Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J. K. Rowling's. Anything else is
mine.
*******
"Brady, Hannah."
A short girl in pigtails nervously moved forward to sit on the stool, looking decidedly green. The rest of the first years were huddled together at the front of the Great Hall, watching the Sorting anxiously and staring around them in awe. I smiled, thinking how terrifying my own Sorting had been.
Now, of course, it was just boring.
As the Sorting Hat was placed on Hannah's head, I turned my attention to the conversations buzzing around me.
"--so I said, 'no way,' but he said, 'yeah," so I said--"
"Did you hear about that attack near Bath?"
"That girl's been up there forever! I wish the Hat would get a move on so I can eat."
"--fourteen Muggles! And the Ministry still says it's the work of renegades, the idiots--"
"So who do you think will be teaching Defense this year?" a third year asked, indicating the empty seat at the staff table.
"No idea," another girl answered. "But I heard they had to look outside the country this time. No one wants to take a job that's jinxed!"
"A Galleon says it's an American," said a burly sixth year.
"If it is, I'm transferring to Durmstrang. Everyone knows Americans are a few beans short of a box."
"Better that than a bloody Frenchman. Probably blow himself up before the first week was over."
"And us along with him. But why isn't he here, then?"
"Maybe he's sick."
"Maybe they couldn't find anyone."
"Maybe they're letting Snape teach it." Several people laughed at this, imagining how the Gryffindors would react.
"So Blaise, are you going to tell me what happened on the train?" Draco asked. "You looked like hell when you came back in the compartment."
That was an understatement. My robes had been shredded where Granger's monster had latched onto me, seemingly intent on chewing off my leg. I'd changed before leaving the train, of course, but I'd received quite a few odd looks from passengers who'd seen me in such a state.
I relayed the incident to Draco, who seemed to find it incredibly funny, especially when I described how I'd nearly been murdered by a cat. I made a mental note to have Athena leave dead mice in Draco's bed.
Thankfully, I was spared further ridicule when the Sorting finally ended with "Vaseki, Lionel" becoming a Gryffindor.
Headmaster Dumbledore stood and beamed at the assembled masses. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. There is only one thing I would like to say before we enjoy the feast the house elves have so graciously prepared, and that is: /Nunca escuche a un hombre que lleva amarillo cerca de una colmena/. Thank you."
There was a light spattering of applause as the headmaster sat down. Some people laughed (mostly Ravenclaws), but most just looked confused.
"That old man gets more senile every year," Draco said, ignoring the gasps from the first years as the food appeared and reaching for a bun.
"He's not senile," I said with a smile. "He's just got a strange sense of humor."
Draco looked doubtful. "Really? What did he say then?"
I smirked. "'Never listen to a man wearing yellow near a beehive.'"
"And this is supposed to convince me Dumbledore isn't mad?"
"Oh, he's mad, all right," I replied. "I just said he wasn't senile."
I ducked as a carrot flew at my head. "Shut up, Zabini."
Dinner progressed as usual, with annoying first years making attempts at conversation with older students (none too successfully, I might add) and a few obligatory death glares directed at the other houses. It was mildly entertaining watching Crabbe and Goyle stuff their faces like they hadn't eaten in months, but once they started on their fourth helping it was just nauseating. It was no wonder they looked like trolls.
Once the remnants of dessert had disappeared, the headmaster stood once again. "Before I send you off to bed, I have a few start-of-term announcements," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, as per usual. "The Forbidden Forest is, of course, forbidden. Also, please note that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes.
"As you may have noticed, there is an empty seat at the staff table. Due to unfortunate events, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has been delayed and was unable to attend this evening. However, I can assure you that she will arrive in time to teach classes tomorrow morning. I trust you will all treat her with the respect she deserves."
Dumbledore's gaze seemed to pause on me for a moment, sending chills down my spine. What was the old man up to? "Now, off you go!"
Whispers erupted around me as we stood and headed for the exit.
"Did he say 'she'?"
"What do you think made her miss the feast?"
"Maybe she got stuck in traffic."
"How would she get stuck in traffic? Wouldn't she just Apparate?
"Maybe she splinched herself!"
"Oh great, it's Quirrel all over again..."
In the Entrance Hall, the student body split into their respective houses, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw turning up separate staircases, Hufflepuff disappearing down some obscure corridor, and Slytherin heading deep into the dungeons and stopping before a blank stretch of wall.
"All right, listen up, 'cause I'm only saying this once," Alex DeWar, a sixth year prefect, snapped. "The password is 'Runespoor'. This will change periodically, and if you forget it, you'll have to wait outside the Common Room until someone comes along." He glared meaningfully at the first years. "I suggest you don't forget it."
"Get a move on, will you DeWar?" called someone from the back of the crowd. "We'd like to get in while we're still young." The Slytherins murmured in agreement, some yawning widely to emphasize their point.
DeWar scowled, but turned and opened the wall, revealing the Slytherin Common Room. The first years gathered near the fireplace where DeWar lectured them on maintaining the status quo. The rest of us shuffled gratefully past the soft green couches and chairs and down the stairways to the dorms.
Draco stopped before the second-to-last door, which held a plaque that read "Fifth Years", and pushed it open. I followed him inside and immediately collapsed on my four-poster, earning an annoyed hiss from Athena, who had been curled up on my pillow.
"Sorry, girl," I muttered sleepily, only pausing to close the curtains around my bed before drifting off to sleep.
*******
I was awoke the next morning by a startled cry, followed by a muffled thump as something fell heavily to the dungeon floor.
I grinned and pushed my curtains open to see Draco Malfoy sprawled on the floor, along with most of his bed sheets. "Morning, Draco."
"Be glad I haven't the energy to kill you right now, Zabini," Draco growled, struggling to untangle himself from his sheets. "For now, I'll settle for murdering your cat."
"Why?" I asked, trying to sound appropriately shocked. "She hasn't done anything to you."
Draco picked something off the floor and threw it at me. I caught it as it bounced off my chest and noted it was a slightly bloody, unmistakably dead mouse. "She left /that/ on my pillow."
I quickly turned my laughter into a hacking cough, winning a half-hearted glare from Draco. He didn't seem to have the strength to do anything else at the moment, for which I was immensely thankful.
"What time is it, anyway?" I asked, hoping to distract him from plotting my imminent demise.
Draco glanced at his watch. "Oh, shit!"
"That good, huh?"
"We have fifteen minutes to get to our first class," he said, jumping up and rushing around the room.
I sighed. /God, I hate mornings./
*******
Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and I sprinted up the last few stairs and burst into the Entrance Hall, nearly colliding with Pansy.
"I was wondering what had happened to you, Draco. We're going to be late for class!"
"Really, Pansy? That /never/ occurred to us," I said sarcastically, hurrying up the stairs beside her. "Thank you /so much/ for that remarkable insight."
"Do you have our schedules, Pansy?" Draco asked, trying to catch his breath. "What class do we have first?"
Pansy sniffed in annoyance, but handed him his schedule. "History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs. Of course, you'd have /known/ that already if you'd come to breakfast. Honestly, and they made /you/ a Prefect--"
"Oh, shut it, Pansy," I snarled. "Now is not the time."
"We ran all the way up here for /History of Magic/?" Draco said with a groan. "We could walk in half-way through class and Binns wouldn't notice."
"You know, I really hate Mondays."
"As do I, my friend. As do I."
*******
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are the greatest. Sorry for the delay. Between my internet sucking (GAAAAH!) and Fanfiction.net not letting me upload stuff (even though it said I DID), this came out several days later than it would have.
Next chapter: *gasp* Could it be? Actual plot progression?! Will Blaise survive History of Magic? Who is the new Defense teacher? Why is Pansy such an ass? And why does Dumbledore always have that damn twinkle in his eye?
Faxton: I'm glad you like it so far. I have to agree with you when you say Blaise is best male, but the only fic I've read where he was somewhat normal had him as a girl. *Grrrr* Hmm... a Blaise/Ginny pairing would be interesting, but I don't know. It depends on whether Blaise will agree to it or not. The strange thing about my stories is that they hardly ever go the way I plan because the characters keep throwing their two cents in.
Porphyrophobic Grape: It IS pretty sad how few fics there are about Blaise, but then most of the ones out there make him into a freak. Just because he's not a major character does not mean they can project their freakish infatuations onto him! He's too cool for that, and I won't stand for it! *steps down off her soapbox* Anyway, I'm glad you like it. Where did you get your name, by the way? It's really cool.
Gkey: I'm glad someone appreciates my sense of humor. Most people just stare at me like I'm crazy. You want me to write more? Darn, I was planning on stopping right here just to bother people, but since you asked...
jules lancaster: Thank you! I love them as well. Well, obviously, since I'm writing one, but... yeah... I'll just shut up now.
*******
"Brady, Hannah."
A short girl in pigtails nervously moved forward to sit on the stool, looking decidedly green. The rest of the first years were huddled together at the front of the Great Hall, watching the Sorting anxiously and staring around them in awe. I smiled, thinking how terrifying my own Sorting had been.
Now, of course, it was just boring.
As the Sorting Hat was placed on Hannah's head, I turned my attention to the conversations buzzing around me.
"--so I said, 'no way,' but he said, 'yeah," so I said--"
"Did you hear about that attack near Bath?"
"That girl's been up there forever! I wish the Hat would get a move on so I can eat."
"--fourteen Muggles! And the Ministry still says it's the work of renegades, the idiots--"
"So who do you think will be teaching Defense this year?" a third year asked, indicating the empty seat at the staff table.
"No idea," another girl answered. "But I heard they had to look outside the country this time. No one wants to take a job that's jinxed!"
"A Galleon says it's an American," said a burly sixth year.
"If it is, I'm transferring to Durmstrang. Everyone knows Americans are a few beans short of a box."
"Better that than a bloody Frenchman. Probably blow himself up before the first week was over."
"And us along with him. But why isn't he here, then?"
"Maybe he's sick."
"Maybe they couldn't find anyone."
"Maybe they're letting Snape teach it." Several people laughed at this, imagining how the Gryffindors would react.
"So Blaise, are you going to tell me what happened on the train?" Draco asked. "You looked like hell when you came back in the compartment."
That was an understatement. My robes had been shredded where Granger's monster had latched onto me, seemingly intent on chewing off my leg. I'd changed before leaving the train, of course, but I'd received quite a few odd looks from passengers who'd seen me in such a state.
I relayed the incident to Draco, who seemed to find it incredibly funny, especially when I described how I'd nearly been murdered by a cat. I made a mental note to have Athena leave dead mice in Draco's bed.
Thankfully, I was spared further ridicule when the Sorting finally ended with "Vaseki, Lionel" becoming a Gryffindor.
Headmaster Dumbledore stood and beamed at the assembled masses. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. There is only one thing I would like to say before we enjoy the feast the house elves have so graciously prepared, and that is: /Nunca escuche a un hombre que lleva amarillo cerca de una colmena/. Thank you."
There was a light spattering of applause as the headmaster sat down. Some people laughed (mostly Ravenclaws), but most just looked confused.
"That old man gets more senile every year," Draco said, ignoring the gasps from the first years as the food appeared and reaching for a bun.
"He's not senile," I said with a smile. "He's just got a strange sense of humor."
Draco looked doubtful. "Really? What did he say then?"
I smirked. "'Never listen to a man wearing yellow near a beehive.'"
"And this is supposed to convince me Dumbledore isn't mad?"
"Oh, he's mad, all right," I replied. "I just said he wasn't senile."
I ducked as a carrot flew at my head. "Shut up, Zabini."
Dinner progressed as usual, with annoying first years making attempts at conversation with older students (none too successfully, I might add) and a few obligatory death glares directed at the other houses. It was mildly entertaining watching Crabbe and Goyle stuff their faces like they hadn't eaten in months, but once they started on their fourth helping it was just nauseating. It was no wonder they looked like trolls.
Once the remnants of dessert had disappeared, the headmaster stood once again. "Before I send you off to bed, I have a few start-of-term announcements," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, as per usual. "The Forbidden Forest is, of course, forbidden. Also, please note that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes.
"As you may have noticed, there is an empty seat at the staff table. Due to unfortunate events, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has been delayed and was unable to attend this evening. However, I can assure you that she will arrive in time to teach classes tomorrow morning. I trust you will all treat her with the respect she deserves."
Dumbledore's gaze seemed to pause on me for a moment, sending chills down my spine. What was the old man up to? "Now, off you go!"
Whispers erupted around me as we stood and headed for the exit.
"Did he say 'she'?"
"What do you think made her miss the feast?"
"Maybe she got stuck in traffic."
"How would she get stuck in traffic? Wouldn't she just Apparate?
"Maybe she splinched herself!"
"Oh great, it's Quirrel all over again..."
In the Entrance Hall, the student body split into their respective houses, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw turning up separate staircases, Hufflepuff disappearing down some obscure corridor, and Slytherin heading deep into the dungeons and stopping before a blank stretch of wall.
"All right, listen up, 'cause I'm only saying this once," Alex DeWar, a sixth year prefect, snapped. "The password is 'Runespoor'. This will change periodically, and if you forget it, you'll have to wait outside the Common Room until someone comes along." He glared meaningfully at the first years. "I suggest you don't forget it."
"Get a move on, will you DeWar?" called someone from the back of the crowd. "We'd like to get in while we're still young." The Slytherins murmured in agreement, some yawning widely to emphasize their point.
DeWar scowled, but turned and opened the wall, revealing the Slytherin Common Room. The first years gathered near the fireplace where DeWar lectured them on maintaining the status quo. The rest of us shuffled gratefully past the soft green couches and chairs and down the stairways to the dorms.
Draco stopped before the second-to-last door, which held a plaque that read "Fifth Years", and pushed it open. I followed him inside and immediately collapsed on my four-poster, earning an annoyed hiss from Athena, who had been curled up on my pillow.
"Sorry, girl," I muttered sleepily, only pausing to close the curtains around my bed before drifting off to sleep.
*******
I was awoke the next morning by a startled cry, followed by a muffled thump as something fell heavily to the dungeon floor.
I grinned and pushed my curtains open to see Draco Malfoy sprawled on the floor, along with most of his bed sheets. "Morning, Draco."
"Be glad I haven't the energy to kill you right now, Zabini," Draco growled, struggling to untangle himself from his sheets. "For now, I'll settle for murdering your cat."
"Why?" I asked, trying to sound appropriately shocked. "She hasn't done anything to you."
Draco picked something off the floor and threw it at me. I caught it as it bounced off my chest and noted it was a slightly bloody, unmistakably dead mouse. "She left /that/ on my pillow."
I quickly turned my laughter into a hacking cough, winning a half-hearted glare from Draco. He didn't seem to have the strength to do anything else at the moment, for which I was immensely thankful.
"What time is it, anyway?" I asked, hoping to distract him from plotting my imminent demise.
Draco glanced at his watch. "Oh, shit!"
"That good, huh?"
"We have fifteen minutes to get to our first class," he said, jumping up and rushing around the room.
I sighed. /God, I hate mornings./
*******
Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and I sprinted up the last few stairs and burst into the Entrance Hall, nearly colliding with Pansy.
"I was wondering what had happened to you, Draco. We're going to be late for class!"
"Really, Pansy? That /never/ occurred to us," I said sarcastically, hurrying up the stairs beside her. "Thank you /so much/ for that remarkable insight."
"Do you have our schedules, Pansy?" Draco asked, trying to catch his breath. "What class do we have first?"
Pansy sniffed in annoyance, but handed him his schedule. "History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs. Of course, you'd have /known/ that already if you'd come to breakfast. Honestly, and they made /you/ a Prefect--"
"Oh, shut it, Pansy," I snarled. "Now is not the time."
"We ran all the way up here for /History of Magic/?" Draco said with a groan. "We could walk in half-way through class and Binns wouldn't notice."
"You know, I really hate Mondays."
"As do I, my friend. As do I."
*******
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are the greatest. Sorry for the delay. Between my internet sucking (GAAAAH!) and Fanfiction.net not letting me upload stuff (even though it said I DID), this came out several days later than it would have.
Next chapter: *gasp* Could it be? Actual plot progression?! Will Blaise survive History of Magic? Who is the new Defense teacher? Why is Pansy such an ass? And why does Dumbledore always have that damn twinkle in his eye?
Faxton: I'm glad you like it so far. I have to agree with you when you say Blaise is best male, but the only fic I've read where he was somewhat normal had him as a girl. *Grrrr* Hmm... a Blaise/Ginny pairing would be interesting, but I don't know. It depends on whether Blaise will agree to it or not. The strange thing about my stories is that they hardly ever go the way I plan because the characters keep throwing their two cents in.
Porphyrophobic Grape: It IS pretty sad how few fics there are about Blaise, but then most of the ones out there make him into a freak. Just because he's not a major character does not mean they can project their freakish infatuations onto him! He's too cool for that, and I won't stand for it! *steps down off her soapbox* Anyway, I'm glad you like it. Where did you get your name, by the way? It's really cool.
Gkey: I'm glad someone appreciates my sense of humor. Most people just stare at me like I'm crazy. You want me to write more? Darn, I was planning on stopping right here just to bother people, but since you asked...
jules lancaster: Thank you! I love them as well. Well, obviously, since I'm writing one, but... yeah... I'll just shut up now.