Author's Note: Wow, it's been a while, and I couldn't stop changing this chapter, and I hope it sounds good, because I'm too insecure to read through my own chapter write after I finish it. Which may have caused that F on an essay last year because I forgot to change the thesis… hmmm. Anyhoo, I decided to start replying to reviews in my stories instead of personally, not that I ever did, so that they'll only find out what I had to say to them by reading my new chapter. Very cunning…
Deborah in L.A.—Coolness, I'm from L.A., too, if you mean Los Angeles that is. I'm glad that you think about Snape when he had not even been mentioned, he's going to be a very important character… because I basically love him lots.
Swiftykenobi—Thanks, I wasn't sure about how I had started this story…
Bored with stuff—I tried to make Tracey as realistic or like me as possible (and I never thought I'd be a realistic character) so thanks.
Clooless—Tracey is strange, but very pessimistic and basically a realist. She's not the type of person who'd go to Hogwarts.
Sean Mulligan—Merci, beaucoup. Thank you very much.
Kelly— Expect more updates now.
Clooless—Thank you very much, I was just as excited when I finally got my muse back. I'm just so relieved that I can write again.
Clooless—My best reviewer, and most flattering. I thank you so much. I would go as far to call me magnificent, but fanfic author I draw my inspiration from is. J.L. Matthews, check her series out if you already haven't.
Silver ray42—I'm glad you think so, and I'll really try to update as much as possible. With the way I'm managing my homework time, school won't be much of an interference.
Rasmany—Thanks. I wish I had a cat, too. But oddly enough I'm allergic. The irony.
Clooless—I don't know… my imagination may be overreacting, too. But don't forget to pay attention to the other characters, I'm attempting a non-flat character story, which will be tough. I've created a lot of background on the other Slytherins that I'm looking forwrad to dishing out.
Silver ray42—Hooked? On my story? That's amazing, I've been hooked on a story before, but never imagined someone would actually want to know what's going to happen in any of mine. Erik in the original Serpents and Muggle-borns was incredibly annoying to me, and his name was Sage. I'm glad that he's different now, and almost relieved, as well.
TheoNottFanatic—That's exactly how I pictured him, and he's going to be as important as Snape and Tracey in this story. I've got big plans for him.
Randi—Thanks. My gosh, those mistakes could have just been the drop of poison that ruined this story and hopefully series. Oh, don't worry, it's not Cho Chang, though she sure sounds like it doesn't she? No, that's Su Li, though I wish I had mentioned her name. She's going to be important, as well. But if I make any mistakes, feel free to point them out. I wouldn't feel like a true fanfiction writer if my facts were wrong.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making money. Tear.
Chapter SixThe entire hall went silent, with the exception of a clattering of knives from the Hufflepuff table (one of them seemed to have been telling a graphic story) and Daphne's nails tapping without rhythm on the table. Tracey watched as an almost familiar lanky and rather small boy walked up to the hat, not looking very special enough to have all this deep tension surrounding him. His glasses were almost slipping off his nose and his black hair was quite messy.
"That's him. The one whom defeated You-Know-Who," Erik whispered, watching expectantly as the hat was lowered onto the boy's head.
"If we get him, we'll have it made for the next seven years. Cross your fingers, Tracey," Daphne said quietly.
Tracey did as she was told, though she still didn't see what all the fuss was about.
It felt like forever until finally the brim opened wide and yelled:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The entire Slytherin table groaned, except for Malfoy who was glaring at the poor boy as he went to the Gryffindor table, whose cheers masked the groans from the other houses.
"I'm not surprised," a Slytherin nearby commented dejectedly. "The Boyyy-Who-Lived was bound to be in the house of 'courage'."
"I thought the hat was supposed to be rather intelligent," another criticized, rolling his eyes.
"I don't get it," Tracey said, eyebrow lifted.
"He's famous, too famous probably. He ended the reign of terror of the Dark Lord himself! What have you done lately?" Astrea cried dramatically.
"I get it, I get it," Tracey replied, shaking her head.
How could someone like him possibly be a big hero? Tracey asked herself mentally. He looks like one gust of wind could blow him off the Hogwarts grounds.
After "Zabini, Blaise" had been sorted and McGonagall had carried away the Hat and the stool, the twinkly-eyed professor stood, arms held out in welcome. His wide smile made Tracey feel a whole lot warmer than she had, as she noticed how astounding his presence was, no one spoke, they all waited for his words.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
"Thank you!"
He returned to his seat as everyone cheered and applauded this fascinating man.
"He's quite intriguing," Tracey commented thoughtfully.
"My sister can't stand him. Says he's too sweet and a bit too mad," Daphne replied simply, before gasping. "Food!"
Tracey looked back at the plates and was shocked to find them piled with food and her goblet filled to the rim with pumpkin juice. She didn't take time to question how it got there, she immediately dug in, having just remembered how hungry she was. After they had all stuffed themselves rather well and could settle for forkfuls at a time, conversations began.
"Well, I'm actually a half-blood," Erik stated, as he sipped from his drink. "My mum is a muggle, my dad is a wizard. He died when I was only two, so I was raised as any other normal muggle child after my mum got remarried to an account when I was five. We live in a house along the coast, it's the nicest one on the road and we have tons of technology that other muggles are completely unaware of at the moment."
"Rich muggles, that sounds rather odd," Daphne replied, laughing. "And what is this techknowledge?"
"Technology is a muggle's subsitute for magic, they're very well off, in fact. Not a bunch of barbarics as wizards like to say," Erik assured her.
"Surprising," Daphne shrugged.
"Well, I live with just my mum," Astrea announced proudly. "She taught me the fundamentals before I came here, so I'd be ready for it all. We live in a nice manor in the countryside that my mum had inherited from her grandfather, Alphardis or someone of that sort. She has taught me loads of defensive spells, because she's an auror. An auror, Tracey," Astrea explained, turning to her friend, "is like a muggle police officer, but of higher standing in the wizarding world."
"I see," Tracey returned almost mockingly.
"What about Tracey?" Daphne asked. "We know nothing about her."
"Uhh, well. I grew up in suburbia," Tracey said, "and in the muggle world, that's a place where all house are fairly big and all look almost exactly the same."
"Sounds a tad frightening," Astrea observed.
"It is," Tracey laughed, "and I went to a public school. It just so happens I was awaiting acceptance to a really good private school when the Hogwarts letter came, and obviously you all know which one I chose. I had a few friends, Samantha and Emily, if you could call them friends. I was completely different from them."
"See, muggles aren't that fantastic," Daphne remarked, attempting to appear intelligent and all-knowing.
"That's mine and her parents you're talking about. Be careful," Erik warned, eyebrow raised.
"Fine, fine. Well you all know how fantastically huge my house is and how wealthy my parents are, so we don't need to discuss me," Daphne stated.
"Fine by me," Astrea muttered beneath her breath.
"Oh, look! I know him," Daphne suddenly exclaimed, ignoring Astrea's words completely, as she reached across the table, beside Tracey, and tapped a boy on the shoulder.
"Montague!" she called, until he looked away from the person he was talking to. He stopped short, looking down at Daphne as if she was a bug he was craving to squash.
"Celie's sister, right?" he asked.
"Hardly," Daphne replied, smiling.
His face relaxed as he smirked at her, shaking the offered hand enthusiastically.
"Pleasure to see you again, Daphne," he said, then looked at the rest of us. "And who are these fantastic people?"
Tracey couldn't help but blush as Daphne introduced them all to him, he shook each of their hands pleasantly.
"How have you been?" Daphne asked him after all introductions were over.
"Fairly well, I'm looking forward to the tryouts for the Slytherin quidditch team, didn't make it last year."
"You're a great flyer, I'm sure you'll make it," Daphne replied and he smiled at her.
"Thanks."
After all the desserts had been ravaged by the sweet-toothed students, they all watched with full stomachs as the professor stood once more, whom Tracey now figured to be the Headmaster. The hall went silent as he began to speak:
"Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
There was a pause in his speech, where Dumbledore's eyes flashed curiously toward the Gryffindor table, before resuming his speech.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
There were a few nervous chuckles from some of the other tables, that is, until they noticed that he was being rather serious and immediately whispers erupted about the hall, which were silenced when the Headmaster continued.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" he cried.
A dramatic change in mood occurred as the older years seemed to be preparing themselves for something very exciting and the first years looked about in confusement.
The Headmaster flicked his wand and shot a long golden ribbon out of it, twisting and forming itself into cursive lettering that seemed to be the school song.
"Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"
The entire hall seemed to take in one big breath before it began. Everyone was singing, different tones, different pitches, and different tunes. Dumbledore conducted them enthusiastically with his wand, apparently deaf to the horrible noise, that's sound quite resembled a dying animal:
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."
Tracey couldn't help but laugh at the rather silly lyrics, giggling until two redheaded twins had finished their funeral march version of the song and had bowed and sat down, the entire hall cheering, with Dumbledore applauding the loudest.
"Impressive," Astrea commented, looking at one of the twins with interest.
"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now bedtime. Off you trot!" Dumbledore said, and all the students got up, heading toward the doors to the Entrance Hall.
"First years! Come on, you little-!" a tall and surly fifth year yelled, but was interrupted by a girl wearing the same badge as him.
"Let's go everyone, follow Flint here, he's the prefect who'll be showing you to your dorms," she announced to all of them, before turning and leaving with her friends.
Erik waved goodbye to them as he left with Montague and a girl with very short hair, until all that were left were first years.
"Come on!" the prefect called again, and lead them through the Entrance Hall and down a staircase Tracey hadn't even noticed when she had first arrived.
They went along the corridors, entering another door and down another staircase until the carpetting turned to cold stone and the warm atmosphere and tapestries had disappeared. The dungeons of the castle. Tracey shivered, wrapping her cloak tighter around her small body as some of the other first years did the same. It dark, damp and chilly, the walls looked suspicious, as well, perhaps suggesting that they were now under the lake.
"The common room is actually rather nice," Daphne assured Tracey as the latter breathed into her hands and rubbed them together for heat. "Or so my sister tells me."
"I hope so," Tracey muttered, arms folded over her chest, keeping the cloak close, warm and tight as they walked along in the darkness. "Otherwise, I may have to go back to the Sorting Hat and beg to be placed in another house."
Tracey ignored the shocked look she received by a nearby student and paused a moment, looking under her shoes.
"What is ist?" Astrea asked, curiously.
"I swear I stepped in something gooey and wet. Disgusting," Tracey grumbled, then sighed, continuing on, the two girls following suit.
"Classes start tomorrow, I believe," Astrea stated, walking on Tracey's left.
"I'm rather excited. I mean, we get to do spells! Something my parents were really strict about not letting me do. Like I was going to blow up the guest cottage or something," Daphne exclaimed, tugging at Tracey sleeve in excitement.
Tracey couldn't help but smile at her friend, depite the goo she suspected was on the bottom of her shoes.
"I can't wait either," she replied.
Immediately, the group of first years, with the addition of the sour fifth year, were stopped by a dead end. Everyone went silent, though a few whispered, wondering where they would go from there.
"Has he lost his way?" Tracey whispered, standing on her toes to see, but not needing the lift, seeing as she was one of the tallest there.
"Callidus," the fifth year hissed at the wall, looking quite silly until a hidden stone door slid away to reveal a deep, greenish glow from inside.
They all stepped through, looking in awe at the Slytherin common room. It was dark like the rest of the dungeons, and it had the appearance of what it actually was, a low underground room, but there was a warmth to it. Perhaps, it was the fire, glowing from the hearth to the right, the gray and forest green rugs here and there, the black dragon hide furniture (Daphne told this to Tracey, for Tracey had no idea that dragons actually existed), the lamps that hung low from the ceiling that were emitting the emerald glow, or the few people scattered about, relaxing. Yet Tracey felt this place felt so right, so unbelievably right. It connected with either some kind of cynical part of her, or the knowledge-seeking part of her, when she had noticed the book cases with dozens of leather-bound references and novels.
"Girls' dormitories through the green door, boys' dormitories through the black door. Now beat it, you little buggers," the fifth year announced, waving them off as he sat on one of the high-backed chairs, striking up a conversation with an attractive blonde.
The first years didn't need to be told twice, they all marched up the two spiral staircases, each leading up to a different colored door.
"What do you think the dormitories will be like?" Astrea queried, walking up the staircase, ahead of Daphne and Tracey.
"Beats me, they could be warm and fluffy and sweet," Tracey replied, smiling to herself, though she doubted the two girls found her joke very funny.
"I highly doubt that, Tracey," Daphne said, her voice at a tone that tried to match intelligence but fell short. "I mean, look at the common room."
"Well, I guess we'll see," Astrea stated as she pulled the green door open, revealing a very dark corridor full of even more doors.
The odd numbered dormitories, Tracey determined, appeared to be on the left. So she walked along, watching as seven turned to five, then five to three, then three to one.
"First years," she announced proudly, pulling the door open and stepping inside. She was immediately taken aback by the soothing heat that came from the room, despite its placement in the castle.
A furnace was placed in the center of the circular room, giving off heat, which was quite necessary in a dormitory in the dungeons. There were five four-poster beds surrounding said furnace, with green curtains, and a darker green bedding with gray pillows. Each of their trunks were placed at the foot of the beds, conveniently situated so that Tracey was between Daphne and Astrea. If Astrea and Daphne had been beside each other, it would have kept Tracey up, for they were the type of people to have late night banters.
Tracey plopped on her bed and was surprised to have Cat leap upon her lap, as Daphne seemed to be when her cat had done the same. And the two were soon entertaining themselves by attempting to make the cats friends, like the owners, but this proved fruitless, for both felines wanted more attention than the other and didn't care about making acquaintances.
Meanwhile, Astrea was sitting on her bed by a window, which showed evidence that their room was barely reached above ground, and was opening it as the door to the dormitory opened.
"Daphne Greengrass! You spoiled snob," a voice called from the doorway, though she seemed to be teasing, she wasn't too far from the truth.
"Pansy Parkinson!" Daphne exclaimed, leaping off Tracey's bed, where she had been sitting, and ran over to a girl with straight ebony hair that barely fell past her shoulders and narrow chestnut brown eyes.
They hugged and talked quickly in hushed voices, as a rather tall and bulky girl went straight to her bed.
"Wow, you guys aren't even tired?" Pansy asked, looking at Tracey and Astrea with interest.
Actually, Tracey was, but not until Pansy had mentioned it.
"Well, I think I'm going to bed," Tracey mumbled, feeling embarassed without reason, as Astrea did the same.
Tracey suspected that the two girls ended up talking well into the night, but she wasn't positive, she had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, dreaming of another pair of black eyes and what they meant.
-----------------------------------
The first week of school felt like a rush to Tracey, skimming by like the Hogwarts Express, leaving only a few leaves and dirt scattered in its wake. When morning
had arrived, after the Great Hall was found following much searching and wandering through the halls, and schedules had been passed out, the four Slytherins sat at their table, not eager to get up like the rest of their classmates and go to class.
"So, basically, Snape is a scary man, he'll come right into your face, like he doesn't know the meaning of personal space," Erik explained, grabbing a roll and taking a dramatic
bite out of it.
Daphne giggled.
"He's harsh, and I'm quite sure he's abusing his position," Erik continued after he finished chewing and had gulped it down loudly. "Luckily you don't have him until Friday, but unfortunately it's with the Gryffindors. I was a first year once, too."
"Gryffindors, I noticed that on the schedule," Astrea commented, grimacing.
"It's horrid," Daphne sighed.
"Well, we should go. I don't want to get lost before Charms class," Tracey said, standing up and slinging her book bag over her shoulder.
"She's right, let's go," Astrea agreed, and they all got up, grabbed their bags and headed out of the Great Hall.
There wasn't much of a rush to get to the first class of term, but they knew they had to hurry.
"Tracey, guys, wait!" Erik called as the girls began to climb up the marble staircase, while he was about to head to the dungeons.
They turned, looking at him expectantly.
He sighed, and pointed up, saying, "Go up to third floor, down the Charms corridor and you'll see the classroom, everyone will be entering, of course."
They nodded, and Tracey said, "Thanks, Erik."
"Don't mention it," he replied with a grin, waving to them as they continued up the stairs, before going down to the dungeons.
"Where's the charms corridor?" Astrea asked for the third time.
Tracey rubbed her temple, saying, "Let's just ask someone."
"That'd be a good idea... if there was anyone here!" Daphne exclaimed.
All three looked at each of the many doors, feeling helpless in their search, until, suddenly, Astrea was thrown to the ground in a heap of books, hair, and black robes with an unflattering squeak.
She breathed heavily in shock from the fall, picking herself up to see who had knocked her over.
"Hey!" she cried, pointing at the black-haired girl behind Tracey.
"Sorry," Pansy Parkinson breathed, clutching her book bag with one hand and tucking the straight tendrils of hair, that were escaping from her formerly perfect bun, behind her ear with the other.
"Do you know how to get to Charms class, Pansy?" Daphne asked her, smiling, as she stepped before Astrea, suddenly unfazed by the surprise she had received earlier that had made her cry out in fright.
"Yes, don't you?" Pansy replied simply, looking at each of them in surprise.
"No, actually. And why are you late, anyway? If you know where the class is," Astrea snapped, brushing the dust from her robes.
"I left my books at the table," Pansy explained, unfazed by Astrea's furious tone. "Come on, I'll show you how to get there."
Tracey didn't hesitate to follow, motioning to the others to join their new guide. It was rather lucky that Pansy conveniently knew her way around, and, Tracey soon learned, was more than eager to show each of the girls where their classes were all that week, preventing any more tardies, with the exception of Charms class.
The week went by rather quickly, leaving no time for Tracey to realize what she was really getting herself into. Despite the excitement and certainty of Daphne that they were going to be waving wands and doing magic within the first week, the initial classes of term were nothing but lectures and note-taking. Luckily, by the end of Charms, Tracey had mastered the quill and was relieved to find that it magically sharpened its own tip (at least she wouldn't completely be caught in Medieval times), because the only thing on her mind as she got out her feathered writing utensil was how she'd be able to even use it.
But, other than that, she wasn't too stressed about how things would go this term. Note-taking and shorthand were her specialties, even though other students seemed to not even know what "shorthand" meant, and she could process what was being said throughout a lecture. Even through the most boring address, in a class called History of Magic (taught by a ghost who rather unintentionally made sure that the only exciting part of his class was when he entered through the chalkboard), was awkwardly getting easier for her. Tracey would furiously write notes while her classmates took naps that made drool puddles worthy of competing with the Nile River.
Transfiguration was different, but not much more difficult or easy. When their teacher, Professor McGonagall, the stern witch from the Sorting Ceremony, had turned her desk into a pig and back, the class was eager to get started. But she managed to spoil the excitement when they were immediately sentenced to the scribbling of many complicated notes.
"Now, you will each receive a match, and I expect you all to turn that match into a needle," Professor McGonagall explained, passing out matches to each of the students. "This does not have to be done by the end of class, because some of you may face some difficulty, but I do expect you to be able to correctly recite the incantation and properly do the spell by our next lesson."
She was right. The entire class had trouble as soon as they started, waving their wands rather dangerously and looking hurt when their match kept its wooden exterior.
After many tries Tracey at least managed to make it so one end was pointy, and Professor McGonagall nodded at her with a very small smile.
By the end of class, only Theodore Nott had succesfully completed the spell, and McGonagall congratulated him, though he did not reply.
Then followed Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class Tracey thought would be very impressive and interesting turned out to be anything but, though that was just her opinion. But she could tell by the disappointed looks on Malfoy and Astrea's faces, that she wasn't alone in this assumption. The classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which Tracey suspected came from the enormous purple turban on Professor Quirrel's head, and said professor had a terrible stutter and jumped at the slightest quick movement.
Tracey thought Herbology was a bore and not much was needed to be said about that.
But Astronomy was probably Tracey's favorite class, it took place on Thursday's at midnight and was all about the planets and stars, much more fascinating than magic, which was still difficult for Tracey to comprehend. Yet perhaps that was because she didn't want to admit that she had been wrong all those years about non-magical worlds and such. Tracey was damn stubborn and too, well, stubborn to admit it. But all went well that first week until...
The arrival of Friday had come upon them.
Daphne, Tracey and Astrea managed to make it to the Great Hall in small time, and had made sure that Pansy would be their guide for Potions earlier that morning, a class they would NOT want to be late to, and then afterwards her "services" would no longer be required.
Astrea sat down at the end of the table, followed by the other girls, braiding her hair and glaring at anyone that made the mistake of glancing over.
"I can't believe this," she said, grabbing her bookbag from Tracey's shoulder (who had been holding it for her as she did her hair), slamming it on the table, and ignoring the look from Malfoy, "Double Potions with the Gryffindors and with Snape."
"Just because we've gotten quite a few bad opinions about him, doesn't mean we can't come up with our own. What we heard might be just this, like, caricature of him," Tracey reasoned, glancing up at the High Table where Professor Snape sat glowering at the Gryffindor table. She sighed and added, "Or maybe not."
"No, Tracey, you're right," Daphne said, nodding. She took a seat across from Astrea and Tracey, grabbing an orange and some toast, looking over at Snape, as well. "Besides, isn't he supposed to favor us or something like that?"
"Right. But I sure didn't feel that last year and yesterday," a voice said from behind Daphne, and Erik took a seat beside Daphne, a load books in his arms. "Every time I go to that class he either glares at me or scares me half to death when I try and steal a nap."
"Gee, it can't be because of those naps, could it?" Astrea replied sarcastically.
"I doubt it. He just hates me. Probably knows I'm a half-blood or something," Erik shrugged, grabbing some toast and taking a quick bite. "He seems like the type."
"I don't get what's so bad about not coming from a full magical parentage. You're no less powerful than anybody else here," Tracey said, eyebrows raised.
"Do I have to explain again?" Daphne sighed dramatically.
"Just ignore it all Tracey," Astrea said, shooting a glare at Daphne. "All that matters is that you do your best. Then you can show those twats that you mean business and they aren't worthy of you."
"Yes, I should," Tracey mumbled, crossing her arms on the table and resting her head against them.
When Erik offered her a roll, she declined quietly, staring at Snape, wondering if his views of her would be the same as his views of Erik. And if Erik was honestly right about Snape's discrimination.
Astrea glanced down at Tracey solemnly and muttered, "It's going to be a long day."
--------------------------------
When Snape had burst into the dungeons, door slamming against the wall loudly, and at first glance only his billowing black robes noticed, Tracey felt like her heart had jumped into her throat, and not in a cheesy, romantic way.
He stopped at his podium, gracefully leaning on it as he looked at each and every face in the class, stopping a little longer than usual on Harry Potter, then Tracey, causing her to feel that frightened chill when their eyes connected. She nervously lowered her face, shuffling her pieces of parchment and nudging Astrea, who sat beside her.
"I know, I know," Astrea muttered, lifting her head and wiping at her mouth in exasperation. She then suddenly froze when Snape's stare returned to her, his eyes menacing.
She sat up straighter and awkwardly avoided his glare, pretending to look through her pieces of parchment.
"I will take roll," he said softly, his quiet baritone of a voice felt, yes, felt as if it could penetrate walls.
Tracey took a deep breath and wondered how she would survive seven years of this class.
"Davis, Tracey," he suddenly said, and Tracey sat up quickly, eyes large and scared.
"Present," she practically whispered, and he nodded almost indifferently.
Seven years suddenly felt like forever.
Author's Note: Oh my gosh! You almost forgot to review! Just click the little button down there and tell me what you think, and any constructive criticism. By the way, ignorant flames are not even close to constructive criticism.