Chapter One
As she stared at the glorious, red train, basking aglow in the autumn sunlight, Emma couldn't help but gape in awe. Mothers and fathers jostled about around her while students like herself hurried to board and find a seat. A short blast from the whistle alerted everyone that the train was to leave on the dot of 11 and that the time was already five-to. Struggling to keep hold of all her luggage while simultaneously boarding the train, Emma shuffled awkwardly up the steps leading to the open door of a cart. Despite the fact that it was crawling with students, she found it much easier to manoeuvre her large, brown suitcases once aboard the actual train. She walked amidst the many compartments, trying to find one that was free.
Each cart contained eight compartments; complete with red, plush seats and gold edgings to accentuate the doors. Above the seats were spacious, brass racks, perfect for holding luggage. A large window took up the far side of the compartment, allowing its passengers to observe the countryside scenery as they flew by at unimaginable speeds. Every aspect of the train was comfortable and welcoming. As she squeezed by an elderly woman selling sweeties, Emma saw ginger haired twins looking in a large box in one of the more crowded compartments. Something made them all jump, and as they stepped back in alarm, Emma caught sight of something long and hairy. She shuddered and hurried by.
In another compartment, two boys were practically swimming in sweets. The velvety seats were covered in everything from Chocolate Frogs to Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
In the next cart over, Emma noticed three boys – not particularly bright by the looks of it. The pale one caught her eye. He had blonde hair and grey eyes that made Emma swoon inwardly. He composed himself with a certain air of refinement, giving his demeanour a seemingly superior edge.
As she passed, attempting to inconspicuously continue her study of the boy but failing miserably in the art of subtlety, the pale one looked up at her. Emma was so taken aback with the sudden eye contact that she stopped dead in the middle of the corridor. Embarrassed to have been caught staring, she felt her cheeks flush and immediately looked down to avoid his piercing, grey eyes. Despite all her attempts at nonchalance, Emma couldn't help but risk another peek, for the boy greatly intrigued her. They made eye contact once more and he grinned, exuding confidence and dominance. Shyly, she returned the gesture but found that something in his expression was slightly off-putting. It was as though his smile wasn't genuine, as if his eyes held secrets and his true self was disguised beneath a cocky façade. The last thing Emma saw before she rushed off in an embarrassed hurry were his eyes. The beautiful grey eyes of forbidden secrets.
After wandering aimlessly for the most part of the third cart, Emma came across an empty compartment. Or mostly empty. Only one girl sat inside. Intensely reading a book, her head was bent down, bushy hair flying out in all directions.
"Erm, hi. I'm Emma."
"Hello," the girl smiled, looking up from her lap. "I'm Hermione Granger." She saw Emma standing awkwardly in the doorway and gestured for her to take a seat. "Please."
"Sorry to have interrupted your reading," Emma said politely, perching uncomfortably on the seat across Hermione.
"Oh, that's all right. I should be taking a break now anyway."
"What book?" Emma asked tentatively, seeing as she was welcome.
"Hogwarts a History," Hermione replied, showing her the cover.
"Cool," Emma answered, interested, her confidence growing. "I've read that one. Have you read the chapter about the Sorting Hat?"
"Not yet," Hermione admitted. "I've just finished the one about the magical ceiling, though. Isn't it interesting? I wonder if it was Professor Dumbledore who came up with the idea or one of the original founders?"
Emma shivered slightly at the word "magical". Sometimes it was hard to accept the fact that she was a witch. Not a bad witch with green skin, warts, and nasty potions – although Potions were a mandatory class at Hogwarts. Emma was a young witch, not capable of anything too extreme. However, all that would change in seven short years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only a month ago, Emma had received her Hogwarts letter, telling her that she had been accepted to the school. It also told her what materials she would need for doing magic and what books to buy in Diagon Alley, the popular commercial area for magic folk. Emma had been taken for her very first visit to Diagon Alley a couple weeks ago by her grandmother as her parents were both Muggles, the wizard nickname for humans with non-magic blood. Emma sighed. It was hard thinking about her parents, painful even. She remembered her first magical experience being quite funny and she was just about to share it with Hermione when a round faced boy stepped in to their compartment.
"Have you seen a toad in here?" he asked frantically.
"Sorry," they shook their heads.
The boy moaned quietly. "When I find Trevor – if I find Trevor – My Gran will just make me send him home!"
The girls shared sympathetic looks. "Maybe we can help," suggested Hermione timidly.
"Would you?" the boy sniffed sadly.
"Yes," she said more firmly, an idea forming in her brain. "Look, Emma and I will go down this way," she said pointing to the right. "And you can search going this way," she continued, pointing to the left.
"Thanks," he sniffed again. "I'm Neville Longbottom." He smiled and gave a sad chuckle. "I'm afraid this isn't the first time Trevor's gone missing, and I'm sure it won't be the last!"
They smiled back at him and then went their separate ways.
After searching many compartments and not having any luck, the girls were ready to quit. It had been fun for a while, but after asking each and every person the exact same questions, it had become a little tiring. They decided to check one last stall. It turned out to be the one Emma had seen earlier, with the boys and their sweeties.
Hermione barged in and said in an exasperated tone, "Have any of you boys seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."
They seemed to have walked in during a spell! The red haired boy was holding a lazy looking rat in one hand and a worn out second-hand wand in the other.
Hermione's voice took on a tone of surprise underlined with interest. "Oh? Are you doing magic? Let's see then," she demanded.
The boy cleared his throat rudely, clearly disappointed that he'd been interrupted. "Sunshine, daisies, butter-mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"
All this rather peculiar spell managed to do was engulf the rat in a pool of bright sunlight.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Well," she scoffed. "It's not very good, is it?" She plopped down across from the other boy, making herself quite comfortable. Emma stifled a laugh. The boy who now sat across from Hermione had dark scruffy hair and bright green eyes that stood out beneath his circular black glasses – the rim taped over many times due to several broken noses no doubt. Hermione now had her wand out and was preparing for some magic of her own.
"I prefer to keep to simple spells myself," Hermione explained. "For example," she pointed to the glasses. "Occulus Reparo!"
The glasses twittered and sparked, the tape flying off, revealing a sleek and unbroken rim. The boy took them off and stared in surprise.
"Holy Cricket!" Hermione exclaimed, noticing the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. "You're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger. Did you know that you're in four different books about famous wizards?"
"I-I am?" he stammered.
She smiled broadly and turned to the red head, searching his face. After deciding she had no clue who he was, she asked, "And... you are?"
He swallowed – no doubt some more candy – and answered, "Ron Weasley."
"Pleasure," she replied, regarding him with disdain. She turned back to Harry. "I've been prepared for ages but you two had better get in to your robes now, I expect we'll be arriving soon."
Harry nodded mutely, still looking quite dazed. Hermione's advice was ignored momentarily as he stood up and took a step towards Emma. He stuck out a hand like a proper gentleman and introduced himself, "Harry Potter."
She ducked her head, embarrassed, but took his hand and replied with a smile, "Emma." Ron grinned and offered her a Pumpkin Pasty as a sign of what she could only assume was friendship, which she gladly accepted. Giving a nod of the head as farewell, Hermione flounced out of the room, pulling Emma along with her by the crook of her elbow. Emma gave a last wave to the boys, when suddenly, she was pulled back again.
"You've got dirt on your nose by the way, did you know?" Hermione pointed at Ron's dirt speckled nose and hopped out of the room once more. Emma couldn't help it this time. She laughed.
When they reached their own compartment once more, Hermione and Emma were greeted by a slightly less frantic Neville.
"Did you find Trevor?" he asked hopefully.
"Sorry, no," Hermione replied.
"But guess who we did find?" Emma grinned.
"Who?"
"Harry Potter!" the girls cried in unison.
"No!" Neville gasped, dumbstruck. "The same Harry Potter who defeated You-Know-Who when he just a baby and is famous because of it?"
They nodded enthusiastically.
"The same Harry Potter with the lightning scar on his forehead?"
They nodded again.
"The same Harry Potter who-"
"That's enough Neville!" Emma interrupted.
Hermione laughed and grabbed Emma's hand. "Come on! We've still got a little bit of time before we get there. Let's go exploring!"
Emma was surprised but pleased. Hermione seemed so studious and serious – the complete opposite of Emma's wild and outgoing personality. "Now that you mention it, there was a blonde guy back there who is definitely worth checking out..."
Hermione rolled her eyes, laughing.
Their hands bound together symbolized a true friendship. One that would last forever.
…
The silence was unbearable; Emma could feel the tension growing.
After crossing the dark and dangerous Black Lake under the supervision of the Gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, Emma and the others had been escorted to an empty classroom by a stern looking Professor McGonagall. They had been told to wait there until the rest of the school – seated in the Great Hall – were ready for their arrival. That's when the nervous titters had begun. Nervous titters then turned into hushed whispers and a glance or two at your neighbour. After that came the silence.
To pass the time, Emma observed her surroundings, noticing immediately the enormous chalkboard at the far end of the room. Completely masking the rotting bricks of the east wall, a thick layer of dust covered its surface, reflecting just how much it had been used in the past few years. The classroom itself held nothing of great value but was interesting in its own way. The clutter of desks and chairs piled in to a corner were obvious signs of disorganization, but the shelves filled with thick books gave the room character. Though old and worn, Emma longed to read each and every detail those books had to offer.
Other than the chalkboard, desks, chairs, and books, the room was fairly empty and was covered in nothing more than dirt, grime, and dust.
Suddenly, the brisk clop clop of a high heeled walk echoed on the walls and the students eyed the empty doorway anxiously. In a swoosh of velvety, dark, green robes, Professor McGonagall reentered the room. Her presence would have silenced the room if not for the fact that the room was already silent. She had that effect on people. She stared at the students and they stared back at her with watchful eyes.
"In a moment," Professor McGonagall began in her captivating voice. "You will all be Sorted in to your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin."
Quiet whispers begun at once, students worrying about which house they would be put in and whether or not they'd be any good at magic. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and the room silenced once more.
"Your Hogwarts house is like your family while you are here. Your triumphs will earn you house points and any rule breaking will lose you house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will receive the House Cup."
Emma resisted the urge to make a face and zone out. She had heard all this information before from her grandmother and to hear it all again would simply be torture. Nevertheless, she listened attentively to what Professor McGonagall had to say.
"I trust your terms here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will prove to be satisfactory but for any students wishing to prolong their stay, the school will remain open during the Christmas and Easter breaks. A sign up sheet will be passed around a few weeks prior to each holiday."
Emma piped up at hearing this news. She could already see her name being first on the list. Her grandmother would be working all year long and being her legal guardian, she was in no place to look after an eleven year old for the holidays. Staying with her mother was definitely out of the question and as for her father, well that was something she would rather not think about. Emma cast a sideways glance at Hermione, hoping to convey some sort of plea for company during the holidays but never got the chance for McGonagall had begun speaking again.
"We're ready for you now," she announced ushering the others out the door and up the marble staircase which lead to the grand double doors of the Great Hall.
Inside the Great Hall were four long tables – one for each Hogwarts house. Large banners hung from the ceiling, advertising the Hogwarts emblem and the four houses. The loyal Hufflepuffs were represented by yellow and black with a badger for their mascot and Ravenclaw's eagle was portrayed on a banner of grey and blue. Rivals since the very foundation of the school, Gryffindor and Slytherin hung on opposites sides of the room. Sneaky silver and cunning green was the background for Slytherin's serpent and the bold lion of Gryffindor took favour in the brave shades of gold and red.
As other students goggled at the Hall and all its wonders, Emma found herself drawn to the high ceiling. Hermione was right. It was magical.
Small, twinkling stars danced above their heads, shimmering in the candlelight as though they had come from heaven itself. Emma marvelled at the precision of each star, as they were a great reflection of the night sky. They weren't real though. The ceiling was bewitched, made to look like the sky above. Only a true, powerful sorcerer could have conjured up such magical illusions. Thankfully, the Hogwart's staff was full of such witches and wizards. They sat together at the teacher's Head Table, where the first years had now gathered in a timid group.
In the centre of the teacher's table sat a man with long grey hair and an equally long beard. The greatest Headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen: Albus Dumbledore. Although his physique mirrored that of an old man, the merry twinkle in his eyes was the true sign of a child at heart. Emma caught his eye and he smiled patiently behind his half moon spectacles, as if he knew exactly what she was about to do. Knowing him, he probably did. Those twinkling eyes could see everything. Emma outwardly gave a small smile and stood her ground but secretly felt rather guilty on the inside. No matter the consequences, she couldn't back out now, not after everything she'd been through. A well deserved reputation was important for the impressionable little lady.
Turning her attention back to McGonagall, Emma saw a three legged stool and an old witch's hat sitting on top of it. Professor McGonagall's voice was quiet, yet she had the whole school's attention. "When I call your name, you will come forth and I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head."
The school sat in silent anticipation. The hat sat on the stool, quiet and unmoving. Suddenly the brim ripped open and it burst in to song,
"I may be ratty, but I am smart,
My friends will tell you that;
There's no mind I cannot crack,
So place me upon your cap.
You're at Hogwarts for a reason,
The letter told you so
It's my job as the Sorting Hat:
To put you where you ought to go.
You may belong in Gryffindor,
Daring, fierce, and true
A brave heart is what it takes,
For Gryffindors follow through.
If you are loyal and forgiving,
Patient 'til you bore,
Hufflepuff's where you'll find your bidding
A friend for evermore.
Or maybe even Ravenclaw
Where intelligence is key
Ready to learn and full of wit,
Though none as smart as me.
May I interest you in Slytherin?
Those cunning, fearless chaps
Nothing gets in their way
I'm well aware of that.
So trust me with your future
You have nothing more to fear
I've done good so far, haven't I?
Come forth, and you shall hear."
Everyone in the room exploded with applause. McGonagall reached down to remove the hat from the stool. "Abbott, Hannah," she called, holding the hat high.
A small girl with short, blonde, hair stepped forward cautiously. She sat tentatively on the rickety stool, jumping when the loud voice boomed out again. "HUFFLEPUFF!" Smiling with relief, Hannah stepped down and joined the other Hufflepuff's who were cheering loudly.
Checking her list again, McGonagall called out another name, "Bones, Susan."
This time a brown haired girl walked up to the stool. She joined Hannah as a Hufflepuff.
"Boot, Terry" was the first Ravenclaw. And so it went on. Students joined their new families with pride.
When they got to the G's, Emma gave Hermione's hand a little squeeze and watched her shimmy her way through the crowd and take her seat confidently on the stool. When the hat screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!" Emma's chest swelled with pride.
"Longbottom, Neville," McGonagall proceeded. Neville shuffled forward, clutching his newly found Trevor for support and dreading what the Sorting Hat had to say about him. As it placed him in Gryffindor, Neville felt nothing but relief. Unfortunately, he forgot to take the hat off after being Sorted and was forced to take a shameful walk to the front of the room and return it. McGonagall attempted to keep a stern gaze as she accepted the hat from Neville, but Emma could see a secret smile tugging at her lips.
The pale faced boy Emma had seen earlier was called up as Draco Malfoy and he was put in Slytherin before the hat had barely brushed his ears. Although Emma was disappointed, she wasn't really surprised. It was a known fact in the wizarding world that the Malfoy family was associated with the Dark Arts. Perhaps she could persuade him to go against the renowned family tradition? She watched as he arrogantly clapped his cronies on the back and proceeded to fool around with his wand. As they chortled stupidly in response, Emma's hopes dimmed, and soon became non-existent.
"Potter, Harry?" There it was. The name everyone had been waiting for. No one dared to speak, but in that one moment, it was as though each and every person shared the same thought. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts. Harry made his way to the stool, glancing around nervously at the hundreds of pairs of staring eyes. The hat was placed on his head, swallowing his face in its enormity. Dumbledore leaned forward anxiously, as did most of the school.
"GRYFFINDOR!" it decided after a tense moment. The Great Hall erupted in loud cheers and hearty applause. Even Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students were screaming for him. Harry walked to the Gryffindor table in a daze, oblivious to all the fuss. But no one, not even Harry, could have missed Albus Dumbledore at the front of the room, giving him a standing ovation, clapping as fiercely as any of the students.
It would have been a shock if Harry had ended up in Slytherin. Everyone knew all Slytherin graduates turned out to be dark wizards. You-Know-Who had been put in Slytherin and almost every man after him had become a follower of his ways. Everyone in the wizarding world knew the story of how Harry had defeated the Dark Lord when he was just a baby but nobody could explain why. Strange rumours had been going round ever since, that Harry must have been another powerful dark wizard and the Dark Lord wanted to destroy him before he could develop incredible powers. You-Know-Who murdered Harry's parents that night, but when he turned on Harry, he couldn't do it. He lost all his powers and vanished. Some say he died, but wise wizards say he's out there somewhere. Waiting for a chance to end things once and for all.
The applause had long since died down after Harry's Sorting, so McGonagall, wanting the process to continue smoothly, looked down at her list and read the next name without so much as batting an eyelash. In no time at all, she was reaching the ending of the alphabet.
"Weasley, Ronald?"
Ron stepped up, green in the face from nerves. After a moment, the hat called out "GRYFFINDOR!" and the relieved expression on his face was easily visible as the sickly tinge faded away. Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, were standing up, clapping and even the remote Percy Weasley the Prefect was looking proud. Emma guessed being in Gryffindor was a family tradition. She was proud of him.
The crowd in front of the Head Table that had once been large had diminished excessively. Only a couple of students were left and as "Zabini, Blaise" became a Slytherin, the students peered curiously at the last girl, wondering what her last name was, for nothing could beat "Zabini" they thought.
Although she didn't need the reminder, McGonagall looked down at her list multiple times before reading the only name left. "Emma?" It came out like a question, for there was no last name to accompany it.
Emma took a deep breath and did the unthinkable. She undid her plain black school robes, revealing a far more interesting outfit underneath. The sky was already darkening and the air had begun to grow chilly, making Emma's thick, red jumper warm and cosy, rather than hot and bothersome. The material was woven in a flattering pattern and her long, gold, necklace complemented the turtle-neck cut. Instead of the boring black pants the other students were forced to wear as part of the school's dress code policy, Emma wore dark blue skinny jeans, showing off her slender legs and cute brown boots. With this daring stunt, Emma hoped to make a lasting impression on her peers. She wanted her moment in the spotlight to be unforgettable – an inexplicable act Hogwarts would remember for years to come. Though she would never dare admit it to anyone, Emma wished desperately for a popular reputation at this school. In her eleven year old mind, image was everything! Emma wished most of all for two very specific things. Firstly, she wished for her actions to clearly establish some ground rules. She was not to be seen as some lowly first year to be looked down on or ridiculed. She was independent and capable, risking her first impression at a new school to lay down these unspoken terms. Secondly, Emma wanted it made clear to the school that her personality was not one that could or would be suppressed by the mainstream conducts of society. She was wild and spontaneous, demonstrating these traits in her unwillingness to conform to the uniforms.
Despite the negative consequences that could ensue from her actions, Emma knew that wearing normal clothes at a school assembly is not the worst thing she could have possibly done and given her past, she had every reason to act out like this. Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, Emma's life before Hogwarts was appalling, traumatic even. A child of her age should not be so well versed in the disappointments and dangers of adult life. Magic brought to her life colour and energy and in this moment of attention and splendour she felt alive.
Confidently, if not slightly hesitant, Emma made her way to the stool. She sat down stiffly, daring even to cross her legs to calm her nerves. McGonagall looked to Dumbledore for help, as she could not get over this latest surprise, but all he gave her as console was an amused nod of the head. McGonagall agreed, for his sake, to ignore the situation at hand and to follow the Sorting protocol.
Emma was growing so anxious that her fingernails somehow found their way to her mouth, as if by their own accord. Noticing her mistake, she quickly put them back in her lap. Technically speaking, she hadn't broken any rules. During the summer, Emma and her grandmother – who was a significant member of the school board and therefore able to allow such changes – had made a few arrangements regarding Emma's upcoming school term, some of which included the privilege of wearing her own choice of clothing as opposed to the mandatory uniform. Emma detested the uniforms. No matter how nicely Madame Malkin tailored them, they were itchy and smelled like sweat and old pumpkin juice. As well as this, being forced to wear the same clothes everyday was simply torture for young, eccentric Emma who was all about expressing herself. She needed a creative outlet. In being given this privilege, Emma would repay the favour by spending every other Sunday lunch in the custody of her grandmother. The only problem would be making sure the other kids didn't find out. Just because her grandmother was – no. No one would ever look at her the same way if they knew who she was. It had to be kept a secret. At least for now.
Although grateful for her special accommodations, Emma found that paying the price with vulnerability to be a purely terrifying thing. Staring in to the eyes of her classmates, seeing their judgemental expressions of confusion and disbelief, Emma felt the need to defend herself for they knew not the chilling memories that haunted her every moment.
Temporarily distracted from what was, so far, the most important day of her life, Emma regained her focus. In the few moments she'd lost her concentration, nothing of great importance had happened. McGonagall was still standing directly beside her, holding the Sorting Hat – a frozen look of shock plastered on to her face. Emma started to become slightly uncomfortable. She looked around once more and realized the oddity that had been bothering her. Emma hadn't spotted any movement in the Great Hall for a fair few minutes. She was quite positive that human beings could not hold their breath for that long. Desperate to see movement of any kind, she scanned the rows of unblinking eyes atop unmoving statues. As was natural for these types of situations, Emma's brain thought up numerous explanations to justify the insane impossibilities that sat before her – starting with logical, progressing to absurd and trailing off into absolutely terrifying. She could feel the panic creeping in to her throat, restricting her ability to breathe. She searched frantically for any sign of familiarity. Move, she silently begged the statues. Come on, move! Her breath came in sharp, jagged, gasps and she knew if she didn't calm down soon, she might very well cause the exact type of scene she wished to avoid. Her search became urgent, rushed, desperate – the more she wished to see movement, the more it seemed as though people's bodies were solidifying before her very eyes. It was nightmare. A living nightmare. Emma no longer saw the faces of people she knew, but only eyes, bodies, hands. No, she thought. This can't be happening to me. Not here, not now. Not again.
And suddenly, everything changed. She saw them. It. Him. The grey eyes. And for some inexplicable reason, relief flooded through her body, alive as the blood rushing through her veins.
I'm okay.
He's there.
The eyes blinked. Emma could almost cry out, she was so happy. The sharp, ragged breaths subsided and in their place were steady, consistent intakes of oxygen. Her brain was recognizing entire faces once more and as Draco's pale, angular features came in to view, Emma could feel a timid yet confused smile spreading across her face. The carefully styled blonde hair made her sigh; his long, pointy nose made her grin; his thin, pink lips made her flutter inside. Feelings she'd never experienced before, but feelings she enjoyed all the same.
These outbursts of panic were unfortunately common for Emma and she had learned from a young age how to deal with them. However, never before had they ended so quickly and never in a way as absurd as this. To be brought back to reality by the eyes of a stranger was most definitely a first. She was intrigued. After what seemed like an eternity, the Sorting Hat was finally placed on her head.
"So... Emma is it? Are you ready to enter the world of a witch?"
Emma smiled at the voice and took a calming breath. Neither masculine or feminine, there was a slight Australian twang dripping with sarcasm and scepticism.
"Bring it," she responded, mouthing the words excitedly.
"Let's see here... Daring and brave, could do well in Gryffindor. But someone with a mind as exceptional as yours could benefit greatly from being in Ravenclaw. Then again your big heart greatly reflects the traits of a true and loyal Hufflepuff and your strong sense of leadership could straighten out the Slytherins. Looking at your perfect record and family ties to important, historical witches, I'd say you'd be a perfect match in any of the houses! Any preferences?"
"Well," Emma thought uncertainly. She was deeply flattered by all the nice things the Sorting Hat had said about her but when it came to it, she honestly could not decide what house she would be best suited for.
"Ah," it sighed. "I understand. Better be... GRYFFINDOR!"
As the last word became audible to the rest of the school, Emma released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Delicately, Emma handed the Sorting Hat back to McGonagall, but before she could escape the stern professor, she was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. Emma looked up in to Minerva's deep, dark eyes and was reminded of how alike they were.
"I'm so proud of you," Minerva whispered fondly.
"Thanks, Nana," Emma mouthed back. She took a deep breath and advanced to the Gryffindor table, where her new brothers and sisters were waiting. Just a few steps away, Emma thought to herself, "This is it. This is where my life begins."