~Diana watched as the other transfer students were called up to try on the Sorting Hat. Two of the other students became Ravenclaws, one was a Slytherin, and the smiling French girl was a Gryffindor. Then, it was her turn.
She could feel Harry's eyes boring into her. He had seemed to like her automatically, as soon as she had stepped onto the train. Why? What would he think of her if she wasn't a Gryffindor?
Her last thought as the hat descended around her was 'How in the world do you expect to get into Gryffindor if you let stage fright overcome you?'
As the silky brim descended around her, she thought furiously, 'Gryffindor, please, let me be a Gryffindor.'
"Ah," the hat whispered in her ear, "you are the nervous one, aren't you? Shall I delve into your mind? You're very good with words, very wise, that's a good sign of wisdom, you know. Ah, quiet and shy, but very friendly underneath. And you know how to hurt people when you need to, that's a vice and a virtue. But you're brave. Under it all, you're the bravest person to ever come to Hogwarts. Shall we put you in GRYFFIND- ~
"Ouch!" I yelped as my pencil snapped in half. I had been putting too much pressure on it, and now had a sore finger and a jagged line dividing my columns of handwriting into two pieces to boot. And I only had two pencils left before I had to start using the huge feather quills everyone else used, and those I had been saving for schoolwork. If there was ever a time in my life that I felt like swearing, it was then.
I started to shove my notepad back into my pocket. I hated having to handwrite stories; I always thought better when I was typing, because my thoughts could just come out so much faster. I could type 50 words a minute, and maybe write 20-25 words a minute. If I didn't use cursive. And it didn't help that my hands were still very sore, and that just holding a pencil left a mild rash across my hands.
The longer I spent in the Gryffindor Common Room, the more I hated the sight of red velvet. The curtains on the windows, the covers on the couches, even the crimson carpet had a velvety feel. Godric Gryffindor must have really liked the color red. I wondered briefly if the founders all got to decide what their dorms looked like. Deciding that was a good idea to research, I grabbed the top half of my broken pencil and jotted it down in my notepad.
My hands were still bright red and raw from the afternoon's escapades. Let me just tell anyone who will listen: Potions class is a nightmare that no fanfic author can ever really express.
Soundproofing Spray was what Snape told us we were making during double Potions with the Slytherins that day. I had started to notice a trend in the way things were named around here; why couldn't J.K. come up with something besides alliterations?
That was something to think about: what if I was actually being written in by J.K.? Did I have to do whatever she wrote that I did? What if she wrote me off, like Cedric?
But what-if's weren't going to help anything. I pushed the thought out of my mind, and tried to concentrate on Snape's voice.
"Squirt this under the doors and around the windows of a room, and not one word uttered within will escape and be heard by unwelcome listeners," Snape explained, brandishing a bottle of the brownish-red liquid. Somehow the man managed to make every sentence he uttered sound like he was announcing the end of the world; not depressing, but instead destructively gleeful.
Snape had put us into partners, which meant, of course, that Harry and Draco were together. Hermione and Neville were together again; was Snape feeling suicidal today, or did he just want another excuse to take points from Gryffindor? Ron had taken one look at the two Slytherins still without partners, and automatically moved towards me. I took it as a compliment that he still preferred my company to Millicent Bulstrode, but he didn't look too happy either way.
I, on the other hand, considered this a great opportunity. I wanted to prove to Harry, Ron and Hermione that they could trust me. Any time I spent with them was time where I could prove my trustworthiness. How exactly I would accomplish this short of telling them everything I didn't know.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, it depends on how you look at it, I got my opportunity.
I had just begun mashing together some kind of root and some powdered stuff Ron had told me to use, (I didn't want to know exactly what it was, as throwing up in class wouldn't have earned any points for Gryffindor,) and Ron was adding stuff to our shared cauldron.
From the expressions crossing over Harry's face, Malfoy was goading him so that only he could hear. Their table was right next to ours, but I still couldn't hear what the Slytherin was telling our hero. Whatever it was, it was making Harry clench his fists on the table. He really was trying to stay in control, but if Malfoy didn't quit soon there would be some fists flying.
I had to help Ron measure the stuff out after that. He wasn't talking to me much, but I didn't mind. After that, Ron started stirring, and I glanced over at Harry to see if Malfoy had given it up yet.
Harry was reaching into the drawer beneath the table to get something, and I saw Malfoy drop something long and glittery into their pot, which was beginning to bubble over. I glanced down their table, to try and figure out what mystery ingredient Malfoy had added. It must have been the porcupine quills, I finally decided. Then, I remembered.
That's what Neville had added in the first year that had given everybody boils! If you added them before you took the potion off the fire…
Malfoy was smirking and had moved away a half step. The pot was beginning to boil over, was probably seconds away from an eruption, and Harry was standing up to lean over the pot and add some unicorn hair…
I didn't have time to think; I reached over and gently knocked a bottle of salamander blood off of Harry's table to the floor. Harry saw it, and bent down to pick it up, just as the his potion shot out of the pot, spattering all over around their table. None of it got Harry, who was under the table out of range, but most of it had gotten Malfoy!
He was staring in horror at his arms and chest, which were swelling up with sores. I felt horrified too, as Snape came over to eye Malfoy, who was making odd whimpering noises as he stared with wide eyes at the horror caused by his practical joke.
"Who did this?" Snape asked quietly, his voice brimming with rage. "Malfoy?"
Malfoy just gestured at Harry, who looked only mildly startled.
"Potter," Snape began, "you are going to pay dearly for this, you know." He was hissing, not shouting, which made it all the worse.
What could I do? I could say I'd seen Malfoy do it, but Snape wouldn't believe me, and maybe Harry would get in worse trouble. I could just stay quiet, and hope Harry didn't get expelled. Or… I suddenly remembered reading Tom Sawyer. That part where Becky's about to get in trouble with their teacher, and Tom knows it, so even though he knows he'll get beaten he stands up and says-
"I did it," I said clearly and loudly.
Snape turned his gaze on me, and I was immediately sorry I had chosen to do anything. Me and my bright ideas… Snape took a half step towards me.
"You did not!" Malfoy choked out, almost as angry as Snape, if that were possible.
I tore my gaze away from Snape's building fury, and looked at Malfoy. "How do you know that?"
"Because I d-" Malfoy stopped as he realized what he'd been about to say. "Ow!" He tried to cover it up with another cry of pain, but Snape was turning to stare at his prize student with raised eyebrows.
"Detention," he finally managed to say, staring hard at Malfoy, who shrank back just as much as I had at my first Snape-on-the-warpath encounter. I had turned to give Harry and Ron a triumphant smile, when Snape turned back to me. "For both of you."
Oops.
Ever notice that brilliant plans always backfire? No exceptions, not even for famous fanfic authors trapped in magical worlds.
I started to open my mouth to protest, but caught myself in time. "Yes, sir," I whispered.
He gave Harry a dark look. Snape must have been very disappointed that he didn't get to punish Harry this time. Harry stared him down, though, and the teacher turned away to order Crabbe and Goyle to carry Malfoy up to the Hospital Wing.
We returned to the lesson pretty quickly after that, but not before Ron gave me a thumbs-up sign. I probably would have been a lot happier if I hadn't now had the imminent detention on my mind.
Our detention was given to us by Snape after dinner that night. For the first time in three days, I got to sit with Harry and Co. It was a lot more fun than sitting alone, or with strangers, let me tell you, even though we didn't really say anything to each other. However, it was all ruined by Snape's smirk as he gave me the evil eye between every bite of his dinner.
He was frowning sternly, however, as Draco and I approached him after the meal was over. Draco was wearing a properly penitent look, whereas I was just terrified. Snape gave Malfoy a benevolent smile, which turned into a stern frown as he looked at me.
"The two of you," he said in an oily tone, "will spend the rest of the night scrubbing the Great Hall." He flicked his wand with a jerk of the wrist, and two buckets appeared on the floor in front of him. "From top to bottom, until it's done."
"Not by hand, of course," Draco said quickly, though it was more question than statement.
"By hand." The Professor flicked his wand again, and two scrub brushes appeared as if to clarify the point. Snape narrowed his eyes as he looked up at Draco again. "You will find, Mr. Malfoy, that disrupting my class is not a wise thing to do." He stared at his prize student for a moment, then turned back to me. "And, I will confiscate your wands to make sure that you don't cheat." He reached out a hand, and I reluctantly placed my wand in it. He held out the same hand to Draco, who shrugged.
"I left it in the Common Room, professor," he explained, staring at the floor and shifting his weight from left to right. He stared up through his bangs at Snape like the professor was the murderous hunter and he was Bambi. You know the look; wide, innocent eyes, pouted lips. Even though I knew he was faking, I nearly melted. Snape merely nodded, however, and stalked away, his robes sweeping the floor behind him.
Malfoy grinned at Snape's retreating back, then turned to me as the doors closed.
We were completely alone. That fact shot into my mind like it had been fired out of a cannon. It was as dangerous as a cannonball, too, because the thoughts that accompanied it brought a bright scarlet blush to my face. I leaned over and picked up one of the brushes, hoping that Malfoy hadn't noticed that I was turning colors just because of him.
He brought out his wand from his pocket, and pointed it at his bucket. A moment later, the brush was scrubbing the floor, as he climbed up on the Slytherin table to lazily watch the brush go back and forth across the floor all on its own.
I started to protest angrily, but what was the point? Snape wouldn't believe me if I ran to tell him, or he wouldn't care. Malfoy would just hate me. And it wasn't any business of mine if Draco got the punishment he deserved.
Those charitable thoughts came a bit more easily to my mind once Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors were out of sight.
"So, are you a pure blood?" Malfoy's voice startled me.
I thought a moment. "Yes," I answered finally. I was; pure-blooded Muggle, but he didn't have to know all that.
I suddenly remembered Trevor, and Neville's big, teary eyes. "I saw what you did to Neville's toad," I said casually, eyeing him from my position on the floor. I dipped my brush into the bucket, and jerked it out again. Whatever soap this was, it burned my hands. Not too badly, but enough to be an even bigger aggravation than scrubbing the floor while Malfoy lounged on the table.
He gave a knowing laugh. "Ah, you fell for it too, then."
I froze. "What?"
He sat up on one elbow. "Why would I waste my time catching Longbottom's slimy pet when all I had to do was dump some of the toad parts we keep around for potions into a box and hand it to him?"
Somebody just pin a sign on me saying "I am Miss Gullible, please con me."
"Why do it at all, then, if it was so much trouble?" I didn't want to argue with Malfoy, but I had a soft spot for kids and pets. The hamster I had told Neville about had been my fourth one. The other three had all died early deaths, the two that came after it had also come to their ends in gruesome and untimely ways.
"For a laugh," Malfoy said, lying back down.
"You know," I said, dipping my brush again into the warm and greasy liquid, "if you make somebody cry, you have power over their emotions, but if you make somebody laugh, then you have complete control over them."
He looked at me again, eyebrows raised. "Where'd you read that?"
"I don't know, a book or a magazine or something." Actually I had made it up right then, but it was something I had thought about before. I could make my sister laugh on command, which was more challenging than making her cry. Also more rewarding. Anyone can make anybody cry, but it takes a persuasive, smart person to make someone laugh.
Malfoy seemed to consider that for a moment. I thought he was going to say something else, but he instead stretched out again, eyes closed.
I tried to ignore him after that, but… After all, this was *the* Draco Malfoy. Hero of the great "Draco Dormiens" series, bearer of the Living Blade, Heir of Slytherin, wearer of leather pants…
"I know your father is a Death Eater."
He only partly sat up this time, as if looking at me was more effort than it was worth. "And I know your mother must be a-"
"And I know that you're insanely jealous of Harry," I cut him off.
"Potter?" He spat the name like a curse. "When he does something that I can be jealous about, inform Orgorfa the Giantess before you inform me, because she'll probably care ten times as much." He sounded bored, but I had struck a nerve, I knew.
"You are jealous."
"Of what?" He laughed; disbelieving laughter that probably would have sounded believable to anyone else.
"Of his Quidditch skills," I started to say.
"Potter has no Quidditch skills. He just has a faster broom; he doesn't have any style at all." I could tell by the way he said it that he was telling the truth.
"You're jealous of his fame, then," I tried a different tactic. Both my brush and his had stilled several minutes ago, but neither of us noticed.
"Oh sure, he has a great ruddy scar on his head and every Dark Wizard from here to Japan trying to wring his neck." He scoffed at me. "And here I was thinking you might actually be more intelligent than the rest of the Gryffindors."
Something in that sentence hit me, and I kneeled next to the table so I could look him in the eye. "Then I know what it is that makes you hate him so much."
Malfoy rolled over to look me in the eyes. They were silver, which disoriented me for a minute. I'd never before seen silver eyes.
"And what might that be?"
"You're jealous of his friends. You know that he has the freedom to be friends with whoever he wants, and you don't have that. You tried to take that away from him on the train ride before your first year, telling him that he should only hang out with pure blooded wizards, but he wouldn't let you take that from him." Ding! I would never write Draco Malfoy the same way again. I thought I had known everything about him; I was wrong. Jealousy takes many different forms, and I had always thought Draco had petty jealousy. This was different.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, poor charity-dependent Weasel, Granger the buck-toothed Mudblood, and Longbottom."
"No insult for Neville?"
"It would be redundant," he said firmly.
I laughed, and he looked surprised. "So, I was right. You aren't like the other Gryffindors."
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged, and waved his wand. Both of our brushes started sweeping the floor, making wide circles. I jumped up on the table as one zoomed right where my feet had been a moment ago.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
He raised his eyebrows at that. "What were you expecting?" I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut in, "Yeah, yeah, Potter and his friends have been regaling you with stories of how evil I am."
"I know you aren't evil." I considered what I was about to say. "I think sometimes you're a real jerk, and I know you hate Harry, but I don't think you're evil."
"You know, I know something about you, too," Draco said, seemingly concentrating on the floor.
"Really?"
"I know that you won't ever fit in with the rest of them in Gryffindor."
"What do you mean?"
He smirked at me, and his tone was light, but his eyes were flashing. "Potter and his friends won't ever accept you. You're just too different from them. You can't fit in, no matter how hard you try."
I stared at him. Was he trying to be nice, or was he telling me this to make me mad? "I know I'm different. And frankly, I don't care."
He shrugged again. "Well, when they kick you out of your own House, don't say I didn't warn you." He waved his wand once more, and the entire floor was suddenly shining clean and bright. "I'll see you around." He jumped off the table, his shoes leaving tracks on the wet floor.
"Wait a minute!"
He turned back to look at me. "What?" He sounded annoyed.
"What do you mean, I won't fit in?" I knew I was different, but if *he* knew I was different, something was wrong.
He gave me that smirk, the half-smile that wouldn't tell me anything. "All I'm saying is that you would make a great Slytherin." He walked out.
"…you would have made a great Slytherin…" The words seemed to echo off the walls in the huge room. I stared at the floor for a minute, then followed Malfoy's dry tracks out of the room.
So that's why I was sitting up in the Gryffindor Common room after everyone else had already gone to bed, rubbing my hands which were still raw from the sting of that soap and contemplating the direction of this story. I still wasn't sure if I was in J.K.'s fantasy world made real, or a real world that J.K. only wrote about. Either way, this would end up being a great story. Maybe I could even work up to a thousand reviews! Heck, I'd even like a hundred. My record was forty-two-
I nearly slapped myself. Thinking about ff.net was not the best way to solve the riddles laid before me.
The map pieces, of course, were the main plot of the story. My meeting with Cho, Draco and Neville were all subplots. Saturday would be the first Hogsmeade visit, and something would surely happen then. It was all coming together, just like a book.
And yet, it wasn't like a book. It was REAL. It was completely and totally real, and it scared me.
I suddenly thought of my parents. Did they know I was gone? What would they think if they knew where I was? Would they be proud of me if they knew what I was doing?
Nah, they never liked fanfiction much.
I headed up to the dorm, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day.
***
And then I woke up in the middle of the night, and remembered that it WAS a book.
***
"Hermione!"
She tried to ignore me, but I wouldn't be ignored. "Hermione!"
My fellow Gryffindor finally turned around. "What?"
"Where is the Ravenclaw Common Room?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Why-" Then, "Never mind, on second thought I probably don't want to know. It's the next stairway after that ugly bronze statue of Danwill the Delicate, near the Charms class."
"Thank you!"
Lesse, Charms classroom was down the stairs to the right of the second suit of armor. I tried not to run, but I could barely help it, and my feet kept jumping ahead more quickly than I wanted and dragging the rest of me with it. My mind was already thirty steps ahead, however, and that was what kept forcing me into a sprint.
I took the stairs down to Charms two at a time- ach! This wasn't the Charms hall! I looked around for a moment, wondering where I was. Then, I turned to look at the stairs behind me. Oh yeah, it was Friday. I almost forgot. I backtracked up the stairs, and turned left at the third suit of armor.
The books don't make a big deal out of how annoying the stairs are. They didn't seem magical at first. There wasn't anything about them that seemed out of the ordinary. Then, you tried to get down to Charms class on a Friday, and suddenly the stairs lead in a different direction. A normal person loose in the castle would just think they had mistakenly taken the wrong path.
After several false starts, (most of the stairs liked to switch on Fridays, and some of the doors moved around too,) I reached the steps to the Ravenclaw House.
The Ravenclaw Room was guarded by a portrait of a weedy woman holding a enormous dog. It wasn't big, it was just very fat; rolls of fat spilled over the lady's toothpick legs.
"Yes?" she asked me.
"Um, I need to talk to one of the Ravenclaws," I explained politely. "Please?"
She sniffed. "I'm sorry, but no."
"Please?"
"Absolutely not."
"It's important."
"Breach of protocol."
I sat down in disgust. "I'm going to stay here until someone comes out, then."
"Go right ahead." She sniffed again. "Crazy, addle-minded Gryffindors, always bossing us portraits around. You think you own the school."
Her dog barked at me. She looked down at it, and immediately the strictness and cool aura faded away.
"Aww, is Mommy's wipsey-tiddlums hungy? Do poopsey-squoodlums want a yum-yum? Ooh, Mommy tinks he do!" She hugged the poor beast tightly, and he gave me a helpless look.
I listened to the "itsey-sqiddlies" talk for a while, but after about five minutes of hearing about how "Mommy" was going to give her "bitsey-pooomy" a "num-nummy," I was ready to give up. Fortunately, it was just about then that another Ravenclaw walked up the stairs, and spotted me.
"Aren't you in Gryffindor?" was the first thing she said.
"Yeah," I said, then quickly explained, "I need to speak to Cho Chang."
She looked suspicious. "Oh really? And why do you so urgently need to talk to her?"
"Please, just tell her it's Diana, and it's important."
The Ravenclaw's mouth dropped open. "You're Diana?"
I barely had time to nod before I was grabbed around the waist into the tightest hug I have ever had.
"Oooooh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She squealed, her arms still tight around me.
"Ah-ah-air!" I finally gasped out, and she let go, only to grab my hands and start jumping up and down.
"I'm so glad to meet you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She hugged me again, not as tightly this time. Then, just as I started expecting the Twilight Zone music to play, "What in the world did you do for Cho?"
"What's wrong wi- huh? Cho?"
"Yes!" She shook her head, still grinning madly. "I have no idea what you said to her, but it worked! She's happy again!"
"What are you talking about?"
She tilted her head at me, much as the dog in the portrait had done. "You didn't know?"
"Um, no," I replied, still very confused.
"She hasn't smiled ever since," she looked around, then stage-whispered, "since Cedric died. And we were all sooooo worried about her! She wouldn't talk to any of us, just stare at the Quidditch field and sigh, and then she goes out to the lake alone, and we're all suspecting the worst, and then she comes in and she smiles! Smiles!" She grabbed my hands and started jumping up and down again.
"Oooooo-kay," I said, trying to discreetly edge away from the crazy Ravenclaw, "I will talk to Cho later, then, so…"
"No! No, I'll go get her!" She shook her head in amazement. "What in the world did you tell her? She says that ever since talking to you, she… um, she…" She thought a moment. "She says that her outlook on life has changed, and she wants to be… what was it she said? A 'light character,' or something like that. I don't know. I'll go get her though. She's been so much happier!"
She twirled around, nearly shouted "Dust mite!" to the portrait, and then danced into her Common Room. I tried to peer after her, but the portrait slammed shut. The woman was watching me with an indignant look. Probably thought I had disturbed her "tootsie-wigglers."
The portrait swung back open a moment later, and Cho came out.
"Your friend is insane," I informed her.
She laughed knowingly. "That girl takes a bit of time to get used to." Then, "So, you needed to talk to me?"
"I 'm thinking about the whole book thing, and I've figured something out." The portrait hole swung open again as I was talking, and several Ravenclaw boys exited, giving me strange looks. "Could we go talk somewhere private?"
She thought a moment. "The Muggle Studies room isn't being used right now."
She started to walk away, but I grabbed her shoulder. "How did you know that?"
"What?"
"Do you have the schedules of every class and classroom memorized?"
"Yes."
I dropped the subject.
Cho knew her way around the castle a lot better than I did, and so I followed her step for step. I had already gotten caught more than once in a collapsing stair, and had doors catch my fingers as they slammed just a split-second after being opened, and I SWEAR that doorknob tried to bite me.
"Here we are." She threw open the door to the empty classroom, and plopped down on one of the desks. "So, what's up?"
"I've been thinking about the first four books."
"The ones about Harry?"
"Yeah." I started to pace. She watched me quietly. I think she knew that I thought best when I was explaining something to people. "I've been thinking about how maybe I'm in the fifth book. If I am, then I should be able to tell what's going to happen next, right?"
"Not always," she said. "There are plot twists and things."
"Yes, but…" I waved my hands for a minute, trying to come up with the right words. "There should be a pattern!"
"Have you found a pattern?"
"Yes, I found one." I took a deep breath. "I've been thinking really, really hard, and I realized that in each book, there are three new characters. A good guy, a bad guy, and one who can be either or neither."
"Really." She nodded. "OK, tell me about the first book."
"The first book was the first year Harry came to Hogwarts. Basically, we met three characters. Harry, first of all, he's the good guy, and then Voldemort, who's obviously the bad guy. Everybody else can kinda be lumped into the third person, because it IS the first book, and *everybody* is new."
She nodded again.
"The second book, we met Gilderoy Lockheart," she shuddered, "Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle."
"Who?"
I quickly recapped the whole "Chamber of Secrets" plotline.
"A basilisk!" She jumped off of her seat. "Here in the school?" Her eyes flickered to the walls as if it might come crawling out at any time.
"No, it's gone now. But see, Ginny was the good guy, Tom was the bad guy, and Lockheart was the either/or.
"In the third book, there was Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew." I remembered something. "That's also the first book where your name is mentioned. You know Harry had a crush on you even back then?"
"I kinda figured as much," she said, shaking her head. "Poor kid."
I was going to keep talking, but I noticed something odd about her expression. "Are you OK?"
"He asked me to the ball, but I was already going with Cedric. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings." She sighed. "He probably hates me now."
"No, he doesn't, of course he doesn't!" She sniffed, then sat up, wiped her eyes, and nodded for me to keep talking. After a few seconds, I did. "Remus was the good guy," but she interrupted.
"And Sirius was the bad guy… Who was the other one?"
"Actually- Never mind."
"What?"
"That's something you may not want to know."
"What?"
"Well, Sirius wasn't the bad guy."
She froze. I could almost see her mind working back, remembering the events of two years ago. She started to count on her fingers, then shook her head. "Never mind. I'm not supposed to know. What about book four?"
"Moody, Bagman and Crouch. Bad guy, either/or and good guy."
"I'll just take your word for it."
"But this year… There's still three new characters, but I can't for the life of me figure out who is what!"
"And this is important?"
"It's a key plot point, I'm sure."
She bit her lip, thinking. "You… the Dark Arts Defense teacher… and… who else?"
"Ibbonar."
"Muggle Studies?"
"Yeah."
"So, let's see, you're the good guy…" Her eyes widened. "Does that mean one of the teachers is a bad guy?"
"Maybe. That's what I'm worried about."
"I doubt Hockanhack is a bad guy. He's too nerdy to be evil."
"Ibbonar doesn't strike me as the "Evil Genius" type," I added. "He might be a good guy, though."
"If he's the good guy, and Hockanhack is neutral, where does that leave you?"
The clock chimed for class at that moment. "Oh no, I'm late!" Cho gave me a quick hug, then ran out the door. "Good luck figuring it out!"
Luck was the last thing I needed. What I needed was an ounce of understanding.
***
Saturday morning. My third one since I arrived at Hogwarts.
I watched Harry and Co. head out the common room door, no doubt on their way to Hogsmeade. I waited for Neville for quite a while, but when he still hadn't come down at nine thirty, I headed up to the boys' dorm.
It was a messy place. Underneath it was exactly like the girls' dorm; then you added on the random piles of dirty laundry, books, homework assignments, posters, and other assorted things, most of which could also be found in my bedroom at any time. I hated cleaning, and yet seeing the mess in there was enough to make me want to get out the ol' garbage bags and rubber gloves.
Neville was staring at some parchment, a worried look on his face.
"What's wrong?"
He jumped; absorbed in whatever he was reading, he hadn't seen or heard me come in.
"Professor Trewlaney, our Divination teacher, gave us our horoscopes for the next few days…" Neville said, sounding worried.
"Really?" I had never been interested in horoscopes much, but I knew enough about them to know that I was a Virgo, and that Virgos were usually extremely friendly and intelligent. I started humming a Weird Al song as I leaned over to see what mine was.
Really, it was ridiculous. It could have been a page out of a teen magazine, with the little hearts underneath each sign telling you what your love factor was for the month, or telling you that your special days would be Oct. 26 and June 9. Horoscopes were so fake. Why anyone believed in them, I would never know. They were stupid, and useless, and that was that.
"Lessee, Virgo: You will be of great assistance to a friend, and that friend will in turn share a secret with you. Your ruling planet, Mercury, is now in alignment with Mars, the planet of war. Avoid any controversial situations with your house elf; they may get deadly. Be nice to your greatest enemy, he will be very useful during your next encounter with a angry pixie mob." I sighed. "What a bunch of crap. Who would really believe this?"
"Well, maybe you're right," Neville said, starting to turn to pile the horoscopes with the rest of the homework by his bed.
"Hold on, I haven't read my lucky days yet." I grabbed the paper from him. "Today is going to be a lucky day." Yay!
"Read mine!" Neville said, looking worried again. "It's awful."
"What's your sign?"
"Pisces," he said.
"Ah, sensitive and yet tough," I remembered. "Not that I know much about horoscopes or anything," I added quickly. Scanned the list. Pisces, Pisces Pisces… "The relationship of the Sun to your love planet, Mercury, means that any social relationships should be put on hold indefinitely. Uranus' influence means that you will be in bad moods during the last three days of the month. Avoid trees during thunderstorms, and don't carry beef jerky with you during your trip involving animals. Gee, Neville, that's really… interesting."
"Maybe we shouldn't go to Hogsmeade today then," he said.
"Why not?"
"Well, you know… We were going to the pet store together, and my horoscope says…"
I was really puzzled. "What, that thing about beef jerky? Do you even like beef jerky?"
He looked even more agitated. "No, but…"
"What's the problem then?"
He sighed, and stood up. "I guess there isn't one."
He was actually a pretty nice kid. You know, most fanfiction makes him out to be a dork or something, but he's not. He just needs a little bit of confidence.
It was only about half a mile walk from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. I have a feeling the distance was shortened magically, because the carriage ride from the station to the school took longer than it took us to walk the opposite direction. Lined with pine trees, the road was paved in some places and dusty in others.
We talked in bits and pieces for a while, mostly polite stuff. "How's your family," "Got any pets?", "Weather's been nice," and other stuff like that.
"What do you do during the summer, when school's out?" I asked him, as the buildings of Hogsmeade came into view. It looked quaint, like something out of living history. Brick and wood walls, no plastics or steel or anything. Dirt road that was paved with bricks in the nicer parts of town. A whole bunch of the buildings had chimneys, which was cool. I'd never seen a real chimney before in my life, unless it was on TV or something.
"Mostly just read," Neville said. Then, he looked a little embarrassed. "Sometimes I write fanfiction, and sometimes I play chess with my grandmother."
It took a minute for that sentence to register.
"You… do… WHAT?"
She could feel Harry's eyes boring into her. He had seemed to like her automatically, as soon as she had stepped onto the train. Why? What would he think of her if she wasn't a Gryffindor?
Her last thought as the hat descended around her was 'How in the world do you expect to get into Gryffindor if you let stage fright overcome you?'
As the silky brim descended around her, she thought furiously, 'Gryffindor, please, let me be a Gryffindor.'
"Ah," the hat whispered in her ear, "you are the nervous one, aren't you? Shall I delve into your mind? You're very good with words, very wise, that's a good sign of wisdom, you know. Ah, quiet and shy, but very friendly underneath. And you know how to hurt people when you need to, that's a vice and a virtue. But you're brave. Under it all, you're the bravest person to ever come to Hogwarts. Shall we put you in GRYFFIND- ~
"Ouch!" I yelped as my pencil snapped in half. I had been putting too much pressure on it, and now had a sore finger and a jagged line dividing my columns of handwriting into two pieces to boot. And I only had two pencils left before I had to start using the huge feather quills everyone else used, and those I had been saving for schoolwork. If there was ever a time in my life that I felt like swearing, it was then.
I started to shove my notepad back into my pocket. I hated having to handwrite stories; I always thought better when I was typing, because my thoughts could just come out so much faster. I could type 50 words a minute, and maybe write 20-25 words a minute. If I didn't use cursive. And it didn't help that my hands were still very sore, and that just holding a pencil left a mild rash across my hands.
The longer I spent in the Gryffindor Common Room, the more I hated the sight of red velvet. The curtains on the windows, the covers on the couches, even the crimson carpet had a velvety feel. Godric Gryffindor must have really liked the color red. I wondered briefly if the founders all got to decide what their dorms looked like. Deciding that was a good idea to research, I grabbed the top half of my broken pencil and jotted it down in my notepad.
My hands were still bright red and raw from the afternoon's escapades. Let me just tell anyone who will listen: Potions class is a nightmare that no fanfic author can ever really express.
Soundproofing Spray was what Snape told us we were making during double Potions with the Slytherins that day. I had started to notice a trend in the way things were named around here; why couldn't J.K. come up with something besides alliterations?
That was something to think about: what if I was actually being written in by J.K.? Did I have to do whatever she wrote that I did? What if she wrote me off, like Cedric?
But what-if's weren't going to help anything. I pushed the thought out of my mind, and tried to concentrate on Snape's voice.
"Squirt this under the doors and around the windows of a room, and not one word uttered within will escape and be heard by unwelcome listeners," Snape explained, brandishing a bottle of the brownish-red liquid. Somehow the man managed to make every sentence he uttered sound like he was announcing the end of the world; not depressing, but instead destructively gleeful.
Snape had put us into partners, which meant, of course, that Harry and Draco were together. Hermione and Neville were together again; was Snape feeling suicidal today, or did he just want another excuse to take points from Gryffindor? Ron had taken one look at the two Slytherins still without partners, and automatically moved towards me. I took it as a compliment that he still preferred my company to Millicent Bulstrode, but he didn't look too happy either way.
I, on the other hand, considered this a great opportunity. I wanted to prove to Harry, Ron and Hermione that they could trust me. Any time I spent with them was time where I could prove my trustworthiness. How exactly I would accomplish this short of telling them everything I didn't know.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, it depends on how you look at it, I got my opportunity.
I had just begun mashing together some kind of root and some powdered stuff Ron had told me to use, (I didn't want to know exactly what it was, as throwing up in class wouldn't have earned any points for Gryffindor,) and Ron was adding stuff to our shared cauldron.
From the expressions crossing over Harry's face, Malfoy was goading him so that only he could hear. Their table was right next to ours, but I still couldn't hear what the Slytherin was telling our hero. Whatever it was, it was making Harry clench his fists on the table. He really was trying to stay in control, but if Malfoy didn't quit soon there would be some fists flying.
I had to help Ron measure the stuff out after that. He wasn't talking to me much, but I didn't mind. After that, Ron started stirring, and I glanced over at Harry to see if Malfoy had given it up yet.
Harry was reaching into the drawer beneath the table to get something, and I saw Malfoy drop something long and glittery into their pot, which was beginning to bubble over. I glanced down their table, to try and figure out what mystery ingredient Malfoy had added. It must have been the porcupine quills, I finally decided. Then, I remembered.
That's what Neville had added in the first year that had given everybody boils! If you added them before you took the potion off the fire…
Malfoy was smirking and had moved away a half step. The pot was beginning to boil over, was probably seconds away from an eruption, and Harry was standing up to lean over the pot and add some unicorn hair…
I didn't have time to think; I reached over and gently knocked a bottle of salamander blood off of Harry's table to the floor. Harry saw it, and bent down to pick it up, just as the his potion shot out of the pot, spattering all over around their table. None of it got Harry, who was under the table out of range, but most of it had gotten Malfoy!
He was staring in horror at his arms and chest, which were swelling up with sores. I felt horrified too, as Snape came over to eye Malfoy, who was making odd whimpering noises as he stared with wide eyes at the horror caused by his practical joke.
"Who did this?" Snape asked quietly, his voice brimming with rage. "Malfoy?"
Malfoy just gestured at Harry, who looked only mildly startled.
"Potter," Snape began, "you are going to pay dearly for this, you know." He was hissing, not shouting, which made it all the worse.
What could I do? I could say I'd seen Malfoy do it, but Snape wouldn't believe me, and maybe Harry would get in worse trouble. I could just stay quiet, and hope Harry didn't get expelled. Or… I suddenly remembered reading Tom Sawyer. That part where Becky's about to get in trouble with their teacher, and Tom knows it, so even though he knows he'll get beaten he stands up and says-
"I did it," I said clearly and loudly.
Snape turned his gaze on me, and I was immediately sorry I had chosen to do anything. Me and my bright ideas… Snape took a half step towards me.
"You did not!" Malfoy choked out, almost as angry as Snape, if that were possible.
I tore my gaze away from Snape's building fury, and looked at Malfoy. "How do you know that?"
"Because I d-" Malfoy stopped as he realized what he'd been about to say. "Ow!" He tried to cover it up with another cry of pain, but Snape was turning to stare at his prize student with raised eyebrows.
"Detention," he finally managed to say, staring hard at Malfoy, who shrank back just as much as I had at my first Snape-on-the-warpath encounter. I had turned to give Harry and Ron a triumphant smile, when Snape turned back to me. "For both of you."
Oops.
Ever notice that brilliant plans always backfire? No exceptions, not even for famous fanfic authors trapped in magical worlds.
I started to open my mouth to protest, but caught myself in time. "Yes, sir," I whispered.
He gave Harry a dark look. Snape must have been very disappointed that he didn't get to punish Harry this time. Harry stared him down, though, and the teacher turned away to order Crabbe and Goyle to carry Malfoy up to the Hospital Wing.
We returned to the lesson pretty quickly after that, but not before Ron gave me a thumbs-up sign. I probably would have been a lot happier if I hadn't now had the imminent detention on my mind.
Our detention was given to us by Snape after dinner that night. For the first time in three days, I got to sit with Harry and Co. It was a lot more fun than sitting alone, or with strangers, let me tell you, even though we didn't really say anything to each other. However, it was all ruined by Snape's smirk as he gave me the evil eye between every bite of his dinner.
He was frowning sternly, however, as Draco and I approached him after the meal was over. Draco was wearing a properly penitent look, whereas I was just terrified. Snape gave Malfoy a benevolent smile, which turned into a stern frown as he looked at me.
"The two of you," he said in an oily tone, "will spend the rest of the night scrubbing the Great Hall." He flicked his wand with a jerk of the wrist, and two buckets appeared on the floor in front of him. "From top to bottom, until it's done."
"Not by hand, of course," Draco said quickly, though it was more question than statement.
"By hand." The Professor flicked his wand again, and two scrub brushes appeared as if to clarify the point. Snape narrowed his eyes as he looked up at Draco again. "You will find, Mr. Malfoy, that disrupting my class is not a wise thing to do." He stared at his prize student for a moment, then turned back to me. "And, I will confiscate your wands to make sure that you don't cheat." He reached out a hand, and I reluctantly placed my wand in it. He held out the same hand to Draco, who shrugged.
"I left it in the Common Room, professor," he explained, staring at the floor and shifting his weight from left to right. He stared up through his bangs at Snape like the professor was the murderous hunter and he was Bambi. You know the look; wide, innocent eyes, pouted lips. Even though I knew he was faking, I nearly melted. Snape merely nodded, however, and stalked away, his robes sweeping the floor behind him.
Malfoy grinned at Snape's retreating back, then turned to me as the doors closed.
We were completely alone. That fact shot into my mind like it had been fired out of a cannon. It was as dangerous as a cannonball, too, because the thoughts that accompanied it brought a bright scarlet blush to my face. I leaned over and picked up one of the brushes, hoping that Malfoy hadn't noticed that I was turning colors just because of him.
He brought out his wand from his pocket, and pointed it at his bucket. A moment later, the brush was scrubbing the floor, as he climbed up on the Slytherin table to lazily watch the brush go back and forth across the floor all on its own.
I started to protest angrily, but what was the point? Snape wouldn't believe me if I ran to tell him, or he wouldn't care. Malfoy would just hate me. And it wasn't any business of mine if Draco got the punishment he deserved.
Those charitable thoughts came a bit more easily to my mind once Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors were out of sight.
"So, are you a pure blood?" Malfoy's voice startled me.
I thought a moment. "Yes," I answered finally. I was; pure-blooded Muggle, but he didn't have to know all that.
I suddenly remembered Trevor, and Neville's big, teary eyes. "I saw what you did to Neville's toad," I said casually, eyeing him from my position on the floor. I dipped my brush into the bucket, and jerked it out again. Whatever soap this was, it burned my hands. Not too badly, but enough to be an even bigger aggravation than scrubbing the floor while Malfoy lounged on the table.
He gave a knowing laugh. "Ah, you fell for it too, then."
I froze. "What?"
He sat up on one elbow. "Why would I waste my time catching Longbottom's slimy pet when all I had to do was dump some of the toad parts we keep around for potions into a box and hand it to him?"
Somebody just pin a sign on me saying "I am Miss Gullible, please con me."
"Why do it at all, then, if it was so much trouble?" I didn't want to argue with Malfoy, but I had a soft spot for kids and pets. The hamster I had told Neville about had been my fourth one. The other three had all died early deaths, the two that came after it had also come to their ends in gruesome and untimely ways.
"For a laugh," Malfoy said, lying back down.
"You know," I said, dipping my brush again into the warm and greasy liquid, "if you make somebody cry, you have power over their emotions, but if you make somebody laugh, then you have complete control over them."
He looked at me again, eyebrows raised. "Where'd you read that?"
"I don't know, a book or a magazine or something." Actually I had made it up right then, but it was something I had thought about before. I could make my sister laugh on command, which was more challenging than making her cry. Also more rewarding. Anyone can make anybody cry, but it takes a persuasive, smart person to make someone laugh.
Malfoy seemed to consider that for a moment. I thought he was going to say something else, but he instead stretched out again, eyes closed.
I tried to ignore him after that, but… After all, this was *the* Draco Malfoy. Hero of the great "Draco Dormiens" series, bearer of the Living Blade, Heir of Slytherin, wearer of leather pants…
"I know your father is a Death Eater."
He only partly sat up this time, as if looking at me was more effort than it was worth. "And I know your mother must be a-"
"And I know that you're insanely jealous of Harry," I cut him off.
"Potter?" He spat the name like a curse. "When he does something that I can be jealous about, inform Orgorfa the Giantess before you inform me, because she'll probably care ten times as much." He sounded bored, but I had struck a nerve, I knew.
"You are jealous."
"Of what?" He laughed; disbelieving laughter that probably would have sounded believable to anyone else.
"Of his Quidditch skills," I started to say.
"Potter has no Quidditch skills. He just has a faster broom; he doesn't have any style at all." I could tell by the way he said it that he was telling the truth.
"You're jealous of his fame, then," I tried a different tactic. Both my brush and his had stilled several minutes ago, but neither of us noticed.
"Oh sure, he has a great ruddy scar on his head and every Dark Wizard from here to Japan trying to wring his neck." He scoffed at me. "And here I was thinking you might actually be more intelligent than the rest of the Gryffindors."
Something in that sentence hit me, and I kneeled next to the table so I could look him in the eye. "Then I know what it is that makes you hate him so much."
Malfoy rolled over to look me in the eyes. They were silver, which disoriented me for a minute. I'd never before seen silver eyes.
"And what might that be?"
"You're jealous of his friends. You know that he has the freedom to be friends with whoever he wants, and you don't have that. You tried to take that away from him on the train ride before your first year, telling him that he should only hang out with pure blooded wizards, but he wouldn't let you take that from him." Ding! I would never write Draco Malfoy the same way again. I thought I had known everything about him; I was wrong. Jealousy takes many different forms, and I had always thought Draco had petty jealousy. This was different.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, poor charity-dependent Weasel, Granger the buck-toothed Mudblood, and Longbottom."
"No insult for Neville?"
"It would be redundant," he said firmly.
I laughed, and he looked surprised. "So, I was right. You aren't like the other Gryffindors."
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged, and waved his wand. Both of our brushes started sweeping the floor, making wide circles. I jumped up on the table as one zoomed right where my feet had been a moment ago.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
He raised his eyebrows at that. "What were you expecting?" I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut in, "Yeah, yeah, Potter and his friends have been regaling you with stories of how evil I am."
"I know you aren't evil." I considered what I was about to say. "I think sometimes you're a real jerk, and I know you hate Harry, but I don't think you're evil."
"You know, I know something about you, too," Draco said, seemingly concentrating on the floor.
"Really?"
"I know that you won't ever fit in with the rest of them in Gryffindor."
"What do you mean?"
He smirked at me, and his tone was light, but his eyes were flashing. "Potter and his friends won't ever accept you. You're just too different from them. You can't fit in, no matter how hard you try."
I stared at him. Was he trying to be nice, or was he telling me this to make me mad? "I know I'm different. And frankly, I don't care."
He shrugged again. "Well, when they kick you out of your own House, don't say I didn't warn you." He waved his wand once more, and the entire floor was suddenly shining clean and bright. "I'll see you around." He jumped off the table, his shoes leaving tracks on the wet floor.
"Wait a minute!"
He turned back to look at me. "What?" He sounded annoyed.
"What do you mean, I won't fit in?" I knew I was different, but if *he* knew I was different, something was wrong.
He gave me that smirk, the half-smile that wouldn't tell me anything. "All I'm saying is that you would make a great Slytherin." He walked out.
"…you would have made a great Slytherin…" The words seemed to echo off the walls in the huge room. I stared at the floor for a minute, then followed Malfoy's dry tracks out of the room.
So that's why I was sitting up in the Gryffindor Common room after everyone else had already gone to bed, rubbing my hands which were still raw from the sting of that soap and contemplating the direction of this story. I still wasn't sure if I was in J.K.'s fantasy world made real, or a real world that J.K. only wrote about. Either way, this would end up being a great story. Maybe I could even work up to a thousand reviews! Heck, I'd even like a hundred. My record was forty-two-
I nearly slapped myself. Thinking about ff.net was not the best way to solve the riddles laid before me.
The map pieces, of course, were the main plot of the story. My meeting with Cho, Draco and Neville were all subplots. Saturday would be the first Hogsmeade visit, and something would surely happen then. It was all coming together, just like a book.
And yet, it wasn't like a book. It was REAL. It was completely and totally real, and it scared me.
I suddenly thought of my parents. Did they know I was gone? What would they think if they knew where I was? Would they be proud of me if they knew what I was doing?
Nah, they never liked fanfiction much.
I headed up to the dorm, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day.
***
And then I woke up in the middle of the night, and remembered that it WAS a book.
***
"Hermione!"
She tried to ignore me, but I wouldn't be ignored. "Hermione!"
My fellow Gryffindor finally turned around. "What?"
"Where is the Ravenclaw Common Room?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Why-" Then, "Never mind, on second thought I probably don't want to know. It's the next stairway after that ugly bronze statue of Danwill the Delicate, near the Charms class."
"Thank you!"
Lesse, Charms classroom was down the stairs to the right of the second suit of armor. I tried not to run, but I could barely help it, and my feet kept jumping ahead more quickly than I wanted and dragging the rest of me with it. My mind was already thirty steps ahead, however, and that was what kept forcing me into a sprint.
I took the stairs down to Charms two at a time- ach! This wasn't the Charms hall! I looked around for a moment, wondering where I was. Then, I turned to look at the stairs behind me. Oh yeah, it was Friday. I almost forgot. I backtracked up the stairs, and turned left at the third suit of armor.
The books don't make a big deal out of how annoying the stairs are. They didn't seem magical at first. There wasn't anything about them that seemed out of the ordinary. Then, you tried to get down to Charms class on a Friday, and suddenly the stairs lead in a different direction. A normal person loose in the castle would just think they had mistakenly taken the wrong path.
After several false starts, (most of the stairs liked to switch on Fridays, and some of the doors moved around too,) I reached the steps to the Ravenclaw House.
The Ravenclaw Room was guarded by a portrait of a weedy woman holding a enormous dog. It wasn't big, it was just very fat; rolls of fat spilled over the lady's toothpick legs.
"Yes?" she asked me.
"Um, I need to talk to one of the Ravenclaws," I explained politely. "Please?"
She sniffed. "I'm sorry, but no."
"Please?"
"Absolutely not."
"It's important."
"Breach of protocol."
I sat down in disgust. "I'm going to stay here until someone comes out, then."
"Go right ahead." She sniffed again. "Crazy, addle-minded Gryffindors, always bossing us portraits around. You think you own the school."
Her dog barked at me. She looked down at it, and immediately the strictness and cool aura faded away.
"Aww, is Mommy's wipsey-tiddlums hungy? Do poopsey-squoodlums want a yum-yum? Ooh, Mommy tinks he do!" She hugged the poor beast tightly, and he gave me a helpless look.
I listened to the "itsey-sqiddlies" talk for a while, but after about five minutes of hearing about how "Mommy" was going to give her "bitsey-pooomy" a "num-nummy," I was ready to give up. Fortunately, it was just about then that another Ravenclaw walked up the stairs, and spotted me.
"Aren't you in Gryffindor?" was the first thing she said.
"Yeah," I said, then quickly explained, "I need to speak to Cho Chang."
She looked suspicious. "Oh really? And why do you so urgently need to talk to her?"
"Please, just tell her it's Diana, and it's important."
The Ravenclaw's mouth dropped open. "You're Diana?"
I barely had time to nod before I was grabbed around the waist into the tightest hug I have ever had.
"Oooooh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She squealed, her arms still tight around me.
"Ah-ah-air!" I finally gasped out, and she let go, only to grab my hands and start jumping up and down.
"I'm so glad to meet you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She hugged me again, not as tightly this time. Then, just as I started expecting the Twilight Zone music to play, "What in the world did you do for Cho?"
"What's wrong wi- huh? Cho?"
"Yes!" She shook her head, still grinning madly. "I have no idea what you said to her, but it worked! She's happy again!"
"What are you talking about?"
She tilted her head at me, much as the dog in the portrait had done. "You didn't know?"
"Um, no," I replied, still very confused.
"She hasn't smiled ever since," she looked around, then stage-whispered, "since Cedric died. And we were all sooooo worried about her! She wouldn't talk to any of us, just stare at the Quidditch field and sigh, and then she goes out to the lake alone, and we're all suspecting the worst, and then she comes in and she smiles! Smiles!" She grabbed my hands and started jumping up and down again.
"Oooooo-kay," I said, trying to discreetly edge away from the crazy Ravenclaw, "I will talk to Cho later, then, so…"
"No! No, I'll go get her!" She shook her head in amazement. "What in the world did you tell her? She says that ever since talking to you, she… um, she…" She thought a moment. "She says that her outlook on life has changed, and she wants to be… what was it she said? A 'light character,' or something like that. I don't know. I'll go get her though. She's been so much happier!"
She twirled around, nearly shouted "Dust mite!" to the portrait, and then danced into her Common Room. I tried to peer after her, but the portrait slammed shut. The woman was watching me with an indignant look. Probably thought I had disturbed her "tootsie-wigglers."
The portrait swung back open a moment later, and Cho came out.
"Your friend is insane," I informed her.
She laughed knowingly. "That girl takes a bit of time to get used to." Then, "So, you needed to talk to me?"
"I 'm thinking about the whole book thing, and I've figured something out." The portrait hole swung open again as I was talking, and several Ravenclaw boys exited, giving me strange looks. "Could we go talk somewhere private?"
She thought a moment. "The Muggle Studies room isn't being used right now."
She started to walk away, but I grabbed her shoulder. "How did you know that?"
"What?"
"Do you have the schedules of every class and classroom memorized?"
"Yes."
I dropped the subject.
Cho knew her way around the castle a lot better than I did, and so I followed her step for step. I had already gotten caught more than once in a collapsing stair, and had doors catch my fingers as they slammed just a split-second after being opened, and I SWEAR that doorknob tried to bite me.
"Here we are." She threw open the door to the empty classroom, and plopped down on one of the desks. "So, what's up?"
"I've been thinking about the first four books."
"The ones about Harry?"
"Yeah." I started to pace. She watched me quietly. I think she knew that I thought best when I was explaining something to people. "I've been thinking about how maybe I'm in the fifth book. If I am, then I should be able to tell what's going to happen next, right?"
"Not always," she said. "There are plot twists and things."
"Yes, but…" I waved my hands for a minute, trying to come up with the right words. "There should be a pattern!"
"Have you found a pattern?"
"Yes, I found one." I took a deep breath. "I've been thinking really, really hard, and I realized that in each book, there are three new characters. A good guy, a bad guy, and one who can be either or neither."
"Really." She nodded. "OK, tell me about the first book."
"The first book was the first year Harry came to Hogwarts. Basically, we met three characters. Harry, first of all, he's the good guy, and then Voldemort, who's obviously the bad guy. Everybody else can kinda be lumped into the third person, because it IS the first book, and *everybody* is new."
She nodded again.
"The second book, we met Gilderoy Lockheart," she shuddered, "Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle."
"Who?"
I quickly recapped the whole "Chamber of Secrets" plotline.
"A basilisk!" She jumped off of her seat. "Here in the school?" Her eyes flickered to the walls as if it might come crawling out at any time.
"No, it's gone now. But see, Ginny was the good guy, Tom was the bad guy, and Lockheart was the either/or.
"In the third book, there was Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew." I remembered something. "That's also the first book where your name is mentioned. You know Harry had a crush on you even back then?"
"I kinda figured as much," she said, shaking her head. "Poor kid."
I was going to keep talking, but I noticed something odd about her expression. "Are you OK?"
"He asked me to the ball, but I was already going with Cedric. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings." She sighed. "He probably hates me now."
"No, he doesn't, of course he doesn't!" She sniffed, then sat up, wiped her eyes, and nodded for me to keep talking. After a few seconds, I did. "Remus was the good guy," but she interrupted.
"And Sirius was the bad guy… Who was the other one?"
"Actually- Never mind."
"What?"
"That's something you may not want to know."
"What?"
"Well, Sirius wasn't the bad guy."
She froze. I could almost see her mind working back, remembering the events of two years ago. She started to count on her fingers, then shook her head. "Never mind. I'm not supposed to know. What about book four?"
"Moody, Bagman and Crouch. Bad guy, either/or and good guy."
"I'll just take your word for it."
"But this year… There's still three new characters, but I can't for the life of me figure out who is what!"
"And this is important?"
"It's a key plot point, I'm sure."
She bit her lip, thinking. "You… the Dark Arts Defense teacher… and… who else?"
"Ibbonar."
"Muggle Studies?"
"Yeah."
"So, let's see, you're the good guy…" Her eyes widened. "Does that mean one of the teachers is a bad guy?"
"Maybe. That's what I'm worried about."
"I doubt Hockanhack is a bad guy. He's too nerdy to be evil."
"Ibbonar doesn't strike me as the "Evil Genius" type," I added. "He might be a good guy, though."
"If he's the good guy, and Hockanhack is neutral, where does that leave you?"
The clock chimed for class at that moment. "Oh no, I'm late!" Cho gave me a quick hug, then ran out the door. "Good luck figuring it out!"
Luck was the last thing I needed. What I needed was an ounce of understanding.
***
Saturday morning. My third one since I arrived at Hogwarts.
I watched Harry and Co. head out the common room door, no doubt on their way to Hogsmeade. I waited for Neville for quite a while, but when he still hadn't come down at nine thirty, I headed up to the boys' dorm.
It was a messy place. Underneath it was exactly like the girls' dorm; then you added on the random piles of dirty laundry, books, homework assignments, posters, and other assorted things, most of which could also be found in my bedroom at any time. I hated cleaning, and yet seeing the mess in there was enough to make me want to get out the ol' garbage bags and rubber gloves.
Neville was staring at some parchment, a worried look on his face.
"What's wrong?"
He jumped; absorbed in whatever he was reading, he hadn't seen or heard me come in.
"Professor Trewlaney, our Divination teacher, gave us our horoscopes for the next few days…" Neville said, sounding worried.
"Really?" I had never been interested in horoscopes much, but I knew enough about them to know that I was a Virgo, and that Virgos were usually extremely friendly and intelligent. I started humming a Weird Al song as I leaned over to see what mine was.
Really, it was ridiculous. It could have been a page out of a teen magazine, with the little hearts underneath each sign telling you what your love factor was for the month, or telling you that your special days would be Oct. 26 and June 9. Horoscopes were so fake. Why anyone believed in them, I would never know. They were stupid, and useless, and that was that.
"Lessee, Virgo: You will be of great assistance to a friend, and that friend will in turn share a secret with you. Your ruling planet, Mercury, is now in alignment with Mars, the planet of war. Avoid any controversial situations with your house elf; they may get deadly. Be nice to your greatest enemy, he will be very useful during your next encounter with a angry pixie mob." I sighed. "What a bunch of crap. Who would really believe this?"
"Well, maybe you're right," Neville said, starting to turn to pile the horoscopes with the rest of the homework by his bed.
"Hold on, I haven't read my lucky days yet." I grabbed the paper from him. "Today is going to be a lucky day." Yay!
"Read mine!" Neville said, looking worried again. "It's awful."
"What's your sign?"
"Pisces," he said.
"Ah, sensitive and yet tough," I remembered. "Not that I know much about horoscopes or anything," I added quickly. Scanned the list. Pisces, Pisces Pisces… "The relationship of the Sun to your love planet, Mercury, means that any social relationships should be put on hold indefinitely. Uranus' influence means that you will be in bad moods during the last three days of the month. Avoid trees during thunderstorms, and don't carry beef jerky with you during your trip involving animals. Gee, Neville, that's really… interesting."
"Maybe we shouldn't go to Hogsmeade today then," he said.
"Why not?"
"Well, you know… We were going to the pet store together, and my horoscope says…"
I was really puzzled. "What, that thing about beef jerky? Do you even like beef jerky?"
He looked even more agitated. "No, but…"
"What's the problem then?"
He sighed, and stood up. "I guess there isn't one."
He was actually a pretty nice kid. You know, most fanfiction makes him out to be a dork or something, but he's not. He just needs a little bit of confidence.
It was only about half a mile walk from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. I have a feeling the distance was shortened magically, because the carriage ride from the station to the school took longer than it took us to walk the opposite direction. Lined with pine trees, the road was paved in some places and dusty in others.
We talked in bits and pieces for a while, mostly polite stuff. "How's your family," "Got any pets?", "Weather's been nice," and other stuff like that.
"What do you do during the summer, when school's out?" I asked him, as the buildings of Hogsmeade came into view. It looked quaint, like something out of living history. Brick and wood walls, no plastics or steel or anything. Dirt road that was paved with bricks in the nicer parts of town. A whole bunch of the buildings had chimneys, which was cool. I'd never seen a real chimney before in my life, unless it was on TV or something.
"Mostly just read," Neville said. Then, he looked a little embarrassed. "Sometimes I write fanfiction, and sometimes I play chess with my grandmother."
It took a minute for that sentence to register.
"You… do… WHAT?"