Chapter 2
Before I continue my story, I must first warn you about something: Angeline is ever the philosopher, and Michelle is a violent psycho maniac who often feels the urge to squeal. Oh yeah, and Christina is extremely slow at jokes, and has sick taste in humour. By the way, she's also smitten with Harry Potter. (she wants to marry him).
*
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Several bodies hit the floor of King's Cross Station. "How did I get here?" moaned Angeline. "This is not logical! It's wrong!" "WHERE AM I?" screeched Michelle. Several other words were also sent out into the world by her mouth, but I think I need a license to type them. "Ow." said Stephanie. "Yow! What the hell?" cried Victoria. "Where's Christina?" said Angeline. Then, glancing around the station, she caught sight of a starry-eyed Christina, who was sitting in the trolley of whom else but...HARRY POTTER?! "Hi, Harry!" squealed Christina. "I'm Christina! How are you?" "H-h-h-hi," stammered Harry, looking shocked. "I-I-I'm fine." "Oh ****! Felicity came, too!" groaned Rachel. "Christina, you starry-eyed idiot! Couldn't you wait 'till she went away before you pressed the button?" "Harry Potter," breathed Felicity. "Wow! He's so handsome!" "Uh.thanks," said Harry. "You're not Harry Potter," said Vanessa, pointing an accusing finger at Harry. "Harry Potter doesn't exist. He's only in stories." "Excuse me," said Harry, "But I am Harry Potter." "Why did you have to bring Felicity?" moaned Rachel. "Why, why, why?" "No, I don't believe you are Harry Potter," replied Angeline, looking straight at Harry. "You are a made-up character in a book." Rachel smirked, and burst out laughing. "Ha, ha! Your memory is better than an elephant's! You still remember the time I told you that Oliver Wood did not exist? Ha!" Going bright red, Angeline muttered something unintelligible under her breath, before standing up. "Humph!" she said. "I am simply stating the obvious fact that Harry Potter is only a fictional character!" "Pinocchio," whispered Rachel. "Be quiet!" commanded Angeline, her face going redder than the hair of the boy who was approaching Harry. "Is that Ron?" asked Michelle. "No! And this isn't Harry, either!" said Vanessa and Angeline in unison. "Yes I am!" said Harry, looking quiet harassed. "Prove it! Where's your passport?" demanded Angeline. "I don't have one!" shrieked Harry. "What a dreamy voice he has," cooed Felicity, fluttering her non-existent eyelashes at him. "Hey! Lay off him!" snapped Christina, glaring up at her from the trolley. Then, turning her gaze to Harry, she sighed, smiling. "Hi, Harry," she breathed. "Hahaha! You're so stupid, Christina!" laughed Rachel. "What's wrong with Christina?" asked Victoria, looking very confused. "She's smitten with Harry," explained Rachel. "What does smitten mean?" asked Christina. "Smitten: very much in love with," said Angeline, automatically. "I am not in love with Harry!" screamed Christina, trying to get out of the trolley. Her flailing legs caught the birdcage in the side, crushing the hinges of the door, and giving Hedwig instant access to the outside world. "Eek!" shrieked Christina. "Ew!" she shrank away from the snowy owl, covering her face with her hand. "Ew, ew, ew!" "No!" cried Harry, lunging forward to catch the bird. "Hedwig!" Screeching loudly, the owl gave a beat of its powerful wings, and disappeared in a flurry of white feathers. "Come back!" moaned Harry, his hands still reaching out. "No! My beautiful bird!" "Is it gone?" squeaked Christina, her face still hidden under her hands. She peeked out through her fingers and gave a shriek of fear when she saw Felicity's loathsome face. "AH!" then, under her breath, she muttered, "Ew. Gross. How ugly." Doubling over, Rachel began laughing. "Hear hear!" "Oh shut up, will you, Rachel?" Angeline glared at her 'friend'. Rachel stopped laughing, and gave Angeline a very hurt look. "That's mean." "I know it is. That's why I said it," said Angeline, giving the other girl a smug look. "Smart ass!" said Rachel. "I know I am. Thanks," smiled Angeline. "That's just stupid," said Michelle. "I know I am. Thanks," said Rachel, doing her best imitation of Angeline.
Meanwhile, in the highest tower in Hogwarts, a witch sat, gazing in a crystal ball, her eyes wide as she saw.
*
"CHAOS!" she shrieked, covering her eyes and backing away from the crystal ball. "Oh woe is us! CHAOS is upon the school!" "Now, now. Calm down," said Dumbledore, handing her a warm cup of tea. "What exactly did you see? Not Harry dying again, I hope." Professor Trewalney took the tea, and sipping it cautiously, she said, "I don't really know. I looked away before I finished Seeing." Then, looking back into the teacup, she gave another scream, and fell off her stool. "MORE CHAOS!" she exclaimed, from the apparent safety of the floor. "Really?" asked Dumbledore, peering at the crystal ball. "Go on." Finally, the professor picked herself up from the floor, and resumed her place on the stool, eyeing the crystal ball nervously. Holding her hands over it, in what she assumed was a mystical stance, she gazed back into the crystal ball. "I see." she murmured. "I see.THIRTEEN girls! They are dressed in dark clothes, and approaching the school." "Thirteen? What's wrong with that? It's only superstition," shrugged Dumbledore. "Us fortune-tellers do not like the number thirteen," replied the professor, in a trembly whisper. "Good things never come in thirteen." "I hope you're not discriminating your daughter again," began Dumbledore, sternly. Professor Trewalney gave him a sour look from behind her glasses, before saying in a less mystical voice that before, "I'm not." "Whatever you say," shrugged the headmaster. "Now, what else do you see?" "The girls are.they are wearing tartan tunics, with white shirts." muttered the professor. "They are also wearing tartan ties, and black socks." "That sounds a bit like the muggle school, Pymble Ladies' College," remarked Dumbledore. "Several of them are wearing.blazers and scarves.they have.Clarks shoes? My crystal ball cannot understand all this muggle wear," declared Professor Trewalney. "Never mind that. I'm quite sure that they are witches from this school called Pymble Ladies' College. Quite a good school, too," said Dumbledore. "Right, I must greet these new students properly. I think they're the students that the Ministry of Magic said were getting a scholarship to this school." "One of them appears to be lying in a trolley," added Professor Trewalney, rather doubtfully. "Oh dear," said Dumbledore.
*
How was that? Did you like it? It's only gonna get better, so please start reviewing. By the way, all (well, nearly all) the personal details about my school and my friends are true.
Before I continue my story, I must first warn you about something: Angeline is ever the philosopher, and Michelle is a violent psycho maniac who often feels the urge to squeal. Oh yeah, and Christina is extremely slow at jokes, and has sick taste in humour. By the way, she's also smitten with Harry Potter. (she wants to marry him).
*
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Several bodies hit the floor of King's Cross Station. "How did I get here?" moaned Angeline. "This is not logical! It's wrong!" "WHERE AM I?" screeched Michelle. Several other words were also sent out into the world by her mouth, but I think I need a license to type them. "Ow." said Stephanie. "Yow! What the hell?" cried Victoria. "Where's Christina?" said Angeline. Then, glancing around the station, she caught sight of a starry-eyed Christina, who was sitting in the trolley of whom else but...HARRY POTTER?! "Hi, Harry!" squealed Christina. "I'm Christina! How are you?" "H-h-h-hi," stammered Harry, looking shocked. "I-I-I'm fine." "Oh ****! Felicity came, too!" groaned Rachel. "Christina, you starry-eyed idiot! Couldn't you wait 'till she went away before you pressed the button?" "Harry Potter," breathed Felicity. "Wow! He's so handsome!" "Uh.thanks," said Harry. "You're not Harry Potter," said Vanessa, pointing an accusing finger at Harry. "Harry Potter doesn't exist. He's only in stories." "Excuse me," said Harry, "But I am Harry Potter." "Why did you have to bring Felicity?" moaned Rachel. "Why, why, why?" "No, I don't believe you are Harry Potter," replied Angeline, looking straight at Harry. "You are a made-up character in a book." Rachel smirked, and burst out laughing. "Ha, ha! Your memory is better than an elephant's! You still remember the time I told you that Oliver Wood did not exist? Ha!" Going bright red, Angeline muttered something unintelligible under her breath, before standing up. "Humph!" she said. "I am simply stating the obvious fact that Harry Potter is only a fictional character!" "Pinocchio," whispered Rachel. "Be quiet!" commanded Angeline, her face going redder than the hair of the boy who was approaching Harry. "Is that Ron?" asked Michelle. "No! And this isn't Harry, either!" said Vanessa and Angeline in unison. "Yes I am!" said Harry, looking quiet harassed. "Prove it! Where's your passport?" demanded Angeline. "I don't have one!" shrieked Harry. "What a dreamy voice he has," cooed Felicity, fluttering her non-existent eyelashes at him. "Hey! Lay off him!" snapped Christina, glaring up at her from the trolley. Then, turning her gaze to Harry, she sighed, smiling. "Hi, Harry," she breathed. "Hahaha! You're so stupid, Christina!" laughed Rachel. "What's wrong with Christina?" asked Victoria, looking very confused. "She's smitten with Harry," explained Rachel. "What does smitten mean?" asked Christina. "Smitten: very much in love with," said Angeline, automatically. "I am not in love with Harry!" screamed Christina, trying to get out of the trolley. Her flailing legs caught the birdcage in the side, crushing the hinges of the door, and giving Hedwig instant access to the outside world. "Eek!" shrieked Christina. "Ew!" she shrank away from the snowy owl, covering her face with her hand. "Ew, ew, ew!" "No!" cried Harry, lunging forward to catch the bird. "Hedwig!" Screeching loudly, the owl gave a beat of its powerful wings, and disappeared in a flurry of white feathers. "Come back!" moaned Harry, his hands still reaching out. "No! My beautiful bird!" "Is it gone?" squeaked Christina, her face still hidden under her hands. She peeked out through her fingers and gave a shriek of fear when she saw Felicity's loathsome face. "AH!" then, under her breath, she muttered, "Ew. Gross. How ugly." Doubling over, Rachel began laughing. "Hear hear!" "Oh shut up, will you, Rachel?" Angeline glared at her 'friend'. Rachel stopped laughing, and gave Angeline a very hurt look. "That's mean." "I know it is. That's why I said it," said Angeline, giving the other girl a smug look. "Smart ass!" said Rachel. "I know I am. Thanks," smiled Angeline. "That's just stupid," said Michelle. "I know I am. Thanks," said Rachel, doing her best imitation of Angeline.
Meanwhile, in the highest tower in Hogwarts, a witch sat, gazing in a crystal ball, her eyes wide as she saw.
*
"CHAOS!" she shrieked, covering her eyes and backing away from the crystal ball. "Oh woe is us! CHAOS is upon the school!" "Now, now. Calm down," said Dumbledore, handing her a warm cup of tea. "What exactly did you see? Not Harry dying again, I hope." Professor Trewalney took the tea, and sipping it cautiously, she said, "I don't really know. I looked away before I finished Seeing." Then, looking back into the teacup, she gave another scream, and fell off her stool. "MORE CHAOS!" she exclaimed, from the apparent safety of the floor. "Really?" asked Dumbledore, peering at the crystal ball. "Go on." Finally, the professor picked herself up from the floor, and resumed her place on the stool, eyeing the crystal ball nervously. Holding her hands over it, in what she assumed was a mystical stance, she gazed back into the crystal ball. "I see." she murmured. "I see.THIRTEEN girls! They are dressed in dark clothes, and approaching the school." "Thirteen? What's wrong with that? It's only superstition," shrugged Dumbledore. "Us fortune-tellers do not like the number thirteen," replied the professor, in a trembly whisper. "Good things never come in thirteen." "I hope you're not discriminating your daughter again," began Dumbledore, sternly. Professor Trewalney gave him a sour look from behind her glasses, before saying in a less mystical voice that before, "I'm not." "Whatever you say," shrugged the headmaster. "Now, what else do you see?" "The girls are.they are wearing tartan tunics, with white shirts." muttered the professor. "They are also wearing tartan ties, and black socks." "That sounds a bit like the muggle school, Pymble Ladies' College," remarked Dumbledore. "Several of them are wearing.blazers and scarves.they have.Clarks shoes? My crystal ball cannot understand all this muggle wear," declared Professor Trewalney. "Never mind that. I'm quite sure that they are witches from this school called Pymble Ladies' College. Quite a good school, too," said Dumbledore. "Right, I must greet these new students properly. I think they're the students that the Ministry of Magic said were getting a scholarship to this school." "One of them appears to be lying in a trolley," added Professor Trewalney, rather doubtfully. "Oh dear," said Dumbledore.
*
How was that? Did you like it? It's only gonna get better, so please start reviewing. By the way, all (well, nearly all) the personal details about my school and my friends are true.