MERRY CHOTTER AND THE DRUM MAJOR'S STONE
By Kate
Rating: PG
Chapter Nine
Summary: Merry arrives at Smog-Hurts, meets many classmates, gets Sorted, and finds out a bit more about her dark and dreary past.
A/N: The scar idea belongs to Rannchan. Many thanks and the rest of my reviewer comments are at the end, as always. Oh, yeah, and Aldridge Grainger is named after Percy Aldridge Grainger, composer of band pieces that have been transcribed for piano instead of the other way around. One of his pieces is "I'll Be Seventeen Come Sunday," which 4th band at my school almost played last year. Oh yeah, and just to say it, I'LL BE FIFTEEN COME SUNDAY! YAY ME! Really, my birthday is on Sunday. Hoorah.
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, there'd be a marching band in the books. If I owned marching band, we'd be doing a Harry Potter show. Since, other than right here, the two have remained separate entities, I think it's obvious that I have no ownership. Well, here and in Sectionals, where Susanna has her cool Harry Potter pencils with coloured erasers.
CHAPTER NINE:
As Merry hustled towards the opposite side of the meadow, she was wondering when the castle that Smog-Hurts was apparently in would appear. The meadow seemed to go on forever, and, having been cramped in a cupboard under a drippy sink for over ten years, Merry wasn't sure how long her legs could hold out. Just as she was about to give up hope, a huge, ugly building loomed in the distance. Merry took a deep breath and charged on toward the "castle," Rynn at her side.
When all of the First-Years reached the castle doors, they were met by a wise-looking professor. She was tall and stern-looking and greeted the students in a very serious voice. "Good day, first-years. I am Professor Gotthenerva McGoneforgold. I am an Assistant Director for Smog-Hurts as well as the head of Brasschoir House. You will all be sorted momentarily. Until the ceremony begins, you may feel free to chat amongst yourselves.
Merry sighed and brushed her bangs off her hot, sweaty forehead. As her dark brown hair swished back into place, she saw Rynn staring at her forehead, entranced.
"What?" Merry asked, confused.
"So you've really got it." Rynn's voice was dazed.
"Got what?"
"The scar."
"Yeah, so?"
"Merry Chotter, do you know what that scar is?"
Merry was angry now. "Yes, of course I do. It is a token of whatever it was that killed my parents. It's almost like a lightning bolt, but not quite. It is an ugly tissue that mars my face. It is."
Rynn cut her off. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Chotter. What you don't understand, being raised in the Buggle world and all, is that your 'token' is a sign of your eternal link to OUR world. Your almost-lightning bolt is an EIGHTH REST, one of the fundamentals of who we are, what we do!"
"Yeah, right. Okay, I feel better, you can leave me alone now," Merry replied in a dull monotone.
"I'm serious!" Rynn exclaimed and was about to continue when an extremely blonde girl walked up. The girl had nearly transparent skin and piercing silvery eyes.
"So it's true, what they've been saying. Merry Chotter really HAS come to Smog-Hurts." The girl's voice was as cool and infectious as her eyes.
"That's me." Merry didn't know how she was supposed to respond.
"No kidding." Apparantly Merry's answer had been the wrong one. "I'm Leona Mauvais. I can tell you which sections are the right people . . . and which ones aren't." Leona held out her hand for Merry to shake, which, being polite, the latter did. The former's hand was like ice, cold and smooth. Leona pulled away and turned to Rynn. "I don't need to ask to know that YOU must be a Feasibly. My father's told me all about you: hand- me-down clothes and more children than they can afford."
Rynn cringed almost imperceptibly, but Merry caught the movement in the corner of her eye.
"So, Chotter," Leona challenged, "what do you say? You want to hang out with my kind of people?"
Merry barely paused before answering right back. "I think I can tell the right sections for myself, thank you."
Leona's perfect appearance was shaken, but she quickly straightened her back and put a haughty look back on her face. "Fine, then. Survive by yourself." She turned and went back to her friends.
Just as Leona walked away, McGoneforgold came back to lead the students into the dining hall. "What happens now?" Merry asked Rynn.
"I don't know. I've never been to Smog-Hurts before, but I assume that we're being sorted now. I can't tell you what exactly happens, but Freida and Georgia have told me that it hurts. I just hope it doesn't take to long for my placement to be decided."
"So WHAT are we getting sorted into?" Merry was completely baffled.
"You can be in Brasschoir, Windchoir, Drumline, or Guardo House. My whole family has been in Brasschoir, but Windchoir wouldn't be bad. Guardo House is kind of sissy, but anything's better than Drumline. There hasn't been a single Smog-Hurts graduate busted for drugs who wasn't in Drumline."
Merry was about to ask another question when a shout came through the entire Commons. "Ten-HUT!" Instantly, everyone stood up straight with their chin up and their hands at their sides. Merry just tried to copy them and hang on.
The Commons was completely silent, so Nevilla's scream of "TRAVIS!" echoed greatly throughout the large room. The chubby girl came running forward to scoop up her beloved cat. McGoneforgold shot her an evil look and Nevilla quickly snapped back into attention, only to fall over backwards after achieving the position for a very short time.
"Forward MARCH, Forward MARCH!" was the next command. The first-years were prompted to glide-step from their heels down the centre of the Commons. Because some of them had had no practice, the idea was soon abandoned for just plain walking. Aldridge caught up to Rynn and Merry and began to chat them up.
"Look at the ceiling," Aldridge encouraged the girls. Above them were floating candles against a sky of dusty blue. A light breeze was blowing most comfortably. "It's not really like that. It's just an enchantment they've used. I read all about it in 'The Complete and Total Story of Smog- Hurts.'"
"That's. great, Aldridge," Rynn muttered back.
Aldridge didn't take the hint and continued. "Do you see that man up there with the nasty look on his face? That's Assistant Director Snare. He's the head of Drumline House and rumor has it that he's in leagues with . . . with . . ." Aldridge didn't know how to put it. "With the man that killed Merry's parents." The boy's face held a triumphant look.
"Students, please, be quiet," said a noble voice. Merry and Rynn sighed with relief; Aldridge would have to shut up now. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin in just a moment."
A/N: And there you have it, Chapter Nine. Sorry I didn't write anymore but I'm still working on the Sorting Shako's song. I'm sure you know where everyone winds up now but oh, well. Yeah, and I left McGonagall and Snape's genders the same just because it made more sense that way . . . sorry to anyone who's, like, a Hermione/Snape shipper, but I'm not, so that didn't matter.
Also, many thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm not one of those people who will say "Give me 836 reviews in two days or I will not post another sentence!" or "I'm not making any requests, but I am sure am encouraged by those reviews." Just review if you feel like it and know that I love to read them but will post anyway. Sorry the chapter took so long but I had some issues to work out.
Jakob de Ludner: All right, carrying on conversations with your Neopet. I got sick of mine after about 3 days.
A person: I'm getting there. She doesn't really know yet, so. . .
ME!: Right. Like I'd go and repost the whole story just to change it into British English. Besides, I already spell words like "colour" and "centre" the Canadian/British way. *sighs* Ah, the things I could do with spare time.
Rannchan: Thanks and thanks and thanks for the brilliant idea! I owe you one!
Also, thanks to PandaExpressG, Silver Serpent, and Lori (I'm trying to get this up so I don't have time to finish writing notes, sorry!)
By Kate
Rating: PG
Chapter Nine
Summary: Merry arrives at Smog-Hurts, meets many classmates, gets Sorted, and finds out a bit more about her dark and dreary past.
A/N: The scar idea belongs to Rannchan. Many thanks and the rest of my reviewer comments are at the end, as always. Oh, yeah, and Aldridge Grainger is named after Percy Aldridge Grainger, composer of band pieces that have been transcribed for piano instead of the other way around. One of his pieces is "I'll Be Seventeen Come Sunday," which 4th band at my school almost played last year. Oh yeah, and just to say it, I'LL BE FIFTEEN COME SUNDAY! YAY ME! Really, my birthday is on Sunday. Hoorah.
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, there'd be a marching band in the books. If I owned marching band, we'd be doing a Harry Potter show. Since, other than right here, the two have remained separate entities, I think it's obvious that I have no ownership. Well, here and in Sectionals, where Susanna has her cool Harry Potter pencils with coloured erasers.
CHAPTER NINE:
As Merry hustled towards the opposite side of the meadow, she was wondering when the castle that Smog-Hurts was apparently in would appear. The meadow seemed to go on forever, and, having been cramped in a cupboard under a drippy sink for over ten years, Merry wasn't sure how long her legs could hold out. Just as she was about to give up hope, a huge, ugly building loomed in the distance. Merry took a deep breath and charged on toward the "castle," Rynn at her side.
When all of the First-Years reached the castle doors, they were met by a wise-looking professor. She was tall and stern-looking and greeted the students in a very serious voice. "Good day, first-years. I am Professor Gotthenerva McGoneforgold. I am an Assistant Director for Smog-Hurts as well as the head of Brasschoir House. You will all be sorted momentarily. Until the ceremony begins, you may feel free to chat amongst yourselves.
Merry sighed and brushed her bangs off her hot, sweaty forehead. As her dark brown hair swished back into place, she saw Rynn staring at her forehead, entranced.
"What?" Merry asked, confused.
"So you've really got it." Rynn's voice was dazed.
"Got what?"
"The scar."
"Yeah, so?"
"Merry Chotter, do you know what that scar is?"
Merry was angry now. "Yes, of course I do. It is a token of whatever it was that killed my parents. It's almost like a lightning bolt, but not quite. It is an ugly tissue that mars my face. It is."
Rynn cut her off. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Chotter. What you don't understand, being raised in the Buggle world and all, is that your 'token' is a sign of your eternal link to OUR world. Your almost-lightning bolt is an EIGHTH REST, one of the fundamentals of who we are, what we do!"
"Yeah, right. Okay, I feel better, you can leave me alone now," Merry replied in a dull monotone.
"I'm serious!" Rynn exclaimed and was about to continue when an extremely blonde girl walked up. The girl had nearly transparent skin and piercing silvery eyes.
"So it's true, what they've been saying. Merry Chotter really HAS come to Smog-Hurts." The girl's voice was as cool and infectious as her eyes.
"That's me." Merry didn't know how she was supposed to respond.
"No kidding." Apparantly Merry's answer had been the wrong one. "I'm Leona Mauvais. I can tell you which sections are the right people . . . and which ones aren't." Leona held out her hand for Merry to shake, which, being polite, the latter did. The former's hand was like ice, cold and smooth. Leona pulled away and turned to Rynn. "I don't need to ask to know that YOU must be a Feasibly. My father's told me all about you: hand- me-down clothes and more children than they can afford."
Rynn cringed almost imperceptibly, but Merry caught the movement in the corner of her eye.
"So, Chotter," Leona challenged, "what do you say? You want to hang out with my kind of people?"
Merry barely paused before answering right back. "I think I can tell the right sections for myself, thank you."
Leona's perfect appearance was shaken, but she quickly straightened her back and put a haughty look back on her face. "Fine, then. Survive by yourself." She turned and went back to her friends.
Just as Leona walked away, McGoneforgold came back to lead the students into the dining hall. "What happens now?" Merry asked Rynn.
"I don't know. I've never been to Smog-Hurts before, but I assume that we're being sorted now. I can't tell you what exactly happens, but Freida and Georgia have told me that it hurts. I just hope it doesn't take to long for my placement to be decided."
"So WHAT are we getting sorted into?" Merry was completely baffled.
"You can be in Brasschoir, Windchoir, Drumline, or Guardo House. My whole family has been in Brasschoir, but Windchoir wouldn't be bad. Guardo House is kind of sissy, but anything's better than Drumline. There hasn't been a single Smog-Hurts graduate busted for drugs who wasn't in Drumline."
Merry was about to ask another question when a shout came through the entire Commons. "Ten-HUT!" Instantly, everyone stood up straight with their chin up and their hands at their sides. Merry just tried to copy them and hang on.
The Commons was completely silent, so Nevilla's scream of "TRAVIS!" echoed greatly throughout the large room. The chubby girl came running forward to scoop up her beloved cat. McGoneforgold shot her an evil look and Nevilla quickly snapped back into attention, only to fall over backwards after achieving the position for a very short time.
"Forward MARCH, Forward MARCH!" was the next command. The first-years were prompted to glide-step from their heels down the centre of the Commons. Because some of them had had no practice, the idea was soon abandoned for just plain walking. Aldridge caught up to Rynn and Merry and began to chat them up.
"Look at the ceiling," Aldridge encouraged the girls. Above them were floating candles against a sky of dusty blue. A light breeze was blowing most comfortably. "It's not really like that. It's just an enchantment they've used. I read all about it in 'The Complete and Total Story of Smog- Hurts.'"
"That's. great, Aldridge," Rynn muttered back.
Aldridge didn't take the hint and continued. "Do you see that man up there with the nasty look on his face? That's Assistant Director Snare. He's the head of Drumline House and rumor has it that he's in leagues with . . . with . . ." Aldridge didn't know how to put it. "With the man that killed Merry's parents." The boy's face held a triumphant look.
"Students, please, be quiet," said a noble voice. Merry and Rynn sighed with relief; Aldridge would have to shut up now. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin in just a moment."
A/N: And there you have it, Chapter Nine. Sorry I didn't write anymore but I'm still working on the Sorting Shako's song. I'm sure you know where everyone winds up now but oh, well. Yeah, and I left McGonagall and Snape's genders the same just because it made more sense that way . . . sorry to anyone who's, like, a Hermione/Snape shipper, but I'm not, so that didn't matter.
Also, many thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm not one of those people who will say "Give me 836 reviews in two days or I will not post another sentence!" or "I'm not making any requests, but I am sure am encouraged by those reviews." Just review if you feel like it and know that I love to read them but will post anyway. Sorry the chapter took so long but I had some issues to work out.
Jakob de Ludner: All right, carrying on conversations with your Neopet. I got sick of mine after about 3 days.
A person: I'm getting there. She doesn't really know yet, so. . .
ME!: Right. Like I'd go and repost the whole story just to change it into British English. Besides, I already spell words like "colour" and "centre" the Canadian/British way. *sighs* Ah, the things I could do with spare time.
Rannchan: Thanks and thanks and thanks for the brilliant idea! I owe you one!
Also, thanks to PandaExpressG, Silver Serpent, and Lori (I'm trying to get this up so I don't have time to finish writing notes, sorry!)