This being my first ever (written) fanfic, perhaps an explaination of
why I wrote one anyway?
Mary Sue. I blame her. I had to have one, and here she is. Catamalina James
Amanya Min de Smithford, for your viewing pleasure. I had to run her
through three litmus tests just to make sure I got her name right. Anyway,
there's nothing else important to say about this sucker that can't be
covered in later annoying A/N bits, but here you go, yet another Mary Sue
fanfic. My work here is done.
-----------------
It was another typical year beginning for the diligent and studious and occasionally fandomly oversexed students of Hogwarts. Harry and co. were all seated at the table where so much news had been shared, so many stories swapped, so many pants wet, so much food eaten. This table was, of course, Gryffindor table in the Great Hall [dramatic recapping description coming soon], where Harry & co sat anxiously awaiting the ceremonial Sorting ceremony in which newcomers to Hogwarts, a shiny-faced batch of First years were Sorted ceremoniously in a ceremony that was very ceremonious. Ceremony ceremony ceremony.
Anyway, there they sat, on those seats, so familiar now that they almost conformed to the creases in the students' pants. In Neville Longbottom's case, they did. Neville's small brown eyes pleaded up at the tattered Sorting Hat to hurry up and finish, so that the feast would start. Harry was feeling good about the coming year. Sure, Voldemort was back and on the move, but he felt safe at Hogwarts. How could anything go wrong under the watchful, unblinking, almost creepily caring gaze of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster? But Dumbledore wasn't watching Harry's table, as often seemed to happen when he needed it. Instead the professor was following the slow gait of Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, as she made her way up to the temporary stage set for the Sorting.
"Ahem," she said, clearing her throat in preparation for what was certainly going to be an important announcement.
"It is my honor to present to you all our latest program. It is an overseas exchange program with the United States of America. Our guest will be a sixth year here at Hogwarts, with normal Sorting procedures to determine her house. Miss Catamalina James Amanya Min de Smithford, if you please?"
Harry looked up at the girl walking across the stage. No . . . more than a girl. And she didn't so much walk as float, on angel wing-accented-ed feet, across the crude planks to the almost inadequately ancient Hat. It was love at first sight.
She was beautiful. Her perfect, pale oval face ended at a soft point at her chin, making her appear feminine and capable. Above that dwelled perfect lips, like unto a Valentine's heart and neatly curved upward into a beguiling smile that showed no nervousness. Her clear violet eyes, the color of deep sea frozen, sparkled and danced with excitement as her lips parted into a dazzling yet demure grin, revealing a mouth full of flawless teeth like deep sea pearls. Her ivory complexion was set off and complemented by soft waves of silvery-blonde hair that flowed in a river of shining glory just past her shoulders, held neatly just out of her shining eyes by small, unobtrusive violet ribbons woven through her angelic strands.
She floated along, her feet barely touching the harshly hewn (or so it seemed to Harry in comparison with such genetic perfection) boards as her slender, willowy form slipped across the stage, skimmed with thin robes of an interesting shade of black - the absence of all color and light, yet at the same time the very /i of all colors reflecting the candlelight like the night sky. The intricately embroidered skirt fanned empiriously around the stubby legs of the Sorting Hat's stool as Catamalina delicately seated herself and artfully balanced the Hat on her ethereal head.
It pondered quietly for a long while; to Harry it seemed like both an eternity and an instant. At long last the violent tear in the Hat's brim opened wide, and it dramatically declared to all present:
/b
-------------- And there it is. Nothing more to say except the prerequisite "No-sadly-I- don't-own-the-characters-otherwise-I'd-be-a-rich-woman-in-England" disclaimer. I swear I'll get the next few chapters up by tomorrow.
It was another typical year beginning for the diligent and studious and occasionally fandomly oversexed students of Hogwarts. Harry and co. were all seated at the table where so much news had been shared, so many stories swapped, so many pants wet, so much food eaten. This table was, of course, Gryffindor table in the Great Hall [dramatic recapping description coming soon], where Harry & co sat anxiously awaiting the ceremonial Sorting ceremony in which newcomers to Hogwarts, a shiny-faced batch of First years were Sorted ceremoniously in a ceremony that was very ceremonious. Ceremony ceremony ceremony.
Anyway, there they sat, on those seats, so familiar now that they almost conformed to the creases in the students' pants. In Neville Longbottom's case, they did. Neville's small brown eyes pleaded up at the tattered Sorting Hat to hurry up and finish, so that the feast would start. Harry was feeling good about the coming year. Sure, Voldemort was back and on the move, but he felt safe at Hogwarts. How could anything go wrong under the watchful, unblinking, almost creepily caring gaze of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster? But Dumbledore wasn't watching Harry's table, as often seemed to happen when he needed it. Instead the professor was following the slow gait of Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, as she made her way up to the temporary stage set for the Sorting.
"Ahem," she said, clearing her throat in preparation for what was certainly going to be an important announcement.
"It is my honor to present to you all our latest program. It is an overseas exchange program with the United States of America. Our guest will be a sixth year here at Hogwarts, with normal Sorting procedures to determine her house. Miss Catamalina James Amanya Min de Smithford, if you please?"
Harry looked up at the girl walking across the stage. No . . . more than a girl. And she didn't so much walk as float, on angel wing-accented-ed feet, across the crude planks to the almost inadequately ancient Hat. It was love at first sight.
She was beautiful. Her perfect, pale oval face ended at a soft point at her chin, making her appear feminine and capable. Above that dwelled perfect lips, like unto a Valentine's heart and neatly curved upward into a beguiling smile that showed no nervousness. Her clear violet eyes, the color of deep sea frozen, sparkled and danced with excitement as her lips parted into a dazzling yet demure grin, revealing a mouth full of flawless teeth like deep sea pearls. Her ivory complexion was set off and complemented by soft waves of silvery-blonde hair that flowed in a river of shining glory just past her shoulders, held neatly just out of her shining eyes by small, unobtrusive violet ribbons woven through her angelic strands.
She floated along, her feet barely touching the harshly hewn (or so it seemed to Harry in comparison with such genetic perfection) boards as her slender, willowy form slipped across the stage, skimmed with thin robes of an interesting shade of black - the absence of all color and light, yet at the same time the very /i of all colors reflecting the candlelight like the night sky. The intricately embroidered skirt fanned empiriously around the stubby legs of the Sorting Hat's stool as Catamalina delicately seated herself and artfully balanced the Hat on her ethereal head.
It pondered quietly for a long while; to Harry it seemed like both an eternity and an instant. At long last the violent tear in the Hat's brim opened wide, and it dramatically declared to all present:
/b
-------------- And there it is. Nothing more to say except the prerequisite "No-sadly-I- don't-own-the-characters-otherwise-I'd-be-a-rich-woman-in-England" disclaimer. I swear I'll get the next few chapters up by tomorrow.
