Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue. We don't own Harry Potter, so don't you sue OR ELSE!
Warning: Possible foul language, violence, sexual-displays, and other potentially offensive things. We'll try to keep everything down to a minimum…
Summary: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone retold through the view of six average students attending Hogwarts.
Authors: Angel-of-Music, Arc Angel, Lady Nickoly, Lord Jak, MudrakDragon and Ronin S. Oath.
Story Index: "Speech." 'Thoughts.' -Dreams or flashbacks (whichever word follows).-
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Our Story
Chapter Two
"The forest is acting strangely this morning," breathes Michael. "Almost as if it's trying to tell me something…"
A light breeze whistles through the trees as a flock of bats zoom past, returning to their den for the day. Slowly, a single maple leaf floats upon the wind until in lands on the ground at the young elf's feet.
Kneeling beside the bright green leaf, Michael scoops up a handful of dirt, inhaling its scent. "Very strange indeed." In another quick motion, the sable-haired boy stands once more, now gazing into the distance as a strand of pale pink breaks through the violet sky above. "My neighbors must be up to something again… I can hear their obsessive noise even at this distance."
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To most it would be odd to find a great manor house within the forest, especially one laced with enough dark magic to resurrect He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ten times over, but this is quite a normal sight for the elf seeing as how the manor had been there for longer than even his parents could remember… as is the sight before him.
The eldest son of the family is crawling out of what appears to be a crawlspace of some kind, cursing as he makes his way back inside the overly-malevolent manor, no doubt leaving some creature in a painful position or, possibly and more preferably, dead.
A dark figure swishes quickly past the elf, catching his attention, if only for a moment, as it dives into the dark hollow of whatever lay underneath the wicked place.
With a shake of his head and the lingering thoughts of what may lie within the darkness that would attract the attention of a member of the bird family, Michael turns to leave just as an old barn owl swoops down, landing on his shoulder with its leg extended. Upon further inspection, the elf notices that attached to the poor things leg is a discolored envelope of some sort. Blinking in shocked confusion, the chocolate-eyed boy removes the envelope, pulling his hand back before the owl has a chance to snap him.
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Mr. M. Fannin
Adjacent the Greythorne Manor
Rooks' Wood
Buckinghamshire
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A deep growl frightens the old barn owl into taking flight. The young elf narrows his eyes as he read the equally discolored letter within.
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HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumblebore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Fannin,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
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"It's an outrage!" shouts Michael as he parents, Kyrian and Lilac, read over the letter from Hogwarts. "I can't go to some nobody-wizarding school! Who do they expect to watch over the forest?"
Lilac tucks a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear, smiling gently at her only son. "You should be content with receiving this."
"Your mother's right," Kyrian agrees. "You'll be going of course."
"But-"
"No 'buts' about it," his father says sternly. "It's an honor to the Fannin bloodline this here is."
"And," his mother adds in her low voice, "we'll still be here."
Michael lets out a short sigh. 'That's what I'm worried about…' Faking a smile, the dark-haired boy looks up to his parents once again. "If you believe it is best, then I will go." 'Better to agree for now. They'll soon discover there is no way I'll ever step foot into that hell hole of a school.'
"Wonderful," Lilac gleefully chirps.
A twitch runs through the fake smile as Michael winces at the high-pitched squeal. "Not so loudly, mother." Taking back the letter, Michael returns to his neutral state. "How am I to get the supplies required?" 'There. Now there's no way they can force me into this.'
"Doesn't the Greythorne's have a boy your age?"
"Yes," the dark-haired elf answers in a drawn-out voice, wondering why his father was bringing up such a question out of the blue. 'What is he up too?'
"Good" Kyrian replies with a smirk of success. "You can go with him to attain the items."
"No," Michael declares with a furious shake of his head. "No no no no no! I refuse to go anywhere near that… that thing!"
"You'll go," states Kyrian, "one way or another. I suggest you go the easy way."
In a growling tone, the chocolate-eyed boy hisses out, "Over my dead body," all the while glaring daggers at his father.
To be continued…