~"How can you measure the life of a woman or a man?"~
Okay so here's a preview of a fic I'm planning on doing. I haven't quite finished the outline, but when my Muse taps on my shoulder I don't turn her down! :) This is what comes about when inspiration hits me in the middle of the night ^_^
Title: Angel
Genre: General
Word count: 1,911
Characters: Trio, Snape, OFC
Summary: It's the beginning of Harry's sixth year and the death of Sirius still ravages his mind, the knowledge of the prophecy looms ever-present over him. But his fervent hopes for a peaceful year at Hogwarts are soon dashed when he comes across a strange girl beginning her first year at Hogwarts - a girl he realizes could not possibly be alive, for her mother had passed away on that fateful Halloween night 15 years ago...
Disclaimer: The Potter world and all that resides in it belongs to the genius mind of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., et al.--I just like to play with it and mold it to my aspiring writer's liking.
“Hey guys, here comes this year’s ickle firsties,” said Ron, giving Harry a light nudge in the ribs, a playful smirk on his freckled face. Hermione, unbeknownst to the redhead, sent him a disapproving glare from across the table-but Ron had eyes only for the line of nervous children filing into the hall, McGonagall at their head. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall portrayed the clear midnight blue sky, stars winking down at the anxious and excited returning students of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The many floating candles sent gleams and sparkles dancing on the awaiting plates and cutlery in front of each seated person in the magnificent hall.
“Merlin’s balls, we weren’t that small, were we?”
“Ronald!” Hermione admonished reprovingly.
“What, it’s true! We were most definitely not that tiny… I think they get smaller and smaller every year.”
“That’s still no excuse to talk like that - and in public, too!”
“We’re at Hogwarts, that’s not public!”
Hermione sent Ron a withering stare. Rolling her eyes at the redhead's indignation, she turned to Harry, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, and gave him a hopeless look. “He’s a lost cause, I’m afraid,” Harry said, chuckling. He turned to his other friend and said, “Ron, they only look steadily smaller every year because you just don’t stop growing taller.”
Both Harry and Hermione laughed, but Ron only frowned. “No, mate, there’s got to be another explanation….”
“Oh, Ronald, you cannot be serious!” Hermione exclaimed between giggles at Ron’s grave expression. However, none of the trio could say anything more, for McGonagall and the line of trembling first years had reached the front of the hall, the Sorting Hat in its place on its stool, the entirety of the school waiting with anticipation for it to begin its song.
As the ageless voice began to sing, Harry took the opportunity to look over the new arrivals. His attention was soon surrendered to a young girl with fiery auburn hair, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. Her shoulders shook slightly for fear of the unknown, but her nerves were much more subdued than the other kids. There was a distinct air of calm composure about her countenance and though there were many kids crowded around, she gave the impression that she separated herself from them all-that she was inherently isolated. The girl held herself in a way that suggested coolness and poise, and though her emerald eyes were half-lidded, they shone brightly with interest and curiosity. All in all, she had an aura about her that spoke of wisdom and knowledge beyond her years.
But it wasn’t the girl’s nerves that troubled and intrigued Harry so, for he knew that was perfectly normal (or, as normal as anything could be in a world of wizards and magic). And nor was it her manner of appearance. No, what caused him such unease was really her person itself. He knew he had seen those brilliant waves of fire before, but only in pictures and a tormenting incident with a Pensieve.
Unnerving also was the fact that the very man whose memories he, Harry, had violated the year before - the man he despised so much - was also giving his undivided attentions to the girl with his mother’s hair….
Once McGonagall had declared how the Sorting would transpire, she began to call the names of the terrified new students. After “Brocholdt, Jane” was sorted into Ravenclaw, “Cooper, Will” became the first Gryffindor of the year, and he was welcomed with great enthusiasm. Again, Harry’s eye was drawn to the young red-haired girl as the applause subsided, but as McGonagall had resumed, he unwillingly tore his gaze from the first-year witch, but not before she had caught Harry’s eye and sent him a small, nervous smile.
Harry still sported a feeble, confused grin as he applauded “Eastman, Peter”, who was sorted into Ravenclaw. The Transfiguration professor began to read the next name, but no sooner had she began when she faltered in her speech and stopped-a feat no student had thought they would ever witness. She threw a quick, wary glance at the headmaster as though for confirmation, but he did nothing but watch her intently, the infamous twinkle present in his brilliant blue eyes. So she returned her gaze to the scroll of names.
No one noticed Severus Snape’s hands ball into tightly-clenched fists, frightened nerves causing a thin sheen of sweat on his sallow face.
As if nothing unusual had happened, McGonagall continued, her voice as stern as ever, with the recitation of the name “Evans, Angela.”
When the girl that had been the object of Harry’s attention for the past many minutes separated from the group and strode hesitantly forward, the fork Harry was unaware he had been clenching fell to the table with a clatter that echoed throughout the Great Hall, drawing many amused pairs of eyes to him.
Ron’s and Hermione’s gazes, however, were trained on Harry faster than a cracked whip, immediate concern on both of their faces.
Harry felt his face heat with embarrassment as he willed himself to look back up to the front of the hall. Surely it must be a coincidence. Evans was a common last name, wasn’t it? And plenty of kids have red hair, look at the Weasleys! His hands gripped his robes under the table as he direly hoped it was, indeed, just happenstance. He told himself over and over that it just was not possible. His mother had died fifteen years ago. There was no way she could have an eleven year old child. Hadn’t Dumbledore told him explicitly in his fourth year that there was no spell to reawaken the dead? He repeated to himself over and over, like a mantra, that it was a fluke.
After what seemed like an eternity - during which Harry bore his eyes into the sitting girl who, he knew, must be debating with the Sorting Hat which House she would be fated to be placed - the Sorting Hat’s brim opened and bellowed her placement to the awaiting assembly of teachers and students: “SLYTHERIN!”
Harry failed to notice that, before any cheering commenced, there was another fumble of cutlery, this time from a horribly distraught Potion’s master. Snape had watched the young girl with bated breath as the Sorting Hat had been placed upon her crown, and he had waited, his body tense. Now, for but a few moments, raw emotions could be seen in Snape’s eyes, emotions that had long been buried and hidden away under his constant façade. Pain, fear, hopelessness, overwhelming disbelief, sorrow… However, the mask was soon set in place once again. Nevertheless, for the rest of the Sorting Ceremony, he could do nothing but stare at his empty golden plate, his face gone ghastly pale.
Harry, meanwhile, had been staring at the girl after the Sorting Hat’s pronouncement as if she had grown another head, his mouth agape in incredulity. Now he knew it must be a coincidence. No daughter of his mother’s would be sorted to Slytherin, not from all the wonderful things he’d heard about her.
But, still, there was a terrible feeling deep in his gut, constricting his stomach, a feeling he could not quite pinpoint. It was not unlike how he had felt for almost the whole duration of the summer, what with Sirius’ death and the revelation concerning the prophecy-as if he was completely lost. This time, however, it was not as wholly consuming as his sorrow had been. There were other elements to this feeling. Then, there had been unbearable pain and hopelessness encasing his loneliness. Now, though, it was more of a constant sore that did nothing more than remind him of its presence, ever-present and never-leaving. He felt lost, yes, but there was more: doubt, confusion, and a nagging feeling that there was more to this girl than what met the eye.
“Harry, are you all right?” Hermione’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. He blinked several times as if to clear his mind and turned his gaze to the polished table.
“Yeah, mate you were gaping like a goldfish!” exclaimed Ron quietly as Lauren Montgomery became the first Hufflepuff.
“Oh - er, yeah…yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said, his voice carrying a slightly dreamy quality to it as he spoke. Ron and Hermione exchanged a pointed look.
“Mate, what’s up?” asked Ron in hushed tones. “You look pale.”
When Harry didn’t answer immediately, Hermione leaned forward across the table and asked, “Is it your scar?”
Harry shook his head deliberately. When Hermione and Ron didn’t let up, unease etched in their faces, Harry hesitated before inquiring, “Did that girl seem a little, I dunno…odd?” When his two friends’ brows furrowed in dumbfounded confusion, he went on a little hurriedly. “You know, Angela - the girl who was sorted to Slytherin?” He simply couldn’t bring himself to speak her last name for lack of knowledge of the unknown. Try as he might to ignore it, he couldn’t help but ponder on the enigma that was Angela Evans. “Did she, you know…catch your attention at all?” Harry bit his lip.
“Oh, you mean that red-haired girl?” asked Ron. “Yeah, she reminded me a bit of Ginny at that age.” He smiled in recollection. “They could be sisters, they could.” Ron beamed as though this newfound discovery gave him great satisfaction and pleasure.
Ginny, having heard her name, switched her gaze from the Sorting Hat - who had just sorted a “Miller, Jennie” to Ravenclaw - to her older brother sitting a few seats away across the table. “Who could be my sister?” she asked Ron with half-hearted enthusiasm.
“That first year Slytherin girl with the red hair,” he replied in stout simplicity.
Ginny’s expression changed from bored curiosity to one of remembrance and contemplation. “Oh, you mean that Evans girl? I guess… A bit sulky, though, wasn’t she? And honestly, Ron,” she said in uncanny resemblance to her mother, “are you going to assume that every red-haired kid is going to be related to us? Get a grip. Besides, she’s a Slytherin, for Merlin’s sake.”
“That doesn’t mean anything!” retorted her be-freckled brother.
“Our whole family, practically, has been in Gryffindor, Ron,” Ginny pointed out rather shrewdly.
And so the two siblings began to argue playfully, everyone else forgotten. Hermione, however, had had her eyes trained on Harry. She had not failed to notice the way Harry flinched slightly at the casual mention of the Slytherin first year’s surname and how he mechanically clapped as McGonagall gathered up the scroll of names and took away the Sorting Hat, its duty done but for another year. What exactly was bothering Harry was a mystery to her, but - being the resident know-it-all Gryffindor she was - it was a mystery that she silently took upon herself to solve. She vowed to ask him about it after the Welcoming Feast.
~***~
Severus Snape, unable to do much more than move the food on his plate around, making indistinguishable shapes, abruptly stood. He needed to be alone in the quiet of his dungeon quarters. There, at least, he could be haunted by his thoughts and memories without the light-hearted talk of the Great Hall. He swept away from the Head Table, his voluminous robes billowing out in his wake. Albus Dumbledore watched him go with a knowing glint in his wise old eyes.
Please let me know what you think!! I'm always open to concrit, and want to know how you think this can be better. &hearts
Note that the title is tentative. I have another, more sturdy one in mind, but I don't want to apply anything permanent to this until I've more written and the plot is completely outlined. The name "Angela" is also possibly tentative. Note as well that this is un-beta'd.
Title: Angel
Genre: General
Word count: 1,911
Characters: Trio, Snape, OFC
Summary: It's the beginning of Harry's sixth year and the death of Sirius still ravages his mind, the knowledge of the prophecy looms ever-present over him. But his fervent hopes for a peaceful year at Hogwarts are soon dashed when he comes across a strange girl beginning her first year at Hogwarts - a girl he realizes could not possibly be alive, for her mother had passed away on that fateful Halloween night 15 years ago...
Disclaimer: The Potter world and all that resides in it belongs to the genius mind of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., et al.--I just like to play with it and mold it to my aspiring writer's liking.
“Hey guys, here comes this year’s ickle firsties,” said Ron, giving Harry a light nudge in the ribs, a playful smirk on his freckled face. Hermione, unbeknownst to the redhead, sent him a disapproving glare from across the table-but Ron had eyes only for the line of nervous children filing into the hall, McGonagall at their head. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall portrayed the clear midnight blue sky, stars winking down at the anxious and excited returning students of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The many floating candles sent gleams and sparkles dancing on the awaiting plates and cutlery in front of each seated person in the magnificent hall.
“Merlin’s balls, we weren’t that small, were we?”
“Ronald!” Hermione admonished reprovingly.
“What, it’s true! We were most definitely not that tiny… I think they get smaller and smaller every year.”
“That’s still no excuse to talk like that - and in public, too!”
“We’re at Hogwarts, that’s not public!”
Hermione sent Ron a withering stare. Rolling her eyes at the redhead's indignation, she turned to Harry, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, and gave him a hopeless look. “He’s a lost cause, I’m afraid,” Harry said, chuckling. He turned to his other friend and said, “Ron, they only look steadily smaller every year because you just don’t stop growing taller.”
Both Harry and Hermione laughed, but Ron only frowned. “No, mate, there’s got to be another explanation….”
“Oh, Ronald, you cannot be serious!” Hermione exclaimed between giggles at Ron’s grave expression. However, none of the trio could say anything more, for McGonagall and the line of trembling first years had reached the front of the hall, the Sorting Hat in its place on its stool, the entirety of the school waiting with anticipation for it to begin its song.
As the ageless voice began to sing, Harry took the opportunity to look over the new arrivals. His attention was soon surrendered to a young girl with fiery auburn hair, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. Her shoulders shook slightly for fear of the unknown, but her nerves were much more subdued than the other kids. There was a distinct air of calm composure about her countenance and though there were many kids crowded around, she gave the impression that she separated herself from them all-that she was inherently isolated. The girl held herself in a way that suggested coolness and poise, and though her emerald eyes were half-lidded, they shone brightly with interest and curiosity. All in all, she had an aura about her that spoke of wisdom and knowledge beyond her years.
But it wasn’t the girl’s nerves that troubled and intrigued Harry so, for he knew that was perfectly normal (or, as normal as anything could be in a world of wizards and magic). And nor was it her manner of appearance. No, what caused him such unease was really her person itself. He knew he had seen those brilliant waves of fire before, but only in pictures and a tormenting incident with a Pensieve.
Unnerving also was the fact that the very man whose memories he, Harry, had violated the year before - the man he despised so much - was also giving his undivided attentions to the girl with his mother’s hair….
Once McGonagall had declared how the Sorting would transpire, she began to call the names of the terrified new students. After “Brocholdt, Jane” was sorted into Ravenclaw, “Cooper, Will” became the first Gryffindor of the year, and he was welcomed with great enthusiasm. Again, Harry’s eye was drawn to the young red-haired girl as the applause subsided, but as McGonagall had resumed, he unwillingly tore his gaze from the first-year witch, but not before she had caught Harry’s eye and sent him a small, nervous smile.
Harry still sported a feeble, confused grin as he applauded “Eastman, Peter”, who was sorted into Ravenclaw. The Transfiguration professor began to read the next name, but no sooner had she began when she faltered in her speech and stopped-a feat no student had thought they would ever witness. She threw a quick, wary glance at the headmaster as though for confirmation, but he did nothing but watch her intently, the infamous twinkle present in his brilliant blue eyes. So she returned her gaze to the scroll of names.
No one noticed Severus Snape’s hands ball into tightly-clenched fists, frightened nerves causing a thin sheen of sweat on his sallow face.
As if nothing unusual had happened, McGonagall continued, her voice as stern as ever, with the recitation of the name “Evans, Angela.”
When the girl that had been the object of Harry’s attention for the past many minutes separated from the group and strode hesitantly forward, the fork Harry was unaware he had been clenching fell to the table with a clatter that echoed throughout the Great Hall, drawing many amused pairs of eyes to him.
Ron’s and Hermione’s gazes, however, were trained on Harry faster than a cracked whip, immediate concern on both of their faces.
Harry felt his face heat with embarrassment as he willed himself to look back up to the front of the hall. Surely it must be a coincidence. Evans was a common last name, wasn’t it? And plenty of kids have red hair, look at the Weasleys! His hands gripped his robes under the table as he direly hoped it was, indeed, just happenstance. He told himself over and over that it just was not possible. His mother had died fifteen years ago. There was no way she could have an eleven year old child. Hadn’t Dumbledore told him explicitly in his fourth year that there was no spell to reawaken the dead? He repeated to himself over and over, like a mantra, that it was a fluke.
After what seemed like an eternity - during which Harry bore his eyes into the sitting girl who, he knew, must be debating with the Sorting Hat which House she would be fated to be placed - the Sorting Hat’s brim opened and bellowed her placement to the awaiting assembly of teachers and students: “SLYTHERIN!”
Harry failed to notice that, before any cheering commenced, there was another fumble of cutlery, this time from a horribly distraught Potion’s master. Snape had watched the young girl with bated breath as the Sorting Hat had been placed upon her crown, and he had waited, his body tense. Now, for but a few moments, raw emotions could be seen in Snape’s eyes, emotions that had long been buried and hidden away under his constant façade. Pain, fear, hopelessness, overwhelming disbelief, sorrow… However, the mask was soon set in place once again. Nevertheless, for the rest of the Sorting Ceremony, he could do nothing but stare at his empty golden plate, his face gone ghastly pale.
Harry, meanwhile, had been staring at the girl after the Sorting Hat’s pronouncement as if she had grown another head, his mouth agape in incredulity. Now he knew it must be a coincidence. No daughter of his mother’s would be sorted to Slytherin, not from all the wonderful things he’d heard about her.
But, still, there was a terrible feeling deep in his gut, constricting his stomach, a feeling he could not quite pinpoint. It was not unlike how he had felt for almost the whole duration of the summer, what with Sirius’ death and the revelation concerning the prophecy-as if he was completely lost. This time, however, it was not as wholly consuming as his sorrow had been. There were other elements to this feeling. Then, there had been unbearable pain and hopelessness encasing his loneliness. Now, though, it was more of a constant sore that did nothing more than remind him of its presence, ever-present and never-leaving. He felt lost, yes, but there was more: doubt, confusion, and a nagging feeling that there was more to this girl than what met the eye.
“Harry, are you all right?” Hermione’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. He blinked several times as if to clear his mind and turned his gaze to the polished table.
“Yeah, mate you were gaping like a goldfish!” exclaimed Ron quietly as Lauren Montgomery became the first Hufflepuff.
“Oh - er, yeah…yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said, his voice carrying a slightly dreamy quality to it as he spoke. Ron and Hermione exchanged a pointed look.
“Mate, what’s up?” asked Ron in hushed tones. “You look pale.”
When Harry didn’t answer immediately, Hermione leaned forward across the table and asked, “Is it your scar?”
Harry shook his head deliberately. When Hermione and Ron didn’t let up, unease etched in their faces, Harry hesitated before inquiring, “Did that girl seem a little, I dunno…odd?” When his two friends’ brows furrowed in dumbfounded confusion, he went on a little hurriedly. “You know, Angela - the girl who was sorted to Slytherin?” He simply couldn’t bring himself to speak her last name for lack of knowledge of the unknown. Try as he might to ignore it, he couldn’t help but ponder on the enigma that was Angela Evans. “Did she, you know…catch your attention at all?” Harry bit his lip.
“Oh, you mean that red-haired girl?” asked Ron. “Yeah, she reminded me a bit of Ginny at that age.” He smiled in recollection. “They could be sisters, they could.” Ron beamed as though this newfound discovery gave him great satisfaction and pleasure.
Ginny, having heard her name, switched her gaze from the Sorting Hat - who had just sorted a “Miller, Jennie” to Ravenclaw - to her older brother sitting a few seats away across the table. “Who could be my sister?” she asked Ron with half-hearted enthusiasm.
“That first year Slytherin girl with the red hair,” he replied in stout simplicity.
Ginny’s expression changed from bored curiosity to one of remembrance and contemplation. “Oh, you mean that Evans girl? I guess… A bit sulky, though, wasn’t she? And honestly, Ron,” she said in uncanny resemblance to her mother, “are you going to assume that every red-haired kid is going to be related to us? Get a grip. Besides, she’s a Slytherin, for Merlin’s sake.”
“That doesn’t mean anything!” retorted her be-freckled brother.
“Our whole family, practically, has been in Gryffindor, Ron,” Ginny pointed out rather shrewdly.
And so the two siblings began to argue playfully, everyone else forgotten. Hermione, however, had had her eyes trained on Harry. She had not failed to notice the way Harry flinched slightly at the casual mention of the Slytherin first year’s surname and how he mechanically clapped as McGonagall gathered up the scroll of names and took away the Sorting Hat, its duty done but for another year. What exactly was bothering Harry was a mystery to her, but - being the resident know-it-all Gryffindor she was - it was a mystery that she silently took upon herself to solve. She vowed to ask him about it after the Welcoming Feast.
~***~
Severus Snape, unable to do much more than move the food on his plate around, making indistinguishable shapes, abruptly stood. He needed to be alone in the quiet of his dungeon quarters. There, at least, he could be haunted by his thoughts and memories without the light-hearted talk of the Great Hall. He swept away from the Head Table, his voluminous robes billowing out in his wake. Albus Dumbledore watched him go with a knowing glint in his wise old eyes.
Please let me know what you think!! I'm always open to concrit, and want to know how you think this can be better. &hearts
Note that the title is tentative. I have another, more sturdy one in mind, but I don't want to apply anything permanent to this until I've more written and the plot is completely outlined. The name "Angela" is also possibly tentative. Note as well that this is un-beta'd.