The Next Generation at Hogwarts
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyright of J.K. Rowling. I am not making any profit whatsoever off the proceedings and write this --if for any reason--, for my own entertainment.
A/n: This is my first Harry Potter fan fic. Since I think I tried fairly hard on this, I would appreciate it if you would tell me what you think of it. Also, I would also like to point out a very large majority of the names I've used may seem a little odd, but I searched like a scavenger for actual English names and these are ones I found. So please do not question them too harshly, as if to say they're not common enough. Thank you.
Chapter One: A Different Type of Weasley
Around the old wooden table sat eight, only two of which acted even remotely civil. Meanwhile, six redheads, all in between the ages of eleven and sixteen, fought with finesse to win the argument they all were partaking in, ostracizing their parents, who seemed to have long-since given up mediating.
"Why do we have to go to school?! It's not as if I don't know anything at all!"
"Quit complaining! I've gone for six years already! Why should I go through something for that long to have my sisters not at all?!"
"Unlike you, I don't mind being mendicant! So I shouldn't have to go! Neither should Jonquil!"
"You're only eleven, how in heaven do you know a word that huge?!"
"I listened in Muggle School! They're not as stupid as you think! You don't listen to anything, if it meant saving the entire wizarding community. The largest word you've ever used is 'nauseate' and boy do you make me sick!"
The older red-haired girl stood from her seat, her wand in hand. "Keep it up!" She shouted caustically.
"Chantelle!"
The entire table went silent, and the older girl sat down. All of them looked down at their hands.
"That is just about enough. You have a right to your opinions but by no means can you point your wand at a little girl!" Their father said and combed his red hair, frayed with strands of gray, frustrated.
"I'm not a little girl!" The 'little girl' shouted at her father.
"Rikki," Their mother's voice said warningly. Rikki went quiet but continued to glare at her father.
"That's right! And by calling her a little girl that means I'm even littler and I didn't do anything to you!" Another little girl shouted at her father in her paternal twin's defense, as well as her own.
"Jonquil!" Their mother shouted again, standing up to get everyone's attention, her long black hair "This is the very first day of the school year for all of you. We'll be going soon enough. I suggest you enjoy each other's company while you can, and if you can't do that, don't say anything at all."
They all stared at each other for a moment, so their father decided to plow into the ice. "So, what house do you think the twins will go to?" He asked, casually as not to startle any of his six children.
"Gryffindor!" They all shouted and laughed.
"Remember what happened when Trevor was in sixth year? Brooklyn was called up and the sorting hat screamed and said they should make a house just for Weasley kids! And then he went on and said he was surprised George lived long enough to have kids and asked if she was uncle George and Aunt Malandra's only kid and she's just like, "Three more!" And he attempted to put her in Slytherin falsely, while asking what the Weasley family secret is," one of the boys told the story.
"I know! Who knew the hat was capable of sexual innuendo?" Chantelle giggled. "And then when Trevor went up he asked all the Weasleys to wave and there was, like, twenty-four hands up in the air waving vigorously."
"How many would there be this year?" The only sister who hadn't spoken, Kreszentia, inquired.
"Well," Trevor began. There's all of us. That's six. Sunshine starts this year so that's four more. Then all of Aunt Ginny's kids except for Astor because he's too young. That's fifteen. Morgana's been gone two years now and Lynette just graduated, so there's Ainsley, Sawyer, and Claston. Draven is like...nine. That's eighteen. Um...And Ronny-dear has...three in, two soon...so that's twenty-one out of twenty-seven! That's only on the Weasley side, too! Mum has three brothers and a sister, don't forget. Let's see..."
"That makes thirty-one! But remember, Aunt Ginny didn't marry her brother. She isn't a Weasley, she's a Bridgewater. You screwed up, Triston, you blonde!" Rikki chuckled.
Triston sneered at her and grabbed a bunch of his hair. "Does this look blonde to you?!"
Rikki regained her composure and shook her head. "No, that looks red, you hot head." She started laughing at her oldest brother's expense again, her father shaking his head in disappointment to the side.
In a few hours time, most of the Weasley family--with an exception of their father who's job at the Ministry of Magic required him to neglect seeing his children off--had arrived at the legendary train station that housed the equally-famous platform nine and three-quarters. Despite the constant whining in response to pushing a trolley cart coming from her children, Mrs. Weasley (Please note, I don't mean Mrs. Molly Weasley, but her daughter-in-law. You might want to keep in mind the Mrs. Weasley I'm referring to has a first name of Jacquette, because I'll be mentioning a handful of other 'Mrs. Weasley's as the story goes on.) walked on casually. In a few minutes or so the pillar that marked platform ten came into view.
"I'm going last," Trevor announced.
"Actually, I have the most seniority so I'll be going last," Chantelle retorted.
Mrs. Weasley stopped abruptly in between pillar nine and ten and her children followed suit, one of which almost plowed their mother down accidentally with their trolley.
"Okay. Chantelle, you're first."
"What?!" Chantelle bellowed. "But I'm the oldest and I always go first. I have the most seniority!"
"That's right," Mrs. Weasley replied, "and being the oldest gives you the responsibility of leading the way. Now come on, let's go."
Reluctantly, Chantelle ran with her trolley into the pillar, and disappeared.
"All right, Kreszentia."
And the oldest redheaded girl left did the same as her sister, only without any complaints.
"Triston, you're next."
"Trevor, if you leave your poor sisters stranded your father will hear of it."
"Rikki, you're six minutes older."
So Rikki followed her older siblings' examples, and ran with her trolley into the pillar, expecting to be repelled and fall back, but instead opened her eyes to see a sign and realizing she was in platform nine and three-quarters. She looked around a moment and found that Trevor had already gone away. In a few seconds, Jonquil showed up behind her.
"Mum says we just board the train, find a compartment, and when we get to the school a teacher will call us. She wants us to send a letter to Dad about Trevor."
So the twins boarded the Hogwarts Express and searched frantically for an empty compartment, finding one about halfway down. Before too long the amount of people in the halls declined significantly and both girls were surprised that out of their nineteen cousins at Hogwarts none came to sit with them, and took it like a bad omen. But before Rikki could finish that though the door to the compartment slid open and the head of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy they had never seen before.
"Excuse me," The boy began, "but is there a seat left in here?"
Both girls nodded, and the blonde came in and sat down. "I'm Kyle," he introduced himself. The girls nodded again.
"I'm Rikki," Rikki replied and pointed to her sister, "and she's Jonquil."
"Hi."
"Hi."
The three spent the rest of the trip in silence until the express stopped by the school. When they stepped out onto the asphalt they could hear someone shout, "First years over here!" Naturally Rikki and Jonquil followed the sound but were surprised to see Kyle did the same, meaning he was a first year as well, while he looked older than they did. At the front of the crowd where the hollering was coming from stood a rather tall, built, woman with a lantern in her right hand.
"First years!" She shouted while swinging the lantern back and forth gently.
Quickly, Rikki spotted her cousin. "Maddison!" She whispered harshly when she was near by. Another redheaded girl turned curiously and waved at the sight of her cousins. "Where's Sunshine? And Sawyer?!"
Maddison shrugged. "They're around, I guess."
After a while the crowd began to move forward, toward the school and before they knew it, they were standing on a staircase in front of two large doors where an older man stood.
"Good evening, first years. Behind these door sits your teachers and your classmates. We will soon be serving dinner, but first you must be sorted into your houses. Follow me, please."
All the students did as they were told quietly, and the professor swung the door open, and the students could see hundreds of other, older, students. They quickly went on to the ceremony, as if dangerously short on time.
The professor from before, who Rikki now recognized as the Gryffindor head teacher, Professor Shaw, held up a tattered, patched-up, old hat and stood behind a stool with a profusely long list in his other hand. He began to call out names alphabetically, and Rikki suddenly felt very anxious, knowing that it would be quite a while before she was called.
After a quarter of an hour, Rikki felt as if she would doze off at any given time as she stood, when Professor Shaw said, "Richardine Weasley."
Rikki was the first Weasley to be called up yet. Hesitantly, she walked up to the stool and sat on it quietly, and felt the old hat being set upon her head. And with a mysterious displeased roar, she felt the feeling go as fast as it came. Everyone laughed, but Rikki felt extremely self-conscious and embarrassed. She had assured herself that the wizarding community was very different than muggle society but if they were laughing at her, that idea had been shot a million times over.
"Not another Weasley! Not another!" Screeched the sorting hat, and Rikki blushed slightly.
"Whoops," She could hear Professor Shaw say under his breath as he went to pick up the hat. He placed the hat back on Rikki's head, holding it in place, forcing it to sort her.
"Ahh," It began. "Certainly a surprise to the Weasley family name. I might have expected this from either of your uncles, Fred or George, but certainly not a former Hogwarts prefect. Perhaps you're following in your mother's footsteps. Very well." By now Rikki was completely lost. The sorting hat was practically telling an inside joke and was not telling her how it was so funny. "SLYTHERIN!"
Rikki became thunderstruck. No one clapped at first, though there were several gasps. Could the sorting hat be wrong for once? Or could she have just broken a generation-expanding tradition and stereotype. And what did the sorting hat mean, "following in your mother's footsteps?" Her mother wasn't a Gryffindor?
Suddenly a rush of applause from the Slytherin table overcame her. As she stood she glanced at the Gryffindor table. She could see her cousins glaring at her. She hastily sat down at the proper table and realized that she had no one to sit with, because her family failed to get along with Slytherins every time they tried. It would be like that for the next seven years unless she decided to break a Weasley un-written law on her own initiative.
She looked up at the stool. Her twin was sitting there, giggling at the hilarious derogatory things the sorting hat was saying about their family name. Of course, Jonquil became a Gryffindor. This meant independence for Rikki. She had been in everything with her twin since the moment they were born, and now they became something of opposites. But, for some strange reason, she was scared.