"I write her a letter
just a few short lines,
and suffer death
a thousand times."
Asteria O'Connor, sole heir of a prestigious wizarding family,
has other plans when the self-proclaimed Marauders decide to
torment her and her housemates.
It's abo...
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aster
I roll my eyes as I strut along the length of the Slytherin table with Reggie and Sev on either side of me. Many eyes turn to look our way – sorry, my way. I even spot a forth year Ravenclaw drooling. Salazar, I thought he'd at least have the brains to control his saliva.
I sit on one side of the table as the other two settle into their seats opposite me. They have to push a couple of students down the bench but manage to get in eventually.
Severus looks at me with an annoyed expression. "You always make us late," he mutters through gritted teeth, although I still hear him clear as day.
"It's not my fault! The thestral pulling our carriage was looking extremely bony." I look to Reggie for some help, he only smiles in amusement. "I just wanted to feed it," I exclaim exasperatedly.
"It might help your case if we could see them also." Reg gestures to himself and the now smirking boy beside him.
"Oh you'll be able to see them soon enough," I threaten, staring dangerously down at the golden cutlery before me. "If Severus continues to complain about my time management skills then you can watch me strangle him to death."
The sound of the Great Hall doors crashing against the wall stops the long haired boy mid retort. I smile triumphantly at him and he promptly sticks out his tongue.
A stern looking McGonagall leads the young witches and wizards that have begun ooing and ahhing at the decor of the large room. I don't blame them if I'm being completely honest. Still, even with the hours spent in the enchanted hall, I can get carried away admiring the changing ceiling and floating candles.
I clap at the end of the Sorting Hat's song – more so that it's finally over and not because of the hat's musical ability. All the students look petrified as they take their place on the four-legged stool. I chat idly to the others around me, only stopping to cheer every once in a while when a new Slytherin is announced.
I let out a small 'hurrah' as the food magically appears in front of us. Looking around at the first years from each table, I try to gauge their reactions. Most yelp slightly before they begin grabbing excitedly at the steaming food. I even spot a boy dressed in a red tie over the other side of the hall, who somehow manages to fall from his seat at the surprise.
I gesture over my shoulder at the sprawled out child. "How far do you think he'll make it in Gryffindor?" I ask to the people around me.
They turn to look as well and attempt to hide their snickers from behind their food when Professor Sprout walks down the aisle. In order to busy myself I scoop a mountain troll's amount of mashed potatoes onto my plate.
"Do you think she wants any?" asks the youngest Black brother.
I look up to see him gesturing to the teacher behind me and then to the bowl of green vegetables in his hand.
