Harry Potter and the Locket of Trinity: Chapter One
"Old Friends"
A/N: Oy vay! This is my second Harry Potter fic, and I'm not even done writing the first one yet! Therefore I'll start this one (the idea's so good it's burning my brain), but I have priority on my first fic, Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed. If you don't mind, you can read that one too! I update that one every Saturday, so I'll try to update this one that much too but it's so hard! And I'm so lazy! I say it again: Oy vay!
This one's pretty much like my (second) version of book five, so just use what happened in books 1-4 as your guide and hopefully you won't get lost!
Disclaimer: Okay, I'm only going to say this once at the beginning of chapter 1, but it applies to all of my writing on this story hereafter: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. ONLY THIS PLOT. Dunno why it's so important for me to say that, but hey, better safe than sorry, right?
* * * * *
Harry Potter was sitting miserably in number four Privet Drive, having just gotten back from the depressing ride home from all he knew and loved. Summer vacation had begun, and Harry couldn't be sadder.
Granted, he'd just had one of the most exerting final exams of his life: the TriWizard Tournament. Images still haunted the outskirts of Harry's mind, but he refused to let them fully surface or he knew he'd break down. It was just too much. Cedric Diggory lying dead, Wormtail cutting off his own hand. The Dark Lord's snake-like crimson eyes running their gaze over Harry's unprotected body, hungry and evil.
And so that's where he was, sitting miserably on the little couch, when the doorbell rang. "Answer that, boy." Uncle Vernon barked in Harry's general direction, not bothering to look over his newspaper at the thing he hated most. Begrudgingly, Harry rose and ambled over to the front door. The sight that met his eyes both scared and pleased him.
On the perfectly normal porch, the same porch that the Dursley's so liked to keep oddity-free, was standing the most delightfully odd person Harry had ever laid eyes upon. She was a tall girl, barely an inch shorter than Harry himself, with long, baby-fine blond hiar surrounding her clear blue eyes, which were excessively outlined in black eye make-up. Her clothes were what stood out the most: there is nowhere really to begin but the combat boots. They went halfway up her calf, muddy and worn. Above those shoes, a pair of fishnet tights were flirting beneath a knee-length black skirt. And her shirt was what pleased Harry the most: it was a white tank-top with the word 'FREAK' hand painted on it in a brilliant orange.
"H-Hello. May I help you?" asked Harry. Upon seeing him, the girl's eyes lit up almost as much as his were.
"Harry?" the girl inquired, and the boy thought that he must be dreaming. "Harry Potter?"
Thoughts raced through Harry's mind. Was she a witch, and spotted his telltale scar, remembering it from some past photo? Could she be a spy for Voldemort? Had he won some sort of fabulous prize? But one thought was dominating above all the others: was she single?
"Yeah, that's me. Why?" Harry replied eagerly.
"Oh my gosh! Don't you remember me? It's Jacie Lagne! From Churchill Elementary?" she prompted. Suddenly Harry recalled a skinny little blond girl that always seemed to be put in his class in primary school. She was the only person that was ever nice to him, and was ridiculed about as much as he was. She was a foster kid, her parents were killed when she was very young, she had told him. Jacie had been his only comrade, and in the excitement of Hogwarts and all he'd completely forgotten about his one friend in the muggle world.
"Wow. It really has been forever, huh? How've you been?" Harry replied, taking a step out the door and shaking her hand.
"Oh, alright. As you can see," Jacie replied with a wink, gesturing down at her getup. "I go to Stonewall now, but whatever happened to you? I've missed you, Harry."
At the words 'I've missed you,' Harry went weak and it was all he could do not to fall down right then. He wasn't Mr. Confident around girls, especially Jacie, who seemed to be Mrs. Confident. "Oh, I, uh - boarding school," Harry lied. "I've missed you too." He put in awkwardly.
Just then Uncle Vernon walked by, and about had a coronary. "Who is this?" he muttered to Harry through a clenched jaw.
"Jacie, this is my Uncle Vernon. This is Jacie Lagne, a friend from school." Harry said, but immediately afterward wanting to take back his introduction.
The beefy man's face turned a shade of ashy mauve and his left eyelid began to twitch. Suddenly, the top blew off and the volcano erupted. "SCHOOL?! I DON'T WANT ONE OF - OF THOSE FREAKS IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, taking a menacing step towards Jacie. 'Oh crap.' Harry thought, before averting a massacre.
"No no no," said Harry, stepping in between his Uncle and Jacie and placing his small hands on the man's broad shoulders. "She's an old friend. From elementary school, Uncle Vernon, remember Churchill?"
At once the raging man stopped, his face returned to normal, and he was no longer irate. Just pleasantly scornful, as usual. "Oh." He stated simply. It would have been fine if he stopped there. Oh, how Harry would have loved to pass it off as bipolar tendencies, but no. Uncle Vernon had to go and explain. "I thought you meant someone from St. Brutus' Acadamy for Incurably Criminal Boys." He said, accenting the false name of the school as a threat as to what might happen if the "M" word was ever hinted to again.
'Oh Lord, my life is over. OVER. Now I'm incurably criminal, she thinks I'm a psycho, oh Lord, please just let her have gone deaf. Let her be deaf.' Harry prayed, slowly turning around to Jacie.
But she was laughing.
Laughing! Jacie was doubled over in hysterics, black tears streaming down from her face, clutching her middle. Laughing! Harry glanced at Uncle Vernon's face, which had reverted back to ashy purple, but the man let out a bewildered "Harumph" and walked back inside the house, slamming the door behind him. Harry heard the bolt turn in the lock before focusing his attention back on his new/old friend.
"Your uncle. he's a hoot." Jacie said, wheezing slightly and wiping her eyes.
"Hoot, huh? Well, you could say that. but you'd be lying out your knickers." Harry joked, then blushed. He'd actually said the word 'knickers!' Aloud! TO A GIRL!! But obviously, Jacie was not your average 'girl.'
"So, we've got a lot of catching up to do, Harry," Jacie remarked, taking his hand. A little alarm went off in Harry's mind, screaming *okay, this amazing chick is HOLDING your hand, she's holding YOUR hand, she's holding your HAND!!* but Harry just smiled, enjoying the niceness of it. "You want to go up to the Dairy Mart?" she asked.
Again, Harry smiled. He had no idea what the heck a Dairy Mart was, or where it happened to be exactly. Being a wizard, not to mention being under constant house arrest by the Dursleys, had alienated him a bit from the muggle world. "Ngh. s-sure." he answered.
So Jacie Lagne, goddess from the center of punk abyss, and the most magical muggle he'd ever laid eyes on, was taking Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who- Lived, out to the Dairy Mart (whatever on God's green earth that turned out to be).
* * * * *
A/N: Wowie, my intro chapter is up! I know, I know, it's super short, but that's just b/c it's an INTRO. Intro's are there to see if I've got the big winner here, or the big don't-touch-it-with-a-twelve-foot-pole. But don't worry, I'll post whether you like my story or not. But I'd much rather you do. ;)
Love from,
Saranimal
HaloGal5@aol.com (email me please, all's I get is stupid junk mail. I'd much rather hear from you fine people!)
"Old Friends"
A/N: Oy vay! This is my second Harry Potter fic, and I'm not even done writing the first one yet! Therefore I'll start this one (the idea's so good it's burning my brain), but I have priority on my first fic, Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed. If you don't mind, you can read that one too! I update that one every Saturday, so I'll try to update this one that much too but it's so hard! And I'm so lazy! I say it again: Oy vay!
This one's pretty much like my (second) version of book five, so just use what happened in books 1-4 as your guide and hopefully you won't get lost!
Disclaimer: Okay, I'm only going to say this once at the beginning of chapter 1, but it applies to all of my writing on this story hereafter: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. ONLY THIS PLOT. Dunno why it's so important for me to say that, but hey, better safe than sorry, right?
* * * * *
Harry Potter was sitting miserably in number four Privet Drive, having just gotten back from the depressing ride home from all he knew and loved. Summer vacation had begun, and Harry couldn't be sadder.
Granted, he'd just had one of the most exerting final exams of his life: the TriWizard Tournament. Images still haunted the outskirts of Harry's mind, but he refused to let them fully surface or he knew he'd break down. It was just too much. Cedric Diggory lying dead, Wormtail cutting off his own hand. The Dark Lord's snake-like crimson eyes running their gaze over Harry's unprotected body, hungry and evil.
And so that's where he was, sitting miserably on the little couch, when the doorbell rang. "Answer that, boy." Uncle Vernon barked in Harry's general direction, not bothering to look over his newspaper at the thing he hated most. Begrudgingly, Harry rose and ambled over to the front door. The sight that met his eyes both scared and pleased him.
On the perfectly normal porch, the same porch that the Dursley's so liked to keep oddity-free, was standing the most delightfully odd person Harry had ever laid eyes upon. She was a tall girl, barely an inch shorter than Harry himself, with long, baby-fine blond hiar surrounding her clear blue eyes, which were excessively outlined in black eye make-up. Her clothes were what stood out the most: there is nowhere really to begin but the combat boots. They went halfway up her calf, muddy and worn. Above those shoes, a pair of fishnet tights were flirting beneath a knee-length black skirt. And her shirt was what pleased Harry the most: it was a white tank-top with the word 'FREAK' hand painted on it in a brilliant orange.
"H-Hello. May I help you?" asked Harry. Upon seeing him, the girl's eyes lit up almost as much as his were.
"Harry?" the girl inquired, and the boy thought that he must be dreaming. "Harry Potter?"
Thoughts raced through Harry's mind. Was she a witch, and spotted his telltale scar, remembering it from some past photo? Could she be a spy for Voldemort? Had he won some sort of fabulous prize? But one thought was dominating above all the others: was she single?
"Yeah, that's me. Why?" Harry replied eagerly.
"Oh my gosh! Don't you remember me? It's Jacie Lagne! From Churchill Elementary?" she prompted. Suddenly Harry recalled a skinny little blond girl that always seemed to be put in his class in primary school. She was the only person that was ever nice to him, and was ridiculed about as much as he was. She was a foster kid, her parents were killed when she was very young, she had told him. Jacie had been his only comrade, and in the excitement of Hogwarts and all he'd completely forgotten about his one friend in the muggle world.
"Wow. It really has been forever, huh? How've you been?" Harry replied, taking a step out the door and shaking her hand.
"Oh, alright. As you can see," Jacie replied with a wink, gesturing down at her getup. "I go to Stonewall now, but whatever happened to you? I've missed you, Harry."
At the words 'I've missed you,' Harry went weak and it was all he could do not to fall down right then. He wasn't Mr. Confident around girls, especially Jacie, who seemed to be Mrs. Confident. "Oh, I, uh - boarding school," Harry lied. "I've missed you too." He put in awkwardly.
Just then Uncle Vernon walked by, and about had a coronary. "Who is this?" he muttered to Harry through a clenched jaw.
"Jacie, this is my Uncle Vernon. This is Jacie Lagne, a friend from school." Harry said, but immediately afterward wanting to take back his introduction.
The beefy man's face turned a shade of ashy mauve and his left eyelid began to twitch. Suddenly, the top blew off and the volcano erupted. "SCHOOL?! I DON'T WANT ONE OF - OF THOSE FREAKS IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, taking a menacing step towards Jacie. 'Oh crap.' Harry thought, before averting a massacre.
"No no no," said Harry, stepping in between his Uncle and Jacie and placing his small hands on the man's broad shoulders. "She's an old friend. From elementary school, Uncle Vernon, remember Churchill?"
At once the raging man stopped, his face returned to normal, and he was no longer irate. Just pleasantly scornful, as usual. "Oh." He stated simply. It would have been fine if he stopped there. Oh, how Harry would have loved to pass it off as bipolar tendencies, but no. Uncle Vernon had to go and explain. "I thought you meant someone from St. Brutus' Acadamy for Incurably Criminal Boys." He said, accenting the false name of the school as a threat as to what might happen if the "M" word was ever hinted to again.
'Oh Lord, my life is over. OVER. Now I'm incurably criminal, she thinks I'm a psycho, oh Lord, please just let her have gone deaf. Let her be deaf.' Harry prayed, slowly turning around to Jacie.
But she was laughing.
Laughing! Jacie was doubled over in hysterics, black tears streaming down from her face, clutching her middle. Laughing! Harry glanced at Uncle Vernon's face, which had reverted back to ashy purple, but the man let out a bewildered "Harumph" and walked back inside the house, slamming the door behind him. Harry heard the bolt turn in the lock before focusing his attention back on his new/old friend.
"Your uncle. he's a hoot." Jacie said, wheezing slightly and wiping her eyes.
"Hoot, huh? Well, you could say that. but you'd be lying out your knickers." Harry joked, then blushed. He'd actually said the word 'knickers!' Aloud! TO A GIRL!! But obviously, Jacie was not your average 'girl.'
"So, we've got a lot of catching up to do, Harry," Jacie remarked, taking his hand. A little alarm went off in Harry's mind, screaming *okay, this amazing chick is HOLDING your hand, she's holding YOUR hand, she's holding your HAND!!* but Harry just smiled, enjoying the niceness of it. "You want to go up to the Dairy Mart?" she asked.
Again, Harry smiled. He had no idea what the heck a Dairy Mart was, or where it happened to be exactly. Being a wizard, not to mention being under constant house arrest by the Dursleys, had alienated him a bit from the muggle world. "Ngh. s-sure." he answered.
So Jacie Lagne, goddess from the center of punk abyss, and the most magical muggle he'd ever laid eyes on, was taking Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who- Lived, out to the Dairy Mart (whatever on God's green earth that turned out to be).
* * * * *
A/N: Wowie, my intro chapter is up! I know, I know, it's super short, but that's just b/c it's an INTRO. Intro's are there to see if I've got the big winner here, or the big don't-touch-it-with-a-twelve-foot-pole. But don't worry, I'll post whether you like my story or not. But I'd much rather you do. ;)
Love from,
Saranimal
HaloGal5@aol.com (email me please, all's I get is stupid junk mail. I'd much rather hear from you fine people!)