Moonlight Sonata
A/N: Percy Weasley belongs to J.K. Rowlings and Kristen Mimswell comes from my own imagination; and perhaps, even taken from a bit of my own personality. Any relation Kristen has to any characters from any other material is purely coincidental, I can assure you. Norkten academy is, to the extent of my knowledge, not from part of the Harry Potter series, nor for any other series as far as I'm concerned. Once again, any relation Norkten or Kristen Mimswell have to any characters of any other series is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Percy Weasley sat in the back of the train, in an empty compartment with the book of "Potions for the Fourth-Year Student", by Lillian Stirrings sitting open in his lap. It was, indeed, his fourth year at Hogwarts and he had decided long before that he would devote his years in the school to being the top of his class.
That part of his plan had work out quite nicely; unfortunately, in the midst and depth of his studying, he hadn't had time to devote to making friends or creating an image for himself.
The compartment was made of a dark oakwood, with a dark crimson carpet on the floor that felt plush under his feet. He pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose and turned the page, fixing the next with his frosty-blue gaze.
Despite the fact that the train wouldn't leave for another half hour, Percy had insisted on getting aboard the train early to get a well-placed compartment – what he hadn't mentioned was that his idea of a "well-placed compartment", was one isolated in the back, away from the incessive chatterings and laughter of the other students.
Shutting the book of potions, he raised his left wrist, checking the time. Fifteen minutes until the train was scheduled to leave, he observed and dropped his wrist onto the leather cushion beside himself. Lifting his head he scowled in distaste as he heard a group of students laughing and talking as they entered a compartment several rooms ahead of his. Probably another group of idiots out to bother me this year, he thought almost arrogantly and pessimistically.
Percy sighed and sank back into his chair, wondering what he was to do to occupy himself during the trip. I could always re-read the first ten chapters in one of my books, he thought. Or perhaps even catch up on my sleep, or even —
Startled, he was interrupted from his thoughts by the rattling of the door handle. I don't believe this, he mused angrily, I pick a spot at the back of the train to be let alone, and some bafoon decides to barge into my privacy! With these thoughts, he prepared to engage into a furious tirade with the unfortunate person who had unknowingly tresspassed into Percy's compartment when the perpetrator opened the door and stepped in, her pale grey eyes widening as she saw the inhabitant in the already-occupied compartment.
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Percy sat there, his frosty gaze fixed downwards on the floor in front of him, trying not to look at the grey-eyed, black haired girl sitting in front of him. He had, of course, let her in. What could he do? He had been expecting to see some young fool—Perhaps even Fred or George. Whoever he had expected, it certainly wasn't a girl about his age, especially one whom he had never seen before.
"So..," Percy started, looking up at her, desperate to break the awkward silence between them. "What year are you in? I don't believe I've ever seen you at Hogwarts." She fixed him with her pale grey eyes, hesitating nervously before responding. "I'm..a fourth year," she started, speaking with a slight accent; English, yes, but she must have hailed from a different region of Britain. "I transferred from a school a bit further up north from here."
"Norkten?" Percy asked curiously.
"Why..yes.." She said, blinking, looking a bit surprised. "Where have you heard of it?" she inquired of him, tilting her head a little ways to the right.
Percy sat up straight in his chair without consciously realizing it. "Well, I read the name somewhere in a book and recalled that it was up somewhere in northern Britain. You mentioned that the school was located a bit further up and the name just came to mind."
Looking back up at her face, he was somewhat surprised to see that she looked - impressed? No..who would be impressed by that? It wasn't as if a lot of people held reading in high regard, granted that Percy himself was rather fond of reading and, other than his textbooks, read a vast variety of material. Mysteries, adventures, fantasy – any type of fiction, really. All but horror stories. He found most of them dull and too unsophisticated for his tastes.
He must have been staring at her while pondering the situation because she raised her eyebrows a fraction of an inch, wearing an inquisitive expression on her face, her eyes sending him a questioning stare. Percy blinked and felt the color build in his face but it quickly faded as she asked him, "Do you read often? Norkten isn't a well-known school..not like Beauxbatons or Hogwarts.." She glanced down a moment as if in recollection of her former academy then looked back up at him. "What book title was it under?"
Percy tilted his head downward a moment, trying to recall the name of the book.
He finally shook his head and raised his eyes back up to her. "I can't remember.. and yes, I do read a lot of books, so I can't remember the name of that particular one. I do know, however," he added in that know-it-all tone people around him were so used to, "That the book is in the Hogwart's library under – I mean.." Having realized his tone of voice, he quickly dropped it and cleared his throat. "If you'd like, I could probably find it for you. I remember the section it was in."
If she took notice of his tone, she showed no sign of it because she flashed a quick smile at him. "Thank you, I'd like that, that is, if it's not too much trouble for you." Almost as an afterthought, she asked him, "By the way, I didn't catch your name."
"Percy Weasley," he replied, managing a small smile.
She returned his gesture, exchanging his polite smile with a friendly grin. He hadn't really noticed before, but she was wearing all black. A short-sleeved black sweater-type material, black jeans and a black leather belt with a narrow silver buckle. Even her socks and her shoes were black, but somehow she didn't look like a modern-day rogue. She pulled it off, as if she wore black because she liked the color and because she looked good in it - not because she was trying to be rebellious or goth-like.
"Kristen…Kris..Mimswell," she volunteered and they both smiled at each other; real smiles, not the fake and empty-shelled gestures.
