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HP stories following Canon after HBP >> Chapter 01 by Luna26

Simple Text - To view MORE chapters use the chapter jump box to the right.
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A/N: Here it is, new and improved chapter one. Pleaseeee tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: Once again, the world is JKRs. The characters are mine. And finally, quote is obviously Gerard way and My Chemical Romance’s doing.

I’m not o-fucking-kay.
-Gerard Way.


Chapter One: My sister, My Friends, The Apocalypse, and How Screwed I Am.

Izzy.


Gwen sort of flounced through the compartment door, looking slightly concerned but all the same wearing her infuriatingly enthusiastic smile.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” I asked brashly. She smiled wider. I pushed my bag off my lap and crossed my arms, slouching and leaning back in my seat.

“Oh, Iz, can’t I just come say hello?” she asked, all chummy. I rolled my eyes.

“Sure, right, okay, now, that’s the issue?” I asked bluntly. She smiled again, and adjusted her shirt. Adjusted her cleavage, more likely. She sat down across from me and leaned forward, looking intent.

“I just wanted to speak to you, one on one, y’know?” she explained. I cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward a bit myself.

“Huh?” She’d gotten my attention now. My sister never wanted to speak ‘one on one’.

“Well, you see, mother and I had a discussion on the ride over here this morning. About your… recent behavior. She told you not to die your hair, Izzy,” she told me seriously. I shrugged, leaning back again. Yeah, she’d told me not to- didn’t mean I was going to listen to her.

“Oh, I’m sorry- you and mum don’t like the purple?” I drawled, wrapping a short lock around my finger absently. She grit her teeth at me.

“You know she prefers mother to mum, Isolde,” she said, using my full name. I laughed.

“Yeah, and she knows I prefer Izzy to Isolde, but doesn’t that stop her.” I mimicked, exaggerating her emphasis. Her face went red.

“Mother doesn’t deserve this treatment, Iz-“

“Yeah, well, dad doesn’t deserve you goin’ off to your little bitches about what a stupid ass he is,” I cut in. Her face immediately paled. That summer, I’d found several of her letters about my dad to her friend Claire, as her slow owl had mistakenly delivered them to me instead of her. She sucked her lips in, took a deep breath and seemed to regain some composure. I glared at her. She closed her eyes.

“Alright, that’s fair I suppose,” she murmured. She opened her eyes again and forced a smile at me. “Mother asked me to do this kindly, so I will,” she began. I rolled my eyes. Why was she wasting her time here? “Mother suggested that you and I have a sort of make over night… I could re dye your hair back to brown and Claire has a great healer kit… get rid of those bolts,” she spewed overzealously. I raised my eyebrows as she gazed expectantly at me. I was speechless. She actually though I would do any of that?. I shook my head slowly.

“Iz?” Someone asked before I could say anything. We both looked to the door. Daria Cyrus stood in the compartment door way, guitar case slung over her shoulder, her backpack heaped on the floor beside her. She surveyed us through her dark, wild tresses, brushing them out of her face a little to get a better look. “What’re you doing here?” she asked, just as bluntly as I had. Gwen glanced at me and then back at her. Sighing, she stood, laboriously of course, and shook her head.

“Nothing,” she said sweetly and pushed past Daria haughtily. As she did, Daria’s guitar fell to the floor with a vibrating thunk. Her eyes flashed at my sister, who was retreating down the hall. With a small struggle, Daria drew her wand and made a rough up gesture, muttering something and resulting in a small, green spark. I heard a shriek and leaned over her to see. My sister’s underpants, lacy, light blue, and of the stringy variety, were pulled up over her skirt in what looked like a really uncomfortable fashion. She yanked at them helplessly. By now, several others had stuck their heads out of their compartment, and sniggering echoed through out the corridor. She disappeared into the nearest compartment and I found myself doubled over and toppling onto her in laughter.

“That was brilliant,” I panted once I’d reigned myself in. She grinned from beneath me.

“Yeah, can I get up now?” she asked. She sounded concerned and glanced at her guitar case. I pulled myself up and reseated myself as she retrieved her beloved instrument, proceeding to open it and examine it thoroughly.

“What’s the damage?” I inquired. She shook her head.

“None, really. Just need to retune the G string,” she replied. I snorted.

“G string, eh?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows. The seventeen year old rolled her eyes, too mature for my humor.

“Oh, am I just in time?” The door slid open and admitted two students this time, just as the train began to hit full speed. In walked Lawrence first. I’d known him since a bit into my first year, since he was David’s best friend. He looked the same as he had then now; wide-set, short-cropped dark hair, long-lashed dark eyes and invariably sweaty. He settled himself next to Daria, who didn’t spare him a glance.

“Oh yeah, Lawrence, we were just discussing your choice in underwear,” I commented conversationally. He waddled in and seated himself next to Daria, muttering about me as he did.

“Oh, you’re real funny, Iz, real entertaining,” he said sarcastically. I smirked. Behind him was KC. She wandered in, almost dazedly, and sat down beside me, looking worse for wear. Her former back-length hair had been sheered off to her shoulders over the summer, a usual occurrence, but her eyes were the same; warm, deep brown. I felt at home when I saw her; if anything, she was my sister.

“Hey Iz,” she murmured, leaning on me and closing her eyes. I glanced up at Lawrence questioningly. He shrugged.

“Hey KC- how was summer?” I asked. She yawned and straightened herself, jerkign herself a little to wake up.

“Eh, bit mundane. Madame Perkins was a right bitch though,” she said icily. I nodded. KC lived in an orphanage in Dublin. She knew nothing of her parents; they’d dropped her off at the old church when she was a baby. She was the oldest charge there, never having been adopted due to her “unnatural abilities”. Upon her acceptance to Hogwarts, the caretakers of the institution had given her a private room in the back of the building and taken her ‘off the market’ as KC joked frequently. She was, as the senior orphan, expected to help with the younger children, meals, and cleaning. “Yours?” she asked, her voice low and raspy.

I shrugged. “Eh,” I repeated. “Nothing special. Mum was a damned tyrant. Made me go to some day spa with her for ‘mother-daughter time’. Begged dad to get me out of it, but they’re apparently not speaking anymore,” I said, rolling my eyes. She made a sympathetic noise in her throat.

“Sounds fun, Iz,” Lawrence cut in sarcastically. I sneered at him. I glanced around, suddenly feeling like we were missing something… then it daunted on me.

“Oi, what happened to David?” I demanded. Lawrence smiled.

“Didn’t he tell you? He’s Head Boy now,” Lawrence said, rousing a surprised glance from Daria.

“You’re joking,” she said flatly. Lawrence shook his head, pleased for dropping this nugget of news. I stared, slack-jawed. David hadn’t told me anything.

“’Fraid not. And guess who’s Head Girl?” he said. I closed my eyes; I really didn’t want to know.

“Who?” KC asked, appeasing him.

“Rosie Walters,” he replied, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. My stomach clenched; it was no secret that David fancied Rosie. I personally hated her. David deserved a million times better than that lying, conceited cow.

“Oh, joy,” said Daria darkly, voicing my own opinion and returning her guitar to it’s case. Apparently satisfied with it’s strings now, it was time to put the guitar away and pull out her mPod, her magical music player. She slipped in her ear buds and closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat.

“Maybe Dave’ll finally get her back,” KC said, staring out of the window. I stopped myself from wincing at this sickening idea. How to explained who Rosaline Walters was? She was a seventh year Gryffdinor; pretty enough, long, brunette curls, pretty eyes, spotless skin. And to top it off, she was a complete and total tyrant. After d(omin)ating David for almost a year and a half, she’d broken it off last spring, leaving David in a complete state of despondency for almost a month. And then the denial had intervened. And all summer long I’d read endless letter after endless letter about how he was going to win her back. And I’d had to OK all of his plots. And once again, my stomach lurched. Merlin I hated that cow.

Daria, having miraculously heard our conversation, sent me a meaningful glance; she seemed to be the only one who shared my hatred towards her. KC picked at her nails disinterestedly. There was a long, very empty silence when we all just sort of looked around, waiting for someone to say anything. I felt the compartment was empty without David. It stung a fair bit. Finally, KC filled the silence

“Anyways… Harpies won the Cup this year!” she said, her face lighting. I grinned and Lawrence, across from us, rolled his eyes. KC and I were, in short, Holyhead Harpies fanatics; nothing gave us more pleasure than to torture Lawrence, a devout Chudley Canons followed, with their endless triumphs.

“I know, wish I could’ve seen it… heard the broadcast over the WWN though,” I replied. “Sounds like Weasley made some fantastic scores,” I said, beaming at the thought of my favorite Quidditch player, Ginevra Weasley.

“Yeah… though Jones was none too shabby,” KC commented. We both smirked at each other.

“Oh, screw you both,” Lawrence cut in irratably. We decided to take mercy on him; his own team had done horribly that year.

“Alright. How was your summer, Lawr?” KC queried.

“Ah, I was alright, I guess. Went to Bermuda with Mom and Dad, Lorraine stayed with Nana, god forbid she leave that jerks he’s been dating,” he said. “Met some hotties though,” he said with a grin.

“Sure you did,” I said teasingly. He looked indignant.

“Hey, don’t get jealous, Iz there’s plenty for you too,” he joked.

“Like she’d want it,” Daria said, surprising us. She didn’t grace us with a glance in our direction. KC nodded smugly however. Lawrence rolled his eyes, then pulled out his game again, muttering occasionally.

“Anyhow, d’you do that Divinations essay?” KC inquired. I sighed laboriously. The dreaded phrenology essay.

“The centaur is off his nut if he thinks I can write a whole three feet of parchment on the Immora Ridge,” I said to her. She glanced at me disapprovingly.

“Izzy, homework is important,” the redhead said. She was the saint of homework. The damned patron saint.

“Like Diviniations homework matters. Firenze is, like I said, off his nut,” I said of the centaur that taught our class. “Trelawney is worse though… talk about a useless cow,” I muttered. The idea of our co-professor put me off. Merlin I hated her.

“I just bullshitted when I got that essay,” Lawrence commented without looking up.

“That’s not right!” KC scolded. She turned her all-seeing gaze to me. I shrugged again, frankly indifferent.

“Bugger it. I gotta get into my uniform,” I said before KC started hounding me about school. I grabbed my shoulder bag and headed into the corridor towards the on-board bathroom. I was absently dragging my fingers across the many bumps and ridges on the walls, not really paying attention to wear I was headed when I ran headlong into was appeared to be a slid wall.

I was knocked almost backwards, wondering where the hell I was, and then the wall began to speak. I quickly wondered how hard I’d hit my head, then looked up to see it was not a solid wall, but a tall, well-built blond seventh year, grinning down at me amusedly.

“Iz!” David exclaimed, practically lifting me off the ground into a tight hug. I returned the sentiment after the shock wore off. It felt lovely to see David, more lovely than usual really.

“David!” I said back once he’d let me go. I punched him on the arm playfully. “How come you didn’t tell me you’d made Head Boy?” I said. He grinned again.

“Didn’t know ‘til almost September… they’re always late with that stuff. How was your summer? You look amazing, I like the purple,” he said, giving me an up-and-down glance, taking in my jeans, red t-shirt, newly purple locks, and freckled skin. I smiled stupidly. Amazing?

“Alright enough. You should know… you wrote me half the time,” I said. He nodded, looking a little bit clueless, and I had the sinking feeling he hadn’t really read my letters aside from my begrudging Rosie advice. And then the awkward silence began, during which I mentally slapped myself. I dreaded what I knew was next.

“Heard Rosie made Head Girl…” he said, immediately fascinated by something around his feet. “Seen her yet?” he asked as nonchalantly as possible. I suppressed a groan.

Not yet, thankfully. “No, not yet, no…” I said out loud. He nodded and I chewed my lip silently. And then, the world ended.

The compartment door we happened to be standing in front of slid open and revealed a most unwelcome sight; standing there in all her conceited fucking glory was Rosie, smiling in what I’m sure she figured was a serene and charming way. More like a damned smirk.

“Oh, David!” she said, all companionable. David’s eyes went wide. The image of his insides melting came to mind. My own insides liquidated in a different way.

“Oh, hullo, Rosie,” he replied timidly. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.

“It’s been ages… We need to catch up!” she said happily. “I guess we’ll have alto of time to soon, though,” she said, empathically sticking out her chest to display her Head Girl badge and doing a lovely job of displaying her rack as well. I wondered if she was stupid or just horribly tarty.

“Yeah… definitely,” he replied brightly. “See you at the Feast then?” he added hopefully. Was he asking for a date? Rosie shook her head, her curls bouncing this way and that, apparently privy to his suggestion.

“Um, well, actually,” she said, biting her lip and causing me to stop my own biting immediately and swear off it for life. She was interrupted by a distinctly male voice form behind her.

“What’s all this?” said a tall, broad, dark-haired youth from behind her. I recognized him as captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Henry Dimmesdale. David paled and looked as if his own world had ended. Part of me pitied him; the other was secretly jubilant at the idea of Rosie being off the market.

“Oh, wotcher, Cross,” Dimmesdale said amicably. David, being the head of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, was pretty chummy with most of the other team players and obviously knew the bloke.

“Wotcher, Dimmesdale,” he replied. Rosie stood between them, her face making this all look much more dire than it was. I simply stood, completely ignored, off to the side, an observant and unnoticed presence.

“Well, we uh… we have to get back to er…” she stumbled. Snogging? Shagging? Impregnating yourself so you’ll never bother David again?” the overly-hopeful side of the brain filled in for her. But no. “I’m, er, off to get changed,” she said and moved away from myself and the boys, uniform-less but making a bee-line for the bathroom. Oh, fuck, I said, realizing I wouldn’t be able to change now. Dimmesdale nodded almost curtly at David, who sidestepped almost into me as the burlier seventh year shut the compartment door.

“Ooh, sorry, Izzy, forgot you were there,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said coolly. He slumped.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he covered.

“Well, what other way was there to mean it?” I asked, my voice bright and teasing now.

“Oh, fuck it… where are the rest of them?” he asked, undoubtedly referring to KC, Lawrence, Daria, and the still missing member of our little group, Lorraine, Lawrence’s twin sister, called Rainy.

“Lawr, KC and Dar are all in a compartment about ten back that way… Rainy hasn’t shown her face… heard she’s got a new bloke though, so my guess is she’s off with him,” I answered. He nodded and began to steer me down the corridor. I could almost hear the gears in his mind turning as he took in this discovery. We walked in silence, I having decided to let it all sink in for him.

“Here we are,” I said, pausing, but he pushed me past the compartment without a word. “Hey, what the-“ He cut me off.

“I’ve gotta talk to you, privately,” he said seriously. I glanced back at him. Shrugging, I let him steer me all the way to the end of the car, and push me into the only empty compartment left. Inside, he stowed his back on the rack and motioned for me to the do the same.

“So what’s this all about?” I asked. He scrubbed his hands through his hair fretfully, knocking his gray knit hat out of the way like it wasn’t there. He glanced at me, his hair sticking up wildly. I realized now how tired he looked.

“She’s got a new boyfriend?” he almost-squeaked. I shrugged.

“I guess?” I offered. He shook his head and leaned back, staring at the ceiling like he wished it would cave in.

“How could she do this to me?”

“She’s the devil, what d’you expect?” He glanced at me, his face telling me that now was not the time.

“I spent all summer thinking about her. All fucking summer and now she’s with… with him? Fucking Timmy Turner?” he asked. I snorted at the Nickelodeom reference. I personally hated the show, but I had to admit, it was hilarious that Dimmesdale was the name of the town Timmy Turner lived in on Fairly Odd Parents.

“That was clever… can we start calling Rosie Trixie Tang?” I joked.

“Timmy marries Tootie anyways,” he corrected me. I gaped.

“Since when?”

“Iono, some episode this summer showed Timmy in the future, his daughter looked like tootie…”

“Oh, right, well, saw that coming… Trixie is just annoying anyways… I actually hate the show though…” He cut in.

“Can we focus on the problem at hand?”

“How is this a problem?” I asked. Problems had solutions. This was not a problem. It was a solution to another. In my opinion anyways.

“Well, jeez, Iz, the girl I’m still in love with has a new boyfriend!” he pointed out as if it were obviously. I rolled my eyes.

“I doubt you’re in love with her, David,” I said callously. He stopped halfway through rubbing his face in his hands and looked up at me through his renegade curls.

“You doubt I’m in love with her?” I paled. Uh oh, bad choice of words, Iz…

“Uhm… er… I just… I was trying to make you feel better?” He seemed to buy it, for now anyways.

“What am I going to do?” he moaned. I stared around nervously. Part of me wanted to tell him to forget her, find someone else more… suitable to snog rotten all the time. I felt a hot blush creep up my cheeks as I thought about more ‘suitable options’.

“Um… let it pass?” I was such shit at this. He shook hi head.

“You’re useless.”

“Thanks.”

“Shut up.”

“You!” I shot back, angry now. He looked up finally, looking very regretful. And then he just stared for a long moment. I went red. He turned away finally, his expression guilty almost.

“Sorry,” he muttered. And then he was staring again. And I felt like I was blushing all over. His mind seemed to be churning again, thinking up something clandestine. I felt immeasurably uncomfortable.

“So… er… we should head back to their compartment, right?” I offered. He nodded and we both stood. He pulled his baggage down and I re-slung my own bag over my shoulder, examining the much-repaired and patched fabric for a moment. And then, we were in the hall.

The world was still ending on the other side.

Rosie was down the hall, walking towards us. I glanced at David and got the idea that a slow-motions-80’s-muggle-movie-style moment was taking place somewhere beneath his hat, complete with misty edges and bright lights. I slumped, watching the apocalypse approach. Here we go…

She drew level with us and smiled sympathetically at David. She ignored me in her usual form.

“David, I wanted to apologize for the, ah… uncomfortable situation. Henry and I have been dating since just after the end of sixth year… I meant to write you and tell you, but…” he cut her off. The scene before me played out in slow motion. I nearly jumped as David took my hand, quite affectionately, and smirked at Rosie. She glanced at me, looking equally alarmed.

“I actually wanted to tell you something too, Rosie,” he said. His voice was nonchalant and calm and I envied his cool. I knew I must’ve been turning some impossibly shades of red at the moment. “This is Izzy, you know her, of course,” he said, introducing me. I forced myself to squeak in greeting, the only thing I could manage, as my mind had gone to shit the moment his had touched mine. You’re okay… you’re okay… you oakyghghzzz… “We’ve been, ah, dating, since about July. Come on, Izzy, let’s get back to our compartment. Rosie,” he said, nodding to her in passing and dragging me past her. Rosie’s face was green and I stupidly thought about how we compliment each other nicely. She looked almost appalled, her mouth ajar, her eyes narrowed, but I had little time to register as I was plowing down the corridor behind David blindly. I wanted to turn around, to set her straight, to tell her that even in my dreams David would never date me, but I couldn’t, as I was being hurried along by my best friend who was holding my hand and pretending to be my boyfriend. And doing a bad job at that.

“Which compartment is it?” he hissed at me.

“Huh?” I said, gobsmacked for a moment. “Oh, right here,” I said, regaining at least some of my comporuse, and we slipped into our compartment. He let go of my hand I silently wished he wouldn’t have.

“David!” KC exclaimed, standing and enveloping him in a hug. Over her shoulder, David shot me a look that said ‘we’ll talk later’. I nodded almost imperceptibly and sat down.

“Yep, I found him,” I said, forcing a grin.

“Didn’t manage to get changed though?” KC asked, reseating herself as David greeted Lawrence. She stared at my face, which was only now returning to a normal shade. “Something happen?” she asked, concerned. I shook my head. Nothing. You’re okay. Perfectly okay. What in the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

“Ah, no, nothing,” I said weakly. She didn’t believe me but she chose to let it drop, thankfully.

I sat there, and slowly wrapped my mind around what I had involuntarily been involved in. As if my parents fighting weren’t enough. As if my sister being… herself wasn’t enough.

Oh fuck.


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