Tall Ugly Weed
Narcissa Malfoy
The shriek of the train whistle pierced through the engine exhaust and smoke on platform 9 ¾ as the Hogwarts Express prepared for departure. Students, families and ticket collectors milled about in the most disorganized fashion, children shoving and pushing each other to call dibs on the best seats while trying to be heard over the fervent cries of mothers telling them they forgot to take their school bag. Owl cages and cat carriers whacked elbows, giving first year parents an excuse to vent their anxiety and someone kept losing their toad. There was a bit of a traffic jam going on at the entrance to the secret platform, but every smelly brat in the British Isles seemed to be present, so no harm done.
Narcissa Malfoy winced as the whistle broke through the hustle, clean shot to her tender eardrum that rang moments after it ended. Her son always chose the compartment closest to the head of train and she was more than happy to encourage his choices, despite the hazards of the area. Of course being the wife to one of the most aspiring aristocrats in wizarding England meant she should have fewer hazards to deal with than some other unfortunate mothers. Should.
"Where have you been, Dobby? I ordered you to help us with the baggage at least ten minutes ago."
The fumbling waste of skin and gristle that was the family elf popped into existence where, by a look at the precise clock above the platform, he should have been eleven minutes prior.
"Dobby is truly sorry, dear mistress. Dobby was –"
"I don't care where Dobby was wasting my time. I care that he is taking my Draco's new broomstick on to the luggage compartment over number five. Now."
"Yes, mistress," piped the elf, taking the silver plated broomstick case from her with humility and toddled up the steps of the train, knocking into some exiting older students as he went. Really, that elf was a hopeless case.
"I can't wait to see the look on Potter's face when I show him the new brooms," gloated Draco from his trolley. His gray eyes glinted with malice at the prospect of his schoolyard nemesis facing Lucius's purchase. "The little dweeb won't stand a chance!"
"Yes, well, do take care. I'll send some of your favorite sweets within the week." said Narcissa, dipping down to kiss her beloved son on the cheek. Oh, how he looks so much like his father - now going off to school, destined to become a great climber through life. Poetic, really, just wonderful to watch this young man in the making growing into the Malfoy name she married to. If Narcissa ever permitted herself to cry in public, now would be an opportune moment. It would be the second time for her to shed dramatic tear in only a few months, though the first occasion was for a very different cause.
She turned from her prideful joy with resolution to face the other child, a sterner look crossing her fair features. Staring down at the bowed head of her daughter, she did her best to make a lasting impression on this one.
"Now you behave yourself, young lady."
"Yes, Mother."
"I don't want any funny business. Not like last time. Your father was kind enough to give you a second chance. Don't expect a third. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mother."
"I will write to you as soon as we hear you've made Slytherin."
Jezibell looked up then, wearing the hard expression that was forever set on her young face since the expulsion. It was such an ugly look, considering the smiling dimpled girl Narcissa waved goodbye to a year ago.
"Of course, Mother."
"Come ON, Sis!" yelled Draco, already on the stairs to the express. Dobby reappeared briefly to continue apologies for lateness. Narcissa showed mercy, telling him such a performance wasn't necessary (King's Cross isn't the ideal setting for a demonstration of how incompetent your house elf is) and ordered him back to the manor, reminding him to inform Lucius of his tardiness.
Jezibell had managed her bags independently while this exchange took place. Narcissa turned her attention back in time to watch the girl's familiar, Emmy, follow her aboard with a stately hiss and a rattle from her tail. The door to the compartments shut, and the window in the nearest opened so Narcissa could see Draco in the few moments before the train left. Other children peered through the glass as well, but he nudged them out of the way to dominate the space. Jezibell was only half visible in a corner of the frame, and her arms were held in front of her, presumably holding the cat.
The whistle sounded once more before the express started up. Draco waved enthusiastically from the window as the train gathered speed. Jezibell didn't smile, didn't wave, didn't anything but stare past her mother as if she were only one of the masses now waving and jostling the upper-class woman aside. Narcissa stepped back from crowd and a worry line marred her pale face. She sighed inwardly. What was she going to do with that child?
Hogwarts Express, September First
"Hurry up!" Draco impatiently drummed the dividing glass while Jezibell stowed her luggage. "Come on, they're probably already there. Its number five - I told them to be there."
Jezibell sighed irritably, jerking her vision from the melting faces. Her brother half pulled her along the corridor to compartment five. Given her choice, Jezibell would be on the other end of the galaxy. Even having to condone with possible lack of oxygen, she was sure it was a better deal. But she had agreed to meet his little friends - her little friends, she amended. This year was supposed to be a fresh start in her existence as a Malfoy. No use griping about it.
Though griping was very tempting when Draco slid open the door to reveal his chosen cohorts. There was a girl with a scrunched nose who spared half a breath on her name – Pansy Parkinson - before squealing over how 'adorable' Emmy was (Taking in measure the serpentine-felid's gargoylesque features, it's possible Parkinson was being ironic, but unlikely) A couple of fairly repulsive goons who Draco called Crabbe and Goyle (Scab and Boil, Jezibell revised) and an assortment of other familiar idiots who she took along with starving mosquitoes. Draco gave the vague introductions.
"This is Jezibell. She's my sister, here from Durmstrang and she's entering in our year. No, she's not an exchange student, Crabbe, you twit. You know Hogwarts cut the program a few years ago."
The starving mosquitoes were smarter than they looked. None asked about the evaded subject of Durmstrang and why exactly Jezibell was here instead. Draco ordered Scab and Boil to store her bags and Jezibell took the window seat next to Theodore Nott. Previously, it had been his view and he turned his palled cheek from her sullenly.
It was dull as nails. Really old and crusty ones that have been pounded in wood so many times the pointy edge is non-existent, and now they sit at the back of the tool box - failures to their kind; serving as homes for the little insects that crawl inside the holes from the rust, a testament to the nails' insignificance. After a mere five minutes of deconstructing obscure metaphors, Jezibell was desperate for a diversion. None of the Slytherins really wanted to associate with her; they were just licking the Malfoy twins' boots in hope of free lunches. They should save their spittle. All anyone would taste courtesy of Jezibell was overpriced leather polish. Lord, she needed to get out of here. Emmy flicked her tail against Jezibell's left leg to call her to attention. She glanced down at her hybrid.
"Distraction time." said the parselmouth feline and flicked her tail again, this time at the window. Jezibell got the idea.
"Hey look! Is that a manticore?"
In the scuffle to the window seat, Jezibell and Emmy slipped out of the wretched compartment and ran down the corridor, not caring that she was leaving her bags behind, just needing to put as much distance between herself and the Slytherins as possible. When she got to the end of the corridor, she didn't hesitate before scooping up Emmy in her arms and jumping the gap between coaches into the next. Sprinting down half the train length, she took a glance over her shoulder to make sure none had followed them when -
"Look out!"
"Aauugh!"
"Mureeiow!"
Jezibell lay flat on the musty carpet that was the floor. She had run into some guy who had been bent double in the middle of the hallway.
"Ouch." groaned the person sprawled beside her. He pushed himself up before holding out a helpful hand for her. He has a round face, kind eyes and neatly parted hair that he had done his best to muss up even before the fall. His smile was sheepish though their colliding was likely her fault. She really needed to watch where she was going. Facial muscles fell to neutral and managed to stay that way even as a large toad plopped onto her stomach. The boy went pink and grabbed his pet before helping Jezibell up. Emmy stayed on the floor, picking herself up. The familiar had a knack for knowing when Jezibell wanted her inconspicuous.
"I'm Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor." He informed her after the obligatory apologies as they set off down the corridor. Jezibell realized odds of finding a niche to herself and Emmy were unlikely this late in the ride, and Neville seemed good company as any. Better, seeing as he now had an obligation to accommodate her. "What's your name?"
Jezibell hesitated. She knew what his reaction would be if she told her surname, even the first one was a big giveaway. Really, how many parents would name their kid Jezibell?
"Abigail," That was harmless enough.
"Nice to meet you. My compartments over here, I was out because Trevor escaped," Neville held up the toad with a proud sum of warts from his pocket. Trevor immediately gave fierce kick, the amphibian equivalent of a rogue stallion attempting to throw its rider. "He does that."
"You should get a leash," Jezibell hung outside Neville's compartment.
"Do they have those for toads?" He puzzled, zipping Trevor into a pocket on his bag that had mesh so he could breathe.
"Wouldn't doubt it," She shrugged inside and Neville slid the door shut. The duo sat down across each other, both gluing their sides to the window, just in case. Emmy curled up for a nap next to Jezibell. She had a feeling they were going to be here a while. The getting-to-know-you Q&A continued.
"So, are you new this year?"
"You could say that."
"Any clue to what house you'll be in?"
"Not really, my family's been all over the place at Hogwarts. I'll take what I get."
That one had a feasible seed of truth. Jezibell did have a few odd relatives one her mother's side that had been in houses besides Slytherin - more than a few, if truth be told. Her parents liked to think of it as a rarity, but it seemed every other generation produced at least one black sheep. But no one expected her to keep with that particular family tradition.
"Well, I hope you're a lion."
"No, it's true."
"That's not what I –"
"I know," she smirked.
He smiled at that.
They had fun in Compartment twenty-nine, chatting about Quidditch, what the lessons were like and the chocolate frog cards they had collected. Emmy slept peacefully on. Jezibell carefully monitored the conversation so it didn't stray any near her family, but Neville didn't pry. She recalled Draco laughing about a Longbottom over the holidays who was a bumbling idiot, but Jezibell didn't get that impression at all upon meeting this one. It was something of a personal treat, to pretend to have a budding friendship with this Gryffindor before the Sorting Hat nipped it clean. When the food trolley came she decided what the heck and bought lunch for them.
"No, it's alright," he protested, "I'll take half."
Jezibell almost laughed aloud at his eagerness to help. This certainly was different from hanging out with the Slytherins. She shook her head calmly, handing the money over, "I owe you one."
Not long after that, Trevor lost himself again and they turned the compartment upside down trying to find him before Neville spotted him snoozing next to Emmy in a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans wrapper. They had a few people stop by. More Gryffindors that Neville called his friends, but seemed to have minored in Longbottoms at the Draco Malfoy School of Thought. She played relatively nice for his sake, but nobody stayed long. Draco never came looking for her, so it was in a cheerful mood, that Jezibell bade goodbye to Neville to snatch back her luggage and join the first years on the boats to the castle.
Ronald Weasley
Ron let his trunk fall next to the castle doors wearily. The day so far seemed like he was living one of those fortunately/unfortunately stories Bill used to read. Bloody hell, did he used to think they were funny? Let us review from the top.
It looks as if they are going to be late for train when they leave the house that morning. Fortunately, Dad owns a magically modified car to drive them to the station with. Unfortunately, Ginny forgets her diary, wasting time they didn't have, and Mum refuses to use the invisibility booster to fly over traffic. Fortunately, somehow they get to the station on time. Unfortunately, the gate closes on Harry and Ron while everybody else got in. Fortunately, said flying car was perfectly available for use and Ron and Harry proceed to fly themselves to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, the invisibility booster is faulty and the car gets tired after several miles so high in the air. Fortunately, they still manage to get the car to work and then zoom off to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, when they get to Hogwarts the engine cuts completely and the car takes a nose dive. Fortunately they miss the wall and hit a tree. Unfortunately, this particular tree skived off its anger management classes and hits back. Fortunately, they escape alive and with the car mostly intact. Unfortunately, Ron's wand is not so much intact and the car abandons them for the Forbidden Forest, so Harry and Ron have to hike up the hilly lawn to get to the castle, bruised cold and tired from their yoyo adventure.
"I bet the feast had already started," Ron said, adding hunger to the unfortunate list as he looked through the bright window at the start of term feast that was just getting underway. Taking a closer look, the food wasn't laid out yet and Professor McGonagall was up front with a large hat, "Hey, Harry! Come look – it's the Sorting!"
Harry was quickly at his side and they both scanned the throng of first years, looking for the distinctive Weasley red hair of Ginny. Ron found her quick, chatting to another girl who was a dirty blond under her Hogwarts hat.
"Hey, it's that girl," Harry recognized someone else.
"Huh?"
"See the taller one, back row with the cat?"
"Oh, yeah. Wasn't she in Diagon Alley?"
Now that Harry pointed her out, Ron did recognize the haughty face of another witch. In Flourish and Blotts, she'd been with the Malfoys but standing aside from them with her nose in a large book so they hadn't gotten a good look at her. Lucius Malfoy hadn't said she was anybody special, so Ron forgot about her afterword.
"I think she's related to Malfoy," Harry went on, "maybe a cousin or something. I saw her with them in Knockturn alley."
"Bet she's a Slytherin."
As they continued to watch her, girl looked out of place to Ron. She was quite a bit taller than the others and what he could see of her face betrayed none of the nervousness usually shown in first years. She simply looked more mature; twelve, possibly thirteen years old, but not eleven. As Harry pointed out, there was a sleek coated cat winding around her legs that was built like an S curve, the neck way too long and skinny. Were cats really able to twist all the way around like that? It also had weird markings, diamond shaped patterns along its back that reminded Ron of a picture of a snake he once saw, the kind with little shakers on the tail. It gave him the creeps.
The dirty blond was up. The Hat took no more than ten seconds with her. Black trimming changed to blue and the girl was accepted to the Ravenclaw table with the customary grand applause from her chosen house. The Sorting was always fun in the curious way of seeing who fit where. Like horoscopes in the Prophet, but more important. How the Hat could get the perfect measure of people when they were just eleven was something Ron never got. When you're a skinny, shivering snippet what's there to go by? Brave and daring hadn't been the ways he would have described himself at his Sorting. But after last year with the Philosopher's Stone and all, he figured the Hat must be genius in figuring people. No doubt the Ravenclaw girl was just the logical A-type her house called for. Ron found himself tapping the window pane with the Ravenclaws, applauding for the Hat too.
"Here she goes," said Harry as the Malfoy Girl marched purposefully to the stool where the Sorting Hat sat. How she could see where she was going with all that dark hair in her eyes? She slipped the Hat on with steady hands and sat completely still, displaying the strange confidence while awaiting her verdict. Though Harry and Ron couldn't hear what the hat cried, they knew something was wrong.
"Hang on," said Ron, "Why aren't they all clapping?"
"I dunno."
"Wait...hold it...she's not, is she...Oh no."
Yes, it was true. The pair watched as the Malfoy girl rose from the stool, handed the frayed hat to McGonagall and walked over to the Gryffindor table to take her seat. The students nearest to her scooted unnecessarily far away, as though not to dirty themselves. There were a few smatterings of palms, mostly from staff, but many people were just gaping in shock. Ron was with them outside the hall. A Malfoy in Gryffindor. Gryffindor. A Gryffindor. This did not compute.
"There's an empty chair at the staff table," muttered Harry.
"What?"
"Where's Snape?"
Ron refocused his attention, and sure enough – no greasy potions master at the head table.
"Maybe he's ill." Ron wondered, hoping this would be the fortunate cap on their night.
"Maybe he's left because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again."
"Maybe he's been sacked! I mean everybody hates him."
"Or maybe," said a third, terribly familiar voice from behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."
Ron froze, his eyes fixed unseeingly on the vacated staff chair and understanding why it was so. Unfortunately, his day was about to get a lot worse.
Second Floor Bathroom, Evening
Jezibell's head was in a sink.
She had walked briskly out of the great hall as soon as Professor Dumbledore finished his speech. The students and staff eyed her as she sped-walked to the nearest corridor, already the pariah. That was fast. She had wandered around for at least half an hour, alone having sent Emmy ahead to stake out her new dormitory and tried to make sense of the changing staircases, looking for a sanctuary. Gryffindor. A Gryffindor. This wasn't what she was promised.
She twisted the tap with slick fingers and leaned into the spout. With her face pressed against the cool porcelain a twinkle caught Jezibell's eye: a tiny snake. Curled gently on the side of the tap, the ruby eyes set in the carving looked benignly up at her. Jezibell relaxed some. It was just like all the baubles and elaborately sculptured door frames lining her home. There was something in the subtle curvature and intertwining shapes that calmed her. Like in one of those Celtic designs, the Eternal Knot. You could follow the connections and smooth transitions of color around forever.
Gazing at the familiar twisting lines she allowed herself to examine the situation. Tomorrow morning would herald the torturous school year she was condemned to, the expressions on the entire student body secured this fact. And the owl would come. Jezibell didn't know what she say would say in reply. You can't just ask to be transferred out of your chosen house. She wasn't sure if she wanted that anyway.
She wanted to wash her face. It felt sweaty and warm. She jerked the handle with the snake more roughly, irked when efforts for pouring water reaped nothing but sore fingertips. The rubies glimmered and mocked her. Stupid place. Best wizarding school in Europe and they can't even manage the plumbing.
Jezibell wanted an escape, a way out, some other option besides tomorrow.
"What are you doing here?" said a voice.
Jezibell turned out of the sink in surprise. She thought all the other students had gone to bed and was shocked when a pearly white girl floated from the nearest cubicle.
"Are you deaf?" The ghost girl continued rudely. Jezibell already hated her voice, high pitched and nasal, "I said, 'what are you doing here?"
"I'm wallowing in misery," said Jezibell irritably, not the mood for explaining her real problems to nosy ghosts. "Go stick your head back in the toilet."
Ghost girl let out a wailing shriek.
"MISERY? HAH! You don't know what misery is! Here I am sitting in a toilet stall for all my days, teased and bullied by any student who comes along! Fat Myrtle, stupid Myrtle, miserable, moping, moaning Myrtle!"
"That's lovely!" yelled Jezibell acidly matching Myrtle's tone, "At least you're dealing with the truth. You don't know what I have to face tomorrow. My mother's letter will be straight from my nightmares! I'll be lucky if it's not a Howler! I can't be in Gryffindor! I didn't want this. My father will hate me even more than he does. But I don't care about that. Just not this year, not again. I'm supposed to be getting a second chance, not a RERUN! IT'S NOT MY FAULT!
She found herself out of breath from her little outburst. She leaned on the sink and swore a low oath in parseltongue, annoyed with herself, with Myrtle and this world. A creaking grinding started and the sink began to vibrate. Jezibell leapt off it and backed up to the nearest cubicle, stepping through Myrtle as she did, and watched as the sink transformed into a passage way. A tunnel leading straight down.
"Help me," it said. No, that was wrong, a tunnel can't talk but whatever was in it did. It was a low rumbling voice that murmured from the depths quietly enough that Jezibell could have easily feigned its nonexistence if she wished. She did wish, very much so, but curiosity propelled her forth a step. It responded, as though that one step had given everything away.
"Help me! Master, feed me! I hear you, I smell you. I need you!" the darkness spoke louder, more urgently. Its wet beastly sound repulsed Jezibell, made blood cry in her veins and nerves buzz from the moment it touched her eardrum. But the way it begged so desperately made her conscience push that aside. It was plaintively starving, a puppy yearning for its master who had tossed it carelessly in the gutter. It needed her. Another step.
"Go on, then."
Myrtle was staring at her with fish eyes, waiting for her to proceed into the dark abyss. Her dare rang through Jezibell's memory like an unending church bell. Same comment just like last year, but that time had a very different context. Or did it, really? She remembered her answer too, the one that landed her at Hogwarts, started the whole mess.
"No!"
She took her two steps back, turned and walked to the door, focusing on breathing as her defiant 'No' echoed around the bathroom. No messes this year. Slytherin or Gryffindor, she still had that choice. She would see to tomorrow – bitterly so, but she would. No one need know of the dark escape route she'd discovered for herself. As she pulled the handle of the door to close it, Jezibell heard the hidden chamber and its beast creaking and clunking shut.
Hermione Granger
Everything was perfect. Hermione got up at precisely 7:00 am, brushed her teeth with her favorite Spare Mint toothpaste, brushed her hair for exactly five minutes, packed all of her schoolbooks in her bag, alphabetized by author (Voyages with Vampires wouldn't fit, so it went under her arm to reread at breakfast) and walked happily downstairs to meet Harry and Ron for the first day of lessons.
She met them at the Gryffindor table already eating toast with eggs. Hermione remembered the car incident, of which she heartily disapproved. To demonstrate this point she went straight to Voyages with Vampires without speaking to them.
Over the cover of her book she spotted the new Malfoy. She was eating alone at the very end of the table except for the hideous cat that tailed her everywhere like a line of brown baby ducks. This girl was incredible. She had been at Hogwarts not twelve hours and had already utterly trolled the first impressions test. She had walked out on dinner, standing up as Professor Dumbledore sat down from pre-feast speech and tramped with her boots echoing awkwardly out of the hall. Nobody had tried to call her back and by the time everybody got over the shock that someone could stand to be so disrespectful, to the Headmaster no less, she was gone. The Malfoy girl reappeared long after they had all unpacked in the Girl's Dormitory and instead of listening to Hermione, who gave her a well-deserved lecture on curfew, she started whispering to her cat. This cat Hermione was developing a dislike for as the moment they were let into the tower it had curled up on the bed closest to the window, which had previously been hers, and refused to budge.
Parvati and Lavender filled Hermione in on the girl's history. She was Draco Malfoy's twin sister who'd been sent away to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts, got expelled three-quarters through the year and Dumbledore, for mad reasons of his own, decided Hogwarts would be a second chance for her. Then the pair started to formulate hypotheses and infer gossip about the new arrival, some of which Hermione found a far-fetched. Really, a cat-snake hybrid? Simply ludicrous. Everyone knows breeding animals magically got banned ages ago. But the tale would be around the school by lunch along with a barrage of others. That's a lot of unpleasantness to handle on your first day. Hermione decided to be lenient about the curfew. The girl probably wasn't familiar yet with the ways of Hogwarts – she came from a foreign school after all. The performance at the feast might have been pure nerves and she probably got lost on the way to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione remembered how it took her a whole five days before she memorized the routes to all her classes. Someone should help her around, at least for today.
"So that's her?" said Ron and by his tone they all knew exactly to whom he was referring. He stopped shoveling down eggs to look at the Malfoy girl with interest. "She looks strange."
"Yes, very strange." said Hermione, forgetting about not talking to them. "She got expelled from Durmstrang, did you know? I read about it in Wizarding Schools of Europe, it's supposed to be school that's really into the Dark Arts," she added for Harry's benefit.
"That's probably why everyone's avoiding her," reasoned Harry, "but I suppose she can't be worse than her brother."
"No reason to jump to conclusions," Ron served himself several links of sausage, "Seamus told me she gave the finger to Dumbledore after his speech."
"That's not true, she only left the hall." Hermione said, now finding the truth far less scandalous by comparison. She looked down the table at the girl, measuring carefully, and then stood up.
"Where're you going?" asked Ron curiously. He then followed her gaze to the Malfoy girl. "You're not seriously going to talk to her, are you?"
He was more impressed than appalled and Hermione smiled.
"Just to welcome her to the school, she might be friendly."
"Yeah, and History of Magic might be my favorite subject this year."
Hermione ignored this immature muttering and walked the length of the table to where the Malfoy girl sat. Hermione felt thoughtless for forgetting her name, but that's all anybody else called her. She knew it was a J-something. J-something didn't look up at Hermione but continued to stir her porridge moodily, occasionally giving bits of bacon to her cat. The cat did noticed Hermione however, giving her an insolent stare. Hermione shivered and reminded herself that in the wizarding world most cats were more intelligent than muggles were meant to believe.
"Hello," Only when Hermione began her greeting did the girl look up and Hermione wished she hadn't. The girl possessed the most devilish glare even though her eyes were mostly covered by bangs. It gave the impression of an animal peering out at you from a deep cave.
"My name is Hermione Granger, and you're Jessica, right?"
"Jezibell." The girl gave the correction in a grated monotone. The cat lashed its tail and Hermione saw that it was topped with beads that rattled. She stepped back.
"Oh, um, sorry?" It came out like a question and Jezibell continued to stare in that unnerving way at her, "I suppose we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, with your tardiness and all, though I suppose you couldn't have known about the eight pm curfew, being new."
Hermione paused to see if Jezibell might want to say something, possibly about why she had been late or at least a confirmation that Hermione was right, but the girl volunteered nothing. If it was anybody else, Hermione would have assumed they were shy. Her mother told her she had a very good 'stage presence' and a tendency to overwhelm people, but there was something about this personage that told Hermione bashfulness wasn't the issue.
"Well, you came from Durmstrang, right? I read that it's really up north. You had fur capes as part your uniforms, didn't you? With red robes underneath, right? I personally think that color would make you all very conspicuous on holidays in muggle villages. I also heard that they teach, well, they have pretty advanced courses, but you may not be completely in second year terms yet. You were ex, um you left about mid third term, right? You were just learning basic inanimate Transfiguration, then. I'm top of the class for my grade and have my new Spellman's Syllabary almost memorized. I would like to help you catch up to where we are –"
"No, you wouldn't."
"Excuse me?" Hermione was quite taken a back at this bald statement, making it a total of four words fromJezibell Malfoy since she arrived.
"You don't want to be here. You're just giving this spiel for the bragging rights. I don't care how much you think you know about my life any more than you want to give this interview. Thanks for your time, don't waste anymore of mine. Take your greetings elsewhere."
"Well - !"
"Nice to meet you, Hermione Granger," The haughty tone gave the impression that it was anything but. "Goodbye."
Jezibell Malfoy turned back to her porridge and the feline licked its piece of bacon with an air of satisfaction. Its tongue was forked. Ludicrous. Hermione stalked back to Ron and Harry not quite believing her eardrum was fully functioning.
The boys must have gathered her mood, but Ron still couldn't resist asking.
"So, how'd it go?" He spoke through a mouthful of eggs, but for once Hermione didn't comment on the fact.
"She was so rude! I was required to announce myself before being graced with her attention, and then she stared at me the whole time as if I'd tossed her ugly cat down a well, hardly speaking. No wonder she's eating alone, she has the social skills of a cactus."
"She could be just shy," offered Harry.
"That's what I thought, but then she gave me this mini-lecture on why she thought I came over and flat out asked me to go away. Who does that? I was just offering to help her with whatever she might have problems with and she rebuffed me completely. It's beyond poor manners, it's just plain insensitive."
For some reason Ron was amused by this revelation. Harry kept his nose in his pumpkin juice goblet, which conveniently hid his expression. Hermione turned away from the both of them and tried to resume her reading. Concentration proved impossible. She kept remembering the hollow stare Jezibell Malfoy had given her. It was the sort of look that was scientifically designed to frighten you to core.
Ron gathered himself, "Well, we already knew that being a giant prick runs in the family and I could have told you she was a weird one, even for a Malfoy. That foreign school's turned out all sorts of criminals and the Headmaster used to run with You-Know-Who."
"So did Lucius Malfoy, making them old chums and giving any kid of his all the favoring they could hope for," Harry thought aloud. "What sort of thing would she have to do to get expelled?"
"Probably something really illegal, you know, even for them," said Ron excitedly, "and Durmstrang's is slightly advanced over Hogwarts, Dad told me. They're really secretive too, with their teaching methods and such. No one knows what they get up to over there."
They turned in unison to the sight of Jezibell Malfoy picking at her porridge with new apprehension. How horrible a thing would someone have to do to be expelled from a Dark Arts academy?
"What if she tries the same thing here?" asked Harry, staring determined at Jezibell Malfoy as if he wanted to stop her already.
"Maybe we could keep an eye on her, like we did Snape last year!" suggested Ron a little too eagerly, Hermione felt. As if on cue, Jezibell Malfoy looked up then in their direction. Her dark eyes peeked through the heavy bangs in what Hermione imagined to be a threatening way.
"That girl has nothing whatever to offer Hogwarts but trouble," Hermione said decidedly, "If we make her feel unwelcome enough she may want to go back to where she came from or think we would be able to handle whatever she did to Durmstrang."
"Hear, hear." said Ron, pleased by her statement and turned back to his eggs. Hermione however kept her eyes on Malfoy, waiting for her to give them that glare again. Instead the cat turned its head and somehow zeroed in on her across the crowded breakfast table with unlawful snaky eyes. It let out a low guttural hiss.
The Great Hall, September Second
The owl hadn't come. Jezibell was genuinely shocked. When she was expelled from Durmstrang her father had apparated to the grounds at once. Surely this was just as heinous a crime. Was it possible her parents were so dismayed that her mother decided to unofficially disown her? Whatever the reason, apprehension was making her feel sick. That could be just the porridge, though. She had forgotten what British boarding school food tasted like.
Someone else did receive a Howler that morning. Weasley Mother Hen announced her son's shame on the family for flying a car to Hogwarts for the whole breakfast crowd to hear. Jezibell didn't blame her. Arthur Weasley's Muggle protection act wasn't going to be helped with stunts like this. Father should be pleased, after all the attention the Act was getting in Wizengamot this incident might be an opportunity to shoot it down. Draco certainly was. Across the hall, he laughed along with The Pansy, Scab and Boil, pulling faces at the Weasley siblings to embarrass them further. Though the insults were aimed at the head of the table, far from the tumbleweed playground Jezibell claimed home, she couldn't help but feel some of the callings were intended for her ears too. Fine. Jezibell wasn't sure what reaction she expected from Draco, but the indirect manner didn't come as a surprise.
She was grateful for the Weasley drama in any case. A flying car provided the perfect distraction from the New Kid and with the kind of attention Jezibell's presence attracted so far – pointed fingers and wary looks – the airborne Ford Anglia was more than welcome. The resident celebrity, Harry Potter, was rumored to be involved with the crash too, and with rumors like that the dishers of dirt had their hands full. Jezibell knew the cover couldn't last, but for the first few days it was useful to have the social spotlight directed elsewhere.
Jezibell walked alone to Herbology, following the other second year Gryffindors after receiving her schedule from the tightlipped deputy headmistress. Pets weren't in the classes normally so Emmy had to go back to the common room. Shame. She would have liked someone to talk to. Her eyes roved her new classmates randomly. Two boys were talking about Quidditch and few girls were gossiping, throwing a look at her every so often. So far they lived up to her low expectations. She spotted the boy she had met on the train, Neville. He nearly fell, tripping on the toe of some statue. Jezibell came dangerously close to smiling. There was a hope that maybe he, at least, would be her friend, but the way he determinedly looked away as she approached him squashed it flat. He was upset because of the lies, but there wasn't much to be done for it now. Those tales weren't told on accident. On the train she'd known the friendship could never, would never make it beyond compartment twenty-five but still felt a small prick of disappointment just the same. She firmly shook herself mentally. What is is and if he wants to be angry at a few lies that's his business. Get a grip.
She saw a trio making their way up the step and recognized them as Harry Potter, Ronald Receiver of Howler Weasley and the Muggle Girl, Hermione Granger, who had the nerve to speak to her. The latter's character every bit as obnoxious as Draco emphatically belated over the holidays. So full false innocence and good intent that her opinion needed to be known, that everyone else needed her help, because of course she knew better. Who died and made her queen? Jezibell found it very satisfying to watch her braced mouth hang shocked when told to be left alone. Good riddance with a capitol 'G'. A more irksome memory from the first time she saw them at the bookstore with their big friend the Gamekeeper. Rotten to the core, the whole family… No Malfoy is worth listenin' to. Jezibell tasted bile in her throat and picked up her reaching the greenhouses Jezibell saw the Herbology professor, her arms cast in multiple slings. She wondered what kind of plant they would be dealing with.
"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" barked the woman. The class drew a collective breath of anticipation, and Jezibell felt rather out of it. Greenhouse three? What was wrong with that? She wished she had a tour guide. The new professor, Gilderoy Lockhart (Jezibell was familiar with his legacy and admired shamelessly it until a few months ago when she actually met him in Flourish and Blotts. One look at his smarmy expression dispelled all faith in his talents.) was there as well.
"Oh, hello there!" He cried jovially, "just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a whomping willow!"(Whomping willow?) "But don't runaway the idea I'm better at Herbology then she is! I just happened to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels."
All the while he was speaking the man had maintained a perfect grin, displaying his snow-white teeth proudly. Jezibell figured it was the type of showy smile that one practices hours for in the mirror, and upon this mental image she found a new name for him: Blockhead. The Professor took them to the designated greenhouse three and opened the door.
The inside was a sauna, but Jezibell quickly forgot the heat. Though no fan of sentient vegetables, she was forced to give Hogwarts some credit for this. Of what little memories she salvaged from Durmstrang she was sure they had nothing like the greenhouse there. Giant vines wrapped around posts and up to the ceiling where they sprouted into beautiful bell flowers the size of small cars; leaves and stems covered the walls though in the fertilizer haze the individual plants were indistinguishable; a circular formation of work tables were in a patch of cleared of dirt and a suspicious looking plant waved tentacle-like feelers towards them eerily. Jezibell gave the last one good five feet wiggle room.
Just as he was about to come in, Harry Potter got snagged by Blockhead and with Sprout's permission was taken back outside. Jezibell watched their silhouettes through the greenhouse tarp, Blockhead clearly still grinning ridiculously, and she went to find a seat. All the tables were full of course, except one open chair next to a Hufflepuff. Jezibell steeled herself to sit down, hoping he would bear the partnership with her in good grace. He did not. Hufflepuff got up in a huff and marched pointedly to the Weasley-Granger table. This was going to be a long year. The professor walked to the trestle bench in the center of the tables, but gave no signs that she was going to introduce Jezibell to the class, which perfectly suited Jezibell's needs. Potter was released from Blockhead's clutches to join Hufflepuff at the Weasley-Granger table and class began.
"We will be repotting mandrakes today."
Jezibell breathed an internal sigh of relief. This was too easy. She did an essay on the mandrake properties last year and this (mercifully) involved no whomping willows.
"Now who can tell me the properties of the mandrake?"
Jezibell put her hand up calmly, preparing to restate the introduction. Maybe if the professor assigned writing for homework she could persuade her mother to send a copy of the old essay, then remembered the Gryffindor issue and thought better of it. There was only one other person with a hand in the air, Granger, but hers was far from calm. Waving like a stalk of grass in high wind, the girl actually stood up to call all attention to her. Jezibell guessed this must be part of Hogwarts etiquette so she stood up too, arm straight.
"Yes Malfoy?"
"Mandrake, or the Mandragora, is commonly used as a restorative. It returns people or objects altered from their normal state; cursed, transfigured, paralyzed etcetera... to their usual form," she delivered robotically.
The class looked as though she recited the alphabet in Chinese. Not wanting to remain standing up in the focus of everyone's attention, Jezibell sat back down. It changed nothing.
"That's very good, Malfoy, you're all caught up then. Yes, um, ten points to Gryffindor."
The professor looked a little unnerved by her tone. Jezibell hoped she would get used to it. Whatever her subject, Sprout didn't seem a difficult personality - a generous perception that could not be said for everyone in the room. Granger gave Jezibell a look of pure loathing that she returned with interest. The professor began again.
"The mandrake forms an essential part in most antidotes. It is also, however dangerous. Can anybody tell me why?"
Granger didn't even give Jezibell a chance to raise her hand. She shouted out the answer at top speed as soon as her own hand shot up
"The cry the mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it!"
"Precisely, take another ten points." said Sprout. Granger sat down rather smugly, as if she just won an important race. The professor then gave them a selection of earmuffs for protection and the students started scrambling for them as they do. When Jezibell swiped the last non-fluffy or pink earmuff, her neighbor, another Hufflepuff, gave her an unpleasant look. Whatever. Jezibell rolled her eyes at him and he turned away. Sprout instructed the class on how to repot mandrakes and warned them against the feeler plant Jezibell noticed before (venomous tentacula).
Just before closing her earmuffs, Jezibell overheard Huffy the Hufflepuff talking to Potter, Weasley and Granger.
"That new girl is really strange looking isn't she?" He said, "She's always giving you a dirty look with those evil eyes of hers. I was going to be her partner, but who wants to glared at all day?"
Evil eyes? Jezibell knew she inherited the heavy Black eyelids and a tendency to stare longer than what is common courtesy at people, but no one ever told her it was malicious. Of course, in her parents' book that was probably a good thing.
"She's a Malfoy, Justin," said Weasley, parroting his father no doubt, "what do you expect?"
"I dunno, I'm from a muggle family. How am I supposed to know that some wizards are worse than others?"
Jezibell snapped her earmuffs on loudly in disgust. The four turned to look at her at the sound the noise, catching her eavesdropping. Weasley said something Jezibell didn't hear and the others laughed. She shook her hair into her face to hide the hated eyes, checked dutifully that the nearest pupils had their earmuffs on, and pulled hard on the mandrake stem.