Izzy's Note: Well, you guys have no idea how grateful I am for your reviews. Thumbs up!
sugar-baby-09: I love your enthusiasm and interest and how you make predictions on what you've read. Please keep reading and reviewing!
Anna: Thanks for the compliment. Just so everyone knows I have absolutely no form of self-check or spelling/grammar on this low-budget computer that I use. (lol) I merely rely on the act of going over my work over and over and using for unsure spelling. But, yes, I noticed I made several mistakes on my last chapter and I will try to get BETA but can you tell me how I can get it?
Oh, and in no way is your review "mean" or a flamer. Criticize me all you want…it really helps… I need the pressure. Just make sure you explain yourself on what you don't like, not just "Damn! Your story sucks!" or whatever.
Well enough of that, on with the good stuff!
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasly leaned against the solid stony wall outside the Great Hall. It was around nine in the evening
and blazing, fiery torches lit up the dim hall and burnished shadows on the two young men's faces.
If someone had seen both in First Year, exactly six years ago, in that same place and position, that someone wouldn't have
recognized them now as the same two boys.
Harry, "the Boy Who Lived", had noticeably let his shaggy, dark hair grow longer. It now grazed over the nape of his neck. He
was taller and thinner in a lean, manly way and wore new glasses with rather darker lens. They served the purpose of refraining
others from seeing the vacancy and dullness of his lifeless green eyes.
Upon first arriving at Hogwarts, little Harry's expression had been a resemblance of enthusiasm and innocence, like a chick just
experiencing life after hatching from an egg. The smooth young face held no remorse, future doubts, surprising independency,
and undeniable self-awareness.The events of the years ahead were what made the boy change into what he was now.
After the death of his last real "parent" the previous year, it was simply the last notch and Harry started going downhill after that.
What apparently made it worse (if possible) was that if Sirius Black hadn't died the world wouldn't have known about
Voldemort's return and that was what Hraay had always longed for ever since he witnessed and experienced Voldemort
returning and Cedic Diggory's awful murder.
But this teenager was sick of being the amazing hero, the one who always had to give up so much and yet expected to live
through it with a smooth, unshattered, brave demeanor and attitude. He was starting to question the reason of his existence and
why everything just HAD to be this way. He had stared at death in the face too many times and it had affected him immensely.
He was only sixteen years old after all.
Why ME? He had asked to himself over and over throughout the summer, like a broken record player, and why do I need to
keep going? I don't ever get a damn thing from all this. It's like the more I try, the deeper I am inside a big dark gaping
hole. Is there really a point to life anymore?
Of course, someone gazing at Harry's exterior would never know that inside he was slowly shriveling up like a dried out twig.
Ronald Weasly, however, seemed to have a lot going for him. His soul was thriving and blooming, instead of crinkling.
He had never forgotten the sight of his reflection in the Mirror of Erised in his first year. His look of immense pride like no other
as he displayed himself as a Head Boy and Gryffindor Quidditch captain.
Now that sight was no longer a far-out impossible thing that he could only dream of. Ron had eventually shed himself of his
cockiness, his immaturity and recklessness. He had learned of life as a rare sweetness too short to waste and he wanted to go
far because he only had one chance to use up. All of life's obstacles and let downs were just tests, and the toughest ones were
always the ones with the greatest rewards.
Ron's appearance? It now held an aroma of self-assuredness and high esteem. A boy to look up to; to respect. In contrast to
Harry, this redhead had a neatly cut hairdo, he stood up straight instead of slouching like his friend next to him, and he seemed
eager for the eventful year days ahead of him.
Apart from all these differences, these two teens were the best of friends that you'd ever meet. It was probably because when
two souls have suffered and battled through so many things together for so long, do they really have a choice?
The second, third, and forth year students came in and piled excitedly into the Great Hall. Harry and Ron ignored them. Then a
few seconds later the rather indifferent fifth, sixth, and seventh years appeared and the boys easily spotted a short and round
redhead and a lady-like, mature brunette scurrying side by side.
"You're here!" their best friend Hermione exclaimed beaming in joy and relief.
She took in their appearance. She complained about her two boys a lot, but she loved them like nothing else, she knew, no
matter how much they changed and evolved into different people. They had always been her joy at Hogwarts and she was very
lucky to have them by her side unconditionally through thick and thin.
The warm-hearted girl wrapped her amiable arms around them both as the three made their way to the beginning-of-the-year
feast in the Great Hall.
The intense and thunderous racket and chattering finally ceased when Professor McGonagall thumped the four-legged stool on
the floor loudly and conjured a raucous blasting noise from her wand that exploded throughout the hall.
"NOW that you're quiet, the Sorting Ceremony may begin." The already tired Head of Gryffindor house announced almost
through gritted teeth.
She placed the usual dirty, patched wizard's hat on the stool. It was the Sorting hat that annually sorted the first years into their
houses.
It appeared lifeless on the stool for a few minutes and then it slowly lifted its drooping head (meaning the hat's tip).
But instead of having small rips for the eyes and mouth, bright red lasers seemed to shoot out of the hat's eyes and it had a huge
evil grin that stretched all across its front side. The hat had obviously been messed with.
It took a deep breath and in an unbelievable, unnatural high pitched shriek that shook the hall it sang in a fast rhythm:
Welcome to HogwartsA school full of shit!
Trapped all year in this hell hole
Wanna throw a near-suicidal fit!
It's a Goddamn prison
Where you are constantly fed lies
And one day these Hogwarts brainwashers
Will be forced to hear our cries:
"Fuck Hogwarts! Burn it down!
Yea fu-!"
Professor McGonagall, flabbergasted, had quickly smothered the hat after the twenty seconds of its scandalous lyrical outburst.
Immediately, some gasps and some applause were heard. Many students present, especially the first years waiting to be sorted,
were extremely taken aback.
However, a fairly large amount of the older accustomed students sitting in their usual House tables cheered and laughed at this
unexpected controversial occurrence. Some stood up on their seats and whooped loudly. The teachers disapprovingly shook
their heads.
Tiny Professor Flitwick waddled to the podium and inspected the hat. Then he pointed his wand to the inside of the hat and
chanted "Reverso Accium!"
The hat then seemed to deflate and a puff of red foggy smoke escaped it and floated up in the air. He settled it back down and
the Sorting hat lifted it head and the red eyes and evil smirk had disappeared as it chanted in its usual voice slowly and clearly:
Welcome to HogwartsA school full of compassion and learning!
Living each year in this magical place
Will fill your hearts with yearning!
Educated is quite the thing to be
So you can later be a valuable member of the wizarding society
A witch or wizard happy and free.
First there is brave Gryffindor…
Some students started rebelliously booing loudly during this appropriate replacement of songs. They eventually stopped however
and resolved with just looking genuinely bored and yawning exaggeratedly while the song finished itself. When that was over the
Sorting quickly began.
"ABBOT, AUDREY!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Far out in the teacher eating area, sitting by Sybil Trelawaney and Zane McAustin (the current Muggle Studies professor) sat
a thin, pale, blonde woman with soft brown eyes. She appeared to be the only teacher that smiled amusingly at the present
moment having witnessed the evening's outcome and gazing at the many wild, defiant students below. She only remembered too
well her years at Hogwarts, the yearly Sorting Hat ceremonies, and how there were always those several rebellious students.
Now there seemed to be a lot more, and one of them, or maybe even a group of them, had without a doubt gone as far as to
somehow jinx the Sorting hat so it would belch out an obscene song. A song that had sounded faintly like a typical anarchist
punk rock piece.
"LONGEN-HERRIE, BENEDICK!" Professor McGonagall now called out from her list and winced as several students started
howling with laugher and jeering at the name of the little, pale first year boy.
The blonde woman softly shook her head, smirking.
Sweet ole' Hogwarts, she thought to herself, it has always been unique and captivating. I can already tell teaching here
will be nothing like the other schools I have taught at previously.
And she was definitely like no other person Hogwarts had known to teach. Some of the professors had already started giving
her skeptical looks.
The Sorting finally wound down with "BLENDA, ZABINI!" who was sorted into Hufflepuff. Then Professor McGonagall
carried the hat away looking rather frightened that it might throw another outburst like it had previously.
As Professor Dumbledore stood up to give his usual speech and the blonde woman shuffled in her seat and got ready to be
announced.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, first years! As for the rest, glad to have you back!
"First off, before beginning our wonderful feast, please give a warm welcome to our new Defense Against the Darks teacher:
Professor Drixie Sabine!"
The thin blonde stood up, beaming and caught the eyes of three of her favorite teens. She winked and nodded at them and
Harry, Ron, and Hermione smiled and waved back between their clapping.
Izzy's note: That's all for this chappie, sorry to say.. Please help me improve this story anyway I can. It's gonna get a LOT better, just so you know.
Till next time! very soon, hopefully. (Just click on the window that says SUBMIT REVIEW. It's VERY easy! Not hard at all.)
tHaNkee!