Fan Fiction ❯ Lost Ones ❯ Happy reception? ( Chapter 2 )

AN: Sorry it took so long to get this out. Well like I said before this isn't going to be any fufu, “the newcomers are immediately accepted and loved” story, but they might becoming death eaters, ya never know. We don't even know. We kind of came up with this off the top of our heads, and have no ending as of yet, so if the story seems like it's going nowhere fast then that's probably why. Oh and also I'll try to update at least once a week, but school does get in the way. Well this is long enough so enjoy and please review and again no flames.

 

 

“I hate tall people.” Keaira ground out. She was once again in angry mode because of the giant's remark from earlier. Her actions from said remark now had them in the headmasters' office.

The headmaster while not intimidating was rather tall and old causing the three to cringe in their seats. The old man sat behind his desk staring over his half moon spectacles at the group of three, still some what perplexed as to how some one so small could've taken down Sirius Black. No words were spoken until Desdemona spat out, “What the hell do you want old man!?”

“Now Miss Serafina nothing more like that, you three are in enough trouble.” He said staring down each of them. He was supposed to get three sixth years, not two sixth years and a first year. “Miss Dympna, might I inquire your age?”

“I'll be seventeen next month. Why?” She growled while narrowing her eyes.

“I record all my students' birthdays.”

“Oh, are you going to get me a present, sir because you know there's this awesome Louis Vutton* bag that would go so great with my new shoes.” Zoltan squealed bouncing up and down out of his seat.

“We'll see Miss Carolos.”

“Mister,” Zoltan corrected the smile falling from his face.

The headmaster just blinked and shook his head wishing Professor McGonagall would come and free him from these very odd students. A knock on the door signaled his freedom and the need to sort the three youngsters into their houses. Giving a call to the person behind the door he stood up to see the children out. As the teens stood a stern faced woman walked through the door and ushered the three out, sending a weary glance to the headmaster.

The walk to the great hall was rather quick, but the stern face of their future professor was, to say the least, intimidating. She was very proper in her countenance and dress, even her walk held an air of confidence.

`The old man was better than this,' Desdemona thought to herself. Beside her Keaira was hunching down, slightly whimpering while Zoltan was seething with anger at being called a woman.

 

The old woman turned around to face them when they came to the great hall. “Now, I have no idea what sort of school Saint Bevelle* was, but here at Hogwarts we do not tolerate fighting between students.”

 

“Really?” Keaira asked eyes wide, “Because at Bevelle we were encouraged to fight each other.”

 

“Well next time I catch you fighting, you'll be serving detention with Mr. Filch.” Slightly flustered, she pushed open the doors to the great hall, “Please follow me.”

 

Whispers followed them as they walked, obviously about them and the events on both the train and at the platform in Hogsmeade. The student whom Keaira had punched in the eye was now glaring at them, hatred evident in his eyes, promises of suffering.

 

“I don't like this place Dessy,” Keaira whispered leaning over, “I just know we'll end up separated and I just know everything's going to end up like hell.” Keaira quieted down as they seated themselves, crossing her ankles and kicking her legs. The older man from before walked in then, causing the students to quiet down.

 

“To those of you, who return, welcome back. And to those of you here for the first time, welcome. My name is professor Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster here at Hogwarts. Many of you may have wondered why I was not present during the sorting of the first years, there was a very good reason for it.” He turned then to the three Americans, his eyes twinkling slightly. “Hogwarts is hosting an international transfer program with Saint Bevelle's school for the gifted. A school that is slightly more public with the non-magic community.”

 

He paused a moment allowing his students to take in the information. “Beside me are three students from Saint Bevelle, all of them sixth years,” Dumbledore stressed the last part intensely, hoping that no more fights would break out due to appearance of age. “The one on the far left is Mister Zoltan Carolos, beside him is Miss Keaira Dympna and beside her is Desdemona Serafina.” Polite clapping was encouraged, started of course by the teachers. “Please make them feel welcomed and treat them as you would any other student at Hogwarts. To encourage this, they will all be sorted into houses.”

 

The hat was brought out again, mumbling about his violent misuse and the undesired awakening before fall. However, the object quieted down at seeing the three newbie's.

 

Zoltan was ushered forward and placed onto the stool.

 

“Ah! Very intelligent I see, I would suggest Ravenclaw, however you also have a great sense of right and wrong, very brave too, and you crave acceptance, alright then, GRYFFINDOR!”

 

“Gah! What in Proctors name makes you yell so loud?” Zoltan rubbed his ears, before going o sit on the end of the Gryffindor table, still pouting.

 

Next came Keaira, bouncing up and down, lace and ruffles floating about. She landed on the stool, still bouncing around. It took a few minutes for the hat to be actually placed on her head due to this unnecessary movement.

 

“Well let's see,” the hat began. Now, if the hat had eyes, they would have widened in terror at the disorganization of the girls mind. Thoughts rushed about to and fro, faster than a snitch and more violently than manticore, some, crashing together and melding, others, breaking apart. Fire everywhere, people screaming or beating up monsters or doing less than appropriate things. It was chaos inside the girls mind.

 

`Ya know,' Keaira said to the hat, `if you want to see the organized part, you shouldn't be in the artistic part of my head.'

 

“Thanks,” muttered the hat, a little confused by the floating fox beside him. The fox led the hat to a small door of to the side.

 

Inside was more organized. Clean white with a desk and a laptop inside. The hat searched through all of the listed information, wincing once in a while as he heard a crash or fire alarm out side as well as the shouting of names.

 

On the outside, Zoltan and Desdemona were smiling. `Hat must've hit the fanfic writing side,' Desdemona snickered.

 

The hat let out a huge sigh, “HUFFLEPUFF,” It finally shouted. The frilly teen bounded over to Hufflepuff table before pulling out a very small notebook and petite pencil.

 

Desdemona grinned evilly and the hat was all but forced onto her head by threat of fire.

 

The hat quivered in fear at the inside of the dark girls mind. It was dark and gloomy like a graveyard…actually, it was a graveyard, each tombstone labeled differently. One said “first love” another was engraved with the dream of being in the American special ops. The hat floated a bit further, each time, hating this place more and more. Werewolves howled, bats cried out and flew around, snakes hissed and skulls were posted on a bone fence, each burning with bright green flame. Deciding that was all he needed to see, the hat flew out of her mind.

 

The great hall watched as the piece of fabric flew off her head, going to hide in Hagrids shaggy beard. “SLYTHERIN! PUT IT IN SLYTHERIN! IT'S TOO MUCH! PUT ME BACK IN THE OFFICE I'M SCARRED FOR THE REST OF EXISTANCE!”

 

Desdemona walked over to the Slytherin table, sitting annoyed beside a pug-faced girl. She was very annoyed indeed. It seemed as though Keaira's prediction was right, again. They were indeed separated. She heard some faint clapping, blocking it out due to an oncoming headache, and watched as the plates in front of them filled with food. On the tray in front of her was a large amount of steamed vegetables.

 

“Damn rabbit food.” She growled under her breath.

 

Looking around she noticed Keaira sulking into her plate of vegetables and Zoltan trying to make conversation with the people at Gryffindor, but being ignored by everyone except the guys that were giving him dirty looks. Then it hit her, Zoltan could have a very big problem in this new school. In America he wasn't necessarily accepted but he wasn't scorned for being gay either, but here in Britain, or wherever the hell they were, who knew what these people could think of him. Then her thoughts settled over to Keaira, how would the girl stand up to a school with a no fighting policy? And what about the kids, would she be beating someone up everyday? No longer able to fight off the headache forcing itself on her, Desdemona pushed the plate of greens away from her and plopped her head down on the hard wooden table.

Keaira looked up just in time to see her friend smack her head on the table, a little worried she started to get up to go check on her when Zoltan caught her eye. He was staring right at her and shaking his head no at her. Feeling rather alone she averted her eyes back to her plate and continued to sulk. Which no one but Zoltan noticed, seeing as how Keairas' house mates seemed to be ignoring their new short member.

Zoltan had finally given up on starting a conversation with his new house mates and instead took to watching his friends. He turned just in time to see Desdemona push her plate away and let her head fall onto the table. Guessing Keairas' next move, he turn to warn his friend not to go over their. He had already observed that tabled once tonight, and truly didn't care for they way they looked at his two female companions. From just a few short glances he could tell what they wanted and exactly what would happen if they got their way. Well Zoltan told himself that he wouldn't let that happen, he knew that they were going to be outsiders until they found a place, but judging from what was happening to him and Keaira they might never. As he turned back to look at Desdemona he truly hoped his naive friends wouldn't get themselves into to much trouble.

 

 

AN: Louis Vutton- fufu bag that girls seemed to love in other countries.

Saint Bevelle- not a real place but Bevelle is a reference to Final Fantasy 10 and 10 II.

Oh also if you want to see a pic of what the outfits are based off of then give me an e-mail, or put it in your review and I'll send ya the pics. Thanx.