Julia Potter- Has a Nice Ring to It Huh?

Chapter One

My room was completely empty. With the exception of the odd picture on my walls, mostly of myself and many of my close friends. Pale blue moonlight streamed through my window. Blue. That used to be a favourite colour of mine, some time ago. Time. Time was in the past now. I was running by anything but a clock, anything but time. I couldn't see the past as clearly as before. That night was still holding its rightful place in the foremost corner of my head.

We were having a party downstairs, if a party is to be considered three couples snogging in the corners of our small, unfinished basement. I heard muffled footsteps upstairs and I ignored them because my parents weren't allowed down here, I had forbid them as my fifteenth birthday present. I could hear more footsteps now. That was extremely odd, as my parents were the only people home. I was an only child. I ignored these as well for no apparent reason, too busy with my boyfriend Jason who had just started planting kisses on my shoulders. Then I heard it, screaming, high pitched cackling, and through the crack under the door a stream of brilliant green light.

Jason and I, along with the two other couples got off each other. We were about halfway up the stairs when the door burst open. With a burning red light we were all thrown backwards, our wands flew in a high arc, and landed in the spell-caster's outstretched hand. All was dark down here, but a horrible green light and a high-pitched voice shouting 'Avada Kedavra!' illuminated the scene. Too clearly for my liking. Jason was on the floor beside me, apparently dead. I started bawling as Voldemort killed the other couples, but... he... didn't kill me...I... I was right there. I didn't have time to ponder this long. Voldemort had grabbed my wrist, but at that moment screams echoed around the room, and a smoke billowed in a circle around myself and Voldemort. I couldn't see, or hear, I screamed but then I was falling... falling in to blackness... blackness... darkness...

*

All I remembered when I woke up the next morning was... Voldemort... his hand... my... wrist... I looked down at my own wrist; the filthy hand that encased it last night had left a sickening yellow bruise. I looked at my surroundings and was immediately puzzled. I was in a room, a room where everything was white, right down to my face, according to the mirror across from my bed. Bed? What was I doing in bed? I tried to get out of the white sheets on my bed to look out the window, only to find my legs wouldn't support me. I felt weak, and immediately dropped back to the white sheets; I was feeling extremely dizzy now.

A creak from the other side of the room from my right pulled me out of my dizzy spell. I looked over to see a white door, with a silver handle, being pushed open very slowly. A moment later a man walked in. Albus Dumbledore. I knew him, I had seen him so many times on my Chocolate Frog cards, as my parents were Muggles, we didn't get the Daily Prophet. However, if we did, we would have seen all the articles about what an amazing man and wizard he is.

"Julia," he said with a gracious smile, standing in the doorway.

"Uh...hi?" was all I could say.

"I suppose you're wondering where you are?" he asked.

"Well...uh...yeah," I said, regaining my senses.

"You are at St. Mungos Wizarding Hospital; last night Voldemort went to your house and killed your parents." At this, the twinkling in his blue eyes stopped. "And the other couples you were with that night... You will be moving to London immediately to live with Ms. Hermione Granger and her family for the time being, until you are old enough to move in to your own house."

I sat there, stunned out of my mind before saying,

"What about my friends Professor? And my house? And all my belongings?"

"Your parents' belongings will be in your hands. You may give them to whom you will. You'll be able to make new friends at Hogwarts. Your parents told me about you Julia, you're a very social person, you'll be fine, I'm sure of it," said Dumbledore.

"And my belongings?" I asked.

"Will go with you to Ms. Granger's house," he said, his eyes twinkling again.

"Alright... but, Professor, I don't understand, when he grabbed me... w-what happened?"

"Ministry wizards Apparated at your house. They managed to collect a large group of Death Eaters, who were slow at apparation, but Voldemort was too quick for us, he let go of you...and then he disapparated,"

"But, Professor, why didn't he just...er..."

"Why didn't he kill you? No one is yet sure of that Julia," said Dumbledore slowly. "It will remain as much of a mystery as of the Harry Potter situation."

"Yes Professor," I said solemnly. With that he left.

*

Now here I am, standing looking out my window for one last time, before I move from my supposedly safe house in Manitoba, to...London. I would miss all my friends here and of course; I had already attended the funerals for them. Only Georgia and Matt had wizard parents, they were the only ones who understood the circumstances. The other parents were Muggles, and held no trust in me any longer.

My parents' belongings had gone to my friend's parents, as offerings of peace. I guess that worked because when I offered they didn't hesitate, and were considerably warmer towards me after that, man people can be greedy.

So once again, here I was. In my house. Alone. Waiting for the Knight Bus to come pick me up. Dumbledore had made this arrangement, I was beginning to like this man, I was too confused, sad and angry to arrange any affairs right now. I saw a pair of headlights appear at the end of my street and realised it was my ride. I walked silently across the room. The floorboard that creaked so many times in the night before gave its last creak, or the last I would hear of it.

Tears streaming down my face, I turned in the doorway and took one last look at my room. The pictures of my friends and I scattered across the walls, the bright blue paint I had suggested in place of the grey on my old walls, the lamp I hit my head on when I was ten while jumping on the bed...all...gone. With one last glance around, I flew downstairs, my cloak billowing behind me as I raced past the kitchen, living room, dining room, and basement door, where my friend's murder had taken place. Full out crying, I didn't look left, nor right until I was on the bus, when I turned around and looked at my home for the last time in my life. My parents were dead, I was moving away from my friends, moving away from all the safety and comfort I had ever known in the world. The old porch banisters swayed slightly in the wind, I remembered painting those banisters with my father so many years ago, I was only twelve. And then we went inside and mom told me to take a bath before I dirtied up her house. But now that was gone. I was leaving my safe, comfortable house in the past.

"So, Miss, you look in a right sta'e, d'you wanna tell me wha's wrong?" said the pimpled conductor.

"No," I answered shortly.

"You're a pretty one, you are," said Stan, still looking at me. "We don't get many of them on here."

I snorted with laughter.

"Whassat?" asked Stan, still staring at me.

"I'm taken by a deceased boyfriend," I said, the waterworks starting again.

"Oh, sorry, Miss," said Stan, embarrassed.

I half-smiled evilly. I knew I was pretty, but I could still make people feel about three inches tall. I was around 5"8, at fifteen, you have to admit, that's a pretty good height achievement. I have long, straight brown hair, however, it curls when I'm in the shower. I have hazel eyes, which are greener, and cat shaped. I shaped my eyebrows in two perfect arches, and my lips were medium sized. I wasn't thin; I was... medium, muscley. I hated women who worked out way too much and by the time they were able to lift seven hundred pounds without difficulty, they weren't pretty anymore. Just muscle. Nothing else.

"That's perfectly alright Stan," I said.

He looked surprised at my mood swing but continued making small talk all the way back to London, I wasn't really listening, just kind of. I replied and smiled. My teeth also made a bonus for my apparently attractive looks, but they weren't exactly straight, some of them were crooked and I was convinced I had buckteeth. I hate to flatter myself, there are a lot of better looking girls than myself out there, but there are ugly-ducklings as well, most of them turn out pretty.

"Well, where abouts in London are ya off to?" asked Stan curiously after a moments absence with his small talk.

"The Grangers' house... I'm afraid I don't know the address..." I said, looking up, where did these people live?

"That's alright," said Stan, looking at me hopefully. I almost laughed out loud, if he thought he would get me with two words he sure had another thing coming.

Now was my chance to finally observe the inside of the Knight Bus, I had been staring out the window, thinking for the past few hours. The brass beds with fluffy, feathery pillows were actually quite comfortable, but I wouldn't have been able to sleep on this bus. Even if I didn't have a thousand things on my mind. Ernie, the driver that Stan had introduced to me later, didn't seem to have mastered the wheel. Large things had to keep jumping aside when he rode the sidewalk, and I asked out of curiosity

"Don't Muggles hear the bus?"

"Nah, not them," said Stan disgustedly. "They don't hear right, don't see right neither."

"Oh," I said shortly, lying back on my quilted comforter.

"We'll be there in another few minutes, 'alf an hour at the most..." commented Stan, quite professionally peering out the window.

"Best go wake up Madam Martins, Stan," grunted Ernie from the steering wheel.

Stan jumped up and strode towards the handsome brass staircase, and a few moments later returned, accompanied by a very pretty woman, who was slightly green. She smiled at me, winked at Ernie and made her way out of the bus.

"Alright then, Julia," said Stan, now directing his attention towards myself. "Hang on!"

"Wh-?" I was halfway through the question when I was thrown onto my bed with a loud bang, and a swirl of colour in the windows.

"That," said Stan dramatically, "is why."

"I kinda had that part figured out," I said coldly, trying, and failing, to rub my bruised back.

"'Ere," said Stan, stepping over. "Klupsinos," he muttered making my back instantly felt better.

"You know Stan," I remarked, noticing the pain vanish. "Behind all that klutzy I'm-trying-to-make-you-impressed act, you're really one heck of a guy." I was warmer towards him after that, and it turns out he's an interesting person if he isn't going out of him way to impress you.

About a half-hour later we were in front of an old house. It was much the same as any other London townhouse, I know because when I came here for my Aunt's funeral, we passed many of these complexes, and houses. The chimney on the top was slightly rusting, but nevertheless standing straight up. The window frames could do with a paint, as could the door, and I was itching to prepare a potion to revitalise all of the partially dead grass around the front garden, in which the house brightened up with many different coloured flowers. I walked up the paved driveway, which was also very old looking, and crumbling as I took each step towards my new home.

I knocked proudly on the door, my usual, non-rhythm beat. I could hear muffled footsteps, with the occasional creak from behind the old oak door, as though someone was bounding downstairs. After what seemed like ages I could hear the lock being unlatched from inside, and within a split-second the oak door vanished and the image was replaced with that of a girl, a very British looking girl. She had brown, bushy hair, very white, straight teeth, and large, almond eyes.

"Julia! Hi!" she said happily. "Where's your stuff?" she inquired after a moments pause.

"Stan's getting it," I said with a grin. I felt a lot warmer now that I wasn't standing out here alone, and although the interior of the house looked dark from inside, I assured myself I would get used to it. I stepped inside, although it was still summer I had donned a long sleeved shirt for the occasion, it was blue, with the occasional whisk of cloud-like red across it. Blue and red, my favourite colours. I was wearing jeans, they had buttons all up the sides, which I had of course buttoned, for fear her parents didn't want me showing off my million dollar legs.

"'Ere!" said Stan loudly, dragging my huge suitcase through the doorframe.

"Thanks, Stan!" I said with a smile, he staggered, dumbstruck at me actually smiling, then composed himself.

"No problem, Miss King," said Stan with a slight grin beneath his pimples.

"See you then," I said, turning my attention to Hermione Granger, who had just bounded in with my other bag.

"Oh sorry!" I said, embarrassed at not carrying anything.

"Julia," said Hermione, raising one eyebrow, "it's a bag, not a nuclear bomb!"

"Oh...right," I said again, still blushing. I didn't want her to think I was useless.

"Okay, well, let me give you the standing tour, then you can meet my parents. They're out back," said Hermione.

"Oh, er...alright," I said.

"Okay," Hermione started again. "In here is- oh wait, let me turn on a light." She cut across herself.

She moved towards a light switch and suddenly the hallway was bathed in a warm, white light. I looked around at my surroundings. There was an old desk with a chair to my left, before the staircase. The desk was a mahogany, old, polished wood, as was the chair, with a blue velvet cushion. The ceiling lamp she turned on was also the same velvety blue, exempting the fact that it wasn't velvet, but a sort of metal. The floor was a scratched up wood lighter than the desk and chair, from what tree I never did find out while I was living there. The walls were dubbed with half-royal blue, half cloud white wallpaper, with a narrow strip of wood running in between the colours, the wood was the same as that of the floor. The wallpaper and wood flooring continued down the hall, where I supposed the other rooms stood, and along the upper staircase, where the bedrooms were.

"Okay, through there," said Hermione, pointing down the shadowed hall, "is the kitchen, and living room, and that there," she pointed behind me, "is the living room." I turned around to find myself in a plain doorframe, which opened to the pinkish white carpeted room. I stepped inside, and instantly felt warmer about this house. The walls were covered in a light salmon pink dressing, and the carpet was light pink, so light it was almost white. The chairs were furnished in the same colour as the walls. And there was a computer off to one side of the room, along with several bookshelves (which I assumed held Hermione's books. Only because her parents were Muggles, and several of the titles said things like 'Potions- I Can Brew!' and 'Defence Against the Dark Arts, What They Don't Teach You in School'). A few paintings hung on the walls, mostly of fruit and old cars.

"It's nice in here..." I informed her graciously.

"Thanks, this is where I come to read, and sit down and..." she paused, "think," she finished.

"Yeah," I said, knowing the feeling where you had too much on your mind.

"So...through here is the kitchen and dining room," she said, noticing me staring around. "It's not much..."

I stepped in to the kitchen and dining room attached set. These rooms were also warm and inviting, the sunlight seeped in through the windows, the tall willow tree in the backyard was turning brown and red, it was almost fall, almost school.

The kitchen was floored with gleaming white tiles, the walls were a warm yellow colour, and for some strange reason made me think of a bakery. It smelled faintly of a homey smell that was extremely hard to explain. White curtains billowed in the breeze in the dining room, it was painted in red, almost blood red but darker. The floor was a red-like colour, it made me think of fruit punch...

"Like I said," Hermione squeaked waiting for my approval, "it's not really much..."

"I love it!" I said enthusiastically.

"Oh...right..." said Hermione nervously, she turned and led the way upstairs, which was very much the same decorating scheme: warm, cheerful, and inviting. Hermione's room was slightly smaller than her parents and lined with bookshelves. I briefly noticed her trunk's contents were strewn on the floor among many books.

Her parents' room wasn't really interesting; it had a slight balcony that held stairs to the backyard. A double bed, with a quilted comforter, and the same, billowing white, curtains as downstairs. The bathroom was dull as well, but all the same pretty cheerful and well kept. The tiles were turquoise, as was the wallpaper and tub. The mirror had flowers engraved into the painted white, wooden frame.

"So..." said Hermione apprehensively. I smiled back at her as her face relaxed.

"I like it!" I said with a smile.

I soon grew used to the Granger residence. Hermione's parents were shy, smart people, both dentists. Hermione and I went shopping at the many malls of London for new school clothes and accessories, it was quite funny watching her father sigh as we walked in to yet another shop. We were in the mall one-day shopping for some Gryffindor worthy colours (she had told me I was more than likely to belong in her house at Hogwarts), when I ran in to someone who was shopping.

"Sorry!" I squealed, helping the character off the ground.

"Watch where you're going next time!" the boy, not a day older than sixteen spat at me. His blond hair was amiss since I had knocked him over, and I looked around frantically for Hermione.

"Uh...are you okay?" I asked, after failing to find her among the mass of people.

"Yeah, fine, you?" he asked. He said this in such a warm tone I looked around at him.

"I'm...ok," I said uncertainly. I suddenly realised he was completely and totally checking me out.

" Excuse me? " I said, suddenly feeling a lot taller, gripping my wand tightly in my left hand.

" Huh? " he said, jerking out of a trance which obviously involved my butt.

" What do you think you're doing? " I asked.

" Admiring," he said shortly. " I don't believe we've met. "

" No," I said, " and I don't think I'd like to. "

" Oh, but you would, " he said, his pale grey eyes glinting strangely, those eyes seemed to draw me to the spot.

" Oh, but I don't," I said, pulling my blue eyes away from his cold grey ones. He held me back.

" Get off of me! " I hissed at him.

" No, " he countered, dropping my arm.

" Oh yes, that makes so much sense, say no, and drop my arm," I taunted maliciously. That was so unlike me, but this guy deserved it fully.

" The name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, " he said to me, still eyeing me. Perv.

" Good for you, cue the James Bond music and I'll be off, " I said.

" Screw off, I was trying to be nice, " he said.

" Nice try, " I said, turning my hacking cough in to a 'NOT!'

" What school do you go to... wait... are you a Muggle? " he inquired suddenly.

" No, " I shot back at him through narrowed eyes.

" Oh alright. What school are you going to? " he asked again.

" Hogwarts, " I said, all my answers were monotonous and short.

" Me too, what house will you be in? " he asked, still eyeing me. Perv.

" I don't know, whichever house it is, I hope you're not in it, " I said.

" That's nice, just so you know I'm in Slytherin, the best one, " he added smugly.

" Well then, I hope not to see you in Slytherin with all your evil friends. If you have any friends," I added just as smugly.

I quite suddenly remembered Hermione telling me about this guy. He was the one that always made fun of Harry, Ron and her. Well then, let's give this guy something to think about shall we? Slytherin people were all pureblood and proud of that as well. A little too proud at times according to Hermione.

" See ya later, " I said shortly.

" See you in Hufflepuff, Mudblood..." I heard him mutter. I whirled around.

" WHAT!" I shouted so loudly half the people in the mall turned around to look.

"I said," he said slowly, as though I was thick, "see you in Hufflepuff, Mudblood."

I was taking huge offence to this, because my boyfriend had been of Muggle parentage, as had many of my best friends, including Hermione. I needed to teach him a lesson, by the look on his face, he wanted all the attention. I yelled what again, and he repeated the exact same thing. Now that everyone was watching, including a fearful Hermione who had just come over to tell me to nevermind, I decided the time was right.

I slapped him. It felt good, my warm hand connecting with his cold, pale cheekbone.

" OW YOU FILTHY LITTLE -" he began, but I didn't hear what he was calling me, half the people in the crowd were cheering.

On our way out of the mall Hermione was congratulating me.

" I did that once as well you know," she was saying.

" Put to joy for the people who have slapped Draco Malfoy," I said shortly, giving her a high five as we walked towards her home... my home... our home.

(A/N):

Ack! thanks everyone for being so supportive! Thanks to Dreamfeather for beta-ing and Jessie too! Thanks to all my reviewers from 'Loving Harry.' Oh yah, GO READ FOOTPRINTS and SELINA PROLOGUE: 'Till Death does us part which are both in Schnoogle, love you all, please review and DO NOT FLAME! :)