Chapter 1 : In which the Story Begins
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 4|
Background: Font color:
I have a crap ton of chappies written out, so stay tuned, enjoy your stay, and toss me a review or two if you fancy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Potterverse - JKR does.
Chapter One: In Which the Story Begins.
My cousin, June Halper, always warned me about high school. She said I had to take it by the horns, or else or it would get me.
Of course, I was ten, I wasn’t sure what horns she was talking about, and I was quite terrified at the thought of High School ‘getting me.’ Still I don’t know what that really means.
My name is Edith Stradeki, and I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
My dearest associates,
I am writing to explain what happened on Tuesday, and to dispel whatever rumors might have risen from it.
If Kate Brewster simply refrained from joining, the entire situation would not have happened.
I am fully aware of the dangers of communicating with giants. She should certainly not think I would do something as hideously stupid as seek one out.
And even suggesting that I thought of doing such a thing is a lapse of intelligence. I wasn’t the one to toss a hex. Well it didn’t start with a hex, the mishap began when I defended myself in shock. Phoebe is very protective of me, and literally stood akimbo in between us to finish telling Kate off in my stead. As if relieving duties that I don’t have the time to deal with. Sooner or later the whole Wizard-Giant Alliance dropped into the argument gradually and feelings were hurt.
Tucker Folsom, a very passionate subsidiary of the WGA, finalized the ordeal with a toe-fungal hex, and a detention.
Verily, I was able to talk only myself out of trouble, and Nick, Heather, and Alice, I am very sorry, but I didn’t act on my anger. Words can bruise, just as easily as shoves, but I won’t go into that.
The point of this essay is to prove to you all what a strong group of think-alikes we are. Sure, we turned against one that was in our club, but she was clearly an imposter. Accepting her into the club was a mistake the board will never make again. When you trip going up the stairs you fall forward don’t you? This will only make us stronger, and bring us closer to out goals.
Edith Stradeki, President of the WGA
“One of your finest,” mooned Phoebe, holding up the laminated letter like it was a relic.
“Or rather, one of my most effective,” I corrected.
“Quite right,” she replied, placing it back on the pile. “Have you considered the quidditch match?”
“Erm...no I have been avoiding that,” I replied truthfully.
I am not the type to go to a quidditch game. I belong to (or head, really) eleven clubs, and I hardly ever have time for them.
Phoebe picked up the stack of files and tapped it against the table, making a clicking sound with her tongue.
“Well please try not to. Gryffindor is actually working for the cup this year.”
“My house isn’t even playing.”
“My house isn’t even playing.”
“But mine is,” She whined.
I don’t associate with Gryffindors very often. Phoebe and Hugo are the only ones I know personally, but since the rest don’t care about meeting me, I don’t care about it either.
Tucker and Heather are both in Ravenclaw with me.
I smoothed out my ponytail and slouched onto the table. I only allow myself to lose composure when I’m with Phoebe. “I will begin the process of deciding tomorrow during breakfast. How does that sound?”
She nodded in satisfaction.
An introduction is in order.
I am a hobbyist.
I believe that there is a time of day for everything. Idleness is physically doing nothing, I’m ardently opposed to the very thought of it.
I call the mixture of business and emotional-ease an art. And I have mastered it.
I am in the end of my sixth year, and belong to the Ravenclaw house. I have an extensive networking of associates and peers, two-thirds of which I am “friendly” with. The reason I say this is because I need to sort out whom I can really trust, from whom I merely get along with, to avoid unpleasant scenes. I can never be too careful, especially with the price on my head.
I know it sounds like I am power hungry; I’m not! The truth is if I want to keep all of my clubs and activities, I need to be organized, and I need to have a plan.
Further proof is that I’ve been keeping out hawk eyes for those who have potential to co-operate. I am constantly looking for people who I can trust managing the extra-curricular, and whom I can depend on. Criteria include ardency for the club objective, creative ideas, and most importantly a healthy sense of leadership.
Some say that I lack a proper social life, but I believe that I am quite social enough.
I don’t have to go to parties to have friends.
That was meant to sting. I do have friends.
I always have a list of those of note, both ends of the spectrum. These four, of course, are my allies.
Tucker Folsom, an important player in the WGA, Houses of Hogwarts Unity League [HHUL], the Prefects Guild, and Herbology Club, he is a vital asset to me for information, and a very good friend.
Phoebe Longbottom is my right hand assistant. She latched onto me when she was eleven, since then I have employed her, which was to my chagrin early on. Now, I don’t know what I’d do without her. She is very dear to me. As cliché as this is she is the baby sister I never had.
Hugo Weasley started in with quidditch Strategy Club, and from there I introduced him to the Magical Aquadica Society, HHUL, homework club, and recently I convinced him to apply to join the Wizarding Kitchen Skills Club. There is limited space, and one was just made available to applications. I think he will really enjoy it. Hugo is my in with both the popular crowd (or rather, the lazy crowd), and the Potter-Weasley clan, which is quite extensive. Phoebe’s family is close friends with the lot, but Hugo is directly inside of it, and I rely on him for insights. I am considering giving him a higher up position in the Quidditch Strategy Club. Hugo, lastly, is one of the only people who can make me laugh.
“Have you begun thinking about the match yet, Edith?” asked Phoebe, who for the entire time she was across from me at the table, was quietly exploring different ways to fold her napkin.
“Yes, I thought about it for some time in the shower,” I replied, spreading apple butter on my toast. I spent a while feeling conflicted about it, actually...
“It’s the last game of the year,” she said. I sneered in distaste without looking at her.
“If you want to be head girl, you need to show school spirit. And think of Hugo. This is a big game for him. He deserves your support.” Phoebe was really good at pointing things out, and making you realize how obvious everything should be. She is a great advisor, as embarrassing as it is to say.
She got up form the bench and gathered her things. She has dancercise on Wednesday mornings before late breakfast. This is something she headed, and loves it. I am quite proud of her.
I used to do it with her; only I need early breakfast to eat, so that I have time during late breakfast to clean the dorm. That’s when all the girls aren’t there, and I have my hour of peace.
I looked around me primly. A few seventh years sat talking a few yards away from me, and the Gryffindor table was completely empty. A dozen Hufflepuffs were all looking at something interesting on the table.
I sighed. I love people watching. I could make an observational journal about it, perhaps. I’m sure that it would be a good writing exc-
“Pardon,” someone barked behind me, interrupting my thoughts.
I turned around carefully, raising my eyebrows attentively. Albus Potter stood there with his hand grasping the back of his neck. His hair was wildly un-brushed, and he was missing his tie and prefect badge.
“How can I help you?” I asked suspiciously.
“Where is everyone? He asked simply. I took another look around me, lingering on the empty Gryffindor table for a second and then back at him.
“I suspect they’re sleeping,” I said, tapping my chin. Albus squinted his eyes. He looked quite tired.
“What time is it, then?” He sat down as he said this, rubbing his eyes.
“Around seven.” I expected him to be surprised by this, and angry that he had woken up earlier than he thought, but instead he nodded, plucked a grape from the fruit basket and popped it in his mouth.
“I have a feeling you need to be informed of some things, so I’m just going to start, ok?” I said cautiously, feeling slightly uneasy. He looked at me with a face I couldn’t read.
“We are at early breakfast, which goes from six-thirty to seven-thirty. There are a few select regulars, including me, who come every morning, if not for scheduling purposes, then for a nice quiet chew. Professor Longbottom, is the early breakfast teacher, and is here every morning reading the prophet.” I paused and Albus winced.
“Every now and then Bonnie Finnegan and Nicole Darling come, but they are the only Gryffindors who ever do. You are missing your badge and tie.”
He put his head into his arms on the table without saying a word.
“I’m finished now. Maybe you should go back to sleep.” I just wanted to eat my breakfast.
“I can’t sleep in when I’m hung over,” he replied, as if it was a completely normal thing to say.
“Drink some water if you must,” I said shortly, figuring he must need some advice, if all he’s doing is lying there on the breakfast table. Right when I was about to stand up to leave he picked his head up and looked at me.
“What’s your name again?”
“Edith Stradeki,” I said, trying to hide my indignance. Those quidditch lads and their ignorance is unbelievable.
“Oh yeah... You’re the bird in the quidditch Strategy Club.”
I bristled at this.
“I’m the “bird” who founded the quidditch Strategy Club.”
“Oh,” he said simply, looking at me up and down again. “You play?”
“No, but I saw the demand, and I would be daft to ignore the passion people have for it. I also figured if your going to play the sport, you should be smart about it.”
“I would join, but I’m too busy.”
I straightened when he said this. What a lie. All Albus Potter ever did was quidditch, drink, and a little bit of homework. Of course he has such a great GPA, he has all the time in the world to study. He’s not involved with anything else.
“Excited for the game tomorrow?” he asked.
“I don’t think I’m going.”
“But everyone’s going. Is the castle even open when there’s a game?”
“Of course it is,” I replied meekly, feeling bombarded by this kid. He was kind of messing up my routine, and it was making me itchy.
“Well it’ll be the game of the decade. You should go.” Then he got up, holding a bagel. “See you around, Ed.”
I watched him go.
“What the bloody hell?” I asked myself unceremoniously.
Professor Longbottom had walked over to me by then. “Since when do you let people call you Ed?”
“Well, no one’s ever tried.”
I walked through the portrait hole and two fifth years were sitting on the big sofa snogging. It’s seven in the morning, WHO DOES THAT? Usually I would just wait by the fire until all the girls left, but I don’t want to be their peanut gallery, so I went upstairs.
My dorm is the very last one, all the way at the end of the hall. As I walked down my door opened Scorpius Malfoy backtracked out.
Not knowing what to do, and not wanting to be seen by him, I ran into the nearest room. I hugged the closed door hoping to hear him walk past.
“Erm... what are you doing?” I heard someone ask behind me. I turned around, it was a very petite red headed girl rummaging through her trunk. She’s a fourth year, I forget what her name is. I heard voices in the bathroom.
“Sorry, I’ll just be going.”
I snuck back into the hall, and Scorpius was at the end of it. He turned to face me, wincing.
“I was never here, alright?”
“We’ll see,” I replied. I had no reason to tell anyone what I saw...yet.
Arianna and Pippa both stood in front of the large mirror, chatting about something important while they put their hair up. I swear it’s like they are one person.
They both looked at me through mirror’s reflection, pausing whatever they were doing before to sneer at me.
I wonder if they think that I saw Scorpius. I really am not even curious about that. I’m slightly discussed, because Scorpius is a bloody whore, and I’m wondering as to how he got up here, but essentially I don’t care.
I avoid their eye-contact, and pretend to do something important in my trunk.
“God, she’s such a bore,” Pippa says out loud.
“What a waste of a bed,” Arianna replied. At that they took their things, and left, giggling a little bit on their way out.
Don’t worry about me, I’m used to it. They used to just plain ignore me, but I said something offensive to them one time, and now I have to avoid them.
Unless I make eye contact with them in class or something, they leave me alone.
Heather came out of the bathroom.
“I hate those bloody fucking hoe-bags,” she said. The girls never bothered Heather because she could easily hex them into the next country. It’s not that I couldn’t defend myself, it’s that I didn’t really care to. I don’t like what anger does to me.
Heather and I have a good relationship. We’re not really friends, but I can trust her.
Now about Scorpius Malfoy...
Generally he is just really good-looking. Easily the hottest bloke in school. But I know the secret, because I’m talented at seeing right through people. He is messed up in the head. Many pretty, smart, normal girls go out with him, and they have a quick relationship, sometimes merely just a shag or two, because as I’ve heard: “He never pressures you, but he makes you want to do it, whether your waiting to have sex or not.” I don’t know about anyone else, but I would never put myself in the situation. He dates a lot of sweet girls, and then breaks their hearts, and they still forgive him, it’s completely bonkers.
I would ask Heather about why he was in our room, but she’ll just say something vague about how useless drama is.
Rose Weasley, Hugo’s sister and a Gryffindor in my year is the only girl he hasn’t gotten his grips on, or so I’ve been told. Apparently he’s wanted her for some time now, but she won’t have him.
Well anyway that’s the story. He’s probably been shagging Arianna or something. I don’t care what they do in the free time, as long as it doesn’t hinder my sleep, or anything like that.
I spend the rest of the hour happily dusting and folding.
Other Similar Stories