The Bloodstone Monarchy

     Chapter Two

Ponchos, Punches and Pedophiles

    Malia walked down the twisted marble staircase slowly despite being late meeting her father. She was too busy thinking about the Prophecy to care. She had changed into summer robes which were shorter and more close fitting . These were charcoal black. Malia managed to wear a lot of black without looking goth. She had a deep affiliation for expensive muggle clothing, but her father would not allow her to wear them in public.

    Descending the last stair Malia looked around as if she was seeing her surroundings for the first time. To the left was an immense tapestry adorned with the family crest. There was a unicorn with is horn crossed with a wand emblazoned on the front of a shield. Above the two was a shining challis, ruby encrusted and the only part of the crest that Malia liked. Below the entire mess was the motto Army of Achievers, it wasn't so much a motto as a declaration of greatness and Malia thought it was ridiculous. As a child she always avoided passing the tapestry, she felt as though the unicorn's eye always followed her, challenging her to return the gaze. To her right was a stone statue of the Gryffindor lion. This hadn't bothered her, she thought the lion was beautiful, but she didn't dare touch it. She tore herself away from the hall and strode into the parlor. This was her least favorite room in the mansion. It served as more of a cigar and brandy room for her father and looked like it too. There was wood paneling , big lumbering brown leather chairs and mahogany bookshelves.

    Her father was standing in front of the fireplace staring at a portrait of Malia's grandfather sitting above the mantle. He had a sheepish look on his face that soon changed to annoyance as Malia entered the room.

    "Look at the time!" he lectured as he pointed at his pocket watch, "You're fifteen minutes late!" He seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

    Malia was already scooping Floo powder from a silver dish on the mantle. Tossing the powder into the fire she said "Diagon Alley," and turned to her father.

    "Two strangers burst into my room, threatened me, and got carried off by two guards who were slaking off. Oh yeah, and I had to change robes. Do you like them?"

    Mr. Fudge was standing speechless trying to grasp this new information. Before he could say anything Malia stepped into the hungry green flames and was swallowed up immediately. The few precious moments alone in the swirling green haze were soon cut short.

    Malia's feet hit the ground and she staggered out of the grate into the Leaky Cauldron. Her father appeared a second later. He seemed to have recovered and didn't ask any questions about the incident in Malia's room. He handed her a gold satin drawstring bag filled with Galleons and Sickles. Malia looked at her father questioningly,

    "Aren't you coming along ?"

    "No." Fudge replied.

    Malia gave a silent cry of joy.

    "But," her father continued, "I have arranged for you to have a chaperone."

    As Malia's hopes for freedom were dashed her father looked at her severely.

    "Ah, here he is!"

    He, was a tall Mexican or Portuguese man with a sober expression. His head was completely bald, covered by a rainbow crocheted cap that looked like it was made from a hacky sac and fit like a second skin. The more she studied his face the more expressionless he became. Her father was smiling at her uncomfortably.

    "This is er... Camilio, yes, he will escort you around town today."

    As Camilio turned around to look at the pub, her Father leaned in closer and spoke in a whisper.

    "He was the only chaperone available, and anyway- he was really cheap."

    Malia was about to explain that sixteen year olds don't need chaperones, especially ones that look like pedophiles and wear insane hats, but he was already leaving.

    "Don't forget to buy your wand, sorry I can't come. Take a picture for your mother or something." He disapparated with a tiny "pop". Malia sighed,

    "So Sancho, where do you want to go first?"

    No sound came from Camilio. Malia continued,

    "The wand shop, you say? Splendid idea Sancho."

    Instead of a reply Camilio gave a small nod and began to walk slowly towards the door. As she stepped out into the brilliant sunlight and immediately covered her eyes which were quite light sensitive. The narrow streets were crowded as usual. Slowly Malia's thoughts were returning to Hogwarts. She didn't know much about it except that she would have much more freedom, she would be sorted into one of the four houses and Harry Potter was there. She had never met Harry, but her father spoke very highly of him, which, Malia thought wasn't very comforting.

    Malia was vaguely aware of Camilio's presence. He was definitely creepy. He reminded her of a Dementor. He was wearing incredibly bland gray robes that were the same color of dust. She was also starting to think he was mute. He was truly the most crap-worthy chaperone ever, Malia thought. He kept looking around at people and shops.

    Suddenly Malia had a cunning idea. Camilio didn't seem to be looking at her so she ran ahead of him into the throbbing crowd. Ducking behind a pumpkin juice stand she made herself as small as possible. She saw his rainbow clad head above the rest of the crowd. As soon as she saw his drab robes turn the corner she straightened up and emerged from her hiding place. Before she could leave a cheerful young witch wearing vivid orange robes complete with pointy hat grabbed her arm and spoke enthusiastically.

    "Hello Miss, why don't you have a nice cool glass of pumpkin juice! Only two sickles a glass! "

    Malia was thoroughly annoyed by this peddler and decide to play with her a little.

    "Tell me peddly," she began "What sizes do you have?"

    The girl smile entirely too widely.

    "Small and large!" she chirped. Malia smiled.

    "In that case I'll take an extra medium."

    The girl looked at Malia with an entirely different expression, as if Malia was a small, stupid child.

    "We don't have that size." she said condescendingly. Malia twirled a lock of hair.

    "Ok, then I'll take a small and do you have any other flavors? I hate pumpkin." The pumpkin girl gave a tremendous gasp. This was too much for Malia.

    "Oh please!" she exclaimed angrily, "Just because I'm a witch doesn't mean I have to like pumpkin! Are you trying to make us magical stereotypes!"

    Malia realized she was making a scene and regained her composure.

    "Oh," the girl said in a small voice. "Can I interest you in a pumpkin pasty?"

    Malia felt her eye twitch as her anger reached a new level.

    "Yes, I would." she said furtively. She paid for the crud cake and took a large bite.

    "Oh my God!! There's a toenail in my pumpkin pasty!!" Malia yelled and turned to the horrified witch, smiled and dropped the pastry. I feel better, she thought.

    Malia walked into Quality Quidditch Supplies in high spirits. She had felt rather bad for the dim girl at the pumpkin juice stand, but she watched from a distance and the girl wasn't sacked so her conscience was clean. Her raging temper had built up again and it felt good to release it although she was usually able to control it better. But then Malia never liked controlling her temper, it was rather like getting stabbed and then twisting the knife. She shoved the thought from her mind and concentrated on the new Quidditch robes. They were nice, she thought, but too pale. Malia played the position of Chaser was the only position she was good at and she prided herself of her Chasing skills although she had learned to play dirty from her classmates at Cumberland's and couldn't kick the habit.

    Malia was examining the new brooms intently until a loud voice knocked her back into reality.

    "Harry!"

    She didn't think it possible that Harry Potter could be present, but she turned around to look anyway. Standing before her was a tall boy with orange hair and a multitude of freckles. Malia had no idea where the voice had come from, but she had recognized this boy's picture from Witch Weekly. He must be Harry Potter, no scar to speak of, but it must be hidden under his fringe. Less handsome than I expected... Malia edged closer to the tall gangly boy who was inspecting the new Nimbus. She seized her chance.

    "Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, thinking this was the cheesiest way to start a conversation. "You know my father, Cornelius Fudge!"

    Harry seemed a little disoriented, and opened his mouth several times like a fish.

    "I'm his daughter, Malia Catley. My father talks about you all the time!" She stroked his shoulder affectionately and the boy smiled vapidly.

    "Ron!"

    A bushy haired girl had strode up turned to Ron and then to Malia, raising an eyebrow. Malia returned this with a malignant glance and turned back to Freckles.

    "You're not Harry Potter?" she said as she withdrew her hand as fast as possible. The brown haired girl butted in,

    "No he isn't, he's Ron Weasley and I'm Hermione Granger." She wondered briefly if she was Harry's girlfriend, but dispelled the thought, she was Hermoine Granger, she had read somewhere that they were just friends. At that moment a dark haired boy walked up to the entourage.

    "This," Hermoine said matter of factly, "is Harry."

    "What, I have my very own introduction now?" He said casually.

    Malia looked Harry over. His black hair was tousled and his clothes seemed rather big for him , which made her doubt his rumored fortune. His green eyes remained locked on hers, something very little people did. It didn't look like anyone was going to introduce her to Harry.

    "I'm Malia Catley." Malia said, taking the initiative.

    "Whoa, weird name," The orange haired boy butted in. Malia struggled to keep smiling. She wanted badly to insult Ron, but at the same time she had to keep up appearances for Harry. Ugghh, I'm starting to sound like my father, she thought. Malia had to settle for a contemptful glare towards Ron before turning back to Harry.

    "What type of broom do you have?" Harry said, motioning towards the broomsticks.

    "I have the newest model," Malia answered. "The Zephyr. No need to ask yours, you have a Firebolt right?"

    Harry couldn't stop grinning. He'd never had anyone to talk about Quidditch with. Hermoine wasn't interested and Ron loved it, but he had no idea what he was talking about, he couldn't actually play Quidditch.

    "Right" Harry replied "I guess you know I'm Seeker too-"

    "-Youngest one in a century." Malia replied as if on cue. Harry's attention was diverted.

    "What?" Harry said. Hermione had been tugging at his sleeve for the past minute.

    "Harry, we have to go to lunch."

    "Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me." Hermoine smiled at him tenderly. She was obviously glad to have his attention if only for a moment.

    "Uh maybe, if you want to, umm come to lunch with us?" Harry asked. Hermione's expression darkened. Malia grinned.

    " I'd love to! Where are we going?"

    Malia walked beside Harry down the cobblestone streets to their destination. No one could decide on which restaurant to eat in, so the group decided to eat at whichever restaurant they came to first. She chatted with the dark haired boy as they traveled.

    His initial shyness was lost in an enthusiastic conversation about Quidditch. His mysterious personality was intriguing. She watched him gesturing to her about his favorite team. His shadowy black hair was glinting in the intense afternoon sun. Harry stopped talking abruptly and was beaming at Malia. Malia returned the smile gratefully. He looked so innocent and childlike. It was endearing. A loud groaning sound seemed to be coming from Ron.

    "Oh bollocks! Harry, look where we're eating."

    Ron's long finger was pointing dispiritedly at a very antiquated Victorian style inn. This was complete with lacy white curtains, heaps of sweet smelling flowers and the daily crowd of old fogies shuffling around and trying to pay with outdated money.

    "I think it's lovely." Hermione protested. They had no choice.

    They began to climb the creaking wooden steps. Suddenly a little brown, fluffy object came pelting down to the four people. Hermoine screamed as it shifted direction and plunged towards her. Ron grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to duck. Malia saw this as if in slow motion, she was just glad Harry hadn't saved the little Mudblood. He did look rather shaken though. He began to look around wildly.

    "Where'd it go?" His panicked voice diminishing the calm that had just began to settle. Malia sighed and pointed to some potted geraniums. Harry plunged his fist into the black soil and trapped a tiny fluttering owl in his fist. Gently, he removed a rolled up bit of parchment from the creature's measly talons. Ron and Hermoine watched him rapturously.

    Malia strode over to Harry and ran her hand down his arm, at the same time trying to see what he was reading. As soon as he acknowledged her quiet presence he tore away and walked over to Ron and Hermoine, whose nails were digging into the boy's arm. Harry talked to them in a hushed voice.

    "Snuffles-" Was all she could make out. After a few minutes more private council, Harry finally walked over to Malia, head bowed in thought. He struggled to find words.

    "Malia, I-I'm sorry er..." Malia slipped her hand into his in response and talked as calmly as she could fake.

    "It's okay, I can tell it's important. But I want to talk to you again, you owe me lunch." And then the grand finale she kissed him on the cheek. Harry blushed. How sweet, she thought, not so sure if it was sarcastic or not.

    Malia walked past the many close packed shops on her way to Madame Malkins. She was certain her unusual Spanish chaperone would come out of the nearest shop. Thankfully she never saw him, but she kept her eyes open for Sancho or Poncho, whatever his name was.

    She had managed to dismiss the fact that Harry had left her for some stupid message from a probable mental patient named Snuffles. Malia was considerably surprised to see a smallish crowd of boys and girls about her age. Ahh wonderful, a distraction. They formed a circle around something that was concealed from Malia's view.

    As she neared she saw that the crowd was shouting angry cheers and brandishing clenched fists. Malia's interest in this was now beyond simple curiosity.

    She pushed her way into the center of the circle all the while asking herself what the hell she thought she was doing. In the middle there were two boys throwing punches at each other madly. The boy closest to her was middle sized, chestnut haired boy with fair skin. Apparently he wasn't much of a fighter, one of his eyes were darkened by a magnificent black eye. Adding to his collection of battle scars was a fat lip and narrow cut on his chin. Malia didn't fell any sympathy for him, he obviously picked the wrong fight. Anyway, she was too busy studying his opponent.

    The other boy was burly, but lean and brutally handsome. His sandy blond hair was spiked and messy, his eyes the color of indigo were lit up with exhilaration, fixed on his opponent and almost unblinking. His only blemish was a pinkish red mark on his left cheek. His face suddenly took on the peculiar expression you get when you can feel someone staring at you and his eyes flicked in Malia's direction.

    It was only mere moments, but it was enough for the brown haired boy to take a swing at the other boy. Malia's eyes widened in surprise and the blond boy ducked swiftly and hit the boy in the stomach with a soft thud. While the brown haired boy crumpled, the other one stood up gracefully to his full height and wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand. He was quite tall.

    Malia's attention was drawn to a piercing whistle followed by a wizard guard yelling loudly. Malia didn't have time to think, she seized the wrist of the blonde boy and ran. She led him into Madame Malkins and they hid behind a towering display of fluffy pink robes.

    The guard's booming voice could be heard outside the shop.

    "You're coming with me young man, prepare to be punished."

    The boy beside Malia exhaled softly and mouthed "Thanks." Malia just smiled.

    The boy was wiping his bloody knuckles on the hem of the pink robe above him. Malia envied his golden tan.

    A tall figure loomed above them unexpectedly.

    "I won't even ask why you're hiding behind my display, I suppose you're here for Hogwarts robes."

    "As long as those aren't them." Malia said , referring to the voluminous pink robes. Madame Malkin just sniffed.

    "I'll be with you in a moment."

    "Thank you," the boy murmured. "I'm Klaus Montague by the way."

    Wide-eyed and smiling, Klaus offered Malia a slightly bloody hand. She returned the handshake.

    "Malia Catley. What happened out there?"

    Klaus looked at his feet briefly.

    "I didn't mean it, it sort of just happened, he-" Malia cut him off with a wave of her hand.

    "It's all right, it's not illegal to fight in front of a female anymore." Malia was pleased to see Klaus smile.

    "So Klaus, I'm assuming you attend Hogwarts?"

    Klaus scratched his head.

    "Yeah. Of course. Are you just beginning now?" Malia could feel herself blush and hated it.

    "Well, I've been attending- er... another school."

    "Oh." Klaus said slowly. Madame Malkin rushed back into the room carrying some magical measuring tape. She tapped her wand and the tape began measuring Klaus' arms.

    "House?" Madame Malkin demanded.

    "Slytherin." Klaus answered nonchalantly. Malia was rather disappointed at this statement. She wasn't sure what house she would be in, but she was quite certain it wasn't Slytherin. She came from an extremely long line of Griffyndor's and that wasn't likely to change. She looked over at Klaus, and the rugged lines of his face, he was quite simply a God, but she didn't feel like pursuing him, she had Harry for that. Besides, she probably wouldn't see him again.

    Now Madame Malkin had Klaus swathed in black fabric, magical needles sewing away. He was looking down at his shoes, rubbing the pinkish spot on his cheek thoughtfully. This made him look younger than he was. He looked up at Malia and smiled uncertainly.

    "Your eyes-"

    "Yeah, it's natural, no birth defect or magical mishap." Malia replied, deciding a quick answer was best.

    "So you're going to Hogwarts," Klaus continued, "do you have any idea what house you'll be in ?"

    Malia thought about this, she didn't want to say the wrong thing.

    "Not Hufflepuff," she said confidently. Klaus laughed at this.             Suddenly the boy winced in pain as a needle stuck him. Then came some of the worst cursing Malia had ever heard. Madame Malkin dropped her scissors in shock. Klaus blushed a dull pink and mumbled apologetically, but Malia could still see him grinning.

    Malia turned to the full length mirror. She hadn't noticed the dark shapeless material being sewn around her. Just as the finishing touches were being done Malia caught a fleeting glimpse out the window of something that looked like a beach ball on a pike.

    "Sancho," she breathed. Madame Malkin talked hurriedly as she took the robe from Malia.

    "Sorry I don't make ponchos."

    Klaus joined the conversation,

    "I think she said Sancho."

    Malia was panicking,

    "Hurry, I'm losing him!"

    They shoved their money into Madame Malkin's hands and took their robes. Malia grabbed Klaus's forearm and tugged him onto the street.

    "I'm flattered you want me on your Sancho search party, and I Ôm sure he's really nice, but-"

    Malia cut him off.

    "His name is Camilio, he's my chaperone and I didn't want to look like a pedophile's latest catch so I ditched him at the pumpkin juice stand and now I lost Camilio and you have to help me find him because he sort of blends into the surroundings like a.. a..."

    "Chameleon?" Klaus finished. As comprehension dawned on Malia's face she gripped Klaus even tighter.