Author's Note: This chapter sees the Lord of the Rings characters colliding
head-on with the world of Hogwarts. I haven't "completely" decided how old
Harry Potter and the rest of his year are going to be, but since I've given
this a "PG" rating (soon to be changed to "PG-13"), I'm making them sixth
years, old enough to have some, ahem, fun. And yes, MoreTheWolfGod, Legolas
does finally make an appearance.
# # # # # # # # #
Chapter Two: All Aboard
"Who's he?" Lavender Brown breathed to her friend, Parvati Patil. "Is he a student? Oh, but he looks far too tall. What a shame. He's GORGEOUS."
"That hair," Parvati breathed.
"Those eyes," her twin sister, Padma, finished.
"Ugh, he looks gay," Seamus Finnegan, Lavender and Parvati's fellow Gryffindorian finished up, causing all three girls to shriek, "He does not!" and lampoon him with accusing glares.
The object of their lust, and one's disdain, was a willowy blond leaning casually, yet elegantly, against a crumbling pillar on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. One well-manicured hand was tossing his shiny locks over his shoulder, while the other was clutching a worn copy of "The Sagely Elf's Guide to Tai Chi."
"Look, I'm not saying I "want" him to be gay," Seamus continued, uncomfortable under three sets of eyes sending him death stares. "I mean, I'm straight, for crying out loud. I'm just saying that he most likely is. Look at the facts. He's reading a meditation guide. He's wearing tights-"
"And I'm sure he buffs his nails," Dean Thomas, Seamus's best friend, chipped in.
All four of his companions turned to stare at him. "How do you know what "buffing" is?" Parvati asked.
"Weeelll," Dean began. Lavender, Parvati and Padma watched him expectantly. Seamus backed away. "Oh, come on!" Dean burst out. "I'm an artist! I'm supposed to look after my hands."
"Yeah, whatever you say, mate," Seamus said.
"Mate?" Lavender squealed. All three girls went, "Ewwww."
"Bloody Merlin!" Now it was Seamus' turn to defend his heterosexualinity. "Me dad's Australian. They say "mate" down there to refer to their friends, not as in, you know, the Discover Channel's version of mate."
"Always wondered why Australians had such a low population," Dean grinned. Seamus turned bright red and stomped off.
The tall cool glass of blond elf had conjured his co-ordinating Louis Vuitton luggage set into the luggage compartment and had now made his graceful way onto the train, leaving three (and perhaps four) salivating students in his mist. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He was an easy-going half-blood West Ham supporter [there's no accounting for taste - Arsenal supporting A/N] whose biggest argument in five years of wizarding education had been on why the poster of his favourite football team did not move. Now that the blonde was out of sight, he thought, here was his chance for some piece and quiet.
How wrong he was.
"Look at her," Parvati was simpering. "Look at that dog collar around her neck. How tacky. How cheap."
"And wearing red patent leather knee high boots to the Yule Ball isn't cheap," Dean thought, but because his worse argument to date had been on why Muggle posters did not move, he kept his thoughts to himself, and turned to see what had earned the sharp, simpering tongues of his fellow sixth years.
A girl with thick, wavy blonde hair had just marched through the brick wall separating the wizarding from the Muggle realm, pushing a trolley in front of her with one hand. With the other she was holding a broom with gleaming wood on her shoulder, as though at any minute she expected to swing it upwards and connect with an assailant's chin with a resounding crunch.
Phwooaar, Dean thought [okay, perhaps there were only three students staring at Legolas - A/N].
"Wow, "someone" has ODed on the eyeliner and the dark lipstick!" Padma took up the chase. "I mean, it's a statement, but who's going to kiss you?"
"I would," Dean muttered.
"And that uniform of her's," Lavender put her two Knuts worth in, "it must only be a first year's size, looking at the way it's clinging to her!" Dean was indeed looking. "Someone's certainly trying to play it tough. The skirts at least six inches above her knees, and as for the fishnet tights, well, I'll be very interested on hearing what McGonagall has to say about those!"
Dean wasn't interested in hearing what anyone had to "say" about the petite but athletically-built blonde's tights. He only cared about "looking" at them, and the legs they enclosed.
"Well," someone huffed behind him, "there's no accounting for what they let into this school, without restrictions on allowing only the proper wizarding families children to attend." Pansy Parkinson had joined the fray. "Doesn't that tramp have "halfblood" or "fallen pureblood family" written all over her, Draco darling? Draco?"
Her smaller half was staring at the blonde, his jaw dusting the platform floor.
"Let's go inside, Draco," Pansy snapped, and yanked him into a carriage by the collar of his shirt. Once again, Lavender, Parvati and Padma started to giggle. Dean resisted the urge to point his hands over his ears. After all, he had not had his worst argument within Hogwarts' walls over a West Ham poster for nothing.
* * * * *
A few carriages away Hermione Granger was making observations that were similar to Pansy's, albeit in a much-more tactful manner. "Hogwarts certainly has an interesting intake this year," she was telling the other two-thirds of the inseparable trio, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. "Look at that tall girl trying to get that poor creature to carry her luggage down to the end of the train." If Lavender, Parvati or Padma had been around, they would have observed with disgust that rather than being the elf's tasteful, tradition brown leather Louis Vuitton monogrammed bags, this newcomer's cases were a hideous patent leather blue.
"Yeah, is that thing supposed to be her house elf?" Harry chuckled. "I'd rather have no house elf at all than one that looked like that. He must've come out of someone's garage sale."
"What's a garage sale?" the pureblood Ron asked. "And, more importantly, what's a garage."
"Well," Hermione began, "a garage is a perpendicularly adjointed appendage self-contained or attached to the main abode, typically constructed out of aluminum or the same material as the parent building-"
"It's a room where Muggles store their cars," Harry cut in, seeing the confused look on Ron's face.
"Excuse me," a deep voice boomed from behind the three, "how much longer before the train leaves?"
A large, but not unattractive, boy was standing behind them with a much smaller and sulkier-looking boy standing in his wake. The first boy, Hermione reflected, had a cleft on his chin and lovely dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. Or leered, as the case may be.
"In five more minutes," Hermione told him, glancing at the large clock embedded in the station wall. "I'd get seated and belted up-"
"Belted up?" the first boy repeated, a gleam in his eye. Behind them the second boy cringed.
"-shortly," Hermione finished, giving him an assessing look.
"Will do. Is that a Prefect's badge I spy on your brea- err, cloak?"
"It certainly is," Hermione said, flushing up proudly. Behind her Ron made a coughing noise that sounded oddly like "Percy!"
"And it's your first year, undertaking this, er-"
"Responsibility," the second boy supplied for him, rolling his eyes.
"-I take it?"
"It certainly is," Hermione repeated, flushing up further with every word. "How did you know?"
"I guessed by the way you were pushing out your chest oh-so-proudly," the first boy leered. "Not that I mind, of course."
Hermione's smile dropped. "Five points off, off, whatever house you end up in!" she cried. "Which, judging by that display, I'm sure will be Slytherin!"
"Boromir, go and store our luggage away," the second brother ordered the first. "May I impose a technicality? The rulebook explicitly decrees that until term starts, which is on the Monday after the Sorting Ceremony, that points cannot be deducted from a student's house."
"Didn't know that, eh, Hermione?" Harry asked with a grin.
"Of course I knew that," Hermione said defensively.
"But you just said-" Faramir persisted.
"Oh, go get on the train, you, you bookworm!" Hermione cried, sending Harry and Ron doubling over, speechless with laughter.
"Pot calling kettle black, eh?" Ron said when he'd finally recovered.
As Hermione was seeking to retain what was left of her dignity, a large and heavy object collided with Harry - Neville Longbottom. "Come on, come on," he panted, hustling them towards the train. "I hear there's midgets on board!"
# # # # # # # # #
Author's Note: Not stellar, but I started this fic as a diversion so I don't want to knock myself out with it. Besides, study beckons...
# # # # # # # # #
Chapter Two: All Aboard
"Who's he?" Lavender Brown breathed to her friend, Parvati Patil. "Is he a student? Oh, but he looks far too tall. What a shame. He's GORGEOUS."
"That hair," Parvati breathed.
"Those eyes," her twin sister, Padma, finished.
"Ugh, he looks gay," Seamus Finnegan, Lavender and Parvati's fellow Gryffindorian finished up, causing all three girls to shriek, "He does not!" and lampoon him with accusing glares.
The object of their lust, and one's disdain, was a willowy blond leaning casually, yet elegantly, against a crumbling pillar on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. One well-manicured hand was tossing his shiny locks over his shoulder, while the other was clutching a worn copy of "The Sagely Elf's Guide to Tai Chi."
"Look, I'm not saying I "want" him to be gay," Seamus continued, uncomfortable under three sets of eyes sending him death stares. "I mean, I'm straight, for crying out loud. I'm just saying that he most likely is. Look at the facts. He's reading a meditation guide. He's wearing tights-"
"And I'm sure he buffs his nails," Dean Thomas, Seamus's best friend, chipped in.
All four of his companions turned to stare at him. "How do you know what "buffing" is?" Parvati asked.
"Weeelll," Dean began. Lavender, Parvati and Padma watched him expectantly. Seamus backed away. "Oh, come on!" Dean burst out. "I'm an artist! I'm supposed to look after my hands."
"Yeah, whatever you say, mate," Seamus said.
"Mate?" Lavender squealed. All three girls went, "Ewwww."
"Bloody Merlin!" Now it was Seamus' turn to defend his heterosexualinity. "Me dad's Australian. They say "mate" down there to refer to their friends, not as in, you know, the Discover Channel's version of mate."
"Always wondered why Australians had such a low population," Dean grinned. Seamus turned bright red and stomped off.
The tall cool glass of blond elf had conjured his co-ordinating Louis Vuitton luggage set into the luggage compartment and had now made his graceful way onto the train, leaving three (and perhaps four) salivating students in his mist. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He was an easy-going half-blood West Ham supporter [there's no accounting for taste - Arsenal supporting A/N] whose biggest argument in five years of wizarding education had been on why the poster of his favourite football team did not move. Now that the blonde was out of sight, he thought, here was his chance for some piece and quiet.
How wrong he was.
"Look at her," Parvati was simpering. "Look at that dog collar around her neck. How tacky. How cheap."
"And wearing red patent leather knee high boots to the Yule Ball isn't cheap," Dean thought, but because his worse argument to date had been on why Muggle posters did not move, he kept his thoughts to himself, and turned to see what had earned the sharp, simpering tongues of his fellow sixth years.
A girl with thick, wavy blonde hair had just marched through the brick wall separating the wizarding from the Muggle realm, pushing a trolley in front of her with one hand. With the other she was holding a broom with gleaming wood on her shoulder, as though at any minute she expected to swing it upwards and connect with an assailant's chin with a resounding crunch.
Phwooaar, Dean thought [okay, perhaps there were only three students staring at Legolas - A/N].
"Wow, "someone" has ODed on the eyeliner and the dark lipstick!" Padma took up the chase. "I mean, it's a statement, but who's going to kiss you?"
"I would," Dean muttered.
"And that uniform of her's," Lavender put her two Knuts worth in, "it must only be a first year's size, looking at the way it's clinging to her!" Dean was indeed looking. "Someone's certainly trying to play it tough. The skirts at least six inches above her knees, and as for the fishnet tights, well, I'll be very interested on hearing what McGonagall has to say about those!"
Dean wasn't interested in hearing what anyone had to "say" about the petite but athletically-built blonde's tights. He only cared about "looking" at them, and the legs they enclosed.
"Well," someone huffed behind him, "there's no accounting for what they let into this school, without restrictions on allowing only the proper wizarding families children to attend." Pansy Parkinson had joined the fray. "Doesn't that tramp have "halfblood" or "fallen pureblood family" written all over her, Draco darling? Draco?"
Her smaller half was staring at the blonde, his jaw dusting the platform floor.
"Let's go inside, Draco," Pansy snapped, and yanked him into a carriage by the collar of his shirt. Once again, Lavender, Parvati and Padma started to giggle. Dean resisted the urge to point his hands over his ears. After all, he had not had his worst argument within Hogwarts' walls over a West Ham poster for nothing.
* * * * *
A few carriages away Hermione Granger was making observations that were similar to Pansy's, albeit in a much-more tactful manner. "Hogwarts certainly has an interesting intake this year," she was telling the other two-thirds of the inseparable trio, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. "Look at that tall girl trying to get that poor creature to carry her luggage down to the end of the train." If Lavender, Parvati or Padma had been around, they would have observed with disgust that rather than being the elf's tasteful, tradition brown leather Louis Vuitton monogrammed bags, this newcomer's cases were a hideous patent leather blue.
"Yeah, is that thing supposed to be her house elf?" Harry chuckled. "I'd rather have no house elf at all than one that looked like that. He must've come out of someone's garage sale."
"What's a garage sale?" the pureblood Ron asked. "And, more importantly, what's a garage."
"Well," Hermione began, "a garage is a perpendicularly adjointed appendage self-contained or attached to the main abode, typically constructed out of aluminum or the same material as the parent building-"
"It's a room where Muggles store their cars," Harry cut in, seeing the confused look on Ron's face.
"Excuse me," a deep voice boomed from behind the three, "how much longer before the train leaves?"
A large, but not unattractive, boy was standing behind them with a much smaller and sulkier-looking boy standing in his wake. The first boy, Hermione reflected, had a cleft on his chin and lovely dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. Or leered, as the case may be.
"In five more minutes," Hermione told him, glancing at the large clock embedded in the station wall. "I'd get seated and belted up-"
"Belted up?" the first boy repeated, a gleam in his eye. Behind them the second boy cringed.
"-shortly," Hermione finished, giving him an assessing look.
"Will do. Is that a Prefect's badge I spy on your brea- err, cloak?"
"It certainly is," Hermione said, flushing up proudly. Behind her Ron made a coughing noise that sounded oddly like "Percy!"
"And it's your first year, undertaking this, er-"
"Responsibility," the second boy supplied for him, rolling his eyes.
"-I take it?"
"It certainly is," Hermione repeated, flushing up further with every word. "How did you know?"
"I guessed by the way you were pushing out your chest oh-so-proudly," the first boy leered. "Not that I mind, of course."
Hermione's smile dropped. "Five points off, off, whatever house you end up in!" she cried. "Which, judging by that display, I'm sure will be Slytherin!"
"Boromir, go and store our luggage away," the second brother ordered the first. "May I impose a technicality? The rulebook explicitly decrees that until term starts, which is on the Monday after the Sorting Ceremony, that points cannot be deducted from a student's house."
"Didn't know that, eh, Hermione?" Harry asked with a grin.
"Of course I knew that," Hermione said defensively.
"But you just said-" Faramir persisted.
"Oh, go get on the train, you, you bookworm!" Hermione cried, sending Harry and Ron doubling over, speechless with laughter.
"Pot calling kettle black, eh?" Ron said when he'd finally recovered.
As Hermione was seeking to retain what was left of her dignity, a large and heavy object collided with Harry - Neville Longbottom. "Come on, come on," he panted, hustling them towards the train. "I hear there's midgets on board!"
# # # # # # # # #
Author's Note: Not stellar, but I started this fic as a diversion so I don't want to knock myself out with it. Besides, study beckons...