I'm sorry about the delay in finishing this. Part of it was my own laziness, and part of it was my computer getting a glass of water dumped into it.
The first male character with a speaking role shows up, though he's not a terribly exemplary example of the gender.
Chapter Three: Tolkien and Trouble
She didn't have to hunt for a compartment for long, the third one she checked only had two occupants. She forced the door open, struggling with it and the bulky cage she still carried. The two people already in the compartment looked up at her arrival, but didn't offer to help.
"Can I sit here?" Orla asked when she'd finally managed to enter.
The girl glanced at the boy and shrugged.
"S'fine with me," she said, and went back to her book. The boy didn't even look up from where he was writing busily in a journal, the tip of his tongue sticking from his mouth.
Orla studied them both with interest. They were both dressed so strangely that they had to be Muggles, and she'd never had much of a chance to see Muggles up close before now. Her family generally only associated with other wizards and witches.
The girl was short and skinny, with lank, mousy hair and glasses so thick that they looked like the bottoms of milk bottles. When she yawned, Orla could see that her teeth were festooned with metal wires. She stared, fascinated, at the strange dental paraphernalia. Maybe it was some sort of Muggle fashion. It certainly looked quite vicious.
The boy's teeth were free of strange metal, but the rest of his appearance was disturbing enough to make up for that. His hair had been badly died black, she could see the lighter roots from where she sat. He was dressed in a mixture of fishnet and leather, with so many intertwining buckles and straps that she got dizzy trying to trace one's route with her eyes. Similar to the girl, he wore glasses, but his were far more petite than hers, and they had red lenses. Orla was wondering if he had some sort of eye problem, and if not, how he managed to see through his strange glasses, when he asked:
"Which do you think sounds better? 'Oh decadent worm of corruption, thine eyes bore into my twisted soul', or 'Oh worm of decadent corruption, thine soulless eyes bore into my twisted heart'?"
"Er…" said Orla.
"Neither," the girl put in, looking up from her book. "They're both awful."
The boy pouted, a disturbing expression on an eleven year old. "You just don't have any appreciation for Great Art," he said. You could hear the capitals.
The girl snorted and proceeded to ignore him.
"I don't think worms have eyes," Orla said hesitantly.
"It's a metaphor," the boy grumbled.
"For what?"
At this, the boy looked most discomfited, going almost as red in the face as his glasses' lenses. He changed the topic.
"I don't think that we've been introduced," he said. "I'm Jared Nightwing. And you are?"
"Orla Quirke," Orla said. "What were your parents thinking when they named you 'Jared Nightwing'?" she asked after a moment. "No offence meant, but that's a really weird name."
Jared drew himself up in his seat, looking outraged. "It's no weirder than Orla Quirke!" he protested.
"Yes it is," Orla said, not flustered. She'd just spent a week dealing with Arane; no Muggle temper tantrum could match up. "At least my name doesn't sound like something created by pointing at random words in a dictionary."
"At last!" the girl said, closing her book. "Someone with sense. Nice to meet you, Orla. I'm Alexis Rivers."
"That's a sensible name," Orla said approvingly.
"Nice to know that I have your permission to use it."
Orla didn't know what to say to that, so she followed Jared's example and switched the subject.
"What're you reading?" she asked, craning her neck around to get a glimpse of the cover.
Alexis brightened immediately.
"The Silmarillion," she said, proffering the book for Orla to examine.
Orla took it and stared down at its cover, gaping.
"The pictures aren't moving!" she gasped.
"Most pictures in Muggle literature don't," Alexis said, her voice a touch patronizing. "I was surprised when the pictures in my textbooks moved. It's just a matter of what you were raised with."
Orla handed the book back after a quick glance at the blurb on the back cover.
"It doesn't look that interesting. I don't see why anyone would be interested in a bunch of house elves doing battle. They're so short that they wouldn't make very good warriors."
Alexis stared at her.
"House elves?" she asked at last.
"Servants," Orla explained, remembering that Alexis was a Muggle. Though if she was reading a book about them, she really should know what they were. "Short, wrinkly, big ears. They serve rich pureblood families."
Alexis shook her head and laughed. "Tolkien's elves are nothing like that," she said. "They're… they're…" She tried to come up with suitable adjectives, then shook her head again. "I'll lend you my book when I'm done. Then you'll understand."
Orla leaned back in her seat, much confused. She still didn't understand why anyone would want to write (or read) about house elves. Absently, she looked out at the passing scenery, most of which was hidden in mist. Both Alexis and Jared had gone back to their original activities, and she wished desperately that she had brought something to do.
"I'm going to get a drink of water," she announced, getting up. Jared ignored her with a scowl, and Alexis only nodded without looking up.
She left, and then there was nothing to do but wander up and down the corridors looking in on all of the laughing, talking people on the train. There didn't seem to be water anywhere. She was just about ready to turn around and head back when a hand seized hold of the collar of her robes and dragged her into a compartment.
She landed on her rump, the breath whooshing out of her before she could think to scream. A wand was pointed at her head. Orla stared at it and gulped.
"Oh," said a vaguely familiar voice. "You again."
The wand withdrew, and Orla was yanked to her feet to meet the unnatural yellow eyes of the witch she'd talked to in the station. Her badger was shredding one of the seats. The other witch was busy ripping pages out of The Standard Book of Spells.
"Terribly sorry, I thought you were someone else," the shorter witch said, drawing Orla's attention back.
"That's fine," Orla assured her, trying to inch her way over to the door. She was forestalled when the woman put a companionable arm around her and led her over to a seat. The badger growled at her, then went back to cushion shredding.
"We forgot to introduce ourselves earlier," the witch was saying. "I'm Huff le Puff, and my partner is Rave'n'claw." She bowed, an impressive feat considering that she was sitting down.
"Nice to meet you," Orla said, looking around for any way out. This close, she noticed that the flesh around Huff's neck was a mass of bruise tissue. She didn't like to think of what those bruises could have come from.
"I really have to be going now," she said decisively, getting up. "Maybe I'll see you again, Miss Huff, but—"
She didn't get a chance to continue. Huff lifted her off the ground by her collar, despite the fact that Orla was at least two inches taller than her. Orla found herself at wandpoint for the second time in five minutes.
"I am not Huff," the woman growled. Orla squeaked in terror. Had she thought that this woman was as bad as Arane? She'd been wrong. Huff was worse. At least Arane hadn't been allowed to physically abuse her.
"If you must call me anything," she continued. "Then I am le Puff. Do you understand?" She punctuated each word with a sharp shake. Orla's teeth clicked together on her tongue and she tasted blood.
"Y-y-yes," she managed in between shakes.
Le Puff stared at her, her lips drawn back from her teeth. Her breath rasped in and out angrily. The bruises on her neck were livid. I'm going to die, Orla thought, nearly incoherent with fear. She was going to be killed by a madwoman on her way to Hogwarts.
"You can't kill her, Huff," the other witch interrupted, tearing another page from her book. "She's Canon."
This seemed to mean something to le Puff, for Orla was released suddenly. She landed with a bone jarring thud on the compartment floor, where she huddled gasping and shaking. To her surprise and annoyance, le Puff didn't proceed to decapitate her partner for calling her 'Huff'. It canceled out the immense gratitude that she felt for Rave'n'claw, especially when the witch added:
"If you need to teach her a lesson, then just remove a limb or two."
Le Puff turned to examine the trembling Orla with contempt.
"Not worth it," she said. "Now get out, Quirke-child. We have plans to lay and people to kill."
Orla was nearly out the door when le Puff's voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
"If you tell anyone of what you've heard here it won't matter whether you're Canon or not, the only part of you anyone'll find will be your left foot."
Orla hurried away, shivering.
She was so busy looking out for anyone else who wanted to drag her into their compartment that she didn't look in front of her until she collided with someone else. She rebounded and managed to catch hold of a door handle to steady herself on. The person she'd run into didn't seem to have even wobbled.
"Sorry, sorry!" Orla gasped, fighting for balance. She fully expected the other witch to whip out her wand and curse her into oblivion, it would have been right in keeping with the rest of the day. Instead, the witch bounded up to her, smiling broadly to reveal a mouth full of perfectly white, even teeth.
"Oh, don't worry!!" she chirruped. "I used my telekinesis to keep myself up!! I'm Loreala Emrythell Fallingstar! Who're you?!?!"
Orla winced. You could just hear the multiple punctuation. What was it with last names nowadays? she wondered. First Jared and now Lore—Lolli—Loelea… well, whatever her name was had strange surnames. Perhaps it was some sort of fad.
"I'm Orla Quirke," she said, holding out a hand. The proffered hand was pumped enthusiastically.
"It's so exciting to be going to Hogwarts!!" Lor-whatever squealed.
Orla stared. The witch looked a bit too old to be a first year, at least judging by her balloon-like breasts. Shouldn't she be used to Hogwarts by now?
"Oh, I'm a transfer student from Salem Witch's Academy!! They decided to send me over to Hogwarts because my grades were so good!!!!" Lor-something laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Orla's eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. She hadn't said anything out loud, yet the witch had answered her question.
"Yup!!" she agreed. "I can read minds!! Isn't it neat!?!?"
Orla edged away. She didn't like the idea of someone mucking around in her head without her permission.
"But I'm far too moral to use it for evil!" Lor-whatchamacallit protested, her vibrant amethyst eyes shining.
"That's… nice," Orla said. "I have to get back to my compartment now. We're probably getting close to Hogwarts."
At that news the transfer student squealed ear-piercingly, her eyes turning misty silver. Orla turned away, shuddering. This was just too weird for her. Lor-thingy ignored her reaction and skipped off down the hall. Orla watched her go, eyes wide as she recognized the direction the witch was running in. She thought briefly of calling out a warning, then remembered le Puff's threat and remained silent.
Sure enough, the witch was yanked into a compartment as she ran passed. Orla caught a high shriek, and what sounded like le Puff screaming "One exclamation point! One!" before the compartment door slammed shut and all was quiet once more.
Orla headed back to her compartment, feeling much more cheerful.
She had nearly made it back to her compartment, mercifully without meeting anyone else, when the train slowed and finally stopped. What the…? Orla thought. We can't be at Hogwarts yet.
The lights went out.
She jumped when the compartment door in front of her slid open, and nearly screamed when she was pulled inside.
"Oh good, you're back," Alexis whispered. Both she and Jared had changed into their robes while Orla was gone, and their faces were very pale above the black fabric.
"Do you have any idea of what's going on?"
Orla shook her head. "I know we're not at Hogwarts yet," she said.
She rubbed her forearms and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. It was cold in here, she didn't know why she hadn't noticed before. Her tongue stung miserably where she'd bitten it.
"Do you know where we could go for help?" Alexis asked. They had all been speaking in soft tones instinctively, Orla noticed, as if afraid to attract something's notice.
Before Orla could reply, the compartment door slid open.
They all turned to look at the new arrival. It's a gnome, Orla thought nonsensically. It's a gnome standing there, and when we turn it'll leap up and bite off my nose.
It wasn't a gnome. It was a tall figure, hooded and cloaked so that nothing could be seen underneath. As they stared at it silently, it drew in a rattling breath. Orla squeezed her eyes shut and reeled backwards until she fell into a seat. Jared moaned in terror behind her, but Orla didn't hear him, she was locked in her mind. Images of gnomes and gnashing teeth, and Arane's sneering face merged into one. For the second time, she was lifted up by le Puff, and she felt the excruciating pain of teeth sinking into her toe again.
Then the figure was gone from the doorway.
Orla lay draped over the seat, bringing her scattered thoughts together slowly. She didn't want to think, it was much nicer just to lie here and look up at the ceiling.
"What was that?" Jared groaned.
Orla came back to herself with a jerk. She sat up, nearly braining herself against the wall.
"A dementor," she said. It came out as a croak, her mouth and throat were so dry. "A dementor," she tried again. There, that sounded more normal, if a bit trembly.
The lights came back on. Orla blinked around herself owlishly. Alexis was sitting stiffly with her hands clenched together in her lap, her face white except for two hectic blotches of color high on her cheeks. Jared had wedged himself into a corner and was staring at everything with overbright eyes, his knees drawn up to his chest.
"A nazgûl," Alexis breathed, ignoring what Orla had said. A bit more life came into her face. "The Witch King of Angmar."
"No," Orla said patiently. "That was a dementor. My aunt told me about them." No need to mention that Arane had also threatened to send Orla to them as a present if she misbehaved.
Alexis shook her head. "I know a Black Rider when I see one. It must have used the Black Breath on us, though I don't know why we're not sleeping now."
Orla closed her eyes, counted to ten, and didn't burst into tears or start screaming. If it comforted Alexis to believe that the dementor had been a nose-ghoul, then fine. At least she didn't look like she was about to collapse anymore.
They arrived and unloaded at Hogwarts soon after that without seeing anything else out of the ordinary. Orla, after some thought, left Gnasher with her trunk. She only hoped that nobody woke him up, he still insulted anyone who went near him. Instead of training him out of cursing, Orla had only been able to improve her jarvey's grammar, which if anything made him worse. Before at least it had been hard to understand what the creature was talking about, even if you could get the general gist of it.
The sight of Hogwarts lake distracted Orla from fussing over Gnasher. She had been raised surrounded by wonders of the wizarding world; a few sparkly parlor tricks didn't impress her. But Hogwarts, looming above her with its spiraling turrets and arches, hundreds of windows glowing golden, made her ooh and aah and crane her head back to gape like the most ignorant of Muggles. Even Jared stopped trying to look cool and untouchable and gawked at the sight.
At the direction of an exceptionally large man, Orla piled into one of the boats at the lake shore, along with Alexis and Jared. She tried not to stare too much at the man directing them. He looked like an ogre, an exceptionally hairy one. The fleet of boats set sail for the castle with a jerk. Orla clung to the side of hers, looking nervously down at the opaque surface of the lake. It looked very cold. She shivered and jerked her gaze away.
Here she had to bite back a laugh. Jared had perched himself at the prow of the little boat and struck what he probably thought was a heroic pose, with his hair ruffling back in the wind. He looked both pompous and very cold, in his fishnet and leather.
This effect was rather ruined as he got smacked in the face by the curtain of ivy they passed through, entering a tunnel beneath the castle, while everyone else prudently ducked. The ships docked at the far end of the tunnel, where it let out into a small underground harbor. Slipping and tripping over the stones at the shore's edge, Orla and her companions helped each other out without getting too soaked in the process. Alexis was particularly careful to keep her book dry.
Huddling together like sheep, they and the other first years were ushered by the hairy man up to the front doors of the castle. He raised his fist to knock, and nearly ended up braining the woman who opened the door.
"Really, Hagrid," she snapped, looking over the clump of first years with a small frown, "must you make everything so difficult?"