pov:
I watch as she practically struts from the room. I let slip a small smile, kind of an idiotic one at that. She just did what Snape has been accusing me of for years: strutting around like I own the place. Except I think hers was more of a "piss off, Malfoy" kind of strut. I apparently look pretty ridiculous because Hermione subtly points it out to me.
"You look ridiculous with that stupid smile on your face."
Ok…not so subtle. I quickly wipe the silly grin off my face and try to explain myself.
"Well, it's just that-"
"Never mind, Harry. You don't have to say anything. It's clear you like her and I think you're an idiot for it."
Um, she interrupted me. And what is this she said about me being an idiot?
"Why am I an idiot for liking someone? What if I want to be friends with her? What's wrong with that?"
Hermione responds with an incredulous look and I can see a light turn on in her head, switching her into Miss-Know-It-All mode. I hate it when she gets like this. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the weekly lecture.
"Harry, didn't you see the way she looked at you when she found out who you were?"
"Well, it was a little odd, I admit. Most people just stand there shaking my hand off and babbling on and on about how great a pleasure it is. I have to say, her reaction was definitely a break from the monotony. I can't say I mind." I give a small smile, but Hermione isn't giving up yet.
"And were you listening when she was talking to Malfoy?" I don't think she even heard me.
"Hermione, I wouldn't exactly call that talking." She just glares at me, probably because I interrupted her again. I just don't see what could be so bad about this new girl. I mean, can't Hermione just get to know her first before she makes any judgments? We barely know anything about her and already she has an enemy- my best friend. And having Hermione as your enemy is never good. She continues lecturing me. She now seems really annoyed and is acting like I'm an ignorant child who just can't grasp how to read, which to Hermione would be annoying.
"She said she knew that he looked like his father and that he also had his personality. How could she know these things if she didn't already know Malfoy Sr., the Death Eater? How do you think-"
Just now, Ron, looking tired and bothered (probably because he hasn't been able to finish reading his World Quidditch News magazine), interrupts her. "Can't you just drop it, Hermione? You're really annoying when you're like this. Leave Harry alone. You don't even know the girl yet and already you're accusing her of being in league with You-know-who!"
Hermione leaps to her feet, obviously enraged by Ron's words. "Ronald! I did no such thing!" She places her hands on her hips and glares at Ron. He tries to hide behind his magazine, but nothing can escape the wrath of Hermione Granger, Ticking Time Bomb. "And I'm annoying, am I? Well, then why do you bother hanging out with me? Why don't I just leave and then you won't have to deal with me anymore?!" She looks on the verge of tears as she storms out of the compartment, slamming the door in my face as I stand to try and calm her down.
"You've done it again, Ron. And you really pissed her off this time."
Ron just grunts and goes back to his magazine. "It's not my fault she's so much of a pushy know-it-all." I just shake my head and sit back down, checking my watch. We're almost to Hogwarts. Thank goodness. I'm starving. Oh, Leia's back. Wow. She looks good in that uniform, and that's rare with what they make us wear. Hmm, maybe those high heels help. They certainly define her legs. I wonder why other girls don't wear high heels? Oh well, who cares, right? Oh, looks like she's noticed Hermione's absence. I better get ready to explain.
Leia's Pov:
I head back to the compartment, wearing my new uniform: gray skirt, white blouse, black tie (I don't have a house yet, so the tie doesn't have any house colors decorating it), knee-highs, high heels (I prefer them to flats), and of course, the black robes that will soon have the badge of my house. Man, I don't even want to think about the house issue yet.
I open the door to our compartment and step inside, glancing for a brief second at Potter. I sigh inside. I know I'll have to confront him eventually, but, well, I've explained my problems with this before so I won't carry on. I'll have to make friends with him before the week is up. There is no doubt in my mind about that. Father would want it that way if he were here now. But he's off devising another plan to kill Potter and Dumbledore, and to take over. Take over what, I have no idea. I really don't know what he's after.
I look around as I sit down. The red head is still reading his magazine, but I notice that the girl is gone. I turn to Potter because the red head is too into his magazine. "Where'd your friend run off to?"
He looks me in the eyes and it seems he is weighing things in his mind, like he's deciding what he should and shouldn't tell me. Finally, he speaks up. "Well, Hermione (that's our friend who was here) decided to lecture me again. But Ron," he motions to the red head, "told her to shut up because she was getting carried away and-"
"She was bloody annoying," Ron puts in, interrupting Potter, or Harry as I guess I should start calling him if I'm ever going to be his friend.
"Yeah, well, that," Harry started again, "and so she got mad and left in a huff. I don't think we'll see her again till at least tomorrow, if not at dinner. Depends on how upset she is."
I nod. I know how it goes. My friends and I have had similar quarrels. (Here I must add that although I was taught the ways of magic by my parents and never went to a wizarding school, I am a good friend of the sons and daughters of my fellow teammates on England's Quidditch team, the Royal Renegades. I am the youngest member of the team.) It is also very clear to me that I will have to watch how seriously I take this Ron. He seems like the tactless type, who might mean what he says, but doesn't say it for any reason except that it was in his head in the first place.
I suddenly remember my new familiar and decide I should go ahead and name him. I pull his basket from under my seat and see a note attached to the top. It's from my father…
Leia,
I hope this snake as your familiar satisfies you. He is Nagini's brother, both of a very rare species. Name him what you will. I know you speak Parseltongue so I thought it appropriate. Remember your duties.
Father
Well, that was thoughtful of him (a rare occurrence, I'm sorry to say). Nagini's brother, did he say? That's interesting. I didn't know she had a brother. (Just so you know: Nagini is my father's familiar.) I look around and see Harry staring at the basket. I motion to it. "It's my familiar. My father gave it to me." He nods and asks what it is. I merely lift off the lid and we both watch as a beautiful snake comes sliding out, a brilliant diamond pattern along his back. I gasp in awe at its magnificence. He is so amazing (I've always had an attraction to snakes) and I want to pick just the right name for him. I would like to just ask him what he wants to be called, but I can't speak Parseltongue with Harry and Ron here. No, that's too risky. I am pretty sure Harry knows about my father speaking Parseltongue. (Harry speaks Parseltongue himself, or so my father said.) But if I speak Parseltongue around anyone at all, it's sure to get around and Harry might figure my secret out. Whether or not he'll believe it is another matter.
I decide to ask Harry if he can ask my familiar about its name. I certainly can't do it. I watch as the snake slides around the compartment and curls itself onto the seat next to Ron where Hermione had been only five minutes ago. Ron stares over the top of his magazine, the Holyhead Harpies flying around a Quidditch field below his nose. His eyes are wide, apparently a little frightened. That reaction is understandable. At least he's not climbing up into the luggage rack from fear. That is what I would call overreacting.
"Harry, I hear you speak Parseltongue." I decide to start this way. I hope it will draw less attention to me. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, but answers anyway.
"Yeah, yeah I do."
"Great!" I smile broadly and laugh as his expression is flooded with confusion.
"Most people find that to be a bad thing," he says, eyeing me a little suspiciously. "Why are you so excited?"
I just smile and explain. "Well, I want to name him-" I gesture towards the snake, "and I think it best if he chooses it. Since you speak Parseltongue, I just wanted to know if you could ask him for me." Hopefully my acting is convincing enough.
"Oh, sure." He seems a bit confused and apprehensive, but he turns to my familiar anyway and begins to speak in Parseltongue.
Um, excuse me, but we were wondering what you want your name to be.
The snake raises its head and stares directly at me as he responds. He knows I understand.
Salazar.
Salazar? Harry asks with surprise.
Isn't that what I said? Yes, Salazar.
Ok. Harry turns back to me. "Salazar."
"Ok, Salazar it is," I say, acting as though I had no clue what they had been saying. I know perfectly well why he chose that name: it connects him to our family and even snakes have pride. But Harry seems puzzled by my familiar's choice of name. Though he says nothing about it, I can see it etched in his face. Ron just goes back to reading. Does he ever think of anything else besides Quidditch?
I suddenly hear a call outside the compartment. It sounds like it's coming from a few doors down. "The trolley is coming through! Get your sweets and candies here!" Food sounds good just about now, and I've been craving some chocolate frogs for a while now. I pull out a couple galleons from my pocket. Soon the trolley is just outside our compartment and a little witch opens the door. "Anything off the trolley today, dears?" I stand up, as do Harry and Ron. Harry buys some chocolate frogs, a couple licorice wands, and a pumpkin pasty. Ron goes for the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and the chocolate frogs. It is then my turn and I look everything over quickly, making up my mind to purchase chocolate frogs and a package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Harry and Ron look at me funny and ask if I'm sure I want to eat the beans. I just laugh and tell them I love Bertie Bott's. Ron just shakes his head and Harry smiles, muttering, "You're braver than I am." I eat one and it's chocolate flavored. Aren't I lucky?
I soon rest my head on the wall of the compartment and fall asleep. I fall into a quiet, blackened sleep, not dreaming anything (for once). I am glad to not have to wake up screaming from another nightmare. This is the first peaceful sleep I've had in a long time.
When next I wake, the compartment lamps are lit and the sky is black and lit by stars. "Is it that late already?" I ask of Harry, who is standing at the window, now dressed in his school robes. (Ron is now organizing his chocolate frog cards.)
"Yeah, you slept for several hours. We're almost there; come take a look." He motions for me to join him. I do so and look out into the night. There it is. Hogwarts, my new school, my new home for a year, and the new battleground. It is a magnificent castle, with many rooms, towers, windows, and (as my parents told me) many secret rooms and passages. The place is lit up brilliantly by candles and torches shining through each window. I sigh in awe, leaning against the windowsill. I am now starting to look forward to going here. I only wish that I could have come as myself, Leia Riddle, and under different circumstances. Of course, maybe it's best I come without my family's reputation trailing in my wake.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Harry says to me as we watch the school and the town of Hogsmeade grow ever closer.
"Yes, it certainly is," I say, amazed by the sight before me. I don't know what the castle looks like in daylight, but I sure as hell love it at night, when it is lit only by small torches and the dying embers of the evening's fires, like now. The darkness of the night has always taken my breath away. I am enchanted by its melody, by its song. Most people might say this has something to do with my past and how I was raised by the Dark Lord and his Death Eater wife, how I was taught the ways of the Dark Arts before I was eight. But I am almost foolproof positive that this is not the case, that there is just something about me that binds me to the darkness, to the night.
