Chapter 3 : A wet arrival at Hogwarts
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 6|
Background: Font color:
“Hey kiddies, I’m your favorite Head Boy,” he winks at a frightened looking blonde girl with a distinct resemblance to a mouse, “And I’ll be your host for tonight.”
I roll my eyes. Oh great, now I’m imitating Molly but honestly, if I’m that annoying when I talk I deserve more than the occasional eye roll.
“Over here, first years.”
Once we manage to pack all of the first years into all of the boats, we catch a ride on the last horseless carriage. This was already going worse than I thought it would be. It was as though Dawson were attached to my hip. I had managed a small reprieve after the meeting with the prefects and had suffered a train ride with the girls in my year because James, and Freddie refused to associate with the Head Girl and Louis’s compartment had been full. All the other cousins had compartments filled to capacity as well. It was amazing just how popular they were. It was also rather humiliating being turned away every time. There’s only so much ego abuse I can take.
My Ravenclaw housemates are bloody mental, or snobby, or so annoying that I just want to hex them whenever I catch sight of them. There’s Arlene Darby, the most apathetic, emotionless girl on the face of the planet. I suppose she’s the most tolerable of the three of them. There’s Eleanor Higgs with an ego to match her huge mouth. She thinks she’s perfect in any and every way. Her family’s just as old as mine but the downside to hers was her father favored Voldemort. Not to the insane extent and he wasn’t a death eater, but she’s still got that stain on her supposedly perfect reputation. Sorrel Warwick is the least tolerable of the girls. She’s sour and cranky and just plain unpleasant. She’s filled with random bits of information that’s useless as well as boring, but she’s downright gorgeous. I guess it’s fair. Sitting in that compartment it hit me that we all have no friends. Well I have friends but they all graduated.
Well, I feel like a loser.
Why does he have to talk to me? Honestly, isn’t it clear that I don’t like him? Or am I too subtle? Maybe I should try a more direct approach.
“What do you want Dawson?”
He frowns, but I can’t see his eyes. Damn it, I’m just going to cut his hair in his sleep.
“Look Lucy,” his voice is terse, “We’ve got to learn to get along, I don’t know exactly what it is I’ve done, but if you really care about your precious position you’ll learn to work with me.”
He’s sure got some nerve.
“I’d appreciate,” he continues, “If you could speak to me with some courtesy.”
I feel a little guilty. I guess rudeness is uncalled for, even if he irritates me, and he’s my rival, and I don’t like him. He’s still been kind of okay with me.
“I apologize if I offended you Richard,” I use his first name reluctantly and there’s my stiff voice again.
He seems taken aback, and coughs. He turns away with a slight flush on his cheeks, “It’s not a problem.”
Trust Dawson to make things incredibly awkward between us.
The rest of the ride up to the castle is silent for the most part, except for the occasional comment on the weather, and duties we’d have to get accomplished before the night was out.
Wow, we’ve resorted to talking about the weather. It’s a relief when we pull up in front of the castle, and we have to make sure the students aren’t participating in rule breaking activities.
There’s a splash and a scream and suddenly Dawson dives into the Great Lake. He swims to the little girl from before who had managed to swim a few feet ahead of the boats. She clung to his neck, nearly in hysterics.
“My friend, my friend fell in too, she can’t swim!” The little blonde girl sobs.
Oh for Merlin’s sake. I cast a bubblehead charm and dive in after him. This is why I don’t like kids. Honestly, who falls into the bloody lake? It’s dark and I can’t see a thing. Oh blast it all! This is where Maxima Lumos comes in handy. There is a pair of kicking feet ahead of me but there are so many boats it’s going to be a damned marathon, dodging them all. Why doesn’t someone pull her out? Are they stunned into submission? Oh bloody hell. Hagrid wouldn’t know what’s going on, he’s on the last boat, and this little kiddy is up front.
Suddenly, someone with half a brain, probably a future Ravenclaw, pulls the kid out. Thank Merlin, I make my way back to the shore, and pass a distinctly disgruntled Giant Squid. Someone pulls me back onto the shore, and I land ungracefully on my hands and knees. Dawson is kneeling next to me.
“Is Jenny alright?”
Oh, I’m fine thanks for asking.
“Nice look by the way.”
In reference to the fish bowl around my head, thank you Dawson for your abundant commentary. I mean after all, it’s not as though I had just jumped into the lake to save a drowning child. I was trying out a new fashion statement. I totally thought it would catch on.
“Jenny’s alright, and you like it? What a shame and I thought I had a sense of fashion.”
Richard grins at me, “I like the sense of humour Weasley, it suits you.”
He’s soaking wet, his long hair is plastered at different angles, but I can finally see his face. His robes are hanging off his frame and I see muscles, not too bad really though he’s got nothing on Reggie Davies.
“Wow, you’ve got a nice ass Weasley.”
He did not just say what I think he did. Oh Merlin, I feel so violated. Bloody Hell, Richard Dawson just commented on my butt.
“Not bad really, I’ve never been close enough and you’ve never been wet enough to check out.”
What a perverted git!
“How can you see my arse from over there?” I struggle to my feet, and cross my arms tightly against my chest.
He grins mischievously, “You’d be surprised what I could see from that position Miss Weasley.”
Oh bloody hell, this was the guy I was sharing a dorm with.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, I won’t go through your underwear drawer.”
Before I could rage at him for his appalling behavior, someone beat me to it.
“Although your chivalry is charming, you have duties to perform Mr. Dawson, Miss Weasley.”
Professor Zephaniah Sinclair, dear old Zed, Transfiguration teacher, Deputy Headmaster, Head of Slytherin House, pain in my attractive arse, was smirking at Dawson.
“Up to the Castle with you, the girls are being taken care of.”
Dawson nods, and rises to his feet. I fight the urge to push him back into the Great Lake. Inside the castle we stand at the back of the room, surveying the students. I know we look a ridiculous pair, both dripping onto the ground. The sorting was going on.
The little blonde girl who had taken a liking to Richard slips on her way up to the sorting hat. The Great Hall erupts in laughter and her cheeks burn in embarrassment. Poor thing, I actually feel sorry for the tiny, mouse-like girl. The sorting hat slips down over her entire face, and after a few minutes it cries
She nearly sprints over to the Hufflepuff table. They would take her in kindly, be sympathetic. Dawson let out a breath I didn’t know he had been holding. He relaxes slightly beside me.
“Worried about your little fangirl?”
“Indeed I am.”
The sorting went by quickly enough. The little Jenny girl ended up in Gryffindor, not much of a surprise there. She certainly wasn’t Ravenclaw or Slytherin material if she had managed to fall into the lake.
It’s a relief when the sorting is over because I can finally separate from Dawson and head over to the Ravenclaw table.
Upon arrival, Lysander Scamander makes room for me. He’s a sweetheart, that boy. I’m very fond of him. Reggie Davies rounds on me as I take my seat. Leticia Jordan, sitting across from me, makes frantic motions with her hand but I can’t decipher the warning.
“Ready for tryouts Weasley?”
Of course, dear captain Reggie Davies, I should have known.
I’m a chaser on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and I’m brilliant if I do say so myself. Molly and I had been the dynamic duo; we shared that creepy mental connection so that one of us would just know what the other was planning or thinking. We had been the secret weapon but now that Molly’s graduated, I’m not sure how well I’ll play without her. I really do love the team. Leticia Jordan’s the other Chaser, and she’s very talented. She’s the one who takes the penalties. Honestly, Lettie won’t miss ever. She’s got this quick, calculating thing going on for her. Lysander Scamander is the Beater, and he’s got quite the pair of arms. I remember I didn’t think much of him until he tried out and managed to give me a lump the size of James’ ego. Rumi Clark had been the other beater but she graduated last year. Reggie’s our psychotic Keeper, hell bent on beating Lennox Wood of Gryffindor though I seriously doubt it’s going to happen. Last and certainly least is Eleanor Higgs; a damn good Seeker, who manages to irritate me in ways I didn’t think possible.
“If I find someone better than you in tryouts I’m replacing you, don’t doubt it for a second.”
Reggie’s lacking in a little something called tact.
“So be ready, we’ve still got to find replacements for Molly and Rumi.”
He sure knows how to pile on the pressure. The only redeeming quality he’s got is his abs, and his looks, but hey Dawson’s good looking and I still want to feed him to Norberta the Dragon.
“Welcome Back to Hogwarts Ladies and Gentlemen,”
Beloved Headmistress Gertrude Willoughby is standing on several books. She is a tiny, stout, woman with granny like qualities that seriously make me question her credentials I’ve heard she’s crazy beast when she wants to be, but I have yet to see her anything less than her frail, sweet old self. Then again, she is the devious mastermind behind my partnership with Dawson so she may not be as innocent as I thought. I basically tune out her speech; it’s the same dull thing every year. She warns the “students” (James and Fred) to follow the rules and tells us that WWW products are banned.
“Our new Head Girl and Head Boy, Lucy Weasley and Richard Dawson,” I still shudder every time I hear our names next to each other, “Are here to answer any questions you have and will be enforcing all rules, and because of the recent incident of several students falling into the Great Lake,” there is sniggering at this, “We will look into offering swimming lessons. Good night!”
Lysander and Leticia excused themselves to lead the midgets to the dormitory. I stand, unsure of what to do. I have no idea where the new dorm is. It’s Dawson who finds me, Professor Bree Flannery in tow. Professor Flannery is my favorite teacher. She teaches Charms. Flannery is this crazy Irish woman, tall and frightening with bright red hair, and has an intense rivalry with Professor Napier, the muggle studies teacher.
“Miss Weasley,” her words slur slightly, and I stifle a laugh. She’s probably drunk. “This way puh lease.”
Dawson catches my eye, and I have to turn away to make sure I don’t burst into fits of laughter. We follow Professor Flannery up several flights of stairs, until we arrive at the staircase leading to the Astronomy tower.
“Here’s your dorm,” Professor Flannery murmured, “Passwords Zephanerd and its voice activated so only one of you guys or the teachers can come in.”
When she says Zephanerd the step I’m standing on disappears and I slip and fall into a gaping hole, Richard, who had been standing next to me, grabs my hand and holds on to a rung of the ladder leading down into the dorm.
“Night.” Flannery yawns, steps over the hole and leaves us there.
With great difficulty I swing my legs and tentatively place a foot on a rung. It’s not helping that I’m still damp. With my free hand I hold onto the ladder.
“I’m good,” I call up to Richard. He lets go of my hand and gains his own footing.
Slowly, cautiously we make our way down the ladder. It leads to a common room of sorts. Banners from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin adorn the walls. One huge, banner with the Hogwarts Symbol hangs over the stone fireplace where there’s a roaring fire going on. There are several couches, arm chairs, a huge desk off to the corner and a smaller desk by the staircase. There were two staircases, one leading to my dorm and one leading to his dorm. Large windows let it copious amounts of moonlight, and a fuzzy carpet finished up the look. It is cozy, and I’m satisfied with it.
“Nice place,” Dawson comments from behind me. He yawns, “Well I’m off to bed,”
I’m already heading up the stairs, too wet and exhausted to care much. I am cold and wet and I just want to shower and sleep. The four poster bed looks so comforting that I collapse on the bed, wet clothes and all.
A/N: I can’t say that I’m pleased with this chapter. I’m sorry it was so short. Reviews are very much appreciated all comments and questions make me smile :)
Other Similar Stories
Of Love and ...
When you're ...
Tell Her This