AN- Short Disclaimer! Alright, but seriously...if you dont know that any of JK Rowlings characters arn't mine you need help. This disclaimer is mainly for the new character introduced here. The girl her befriends Kristoff is NOT MY CHARACTER!!! She belongs to my good friend Cassara Barr. See my reviews if you want to read her stories. And now, ONWARD TO THE STORY!
In a dark room as drawer is slowly opened by a boy of no more than eighteen years in age. He sits in a chair at a desk in black wizarding robes. The faint light catches glass lenses, letting them shimmer lightly as a medium sized book is taken out of the drawer. The drawer held a few more items as well, a smaller book, and underneath the false bottom...a notebook and a cerulean pen.
But the figure was concentrating on the larger book, opening the cover to reveal a photo of two people on a special day. A boy with glasses and short, neat, brown hair...and a girl who made all the difference.
After his eleventh birthday...Kristoff hadn't been the same. The smiling, friendly, outgoing boy who had once stood at the top of the stairs, ecstatic that he'd found clothing that hadn't been to large for him...that boy was gone. All that was left was an empty shell, the sides encrusted with a small portion of what had once been. Perhaps...the contents of this empty shell still existed somewhere...but if so, it would take time to return.
The sorting had been terrible; Kristoff had gone close to last...as alphabetical order implied. When the names had reached 'D' a peculiar name was called..., "Alma Dumbledore" had been the dubbance of the girl. Kristoff had watched as she went up, her head held high in pride. To the crowd's surprise...the girl had been sorted into Slytherin.
Not long after, Kristoff was called up. It was the moment he dreaded...the moment this wonderful school started to slowly become a place of torment. "Kristoff Snape," Was the name called, and reluctantly he made his way to the stage, head hanging, gaze to the floor. No, his father hadn't been the immensely hated Potions teacher...his father was dead. It was his uncle who now sat at the long table behind the stool, the stool where Kristoff now sat with the large black hat on his head.
Then the second surprise of the sorting ceremony came, little Kristoff was sorted into Ravenclaw. The boy made his way hastily to his house table, slouching terribly into the seat on the bench. Only one person talked to him that night, and it was only a greeting. Her name had been Luna Lovegood, but she didn't seem to be all too popular herself. Kristoff knew what must be going through their heads...through the students minds. Surely someone related to Professor Snape was no good.
So Kristoff kept to himself, talking to no one. The first week ended quickly enough, leaving the students to rest in peace on the first weekend of the school year. Kristoff knew what he'd do, find someplace where he could be alone...and read. Read what? Simple, the only book he'd owned before school...a small cook book with intricate gold writing on the binding. He made his way down the hallway, hiding the smaller book behind a book of spells...disguising it from prying eyes. Disguising it simply because if there was no one to see the book...there would be no one to torment him about his interest.
Halfway down the hall from the Ravenclaw common room there was a collision. Kristoff fell backwards into a sitting position as both books went hurtling through the air. He could barely make out who it was he'd collided with, as his glasses had fallen as well.
"Oh...Sorry" the voice of a girl responded quickly, holding up the fallen spectacles.
"Its...It's alright," Kristoff stammered in reply, scrambling for the two books that had been existentially discarded. He found the book of spells with ease, but couldn't seem to locate the smaller one.
Finally he spotted it, and froze as it was slowly taken up by none other than the Slytherin boy who seemed to make it his job to torment the 'underlings' of the school; Draco Malfoy. Kristoff slowly brought himself to his feet, pressing his glasses closer to his face and awaiting the torment he felt sure he would receive. "Who's is this?" the Slytherin spat out, turning his gaze to the trembling Kristoff...but his gaze soon shifted to the girl.
"Its mine, Draco." She replied, walking over to the blond. It was then that Kristoff realized who the girl was, none other than Alma Dumbledore.
"I didn't know you could cook Alma?" Draco said to the girl, raising an eyebrow as he did so.
"Well, I guess you learn something new every day," Alma replied, kissing the blond lightly on the cheek and taking the book from him. The whole school had known of this, the two students had been together for almost the entire week that school had been in session. Kristoff watched as the two students said their goodbye's, soon after Draco was out of sight, and Alma turned back to Kristoff, handing him back the small leather-bound book.
"You're Kristoff aren't you?" She asked, obviously remembering him from various classes...or perhaps it was the sorting.
Kristoff nodded, glancing towards the girl before shifting his gaze once more away.
"I'm Alma," She went on, stating what the boy had already known. She then turned to look down at the book clutched tightly in Kristoff's hands. "Do you like cooking?" She inquired.
The brown haired boy looked up at the question, letting the ghost of a smile play on his lips as he nodded very slightly.
"I wish I could cook," Alma went on with a smile that almost made it seem like she was hiding a wonderful, yet horrible secret. "I burnt the kitchen wall last time," She finished with a wink.
Kristoff grinned slightly at the conversation starter, "My mother used to go away on weekends, and I had to do the cooking because when my Fath-," he cut himself off, choking terribly on the word that he'd begun to say...but he forced the grin to return, the grin that now held the emptiness that mirrored this boy, "When my Father had to cook, he set the stove on fire." He finished.
Alma nodded, continuing as if she'd noticed nothing strange about his pause, "What type of food do you enjoy cooking the most? The extent of my abilities is chicken."
Kristoff glanced up once more, attempting at the grin that had been there moments before. He glanced down to the small book clutched in his hands, "Soufflé's are a pleasant challenge...At least when it's quiet." He ran a finger along the binding with faded gold letters that read, 'All you ever need to know about Soufflé's'
"I'd never be able to stay quiet," Alma leant in to whisper then, as if what she was about to say was a tremendous secret, "I'm really loud."
Kristoff blinked slightly at the gesture, pushing his glasses up once more, "...Oh." Was all he managed to utter.
The months passed, and the two of them became close friends. Slowly, the empty shell that had been the brown haired boy began to fill.
Draco became jealous that Alma would spend so much time with the Ravenclaw boy. As we all know, Draco's father is a Death Eater. As such, he knows certain things...including Kristoff's largest secret. So of course, the blond Slytherin wanted pay back.
That payback came during Christmas break; Draco grabbed Kristoff and pulled him into an empty classroom. He shoved Kristoff back into a wall.
Glasses askew, Kristoff looked trembling at Draco as the boy spoke, "I'll teach you to mess with me," Draco whispered harshly. He then began to ear the arm off of Kristoff's robes.
"No!" Kristoff shouted feebly, "Don't!" He desperately tried to pull away, attempting to reach for his wand. But his arm was hit against the wall, and pinned as the sleeve of his sweater was torn off. All that was left was the bandages wrapped around his upper arm. The bandages that were not for a wound.
But those too were torn off, Kristoff managed to shove Draco away and put a hand up to cover the blue skull just as a familiar voice sounded from the doorway.
"What's going on??" Alma demanded, "Kristoff, are you ok?" she asked, assuming his arm had been hurt.
At that moment it seemed as if everything was pulled forward in time so quickly that it may have never stopped. Kristoff was thrown into the hallway, into the crowd of passing students enjoying their break. Pinned to the floor Kristoff could do nothing but keep his eyes shut tightly as the mark on his arm was shown to everyone.
Kristoff heard a unanimous gasp as he felt Draco pulled off, the soft material of a cloak put over his arm.
"What do you think your doing!?" he heard Alma yell to the blond Slytherin.
"Showing what he is," Draco replied with a sneer.
Kristoff sat up, pulling the cloak Alma had given him on as he watched the two argue.
"What makes you think I care what he is!?" Alma shrieked.
Draco replied with narrowed eyes, "Alma, Be reasonable!"
"No!" Was the shouted reply, "Forget it! Forget /this/!" And with the remark she jut a finger at the crowd that had formed. "I'm through with you!"
Kristoff stood up and fixed his glasses as Alma put a hand to his shoulder, going with him to the lake. As hard as he tried, the Ravenclaw boy could not ignore the whispering that went on behind them.
Once they were both at the lake, they sat by the water. "Kristoff...," Alma began, looking towards the silent boy, "How did you get that mark?...I know it was forced."
Kristoff turned to look at her, surprised that she would know that the blue coloring of the mark meant. Turning his gaze out to the water, he began to tell her. He told her everything, beginning with the cerulean pen his father had given him, and ending with the tragic death. As he choked out the last few words, he shut his eyes tightly, looking to the ground.
"Oh Kristoff..." She said, lifting a hand slightly.
As Kristoff looked down, the tears that fell landed onto the glass of his lenses, trickling down the side and falling off the rim. He took in a quick as she embraced him in a comforting hug.
All throughout school, the two remained friends. Slowly but surely, the empty shell that had been the Ravenclaw boy began to fill. It filled slowly but steadily, so that by the end of school it was no longer empty...but full. By graduation Kristoff was back to the way he had been before his eleventh birthday. His mother took a photo of them standing side by side in their wizarding robes, and Kristoff kept it.