Veggie-Babu-chan: Hadn't thought about it, but you never know. That could so happen. Hehe, Cordelia will do some associating. Too bad Oliver isn't around at the moment.
Have questions? Ask, I'll get to you someway, and thanks for reading and reviewing. Sorry this too so long!
she's beautiful as usual with bruises on her ego and
her killer instinct tells her to, be aware of evil men
and that's what she gets for falling again
you can never get 'em out of your head
Tara snuck past her father's study on her way to the library. He had guests and she had to be quiet. Very, very quiet. It wasn't hard though; she was always quiet. Her brother sometimes called her a little mouse. She pretended to hate it, but she was always pretending.
Tara liked to pretend. Sometimes, when she was all-alone, she would pretend she was a princess high up in a tower, waiting for her knight in shining armor. One time her brother had caught her pretending. He had laughed and said she was his princess, and when he came back from school, he was going to buy her a kitten. She wanted a black one, with green eyes. But it was a secret. A secret between her and her brother. They had lots and lots of secrets.
That's why she was going to the library. She was going to find names in the big history books they had there. She didn't want to name her kitty 'Fluffy' or anything stupid like that.
"Does everyone understand?" her daddy asked from within the study. Tara stopped and listened. She knew it was wrong, but maybe, just maybe he was planning some kind of party. They always had lots of parties, and she had been able to go to the last couple of them. They were boring, but she loved the way all the ladies looked. Her brother promised her one-day she'd be prettier than any of them.
"Who exactly are we ordered to dispose of?" a man by the name of Julis Crunlip asked. Tara wrinkled her nose; she didn't like that man. He smelled funny. And always tried to pinch her cheeks when she saw him. Tara hated that.
Dispose. Her head cocked to the side. What did that word mean? She should know the word. Scowling slightly she tried to come up with the definition. To get rid of! Her face lit up; but soon she scowled again.
Why did they want to get rid of someone? That didn't sound very nice. Tara shook her head suddenly. Of course not. Daddy would never get rid anyone, even if he did yell at her sometimes. Even if thedarklord, whoever that was, told him to.
Her father began to list off names. Mad-Eye Moody, Irving Hardinkle, Nmyphadora Tonks, John Cleese, and Arthur Weasley.
People told Daddy to do stuff
all the time, and he didn't do it. Just like the other day, when someone
on the street had told him to stay on his side of the road. Daddy sneered
at the man, and went on. Daddy did a lot of sneering; she didn't like it.
Her brother did too, and that was probably the only thing she didn't like
about her brother. He sneered.
Faith trailed behind the stately looking headmaster. People stared at her as she passed by. She kept her head straight. If she didn't look at them, they didn't exist. And if they didn't exist, they couldn't see her weaknesses. That's what mummy said. If you acted like they didn't exist, they didn't. As she walked through the halls, faces blended into one another.
She didn't like them staring at her. She wanted to scream at them. Who were they? What did they want? What were they looking at? The questions spun around in her head. Who? What? There was a crash to her left and her head snapped towards it.
A boy, almost a man really, in the common black school robe worn by all of the students, was scrambling to pick up fallen books and scrolls. A quill lay at Faith's feet. She picked it up and felt the soft tip of the feathered part. She liked soft things.
"Here," she offered it back to the boy. Her eyes flickered over to is house crest. It was gold and red. She tried to remember which house those colors belong to. She scrunched up her eyes. Nasty dirty Gryffs, her mind echoed. Mummy always said that. Gryffindors were bad, bad people. They were muggle lovers. Muggles were below us; therefore, Gryffindors were below us. She shook her head to clear it. She didn't like lions, or cats. She liked dogs. She used to own one.
Not really, but a big black one used to visit her when she was little. She called him Digon. She had tried to call him Diagon Ally, cause that's were she first saw him, but it came out Digon instead. He was big, black, and hairy. But he was warm, and her bestest friend. Then he had to go. She missed him lots. She wished Digon would come back.
"Thank you," the boy said, plucking the quill from her grasp. He gave her a small smile as he tucked it into his pocket.
Faith didn't respond as she fell back in like with Dumbledore.
"Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore's twinkling blue gaze fell upon the student. "Could you please inform Mr. Potter to report to my office after class?"
The boy, Longbottom, nodded as he shifted his books in his arms, making them easier to carry.
"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. Looking around at the surrounding students, his eyes twinkled behind half-moon glasses. "I do believe class start in a short ten minutes. You mustn't be late."
The on lookers seem to come to life, realizing what a short time they had to get to their next class. Soon only Dumbledore, Faith, and a few students were left in the hall. Dumbledore looked down at the small, pale, raven-haired child. "Lemon drop?" he asked, offering the slightly tart-slightly sweet candy.
Faith looked it, looked
at it for a second, and then popped it in her mouth.
Cordelia looked at the clothes the vampire-like man had laid out for her. He was looking less and less like a vampire and increasingly like a bat. Maybe he was a relative of Dracula? She had heard Buffy had fought the most vampire in pop culture. The woman turned girl wrinkled her nose, if he was related to Sir Fang A Lot, which meant she was too.
Can you saw eww?
She picked up the closest
piece of cloth; it was a sock. She examined it. Cordelia tossed it behind
her; she really didn't need to wear socks, right? Quickly looking through
the carefully laid out clothes, she found the other sock. That was quickly
disposed of.
Neville ran through the door of the potions classroom about thirty seconds before the bell rang. Sighing, he sank down in the seat next to Harry Potter. Though he never excelled in the class, he wanted to become an auror, just like his father.
"Dumbledore wants to see you in his office after class," Neville whispered as they began to take out their notes on the latest potion that they would be working on the next day.
As Snape started to lecture, Harry found himself daydreaming. He wondered what Dumbledore wanted. Could it be related to the rumor that Sirius's daughter was in the school? He shook his head to dismiss the idea. When would Sirius have time to father a child? He had gotten out of Azkaban in his third year; he was now in his seventh. In four years time anything was possible.
Except maybe for this.
Tara's eyes widened as she heard the names. She thought she recognized one. Hadn't her brother ranted about a teacher by that name?
"He wants you to kill them. Our lord commands us," her daddy said. Tara's mouth dropped open in surprise. Her daddy kill? He yelled at her, but not kill. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. And she didn't know what to do.
Her brow furrowed, and she forgot about going to the library. She had to figure out what to do. She knew killing was wrong, but what could she do? Not much. Sometimes she wished she was older, and in school. That way she could fix all of her problems, like her brother.
Her face lit up. Her brother.
He would know what exactly to do. She hurried to the library. There was
always a fire in there, and she was sure she knew where Mummy and Father
kept the floo powder.
Minerva McGonagall supposed she was too old for this. Sometimes she had to wonder where her strength of the day came from. That maybe she should have let one of her children take in William, or Spike as he insisted on being called.
But the she would look down at him, stroking his blonde hair gently, and know she could never do such a thing. She loved the way he called her Grams, how he always seemed to smile, how he had the lofty dream of being a professional quidditch player.
Speaking of the little imp,
the Transfiguration professor wondered where he was.
Draco Malfoy was bored. And he hated to be bored. Advanced Potions was interesting and all, but the fact they still had to take notes like incompetent first years drove him mad. He was the head boy for Christ sakes! He twirled his quill idly in his figures.
There were thirty-seven more days left until Christmas break. He should start to shop for his mother and father. He would do it on the next Hogsmead trip. He wondered if there were any stores that would sell the harder things to come by in the little town.
As Snape began to write on the chalkboard behind him, Draco lazily copied down the notes, looking around the room.
It wasn't a large class, it was mostly filled with Slyerthins, though a few Ravenclaws dotted the room, there was one Hufflepuff, and of course the Golden Trio, minus Weasel. It seemed as if they had added another, Neville Longbottom, the complete and utter fool he was.
Though granted there were
no daily explosions in the classroom anymore.
Cordelia wandered through the halls, currently clad in a jumper type dress and a sweater, her feet were in socks. The shoes were too ugly to even think about putting on, so she was stuck in socks, which were currently getting rather dirty.
She sighed, hopelessly lost. That's what she was. Hadn't she passed that painting five times already?
"Are you lost dearie?" the painting asked.
Cordelia jumped back. "You can talk," she stated and shook her head. If she, Cordelia Chase, could be related to so freakishly large bat-person, then why couldn't the paintings move? "I'm not your dearie," Cordelia retorted.
"Cordy! Cordy!" a voice distracted the little girl and the painting. Cordelia turned her head and saw a little blonde haired boy running towards her.
"Who are you?" Cordelia snapped. She was getting tired of this. First, the over grown bat and now the overly hyper child.
"Don't you know me?" the little boy asked. He cocked his head to the side in question. "Did you hit your head?" he inquired. "Or maybe you got hit with a Confusing Charm," his eyes lit up in glee at the chance to figure out a puzzle. "I think fourth years are doing them in charms. Are you sure you don't know me?"
Cordelia shook her head.
What had she gotten herself into?
Harry's eyes roamed around the potions room. Hermione sat in front of him, hastily scribbling down the words Professor Snape said. Harry told himself to remember to check his own notes against his friend's. Ron sat next to Hermione, playing with the quill in his hand. There was nothing written on his piece of parchment. Harry continued to gaze around the room.
Eventually he ended up looking at the Slytherin side of the room. Draco Malfoy sat across from him, one row up. From this angle, he could watch the little ferret. Harry could honestly say he hated the guy. Draco Malfoy was head boy this year, and he really did not deserve it. It should have gone to some one like Ron, who actually worked for everything. Draco Malfoy was handed everything, it honestly made him sick.
Suddenly the fire flared to a brilliant green, capturing the whole class' attention, including Harry as well as Snape. Someone was flooing into the potions room, but who?
A little blonde girl tumbled out of the fireplace, her pale blonde hair mussed slightly as it hung in a pin straight sheet, hiding her face. She wore a black jumper style dress with what must have been pristine white before her trip through the Floo Network.
The girl finally realized she was being stared at and looked back. Her eyes widened with fright as she saw the group of sixteen or so teenagers look back at her with curiosity. She made a squeaking sound before hiding behind the closest object, which happened to be Professor Snape.
It would have been funny
at the time; Harry had to admit, if the girl hadn't looked so scared. And
just when he thought things couldn't get any stranger, Draco Malfoy stood
up, "Tara?" he cried, trying to crane his neck around Snape to get a look
at the little girl.
The obstacles had been removed, the spell had been cast, and the one behind it all, watched them from afar. Children. There was something deliciously evil about it all.