In the Wrong Story

"Oh dear!" the girl exclaimed. "I seem to have lost one of my priceless antique heirloom combs of uncertain provenance as I tossed my raven mane about!"

Coralynneanne knew it. She just knew that any moment now that that mysterious, brooding, handsome young man with that charming scar would leap to her rescue, find her hair-loom (she smirked at her own pune or play on words), gaze deeply into her eyes, and fall in love. After all, wasn't she mysterious? Enchanting? Heroic in an unthreatening and completely feminine way?

So why was she resorting to throwing down her clips and practically swooning in the aisles of this dingy little train? Oh, it was so infuriating! No one was paying any attention to her at ALL! Why was no one rushing up to gaze into her limpid pools of eyes? Did no one appreciate petite, model-like figures? Was there a problem with waist-length, curly, raven locks?

Just as she was thinking this tirade to herself, she noticed that one of the nearby compartment doors had opened, and she was, indeed, being appraised very thoroughly. But her admirer seemed to be a...girl.

How odd, she thought to herself. Why would a girl want to look at me like that? And she blushed at the very thought that this girl might be one of those...y'know...homosexuals. Of course not, this was a train for normal people. Well, magical and mysterious people with tragic pasts like me, of course. Not a train with...them.

The girl, a gamine redhead, let out a low whistle of appreciation. "Cor, who are you?" she inquired as if several wishes had come true at once. "Are you new? I've not seen you at Hogwarts before."

Coralynneanne smiled bravely. Perhaps the girl was simply friendly. "Yes," she said, nobly, trying to get across her years of suffering and her determination not to talk about them.

"Oh, do you have a cold, then? Need a hankie?" the girl inquired solicitously.

Coralynneanne forgot herself enough to glare, but then recollected her wits. "I'm fine, thanks. I simply have lost my hair combs and require assistance in finding them. Ay me!" she remembered to sigh, in accordance with proper maiden etiquette. But the strange girl, having no appreciation for the finer points of waiting for handsome boys to rescue you, scrambled out of her compartment and handed her the clips sitting conveniently right under the hem of her robe. Coralynneanne briefly wondered why the girl would have been looking there, in order to have spotted the combs so quickly; as the only reason that immediately presented itself involved looking at her legs, she abandoned that course of internal questioning.

"Oh, my! Thank you ever so much!" Coralynneanne gushed, glaring resentfully at the stubbornly closed compartment door that she was certain the broodingly handsome young man had disappeared into. "And now, I am afraid, I must leave you and enter my compartment," she continued, as she reached for the doorhandle to let herself into the compelling presence...

But the redheaded girl giggled and reached out to intercept her hand. "Oh, you don't want to go in there. Harry and Malfoy are in there. And they might be, well, fighting, if you know what I mean."

"Ah! Are they archrivals, then, sworn to battle to the death? Why are they permitted to fight on a school conveyance?" Coralynneanne knew she smelled something fishy, although perhaps that was simply because the train was so old. What secret lay within this compartment that the girl was so reluctant to permit her to enter?

The girl simply giggled. "Right. Rivals. Um, battling. That's as good a word for it as any, I guess. Anyway, come and sit with me and Hermione. I'm Ginny, by the way. Ginny Weasley."

Coralynneanne, casting a confused and wistful glance back at the compartment that she just knew contained her own true love, allowed herself to be tugged into the next spot down.

The other compartment was empty save another girl, approximately Coralynneanne's age. This, presumably, was the Hermione that Ginny had just mentioned. Coralynneanne found herself looking back and forth between the girls. They certainly weren't up to the standard that she had expected from Hogwarts students. Both girls seemed somehow...mussed. Hermione's lipstick, a deeper shade of plum than was quite respectable for a girl her age, was decidedly smeared, and, taking a slightly closer look at Ginny, they had both decided to use that shade of lipstick. It looked even worse on Ginny than it did on Hermione. Coralynneanne decided, charitably, to take them in hand.

"Oh, my," she sighed. "That lipstick doesn't suit either one of you, dears. Perhaps a pale peach, or the lovely light pink that shimmers lusciously on my own full lips, would suit you better?"

Hermione grinned and leaned forward, but Ginny cut her short with just a look. "Look," Ginny said with what looked like restraint, "thanks. Really. But, er, ..."

And Hermione jumped in, "it's just a bit of, er, experimentation. Trial and error, you know? Sometimes people have to make their own mistakes. Figure things out on their own. Come to new realizations about things like lipstick, or best friends, or who you really love." Her voice trailed off and she looked at Ginny like she was trying to make a point about something. Ginny blushed and looked down at the floor of the train.

Coralynneanne was a little puzzled, but she figured perhaps this Hermione girl was a little simple. "Well, of course it's experimentation. But I just thought you'd like to know that that shade simply doesn't suit you!"

And both of the other girls jumped, as if they had forgotten that another person was in the compartment with them. After a quick glance into each other's eyes, they turned toward the window, and neither of them spoke, to each other or to Coralynneanne, for the rest of the long, long journey. Coralynneanne was quite put out by the rudeness. Wasn't she worth talking to? She worked herself into nearly a bad mood before she realized that first, if she didn't stop frowning she would get wrinkles in her flawless ivory brow, and second, anger was dangerous for someone with her sad, sad past and unique skills. She spent the rest of the silent train ride contemplating equally her past and her flawless ivory brow.

As she stepped daintily off the train, Coralynneanne heard a gruff voice calling, "Firs' years, this way! Firs' years, over here!" She knew that in order to be a full-fledged Hogwarts student, she needed to be sorted. Her grandmother's letter, hitherto unmentioned but nonetheless a crucial plot point, had been clear about that. And so she allowed herself to be helped into a small boat by an utterly inoffensive little eleven-year-old and arranged herself picturesquely in the craft. Did older students watch the new arrivals? she mused absently.

As the boats approached the shoreline, she couldn't see her brooding hero anywhere nearby. She sat up, popping her shoulder and cracking her neck. Lounging was all very well on overstuffed couches, but these boats were hard, with slats in all the wrong places for an aspiring Elaine.

She allowed herself to be herded up the shore and into the castle with the frightened young first years. Although she received several odd glances, she ignored them utterly. Hadn't they seen a transfer student before? They arrived at the entrance of the Great Hall, and they were greeted by a very stern-looking older witch.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. You are about to be sorted into your House, which will be like your home for the seven years you are here. The four houses are Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin; each have turned out excellent, worthy wizards. We firmly embrace interhouse cooperation, so do try to get along." During this speech, which Coralynneanne was sure had been delivered exactly the same for many years, the professor's eyes never left Coralynneanne. Something about her gaze disconcerted Coralynneanne; it was a bit like the appraising gaze that Ginny had first cast at her, but somehow deeper. It seemed like this woman wanted to own her. Coralynneanne cast this thought aside with a delicate shudder, deliberately ignoring the echoes of a matching shudder that seized the watching older woman.

The group of new students moved forward into the Great Hall. Coralynneanne was vaguely aware of something odd about the ceiling, but she was much more interested in locating her tall, dark, mysteriously sombre hero. Aha! There he was, sitting at the table under the red and gold curtain-thingies. Which house was that again? Coralynneanne raked her memory. She sighed inwardly; it really was a shame that dear Grandmother hadn't been a touch more useful in her letter. Nothing for it but to listen to the Sorting Hat's song, then.

She faced the dilapidated hat with the rest of the students to be sorted, waiting breathlessly for the Hat to begin its song.

As the Hat opened up at a rip near its brim and shouted, "Ambrose, Julian!" she realized with a sinking feeling that while she had been looking over the crowd for her hero, the Hat had been singing. When would she ever learn to pay attention! Let the Hat put her where it would. She would simply have a bit of interhouse cooperation, if she happened to be in the wrong one.

Just then, the Hat called out, "Harrington-Parker-Knowles, Coralynneanne!" It took it three tries to get all of the syllables out, and it still mispronounced her given name. She scowled prettily (she hoped) as she put the hat on, trying to have it touch her hair as little as possible.

"Ah, interesting. Quite a bit of cunning and ambition here, I see. But hmm, more than that, I see you're most willing to work for a cause and stick with it, even when it seems impossible. You don't see too much of that anymore, no indeed."

Startled, Coralynneanne thought, What? Does the hat talk?

Seeming amused, the Hat chuckled back. "Yes, oh yes, my dear. I think that cinches it. It's HUFFLEPUFF for you!"

Coralynneanne took the hat off and looked for the table that was cheering, which was her only indication of where to go. The table in black and gold seemed to be cheering, if seeming a bit puzzled, and so she headed off to an empty seat at that table.

She spent most of the feast craning her neck around and questioning her seatmates about the various people of note in the castle. She learned that Hermione Granger was the absolute smartest witch in two centuries, Draco Malfoy (Coralynneanne frowned mightily at the name, but resolved to think about it later) was considered to be the most handsome boy in school, and Harry Potter was just dreamy. Also, she learned that Professor Sprout was nice, Professor McGonagall was a bit scary, and Professor Snape wouldn't take too many points off if you looked like you were trying. When they pointed out each of these luminaries to her, she was astonished to see that they considered Hermione smart. Perhaps it was only the comparison to me, Coralynneanne thought. Any witch was bound to come off worse against me. She saw, also, that Professor Snape was watching someone closely, intently. She followed his stare and saw that her Harry was the focus of that dark attention. She tried to draw her new housemates' attention to him, but they simply chuckled and turned away, winking at each other. She found it utterly infuriating.

By the time dinner was finished, she was exhausted. She paid enough attention to their route to the dormitories that she was practically certain she could find her way back to the Hall in the morning, but she collapsed into sleep in the Seventh Year Girls' Dormitory as soon as she found it. A very confused Hannah Abbot, shortly thereafter, wandered into the common room and fell asleep on one of the cushy couches in front of the fire.

At breakfast, Coralynneanne was very keen to find this Harry Potter chap she had been told was her romantic, brooding hero. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why they snickered every time she went off into rhapsodies about his heroic brow or the noble way he shook back his unruly black locks, so similar and yet so different from her own. She lingered at breakfast, hoping to catch a glimpse. Her patience was rewarded just as she was about to head off to her classes (an unfortunate intrusion into her day). Harry stumbled into the Hall. He looked dazed, as if he had just woken up. His lips were bruised and swollen and his hair was decidedly more rumpled than it had been the day before. In addition, his robes were askew. Something inside Coralynneanne sighed wistfully. Ah, she could take such good care of him, poor careless boy. She doubted he gave his appearance a second thought, but she had so many thoughts she could spare him, ay her!

Just then, a second figure entering the Hall caught Coralynneanne's eye. It was that Malfoy boy! The one she had seen going into her darling Harry's compartment! The one, no doubt, responsible for Harry's distant expression and the bruises she could just see peeking out from under his collar! O, the beast! Coralynneanne swore to herself that this Malfoy would be her enemy, also, as long as he stood against her darling, beloved Harry. But she noticed that Malfoy, too, seemed dazed. Perhaps he was not completely resolved against poor sweet Harry? His lips, too, seemed bruised, and he had purple marks on his neck as well. Mayhap their fight the day before had changed Malfoy's mind about his blood feud with Harry and they were now sworn brothers, in which case, Coralynneanne decided, she had better withdraw her vow of permanent and never-dying enmity against Malfoy.

After two weeks of being utterly ignored by the two young men who intrigued her the most, Coralynneanne felt ready to scream. Didn't these boys appreciate her busty yet petite figure? Were they blind to the charms of deep, limpid blue eyes in marked contrast to the masses of raven waves cascading down her back? How could they just ignore her mysterious, sad past and the hint of tragedy on her brow?

But then again, Coralynneanne mused, Hogwarts' girls certainly seemed to find her appealing. She grinned impishly and ran off to class.