Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Sorry it took so long for an update, this story is getting rather hard for me to write, haha. Also, thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter.
Well, enjoy, and please review!
Chris was lead by an old woman, adorned in plaid and a pointy hat. He followed the stern looking woman around the large castles, his eyes watching as the many staircases turned and moved into different slots. There were few students scattered across the hallways, most rushing off to class, books clutched in their hands, so eager to go off and learn. Chris snickered at the thought, thinking back to his days in magic school. Yes, he was one of the few students that actually enjoyed education. He spent his days reading many books, from old classic's, like Moby Dick to the more recent ones such as One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. When he was not reading fiction, he would turn the large library in magic school for books filed with spells and the heritage of the magic community. He'd sit in the library during his free period, enthralled by thick books such as The History of Magic: 1700-1900 and A Brief History of the Wiccan World.
His eyes travelled to the paintings that hung on the wall. There seemed to be hundreds of them, all scattered across the old castle walls, practically covering every brick. Chris stuffed his hands in his pockets as he studied the portraits he passed. Some were of old, elegant looking men, sitting posed stiff in chairs, while others were of young woman, looking almost angelic in white dresses, some clutching books while others sat in stiff positions like the guessed they all had some sort of relation to the school. Maybe they were all wizards that had attended?
"You seem quite fascinated with the artwork," Minerva McGonagall observed as she turned her head slightly to look towards the teenager, "Do you like art?"
The boy shrugged his shoulders and turned his head up towards the ceiling, "Not really," he could spot hundreds or portraits that lined the walls above him, lined up somewhat crookedly along the brick walls, "You've really got a lot of them though." He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and turned to look at the stairs they were approaching.
She nodded and lead the boy up the stone stairs, gripping loosely onto the rail, "I should inform you of some rules," she started, adjusting the square-rimmed glasses she wore. The teenager snorted and paced a few steps ahead, "I already told Dumbledore that I wasn't going to be following your so called rules," he stopped at a portrait of a young woman and a man sitting together, chatting. He was enthralled by the moving figures, gesturing with their hands and mumbling words, "I'll attend classes and all that," he continued, eyes still fixated on the moving picture, "But I will not wear one of those ugly uniforms," he turned to look at the woman, arms crossed, "I can't believe you actually make the kids wear those things. You must not be fans of the whole 'freedom of expression' thing."
"Those uniforms have been worn here for years," she informed the boy as she lead him down the corridor, "When I was a student here we wore them. The traditional uniform has been passed on from generation to generation."
"You still won't get me in one of those things," Chris responded, his eyes traveling to a student passerby. The girl looked at him with a quick fascination before turning her attention to the Professor.
"Miss Granger," the woman called to her, stopping the brown haired girl in her tracks, "Shouldn't you be in class?"
The girl slightly blushed as she noticed the strange boy give her an amused smirk. She quickly looked from her Professor to the unknown boy and back again, "No Professor," she spoke quickly, "I have a study period. I was just heading back to the dormitory to get a few books," her eyes travelled down to the books that she clutched to her chest.
"Oh," Professor McGonagall nodded and turned her attention back to the charge behind her, "Miss Granger, this is Christopher--"
"Perry," the boy cut in, his eyes glancing over towards the Professor, "Chris Perry." He didn't feel the need to use his real last name. If people over here knew about the war, which he was positive they did, then they didn't need to know of his relation to the dark ruler. Breaking all ties with Wyatt and the Halliwell name was the best idea, and he kind of liked the idea of a fresh start.
Hermione smiled and replied, "I'm Hermione Granger." She took in the foreign teenager's appearance, noting the brown hair and piercing emerald green eyes. She had never in her life seen eyes so...green. There seemed to be something hidden beneath them though, something she couldn't quite catch but could feel was there. He was mysterious, and that in itself enthralled her. He wore a simple plaid shirt and a pair of jeans, his hair a messy, shaggy mop atop his head. He didn't look like he belonged in Hogwarts at all.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall spoke up, causing the girl to quickly snap back to reality. Her eyes quickly darted to her teacher, giving the elder her full attention, "Could you show Mr. Perry to the house and tell him the password?" she asked the girl. Hermione glanced back over to Chris, who had his arms crossed and wore a faint smile, "I have to get back to my class."
"Oh, yes, Professor," she nodded her head and clutched her books tighter, "Sure." She was supposed to be studying for her Transfiguration test and she wasn't too thrilled with taking time out of her study period to be a tour guide, but there was nothing she could do about it.
"Thank you," she turned her attention quickly to the boy that stood behind her, "Miss Granger will show you the way," she informed the teenager, "Dumbledore has instructed that you stay in your dormitory until dinner tonight. I'm sure Miss Granger can help you find the Great Hall then as well."
Chris gave the head of his house an amused look, "I told you I wasn't doing that whole order thing. . ." his voice trailed as he walked towards Hermione, "Shall we go?" he asked the girl, motioning ahead.
"Mr. Perry," Professor McGonagall called, "Please do stay out of trouble. I take the rules very strictly, even if you do not."
"Don't worry teach," he responded, taking a few steps forward, following Hermione who had stopped a few feet ahead, "I'm a good boy." He gave her a grin before turning back towards Hermione.
The teacher and her students went their separate ways.
Chris and Hermione turned the corner, each walking step in step, paces equal. Hermione glanced over at her new acquaintance every few seconds, trying to think of a way to start a conversation with him. He seemed to be rather content with the silence, his eyes darting around, scanning their surroundings. He finally stopped and let his eyes rest on her, both meeting eye contact for the first time. Hermione had to quickly look away. The boy's eyes almost frightened her. His gaze was so piercing, it felt like those two ovals were peering into her soul, examining her from the inside out.
"You're not from Britain, are you?" she asked suddenly. The urge to make some sort of conversation had overcome her, and she dearly wished that the boy's eyes would turn their gaze somewhere else, at least for a moment.
"No, I'm from America," he smiled and looked towards a painting that hung on the wall, "What gave it away, the accent, or my lack of that terrible uniform?"
She smiled, "I'm not the hugest fan of these uniforms, but they have been worn here for years--"
"Yes, yes, I've heard. The lady in tartan plaid explained that to me on the way up here," Chris motioned his head back, as if Professor McGonagall was still there.
Hermione suddenly stopped the American in front of a portrait, her hand firm against his chest. His eyes wandered down to the small hand as it quickly recoiled, "Sorry," she mumbled a quick apology and looked towards the portrait. She didn't understand why she was getting so nervous around him. He was just so...mysterious. There was something about him that didn't feel right, like he was hiding some big, terrible secret behind those piercing eyes. She felt as if the secret was almost deadly, something that could hurt her. She was somewhat afraid of the new boy, but also equally intrigued.
"This is the door," she turned to face the portrait of the fat lady and chanted the password, "Balderdash."
She quickly entered the house, Chris following shortly behind, "Hmm," he mumbled, looking around, "very homey." His eyes traveled to the stone fire place, before quickly dashing over to the couch. It wasn't his idea of a nice house, the whole, old stony look reminded him of Wyatt's dungeons, but it wasn't terrible.
She smiled and began to make her way to the dormitories, "If you're from the Americas," she quickly turned around swiftly on her heels, a finger raised in question, "Then you must practice Wicca, correct?"
"Yeah, and I still don't get why I'm at a wizarding school, so don't ask me," he stuffed his hands in his pockets and let his eyes wander around the room once again, checking to make sure he hadn't missed any important detail.
Hermione let out a small laugh and continued her way up the stairs, Chris following shortly behind, "So, are you involved in the War?"
"I guess you could say that," he kept a nonchalant tone as they walked up the stairs, entering the boy's dorms, "I'm not really fighting or anything though."
"What do you mean?" Hermione inquired, "Aren't you with the Resistance, I mean, that's why you're here, right?" she quickly turned around and hushed her voice, "I don't think I was supposed to hear this, but me and my friend's Harry and Ron, we were wandering the hallways late one night, and we heard the teachers talking with Dumbledore about some sort of Alliance between Voldemort and Lord Wyatt," she looked almost frightened as she spoke the words, "Is that true?"
"Wouldn't surprise me if it was," Chris shrugged. He remembered that Wyatt had been looking into making alliances a little before he left his side. He distinctly remembered the name Voldemort coming up once or twice. They name struck him as rather odd, for some reason. He'd never met the man, but he had heard of his power. People in Britain feared him, and Chris, of course, had advised Wyatt into joining forces with him. Wyatt hadn't fully made up his mind before he left, but his brother was definitely leaning towards it. Now the war would probably be brought over here, and yet again, he would be to blame.
"You know what really confuses me about the whole war in America," she started, her eyes following the new student's form as he wandered around the dormitory, taking in the room, "Lord Wyatt is the son of Piper Halliwell, a Charmed One," Chris snapped his head in her direction, his eyes instantly locking with hers. Hermione quickly glanced down at the books clutched in her hands and continued, "The Halliwell's are a line of witches--"
"I know who the Halliwell's are," he cut in, "I am a witch, if you don't remember. They're epitome of all good in the Wicca world," he waved his hands for emphasis. It wasn't a pleasant thing to think about for Chris any longer. Whenever the Charmed One's were mentioned it always brought back memories. The times he used to play with his cousins, swinging on swings and sliding down slides at the park near his Aunt Phoebe's house, those enormous family dinner's, his mother's delicious cooking...letting his mind wander to the good old days always reminded him of the bad ones; the days he watched them all die.
"Yes," Hermione nodded with a smile, "Then you see why I don't understand. Wyatt was the son of a Charmed One and an Elder, two strong forces of good, and somehow ended up turning so evil."
"Lord Wyatt doesn't believe that he's evil," Chris told the girl, his eyes traveling to the scenery that was out of the window, "He doesn't believe there even is a good or evil, it's just power. That's why you don't understand it," he turned his head to look at the girl. She seemed to somewhat clue into what he was talking about, but he could tell the concept still didn't make complete sense to her, "Wyatt doesn't think of himself as evil, those morals don't exist in his world, therefore, he does whatever it takes to gain power. It's not evil to him as it is to you, and he doesn't believe that he is evil himself. Until you understand how Wyatt thinks, you won't understand why he completely disregards everything he was taught about the concepts of good and evil, and you won't understand how he ended up the way he is."
"So," Hermione started, her mind putting pieces together, "What you're saying is that he doesn't believe he's strayed from the path of good at all, he just believes he gaining power?"
Chris nodded and leaned against the window pane, "That's part of it. Lord Wyatt is a very complex character."
"How do you know so much about him, though?" Hermione questioned, the boy suddenly becoming very suspicious in her eyes. He knew a lot about the dark ruler, it seemed like much more than a normal witch from American should know. Maybe he was actually on Wyatt's side, maybe he was helping Voldemort by being here. . .
Chris hesitated for a second before continuing, "We used to be..." he paused for a moment, trying to come up with the best half lie he could, "Close," he concluded, his eyes traveling to grassy plains outside of the window, "Before the war started, we were best friends, actually."
"So, you used to know Lord Wyatt, before he was Lord Wyatt?" When the teenager nodded, Hermione was instantly drawled in more. A new student from America who had actually been close to Lord Wyatt? Maybe Dumbledore had brought him here to help them fight against Voldemort and him when they time came...
Chris suddenly waved a hand, causing Hermione to slightly step back. She watched with wide eyes as swirls of blue and white orbs suddenly appeared, creating the shapes of a chest at the end of a bed close to her. It amazed her, the Wiccan world. They didn't require wands to perform magic, and each witch had a certain set of active powers. If she remembered correctly, orbing and conjuring were powers that were possessed by whitelighters and the Elders. That must mean that Chris was. . .
"A half-breed, yes," Hermione slightly jumped as the boy finished her thought aloud. He looked up at her with a small smile. He pointed towards his brain and simply stated, "I'm a telepath."
So he could hear her thoughts. He had probably heard everything she'd been thinking about him since they'd first meet; how intrigued she was of him, how she had accused him of being evil...
"I don't listen in all the time," he explained, a smirk on his face, "I'm not a nosy person, and, anyway, it's actually rather annoying to hear other people's thoughts in your head. Makes it hard to think with all of the other voices chiming in and out. I block it usually."
She nodded and relaxed, "Do you have anymore active powers?" She had always imagined meeting a witch would be an interesting event, but she never expected to meet a half-breed.
"Yes, a few," Chris flipped open the lid to the chest and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He shut the lid down with force and turned to face the brown haired girl.
"You smoke?" she questioned, a little disgusted. Smoking was rarely seen much in the wizarding community, only the occasional pipe. Cigarettes were filled with harmful chemicals and nicotine.
"Stress relief," he explained simply with a shrug of his shoulders. He gave the girl a small smile before nodding his head, "I'll see you later, Miss Granger." He suddenly disappeared into a swirl of orbs, traveling up through the ceiling before vanishing completely.
Hermione stared at the spot he had been standing in just seconds ago, her mind wandering around the character of the new student. She had never been so intrigued by a fellow student before. He was just so mysterious, and those eyes were hiding something big, adding to his mystique. She'd never meet a kid like him before, and she wanted to know more about him. Learn about his powers, his part in the war, if there was any, and especially his relationship with Lord Wyatt. The War in the Americas had always intrigued her and now she would be able to learn more than simply what The Daily Prophet told lips curled into a smile and she hugged her books; she really liked this new witch, and she had a feeling Harry and Ron would too.
Thank you all so much for reading, I'll try and get more of this story going and get it posted sooner. I think I have somewhat of a clue where I want this to lead.
In the meantime, please review! I appreciate every one of them!