Title: Jo Stevens (01)
Author name: Jet130
Author email:
jet_silverleaf@hotmail.com
Category: Drama
Keywords: Jo, Draco, Paraplegic, my story
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA
Summary: This fic is based on an OC - Jo Stevens.
Read about her life when she is transferrd to Hogwarts
during her and Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco's seventh
year. Read about her friends - and enemies.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations
created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not
limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and
Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark
infringement is intended. This story is based on characters and
situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers
including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and
Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no
copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Any similarity to a real person is entirely intentional.
Author notes: A BIG thanks to my WONDERFUL Beta, Sophie,
and a shoutout to orange_smartie,
who really inspired me to write and to Gilly and Iona, without whom,
I wouldn't have been able to write this. I thank you all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo Stevens
Chapter 1 - The Treatment
Who is going to save him?
No one wants to know him.
"Stop Living the Lie." by David Sneddon, Winner of Fame Academy 2003
"Draco?" I asked, looking up at the blonde head that was a few meters in front of me.
He turned round.
"Oh my God! Jo!"
"It's great to see you, Draco!" I exclaimed, as he leant down to envelop me in an enormous hug, then suddenly; he pulled away, looking around him, and glared at me.
"What?" I asked, but then I recalled the owls he had sent me. "Oh, yeah. Hard man. Sorry."
Draco grinned at me, and asked what I was doing on platform 9 ¾.
"Oh, my mum has just been transferred, so I've been… deported with her."
"Which year…?"
"I'm going to be in your year, Draco!"
"You are? Oh my God! Hey, I'm Head boy this year, and I know who Head Girl is, and quite frankly, a) I don't think you'd fit in the other compartments, and b) I need someone to stop me from going mad."
"Aw! You poor thing! Well, I think you have a point, actually, Dungeon Master."
"Don't call me that! You know I don't like that rubbish little 'Dungeons and Dragons' Muggle crap that you do!"
I caught sight of Professor McGonagall form over Draco's shoulder.
"Draco, I need a word with Ms. Stevens," she said briskly, crisply, efficiently.
"Yes, Professor McGonagall. Sorry. I…"
"Never mind, I'm glad you know someone, Jo," she turned to look down at me.
"Um, Minerva, I… sorry - Professor, I think that… I can't fit in the compartments…"
"So can she hang with Granger and myself?"
"Can who hang with us, Malfoy?" this time the voice was from behind my shoulder.
"Can I hang with you."
"Oh, hello, Jo."
"Yes… um, Professor, I think you'd better get me on the train now, right?'
"Ah! Here you go! Wingardium Leviosa!"
She levitated me onto the train, and left us in the Head Boy / Girl compartment, where Hermione said hello.
When I replied, Hermione blushed and sat down. She looked out of the window at the fleeting countryside, and I looked around the compartment properly for the first time.'
Ornately furnished with 19th century decoration, I noticed that there were few personals left around, apart from a scratched initial. I went over to it, and looked. Hmm… Well! Whaddya know? It's Cho's name!
My eyes wandered to the two desks in the room. Plenty of Head Girls and Boys had written long owls and memos here, and plenty of people had planted stink bombs here, waiting for the unlucky person to find them. I could still smell them.
My Elven hearing could pick out the sounds of cats and owls from along the train, and snatches of conversation, mostly about Quidditch. "
What's Quidditch?" I asked Draco, suddenly feeling very naïve.
"Wizard's sport; played on broomsticks. What's the Elvish version?" replied Draco.
"I don't know," I uttered bitterly, and looked him in the eye. "I can't play it."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Don't worry, Draco," I said, avoiding his gaze. "It's not your fault I'm in a wheelchair."
"It is," he argued bluntly. "I… I could've done something! I… I should've not just stayed there… I… I could've-"
"No. If you'd left, I wouldn't even be here. Be grateful I am, yeah?" I insisted.
"Yeah."
He averted his gaze, and I could tell that I'd finished that conversation, but I knew that he was still brooding on the subject.
"I just wish I'd been able to stop it," he whispered, knowing I could hear him.
*
Sorry. You must think I'm awfully rude. I'm Joanne Stephens. I'm the Elf in the wheelchair. It all happened a long time ago, and I don't like to think about it, but here I am, and I'm proud of myself.
Anyway, being an Elf I can hear, see and feel or sense things better than other humanoids. I can talk to animals, and see in the dark. I should be able to jump higher than is natural, and be a bit of a rogue or an assassin, but my wheelchair prevented me from doing such things.
(For those of you who still haven't figured it out, I had no use of my legs, I was a paraplegic, and I'd been stuck in a sitting position for quite a few years.)
Anyway, back to the story.
*
We arrived at Hogwarts not too long afterwards, and Hagrid was there to meet us. Having said 'Hello' to Harry, who I already knew, he greeted a tall redhead, and walked over to us.
"Well, hello, there, Ms. Stevens! How are you today?"
"Better, Hagrid, and call me Jo! How about yourself?"
I remember Hagrid. I once met him in Diagon Alley. It was a sunny day, and I still had use of my legs. Funny, that. That he should recognise me, even though I had changed so much.
"Not so bad… Jo," he said hesitantly.
"Good. I'm glad. Um, don't you have to take the first-years over the lake?"
"Well, yes, but they wanted me to take you, too."
"Oh. Well, let's do it then!"
*
Something I have to tell you is that I had really come to Hogwarts for one reason. I would still have gone to Beauxbatons if it weren't for the supposed remedy for my condition that Albus supposedly had.
God, I hoped it worked. I just wanted
to walk about… just once… Is that too much to ask?
*
"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but…" Professor McGonagall started, and for a while, I just daydreamt. I thought of the food that Draco had described with masses of detail and the owl post in the mornings. "…And also, we welcome Ms. Stevens to our Seventh year. I believe you all know of her."
Whenever someone introduces me, I get the same stupid admiring glances. I hated them. They were always the same mixes of awe and surprise. Oh, well, I thought I might as well ignore the pygmies.
"Follow me," Professor McGonagall said, a nd we did, my gloves catching on the wheels, and my breath catching in my throat.
"I don't know why she insists on using that infernal Muggle contraption for getting about in," one of the boys stated to his friend, thinking that I couldn't hear.
"Yeah… have you seen her ears?"
"Do you mind?" I turned around. "I'd prefer it if people didn't talk about me, especially where I can hear them." That shut them up.
"She's one of The Tribe, I hear," a girl
across the other side of the room whispered
to her friend. She was right. My mum is Elven,
and my dad was of the Tribe. My, even longer
than really seems possible, fingers prove that.
I wheeled myself over, and she placed the grimy hat on my head, and I thought about my hair, but thought that better of it, knowing that the hat was magic, and it wouldn't leave a mark.
"Very true," the hat whispered in my ear.
Hello. How are you?
"Fine, never been better! Actually, not many people ask me that…"
Well, they should more often, I think.
"I know you think that, my dear. Anyway, how does Ravenclaw sound?"
Ravenclaw? Cool, I suppose. I'm not sure about these houses, but Ravenclaw doesn't seem to have any bad things said abut it… that might change…
"I doubt it," the hat said in my ear, then it shouted to the whole hall:
"RAVENCLAW!"
The table second from the left exploded, and I wheeled myself over to it.
"I'm Andi," said the girl to my left. "Andi Peters."
"Well, you know who I am, Andi. It's nice to meet you."
"Hey, Jo, why do you use a wheelchair?" she asked.
"I don't know. Is it convenience? Just that I can't be bothered? Or is it that it improves my upper body strength? I think the latter."
She laughed.
"You know, Jo, you're a right laugh!"
"Wow! My reputation precedes me!"
"Yes, actually it does…"
I nodded in agreement, and looked up at the ceiling. I remembered it from Draco's description of it, and looked down to see Draco walking over as soon as Albus had begun the feast. He leant down and whispered in my ear.
"Hey, Jo. How about we meet up tomorrow? I think we have charms together."
"Cool," I said, looked up at him and smiled as he stood up again.
"I'll see you there then." He placed an almost fatherly hand on my shoulder before walking back to the Slytherin table, running his hand t hrough his messy-on-purpose hair. Much better than how he used to have it, I thought, before Andi broke into my train of thought. She had been talking to a pretty blonde girl to her left, but now, her green eyes turned to me, and she brushed back some of her jet-black hair.
What are you doing?" she asked, giving me a searching look, "Fraternising with Malfoy?"
"Draco is my friend," I said giving her a hard look. "And I will chat with him when I like, thank you very much. No-one rules my life but me."
"Excuse me, are you the Ravenclaw prefect? It's just, I need to get something from the dorm." I ask the blond that Andi had been talking to.
The girl turned to face me.
"Yes, I am. Can't it wait?"
"No."
She sighed resignedly, and looked up at someone I instantly recognise from Draco's description. That must be Flitwick.
Flitwick nodded, and we got up. Sorry, she got up.
"I'm Hannah. Hannah Taylor."
"Nice to meet you, Hannah," I said, and looked up at her. She didn't like me it seemed.
"Yeah. Are you taking notice of where we're going?" she asked.
"Yes, I am."
"Good."
I nodded and went into my racing position. You see, you can race in wheelchairs. I had often taken part in races, and was quite fast. However:
"No racing in the corridors," she said without turning around.
"Ah, you must me Alastor's step-daughter."
"Yes, but he's Mr. Moody to you."
"Alastor's moody to anyone!"
"Ha, ha, so funny."
"Ooh! Feel the sarcasm oozing!"
She made a slight noise through her nose, and we got to the common room.
"Here we are. The password's 'Chelsea'."
"Chelsea? Oh, right! The blues!"
She made another noise through her nose and walked away.
"Wait! How do I…? Bother."
She'd left me there, and I wasn't entirely sure as to where I was or what to do, so I asked a painting.
"Excuse me, my name's Joanne Stevens, and I'm a little lost as to what to do regarding getting into the Ravenclaw common Room."
"Oh, you must be the new girl."
"Yes," I said, feeling exasperated, however, when your best friend for quite a few years had been Fleur Delacour, you got used to not showing it.
"Password?"
"Chelsea."
The painting I had been talking to, one of an old man that looked strangely like a young Einstein, creaked open, and I looked at the wall where the painting used to be.
There was a hole about 2" from the floor.
"Oh, shit."
"Hello?" a voice asked from behind me.
"Oh! Hello!"
"Hi. I followed you, Ms. Stevens. I hope you don't mind."
"No, not at all! And call me Jo, everyone does."
"Well, OK, then, Jo. Why don't you Wingardium Leviosa yourself into the hole?"
"Because my magic doesn't quite work that way. I'm a Druid. An Elven Druid of the Tribe."
"Huh. Complicated family, eh?"
"Well, yes, I suppose, but, you know, when you're used to it… anyway, can you help?"
"Why I'd be honoured to! I'm Natasha James."
"Well, then Natasha, do your stuff!"
"OK. Wingardium Leviosa!"
I hovered in mid-air as Natasha's spell lifted me up by an unseen force.
"Ms. James, you can put Jo down now, and go back to the feast," a voice I recognise said from behind her. As she stepped back, Albus Dumbledore stepped forwards.
"Come on, Jo. I think it's time we had a little chat."
"OK, Albus… sorry - Professor."
He laughed, and I was set down on the other side of the wall. The Ravenclaw common room was a cosy place that inspired me to write. Stories, articles, papers, homework, all had been written in this room, and I was sure that I would leave a mark in the year I had there.
I look to the right, and saw a rickety staircase, that on closer inspection was a strong, marble staircase. Confused, I looked past desks and chairs of all shapes and sizes, to a fireplace that glowed with a blue light. Past that was another staircase and a door. I wheeled myself over to the fire, and looked back at Dumbledore. He was fiddling about inside his robes.
"Here," he said, passing me a bottle. Inside was a potion, its putrid fumes wreaking havoc with my nostrils, its heat burning my sensitive fingers, its colour hurting my eyes. I wasn't sure why, but for a second, I was afraid.
I looked up at the tall, suddenly frail man standing in front of me. I was sure he was frowning, but as soon as I thought that, he sat down opposite me on a plush armchair, covered in what I expect was a William Morris original design.
I looked up at him, with all my fear and uncertainty in my eyes.
"This is what it is. If anything's going to work, it'll be this. I must warn you, though. It might not work."
"I think it's worth the effort, eh?"
"Yes," he said, then looked at me seriously.
"I need to teach you the Druidic version of our levitation spell, don't I?"
We spent a few minutes on that, and then he left to finish up the feast. No doubt he would have been missed. I already knew where not to go, and I knew now what I had to do. I had to take a swig of this every hour, on the hour that I wasn't asleep. Soon, I would be able to feel something. Then, finally, I'd be able to walk. It'd be a long process, though. I just hoped it was all worth it. I kept thinking that it wasn't going to work. It's the pessimist's view on life.
'Life is like the body.
Whatever you put into it,
It all comes out as crap.'
Lovely way to view life, eh? I thought as the hole-in-the-wall opened, and Andi clambered through.
"Hello, Jo," she said coldly.
I nodded in her direction and looked down at the vial. I sure as hell hoped it worked.
Hannah came over to me and showed me where I would be sleeping. I waved to Natasha, and levitated myself up the stairs.
"You'll sleep here," Hannah said, and I looked around the room. It was quite impressive, really. Not quite as nice as Beauxbatons, but comfy, I expected. I wheeled myself over to the bed Hannah pointed to, and I hauled myself onto it. I changed my garments with a spell, and I settled myself in.
End of Chapter 1
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