Wow. It's been ages since I last posted. And this plot bunny has been floating around in my mind for quite sometime. Unfortunately, the last year has been hectic for me with college applications and entrance exams and what not. So my writing had to be put on the hold. But now… now, I'm a free bird! So I can mess with my characters. And of course, my favourite series * Evil smirk*

Just a little heads up. I've written this with an entirely new cast of characters, setting it after The Second Generation. You might recognize the famous names, but most likely they will not play a very important role in my story.

Disclaimer: I would gladly give in to schizophrenia if I could live in Hogwarts.

CHAPTER 1: HOGWARTS-BOUND

I started feeling nostalgic gazing at the scarlet engine with "The Hogwarts Express" emblazoned on it. It seemed only yesterday when I first laid eyes upon it. Of course, realistically speaking, it had been four years ago, when I had been eleven years old. I still remember my parents suggesting a good psychiatrist to Professor Longbottom when he first arrived on our doorstep, announcing I was a witch.

I winced. Needless to say, that conversation had gone well.

Of course, my parents always knew there was something odd about me. My mother had the shock of her life when she found my chew toys dancing around my crib when I was little. But she had written it off as 'the wonders of modern technology'. Of course, turning my annoying cousin green wasn't as easily written off. Still, after Professor Longbottom's visit, my parents had accepted the idea that I was a witch easily enough seeing that the alternative was accepting I was insane.

"Sam! OI! Sam, the train's about to leave!" A voice cried, shaking me out of my reverie.

"Darnit," I swore, realizing that indeed it was almost eleven.

I ran to the nearest compartment, throwing in my trunk and grabbing Percival, my owl. I managed to get on the train just as it started pulling away from the station.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I started walking down the corridor, trunk and all, looking for my friends. I finally found them in a compartment towards the end of the train.

"There you are." Kimberley Whitener said, looking relieved. "We thought you hadn't made it."

Kim was as cute as a button. She was short, extremely short. I'm talking about a five foot nothing short. She had dark hair which fell in perfect spiral curls, framing her heart shaped face much to my eternal envy. With her wide hazel eyes and button nose, she looked, well, rather like a china doll.

Much to her dismay.

Kim had the personality of a dragon. When an unfortunate seventh year, Logan Dodge had called her "a little pixie" in our third year, it didn't end too well for him. Kim was the magical equivalent of a guntoting muggle. She had no qualms about hexing people and she had an arsenal of rather nasty jinxes. I really wasn't looking forward to being a prefect, knowing that I'd have to hand her at least ten detentions a week.

"So, Sam. Did you face..uh, any trouble getting to King's Cross?" Alyssa Morgan enquired.

I stared at Lys. With Lys, every word she uttered had some purpose. She was always calm and serene, her blonde hair never looked out of place. Each word was spoken deliberately, she wasn't exactly one for small talk. Often, people accused her of being cold, but I knew that once she cared about someone, she did it fiercely and without restraint. It had taken Kim and I, three years and a lot of stubbornness to worm our way into her heart.

So when Lys asked me if I had met any trouble, I knew it wasn't a casual question.

"No. Why?" I said, heaving the trunk under the seat. Pushing my dark curls out of my face, I sat down and rested my aching feet.

The two exchanged a glance. I arched my brow.

"Haha. No, nothing much. Just wondered why you were late. Speaking of late, don't you have a Prefect's Meeting?" Kim rambled.

My eyes widened. NO! My perfect record! I was always on time. I was the epitome of punctuality. I narrowed my eyes at my two best friends, conveying to them that I had not forgotten their weird glancing. Then I flew out of the compartment and hurtled down the corridor.

"Tsk. Tsk. Running down corridors? We can't have that, can we, boys?" An accented voice spoke up. And I got the crawling feeling on my skin that I generally associated with that voice. Of all the people, I had to run into Nikolai Borschev and his cronies.

I turned around to face him and met his smug grin. Such a shame, that grin spoilt his whole face. He was quite handsome really, with his aquiline features and his brown hair. His eyes though, were a different story. They were the palest blue and looked a little… well... dead.

Then I caught sight of the little badge pinned to his robes.

"No! No, this is a joke. There is no way you're a prefect." I groaned.

Smugness now oozed from his pores, almost suffocating me.

" That's right, little Gryffindor. So be careful, won't you? Or I'll have to punish you, Sameera Roy." He whispered, his voice laced with insinuation.

I shuddered. EW.

"Well, unfortunately for you, buddy, I happen to be a prefect too. So you better behave yourself or I swear I'll go to Professor McGonogall." I said as evenly as possible.

Then I turned around and entered the compartment. And my eyes fell on my fellow fifth year Gryffindor prefect Raphael Richardson.

Of course, I knew it would be him. He had the highest grades in our year (despite my feverish and impassioned attempts to beat him, I always trailed behind by few points) and the quite sort of authority that made people look up to him and gravitate towards him.

"Richardson. Sup?" I said. Then immediately wanted to smack myself. 'Sup?' 'SUP?' That's what I came up with. Note to self, stop using facebook speech in daily life.

Richardson's lips twitched at my greeting. The boy had a poker face that would make stone gargoyle's jealous.

"Sup?" He replied.

I gaped at him. Now he was just mocking me. Sticking my tongue out at him, I returned my gaze to the Head Boy and Girl, as the last few stragglers trickled into the compartment.

"Alright, everyone's here. We can begin." Said Lily Potter, the Head Girl. I really couldn't have asked for a better Head Girl. She was extremely nice and had introduced me to her father, the Harry Potter. Of course, I was completely tongue tied and couldn't even formulate words, let alone sentences. But Mr. Potter being the completely brilliant person that he is, patted my head and said he was pleased to meet me. My head. TOUCH. HARRY POTTER. I felt as if I had died and gone to heaven.

"Right you are, Lily. I hereby do convene this meeting at 11:45 on the 1st of September, 2026." Mark Conelly pompously announced. He was from Ravenclaw and I had no doubt he would run for Minister of Magic. And he might win, too. On pompousness alone.

"The patrol list is right here, Shelby just hand out the copies. We will have a meeting once every fortnight. For now, we have tentatively selected Wednesday evenings. But we'll let you know if there are any changes." Lily said, crisply.

Thank goodness. If it was up to Conelly, we'd be here for hours as he droned on.

"Oh. Prefects, do be careful. With all the… unrest, we don't want any of you injured." Said Conelly. Lily nodded.

Unrest? What was going on? It was times like these that I regretted going to India for the vacations as I was left completely out of the loop.

As Richardson was leaving, I grabbed his arm. Unlike the many members of the Richardson Fanclub, I did not swoon/sigh at the sight of him. Not unless he got a scar on his forehead and defeated the greatest Dark Wizard ever.

"What is all this about?" I asked him.

Richardson's ears went a little red. Out of anger, I presume. Interesting.

"Haven't you heard?" He asked me.

"No, idiot, if I had I wouldn't be asking you. I got back from India yesterday." I said.

" There's some talk of a group known as the Vigilantes. They have been associated with a spree of killings. Everyone thought they were Pureblood sympathisers until they killed Carson Avery. Dad even…" He broke off. His father worked in the Auror Office and I knew he had been about to reveal something extremely secret.

"Yes?" I prodded.

"Never mind. It should become public knowledge soon. Besides, they're not likely to affect us at school." He said.

I nodded. This was very bad. We had just emerged from the Second Wizarding War. The last thing we needed was more violence. What on earth did the Vigilantes want?

Richardson cleared his throat and I noticed our hands were still linked. I let go immediately, blushing. And then cursed myself. Yes, Richardson might be extremely good looking with his dark, almost black hair and his dark eyes, as well as his ahem, Quidditch toned physique. But still, no reason to lose brain cells and resemble melted slush.

With cheeks burning with embarrassment as I felt rather than saw his amusement, I muttered a farewell and beat a hasty retreat back to my compartment, all thoughts of the Vigilantes pushed out of my mind.

It is always most calm before a storm.

And I was just about to get caught up in a typhoon.

Review and make my day? Please?