The clock declared 4:50 when it went off.
It was silent to everyone except her. She had bought it in Diagon Alley for that very purpose; she didn't want to wake her new roommates. It was a little silver wind-up clock, charmed so that its ticks were silent and the alarm could be heard only by the winder.
Rory awoke the moment it rang, but it took a while for her eyes to catch up. She sat in the dark of her bed while her eyes unglazed. When she felt mobile, she pushed the heavy bedclothes and was rewarded with a rush of cold air. She shivered across the floor to her trunk, painfully aware that in the pre-dawn, each diminutive sound was magnified. She slithered into a pair of running shorts, pulled on an Underarmor shirt over her sports bra, and strapped on her running shoes.
Tiptoeing across the dark wood floor, she unlatched the door, slunk across the common room, pushed open the entryway, and remembered she didn't know how to get outside. She groaned, decided she didn't want to test anyone's temper by waking them up, and also decided that, to get onto the grounds, she would have to wing it.
The dungeon hallways oozed moisture that beaded like cold fever-sweat on the walls, and the few torches called attention to the gloom rather than dispelled it. Her New Balance thudded on the flagstones like a heart in a skeleton's chest. Rory took a right turn and saw some stairs leading upwards. Feeling a bit more confident, she climbed them and turned left twice. She found herself in a more or less familiar corridor, turned right again, and was in a hall she definitely knew. She was just about to climb the stairs that led to the Great Hall when a heavy, velvet voice asked, "Where are you going?"
Rory inhaled a breath that wanted to be a scream and spun around. Visions of ghosts, demons… poltergeists, ran through her head. But there was no one, except a man.
That was even worse.
He was tall. That was the first thing she saw, and the first thing Rory thought about each time she saw him afterwards. Tall, hung with black robes that he had his arms folded over. His long, lank hair tried to hide his sallow face and hooked nose, but didn't succeed. His eyes glittered. Rory swallowed.
"I… Running? Sir?" She added the last almost hopefully, as if the old hail of respect would vanish this specter.
But it didn't. He remained, black, all-pupil eyes glinting. "Rory Evans, is it?"
She nodded.
He smiled, his upper lip curling unpleasantly. "Running? You didn't seem to be."
"I was trying to find my way outside so I could. Sir."
"Hmm. Quite. Well, Miss Evans, since we are here, I might as well introduce myself."
Before Rory could stop it, a line popped into her head, courtesy of the Stones. i Pleased to meet you… Hope you guessed my name. /i
"I am Professor Snape, Potions teacher and Head of Slytherin House."
He paused, so Rory, to fill the silence, murmured, "Yes, Sir."
"I expect you to know this school's rules, never mind your… situation. I ask respect out of you, Miss Evans, and that you take this seriously; all the more due to your situation. This isn't all fun and games; dangerous things are brewing. If chaperoning rules are later applied, your morning runs will also be banned. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Go along then. Oh, Miss Evans, you are not allowed out of your House from ten-thirty in the evening to four-thirty in the morning. Standard school policy."
"I'll remember."
"And… wear some actual school robes today. Just because you're from a different country doesn't make you something special."
Rory felt offence well up in her— i What the fuck did I ever do to you? /i —but at the same time felt ashamed, as if she'd deserved the nasty comment. "Yes Sir. I… I'm looking forward to Potions."
"Is that so? Well, I must be going."
He breezed past her. Rory felt frostbitten by his exit. She voiced a weak "Goodbye", but it sounded frail, even to her own ears.
She stole up the steps and found her way outside.
The air was numbingly cold from last night's rain, and the ground was a thick, pasty mud, but she ran.
It liberated her, somehow. There was nothing except what was in her mind; it was as if the wind, the grass, and the earth that tried to mire her down couldn't exist without her. It was all very soothing. The grass was lushly green, despite the mud, and the little hut by the forest looked very quaint and cozy, albeit dwarfed by Hogwarts. The lake reflected a grimy dirt-blue from the sky, glassy, save for the occasional ripple from the wind.
She ran for almost an hour, painful oxygen clamping at her lungs, around the lake, and then squelched through the empty, echoing Great Hall to the blank wall that was the entrance to her House. This time she met no one.
In the common room, she noticed a door she hadn't seen the preceding evening: b Showers /b ,it said. This Rory was glad about; she was sweating and hadn't wanted to wake anyone to ask where to bathe.
She opened the door and closed it softly behind her. The bathroom was large and marbled; Romanesque pillars held up the ceiling, delicate marble sinks shared the left wall with elegant lavatory stalls, a sizeable bath pitted the middle, and to the right were several showerheads divided into separate stalls by partitions. Along the wall with the door in it were cabinets that held cream towels.
Rory took one of the towels and walked into a shower stall. She locked the door, hung her towel on a hook, and looked at the strange plumbing before her.
The showerhead was shaped like the head of a serpent with the nozzle in its mouth. There were ten knobs in the wall: two large ones, one with H in the middle, one with a C, and eight smaller ones. Rory turned the H knob and stepped into the spray. Feeling curious over the abundance of knobs and the lack of any sign of soap, Rory turned a knob with an amethyst set in the middle. Heavy foam that smelled like violets gushed out of a spigot beneath the knob. Rory turned the valve off and tried another one, this one with a ruby. She got pink bubbles that smelled like cherries. She tried varies knobs, until she settled for a cream with the faint aroma of fruit for her hair.
The last knob was weird. There was a stone, and Rory was pretty sure it was a precious one at that, but it seemed to change its mind as to what color it was as she looked at it. It gave off a bubbling, boiling, yet chill, soap that would've smelled very familiar to a certain Draco Malfoy: like odd, spicy smoke. Rory found out later that that knob gave off a different aroma for everyone; the epitome of their favorite smell.
She got out of the stall. Next to the towel cabinets was a trapdoor in the wall that said b Laundry /b . She threw her clothes through the trapdoor, snuck to her trunk (her clock said 6:07—and her roommates were still snoring), found her new school robes, dressed, and went back to the Showers.
She fashioned her hair into her usual style, with her curly hair up and skewered with a chopstick, and got her school bag. Wondering how all of Slytherin could still be asleep, she went back to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Hermione was eating a blueberry muffin and contemplating her new History of Magic textbook. She was looking forward to her classes. Professor Binns was going to be discussing House Elf revolts this year; Hermione was hoping to find some material to support S.P.E.W. She had acquired a few people over the summer: Hannah Abbott, Parvati Patil, and Lavender Brown were all willing to join. Including herself, that meant she had seven members: the four girls and Ron, Harry, and Neville, all of whom had joined last spring.
Hermione tapped her foot, and the sound echoed loudly throughout the chamber. The Great Hall was empty, with the exception of Nearly Headless Nick, the Grey Lady, Professor Flitwick, and herself. She buttered a piece of toast and turned the page of her book to b Chapter Seven: The House Elf Act of Annulment /b . She was just deciding that she rather liked having the Gryffindor table to herself, when one of the Great Hall's doors opened and Rory Evans walked through.
She was at least wearing her school robes, but she was still dressed more strangely than any other student who had walked through those doors. Beneath her skirt she was wearing black stockings and green tennis shoes, and she'd pinned a button to her green and silver cravat. She walked to the Slytherin table, her leather book bag jouncing on one thigh, sat with an expression that said, "Well, THIS is pointless", and spotted Hermione.
Hermione, realizing her mouth was still open in mid-bite, dropped her toast onto her plate and turned the page in her book, intent on seeming preoccupied. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rory get up from her empty table and cross to hers. Hermione ignored her until Rory plopped down into the chair next to her.
"Hi."
Hermione looked up. "Oh… Morning," she returned, cautious and prepared for snobbery. Rory tapped on a gold plate. Hermoine saw her long fingernails were painted purple.
"So… You're taking History of Magic, too?"
Hermione glanced at the book's cover. "Who isn't?"
Rory smiled. "You know, if everyone's taking it and I've got the mind of an average fifth-year, it's amazing how little I know about that subject."
Hermione felt a smile creep onto her face.
Then stopped.
It occurred to her that Rory didn't have to do anything to get to where she was now. No hours of studying, no giving up on other extracurricular activities to focus on coursework, nothing. All she had to do was sit nicely while some Official put his wand to her head and said "Now this won't hurt a bit", and poof! Here she was.
Just like magic.
"Oh, I'm—"
"Rory Evans. I know."
"… And you are?"
"If you'll excuse me, I'm i terribly /i busy. i Some /i of us work hard for what we do, you know."
And with that, Hermione propped up her book, blocking Rory's face, and went on munching her toast. So there.
Silence from the other side of the binding.
"Okay… what the fuck?"
Then Rory's seat scraped back and Hermione was left with her toast. It certainly tasted a lot better than humble pie.
Erin Golbraugh was the fifth student to enter the Great Hall. Hermione was at her table, still buried in a tome, only her hair and the tops of reddened ears peeking above the top, a weepy Cho Chang was comforting herself with a mug of something-or-other, and at Erin's table, Ravenclaw, sat a sixth year boy named Willem Stradivus.
And at the Slytherin table was that yoof.
Erin decided to herself right then she would get to know the new girl. Not only was Erin curious and Rory Evans looked interesting, but how many people could say they were Rory's first friend? Uh, one?
Erin always looked ahead to see what she would gain.
She headed over to the table.
"Ravenclaw, eh?"
"Apparently."
Rory smiled again. Erin was cool. They'd been chattin' it up for only a half an hour, and already she could tell they could be good friends.
Erin pushed the conversation forward. "What subjects are you taking?"
"Oh… Potions, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes… uh… Transfig…"
"Transfig?"
"Transfiguration."
"Then just say it. Really, how much time do you save?"
"Whatever. Herbology… Astronomy… Charms… and… Oh, what was it?" She put her fingers to her forehead, thinking. Erin spotted a button pinned to her cravat and read it. b No wucking furries /b it stated.
"Ah!" remembered Rory. "That new class, Minds and Magic. Or something like that. No, Mentality and Magic."
"Really?" Erin frowned. "I haven't heard much about that class. What's it about?"
"Professor Dumbledore was talking to me about it. It's about, like, two things: using magic aesthetically and using magic… how did he put it… 'to ensue a regulation career in the Ministry of Magic.' So I guess it's an art class and an… Arer class?"
"Arer?" Erin gave Rory a doubtful stare; then her brow smoothed and she gave a small snigger. " i Auror /i ! You mean Auror. Arer," she giggled.
"You see? Way too new for this school."
"I'm sure you'll be fine."
"Dunno. I can't really compare what I know to what everyone else knows, so I have this weird, sinking feeling that I'm… stupid."
"Hmm, I see what you mean…"
"Shut up, you… fat whore!"
"Oi! Alright, alright. If it makes you feel better… do you want to review with me?"
Rory looked at the ceiling. "Thank you, God! Yes! Sure! Maybe I won't be an idiot after all… Let's do Transfiguration."
"Okay."
After a while, Rory's assurance had taken a turn for the better. She soon found that Erin was an above-average student and that she, Rory, couldn't possibly know as much as Erin, but when she was done assessing Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms, she felt better.
By this time, almost all of the students were having at their breakfasts. They continuously ogled Rory; after a few minutes, she wanted to yell at them to shut up staring.
"God, they, like, act as though, you know, like, they've never seen, like, a Valley Girl eat breakfast before."
"Hey, for once they're off Harry's back."
"Potter?"
"Who else?"
"What's wrong?"
"Did you hear about that thing that happened during the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Sort of… it had something to do with that Voldemort guy."
Erin winced. "Yes, well, when Harry and this student named…" Erin pitched her voice lower. "Named Cedric Diggory touched the trophy they disappeared, and went God knows where, and when they came back, Cedric was dead and Harry was babbling about how You-Know-Who was back from the dead and all this other shite."
Rory raised her eyebows. "Wow. And isn't it now people don't believe Harry?"
Erin nodded.
"Do i you /i ?"
Erin thoughtfully ate some bacon. "Cornelius Fudge doesn't believe it. He's slandering Harry right and left in the i Daily Prophet /i . I don't know. I think there's mixed truths in it.And now Dumbledore's in all this trouble; he's been kicked out of the Wizenmagot—"
"The what?"
"Oh. They're like judges or… perhaps chancellors."
Rory nodded slowly. "Well, if that kid can stand it every day, I suppose I can bear it for a bit."
"They'll probably forget you in a month."
"Not if I keep my 'accent'. They'll be reminded each time I speak."
"True."
At that moment, a troop of Slytherins pushed through the door. Draco was at their head, and they filled up the room with their laughing. Erin let out a snort of disgust. "How'd it be that you went into here? Shouldn't you be in Ravenclaw with all of the smart people?"
Rory thought about that deeply for the first time. "I've no clue," she finally admitted. "Ask the Hat."
"How is it here?"
"Bad, but not bad. Good, but not. It's… amusing there, but at the same time…" She shrugged. "I feel like they'll eat me alive if I try to talk to them."
"Huh."
"Actually, you'd better go."
"Why? I'm not going to leave just for i them /i ."
"Yeah, but if I'm in their House, I might as well learn how to be with them by myself."
"Fine."
"Thanks for the review, you fat whore."
Erin smiled at the joke. "Of course."
Erin dropped her cup of orange juice, slung her bag onto her shoulder, and walked to her table. Rory watched her go.
"Fish, why exactly was she over here?"
Rory rolled her eyes at Draco. "What, so now I can't get help with school work? Jesus H. Christ…"
"Must it be with Mudbloods like her?"
"A whatty-what-now?"
Malfoy stared at her as if he hadn't seen her before. "Mud. Bloody. Blood. Honestly, you act as if you never heard that before."
Rory's cheeks flushed a bit. "Sorry. Early in the morning; haven't had my daily caffeine yet."
" i That's /i a sin!" Draco pushed a chair so it hit the back of Rory's knees. She sat hard, and Slytherins flocked around her.
"Grab that espresso!"
"Do you have the sugar?"
"Have this—"
"No, i this i ."
Draco sat next to her, smiling his vulpine smile. "Just like a firstie, dear." His mouth curved up on one side. "We need to show you the ropes, Fish. Rules are: take care of your mates, but running's not cowardice."
A mug of tea was pressed into her hand. Now that she was surrounded by all sorts of caffeinated drinks and foods, the other students attended their own breakfasts, which consisted mainly of sugar and anything else that would cause hyperactivity. Malfoy grabbed a chocolate croissant and took a bite out of the corner.
"Rule number two," he said after swallowing. "You must never give away a House member. Understand?"
"Yes…"
"You do, you might as well be invisible… or beaten to a bloody pulp." He smirked again. "Number three, lying doesn't matter if it helps a House member. Number four… Actually, that's all you need to know now. We'll tell you more along the way. For now, just have some lovely tea and I'll get those class schedules." He walked toward the teacher's table. Rory looked into her tea mug. A two-inch layer of honey covered the bottom. She sighed and pushed it away.
The Great Hall continued to fill with students.
Rory sighed again. They still wouldn't stop staring at her.
