Trivial Pursuit

Chapter 1- Outcast

Julia Summers' life was not going the way it was supposed to. She had let down her mother when she had been sorted into Ravenclaw. She should have known, that fateful day, that the rest of her life at Hogwarts was going to be one great big failure. She ought to have been a Gryffindor. Wasn't she brave? Wasn't she loyal? Desperately, Julia had pleaded with the hat, so she would be placed in her mother's house, but to no avail.

The whispering had begun, though, when her name had first been called to step up to the stool in the Great Hall. The older students, especially, turned to each other with wonder written clearly on their faces. "Summers... her father... is that the same family?" She had wanted to scream- the whole of Hogwarts knew her story, and she was the one left wondering. The applause at the announcement of her house was conspicuously lacking when compared to all the others, sparse and half-hearted tapping of hands in weary resignation. On the other hand, when Ginny Weasley was Sorted into Gryffindor, the howls of approval rang through the hall with enthusiasm. Julia glared at the waiflike redhead as she passed her- why was she so damned popular anyway?

Her life had gone downhill from there. Whispering crowds of girls looked at her with contempt and called her 'whore's daughter' and 'slut child'. At Julia's protest, they would laugh. "Who's your Dad, then?"

"I- I don't know. I don't remember him."

"Of course. That's because your mother slept around so much that you never probably even saw him. Do you help your mother out with her work, slut?"

Julia couldn't bear people who insulted her mother. She thought the world of her family, the only ones who put up with her odd moods, shyness, and bouts of hyperactivity without complaint. She would slap or punch the unfortunate offender and walk away in a huff, fully knowing the extent of the retribution that would result. She would lose house points, get detentions, and end up being rejected by even a greater number of her peers. What was the point of it all?

She would never get anywhere in the social circles of the Ravenclaw common room. After all, the only group who would talk to her were the

well-known 'superficial slacker sluts', who originally found her 'flower girl' past to be romantic and exciting. Then she became the butt for their jokes, ostracized even from that group because of her rebellious hair ornaments and exotic make up colors. The only reason for these offending tastes was that she was poor, and really had no choice about the trinkets she purchased. She had the choice between either the cheap ones no one wanted, or nothing at all. Sometimes she wished for the latter- at least then, someone might have felt sorry for her. As it was, she remained the infamous Ravenclaw outcast, the bastard child who wore pink lipstick and feathers in her hair and tried to make her overweight body look slimmer by lengthening her skirt.

As horrible as the girls in her house were to her, though, none made her feel as angry and jealous as did Ginny Weasley, that infuriating, smug girl with fiery hair and an air of shyness that had indeed succeeded in charming the pants off of the resident hero, Harry Potter. She was also the sister of Ron Weasley, the redhead she had remembered seeing in Diagon Alley the summer before her first year. This would not have been important, of course, had not Julia cherished a hopeless passion for Ronald Weasley, glistening hair, loud laugh, and lanky body included. The crush had been ignited at simply seeing his 'cute' face, fueled by his occasional smiles in the corridor, and had exploded just a few days ago, at the beginning of her fourth year, when he had stopped in the hall to help her clear up some books she had dropped, and their hands had accidentally touched.

It was as if the years of desire, worry, and hopelessness had made her so desperate for his touch, that even an accident could arouse her. She had watched, all these years, as he supported the arrogant Boy-Who-Lived-With-Ginny-Weasley wholeheartedly, never backing down, and even sacrificing himself for the side of light when called upon. Suffering bravely for what he believed, and receiving no recognition, Ron fought off Voldemort time and time again, first in the incident with the Philosopher's Stone, and then in the Chamber of Secrets, and finally breaking his leg in his eagerness to bring Sirius Black to justice. Julia had watched his endeavors with an obsessive passion, praying again and again that his natural talent and skill would bring him out of the situation intact. She still remembered the long nights in which she stared at the canopy of her bed and wished it was his face, whole and smiling, so she would know he was safe. Her panic had reached its height last year, though, at the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She had been so glad that he hadn't been able to be one of the champions, but then he had been snatched from his rooms and taken underwater to wait and be rescued by the untrustworthy fool called Harry Potter. When he had finally been pulled out, long after the time limit had been reached, she had been sweating and hyperventilating, the horror lodged in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. But he had survived and now Julia wanted him with a desperate passion, and was willing to make a fool of herself to prove herself worthy. After all, what had she to lose? No friends, no good reputation. Just the dubious honor of being the only bastard in Ravenclaw.

But everywhere she went, however she tried to speak with him alone, there was Ginny, her hand in Harry Potter's, smiling like she was in heaven. There was no chance for herself, anyway, Julia rationalized. Why try? It was going to be a wasted effort after all. She tried to bury herself in class work in order to forget about him, but to no avail. Walking into the library, one fateful day, she saw him, the boy she had thirsted after for years, kissing that bushy haired friend of his, Hermione Granger. She could have died at that moment. Unable to facilitate that particular course if action, however, Julia had run back to her dorm and flung herself on the bed, trying to cry away the pain. When she had found that particular device useless, she had decided to take out her anger on her parchment and canvasses, and had painted abysses of hurt, and written tales of sorrow. It was already April, though, and the ache remained, lingering in the back of heart in order to assure that it could never be forgotten.

"Miss Summers, I suggest that you remove those ludicrous objects from your hair. I hate to let you down, but they are making you resemble the esteemed Easter bunny, which, I am sure, was not your original desire. And five points from Ravenclaw for the possession and use of inappropriate attire."

Julia bowed her head in silent resignation. Professor Snape was Professor Snape, and no one would be able to blame her for the loss of points this time- no one except the Slytherins escaped his quiet vindictiveness. After class was dinner, so she made her way quickly to the Great Hall, and began eating a baked potato. All she really wanted to do was go dancing. She loved to dance- the feeling of being one with the gyrating mass of bodies on a dimly lit dance floor, combined with the heady beat of the music made the activity irresistible. Instead, Julia was stuck in this school, with its hateful students, coldly distant professors, and her own creations of quills and colors that she hated for being such good mirrors of her feelings. She would never show those works of art, those stories to her practical and contemptuous peers. She was already laughed at, already criticized.

Suddenly, Julia felt tired, so tired of her life. What was the point of it all? No one like her, no one thought she was special. With difficulty, she made herself remember Octavia, who doted on her unconditionally. She stood abruptly, filled with purpose. She would go dancing.

***

Julia ran up to her room, suddenly excited. She was going to break the rules and go do something she loved, while her pathetic class did prep. in the Great Hall. She giggled bitterly to herself. It was ironic that she had to endanger her safety in order to enjoy herself. She ran undetected through the deserted halls- everyone was still at dinner. Jumping into the shadows at the edge of the hall, she sidled toward the statue of the one-eyed witch, and, tapping it gently with her fragile wand, muttered 'Dissendium'. Hurrying quickly through the underground passage- she was mildly claustrophobic- Julia opened the trapdoor in the floor of Honeydukes, and listened for sounds of teachers' voices. There were none- everyone had decided to eat at Hogwarts, it seemed. Cautiously, she opened the door of the storeroom and mixed easily with the crowd of wizards, witches, vampires, and hags that filled the candy store. She slipped out undetected into the moonlit evening, and made her way to 'Gilderoy's Groove', the newest dance club in Hogsmeade. It was the place to be, these days, a place that none of the Hogwarts students were allowed to frequent, even during Hogsmeade weekends. This double thrill made the adrenaline rush to her head, and her hand shook as she applied the aging spell she had learned long ago. Now twenty one years old, Julia paid the entrance fee, and entered the place for the first time.

Lights circled the walls dizzyingly, changing colors and patterns. It was, oh, what did the muggles call it? A strobe light. There was a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, reflecting the light and intensifying it greatly. All around her were wizards and witches, moving with the beat. Julia suddenly felt shy. Who was she to join this mass of bodies, this vibrating, sweaty frenzy? Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see a man, portly and balding, holding out his hand to her. "W- Would you care to dance, m- my beautiful l- lady?"

Laughing, Julia agreed. "I would love to." They plunged into the chaos in front of them, and began to dance. Names were not necessary- the sensuality was inherent, and the music was deafening. Finally, when both were rosy cheeked and sweating, the man pulled her into a nearby alcove.

"L- let me get you a d- drink, milady," said the gallant gentleman, and Julia watched him as he acquired a beer from the bartender and returned to her with it. She inspected the glass dubiously- she had never drunk before. "Go on, it isn't p- poisoned."

"Very well," she replied, and lifted the glass to her lips. After a few sips, she began to feel lightheaded, but she continued bravely to drink it. When she had finished half the glass, she was dizzy. "I think I should go-" Her world went blank as she lost consciousness.