Author's Note: In place of an ordinary author's note, which you'll find at the end of the chapter, I've decided to write a response to Darth Yoda's review, although I doubt he or she will read this… However, hopefully he/she will, and on the off-chance that this will occur I've decided to do this immediately…
Darth Yoda: The first time I read your review, I'll admit to it, I confess, I skimmed it, I was dreadfully tired, so sue me, I'm human. At this point, I only thought it was a review sticking up for your country and your heritage, expressing how you had taken offense. I attempted to contact you and even write you a nice, long apologetic letter, I felt horribly guilty to know that I could have offended someone so horribly, it goes against everything I stand for… This just goes to show, never, ever skim a review, because it seems I was horribly wrong. When, after my trip to Canada, I actually decided to read your review in full, I realized just how far off I had been. I must say, if it was your objective to cause as much pain on this end as you had perceived than you have most certainly succeeded. Congratulations. I was, needless to say, mortally offended, and I confess more than a little angry, indeed, I still am offended, I still am angry. However, I will attempt to hold myself in when I attempt to correct the incorrect conclusions that you, in reading so far between the lines that you read a message that wasn't even there in the first place, have jumped to so drastically. I apologize most sincerely in advance if I seem harsh or anything of the like, because I, like Ron, am very easily offended and angered, and as it happens, when I'm staring into the face of a computer screen, my self-control is down to a minimum. I know there are probably many out there who would think me foolish and cruel for letting you know my anger, disgust, and disappointment, but I'm not writing this for anyone but myself really. Being perfectionistic and overly critical by nature I hate it when people miss the point entirely, and have an internal need to make sure someone knows how I feel when they have offended or angered me. Again, I apologize for my lack of patience in this matter, as well as my abysmally quick temper; it's one of my more horrible flaws. Here goes:
While I would (as Sea Faerie did – thank you Sea Faerie, you have said everything I wish that I could say, but can't, being the author) like to congratulate you on your pride in your country and your heritage (I myself am a very patriotic American), and your courage in backing them, the content of your review has shown just how blinded you are, and just how little you understand. I apologize if you got the wrong message from me in the chapter, that was my fault, I meant to put in a bit in the author's note that this was in no way reflecting real, muggle Australia, but my father was screaming at me to get off the computer, and under the pressure to finish it slipped my mind. I also realize that Ron's line "after all, she is Australian," could easily have been taken the wrong way, that again, was my fault, I wrote that part late at night and it never even occurred to me just how offensive that statement could be. However, anything else Ron might have said in place of said statement wouldn't have fit quite right, anything else would have been out of character for him, because we all know how easily angered Ron is, and his habit of saying the wrong thing when he's angry (another of my lovely faults). Moreover, never in the story did I in anyway connect the magical Australian society to the real, muggle society; actually, I made a few subtle hints at just the opposite. Alina is a very vital character to this story, whether or not you like it it's true, and as such it is absolutely imperative to her character and her story that she come from that type of society… In the end you have to understand that I had to put said society somewhere! I assure you, I have nothing against the real Australia, I visited its eastern coast in July of 2000 as a student ambassador and absolutely loved it. Perhaps if I explained to you my reasons for choosing Australia, it would become a bit clearer: I needed a country whose native language was English (check – yes I know it was lazy of me, I didn't want to have to deal with language barriers), I preferred it to be an area that I had visited, just so I could hold and image of it and a feel for it in my mind (for this, Sydney seemed perfect, check), I needed a place that would be as different (geographically, climatically, etc) from Britain as Alina is from the trio and Hogwarts (check, not only are the seasons opposite each other but the climate is very different, among other physical features), and finally and perhaps most importantly – it had to be as far away from Britain as possible, geographically isolated (check, Australia is probably the most geographically isolated continent/country that's inhabited by man, and recognizable all over the world). With this in mind, perhaps you'll come to see just for what reasons it seemed to me that Australia was the ideal place for this. Since no one else seemed to have concluded that I was making any sort of connection or statement about the real Australia, I think of this as an isolated incident. I'm sorry, in fact, I pity you if you were expecting to find a chipper little story about a perfect, happy little world full of fluffy, pink bunnies and such things… If this is case I wonder what you're doing here in the first place, and just how removed and enshrouded in your bubble you are. Unfortunately, the world is not perfect, these sorts of societies (though very rarely of this intensity, danger, and particular level of inhumanity) have in fact, existed, if you know your history. In fact, my Australian magical society is really a mosaic of apartheid in the United States (I'm patriotic but at least I know that my country is not perfect, whereas you seem to have insinuated the opposite with regards to your own respective nationality), South Africa, British imperialism in India, etc, and there are even bits of Nazi Germany thrown into it, among other things. Furthermore, unless I'm much mistaken, many, many years ago in Australia, the Aborigines weren't always treated with such high respect, or am I wrong on that one? Yes I am well aware of the fact that such is not true anymore – although, like everywhere else in the world, prejudice and injustice still exists.
I do not appreciate the insult to my intelligence, I know quite a bit more about Australia than you give me credit for, I'm not an expert, Australia is almost never covered in the school curriculum, but I do know much more than you give me credit for. I am well aware of the fact that Australia, like the American state of Georgia I believe was once a prison colony, since the British jails were overflowing. However, this had absolutely nothing to do with the wizarding society I have created there, perhaps the fact that the first inhabitants of Australia, muggle versus magical, the conditions under which they came that is, how they are complete opposites of one another, is a reflection of how opposite they live, think, and exist in the modern magical versus muggle world within the story? Have you ever considered this? Apparently not. To say that something of a dreadful sort, even said society, could never in anyway occur in any one place is more than naïve, it is a poor reflection on your knowledge of history. Such things have, as I have already mentioned, occurred, and in many cases in areas where such a notion might once have been deemed impossible. Even extremely simple stories like that of the sinking of the "unsinkable" Titanic demonstrate that anything can happen, any student of history worth his or her two cents knows this. Does this mean that I believe this sort of thing is going to, or has a great chance of happening in Australia? Most certainly not, I'd place the probability of this occurrence at about one in a billion, but I do acknowledge that it can happen. This sort of thing could happen anywhere, it's stupid and naïve to believe that it is impossible, no matter how close its chance may seem, there are so many flaws in modern society that could actually contribute to the wrong circumstances of which many terrible things could be conceived, even the most unlikely tragedies. If you cannot see this, then, as I have said before, I pity you, you are blinded by the bubble you live in, and, as I don't know you personally, I can say little else on the subject. I would also like to add that since the muggles don't even know that such a wizarding world even exists, they would be rather hard pressed to prevent such an existence, very simple logic that you have failed to see. Is it just me or does your saying that I've ruined my story by insulting your country sound more than just a bit ego/ethnocentric? I am writing this story for no one but myself really, although I'm more than open to suggestions, etc from my readers, and it is on fanfiction.net because I want to share it with you; I'm telling a story, that is, in all simplicity, what writers do. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I am not writing this story for you, and as much as I hate myself for having been so offensive, the story does not revolve around you.
That last comment, congratulating anyone who made it through all four current chapters of my fanfiction, was very low, I might add. You don't have to like my story, I'm well aware of that, everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion, there is no law against it. However, there is a big difference between constructive criticism, stating one's honest opinion, and such blatant, nasty insults. It really was way below the belt of you to stoop to such a level of nastiness as to insult someone in that manner, someone who is already so obviously insecure. I think that the irony in this is very interesting, that you have stooped to just as low a level as you were so angry with me for, that to which you perceived I was lowering myself. It's quite amusing actually. Likewise, you're allowed to be nasty if you want to, there's no law against that either, but it doesn't say much for your character. It would do well for you to remember that if you wan to be effective in your criticism it is not a good idea to draw hypocritical, one-sided conclusions that have minimal evidence and much negative feeling behind them, no one appreciates that and it will win you nothing but negative feeling in return.
Now, as I have said before, and could say again infinitely – which is a measure of my sincerity in saying this, I am truly sorry that I have offended you and led you to the wrong conclusions. If, without being overly sensitive, defensive, and touchy, you honestly got this message from the story, than I have not done my job as a writer, that seems clear, and I accept the responsibility and the blame. However, your nasty comments are neither appreciated nor welcome here, if you feel you cannot restrain yourself, than please, do us all a favor and don't even bother coming here to this story. That is all.
Sincerely,
Naralina
Chapter Five
The Great Food Feud of '95
Harry stared at the note, fighting down the urge to laugh. He knew he should be at least slightly unnerved, but at the moment he just couldn't feel afraid. "Oh no," he joked, "Ron, your dad's turned into Sirius!"
"Harry," Ron said edgily, as though through gritted teeth, sounding nervous, "this is serious."
"I know," he laughed, "that's just what I said."
"Harry," Ron sounded irritable, not catching on to the bad crack at a joke, "what I mean is, this is no laughing matter!"
"Jeez, lighten up," he mused, not bothering to appeal to Hermione for support, which he knew would be futile, "come on, she's just---…"
"I'm not kidding," Ron continued, as though he hadn't even heard him, "if Dad is this worried over something like that, it's got to be really bad… He never gets like this; he's usually so calm and relaxed, he almost never gets worried, and out of all those time I've never seen it this bad…"
Harry looked about him; nervous faces surrounded him. He felt slightly aggravated, this reminded him very strongly of the time in his third year when everyone had thought that Sirius was after him, he couldn't feel very fearful then, and he couldn't now, for whatever reason… Come on, he had survived four encounters with Voldemort before, did they all think he was really that weak and useless? Harry knew that they were just concerned for him, and that he was really no match for Voldemort, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated with this, here everyone was again, terrified of some stupid, stuck-up fifteen year old girl as though it were a ten-times-worse (perceived) Sirius Black all over again, as though he couldn't handle Alina Petranni. He groaned slightly to himself and began to pick at his lunch.
Hermione seemed to know precisely what he was thinking, "Oh, Harry, it's not that we---…"
"I know," he interjected, not really wanting to talk about it.
"It's just that we're worried, we don't want to see anymore hurt around here, you saw what she did to Snape… Who knows what she's capable of… I mean, if Mr. Weasley thinks that ---…"
"Mr. Weasley also thought that Sirius was after me in third year, and look how it turned out, what the truth really was… It's probably just what Ron said before, some stupid old wizarding gossip. To me she'll always be nothing but a stuck-up, arrogant snob, nothing more, nothing less."
Ron gulped, looking slightly pale, yet determined, "I mean it Harry, I'm starting to think Ernie may be right…"
He barely had time to snicker mockingly at the thought of this notion when Hermione did the job for him… Rolling her eyes slightly, she leaned in towards Ron from her position opposite the two of them at Gryffindor table, "Oh Ron, you're just as bad as Ernie is. I don't think she's a Death Eater, I mean, unless she's a really good actress or something, I think she'd consider it beneath her." She sneered visibly at the thought of Alina's ideas of classes and standards. "… But I won't deny that she does seem dangerous, something about her doesn't seem right. She is definitely trouble."
Something in Harry's mind suddenly clicked. "Hermione, you never told us, did you find anything on her eyes?" This was something he was very anxious to know, not only because of the power he'd seen behind them the previous day, but because he just knew he had seen those eyes somewhere. Quite wisely, he figured that perhaps Hermione could tell him. He leaned in slightly, eager to hear this, for surely, surely Hermione had found something, books had just about never failed her before…
"I didn't find anything," she responded stonily and mechanically, almost quietly, "but I will," she now spoke in a much more determined voice. Harry grinned to himself, he could tell from the expression on her face that she must have searched the library all night, and her lack of success was causing her great pain. Hermione loved books far too much.
They continued to eat lunch, chatting about everything else, until Angelina Johnson, a toweringly tall (about a head and a half higher than even Ron), pretty Black girl who was Gryffindor's best chaser, approached them. She ruffled Harry's hair affectionately as she caught them by surprise. Purely out of startled shock, as she had also dropped an ice cube down the back of his robes, he stood. "Oh wow Harry!" she started, jumping back in a sort of mocking yet all at once real shock, "You finally grew!" Harry wondered vaguely why everyone kept telling him this, he didn't feel any taller. She laughed, "It's about time too, why, you're almost average height by now," she grinned evilly as she watched her words take effect, "you used to about two and a half heads shorter than me, and now you're almost as tall as Ron!" Harry stopped, confused, she was definitely exaggerating, there was no way he'd ever be even remotely close to Ron's towering height, right?… Wrong, as if on cue, Ron stood up beside him and he realized that his eyes were no longer level with Ron's chin, but now with his nose. It was an odd feeling, almost powerful as he finally realized just how much taller he had gotten, smiling inwardly to himself, still a little shocked, he didn't quite know what to make of it. Calculating Harry's thoughts with her eyes, she grinned that devilish grin once more, "Oh, come on Harry don't tell me you just figured that out now, you're even slower than I thought!"
Harry imitated her smile, laughing, he chased her around the table as though determined to get her back for that last remark. Waving his wand wildly, eyes ablaze with laughter, he ran after her in a wild goose chase that would not have looked out of place in a Marx Brothers' film. Angelina knocked over plates of food behind her in hopes that he would slip and fall, whilst Harry sent people flying as he attempted to dodge pumpkin juice, smeared peas, jello, and strawberry jam. "Oh, I'll get you for that one Johnson!" he called after her, grinning Fred-and-George-Weasley-esque, and failing to notice the danger lying ahead on the floor…
Tripping on a rather slippery cut of steak, Harry fell face first into a big bowl of chicken-pot-pie. Seeing the expression on his face, Angelina stopped dead, doubling over in fits of hysterical laughter at the mosaic of food that was now Harry. Taking the whole affair to have finished in her favor, she strode over good-naturedly to Harry, who was still on the ground…
But it was not over… He waited for just the perfect moment as Angelina bent down, ruffling his hair affectionately, "You put up quite a fight, ol' Pea-Face… hmmm… Pea-Face Potter… Has a nice ring to it… Anyway, Pea-Face, we're having trials for the new keeper next week. I'm captain this year, and I want everyone to be there. I'll leave you to your food now," she grinned victoriously, turning sharply and strutting away.
Just as she turned, Harry reached up, not even bothering to clean the smeared food off of his glasses, grabbed a plate of now-cold stew, poured it into the chicken-pot-pie so that it was nearly overflowing, snuck up after her, jumped up, and brought the whole bowl streaming over her head. Jumping, she turned, the bowl still over her like a hat, covering her eyes, her face wet and sticky, a gleaming collage of food. She strode over to him, cleverly concealing a ball of whipped cream and cheesecake in her right hand, and removed the bowl with the flourish of one discarding a top hat with her left hand. They were now almost nose to nose. "So," she said, in an oddly triumphant tone, "so, we're not finished then Pea-Face?" Bringing her right hand over him, she smeared his hair and face in a vertical stripe of dessert.
Fred and George Weasley, wearing identical evil grins, saw to it that the opportunity was fully taken advantage of, and, scooping up handfuls of mashed potato and hurling it at the Slytherin table, shouted "FOOD FIGHT!" The Hall rose to the occasion beautifully as the entire student body jumped to their feet, and the sky was filled with flying food. In mock patriotism, George put his hand over his heart and his eyes welled with feigned tears as he sang a tribute to food to the tune of the national anthem. Hermione, grinning to herself, enchanted her food to fly over the Slytherin table and drop, exploding on contact, like a bomb. Ron launched food-rockets directly at Malfoy, who was just as red as the meatballs and tomato sauce that kept mysteriously hitting him. Harry and Angelina were using the bottles of ketchup and mustard like water guns, and Professor Flitwick had charmed the spilt glasses of pumpkin juice to rise in a giant tsunami, crashing over the students like a brilliant, glittering orange sea, but not before enchanting slices of pizza to stand on their points, marching and attacking like little soldiers.
Enthusiasm rent the air everywhere, even at the staff table, as Dumbledore chuckled airily, enchanting loaves of Italian bread to bat tomatoes across the room, smiles abound in each and every face expect for two… McGonagall and Snape stood, wearing stern expressions, trying in vain to put a stop to the commotion. At the moment, Severus was attempting to battle off the pizza soldiers attacking his nose and hanging from his elbow, while trying to convince the headmaster to put a stop to the fiasco. "Headmaster, if any student other than Potter had started this great folly, he would be immediately punished. Potter's head's got big enough already getting away with more than any other student ever could… I only want to…"
It was obvious, as much as she wanted to return the Great Hall to a state of order, her aggravation with Severus Snape's constant insistence on Harry's expulsion must have been greater. Deciding to shut him up at last, she took the opportunity to use the peanut butter and jelly clump before her to glue his lips together. With a quick wave of her wand, Minerva McGonagall created a force-field around the Potions Master so that he was a magnet for guacamole, broccoli, and all forms of rotten vegetables.
Meanwhile, back on the main floor, whilst Colin Creevey and his magical camera were clicking away, recording the event for all time, Ron had run fresh out of meatball missiles. Conjuring fresh ferret food and hurling it into Malfoy's hair, it looked like he had a sudden idea, Harry noticed, before turning to write "GRYFFINDOR RULES" in ketchup on the back of Snape's robes.
Ron seemed to be looking for someone as he tossed a ball of muddy-looking fudge warningly in his hand, before turning to Hermione (who greeted him with an egg to the face) and asking "Where's that stuck up git, Alina? Do you know how much I'd love to get her with this?"
Hermione shrugged, "She snuck out as soon as the fight started…" As realization suddenly hit her, her eyes bugging out wildly, she grabbed Harry by the elbow, causing ketchup to splatter in a wide circle as she reeled him around dizzily, and looked pointedly at the two boys "Let's go."
Harry didn't want to leave, but something in the expression Hermione was wearing told him that unless he wanted his face broken, he'd better oblige. Ron was looking equally, if not more suspicious, and the two insisted on hunting down the Petranni girl, finding out what Dark activity she might be up to… Inwardly, Harry felt that this would be futile, but he went to appease them, and perhaps to shut them up and prove to them that Alina Petranni was really just a stupid, harmless little girl with an attitude.
~**~_~**~_~**~
They had been searched the corridors for what had to be two hours, and seeing as they were the only ones skulking in the hallways, they assumed that the food fight was still in the works. Harry was getting very tired of this, as he was still sure they would find just what they had thus far, absolutely nothing. "I'm telling you," he repeated for the thousandth time, "she's probably hiding out in the Common Room… The only reason she left was probably because she was appalled by the 'lowliness' of food fighting, and didn't want to get her fingernails dirty. Just check the Common Room, and you'll see…"
The Portrait of the Fat Lady was in sight, and Hermione changed direction abruptly, heading toward it, walking stiffly, like a ticking time-bomb waiting to detonate, obviously aggravated with his repetitive comments, "Alright, if you're so smart Harry, we'll go and check out the Common Room, and then you'll see that---…" Her mouth dropped open and her jaw fell to the floor like an anchor as the Portrait Hole swung open, and the sight before her eyes seemed to slap her in the face…
There was their quarry, Alina Petranni, sitting at a table in the front of the room, calmly writing away, staring at her parchment as though it was the only thing in the entire world that so much as existed, as though it alone retained the human qualities of empathy and understanding, as though she were warding off emotion with every particle of her being. Although she had to have noticed their presence, she didn't even look up or bother to acknowledge it in any form whatsoever, but became even more dedicated to whatever it was that she was working on. It was as though the world consisted solely of she and the paper, all alone in the Gryffindor Common Room.
Hermione was pacing the Common Room angrily, she absolutely abhorred being wrong, it didn't happen often, and, being the smartest girl in the school, no one ever let her live it down when she was. It was almost as if she had been de-throned. Harry and Ron met with her in the far corner as she beckoned them, and discussed a course of action. "I wonder what she's up to," she started, and there was a brief, near silent debate which ended in Hermione bullying the other two in accompanying her to the library.
Just as they reached the Portrait Hole however, Harry passed Alina quite closely, and felt a sick swoop of anger arise in his stomach. He felt his blood boil and his body temperature rise considerably… The knot of rage rising in his throat, he was in complete awe of the nerve of that girl…
After all the things she had said about class and respect, here she was, shamelessly scribbling away at what was unmistakably her History of Magic homework. He couldn't help it, after everything, someone had to say something to her, she deserved it… "What's this?" he mocked, from behind her shoulder, "Miss High and Mighty doing her homework at Lunch? I would've thought you'd find it beneath you! What happened to the respect you had for yourself and your class, oh Great One?"
Harry smiled slightly as he watched Ron stop dead, blanch to a shade of sheet-white, and turn abruptly, until their eyes met… Ron's expression was so clear and evident that it seemed to speak all on its own where his lips had become paralyzed, 'YOU'RE DEAD!' Hermione too had frozen stiff, her face pale and her eyes wide with alarm, like a deer in the middle of a street caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Both of his friends seemed to think Alina would either attack him with her powerful glare (which made the victim want to jump off of the North Tower) or kill him in his sleep.
However, if it was a good old-fashioned killing they were expecting, they were severely disappointed… The Australian transfer just sat, continuing her writing, not even turning around to face them, speaking in a cold, venomous, stony, and throaty voice that indicated that her thoughts were quite far removed from the Gryffindor Common Room, "Just leave me alone… Please."
So they did. The trio walked edgily through the Portrait Hole and set off to the Library, and only spoke once they had safely turned the corner of the deserted corridors. "That was creepy that was," Ron started, it seemed that just about everything Alina did was creepy to him, "it was almost as though she were depressed or something…" He tapered off, shivering slightly.
Hermione's eyes widened as though someone had just hit her over the head and given her back her proper memory. "Yeah, and now that I think about it, something was very off last night when I came back to the dormitory… I found her lying asleep on the floor, curled up like a cat or something, and there was a table leg right by her, and her mirror was shattered, all the shards of glass were surrounding her… Something happened while we were at dinner… I mean, I fixed everything, but I wonder what could possibly…" She trailed off, eyes far away, and sped off at top speed toward the library, as Harry and Ron trotted to keep up with her.
In the library they discussed Alina's odd features. Hermione was researching auras, and Harry and Ron the power behind the eyes, but they weren't turning up much. Exasperatedly, Hermione sighed, turning to her friends, "But one of you must have seen something like it before?!"
Thinking hard, he heard Ron respond "Nope, nada."
Harry spoke, slightly wary, throwing caution to the winds as he dared to share the thoughts he had had the previous night. "I think I might have." They were staring at him now. "Remember in second year when I went down into the Chamber of Secrets, and I told you I met with the memory of Tom Riddle?… Well, that's who she reminded me of last night, it wasn't really just her eyes or just her aura or just her tone of voice, it was the whole thing, she just had a frightening resemblance to him…"
Hermione and Ron looked like this was the last thing they wanted to hear. She stuttered, "But there must have been some other place, someone else who had that kind of… That kind of… Oh, come on, think! Haven't you ever seen anyone else who had that kind of power behind their eyes, with that regal aura of ultimate power, it's just…"
Ron here interceded, "Look, I can't think of anything Hermione, and Harry probably can't either. He already said she reminded him of Tom Riddle, what more could there be? Maybe she's related to Voldemort or she's probably a Dark Witch and cast a spell to intimidate everyone."
Hermione shook her head hastily, "No, Ron, you can't get that sort of power from a spell. Believe me, I spent all last night researching this stuff, it has to be completely natural… Are you absolutely positive Harry, that you can't think of anything else?"
He strained his memory, casting his mind around until something else irked at his brain, but it couldn't be, it just couldn't… Perhaps Hermione would know what to make of it, so he spoke his mind again, but only half-believing what was escaping his mouth, the words that his lips were forming… "Actually, yeah. Last year after Voldemort came back, when Dumbledore found out about Barty Crouch, and, when he was angry with Fudge, don't you remember? It was just like that, only there was something about Alina's eyes when she looked at Snape that seemed crueler than anything I've ever seen… But her natural aura of power, the look behind her eyes when she was angry with Ernie, it was just like Dumbledore's…"
Ron rolled his eyes, looking half-shocked, half-exasperated. His mouth hung open as he spoke, "Come on Harry, you don't seriously think she's related to Dumbledore?!"
Hermione gave him a look to quiet him, "She might be, it would explain a lot, like…"
Ron pretended that he hadn't heard her and interrupted, "I mean come on, she's just evil and Dumbledore is the greatest wizard there is! That's like saying Merlin is related to Grindelwald! You're both nutters!" Ron almost screamed with the air of one accusing another of blasphemy.
Hermione cut him off, annoyed "Come off it Ron! You know very well that it's a possibility, just because people are related it doesn't mean they're going to be exactly alike! There are bad apples in every family, Alina just might be descended from a bad set in Dumbledore's. That aura of power and all of it is an inherently inherited trait, it occurs in families, common bloodlines. Just because two people are related and inherit the same power doesn't mean that they'll both choose to do the same thing with their gifts." She crossed her arms as though this settled the matter, and from the look in her eye, Harry knew that the topic was not open to debate. When Hermione had her mind set on something, there was no changing it.
Unfortunately however, Ron was not nearly so perceptive, and he opened his mouth scathingly as though to say something before Hermione, rather tetchy at that moment, fought back at him before he could say so much as anything. There was definitely something odd going on between the two, Harry had noticed it for quite awhile now, but the air of nervous tension and strong emotion of some sort seemed most apparent at this moment. "Oh Ron, I can't believe how blind you are! There are so many things you can't see! Sometimes I wonder how it is that I could possibly…" As though she just realized what she was about to say, she rescued herself and pretended that she hadn't said anything at all. Blushing furiously, she said quite simply, forceful and meek all at once, "Let's get back to work, we're not getting anything done arguing."
Harry however, found that his mind was far too full of thoughts to take in anymore, and sighed surrenderingly as he stared down blankly at the open book in front of him. "What does all this mean?"
"I have no idea."
~**~_~**~_~**~
Demetrius Petranni stared out at the sky from the tree he was sitting in. He wasn't by any means fond of the Forbidden Forest, but orders were orders, and he had a job to do… But his thoughts were not with Lord Voldemort, they had wandered to the previous night quite a long time ago. It was his job that landed him spying on Hogwarts, his job that had him flying past the windows in Gryffindor Tower that evening, his job that had found him staring into the face of an emotionally distraught daughter. It was his job that had his heart twanging painfully, as though he had been wounded.
He didn't know his daughter very well, and he had preferred to keep it that way… But he had had no idea that it had been this bad. Outwardly, which was the only way he knew her at all, Alina had always seemed to be the pillar of emotional strength, the strong, silent girl who could handle anything, who could shoulder any burden. Apparently however, from what he had seen the night before (he couldn't hear what she was saying, but just seeing it had been enough), this was not the case, apparently she had inherited her mother's brilliant acting skills, and his pride and sense of dignity (or at least the need to retain it at all times); not a good combination. This combo, far from being just good, rather unfortunately often ended in quite a bit of deception.
He had always hoped that Alina would take after her mother… Aurora, a beautiful English girl, had always been open and affectionate, she was charismatic, she loved everyone and everything effortlessly, and it won her the friendship of nearly everyone, she had been almost as popular as James Potter in their time, and that was really quite an accomplishment. Everyone loved Aurora, the way she always told you how she was feeling, the way she always had a smile on her face. Her heart was so big and so warm, and he wondered how lucky he had been, what he possibly could have done to earn the love of such a person, what with his stony, strong and silent heart. She hadn't had one spiteful, bitter, or hateful bone in her body. She was so perfect, she was like an angel… At least so he thought. Just thinking about her though, just with one thought of her, with even the whisper of the syllables that formed the name "Aurora," sent his heart wailing… He had tried to wall out the memory of her, of what he'd done, but it never worked; she frequented his thoughts, haunted his memory far too often for his emotional health to remain intact. It had been so many years since her death, fourteen years in fact, but his heart was still broken, broken and hardened.
He had never known he could love anyone so much, he had loved her more than life itself, loved her so much it hurt. God, she was so beautiful, so warm, so loving, so perfect, just to touch her took his breath away. He felt so undeserving, and just the sight of her would bring him happiness enough to last a lifetime. But love didn't matter when it came to the Dark Lord, orders were orders, and he had had a job to do. If he hadn't done his job, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would have come after his family, his wife and his daughter, and God only knows what would have happened then… And he knew from experience that no one escapes the Dark Lord.
What a fool he had been. He was so young and so stupid. He had made all the wrong choices… And now he was stuck with those choices. He couldn't believe it. He wasn't a crying man, Demetrius Petranni just did not cry, it wasn't in him, but just the thought of Aurora brought tears welling in his eyes. People always say that time heals all wounds, but this, thought Demetrius, couldn't be true… After all, as much as he had tried to push away the pain, tried to push it all away, tried to forget, try to pretend it never happened, as much as he ran from it, it was still a fresh, open wound, it still broke his heart every time, just the thought of it. Sometimes the pain was so intense that he could barely even breathe, knowing what he had done. He still saw her body fall in the flash of green light, still heard his own voice shout "AVADA KEDAVRA," could still hear her screams, hear her confused pleading when she knew that he was killing her, the pain in her eyes just before the spell hit her… And after all this, loving her more than life itself it had been he who had taken it away from her, in the end it was he who had killed her. How could he have done it? How? He couldn't live with himself. He had killed the love of his life. It was his fault she was gone, his fault. He had tried to hate Lord Voldemort for her death, and he did, but not the way he hated himself. He deserved to rot in Azkaban, he knew it, he deserved the Dementor's Kiss, he knew it, but then who would care for Alina? Who would raise his child? He couldn't have left her with her godfather, that's for sure, her godfather was a dangerous man. He, Demetrius Petranni, would burn with Satan when he finally did die, when he was finally released from this pain, at least he would get what he deserved; the thought comforted him. Alina was the only reason he didn't end this bleak fog they called "life."
It hurt, not knowing his own daughter, the only kin he had left in the whole world, she was just a little girl who lived with him. It was ironic, that she was all he was living for and he didn't even know her… But it was better this way, at least, that was what he told himself. This, though most painful at the moment, in the end would serve him, he felt. He knew what was going to happen to his daughter, he knew what the Dark Lord had in store, and so he couldn't allow himself to love her. All the people he had ever loved had either run away from him, or died, and he couldn't take that sort of pain anymore. He didn't know his daughter very well but he knew she was going to die at the hands of Voldemort, one way or another, and he just wouldn't be able to bear it, losing his only kin in the world, all he had left, and if he loved her… He didn't want to think about it. 'No game, no pain,' he reminded himself, whenever he found himself reconsidering. Besides, he was probably doing her a favor, no one wanted his love, and he didn't deserve any love in return. Surely, this way was the best way.
He had hoped that she would take after her mother, but good looks and skills in acting and psychology seemed to be all there was of Aurora in her daughter. It was a tragedy, how much his daughter had taken after him. She was strong and silent just like he was, and she was never one for emotional showiness, which she, like he was, seemed to be very uncomfortable with, which she, like he did, seemed to find a vulnerability. She was proud like he was, with an innate need to keep her dignity, it seemed that just like he did, she thought of her dignity as all she had to hold on to, she could not lose it, at all costs. Just like he did, externally she seemed cool, calm, collected, and confident: strong, but internally, just like he was, she was a veritable emotional wreck. She had had so much to deal with in life already for one so young, even more then he had at that age. She had lived alone in the emptiness of money with a father who was afraid to love her, and she had never had any real friends. It was true that she had had quite a few suitors, even at her age, girls always did in magical Australian society, but it was obvious why the young gentlemen sought after her, aside from her prominent name, she held the one card that made all the difference: infatuation. They called on her for her good looks and nothing more, and she knew it. Society had always set her apart as a misfit; the world was a circle of loving people who welcomed each other with open hearts, and she just didn't belong to it. He could only wonder how lonely and painful it must be, to have never have been loved by anyone, barely even tolerated by people who truly hated her…
Demetrius had tried to hate his daughter, but it just hadn't worked, it wasn't in him. Even now it was a struggle not to love her, the one who had once been everything in the world to him. He saw now, from the things he'd witnessed the previous night, that his daughter was struggling just as he was, was hurt and broken just as he was, and the sight nearly brought the man to tears. It was too hard, knowing the pain Alina must be feeling, and standing by, watching the world hurt her, and not doing anything at all. He felt his heart cry out once more, and wondered just what that was. Could it be that after all this struggling he loved her? Was it possible that after fighting it all these years that he really loved her? It couldn't be. It was beyond all reason and all logic… But wasn't love beyond all reason and all logic anyway? He wasn't sure anymore whether or not he had any feelings for his daughter now, he had always thought not, but the way his heart was wailing, that couldn't be right. He didn't know whether he wanted to have feelings for his daughter, well, of course he did, but in the end, when she was dead and gone, would it be worth it? He knew that when he had seen her, he wanted to reach out to her, to hold her and rock her like a little child, the way fathers do, and tell her everything would be alright, and make everything okay, but he couldn't, he knew that. He just wasn't that type of person, and besides, she was better off without him, wasn't she? The emptiness in his heart was stifling, and he felt more lonely than he had ever felt before.
Was it possible that after all this that she was just as hurt and alone as he was? Was it possible that she needed him too? He wondered whether or not it was worth the chance to try…
~**~_~**~_~**~
Alina Petranni watched as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger stalked out of the Portrait Hole, leaving her all alone again. She wondered vaguely just what she had done to make them hate her so very much… Well, it made perfect sense, she supposed, it was nothing more nor nothing less than natural for that muggle-born girl, Hermione, to hate her, such was the liberty of being a muggle-born, and it was clear that Harry and Ron hated her because she had hurt their friend, somehow. She couldn't blame them, she already hated herself anyway.
She thought of the passings that had transpired the previous night, and felt a painful emptiness, more lonely than she had ever felt before. It seemed that she didn't have any feeling left in her lonely soul, as though she had screamed it all out, every emotion she had, in that fiasco last night, and now it felt like there was nothing left. Feeling nothing at all but emptiness and a dark open space, unsure of everything and anything at all, she stared out bleakly into space, and although she had continued to write, she was barely even aware of the movements of her quill. She just wanted to be left alone, and yet, all at once, she couldn't stand it any longer.
~**~_~**~_~**~
It was 4:20 when Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the library, confused as ever, deciding to visit the Great Hall to see what was going on. The fight was winding down at last, as Professor Dumbledore… Was that Professor Dumbledore? Harry could only barely tell him apart from the rest, because everyone was so caked in food that their features were almost entirely masked. Anyhow, Professor Dumbledore magically magnified his voice, and proclaimed that the fight was over, and that since they had missed their first two afternoon classes, they need only attend their last class of the day, and had until 4:40 PM to ready themselves and be found in their proper, respective classrooms. This left everyone except Hermione cheering, who complained loudly that the school day should be extended so they could fit in all three classes instead of just the last one, and dinner would be at 8:20 instead of six o'clock. This, however, surprised no one. Harry figured that the only reason that they were even holding class was to give Filch and the House-Elves ample time to tidy up a bit before dinner, after all, he couldn't see the floor (nor the, table, nor the chairs, nor the walls, nor the ceiling), because everything was completely covered in food. It seemed as though the Great Hall was really an ever-expanding dimension, a universe of splattered nourriture, and brightly colored though it was, it probably wasn't that comfortable to sit or walk in, and after a while the smell would most certainly become unbearable. He laughed to himself as he was hit by a sudden image of Alina Petranni trying to get around in this mess, or at least refusing to do so.
They walked through the halls, listening to their friends recount the wonderful, lavish details of the food fight, cleaning themselves up a bit with the scouring charm, and wishing they had been there. Harry was a bit annoyed that Ron and Hermione had dragged him away from what was surely a one-time event, a raucous good time that would never happen again, just to see Alina Petranni do her History of Magic homework and add to his confusion when it came to her. Ron was missing it sorely as well, but not as much as Harry, and everyone except, of course, for Hermione was elated that they had missed two lessons, one of which had been the infamous History of Magic (the other had been Herbology).
"So, what've we got?" Harry asked, too lazy to stop and fish for his own schedule.
"Oooo," Hermione said, looking at the red and gold slip in her hand, "Defense Against the Dark Arts! We'll get to see whether or not this year's teacher is up to the scratch." With that, they hurried off to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, eager to see what the new teacher, Professor Sanies, was made of.
Choosing a table at the front of the class, they were among the first of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws to arrive. Professor Sanies didn't appear, however, until the room was filled with her students, and even then, she took her time. She arrived in sunglasses, oddly enough, and introduced herself, "Hello everyone, I'm Professor Lorelei Sanies, but I want everyone calling me Lorelei, anything else is so formal it makes me feel old," she grinned, showing her even white teeth. She spoke in a very odd manner, and Harry remembered that she was American, of course, Americans were well known for their funny talk. She was still wearing sunglasses as she reached for the roll, and everyone was staring. Sensing the odd looks, she looked up and realized, "You're all wondering 'bout the shades," she said, flipping them up like a headband and grinning broadly. "I confess, it's one of my crazier obsessions… I'm addicted to all things muggle," Harry gave Ron a sharp look, "but I can't resist muggle designer sunglasses, I've got all sorts of crazy pairs, I always wear them, either those or clear Wild-Eye contacts that make your eyes look different colors or designs. Anyway, to business. First I'm afraid, I'm gonna have to take attendance, but after I get to know you guys, we won't have to deal with such tedious chores."
Harry, having nothing else to do, watched her as he waited for his name. She was pretty, he supposed. She had bright strawberry-blonde hair that looked almost orange, falling stick-straight and thick high on her back, vivid, piercing electric blue eyes, and was very short and very skinny, tiny in every respect. She was a bit tired looking, and there were the most subtle hints of dark circles under eyes, but her skin was frighteningly pale, almost sheet-white, as though she hadn't seen the sun in twenty years… But she was always grinning, and there was a warmth about her that one couldn't help but trust her. There was something about her face that reminded him of someone, but search his mind though he did, Harry couldn't think of who it could possibly be. Shrugging inwardly, he redirected his thoughts, pulling out his textbook.
"Put those back," she smiled at them, "they'll mainly be dust collectors, you won't need them that often. Okay, today you'll basically be bored out of your wits because it'll basically be all me talking nonstop, which I promise, you'll never hear my voice for such a long, uninterrupted time again. Do try to pay attention though, if you want to be successful in this class. Okay, first, a little bit about myself, you know my name, I'm young enough that I can still tell you how old I am, twenty-nine, and I'm an ex-Auror, freshly imported for the fight against the Dark Lord, and I could tell you all of my other credentials but that would be boring, and besides, I've already got the job." Another grin. "Relax guys! I promise you, I am not in league with You-Know-Who, nor am I a big-headed fraud of a celebrity, nor am I a werewolf, nor am I under the Polyjuice Potion, and I wish nothing but the best for all of you. You guys haven't had the best of luck with Defense teachers, have you? Hopefully that will change this year. Anyway, this class, okay, down to the straight, hard business…"
Was she ever unhappy? Harry wondered as he watched her smile continually, even when she seemed to be attempting to be serious. "Okay, here's the deal, I don't believe in homework, so… Wow, look at those faces light up!" He glanced around the room, everyone, except for Hermione, was now wearing a Lorelei-Sanies-esque grin. "I think it's a waste of your time and mine, it's more for the younger kids who have to get into the habit and really need the practice and the know-how, but you guys are as close to adults as you can get here, and now that the Dark Lord has returned, you deserve to be treated as such. This means however, that you get the responsibilities along with the perks and privileges… I'm not going to run around after you, babying you, unless of course, I see your performance drop, in which case, I'll have to… The there's case B, where you start acting like a baby, in which case, I'll have to treat you like a baby. You have been warned, don't let this be you. I will not tolerate disrespect in any form, whether it be aimed at me or your fellow students, you will loose points on the first offense. Second offense, and it's open season on your humiliation for the rest of the class day… Three strikes and you're out, third offense, you're gone, out, not coming back." She stopped smiling and gave them all a cold glare to put any potential trouble-makers in their places, a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that the little hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end.
Grinning once more, looking as friendly and bubbly as ever, as though nothing had happened, she continued, "The grading system is simple, as far as your average goes, all grades hold equal weight. Yup, tests, quizzes, and lab practicals all count the same, they differ only in length, style, and level of difficulty. All assignments that I hand for class work, be they an essay or a lab write-up, are due at the end of the week, on Friday, unless I tell you otherwise, and they go in that bin over there," she pointed to a row of sparkling, flashing magical bins at the back of the classroom. "Each class has their own respective bin, so any of you would put yours in either Ravenclaw Five or Gryffindor Five, depending. OWLs are coming this year, yes I know, snore, but that means that I must prepare you for them as well, and I will be holding prep-sessions towards the end of the year."
"What else? Oh yes, test-corrections! I don't know if you've had this before, but when you get your tests back, if you take all your wrong answers, on a separate sheet, write down and explain the correct response (no cock and bull explanations, I'll be able to tell), you get half credit back. Let's say you got an 80 then, and you do test corrections, you get a 90. This benefits everyone because it means that you get a higher average, and it means that you actually take a second look, God forbid, at your test, and actually make an effort to understand your mistakes and the test, and learn from it." She grinned even more broadly as she feigned a gasp. "Also, at the end of each unit, we play review games, and I just may randomly do trivia during class time. For each correct answer, not only do you earn your house points, but you earn yourself bonus points on a test, quiz or lab grade. That," she pointed to a magical chart over her head, "keeps track of all your points per semester and total, so I don't have to… Onto Peer-Tutoring, that's self-explanatory, anyone involved, whether tutor or tutoree, earns points for themselves and their house. Now, as valuable as classroom experience is, nothing serves you better than first hand experience, which I will do my best to introduce by…"
She went on a bit, discussing the finer points of things, but by the time she had finished, there was still a lot of class time left. Deciding to use up the remaining time, she said "Well, we've got free-time, usually we'll use this to just talk about whatever we want, debate current topics, or I could tell you a story, I've got lots of those." She grinned broadly, dropping down casually on her desk and pulling her legs in so she was sitting Indian-style. "We could have a little dueling competition, play a little game, or just hang out and listen to music, it'll be generally your choice, but, this is a dictatorship, so, I will have the final input. Now," she was always smiling, "you've heard me go on and on and on, how about I hear from you, get to know my fifth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws?" Thus, they spent the rest of the class talking to her, getting to know her, throwing in opinions on all sorts of things.
By the time the bell rang, which happened far too quickly for anyone's liking, everyone agreed that Professor Sanies, or Lorelei, rather, was one of the coolest teachers they'd ever had. Even Hermione loved her, even though there wouldn't be any homework, because Lorelei was very passionate about intellectual debate and what was going on in the world, a definite book worm who loved her subject far too much, which appealed to everyone, especially Hermione. Ron, on his way out of his seat, put in jovially "Did I mention that Defense Against the Dark Arts is my new favorite subject?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last students out the door, and, all smiles, bid Lorelei goodbye as she flipped on her sunglasses and waved them out merrily as she disappeared into her office.
"Professor Sanies' cheerfulness is definitely contagious," Harry remarked as he noticed the broad grins that each of his classmates (including himself) was sporting. The only person who wasn't smiling at all, in fact, was Alina Petranni, no surprises there. She had been oddly quiet in classes today, especially this one, considering the fact that she usually was quite outspoken and eager to answer every question, and, he noticed, Professor Sanies didn't seem to like her. Perhaps Lorelei knew what everyone except for he, Hermione, and the Weasleys seemed to know, but in any case, it mattered little, the enemy of his enemy was his friend, it only gave him more reason to like her.
~**~_~**~_~**~
A first year girl, no doubt a muggle-born, was looking for Hermione Granger and carrying a muggle boom box. Asked why she wanted to see Hermione, the little girl turned around with a swish of long dark brown hair and said quite simply and warily that she wanted to listen to her new CD, but her CD player didn't seem to be working, and she knew that, being the smartest girl in the school, Hermione could fix it for her. Eagerly, Alina offered to fix the boombox for her, save her the trouble of finding Hermione, after all, Hermione wasn't the only one who knew how to do such things. Alina liked to help those in need, not just for the happy smiles she'd see on their faces, but because it reassured her that she was in fact a good person, worthy of the life she'd been given, that maybe she wasn't some sort of monster after all, that she could be a good human being. She could be a good pureblood. Besides, she was eager to hear popular modern muggle music, she had always been fascinated by muggle culture, and studied muggles and their world with great passion, and although she had played muggle CDs, her listening media had been limited. Father had always been rather strict about music in the house, and had allowed only classical music to infiltrate the manor. Needless to say, as much as she loved the melody of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Handel, and all the others, she felt a craving seated deep within her to hear to hear what the rest of the world was hearing. Perhaps it was her heart that needed to hear it, her heart that needed to feel a common thread to connect her to someone, to something, that would mean she was not alone.
In any case, she was once again deprived of these experiences, as the girl, her dark eyes widened with fear and realization, and the short little pip-squeak gasped, "You're Alina Petranni!"
Alina rolled her eyes, and nodded, "Yeah, so?"
The girl dropped the boombox softly on an armchair and baked away slowly, her right arm extended, shaking a warning finger at the fifth year before her as she slowly sidled toward the Portrait Hole, eyes like tea saucers, bulging in alarm. "Don't you dare touch that, or I'll tell! I don't want you putting any dark magic in my CD player! I mean, there'll be trouble!" And with that, the short little shrimp of a girl ran off down to dinner.
Alina scowled after her, her yellow-green eyes darkening, anger rising out of the emptiness. So, put dark magic in it would she? She was getting mighty sick of all this being pegged as a Dark Witch, and, as her breathing got more heavy, her heart racing, her heart paining her like a wound, she shook her head softly as though it would prove her innocence… Biting her lip to keep out any screaming that just might escape her mouth, and thought bitterly of Ernie MacMillan, the spineless coward spreading unfounded rumors about her, without mercy, without trying to understand, just mindlessly parroting lies about her, without a second thought, a spineless coward indeed. She felt rage and sorrow sweep over her like a tsunami, and once again she found herself fighting back tears. Knowing that she was threatening to lose control once more, she called in all her reserves, every last particle of inner strength she had in her, to live up to her own standards, to be the super-human pureblood she was supposed to be.
She spoke aloud to herself, gritting her teeth against the torrent of feeling, trying to reassure herself that she could beat it, that she could win… "Emotion is a weakness! Emotional show is undignified! Every violation of modesty will be repaid with an attack! Emotional show makes you vulnerable! They will take advantage of every vulnerability you present, and then you'll be sorry! The true pureblood is above human flaws, above negative emotion, above emotional show!"
It was as though she was repeating all the lessons she'd ever learned. Life with the wolves had taught her all these things, among many others, it was one of the few things she had gained from living, and she learned how to suffer in silence, feel the emptiness of money, how to indulge herself in self-loathing. Magical Australian society, much like Victorian British society in the muggle world, was all about suppressing human emotion as vulgar and undignified, presenting an ornate mask to the world, about rising above the flaws of humanity and human emotion, about suppressing and mutating your personality and individuality to either hide them deep within the fathoms of the self or become another mindless zombie of high society. It aspired to a super-human ideal of impossible standards, standards that defied humanity at the very least. What Alina failed to recognize, growing up in this world, was just how impossible this standard was, and that no one had or could reach it. She was blinded by her need to be the best person she could be, blinded by her quest to attain perfection, blinded in that she could not recognize that all the people around her were, in fact frauds. Instead, she saw a world full of people who had achieved the ideal, leaving her all alone, a world in which she alone was incompetent, too weak to suppress her weaknesses. And weakness was something she could not tolerate. She knew only that she was more than what she pretended to be, and that she could never reach the ideals of the world that surrounded her.
She knew the laws were cruel and unjust, how many times had she cried out against them? She knew that living in that world was killing her slowly, from the inside – out, and instead of fighting it, instead of rebelling against what she knew was wrong and taking their torture, she put on the ornate mask, and she slowly began to realize it. She felt her soul polluted, felt herself dying away, and screamed out at herself for allowing it to happen. She had faced the punishment of her society, a punishment beyond your imagination, where instead of bodily torture, they kill you from the inside, they crucify your heart, destroy your soul, and murder everything about who you are, just for being different. After having experienced this, she recoiled, she stopped fighting, she played their little game and danced their little dance, just so they wouldn't hurt her anymore. No one could have stood this soul-murder, it was beyond humanity to be able withstand this torture and this pain, but she had no way of knowing this, and took it for her own internal weakness, her own inability, her own horrible, spineless cowardice.
We condemn most in others what we hate inside ourselves. This was especially true for Alina, consciously or subconsciously, it matters little, she condemned weakness and cowardice in the people around her because she thought those qualities were in the darker part of herself, because she thought of herself as weak and a coward, and she hated herself for it. Every night she told herself how weak she was, what a foolish coward she was, what a hypocrite she was. Every night she told herself that she was a failure as a human being.
She was dying in Australia, and now that she had finally escaped, she found herself in a completely new world, recognizing nothing, even more alone than she had ever been. In hopes of filling the empty space in her heart, she enchanted the boombox to run on magic, and played the CD, which, she noticed, was by the Goo Goo Dolls, and called "Dizzy Up the Girl," a rather odd title. As she pressed the play button however, she noticed that it was starting at track number ten, something that CD's were not supposed to do… She laughed it off, "Perhaps I was meant to hear track ten," she mused aloud, having no idea how right she was. She sat back, attempted to relax, and allowed the mellow rock tunes to fill her ears, listening to it speak to her heart in a way nothing else ever had…
They painted up your secrets
With the lies they told to you
And the least they ever gave you
Was the most you ever knew
And I wonder where these dreams go
When the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming
No one's listening anyway
Your voice is small and fading
And you hide in here unknown
And your mother loves your father
'Cause she's got nowhere to go
And she wonders where these dreams go
'Cause the world got in her way
What's the point in ever trying
Nothing's changing anyway
They press their lips against you
And you love the lies they say
And I tried so hard to reach you
But you're falling anyway
And you know I see right through you
'Cause the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming
You're not listening anyway…
(Acoustic #3 by John Rzeznik)
The song was very short, and it ended quickly, but she shut off the CD player, not sure she wanted to hear anymore. Sitting casually, her eyes seemed the closest to tears that they had ever been in these past six years, but she managed to fight them back once again. She whispered, half to herself, half to no one at all "Please, I am listening. I'll do anything…" She let her small voice fade into nothingness as it reverberated in the silence surrounding and engulfing her, destroyed by the blackness all around her, the blackness that was slowly drowning her.
The song spoke to her in a way that made it seem all hers, it seemed to be a song about her, not literally of course, considering that her mother was dead ("And no amount of dreaming will bring her back," as she often told herself)… But the song was a metaphor for her life, at least, this was what she felt, but she didn't want to indulge in this, everything in her mind depended on her changing, on being the better person she was supposed to be once the mask fell.
Confused and trying to block it all out with her mind, she picked up her book on human psychology and continued to read where she had left off a few nights ago. Perhaps it was fate that the first line she read was "People don't change, they grow."
Angry, her heart heavy with sorrow, she slammed the book shut and threw it to the floor as though it were a venomous snake. Was God simply trying to remind her that she was no good? Was fate trying to remind her what a horrible girl she was, and that she'd always be horrible? It seemed so unfair that she couldn't change, everything depended on it, her heart was set on it, it was all she had ever wished for, the embodiment of every hope and every dream she had ever had, of the vapor of stardust, it was everything… And here was this book, telling her she couldn't change?! Telling her she'd always be stuck with her rotten self?! How dare it… It couldn't be true could it, because if it was, she was doomed, she was sure of it… Because who could grow anything worthwhile out of this mess of a monster?
Walling out any possibility of tears, she set out for her dormitory, whispering "But I've got change, I've just got to…"
~**~_~**~_~**~
It was late at night when the trio returned to the Common Room, and Harry was surprised at the rapid development of the photographs of the food fight. As soon as he had walked in, he was greeted with flashing magical pictures of the food fight, with a giant banner stretched across the entire common room with glittering golden words flashing "THE GREAT FOOD FEUD OF '95." The pictures scanned the food-covered Great Hall, with memorable moments captured, such as Flitwick's pumpkin juice tsunami, Harry's ketchup message on the back of the Slytherin Head of House, the pizza soldiers attacking Snape, Dumbledore's tomato grand slams, Hermione's food bombs, Ferret-Food-Malfoy, Ron's meatball missiles, and many more. Jovial Gryffindors surrounded him, cheering as he entered, it seemed as though the party was waiting for him, and Fred and George, handing the three friends each a butterbeer, and raising their bottles. Fred took the initiative…
"Pea-Face Harry Potter, this afternoon, you started an event that will forever go down in Hogwart's history."
George followed, close behind, "You've given us a memorable bang to start our seventh and final year, we owe you big time."
"Except now we're going to have to outdo you in June when it comes time for the Seventh Year Prank! You dirty scoundrel, Harry."
"So we propose a toast, to you Harry, and the Great Food Feud of '95!"
~**~_~**~_~**~
A/N: Wow, that chapter sunk to new levels of disgust in my mind. Now I must congratulate you if you made it to the end of this, but again, I don't know what else to do. Since everyone is telling me to stop being so hard on myself, I'm going to stop telling you how hard I am on myself, but this is a mark of just how much I hate this chapter, it's really bad. This is perhaps the most tedious, forced, putrid, horrid thing I've ever written. Ah, well, I did a bit f time hopping here, as you can see. You got into the head of a new person, Alina's father, Demetrius Petranni, which hopefully got you thinking a bit, and you met a new character, Professor Lorelei Sanies… hmmm… Actually, the Professor Sanies I have created has a lot of basis in my 9th grade bio teacher, Mrs. Lascarides, who was just the coolest teacher I've ever had, but I'll shut up before I ramble on forever… Hmmm…. Oh, before I forget, I do not own the song Acoustic #3, and I have already given due credit to John Rzeznik, so no accusations of plagiarism please! I actually was listening to my Goo Goo Dolls CD driving up to Canada a few weeks ago, and Acoustic #3 really hit me, and I just had to put it in the story. Ah, now before my critics out there get to me, I'll say this, okay, I know "Dizzy Up the Girl" is copyrighted 1998, but I'm pretending that it was out by '95, so those of you who know this CD, just go with it, okay? What else? Oh yes, I'm sorry that it took this long for the chapter to come up, but I went to Canada on vacation, then the site was down (and still kind of is) and I procrastinated, but I'm going to upstate NY on vacation again, and I wanted to put this up before I left again. Furthermore, I'm sorry about all the errors in ch 4, my dad was screaming at me to get off the computer, and under the pressure to finish I didn't have time to spell check or make sure I didn't skip any words, so that's my excuse. I'd like to add, just 'cause, that, since I'm writing this on August 5, my sixteenth birthday is only in 6 days, this Saturday! Yay!
Jona: yes, I do luv reviews from sleep-deprived maniacs. Thanx, glad u c Alina's complexities, but amazing, come on!
Ravenclaw_Filly: oh, plz, don't tell me after all that u still think shes a mary-sue?! ::crazed maniac puppy dog eyes:: - one of the more respected authors? ME? Ur joking right? Omg, I really don't deserve tha, but thanx, I mean, wow, im speechless ::blushing furiously::
Lucky_Woods: hey I warned u! first line of my authors note, right out there so even skimming people could see it! U loved it, wow, thanx. Yup, its got a bit of US apartheid in it, but a lot of it has to do w/victorian british society abt a million times worse – as I said in my letter to amadeus, its american/s.african apartheid, british imperialistic india, nazi germany, etc, a mosaic of unhappy societies.
Jedi_Cosmos: good that wer clear on that, lol. It was depressing w/Alina wasn't it? That really came totally out of nowhere, the ch just drove itself. If I did infact do a great portrayal of a depressed and confused person its b/c at times I have been that person. Ill tell u this, I put a lot of my darker qualities and internal struggles into Alina, I gave her a lot of my problems, even tho im not a rich, prejudiced upperclass girl, etc etc, theres a lot of me in her. It's a great way to finally spill some of ur problems w/o having to feel awkward abt it. Yes, Voldie has plans for her. Iv worked out Alina, and
Princess: yes she is very interesting and complex, at least I think so… as I said, arthurs letter is just a measure of how dangerous it all is, how urgent, yatayatayata. Thanx. Get 19 up, now! Will review when I can.
Ady: excellent ch? Wow, thanx. Yup, I was hoping someone would pick up on the eyes, so I made it obvious, but it's a hint to something else if u look carefully, well, not yet, b/c I don't think iv hinted at that yet, but o ull c… yup Voldemorts got BIG plans for her, which I think iv made a bit obvious as well, or mayb that's just me, dunno, nope, she doesn't have a happy story ahead of her, well, parts of it….. shutting up now… cant like cant hate her, can only pity her, most perfect reaction I could ask for
Amadeus: wow, I really don't deserve all this praise u kno, but thanx, im glad u like it!
Abbey: thanx!
Shadow: thanx
Fay: wow, so uv read Ady? Great, gotta luv her stories, and she told me she was glad someone got some use out of her faves. Amazing author that grl.
Nagh: thanx! Glad u like it!
Sea Faerie: awesome, hooked on it? Wow, thanx. Yes, as she is all dark and mysterious and strong looking externally isnt she, but ur right, inside she is soft and broken, shes human, struggling w/human emotion. In fact, ill tell u something, I put a lot of myself, my darker qualities, my internal struggles, my battles, etc into Alina, so Alina is pseudo-me in quite a few ways, no im not a rich, prejudiced upperclass grl, etc, but in many ways, she has my darker qualities and struggles. I luv her for this reason. Its really a great way to write off ur problems and tell every1 whats going on and spill ur problems w/o doing it directly, of course, not every single problem Alina has is mine, but a majority of them r, yes as I just said, it's a great guilty pleasure, like therapy or something, when u want to tell every1 how hard it really is sometimes, u can do it this way, indirectly, w/o worrying abt how they'll c u or feeling awkward. As to ur note to darth yoda, I want to thank u for sticking up for me, or the story at least, uv said everything I wish I could, but cant, being the author. But genius, extravagant, I don't think I deserve that! Thanx tho
Rachy: hormones? Lol, I guess u could put it that way, she IS a teenage grl after all, her emotions r going 1000 mph, but it goes deeper than that, shesgot deeper-seated issues that any of us would have difficulty dealing w/. as I said to others b4, Alina is really a pseudo-me, iv given her a lot of (ok so im not an arrogant upperclass girl, and she has probs I don't and vice versa, u get the pt) my own probs, my own internal struggles, the darker parts of me that I hide from the world. I luv her for this reason, b/c shes party me and I created her. Yup, shes deff got issues, or rather, iv got some issues, lol. It's a great way to write out ur emotions whe u feel like telling people what ur feeling and how hard things r sometimes, and that u have got problems, w/o feeling awkward and worrying bout how they'll c u. shes got a lot of other things u havent even seen yet tho, I don't think iv written in the "m I really a shallow, empty monster incapable of true human feeling and human love" thing yet have I? That's a painful issue iv battled w/a lot, and m looking forward to writing in. u luv it? Wow, thanx…
Daydreamer: yes I m evil, making a beautiful place like australia hold such a horrible society, but, it had to be put somewhere, so… yes, she probably would have been a nice grl, its sad isnt it, the way society ruined her? The mask is beginning to fall, but its not that ez for her to bcome suitable to this new world shes in, she came from a completely diff place, its not that ez to grow into something so diff, it takes time, acceptance, and possibly pain. Nope the trio wont ever trust her, they c one side of her that isnt worthy of trust. Just like sea faerie said, on the outside shes all dark and mysterious, but inside shes really soft and almost broken. Shes a very complex character. Her eyes, do have something to do w/Voldemort, very clever of u franny, no one else picked up on that, btu theres a lot more to it than that ::mwahahahaha:: great great great? Wow, thanx. Since im finishing typing this at the moment at almot 11 am aug 6, im prob posting it after ur first day, sad really. Iv still got abt a month of summertime left. Hope u had a good first day!