Author's Note —
10/6/06
So I've done it again—I've revised. I've gone back through all the chapters and fixed some errors or little things that were bugging me. Tweaked a conversation here, elaborated a tad more there…nothing very major, and if you could actually spot the changes, I'd be very happy because that would mean you paid attention the first time 'round.
Oh wait, I did change some stuff—namely chapters 9 and 10. Changed them a lot. I overhauled that part for many reasons—the main one being that I didn't like the direction it was going. And since I hit a wall and hadn't been able to write for the past year (really, very sorry about that) I went back and revised to try and work my way out of the corner. I hope you'll like the changes.
I've decided to use the book version of classes in which most of the time the Houses are separated for lessons except for Gryffindor/Slytherins for Potions and Care of Magical Creatures and Gryffindor/Hufflepuff for Herbology. Those are the classes I know so that means I get to make up the schedules for others. I'd also like to reiterate that I didn't understand the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. system prior to the release of HBP, so one more reason why I'm ignoring that book.
Disclaimer — Nope. Don't own it. Never have, never will—and I cry every night because of that fact.
Chapter Six—School Daze
It was nice outside and everyone was taking advantage of the warm weather and sunny sky. Sarah was eating lunch under the shade of a beech tree, its leaves just beginning to bleed red. Thanks to a handy charm against stains, she had no qualms about plopping down on the green grass and stretching out. All around her, others were enjoying outside lunches as well, eating in groups and playing in the sunshine. Reading one of her favorite books, Sarah was doing her best to tune out the sound of voices.
"Actually, I'm only surprised it's coming up now."
"Well, you can't really blame them, can you? The relations have been terrible since before the minister before Fudge…"
"That would have been Minister Mickelson, Ron."
"Not that that matters, Hermione. I'm just saying the relations have never been strong and the past few ministers haven't been doing anything to make it better. And it's not just here in Western Europe, Dad says this is world-wide. They're all getting really upset over how they're still being treated as lesser citizens."
Admitting that she was eavesdropping on the conversation and realizing that she knew the voices, Sarah shut her book and peered around her tree. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were located a short distance away, lunch and a newspaper spread before them, a giant elm shielding them from the sun.
"Do you think it'll come to another walk-out?" asked Harry who was lying on the ground, hands underneath his head, looking at the sky. "The last one was really bad."
"Bit of an understatement, Harry. The only way our economy stayed intact was because we spilled it over into Muggle society and destroyed theirs; which, by the way, was a ghastly thing for wizards to do. Europe and North America were a mess for years. But, you're right; a walk-out is one of the Ministry's concerns, as it always has been. Just one of the problems with having someone else in control of the money."
"Yeah," agreed Ron with a snort as he bit into an apple, wiping the juice from his chin with the sleeve of his robe. Hermione pursed her lips but didn't comment. "If they get annoyed they either riot in the streets destroying stuff or just up and leave with the gold and no one has a clue where they go and the whole world is a mess until they all finally come back."
"What?" asked Harry rising up on his elbows, "Do you mean every goblin in the world?"
"Yes. Each time they do it, they all vanish," confirmed Hermione. "They lock and spell shut their homes, the goblin schools and businesses are empty and all Gringotts are closed down. No one knows where they go."
"Even if the problem is here, though? They all leave?"
"Yup," Ron nodded. "They might have their own problems among themselves, but when it comes to wizard against goblin, they stick together against us."
Deciding she was curious enough to join the conversation, Sarah stood, brushing off grass stems and flecks of dirt from her clothing. She gathered her book and bag, walking around her tree she came upon the three students and flashed her best smile.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but I was accidentally eavesdropping over there and would you mind if joined you?"
The boys shrugged leaving Hermione to answer for them, "Not at all, have a seat."
"Thanks," said Sarah, dropping her bag and mentally reminding herself not to sit cross-legged, something that just shouldn't be done while wearing a skirt. "Oh, I met your sister yesterday, Ron. We have an art class together; she's really talented."
Ron didn't seem surprised. "Yeah, Ginny's always been good at that kind of stuff."
"So," said Sarah once she had her skirt smoothed down, "what is this about a goblin walk-out?"
"Do you get the paper?" asked Hermione, pushing the newspaper on the ground toward Sarah when the girl shook her head. "The Daily Prophet has been following a story about how Minister Fudge and the goblin community have been at odds for the past few years; even more so now with Voldemort alive. The spokesgoblin in the Ministry released a statement about unfair treatment and prejudices under Fudge's term and how if things don't start changing soon and if the Minister doesn't deal with them, the goblins will walk and leave Fudge to deal with the repercussions."
Sarah picked up the paper and gave it a cursory once-over. She set it back down and sighed. "Well," she said, "they certainly sound angry, but I think they have reason. They're not classified as beasts but we do take them for granted a lot of the time." She stared at the article, noting vaguely the differences in writing style and page layout compared to the newspapers she was used to. "Why are goblins in charge of the money we use?" she mused, not really expecting an answer. "Why don't wizards run their own banks?"
"Because it's goblin gold," replied Hermione matter-of-factly. "They were miners long, long ago when they still lived underground. They dug up precious metals and jewels and when they realized that humans had an interest in such things they started bartering with wizards. 379 BC, I think was the year the first true lending organization was created which then eventually became Gringotts Bank. The goblins had a fantastic communication network and whenever a new wizard community grew large enough, no matter where it was, a Gringotts was built. Technically, I think goblins still own all the money because no one has bothered to change the system."
At the mention of underground and goblins, Sarah started and had to remind herself that the girl hadn't meant anything by it. Hermione had said underground, not the Underground.
"What possible reason could you have for knowing the history of Gringotts and banking?" asked Harry incredulously from his position on the ground.
"All knowledge is worth knowing, Harry," she replied which caused both boys to snort in amusement. "And I pay attention in class."
"Well, they picked a bloody bad time for a rebellion if you ask me. You'd think they'd have enough sense to wait until the war with You-Know-Who is over," commented Ron as he finished what looked like a ham sandwich.
"Actually, this is probably one of the best times to do it. Fudge will be so distracted by Voldemort and the threat of the goblins leaving and—even though the paper didn't say it—the idea of them joining with Voldemort, that he could be more inclined to give in to their demands, as long they're reasonable. Of course, it could all go horribly wrong, quite easily."
The hooting of an owl interrupted their conversation. All four glanced up and saw a tan and white barn owl with a round face and golden eyes sitting on a low branch not five feet above their heads, gazing down at them with an unblinking stare. Sarah recognized him and frowned.
"What?" she asked him, startling her companions.
"Oh, is that your owl, Sarah?" asked Ron. The owl in question swiveled his head to look at Ron with what was unmistakably a glare. The redhead flinched and Sarah burst out laughing.
"No, he's not mine," she managed once she had calmed down. "And I'm pretty sure he dislikes the idea of 'belonging' to anyone. I'm just surprised to see him here. Though…I guess I really shouldn't be."
The owl turned his head back to Sarah. Balancing on one foot, a clawed leg lifted and Sarah watched him blankly while she tried to understand. He put the foot down and shifted on his perch, clicking his beak in annoyance. Edging along the bough he came to the end of the branch, his body weight enough to make the limb dip and sway. The bird hooted again and raised a foot, talons extended.
Sarah stared at the bird then looked at the others. "Any ideas?" she asked.
"Food?" ventured Ron.
"The paper?" Hermione offered with a shrug. The owl murmured in seeming agreement above them.
"You want me to give you the newspaper?" Sarah asked mildly surprised, head tilted back to see above her. The owl ruffled his wings. "No. First off, this isn't mine to give," she poked the paper lying on the grass, "and second, I know you're capable of getting your own, so go do that."
The bird gave her baleful eyes and hissed his displeasure. He hopped from the branch, his outstretched wings directing the descent, and landed in the middle of the group. As the students jumped back to avoid being buffeted by wings, the owl speared a section of the paper with his talons and launched into the sky over Ron's head, the boy dropping to the ground with a startled yelp.
"I guess he really wanted that paper," said Harry, tracking the bird's flight.
Sarah laughed ruefully, "I guess so." She watched the owl head toward the school, the news article fluttering securely within the bird's clawed grasp. "Sorry 'bout your paper, Hermione," she apologized.
"It's alright."
"And you say the bird's not yours?" asked Ron as he picked himself up off the ground.
"No, but I know him. I'm sure I'll be seeing more of him around, too." Sarah frowned thoughtfully, "That's one question answered at least."
"What question?"
Sarah gave them a small, private smile. "Where does he go during the day? Apparently he hides in trees."
"Well," said Harry slowly, "he is an owl."
"Yes," agreed Sarah as she stood, hands dusting off bits of dirt and nature from her clothing, "so it seems." The two boys rose as well, Ron offering Hermione a hand and the four gathered their belongings, heading back to the castle.
"Is History as bad as the rumors say?" asked Sarah. "I have it next and I'm debating on whether I should bring my notebook or a sketch book."
"We have N.E.W.T.s this year, Sarah—you should defiantly go prepared. I don't know if you have similar tests at your old school, but here, if you don't do well on N.E.W.T.s, you won't be accepted into university."
"Hermione," said Harry, a serious expression on his face, "you're the only person I've met who can stay even remotely interested in what Binns is talking about. Sarah," he turned to the brunette, his air still solemn, "bring a sketch pad if you want, but I recommend a pillow."
Ron nodded sagely beside his friend. "It's true. Pity the chairs aren't more comfortable." Hermione heaved a sigh beside the boys and Sarah laughed as they walked into the school.
Sarah decided it took a will of iron to stay awake in Professor Binns' class. Finding herself cross-eyed within the first five minutes, she pulled out her sketch book and proceeded to keep herself awake. It was an old friend given to her for her sixteenth birthday and had helped her to stay conscious during many a boring class. It was a brown leather sketch book full of poems and short stories, with doodles in every corner and even some full-page artwork she'd taken meticulous care on to get the details just right.
Inside were sketches from her time Underground. Hoggle, Ludo, and Didymus being the main subjects but she also drew lumpy goblins in ill-fitting armor, a wise-man with a bird for a hat, and a maze that never ended. Sometimes, she drew Jareth.
Today, she was sketching Ludo; his ears perked up in interest, a multitude of rocks around his feet. Her drawings never looked quite like their real counterparts, but she'd gotten better as the years progressed. She could hear the ghostly Professor Binns droning and her fellow Slytherins snoring. Most of them anyway.
A folded piece of parchment was slipped onto her desk and Sarah gazed blankly at the paper before looking at the person who had passed it to her. It was the only Slytherin boy her age she had yet to personally meet and she was reluctant to open the note. He raised his eyebrows at her but otherwise did nothing. Taking a quick look at Professor Binns, who was paying not one whit of attention to her, least of all the snoring students in his classroom, Sarah opened the parchment and read:
You're good. I like the big guy with horns.
Sarah looked back at the boy in surprise. She hadn't expected a compliment on her sketches. She gave him a tentative smile and mouthed "thanks."
He pulled the sheet of paper from her desk, scribbled something hastily on it, and passed it back. Sarah glanced nervously around again but none of the other students were paying attention, most of them looked dead to the world, and Professor Binns was still in the same spot he'd been in for the past ten minutes, lecturing about wizard involvement in World War I.
Is it real?
After the initial second of surprise, Sarah had to remind herself that she was no longer among Muggles, but surrounded by people who would be more inclined to believe in her strange friends. She nodded and he smiled at her. He took the paper from her, wrote something, and slipped it back.
Thought so. Can I look through your book?
Sarah passed it to him hoping her newfound trust was not misplaced. Professor Binns was still lecturing and her classmates were still in their stupor, though Draco seemed to be trying to wake himself up—he was blinking a lot in any case. When the boy returned the book Sarah gave a silent sigh of relief.
The sound of bells reverberated around the room and signaled a much-anticipated end to class. The Slytherins jerked awake at the noise and Goyle managed to knock an inkpot off his desk in surprise.
"I'm Blaise Zabini," said the boy standing up, hand outstretched. He was a tall black boy with high cheek bones and long, slanting eyes; and he was smiling at her. She took shook his hand with only a little apprehension.
"Sarah Williams."
Pansy pushed her way past Sarah, knocking the girl into her desk and breaking her handshake with Blaise. Sarah glared over her shoulder as she rubbed her side—there would undoubtedly be a lovely bruise. Pansy was talking to Draco with her back to Sarah, so it was only the blond boy who noticed the venomous look. His smile was mocking. Then his eyes turned to Blaise and something shifted. He lifted a pale brow in what was unmistakably disbelief. Draco frowned and left the room with Pansy and their friends following close behind.
Sarah looked at Blaise with suspicion. If he and Draco had something going on, then she probably didn't want anything to do with him. She gathered her supplies, throwing her sketch book in her bag. "If you and Draco are in cahoots or whatever, just leave me alone," she said heading for the door, maneuvering between the desks. Blaise called from behind her.
"Sarah, wait!" he caught her just outside the doorway and paced her in the hallway. "It's not what you think. Draco and I have an…understanding, that's all."
"Look," she said, "I don't know you, but I know that Draco has told the Slytherins to bother me or at the very least ignore me. Why are you being the exception?"
"Because I don't do what Draco commands. Haven't since second year; he leaves me alone."
"How'd that happen?" she asked turning a corner and nearly running over a younger student in Hufflepuff colors. The blond girl gave her a strange look when Sarah apologized and hastily went on her way.
"You have to get him to respect you. Or at least fear you. Give him a reason to leave you alone and he will."
"It's that easy?" she asked disbelieving. "I find that hard to believe considering the number of students he seems to terrorize."
"Yes, well, I guess being in Slytherin gives me a little more leeway."
"How very bigoted of him. Where are we going?" she demanded abruptly, halting on some stairs and looking at Blaise who stopped short right beside her.
"Herbology?" he offered. "We have it next with Ravenclaw."
"Right. I forgot. This is the day with all Slytherin classes," she scowled at Blaise as he blinked at her.
"We're not all mean, Sarah," he voice was resigned voice, as if it was something he argued often.
"Maybe. But you don't go out of your way to be nice, either."
He sighed but agreed. "True enough. Do you want me to leave?"
"No," she said after a short moment. "You've just volunteered to be my guide, so lead on."
David Mathis was already in Greenhouse 6 when Sarah arrived. When she walked in the building she greeted him with a smile but felt a distinct lack of welcome when he acknowledged and then ignored her. Idly, and little sadly, she marveled at how quickly the other Houses were able to prejudice their new members against the students in Slytherin.
Professor Sprout came in and sectioned them off into groups of two, Sarah being stuck with a Ravenclaw named Donald Felstone who seemed astounded when she proved to be more than adequate in the handling of the dangerous Hellsing Bloodular plant. She was highly offended by his haughty attitude and decided that perhaps the Slytherins weren't entirely responsible for all the ill-feeling among the student population.
That night Sarah wrote a letter to her parents about what magic she was learning and the strange creatures she had seen and then she wrote very different letters to her friends who didn't know she was a witch. She explained that Hogwarts was an actual castle built a thousand years ago and while it didn't have the internet (thus the reason she was writing a letter) it had an extensive library with shelves upon shelves of books that undoubtedly would cover every subject she would ever have to research. She wrote about the castle grounds and the professors and tried to make it as Muggle-sounding as possible.
When Sarah was done with her letters, she sat staring into the fireplace in her dorm and half-wished she was back home.
That night she did not dream.
Author's Note Part 2 — I make no claim to knowing anything about banking or politics. I think math is evil and politics even more so. Forgive my lack of accuracy and just go with whatever I manage to come up with, okay? Cool.