Post by Tathrin on Mar 15, 2012 17:07:26 GMT -8
Title: Hart's Reflection
Changing Canon Challenge[/b]
Summary: When Harry looked into the Mirror of Erised, he saw his parents standing behind him. But in this world, that is no mere reflection...
Rating: PG-13 (language, some violence)
Word Count: 3178
Back to Part One
Previous Part
Daphne Greengrass squinted at the little patch of reflection that she could make out in the metal rim around the door. She wished her mother hadn't packed her bedside mirror away so carefully. With it buried in the bottom of her trunk, she could hardly use it make certain that she looked presentable. Daphne frowned, and pursed her lips, and fussed at her hair.
"I don't see why we have to wear our school robes already," she complained to her companion. "One can hardly make a good impression when one is dressed exactly the same as the rest of the rabble."
"Oh I know," the other girl agreed quickly. "It's just awful."
They sighed and pouted at one another, the two dark-haired pure-blooded witches.
The girl sitting across from Daphne was named Pansy Parkinson, and they were very much alike. It had not taken them long to bond, these two imminent first year students, and anyone looking at them now would have guessed them to be fast friends, or even family.
Pansy was a short girl with a round face, an upturned nose and chin-length hair, straight as an iron; she was more cute than pretty, like a puppy with a bow around its neck. Daphne by contrast was taller and longer, her cheeks almost pinched and her own wavy locks curling down past her shoulders. They both had bows of the same vivid shade of green tied in their hair: Pansy's perched jauntily on a headband, and Daphne's sprouting from where it secured her long bangs at the nape of her neck. Thus while they did not look quite enough alike to be sisters -- Daphne had one of those at home anyway, too young yet to attend Hogwarts -- there was still a certain similarity of bearing and of features that spoke to a great probability of shared ancestry. Given that they were both of them members of that ever-shrinking, elite society that liked to style itself as free of any Muggle relations, their bloodlines were probably highly entwined, so the resemblance would be an expected one.
Still, there was something in their manner -- a certain aloof, snooty strain of cruel glee, perhaps -- that made it clear that these girls were very much two of a kind, blood relations or not.
"Would you like to use my mirror?" Pansy offered graciously.
"Oh thank you," said Daphne, smiling sweetly. "That's very kind of you." The smile dropped as soon as the ornate sliver of reflective glass was exchanged; they might be friends, but they were also the sort of people who calculated favors on a stock-exchange basis, and even lending someone a simple mirror carried its own set of scales and balances.
Daphne was not keen on starting out her first year of Hogwarts owing something to Pansy Parkinson. Still, she was even less keen on walking into Hogwarts for the first time with her hair mussed and her robes disheveled, so she took the mirror politely and spent the next several minutes scrutinizing her appearance.
By the time the train pulled into the station, both girls were willing to pronounce themselves -- and each other -- immaculate. They rose as one, relieved that their trunks would be seen to by others (it had been unseemly enough, that they had had to drag the heavy things down the hallway themselves. Fortunately they had found some sturdy if rather unruly boys to lift the things up to the luggage rack for them). Daphne graciously allowed Pansy to precede her out of their compartment, figuring that such a gesture made her appear appropriately grateful, while also ensuring that Pansy would be the first subjected to the potential chaos of the hallway, leaving Daphne free to navigate any hazards -- such as unruly boys -- with more warning.
Pansy's sweet smile made it clear that she knew exactly what Daphne was doing, but she politely accepted the gesture nonetheless, and took the lead.
Thus it was Pansy who first stepped down onto the platform at Hogsmede station, and Pansy who first looked out across the crowd of milling students. She hesitated, just slightly, at the sight of all the chaos, but with Daphne at her heels she could not afford to look nervous. Squaring her shoulders, Pansy Parkinson boldly set off across the platform in the direction of a large voice calling, "Firs' years over here, firs' years..."
Daphne caught her friend's arm, halting her for a moment. "Look," she hissed, "there's Draco Malfoy." Both girls paused to stare at the pale, blond figure sauntering down the platform ahead of them.
"Huh," said Pansy, "he looks so...normal."
"Well what did you expect?" Daphne snapped.
"Well you know who his father is," Pansy retorted, "so I don't know, just...just something, all right?"
"Hmph," said Daphne. Then, loudly, she added, "well just because his father's a hero doesn't mean he's going to be wearing a sign or something, announcing the fact. Of course he looks normal."
"Oh don't be daft," Pansy said waspishly, "there's nobody listening."
Daphne looked around, but it seemed her new friend was right; none of the other students, bustling about half-dressed with trunks cluttering everywhere, were even looking in Daphne and Pansy's direction, let alone lingering close for long enough to overhear their conversation.
"Well...never hurts to be prudent," Daphne muttered.
Pansy shrugged. The two girls peered fiercely at the pale boy in front of them. He seemed oblivious of any scrutiny, caught up in conversation as he was with the brown-haired witch trotting purposefully at his side. He did not, in any way, look like the son of the man who had killed Lord Voldemort, but that was what he was.
"He is sort of handsome though, isn't he?" Pansy observed. With Malfoy's back to them, it couldn't have been much of an assessment; more an attempt to say something, to make up for her earlier, poorly-planned comment, than it was an actual observation. For all her bluster about a lack of listeners, Pansy must have known that she had been reckless, and now talked simply to cover it up.
"Mmm," Daphne agreed noncommittally, "it's such a shame he's a blood-traitor."
"I don't know," Pansy said quietly, a sly smirk playing over her lips. "I heard rumors that all of that's pretense, to keep the Ministry from wondering what other reason Lucius Malfoy might have had for killing the Dark Lord..."
"Now you're the one being daft," Daphne cut her off abruptly. "That's just wishful thinking. They've gone rotten, the whole family, and anyone who says differently is fooling themselves."
Pansy sniffed. "I didn't say I believed it," she said, quite in a huff. "I was merely relaying rumors, in case you hadn't heard them yet."
Daphne smiled coolly. "How very kind of you," she said drily, "but I assure you, that's not necessary. I am very well informed."
"Well, that's excellent," Pansy replied stiffly. "Glad to hear it."
The two girls smiled icily at one another and then linked arms companionably. They walked, nearly skipping, arm-in-arm, to where the boats were waiting to ferry them to Hogwarts.
Changing Canon Challenge[/b]
Summary: When Harry looked into the Mirror of Erised, he saw his parents standing behind him. But in this world, that is no mere reflection...
Rating: PG-13 (language, some violence)
Word Count: 3178
Back to Part One
Previous Part
Daphne Greengrass squinted at the little patch of reflection that she could make out in the metal rim around the door. She wished her mother hadn't packed her bedside mirror away so carefully. With it buried in the bottom of her trunk, she could hardly use it make certain that she looked presentable. Daphne frowned, and pursed her lips, and fussed at her hair.
"I don't see why we have to wear our school robes already," she complained to her companion. "One can hardly make a good impression when one is dressed exactly the same as the rest of the rabble."
"Oh I know," the other girl agreed quickly. "It's just awful."
They sighed and pouted at one another, the two dark-haired pure-blooded witches.
The girl sitting across from Daphne was named Pansy Parkinson, and they were very much alike. It had not taken them long to bond, these two imminent first year students, and anyone looking at them now would have guessed them to be fast friends, or even family.
Pansy was a short girl with a round face, an upturned nose and chin-length hair, straight as an iron; she was more cute than pretty, like a puppy with a bow around its neck. Daphne by contrast was taller and longer, her cheeks almost pinched and her own wavy locks curling down past her shoulders. They both had bows of the same vivid shade of green tied in their hair: Pansy's perched jauntily on a headband, and Daphne's sprouting from where it secured her long bangs at the nape of her neck. Thus while they did not look quite enough alike to be sisters -- Daphne had one of those at home anyway, too young yet to attend Hogwarts -- there was still a certain similarity of bearing and of features that spoke to a great probability of shared ancestry. Given that they were both of them members of that ever-shrinking, elite society that liked to style itself as free of any Muggle relations, their bloodlines were probably highly entwined, so the resemblance would be an expected one.
Still, there was something in their manner -- a certain aloof, snooty strain of cruel glee, perhaps -- that made it clear that these girls were very much two of a kind, blood relations or not.
"Would you like to use my mirror?" Pansy offered graciously.
"Oh thank you," said Daphne, smiling sweetly. "That's very kind of you." The smile dropped as soon as the ornate sliver of reflective glass was exchanged; they might be friends, but they were also the sort of people who calculated favors on a stock-exchange basis, and even lending someone a simple mirror carried its own set of scales and balances.
Daphne was not keen on starting out her first year of Hogwarts owing something to Pansy Parkinson. Still, she was even less keen on walking into Hogwarts for the first time with her hair mussed and her robes disheveled, so she took the mirror politely and spent the next several minutes scrutinizing her appearance.
By the time the train pulled into the station, both girls were willing to pronounce themselves -- and each other -- immaculate. They rose as one, relieved that their trunks would be seen to by others (it had been unseemly enough, that they had had to drag the heavy things down the hallway themselves. Fortunately they had found some sturdy if rather unruly boys to lift the things up to the luggage rack for them). Daphne graciously allowed Pansy to precede her out of their compartment, figuring that such a gesture made her appear appropriately grateful, while also ensuring that Pansy would be the first subjected to the potential chaos of the hallway, leaving Daphne free to navigate any hazards -- such as unruly boys -- with more warning.
Pansy's sweet smile made it clear that she knew exactly what Daphne was doing, but she politely accepted the gesture nonetheless, and took the lead.
Thus it was Pansy who first stepped down onto the platform at Hogsmede station, and Pansy who first looked out across the crowd of milling students. She hesitated, just slightly, at the sight of all the chaos, but with Daphne at her heels she could not afford to look nervous. Squaring her shoulders, Pansy Parkinson boldly set off across the platform in the direction of a large voice calling, "Firs' years over here, firs' years..."
Daphne caught her friend's arm, halting her for a moment. "Look," she hissed, "there's Draco Malfoy." Both girls paused to stare at the pale, blond figure sauntering down the platform ahead of them.
"Huh," said Pansy, "he looks so...normal."
"Well what did you expect?" Daphne snapped.
"Well you know who his father is," Pansy retorted, "so I don't know, just...just something, all right?"
"Hmph," said Daphne. Then, loudly, she added, "well just because his father's a hero doesn't mean he's going to be wearing a sign or something, announcing the fact. Of course he looks normal."
"Oh don't be daft," Pansy said waspishly, "there's nobody listening."
Daphne looked around, but it seemed her new friend was right; none of the other students, bustling about half-dressed with trunks cluttering everywhere, were even looking in Daphne and Pansy's direction, let alone lingering close for long enough to overhear their conversation.
"Well...never hurts to be prudent," Daphne muttered.
Pansy shrugged. The two girls peered fiercely at the pale boy in front of them. He seemed oblivious of any scrutiny, caught up in conversation as he was with the brown-haired witch trotting purposefully at his side. He did not, in any way, look like the son of the man who had killed Lord Voldemort, but that was what he was.
"He is sort of handsome though, isn't he?" Pansy observed. With Malfoy's back to them, it couldn't have been much of an assessment; more an attempt to say something, to make up for her earlier, poorly-planned comment, than it was an actual observation. For all her bluster about a lack of listeners, Pansy must have known that she had been reckless, and now talked simply to cover it up.
"Mmm," Daphne agreed noncommittally, "it's such a shame he's a blood-traitor."
"I don't know," Pansy said quietly, a sly smirk playing over her lips. "I heard rumors that all of that's pretense, to keep the Ministry from wondering what other reason Lucius Malfoy might have had for killing the Dark Lord..."
"Now you're the one being daft," Daphne cut her off abruptly. "That's just wishful thinking. They've gone rotten, the whole family, and anyone who says differently is fooling themselves."
Pansy sniffed. "I didn't say I believed it," she said, quite in a huff. "I was merely relaying rumors, in case you hadn't heard them yet."
Daphne smiled coolly. "How very kind of you," she said drily, "but I assure you, that's not necessary. I am very well informed."
"Well, that's excellent," Pansy replied stiffly. "Glad to hear it."
The two girls smiled icily at one another and then linked arms companionably. They walked, nearly skipping, arm-in-arm, to where the boats were waiting to ferry them to Hogwarts.