All was quiet at the Weasley house, though it would not be for long. Soon, Mrs. Molly Weasley would awaken, crawl out of the bed she shared with her husband, Mr. Arthur Weasley, silently creep downstairs, and start breakfast.
Breakfast that morning would be waffles, eggs, porridge, sausage, and toast, she had already decided. Sunny side-up for herself and Arthur, benedict for her sons Bill and Percy, Omelets for Charlie and Ron (Charlie's with cheese and bacon, Ron's plain), Scrambled for Fred, George, and Ginny, and no eggs for Ayla, who was the only one in the house without the Weasley freckles and hair.
Ayla was not a Weasley.
Ayla Landau was Bill's best friend of six years. Ever since they had met in their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they had been inseparable, give or take a handful of spats and falling outs.
And so it was that Ayla, who had spent the last two weeks of summer holidays at the Burrow, the Weasley's small but cozy abode, was the first child to awaken and meet Molly in the kitchen.
"Morning, Mrs. Weasley," she said sleepily, stifling a yawn. She walked into the room wearing a muggle outfit that looked completely out of place at the Weasley's magical home.
"Good Morning, dear," Molly replied cheerfully as Ayla sat at the table. "Could you help me with breakfast?"
Ayla, who had had her head down on the table, looked up and nodded. "All right. What do you want me to do?" She yawned as she stood.
"Could you get glasses for everyone?" Ayla reached for her wand, but Molly reached out and grabbed her hand. "Not yet, dear. School starts tonight, you can wait a few more hours."
Ayla nodded and went to get cups from the cabinet, still blinking sleep out of her eyes. A few minutes later Percy entered the room, looking smart in neatly pressed robes. "Morning, Mum. Morning, Ayla," he said, his small freckled face hidden behind his huge glasses.
Percy was only nine, but he was the neatest, smartest, most pompous nine-year-old in the world. He already had goals to be Minister of Magic, and he had read every book in the house thrice over.
"Good morning, Percy," Molly said, giving her son a kiss on the head.
"Morning, Lexicon," Ayla said under her breath as Percy passed by her. He shot her an angry look and stuck out his tongue. She laughed and rolled her eyes. Percy was so easy to rile up.
"Really, Percy, I thought you were past that stage," came a voice from the side of the kitchen. Charlie stepped into the room, ruffled Percy's hair, and sat at the table next to him. "Morning, Mum. Morning, Ayla," he said, blushing. Charlie had a bit of crush on the blonde.
"Good morning," Molly said distractedly, now concentrating on getting all of her family fed.
"Do I smell eggs?" said Arthur, coming into the kitchen and kissing his wife on the cheek. "Good morning, all."
They responded with varying levels of enthusiasm as more people arrived in the kitchen.
"Me first!"
"No! Me!"
"Ro-on, lemme go first!"
"I'm older, I'm better! I get to go first!"
"If you two don't move," came an amused voice from the hallway, "I'm going to eat both of your breakfasts."
The two youngest Weasley children came running into the room horrified and leapt into their seats. Ron and Ginny, ages five and four, respectively, fought over anything and everything. Ginny waved shyly at Ayla, while Ron grinned at her with a hole in his mouth from a lost tooth.
"Hello, Ayla!" he exclaimed, waving at her. "Will you do the air—airplane thingy again today?" Though Ron had no idea what an airplane was, Ayla often picked him up and zoomed him around the room like an "airplane."
"Me too!" Ginny added, quickly looking down at the table, embarrassed. She was loud and obnoxious, but shy as anything when she wanted to be.
Bill followed directly behind them. He sat on Ayla's right and put his head on the table.
"Tired, are we?" she mocked, patting his head.
He lifted his head. "Yes." He put it down again.
Two identical redheads entered the room at that moment, nearly knocking over their mother, who was busy sending plates of food to the table with her wand.
"Ayla, Ayla!" they were yelling as they sprinted. "What color are your eyes today?"
Ayla grinned. Ayla could not see without her glasses or contact lenses. She had many different colors of lenses—blue, brown, green, violet, even black—and no one, not even Bill, knew her natural eye color. The twins, Fred and George, made their predictions about what color she would be wearing that day when they woke up, and the winner got a sickle.
"Violet today, kids," she said. "Which one of you wins?"
They looked disappointed. "Neither of us," said George sadly. "I picked green and Fred picked brown."
"Can we still have a sickle?" Fred asked hopefully.
She laughed and shook her head. "Of course not! You didn't get the color right, did you?"
"Don't worry about the money," Molly said sternly as their food appeared in front of them. "Eat, so we can get Bill, Charlie, and Ayla to their train on time."
"Oh, I forgot," Percy said, "it's the first."
They all dug in and hurriedly ate, while the topic turned towards the new teachers. As a Ministry of Magic employee, Arthur had some inside information as to the governing of Hogwarts.
"I'm telling you," he was saying, "some of the governors were not happy of the appointment of the new Potions teacher. He's to be the new head of Slytherin, you know."
Ayla looked up, interested. "Really? What's he like?"
Arthur frowned. "Well, he was a Slytherin at school, if memory serves me correctly—way after my time, of course, but I remember hearing about him. Very proud man, stubborn and ambitious. Dumbledore thinks highly of him, though."
"Well, you two should get along swimmingly," Bill said to Ayla, smirking.
"Not all Slytherins are from the same mold, you know," she told him crossly. "All Gryffindors, however, are arrogant snobs that strut around like they're better than the rest of the universe."
The entire room turned to glare at her.
"I speak only the truth," said innocently, spreading her hands in a gesture of peace. She smiled sweetly at the expressions on their faces. "You can't deny that it's true."
"Severus Snape can't be any older than twenty-six," Molly said, quickly changing the subject before a fight broke out. "I wonder what kind of teacher he'll be."
Charlie snorted into his porridge. "Severus Snape? Who names their kid Severus Snape?"
"The same sort of people who name their children Charles Leonid Jacobus Pinter Weasley," Ayla replied, yawning.
Charlie's freckles blended together. "Ayla Landau isn't so great either."
"Quite the contrary," she said, not missing a beat, "I happen to like my name. I like to think I'm named for a character in a wonderful book about Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons."
Charlie stared at her. "Neander-whats?"
"Early ape-like creatures from whom it said humans may descent from," said Percy in monotone, sounding like a Dictionary.
Charlie still stared at Ayla. "Excuse me?"
She shrugged. "They're fabulous books."
"Can I borrow one?" Percy asked, a bit upset to find there was a fabulous book he hadn't read yet.
"No!" said Molly, looking sternly at her son. "No one under the age of eighteen should be reading those books!"
All eyes turned to face Ayla.
She shrugged. "I'm really twenty-three."
"Really?" asked Ron, in unison with Ginny's "Wow!"
Bill shook his head. "Ayla, stop lying to the children."
"Who's lying?" she demanded, getting up from the table. "I am twenty-three. I'm doing the Michael Jackson thing—you know, I'm going to molest the first-years."
"You are disgusting, do you know that?" Bill said, looking slightly ill.
"I prefer to think of it as creativity."
"I prefer to think of it as insanity."
"What's so fabulous about being normal?"
"Do you have a retort for everything?" Percy asked, incredulous.
Ayla flashed him a grin. "Of course. Basic Slytherin training."
"Go Ayla!" Ginny exclaimed, immediately turning red and covering her mouth.
Ayla held back a laugh. "Thanks, kid. Glad to know there's someone in this family who supports me."
"Lovely and entertaining as this is," interrupted Arthur, "we really need to get going if you three are going to Hogwarts this year."
"Let's go then," Charlie said, swallowing the last of his orange juice. "Let me just go grab my trunk."
"I have to go get mine, too," Bill said, running up the stairs after his brother.
"Mine's right here," Ayla said, patting her right front pocket in her jeans.
Molly frowned. "Ayla, not again! Did you get a notice?"
The underage witch nodded. "More than one, but they never expel me." She seemed very pleased with herself for getting away with that.
Molly shook her head. "You know you aren't allowed to use magic over the summer."
"Why not? That's the most absurd rule I've ever heard, save Professor Binn's 'no using colored ink' rule. I mean, why does it matter if my notes are in black or green? As long as I can read them, why does he care?" Ayla shook her head. "Ridiculous, the lot of it."
Molly tutted. "Come now, Ayla, you have to do what the teacher says…"
"Oh, I do what he says," she said offhandedly. "I've no desire to be expelled. I merely think it's unreasonable."
"Hey Landau!" yelled a voice from the top of the stairs. "Were you planning on leaving Ea and Enkidu?"
Ayla sprinted up the stairs so that she wouldn't leave the aforementioned Ea and Enkidu. Ea was her cat, her black cat with the green eyes that glowed in the dark. Ayla loved her little kitten more than anything, and the name Ea, while odd, seemed to fit the cat. Enkidu was Ayla's guitar.
Enkidu was 230 pounds worth of acoustic godliness. She had gotten it at a pawnshop in downtown London, and she never ceased to thank the gods for leading her to that particular store. For there, in her very own hands, she had held Enkidu for the first time. The wonderful Guitar signed by John Lennon, Ozzie Osborne, and Roger Waters. Apparently the man who had owned the instrument had been in the music business, and sold the guitar to this shop. And it had been sitting there for over a decade. Ridiculous.
After the 100 pounds needed to repair, restring, and clean the guitar, she owed her parents 130 pounds and was the proud owner of, in her opinion, the best damned guitar in the world.
She had picked the name Enkidu herself. She had found the Epic of Gilgamesh lying around the house, and upon reading it, decided that she wanted to name her cat Enkidu. Of course, she later decided that Ea was a far better name for a cat, and shelved the name Enkidu away in her mind. So three years later, when she attained her holy guitar, she christened it Enkidu, and it had served her faithfully ever since.
Ayla maintained the idea that Enkidu and her were destined to be together, as no one bought the guitar during the ten years it was sitting in the shop. Bill maintained the idea that she was slightly off her mark, and that her obsessing over her guitar would land her in St. Mungo's one day.
Her passion for Enkidu, however, was dismal compared to her love for, in her opinion, the best damned current band in the world.
U2.
She had every single one of their albums—including the singles—and multiple posters of the band members hung in her room at home and at Hogwarts. She had even asked Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, to magic a Walkman so that she could listen to the music at school.
Bill had grudgingly found himself liking U2's music as well, and when Ayla took up guitar, he decided to learn as well. Ayla quickly suggested he get a bass guitar, as they were easier to play. Bill agreed, and saved up enough money to buy a decent used one. He rarely played it anymore, though, and Ayla was teaching him how to play her guitar as well.
So Ayla slung Enkidu's case over her shoulder, grabbed Ea's cage, and walked out the door of Ginny's room. Being the only girl in the family, Ayla was forced to sleep with the four-year-old, who rambled on and on at night, despite her shyness during the day.
She walked over to the taxi that the Weasley's had called. Making sure that nothing was going to be on top of it, she gently put Enkidu in the trunk. She slid into the back seat next to Bill, who was already settled, his owl on his lap.
Ea hissed at Hopps, the owl, and Ayla had to move her cage away. "Ea," she scolded, "how many times do I have to tell you not to mess with Hopps, hmm? We all know you're better than him, but haven't you rubbed it in his face enough?"
Bill scowled and moved Hopps away from Ea. "Don't listen to her, Hopps. She's just mad because Ea can't deliver letters."
"What's the point of having an owl when your parents are muggles?" Ayla said, shrugging her shoulders. "Besides, it's easier to just steal yours."
"At least I have someone to write to!" Bill protested, getting red in the face.
"Who, your secret girlfriend?" Bill blushed even redder, if at all possible. "We all know about your crush on Peary, Weasley."
Professor Juliet Peary was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. Nearly every male above the age of fourteen was madly in love with her. Bill was no exception.
"I do not have a crush on Professor Peary!" Bill exclaimed, red as a tomato.
"Then why did I find scraps of parchment filled with poetry under your bed, hmm?" Bill froze. "You ought to pursue a career as an author, you're quite good."
Charlie snickered as he climbed in next to
Ayla. "You write poetry?"
Bill just mumbled incoherently. Ayla patted his back in mock sympathy.
"Don't worry, mate," she said with a grin, "I heard that Pinter Wood has a framed picture of her on his dorm wall."
This didn't seem to make Bill feel any better.
Charlie looked confused. "Pinter has a picture of who on his wall?"
"Peary," Ayla answered as Bill went red again. "It seems every male is under her spell."
"I'm not," he replied, looking smug.
"That's because she doesn't have a dick," Bill said miserably.
Charlie glared at his brother. "I am not gay, Bill!" he said. He looked up at Ayla, then quickly focused his eyes on the ground. "I'm just interested in someone else, that's all."
"Yeah, someone with blonde hair and who just happens to be sitting right next to you," Bill taunted, watching his brother blush.
"Shut-up!" he said, his voice cracking at the end. Bill laughed.
"Don't be mean to your brother," Arthur scolded, getting into the front beside the taxi driver. Molly leaned in and kissed Charlie on the forehead. "Keep out of trouble, you three. And be nice to the new teacher!"
Percy showed his face next. "Send me a book, will you?"
Ayla nodded. "Sure. How about Pompous Nine-Year-Olds and their Accomplishments?"
Percy reddened and stepped away from the car amid gales of laughter. Next were George and Fred.
"Bye!" they said in unison. "Will you buy us some dungbombs from Hogsmeade?"
Charlie nodded. "Of course."
They brightened. "Thanks!"
Ron merely waved from the lawn, and Ginny was crying hysterically. "I wanna go!" she was screaming.
"Bye!" they all yelled as the cab pulled away.
Ayla settled into her seat, and soon was asleep. When she awoke, they were already at the train station. Ayla handed the driver the correct change (Arthur was horrible at anything muggle-related, though he fancied himself an expert), grabbed Enkidu from the back, and set off towards the barrier.
"Stay out of trouble," Arthur lectured. "Make sure to owl us regularly. You too, Ayla. And behave." He looked at the sternly. After hugging them all, he sent them off. "And look after Charlie!" he yelled as the children walked casually through the solid wall, eager to get onto the train.
"I don't need to be looked after," Charlie muttered, frowning.
"He's a father," Ayla said, ruffling his hair. "We know you can take care of yourself."
Charlie blushed and didn't answer.
Charlie and Bill dragged their trunks up to the scarlet train. "Next time," Bill said, panting, "I'm shrinking mine like you did."
Charlie nodded in agreement, sitting on the top of his trunk.
"Come on, guys," Ayla said, looking at her watch. "The train's going to leave any minute."
The boys finally got their trunks onto the train, though not without Ayla's help. They walked around for a bit, trying to find an empty compartment. After dumping Charlie with his friends, Bill and Ayla managed to find a compartment at the back of the train that was secluded.
Bill stretched out on two seats, and Ayla lay down on the floor so that she was looking up at him. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her small magicked walkman. She attached a mini speaker to it, put in the newest U2 album, and turned the volume nearly all the way up.
"What's this?" Bill asked, frowning. "I haven't heard it before."
"Joshua Tree," she answered, nodding her hand to the music. "Just came out last month. Bono plays the harmonica."
Bill nodded. "Not bad. I still think that their earlier stuff is better."
Ayla shrugged. "It's all good. Not Pink Floyd, but good nonetheless."
He shook his head. "I will never understand your love for old music."
"I'll just take away your Black Sabbath tapes then, shall I?" She grinned as he reddened slightly. He didn't answer.
She settled back so that she was leaning against Enkidu's case. "So, looking forward to a good year?"
Bill sighed. "Yes. Anything to get out of the mad house that is the Burrow."
Ayla laughed. "I happen to like your family."
He made a face. "Come on, they're horrible."
"No they aren't," she said, sitting up slightly so that she was leaning against the back of the seat opposite Bill. "I like the craziness. In my opinion, it's oddly refreshing."
Bill snorted. "In my opinion, you're insane."
"When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you," she said without missing a beat.
He glared at her. "Every time. Every time I think I've one-upped you, you come back with some stunning response." He reached in his bag and pulled out a bag of sandwiches.
"Years of living in the same room as Penny Lane," she said, smirking at him.
"I've always wondered," Bill said, almost as if he was just thinking aloud, "is she named for—"
"The song? Yes." Ayla chuckled. "Apparently her mother had an interesting experience with a couple of hippies."
Bill choked on the sandwich he was eating. "That's rich," he said, laughing so hard bits of corned beef and wheat bread went flying. "How did you find out?"
A slow smirk came over her features. "Let's just say that a couple of birds told me, hmm?" She brushed bits of food off her shirt. "And say it, don't spray it."
A knock on the door announced the arrival of the lady with the cart. Ayla grabbed her change purse and headed out to the corridor. Seven sickles and two knuts later, she came back with arms full of treats.
"Here you go," she said, dumping them on the floor. "Help yourself."
Bill sat up and grabbed a Cauldron Cake. "Thanks, Landau. You're awfully generous for a Slytherin."
She grinned as she took a piece of gum from the pile. "You've rubbed off on me, Weasley. I need to go cleanse myself of all the Gryffindor grime. Actually," she said thoughtfully, "I haven't meditated for a while. Maybe tonight I'll light a couple candles and do some serious thinking."
Bill groaned. While most of the Wizarding world now followed the Christian muggle religion, the truth was that the ancient mages were pagans. When Ayla discovered this, she went on what she called a sabbatical in the library. She was now a devout Wiccan, though she did hide it from most people. Molly Weasley, for example, would faint if she knew her son's best friend was polytheistic.
"Whatever," he said. "Just leave me out of it."
Ayla nodded. "I'm not a crusader. I'm not trying to convert you."
"Whatever."
Silence hung in the air for a time. Suddenly the compartment door slid open and in walked one of the only people both Bill and Ayla hated with the same passion.
Penny Lane.
"Why, if it isn't William Weasley and Ayla Landau, the Slytherin muggle. How cute."
Bill frowned at the use of his full name. "What do you want, Penny?" he asked, not looking at her.
She shook her long, dark hair. "Why, nothing, Weasley. Just wanted to see how my two favorite outcasts were doing."
Ayla threw a Cauldron Cake at her. "Go to hell, Lane."
Penny glared at her. "Watch it, Landau. I could make your life miserable." She looked at her ten perfectly manicured nails and sighed.
"You already do," Ayla said, taking a book out of Bill's bag. "I have to see you every morning when I wake up. Completely ruins any thoughts of having a good day."
"At least I have friends!" the girl yelled, trying not to lose her temper.
"And what do you think Bill is, my pet cat?" Ayla stood up and walked over to the girl. "Please, get out."
"I almost feel sorry for you, Landau. It must be horrible being a muggle, and it must be even worse to know your only friend has to buy his clothes and a second-hand shop because his father can't get a job." Penny smirked as Bill went red and jumped up.
"You watch what you say about my family, you wench!" he yelled, grabbing his wand. Ayla grabbed the end of his jacket and pulled him back.
"She's not worth it, Bill," she said, barely able to control her own temper. "Just leave her, with her petty insults."
"Petty?" Penny laughed. "It's the truth, Landau. Surely you've seen his house? Tell me, do they all really sleep in one room?"
Bill started towards her again, but this time Ayla stood up as well. "Get out. Now. Before I hex you to the moon."
Ayla went back and sat on the floor, and Bill warily followed her example, seating himself on the seat.
Penny smirked at them, ignoring Ayla's command to leave. "Why aren't you sitting next to your boyfriend, Landau?" she asked, scrunching up her dainty nose.
"Because he has cooties," she said, reaching for another piece of gum. "And I don't want to catch 'em."
"Cooties?" Penny said nervously. "Those aren't real!"
"Don't sound so sure of yourself, do you?" Ayla said, winking at Bill.
Bill took that as his cue. "They're not real in the magical world, true."
Penny sighed in relief. "Then I would I be—"
"However," Ayla interrupted, "they are real in the muggle world. And when Bill came to visit me this summer, he caught them from my mother."
Penny's discomfort was visible. "Is—is it a bad disease?" she asked, trying to appear calm.
Ayla cocked her head in mock thought. "Well," she said thoughtfully, "to muggles, no. See, there are medications you can take to get rid of them."
Penny frowned. "Then why doesn't—"
"However," Ayla interrupted again, "since most Wizards don't know about them, there is no magical cure. And since it's really hard to get the medication if you aren't a doctor…" Ayla trailed off, shaking her head. "Bill has to wait it out."
Bill sighed and nodded, trying to look as pathetic as possible.
Penny was slowly backing away from Bill, as though seeing him would get her sick.
"But it's all rather hush-hush," Ayla went on, stopping Penny from leaving, "so we'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell anyone. All right?"
Penny nodded wordlessly and all but ran into the corridor. As soon as she was out of sight, the two friends let out barely contained gales of laughter.
"That was great!" Bill said enthusiastically, giving her a high-five. "How did you think of that?"
"When I was eight, every boy had cooties," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "And that's why no one wanted to sit next to the boys. Her comment made me think of that."
"Well, it was wonderful." His face fell. "But now everyone's going to think I have this deadly disease!" he said miserably.
She shook her head. "The way I see it, she'll tell everyone she can find. All of the houses except for Slytherins have enough muggle-borns to know that there's no such thing as cooties. So the only people who'll avoid you are Slytherins. With any luck, they'll avoid me too."
Bill slowly nodded. "Makes sense. Hey," he said, suddenly struck by a seemingly wonderful idea, "why don't you ask for a house switch?"
"Because I like it in Slytherin, unbearable and prejudiced as some of the people are," she said coldly. "There are some all right ones, like Alex and Pandora. The ones whose families weren't Dark Lord supporters." She glared at him. "I don't want to switch."
"But why?" he pressed, not sensing her anger, despite her obvious glare.
"Because Slytherins are the only people who understand my ambition and motto," she said, her tone of voice soft and dangerous.
"Which is?" Bill said, beginning to catch on to her irritation.
"The ends justify the means." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And that, my friend, is what separates the Gryffindors from the Slytherins."
A/N: I'd like to thank some people: Thanks to Tammy, for owning that wonderful shirt that says, "when I want your opinion, I'll give it to you;" thanks to Monica, for forcing me to read Clan of the Cave Bear, , thank you to Laura, for reminding me that college is still school, and thanks to Sarah, for being crazy, stupid, and loveable.
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I wish anyone to recognize any characters found in the Harry Potter books as belonging to anyone other than J.K. Rowling, publishers such as Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books, Schoolastic Books, or Warner Brothers, Inc. I do not own characters found in any published works, and can claim only Ayla Landau and Penny Lane at the moment, and some others that will be introduced later.