Something Entirely New
Prologue
By: Hermione L. Granger
Disclaimer: Don't own any of this, not even the idea.
A/N:Alright, it sounds cliche so far, but it's not. It's really not...and the whole thing won't be from Miranda's POV, I'm going to write it as an overhead view for the rest of it.
They said they'd be here. That they'd watch me play. Then I'd have to go and talk to them-God I don't want to talk to them-and then they'd decide. See if I'm good enough for their little prep school....not like I want to go. I don't. It's just...I was kicked out of Pentwood last Friday. A new record too, I managed to stay at that school for almost two whole weeks before expulsion.
If Hogwarts takes me on, it'd be my 40th school since I've started. That's got to be some kind of record-being kicked out of 18 orphanages, 22 different foster homes, and 40 schools in my 15 years of life. Not bad. Considering my past though, it was almost expected.
I wonder what that Lumbledore..was that his name?..I wonder what he'll do when he find out what I'm really like. I'm sure Pentwood really packaged me up, all the schools do..."she's a model student, really you want her in your school." Like hell they will. No one wants me in their school. Nobody really likes Miranda. Oh sure, the other kids think I'm cool and all that-I am-but I'm too dangerous to get close to. By all rights I'm suppose to be dead. My mother (a real LA prostitute) was on the pill when she got knocked up, tried two abortions, both failed some way or the other, and left me on the porch of some orphanage where I laid freezing for 5 days until somebody found me. Of course my father, whoever the hell he is, doesn't know I'm alive.
So I do what people would expect some with my past to do...I'm bad. I drink, I smoke, and I've probably slept with more guys then my slut bag mother has. I mean, I've been more places, all over America. And now to England...I wonder what those goody-two shoes do for fun. Bet they listen to the Weird Sisters-pure crap if you ask me. I mean, they sound like something strait out of the 1700s. VERY old fashioned.
I'm an artist. I play the guitar-tonight I'm playing with Jessie and Steph, their lead vocalist and guitarist has got strep...and we're playing some of my songs too. If the music doesn't send them running out the door. Who all did that Bumbledore say he was brining...his whole fifth year. Cause I'm a fifth year. The whole freakin grade'll be checkin me out. Wonderful. Couldn't be more excited.
Prologue
By: Hermione L. Granger
Disclaimer: Don't own any of this, not even the idea.
A/N:Alright, it sounds cliche so far, but it's not. It's really not...and the whole thing won't be from Miranda's POV, I'm going to write it as an overhead view for the rest of it.
They said they'd be here. That they'd watch me play. Then I'd have to go and talk to them-God I don't want to talk to them-and then they'd decide. See if I'm good enough for their little prep school....not like I want to go. I don't. It's just...I was kicked out of Pentwood last Friday. A new record too, I managed to stay at that school for almost two whole weeks before expulsion.
If Hogwarts takes me on, it'd be my 40th school since I've started. That's got to be some kind of record-being kicked out of 18 orphanages, 22 different foster homes, and 40 schools in my 15 years of life. Not bad. Considering my past though, it was almost expected.
I wonder what that Lumbledore..was that his name?..I wonder what he'll do when he find out what I'm really like. I'm sure Pentwood really packaged me up, all the schools do..."she's a model student, really you want her in your school." Like hell they will. No one wants me in their school. Nobody really likes Miranda. Oh sure, the other kids think I'm cool and all that-I am-but I'm too dangerous to get close to. By all rights I'm suppose to be dead. My mother (a real LA prostitute) was on the pill when she got knocked up, tried two abortions, both failed some way or the other, and left me on the porch of some orphanage where I laid freezing for 5 days until somebody found me. Of course my father, whoever the hell he is, doesn't know I'm alive.
So I do what people would expect some with my past to do...I'm bad. I drink, I smoke, and I've probably slept with more guys then my slut bag mother has. I mean, I've been more places, all over America. And now to England...I wonder what those goody-two shoes do for fun. Bet they listen to the Weird Sisters-pure crap if you ask me. I mean, they sound like something strait out of the 1700s. VERY old fashioned.
I'm an artist. I play the guitar-tonight I'm playing with Jessie and Steph, their lead vocalist and guitarist has got strep...and we're playing some of my songs too. If the music doesn't send them running out the door. Who all did that Bumbledore say he was brining...his whole fifth year. Cause I'm a fifth year. The whole freakin grade'll be checkin me out. Wonderful. Couldn't be more excited.