Disclaimer: Hogwarts, Harry, and Co. are not mine. Alas. More's the pity…
Note: Hey, peeps, some more reviews please? Oh, and btw- thanx Shadowgirl!
Chapter 3
Gala had barely seen her Grandfather since she arrived- he was always busy, dashing off to the Ministry, or locked in conference with someone. She'd dealt with it though, after all, it had to be hard to be the greatest wizard of the age. So Galadriel had wandered around the castle, much to the annoyance of Argus, the groundskeeper, and she had found that even Peeves the Poltergeist stayed away from her. He seemed to be afraid if he pulled something on her he'd be kicked out by Dumbledore…
But in all her wanderings, she had come to a realization. She hated this place. HATED it. The castle was cold, drafty, dark, and dank. The staircases moved, the portraits talked, the ghosts were awful. And that poltergeist- Ugh! And she couldn't go anywhere without getting lost. Oh, and not to forget that there was a sea monster in the lake and even worse things in the forest. There was also the niggling little voice in the back of her head that kept pointing out just how busy her grandfather was: just busy enough to avoid speaking to her.
So she was going to have to figure out some way to get home. The best way that had occurred so far was to be expelled. The matter of finding the best, quickest, surest way to expulsion was still burning in her mind the night of the Start-of-Term feast.
She was to wait in a small room off the Great Hall while the first years were sorted. So she waited, peeking out occasionally at the floating candles, sea of black hats, the dull roar of laughter and applause… 'These hats are awful! Helena and Guin would die laughing if they saw this…'
Her mind was just conveniently producing some examples of the wonderfully sarcastic remarks her friends would be making when she heard the Hat call out the last kid's house. Her grandfather stood once more, paused to let the applause from the tables die down and then spoke. "I know you are very anxious to begin the feast, but the Sorting is not yet finished. We still have one more student- a fifth year transfer from America." There was a rush of whispers. Dumbledore smiled, looking over to the doorway where Galadriel waited, and he nodded to her.
"Goldhart, Galadriel," McGonagall said, reading the name from her list.
She stepped out, walking across the dais to the stool beside Minerva, her pace even, her shoulders straight, chin high, a not-quite-smile fixed on her face. The posture of someone accustomed to walking across stages. She sat down, facing the students, apparently oblivious to the curious stares and whispers. Then McGonagall put the hat on her head.
"hmmm…" the hat whispered, "Very bright… oh, yes, very bright. You'd make a good Ravenclaw. But wait, what's this? Ah, you do love action. Maybe a little too much…" the hat sounded amused but then paused, "Oh, dear! Not very happy are we? Well, don't' worry, you'll like it here!"
'Please hurry! And no, I'm not happy. I'm getting stared at like I'm a freaking piece of meat!'
"No need to get huffy! Well, no matter. I know just what to do with you… GRYFFINDOR!"
The table decorated with crimson and gold erupted in enthusiastic applause. Galadriel handed the hat to Minerva and glanced at her grandfather who smiled at her, even bestowing a small wink. Galadriel laughed and went to her new house table.
There was a lot of scooting a scrambling to make room, but by the time Gala reached the table she took an empty seat next to two identical red-headed boys, and a girl with very frizzy hair. Gala winced at the girl's poor hair. Helena would have loved to do a makeover on the girl. Her grandfather proceeded to make several announcements, apparently most regarding things the caretaker had outlawed and reminding them of curfews and the fact that the Forbidden Forest was, surprise surprise, still forbidden.
After the announcements were made the food appeared. English food. Gala put a few things onto her plate, studiously avoiding the things that were called puddings. She wasn't hungry so she simply toyed with the food.
The redheaded boy beside her grinned and extended a hand. "I'm George Weasley. That's Fred," he pointed at his twin. Gala shook the hand.
"Hi. Nice to meet you both."
"How do you say your name again?" asked a pretty girl across the table from her, with dark brown hair.
"Galadriel… But most times I go by Gala."
"Where did you go to school?" asked the frizzy-haired girl.
"Goldwood Academy," Gala told her.
"D'ya mean they have castles in America?" asked another red headed boy, this one was sitting across from the frizzy girl.
Gala laughed. "No, well, not many. Goldwood is in an old Victorian mansion. It's not nearly as big as this place."
"Why did you transfer here?" asked a boy with big round glasses, and a mop of dark hair. Gala looked down at her plate, pushed the food around.
"I came to live here with my Grandfather. My parents died this June." There was silence at the surrounding table.
"I'm sorry," the boy said with genuine sympathy, as though he knew exactly how that felt. She looked up at him, and her mouth dropped.
"You- you're Harry Potter, aren't you?"
Harry smoothed the hair back down over his scar. "Er… yeah." Gala grinned.
"Grandpa forgot to mention that you went here…"
"So, Gala, do you play Quidditch?" asked George… no, wait, Fred. George was next to her.
"What?"
"Quidditch," Fred repeated, "Do you play?"
"Oh, that British game!" she smiled and shook her head. "No, we played Quodpot mostly. But I was on the Aerobatics team. I was hoping to try out for the Hogwarts aero…"
"The what team?" asked George
"What's Quodpot?" asked a boy in dredlocks.
"The aerobatics team. We do all sorts of stunts and tricks on broomsticks… Our team at Goldwood was favored for nationals."
Harry looked interested, but before he could ask anything Dredlocks and Fred demanded to know what a Quodpot was.
"Well, it's like Quidditch, I guess… except with a cauldron at each end of the field. And only one ball… You have to get the ball down the field, into the other team's cauldrom before it explodes."
"Explodes?" frizzy girl asked, looking horrified.
"Yeah. The cauldron's have a potion in them to keep the balls from exploding."
"Excellent!" declared Fred and George, exchanging an impish glance.
Gala spend the rest of the feast explaining Quodpot to Fred, George, and the boy in dredlocks whose name turned out to be Lee Jordan.
When the festivities were finally over, Hermione Granger of the frizzy hair took charge of the first years, as she was apparently a prefect, complete with a bright shiny badge. Prefect was a glorified word for hall moniter as far as Gala could tell, but it seemed to make the prefects happy…
She followed the twins and Lee, who were busy telling her tales of their greatest exploits. If anyone could help her get thrown out of Hogwarts, it would have to be this group…
