Joe's Note: For those of you who are wondering, Mei-Xing and Su refer to each other as tòng muí and tòng zé because Cantonese features over a dozen words for 'cousin', based upon how the two are related. Tòng muí is literally a younger female cousin of the same last name, while tòng zé is an older female cousin of the same last name. If they were Li Mei-Xing and Chang Su but still cousins, they'd be 'bíu' instead of 'tòng'. Then there are words for any paternal female cousin, any paternal male cousin, paternal cousins who are older than you…
September 1, 2001
It was a pity that the wizards who'd done the decorating here were probably dead and turned to dust, Hazel mused as she tagged along at the end of the crowd of first years entering the Great Hall. While she could have done without the floating candles, long and impersonal wooden tables, and the unfinished stone construction that was so 1500s, the ceiling that looked identical to the sky outside was a positively brilliant bit of magic if she did say so herself. She could definitely see her uncles embracing something like that for the palace's formal dining room and ballroom.
Maybe she could learn how to do it herself? Start with her own bedroom - because being able to stargaze in her pajamas from the privacy of her bed would be awesome - and then maybe make a bit of personal spending money hiring herself out? Then again… a bedroom with the charm might not be such a great idea. If the ceiling was permanently set in that state… ugh, waking up to sunlight through the window was bad enough. An entire ceilingful would be unbearable.
A clatter broke Hazel out of her musing and she looked down to find the woman that Hagrid had called Professor McGonagall placing a four-legged stool at the front of the line of first years. On top of the stool she placed a patched, frayed, and extremely dirty wizard's hat. Hazel's brow scrunched up in disgust at the sight of it. 'Okay, you're going to have to get sorted for me. I'm not putting that on my head.'
Before Vi could return fire, the hat twitched and perked up, a pair of what had originally looked like creases furrowing like brows. Then a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat began to sing.
"Oh you may not think me 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 Hogwarts 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 heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might 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!"
The entire hall burst into applause at the Sorting Hat finished its song and bowed to each of the four tables before going still again. Turning around, Ráichéal eyed the quintet she'd ridden the train with. "Just so we're all clear, even if we don't end up in a house together, we're still going to be friends, right? Because you lot are actually pretty tolerable. I'd hate to have to start from scratch. Especially if it means getting smashed in the face with a door again."
As McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment and summoned 'Abbot, Hannah' to the front, Hazel smirked. "At least you're finally admitting you're the one who hit the door instead of saying I hit you." Ráichéal stuck her tongue out and the others giggled. "But seriously there are five of us, since Vi doesn't count. Out of what, twenty girls I think I saw? The chances of us ending up together in a house, which means we'd be the entire girls' group for that house for this year, are astronomical. So cross-house friends is the best we can hope for. And we will be. It's not like they can ban us from talking to each other just because our robes have different colors of trim, right?"
"True. But, you English keep claiming my people say 'May you live in interesting times' - and if you can find me someone in China who actually says that, I'll give you my inheritance… wait, where was I? Oh, right. Interesting times. No thanks." Su eyed them for a moment before offering a hesitant smile. "No offense, because you seem nice but… well… tòng zé's a menace and if you get along with her, I'm probably safer staying as far away from you all as possible. The only reason I rode with her is because our fathers told her to look out for me."
Hazel could understand that; there were a few mutants that she tolerated for Violette's sake but would gladly be rid of if she could without her companion having a fit. Su, on the other hand, actually had a choice and was choosing to exercise it. Good on her. Not to mention that Mei-Xing and Su were close enough in appearance that she could easily see herself confusing one for the other on a casual glance and wouldn't that be embarrassing? No Su meant only one Li and she couldn't possibly mistake Mei-Xing for one of her other friends. "Okay. Well, good luck in whatever house you end up in, then. And hope you're not with Granger." Turning back to Ráichéal, she nudged the girl in the ribs. "I hope we're in the same house. I still want those lessons on cosmetic charms and it'd be weird doing that in a public bathroom or some random empty room."
"And you still owe me a box of that muggle junk to see if it will work on my hair." Hazel had a suspicion it would; if there was some sort of magic tied to Ráichéal's piebaldism that kept other magic from masking it, how would it block a muggle method? There was no magic to interfere with. "Now get ready. Someone named Finnigan is under the Hat, so you should be up next."
"Gryffindor!"
"Granger, Hermione."
The group watched in nervous anticipation as the pest from the train raced up to the stool, hopping into place and bouncing impatiently until McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat into place. Almost immediately, her mouth began moving but if she was actually vocalizing anything, it was too low for Hazel to hear.
'While I see a deep sense of curiosity and a brilliant intellect, Ravenclaws tend to be creators and tinkerers. You, on the other hand, are a hoarder. So we'll set that aside as a possibility, but… hmm. Muggleborn, so despite your ambitions, Slytherin might not be the best choice. You're far too non-confrontational to survive in that house. Gryffindor, you say? Why would… ah, because Dumbledore was? Far from the first time I've received such a request, although you're one of the more stubborn to make it. Hmm. Let's make an experiment of it, hmm? I don't find you particularly well suited for the house but you dearly wish to be there. In seven years, I want you to sit down and write a book about whether you should have let the Sorting Hat place you in Ravenclaw or if you were truly happy with…'
"Gryffindor!"
As the girl rose and trotted over to sit with the rest of the red and gold-trimmed students, Professor McGonagall shot her an unreadable look before moving on. "Greengrass, Daphne."
"Slytherin!"
"Hopkins, Wayne."
By now, all the girls in her group were looking at Hazel oddly save for Vi. "Didn't you say your name was Hazel Frost? Several times?" Hazel nodded and Mei-Xing pointed up at where the newest Hufflepuff was currently sliding off the stool. "Then why are we on Hs and you're still here with us?"
Hazel's lips quirked up. "Magic?" Waving one hand, she dismissed her companions' questions. "I promise, you'll find out in a few minutes. I'm going to be sorted when it's my turn, honest." Mei-Xing still looked like she wanted to protest, but the sudden 'Li, Mei-Xing' from the front of the hall distracted her. Giving Hazel one last scowl, she stomped to the front and threw herself onto the stool, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at the blonde as the Sorting Hat was lowered onto her head. After a few seconds, it came to a decision.
'Well aren't you a feisty one? You could have stayed in Hong Kong, a safe place you knew well, but decided to come to Hogwarts like your mother. I suppose that could fall under courage or loyalty to your family, but given that you'd drive the Hufflepuffs up the wall in short order, I think you'd be better off in…'
"Gryffindor!"
"Oh come on! I don't want to be in the same house as Granger!" Silence descended upon the Great Hall and Hazel was pretty sure she could hear McGonagall's teeth grinding. Mei-Xing looked over at the glaring professor and gulped. "Erm, not that there's anything wrong with your house, Professor McGonagall. House pride. Yay lions. Crush those snakes. And ooh. I get the pity fund. Cìu huk." McGonagall's eyes narrowed further at that and she snatched the Sorting Hat off of Mei-Xing's head, the Chinese girl sliding off the stool and jerking a thumb back over her shoulder. "Get up here quick, tòng muí, before I make an even bigger idiot out of myself." With that, she bounced over to the Gryffindor table and threw herself down, making a point of putting plenty of space between herself and Hermione.
Without waiting for McGonagall's permission, Su slipped through the crowd and replaced her cousin on the stool. The professor made a point of calling out 'Li, Su' before dropping the Hat onto the girl's head. After a much quicker period of examination than Mei-Xing had warranted, the Sorting Hat decided to split the cousins. Not that Hazel thought Su would mind; she couldn't really picture the quiet girl in Gryffindor with Mei-Xing.
'I… well bugger, this is easy.'
"Ravenclaw!"
After Su joined her housemates, the Hat went through a few other students, including a thoroughly unpleasant looking 'Malfoy, Draco', before reaching 'Murray, Ráichéal'. Bounding up to the stool, the Irish girl snatched the hat out of McGonagall's hands and jammed it onto her head to cut off the whispers that were already starting. "Oh, just take a picture, will you? It lasts longer. And I can flip you off later when the professors aren't looking."
"Miss Murray!"
"Sorry."
"No you're not."
"Wow, it's like you know me already…" There was a low chuckle from the middle of the Head Table, diverting McGonagall's attention for a moment before she refocused and jammed the hat onto Ráichéal's head. "Ugh. When was the last time someone cast a fabric refreshing charm on this thing? It stinks."
'Óiche mhaith, Miss Murray. Ah, I do love it when someone manages to ruffle Minerva. Although I could have done without the comment about my odor; it's not my fault so many preteen boys are lacking in basic hygiene. Now, let's see where we'll be putting you. Not to be rude, but you're not particularly courageous, bright, or ambitious. Oh, you're smart enough and have goals in life, but neither is what defines you. You are, however, hard working and possess a strong sense of loyalty when it comes to your family… and perhaps for the first time a group of friends. So, I suppose I'll be sending you to…'
"Hufflepuff!"
Ráichéal pulled the hat off her head and glared at it, opening her mouth to reply but shutting it in the face of McGonagall's stony expression. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor now that she had a house she could actually lose points for, she retreated to the Hufflepuff table. The sorting continued on, through 'Nott, Theodore', 'Parkinson, Pansy', and two Patils… and then the name Hazel had been waiting for. "Potter, Harry."
And now… showtime. Shrugging off her white outer robe - she wanted everyone to see when her patch and tie changed colors - Hazel draped it over Vi's waiting arm before striding forward. She smirked as conversation around her went from whispers to a roar, everyone in the Great Hall with thoughts to offer about the misdressed blonde girl claiming to be their savior. Reaching the stool and the stunned professor, Hazel simply reached up and pushed her bangs to one side, assuming her infamous scar would serve as identification enough. It did and McGonagall gestured to the stool, allowing Hazel just enough time to seat herself before lowering the Sorting Hat onto her head.
'Hmm. Difficult. Very… oh, who am I kidding? Dumbledore wanted me to test you, to see where you would go if I offered you choices, but there's really only one place you belong. I have to ask, though, aren't you supposed to be the Boy-Who-Lived?'
'Well, if anyone had bothered to ask or even research instead of just writing a fairytale and passing it off as a historically accurate account…'
'Touché. Be careful, young lady. Voldemort may be gone but you'll find plenty of his follower's children in…' "Slytherin!"
"Hmm. Green. It'll go with my eyes, don't you think, Professor?" As Hazel pulled the Hat off her head, the Great Hall was so silent that she could have heard a rat fart. A weak smattering of applause came from the green and silver table and she headed over to join her new housemates, Vi breaking away from the other first years to join her. As they reached the end where the first years were seated, Hazel took a seat beside the blonde named Daphne and Vi grabbed the seat opposite, by the side of a redhead named Tracey Davis if Hazel's memory served her correctly. Nobody seemed inclined to speak with her and so Hazel was content to watch the rest of the sorting quietly.
"Ramsay, Catrìona."
'A hunger for knowledge I see in you, along with a good deal of cunning. You aren't like the Granger girl; she seeks to accumulate knowledge for knowledge's sake and questions little, while you seek because you question. You're still uncertain of how you fit into our world and how our world fits into your views of life. I foresee deep philosophical debates on the nature of life, the universe, and everything in your future, which will be most easily found in…'
"Ravenclaw!"
"Weasley, Ronald."
'Hmm. Relative after relative has gone into Gryffindor and you want to follow in the rest of your family's footsteps. Although I'm not sure you're entirely suited for Gryffindor… that deal you made with the headmaster is quite Slytherin of you, you know. But no, a Weasley and a Malfoy sharing a dorm would just result in bloodshed. Wait. What's this? You root for the Cannons, eh? Even though they haven't had a winning season in your lifetime? I know just where to put someone with that kind of loyalty…'
"Hufflepuff!"
After a quiet, dark-skinned boy named 'Zabini, Blaise' was sorted into Slytherin and sat down between Daphne and a weedy looking boy, the man she recognized from pictures as Albus Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
Dumbledore returned to his seat as the students clapped and cheered, and Hazel met Vi's eyes across the table. The blonde knew all about people who played at being less than they were to be underestimated; a good number of the Savage Land's mutants had fallen to Vi's vicious electrical attacks after allowing her to lull them into complacency. She wouldn't make the same mistake.
Little pops filled the air and the table groaned under the sudden weight of all sorts of food, Hazel recognizing most of the dishes but spotting some that were foreign even to someone as well traveled as her. As she did her best to dish up a plate of food her mother wouldn't glare her to death for eating - mashed potatoes, corn, and baked chicken - she began reaching out with telepathic tendrils, digging into the minds of her fellow Slytherin first years to get to know them.
The first mind she chose to invade was that of a boy with hair as pale as hers, the apparent ringleader of a tight clump of five first years. Draco Malfoy. Hazel frowned before remembering why the name sounded familiar - apart from hearing his name called during the sorting, of course. One Lucius Malfoy had claimed to be an unwilling follower of Voldemort after the war ended and had been pardoned of his crimes. If the Sorting Hat was to be believed, though, he might not have been quite as unwilling as he wanted people to believe. And Draco's memories of his father only backed that up: the man was a hardcore blood purist who had passed on his bigotry to his son. Somehow, Hazel doubted the immature boy would be able to resist the urge to try and torment her for her half-blood status and… well, she didn't see that going too well for him. The only real question was how long would it take Draco to learn his lesson and seek a new target?
Bookending Malfoy were two boys that didn't require much in the way of inspection or consideration. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle reminded Hazel of Fred Dukes: big, strong, and dumb. While being big and strong would normally be a plus, she was pretty sure it would just make them bigger targets when spells started flying. Not threats in the least, she decided. Liabilities to Draco, actually, insofar as she doubted they'd do anything but get in the way if the blonde got into a fight.
Another liability was the black-haired girl sitting directly across from him. Pansy Parkinson. Hazel scrunched up her nose in disgust as she eyed the girl. Evidently Ráichéal wasn't the only one suffering the negative affects of being a bit too pure; the girl looked like a pug. She was also betrothed to the Malfoy heir by way of a contract their parents had signed. While Draco was still largely in the 'girls are gross' phase alongside Ron Weasley, that would change as he aged and then she'd make a great way to get at Draco without directly attacking him. Hazel felt a momentary flash of guilt for thinking that, but a second scan of Pansy's mind caused it to evaporate fairly quickly. The girl was a bigoted, vain, worthless little brat with no redeeming qualities that Hazel could find.
Of course, to get at Pansy, she'd have to go through the girl's own Crabbe and Goyle: Millicent Bulstrode. The brutish, troll of a girl was as big as the boys and about as bright, as best Hazel could tell. Worthless. So out of nine peers in here year, a full five of them were wastes of space. Suddenly, Hazel found herself regretting her choice of house and wondering when the house had become one of cunning and ambition in name only.
Her faith in her house was mildly restored as she poked into the mind of Theodore Nott. He was part of the same bigoted, blood purity obsessed group that Draco and his flunkies came from, but at least he seemed to have functional brain cells - unlike Draco's bookends, Pansy, or Millicent - and the ability to use them rather than relying on parroting what he heard his parents say. He'd be another one to watch; Draco had power over the others but lacked direction, while Theodore could be the one who provided that direction, operating as the metaphorical power behind the throne.
Blaise Zabini was an odd cookie, if she did say so herself. As far as Hazel could tell, while the dark-skinned boy believed in blood purity like the others, he looked down on the children of Death Eaters for their parents' actions as part of a terrorist organization - such behavior being beneath a proper pureblood. He was on speaking terms with Draco and Pansy but had no actual attachments to anyone in the house, nor the inclination to change that. Shrugging, Hazel moved on. He wasn't going to join the bloc that she'd probably find herself opposing and her blood status meant he'd avoid her like the plague. Hmm. Maybe he'd at least be useful as a referee for duels; he'd probably find it amusing to watch those he found inferior battling it out.
Tracey Davis was the yang to Blaise's yin. While she had only one friend in Slytherin, that was more from lack of opportunity due to her half-blood status than lack of desire. She was, as the Sorting Hat had told Hazel members of the house should be, cunning and ambitious, with a desire to prove herself to those who looked down on her because of her muggleborn mother. Hazel wasn't sure how the girl would fit in with the group of friends she'd met on the train - or if she'd want to - but the potential was there.
Which brought Hazel full circle, ending her round of mental rummaging with an inspection of Tracey's sole friend and Hazel's neighbor, Daphne Greengrass. She was a pureblood and a believer in blood superiority on the surface, but not from a Death Eater family and willing to overlook it when it suited her purposes. Such as her friendship with Tracey or when she wanted to go shopping on Oxford Street in London with the redhead. Daphne and Pansy had some sort of history that meant the blonde wouldn't be joining Draco's clique just out of general principle, but there was still the possibility that she'd remain a wild car like Blaise and keep Tracey with her. She'd sleep on it for a day or two, Hazel decided, then figure out whether or not to actively court Daphne as a friend.
Hazel continued to ponder the matter of potential Slytherin friends - and how to handle the accusations and questions over her true identity that would inevitably fly next time she saw Mei-Xing, Catrìona, and Ráichéal - through dinner and dessert. Finally, after Vi had consumed a truly frightening amount of sweets and all the place settings had disappeared to leave the tables bare once more, Dumbledore rose to his feet again. Conversation trickled off as attention came to rest on the elderly wizard, waiting for him to speak. "Ahem. Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
"Old fool's finally gone senile." Draco's voice drifted down the table, making Hazel eye the boy oddly. Really? Being told to avoid somewhere if one wanted to remain alive was a sign of senility? Had it occurred to the boy that perhaps it was something as simple as renovations and they didn't want anyone falling to their death through a giant hole in the floor or some such? She quickly dipped into his mind, snorting and shaking her head. Nope. He just wanted another excuse to mock someone his father dislike. Oh, these next seven years were going to be positively delightful. "When we get down to our common room, I'm going to write father straight away and…"
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" The older students at the Slytherin table groaned and ducked their heads, making Hazel wonder what was coming. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!"
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts,
Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald,
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling,
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."
Hazel watched the whole affair in mute horror as the students of the other three tables sang along, no two songs sounding quite alike. Vi was the only one at the Slytherin table singing, using what Hazel was pretty sure was a Spice Girls song as the base. The redheaded twins she'd seen at King's Cross were the last to finish, singing along using a funeral march, and then Dumbledore wiped a tear from his eyes. "Ah, yes, music. A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
A sextet of older students approached their end of the table, each wearing a green and silver badge with a large 'P' on it. The group eyed the first years for a moment before the eldest of the three boys in the group stepped forward. "Alright, runts, we're your prefects. Shut up, stand up, and line up. After we get downstairs, we may or may not answer some questions for you, depending on what our friends have planned. If we don't, you can either go ask someone who gives a damn or stay ignorant. I really don't care."
Hazel raised an eyebrow at the brusque treatment but joined the back of the line obediently, trailing behind the other Slytherins with Vi as they exited the Great Hall. They were directed down a hallway that took them away from the Great Hall, slowly descending into the bowels of the school. Finally, they came to a stop in front of what looked like an otherwise normal, utterly featureless stretch of wall. "This is the portrait hole for the Slytherin common room. Notice the lack of portrait. So unless you want to wander the hall looking like an idiot, I recommend you find something about this stretch of wall you'll have an easy time remembering. The password right now is 'fiat ater'. We pick the new password during our fortnightly…"
"Wow. A three-syllable word. Be still my beating heart. Someone's gone and developed an education in the English language."
"…shut up, Mindy." After lightly cuffing his companion - a slightly chubby brunette girl with glasses and a prefect badge to match his - upside the head, the boy continued his speech. "As I was saying, the new password is picked during our fortnightly, which is every other week for you mental midgets like Melinda here, Thursday prefect meetings and it's officially changed by the first prefect out the hole for breakfast on Friday. Make sure you see a prefect at breakfast those Fridays to get the new password. Otherwise, you'll be stuck in the hall waiting for someone who has it. Now… fiat ater."
At the prefect's words, the stones that made up the wall began to wriggle and part like the bricks in the barrier between the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, revealing a shadowy passage. The Slytherins began to stream through, the older students first with the younger years bringing up the rear. Finally, only Hazel and Vi were left in the hall. Leaning forward, Hazel peered into the dark tunnel. "Age before beauty, Vi."
"You're lucky I like having a roof over my head and clothes to wear." Taking a deep breath, Vi entered the passage, tiny bolts of electricity sparking from the metal pins in her hair and impacting against the stone walls, lighting the way for Hazel. After twenty feet or so, the path snaked left and then right quickly before dumping them into a large room lit with greenish lamps. The entire far wall was a sheet of glass; it was pitch black beyond it but Hazel could barely make out some sort of aquatic plant brushing against the glass. The lake. That would look gorgeous during daylight hours, she bet, assuming they weren't so far down that light didn't penetrate. But they hadn't gone that far down… had they? "Huh. Cool. They didn't have anything like this in the muggle school I used to go to."
Sigh. Was Vi trying to start a fight on her first night there? As Hazel tried to figure out how to deal with Vi and her big mouth, one of the older students drew his wand, twirling it slowly as he stared at the pair of them. "So, is it true then? Are you really Harry Potter?"
Hazel shrugged. "In a way. It's complicated. I prefer to be called Hazel, since that's been my name for almost a decade now. Why? Does it really matter? This isn't going to be the part where you rush me for autographs or something, is it? Because I get enough of fame and all its 'perks' in the muggle world with the paparazzi. I don't need my own housemates treating me differently. It would make the next seven years really awkward."
"Does it matter? Does it matter?" The boy looked around incredulously before breaking into raucous laughter with the other boys he was sitting with. "Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord. Most of us either have a parent in Azkaban or who had to bribe their way out of trouble because of him. We'd either be wealthier or have two parents if it wasn't for him. And you didn't think it would matter to us that he got sorted into our house?"
"She."
"Whatever."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Hazel narrowed her eyes. She knew what gender she was, damn it, even if these people refused to acknowledge it. "She. Or, if you don't mind, can we go with second person instead of third? You know, 'you'? It's kinda weird being referred to in the third person like that. Reminds me of official functions at home, where my mother sometimes has to use first person plural… the royal 'we' and all that."
"Whatever." His attention wandered a bit to the right, his eyes sweeping up and down over Vi as he sneered at her. "And who the hell are you? I know you didn't get sorted, so why are you down here? And what the hell is wrong with your hands?"
Hazel and Vi exchanged looks and the blonde grinned, throwing her arm around Vi's shoulders. At this point, things were deteriorating fast and a chance to assert herself properly before she became a complete pariah would probably be a good thing. "Violette here is my pet muggle. I brought her to school to take care of all those pesky physical labor things I'm too lazy to do myself. Technically a bit above a handmaiden, but the Savage Land doesn't have a real noble court system yet, so she's not quite a lady-in-waiting."
Silence descended on the common room. "You brought a muggle… to Hogwarts." Hazel nodded. "The reason my father is in jail thinks she can pollute the noble house of Slytherin by bringing a fucking muggle with her as some sort of house elf?" The boy rose to his feet, joined by two of his friends. "It's bad enough that Dumbledore makes us go to school with mudblood filth, but there'll be a muggle in Slytherin over my dead body. Reducto!"
"Defodio!"
"Expulso!"
Not knowing what the spells did or how to block or counter them, Hazel instinctively shifted into her diamond form. It turned out to be a good choice on her part; Vi opted to avoid the spells by dropping flat on the floor, allowing the jets of light to pass overhead and slam into Hazel. The spells hit her and forced her back a step, the world erupting in technicolor light as they passed through her diamond form and were scattered, enough making it clean through and out her back to cause the wall behind her to explode. Raising one glittering brow, she stared impassively at the gaping students. "Are you quite through?"
Before they could answer, Vi popped back to her feet and slammed her hands together, a wave of thunder picking all three attackers up and flinging them across the room. Another student leapt to his friends' aid, only to go flying when… "Jupiter Thunderbolt!" A bright purple bolt of lightning sent him flying into a couch full of students, sending them all to the floor in a tangle of limbs as the couch tipped over backwards. "God, I'm so glad you got sorted into the racist house, Hazel. If we were Gryffindors, we'd probably be sitting around having share time right now."
"Yes, well, you know I live to keep you happy." Looking back over her shoulder, Hazel let out a low whistle at the destruction the three spells had wrought where they landed. "You know, we might want to start working on a way to shape that energy of yours into a shield. If any of those spells had hit, I don't think there'd have been enough left to try a counter-curse on…"
Scoffing, Vi reached up and removed the three long metal pins holding her bun in place, letting her purple hair cascade down her back as she shook it out. "I train with Nori. After dodging lightning, do you really think these idiots can land a hit on me?"
Hazel pondered that for a moment before shrugging. "Touché. Still something worth checking out. Make a note of it." Vi just rolled her eyes at that. "Moving on… it's nice to meet those of you who didn't try just try to kill my bodyguard and I. My name is Hazel Frost, also known as the Girl-Who-Lived. I used to be Harry Potter. Since you seem to have a problem with that, let's stick with Hazel Frost." Gesturing to her glistening body and then over at Vi, Hazel smiled widely. "Now… I'm rich even before I've claimed any inheritance from the Potters, I'm famous in both worlds, and in the time it takes you to figure out how to hurt me, Vi and I can hurt a lot of you rather badly. So… does anyone want to make friends, or is this going to be a long seven years?"
Four hands went up.
Not a bad start, all things considered.
Slow clapping made Hazel whirl around, eyes widening as a tall, pale man with long black hair and black robes emerged from the tunnel. "In all my years here, I have seen many first night power plays in my common room but this… this is the best entertainment I've had in a long while. Now, Miss Frost and… companion. Come with me. The headmaster wishes to speak with you immediately. Prefects, please escort your more volatile housemates to see Madam Pomfrey. No, Melinda, this is not optional if you wish to retain your badge. I dare say you could use the exercise."
Oh ouch. When your professors started making jokes about your pudginess… Hazel shook her head. Melinda's problem. Not hers in the least. The headmaster, on the other hand, was her problem at the moment. Although it was bound to have happened eventually. After all, she'd shown up with the wrong gender, with the wrong hair color and the wrong surname, and a 'pet muggle' in tow. Of course the headmaster would want to talk to her.
Gesturing for Vi to precede her, she gave a little wave to her new housemates before following behind, shifting back to her flesh and blood form as she exited the portrait hole. The pair followed the professor - Severus Snape, their head of house and Potions professor according to one of her peers' minds - back up out of the dungeons to the main stairwell on the ground floor, at which point they began ascending the massive staircases that lead up to other parts of the school. After climbing two flights of stairs, Snape made a quick right and left the stairwell behind. Two hallways of identical doors later, they reached a stone gargoyle. Snape gave the gargoyle a sneer before spitting out a seemingly random phrase. "Chocolate frog."
The gargoyle twitched and then began to spin in a clockwise direction, slowly rising up into the air to reveal a spiraling staircase. Snape brushed past them and began climbing the stairs, Vi following him and Hazel bringing up the rear. After two and a half revolutions, the stairs ended in front of a wooden door that Snape opened and breezed through without even knocking. Shrugging, Vi gestured for Hazel to proceed her for once and the blonde did, looking around curiously as she entered a massive office full of all sorts of strange objects. Caught up in her sightseeing, she didn't notice the two men standing behind the large wooden desk until one of them shouted loudly, stabbing his wand at her. "Finite incantatem!"
Not quite sure what was going on, Hazel waited for some sort of spell to emerge from the wand of the shaggy looking dark haired wizard, blinking when nothing occurred. The man stared at her expectantly, as if something was supposed to be happening despite the failure of his spell, allowing Vi to slip in front of Hazel. Before he could attempt another spell, she raised her hands, palms pointed at the man. "Jupiter Thunderbolt!"
Brilliant purple bolts of electricity erupted from her hands, catching the man in the chest and flinging him up and into the wall behind him…
Moving forward as quietly as she could on all fours, Laurel slipped through the undergrowth as she tracked her target. Every so often, the wind would shift and a gust of her mother's scent would come from the northwest, letting her know that Emma was still trying to find the elusive, seemingly invisible home of the mutant they'd come to visit. Not that Laurel particularly cared; the longer it took her mother to accomplish her mission, the longer she could play in the woods. And if she caught her prey… well, her mother had promised her a puppy if she behaved on the trip to England. And she had. Except for the owl thing, which definitely wasn't her fault, seeing as how it'd attacked her and all…
Another three steps forward and Laurel found herself reaching the edge of a clearing, watching as the wolf she'd been tracking began to exhibit strange behavior. Circling the clearing slowly, it paused almost directly in front of her and sniffed deeply before continuing, ending its circuit and making its way out into the center. The wolf turned to face her head on and sat there for a moment, head cocked to one side as if it was thinking about something. Then, as Laurel watched in shock, the wolf suddenly shifted into a crouching girl in sparkling silver robes similar to the ones Hazel had bought at Diagon Alley, her pale blonde hair almost blue in the light of the full moon. "Hullo. Are you trying to become an animagus too?"
Laurel waited a few seconds but when she realized there was no possibility that the girl was directing that question at anyone other than her, she rose out of her crouch and made her way into the clearing. "What's an animagus?"
"What I am. It's a witch or wizard who can turn into an animal." Tilting her head to one side, the girl approached Laurel, circling her slowly before sniffing deeply at her neck. "You smell like some sort of cat. How can you be so far that you can change part way, but you don't know what an animagus is?"
Turning her head to eye the girl, Laurel's eyes widened when she noticed that the blonde had pointed ears. As far as she knew, normal witches didn't have pointed ears… but then again, she had a sample size of exactly one person. Was Hazel going to be the only normal eared girl at her school? "I'm not transforming into anything. I'm a mutant." The girl blinked at her owlishly. "You don't know what that is, do you?"
"Should I?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." Turning away, Laurel beckoned for the girl to follow her. "C'mon. My mom can do the speech a lot better than I can." She didn't look back to see if she'd been obeyed; she could hear the soft swishes of the girl's robes against the grass and her gentle footfalls as she trailed along behind Laurel. "I'm Laurel Frost. What's your name?"
"Luna. Luna Lovegood."
