“—you’d be best in GRYFFINDOR!” the hat screamed the last word so the entire hall could hear. Andrea got out of the chair gratefully, and went to sit down at the table at the far end that was decked out in gold and red. She didn’t have to wait long before Draco went up to be sorted.
As soon as the hat touched his pale-blonde hair, it shouted “SLYTHERIN!” Later, Harry and Ron both joined her at the Gryffindor, along with the frizzy-brown haired girl—Hermione Granger—and the boy who kept losing his toad—Neville Longbottom.
A man with a long silver beard sitting at the High table stood up, Andrea recognized him from one of Harry’s Frog cards: Albus Dumbledore. He cleared his throat and began to speak, “Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
“Thank you!” he sat back down.
Andrea heard Harry ask Percy Weasley, “Is he — a bit mad?”
“Mad? He’s a genius!” Percy replied, “Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?” Andrea blinked: the empty dishes on the table had all suddenly been filled with steaming food. Chicken, roast beef, pork chops, lamb chops, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, baked potatoes and so many more that she couldn't name them all.
Andrea put some lamb and potatoes on her plate. It certainly wasn’t ambrosia, but it was still delicious. “That does look good,” a ghost in a ruff said sadly. Harry looked at him curiously.
“Can’t you—?”
“I haven’t eaten for nearly four hundred years. I don’t need it of course,” the ghost replied, “but one does miss it.
“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.”
“I know who you are!” Ron exclaimed suddenly. “My brothers told me about you – you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”
“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—“
Seamus Finnigan interrupted, “Nearly headless? How can you be nearly headless?”
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed. “Like this,” hesaid irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled; his entire head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it were on a hinge. Andrea knew someone had tried to behead him but hadn’t done a very thorough job. Nick looked pleased at their stunned faces, he flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, “So – new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindor has never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have won the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable – he’s the Slytherin ghost.” Andrea looked over at the Slytherin table where Draco was sitting next to a gaunt ghost with blank eyes. He did not looked pleased with the seating arrangement.
“Poor guy,” Andrea observed.
Ron snorted, “He deserves it, that prat.”
“How’d he get all covered in blood?” Seamus asked.
“I’ve never asked,” Nick said delicately.
No sooner had Andrea finished the last bite of lamb chops than desserts appeared. Andrea reached for some vanilla ice-cream and poured strawberry syrup over it. The talk around the table turned to family.
“I’m half-and-half,” Seamus said. “Dad’s a Muggle, Mam’s a witch, didn’t tell him ‘til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.” The other First Years laughed.
“What about you, Neville?” Ron asked.
“My gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” Neville said, “but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. MY Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic outa’ me. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned – but nothing happened until I was eight.
“Great Uncle Algie came ‘round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here – they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.”
“What about you, Andrea?” Harry asked.
Her head snapped up, “What?”
“What’s your family like?”
“Oh, um,” she felt uncomfortable now. “Well, both my parents were wizards, but I didn’t find out my dad was magical until a couple weeks ago – I’ve never met him. And my mum and I . . . we don’t talk much anymore.” Andrea lowered her eyes, “I’ve been living with my grandmother and my step-grandfather for over a year now.” She looked up again to see everyone looking at her in rapt attention.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in slight alarm. Harry shook his head, as if trying to come back to his senses; but he was one of the few who did.
“Ouch!” Harry said suddenly, his hand shooting up to his forehead where the strange lightning bolt shaped scar rested. The attention turned from her to Harry and Andrea couldn't be more relieved.
“What’s wrong, Harry?” she asked, her dark blue eyes resting on him concerned.
“N-nothing,” he answered. Andrea noticed he was looking at the High Table. “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” he asked Percy in low tones.
“Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he’s looking so nervous, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but everyone knows he wants Quirrell’s job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.”
Andrea spoke up, Harry thought her voice sounded different in a way—not as rich as before, “Why do you sound as if you don’t like him? Potions is a wonderful class.”
“You just wait until you’ve had your first class with him,” Percy said. “You won’t like him then.”
Andrea stared curiously at the hook nosed teacher. He seemed like a pleasant enough person then. Quirrell gave her an uneasy feeling Andrea couldn’t explain.
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I don't feel as if this one is written correctly. Are you guys still interested? If you want another chapter, post a comment or rate. Both are greatly appreicated.
Just for your information, I'm writing this at eleven o'clock so if there are any mistakes, remember I'm only half awake . . . sorry. *yawns*
Hope to get another chapter written within a week or so . . . might be more, I'm experiencing writer's block.
-Skyy
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The Witch's Daughter: Book 1| The Sea of Stone
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