Disclaimer: Elizabeth & Samantha are mine. Everything else in this chapter I owe to J.K. Rowling.
AN: Bonjour! Okay, I forgot to do this when I started this story. *Ahem!* This fanfic is dedicated to the Grand Duchess Katajena of Ambrosia, the one who begged me to write Elizabeth's story (although that was over a year ago so she may have forgotten by now . . .) and to Ra-chan, whose fault it is that I'm addicted to fanfiction in the first place (so if this is awful, blame her!) Oh, and of course, to Rayerth and Etoile, ever-present sources of inspiration and adoration. Who needs reviewers with you guys by my side? (Just kidding, everyone – please review!)
Many thanks to my reviewers, too! Especially to Incurable Romantic, who caught me at one of my most common mistakes in writing this fic – forgetting Lily was Muggle-born. I've made that mistake so many times in writing this fic, but luckily I've caught most before posting the chapter. All but one, and now that, too, is fixed thanks to Incurable Romantic! If anyone catches that mistake again, or any other, please tell me! Thanks!
Lastly, go read Ra-chan's HP fic, "Building Memories." It's a creative twist on the usual L/J story, and is very good so far. Also, I've lent Samantha to Ra-chan, so she makes some appearances in it. But before you go check out this great new HP fic, please read Chapter Three of mine (and review, s'il vous plaît!) --
Chapter Three: One Too Many
A little girl, ten or eleven years old, with curly brown hair and sparkling eyes, was laughing. Elizabeth smiled as she looked on. The child didn't notice her, but rather continued bubbling over with giggles, her eyes alight with joy, her happiness overflowing and filling the air. The laughter continued for several minutes, and Elizabeth slipped into a deep, blissful sleep as she listened to the sound. Innocence, youth, rapture, delight, spun a comforting web around her as the girl giggled on.
But now there was something else. A hand, brittle, pale, white. But strong. It reached toward the child slowly. Closer . . . closer . . . Then, swift as lightning, it grabbed the girl's neck. It didn't choke her or hurt her, just held her. She stopped laughing mid-giggle. The light extinguished in her eyes.
Elizabeth woke with her head pounding. She lay back on her pillow staring up at the bed's rich velvet canopy. The silence was unbearable. She could still hear the little girl's laughter echoing in her ears. Jumping up, she flung open the curtains of her bed, and was instantly dazzled by the bright sunlight. The room was empty, as the other girls had left for breakfast long ago. But Elizabeth wasn't worried. She had been an expert at getting ready in a hurry when she was a Muggle, and now that she was a witch, she could be prepared within seconds.
"Let's see," she muttered, staring into the depths of her trunk. "What shall I wear? After all, I want to make a good impression on my first day."
She pulled on a pair of black capri pants and a light blue peasant top. With a wave of her wand her messed up bed-head was transformed into a cascade of soft curls, and a light blush and soft blue eyeshadow appeared on her face. Elizabeth smiled at herself in the mirror. "Perfect," she smiled, "Cute, but innocent." She was about to leave when she caught sight of her eyes, twinkling with anticipation. Her hands went cold as for a moment she saw the laughing child staring back at her. But then her own image returned, and shaking her head, Elizabeth turned and headed down to her first breakfast at Hogwarts.
***
Elizabeth paused at the door to the Great Hall and groaned as her eyes scanned the great sea of black before her. When was she going to get used to the idea of wearing robes? A few students were glancing in her direction, several giggling, and some just staring, stunned. "No biggie," Elizabeth thought nonchalantly. Nothing was going to ruin her first day at Hogwarts. "Accio robes!" she muttered, and a few seconds later, a black school robe floated into her hands. She slung it over one arm and made her way to the Gryffindor table cheerfully.
"Elizabeth! Over here!" Elizabeth turned to see two girls motioning her toward an empty seat beside them. She grinned and sat down.
"Hi!" one of them, a pretty girl with dark black hair, said. "I'm Parvati. This is Lavender."
Lavender waved. "We wanted to talk to you last night at the feast, but you disappeared, and you were already asleep when we got upstairs. We're fourth years, too."
"Pleased to meet you," Elizabeth replied politely, staring ravenously at the food-covered table while her stomach reminded her that she had skipped dinner last night. As she piled her plate with breakfast, Lavender chattered non-stop at her side.
"I just love your clothes!" she was saying. "Such unique style! At first I thought you were just clueless, but now I see that you're making a point. We need color in this old castle, and I don't see why the professors look down on Muggle clothing. You know, I tried wearing a Muggle scarf to accent my robes the other day and Professor McGonagall took one look at it and snatched it right off my . . ." Lavender stopped as Parvati poked her in the ribs. They both looked over at the Ravenclaw table and giggled. "Ooh, Elizabeth!" Lavender whispered. "Don't look now, but the cutest Ravenclaw fifth year is looking your way! I guess noticeable clothing pays off!"
Elizabeth didn't waste her time explaining to Lavender that she hadn't dressed this way on purpose, that it was just a silly mistake. Instead she smiled sweetly. "You know, Lavender, I don't think he sees me at all. It seems to be you he's looking at." Elizabeth couldn't be sure whom it was the fifth year was staring at, but she was relieved to hear Lavender gasp, "Oh! Parvati, pretend like we're having a really funny conversation!" Within seconds the two girls had forgotten Elizabeth, allowing her to slide to a seat at the other end of the table. Lavender and Parvati were nice, but Elizabeth couldn't deal with mindless chitchat this early in the morning. She had gotten enough of that at Muggle school.
The conversation going on at this end of the table seemed to be mainly a heated Quidditch argument between two redheaded twins and another redhead and his friend, a boy with tousled black hair and glasses. Elizabeth gave a relieved sigh. This was more like the wizarding school environment she had imagined.
"Ron, the best Chaser ever is NOT David Kinsolver! Edouard Principe could beat him on Cleansweep 2!"
"Principe! That old guy?! He's been retired – what? Two hundred years?"
"Eight, you numbskull! And he could beat Kinsolver today, piece of cake, even though Kinsolver's at the peak of his career!"
As the argument raged, Elizabeth heard a sigh of exasperation at her left. "Must they always make such a big deal out of nothing?" Elizabeth turned to find a bushy brown-haired girl poring over a book.
"Hi," she held out a hand. "Elizabeth Satine."
The girl nodded, "Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you." Her tone was brisk, and after a disparaging look at Elizabeth's attire, she turned back to her book.
Elizabeth bit her lip, wondering what to say. She listened to the Quidditch argument, which was quickly heating up (Ron declared Edouard Principe couldn't catch a Quaffle if his life depended on it), for a minute, before turning back to the girl. "You know, I've never seen a Quidditch game," she commented. It came out sounding far more lame than she had planned.
Hermione didn't look up, but just said airily, "Is that so?"
Elizabeth nodded pathetically. This was getting nowhere. She was about to walk away when Hermione suddenly changed her mind about guarding her silence and added, "I thought your kind liked to keep up on the hottest new players. You know – young, good-looking, rich, famous . . ."
Elizabeth could have hugged her. Shrugging aside the comment, she spoke with sudden cheeriness. "Oh, thank goodness! You're just the type of friend I'm looking for! I don't mind people like Lavender and Parvati, but sometimes there needs to be more substance to a friendship than fluff! Give me a chance, I'm not all that I appear to be." Hermione looked up in surprise, and was about to speak, when the Quidditch argument burst onto a new level.
"How DARE you say that about Principe!" Fred launched his scrambled eggs at Ron, who picked up his glass of orange juice.
Elizabeth saw the danger and whipped out her wand. "Freglacio!" she cried as the juice was flung into the air, missing Fred by inches and coming straight toward the girls. It froze in mid-air, a perfect orange ice sculpture, before dropping to the table and shattering. The boys paused temporarily, all glancing at Elizabeth, bewildered. This gave Hermione the opportunity to stammer an amazed, "Sure, I'll give you a chance," to Elizabeth. But it also gave George the time to draw his wand and jinx a bowl of grapes to fly at Ron like squishy bullets.
Elizabeth and Hermione, acting as one, stood up and walked briskly out of the Great Hall, avoiding further disaster.
***
"So you caught up on three years of magic over one summer?"
"Well, I wouldn't say I'm exactly caught up. It'll take a few months of extra tutoring to reach that point."
"But still, that's incredible!"
"Yeah, I would have more confidence though if Potions wasn't the first class I have at Hogwarts. I know the theory behind all the potions you've done so far, but I've, um . . . never actually made one."
Harry and Ron entered first period Potions in time to hear Hermione cry, disbelievingly, "You're kidding! You've never made a potion?!?" She and Elizabeth were already seated near the middle of the room, and the boys came and took a seat at the desk behind them, straining to hear their conversation. "What are you going to do?" Hermione asked.
Elizabeth shrugged, worried at Hermione's concern. "I don't know, I thought I'd just figure it out as I go along. I mean, it can't be that hard, can it?" Hermione shrugged, not wishing to worry Elizabeth further. Ron snorted.
The next minute was quiet as each prepared for the impending doom Snape was likely to bring on them. Snape always liked intimidating first classes. Slowly the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins trickled into the room, followed by the brooding Potion's Master himself.
"Cauldrons out!" he snapped as he arrived at his desk. "Turn to page 436 in your books and start reading the directions while I take attendance. We will be making Vanishing Potions today, and you will require the entire period. Go!" There was a great rustling as the students reached for their books.
Snape breezed down the attendance list, and didn't pause until he came to the last name, which had been added in. "Elizabeth Satine?"
Elizabeth looked up from her reading and smiled winningly. "Yes, Professor?"
He frowned. "What experience have you in the art of potions?"
She could feel the quick glances of Hermione and Ron, but Elizabeth held her smile. "Oh, I've read all about them," she gushed. "And I find them fascinating, sir! The power that can come from what appears to be just a simple liquid! And the power required to make them, too! I must say I greatly respect potion masters. To imagine that one extra drop of an ingredient can destroy the whole concoction – it must take such patience and precision, not to mention skill!"
Snape looked pleased, and the shadow of a smile twitched on his lips. While some students rolled their eyes at what they considered an obvious display of sucking up to the teacher, most of Elizabeth's classmates seemed stunned that she could show such a genuine interest in this most dreaded subject.
"Have you ever made a potion, Miss Satine?"
"No," she murmured. The near-smile on the professor's face vanished.
"Well," he said, "then you had better hope your degree of talent in this art equals that of your interest." He turned to the class. "Because this potion comprises one-third of your mark for first term. Organize into groups of two or three and get busy!"
"Sadistic jerk," Ron muttered. "He's just making it count so much because he knows we're all rusty after vacation."
Hermione turned around. "Well, we were supposed to be practicing over the summer, you know."
"Yeah, like anyone really does that," he replied, disgusted. Hermione flushed pink, and returned to facing forward.
Harry elbowed Ron. "Stop complaining, and start assembling the ingredients."
"I'm waiting for Hermione to get over here. What's taking her so long?" He was about to berate Hermione when he noticed that she had already started making a potion. But not with Harry and him. With that new girl and . . . Neville. "Hermione!" Ron cried. "What are you doing?!?"
She raised her eyebrows. It was quite obvious what she was doing, but she spelled it out for him anyway. "Starting the potion Professor Snape asked us to make."
Ron was annoyed. "But why aren't you working with us? I need a good mark on this!"
"What, no faith in me, Ron?" Harry said with a grin.
Ron ignored him. "Just get over here, Hermione, will ya?"
"Maybe I don't want to work with someone who only values me as a way to get a good grade," she replied icily.
Ron opened his mouth and closed it again, throwing his hands up in the air in despair. "She would rather work with someone who's never made a potion in her life and someone else who's never made a functioning potion in his," he muttered.
Hermione heard him, and remarked, "Better than working with you. I wish you luck, Harry."
Harry sighed. "Thanks." He was disappointed to not have Hermione working beside him, but he respected her for wanting to help the new girl. Elizabeth could use a friend. And extra help never hurt Neville. Besides, Harry doubted Snape would let him get away with a great grade even with Hermione's help. Oh, well, it never hurts to try, he thought as he began to simmer a ladle of Disparue potion. Ron was chopping the long silvery strands of evengrass furiously beside him.
As the potion-making went on, Ron's mood worsened. Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of her life. "This is just like baking!" she cried ecstatically. Hermione smiled to see someone enjoying herself so much in Potions Class. And she was doing a terrific job on top of that. "At home I used to experiment with different recipes all the time. It takes a long time to find a successful new recipe. One pinch of salt too many can make all the difference. Mom hates cooking, so it was all left to me. I was disappointed that here all the food is prepared for us. It's a different kind of pride that comes with making your own culinary masterpiece than with, say, an academic accomplishment, which is basically the only other thing I can do. I love sports, but I've yet to find one that I can actually play without my team considering me a curse. I'm really nervous about my flying lesson during lunch. I've never been on a broom before and . . ."
As Elizabeth chattered on, Ron chopped his ingredients finer and finer. How could this girl talk and talk and not be messing up her potion? He noticed her group's cauldron was simmering away quite nicely and was shining crystal clear. His own potion was a muddy green.
Ten minutes before the end of class, Snape announced, "We will now be testing your potions. Please find an object you would like to make disappear. It should only be out of sight for about three minutes although some Vanishing Potions can be made to last longer. But remember: do NOT try to use the potion on a living being. Vanishing Potions work on objects ONLY, and can have horrible side effects on people. And don't pick anything too valuable to make disappear, as I'm sure most of your potions will back-fire." He began testing potions on the Slytherin side of the room.
"This looks done to me," Elizabeth said as she took up a ladle of their potion and examined it.
"It looks perfect," added Hermione, a bit surprised it had turned out so well. After all, she was working with a beginner and, well, Neville.
Neville tremored. "We'll find out if it is soon. Do you think we can make the note from my grandmother disappear?" Elizabeth giggled. Neville's grandmother had written asking Professor Snape if her grandson could have extra help with Potions after school, since his summer practice has resulted in quite a few disasters.
"No, we don't want to risk Snape's reading it first. We'll use my quill. This," Elizabeth deftly grabbed the letter from Neville's trembling fingers, "we'll take care of now." She tore up the note, waved her wand at it, and with a tiny spark, the pieces disintegrated. "Hermione's promised to help me catch on potion-making on the weekends. You can join us. I daresay that'll be more pleasant than spending your afternoons with Snape." Neville smiled gratefully.
"Shall we see how Miss Satine's first brew turned out?" Elizabeth, Neville, and Hermione jumped at the sound of their professor's voice. Luckily, it didn't seem like he'd overheard anything.
At the table behind them, Harry and Ron were frantically trying to fix their potion. It had lost the sickening green color for a pure white, but wasn't quite translucent yet. "Ron! Are you sure you only added five strands of evengrass?" Harry inquired desperately. Ron wasn't listening. He was watching enviously as Hermione poured three drops of her group's clear potion onto Elizabeth's quill, which vanished instantaneously. Ecstatic smiles spread across her partners' faces, and Snape looked shocked.
"Ron! Are you listening?" cried Harry. Ron spun around suddenly, accidentally bumping into Harry's cauldron. It didn't fall off the table, but the force of the impact caused some of the white liquid to slosh out of the metal insides, right onto –
"Professor Snape!" Hermione yelped. "Are you alright?"
Snape's hands were clutching tightly at his face, and when he removed them the class gasped in amazement. His features were pale and transparent, all except his left ear, which remained solid. He looked like a disfigured ghost. A furious disfigured ghost. "WEASLEY!!!" he cried. "What did I tell you about the side effects of a Vanishing Potion on humans?!? Not that you made your potion correctly anyway!! You and Potter both fail this assignment! And 20 points from Gryffindor!"
He began storming from the room to see how bad the damage was when Elizabeth piped up timidly, "Uh, professor?" Snape whirled around and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Um . . . I understand the severity of Mr. Weasley's mistake, but I think 20 points from Gryffindor is punishment enough for that. If you'll look, you'll notice that our ladle, which was doused with Harry and Ron's potion when you were, has disappeared. So it might be too harsh to fail them when their potion does actually work."
Snape scowled. "Very well, Miss Satine, I'll take that into consideration, but you'd do best not to question my judgement again or risk losing more house points. Mr. Malfoy – please supervise and make sure everyone cleans up properly before leaving. I need to see Madame Pomfrey."
He swept out of the room as Neville muttered, "But there wasn't a ladle there, we already put that away." Elizabeth shushed him, and Harry grinned widely. "Thanks." He held out his hand. "I'm Harry Potter."
"Elizabeth Satine," she replied, shaking it warmly. "And what is Mr. Weasley's first name?"
Ron glared at Elizabeth with disgust and asked incredulously, "Do you think you can steal our partner, make our potion an absolute disaster, stand up for us and make us look like helpless fools, and then turn around and be our friend?!?"
And with that he stormed out of the classroom.
AN: That was meant to be much longer, but I feel like if I don't update soon, I'll go insane. Besides, I feel like I've been forcing this chapter, and I don't want to linger on it. I usually just flow through a story as I write, but with recent pressures in school and elsewhere, I just can't get into this. Then again, how can you write well when you tell yourself, "Okay, I only have 20 minutes to work on fanfiction tonight"? Make it like a homework assignment and you're obviously never going to get anywhere! I think I've been averaging three painful sentences per night. I wish I had the time to just sit down and write. But after this week, I should ease up a little, and I know exactly where the next few chapters are going, so I'm ready to get into this. (Of course, a few reviews wouldn't slow me down any J ). But I'm rambling, and whining (never a good combination), so I'll leave you in peace. Good night and sweet dreams! ~Rose