Past First Impressions[Next Generation]

Prologue

Hey guys,  this is my new story and guess what--it's a fan-fiction!Woot Woot! Not only that but it's on the next generation of Harry Potter. I love HP, and I couldn't resist.... I hope you like, rate, comment, fan. Tootles.

They all told me that it was going to be hard transferring schools. They all told me that it was my job, my duty, to proudly represent Beauxbatons. I ate it up like my morning croissant. But no one could have prepared me for the reality that was happening now. 

“So this is it,” I dumbly stated to my parents. 

                My dad, a fellow Hogwartian, smiled proudly, "Jillian, this is a great school. I know you’ll love it here.”

                My mother, a true Beauxbatons belle, rested her hand on my shoulder, "Yes, but take note that everyone will be watching you. One major screw up and Beauxbatons will never hear the end of it.”

                ‘No pressure,” I thought loosely in my head. 

                I grabbed my luggage handle, stepping further. I turned, smiling smally, “Bonjour!”

                “Au revoir,” My mother and father grinned.

                My father leaned in, kissing the top of my head, “Don’t be afraid to have fun.” He smiled mischievely, making me laugh.

                I smiled one last time, before loading on the train with my luggage. I was honestly nervous and off my rockets for going here. I didn’t have many friends, dubbing me for being the odd one out. I wasn’t part vella, which surprised people. Maybe because it seemed everyone who was everyone was. I was just the girl, too smart for her own good, so they shipped me to Britain. 

                But I was going to change that this year. I wasn’t going to be a no-one. I wanted to actually remember my time here and not cringe. After all, nobody knew me. It was perfect. I pulled the compartment door open randomly, tugging my luggage behind me. The people inside looked at me as though I was crazy.

                “Bonjour” I greeted, putting on an airy smile, “Will it be alright for me to join you?”

                “Whatever.” A girl with violent red hair replied.

   Feeling the hostile atmosphere toward me; I quickly levitated my luggage on the rack, and sat down. I watched as the people began to talk about Quidditch.  Out of my comfort already, I decided to wing it, "Oh I like Quiddith,” I babbled. “Do any of you play?”

                I felt their annoyed stares, and faced another girl with an intimidating face, "Look girl. We told you can sit with us, not talk to us.” 

                I beamed at their green and silver ties, and decided to drop everything. Sighing slightly I removed my light blue hat, letting my red hair fall over my shoulders, and removing my matching cardigan. Feeling eyes on me again, I looked in front of me to a boy aging around my age; more or less.

He quirked an eyebrow, looking curiously, "Who exactly are you?” 

                I shrugged, still down about the girl's nasty snap,” I’m Jillian Lewis. New here.” 

His eyes widened, and he sputtered, “You can’t be a first year?” This had grabbed his friend’s attention.

I shook my head, quite flustered, “Nahh, It’s going to be my first year here, but I’m in-“

I was interrupted when a girl with slightly bushy hair, popped her head in, asking frantically, “Excuse me, but is Miss Jillian Lewis here- Oh! It’s just you guys.” 

“Wow, thanks a lot, Weasley.” The boy I was talking to replied.

Weasley stared at the blond boy, a newly replaced hate in her eyes as she responded, “Oh shut it, Malfoy.”

The people who I shared my compartment with scoffed and cursed defiantly, and I eyed timidly, the red and gold tie hanging tightly around the frantic girl’s neck. Before I could tell the girl who I was, she ducked back to the train’s hallway.

“Merlin, excuse me,” I politely dismissed myself, my cardigan and hat in my arms, when I exited the compartment. I didn’t know if my ears were cleaned out, or what, but I swore I heard a voice chide, “You know Potter’s going to love her.”

I shook my head, disregarding my hallucinations, and looked up and down the hallway. I spotted the frantic girl, feet away, her head in another compartment.

“Oh Rosie, just look for a girl with her nose stuck to a book,” A voice bellowed.

My eyes landed on a group of boys, feet away from the Rose Weasley girl. The girl popped her head out, snapping angrily, “You know you guys can actually help me!”

A boy with dark, curly hair then replied, “Rose, this is boring. Must we?”

Feeling a little down putted again, I quickly squeaked out, “Sorry for the trouble, I’m Jillian Lewis.”

The frantic girl turned around, her eyes half-crazed. And in a split second, she grasped my arm from her hold, “I found her, I bloody found her!” 

And in another split second, I was being dragged by my hand, down the hallway. Where to-I had no clue. We were nearing the group of rowdy boys, and ‘Rosie’ narrowed her eyes, “Thanks guys for your help.”

“No problem, but where is she-“One began, but stopped himself when they spotted me.

I hung my head down, my cheeks endanger of matching my tomato hair. I only looked up when I was well distanced from them, feeling utterly curious. One of them met my eyes; his were a mixture of disbelief, lividness, curiosity and something else I couldn’t quite register. Was it worry or was it doubt?

                I didn’t linger on this too long, as I nodded my head forward, in hopes to finally discover where this Rose Weasley was taking me.