Gender: Female Location: every which way but loose
Well, the hottest it got to in Feb was 23 celcius, which is 73 fahrenheit. Hopefully it'll be around that again. I burned a little and tanned so that was plenty hot enough for me
in your story you had luna at the school but shes not in seventh year, shes in sixth year w/ ginny and then theres the katie bell thing someone already mentioned.....................anyway, u guys all suck because you have a spring break, all we get is easter break, but then again, im only in 8th grade so we dont get much..have fun in the sun
What happened was... well, er... you see, Luna took this potion over the summer, right? And it made her believe... I mean, it made everyone else believe--yeah, anyone who knows her--believe that she... well, that she was in the seventh year. Yeah... yeah, she wanted to do that, so she could--well, so she could come to the school early. Yeah, that's it.
That's it.
(No, but really, thanks for pointing that out. We're just going to have to brush it under the rug, though... )
Gender: Male Location: waiting for Floyd to tour....:(
something inside me....seems to remember something....about a possible weekly/bi-weekly update....and if i count correctly....its like 40 days or so....compared to 7/14
not that any of that means anything
at all
or anything
__________________
thanks LifeInSepia, sig is AWESOME
A/N: "Owain" is pronounced like "Owen." The name is significant, but it'd be nearly impossible to find out why until you know more.
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With nothing much left to do with the day, the seventh years wandered lazily about the castle or the grounds. Around noon they were requested in the Great Hall and given their schedules. A rather laid-back atmosphere lingered about the students as they looked over their classes. Ron and Harry were pleased with theirs, though it hadn’t changed much since last year. Hermione, surprisingly, remained calm as she looked over hers.
“Double Ancient Runes on Monday… A couple free periods Tuesday and Thursday... Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts Monday, Wednesday, and Friday… Charms and Transfiguration Tuesday and Thursday. Overall, not bad,” she said complacently, placing the parchment down beside her lunch.
Ron’s jaw dropped. “Satisfied with your schedule? That’s a first.”
The first through sixth years weren’t expected to arrive until later that evening. Much of the time after lunch was spent by the lake, and for a while, on brooms with some fellow Gryffindors. The professors continued to make preparations for the arriving students, and by six o’clock, the Sorting Hat had been placed on its stool at the fore end of the Great Hall.
Nearly an hour later, the seventh years were gathered again in the Great Hall. Its doors had been opened, and the distinct sound of beating hooves reached the cavernous hall. Hagrid had informed Harry, Ron, and Hermione earlier in the day that first years were being transported by the Thestral-carriages, as this was deemed safer than the usual custom to sail across the lake.
Students filed in; again, each one was searched by Filch and several other staff members wielding Secrecy Sensors. Harry watched as terrified first years entered after their older peers, eyes wide as they made their way into the Entrance Hall and to the Great Hall. They gathered in a cluster at the front, where they stood before Professor McGonagall.
“Welcome to Hogwarts. As first-year students, before you will be allowed to take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into one of four Houses. The Sorting is an essential ceremony here at Hogwarts, as your House will act as a family to you during your stay. You will live among them, sleep in the House dormitory, and spend free time in common rooms. You are all aware, however, of the state of the magical world today. Because of this, I cannot stress to you the importance of unity between all who attend Hogwarts. Though you may be sorted and separated into different Houses, it is important to understand that we are all allies in the war against those who may seek to steal our freedom.”
The first years looked as though McGonagall’s words hadn’t been acknowledged by them in the least, but Harry could safely assume this was because of their nerves. He remembered his first experience at the castle, and how shaken he had been when he heard there was some sort of test to be taken no sooner than they walked through the doors.
“When I call your name, you will place the Sorting Hat on your head,” (she gestured to the worn old hat sitting quietly on its stool), “which will sort you into your House, and you will take a seat at the appropriate table. Any questions?”
The first years seemed visibly taken aback by McGonagall’s inquiry. Questions, at a time like this?
“Well, then… Let the Sorting begin.” From her robes she withdrew a scroll of parchment, unraveled the upper portion, and pronounced, “Aires, Rachel.”
A small, dark-haired girl approached the stool timidly, lifting the hat and placing it on her head, which consequently slid down past her eyes. The group of eleven year-olds seemed to hold their breath. Harry realized McGonagall had failed to mention the Sorting Hat could speak, for when it roared, “HUFFLEPUFF!” many jumped, and several terrified girls squealed shrilly.
When the slight outburst of laughter died down, McGonagall continued through the list.
“You know, the group isn’t as small as I expected,” whispered Ginny mid-way through the S’s. (She had rejoined Harry, Ron, and Hermione once she had entered the Hall.)
Ron shrugged. “Maybe parents aren’t as afraid as the Ministry makes them out to be.”
Harry nodded in agreement, though he was only paying Ron half a mind. Something else had caught his attention.
A small girl with shining blonde hair stood amid the dwindling crowd of first years. She looked sickly, as if she were perfectly ready to vomit on the spot.
“Owain, Cora,” barked Professor McGonagall.
The girl gulped, and stepped forward. Timidly, she hefted the Sorting Hat above her head, and placed it gently on her ears. The moment the material touched her head, the tear in the hat opened wide, like a large mouth, and roared, “RAVENCLAW!”
“Harry? Harry, what are you looking at?” asked a prodding voice somewhere across the table. The Ravenclaws had applauded politely for their new house member.
“Er… it was—well, that girl, there. She was at the Alley the day the Dementors attacked. There’s something… er—I dunno’—different about her,” he finished lamely.
Ginny smiled playfully, and joked, “Going after the young ones, are you?” Ron and Hermione laughed.
He would have explained himself further, but he could only whisper “Never mind,” before McGonagall declared the next name and the hall quieted.
The remainder of the Sorting was uneventful; hushed idle chat among the older students was interrupted solely by polite applause from the according table whenever a new student was added to a House.
Harry’s mind remained fixed on the girl. There was no attraction to her—nothing of that sort, but he couldn’t quite place the feeling he had gotten from her. He only knew there was something about her, something unique, and that was it. Cora Owain… the name meant nothing to him. What could it be about her?
He was broken out of his train of thought when McGonagall announced the Sorting was complete. She flicked her wand grandly, and the stool, hat upon it, vanished into thin air. (Several of the younger students ooh-ed, but for the most part, they remained quiet.)
McGonagall reassumed her position behind the gold podium, and began to speak, once again. “To all of our new students, welcome again, and some reminders: firstly, the Forbidden Forest is restricted to all students. Anyone under the age of seventeen are required to be off the grounds by seven o’clock in the evening, and in your appropriate house common room by 8:30. Seventh years of age, you are required to return inside the school by nine o’clock at the latest, and in your Houses by ten.”
“Our caretaker, Mr. Argus Filch, has also asked that I remind all students that the list of contraband not to be brought into the school, under any circumstances, can be found on his office door. These include, but are not limited to, Fanged Frisbees, Ever Bashing Boomerangs, Dungbombs, Screaming Yo-yos, and additionally, any joke product purchased from either Zonko’s Gift Shop and Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.” Several students chuckled spitefully.
She continued, “It is crucial that all students follow the rules laid out by our staff, especially during times of such turbulence in the magical community.”
Harry noted an air of business-like attitude about her—the McGonagall he had come to expect. More so than when she had addressed the seventh years, at any rate.
“Any student breaking a rule designed for your safety or the safety of those around you, such as the curfews, will be dealt with quickly and appropriately. Make no mistake: it is a dark time indeed for our world, but you can rest assured that the Hogwarts staff, along with the Ministry of Magic, are doing all we can to provide as safe an environment as possible for the students.”
She remained silent for several moments. Finally, she began to speak, “I’m sure the seventh years are already getting sick of our feasts,” she gave a wry smile, as best she could, and said, “but I bid you, tuck in.”
Once again, Harry was treated to the sight of various assortments of foods of all kinds, but after a rather late lunch and the feast just the evening before, this dinner did not seem as appetizing as last night’s. Accordingly, he ate less; Ron, however, did not seem to be phased by two feasts in a row, and Hermione remained more concerned about the House Elves through all this “indulgence,” as she so-aptly named it.
“Really, is it necessary for two feasts in a row?” she said indignantly, sipping lightly on pumpkin juice. Her plate was rather bare. “I’m sure the seventh years could have gone one night without a feast, and the House Elves wouldn’t have been forced to slave two days in a row.”
Ginny rolled her eyes, and Harry remained silent, but Ron pursued the subject. “Hermione, we’ve been through this already; they like it down there. They’re not being ‘forced’ to do anything.”
“Yeah, well, what about Kreacher?” she countered. “He didn’t offer to take the job here. How many other Elves down there do you think—”
She was cut off by Harry. “Don’t talk about that thing like it deserves something more than a job at Hogwarts. It was just as guilty in Sirius’s murder, and if I hadn’t ordered it here, who knows? Maybe it’d be taking part in the killings of other Order members.” He suddenly felt very hot; part of him was rather surprised at his own reaction, but thinking of Sirius’s death only reminded him of what he had already lost—who he had lost—in the fight against Voldemort. If he was being truly honest with himself, he may have even admitted that he had been feeling rather frustrated today, at his own inaction. He knew he should be off hunting for the Horcruxes, and yet he argued still that he needed to investigate the memory. To do that, he needed a Pensieve.
Whatever the case, Hermione turned slightly pink, and remained relatively quiet for the rest of the meal.
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Apr 24th, 2007 10:08 AM
and exams...
)
