"So you are familiar with the Philosopher's Stone?"
"Oh, what kind of self-respecting enigmatic old guy would I be if I didn't? Flamel might have been credited of developing it, but the concept itself predated him by several centuries."
Hermione nodded, not wanting to be thought of as ignorant. "Yes. The possibility of its existence was in fact already theorized by Arab wizard Jabir ibn Hayyan way back in the eighth century."
"And you know that from your fancy training from the Ministry, eh?"
"As a matter of fact, yes." The slightly derisive tone of his comment was not lost on her. "But we're not here to talk about my education, or even about the Philosopher Stone. I am more interested in your account of what happened during Voldemort first rise." She off-handedly dropped the name as some form of test, to see the old man's reaction to the dark wizard feared so much that most can't even bear to hear his name.
The old man didn't even blink at the mention. If any, his eyes grew even more intense, as if the name awakened something in him. "You'll forgive for starting my statement with a cliché, but those were uncertain times. Those were times when you could not be tell the good guys from the bad guys…"
"Don't you think Sirius is cute?" Christine whispered to her best friend.
Mischa, striding next to her and trying to keep up with Christine's characteristically rapid gait, almost tripped when she heard this. "Really, Christine? Sirius? That boy's trouble!"
"Oh hush! It's not like we can really call him a boy. He's our age, for Merlin's sake!"
For the upteenth time Mischa was amazed by how easily Christine assimilated the wizarding culture and expressions. She knew that Christine came from two Muggle parents and, until the letter came, had never heard of "magic" before in her life, at least not in the non-fictional sense. She had also seen herself how excited Christine was when she discovered this whole new world of wonders and adventures. She only wished that she hadn't come at such a poor time, for there had been talks of wizards and witches dying in their own homes. Entire families killed by means the Daily Prophet did not reveal. Dared not reveal. Some students even started to eye Muggle-borns suspiciously.
Meanwhile, Christine was talking, "Besides, I'm sure he's very nice underneath all that tough guy exterior."
Mischa shook her head and smiled. "And I'm sure it's the same nice guy that skulk around the school at night with his friends searching every corner for… actually I don't know what they're searching for. And the same nice guy who set off a dung bomb in Peter's pants."
"Yeah, but Peter's one of his friends. They do things like that to each other anyway. And it's not as if they attack specific people like some other group of students."
Christine could hear the change in tone in her friend's voice. By now she's adjusted to Mischa's ability to alter her voice to convey exactly her feelings. Right now it's a serious tone, with a clear indication that she's trying to sympathize with Christine. "Hey, I'm not saying that he's evil or anything, and if you really like him I support you, but I just don't want you to be disappointed later."
As if answering for Christine, they heard a soft grunt followed by a series of laughter as the two second-years turned the corner. The sight in front of them was not an uncommon sight in those days; a boy, most likely a second-year just like them, sat against the wall, on his face an expression of pain. On his robe was a blue crest with a silver eagle. Three older students, the crest on their robes marked them as Slytherins, stood menacingly.
The boy struggled to speak, "I… I told you what you wanted to hear," he gasped. "Please leave me alone."
"Doesn't matter, see," one of the boys smiled cruelly. "People like you shouldn't have been allowed to come here."
Mischa didn't need to turn her head to sense Christine tensing up. She had known Christine enough to know that bullying was one of her berserk buttons. She rested her hand on her shoulder, "Let's call for a professor."
"No time," was Christine's reply.
"Christine, you're putting yourself in danger." Her voice was level, but there was a nervous edge to it.
The girl ignored her friend's warning and marched towards the group, declaring her presence loudly, "Leave him be, cowards!"
All eyes were suddenly on the small and not physically imposing Christine. The three upperclassmen seemed taken aback for a moment, perhaps worried that this girl in front of them had backup. When they realized that she had none, they sneered, "Stick your nose elsewhere. We want nothing of your self-righteous chivalry."
"Sorry, but you're about to get more." Christine recognized that voice anywhere. Although not yet broken, it already had hints of a silky deep vibrato to it. At twelve years of age, Sirius already showed the beginnings of the strutting fine example of manhood he's going to become. Already the charm shone through the messy, longish hair and the mischievous smile.
"Let's see… seven against three. I don't like your chances," his friend James chimed in. The other two of the group that just arrived at the scene stayed silent, but it was obvious that they were prepared for a fight too.
The stalemate lasted for several full seconds before the Slytherins backed off. "Bah, it's not worth it," one of them said as turned away and walked in a satisfyingly hurried pace.
Christine marveled at how easily, how coolly Sirius—and his friends—handled the situation. Even Remus and Peter, usually the ones in their group least inclined to seek confrontation, stood by and were prepared to defend their friends if necessary. All to help a person in need. That's what friendship is about, what being Gryffindor is all about. That's…
"…so awesome!" Peter exclaimed, grinning broadly.
"I have to admit, we handled it pretty well," Remus joined in. The others grinned and clapped each other on the back. Somewhere, a balloon was being deflated.
While the Marauders (of course, at this time they were not technically known as that yet; the name came later) were busy congratulating themselves, Christine slowly approached the battered boy, who was queasily and discreetly trying to stand up. "Whoa, take it easy, there. Are you alright?"
"Yes. Yes, I think I am," he tried to smile, but it came off more like a grimace. "Thank you. It's… I'm… thank you."
"Let's take you to the nurse," Mischa suggested.
"I'm alright. I'm… used to it."
Christine looked at her friend in disbelief before turning her attention back to the boy, "But you shouldn't. Get used to it, I mean. I don't like what they're doing to you, to this school."
"Neither do we." That voice again. As she turned, Sirius was giving her one of his patented lop-sided smile (guaranteed to make all girls within a twenty-foot radius swoon. Or take out the pepper spray), "Hey, you stood up against those slimy snakes. I like that in a girl. So… you're Christine, aren't you?"
Blush. "I don't believe we've talked before."
"Well, it's hard to forget the voice who keeps answering all the questions in Transfiguration, isn't it?"
Her face definitely turned a shade of purple now.
"Eh, that means less chance of us being asked to answer them," Sirius shrugged.
Remus was tugging his arm. "Come on, Cassanova. You're just going to upset her further."
James pushed Sirius out of the way. "Forget this fool. See you around, Christine," he said as he shooed his companions away with him.
"So… crush?" the Ravenclaw whispered to her friend.
"Oh yeah. Very much so."
The hardest factor in writing fanfictions really is discipline. You might enjoy creating stories and characters, but you still have to put them on paper (or, in this case, in a text file). For somebody like me, who has recently experienced large changes in his life and has to work really hard to put it back where he wants it to be, it can be a challenge. So I apologize for the long update times. Hopefully once regularity returns to my life, I can update more often.