The Life & Times of Lorraine Saint-Clair

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------------------------------------------------------------------ Part One

Ray appeared on Platform 9 3/4 with a faint pop and a lack of oxygen. Finally released from the pressure of a thousand iron bands, she gulped at the air as her feet touched ground. Side-Along Apparition, though a quick and sudden process, was by far her least favorite form of travel. She wasn't sure she'd ever quite get used to the feeling. She was even less sure that she'd keep her breakfast down, so a few moments to recover really couldn't hurt.

Opening her tightly shut eyes, she glanced calmly around the sprawling and bustling station. Sunlight fell through the overhead windows and illuminated sights of rushing, crying, tearful goodbyes and mothers consoling their anxious children. Rolling her eyes, Ray looked away from the parting families. She felt mature in comparison, like a veteran of the boarding school system. She’d done this too many times to worry anymore and no crying would ever be heard from her.

As her eyes scanned the station, she stopped at a vision emerging through the steam. The Hogwarts Express gleamed a shining scarlet as it came into view. Its iron frame was obscured by a platform full of rowdy students, but the view was magnificent to Lorraine. She hadn't seen one of these Muggle vehicles since she was a little girl and it was much grander than Ray would have ever guessed... or admitted. She tried to keep the small grin on her face from betraying her inner excitement.

Slowly turning back, Ray realized with a start that her arm was still entwined with her brother's. Although Demetri was her only escort to the Express, he was far from first choice. After a life-long battle of teasing and name-calling, they'd resorted to mostly ignoring the other's existence as time had passed. She had been busy with her friends at Madame Jonquiere's Primary School in Nancy, while Demetri had slowly become prominent in the Quidditch World. Not yet age 19, he'd become the youngest Beater on the national English Quidditch team in over 65 years. His brooding, scowling face had graced the covers of many Quidditch and Teen Witch magazines. It was sickening.

Jumping back at the embrace, she gracefully pulled them apart. She turned away and patted her teleportation-ruffled hair and skirt. Fixing her purple dragon-skin headband, she looked away from Demetri with a light blush creeping across her face. They could forget that just happened.

Demetri led their way through the crowds with her trunks levitating silently behind them. Ray noticed as people began to watch them pass, likely having recognized her brother from the Weekly Snitch's latest edition. She lifted her chin slightly and pulled her shoulders back, remembering her mother's wise words of calm and poise. Maybe she could benefit from having him around, even if anyone could tell that his farmer's tan was always wand-brushed to perfection on those magazine covers.

They moved at a quicker pace than Ray's small legs would have liked. Having graduated from Hogwarts two years before, Demetri moved with the swift confidence of a prior student. This followed family tradition, as all of the Saint-Clair men had graduated there. Demetri was from the Gryffindor House; the oldest sibling, William, was of Ravenclaw; and their father of Slytherin. And although it was customary that the ladies of the family attend the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, of course, Ray just had to be different.

Early in June, once classes had concluded, Ray was called into her father's dark mahogany study to discuss things. Her father sat in the high-backed leather chair behind his desk while her mother stood beside him, draping her long elegant arms around his shoulders. With a quick burst of courage, Ray knocked at the partially opened doorway and received a low "Entre, Lorraine" from her mother. Her father wore his jade-rimmed eyeglasses and signed a last piece of paperwork before looking up. With a flick of his wand, the papers rolled up and attached themselves to the amber-eyed eagle owl resting on its iron perch. As if it knew who the letters were addressed to, the owl flew off without the slightest command through an opened window from high in the study.

Ray took a seat in one of the low cushioned chairs in front of her parents. It was unusual for her mother to be in her father's study, even more unusual that Ray would be invited as well. She glanced around at the hundreds of books and volumes lining the walls and appreciated the crisp smell of the small burning fireplace. Faint rays of colored light beamed throughout the stained-glass windows high above her father's chair.

Jonathan Saint-Clair slowly removed his eyeglasses and placed them before his youngest daughter. He looked directly into her violet blue eyes and spoke without hesitation.

Education, he explained, is a vital component of a witch's life. During her upcoming years of schooling, she would learn skills of magic essential to a productive future in the wizarding world. He mentioned an instance when, as his father's successor and apprentice, his skills were tested during an international business meeting. Jonathan did perfectly, of course, as was always expected of a Saint-Clair, he added. Her mother then spoke of the examples from their long and prosperous marriage, but it was then that Ray tuned out.

She really couldn't understand where this conversation was going. Schooling had never exactly been a top priority to her family. Sure, it was important to master the magic they'd need for everyday life, but grades simply weren't an issue to her parents. Everyone knew the daughters would find loving matches soon after graduation and start families of their own. What need would she have for straight O's when her greatest duty would be in hosting a fabulous dinner party? What made grades worth having such a boring discussion over?

Finally, Jonathan began to tell of his days at Hogwarts. He spoke of the beautiful scenery and the friendships he'd made within the Slytherin House. He told her of the bright teachers and the successes he and his sons had found there. His dark eyes bore through Ray with an uncharacteristic gleam of nostalgia. Therefore, he told Lorraine, they'd chosen to enroll her at Hogwarts for the upcoming fall semester. And he was certain it was the right choice.

In the moment it took his words to sink in, Ray was furious. As usual, no questions would be asked and no opposition would be tolerated. Her father could never see the rage behind her eyes, but her calm demeanor did nothing to suppress her fury. Her best friends Anne-Marie and Gabrielle would be attending Beauxbatons in the fall and she had fully intended to join them! She knew absolutely no one from Hogwarts and, beside that, Hogwarts was a boys school! Meant for the men of the family! She was meant to attend a glittering palace outside of Cannes, not a dreadful freezing school in Scotland named after pig pustules!!

Her mother spoke to her again, this time with a slight severity to her heavily accented voice, after probably recognizing the way Ray's mouth pursed. "The Saint-Clair name holds great respect at Hogwarts, a reputation of renown built by generations of success and esteem," she told her daughter. Lorraine's duty at Hogwarts would be to keep their good name and uphold the values and customs of the Saint-Clairs.

Then it hit her. Of course she would be attending Hogwarts! Her father's alma-mater! Although Ray never had any real proof, she'd always known she was her father's favorite daughter. Her sisters were much sillier and simpler than Ray, not Hogwarts material by a long spell. She was chosen from the four to keep the family's good name at the institution and make her father proud! She could easily live up to their expectations.

Merlin knows the only reason Demetri was sent to Hogwarts was his gender, Ray thought as she waited for Demetri to store her luggage on the train. She stood just outside of the doorway, watching the students around her and wondering what impression she would make on them.

At first glance, Ray was like any other eleven year-old on the Platform. It was only after closer inspection that she would ever be considered remarkable. She had the tiny body of a ballerina, with small feet and dainty hands and wrists. She wore black patterned tights over her slender legs and a dark purple flowing skirt from the latest Matthias Jacobs collection. Her long hair was pulled back from her face and its deep brown color accentuated the light summer tan of her features.

Her face was aristocratic, as her mother would proudly remark. Heart-shaped with a delicate jaw line that emphasized her small bow-shaped lips. But as she examined the crowds with piercing focus, it was her eyes that drew attention. Eyes of direct inheritance from her mother- legendary eyes from her mother's family that caused men to 'fall in love'. Surrounded by full dark lashes, they were a deep blue color that turned violet in the light.

Her father and grandfather, uncles and cousins-in-law all remarked at these eyes. Which, supposedly, in a glance could hold a man's stare for ages, but Ray never held much stock in these stories. Eyes weren't the windows to any souls, they weren't anything extraordinary! And she would much rather be known for her own beauty, and not the beauty of a hundred mothers from the history of her family.

But no one was watching her on the platform, and she knew it. She was safe behind a faint curtain of steam to think about the days ahead. She had never been anywhere without her friends, but she accepted the challenge. And she expected to succeed.