'Lo. This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. I don't own any of the characters in Harry Potter, but I did make up some of my own characters. ;) I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know if there are any mistakes, so I can take them out... obviously... Another thing, there are a few jokes that poke fun at the French and its country. This is not to belittle the French in any way, it's just to add a bit of humor to the story. If you have a problem with this, I'll take them out accordingly. Thanks much.
Laure Martin stared at the brick wall in front of her nervously.
'What the hell am I supposed to do?' she thought, slightly angry at the fact that no one had told her how to get onto some Platform 9 ¾. 'How can there even BE 9 ¾ of a platform? Ugh. Brits, always complicating things.'
To most Muggles, she probably looked pretty odd, standing there with a large trunk with an owl cage attached to it, wearing odd, light blue robes. Right now, though, she didn't care about the constant stares. All she cared about was how to get onto the blasted platform.
By the impatience she was showing with her body language, one could easily tell she was French. ((No offense to any frogs. XD)) Her features, aside from those abnormalities, were prominent and that of an eagle – sharp, precise, to the point. She brushed a loose strand of dark brown out of her face, revealing bright yellow eyes flickering about. Laure searched furiously for any sign of magic-related people.
As if on cue, a boy with very tidy, platinum-blonde hair and an arrogant smirk strode through the area as if he owned it. Behind him were two, large, dumb-looking cohorts who were both pushing a huge cart that held three trunks.
"Ses copains," breathed Laure in her native language. "His buddies, I presume..." Already, even without knowing him, she didn't like him. Although his parents gave him rather nice features, she hated the look spread upon them, even if she was from France: pretty much the country of arrogance.
But, now was not the time to glare upon this handsome fellow, she told herself. She had to watch him like a hawk to see what he was about to do to get on the Platform. The boy took a few more arrogant strides before giving the "pimp nod" to his cronies and walking... straight through the brick wall.
'Well, that makes things a lot easier,' Laure smiled, as the other two behind him followed suit and went through the wall. After a few moments, she cautiously stepped through, unsure of what to expect. To her surprise, it felt like she were just walking through air with a pleasant breeze.
Immediately she heard the chugging, steaming Hogwarts Express in front of her. The Frenchie admired the craftsmanship for a moment, thinking, 'Nice work, Britain. Better than I thought you could do,' and headed off to load her trunk inside and find a good seat.
The train was surprisingly roomy for... well, a train. All the compartments had good seating, enough for four or five if one spaced properly. Unfortunately, almost all of the compartments were already full, Laure noticed as she walked by, glancing in each. One had many girls discussing something... all Laure heard was bits and pieces, like "so bloody hot" and "most of the Slytherin boys are, but they're just so mean!"
'No, no, no. Definitely not,' thought the girl firmly. She didn't want to deal with screaming girls all day.
More compartments came and gone as she passed... one had a girl with bushy hair, talking fervently to a redheaded boy and a boy with glasses and dark hair; "So Snuffles hasn't sent anything new yet, at all?" she squeaked.
'Dear God. They've all gone mad...'
Another held a bunch of boys, first years, Laure guessed. They were all talking about how they expected to fail every class, how they didn't want to be sorted, how they wanted to be in the same house as their brother.
"I really hope I don't get Slytherin!" said one fretfully.
There was that word again, what did it mean? If anyone was confused, it was the French girl. She didn't stop to ask, however, she just continued on, until she found a seemingly empty compartment. With a sigh of relief, Laure sat down with her eyes closed, happy to have found somewhere before the train began to move. It was when she opened her eyes that she realized she wasn't alone.
Across from her sat, (to her dismay) the boy she'd seen at King's Cross, and quite possibly one of the ugliest girls she had ever seen. 'No, wait, there was that hag in Bulgaria at that Quidditch match,' Laure corrected herself.
The girl was attached to the boy with extreme interest in his lips. Having not noticed the new arrival yet, she simply went on and on about herself in the most annoying voice. It was obvious that the feeling was not mutual; the boy leaned on his arm with an angry look in his eyes, one that screamed he'd rather be in hell than in the train with the atrocity clinging to his precious arm. It looked like he had given up on trying to get rid of her – resistance was, apparently, futile.
It was some time before he finally looked straight across from himself.
"What're you doing here?" he said, glaring, in an almost accusing tone.
"Oh, I'm sorry, prime minister, I thought it was empty. Clearly, it's not, but everywhere else is full," Laure said with a cultivated, fake sweetness. The lightest of French accents was detectable, but only in words with Rs and "th"s.
With a snuffy noise that sounded much like a pig, the ugly girl across from her said, "You could have found another place, couldn't you? We're trying to have some alone time."
At that moment, the train rumbled, and started to move. None of the three in the compartment were the least bit perturbed by this sudden movement.
"No. We're. NOT," said the blonde in a dangerous voice through gritted teeth, beginning to shove her off his arm again. Alas, again, she persisted, and again, he gave up.
"If I didn't know better," Laure commented in the calmest voice she could muster, "I'd say he doesn't quite fancy you."
Ugly glared at her some more and with a unibrow furrowed, she growled, "GET OUT!"
"Gladly," Laure stood and walked out, only hearing...
"Good, now will you GET OFF??" barked the blonde.
"Oooooh, when?"
...and then she could only hear what was unmistakably muffled shouting as she made her way through.
After what seemed forever and she was thinking of giving up and just sitting in the hallway, Laure found an almost-empty compartment. It contained a single girl whose body was stretched out on the seat she was occupying. She appeared to be immersed in a book called, "Philbert Deverill: Struggles of a Quidditch Manager." Her acid green eyes scanned a book's pages quickly and with ease. On her stomach was a tan bag, the size of a large cheese wheel.
Laure pressed her lips together as if spreading lipstick around, and said in a quiet voice, "May I join you? Everywhere else is packed."
The other looked up suddenly, as if awoken by sleep, and said, "Oh! Sure, go right ahead." A cheerful smile spread across her face as she patted the seat across from her.
"Ah, thank you," Laure said gratefully, and took the offered seat. "I'm uh, Laure. Laure Martin." She spoke her name the way a French person would, obviously.
"French? Wicked," the other girl set down her book beside her, and sat forward in her seat, placing the bag delicately beside her. "My name's Sonya Torrey, but I just go by Torrey most of the time."
Laure grinned, "Alrigh', Torrey. What're you reading?"
"Oh, just a book on this Quidditch guy. I'm trying to get myself into the sport's history, but I much prefer playing than reading about it..." Torrey said with a bored look. She added, as if to reassure herself, "Oh, but I love to read!"
Laure nodded, then her curiosity got the better of her. "What's in that bag, there?"
"This?" Torrey loosened it a little, and to Laure's surprise, a sleeping animal was inside. To her even greater surprise, it was... a raccoon. "It's my pet, name's Bandit."
The French girl's eyes were transfixed on the raccoon. A bit of awkward silence passed between the two before it was broken by girls talking.
"Oh, my GOD! He just left?" said one. The voices were drawing nearer.
"Yes," said the other one sadly, with a clear Scottish accent. "Said he wanted to be a famous Keeper for some pro team, which I guess I can understand. Oh!" The sources of the voices appeared in the doorway, along with one other person who had not spoken yet. One was a tallish, golden blonde, one had bright pink hair, and the third had auburn hair.
"There you are," said the pink-haired one impatiently. "We've been lookin' in practically every compartment for you, Torrey!"
"Oh, really?" Torrey looked apologetic. "Sorry about that... er... come in."
"Right," said the blonde, who walked straight in and took a seat. The pink-haired person sat next to Laure, and next to her was the blonde. Across sat the auburn-haired person.
The two that had been talking before began to speak to each other again heatedly, so Laure wasn't really listening to them at the moment. Her thoughts were on the first compartment she had got in to, the one with the boy and the hurt girl.
'Oh, that's right, there's actually people who are from the blasted school here.'
"Oi, Torrey," she said quietly, as the two next to her were still talking, "Do you know of a boy who's kind of arrogant, and he has this kind of white-blond hair, and-"
"Ugh. Yes," Torrey replied, her eyes showing immediate anger. "His name's Draco Malfoy, and he's a Slytherin. Let me guess, he was with a really ugly girl?"
"Yeah, he was, but he was shovin' her away... and what's Slytherin?"
"Mm... okay. There are four houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, which is for brave people basically... Hufflepuff, loyal people... Ravenclaw, smart and resourceful people (I'm in it)... and, of course, Slytherin, which is pretty much for jerks."
"I... see," said the brown-haired girl slowly. "How does one get into a house, do you have to audition?"
"Oh, no, no," said Torrey, laughing. "In one's first year, you get Sorted into the houses by the Sorting Hat. Like, one puts it on, and it says which house one'll be in, judging by one's mind, I suppose. Then, wherever the hat says to go, one just goes down to sit at one of the four house tables."
Laure only nodded. She couldn't speak; she was nervous again. Did this mean she, a fifth year, had to go up in front of everyone and wear some weirdo hat that would read her mind? The mere thought was enough to make her hope the train wouldn't stop.
"So, you're a transfer student?" said the auburn-haired girl.
Having almost forgotten she was there, Laure was surprised when she said, "Yeah, I'm from Nice, France. I used to go to Beauxbatons."
"Ah," she said. "I'm Kyung-Soon, by the way. I'm Korean, originally, but I don't even speak a word of it."
Laure grinned and replied with, "Laure."
The rest of the train ride (which wasn't very long), Torrey and Kyung-Soon told Laure all about Hogwarts with gusto. Once the bright red train had come to a stop, the prefects headed out to open the doors for everyone.
"Gotta go," said Torrey suddenly after changing into her Ravenclaw robes, which had a "P" pin on the front.
Laure walked outside, in pure awe of what she was seeing; people running every which way, a giant castle atop a lake, not to mention a giant man who was trying to corral little first years his way.
"First years!" he called continually, beaming at all the students as they came off the train.
"Who's that?" asked Laure, watching as he headed over to the lake.
"That's Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures professor," explained Kyung-Soon calmly. "Come on, we've better get to the carriages over here..." she gestured to a large sum of carriages with no horses or drivers in the front of them.
Laure followed the Korean girl into a carriage along with the blonde, the odd pink-haired person, and finally Torrey after a few minutes. They were joined in the roomy carriage by the three people she had seen earlier, discussing "Snuffles."
Instantly, as the dark-haired wizard got into the carriage (still paying very much attention to what the bushy-haired girl was saying), Laure recognized him.
'Dear God, that's Harry Potter!' she thought, trying not to be too obvious when she looked at his scar. She swallowed as the redhead came in, saying in a slightly high voice, "You don't reckon we could share, do you? The Slytherins are having a riot with most of the other carriages..." He suddenly took notice of Kyung-Soon. "Oh! K, I didn't see you there," he said, positively beaming. He stopped taking notice to what the bushy-haired person was saying, and took notice to Kyung.
"Not at all," said Torrey, nodding toward the Asian for him to sit next to her.
The blonde and pink-haired pair was talking once more, this time mentioning something about an "Oliver" and a lot more about Quidditch.
"'Lo, Ron," said K, blushing slightly. At that moment, Torrey leaned over toward Laure, saying, "They're not going out, but everyone knows it's bound to happen."
Laure laughed, and felt a lot more at home; she had some new friends, and she was in a carriage with the one and only Harry Potter, whom she thought she'd never meet in her lifetime. Vaguely, she recalled reading a book that said he went to Hogwarts School, but never really thought about it as she had boarded the train. But she felt a lot better, as she looked out the window at the lake and the castle.
'For a stone castle, this place sure feels warm,' thought Laure as she entered the Great Hall. In it were four, long tables, which she assumed were the house tables. A small stool sat in front of another long table at the end of the room. The table had many older people sitting at it., most likely the staff of the school. In the very middle was an old-looking man with half-moon glasses, and a beard long enough to tuck in his belt if he felt it necessary. He was watching the students with a twinkle in his eye and his hands cupped together. He waited until everyone appeared to be situated, then said, "Welcome to Hogwarts, students!" Laure, however, stood next to the huge double doors, not quite knowing where to put herself.
The doors burst open suddenly and out of them came a woman clutching a roll of parchment and a ragged hat, followed by two rows of first years. They were all gawking at the castle, the floating candles, the bewitched ceiling, the entire room. The room fell silent once the woman had reached the front of the room, next to the small stool. She cleared her throat, and said something to the first years about the sorting which Laure didn't quite catch.
"Now then," said the woman wearily as she unrolled the parchment. "Amelia Argent."
Amelia walked up to the stool nervously, constantly putting her black hair behind her ears. The old woman placed the ragged old hat atop the girl's head. It called out, almost instantly, "SLYTHERIN!" Applause erupted from the Slytherin table, farthest left from where Laure was. She noticed Draco Malfoy sitting there, the ugly girl on the other side of the table entirely. Across from him was a girl with black hair who looked positively evil. Laure shrugged the thought off, though.
"Theodore Bonnes."
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Bridget Broadwell."
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
The list drew on... "Leena Kamat."
"GRYFFINDOR!"
And on... "Henry Lute."
"SLYTHERIN!"
And on... "Laure Martin."
'Wait a minute,' thought Laure. 'Oh, GREAT.' With a sharp intake of breath, she strode between the two centre rows of tables. She made her way to the stool through the sea of first years, and took a seat, feeling much like a cat in the middle of a dog pound.
The old woman placed the haggard hat atop her head. Oddly enough, she could hear a voice in the back of her head... 'Ah, a good brain you've got, but qualities of a good leader as well... where to put you... hmmm...'
Laure swallowed, hard. 'How about Ravenclaw?' she thought miserably. She was so embarrassed...
'Right, then... if you're so sure...'
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted, as the Ravenclaws began to cheer and applaud, after a few confused moments of wondering why on earth a fifth year was being Sorted.
Laure once again made her way through the first years as "Margaret Pim" got Sorted into Gryffindor. She couldn't see K or Torrey, but she did see the golden blonde with an empty seat next to her. "Why not," she breathed, taking a seat next to her.
"'Lo," she said, giving a nod.
"'Ello 'ello! Welcome to Ravenclaw! The name's Alexandra Artemis Hunt, but you can call me Alex or Artemis," said the blonde in one breath, cerulean eyes unblinking as she held out a callused hand. After a hearty handshake that nearly made Laure fall off the bench, she added, "You're name's...Laure right?"
"Yup," Laure nodded as she regained her balance. "So you're a fifth year, I suppose?"
'Why am I being so quiet?' Laure thought, a bit angry at herself for not saying more.
"Yeah, fifth years all the way! Woo!" Alex hooted excitedly, then coughed and turned serious when people around them started to stare. While watching "Reba Thatcher" become a Ravenclaw and clapping, she said, "So, yeah, so tell me about yourself."
'She must have read my mind!' Laure thought, relieved that she didn't have to start the conversation. "Right, then, let's see... well, my Mum's back in Nice – where I'm from – and she had problems, believe it or not, with the professors at Beauxbatons... so, she wrote to the headmaster here, figuring it was a good school." She paused and continued, "And it's pretty different here, because Beauxbatons isn't anywhere near as big as Hogwarts. Oh! I heard that there's house Quidditch teams here!! Is that true?"
"Mm-hm! I've been on the Ravenclaw team as Seeker since my third year," she said happily, her Scottish accent sounding very cute at the moment. Alex looked around at the tables and noticed a certain platinum blonde Slytherin. She continued to stare at him for some time before she was distracted by the last first year being called, and food suddenly popped up onto the tables. "Um... what was I saying?"
Laure followed her gaze to the boy. 'Oh, great. Draco...' she thought dismally as food appeared on her own plate. It took her quite by surprise, but Alex grabbed a roll - "Oh, right, I remember..." and continued chatting about the Quidditch teams, and every so often her eyes wandered over to the Slytherin table, her expression unreadable.
Right when they were in a deep discussion about Galvin Gudgeon and his current stats, Alex caught eye of the enormous clock on the wall and let out a high pitched squeak. "I've got to go," she muttered, dropping the chicken leg she was holding. "Nice meeting you! See you in the common room..."
Laure blinked in surprise and watched the Scottish girl run off to the Grand Staircase. Eventually, Laure stood as well, having finished her dinner and getting ready to find someone to follow to the common room. This was her lucky day, for Torrey had just run up to her.
"C'mon, I'll show you to the common room. Password's Dragon Fang," Torrey grinned and headed up the stairway with Laure following. They came to a moving staircase and waited for it to come to the right floor. A pair of redheaded twins came up behind them, and Laure listened to their conversation... just a little. No, she wasn't eavesdropping, of course not...
"Yeah, but Mum had a cow last time we tried to make those order forms again. And you know she'll find them no matter how well we hide them," said one.
"Then we'll have to keep things quiet, and make sure ickle bickie Ron doesn't find out what's going on..." replied the other. The pair resumed their conversation once the staircase had come to their floor. They muttered something to a portrait of a fat lady, which swung open to let them in. Laure and Torrey, however, remained where they were until the staircase stopped at its last stop.
Torrey followed the stone corridor to the end. There on the wall was a painting of a dark blue raven.
"Password?" it inquired in a soft voice, much unlike that of a raven.
"Dragon fang," said Torrey. The portrait swung open just as the Gryffindor portrait had, revealing a large opening in the wall. Torrey walked in, turned around, and said, "Our dormitories are to your right, and the boys are to the left, in case you wanted to know." Torrey winked, and began toward the portrait hole again.
"Where're you going, Tor?" asked Laure, surprised she was leaving already.
"Prefect duty. See you later, alright?"
Laure nodded numbly as Torrey ran off, wondering what the heck a prefect was. She shrugged her thoughts off and looked around at the room in front of her; it was very, very large, and rectangular in shape. On the right side of the room were a small fireplace and a long table with many comfortable-looking chairs gathered around it. On the left side was another fireplace, with a lot of, squishy leather chairs and sofas surrounding it. Only a few people were in the common room at the time, talking, unwrapping Chocolate Frogs, and dozing on one of the sofas.
Laure walked to her right, just as Torrey had explained. There was an upstairs and a downstairs, and she decided to choose the upstairs. There were three wooden doors, with a five, a six, and a seven on them, respectively.
'How about door number five?' thought Laure. She opened the door slowly, and almost screamed in surprise...
Cliffhanger! Not really... XD Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the first installment – expect more soon! I.L.M.R.