It was the beginning of the year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Students - 2nd year and up - waited impatiently for the first years to be led into the hall and for the feast to start. At long last (or so it seemed to many of the impatient pupils) Professor McGonagall lead the shivering soaking first years into the hall. Their first impression of their home for the next seven years was of a pretty warm, slightly less dry group of people staring at them as thunder boomed and lightning cracked across the enchanted ceiling. Needless to say, they were apprehensive.
Professor McGonagall set down a stool; on top of it was a worn, old hat. The brim of it split appart suddenly and it began to sing, shocking some of the new pupils. Gradually, however, they were all sorted (a process not helped along by two rowdy Gryffindors, calling out the name of the house they assumed the students would get into). From the looks on everyone's faces, it was clear that this was normal, and that so far, the night was just like any other beginning of term feast. Unfortunatley, this was not to last long.
Halfway through stuffing their faces with sausages, potatoes, carrots and mint humbugs, the staff and students of Hogwarts were rudely jolted out of their food induced stupor by a loud crack. It was too loud, and too like apparation to be lightning. In fact, it sounded for all the world that someone had just apperated into the Entrance Hall. Many students, mainly the 7th years, and the staff were up on their feet, wands out. Quite a few (the head girls and boys and the teachers) were edging towards the front door when they were quite suddenly swung open, revealing a young man standing there. He had messy black hair, was quite tall and was wearing a cloak with the hood down. But what was most surprising about his appearance wasn't the fact that he looked almost esactly like James Potter, or how young he was, but the firey, golden pheonix on his shoulder. Most of the teachers relaxed slightly when they saw his magnificant bird - for nothing can conquer the pureness and goodness of a phoenix. See picture above; sorry it's small.
TO BE FINISHED LATER
I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER
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To Teach - My Parents?
FanfictionHarry Potter finds himself a pawn to Dumbledore's chess game time and time again. But when he offers something actually nice to Harry, is it too good to be true? Or can Harry teach the marauders without any mishaps? Hopefully better than it sounds...
