Disclaimer- I only own the characters of which you do not recognize.
POSTED IN MEMORY OF SIRIUS BLACK AND ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower,
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.
-Robert Frost
(A/N-Please ignore any spelling/grammatical errors, I'm short on time and haven't been able to check it over...and enjoy!)
CHAPTER 1-How It All Began...
Time is one of my most hated enemies, right up there with Slytherins and John Mayer. It has been for as long as I remember and, to this day, still is. Cruel were the hands on the clock, ticking away the seconds...minutes...hours... I'm sorry if I sound too thespian, but you have to understand-time stole 13 years of my life away from me. It made the moments I had with my friends and family seem so short and the pain of being without them last forever. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The whole reason I'm even writing this is so people can read my story years fr-
Um, your story? And what were we in YOUR story, faithful sidekicks? Pft, sidekicks my arse! We were just as important as you in all this.
You take that quill out of my hand again, Devon, and I'll be shoving that up your arse as well. Fine, Conner and me are writing OUR story (happy?) so tha-
What about me? Think you'll just cut me out of this, do you? And it's Conner and I, not Conner and me-HEY! What the bloody hell was that for!
The inkbottle just slipped...oh, are those new dress robes?
WERE NEW DRES-Ahem, as I was saying before being so rudely interrupted-TWICE-Conner, Cassandra, and I wanted to-
As usual, the Hufflepuff is never included in anything...just forget about little old m-
WOULD YOU ALL FIND YOUR OWN BLOODY QUILLS!
Someone's a bit testy today.
I'm going to use what little patience I have left to explain this to you, as I'm afraid your minds are far too small to comprehend it-
Pardon me? WHO received 9 O.W.L.S last year?
-to explain to you that I'M writing this as a sort of...of Memoir. To explain to the future just how irritating it is to spend a whole year living with you three!
Well, that's all jolly good for future Gryffindors, but what about Hufflepuffs?
Or Ravenclaws?
Slytherins?
Oh, for the love of- are you suggesting that we work together on this?
Oh, NOW you all don't have anything to say?
Alright, I'll do it.
Your not serious.
Why not?
And I suppose SOMEONE'S going to have to revise this thing. Your grammar is positively atrocious. And that should be YOU'RE, not your, Kate.
I suppose I can stand being with you for a short period of time.
You're honestly agreeing to this? You really think that we- Kate Beck, Adrian Louse, Cassandra Quirke, and Conner Devon- will actually be able to strike a truce long enough to write this thing?
Why not? We've done it before, who's to say we can't do it again?
...Alright, let's do it. But I don't want ANY snide Gryffindor remarks! And yes, Conner, I am looking at you.
Yes, yes, alright, we'll tell it exactly as it happened.
The Story of the Four Most Unlikely People ever-
Well, we can work on the title.
So how should it start?
I was getting to that! Right, so this is the story of the Gryffindor-
-the Ravenclaw-
-the Hufflepuff-
-and the Slytherin.
It all begins on a cold, dreary day, the fateful day of July 31, 1997-
Little dramatic, aren't we?
Shut it, Devon. –1997, a day that would live on as one of the biggest Death Eater raids in history...the day all of our lives changed forever...
Kate Beck was currently in a strange room, in an even stranger house (seemingly out of place in the quiet, normal looking neighborhood) and hadn't any idea how she got there.
She'd been at home, doing some last minute packing and feeling that nervous-excitement one only felt the day before school starts. She was in the midst of trying to remember whether or not she had already packed her Charms book, when a loud bang echoed somewhere close by, and flashes of green light poured into her room, overtaking the sunset colors that were streaked across her white walls. Mistaking them as fireworks left over from July 4, she let out a groan. Her ferret, Bueller, was positively terrified of loud noises and now Kate would probably be stuck spending the night soothing him, which, in turn would leave her exhausted for Hogwarts the next day. Scowling, she left her room and headed downstairs to see how Bueller was fairing.
She had made it as far as the second landing on the long, winding staircase, when she heard the crash of a door being blown off its hinges and a gray and black streak shot by her feet.
"What-" was as far as she got before being cut off by an angry shout.
"Avada Kedavra!" Kate had never before heard those words, and had assumed they were a foreign spell, but there was no mistaking the power behind those two words; it was the kind of power that made you flush hot, then cold, then made the hair along your arms and neck stand straight up as though petrified. A flash of green light later and loud squeak near her ankles made her look down, only to be greeted with the limp body of her ferret. Barely having time to register this or even draw her wand, another cry of Avada Kedavra! Was heard through the air. Kate did the only thing she could think of at the time-she dropped to the ground, arms protectively wrapped around her head. The same flash of green light went streaking over her, hitting the wall beside her. Instantly, it crumbling upon the curses' impact. The last thing Kate saw before the wall collapsed atop her was a broad figure, wearing a cloak splattered with blood.
Then, approximately half an hour ago, (the rooms' walls bore no clock) she woke up in a rather hard bed, shoulder throbbing painfully, cuts on her arms bandaged, and a tender spot above her left eye. Her first thought was 'God…Bueller…' Then she remembered her parents. They had been in the house with her…had they gotten out okay? Ignoring her protesting shoulder, she pushed off the stiff mattress and made her way to the door. It was locked. Peachy. Now what?
She had spent the past thirty minutes thinking exactly what she should do and had come up with nothing. She had pondered the notion that the people who had invaded her house-Death Eaters, she recalled- had captured her and taken her who-knows-where, removing her wand on the way. But the room, for all its grimness, did not look like a place a Death Eater would hold a prisoner; it looked like an abandoned child's room, judging by the layer of dust. A very morbid child (boy, she thought, for only a boy would have something that growled at her living under his bed). For surely no one in their right mind would have what looked like a torture device hanging on his wall. She opened the cabinet next to the bed, hoping to figure out the previous occupants' identity.
There was very little inside: an old black button; a mirror, intricately craved with silver leaves; and…a photograph. A very old one at that; it was dog-eared and torn slightly. It showed four teenagers, all wearing Hogwarts robes, smiling and waving up at Kate. One of them was a stocky, sort of pudgy looking boy standing between a taller, slim boy with tan hair, and, on his right, another boy, this time with dark hair, and a lithe body. The last one, who had his arm around the dark haired boy's shoulder, looked exactly like...Harry Potter-sans the legendary scar.
"No bloody way," Kate breathed. "This...is 'THE Chosen One's…father?"
> > >
Cassandra Quirke hated being left out of things.
And she knew that she was being left out of things. And she knew that they didn't know she knew that she was being left out of things. And she knew this because if she pressed her eye to the keyhole in the door of the bleak room she had been confined to, she could see the torsos of people walking by; if she pressed her ear to the floor and listened hard enough, she could hear the muffled voices of people talking below her. An important conversation was taking place without her. And she hated being left out of things.
They didn't think she could help, that was it. They assumed that since she was only thirteen and living in an orphanage that she couldn't be of any help to the current…problem. And she knew there was a problem, because…well, what else could she possibly be doing here, the day before she could return to Hogwarts? Hogwarts. Her home, her haven. The hours she'd spent in that library… Frankly, she was rather peeved at whoever had smuggled her out of the orphanage. When would she be getting back to Hogwarts now? What about all of her books, her quills, her…her…her HOMEWORK! What would her professors say when they learned she didn't have her homework with her? They'd…they'd give her a detention! She was already mourning the loss of her perfect record. And then she'd have to make up her homework, which would put her behind in classes, which would mean she'd be unprepared for her exams, which would mean she would fail them! These horrible…kidnappers were ruining her future! And they were discussing important topics without her!
She sat down with a thump on the bed and crossed her arms, frowning. What the hell kind of room was this, anyway? There was no window and the walls were painted a color that might, at one time, have been white, but were now reduced to a disgusting pale gray. She almost preferred them to the puce color of the Home of Conteridas' walls. Almost.
Her foot began to jiggle. She couldn't sit still for too long without doing something productive. Cassandra stood up. Kneeling down, she rested the side of her head against the cold wood. Mutterings could be heard, along with the occasional cough or sneeze. She clenched her teeth.
Oh yes, she HATED being left out of things…
>>>
Adrian Louse, after trying pacing, exploring, thinking, and yanking out his own hair, was quite at a loss as to what else he should do with himself.
This was, admittedly and understandable, frustrating. Being frustrated didn't seem to help matters much either, and, combing his hand through his hair once more, he collapsed into an ill-placed armchair-it was fluffy and white, and cowered from the impious desk it was placed next to, which looked perfectly at home in this room-and tried to get his thoughts in order.
First: there had been an attack in the town of Cranwood, where he and his family resided. His father had handed him an old faded hat that smelled of mothballs, told him to grip it tightly in precisely five minutes, and ordered him to go up to his room before rushing out to the street with his mother. Adrian reluctantly did as he was told, mentally cursing his father for not letting him join in the fighting. He'd been practicing last year; he was ready! Annoyed as he was, he maintained a hold on the graying hat a minute before five, and with a sharp jerk, he was standing in the midst of an extremely chaotic house. Such was the disorder that it took a few moments for anyone to realize he was standing there. Then a kind, motherly type of woman led him quickly to a room, deaf to his stuttered questions, and locked him in.
Where was he to go from here? He wasn't sure where his parents were (or even if they're alive, said that nasty voice in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away as forcefully as he could) nor did he know where he was himself, for that matter.
Not to mention, he was becoming increasingly bored.
The closet had been the only interesting event during the better part of an hour that he'd spent here. Upon opening it, he found it pitch black. He saw the bright yellow eyes staring hungrily at him before he heard the growl.
"Eep." Was all he'd managed to get out before slamming the door shut and throwing his back against it, and, wide-eyed, waited for the clawing and banging to stop. He then hastily rammed a chair below the knob.
Once he was sure his heart had indeed resumed its beating, he fell back onto the bed and said, hoarsely;
"What kind of place is this?"
>>>
Conner Devon was feeling very at home in this new house.
Honestly, this room was just like his own-house elf heads hanging on the walls, dignified pureblood portraits everywhere, a few scattered books (101 To Insult A Mudblood) on the floor-nothing new, really.
He had arrived at the house blindfolded, something he had agreed to somewhat reluctantly. Then he was unceremoniously shoved into a room like leftover storage. Naturally, he had immediately tried the door and, as he'd expected, found it locked. None of that had bothered him much.
No, what he found really disturbing was that he didn't know any of the people that had brought him here, or the people who were in said house. He suspected that some, if not most were half-breeds, half-bloods, and mudbloods.
Conner felt a shiver run up his spine at the thought, sharing a household with mudbloods! Ugh, he'd feel unclean all the time. Contaminated blood, that's all they are. Disgusting, dirty blood. What were they doing in such a noble house? They had no right to be here! His parents would have simultaneous heart attacks if they knew he was residing with them. Come to think of it, where were his parents? They'd left the house before he had come here…where had they said they were going? He shrugged.
Ah, well, what did it matter? This house can't possibly be that bad, and he'd be leaving it soon anyway...
>>>
A/N-Famous last words, lol. Well, I hope you liked it, please drop a review before you go. Oh-just to let everyone know, this chapter was written post-HBP and will have SOME reference to it. However, this story was PLANNED before the sixth book, so, it will not be entirely true to the events that happened in the 6th book, though some things will be. And SIRIUS BLACK WILL BE ALIVE! Purely because I love him…
PLEASE REVIEW! ;)