Christy Moody 03: Moving the Queen

Authors/Note: Ok, WolfieGrl, I am getting a plot, now, aren't I? Lady Lily would be a great story, but there are some g/es and s/es (grammar errors and spelling errors.) Also the unavoidable plot holes. That's O.k., though. I was grounded for 3 weeks, and during that period I couldn't work on the comp. With the net (My dad's) But I could work on my computer. I couldn't post though, because the one in my room isn't on the 'Web. (Ron: Web? Spiders? AHHHHHHHHHH!)

A cold front moved up on East Texas, and it drastically changed from 100˚ to 33˚-- OVERNIGHT! Oh, yeah, I had this story written BEFORE "Prophecies of Dredolries" so don't say I copied elementals from her, or the water-girl. They are MINE 100%. (Not the elements) Ice is the coolest element.

Lily is wind. James is earth. Sirius is fire. Why not lightning? He is far too steadfast for that! Remus is hard. Very so. I'm going to stick him with fire. Don't ask me why. It just seems like him. But his fire isn't like Sirius's.

Peter is lightning. Clouds hold it. He wants to be close to all the other elements, especially fire and earth, but is doomed to live apart from everyone but the one who has a hold on him. Christy is ICE! Why? Ice isn't just cold…

Ice can melt when it comes in contact with heat…(no, that is not a hint, thank you very much, Remus and Sirius!)

Christy Moody 03

Everyone in the compartment walked out, still chatting nervously. Lily let out an involuntary shiver. It was cold out there. "Lily, do you want my jacket? I brought it, even though we're already in our robes." Christy offered.

Lily took it without a murmur, and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Thanks, C. Where are we going, and why?"

Christy opened her mouth, but it was Sirius who spoke up. "We have to wrestle a werewolf, kill a troll, and pull a rabbit from a hat."

Lily looked up, startled, hoping Sirius was joking. His face was dead serious. When Lily looked away, though, he winked at Christy over her head. Christy returned it.

"Isn't that right, James?"

"Wha?" He looked up, his face pink from the cold air.

Christy rolled her eyes. "Nothing. You go back to kissing Severus."

The two boys opened their mouths in protest, and turned to each other, puzzled.

"Don't trouble your poor, overtaxed minds on it. You'll never get it…"

They neared a clearing, where an enormous black shape was shouting something unintelligible.

As they got closer, they heard catches of phrases, such as "…mumble mumble boats! Mugglewuggle to a boat!"

They had no idea what a magical school had to do with boats. Perhaps they had heard wrong…

They knew that they hadn't when James tripped suddenly, falling into the lake. He emerged, sopping wet. He then muttered something that made Lily and Christy giggle in a way that must of taken a great toll on their health.

Lily pointed at the boat—around two inches next to the place where James had fallen in. He climbed in, followed by Sirius, Snape, and Alastor. Christy and Lily walked off, in hopes of finding another boat.

There was one that held a single person. She had watery sea-green eyes, and her skin had an impossible purple tint. Her long blond hair had a blue sheen to it, and to top it off, it almost—rippled.

The first thought that came to the girls's minds was "water"

Christy held out her hand. "Hello. My name is Christy."

The other girl did not extend her palm. "Damia. Although names are of no importance."

Feeling quite awkward, Christy drew back her hand. "That's a pretty name."

"And I'm Lily."

"Damia." The girl repeated.

"May we sit with you?" Lily ventured.

There was no reply, yet the girls felt a slightly more welcoming air. They took that as a "yes."

Christy stumbled a bit as she stepped into the boat, rocking the water, and causing the boat to shake wildly. Christy nearly tumbled forward. Suddenly, it stopped. Both Christy and Lily glared suspiciously at the seated girl, who showed no emotion at their staring. Lily shivered a bit as she sat down on the bench, slightly damp.

Since Damia appeared not to want to talk, the girls tried to find amusement elsewhere. They played every game they knew of, including "Mrs. Suzie" and "Down by the banks." When they came to hand slapping, though, Damia flushed with excitement. Which seemed impossible. "Will you let me play?" she inquired anxiously.

"Sure. Top or bottom?"

"Top, please."

Lily and Christy glanced at each other; hardly anyone wanted top. But Christy obliged without a sigh; she was included in "hardly anyone".

Christy thought she was pretty good, but the end of the session she knew that she was wrong. She was awful!

She had coaxed her opponent to keep her hands down, but as soon as she slapped her hands up, and slapped them down, she had hit thin air. Damia's hands had vanished like quicksilver. No, like water. It was almost scary. It wasn't a feeling that she liked.

Then, the boats started moving. Christy glanced at Damia; she wasn't doing a thing. She looked all around her. Other boats were rowing, too.

Lily settled back against the slightly wet seat. This could take a long time.

But in Brazil, things weren't as peaceful…

A black cloak swirled around his carefully laced boots. Encircling his waist was a belt, on it an emblem of a skull, a snake entwined in it. He was extremely tall, perhaps seven foot four, and extremely handsome. Although he was 34, he looked younger, but in a strange

way looked more experienced than any old mage.

His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. Or at least, was. Now, he didn't know what his name was. He wasn't a Lord any more than he was a frightened first-year called Tom. He walked across the room and fingered a glass vase holding a bouquet of lilies. As he touched them, the brownish powder smeared his fingers. Who was he, really? An evil man with a broken heart?

A chess-player with a hatred for chess? Or, deep down inside, was he just Tom?

He angrily threw the vase down, shattering it. It broke into millions of pieces, crunching as he stepped on them. "No! I'm not Tom! I don't have feelings! And I hate anagrams!" He brought his fist down on his desk. He had always hated his hands. Oversized and out-of-proportion, they often made him clumsy as a child, something he avoided.

He grimaced as he remembered an anagram made out of someone's name he had tried to forget. "Gosh! Orderly Calamity!" It described her perfectly. Like a champagne bottle, fizz contained. He preferred not to think of her, though. Too painful.

Where was she now? He didn't want to know. He still remembered their parting, though.

He moved a white pawn. He would have had black, but she insisted that he have white. She glanced up. "Tom, I feel sorry for you."

"Why?"

"Because you didn't see my queen. What's the matter? You're loosing your touch. I mean, I beat you by fool's mate!"

He sighed. "Care for another round?"

"No, thanks. Let's talk about the future."

He had only too gladly followed her wishes. "Well, let's see… let's send an owl to Yvonne. You know the divine prophetess. I'm sure she'll know."

"She doesn't, really. It's all fake. But do you want me to be in your future?"

"Yes. You could be Lady Voldemort…"

He glanced up, only to see her shocked face. "Tom, you're not going through with that idea, are you?"

"Why, yes." He still didn't comprehend. "Better idea then most…"

She had jumped up, angry. "No, you're not! You're not evil! And I don't want anything to do with you if that's what you're doing!"

He grabbed her arm, not acting of his own will, somehow. Through gritted teeth he had said, " You've always been a little obstinate brat. You always will be." His voice lost all humanity. "But if you do not agree to my cause—"

He never got to finish. With a crack, she had dissapparated.

After that, he broke down and cried.

There was a tinkle as another vase was smashed.

Meanwhile, back at the Hacienda (For all those who are forced to watch Channel 1 at school)

**Back with the boys**

James tapped his foot impatiently. They were going nowhere, even after thirty minutes. It was really boring, just waiting there. He was cold and wet. And to top it off, his glasses were hard to see through after the cauldron cake fight. In fact, Severus was just a blur.

He could hear Alastor; his shrill voice could penetrate walls. He was talking animatedly to Sirius about the Surbiton Seals, not very good at Quidditch, but renowned for their astounding aerial tricks. He was just saying how they wouldn't accept anyone who couldn't stand on their broom and catch the Quaffle, when their boat gave a violent lurch.

They were off!

"Ooh!" Sirius had spotted the Giant Squid. Everyone leaned to the side of the boat.

James was tired of being blinder than a bat, so he took off this glasses and attempted to clean them again. When he put them back on, he was startled to se Severus looking daggers at a girl across the way.

Even with his glasses cleaned, he couldn't see her face well, just her long blond hair.

Severus pulled out his wand and muttered something. Nothing happened. James started. Severus's curses never failed. Then their boat started rocking. It was barely noticeable at first then suddenly three-foot waves were surrounding them.

James caught a glimpse of her expression, contorted with concentration. James's last vision was of Severus muttering another curse. Then they flipped over.

Swirling water filled his mouth. Then—nothing.

Alastor coughed. Then, suddenly, a whole stream of water came out of his mouth. In his still-ringing ears, he could vaguely hear—cheering?

He mustered the strength to raise his head and look around. His first glance was where the sound had come from. There was his sister, Lily, James, Sirius, and a girl he'd never seen before. James looked weak, but alive. The girl that he'd never seen before stepped forward and shook her flowing hair out of her face. "

I apologize," she said. "I did not mean to nearly drown you." She spat the word you, all the while looking next to him.

Alastor looked into her sea-green eyes, and was threatened to be pulled under by the undertow. He quickly averted his glance. "It's okay," he said, not having the slightest idea of what she was talking about.

The girl then left, looking satisfied.

Alastor looked around him, and saw that he was in a bed. Severus was in the bed next to him, resting.

Christy grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "'C'mon, one-eye. They're waiting for you!"

He followed Christy out into the hall, not knowing where they were going. They turned a corner, and Christy opened a door. They were in a small antechamber where other first-years were. A group of stragglers followed their trail, with Severus tagging along behind.

Then they were lead out of the room that they were in.

Out there was the biggest amount of people any of them had seen. Around a thousand people were watching them. Luckily Alastor was the last one in line; against a wall; otherwise he would have fallen in shock.

And as they watched, a man with a beard longer than his body (which wasn't much) walked out, bearing a stool and a hat. Most curiously, it looked as though the weather-beaten hat was getting another tear as they watched. But it opened wider-and wider-and

(My song sucks…)

What do you think I am?

Not a mere hat, of course!

For in these seams brains are crammed

And for my state; I have seen worse!

But not a mere hat? You say

What could you possibly be?

No, I am not just a hat

And as for no. 2, you shall see

Place me on your brow

I can see into your mind

Whether you're a pureblood

Or a half-breed, of a kind

Gryffindor is for the brave and the daring

Hufflepuff is for those who are kind and caring

Ravenclaw is for them that have their wits close

Slytherin is a house for those who are morose.

So if you feel that you are none of these

Please fear not!

Just place me upon your head, please

And I'll tell you what you've got!

A woman with blonde-white hair and an enticing smile walked out, clutching a roll of parchment. She proceeded to unroll the parchment and call out names.

"Abbot, Laurence!"

A tall boy with handsome features walked in long strides to the hat, calmly putting it on his head. "RAVENCLAW!" it exclaimed.

"Ashton, Damia!"

The girl they had met flowed up to the stool. She sat down, and put the hat on her hair.

The hat appeared to consider for a moment before proclaiming that she was in "SLYTHERIN!"

(Well, no surprise there!)

"Black, Sirius!"

Sirius walked up to the stool, causing some long, drawn-out sighs from the older girls. Sirius made "GRYFFINDOR!" with no problem, and the woman continued to call out names.

"Bones, Nancy!"

"Boot, Ronald!"

Bohanny, Bonny!"

"Brocklehurst, George!"

"Candillian, Jake!"

And the list went on, and on, and on.

"Kirksdarke, Aïda!"

"Lupin, Remus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

It finally came to "Moody, Alastor!"

He walked up to the hat, and put it on.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Christy jumped to her feet in disbelief, but this was not noticed as "Moody, Christy!" was called.

She walked up to the hat stomping her feet on the floor. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Petigrew, Peter!"

Peter was a short, chubby boy with fair hair and watery eyes. The hat considered for a moment, and placed him in "GRYFFINDOR!"

"Potter, James!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Snape, Severus!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

As the two boys headed off to their respective tables, James shouted: "I'm going to have a lot of fun beating you for the House Cup!"

Snape merely grinned.

After a while, Lily was called. "Windsor, Lily!"

Lily shuffled up to the stool. She'd been sitting there for a while when the hat proclaimed "GRYFFINDOR!"

Nobody saw the look of relief that flushed her face when she went to her table. The scroll was rolled back up, the hat and stool taken away.

Then a man with a long, white beard stood up. "I am Dumbledore, your Headmaster. Welcome! I trust that we will have a good year, shall we not? Please be reminded to keep away from the Forbidden Forest, and First Years are not allowed to have broomsticks!" At those words James scowled. "So, what else shall I say but "Eat Up?"

As he said that, food suddenly appeared on the plates in front of them, which no one had noticed.

James grabbed his fork and stabbed a potato. "How did One-Eye get into Slytherin? How?"

He glanced over at the Slytherin Table where Alastor was seated. He didn't look like that was his choice of house at all. He then looked at Christy.

She was white and in shock. So was Sirius. Even Lily looked a bit disturbed. He averted his eyes. He didn't want to look at them. Instead he observed everyone around them. There was a worn-looking boy sitting next to Christy, and next to him was a boy with bleached hair. He looked about 4th year, perhaps 5th. The Gryffindor table reached as long as James could see, with more people than he could hope to count. So he just looked at the people that were the closest to him. He suddenly realized that he was voracious. Apparently seeing one of his best friends put into the opposing house had not affected his appetite. He cut up a porkchop with a savage that would have astounded Pompeii.

Author's Note: I enjoy blathering on and on! I got more reviews when my other story sucked. Now that it's good, I don't get many…

I yield to Nem's wishes! You got your 'brat' in there…
To EDS, Star Bright…

To Firecross, yes, my name is *Aria*

To Pigwidgeon… yes, your story does deserve to be up there…

Firenze…I'm still mad at you

There's more, but I can't go on. Wait. One more.

Katherine, I'm NOT Gryffindor_Girl!

That just about covers it…

Disclaimer: Christy is her own self. If you want her, ask her. Anything is J.K.'s that you have even remotley heard of in her stories…

Dedicated to: The **banished** Starling. Everyone HATES you because you draw so well! Go away! **Sobs until the nice men in white coats take her away**