Author's Note : Super, special thanks to Thalia, without whom, this entire work would not be possible. I owe her a lot, and I just want to make it known that though the pairing mentioned in this story might still have existed, it would be nothing interesting without her. All thanks go to her Smiteyness, and a special nod should be given to her characterizations of Cassius Warrington and Solan Montague.
Disclaimer: I am poor and own nothing, save the evil, sinister Mikel Dobbs, which I am not quick to confess to owning. All characters, situations, places, etc. therein belong to J. K. Rowling unless otherwise noted. No copyright is being infringed and no money is being made. Etc. Etc. Etc.
"She walks to school with the lunch she packed
Nobody knows what she's holding back
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday
She hides the bruises with linen and lace
The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask
Bearing the burden of a secret storm
Sometimes she wishes she was never born"
The young Dobbs girl did not stand out against the sea of black cloaks that filled the Great Hall at the Sorting Ceremony. In fact, her small, frail body was completely engulfed by the other first years surrounding her. Their chatter rose up against the high, enchanted ceiling, but she said nothing, felt nothing. The girl filed in with the other new students as she had been told to do and stood in front of the room, looking completely nonplussed at the splendour around her. Her mouth stayed in a thin, straight line and her eyes gazed at the tattered old hat as it sang.
Almost out of character for a girl her age, she did not bounce up to the stool when the name "Dobbs, Emma" was called in a display of eternal youth. She did not smile or blush or look as if she was living at all. Rather, she slowly stepped forward out of line and sat down, as if it were an entirely natural act to occur at such a time and place.
The entire hall watched as the hat Sorted the small, pale girl with the sunken, clouded blue eyes. A rather surprising declaration of "SLYTHERIN!" sent the table clad in green and silver to leap to their feet in celebration. As if fleeing from an evil unseen, she took the hat off her head and sprang for her destined table. Her movements were quickly intercepted by a rather nasty looking young man.
"Brother," she breathed in a hushed tone, "I am where you wanted me."
"I know, sister," Mikel Dobbs replied, an evil smirk befalling his face, "Sit."
He pulled her down into a seat at the Slytherin table, which had long since returned to silence. And she sat...still...hard...cold. She showed no emotion as other students were chosen for her new House. No clapping rang from her scarred hands. No laughter emitted from her sallow face.
"Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete angel"
Several days and nights had passed since the night of the Sorting, and most of the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had already fallen into the stupor that came along with the year's first days of school. Everyone was so caught up their schedules…in their teachers…in their lives that no one noticed a little first year girl practically clinging to a certain Slytherin Prefect. No one noticed his rough manner with her, no one noticed the tears that were permanently set in the corner of Emma Dobbs's eyes.
Because no one seemed to care.
"Somebody cries in the middle of the night
The neighbours hear, but they turn out the lights
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate
When morning comes it'll be too late"
"She's puny," grunted Quidditch Captain Marcus Flint, his hand rubbing his expensive broomstick methodically.
"Hardly worth having around," agreed Darius Bole distastefully, "Why do you bother?"
The Slytherin Keeper sneered at his fellow teamates with a vulgar expression on his face. He had insisted his little sister accompany him to the year's first practice, and he had thrown her into a corner of the locker room, her body huddling up so as to keep out of the way. The boys had taken a great interest in examining Dobbs's little sister.
Draco Malfoy turned his face towards Mikel. "Oy, what are you going to do with her?"
"Do?" Mikel leaned against the wall calmly, successfully looking nonchalant.
Vittorio Derrick smirked in an unhealthy, evil manner. "Y'know what we mean, Dobbs, what're you going to use her for?"
The small bundle that was Emma Dobbs trembled when her brother began to describe his plans for his weak sister. The talk went on for several minutes before an anxious Cassius Warrington cut in ("As fascinating as the idea of scrutinizing the little girl might be for you lot, I think we have PRACTICE?") and Solan Montague agreed loudly. The rest of the team gave in and Mikel Dobbs dragged his sister out of her corner and onto the field, where she was forced to sit and watch the three hour practice.
"Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete angel"
It was custom for new members of the great and noble House of Slytherin to undergo a sort of….Initiation…into the ranks of the sinister organization. And, no amount of money or power in your family would keep you from having to experience the traditional processes. What was required varied for each new member, from extremely embarrassing to extremely outrageous, but no one protested. Ever.
The plans were made for the younger sister of Mikel Dobbs, and the plan of her Initiation was put into action on the fourth day of her new school year - the day the first year Slytherins had Transfiguration.
Emma Dobbs had always been told to do what was required of her - to blend in and be a model student - to follow the rules and meet and rise above all expectations. Arriving to class on time was just one of the many expectations she was told to meet. Today would be no exception, so, as she was prone to do, she left breakfast with precisely fifteen minutes to get to her first class of the day, which happened to be with the intimidating Professor McGonagall.
She had already walked several paces down the hallway when she realised she had no idea where Professor McGonagall or her Transfiguration class might even remotely be located. Shrugging lightly, she turned to the first housemate she met; Draco Malfoy and his two bullies of friends only sneered menacingly at her as she asked for directions.
Only discouraged the tiniest bit, as Malfoy had never been one of her favourite people, having met him before Hogwarts. A few steps later, she saw Alexandra Richardson, an older Slytherin girl with a very sweet overall disposition. A small inquiry and a few directions later, Emma thanked the girl and set off in the way she had been pointed.
It was only when Emma realised that Alexandra had given her directions to the girl's loo on the fourth floor that she began to panic slightly. Class would be starting relatively soon, and she would prefer to get there early enough to have a seat close to the teacher. Her eyesight had never been very good.
She walked quickly, eyes darting to and fro. She inquired of the location of her desired classroom of every Slytherin she encountered for the next ten minutes. Each one either laughed at her like Malfoy, or gave her directions to locations she had already visited. More than once, she went on a wild goose chase.
The bell for the beginning of class rang, and she hysterically inquired of the location of the Transfiguration classroom of every student who passed, caring not for which House they belonged. No one responded. No one stopped. No one even batted an eye. And Emma Dobbs slumped, defeated, onto the floor.
"A statue stands in a shaded place
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot"
"Oy, what're you doing here?" inquired an older Gryffindor boy with sandy blonde hair.
Emma's head rose to look at him slowly. She tried to back away, but his foot was planted heavily on the corner of her robe. "I…I…" she looked around, trying to come up with an excuse better than "I'm lost".
"Well, it'd probably be easier to figure out what you're doing if you got off the floor," the boy went on, offering a hand to her, and she took it, standing rather unsteadily, "And I hope you don't mind hurrying it up a bit, as I'm late for class."
"So am I," she managed to reply, withdrawing her hand from his slowly, "For Transfiguration…wherever that might be…do you know?"
"Of course," he nodded in response, "Just go up the stairs to your right, hang a left at the statue of Uric the Oddball and then walk up the flight of stairs that will be on the right. It's beside a painting of Godric Gryffindor. You can't miss it."
"Thank you," she nodded gratefully, gathering up her things and turning to leave, but she was restricted by his foot. "Oh, your foot seems to be keeping me here."
He looked down, and indeed, his foot was pinning her robe to the ground. "Terribly sorry about that," he apologised, removing it, "Don't know my own strength. My name's Seamus Finnigan by the way," he looked up, "and you are…gone." Without a doubt, the small Slytherin girl has already fled the scene. Seamus shrugged and continued on his way to class, figuring he would never see the girl again, so it didn't matter that he hadn't gotten her name.
Seamus Finnigan was very wrong. Emma Dobbs had hear his name ringing through the halls as she ran towards the statue of Uric the Oddball. She wrote the name down in her notebook as McGonagall chastised her for not arriving on time, but she wasn't listening. Someone, for once, had seen her.
"Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete angel"