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Hi, my name is Zack
Postely
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 | Harry Potter and the Seer's Pond (1) |
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 4.91 with 11 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-07-27 19:17:24 |
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A/N: So, lately I have felt like starting a Harry Potter fanfic, and so I got the idea for this and now I am giving you part one. The doll is like it is because no dollmaker would be able to let me make him like I want him to be. This story will be a lot different than other HP fanfics. It will explain a lot of things that never had to be explained in the books, change some things, and will have new things that I come up with to add to the wizarding world. Zack Postely's story will be continued over three different series, this one (Harry Potter and the Seer's Pond) being the first. Of course a lot of credit goes to J.K. Rowling. Also, my inspiration to write this came from kitkat02 and her wonderful HP fanfic. So, without further ado, enjoy.
Part 1
I heard them yelling that day on the Hogwarts Express. I heard the other first years yelling in the compartments around me. I sank low into my seat, my eyes roaming the cold plains of the outside land.
I was going to Hogwarts. I was going to learn magic. I did not feel excited. Rather, I felt like I was going to puke on the floor in the next five seconds if the train didn’t slow down. Rather, I felt nervous and anxious. Yet, indeed, I suppose there was some sort of excitement stirring in me. I was going to Hogwarts. That should be enough to make me excited.
Perhaps, when I was older, I could try out for a Quidditch team. My dad had taught me when I was very young, in our backyard, the rules of Quidditch. He had taught me how to ride a broomstick, and some of his own Quidditch techniques. When he was a fourth year, he had been one of Ravenclaw’s beaters. He had at first taught me to be a beater, and I was fairly good at it. He had taught me how to be a keeper, and that I was also fairly good at. But what I had discovered one afternoon with him was that I was an excellent chaser. In fact, I seemed to have a particular skill for it, and after a little practice, I had grown to be what my father declared a “master chaser”. My mother also admitted I was very good at that, and would probably make the team in one of my years.
I loved Quidditch. I was usually somewhat cowardly, shy, smart, and quiet. I also got ill very easily, and it hardly took anything at all to get my lunch to come out my mouth. But when I played Quidditch I was confident, fearless. Very competitive.
My thoughts of Quidditch were interrupted by the sounds of stomping outside the compartment door and the compartment door opening. There, standing outside, were three boys: there was one with very pale blonde hair and pale skin to match, one that had short brown hair and was very tall, and one that had short brownish black hair and was rather short and fat. It was obvious that the scowling blonde-haired boy was the leader of the three. I was looking at them out of the corner of my eye, my face partly hidden by my robes, my nerves gripping me as I wondered if I should say something to them.
“Those mudbloods think they are just the same as us, taking up that compartment. Pff, they should call themselves lucky they even get to go to this schoo-“ the blonde-haired boy was muttering angrily to his companions, then stopped as he noticed me. He just kept staring at me, turning a ghastly shade of pink. Obviously he hadn’t expected anyone to be where I was.
After another moment or two I could not take it anymore, and, turning to face them slightly, said awkwardly, “Um, hello there.”
The boy immediately recovered. “Hello. Sorry about that, I had no idea you were there. I’m Draco Malfoy, and you are?”
He spoke with brisk but definite pride about himself. For a moment, I envied that in his voice, and then stopped myself, reminding myself that pride and confidence weren’t always the best of things. “Zack Postely. I believe I’ve heard the name Malfoy before. In the Daily Prophet, I think it was.”
Draco was obviously pleased by this. “Oh, yes, my family is rather well-known. We’re purebloods, did you know?”
I nodded. “Yes, I remember an article mentioning it. My family are purebloods too, both my parents work for the Ministry.”
“Oh, really? Very interesting,” Draco replied, something like a smile on his lips. This seemed to be some sort of silent signal, for in the next second Draco and his companions were in the compartment, sitting down.
“So, who are your friends?” I wondered, looking over at the other boys, who didn’t appear to very bright.
“Oh, well, that’s Crabbe and that’s Goyle,” Draco replied. He had chosen to sit by me, and gesturing to each boy in turn as he said their name. He said it like they didn’t matter at all, which I could tell that, to him, they didn’t. “Anyways, I think I’ve heard of your mother. Helen Postely, isn’t it?”
At this I simply nodded, and Draco grinned. “Yes, my father talked about her once. She works in the Department of Mysteries, correct?”
“Yes, she does.”
At that moment, someone knocked on the compartment door. The door slid open, and there was a woman standing behind a trolley. The woman was rather plump. Her cheeks were rosy, and she seemed to be a bit stressed. “Anything from the trolley, dears?” she asked us cheerily but huffily after I opened the compartment door.
I was about to tell her no thank you, but Draco piped up before I could even open my mouth. “I’ll take three licorice wands, two pumpkin pasties, and a cauldron cake,” he stated firmly. He got out some money and paid her as he took the candy. Afterwards, Crabbe and Goyle also paid for some candy, and as soon as it was in their hands it was being stuffed into their mouths. I turned away from the disgusting sight.
“Anything for you then, dear?” she asked me.
“No thank you,” I said, but Draco interrupted me, “He’ll have two chocolate frogs.”
I frowned as Draco paid for the two chocolate frogs that I reluctantly took from the woman. Staring down at them afterwards, I turned to Draco, who was starting to eat one of his licorice wands. “What was that for?”
Swallowing a bite of licorice, Draco replied, “I got you some candy, being nice. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” His gaze pierced me, and I had to look away.
I reluctantly nodded then, feeling defeated.
“So, what house do you think you’ll be in? I hope I get in Slytherin,” Draco asked me, and I felt that his eyes were searching me for something I didn’t know I possessed.
“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll get in Ravenclaw, like my dad, or Gryffindor, like my mom,” I replied.
Draco nodded then, for he too was unaware of how horribly wrong I was.
(To be continued...) |
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