Author's Note: Give me flames, give me lots of flames! I totally deserve it for being a total 'betch!' Caution: Boring backstory and speculation (TL;DR) contained. Oh yeah, and I haven't read the Sorcerer's Stone in like forever so... yeah. "Ze" is an androgynous pronoun. Seriously people, any kind of reviews are welcome. I still haven't figured out how to use this site, so bear with, kk? K. Awesome.
"Did you know," asked a quavering old-lady voice in the robe shop, "I heard Harry Potter would be going to school this year!"
Cinnamon had heard the name floated, and just to appear somewhat knowledgeable, had looked it up in various textbooks. He was going to be one of her schoolmates this year. The name, she thought, was an unfortunate pun of some sort. "Harry Potter," she mused aloud. What kind of a name was that-- no, she'd already mentally answered that question. The answer to her next question surfaced in her mind: The kind of parent who named their child Harry Potter was either completely oblivious or a lover of bad puns. This Potter person was famous for surviving a curse that was meant to kill people. So what? the girl thought. He was really no different from a Muggle who survived a gunshot to the head or...
Or even from her own father, had he survived Van Hophead's assassination attempt.
And like most people who'd had a bullet or blade removed, the Potter boy had a scar. The only difference was that no bullet or blade had touched him. To Cinnamon, that just made him a lucky anomaly. As a creature that was not only magical but also otherworldly, Cinnamon could probably survive this She-Knew-Who's (wait, what?) dumb killing curse too. So there.
No, she really didn't know who. His/her/it's name was never mentioned in the textbooks. Ze was always called "You-Know-Who," "the Dark Lord," and "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Cinnamon wasn't even willing to believe that whoever it was, was male if the books wouldn't mention his/her/it's name. She decided it must be somethign embarrassing like Enis Poindexter, or girly like Kelly Tori. If she was embarrassed by her name and happened to be very poewrful, she wouldn't let people use her name either. But that was kind of dumb, she reasoned on second thought; why not just use a nickname? Maybe he just wasn't clever enough to think of one.
Or maybe his parents had never given him a name. Maybe they'd died too soon, or simply hadn't cared enough?
Well, that was his problem, not hers. She'd just call him Nano, short for Nameless Nobody, until she heard, read, or thought of something better.
As for this Harry person, not that it mattered, but he and Cinnamon would be in the same year. Which one of the coed dorms would he be in? Which would she? What were they again? Gryphon-Door, Huff-and-Puff, Slither-In, Raven-Call? She hadn't looked up their histories just yet, but if she had to choose by name, she'd pick the bird one or the snake-sounding one. She'd always liked snakes, and it was Celestial culture to surname people for birds. She made a mental note to study the dorms more in detail later.
Now she turned to thep erson who had spoken the famous boy's name.
"Do you know," she murmured to the dotty old lady, "I never understood humanity's preoccupation with famous people. I'm the crown princess of my homeland, and nobody there much cares, because they understand that a person's character is most important. but if they did talk about me incessantly, I imagine I'd grow self-conscious and weary of it after awhile. I expect this Harry Potter person feels the same way, or will after awhile."
The elderly woman's mouth snapped open and shut, at a loss for words. Cinnamon finished getting her robe fitted, thanked the tailor, curtseyed to the old woman, and left.
She'd thought robe-shopping might be more fun, but as all her robes had to be the same color-- black-- there wasn't much room for variety. She'd sprung for plain cotton (everyday), silk (formal), velvet (bed), and leather (because she felt like it). Somehow her mother had been able to trade in their mara-- the currency of Celestia, which consisted of small objects like buttons, seashells, and glass shards-- to some Muggle-obsessed whack job for beaucoup Galleonage. There was a small fortune for her, Fabrizio, Brassi, and their mother. While Fabrizio had chosen to buy only the barest of essentials, Cinnamon and Setsuna had gone on separate shopping sprees, intent on spoiling themselves while on this galaxy.
On her way out of the shop, she bumped into a young blond-haired boy her age.
"Watch it," he snapped. "Father won't be happy to see my robes mussed."
Cinnamon arched an eyebrow, then smiled. "I know exaclty how you feel. Sorry about that. My mother is always on me appearances and the 'proper way' for a queen's daughter to look. She says if you're pretty enough, you can get away with many other indiscretions."
She watched the boy's face intently to see if her status-drop had had the desired effect. It had.
"What's your surname?" asked the boy cautiously.
"My mother's maiden name is Setarling, of the royal Celestial Starlings, but my father's surname was Dracula, of the Romanian Dracul. Even the Muggles recognise him as a nobleman," she said proudly.
She'd made a mistake mentioning Muggles. The boy looked at her coldly. "Muggles," he scoffed. "Who cares what they think?"
Cinnamon thought quickly, and scoffed right back at the boy. "It means he's powerful, genius. Wizards and Muggles alike know him, meaning that his notoriety transcends the boundaries set by the magical community. Romanians tremble at the sound of his name, and even the magical creatures in my homeland of Celestia, where he currently resides, don't know the full extent of his capabilities."
The boy looked impressed despite himself. "Are you going to be in Slytherin?" he asked. Cinnamon shrugged.
"Maybe," she said. "I'm only attending school as an experiment anyway. My brother too. He's going to Durmstrang." She decided not to mention her sister.
"You'll probably get into Slytherin, then," said the boy. He then went on to boast about how his father and father's father before him had been in Slytherin.
"Your family seems very proud," the nymal commented dryly. Blondie boy preened.
"Yes, the Malfoys--"
"And on that note, I should go before my robes start gathering dust. See you at school... Malfoy." A wink and a wave and she was off.
Brassi was shopping for the perfect pet. She could get either an owl, a cat, or a toad. She would have preferred a little toy poodel or a sweetly cooing dove, but like everybody else, she had to accept her lot in life. She refrained from making a dramatic sigh: it simply wasn't ladylike to make a scene.
"Oh, how adorable," she murmured when her roaming blue eyes landed on the most gorgeous snowy owl she'd ever seen. As she reached for the cage, so did a rather large man with a tangled, bushy beard. Brassi finally let out a sigh and dropped her reaching hands. She could afford any pet in the store; she had a feeling that this large hobo could not. She settled upon a pampered-looking white Persian cat and left. She'd already bought her books and had her robes fitted; black was such a dreary color, she thought, but at least learning from books was safer than unpredictable practical lessons.
The jingle of the bell broke her reverie. In walked her troublemaking twin, silver eyes shining with happiness. Cinnamon's eyes changed color with her mood; in a normal state they were silver, but got lighter when she was happy. Now they were practically white.
"I met the most gorgeous boy..." she sighed. Brassi suppressed an unladylike eye roll and tuned out. Her sister was so boy-crazy that it drove her and anyone within earshot half insane. Annoyingly enough, the boys seemed to be crazy right back at her, even if Brassi was around. Did being blonde mean nothing in this world anymore?
"What kind of pet are you getting?" Brassi cut in the middle of her sister's monologue. Cinnamon looked annoyed, but then smirked.
"I would get a toad, but you're already coming to school with me," she said sweetly. "As for airbornes, Fabrizio says he's bringing his favorite bat to Durmstrang with him-- I so wish we could have bats-- so I guess I'm getting a cat. Nothing prissy like a Persian..." She let her eyes land on Brassi's cat. "Oops... sorry," she said without a trace of embarrassment. "Maybe a gray tabby with darker gray stripes and bright blue eyes." As if on cue, one such kitten mewled from the ground at her feet.
"How sweet! Alright, I'm taking this one," she announced to nobody in particular. She noted that the cat's paws were all white, which was kind of cute. Kind of. "I'm naming her Arlena. Have you thought of a name for yours yet?"
Brassi bit her lip and shook her head. "I was thinking... maybe... Anna Marie?" she asked.
Cinnamon hid a giggle behind a gloved hand and nodded. "Arlena and Anna Marie it is," she decided, tossing a small bag of Galleons on the cashier's counter. "Keep the change," she said, feeling generous today.
"Well," she said. "Now that our shopping's all done, it's time for our obligatory family supper before a sleepless night and waking up cross-eyed and cranky just before almost missing the train."