0056: It's Tough to be Snape's Daughter - Saukara Snape
This has twenty-six chapters. I refuse to read more than two, which means I've probably missed a lot of Sueage.
TITLE: It's Tough to be Snape's Daughter
PERPETRATOR: Saukara Snape (HELP!)
SUE-O-METER: (how bad is it?)
WRITING:
SUEAGE:
WRONGNESS:
FULL NAME: Saukara Snape (anybody else think this is a misspelling of 'Sakura'?)
SPECIES: Human/Witch
HAIR: "My face was lightly brown, and it contrasted well with the pitch black of my hair. My hair itself reached down to my elbows at least."
EYES: "I stared at my own black eyes. My eyes, I loved. No one except my father and I had them. I liked them for that."
MARKINGS: Pointed ears. "My ears were like normal ears, but from the top half up each edge grew close together until they reached a sharp tip. They were my mother's. I hated them. They made me different."
POSESSIONS: Lots of Muggle clothes and a house-elf named Twinkles (*snerk*)
ORIGIN: Snape's daughter... her mother was "an elf-nymph who lived in Egypt." She went to "Sphinx Wizarding Institute" in Egypt for four years before moving back in with Snape for absolutely no good reason.
CONNECTIONS TO CANON: See above.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: None so far...
NOTES: Poor little Sue, made fun of because of her special little pointy ears! Oh, and apparently equally poor and little Snapey-wapey was really a good person who was conned into becoming a Death Eater by Lucius Malfoy. And what the hell is an 'Elf-Nymph'?
SAMPLE:
I felt the ray of sunlight heat my face. It had started to burn slightly a moment ago, but I didn't move. I did not want to forewarn him of my awakeness.
He watched me from the doorway. I could feel his dark presence. I could also smell him. A dark smell, murky and brooding. I was beginning to get reaccustomed to being around him. I'd lived with him for several years as a child, but then my mother, an elf-nymph who lived in Egypt, had insisted on me living with her for the same amount of time before I went back to him. I'd wanted to go to Hogwarts; how many times had he described it to me? True, he had sneered disdainfully and filled the tales with mindless children running amok and countless melted cauldrons, but the way the Great Hall sounded . . . how the students were divided into groups, placed with people of their own heart . . . but, to my disappointment, I was living with my mother in Egypt when I received my very first invitational letter, to Sphinx Wizarding Institute.
I attended Sphinx for four entire years. All four were awful. I was teased for my pointed ears and I never quite fit in. I loved to pull pranks. I was well known for that, and well hated.
But when finally I returned to my father, he was different. He'd grown cold and hateful. I suspect that it had something to do with the binding mark on his forearm. My last day at Sphinx was when I'd learned Lord Voldemort was back . . . one of my room mates had lost a family member. I had seen the article in the Daily Prophet, seen the Dark Mark, recognized it as that which my own father bore on his arm.
For the summer before my fifth year of attending wizarding school, while I lived at his manor, I'd been trying to reaccustom him to having a child around. At that female who thus needed some extremely personal items. It was very embarrassing at first, but as the summer progressed we grew more at ease. By the end of summer we were as close together as I had hoped for.
It was what he treasured most in the world, to have me around. I do believe I was his beacon of hope in his time of need. No matter how corny that sounds, I like it anyway. My father has become warmer, to me at least. Who knows if he will change the way he acts toward others? He's the most unpredictable person I've ever met.
I thought it was a good idea for me to "sleep" for a few extra minutes. It's times like these when he needs my presence the most. Times when he's just returned from a Death Eater meeting.
I could feel the weariness and exhaustion he emanated. It was heartbreaking. I felt so sorry for him. It was not his choice in the first place to have become a Death Eater. In his youth, his muggle-hating "friend" Lucius Malfoy forced him into it. My poor dad had to endure watching humans suffer, sometimes at the hand of his own wand. I can't even begin to imagine the sorrow and self-disgust he must have gone through. And all for no reason. Then, when Lord Voldemort forced him to kill a muggle- born girl, and he did it, that was the last straw. He went to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts, as a sixth year student, and turned himself in. I believe he thought he deserved Azkaban. But Dumbledore, he had other plans for my father. He persuaded my father to become a spy against Voldemort, a spy for the light side. My father agreed. He though of it as his redemption. He endured the suffering, he caused the suffering. He gave information to Dumbledore. And finally, when little Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, just one year after he had me, he believed it was over. He was finally free. But things would not go well for him. Voldemort returned, but of last year. My father has remained spy, and still goes to Voldemort's meetings. Only now, Voldemort inflicts my father's pain. It is times like these, after my father has suffered another reminder of who and what he is, that he needs me most.
And so I let him watch me, watch my face as my lips curved up slightly. It was my own doing; my father needed to see me smiling. I heard his soft chuckle and my smile widened slightly.
"Sauki." He said, ever so softly. I twitched purposefully, and pretended to roll over in my half-asleep.
"No." I muttered into my pillow. I heard him chuckle again.
"Sauki, your letter is here." He said, a bit louder. I shot up. My letter for Hogwarts! All pretenses of sleeping forgotten, I jumped out of bed, revealing my black silk pajamas (yes, my father bought them for me). I raced over to my father and eyed the slip of parchment clutched in his pale hand.
"Hand it over, dad!" I demanded of my tall, sallow-skinned father. My father has long silky (not greasy) black hair and sharp obsidian eyes as well. He's quite tall and even though I am of fair height I only reach his stomach. To anybody except Dumbledore and I, my father is not someone to be crossed. However, I cannot resist a single chance to pull a trick on him. Once, after he'd told me people thought he was a greasy git, I switched his shampoo for grease so he could live up to their standards. He figured out what I'd done almost instantly and I was sent to my room.
"Must I?" he said, smiling playfully. I grimaced at him. "Alright, alright." He gave in and handed me my letter. I tore it open and two sheets of parchment fluttered to the floor.
I picked up the first sheet, handling it as though it was a prized possession. I unfolded it ever so carefully and read the first line on violet ink out loud to my father.
"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" I squealed with delight. I looked up to see my dad smiling. Though that feat would frighten most people, I found it very sweet of him.
"Congratulations." He said. I jumped up and threw my arms around him, though not too hard, for he was still recovering.
"Thank you dad, for taking me back." I whispered to him. He hugged me tightly in response.
We embraced for a few moments, each glad for the other's presence. When finally we did break apart, I wore an enormous grin on my face.
"Breakfast's my treat!" I said before bounding out of my room and down the stairs. I knew I had some time to make the correct preparations; my dad still needed to shower and change. I leapt into our kitchen and was immediately greeted by our house-elf, Twinkles.
"It is nice to see you, Miss Sauki!" Twinkles said squeakily. I smiled at her.
"Thank you, Twinkles. How about you run along and help my dad get ready, he's just returned from." I trailed off, a lump in my throat. I could not bear to say the words out loud. Luckily, Twinkles knew what I meant. "I'll take care of breakfast today." I finished. Twinkles nodded and rushed out of the kitchen, holding up the hem of her soft purple dress. When my father's parents passed away and he inherited the Manor, he found a single house-elf remaining. My father did not want a slave, and he offered her freedom. But Twinkles would not hear of it, and while she agreed to wear clothes she would not leave him. She has been with him ever since. Twinkles really likes me. She thinks I'm the perfect remedy for my dad's melancholy mood swings.
I turned to the cupboards and opened one. I pulled out a huge bag of muggle pancake batter. As I was not allowed to do magic over the holidays, I could not simply create the batter out of my wand. But, I could do things the good old muggle way. So I did.
After I mixed the batter, I selected a bar of Honeydukes best butterbeer fudge. I chopped it up with a large butcher knife. I knew my dad liked butterbeer fudge; it was the only kind of sweet similar to chocolate that he liked, and I encouraged him to eat it. What good is a person if they don't like chocolate? And butterbeer fudge also had the effect of wizarding chocolate: it spread warmth throughout one's body. And I knew my father wouldn't take chocolate for breakfast; I'd have to sneak it into the pancakes.
Then I took out the griddle, another handy muggle object. I mixed the chunks of butterbeer fudge in with the batter, and poured the lumpy mixture into indistinct pancake shapes on the griddle. Luckily butterbeer fudge is a beige shade; therefore it blended in with the batter. I turned the griddle on, grabbed a spatula, and settled back to watch.
As soon as I'd cooked all the pancakes, I divided them onto two plates. Then I reached into the refrigerator and took out a jug of milk. I poured my dad and myself each a glass of it. Then, right on time, my dad strode into the kitchen. He was looking quite weather-beaten, and my heart went out to him. He took his plate and glass and started toward our little dining room. I followed suit.
We sat down, and I made a silent promise to not touch my food until my dad had eaten most of his. I watched him steadily as he took his first bite, and then right through the meal. Once he looked up, I busied myself with my food. I could have sworn a small smile was playing at his lips when I glanced up to take a drink of my milk. He knew I'd slipped the butterbeer fudge in.
My dad got up as I finished and we both made our way back to the kitchen to deposit the plates and glasses. Then my dad went out to the living room to rest and I up to my room to get dressed. I opened my wardrobe door and shoved aside the white robes (my old school's uniform). There, on the inside wall, was a small door. I opened it and crouched down to see inside. I turned on a muggle light and smiled when I saw the brightly colored muggle clothes. I picked out a pair of baggy beige pants with plenty of pockets and an over-large black T-shirt with red flames. I dressed, and entered my bathroom. I glanced in the mirror.
My face was lightly brown, and it contrasted well with the pitch black of my hair. My hair itself reached down to my elbows at least. I fingered it, thinking I needed a good change, then brushed it behind my ear. I examined my ear, running my hand along the edge. My ears were like normal ears, but from the top half up each edge grew close together until they reached a sharp tip. They were my mother's. I hated them. They made me different. I stared at my own black eyes. My eyes, I loved. No one except my father and I had them. I liked them for that. Though pointed ears earned you teasing, black eyes earned you respect. Funny the way things worked.
I sighed and threw a black cloak over myself, then turned, exited the bathroom, and started down the stairs. I nearly collided with my father halfway up; he seemed to be struggling up the steps, clutching the banister. He threw a shocked look at my attire, which was clearly visible from under my cloak.
"You're wearing /that/ to Diagon Alley?" he said. He was breathing hard and leaning against the banister heavily for support.
"Yeah." I said, my traces of excitement vanishing. My dad sure was breathing fast . . .
"Oh . . ." he managed to choke out before sliding to the step he was standing on. He crumpled in a heap.
"Oh god," I gasped and tried to help him up. /Not working very well!/ I thought furiously. "TWINKLES!" I screamed. In an instant the house-elf appeared. Immediately she used her hands and some of her own magic to levitate my father out to the living room sofa. She set him down and turned quickly to me.
"Twinkles is sorry to say, but Master cannot go with Miss to Diagon Alley. Master needs rest." She said, her enormous amber eyes sad. I nodded.
"It's alright, as long as he's okay." I whispered. I sat down by my dad.
"Here." He said quietly, his breathing still ragged. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a moneybag. He handed it to me. "Go buy your stuff. Be careful."
"I'll be fine daddy." I said, taking the bag. He knew I was very worried; I only called him daddy when I was.
"Go on, go on." He instructed and I nodded. I stood up, grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder from our basin, and threw it into our fire. The flames roared green. I called, "Diagon Alley!" before stepping in. I took one last look at my father before disappearing in a flash of beige, red, and green.
I only opened my eyes when the whirling movement had ceased. Then, when I did so, I was on my hands and knees, facing the customers of the Leaky Cauldron. They just looked at me and turned away. It was normal for them to have children come flying out of the fireplace.
I rose to my feet and stepped out of the fireplace, brushing some stray soot away. I walked past the diners and out the back door. I was immediately faced with a brick wall.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wand. Hippogriff tail hair and wing feather combined, seven inches, willow. I smiled fondly as I ran my hand along the reddish brown wood. I liked my wand very much. I turned to the wall, tapped a couple of bricks, and watched them melt away.
I stepped into Diagon Alley and glanced around. Wizards and witches were hurrying about, leading their children or their friends. The shops on either side of the alley were packed with displays. I started to walk down the aisle, looking around at the shops, searching for the one I needed.
That's when it hit me. I forgot my book list.
I slapped myself on the forehead. I was such an idiot!
"Looks like you must've forgotten something." Someone said behind me. I whirled around to face a girl who looked to be fifteen. She had white- blonde hair that reached a few inches below her shoulders, and strange dark violet eyes. She seemed very nice, and was smiling.
"Yeah, my book list." I said. She grinned.
"I almost did that too. Mum had to shove it in my pocket. 'Don't forget your book list dear!' I swear, it was like she was trying to pull my pants down!" she said, and we both laughed.
"I'm Sauki, I'm a transfer student from Sphinx, in Egypt. I'll be starting my fifth year at Hogwarts." I said, holding out my hand. She took it and shook it.
"I'm Ryra. I'm a transfer too, starting my fifth year. Nice to meet you." She said. I smiled.
"Er, could I borrow your book list?" I asked, suddenly sheepish. She nodded.
"Let's go to Flourish and Blotts, mum tells me it's the best for books." She said.
"Alright then, off to Flourish and Blotts we go!"
"Oh, yes, more books. Give me your book list please . . . two copies of each? I'll be back shortly." The man at the counter said when we had just arrived, leaving us to browse through the parchment and quills.
"Hey Ryra! Look at this ink!" I said, showing Ryra a large bottle of violently purple ink. She laughed and turned back to her area of parchment. I clutched the ink in my hand.
"Oh Sauki, look at this!" she said and I looked. She was holding a scroll of pitch-black parchment.
"I want it!" I whined.
"Mine!" she claimed it. I pouted, but she wouldn't be budged. Finally I turned back to my ink area.
By the time the man had handed us our books, we had our supplies. We paid for our books and stuff and headed out the door.
"Where now, Captain Ryra?" I asked.
"To the Ice Cream Parlor, matey, to dig us up some gold." Ryra answered very seriously.
"Gold ice cream, that is."
So we went to Florean Fortesque's and bought our treats before finishing our shopping.
"All finished?" she asked me. I nodded.
"Back to check on dad." I said. Ryra gave me a funny look but didn't ask about my dad. I was grateful. We went back into the Leaky Cauldron and Flooed back to our homes.
As soon as I fell out of the fireplace at our home I rushed into the living room. The couch was vacant.
"Twinkles? Dad?" I called, slightly worried. I started walking up the staircase, listening. No answering call met my ears. I made it to the top of the stairs and crept over to my dad's room. I peeked inside.
My dad was lying on his bed, eyes closed, his breathing smooth and soft. I smiled. He was sleeping. /Good. He needs it./
I backed away from dad's room and went to my own, throwing myself on my bed and grabbing one of my textbooks to read.
" 'How To Read Minds Like You're Reading This Book'? What kind of name is that?" I muttered to myself. I opened it up and started reading the first page aloud.
" 'The art of reading one's mind is very delicate, and must be taken very seriously. If one abuses this power, the consequences may be fatal. However, few true Seers exist in the world today, so not many people need worry about this great risk.
'True Seers are indeed very rare. A Seer is gifted with the ability to not only read crystal balls and other various simple feats, but read another's mind. It is a great honor to be a Seer' - Oh give me a break." I said angrily, tossing the book aside. "They make these 'Seers' sound exalted or something." I don't know why I suddenly felt so angry, but I did.
"Okay Sauki, calm. Good little half elf-nymph." I said, feeling angry once more. I pushed my long black hair behind my ear to feel the tip of it once more. /What will the people at school think? Will they be prejudice because of my ears?/
/I hope not./
/I really, really hope not./
TITLE: It's Tough to be Snape's Daughter
PERPETRATOR: Saukara Snape (HELP!)
SUE-O-METER: (how bad is it?)
WRITING:
SUEAGE:
WRONGNESS:
FULL NAME: Saukara Snape (anybody else think this is a misspelling of 'Sakura'?)
SPECIES: Human/Witch
HAIR: "My face was lightly brown, and it contrasted well with the pitch black of my hair. My hair itself reached down to my elbows at least."
EYES: "I stared at my own black eyes. My eyes, I loved. No one except my father and I had them. I liked them for that."
MARKINGS: Pointed ears. "My ears were like normal ears, but from the top half up each edge grew close together until they reached a sharp tip. They were my mother's. I hated them. They made me different."
POSESSIONS: Lots of Muggle clothes and a house-elf named Twinkles (*snerk*)
ORIGIN: Snape's daughter... her mother was "an elf-nymph who lived in Egypt." She went to "Sphinx Wizarding Institute" in Egypt for four years before moving back in with Snape for absolutely no good reason.
CONNECTIONS TO CANON: See above.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: None so far...
NOTES: Poor little Sue, made fun of because of her special little pointy ears! Oh, and apparently equally poor and little Snapey-wapey was really a good person who was conned into becoming a Death Eater by Lucius Malfoy. And what the hell is an 'Elf-Nymph'?
SAMPLE:
I felt the ray of sunlight heat my face. It had started to burn slightly a moment ago, but I didn't move. I did not want to forewarn him of my awakeness.
He watched me from the doorway. I could feel his dark presence. I could also smell him. A dark smell, murky and brooding. I was beginning to get reaccustomed to being around him. I'd lived with him for several years as a child, but then my mother, an elf-nymph who lived in Egypt, had insisted on me living with her for the same amount of time before I went back to him. I'd wanted to go to Hogwarts; how many times had he described it to me? True, he had sneered disdainfully and filled the tales with mindless children running amok and countless melted cauldrons, but the way the Great Hall sounded . . . how the students were divided into groups, placed with people of their own heart . . . but, to my disappointment, I was living with my mother in Egypt when I received my very first invitational letter, to Sphinx Wizarding Institute.
I attended Sphinx for four entire years. All four were awful. I was teased for my pointed ears and I never quite fit in. I loved to pull pranks. I was well known for that, and well hated.
But when finally I returned to my father, he was different. He'd grown cold and hateful. I suspect that it had something to do with the binding mark on his forearm. My last day at Sphinx was when I'd learned Lord Voldemort was back . . . one of my room mates had lost a family member. I had seen the article in the Daily Prophet, seen the Dark Mark, recognized it as that which my own father bore on his arm.
For the summer before my fifth year of attending wizarding school, while I lived at his manor, I'd been trying to reaccustom him to having a child around. At that female who thus needed some extremely personal items. It was very embarrassing at first, but as the summer progressed we grew more at ease. By the end of summer we were as close together as I had hoped for.
It was what he treasured most in the world, to have me around. I do believe I was his beacon of hope in his time of need. No matter how corny that sounds, I like it anyway. My father has become warmer, to me at least. Who knows if he will change the way he acts toward others? He's the most unpredictable person I've ever met.
I thought it was a good idea for me to "sleep" for a few extra minutes. It's times like these when he needs my presence the most. Times when he's just returned from a Death Eater meeting.
I could feel the weariness and exhaustion he emanated. It was heartbreaking. I felt so sorry for him. It was not his choice in the first place to have become a Death Eater. In his youth, his muggle-hating "friend" Lucius Malfoy forced him into it. My poor dad had to endure watching humans suffer, sometimes at the hand of his own wand. I can't even begin to imagine the sorrow and self-disgust he must have gone through. And all for no reason. Then, when Lord Voldemort forced him to kill a muggle- born girl, and he did it, that was the last straw. He went to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts, as a sixth year student, and turned himself in. I believe he thought he deserved Azkaban. But Dumbledore, he had other plans for my father. He persuaded my father to become a spy against Voldemort, a spy for the light side. My father agreed. He though of it as his redemption. He endured the suffering, he caused the suffering. He gave information to Dumbledore. And finally, when little Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, just one year after he had me, he believed it was over. He was finally free. But things would not go well for him. Voldemort returned, but of last year. My father has remained spy, and still goes to Voldemort's meetings. Only now, Voldemort inflicts my father's pain. It is times like these, after my father has suffered another reminder of who and what he is, that he needs me most.
And so I let him watch me, watch my face as my lips curved up slightly. It was my own doing; my father needed to see me smiling. I heard his soft chuckle and my smile widened slightly.
"Sauki." He said, ever so softly. I twitched purposefully, and pretended to roll over in my half-asleep.
"No." I muttered into my pillow. I heard him chuckle again.
"Sauki, your letter is here." He said, a bit louder. I shot up. My letter for Hogwarts! All pretenses of sleeping forgotten, I jumped out of bed, revealing my black silk pajamas (yes, my father bought them for me). I raced over to my father and eyed the slip of parchment clutched in his pale hand.
"Hand it over, dad!" I demanded of my tall, sallow-skinned father. My father has long silky (not greasy) black hair and sharp obsidian eyes as well. He's quite tall and even though I am of fair height I only reach his stomach. To anybody except Dumbledore and I, my father is not someone to be crossed. However, I cannot resist a single chance to pull a trick on him. Once, after he'd told me people thought he was a greasy git, I switched his shampoo for grease so he could live up to their standards. He figured out what I'd done almost instantly and I was sent to my room.
"Must I?" he said, smiling playfully. I grimaced at him. "Alright, alright." He gave in and handed me my letter. I tore it open and two sheets of parchment fluttered to the floor.
I picked up the first sheet, handling it as though it was a prized possession. I unfolded it ever so carefully and read the first line on violet ink out loud to my father.
"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" I squealed with delight. I looked up to see my dad smiling. Though that feat would frighten most people, I found it very sweet of him.
"Congratulations." He said. I jumped up and threw my arms around him, though not too hard, for he was still recovering.
"Thank you dad, for taking me back." I whispered to him. He hugged me tightly in response.
We embraced for a few moments, each glad for the other's presence. When finally we did break apart, I wore an enormous grin on my face.
"Breakfast's my treat!" I said before bounding out of my room and down the stairs. I knew I had some time to make the correct preparations; my dad still needed to shower and change. I leapt into our kitchen and was immediately greeted by our house-elf, Twinkles.
"It is nice to see you, Miss Sauki!" Twinkles said squeakily. I smiled at her.
"Thank you, Twinkles. How about you run along and help my dad get ready, he's just returned from." I trailed off, a lump in my throat. I could not bear to say the words out loud. Luckily, Twinkles knew what I meant. "I'll take care of breakfast today." I finished. Twinkles nodded and rushed out of the kitchen, holding up the hem of her soft purple dress. When my father's parents passed away and he inherited the Manor, he found a single house-elf remaining. My father did not want a slave, and he offered her freedom. But Twinkles would not hear of it, and while she agreed to wear clothes she would not leave him. She has been with him ever since. Twinkles really likes me. She thinks I'm the perfect remedy for my dad's melancholy mood swings.
I turned to the cupboards and opened one. I pulled out a huge bag of muggle pancake batter. As I was not allowed to do magic over the holidays, I could not simply create the batter out of my wand. But, I could do things the good old muggle way. So I did.
After I mixed the batter, I selected a bar of Honeydukes best butterbeer fudge. I chopped it up with a large butcher knife. I knew my dad liked butterbeer fudge; it was the only kind of sweet similar to chocolate that he liked, and I encouraged him to eat it. What good is a person if they don't like chocolate? And butterbeer fudge also had the effect of wizarding chocolate: it spread warmth throughout one's body. And I knew my father wouldn't take chocolate for breakfast; I'd have to sneak it into the pancakes.
Then I took out the griddle, another handy muggle object. I mixed the chunks of butterbeer fudge in with the batter, and poured the lumpy mixture into indistinct pancake shapes on the griddle. Luckily butterbeer fudge is a beige shade; therefore it blended in with the batter. I turned the griddle on, grabbed a spatula, and settled back to watch.
As soon as I'd cooked all the pancakes, I divided them onto two plates. Then I reached into the refrigerator and took out a jug of milk. I poured my dad and myself each a glass of it. Then, right on time, my dad strode into the kitchen. He was looking quite weather-beaten, and my heart went out to him. He took his plate and glass and started toward our little dining room. I followed suit.
We sat down, and I made a silent promise to not touch my food until my dad had eaten most of his. I watched him steadily as he took his first bite, and then right through the meal. Once he looked up, I busied myself with my food. I could have sworn a small smile was playing at his lips when I glanced up to take a drink of my milk. He knew I'd slipped the butterbeer fudge in.
My dad got up as I finished and we both made our way back to the kitchen to deposit the plates and glasses. Then my dad went out to the living room to rest and I up to my room to get dressed. I opened my wardrobe door and shoved aside the white robes (my old school's uniform). There, on the inside wall, was a small door. I opened it and crouched down to see inside. I turned on a muggle light and smiled when I saw the brightly colored muggle clothes. I picked out a pair of baggy beige pants with plenty of pockets and an over-large black T-shirt with red flames. I dressed, and entered my bathroom. I glanced in the mirror.
My face was lightly brown, and it contrasted well with the pitch black of my hair. My hair itself reached down to my elbows at least. I fingered it, thinking I needed a good change, then brushed it behind my ear. I examined my ear, running my hand along the edge. My ears were like normal ears, but from the top half up each edge grew close together until they reached a sharp tip. They were my mother's. I hated them. They made me different. I stared at my own black eyes. My eyes, I loved. No one except my father and I had them. I liked them for that. Though pointed ears earned you teasing, black eyes earned you respect. Funny the way things worked.
I sighed and threw a black cloak over myself, then turned, exited the bathroom, and started down the stairs. I nearly collided with my father halfway up; he seemed to be struggling up the steps, clutching the banister. He threw a shocked look at my attire, which was clearly visible from under my cloak.
"You're wearing /that/ to Diagon Alley?" he said. He was breathing hard and leaning against the banister heavily for support.
"Yeah." I said, my traces of excitement vanishing. My dad sure was breathing fast . . .
"Oh . . ." he managed to choke out before sliding to the step he was standing on. He crumpled in a heap.
"Oh god," I gasped and tried to help him up. /Not working very well!/ I thought furiously. "TWINKLES!" I screamed. In an instant the house-elf appeared. Immediately she used her hands and some of her own magic to levitate my father out to the living room sofa. She set him down and turned quickly to me.
"Twinkles is sorry to say, but Master cannot go with Miss to Diagon Alley. Master needs rest." She said, her enormous amber eyes sad. I nodded.
"It's alright, as long as he's okay." I whispered. I sat down by my dad.
"Here." He said quietly, his breathing still ragged. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a moneybag. He handed it to me. "Go buy your stuff. Be careful."
"I'll be fine daddy." I said, taking the bag. He knew I was very worried; I only called him daddy when I was.
"Go on, go on." He instructed and I nodded. I stood up, grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder from our basin, and threw it into our fire. The flames roared green. I called, "Diagon Alley!" before stepping in. I took one last look at my father before disappearing in a flash of beige, red, and green.
I only opened my eyes when the whirling movement had ceased. Then, when I did so, I was on my hands and knees, facing the customers of the Leaky Cauldron. They just looked at me and turned away. It was normal for them to have children come flying out of the fireplace.
I rose to my feet and stepped out of the fireplace, brushing some stray soot away. I walked past the diners and out the back door. I was immediately faced with a brick wall.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wand. Hippogriff tail hair and wing feather combined, seven inches, willow. I smiled fondly as I ran my hand along the reddish brown wood. I liked my wand very much. I turned to the wall, tapped a couple of bricks, and watched them melt away.
I stepped into Diagon Alley and glanced around. Wizards and witches were hurrying about, leading their children or their friends. The shops on either side of the alley were packed with displays. I started to walk down the aisle, looking around at the shops, searching for the one I needed.
That's when it hit me. I forgot my book list.
I slapped myself on the forehead. I was such an idiot!
"Looks like you must've forgotten something." Someone said behind me. I whirled around to face a girl who looked to be fifteen. She had white- blonde hair that reached a few inches below her shoulders, and strange dark violet eyes. She seemed very nice, and was smiling.
"Yeah, my book list." I said. She grinned.
"I almost did that too. Mum had to shove it in my pocket. 'Don't forget your book list dear!' I swear, it was like she was trying to pull my pants down!" she said, and we both laughed.
"I'm Sauki, I'm a transfer student from Sphinx, in Egypt. I'll be starting my fifth year at Hogwarts." I said, holding out my hand. She took it and shook it.
"I'm Ryra. I'm a transfer too, starting my fifth year. Nice to meet you." She said. I smiled.
"Er, could I borrow your book list?" I asked, suddenly sheepish. She nodded.
"Let's go to Flourish and Blotts, mum tells me it's the best for books." She said.
"Alright then, off to Flourish and Blotts we go!"
"Oh, yes, more books. Give me your book list please . . . two copies of each? I'll be back shortly." The man at the counter said when we had just arrived, leaving us to browse through the parchment and quills.
"Hey Ryra! Look at this ink!" I said, showing Ryra a large bottle of violently purple ink. She laughed and turned back to her area of parchment. I clutched the ink in my hand.
"Oh Sauki, look at this!" she said and I looked. She was holding a scroll of pitch-black parchment.
"I want it!" I whined.
"Mine!" she claimed it. I pouted, but she wouldn't be budged. Finally I turned back to my ink area.
By the time the man had handed us our books, we had our supplies. We paid for our books and stuff and headed out the door.
"Where now, Captain Ryra?" I asked.
"To the Ice Cream Parlor, matey, to dig us up some gold." Ryra answered very seriously.
"Gold ice cream, that is."
So we went to Florean Fortesque's and bought our treats before finishing our shopping.
"All finished?" she asked me. I nodded.
"Back to check on dad." I said. Ryra gave me a funny look but didn't ask about my dad. I was grateful. We went back into the Leaky Cauldron and Flooed back to our homes.
As soon as I fell out of the fireplace at our home I rushed into the living room. The couch was vacant.
"Twinkles? Dad?" I called, slightly worried. I started walking up the staircase, listening. No answering call met my ears. I made it to the top of the stairs and crept over to my dad's room. I peeked inside.
My dad was lying on his bed, eyes closed, his breathing smooth and soft. I smiled. He was sleeping. /Good. He needs it./
I backed away from dad's room and went to my own, throwing myself on my bed and grabbing one of my textbooks to read.
" 'How To Read Minds Like You're Reading This Book'? What kind of name is that?" I muttered to myself. I opened it up and started reading the first page aloud.
" 'The art of reading one's mind is very delicate, and must be taken very seriously. If one abuses this power, the consequences may be fatal. However, few true Seers exist in the world today, so not many people need worry about this great risk.
'True Seers are indeed very rare. A Seer is gifted with the ability to not only read crystal balls and other various simple feats, but read another's mind. It is a great honor to be a Seer' - Oh give me a break." I said angrily, tossing the book aside. "They make these 'Seers' sound exalted or something." I don't know why I suddenly felt so angry, but I did.
"Okay Sauki, calm. Good little half elf-nymph." I said, feeling angry once more. I pushed my long black hair behind my ear to feel the tip of it once more. /What will the people at school think? Will they be prejudice because of my ears?/
/I hope not./
/I really, really hope not./