It's A Small World

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world isn't mine. I do claim the characters, however, aside from Voldemort, some of the teachers, and probably some Death Eaters along the way.

PLEASE NOTE: The characters are of MY OWN and MY FRIEND'S creation. They were originally ROLEPLAY CHARACTERS, and were created of our own volition. If you would like proof (Or would just like to see the original profiles), please email me. The address may be found on my profile.

* * *

"This is all very unbecoming, Mother."

Circe Sabbathel stood at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, doggedly brushing her long black-and-red hair over her shoulder as Severin, said mother, observed her from all angles and attempted to push her hair back so that it did not frame her face. This 'tradition' had been set ever since Circe's Second year, when she had already been sorted into Gryffindor, whereas the majority of her family (Which meant, of course, all except Circe herself) had been in Slytherin since what felt like the beginning of time. Apparently, as long as she looked the part of a proper Sabbathel, then her parents wouldn't pull her out to join Durmstrang in the North, for they were beyond mortified to find that their daughter had joined the ranks of the 'Too-good-doers'.

So far, Circe had managed to appease to her parents with what they found to be 'meager accomplishments'. At almost the top of her class (Save, of course, for a few Ravenclaws and one other Gryffindor), Sabbathel had made the Gryffindor Quidditch team in her second year and had been their star seeker for years, with the assistance of her top-of-the-line Thunderclap 4000. Just this summer, too, the young woman had been declared the Quidditch Captain. Predictably, her parents had gotten on her case, forcing her to buckle down on her summer homework, as they felt that her grades would drop with the Captaincy 'going to her head'.

“You shut your mouth, young lady.” snapped the woman, leering at her in such a way that it was hard to believe that they were mother and child. Circe's mouth quirked into a semblance of a frown as she brushed the Slytherin's hand away. “Bad enough you got sorted into Gryffindor... Couldn't possibly show my face about the manor for a month... And being so obsessed with that muggle garbage... You look like an absolute whore in this outfit... What the others must think...”

“I think you should let this go.” snarled the girl angrily, pulling her trunk towards the train as it belched out an angry and impatient whistle. With a glance at the clock, Circe's stomach lurched. She had only five minutes to board the Hogwarts Express and be on her way. “It's been six years, woman. I didn't think you'd be sick of me for this long.”

It was true. Before Hogwarts, she had, for lack of better terms, been a spoiled brat. Everything revolved around Circe when in the mansion. Maids and butlers waited on her hand and foot, her mother and father squandering the family riches to buy her robes, toys, and so many other things.

But, ever since First year, everything had changed.

Circe had been, inevitably, housed into Gryffindor like she had hoped to be. The Slytherins were, the young woman had noted time and time again, back stabbers, sticking out for themselves just as much as the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors held their necks out for each other, and that was something that she couldn't tolerate. After all, the Quidditch Captain could only handle being so self-centered, and she drew the line at much else.

“As you wish.” drawled the middle-aged woman, haughtily raising her nose to the air. “Have a good term, daughter, and do try and keep yourself out of trouble. The Sabbathel family line does not need screw-ups inheriting the family fame and fortune.”

The Captain of the Gryffindor team waved her hand in a sort of 'whatever' motion, her back having already turned to her mother as she stepped onto the steaming locomotive. Students were all being herded into compartments by Prefects and saying goodbye to their parents and guardians who stood proudly outside.

She walked until she was able to find an empty compartment at the back of the train, where nobody (Circe hoped) would bother her. Pushing her trunk along, her brilliant green eyes were able to peek into the various cabins, and was able to see, to her own bewilderment, the strange fellow that had walked into Madame Malkin's just the other day. He was sitting alone, eyes closed and headbanging viciously to whatever was playing on his CD player. Amused, Circe left him to his own doing, not really knowing what to say to him at the moment. The young woman knew, of course, that her mother had most likely regarded him with an extraordinary amount of contempt when he had managed to wander into Madame Malkin's, and so was ashamed to go talk to him, for fear of being mocked or, worse, ignored.

But, when Circe finally did find herself an empty compartment at the back of the steam engine, she began to wonder. Certainly, the boy had never been seen at Hogwarts before. She, knowing three quarters of the school (Which, unfortunately, included some Slytherins) would figure that he was either an exchange student, or a new addition to the school.

These thoughts, predictably, continued to flow through her mind until Circe Sabbathel fell asleep on the train, facing away from the door towards the endless green fields.

* * *

Friedrick Kraus had been patiently sitting all by his lonesome in the cramped cabin since the start of his little journey. His parents had accompanied him to King's Cross, but, obviously, both of them had work to do. His mother had claimed that the house, no matter how new it was, needed sweeping and cleaning, and his father had just recently been transferred somewhere to Ireland to hunt down some rogue Death Eaters that had yet to have been caught and put into Azkaban.

Yes, it had been ten years.

But Death Eaters existed all over the world nowadays.

And aside, there had been some unknown force that had either taken control of Lord Voldemort's scattered forces, or planned to create their own. Muggles, at least in Germany, had been getting attacked frequently, but clearly not as much as in London, where, in the Daily Prophet, the Minister of Magic had announced the new Dark Mark, a shield bearing two wands crossed in front of a basilisk, over a whole block of Muggle homes just a few days ago. Certainly, it was nothing compared to what Lord Voldemort used to do, but it was alarming nonetheless.

Clearly, it did not bode well on the Magical community.

But he didn't want to dwell so much on the world's troubled times. As of now, he was extremely bored. Random completed drawings lay on the chair in front of him, and the German youth could only take so much head banging to Rammstein. Fred stowed the CD player (Enchanted by his father to avoid electronic disruptions at the school – Friedrick Kraus could not live without music) into the large pockets of his khakis, peeking outside. They were rapidly approaching Hogwarts, but the young man had guessed that there were still about four or five hours left to go, as they did not seem to be anywhere near civilization. The sun was just beginning to set, its rays casting a furious glare upon Friedrick's window pane.

This, in combination with the overbearing boredom that was clouding his senses, drove him to slide open the compartment door and glance about. From what he could tell, the back car was normally not occupied. This, he concluded, must have been where the 'loners' hung about. Fred took a few careful steps down the narrow corridor, his ears ringing slightly. After listening to Rammstein for a couple of hours, the churning of wheels was not exactly what his head needed. Furtively, the young man peered into the windows. Some of them were already changing into their Hogwarts robes. Why, Friedrick didn't know. He had been told by his father that the train ride would possibly take ten hours. Ten hours. He didn't honestly think he could last that long, but at least they were halfway there.

In a certain compartment that he had glanced into, there was a young woman who looked as if she were going to start changing any time soon, for her hands were rummaging in her large trunk for things like a blouse, a skirt and the unformalized cloak. These items were strewn about on the floor carelessly; she obviously didn't give a care if she appeared haggard on her first day back to school. With a jolt of recognition and an almost unnoticeable flip of the stomach, he realized that he was gazing at the same girl he'd seen - Too much of, perhaps? ...No, couldn't be - at the seamstress'. Yes, that was the one, and her name was Circe.

He turned and peeked into the adjacent cabin. It did not really matter to him either way if he saw her or not, but Friedrick would rather not be slapped – or punched, for that matter – across the face. Nobody really appreciated being gawked at when they were changing, Germany or not. There was nobody in the compartment next to hers, the boy noticed, but he did manage to catch an eyeful of blazing sunlight, and turned away with gritted teeth, his eyes watering slightly.

Though by the time he had even begun to regain his bearings, blinking something like a dazzled bear and shaking his head, Circe had already begun to undress, pulling her shirt off and revealing the voluptuous breasts that he had had the pleasure to see only once before, once again bra-less. His widened brown eyes followed her hands as he stood, dumbfounded and trying to dispel the little dots prancing in front of his eyes – it was one thing to see a woman undress, but twice in the span of a week? And both had been accidental, to boot. She was just unbuttoning her pants, which looked much too heavy for her, with all the chains and zippers, and with one quick motion Circe had removed her trousers and panties (“Is that a thong?”) all at once.

Fred eventually allowed his eyes to rove over the rest of her nude body, ignoring, once again, the enlarging bulge concealed within his trousers. Shaved, with curved hips and long, slender legs that, currently, had partly been covered, courtesy of the extremely short – and chained - skirt and not-so-modest underwear, he could only imagine what any other English boy would do in his position. Burst in on her, most likely.

Circe was watched for a few moments more, but she remained only half-dressed, looking directly out the window and watching the nature fly by. Then, just as if she had suspected she was being watched all along, the young woman spun on her heel. Her green eyes narrowed at seeing Friedrick leaning against the compartment door.

“Either this guy's nerves are completely shot,” thought the young woman as she eyed him. “or he's been hit with a Bludger too many times.”

To the Gryffindor's very slight surprise, whoever the guy was, he was either brave or stupid enough to not turn tail and run down the train. He did not at all seem rattled by her exposure. Indeed, the boy seemed downright mellow. Well, he was getting to it. At the moment, he looked a little unsighted.

“Mind tellin' me,” the girl began, pushing open the compartment door, her voice bell-like as ever. This brought a jerk of intrigue and surprise to the young Kraus, who hadn't expected Circe to be so... Well, open. Was she not, after all, English? The girl had, unpredictably, walked out into the corridor, not bothering to put any sort of cover over her chest. “what exactly you were doin', spying on me like that?”

“Spying?” queried the boy, raising an amused brow after he had regained his composure. This, of course, was made all the more entertaining by the fact that 'spying' was easily transformed into 'schpyink', courtesy of his German accent, and caused Circe to smirk, though it was nearly indistinguishable. “I think that is a strong word; I was only passing by.”

“And watching me dress.”

“So what?”

“Well, as it isn't exactly a public matter...”

“I did not think it would be such a big deal.” Fred responded, smiling a little and rolling his tongue over his teeth The girl continued to watch him, and he thought he caught surprise in her glance. “In Germany, people are much more... Ah... Open.”

“As if you minded, the way you were standing there.” scoffed the Gryffindor, folding her arms against her chest and looking up at him. “And we're not exactly in Germany, are we?”

“Well,” he considered, ignoring her last statement and tapping his chin with the index finger of his right hand. He felt no need to explain to her the actual circumstances surrounding his almost mortifying situation. “no, I did not. Not really.”

To this, Circe gave a soft snort. Whether it was from amusement or annoyance, the German could not tell.

“I s'pose I ought to slap you, oughtn't I?” the Gryffindor posed, quirking an eyebrow at him and opening the compartment door. “But I'm not really in the mood to. I guess I'll see you around Hogwarts; maybe you'll be in Gryffindor.”

And with that, she disappeared into the cabin, this time drawing the blinds.

Friedrick, bewildered, intrigued and somewhat amused, pulled from the pocket of his khakis a bag of muggle Jelly Belles, flicking a few into his mouth as he meandered over to his own little space.

* * *

“Report.”

“Sir...”

A man had just climbed out of a narrow tunnel, dug into the wall and concealed by magically altered stone which opened only to the correct password. This man, oddly enough, did not appear to be very old. His shockingly white hair was thick and hung about his ghost-like features. With dull, grey eyes, he watched London Sabbathel bend over what looked like glass sitting in a cauldron.

“What's -”

“Nothing!” London barked, pushing long brown hair that had been tied into a ponytail off of his shoulders. He stared blankly at the only other person in the basement, and for a moment, his clear blue eyes seemed to glow red. Mortimer blanched.

“Just say what you have to say and begone.”

“I.. Well... The Staeks have been killed.”

“Good, good... And their sons?”

“Jay and Colin have both died, sir.”

London smirked and nodded approvingly. The Staeks had proved to be formidable opponents and the twin sons had shown equal promise; they had to be eliminated.

“But, well, Klondike did say that he had to take out a few muggles... Police, I believe...”

Mortimer watched the Slytherin's eyes narrow and trembled. He was nearly as ruthless as Voldemort, when provoked. Not as much, but there was still that uncanny resemblance...

“CRUCIO!”

* * *

Circe, now dressed, peeked out the window, brushing her long hair away from her face. It had been a few hours since the 'incident', and she had no desire to go looking for the boy who had played Peeping Tom on her again. But, her spirits lifted as she watched the turrets and towers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loom in the distance.

The young woman opened the compartment door, bringing nothing with her, as she knew the house elves would properly take care of her luggage and owl, Hellion. But she did place a locket around her neck and hid it in her cloak before placing two mirrors into either of her pockets. A few people were coming out of their compartments already. This included the tall German boy she had run into earlier. To him, she offered a smile, and then turned away as the pistons hissed, and they rolled to a halt in Hogsmeade station.

They had arrived.