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Blood Price

Chapter 2: Pluvial Ponderment

(A.N.) Thanks to all of you who reviewed! Cookies for you!

Finally! Finally, another year without the bloody Dursleys.

I had stayed with the Weasleys for a couple weeks but that just wasn't the same as going to Hogwarts. Me, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were boarding the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Hermione was telling us about a camp she'd attended over the summer where she had met other witches and wizards from all over Europe.

"The students from Spain, Francisca and Hector, showed me some of the most interesting spells! Hector even showed me an old charm used on matador capes in bull fights And, and he told me all about his family's villa in Madrid. He even invited me to come stay there with him and his family next summer!" she rambled on excitedly.

I glanced over at Ron.

He was fuming, as I expected.

Shaking my head, I wondered when the two of them would figure out what the rest of us already knew. They were going to end up together. Bets had been placed ages ago by the rest of Gryffindor House on when they would just start going out.

We parted on the train, Hermione and Ron heading off to the Prefects compartments, and Ginny and I going to sit with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.

A few hours and five galleons worth of Chocolate Frogs later, the Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Dark clouds had moved in to cover the evening sky, and thunder rumbled ominously with the occasional flash of lightning. The wind whipped around violently as students dashed for the carriages that would get us to the castle. All except the first years anyways, they went with Hagrid in a fleet of boats across the lake. The half-giant waved jovially at me before climbing into a boat that looked much too small for him.

I got into a carriage with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, thankful that it only started to pour after I was inside the coach.

The ride to Hogwarts castle was short, Ron entertaining us with some of the stories of nutters that he and Hermione had yelled at on the train. "I'm going to enjoy this year," Ron babbled happily, "I'm going to get the Slytherins every chance I get!"

Hermione frowned. "Ron, don't you dare. We're Prefects! Prefects don't abuse their authority! I told you this last year, too."

"Oh, like Malfoy isn't going to," the redhead muttered sullenly.

My mouth fell open. Malfoy was still a Prefect? What idiot… Of course. Snape. Snape would have vouched for him, and Dumbledore would have, of course, approved it.

Again.

Out loud, I groaned. "You have got to be kidding. As if last year wasn't bad enough…"

Ron sighed, "Wish I was, mate. When I first heard, I thought I was having a nightmare. You'd think that after his bloody father's involvement in the Ministry thing last year—"

Hermione cut him off by sealing her hand over his mouth as a pang shot through me. Sirius…

"A nightmare? You mean like the dancing spider dream?" Ginny inquired slyly, trying quite blatantly to change the subject.

I laughed with slight relief with the girls as Ron turned a bright shade of red, his skin clashing horribly with his carrot-colored hair.

When the coach pulled up to the huge doors of the massive structure that was Hogwarts, we made a mad dash, trying not to get soaked.

We failed miserably, our shoes squelching as we trudged into the Great Hall, leaving trails of water behind us. Hermione frowned when Ginny sneezed and, muttering something I couldn't make out, she waved her wand and we all found ourselves dray and warm.

Sitting down at the Gryffindor table in between Ginny and Ron, I wanted the Sorting to start so I could eat. The chocolate frogs seemed far away as my stomach grumbled painfully.

"Harry," Ron said, sounding startled, "Look! Dumbledore's gone!"

"What?" Twisting around, I saw that he was right. Dumbledore's chair at the Head Table was empty. All the other teachers looked anxious and worried. Even Snape looked a little strained. Ginny, also noticing, asked, "What's going on? Everyone looks so dodgy, like something bad has happened."

"No kidding," commented Seamus Finnegan, my fellow sixth year. "No one seems to know what happened to Dumbledore. I overheard McGonagall asking Snape if he knew where the Headmaster was."

"What did Snape tell her?" I asked.

"That he wasn't sure, just that Mad-Eye Moody was with him. McGonagall seemed to relax a bit when she heard that, but…" Seamus trailed off, shrugging.

I exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione and Ginny. We knew, probably, what was going on. Dumbledore and Moody had gone off on Order business. Before we could discuss it though, McGonagall led the new first years in and set up a stool and placed the Sorting Hat on it.

The tattered Hat sang a similar song to last year's, a song chock full of warnings and urging us to stand together through "the dark upon us". A scattered applause followed as the Sorting Hat bowed, and then there was stillness.

Briskly, McGonagall stepped forward and unrolled a piece of parchment, then called out the first name, "Albina, Sara!" The small, brown-haired girl walked nervously forward and sat on the stool, where McGonagall settled the Hat on her head.

"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat shouted.

Applause roared from said table.

"Anglican, David!"

Another frightened kid stumbled forward.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Cheering with the rest, I welcomed David to our ranks.

The Sorting ended when "Yorker, Kenneth!" became a Hufflepuff. The entire Hall waited in agony, me especially, for the food to appear, but again the doors to the Hall opened.

Dumbledore had arrived.

"Please bring the Sorting Hat back for a moment, Professor McGonagall. We have one more student to place before the Welcome Feast begins," he called pleasantly.

As he walked down the aisle, two others followed in his wake. One was Moody, his fake legs and roaming eye unmistakable. The other was cloaked head to toe in black, the hood drawn up to completely over their face.

McGonagall gave Dumbledore a questioning look. Smiling lightly in return, he motioned the cloaked figure onto the stool. Pale, thin hands pushed the hood back, revealing an equally pale, and feminine face with large eyes. Shiny black hair fell to the girl's shoulders.

"Look at Professor Snape!" Hermione hissed, leaning across the table toward me.

I gazed over at the vindictive Potions master. He looked thunderstruck. His black eyes darted from the girl to Dumbledore, and then to Moody.

"That's no first year," Ron murmured, oblivious in his wonderment.

That was certainly true. The features were too mature and she was too tall, around five foot five. Most of the first years barely made five foot one.

Dumbledore turned to face us, the students, saying, "This is Samara Shoreglade. She is going to be joining the sixth year class. Now, my dear Professor McGonagall, if you please…"

The Sorting Hat was dropped onto the girl's head. Silence filled the Great Hall as the Hat deliberated, and then it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

The said House clapped enthusiastically, if a little dubiously.

Standing, Samara walked silently to the Slytherin table. Her face was blank, but her gait seemed tired, reminding me of those people you see on Muggle T.V., the ones who've got a horrible burden riding on their shoulders. The ones who feel like there is a debt they can't pay that they either don't want to or can't understand. Or those victims on cop shows who have seen terrible that leaves them shell-shocked and numb.

Ron had a slightly different opinion. "She looks kind of like those blokes in Azkaban. You know, all spindly thin and empty-eyed," he observed.

The golden platters on the tables filled miraculously with food, and all discussion ceased as everyone heaped their plates and tucked in. Usually, the mouth watering food drove stray thoughts out of my head while I ate, but I couldn't help but wonder what had happed to Samara.

What was her story?