Chapter 2 : Of Impressions and Happiness
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“Sorry about that earlier. I usually don’t kidnap people like that.” The girl smiled. “By the way I’m Rose.”
I smiled at her half-heartedly,” It’s alright. I normally don’t let people kidnap me on the first day.”
Rose laughed genuinely, making me feel quite pleased with myself,” You can say that again.”
We got out off the train, the night air feeling nice on my skin. She directed me to the caretaker, a scrawny, short man with an awful temper, “First years’, First years.” He shouted. Dubiously, I followed finding myself at least a foot taller than the other first years.
“Wow, your pretty,” a little boy chimed.
“Thank you,” I smiled.
Even though I knew he was lying, it still felt good being told. We were then all gathered toward waiting boats that sailed by them-selves. I spotted something move in the waters. My eyes widened along with others when I saw Hogwarts castle. It was beautiful, more than anyone could describe. I hate to admit it, but it was more marvelous and welcoming than the Beauxbatons grounds.
Still ogling, we made our way to the entrance hall, waiting in front of 2 great oak doors, when finally, someone came to retrieve us.
“Hello, you will about to be sorted. I’m Professor Linus, co-headmaster and head of Ravenclaw House.” The high-pitched man informed. Many people snickered at his voice, as he added. “Follow me.”
With a loud bang, he opened the oak doors revealing the Great Hall. I was herded in the back, and with my cheeks flustered from embarrassment, we walked. Soft whispers filled the room and I was pretty sure they were about me. I mean, I probably looked like a giant compared to the small, innocent children walking in front of me, and my blue, Beauxbatons uniform clashed amongst all the black.
I wanted to get this over with so bad, I almost ran over a little, browned hair, who gave me such a death glare that Headmistress Alexandra of Beauxbatons would have been proud. The hat then began to sing, a very odd but catchy tune. And then last and certainly least; the sorting began.
“Lunes, Ferican, “Professor Linus said, and I realized gravely that he had passed my name. A timid boy trailed the distance to the hat, sitting down, and later the hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!”
I watched as the kids began to disappear around me, until finally the teacher yelled for, “Zabini, Beatrice.”
The little girl, who I accidentally, almost ran over, left me standing alone to take her seat on the stool. In mere seconds the hat creases modified itself, yelling, “Slytherin.”
Note to self: death-glaring little girls go to Slytherin.
I turned to my right and left desperate to find someone. Of course I didn’t, the headmistress stood up, and I tried to shrink away thinking she had forgotten me. She hadn’t. That would have been too nice.
“Attention, sorting is not over, yet,” The Headmaster drawled, “In fact, this sorting is quite historical in itself. Standing before me is Miss. Jillian Lewis. She has come from Beauxbatons Academy, leaving all her friends and family, to continue her 6th year education with us. She is the only person here that withholds the secret location of both schools, while she takes the place of fellow Hogwarts Nathan Mentos. I expect you to treat her as a fellow student of Hogwarts. No more, no less.”
He finished, then raised her hand gesturing me to take the stool. I quickly did; wanting the attention off me. I think I was going to pass out, or something. The hat was placed on me, and it draped low on my face.
“Ah Miss Lewis,” A voice hissed in my ear. “Extremely talented, but where to put you. I don’t think Slytherin would apply much to you, yet, and Hufflepuff is out of the question. How about Ravenclaw; the house of the smart?”
“No,” I thought automatically in my head.” I don’t want to be with all the smart people.”
“Ah...” the hat drawled. “Then it must be ‘Gryffindor’,” He muttered the last word to the whole room, and on cue the table to the right clapped, “Good luck, Miss Lewis.”
As I took my seat, I saw a ghost of a small smile play on the Headmasters’s lips, before beginning his welcome home speech. Excitedly, I hung on to every word that escaped his mouth, he was –how to say it nicely- much warmer than Headmistress Alexandra.
“Hey, congratulations on making Gryffindor,” A voice sounded across of me.
I tore my eyes, gradually, to a girl that glowed with beauty, unfortunately her good looks didn’t reflect her character, “Oh Merlin, Dominique is that you. Merci, Merci!”
I misleadingly smiled, she returned it forcefully, “Yes it is, and Jillian word of advice, please don’t speak French it’s so posh, and people will only hate you. ”
She flipped her silvery, strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, and I continued to smile at her. The Delacore-Weasley family was very popular in the red carpet life of France—aka my mother sucked up to Mrs. Weasley --. To put it in one word, it was very annoying.
I turned my pondering to the Headmasters and was pleased to hear his last words of wisdom, before the food magically appeared; “Now my students I urge you to put aside old differences and look forward, beyond anyone’s first impressions”.
It was as though he was speaking to me, did anyone else feel this way…
For the first time, I looked around at my fellow Gryffies. Many met my eyes, and I quickly diverted, however I do admit I began to linger when I noticed the bloke from the train. He was staring into space, a thoughtful expression sketched on his face. For a second, I actually thought he valued what McGonagall said, until one of his mates nudged him on his elbow, and a sloppy grin was slapped on. He turned his head, and met my eyes like many of his classmates, well until he winked. Yes you heard me right, he winked at me. Quickly, I faced to the food spaced out in front of me, momentarily surprised to see some old, French food from Beauxbatons.
“Prattling gits,” one of Dominique’s ‘friends’ suddenly stated to Dominique.
I tilted my head, to see Dom looking quite stressed out, “What-“I began, until the room was filled with shouts.
Perplexed, I turned my attention to one of the neighboring tables, where a quad of boys was shouting to our direction, “Hey French Fry! French Fry! Jillian Lewis! ”
I looked wearily at Dom who rolled her eyes at the boys, who looked only to be around 13 or 14, “Um, yeah.”
I was aware that the great hall was hanging on our exchange, which got me very nervous, and in unison the boys said, “You, me, Hogsmeade,”
Many gasps erupted from the students and timidly I realized they were waiting for my reaction. I smiled broadly, hearing my father’s voice in my head to ‘just have fun’, and replied, “Hey, if any lad can handle an older woman, then more power to you.”
Than just as if a balloon filled with hilarity gas erupted, the room exploded with laughter. It wasn’t even that funny, but they continued to laugh their butts off. It kind of made me crack a honest smile at my peers.
“Alright, settle down,” McGonagall said, as if she was biting back a laugh herself, Dismissed.”
We all rose up, and I followed the myriad of students, down the corridors.
“Follow me, gosh, you’re so lucky to have us around,” Dom squeaked, grabbing my arm, as I continue to wave to my classmates.
“Oh, it must be so hard for you, to leave all your friends,” one of Dom’s friends maneuvered over her to walk beside me.
I shook my head, “Well, I’m doing this for my school, and they err-understood.”
“Pssh, I think they were a little too happy for me to go,” I thought loosely.
Another girl splurged, “That’s so cool!”
I smiled warmly and answered all of their questions they were firing at me.
“Oh my gosh, I bet your boyfriend is so cute with his French accent,” A girl, her name now I knew as Emily, screeched in a high-pitch tone as though finally realizing it.
But before I could answer another girl questioned, “How in the world do you get your hair so perfect!”
“I don’t know,” I replied, “If it helps, I haven’t showered in days.”
There was a moment of pause, where I nervously tugged on the hem of my blue hat. Finally one of them nodded, comprehending, “Yeah, I think I heard that day old hair always curls the best.”
We continued this type of girly bantering, until a dreamy sigh escaped Rachel ( I think that’s her name) lips.
“Hi Alfie, Fred, “She intook on air, “James.”
I snapped my head to where all the attention was place to find the same three guys on the train. I silently gulped when I found one of them looking, pointedly, at me.
“Okay as you all know we’re masters in the art of pranking, and tomorrow starts the first day of our open season.” One of them, I assumed the one named Fred, bellowed. The people nodded, a look of amusement crossing their face, before the staring guy stepped toward me.
“Hey, you’re Jillian Lewis, right? He asked. Now that I was in close proximity to him, I could understand all the sighs of longing-this bloke was so bad on the eyes, if you get what I mean. (Okay, I bet half of you didn’t ‘get what I meant,’ so I’ll just go out and say it, he was gorgeous!) But of course I couldn’t let him think that.
So I non-chalantley nodded.
He broke out in a sloppy grin, “Wow, you’re beautiful…”
What, Oh Merlin he just called me beautiful. I think I might faint… but that can be embarrassing.
I nervously looked down at my feet, afraid that my face was going to turn into a big tomato.
Until… I saw him click something under his robes’ and my head was toupled with a gooey substance.
“What in the world?!” I shrieked.
He began laughing extremely loud, “You’re pretty mean to be walking around looking like that.”
There was a collective gasp from the watch-bys( practically all of Gryffindor House), but one by one they began to laugh about goo sliding down my face. I’m assuming they took my pout as a half-smile and that the tears rolling own my cheeks were happy(well, they weren’t!) I was far from being happy.
I felt my feet walking to the brink of the crowd, brushing past them desperately. Once I was at the edge of freedom, I looked back maybe hoping for a reason I could join in on their laughter…. I didn’t’. through my blurred vision, I sw the prats’ mates looking at him quizzically, I turned a little to the right and saw a head with dark, floppy hair storm off, and in the center, soaking all the attention, the prat himself. He’s eyes widened slightly when he saw me, but then again my vision was blurred.
And taking a sharp, intake on air, I began to run. I didn’t know where I was running to, but I continued to run down corridors, until I was out of breathe. The tears were now rolling down furiously pelting the ground. My knees buckled under my weight and I slid against the stone wall.
Ha, I got you. You thought this was going to be a happy story, well you’re wrong. Nothing is ever happy when you have prattling gits, new to a school, and magical. Besides I’m Jillian Lewis, and I’m not accustomed to happy.
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