Chapter 3: A New Addition
Marsea awoke the next morning again to the sounds of voices above her head. She opened her eyes to see the serious-looking nurse bent over her, frowning.
"She's awake again, Professor." She said, very matter-of-factly, and the tall, bespectacled man that she had met the previous day strolled over to her.
"Well good morning, Miss Brooklyn. I trust you slept well?" He smiled.
She nodded.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, kindly.
She nodded again, feeling her stomach growl.
Dumbledore waved his hand and suddenly a plate of sandwiches appeared next to her bed, along with a goblet and a jug of what appeared to be-
"Pumpkin juice?" she grinned. "It's my favorite!"
She helped herself to the sandwiches and juice and soon was no longer hungry.
Dumbledore took a sandwich for himself and smiled brightly as he polished the last bit of egg salad on his lip. "Well then, Miss Brooklyn. You have gone far too long without your education, I think."
She looked up at him. "Education? But I went to the most expensive school in London- oh," she looked embarrassed. "You mean-"
"Yes, Marsea, I do believe that you are ready to join the ranks of Hogwarts School. That is, unless you object-"
"Oh, no! I'd love it! Imagine, me doing magic?" Her blue eyes brightened.
"Very well. Let's start you today." He smiled, and lifted his wand to his throat. "Sonorus," he said slowly. I was almost as though a microphone had been turned on. Marsea could hear his voice echoing throughout the whole school.
"Will all the students and faculty members please report to the Great Hall immediately? Classes are momentarily dismissed, thank you." He pointed to his throat again, muttered "Finite Incantatum," and the microphone was unplugged. "Shall we then?" he held his hand out to Marsea, who took it, and hopped out of bed.
"Wait!" she said, "I can't go out there looking like this." She pointed to herself, and her bed-hair.
Smiling, he pointed his wand at her, said "Perfectus," and she looked as though she had spent hours primping, not that she ever did. She nodded, and they walked out of the hospital wing.
*** Meanwhile ***
I was sitting through an especially dull potions class, staring blankly ahead at Professor Severus Snape. He was stalking around the class, waiting for someone to mess up and make their cauldron explode or turn orange or some nonsense like that. Usually someone would satisfy Snape's cruel plan, and Snape would smile coldly, banishing the offender to detention. I would laugh, of course; it was funny, after all.
Today the unfortunate dolt was Neville Longbottom, who had melted so many cauldrons that he had to start buying them in bulk. I often wonder how idiots like that can even get into this school. Of course, I've always believed that we should be a bit more selective about who get accepted.
Snape wound his way past Longbottom, who was near tears, and strolled slowly over to the cauldron that I was sharing with my two best friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Well, I suppose their my best friends, since I don't really have any others. People seem to be intimidated by me.
"Very good, Malfoy." Hissed Snape. "You're an example that I'd hope everyone would follow."
He directed that last comment toward Longbottom and his entourage, which consisted of Hermione Granger, who is of muggle parentage, (she's one of those people who shouldn't be admitted that I spoke of). Also Ronald Weasley, who is as poor as I am wealthy, and the 'famous' Harry Potter, whom I absolutely detest. He is the biggest brown-nosing phony that you could ever hope to meet. It drives me insane.
Potter and Weasley snorted at that last comment about my proficiency in potions, and I smirked. "Oh don't be jealous, Potter. I'm sure there's SOMEthing you're good at. Maybe you'll find a way to manufacture galleons so Weasley's family can afford some decent clothing." I sneered. Taunting them is my favorite pastime.
Weasley's eyes narrowed. "With as much money as your family's got, you should be able to afford some manners."
I grinned, what a comeback. I lowered my voice, "You'll need more than half-witted retorts to save you when the Dark Lord rises again. Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first, you know."
They shrunk back into their chairs. I really know how to quiet those dolts. Of course, I doubted that any of the Weasleys would be in a whole mess of danger when the dark lord returned; they were an old wizarding family. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, however, were fair game. Voldemort had been after Potter for years, and it's a good thing, too, except that the whole mess seemed to have cursed Potter with nothing more than an overly-swollen head.
I was chuckling to myself when Dumbledore's voice boomed throughout the school. Apparently, we were supposed to gather in the Great Hall. 'I hope there's been another mudbood death.' I thought cruelly. I never told you I was a nice guy.
Snape scowled, but nevertheless he led up through the cold dungeons to the main castle. I could hear Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle behind me as we ascended the stairs. No doubt she and the wolf pack that followed her were discussing me; Pansy had been practically stalking me since first year, and ever since I had agreed to go with her to last year's Yule Ball, she had been nearly unbearable. It was almost as though she thought that we were dating. She even tried to hold my hand once. I almost hurled.
We filed into the Great Hall and took seats at our house tables. Potter, Weasley and Granger were still glaring at me as they marched over to the Gryffindor table and I sat down at Slytherin.
"I wonder what this is all about." Said Pansy happily as she sat down next to me.
I stared blankly at her. "I don't know, but you just took Goyle's seat." I pointed at the chair on which she had seated her overly-large bum.
Pansy looked appalled. She mumbled incoherently and stood up, tears welling up in her eyes. Goyle pushed her out of the way and sat down. I smirked as Pansy found a seat further down, away from me.
A moment later, Dumbledore entered the hall, followed by an extremely nervous-looking blonde, who shuffled her feet as she stood next to Dumbledore in front of the hall.
"Who's that?" Grunted Goyle next to me.
"I don't know." I said nonchalantly. "But I hope she's transferring in." She wasn't bad looking, after all, and I am a guy.
She was staring at the ground, but looked up momentarily and surveyed the mass of people who had grown quiet the moment that she and Dumbledore had walked in.
It only took me a moment to realize that she was not pretty. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her blue eyes cut into my soul when they landed on me. (Oh no, I'm sounding like a cheesy romance novel, I better quit while I still sound like a tough guy.)
***
Marsea looked around the crowded room. 'What have I gotten myself into?' she asked herself. 'These people are not like me, they'll hate me.' Then it dawned on her that the people were more like her than the ones she had gone to school with for 10 years.
The room was full of people, but almost completely silent. What noise was still going on completely ceased when Dumbledore spoke.
"Hello Students, I truly hope that you will not be overly disappointed to miss a portion of your lessons." There were a few chuckles. "I felt it was necessary to bring you together to tell you about a new student." He looked at Marsea and smiled. "Now as you all know, we normally just 'slip' the new students into classes without announcing their arrival formally, but I felt that this young lady deserves an introduction. Her name is Marsea Brooklyn, and she will be joining the Fifth Years." There was a slight murmur though the crowd, which stopped quickly. "Now, as you all may know, Marsea has an interesting story to tell. She is the only member of the Brooklyn family not to attend this school from year one, and there is a very good reason for that, I'm sure. Unfortunately I am not sure what it is. In any case, I am sure that Miss Brooklyn will quickly catch up to the rest of you in her studies, and become just like one of you."
Marsea smiled slightly.
"Well Miss Brooklyn," said Dumbledore, turning to her. "I do believe it is time for you to learn of your fate."
"My- my fate?" she mumbled.
"Yes. Oh, Professor McGonagall," he called to a severe-looking woman standing about twenty feet from him.
"Yes sir?" she called as she walked over.
"The hat, please?"
"Oh, yes. I brought it down already."
'Hat?' thought Marsea. 'What does a hat have to do with my fate?'
The stern woman walked to the back of the room and returned carrying a small footstool and a very tattered-looking wizard's hat. She sat the stool down in front of Marsea and placed the hat on top of it.
Marsea looked up at Dumbledore, confused.
"Okay, Miss Brooklyn." He said slowly. "Simply sit on the stool and place the hat on your head. It will tell you and all of us which of the four houses you are to be placed in."
"Really? How does it do that?" she whispered.
"It's very smart. It can read the deepest inner workings and thoughts of your brain." He smiled.
Her mouth formed a little "O" of surprise. She wasn't sure if she wanted anything reading the deepest thoughts of her brain. Nevertheless, she sat down on the stool and slipped the tattered old hat over her head. It fell past her eyes, and everything was dark.
"Hello." Said a little voice in her head. "Hmmm... Where should I put you, Miss Brooklyn?"
"How do you know my name?" Marsea thought.
"Ahhh, I know everything, Miss Brooklyn. I also know that you are very brave, and would do quite well in Gryffindor. I also believe that Ravenclaw would help you along your path to greatness. You have much knowledge in your head, Miss Brooklyn. Believe me, I'm in it, and it's quite cramped in here. However, you have precious little Hufflepuff in you, my dear, and I see a need deep inside you to prove yourself greater than anyone else. Miss Brooklyn, I do believe that you belong in
SLYTHERIN!" The hat cried, and Marsea felt it being lifted off of her head, and light flooded her eyes.
"Okay, Miss Brooklyn." Said Dumbledore, with a noticeable frown on his face. "The Slytherin table is that green one over there." He pointed to a long table on the left side of the room. "Please go join them. I'm sure they will escort you to your class, and show you around." He pushed her toward the table. She glanced back, wondering why he was acting less than warmly toward her.
A pale, blonde boy stood up as the walked slowly toward the table. "Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy." He drawled, smiling.
Marsea awoke the next morning again to the sounds of voices above her head. She opened her eyes to see the serious-looking nurse bent over her, frowning.
"She's awake again, Professor." She said, very matter-of-factly, and the tall, bespectacled man that she had met the previous day strolled over to her.
"Well good morning, Miss Brooklyn. I trust you slept well?" He smiled.
She nodded.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, kindly.
She nodded again, feeling her stomach growl.
Dumbledore waved his hand and suddenly a plate of sandwiches appeared next to her bed, along with a goblet and a jug of what appeared to be-
"Pumpkin juice?" she grinned. "It's my favorite!"
She helped herself to the sandwiches and juice and soon was no longer hungry.
Dumbledore took a sandwich for himself and smiled brightly as he polished the last bit of egg salad on his lip. "Well then, Miss Brooklyn. You have gone far too long without your education, I think."
She looked up at him. "Education? But I went to the most expensive school in London- oh," she looked embarrassed. "You mean-"
"Yes, Marsea, I do believe that you are ready to join the ranks of Hogwarts School. That is, unless you object-"
"Oh, no! I'd love it! Imagine, me doing magic?" Her blue eyes brightened.
"Very well. Let's start you today." He smiled, and lifted his wand to his throat. "Sonorus," he said slowly. I was almost as though a microphone had been turned on. Marsea could hear his voice echoing throughout the whole school.
"Will all the students and faculty members please report to the Great Hall immediately? Classes are momentarily dismissed, thank you." He pointed to his throat again, muttered "Finite Incantatum," and the microphone was unplugged. "Shall we then?" he held his hand out to Marsea, who took it, and hopped out of bed.
"Wait!" she said, "I can't go out there looking like this." She pointed to herself, and her bed-hair.
Smiling, he pointed his wand at her, said "Perfectus," and she looked as though she had spent hours primping, not that she ever did. She nodded, and they walked out of the hospital wing.
*** Meanwhile ***
I was sitting through an especially dull potions class, staring blankly ahead at Professor Severus Snape. He was stalking around the class, waiting for someone to mess up and make their cauldron explode or turn orange or some nonsense like that. Usually someone would satisfy Snape's cruel plan, and Snape would smile coldly, banishing the offender to detention. I would laugh, of course; it was funny, after all.
Today the unfortunate dolt was Neville Longbottom, who had melted so many cauldrons that he had to start buying them in bulk. I often wonder how idiots like that can even get into this school. Of course, I've always believed that we should be a bit more selective about who get accepted.
Snape wound his way past Longbottom, who was near tears, and strolled slowly over to the cauldron that I was sharing with my two best friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Well, I suppose their my best friends, since I don't really have any others. People seem to be intimidated by me.
"Very good, Malfoy." Hissed Snape. "You're an example that I'd hope everyone would follow."
He directed that last comment toward Longbottom and his entourage, which consisted of Hermione Granger, who is of muggle parentage, (she's one of those people who shouldn't be admitted that I spoke of). Also Ronald Weasley, who is as poor as I am wealthy, and the 'famous' Harry Potter, whom I absolutely detest. He is the biggest brown-nosing phony that you could ever hope to meet. It drives me insane.
Potter and Weasley snorted at that last comment about my proficiency in potions, and I smirked. "Oh don't be jealous, Potter. I'm sure there's SOMEthing you're good at. Maybe you'll find a way to manufacture galleons so Weasley's family can afford some decent clothing." I sneered. Taunting them is my favorite pastime.
Weasley's eyes narrowed. "With as much money as your family's got, you should be able to afford some manners."
I grinned, what a comeback. I lowered my voice, "You'll need more than half-witted retorts to save you when the Dark Lord rises again. Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first, you know."
They shrunk back into their chairs. I really know how to quiet those dolts. Of course, I doubted that any of the Weasleys would be in a whole mess of danger when the dark lord returned; they were an old wizarding family. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, however, were fair game. Voldemort had been after Potter for years, and it's a good thing, too, except that the whole mess seemed to have cursed Potter with nothing more than an overly-swollen head.
I was chuckling to myself when Dumbledore's voice boomed throughout the school. Apparently, we were supposed to gather in the Great Hall. 'I hope there's been another mudbood death.' I thought cruelly. I never told you I was a nice guy.
Snape scowled, but nevertheless he led up through the cold dungeons to the main castle. I could hear Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle behind me as we ascended the stairs. No doubt she and the wolf pack that followed her were discussing me; Pansy had been practically stalking me since first year, and ever since I had agreed to go with her to last year's Yule Ball, she had been nearly unbearable. It was almost as though she thought that we were dating. She even tried to hold my hand once. I almost hurled.
We filed into the Great Hall and took seats at our house tables. Potter, Weasley and Granger were still glaring at me as they marched over to the Gryffindor table and I sat down at Slytherin.
"I wonder what this is all about." Said Pansy happily as she sat down next to me.
I stared blankly at her. "I don't know, but you just took Goyle's seat." I pointed at the chair on which she had seated her overly-large bum.
Pansy looked appalled. She mumbled incoherently and stood up, tears welling up in her eyes. Goyle pushed her out of the way and sat down. I smirked as Pansy found a seat further down, away from me.
A moment later, Dumbledore entered the hall, followed by an extremely nervous-looking blonde, who shuffled her feet as she stood next to Dumbledore in front of the hall.
"Who's that?" Grunted Goyle next to me.
"I don't know." I said nonchalantly. "But I hope she's transferring in." She wasn't bad looking, after all, and I am a guy.
She was staring at the ground, but looked up momentarily and surveyed the mass of people who had grown quiet the moment that she and Dumbledore had walked in.
It only took me a moment to realize that she was not pretty. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her blue eyes cut into my soul when they landed on me. (Oh no, I'm sounding like a cheesy romance novel, I better quit while I still sound like a tough guy.)
***
Marsea looked around the crowded room. 'What have I gotten myself into?' she asked herself. 'These people are not like me, they'll hate me.' Then it dawned on her that the people were more like her than the ones she had gone to school with for 10 years.
The room was full of people, but almost completely silent. What noise was still going on completely ceased when Dumbledore spoke.
"Hello Students, I truly hope that you will not be overly disappointed to miss a portion of your lessons." There were a few chuckles. "I felt it was necessary to bring you together to tell you about a new student." He looked at Marsea and smiled. "Now as you all know, we normally just 'slip' the new students into classes without announcing their arrival formally, but I felt that this young lady deserves an introduction. Her name is Marsea Brooklyn, and she will be joining the Fifth Years." There was a slight murmur though the crowd, which stopped quickly. "Now, as you all may know, Marsea has an interesting story to tell. She is the only member of the Brooklyn family not to attend this school from year one, and there is a very good reason for that, I'm sure. Unfortunately I am not sure what it is. In any case, I am sure that Miss Brooklyn will quickly catch up to the rest of you in her studies, and become just like one of you."
Marsea smiled slightly.
"Well Miss Brooklyn," said Dumbledore, turning to her. "I do believe it is time for you to learn of your fate."
"My- my fate?" she mumbled.
"Yes. Oh, Professor McGonagall," he called to a severe-looking woman standing about twenty feet from him.
"Yes sir?" she called as she walked over.
"The hat, please?"
"Oh, yes. I brought it down already."
'Hat?' thought Marsea. 'What does a hat have to do with my fate?'
The stern woman walked to the back of the room and returned carrying a small footstool and a very tattered-looking wizard's hat. She sat the stool down in front of Marsea and placed the hat on top of it.
Marsea looked up at Dumbledore, confused.
"Okay, Miss Brooklyn." He said slowly. "Simply sit on the stool and place the hat on your head. It will tell you and all of us which of the four houses you are to be placed in."
"Really? How does it do that?" she whispered.
"It's very smart. It can read the deepest inner workings and thoughts of your brain." He smiled.
Her mouth formed a little "O" of surprise. She wasn't sure if she wanted anything reading the deepest thoughts of her brain. Nevertheless, she sat down on the stool and slipped the tattered old hat over her head. It fell past her eyes, and everything was dark.
"Hello." Said a little voice in her head. "Hmmm... Where should I put you, Miss Brooklyn?"
"How do you know my name?" Marsea thought.
"Ahhh, I know everything, Miss Brooklyn. I also know that you are very brave, and would do quite well in Gryffindor. I also believe that Ravenclaw would help you along your path to greatness. You have much knowledge in your head, Miss Brooklyn. Believe me, I'm in it, and it's quite cramped in here. However, you have precious little Hufflepuff in you, my dear, and I see a need deep inside you to prove yourself greater than anyone else. Miss Brooklyn, I do believe that you belong in
SLYTHERIN!" The hat cried, and Marsea felt it being lifted off of her head, and light flooded her eyes.
"Okay, Miss Brooklyn." Said Dumbledore, with a noticeable frown on his face. "The Slytherin table is that green one over there." He pointed to a long table on the left side of the room. "Please go join them. I'm sure they will escort you to your class, and show you around." He pushed her toward the table. She glanced back, wondering why he was acting less than warmly toward her.
A pale, blonde boy stood up as the walked slowly toward the table. "Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy." He drawled, smiling.
