Chapter One
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Esther Black set the heavy silver letter opener down onto the wooden table. "Ravenclaw," she said, slightly confused. "Andie got into Ravenclaw."
"A most distinguished house," her husband murmured, himself an alumni of it. Absent-mindedly, he skimmed the Daily Prophet.
It is September, and the two oldest girls have been sent off to Hogwarts; Bella for her fifth year and Andie for her first. The pale little girl shivered and shook, desperately trying to keep her older sister's hand in hers. Bella, a first time prefect, hastily waved her off, and, ignoring her, ran to the sanctuary of the prefects box.
Cissa, the youngest, was six years old. Skinny and tall for her age; she took after her mother with her blonde hair and lanky body. At that moment, she was still asleep upstairs, snoring half-heartedly and struggling to stay slumbering.
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Andie is a crescent moon of a child: pale, thin, and quiet. She is sharp-witted, and possesses the odd sort of intelligence that all of Ravenclaw's students own. While Bella takes after the Black side of the family, Andie resembles her mother's: the Lovegoods. Her features are delicate and pretty, though the aristocratic look of a Black lurks beneath. However, her eyes are the Black eyes: a keen gray color that glints like steel.
It was raining as she boarded the Hogwarts Express. Bella had abandoned her to hurry to the prefects box, and Andie was stuck with the task of finding an empty compartment. Finally, at the very end of the train, she stumbled upon one. Exhaling noisily, she slid down to the seat, closing her eyes momentarily.
There was a heavy knock on the door. Andie jumped, then hastily, with a confused and shaking hand, she opened it. A tall, white-haired man stood out in the trains hallway, with a few students behind him "Hello," he said, his voice burbling cheerfully. "May we come in?"
Andie nodded, scooting down next to the water-stained window. She watched as the professor (as she presumed he was) and the students walked in. The professor carefully sat down next to her.
He turned. "I am dreadfully sorry to intrude like this," he said, and extended his hand. "I am Professor Emery," he said. "The Potions Master. And these - "he pointed to the students "are a few bedraggled first-years I picked up along my hunt for a free compartment."
Andie nodded. "Hello," she answered. "Um...I'm Andromeda. Andromeda Black."
The professor raised an eyebrow to this, but was quiet. "And you are a first-year, I presume?"
"Yes."
A flaxen-haired boy turned from the window. "I'm Adrian Righ," he blurted. "Er...a...a pleasure to meet you."
The other girl looked up from her hand, where she had been nervously pulling at her cuticles. "Clara Wyatt."
"Oliver Skotos," the last boy murmured.
The four of them sat there awkwardly. Droplets of rain pattered onto the window like the Little Drummer Boy rat-a-tat-tatting. Andie clutched her robe in her hands, crumpling the fabric up.
"How do we get Sorted?" Adrian suddenly asked. "I mean...my cousins told me that..."
"Yes?" Andie said, leaning in; interested.
"That...that you have to wrestle a troll!" Adrian burst out, biting his lower lip hard with fear.
The professor (who had been fussing with his briefcase until this point) burst out laughing. He covered his face with a vein-ridden hand, trying to subdue his shrill giggles, but (alas) it did not work. The children stared at him, worried expressions crossing their faces.
"Professor?" Oliver said gently, poking his knee. "Are you all right?"
Professor Emery nodded, his shoulders sagging. He straightened, and, with a last snigger, he quickly told them this wasn't true.
Adrian leaned back in his seat, relieved. "Thank God...," he muttered, finding his handkerchief and handing it to the teary professor, who promptly blew his nose with a honk. "I'll never believe anything that Eli and Violeta tell me again..."
"Eli and Violeta Baien?" Professor Emery asked. Adrian nodded. "Ah, the twins...both a most...creative."
Adrian sighed. "Right. Creative...Well, they're excellent liars."
"What house are they in?" Clara asked, turning to Adrian.
"Gryffindor. They're in their fifth year."
"Does any one else have relatives at Hogwarts?" Andie wondered, glancing around. If they did, she didn't know them.
Oliver raised his hand half-heartedly. "My sister," he said. "Angelina."
"Mine, too," Andie said. "Bellatrix."
Again, Professor Emery raised his eyebrow - this time more discreetly.
"I'm the oldest," Clara admitted.
The rain outside had stopped, though the sky was still gloomy. Slowly, with a crunch of gears and the smell of steam, the Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop.
"Well," Oliver said, turning to Adrian, "I guess we'll find out how we're Sorted now."
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Bellatrix sat at the heavy wooden table, twirling a quill, a bored expression on her face. She was in her fifth year at Hogwarts, her first year as a prefect, and ready to get out of the school. Formal schooling was such a waste, she thought.
The first years filed in, each one smaller then the last. Andie was near the front, right after a brunette boy who, by the looks of it, had a runny nose. Bella smiled lazily, ignoring her friend, Thalassa Macnair, who chatted on beside her, poking at her plate.
Get into Slytherin, get into Slytherin, Bella prayed, watching Andie like a cat.
The hat finished singing.
Professor Heller clapped three times, signaling for silence. A small woman, she was the Herbology teacher, and her orange hair had now turned mostly white, with the odd gray strand. She sat down, and watched with minute attention as the Deputy Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, led the first years to the bedraggled wizard's hat sitting on the wooden stool.
"Addison, Hector!"
A small boy with an altogether too-large head stumbled up to the hat, twisting his hands nervously.
Thirty seconds later, the Sorting Hat called out "HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Amphion, Rebekah!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
Bella turned to Nathaniel Montague, who was busy reading some knut paperback novel. "God," she said nervously, peeling her napkin back into its original square form, "I hope she gets into Slytherin."
"Who?"
"Andromeda, my little sister, idiot! The one I've been worrying about all night!"
Nathaniel turned the page. "Ah," he murmured, "that one."
Nathaniel, while a nice person (and wonderful Quidditch player), was oblivious to the fact that, yes, the other people around him had lives of some sort.
"Black, Andromeda!"
"Shh!" Bella hissed at her friends. "She's up!"
The hat sat on her head for what seemed like hours to the agonizing Bella. It hemmed, and hawed, and wiggled around for ages, until, finally -
"RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table, decked out in blue and bronze, burst into cheers and clapping. Bella could spy Nadine Foster (that little goody-two-shoes) welcoming Andie in, and making her sit next to her.
Bella fumed.
"What am I going to tell Mother and Daddy?" she asked, furious and distraught.
"Well, she obviously wasn't good enough for us," Xander Phelps interjected, helping himself to the chicken.
"Shut up!" Bella snapped, thumping her fork on the table. She turned to Thalassa, who was biting delicately into a Yorkshire pudding. "Well?"
Thalassa swallowed, then shrugged. "I don't know what we could do, Bella. The Sorting Hat knows what it's doing, I suppose, so you better just get used to it. Besides," she said, cutting her ham, "It's not like you'll never see her again."
Bella sunk into her chair, her fork and knife still clasped tightly in her hands. She scowled, and Nathaniel put his book down only long enough to help himself to a peppermint humbug.
Humbug indeed.
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