I ascended the steps, finding myself face-to-face with a double door. On it was a polished, silver sign that read, "Dormitories".
Ha! Finally, I was doing something right! My pride swelled, and I raised a fist to knock quickly on the wood. There was a long pause, then a loud voice said, "Come in". I turned the knob, and stepped into my new bedroom for who knows how long.
It was a massive circular room, the ceiling a high dome above my head. Placed against the curved walls were huge four-posters, with moss-green sheets and intricate silver patterns. Against each side of them were short end tables, and at the foot of each were hat looked like huge metal boxes. Girls of all adolescent ages sat or lay on their mattresses, some fixing their hair, others scrawling letters on top of ratty looking textbooks. This all stopped, however, when I came in.
It was as if some bombed had dropped on all their heads. Thunderstruck expressions were mirrored on each of their faces, staring at me like I was the ghost of Christmas Past.
Then, suddenly, one of them burst out laughing.
"Bloody hell!" She exclaimed, as the whole room exploded into girlish conversation once again. The ones who were "busy" writing shoved their papers into the books and pulled out little pocket novels, with weird titles like, "Charming Wizards," or self-help books that tell you how to snag a warlock in three days, tops. Everyone began moving at a more teenager-ish pace, and one girl was applying make-up, although it was very well near the middle of the damn night.
The girl who'd laughed addressed me, "You're the new student, right? Your bed's over here, right beside mine."
She motioned to an empty bed, and I walked over to it, albeit a little more stiffly than I would have liked. Without anything else but my ass to set down, I sat on the cushion, feeling the softness sink under my weight.
"Scared the life out of all of us, you did. No one ever knocks at our dormitory unless it's bad." She leaned over and stuck out a hand. "I'm Astoria. Astoria Greengrass."
"Uh, hello." I shook her hand - it was soft, but very cold. "I'm Blake. Blake Asher."
"You have a funny accent. Are you from London?"
"No. I'm from Florida."
"Where's that?" She looked confused. "Is that in Asia?"
"No, in the United States of America." I replied.
"Oh. I've never been to America. Actually, most of us haven't been out of the United Kingdom, really." She shrugged, retracting her hand. "Doing alright settling in, then?"
"Fine, I guess." I shrugged.
"So where did you study before transferring to Hogwarts?"
"I - high school." I mentally slapped myself. High school? Really, Blake, these kids are nearly the same age as you.
"What's that? Is that some sort of American magic school?" Astoria Greengrass wondered, intrigued.
"Uh, yeah, totally."
"Sounds pretty high-end. High school. Is it any good there?"
"Sure, I guess. Everyone goes to high school." Not that they enjoy the hellish hole.
"Wow. So there must be a lot of purebloods there."
"You could say that." In order to save myself from more humiliation, I looked around for something interesting to talk about. My eyes landed on Astoria's end table, where something like a strange-looking alarm clock sat, along with a pin of a serpent, and a long stick (ha. This is wrong out of context.), vaguely similar to that of Draco's.
"Does everyone have one of those?" I pointed to the stick. Astoria looked, and her eyes widened.
"Are you mad, of course! How could you have possibly entered this place without a wand?" She gasped, beside herself. Her eyes were wide - I had a feeling this was magic mortal sin number one.
"Well, I - I don't know. But I don't... have one. Anymore," I added hastily, when I saw her face pale, and her eyes glint with slight suspicion.
"But then - no materials? Textbooks, cauldrons, not even a pet?" I shook my head to all of these questions. "How do you learn magic in America?"
"Uh. Theory." I mumbled.
"Oh, that's awful." She said sympathetically. I couldn't believe how well my lying (well, I wouldn't call it lying. Just more of, say, twisting the obvious truth) was working out. "Perhaps you could go tomorrow - I'm sure Snape would be willing to write you out, you can't go to class unprepared."
"Yeah, maybe." I nodded. Astoria looked at me like I was some pitiful midget ready to be squashed. Kind of annoying, actually.
"Okay, girls, how do I look?" The girl fixing her make-up straightened up from the mirror and turned to us.
A chorus of, "Brilliant, Daphne!" and "You look ravishing!" and "He won't be able to resist that!" came from the mouth of the girls, admiring the student as she grinned cheekily at them.
"Daphne, my sister," Astoria said to me, like I'd asked. "Sneaks out almost every night, nowadays."
"What for?" And honestly, who cared? Sneaking out in this place was like having a stroll in Pan's labyrinth, really.
"For Blaise, of course." She replied simply. "The boy's got a bit of a death wish, really. A risk streak, you might say. But, seeing as he is who he is, I s'pose it's just a boost to his image."
"What image, exactly?"
"Blaise hangs with the Slytherin greats - Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini are like kings and queens in the house. Snape adores them, really. And most people are deathly afraid of them. They're like a - a... Oh, what's the word... tr-" And she fumbled for the correct term.
"Triumvirate?" I supplied helpfully. She looked relieved.
"Yes, exactly that."
There was a loud rapping on the window at the far end of the room. Daphne Greengrass hurried to the sill, and unlatched the glass, pushing it open.
"What's she doing?" I asked, alarmed. I didn't want to be here when she committed suicide. I'd had enough trauma for one day.
"Nothing, Blaise just likes a bit of flair. That's how he is, the lunatic." Astoria giggled. Sure enough, the sleek black head appeared at the window, grinning from ear to ear.
"Don't expect your sister to be back before the sun rises, Astoria." He held out a hand to Daphne, who giggled rather nervously and took it. Slowly, he led her out of the window.
"What's he doing? Doesn't he know she'll die?" I demanded.
"Relax, he's on a broom. She'll be alright, he knows how to handle one, among many other things." Astoria said dismissively.
A broom? Like that detestable thing people used to sweep floors with? That kind of broom? Didn't only crazy old hangs with a zillion warts on their faces use those?
Daphne Greengrass carefully sat herself down behind Blaise Zabini, wrapping her arms around his slim waist. He turned to the rest of the girls sitting in the dormitory, watching, many with disgruntled, unhappy expressions on their faces.
"All right, Asher?" He called to me, smirking.
"Um." I replied intelligently.
"Don't wait up," He advised us - then, in a flash, he was gone, leaving behind only a swinging windowpane.
"Lucky bitch," one girl muttered under her breath, catching the window and slamming it shut with so much force I was surprised the glass didn't shatter.
"You know Blaise?" Astoria wondered incredulously.
"No, I mean, I don't know him. I got stuck outside and he lent me the password. That's all." I replied quickly.
"And he was nice to you?"
"I guess so."
"Wicked. I don't think I've seen Blaise nice to anyone he didn't know."
"Maybe he had a life-changing experience over the summer." I suggested. Astoria giggled.
"You have a cool sense of humor. I like that."
"I redefine it as sarcasm."
"Lights out, girls!" A familiar high voice called in from the doorway. Pansy Parkinson entered the dormitory, her long hair swinging around as she walked. "And where's Daphne?"
"As if you wouldn't know, Pansy." A student near the door snickered. Pansy rolled her eyes.
"She'll get caught if she doesn't watch it, by those nosy Gryffindor prefects. I hear Granger hasn't decked a point from us since the year started - she's losing her touch." And she let out an annoying giggle.
"And you, Pansy? How many points have you taken off the Gryffindors?" Another girl asked.
"Not too much, I suspect - she's too busy snogging Draco in the Transfiguration classroom!" Astoria scoffed amusedly.
"Oh, shut it, Astoria." Pansy snapped, flushing red. "Draco and I go on prefect patrol - nothing more, nothing less."
"Then I suppose that Draco's found someone much more interesting to snog," Astoria lay down on her pillows, smirking.
"Bite it, Greengrass. Just because you're bitter that your sister's dating the love of your life - oh, oops." Pansy simpered as Astoria scowled. "Well, lights out, then, chop chop!"
And the room grew pitch black, the only light coming from the window, from the pale moon that shone a million miles above.
I lay down on my sheets, trying to think about what happened, what I was doing, where I was, and how I would survive. I tried to consider my life as I knew it, and my life as I didn't. I attempted to contemplate ever getting out of here, or staying till the good Lord took my life.
But sleep washed over me, and I succumbed, letting go of all the thoughts I had as I closed my eyes.
"Blake? Blake. Blake? Wake up, Blake."
Someone was shaking the skin out of me. It was pretty damn annoying. I swatted the hand away, groaning in an attempt to communicate my irritation.
"Blake, it's morning, and you're going to Diagon Alley to get your things."
I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was the sun. How unpleasant. So I shut them again, refusing to get up.
"Seriously, Blake, I won't call you up again." The voice sounded annoyed.
"Not now, Astoria. It's early."
"But you have to go, really, Blake, you aren't going to be able to get your materials otherwise."
I braved the sun again. Astoria Greengrass was looking down at me, exasperated. "Finally. Get up, come on. I'm going to be late for class."
I sat up, rubbing the sleep and dreams out of my eyes. I checked the clock - seven-thirty. Fuck, dude, class started at nine back home.
"Wait, you're not coming with me?" I asked as I watched her grab her bookbag and swing it over her shoulder.
"No, I've got class. Blaise will take you, he's got free period all morning. You can borrow some of my clothes if you like, I think they'll fit you enough." She bolted out the door, calling out, "Later, Blake!"
Ah, great. I wasn't even sure where exactly I was going.
When I came down, having changed quickly into the first clothes I found in the box at the foot of Astoria's bed (among many other things, I found a few books, what looked like a tiny, glowing top, and a box of cat litter), I found Blaise Zabini waiting at the bottom of the stairs, his hands behind his back.
"Morning, Asher." He greeted, though not quite as lively as I'd expected.
"Rough night partying?" I asked, pulling my hair up.
"Among many other things." He replied shortly, and that was all there was to that.
"So, you're going with me to... Where exactly are we going?" I asked sheepishly. He beckoned me out of the portrait hole, and we began walking through the corridors - me, following his every step in fear that I would get lost.
"Diagon Alley. We're going to get all your things today."
"And why is it that you volunteered to do this special task?" I inquired.
"Is it so difficult to believe that I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart?" He demanded indignantly. When I shook my head, He sighed, and said, "Yes, I suppose you're right. The nosy bat Dumbledore caught me out of bed last night with Daphne. This is me, serving detention."
"How is this such a bad thing, skipping class?"
"I'm not sure, actually. I'm telling you, the man should be knocked off - better for the school and the students, know what I'm saying?"
"No." I replied honestly.
"You have guts, I'll give you that." He commended me. We walked on, until we reached what looked like the main entrance of the place. On the last stone step sat a mangy old boot. "This portkey will take us straight to London. Just don't let go, or you'll go off wandering someplace you don't know."
"What's a portkey?" I asked, hoping my question would finally get answered.
"Something that's been enchanted to transport us to a certain area. Don't you have any of those where you come from?"
"No," I said, watching with interest as he held it up to me. It didn't seem like the kind of thing I'd want to travel with. "Do I wear it?"
He rolled his eyes. "No, you hold onto it. Hurry, up, mind you!" He added as the disgusting thing began to grow a bright blue aura. I'd only managed to pinch it with my thumb and forefinger when I was felt like I was being sucked into a blender, swirled around like a McFlurry (the oreo kind, because I love those). It was dizzying, and I actually felt like I was going to be sick.
But just as fast as the feeling had come, it disappeared - and I found myself wobbling upon solid ground, looking around at a busy street that was going around in circles in my vision. People of all ages and sizes bustled around, shoving each other to get to one of the many shops that lined each side of the road. There were carts, selling all kinds of weird things, like hair growth drinks and love potions, and watches that sang everytime a new hour began. I looked on in amazement, wondering what on earth I could be buying here.
"Right. Clean yourself off, Asher, you've got dust all over you." Blaise said from behind me. Embarrassedly, I patted the dust off Astoria's clothes, sneezing as I did so. Blaise ignored me. "Shall we go? Wand for you first, it says on the list. You haven't got a wand?" He looked at me incredulously.
"Uh. No. Not really. Not... Anymore. It, um, broke." Could wands even break? Apparently, they could, as Blaise shook his head, and said, 'Pity'.
He led me through the crowd with apparent ease - clearly, he'd been through here many times before. People bumped my shoulder and squashed me from every side imaginable. Thank God for Blaise's height, or I might have died in there.
He stopped in front of an old-looking shop, named "Ollivander's". Pushing the dusty glass door open, he motioned for me to enter. "In you go, Asher." Meekly, I ducked into the shop - the smell of attic and wood filled my nose almost instantly. I coughed.
"Welcome, Mr. Zabini." A soft voice said from behind the counter in the middle of the room. The door swung shut, and an elderly man appeared from under the counter, his whitish-grey hair sticking up from his head like a madman's.
"Mr. Ollivander," Blaise said dismissively. "My friend here needs a wand."
"Yes, yes." Mr. Ollivander agreed, as if he sold anything else. "And who is your friend?"
"Asher. Blake Asher."
"Well, Ms. Asher. Step this way, please, and we'll find you a proper wand. Yes, that's right. Have you owned a wand previously?" He queried, lifting my wrist with his wrinkled fingers feebly.
"Uh, yes." I replied nervously.
"Good, good. And what was it made of?" He asked absentmindedly.
What was it made of? How the fuck would I know? Blaise looked at me expectantly, obviously waiting for me to say something spectacular.
"Well, I - I wouldn't -" I spluttered. "I mean - What does it matter? I'm getting a new one!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blaise Zabini smirk.
Mr. Ollivander stopped inspecting my left hand and looked up into my eyes - his were an off-putting grey, almost silvery white, very distant and cold. It gave me the shivers.
"Quite right, Ms. Asher. Your wand arm, please?"
My wand arm? I don't think I had one of those. I looked at my body. Yep, I only had two arms, sorry.
"Your writing arm, please, Ms. Asher." Mr. Ollivander said patiently.
"Oh, right." I stuck out my left arm awkwardly. He nodded, then retreated into a small room, with shelves on three walls, those of which were filled with countless tiny boxes, like a shoebox sliced in half. They were narrow, and rather short - not to mention precariously stacked. With little effort, he slid out one exactly like the others, muttering, "Hawthorn, twelve and a half inches, phoenix hair".
What?
He presented the end of the wand to me - gingerly, I took it. I expected something cool to happen, like an epiphany.
Of course, since I'm so cool, nothing like that happened.
"Um." I said smartly. "What now?"
"Well, give it a wave," Mr. Ollivander advised me, as Blaise chortled.
It felt so stupid. Stiffly, I raised my arm, and flicked my wrist. Immediately, a window at the far back shattered with a bang.
"No, no," Mr. Ollivander took the wand from me and went back into his small room, pulling out two boxes at a time. The first one he took out, he described as, "Oak, fifteen inches, dragon heartstring". Naturally, I gave it a little wave, and something chaotic happened - like the cabinet on the side of the room burst into flames.
"Not to worry, not to worry," Mr. Ollivander assured me as Blaise tried to extinguish the flames. "Try this one. Willow, eleven inches, with unicorn tail as its core. Go on, try it."
This time, the entire shelf on the right wall of the small room collapsed completely.
And it went on, and on, and on. I wasn't sure how much damage the poor shop could take. I'd begun to think there wasn't a fucking stick of wood for me - and this was pretty alright, except, not to everyone else.
"Rosewood, thirteen and a half inches, peacock feather." Mr. Ollivander presented me the wand. Irritated, I snatched it from the old man's grasp, ready to break another piece of furniture. Maybe it would be the ceiling this time.
But a curious sensation crept up my arm - it was a funky, tingly feeling, like tiny ants were crawling on my skin. For a moment, I felt my blood turn warm, and I felt... fuzzy. Like a teddy bear. But nicer than how I said it.
"Go on," the wandmaker urged, clearly not feeling the frustrated exasperation I did.
"Here goes nothing," I mumbled, and swung arm.
Instantly, a ball of blue flame shot out from the tip, hovering in the center of the shop. For a moment, I thought it would burn everything down, and I'd be sent to jail for complete arson of the place. But jets of fire flew out and lit every candle in the room - and the sphere of blue landed on top of the wick of a candle by the counter, where it caught and swayed quite merrily with the breeze.
"Well," Mr. Ollivander smiled slightly. "You've got it."
"Finally," Blaise Zabini breathed, having been the victim of many of my destructive escapades ("Put the fucking fire out, you bloody lunatic! My robes!").
"That will be six galleons and ten sickles." The old man told me, putting the wand back in the box.
"Oh, um," I turned to Blaise, who raised a sharp eyebrow. "How much is that in dollars?"
"In what? How should I bloody know?"
"Well, do you have a money changer around here?"
"No, because I don't even know what that is," He replied testily. I frowned. "Didn't your parents give you any money?"
"Well I didn't exactly come in loaded with it in my pockets, did I?" I snapped hotly. I shoved my hand into my pocket, where I'd put in my coin purse. I could fish out a fifty, but I don't think these people even know that dollars exist.
"I've got a twenty in here, do you think-" I felt around for my bills, but none seemed to come in contact with my fingers. All I had in here were cents of various sizes - weighing down the cloth of the purse until it was ready to rip. "I don't think I have enough, I might be kind of short..." And I emptied out the coin purse, letting them roll onto the counter.
But they didn't come out in pennies or nickels or quarts. They fell out as funny looking coins, in shiny golds, silvers, and bronzes. I stared in amazement as they littered on the surface, making a small hill of metal.
"Sorry, I don't think that's the right coin purse." I said nervously. But Mr. Ollivander merely singled out six golds and ten silvers, dropping them onto his shaking hands.
"This will be enough. Good day, Ms. Asher." He said quietly, then retreated into his storage room. I continued to stare at the money, as if they would disappear any moment I blinked, until Blaise snatched my purse and swept them into it with his hand.
"Something's wrong with you," He concluded, handing me the pouch.
"Got that right."
It was almost eleven thirty when we arrived back at the castle. I was famished, dying of thirst. Throughout the day, we'd purchased the required books, a funny looking pot that Blaise described as a cauldron, robes and uniforms, and even an owl.
("What do I have to buy a stinking owl for?" I'd asked, wrinkling my nose at the smell of the birds as we walked in the shop.
"Every student wants an owl. Dead useful - better than a bloody toad, that's for sure." He'd snickered. "It's for post, of course. Don't you use them?"
"No, because we have internet."
"What's that?")
Now, we'd arrived back at the main entrance of the castle, and I balanced my books in my arm - Blaise, being the absolute gentleman he truly was, didn't offer to help me carry them at all.
"Right, well, it was absolutely splendid hanging around with you, Asher. Good bonding time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be." He grinned cheekily at me, opening the doors. "D'you think you can manage?"
"It's not like I haven't been managing all this time," I replied dryly.
"Excellent. See you later, then." He winked, then hurried into the castle, the tail of his robes whipping behind him. Sighing, I tightened my grip on the books, the small cauldron and the bag of clothes dangling off my elbows, and the cage of my new, noisy owl looped through my forefinger. I took baby steps, inching towards the staircase. My feet shuffled along the cold stone, and I took each stair with great caution, trying my best not to fall.
But it was unavoidable, trying to sneak around without making an idiot of myself.
And an idiot of myself did I make.
I wasn't exactly sure what I'd tripped on, but I did - my feet tangled themselves and I fell, headfirst, onto the hard floor. My books crashed to the ground, and the cage smashed onto the stone, rolling away to the wall, where my pet screeched in hatred for me. But that wasn't the worst part.
Because it wouldn't have mattered if no one had heard - I could have just picked my stuff up and walked away, pretending like nothing happened. But it was a different story if I got caught, tripping on stairs in the middle of the night for no apparent reason.
"Oi! What's happening here?"
I gathered my books to my chest, trying my best to make it seem like I hadn't simulated a warzone - but it was too late, as the footsteps grew closer, and stopped, right in front of me.
In complete shame, I looked up into the cold grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.
Author's Note: I need a boost! Whoever reads, please send me some love and thoughts from you. I would like to know what you think, truly. Any suggestions are welcome.
Reviews, please?
Love! :)