PROLOGUE: Train Station
None of the characters (save the original ones that were of my own creation) belonged to me. I am merely borrowing them to please my nagging plot bunny idea. Summary:
Mystyk caught Harry's eyes, but there's something about her that puzzles everyone...what was her secret? Who was this girl who was a Slytherin and yet she doesn't act like a typical Slytherin? Timeline:
Obviously this was set in their fifth year and when I first wrote this I haven't read all
the HP books then so the events of Year 4 (aka TriWizard and Cedric's death) didn't happen. Author's Note:
This was my very, very, very
first attempt at writing a Harry Potter
fanfiction. It was originally posted on fanfiction.net
and I received quite a few good response to it, but let's face it, it wasn't one of my best works. Suffice to say, this story paved way to many HP fics that I wrote since. Now I've decided to pick up this first "rough draft" and work out a few kinks on it. This will probably help me work out my muse and get a move-on with my other WIPs. I hope you like it.
PROLOGUE: Train Station
"Don't be a fool, girl. A boy like him would never pay the slightest bit of attention to you." Mocked Gertrude Wiles, a fifty-something woman with rotting teeth and messy, greasy long hair that used to be black, but now it has spots of gray appearing everywhere. "Move along now. Hurry. We don't want to be late," she pushed the young girl of fifteen before her, hurrying the little girl up on to the train all the while shielding the pretty raven haired girl's eyes from the direction of the comely looking young boy with round specs and messy dark hair.
"No buts, young lady. Now off you go. Get on that train and stay there!" Gertrude ordered sternly, her icy blue eyes piercing right through the young teen's skull. Although her outward appearance looked old, still there was a spark of something in her eyes that spoke of youthfulness.
Meekly the young teen conceded. Turning her gaze away from the boy heading towards platform 9—or it is platform 10?—she boarded the train like an obedient girl that she always was and heaved a heavy sigh. She listened to Gertrude tick off lists of what she should and shouldn't do while on the train taking her to her other relatives’ city, but she couldn't keep her mind from wandering off to that charming young lad pushing a cart loaded with a huge wooden trunk, a portmanteau on top of the said trunk and a birdcage towards platform 9 or 10. She didn't get the chance to see where he went afterwards for Gertrude made sure her attention was solely focused on her and her alone.
The train made a jerking movement, signaling they were leaving the station. Gertrude gave her one last minute instructions and then she was off; off the train, off the fifteen-year-old teenager’s life.
Gertrude Wiles was off to live her life the way she wanted to live it without
the hassle of bringing up a quasi daughter into this world. She sent said quasi daughter to live with her mother's family in the south of the country while the post she received from an anonymous sender burned in her coat's inner pocket.
It was in a white envelope bearing a very distinguished—as far as she was concerned anyway—emblem of some school located somewhere in the country that she have never heard of (or she’d like to pretend she hadn’t heard of, but she knew of
the school and whatever else that went on there).
It was the umpteenth time since her young charge turned eleven-years-old that she received the same letter bearing the same emblem, but like all the other letters she received in the past, this one left unanswered.
Every year Gertrude seemed to find a means of delaying her response to this particular post. During the first year she received it, Gertrude sent her packing to study in a boarding school in Wales, telling her it was all paid for by her late parents. The second year she received the letter Gertrude sent her packing to live and study in Scotland with a relative of Gertrude's. During the third and fourth year she was shipped off to family in Northern Ireland and France respectively. And now this year Gertrude managed to send her packing once again to live with her mother's relatives.
Gertrude only needed to do this sneaking about for two more years then she was scot-free. Two more years and then the letters would stop coming and her quasi daughter wouldn’t need to know. It was apparent
that she didn’t know; it would be for her own good to not know
The teenager found her seat by the window and gazed out at the passing scenery. The train has left the station and she was on her way to live with new people once again. This time she was shipped off to the south of the country to be with another unknown set of relatives that she’d be staying with for the next ten months of her life as a student. By the end of the school year she was going to be sent back to live with Gertrude for the summer, and all the friends she would be making in this new place she was to go to she wouldn't hear from again no matter how many times they promised to write her a letter.
She was already used to not receiving that many posts or hearing any news from her so-called newfound friends in each of the four different places she has been to the last four school years. In fact, she was already looking forward to experiencing the exact same experience this year: meet new friends, enjoy the company of her relatives, receive promises of writing to her, then come back to live with Gertrude for the summer and not hear a single word from any of the people she met over the past year. What a very typical story of her life. Sad but also true.
"Harry, are you alright?" asked Ron Weasley as he sat across his best friend inside the train carriage they share with their other best friend, Hermoine Granger.
Harry Potter removed his gaze from the window and looked at his friend. He shook off visions of the raven haired girl he spotted boarding the train at the station earlier and forced a smile on his boyish face.
"I'm alright, Ron. Why'd you ask?"
"Because you've been staring out the window since we go here, that's why." It was Hermoine who answered him, "What is wrong, Harry? For once you don't look excited about going back to Hogwarts."
"I am excited." Harry insisted, meeting Hermonie's eyes and locking gazes with her.
"But?" she raised one questioning eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.
"C'mon Harry, I know you. Something's bothering you or else you wouldn't look so glum," she insisted.
Harry scrunched his forehead into a frown and shook his head, "Nothing's bothering me."
Hermoine and Ron exchanged looks, each agreeing without speaking loudly that their friend was hiding something from them. Now what could it be? It wasn’t like Harry to keep secrets from them, especially if it had anything to do with You-Know-Who.
This was their fifth year attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and by now each one of them knew the other inside-out. Harry Potter never get this quiet unless something was bothering him.