Shadows and Light: Queen of Hearts

"What are you wearing?!" Hermione exclaimed. She was standing at the threshold of the compartment where Brooke and Ginny were the only occupants.

Brooke looked up from her conversation with Ginny, surprised with the sudden outburst until finally, she noticed Hermione staring disapprovingly at her robes..

"You don't like them?" Brooke asked, running a hand down the front of her robes. "But I worked so hard on them," she tried a playful grin, but her grin wavered when she saw the serious look on Hermione's face.

Hermione's widened even more as they fell on Brooke's tall, laced-up boots. "You can't go looking like that!" she said as she stepped inside the compartment, hands on hips, looking very indignant.

"And why not?" Brooke's teasing tone soon turned to annoyance as she crossed her arms across her chest. Ginny placed a hand on her shoulder, Brooke nearly winced at the physical contact, but her gaze stayed steadily on Hermione's dark eyes. "What are you going to do?" she asked Hermione, "give me a detention?"

Hermione stiffened "As a Prefect," she stated heatedly, "I may just have to."

"Er," Ron's voice came from behind her, as the compartment door opened, eyeing both the girls with apprehensive glances. "Are we interrupting anything?"

"No," snapped both of them in unison, not tearing their eyes away from each other.

Ron glanced to someone behind him. It was Harry, looking slightly amused at the scene.

"Um, Hermione?" Ginny cut in.

"What is it Ginny?" Hermione asked tightly, continuing to stare at Brooke intensely.

"Don't you think you're over reacting just a tad?" Ginny asked in a careful voice, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. "Wait at least to see what Professor McGonagall has to say. Honestly, some of the girls wear worse than what Brooke has on."

Some of the tension drained away from Brooke, but she still looked annoyed. "Listen, I probably should not have touched my robes, but I did."

Hermione's lips thinned which showed her intense disapproval. "That's not the point," she told Brooke sternly, "I have to set an example for the other students, and…"

"So, you're saying I'll be setting a bad example?" Brooke challenged, scowling openly at Hermione.

"Drop it, ‘Mione," Harry cut in before Hermione could snap back a retort. Both of them looked sharply at him. "It should be fun seeing everyone's reaction," he suggested lamely, getting a glare from both the girls.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, Ginny sighed. "Alright you two," the girl told them, the tone of her voice making them look at her. "Hermione, it'll be alright; Brooke can take care of herself."

Ginny sighed again, rubbing her temples. " And Brooke, just be ready for a lot of criticism and probably loads of detentions," she warned.

Brooke shrugged then uncrossed her arms as she tried to get control over her emotions. "I can handle it," she assured Ginny.

Ron whispered something to Hermione, then sat opposite Ginny and Brooke. "Are you two going to bicker the entire trip?" Ron asked Brooke with an irritated tone.

Brooke suppressed a sigh, shaking her head. "No. Just forget about it."

Looking out the compartment window, Brooke ignored the chatter of the others. They had jut left platform 9 and ¾ a minute ago, and with a lot of persuasion from Ginny, Brooke had already changed into her robes. Obviously, that had been a bad idea.

She became immersed into her own thoughts but was vaguely aware that Ginny and Harry had remained silent while Hermione and Ron began to bicker loudly.

The Hogwarts Express was traveling at such a fast rate, that the blur of London soon turned to countryside as the train moved further north. Brooke had been fairly impressed with the scarlet train, but the crowds of teenagers and children dressed in nearly identical uniforms and robes made Brooke fell dislocated from the world; like she had stepped into a bad clone movie and she was the only one aware of it. She shivered a bit, not noticing the deep grimace on her face or the attention being drawn to her now.

She was suddenly aware that someone was talking to her. "Huh?" Brooke asked, tearing her attention away from her thoughts.

Ron smiled. "Have you played Exploding Snap before?" he asked her. "It's going to take a bit to get to Hogwarts," he explained as he dug a ratty looking pack of cards from his trouser pocket.

Brooke shook her head, a bit dazed. "I know how," she told him, out of the corner of her eye noticing that all of them were giving her an odd look. "What?" she asked.

After enduring another uncomfortable silence, Brooke showed no signs that she had caught on to the knowing looked the three were passing to one another.

Pig decided at that moment things were too quiet and began hooting madly, flying around his cage until it began rocking on the table.

"Oi." Ron angrily stood up, pulled his school robes from the luggage rack above them and tossed it over the cage. "Shut it."

Ginny giggled. "Maybe I should deal," she told him, carefully taking the cards from her brother as retook his seat next to Hermione.

Hermione shared another look with Harry, who was sitting next to the window besides her, then looked back to Brooke as Ginny shuffled and dealt the cards.

Brooke tried not to let her frustration show. She began to pile the cards Ginny had dealt to her in a small pile. "Any of you know Euchre?" she asked, in an attempt to strike up a conversation.

"Never heard of it." Ginny shook her head, finishing her dealing and piling her own cards into a pile. "Is that a Muggle game?"

Brooke nodded as the first card was played, saying absently, "Yeah, a good way to make some money. It was really popular back at my old school."

Soon, the idle chatting turned to giggling and laughter as the game progressed, Brooke's attention on the cards instead of the voices around her.

"That was horrible," Hermione said as Ginny giggled at the sheepish look on Harry and Ron's face.

Brooke looked up, confused. Ginny giggled again and explained, "During their second year, Ron and Harry missed the train and ‘borrowed' dad's flying car."

"Flying car?" Brooke questioned, trying to understand what they were talking about.

Ron's ears began to turn pink. "Oh that," he said with a smile. "It's a long story, but my dad charmed a car to fly, and when we missed the train, we thought it would be the best way to get to Hogwarts."

"That car crashed before we could land," Harry cut in. "We crashed into the Whomping Willow."

"The what?" Brooke felt her head spinning faster and faster as she tried to process all this new information; there was obviously more to Hogwarts than what she originally thought.

Ginny giggled. "It's this horrible tree that thrashes whenever you get near it," she explained, playing absently with a lock of hair, her cards forgotten. "They missed the Sorting because of it."

Brooke looked even more confused. "The Sorting?" she asked.

"It's how they decide what house you're in," Hermione told her, placing her cards down on the table as she turned to face her. "There's four houses; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. We're all in Gryffindor."

"What's the difference?" Brooke asked. "I mean, what does it take to be in a certain house?"

"Well," Ron began. "The Ravenclaw's are all the smart lot, while the Hufflepuff's are loyal. Gryffindor." here, his chest seemed to puff up in pride. "Are brave and Slytherin…"

All four of the Gryffindors shuddered at the same time.

"Go on," Brooke coaxed, wondering why they all seemed reluctant to talk about it.

"They're a nasty lot, Brooke," Ginny told her, not moving to pick her cards up again. She obviously didn't feel like playing anymore. "The largest group of Dark Wizards has come from that group. They're all evil." Ginny shivered again.

Brooke couldn't help but raise an eyebrow skeptically. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?" she asked them. "I mean, it has to be a stereotype or something. They all can't be terrible."

"Just wait." Hermione shuddered visibly again. "Once you meet Malfoy…"

"What about Malfoy?" Brooke turned at the voice, the compartment door opening with a whoosh. She immediately tensed at hearing the voice. Her eyes narrowed as she met a contemptuous gaze.

"Go away Malfoy," she heard Harry say, sounding exasperated.

"Potter," Malfoy sneered nastily. "I'm not here for you. I heard there was an American hanging about. I'm here to speak to them. "

Brooke felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck when his cold eyes met hers again.

Not knowing what she was doing, Brooke smirked as well. She thought sarcastically, this should be fun. She looked directly into Malfoy's cold eyes and mirrored his smirk.

"That's me. Can I help you?"

"I've only come to warn you," he drawled. He stared at her intently, as if he was reading her mind, searching for something. Brooke shivered again, deciding she did not like this man at all. "You're making friends with the wrong group of wizards."

His glare suddenly deepened, as if daring her to defy him as he leaned casually against the door with a grace that didn't fit his cruel nature.

She had planned to hold back her comments, but her anger made her rash. "Let me guess, you're a big bad son of the evil Dark Lord and you're getting a list of those who are interested," she sarcastically spat out, sending him the most charmingly fake smile she could muster. "No thanks; not interested."

Malfoy ignored the sarcasm, his attention never wavering from Brooke's gaze. "Just wait," he warned, and the threat evident. Sneering, he turned away, his two ‘friends' following after him with a motion of his hand. The sound of the compartment door slamming shut was the only thing that broke the silence.

Brooke realized she was trembling. Malfoy had gotten to her. "Please tell me his parents were drunk when they named him Malfoy?" she asked, laughing uncertainly. "Or at least it's some hippie name I don't know about."

Ron looked torn between being amused and angry. "It's his surname, actually. Draco Malfoy is his entire name."

Ginny smiled at the look on Brooke's face. "He's horrible," she told her. "Has been since first year."

"I take it he's one of your friends," Brooke asked the others with a derisive undertone.

Hermione made a face full of loathing. "Hardly," she snorted, shaking her head. "But you shouldn't provoke him, Brooke. The best thing is to stay away from Draco Malfoy."

Brooke made another face as she shook her head. "Poor boy. I thought I had it bad with my last name."

"What's your surname then?" Hermione asked, looking relieved to change the subject.

"Lockheart," Brooke smirked. "Isn't it weird?"

The color drained from their faces. "Please tell me you're joking," Harry pleaded with her, his eyes normally devoid of emotion suddenly filled with wariness.

Stunned at their response, Brooke hesitated before answering. "Why should I be?" she asked, wondering why all of them were staring at her intensely.

"You're related to that git who's in love with himself?" Ron asked, his mouth hanging open.

"What are you talking about?" Brooke asked with confusion. "Who am I related to?"

"Gilderoy Lockhart," Harry, Ron and Hermione said at the same time. Ginny looked too surprised to speak.

"Why are you surprised?" Ron asked suddenly, turning his attention to Hermione. "You were in love with the bloke."

"It was only an infatuation!" Hermione argued with a blush, running a hand through her wavy hair self-consciously. "Besides, it was back in second year!"

As they argued, confusion was replaced with indifference. "Whoever he is," Brooke said with a wave of her hand. "I'm not related."

"You've never heard of Gilderoy Lockhart?" Harry asked with a bit of surprise, then laughed. "He would hate to hear that."

Brooke shrugged as Ginny asked, "How's it spelled, then?"

"My last name?" Brooke blinked for a second, and then added, "L-o-c-k-h-e-a-r-t."

"That's not the same spelling," Hermione stated, while Ron shook his head at her, an unbelieving look on his face.

"That's a relief!" Ginny said with a smile. "But it is rather obvious; you're too intelligent to be related to him."

"Oh, stop it." Brooke blushed, shaking her head. "I'm probably as dense as most teenagers."

"You did it again!" Ginny giggled. "You spoke ‘British'."

"Oh God help me," Brooke faked despair, placing a hand against her forehead. "Whatever shall I do?"

Hermione laughed, all her earlier animosity towards Brooke forgotten. "Maybe this year will be interesting. Let's just hope you're in Gryffindor."

Brooke grinned. "Me too. I would hate to think what would happen if I got placed in Slytherin with that!" She gestured to where Draco had left earlier. That made the rest laugh, but the thought of Draco Malfoy had caused a chill to crawl slowly up Brooke's spine. There was something about that guy she didn't like, she decided.

* * *

Brooke felt sick as she glanced out the window, realizing the train was coming to a stop. She was alone in the compartment, while the others either changed into their robes or went to speak with other friends. Playing absently with the clasp of her robe, she kept her gaze on the window, watching as the scenery began to slow.

"Brooke!" Ginny called as she opened the compartment door, her Gryffindor robes now covering her uniform. "We're here!"

Brooke tried to smile but failed. "Thanks, Gin. I think I'm ready."

"Nervous?" Ginny asked with a knowing look as she came to sit next to her. "You look paler than usual."

Brooke forced a smile. "Maybe a little," she admitted, cringing slightly at how weak she sounded.

Ginny took her hands into her own, the warmth surprising Brooke. Her smile wavered only slightly. "It's not all that bad," Ginny assured her, giving her hands a squeeze. "The worst part is waiting to find out what house you're in."

"You never did tell me how they choose your house," Brooke reminded the girl, uncomfortably aware of her hands still being held.

"You have to put on a hat," Ginny said in a matter of fact tone, although she was still smiling. "They call your name and you go sit on a stool while you wear an old pointed hat."

Brooke's eyes narrowed and felt herself go tense. "This has to be some sort of joke, right?" she asked, her voice sounding strained.

"What's some sort of joke?" Ron asked, poking his head into the compartment. Brooke spotted Harry and Hermione waiting just behind him.

"Brooke doesn't believe--" Ginny explained gently, still trying to calm Brooke. "-- we had to wear an old hat to find out what our house was."

"I forgot all about that part!" Hermione gasped, and then looked sympathetically at Brooke. "You will be alright. It's not all that horrible. It's the walk across the stage that will do you in. In front of the whole school and all."

Brooke made a face, although she wasn't sure if Hermione was only teasing or trying to make her feel even more nervous. "Thanks for that vote of confidence."

"You'll be sorted with all the first years, you know." Ron grinned, leaning against the door jamb of the compartment. "I reckon you're the only new fifth year who's coming here."

"That's a lovely thought," Brooke muttered, looking down at Ginny's hands, which still held hers. They gave hers a reassuring squeeze, and then Ginny released them. "Let's just hope I don't do anything too embarrassing," she added as an after thought.

Harry grinned as well, but it looked a bit forced. "Yeah, like tripping across the stage in front of the entire school."

Brooke felt her face pale. What have I gotten myself into?

The train lurched to a final halt. Ginny bounced to her feet, nearly dragging Brooke up along with her.

"Come on," Ginny said with a laugh as she began to lead Brooke out of the compartment after the others. "You have to see the castle!"

Brooke had to smile at the enthusiasm of her friend, although it wavered as they exited the quiet compartment into the very crowded main hallway. Eyes turned their way but Ginny ignored them, pushing pass as the helped Brooke along.

"I have to admit," Brooke teased Ginny, trying to hide her anxiety. "I've never met anyone with as much energy as you."

They followed the three sixth years to the doors leading outside, jumping down after them. Ron was carrying his owl's cage so it banged hard against his legs. This did nothing to quiet Pig, who only hooted louder as other owls answered him back. Hermione and Harry headed back to the luggage compartment to get Hedwig while a mass of black robed students began making their way down the platform.

"It's all the chocolate frogs she eats," Ron told them, hearing Brooke's comment about Ginny. He turned around to flash the girls a bright smile. This gained a hesitant grin from Brooke and a playful slap from Ginny on his shoulder.

"Sod off, Ron," Ginny said, laughing as she stood on her tiptoes in order to see over the crowd. "I wonder if you have to go with Hagrid across the lake, or if Professor McGonagall wants to meet you first. "She nudged Brooke. "What you reckon?"

Brooke repressed a shudder at the word ‘lake,' her eyes glancing around to where the body of water could be.

"I'll hang with you, if that's alright," she said a little hurriedly, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. The crowd, now thicker as they neared the end of the platform, seemed to press around her tightly, and Brooke shuddered again.

Ginny nodded, then moved ahead of her, her red hair acting like a beacon in the black darkness. Brooke began to follow, but was starting to get disconnected somehow, as the blur of black swept past her, carrying her along with it.

"I have a feeling you're going to love it here," Ginny told her over the yelling of people and hoots of pet owls. "There's no place like it."

"I think you're right," Brooke whispered. She felt a rush of excitement as Hogwarts came into view.

The darkening sky brightened slightly as a large castle rose out of the darkness, perched on the edge of a high cliff and surrounded by an enormous lake. Its many tall towers puncturing the twilight sky. Brooke wondered if there was no end to the place. Windows seemed to have sprouted randomly across the layout, and they winked cheerfully back at her, chasing away any dark thoughts still lingering in her mind. Brooke could just make out flying buttresses and large arcades framing the castle, reminding her of the medieval cathedrals she had studied back in school.

"Brooke?" Ginny tugged on her sleeve suddenly. "You've stopped walking."

Surprised, Brooke looked over at the girl, and realized she was right. People had to push by, most of them throwing odd looks at her.

"Sorry." Brooke felt herself blush. "Just lost in thought, I guess."

Ginny smiled, then began tugging Brooke along again.

"Oi! Ginny!" a deep voice boomed over the crowd. "That the new fifth year?"

"Hagrid!" Ginny waved to a large and rather hairy man, standing above the crowd. His face broke out in a wide grin as he waved back.

"Professor McGonagall wants a look at ‘er when yer get to the castle," Hagrid told them, motioning to a group of children who were obviously in their first year.

"Okay!" Ginny called back, grabbing a hold of Brooke's sleeve once more. "See you at the feast!"

The momentum of the crowd propelled them onwards, and Brooke was happy that Ginny was by her side. "Who was that?" she asked Ginny, quickening her pace.

"That's Hagrid, the gamekeeper." Ginny must have noticed the wary look in her eyes, because she added, "I know he looks horrible, but he's not. Honestly."

Brooke didn't have time to reply. She found herself nearly being shoved into a carriage, Ginny not far behind, and with another lurch, was carried off towards the castle. Brooke poked her head out of one of the windows, staring up at Hogwarts with an apprehensive look on her face.

"This might not be so bad," she said softly, as Hogwarts grew steadily larger in her view.

* * *

The first word that popped into Brooke's mind when she spotted Professor McGonagall was strict. Her black hair was pulled tightly away from her face into a no-nonsense bun at the back of her head. Her green robes seemed as crisp as if they were only bought yesterday and her square eyeglasses winked furiously at her when Brooke was introduced by Ginny. She noticed the curving frown as the woman glanced at her altered robes and tall, chunky boots with distain. Brooke couldn't help but think Brooke 1, Hogwarts Zero.

"Right," Professor McGonagall stated in a clipped voice. "I take it you're Ms. Lockheart. I reckon you took it upon yourself to change your robes."

It wasn't a question. Clasping her hands behind her back, Brooke looked up at the Professor with innocent eyes. "I had to buy them used, Professor," she explained quietly. "They didn't fit me right, and I just thought-"

"You thought," Professor McGonagall cut in, her voice in the same clipped tone. She stared disdainfully at the embroidered hemline of Brooke's robes., "--that you could get away with such an… atrocity, because you are a new student?"

Brooke felt her face go red with anger. "I was trying," she said in a slightly sarcastic tone. "To express myself."

"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall," Brooke had forgotten that Ginny was still standing besides her. "Brooke didn't mean any harm, and--" here Ginny blushed. "They look rather nice."

Brooke grinned at her while Professor McGonagall stared down at Ginny sternly. "Thank you, Ms. Weasley, but that doesn't change the fact that Ms. Lockheart will have her first detention with me before school even begins."

Brooke bit her tongue against the wave of insults that popped into her mind as Professor McGonagall turned her attention back to Brooke. "Please make your way to the Great Hall, Ms. Weasley. I will escort Ms. Lockheart to the ceremony."

Still blushing, but smiling at Brooke, Ginny nodded and all but ran towards the end of the crowd, who were entering through two large doors.

"Follow me." Professor McGonagall turned on her heels, obviously expecting Brooke to follow her.

Shrugging, Brooke did, looking around the entrance hall with interest. The room was large, large enough that she could hear the echo of her soft footstep following Professor McGonagall's sharper and louder ones. Arches rose from the tall pillars, glowing a slight golden red from the torches hovering high in the air. The well-polished floor gleamed brightly, the checkered pattern reminding Brooke of a chessboard as her shadow broke the play of firelight as she stopped in the middle of the entrance hall, looking up suddenly. A large marble staircase rose from the floor, rising higher and higher into the darkness before branching off in multiple directions, and unless it was a play of light, Brooke swore she spotted some moving. Brooke wondered how many levels Hogwarts had, and how she was expected to find her way around the place, especially if the stairs had a tenancy to move.

"Ms. Lockheart," Professor McGonagall called across the hall, her voice magnified by the echoing effect of the room and sounding much more strict than before. "We are waiting for you."

Brooke looked back down, spotting the professor standing in a small doorway, hands on hips. Light shone brightly from the room, casting Professor McGonagall's silhouette into the entrance hall, nearly merging with Brooke's own. She over to the professor, a bit embarrassed as the silhouette turned it's back and re-entered the room.

A large group of first years turned their attention from Professor McGonagall to Brooke as she entered, each looking more nervous than she allowed herself to show. She noticed with discomfort that she was much taller than the rest of the group (which wasn't saying much) and that Professor McGonagall was glaring at her from behind her square glasses.

"Form a line," she told the group of first years, her eyes staying on Brooke for only another instant. "--the Sorting Ceremony is about to start.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall smiled tightly, which looked more like a grimace to Brooke. The woman's hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her pointy hat as straight and ridged as her back. Brooke stood in the back of the long line of first years, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

"The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly," the Professor, continued. " You will follow me back across the entrance hall and join the rest of your fellow students for the feast in the Great Hall. But you will first be sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony is a very important part of your Hogwarts education; the house you are sorted into will become your family for the seven years you will remain here. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend your free time in your house common room."

Brooke had the urge to raise her hand and ask if you were allowed to eat with people other than your house, but bit her lower lip painfully as the Professor's stern eyes fell on her again. "I would suggest smartening up before the ceremony takes place. I will be back shortly"

With that, she stalked out of the room with her head held high, leaving a nervous group of first years and a rather ticked off fifth year to talk amongst themselves.

"I seriously dislike that woman," Brooke muttered with a frown. "Sounds like she needs to lighten up a bit."

"Ah, so you're the new fifth year, eh?" someone said rather loudly, cackling as it faded from one direction and intensified in another.

Brooke looked around, then looked above her, to a tiny man floating above her head. He had a particular taste in clothing, bright colors clashing wildly with his red bow tie and lime green top hat.

"Eh, yeah, that would be me," Brooke told him, ignoring the whispering that started around the room. "Can I help you?"

He grinned widely, "Oh, you're American as well," the poltergeist, that was the only thing he could be, said in reply. "Never met an American before."

Brooke tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears; she noticed nearly everyone was staring at her. "So, I'm American. Big deal."

"Peeves!" Professor McGonagall had just returned, her hands on hips and an angry glare in her eyes. "Now is not the time to scare the first years."

With a cackle and a wink at Brooke, Peeves waved and suddenly disappeared. Professor McGonagall sighed, shaking her head as she said, "Look sharp now, keep that line straight!"

Brooke felt her heart begin to beat faster as she followed behind the line across the large entrance hall. Their feet echoed as the doors to the Great Hall were opened wide with magic. There was laughter and chatter from in front of her, which quieted as soon as the doors had opened. Brooke was vaguely aware of the Great Hall filled to the brim with a sea of people wearing pointed hats. Four long tables took up most of the space, and most of the table space winked with flashes of gold in the dim candlelight of the room, while the space around it sat (what seemed like) thousands of students in black robes. All their faces were turned towards the back of the room as the first years passed, and Brooke tried to make out where her friends could be sitting at in the gloom. The only bright light coming from the room was from the large stage in the front.

The stage was occupied by another table, where more than two dozen adults sat, talking amongst themselves as they eyed the line of students coming near them. Brooke couldn't help but stare at an old man in dark violet robes, whose long hair (and beard) looked to be as white as snow. His gaze turned suddenly to her, and Brooke felt herself looked away, either out of respect or fear. She wasn't sure which. Her eyes instead fell on another man; she supposed he was a teacher, who was dressed all in black. He looked very pale, and had a rather long hooked nose.

"Brooke!" someone called out as she passed, and she tore her eyes away from the Teacher's table and caught Ginny waving enthusiastically at her from a table at the far wall of the Great Hall. Brooke grinned back, giving a small wave as they reached the stage. They climbed a small flight of stairs and stood off to the side, a four-legged stool carried out with a ratty pointed hat sitting on top and placed in the middle of the stage. As she stood near the back of the group, she saw that Ginny was pointing upwards, towards the ceiling.

Intrigued, Brooke looked up, and to her absolute amazement, stared up not at a blank ceiling, but the night sky. Stars winked brightly as a comet passed by overhead, a few clouds obscuring the edges of the moving picture with a grayness that was outlined with silver from the glowing moon which was beginning to rise. Brooke realized her mouth was hanging open, and was glad she was no longer walking.

Silence suddenly came over the hall, pulling Brooke's attention regretfully away from the enchanted ceiling. A noise from the front of the stage had caused the silence, the hat seeming to stand up straight, if that was possible, and to Brooke's disbelief, began to sing through a tear in it's brim.

A tremendous cheer that echoed throughout the hall. Brooke was surprised when she found herself clapping as well. As soon as the noise began to die away, Professor McGonagall pulled out a long parchment from her robes and began to call off names loudly enough for the entire hall to hear.

"Almis, Rebecca!" the professor's voice echoed across the silent room. A small girl ran from the front of the group and sat down on the stool as she placed the hat over her head.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat said almost immediately, where applause and cheering broke out from one table. The girl, red faced and obviously relieved, hopped down from the stool and ran towards her new ‘family.'

Brooke found herself drifting away after the fifth first year ("GRYFFINDOR!") was called up and sent to their respective houses. The process, she noticed, differed from each person who sat on the stool. Sometimes, the hat would instantaneously shout out a house, or it seemed to contemplate (although never for long) until it was satisfied and called out their house name. Her stomach began to rumble somewhere between H and J and started to wonder if this would be an all night affair. Just as she was about to pull out some chocolate from her pocket she had saved it from the lunches Mrs. Weasley had packed for the group, she heard, "Lockheart, Brooke!"

The hall went uncomfortably silent as she walked across stage. Brooke was aware of the eyes following her and the whispers beginning to spread across the room as she took her seat on the stool and placed the hat over her head. It was so large; the brim fell right over her eyes, leaving her in a somewhat welcoming darkness.

Time slowly seemed to pass, as she became aware of the silence again, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, wondering if something was suppose to happen. Brooke suddenly broke out in a cold sweat, thinking that at any moment, Professor McGonagall would yank the hat from right off her head and tell her to go back to America.

"No, dearie," a voice whispered into her ear, not unkindly, bur eerie enough to cause the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. "I'm just taking a look into your mind. Well, well. This is interesting."

"I haven't had this much to work with since Harry Potter sat underneath me," the hat admitted to her, making a sighing sound into her ear. "You have brains, you would have to have brains, to make it this far."

The hat was silent for a spell once more, while Brooke fidgeted. She was aware of the whispers getting louder. How long have I been under here?

"Lots of bravery. Well, I think that speaks for itself," the hat piped in again. "Have to have bravery, with as much as you've been through."

Brooke became tensed. So you…?

"Yes, dearie. I told you, you couldn't hide anything from me. But this is interesting," the hat spoke again softly. "Yes, very interesting."

"Now, that's something I can't tell you. And you shouldn't bother getting angry," the hat pointed out, as Brooke started to feel a tingle of fury rush over her. "You'll find out soon enough. Oh, this is difficult…"

"Well, it's not the best fit, I'll warn you," the hat said, sighing in what sounded like defeat. "I would much rather place you in Gryffindor, with your friends, but I feel that the best bet for you would be SLYTHERIN!"

There was silence. Brooke sat there, under the hat for a few more moments, unsure if she could move from shock when she felt the hat being taken off from her head. Shocked to find that she had taken the hat off herself, Brooke appeared to be calm, though she was shaking the whole time, and walked down the stage towards a table at the opposite wall from where Ginny was, chin raised in what she hoped was dignity. She caught Ginny's eyes, seeing the disappointment in them, but Brooke tried to smile reassuringly all the same. But disappointment also flooded into her emotions, making her smile waiver.

There was no applause, just the sound of her footsteps as Brooke took an empty seat at the table. The hall stayed silent for a few seconds longer before a "Mint, Hans" broke the tension in the air. Brooke proceeded to sit up as tall as she could, wondering what in the world would happen to her next.

* * *

Ginny ignored the chatter from her friends, staring back at the doors where Brooke would be appearing at any moment. Excitement ran through her veins, excitement that she would finally have a friend in Gryffindor. Ginny had always felt guilty, tagging along with Harry, Ron and Hermione, but she would rather be on an adventure than be gossiping about boys.

Honestly, she had always believed he and Hermione had been attracted to one another, and was quite surprised when Ron and Hermione had ended up dating. Harry had never seemed to mind, and the trio was closer than ever. Ginny's heart tugged painfully at the thought, part of her wondering if her older friends only let her hang about with them in pity, or if she was honestly a part of their group.

Ginny shook her head sharply, turning her attention back to the door. It's not so bad, she reminded herself, perking up slightly as the doors to the hall opened and she spotted Professor McGonagall leading the first years up to the stage. You might finally have a best friend. Your very own best friend at that!

Her brown eyes scanned the line, hoping to spot Brooke before she spotted her, and wasn't too surprised when Brooke, taller than the rest of the group, trailed last behind.

Ginny had known Brooke was different (besides culturally different) from the moment they first met. Ginny admitted Brooke looked normal enough, but there was something in her eyes that suggested that she was just different.

Those gray eyes were scanning each table now, and Ginny was glad she had been able to grab a seat closer to the stage. "Brooke!" she whispered as loud as she dared, waving a hand to gain the girl's attention. The gray eyes came to rest on her, and Ginny was relieved to see a grin spread across the girl's face, and a tentative wave followed.

Ginny pointed up to the ceiling, knowing fully well Brooke would like that sort of thing. She had admired Brooke's (if somewhat odd) stylish taste in clothing, and Ginny had to admit she wouldn't mind borrowing some of her clothes. Maybe that would get Harry to notice me, she thought with a dreamy expression, then immediately made a face. No wonder Harry wasn't interested in her. She was acting like a lovesick idiot.

Her eyes remained on Brooke while the sorting took place, watching the girl's calm demeanor with a small pang of jealousy. Ginny remembered her own sorting, how she had felt sick as she walked across the stage, afraid that she would get placed in some horrible house where she didn't know anyone.

She shook her head, smiling as she looked down at the robes Brooke was wearing. Even in the dimmer light of the Great Hall, the embroidered stars glittered and the moons seemed to glow. I wonder if she would do the same to my robes, Ginny thought absentmindedly. They could use a taking in.

"Lockheart, Brooke!" Professor McGonagall yelled, snapping Ginny out of her thoughts. From the back of the group of first years, Brooke stepped towards the stool, her robes seeming to flow around her slim body , Ginny noticed with some envy. Brooke walked towards the Sorting Hat with her chin held up high and her eyes straight ahead. Wish I could have some of her confidence, Ginny thought.

As Brooke sat on the stool and placed the hat on her head, the brim falling past her eyes, the light flashed off a silver chain hanging around her neck. Ginny looked puzzled. She hadn't seen Brooke wear any jewelry before; she didn't seem the type. But then again, she had always worn shirts with high collars on them.

A long amount of time seemed to pass, whispering beginning to spread across the hall as Brooke squirmed noticeably in her seat. Ginny frowned again. What was taking so long? She looked past towards Professor McGonagall, who was looking at Dumbledore with a look of surprise on her face. The headmaster only nodded, a knowing glimmer in his eyes.

Just as she was afraid there was no hope for her new friend, the sorting hat shouted in a loud voice loud, "SLYTHERIN!"

Ginny's head shook slowly in shock. There has to be a mistake! She thought as she pushed her fiery strands out of her eyes, irritated as she eyes the Sorting Hat. There was no way Brooke could possibly be sorted into Slytherin.

Silence filled the Great Hall, no one daring to speak as Brooke, strangely calm, placed the hat back on the stool and walked quietly off the stage. Ginny looked towards the Slytherin table; they all seemed to be stunned. None of the louts clapped, cheered or even said anything.

The two girls caught each others gaze, and Ginny saw disappointment in them before the eerie calm settled on Brooke's face once more. Brooke sent her a weak smile, and Ginny tried to return it, but found that she couldn't; she was too surprised to do anything.

Brooke's footsteps echoed softly throughout the hall, Ginny feeling immensely disappointed in the Slytherins in their lack of courtesy. She was working up the courage to clap for her friend but Brooke sat at the Slytherin table (next to Draco Malfoy, Ginny noticed) and Professor McGonagall began the list once more.

* * *

"Could you pass the potatoes, please?" Brooke asked the person sitting next to her, looking cautiously down the long table at the large group of ill-mannered people who were supposed to be her ‘family' from now on. A few were giving her dirty looks, but she ignored them, turning her attention to the person next to her.

The person turned out to be Draco Malfoy. What dumb luck, she thought sarcastically. He sneered and replied coolly, "Get it yourself, American."

Biting back a rather rude comment, Brooke was about to asked the person sitting on the opposite side of Malfoy, but found that it was one of his rather dumb looking friends and gave up her request. Stupid morons, she thought as instead, she took a dinner roll from a pile in front of her and nibbled on it thoughtfully.

She spotted Ginny and the others sitting across the room. Ginny had a glum expression on her face, and Brooke would have done anything to see her smile. She looks as lonely as I feel, Brooke thought, finishing the roll and reaching for her goblet.

Her hand grasped empty air. Confused, Brooke looked around her empty plate for her goblet of pumpkin juice.

"I hope you don't mind," Malfoy's voice made her glance in his direction. He was smirking, not looking at her. "Pansy spilled hers and we thought you were done with yours."

Laughter, harsh and cruel, rose from the table. Brooke felt the blood rise to her cheeks as the entire hall turned towards their table to see what was so funny.

Pulling her hand back, Brooke ignored the laughter, turning her eyes once again to the Teacher's table. The teachers seemed oblivious to the racket coming from the Slytherin table, except for one. The man Brooke had spotted earlier, the one with the hooked nose, was staring straight at her with dark eyes and an even darker expression. He glowered at her when she made eye contact, and she quickly turned away.

"Hey Gin," she said, taking a seat besides the girl as she smiled at the astonished look on her face.

Ginny managed sick sort of smile. "Hallo Brooke," her eyes fell on the Slytherin Table, her eyes filled with disgust. "I don't reckon they liked that."

"Screw what they think," Brooke said sharply. "All a bunch of arrogant assholes, if you ask me. Especially Malfoy."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Then why…?"

"Why was I sorted into that lot?" Brooke gestured rudely to her former table. She shrugged. "I'm not sure, to tell you the truth."

Someone sat besides her, and Brooke was shocked to see Harry Potter staring seriously back at her.

"What was that all about?" he asked, pointing a thumb towards the stage with a worried glance at Ginny. Ginny and Brooke shrugged, so in-sync that he halfway smiled.

"She doesn't know why, Harry," Ginny told him.

Brooke shook her head. "It's wasn't like I said, ‘Hey! This'll shock people. Put me in Slytherin!'"

He raised an eyebrow. "Then what happened?" he asked in a tone that stated he didn't really believe her.

"There was a lot of talk," she began, furrowing her brow to remember all of it. " ‘You have a good brain, nice bravery factor' yadda, yadda, yadda." Brooke waved a hand for emphasis, ignoring the disbelieving look on Harry's face. "Then there was something about ‘I can't tell you something but that's why I put you in Slytherin.' At least." she looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think that's why I was put there. Unless it was because of my wild streak."

"Oh, I doubt that," Ginny assured her. "Fred and George caused more chaos than you could believe, and they were Gryffindors."

"She has a point," Harry said, and then looked over to the Slytherin table. "Malfoy seems taken with you."

Brooke looked over, only to stare into cold, gray eyes that were filled with obvious loathing. She shivered. They looked so much like her own, but so alien. "He's an idiot. Took my goblet and expected me to only eat bread."

Ginny snorted. "He's a sodding git. Forget about him."

A tall shadow suddenly loomed over the three, and the hairs on the back of Brooke's neck rose as the particular feeling of someone watching her rushed over her body like an icy wind.

"Ms. Lockheart," a cold voice called from behind her. Brooke slowly turned her head, looking up into a pair of dark eyes set in pale flesh over a hooked nose, narrowed in obvious irritation. Sickly oily hair was pulled away from the narrow face with no obvious hair tie while the man's black robes shielded his body in shadows.

"I would hate to interrupt," he continued as Brooke frowned; she knew fully well he was lying. "But the feast is almost over, and you will have to return to your house."

"Professor," Ginny said in a soft sort of voice besides her, looking up at him with a bit of caution. "We were only speaking to her."

"I see that, Ms. Weasley" he snapped at her, his cool tone turning suddenly vicious. "But she is not a Gryffindor. She is a Slytherin."

"Excuse me," Brooke said rather viciously, drawing his attention back to her. "I think I can talk to whomever I like, even if I am a Slytherin."

His eyes suddenly sparked dangerously, and Brooke felt a chill run down her spine. "You may be new, Ms. Lockheart," he said in a strangely soft, but very commanding voice. "But that will not excuse your behavior."

She smiled sweetly up at him, even though the look he was sending her made her want to curl up into a tiny ball. "I'm sorry, Professor," Brooke said with as much sarcasm as she could muster. "I had no idea that you promoted segregation in your students. Very medieval."

She was aware of Harry looking at her with a mixture of horror and amazement, while Ginny was covering a smile with her napkin. But her attention fixed rigidly on the Professor, her lips curled into a smile that betrayed her cockiness in the situation.

"I see Potter and the rest of his lot have already influenced your behavior," the man scoffed, not breaking eye-contact. "I will be pleased to see if you will follow their example in the classroom."

Brooke smiled sweetly once more. "I bet you say that to all the girls. It's a date then"

He walked silently away, but Brooke spotted a sort of twisted grin on his face. She shivered unconsciously, wondering what the hell had gotten into her. She clenched her hands together tightly; allowing her fingernails to bite sharply into the skin of her palms. Get a hold of yourself! Brooke commanded her attitude, knowing now she had one more person to contend with besides Malfoy.

Harry's hand hit her on the back as he exclaimed loudly, "You just told off Professor Snape! That was bloody brilliant!"

"That was Professor Snape?" Brooke asked in amazement, laughing as she tried to shake the feeling that she had just gotten in over her head. "Ginny, I thought you said he was a horrible teacher."

"He is," she replied in a shocked sounding voice. Her brown eyes were wide, and a funny sort of grin was on her face.

"Uh, Ginny?" Brooke shook her gently, wondering if she had gone into shock. "You okay?"

"I never thought I would see the day." Ginny looked down at Brooke in an amused sort of way, "when someone would stand up to Professor Snape."

"You haven't met anyone like me before, I guess," Brooke said with embarrassment, unclenching her now aching hands as she rubbed the palms together. Deep crescent indentations played across her palms, slivers of shadow in creamy pale skin.

Ginny giggled, but stopped short as her eyes fell on something above Brooke's head. "Suppose you should be going now," she suggested to Brooke, who turned to see Professor Snape's glaring intently at her and Ginny.

She sighed. What a year this was turning out to be. "Yeah, see you tomorrow then." Brooke managed a small smile as she stood from the table. "Night."

* * *

Brooke paid dearly for her bit of fun in the Great Hall. As she walked towards the waiting teacher, she noticed with rising suspicion that the Slytherin table had mysteriously emptied. She quickly glanced back to Ginny, who was watching her go with an unreadable expression in her eyes, and then turned back to Snape.

He didn't say anything to her, only gave her another glare that suggested he was rather annoyed with her already, and spun on his heels as he walked towards the exit. Brooke really didn't have a choice but to follow him. Eyes turned in her directions and whispers followed in her wake as she passed the tables. She tried to ignore her rising temper as Snape lead her out the Great Hall doors and back into the entrance hall.

Instead of leading her up the large marble staircase (Brooke looked up quizzically at it as they passed) Snape's began to descend a dark and moldy looking staircase hidden in the shadows that Brooke had not noticed before. He walked quietly with his hands clasped behind his back, not making a sound except his robes whipping around his legs as they continued forward, and sometimes the splashing as he treaded through a puddle on the stone floor.

He was leading Brooke through a dimly lit hallway that seemed to twist and turn at every moment, the chill of the air and the ever downward slopping ground letting Brooke know she was descending further below the castle of Hogwarts than she had previously realized. Flickering torches on the wall gave off little heat as well as light, making Brooke shiver in the murky atmosphere they represented. Although the never-ending hallway with intimidated Brooke it's odd layout, she stubbornly set her jaw and continued just behind Snape.

His remained silent. Suddenly halted in front of a moss-covered wall, two torches burning on either side. Brooke stopped a few feet away, looked questionably at him then down to the wall as he sneered down at her.

"I hope you had fun," Snape spoke for the first time in a vicious tone, echoing around them in the vast hallway. "But from now on, you step out of line, Ms. Lockheart, you will find yourself in detention from now until you graduate. Do you understand?"

"Yes Professor," Brooke said in her best ‘I don't care' voice, is that all he's got? I already have a detention. Can't hurt me too much, right?

Still smirking, he promptly ignored her once again and turned to the wall. Brooke stood there, wondering if something was supposed to happen when he spoke in a clear voice, "Wolfsbane."

To her surprise, the wall began to slide to the side, the screech of rock against rock making her ears ring despite the layer of moss covering the surface of the wall. A nasty looking green light seemed to throb from a room beyond another long hallway. It was pulsing with a dark energy Brooke felt to the marrow of her bones. She glanced at Snape suspiciously, wondering if she was being lead into some sort of torture chamber.

His face tightened as he realized she was not going to move towards the entrance any time soon. "Get a move on," he suddenly snapped at her, making Brooke jump a bit. Glaring at him, Brooke quickly uprooted herself from her spot in the hallway. She hesitated only for an instant in the doorway in the wall, then moved forwards into the shorter hallway.

The light was a dim and murky green, creating strangely twisted shadows around the room making it hard for Brooke to distinguish between reality and horrific fantasy. The darker side of her imagination began reeling as she entered into a large, low ceiling room smothered in the grotesque green glow. Her eyes had a hard time adjusting to the odd light. There seemed to be armchairs carved out of wood with deep jaded cushions huddled in groups of three round a couple of tables as if conspiracies were often a topic of discussion in this gloomy paradise. A fire in a long fireplace cackled softly from the far side of the room, seeming to live off the cold, since no heat that Brooke could detect came from it. In front of the fire, their silhouettes only visible, the entire Slytherin house stood about face waiting for something. Brooke felt her heart begin to race as she realized it was her they were waiting for.

They began to crowd around her. Adrenaline began to flow through her body as the primitive part of her brain began the flight or fight process. She was aware of Snape still behind her, which sent chills down Brooke's spine. He brushed past her roughly and turned to face her as well, a sinister sort of grin playing about his lips.

"Everyone," he said in a voice full of sick amusement. The firelight threw the profile of his face into shadows as he addressed the Slytherin house. "This is one of our newest members of the Slytherin family." He paused briefly. "Girl!" he barked suddenly, catching Brooke completely off guard. "State your name and year!"

"Brooke Lockheart," she said quietly as the others started to laugh cruelly. Brooke felt her cheeks burning in shame. She glared at the group angrily.

Snape snapped at her again, "Louder!"

"Brooke Lockheart," she said in a strangled yell, causing a few of the Slytherins (she noticed Malfoy was one of them) to bend over in laughter, clearly finding this funnier than anything they had experienced before.

"And what is your year?" Snape asked, the demented smile back on his face.

"A fifth year?" she recognized the voice of Draco Malfoy, who had finished with his laughing fit and was now speaking in a drawl. "She looks more like a first year, with those hideous robes. Couldn't afford proper ones then?"

Brooke felt her anger rise as someone scathingly replied, "Suppose she's as poor as those Weasleys. Look, there's dust surrounding her feet!"

She felt a flush crawl over her cheeks as she glanced down, realizing with even more embarrassment that they were right.

"She may be able to afford a new set, next term." Professor Snape's voice made her look up again. " Maybe then she'll look like a proper Slytherin."

Her hands reflexively clenched into fists as the laughter rose again.

Snape seemed oblivious to her discomfort. "I am Professor Snape," he told her in a tone suggesting she was a slow child. "Head of house and Potions Master." He seemed to grow a few inches, pride evident on his face.

"So I have to deal with you all year, then," Brooke muttered under her breath, the comment slipping out before she could catch herself.

His eyes narrowed. "I would watch yourself, Lockheart," Professor Snape smirked. "You're already have the record of earning the first detention this year."

She suddenly smiled. "Professor McGonagall beat you to that," Brooke informed him, smirking as well. "Maybe the two of you can get together and make me do something really horrible."

As soon as the words slipped out, Brooke bit down on her tongue hard tasting blood as she tried to control herself. The twitch in Professor Snape's cheek as he glared at her and the sudden threatening tension in the air told her she was too late, and instinctively she tensed herself for an attack.

"Lockheart, is that a necklace you have on?" Snape said abruptly, startling Brooke. "We do not permit jewelry on Hogwarts grounds!"

"Lying bastard," she said before she could stop herself, venom dripping from every word. "That's not a rule and you know it."

"Quiet!" he snapped, and Brooke was vaguely aware of the other Slytherins watching the exchange with amusement and realized she was very outnumbered. "Hand the article over to me."

"Over my dead, rotting body," Brooke said through gritted teeth. Her hand subconsciously grasped the locket through her robe and uniform as her eyes flashed quickly over the group. Too many of them, part of her brain said and she took a step away, trying to determine how quickly she could make it to the exit if they decided to attack. The air of hostility in the air was evident.

"That," Snape said with some pleasure slipping into his eyes, obviously noticing her panic. "Can be arranged. I can always take it from you. Which would be more humiliating?"

Brooke didn't move; her hand clenched around the locket was shaking from the effort.

"You heard me, Lockheart." His tone left no room for argument. "Hand it over."

Brooke realized she hated him, almost as much as she hated her father. Glaring at him, she reached to the back of her neck and unclasped the delicate chain and felt the weight fall from her neck. She walked closer to Snape and carefully placed it into his outstretched hand.

She winced when his skin touched the metal, his eyes rested on her instead of the necklace. "What a gaudy piece of trash," he sneered, gaining more laughter from the group of Slytherins. "I take it your family was poor."

It hadn't been a question. She ignored the laughter again, her eyes focused hatefully on his face. "You wouldn't understand," Brooke said in a low voice filled with hatred. "The value of that piece of ‘trash.' It was my mother's."

"Your mother was a fool," he said scathingly. "Let's see what you have hidden inside."

Staring down at her, Snape's eyes glinted in twisted amusement. He flicked opened the locket with his thumb, looking down at the contents of the locket.

Brooke continued to stare at him, her fists clenched at her side. She vaguely felt her fingernails digging into her palms while Snape's horrible eyes flipped back and forth to the two pictures nestled inside the metal, the expression in them turning cold, and then furious.

"Where did you get this?" he suddenly asked, his voice tight with well-contained anger. Brooke felt herself grow cold as his eyes met hers. There was a murderous hatred in his eyes that she couldn't understand, and she was immediately aware that he could very well snap her neck and he would have no remorse. She highly doubted anyone would help her either.

"I told you," Brooke whispered, resisting the urge to run as far away as possible. "It was my mother's."

His already pale face was now chalky white. The light of the room cast a sickly radiance to his sick that made him look like a demon in the intense shadows of the room. Brooke repressed a shudder.

Unexpectedly, the locket was being dangled in front of her face, open and exposed. "I never want to see this in my sight again," Snape said with cold finality.

Silently, she grabbed the locked, closing it quickly and clasping it safely around her neck. Brooke felt almost physically sick at the thought of Snape having touched her most prized possession. She had the strong urge to dip the necklace in a vat of acid, if only it would rid it of the greasiness that was Snape. Brooke glared at him, her eyes hard and as murderous as his had been moments before, furious that he had contaminated the one thing left of her mother. Fear was making her rash and she continued to stare defiantly at him.

"Get along, you lot!" he yelled abruptly at the group of Slytherins, who had grown quiet through the odd exchange and had obviously expected a different outcome. "There's work to be done."

Wordlessly, Brooke hurried away, out of the Slytherin common room. She ran out the opening wall entrance and raced through the twisting dungeon hallways, her feet splashing up cold water as she raced up to the light of the entrance hall.

Silent fury followed after her, making her muscles tense and body shake as she emerged from the shadows, anger making her expression dark and murderous.

" Damn it!" She swore viciously. Without thinking, without any sense of direction, the girl stormed towards the oak doors leading to the outside of Hogwarts, catching a glimpse of herself in a suit of armor that was laughing silently at her. Her eyes flashed dangerously. The heavy oak doors suddenly burst open magically, the wind outside picking up as Brooke headed out into the darkness, not caring where she led herself.