AN: I'm
telling you, copyright notices are so boring to write! But JK Rowling owns all of
the characters. I own simply: the plot, the Verite family, and…ummm, that's it.
You may notice that Fred and George are selling things that they are also
selling in some of my other stories. I personally cannot come up with a million
W.W.W. ideas for them. Keep reading!
2: The Train and the Hat
Bay sat up abrubtly as the alarm clock went off. She still hadn't fully adjusted to the time change here, but she was working on it.
Today was September the First, the day she left for her new school. They were taking a train of all things. If not Portkeys, why not take a plane or something? It was a lot faster.
Bay slumped into a pair of pants, a camo haltertop, and, of course, her yellow sweatshirt.
Her bags were packed, with the odd black robes she had picked up for school stuffed on top of her other supplies. Bay understood why Muggles had stopped wearing billowing clothing hundreds of years ago. Apparently, British wizards didn't.
Today's Plan: Eat, take the car to King's Cross Station, say bye to dad as he left for work, and board the train to school. The "Hogwarts Express".
Bay slid groggily down the banister. Bagel on the table with a glass of milk. She'd eaten a lot of bagels lately—anything from plain to onion to sesame seed ones.
At seven forty-five she threw her duffel bag in the car and fell asleep again in the back seat of the old Mercedes. According to her father, this had once been on of the fastest cars anywhere. Lexus' and even Jeep trucks zoomed past them. This old car was just that—old.
Three hours later, they pulled up at the station. "Remember, Platform nine and three-quarters," her dad told her as he took her duffel and her owl, Angel, out of the trunk of the car.
"I know," she said, rolling her eyes and throwing her sweatshirt over her shoulder. She knew the number, it was just finding it that would be difficult.
"I love you, sweetie," her dad said, embracing her.
"I'll miss you," she told him.
"Okay, bye then."
"Bye."
And the old silver Mercedes drove away. Vaugely, she wondered where the heck her father had gotten that junky car from.
She wheeled her cart into the station, an old blanket covering Angel's cage.
There they were—Platform nine. And next to it—Platform ten.
Bay stood there, wiping a few loose strands of hair from her face and staring at the wall between the two platforms, clueless and confounded.
"What are you doing?" drawled a voice behind her.
"What's it look like I'm doing?" she asked, exasperated. The speaker was a boy her age, with cute long, bleached blond bangs but rather pale skin.
"I don't know. Maybe you're crazy and looking for a certain Platform Nine and three-quarters," the blonde boy said, voice sarcastic, and grey eyes dancing.
"Actually I am," she said brightly. "Are you?"
"I know what I'm doing," the boy said. His voice was an aristocratic, solidly British one.
"Ummm, would you tell me then?" she asked sheepishly, nudging her wand out of the jacket pocket to let the blond boy know she was a witch and not a Muggle.
The boy sighed. "Just walk through."
"Oh," she said, as the boy vanished through the seemingly solid brick wall between the two platforms. This was very confusing.
She walked through and found herself on a platform with a scarlet train and a sign that read "Platform Nine and ¾"
All of the people her age were walking onto the train now, although some were giving parents one last goodbye kiss and hug for the year.
Bay jumped up onto the train, and found an empty room. Tossing Angel's cage above the seat, she stuffed her duffel below and pulled out a book—this time Dragonflight by Anne McCaffrey. She had Redwall and The Count of Monte Cristo stuck under her collection of quills and an old Sneakoscope as back-ups in case she finished her first book before the ride to school was over.
Pulling out a pillow and stretching across four of the seats, Bay made herself comfortable and pulled out an enchanted sports bottle full of Hawaiian Punch, a bag of potato chips, and a bag of Snickers miniatures and candy corn. Books and junk food were good combinations on long trips.
Halfway into Dragonflight (which had dragons completely unlike any real dragons, but a riveting plotline and great romance,) the compartment opened and in came two people—who looked exactly the same.
"Hey look Fred, it's the football girl!"
"You're a witch?" Fred asked.
She nodded.
"Then how come we never saw you here before?" George frowned.
"Two words—transfer student."
"Oh right. Well, Fred and I are selling a few things."
"Like what?" she questioned cautiously, looking at their grinning faces and remembering their antics on the soccer field a few weeks before.
"Our inventions," Fred annouced.
"Our brain children," George added.
"Hot pops—warm your heart, soul, and everything else."
"Or Ice Cream Ink—tastes like the featured flavor and compatable with Honeyduke's Sugar Quills."
"What flavors?" Bay asked, eyes lighting up.
"Raspberry, blueberry, bubble gum—"
"Chocolate, Muggle Oreo, Orange, Lemon—"
"No George, stupid, you couldn't ever see the lemon so we dropped it."
"Oh right. And lime," George finished, looking slightly winded from his long recitation of flavors.
Bay's eyes widened. "When do you do this all?" she asked.
"When we should be working on homework," Fred said.
"And other things. We have some left-over Canary Creams as well, but they're a bit out of style now. Got old last year when people molted too much and a few kids took an allergic reaction to all the feather left around. It was a pity though, they were fun to watch."
"I'll take a bubble gum inkpot, thanks," Bay said. "Er—how much?"
"Two sickles," both the twins chimed toghether.
Bay paid and stared at the twins as they walked out before going back to her reading.
The shadows outside lengthened. The lanterns in the compartment bobbed back and forth with the motion of the Hogwarts Express.
Around five thirty by Bay's watch, the pale, blond boy who had shown her the way onto the Platform came in, accompanied by two huge boys and a girl with a pug face.
"Hello," she said, without looking up like she did to everyone else who passed her compartment.
"Uh, hi," said one of the big thugs.
Bay rolled her eyes at the blond boy and the girl, who hopefully had a higher level of intelligence than their two companions.
"So you're a new girl," the pale boy said.
"That's right," she said slowly.
"You talk funny," the girl, scrunching up her nose. Bay was sorry to have thought she looked like a pug before. That was insulting the dogs. "Your accent is weird."
"I talk strangely," Bay retorted. "Not funny. And I wonder why I talk like this. Could it prehaps be because I'm a transfer student from U.S.?"
"The what?" the girl asked.
"The—United—States—of—America," Bay said slowly.
"Draco, she's being rude," the girl whined. "Lets go."
"You can go," the blond boy, Draco, told her. "I'd like a little chat with the new girl."
The pug-girl flounced out of the room with her nose in the air, and shot a venomous glance at Bay as she stalked out of the compartment.
"Draco?" Bay repeated. "As in Latin for dragon?"
"Yes," the blond boy drawled lazily. "Draco Malfoy."
"Hi, I'm Bay Verite, from New York."
"Verite. Never heard of the family."
Bay frowned. "You keep tabs on everyone's family?"
"Sort of," Draco said. "Are your parents magical people?"
"Yes, both of them," Bay said proudly. "We can trace the family back fairly far on both sides."
"Hmmm. Do you know which House you'll be in?"
"What?" Bay said, confused again.
"Your House. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor."
Bay stuck a smile on her face. "Sorry, no clue what you're talking about."
"Ah. Well, I guess I better make introductions to my friends. Crabbe and Goyle." Crabbe was the bigger one, but only by an inch topping each of their seven feet.
She nodded coolly. This Draco Malfoy might help her settle into school, but she doubted his elephantine friends would improve her social status at this place.
"I suppose we'll be seeing you later," Draco said as he walked out the door. "And nice shirt."
"Thanks," she said, and went back to reading.
It was only two hours later that a large castle came into view. Bay slid into a bathroom and changed into the annoying Hogwarts school uniform. It was smooth silk, but the way wizarding robes in general were cut were simply not practical. Then she proceeded to pack away all of her books, goodies, and the little bottle of "bubble gum" ink.
Bay went out into the walkway of the train and joined the river of students going onto the station. An enormous man was shouting "Firs' years, o'er here!" and a flock of little eleven year-olds nervously went over.
The older students were boarding some sort of horseless-carrage, and Bay jumped up into one with an Asian girl and a two boys, one African-American and the other with straw-blonde hair.
As the carrages started off, the girl smiled at Bay and said, "Hi, I don't think I've seen you around before."
"My name's Bay Verite—we moved here from America."
"Cho Chang, nice to meet you, Bay."
"Derek Fullerton," the African boy introduced himself.
"Aaron Cygnus," the other boy said. "We're all sixth years."
"I'm in fifth level," Bay said. She was the baby here as well as the new student.
"Well, you've come to one of the best schools in the world now, Bay," Cho told her.
"The very best," Aaron conridicted.
"I guess," Cho grinned.
"What's the school like?" Bay asked.
"Confusing," Derek said at once.
"You'll manage," Aaron said. "But watch out for the trick stairs and the fake doors. And Filch. And Snape. And Peeves too. Possibly the Weasley twins."
"And they are…?"
"Filch is the cleaning person, a Squib. He's a real monster. Snape teaches Potions, and hates practically everyone except Slytherins. Peeves is a poltergeist, and a real pain."
"And the twins…" Aaron sighed.
"Fred and George are only probably the greatest mischief makers ever to roam the halls of Hogwarts."
"I can believe that," Bay laughed.
The four of them walked up a huge set of stone steps into an enormous chamber, where a grey-haired witch was standing. "Bay Verite!" she shouted over the crowd of students, "Please come up here now!"
Bay darted through the crush of kids to the lady.
"Miss Verite?"
Bay nodded.
"You need to be Sorted now."
"What?" Bay asked. What was this Sorting thing everyone kept talking about?
"Sorted—into your House. Your House is your family. You room with them, learn with them, and put up with them for the next year. Just stay in here and follow the first years in."
The chamber emptied, and then the younger students came in. A few of them whispered and pointed at the girl who was so obviously older than they were. Bay ignored them.
The grey-haired lady came back in a few moments for the nervous group, and Bay brought up the rear.
They were on a platform, and in the center was a stool with a ragged, patched hat on it. Everyone was staring at it, expecting something miraculous.
The Weasley twins and their brother and sister were out in the audience. One of them—Fred or George—gave her a huge exagerated wink and a thumbs up. With them were a girl with thicker hair than even Bay's, and a boy with messy hair, glasses, and what looked to be some food smeared on his forehead—she couldn't quite make it out.
And while she was studying the Weasleys' companions, the brim of the hat opened and it burst into song.
"I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,
My job is very clear,
I tell you all where you should go,
Each and every year.
To Gryffindor, home courageous,
Where bravery is great,
Hufflepuffs are loyal, and,
Stand to meet their fate.
Ravenclaw for clever folks,
Those with ready minds,
For Slytherin ambition, is,
The greatest of all finds.
Do try me on and I'll,
Look over what I see,
I'll search for every answer,
To where you ought to be!"
The older students at the tables broke into applause, although Draco's was rather half-hearted.
Bravery…well, Bay was ready to face down any rampaging teacher, if that was bravery. Loyalty wasn't something she was known for. She was clever—all her friends and teachers acknowleged her as a brilliant mind—so would she be in Ravenclaw? Because she was ambitious all right…
Unrolling a piece of parchment, the grey-haired teacher called out to the crowd, "Axelson, Samantha!"
A small, mousey haired girl ran across the stage, and put on the hat. After a second or two, it called out to the crowd, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
One of the tables in the middle erupted in cheers, and little Samantha ran over and sat down on a bench, where she received a round of hand-shaking.
"Berts," "Cabbot," "Calia"—all the way to "Zuchiows," and "Xaphaniate,".
And then—"Bay Verite, Fifth year!"
Bay walked calmly across the stage, to whispering from the students. A new girl?
"Well, well," a voice in her head whispered. "An older student. You've been thinking about what you are, I can tell. You've got impudence, certainly, but not true courage."
Oh thanks, she thought.
"You're welcome. And not much loyalty either. Sharp as anything, brilliant, but that ambition's just a driving thing, so I think you'd be best off in…SLYTHERIN!"
Bay took the Sorting Hat off and smiled at the crowd. The Weasleys were whispering and frowning. She hadn't done anything wrong.
Draco Malfoy beckoned her over. "Congratulations," he said.
"Why thank you."
At a table full of adults, a man with a long white beard stood up.
"I would like to welcome you," he said over the crowd. "To a new school year. A new year of learning to fill your heads back up with information and then leaking back out again.
"But as you learn, remember the threat to all of us. Last year we lost an innocent member of this student body. Be sure to remember what has happened."
"Umm, what happened?" Bay hissed at Draco.
"I'll tell you later," he whispered back.
"There is a grave danger to us here," the bearded man said. "A danger that is ever present in our lives. Lord Voldemort has begun to strike again. Please know that you are safe here. Now let us eat."
A large buffet of dishes on golden plates popped up. "Whoa," Bay said. She grabbed a slice of roast beef, a potato, a glass of milk, and two slices of some steaming bread. "Very good," she said, biting into the fresh bread.
"It's nothing that special," Draco frowned.
"Not special compared to what?" she asked.
"Compared to the food at my house," he sighed.
"And I suppose you live in a mansion with hundreds of acres, a score of servants and a full regiment of little house-elves that cook this?"
"Yes," he said.
"Oh."
"Draco's father is the richest wizard in the continent," the pug-girl said.
"Only if you count the African runespoor warehouse in the assets and all of the South American plantations, Pansy," Draco corrected. "And I don't think you and Bay Verite have been introduced. Bay—Pansy Parkinson. Pansy—Bay Verite."
"Hello," Bay said cheerfully, starting to cut up the roast.
Pansy-Pug-face said nothing, but sneered.
"It appears you have good taste after all," Draco said.
"Huh?"
"You were wearing Muggle clothes on the train," Draco explained. "And yet you obviously have the Slytherin spirit."
"Hey, the job description didn't say anything about hating Muggle stuff—I fit the ambitious bill. And besides, you can do so much more in Muggle clothes."
"Like what?" Pansy-Pug snapped.
"Like run down the hall and trip you, that's what," Bay said peevishly.
Pansy sniffed.
"And these robes leave so much to the imagination, don't you agree?"
Pug-Face's eyes widened.
Bay saw Draco wink at her.
***
The other five Slytherin girls were Zabini Blaise, Alena Vespai, Viviane Renart, Gwen Schaffer, and, last and certainly least, Pansy Pug-Face. The boys were Adrian Nott, Charles Ticker, the two big goons Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, and last but certainly not least—Draco Malfoy.
They were sitting in a cluster of rather uncomfortable chairs—Bay kept squirming in hers—as the other students in her year told her a little bit about the school.
"Watch out for McGonagall—she gives to much homework."
"You're taking Arithmancy? Count your blessings for not having too much homework now."
"Never, ever, kick Mrs. Norris."
"Look forward to Potions, that's always a riot with the Gryffindors," Adrian Nott snickered.
"Why?" Bay asked.
"Because Snape hates Gryffindors as much as the rest of us," Gwen Schaffer told her.
"Why?"
"Because they're Gryffindors, for heaven's sake. Goody-two shoes who win the House Cup every year because that speccy git Potter either wins the Quidditch Cup or goes off and does something heroic—" Draco Malfoy said.
"Wait a sec," Bay interupted, "Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?"
"Yes, The Potter," said Viviane Renart.
"Then why do you hate him? Didn't he save you Brits from some evil wizard?"
"No," Draco said dryly, "He did not save us Brits from anything and the Dark Lord is back anyway."
Bay paled. "You're kidding, right?" she whispered.
"No, I'm not kidding," Draco said—Bay frowned slightly, was he glad about this?—"The Dark Lord came back last year and killed a Hufflepuff by the name of Cedric Diggory."
"Is that what the Headmaster was talking about?"
Ten heads bobbed silently.
Bay took a deep breath. "Let me get this straight. I just moved to a country where and evil maniac came back to life and there's a high chance I'm gonna be killed?"
"Well, there is a Dark Wizard," Viviane said.
"But he won't kill you. The Dark Lord goes mostly after Mudbloods and nosy Gryffindors who get in his way."
"Oh wow, that makes me feel so much better," she said sarcastically.
"Don't worry," Gwen smiled. "You're a Slytherin. Nothing bad ever happens to us, you know."
Bay would just have to take this girl's word for it.
***
"I don't get it," Ron Weasley said for the seven-hundredth time. "She seemed so nice. A little touchy, but not all evil like the rest of the Slytherin gits."
Hermione Granger sighed. Ron seemed to be in a state of shock that the new girl had been transferred into Slytherin. "Ron, maybe the Sorting Hat thought it was best for her."
"But—she just didn't seem like one. And she was wearing Muggle clothes!"
"Ron, I haven't said this to you many times before," Harry Potter told his friend, "But just shut up."
"But—but—"
***
Bay Verite sunk into the thick four-poster bed, fingers feeling the heavy emerald velvet of the bed-curtains. This place might not be America, and it might be infested with evil wizards, but for now, she'd have to call it home.
AN: There it
is! The plot is rolling! I'd like to note that this story will mainly be from
Bay's point of view, with a little Draco, Hermione, and prehaps even some
"Pansy Pug-Face" and Lucius Malfoy in the mix for certain key points of the
plot. Don't worry, Bay is not evil. She's just ambitious. I forgot what
I was gonna say.
