Evaluate This
Chapter 2
Must Be Dreaming
The train was full of boisterous students and seemed impossibly crowded. Harry couldn't believe the over stuffed compartments they'd passed in search of one of their own.
However, even they had not been able to find a lonely compartment for three. Instead, the trio found themselves sharing with three strangers seated snugly across from them.
Miriam DeLunic was the only one who Harry recognized. She sat across from him, a slight frown on her face and her eyes distant. His own eyes settled on the window where he observed the rain drenched moors as they passed. The scene drew a soft smile to his lips—peaceful. The rain was graceful…almost calming.
Leaning back he turned his attention to the other two passengers. One, who had introduced herself as Gwen Mason, was asleep. Next to her and across from Ron sat Charlotte Von'Holt, her blond hair braided and twisted into an unattainable knot upon her head. She was staring—had been staring at his ever increasingly red-faced friend. Harry sensed the uncomfortable squirming and couldn't help the small smile. Though he pitied his friend, Harry couldn't be gladder that that gaze was not directed at him.
Hermione tensed beside him and Harry gave her a worried look, but she shrugged him off. She was finding it hard not to laugh at the blushing Ron. Charlotte was the best she knew when it came to making one uncomfortable. Even one Draco Malfoy would be at a loss.
Ron coughed. "Um…" His eyes did a quick round about the compartment, dashing here and there trying in vain to ignore the staring female across from him. "So, er, where you from anyways?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "I mean, um, er…" Ron was assaulted by the not-so-pleasant smile that graced her pale features.
He blanched as she leaned forward an inch.
"Ron, right?" he nodded automatically. "Well, Ron, I'm not one for conversation and…" she admired her nails. "I'd like to keep it that way. Is that all right with you?" It wasn't a question. But Ron being Ron missed that. Hermione couldn't help but close her eyes at his naïve-ness as he answered.
"Uh, okay." The awkward silence settled in on them again.
"Are you really related to her?" Harry whispered as the staring match continued—a one sided staring match that is. Ron looked ready to bolt. Hermione nodded slightly turning to Harry.
"Unfortunately. We are."
"And Ron thought his cousin was bad." Harry murmured observing the stoic and staring Charlotte. "Is she always like that?"
Wrinkling her nose Hermione nodded yet again. "Never seen her any other way. She was just born with that lovely disposition. Nice huh?"
"For a dementor."
Hermione grinned as she leaned back. Getting comfortable in a stuffed compartment was not easy she decided as she rested her head.
"Do you suppose we'll be there soon?" The voice broke through the silence.
Harry looked to the window. "Suppose we will. Anxious?"
Miriam's eyes brightened a bit. "It is a new school after all. I think most everyone gets the bug."
"Bug?" Ron gratefully turned his attention to the less hostile environment of the left side of the compartment.
"Like an itch, Ron." She searched for another word. "Anticipation."
"Oh."
"You'll like it. Hogwarts is like a home to most of us." Hermione stated as she crossed her legs. "If you need to know anything you can always ask me, I've read—"
"Hogwarts, A History fifty zillion times."
Hermione huffed at the laughter in her friends' faces.
"Well, at least I know…"
"We weren't making fun of you Hermione." Ron tried to head off the storm he could tell was brewing beneath her ruffled exterior.
"Not at all." Harry smiled lovingly at her. "We'd all be lost had you not read that book."
"Yeah! Think about it, we'd…" Ron stopped, unsure exactly what her knowledge of Hogwarts had helped them with.
Hermione laughed. "I get it. Don't hurt yourself Ronald."
Ron moaned. "Not back to Ronald again."
The conversation died, leaving the six occupants in uncanny discomfort.
The knock on the door echoed dully through the silence. Ron sighed. "Not another one." Yanking the door open he glared into the hall. "We're full." He said curtly, rushing now to close the door.
But the tall figure had already stepped slightly inside.
"You couldn't pay me to sit here, Weasley." Draco sneered at the blushing red boy. "But I do wonder how you and scar head seem to keep such company. Must be a glamour." Observing the four females along with the two Gryffindors.
There was, of course, Granger and her annoying cousin…who at the moment was too busy staring at the Weasel to pay him any attention. The other two he hadn't seen before.
"Sod off Malfoy." Harry reached for his wand.
"Save it, Potter, I actually have some business here." But he took his dear old sweet time with it. "Seems Hogwarts is being overrun with…"
Harry and Ron stood abruptly. "Finish that sentence Malfoy and lose your tongue." Ron threatened, his wand outstretched.
"You think you scare me Weasley? With that piece of wood, I'd fear an ant before I'd fear you and your pathetic abilities." Draco let his eyes linger on Hermione. She'd yet to change into her school robes, it somewhat shocked him to see her out of the customary black. Color was almost foreign to him—he didn't get much time to appreciate it though.
Miriam pushed her way past Harry, her own wand pointed at the blond who was insulting her cousin. She couldn't have that; she'd reserved all insulting rights for herself. "And what exactly makes you qualified to call Ron pathetic, you low, slum-eating cockroach?" Temper had gotten the better of her, raw and explosive…a temper many never saw the full strength of.
"Actually we've become partial to calling him ferret, but cockroach seems to fit him better." Harry managed through gritted teeth.
The silence stretched out between them. It seemed that Malfoy was actually heeding the words of Miriam.
"What do you want Malfoy?" Hermione asked, before all hell could break loose. Thank goodness the sleeping girl wasn't witnessing this—on her first day of Hogwarts. Sleep was a sanctuary Hermione wished he had.
Draco, serious now, turned his attention to Hermione. "The Heads were supposed to meet in their compartment, well…" he glanced at his watch. "About ten minutes ago actually. Can we go now? Or do I have to wait for you're body guards to check that the coast is clear and all?"
Hermione paused for a second. How could she have forgotten? Her first day as Head Girl and she was already slacking on her duties. "I forgot." She motioned to Harry and Ron to lower their wands. "He's right, I was supposed to go there. Sorry guys." She maneuvered out of the compartment.
"See you later Potter." Draco sneered as he slid the door shut. He turned to Granger who looked a little more than upset. She was only late, no big deal. "Now, to our compartment." Gently taking Granger by the arm he guided her down the hall.
There must have been a roll in the carpet. Hermione toppled over—embarrassed that her fall to earth had been brought up short by one Draco Malfoy…and the fact that there was no roll in the carpet. "Ou…our…" she swallowed, bringing herself upright and a step away from the Slytherin. "Our compartment?"
Draco fingered a silky wave of her hair. "I told you I had a surprise for you, mudblood." He watched in satisfaction as the temper flared in her eyes. "Now, now." Malfoy laid a finger on her lips. "I am sure you have some choice words to say to me, however, I wouldn't want you to say them just yet." He felt her tremble as he traced her lips with his finger. "It would be such a waste of..."
Hermione jerked away. "You are insufferable."
"So I've been told." He leaned against the wall. "Anything else you'd like to inform me of?"
All she could do was turn her back and walk away. Hermione tried not to notice the feeling of being watched, observed…studied. A shiver rolled down her spine.
Draco was indeed doing all the above. He couldn't help but wonder how something so simple was so intriguing. The inner battle was one of confusion and drilled facts of life.
Fact one: He was a bloody Malfoy.
Fact two: Bloody Malfoy's did not admire Gryffindors, mudbloods, or Grangers.
Fact three: He was doing just that.
Cursing himself he stopped, his gray eyes lowering to floor and that was the only thing he watched until they arrived at their compartment door.
The inside compartment was larger than the one she'd just left—but not by much. The company had certainly gone down in appeal. She slumped into a seat, glad that Malfoy chose the opposite side.
"Why do I have to be here?"
"Why Granger, you are the one who is so set upon formalities and rules. It is a tradition."
Hermione ignored him seeing the Witch Weekly between them she used it as her escape.
Ron had settled back into his seat and he looked gratefully to Miriam. "Thanks for doing that back there." He put his wand away. "Malfoy is such a git. I really feel sorry for Hermione, having to be stuck in a compartment with him."
Charlotte eyed the red head. "What do you mean?"
Harry leaned back, taking advantage of the room. "Draco Malfoy is a death-eater-in-the-making, a conceited pureblood, and practically the soul individual responsible for tormenting Hermione and the rest of us."
Her eyebrow rose and Charlotte smiled, a small chuckle escaping. "You really think so? Eh, well, I wouldn't be too worried about Hermione. I'm sure she can handle him."
"What do you mean by that? Hermione can handle Malfoy?"
Charlotte crossed her legs and tucked a stay hair behind her ear. Fingering the pendent around her neck she looked the two boys over. "Seems to me, that guys are as dense as ever. You'd think that you'd be able to find one that wasn't such a blockhead. But…" she sighed. "I guess not." Her smile was beautiful, beautiful as cut glass and just as dangerous.
Miriam giggled. "I agree with you on that one."
"Of course you do. We girls, we aren't so dense as them. It is quite obvious to us."
Exchanging annoyed and confused glances Ron and Harry eyed the two consorting females. "You wouldn't want to fill us blockheads in now would you?" Harry asked irritated.
"Yeah! A clue in the right direction would be nice." Ron added.
Charlotte sneered at the red head. "You really are a blockhead. I don't think I've met anyone who's had less of a brain."
Ron looked shocked and waited expectantly for Harry or Miriam to come to his defense. Nothing came. "Oh, that's nice. Pick on the little guy why don't you."
"Ron, dear, you don't exactly qualify as 'little'."
Folding his arms Ron leaned back in a huff. Fine, if they wanted to be that way, he'd just…think about food.
"As it is, I don't think it's my responsibility to tell you as it's none of your business." Charlotte settled back into her seat. "If you really want to know…" Her fingers ran unbidden over her pendant. "You can ask Hermione. I'm sure she'd tell you. If you asked nicely."
"Right, Hermione would sooner have teeth pulled."
"Mhmm."
Ron watched the slim fingers brush over the necklace. It hung on a long chain that she'd looped twice so that the pendant hung in the hallow of her throat. Her fingers ran over the stone, garnet Ron believed, and traced the silver etchings.
To him it was nothing more than a pretty piece of jewelry.
To Charlotte, the garnet stone was a star fallen from the sky. All the power of the cosmos was confined in the burning stone. Her fingers tingled and stung as she touched it. Fire and thorns. It was only a part of something greater.
Power contained by magic and bound to be beautiful.
The halting train arrived at the Hogwarts platform with a jolt. First years were unloaded and ushered towards the lake by the giant Hagrid as the others made their way to the horseless carriages—hurrying for the rain was soaking them through.
The Great Hall beckoned them with the promise of warmth and food.
Hermione sat slightly wet, among her fellow Gryffindors and watched as the sopping wet puddle of first years were sorted. Not only were there first years, but an unusual amount of transfers. Many of who were in or near their last year of schooling.
That was odd, Hermione thought, it had to be a bugger to change schools your last year. But the oddness did not end there.
As the sorting progressed, so did the unease in the Great Hall. The house tables were eerily quiet—all but one.
Hanna Colmier became a Ravenclaw and Mary Stewert became a Slytherin. Angie Blatt became a Gryffindor and Sheryl McKee another Ravenclaw.
Sierra Knot became a Slytherin and Terrence Low as well.
Tom Seymour became a Slytherin and Anna Gabet and Sam Lawrence…
Ron's cousin was next and Ron seemed to whiten as the sorting hat was placed on her head. His hands clasped tightly together as he bit down on his lip.
"Slytherin!"
Ron jerked but his face was not filled with surprise. Hermione laid her hand on top of his and gave it a small squeeze. She didn't let go though for the next name that was called was none other than her cousin. Charlotte.
Hermione gripped Ron's hand tightly. Everything slowed, taking minutes instead of seconds. Hermione just wanted it to be over.
"Slytherin!"
She'd expected no less. Hermione let out her breath and watched Charlotte join the crowded table of gleeful yet confused Slytherins.
"I must be dreaming." Harry whispered. "Is it just me, or did half of everyone up there go to Slytherin?"
Hermione nodded. "I don't think that happens often."
"It shouldn't happen at all." Hermione heard Sean hiss from down the table. "This is just plain wrong."
Hermione couldn't disagree with him.
The student body was quiet as Dumbledore stood. They'd all managed to do the calculations in their head. As it was Gryffindor had gained five students, Hufflepuff thirteen, Ravenclaw had been graced with eleven and the most hated house of all had taken twenty-seven.
Twenty-seven. It was almost unbelievable.
Rumors and murmurings of the past year soon spread like wild fire through the students.
"Do you think it's true? He's…he's come back?"
"No explanation."
"Trying to get as many death eaters in as possible."
Many students turned to stare at Harry.
Harry could feel the stares, the expectations, and the fears. He couldn't very well hide behind Ron here, but he did the next best thing.
Hmm…a gold plate! Wonderful, always liked plates, so pretty, look at that gleam! Harry blocked out the murmurings and turned his full attention on the pretty gold plate in front of him. It was silent, didn't move, didn't look, didn't blink—it was an inanimate object and Harry thanked it for being such.
"Your attention please." Dumbledore's voice rang through the hall, the silence prompt. If the student populace had been stunned by the results of the sorting, they were shocked senseless by the headmaster's speech.
"First I'd like to welcome you all to the beginning of yet another year at Hogwarts." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I am sure that this year will be—most different. But that you shall see in a moment. I am proud to say we've a fortunate number of transfers this year. I can't seem to recall such a number accruing before. We are most privileged to have students from all over the globe attending. I hope you will all do your part to make them feel welcome as they very much are." Dumbledore leaned forward. "Now, for the peculiar circumstances that you students are being presented with this year."
Dumbledore unfolded a long scroll and began to read. "By order of the Ministry of Magic, the students of Hogwarts will partake in a series of psychological evaluations and stress inducing events." The Headmaster smiled. "Like you guys aren't already under tremendous stress as it is." He winked and the students laughed politely—unsure to what exactly was going on.
"These evaluations will be done at the discretion of the appointed psychiatrists and should take no less time than a semester." Setting the scroll aside, Dumbledore motioned to two figures at the table. "Each of you will be seen by either Mr. McGale who is seated to my left here."
The man Dumbledore indicated was short and hobbit-like. His eyes were close set and his hair stood in tuffs. He was dressed in robes of fine silk.
The students looked at him in disgust. He seemed akin to Snape. And no one found the potions master all that endearing.
Dumbledore then indicated a thin woman further down the table. Her hair was tightly bound into a harsh knot at the nape of her neck. She was lean and tall and sat ramrod straight in her chair. She wore no robes, but instead a suit, black, the exact shade as her eyes.
"Those of you who do not see Mr. McGale will be seeing Ms. Danna. Their findings, the results of each evaluation…" Dumbledore tried to keep the smile off his lips. "Will be posted for the public, again…" Dumbledore assured as a cry of protest began. "By order of the Minister of Magic."
He winked at the students. "And you all know that the Ministry has your best interests at heart. Let the feast begin!"
The hall was quiet for a millisecond before the chaos broke loose. Shouts and howls echoed off the walls—the entire thing was preposterous, ludicrous, outrageous…
"Pointless." Hermione said stiffly as the food appeared.
"It does mean no classes Hermione." Harry said as he served himself. Heaping the food onto his plate.
"I would rather have classes than…than…" Hermione stabbed a potato with her fork and started flinging it in anger. "Do you know how completely idiotic this all is? You should know about psychiatry…I wouldn't expect this idiot here to, but you!"
Hermione jabbed the potato at Ron, but kept her eyes on Harry.
"Yeah, you have a point."
Ron swallowed. "Why do I get the feeling you are making fun of me?"
"Because they were mate!" Dean clasped his hand on Ron's shoulder. "And they're right you know. You are a bit clueless."
"To what?" Ron asked, clueless.
"EVERYTHING!"
Hermione decided right then that she'd have to explain everything in slow excruciating detail.
And she did just that.
A/N: Please Review...
