A/N: This fic is Alt. Universe, some things canon and others not. Voldemort and his horcruxes are not a factor in this story, but the Triwizard Tournament will take place. Each year at Hogwarts will span over three chapters or so. Slytherin!Harry is established in the wizarding world, raised by Sirius (who never went to Azkaban) and completely OOC. Additional a/n at the end of the chapter. I hope you enjoy, lovelies! AKxx

A Whole New World Chapter 1

Today was a grand day. It was a day bursting at the seams with nervous anticipation. It was a day where the unknown was revealed, and Octavia Granger would enter the mystical world she truly belonged to. All those years of strange events occurring around her had finally been explained.

Octavia Granger was a witch.

The revelations of magical powers didn't have the impact on her family that she had expected, however. After she had received her Hogwarts acceptance letter, Octavia was all too eager to visit Diagon Alley. It was there that she and her parents bumped into other relatives. Her cousin, uncle and aunt. Now, with the discovery that her cousin Hermione Granger was also a witch, Octavia's uniqueness had taken a hit.

Octavia wasn't particularly fond of her 'know-it-all', bushy-haired cousin. That was primarily due to Hermione's intellect. As Octavia wasn't the sharpest quill in the inkpot she harboured considerable envy for her brilliant-minded cousin. For once in her life, Octavia had foolishly thought herself to be special; to be better than her cousin. But of course, Hermione couldn't allow that. Hermione had to be intelligent, relatively pretty and magical. Whereas Octavia was only two of those things, and she definitely wasn't intelligent. Crafty? Yes. Sneaky? Definitely. But intelligent? Hardly.

Despite her less than favourable sentiments toward her cousin, Octavia clutched onto Hermione's hand tightly, too afraid to let go. It made her feel a little better that Hermione was holding her hand just as tightly, as though she was as terrified and anxious as she. Flicking her tight blonde curls over her shoulder, Octavia's big hazel eyes sparkled spectacularly as she gazed at her surroundings. Frequently, she bit and chewed her plump pink lips, scrunching her upturned nose in confusion or distaste at times.

The Granger girls stood on Platform 9 ¾, surrounded by the oddest people they had ever seen. Hermione waffled on beside her, reciting constant blurbs from the magical books she had purchased on Diagon Alley two weeks ago. Honestly, it was like being in the company of a never-ending stream of audiobooks. Interesting at times, but monotonous when you weren't in the mood. And O wasn't in the mood. She was far too enthralled and captivated by the odd attire of the other occupants on Platform ¾. People in pointed hats scattered the platform, some hats drooping, others standing tall and straight. Robes of every colour assaulted her vision; blue, green, yellow, red, pink, orange, purple, you name it, they wore it. Some on the platform wore muggle attire, but not many. Most wore robes of various colours, others wearing sophisticated black robes, and a few wearing shirts and slacks. The varied fashion was a sight to behold, as were the floating trunks in the air, teetering owls and hissing cats. The familiars of the students were all trapped in cages for their own security for the trip to Hogwarts, but they added to the atmosphere regardless.

Octavia suddenly felt quite self-conscious. Most of the people around her wore robes. Colourful, and somewhat tacky robes. But she wore clothes from her own world. The world she had grown up in. A plain grey t-shirt hung loosely off her upper-body, a pair of light blue jeans coated onto her legs, and a pair of white converse on her feet. It wasn't the greatest of her usually carefully selected outfits, but it was comfortable enough for the long train ride ahead. According to the information sent by Hogwarts, it would take eight hours to get to the boarding school in the highlands of Scotland.

The train that would dutifully transport all students to the magical school stood right before the Granger girls on the edge of the platform. Both Hermione and Octavia gazed in awe at the old steam train, but it was not unlike the trains in their own world.

"- though the magical pure-bloods were unhappy about the use of trains and deemed them to be 'unsanitary, hazardous and demeaning'." Hermione waffled on, reciting word-for-word extracts from her new favourite tome Hogwarts A History. "It runs entirely on magic, and was introduced as an alternative to portkeys by means of travelling to the school. Apparently portkeys caused many students to fall ill to portkey-sickness, so they were left with no other option but to use trains."

Octavia despised reading, for the simple reason that she rarely understood the words used. Due to that, she teased Hermione throughout the summer for her book-worm nature, claiming that learning of the magical world first hand was far better than reading about it in a crusty old book. But that didn't stop her from asking questions.

"What's a pure-blood?" Octavia asked quietly, the nerves evident in her hushed and hesitant tone.

"A witch or a wizard that is born from pure magical heritage," Hermione answered instantly. "They will have ancestry with no muggles or other magical beings. I read about them in –"

"Hogwarts A History," Octavia interjected, mimicking her cousin's important tone.

"Well if you perhaps read the book for a moment, you may not need to ask questions, O." Hermione snapped quietly, so as not to gain the attention of their parents.

"Whatever," Octavia droned, their parents chatting amongst themselves behind the two girls.

Steam billowed out of the chimney on the nose of the train, a loud choo-choo! sound echoing throughout the bustling platform. The noise indicated that it was time to board.

Both Hermione and Octavia turned to face their parents, Hermione raising her chin bravely in the air as Octavia frowned and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Come here," Louise Granger beckoned, spreading her arms for her daughter.

Octavia shuffled over to her mother, allowing the woman to embrace her, but only lazily returning the hug. After her mother showered her scrunched up face with chaste kisses, Octavia groaned and rubbed her hands over her face moodily. Her father then performed the same actions, Octavia accepting and returning his embrace with more affection than she did with her mother. She was still annoyed with the woman for denying her recent request of sweets as they had passed through central foyer of the train station fifteen minutes ago.

"Now, listen here." David Granger began sternly, Octavia blinking up at him innocently. "Just because you're away from us at school doesn't mean we won't know if you're misbehaving, alright? I expect you to study hard and write to us every week, you got that young lady?"

"Yes, daddy." Octavia smiled, appearing as innocent as possible. "I promise."

"Atta girl," her father grinned, ruffling her tight curls as she scowled instantly

"Don't," she wined, whacking her father's hand away.

"David," her mother scolded. "Do not embarrass her, dear."

David rolled his eyes, but removed his hand and ceased his actions at once. Mother was the boss. Father did as she said without question.

Louise crouched down to her daughter's height, taking her hands gently and meeting the anxious hazel eyes that brought light to her life.

"Don't be scared," Louise whispered, smiling gently at her daughter. "You'll be brilliant and you'll make so many friends. You always do."

O nodded, hoping that her mother was right. O would simply be lost without friends. Not because she would be lonely, but because she had never been without any, so wouldn't know what to do with herself at all.

"Don't talk to strangers, and I expect you to pass all of your subjects this time, ok?"

"Yes, mummy," Octavia nodded, ashamed at the reminding of her dismal grades in her final year of primary school.

Her mother rose into a standing positon, issuing her goodbyes to Hermione as Octavia did the same with her aunt and uncle. After a few moments, Octavia found herself grabbing onto the handle of her brown and hefty trunk that contained her belongings and school supplies, ready to embark on a journey she wished she could avoid.

Final waves of goodbyes were performed before Octavia and Hermione disappeared into the bustling crowds of students by the train. Following her cousin to the train, Octavia grunted as she carted the inconveniently large and hefty trunk behind her. Her white converse sneakers scuffed against the ground and she dragged the heavy trunk with all her might, hauling it behind her as she climbed onto the train.

Hermione veered to the left once in the narrow passageway of the Hogwarts Express, winding and weaving her way through the clusters of students. Some students stood at the windows, waving final farewells to their parents on the platform. Others barged through the crowds, quickly making their way to empty compartments, the doors of which were lined on the right side of the corridor. It took them no more than a few minutes to find a vacant compartment at the end of the train, hauling their trunks along with great difficulty.

After they struggled to place their trunks atop the grates that hung above the bench-seats, both Granger girls made themselves comfortable by the square window.

As predictable as ever, Hermione pulled out a heavy tome from her ordinary backpack and placed it on her lap. Three guesses what book she had chosen to read on the long journey to Hogwarts.

Octavia pulled out her iPod from the back pocket of her jeans, untangling the purple earphones patiently.

"That won't work, you know," Hermione said, not even glancing up from the opened tome on her lap. "According to this, muggle technology cannot function in magical places. It causes an interfere apparently."

Despite what her cousin had said, Octavia stuffed an earphone into the cavity of her ear and switched it on. Her eyes widened in horror as the screen displayed distorted words before giving way to static and malfunctioning instantly.

"I did warn you," Hermione sighed, turning a crisp page of the book.

"Awesome," Octavia groaned, stuffing her iPod into her Chanel backpack.

Hermione didn't respond, seemingly submerged in her favourite pastime of reading and learning, leaving Octavia to gaze out of the window. Boredom was quick to creep in, the blonde girl frequently shifting around in her seat and swinging her legs leisurely.

"Are you scared?" Octavia asked quietly, turning her stare to her cousin.

"No," Hermione answered, flicking the page over.

"Me either." Octavia lied, nodding as though she could convince herself.

Hermione glanced up at her palpably anxious cousin from beneath her lashes, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Octavia shifted around in her seat again, constantly biting her lip and fidgeting her feet together. Her usual movements when terribly afraid or nervous.

"If you are scared," Hermione said, "you really shouldn't be."

"I'm not scared," O frowned childishly. "You are."

"Ok," Hermione smiled and held the apprehensive gaze of her cousin. "Let's say I am scared; what reason would I have to feel that way? I'm going to a school with people like me. People that understand what it's like to do amazing things and scary things. I won't be the only one who accidently blows rooms apart when I cry, or in your case, set fire to your classroom when the teacher is mean to you."

"That was an accident," Octavia groaned, lolling her head back against the back of the seat. "I didn't mean to."

"I know," Hermione laughed. "But everyone else that we're going to school with has probably done those things too. We're just going to learn how to control our gift. What's scary about that?"

"Nothing," Octavia shrugged lamely, puckering her plump lips as she frowned.

Hermione assessed her cousin for a moment, watching as she habitually played with her tight ringlets, the nerves still plaguing her body.

"What house do you think I'll be put in?" Octavia asked.

"I think you'll be in Slytherin," Hermione observed, her tone studious.

"What's that one again?" Octavia frowned. "The one with the badger?"

"That's Hufflepuff." Hermione corrected. "Slytherin is the one with snakes."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, swinging her legs leisurely.

"It's not a bad house," Hermione explained. "They are cunning and crafty, but have loyalty to one another. I've read that Merlin himself was once a Slytherin, you know. They're ambitious and resourceful, and have great skills of self-preservation."

"What about you?" Octavia asked, perking up a little. "Will you be in Slytherin?"

"I don't think so," Hermione shook her head. "Perhaps Ravenclaw or Gryffindor."

"They're the smart ones, yeah?" Octavia frowned. "Ravenclaws."

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Gryffindors are loyal and courageous."

"I wanna be in the same house as you," Octavia murmured.

"Why?"

"So we can sit together in class and stuff."

"We'll still share most of the same classes," Hermione reassured. "There aren't a lot of students, according to Hogwarts A History, so we generally share the compulsory subjects with the same year group from the other houses."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, relief washing over her.

If she didn't make any friends, she would always have her cousin to sit with in class. The discovery soothed her roaring anxieties a little.

"Where's your wand?" Hermione asked, arching her brow.

"In my trunk."

"You should carry it with you, O." Hermione sighed. "You need to bond with it."

"It's a piece of wood," Octavia quirked her perfectly sculpted brow.

"It's your counterpart," Hermione disagreed. "Without it, you won't be able to do magic and channel it properly."

"Yeah, but it doesn't fit in my pocket."

Hermione rolled her eyes and snapped her book shut, moving it from her lap to the seat beside her. She then slipped out her long carved wand, placed her fist against her mouth and cleared her throat.

"Capacious extremis," Hermione stated clearly, swishing her wand in a slow and perfect circle, aiming right at Octavia's blue-wash jeans.

Nothing happened.

Nada.

"There," Hermione nodded firmly, tucking her wand pack into her jacket pocket.

"There what?" Octavia scoffed, glancing down at her jeans that had not changed in the slightest.

"Your pocket is now big enough to store your wand," Hermione said, a proud glint in her honey brown eyes.

Octavia frowned and stuffed her hand into the once-tiny pocket, now able to fit her entire forearm into the tight crevice.

"How'd you do that?" Octavia gasped in astonishment.

"A simple undetectable extension charm," Hermione stated importantly. "You should really read -"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Octavia groaned, pushing herself from the bench and climbing up the seat to reach her trunk.

After much fumbling around and muttered swear words that O would never dare speak in front of her mother, the blonde muggle-born successfully removed her wand and plopped back down on her seat. The magical stick was the colour of ivory, smooth and long, elegant and featuring engraved swirls at the base to the tip. It was nice; if you cared about the appearance of a stick, that is.

"Thought we couldn't do magic on purpose outside of Hogwarts," Octavia frowned, eyeing her wand cautiously, a mild tingle shooting through her arm from holding the object.

"That rule does not apply once on the Hogwarts Express," Hermione explained. "I suppose they consider the train to be an extension of the school."

Octavia sighed, stretching out her limbs before laying on her side, facing her cousin. She stuffed the wand into her big pocket.

"Are we there yet?" Octavia groaned, trying to get comfortable on the bench-seat.

"Only another seven hours and forty minutes to go." Hermione laughed, repositioning the book on her lap.

"I'm gonna sleep until we get there," Octavia declared, curling up into a ball. "Wake me up if there's food."

"I wouldn't dream of denying you food," Hermione smiled, teasing her gluttonous cousin.

But the words either went unheard or ignored. For O's eyes were shut and she didn't respond other than the rubbing of her nose.

Octavia grunted and swore under her breath as she toppled over, colliding with the solid sink that protruded from the wall. Honestly, it was a bloody nightmare to change into school robes with only the miniscule space of the toilets. At the tail of the train was a line of small toilets as opposed to compartments, and they seemed to be the location of choice for all students to use when changing into their robes.

As she loathed waiting in queues, Octavia had waited until the very last hour of the train ride before journeying to the lavatories and getting changed. There was still a queue of students waiting for one of the six lavatory doors, but it was considerably shorter than it had been for the past hour.

Octavia quickly discovered that the toilets were of the unisex variety, for there were droplets of urine dotting the linoleum floor. Unfortunately, due to the small space of the cubicle-sized lavatory, it was near impossible to avoid stepping in it repeatedly. For that reason, Octavia stood on a pile of toilet roll that she had draped over the floor to protect her bare feet from the urine. The nuisance of the small space combined with her anxieties had her in a foul mood to be sure. It wasn't often that the usually perky Octavia was feeling particularly irritable, but it was difficult to keep her simmering vexation at bay.

Not only was she journeying to a school in a world that she didn't know, Octavia was doing so with her bossy cousin. Already Hermione was driving her up the wall with constant regurgitations of information that she had evidently learned in books. On top of that, Octavia knew that the rule-following brunette would snitch on her to her parents should she step out of line. Just like she had always done at primary school.

The girls just didn't get along. They were entirely different, and shared barely anything in common. That should not suggest, however, that they did not love one another. For they did. But for once, Octavia would have liked to have been the special one in the family. She would have liked to have been appreciated for something other than her pretty face and charm. A silly prospect, she realised. For Hermione would always be the special one. The golden child. And Octavia would never be anything more than the silly girl with big hazel eyes and delightful curls.

A rapid knock on the door pulled her out of her reverie, Octavia standing in her underwear as she changed into her robes clumsily. Scowling at the door as though it had offended her greatly, Octavia snatched her school skirt from the pile of material on the sink and shimmied into it awkwardly. Again, a rapid knock banged against the door, but this time much harder than the last.

Ignoring it effortlessly, Octavia clasped the skirt onto her body and adjusted it before grabbing her white shirt and slipping it on.

Hazel eyes glistened with mounting frustration as a loud bang rattled the flimsy door of the small lavatory.

"Occupied!" Octavia shouted, buttoning up her shirt.

"Have you fallen in the toilet, or something equally as stupid?" A boy's voice shouted back, another bang vibrating the door. "Hurry up, I need to change into my robes!"

Absolutely furious, Octavia unlocked the door and whipped it open, finding herself face-to-face with the blonde offender. He was a little taller than her, so she had to tilt her head upwards to meet his stare, but that didn't stop her. She was not intimated nor threatened. She was simply manifesting her anxieties and disappointments, and directing him right at the blonde boy in front of her.

"I will take as long as I want." Octavia hissed, wild tight curls framing her pretty yet furious face. "It's not like this is the only toilet, right?"

The blonde boy merely blinked at her as though he was clearing foggy vision or something of the like. His fierce silver eyes turned soft, his pink lips parting as he appeared at a loss for words. His skin was a smooth and marble-like pale, his complexion utterly flawless. A sophisticated demeanour radiated from the boy who was approximately the same age as she, and he was dressed in black robes that were not of Hogwarts, suggesting that he was not from the muggle world.

The boy would be considerably handsome to those who cared. Octavia didn't care. Boys were gross in general, and this particular one had annoyed her greatly on the most terrifying day of her life.

"Are you deaf?" Octavia snapped, further provoked by his strange silence and stillness. "You will have to wait."

The blonde boy licked his pink lips nervously, nodding marginally as he stepped back. But he didn't retreat out of intimidation or self-preservation, no. He appeared to be in stupor of sorts. Very peculiar.

"Sorry," he mumbled, pressing his back against the wall and he resumed his 'patient' waiting for a free toilet stall. "I mistook you for someone else."

"Right," Octavia scoffed. "So can I finish getting ready without you banging on the door?"

A fierce blush crept up onto the boy's cheeks before he nodded and averted his gaze to the carpeted floor between them. It was all she saw of him before she slammed the door shut and proceeded to change into her robes. Perhaps with a pang of pity and regret for speaking to someone in such a way, but she shoved those feelings down and went about her business.

How could she focus on someone else's misfortune or unhappiness when she herself was being torn away from her parents and thrown into a mysterious world of the unknown?

After a thirty-minute boat ride beneath the moon and the stars, the cluster of first year students ascended the staircase of the majestic and mystical castle. They were led by the Keeper of the Keys, Rubeus Hagrid; a gruff and incredibly large man, his face almost concealed by a bushy mane that gave Hermione's hair a run for its money.

There weren't many first years that climbed the stairs in an apprehensive and excitable atmosphere, and some were evidently more nervous than others. Hermione was not one of the frightened. She was one of the excited.

A pudgy dorky looking boy was walking with the two Granger girls, complaining about losing a toad on the train ride to Hogwarts. How peculiar. Octavia would hardly be dismayed at losing a toad of all things. A puppy? Yes. But a toad? Definitely not.

Cliques and friendships were already forming in the group of twenty-six first years, most in discussions regarding the sorting ceremony that they would soon be faced with. The pale boy that Octavia had unfortunately encountered on the Hogwarts Express walked a few steps ahead, flanked by two dark-haired boys. One of the boys that endured his company was a tanned and snobbish one, the other spectacled and had a casual air about him. Unfortunately, the blonde boy kept glancing over his shoulder and looking at Octavia, only blushing and turning back around when she noticed his stares. She didn't like him much. From the way he spoke – or rather, drawled – he was quite the pompous child.

Apparently his father had done and said many things, most of which Octavia didn't really understand. There was something about governors of the school and the Ministry of Magic that he spoke of. Other than that, she barely followed the conversation between the trio ahead.

As they reached the top of the staircase, they were met with grand double doors, as tall as the wall and as wide as her bedroom back home. In front of the engraved wooden doors was a stern looking woman who peered over her thin glasses with severe beady eyes, a long and pointy hat atop her greying hair.

Octavia swallowed audibly at the sternness of the woman, clutching onto Hermione's arm like a frightened child. But she was exactly that, wasn't she? A frightened child, hurled into a strange and new world, faced with the unknown. It wasn't exactly comforting to know the other children around her were the 'same'. For some spoke as though they had only ever known the magical world, leaving Octavia feeling like an alien amidst true witches and wizards.

"Professor McGonagall," gruffed Hagrid, introducing the stern woman as she stood as straight and still as a statue.

The woman peered over her glasses, assessing the students as they quickly fell into a tense and excited silence.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the all houses, but only sit with your own house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room."

"Trevor!" The pudgy boy beside Hermione shouted.

A few students snickered as McGonagall pursed her wrinkled lips. The boy lunged at her feet, gently retrieving a slimy warty toad from the stone ground. He bowed his head in shame, his cheeks aflame with humiliation as he waddled back over to the bushy-haired Granger and averted his stare to the floor.

Seemingly pleased with her silent scolding of the nervous boy, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and re-addressed the rest of the students.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin." The Professor spoke, the final word laced with distaste. "Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Pulling nervously at the hem of her grey school skirt, Octavia swallowed and shuffled her feet. She was hardly the brightest student or best behaved, so she was certain that whichever house she was sorted into would hardly benefit from her contribution.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smart yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on the pudgy boy's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and the spectacled boy's messy black hair.

"I will return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

The moment that both Professor McGonagall and Hagrid disappeared through the double doors, the crowd of first years erupted into an animated chatter. Hermione turned her attention to the pudgy boy who introduced himself as Neville Longbottom. Octavia only partly listened to their conversation, for that bloody blonde pale boy was staring at her again.

Sticking out her tongue at the boy, she successfully caused him to blush a bright shade of red and turn his attention to his two dark-haired friends. It may not have been the best way for her to meet friends, but his incessant gawking at her made her quite uneasy and only served to increase her nerves. Regardless, she was certain that he didn't like her either after their little encounter.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. "Quickly, now," she said before guiding them through the now-opened double doors.

The moment Octavia stepped into the Great Hall, clutching tightly onto the arm of her cousin, her lips parted and eyes widened in complete awe.

The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the end of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting, facing the students. The two hundred or so faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight from above. Octavia gazed upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars, shining brightly above.

"It's enchanted, you know." Hermione whispered, also gazing up at the sky that was in fact a ceiling. "It's not really the sky, but it's a spell that mirrors the sky outside."

Octavia nodded to indicate that she was listening, but she only marginally registered the words that her cousin had spoken. For her attention had been transferred to the rickety stool that sat in front of the faculty table, a strange hat positioned atop.

The black pointy hat featured signs of wear and tear, indicating that it was quite old. But that was not the peculiarity of said accessory. It was that it had a face. Not an actual face, like that of a person, but a face formed in the creases and lumpiness of the material.

The crowd of first years stopped at the bottom of the altar where the teacher's table sat, as well as the wooden stool and hat with a face.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall stared, her voice echoing around the grand room as she approached the stool.

Octavia wrapped her arms tightly around Hermione's limp arm, nuzzling her face into her cousin's shoulder as the nerves threatened to cripple her. The stern woman ahead cleared her throat and unravelled a long and beige parchment scroll.

"Hannah Abbot." Professor McGonagall called, reading the evidently alphabetically categorist list of names.

The girl with mousey-blonde hair hesitantly approached the podium and seated herself on the stool, the Professor placing the strange hat atop her plain hair.

"Hufflepuff!" The hat declared, Octavia's hazel eyes widening comically as the accessory spoke.

The girl smiled sweetly and jumped off the stool, skipping over to the table on the far left. Banners featuring images of badgers hung above the table that erupted into cheers and applause, the rest of the houses clapping lightly.

"Lavender Brown."

A girl with similar curls to Octavia's approached the stool, Octavia only paying mild attention as she was sorted into Gryffindor. Student after student was called before being placed into their houses by the talking hat. It was madness! Yes, Octavia knew that she was a witch and was entering a whole new world, but a talking hat? Who would have ever thought of such a thing in the deepest depths of their wildest imaginations? A magical and magnificent genius, that's who.

"Hermione Granger." Professor McGonagall called, both Grangers instantly tensing.

Octavia reluctantly released her crushing hold on Hermione's arm as her cousin inhaled deeply. Ha! She was scared! Liar.

The bushy-haired Granger held her head high and strolled toward the teacher, seating herself primly on the rickety stool. The Professor placed the hat atop her bushy mane, silence ringing in the ears of both Grangers as it swayed and hummed pensively.

"Right … Yes, yes, I see." The hat swayed and mused aloud, debating on the house to sort Hermione into. "Better be … GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted into a vibrant and welcoming applause, cheering and whooping loudly. The Slytherins didn't clap, but the other two houses did in a polite manner. Hermione exhaled a breath of relief as she approached and seated herself at the long table, golden and red banners of lions floating high above.

"Octavia Granger."

Instantly, fear and nausea washed over her small body, her heart stopping and beating wildly at the same time. Her breathing was suddenly shaky as she dragged herself toward the stool ahead, the blonde boy watching her intently. She ignored him though, and focused all of her attentions on not crying in that moment. All she wanted was to run away, return home and lock herself in the comfort and familiarity of her bedroom.

Octavia hesitantly lowered herself onto the stool, her slender fingers gripping tightly onto the edges as she tensed, the hat lowering atop her tight blonde curls. Big hazel eyes glistened spectacularly with dread and terror, the girl chewing her bottom lip anxiously as she met the gaze of the blonde boy.

He was completely silent, watching her with undiluted fascination and interest. His piercing silver eyes bore into hers, a permanent blush on his pale and flawless complexion. She swallowed before tearing her eyes from his gaze and staring down at the hem of her grey school skirt.

"Interesting, very interesting." The hat sang, swaying from side to side. "You have endless loyalty for the few who you love. No courage, I see, but accepting and kind. Quite a cunning steak you have, and such a sharp tongue and mean spirit when provoked. Let's see … You would do well in … SLYTHERIN!"

A huge sigh of relief escaped her lips as the anxiety began to dissipate somewhat, the Slytherin table breaking out into an applause as she rose from the stool. Surprise momentarily flashed over her pretty face as she noticed that the blonde boy clapped vigorously at her assigned house, but faltered the moment she raised her brows at him.

Her jelly-legs successfully managed to carry her toward the Slytherin table. Her hazel eyes fixed on the stool as she seated herself at the edge of the table, sitting alone.

"Draco Malfoy," Professor McGonagall called, the blonde boy swaggering up to the stool.

The hat barely touched his silvery blonde hair before it shouted 'Slytherin!' loudly, a proud smirk gracing his pink lips. Octavia pursed her lips as he strode over to the Slytherin table, seating himself across from her. He glanced at her before she narrowed her eyes at him and both returned their attentions to the sorting ceremony.

"Harry Potter."

Strangely, the Great Hall went silent. It had gone silent for each first year student's placement, but not like this. It was tense and thick, almost suffocating. It was as though nobody was breathing, but only watching intently. Some students sat on the edge of their seats, others leaning over the tables as though they would get a better view if they were a few inches closer.

The messy-haired handsome boy sat on the stool, his green eyes practically glowing from the reflections of the candlelight above.

"Difficult, very difficult." The hat sang pensively. "Plenty of courage I see, not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?"

Harry sat casually on the stool, appearing nonchalant and entirely unphased by the whole process. Octavia could have sworn that his lips moved slightly, but she could have imagined it. Although, the moment that she suspected he had spoken, the sorting hat suddenly declared his assigned house.

"Slytherin!"

A wolfish grin spread across his face as he rose from the stool, Slytherin applauded just as loudly as they did for Draco Malfoy. Perhaps they were important in the wizarding world? For they received the loudest cheers thus far.

Harry seated himself next to Draco, the pair immediately delving into a quiet chatter between themselves. Octavia assumed that they had known one another before the arrival at Hogwarts. Perhaps they were friends already? It seemed to be the case.

Following a further twenty minutes of sorting, Octavia was now seated at the end of the table, surrounded by six other first years. The Slytherin first years consisted of herself, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini.

Pansy and Octavia had hit it off straight away, both girls immediately bonding over their shared anxieties of facing the sorting ceremony. Daphne was relatively quiet, perhaps by nature, or rudeness. The boys all seemed to know one another, and chatted casually between themselves. Their conversations only ended when the Headmaster rose from his seat at the faculty table, the entire Great Hall falling into a silence.

"Welcome!" Headmaster Dumbledore said, his voice wise and gentle like his blue eyes. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Once the strange speech – if you could call it a speech – ended, the Headmaster bowed as a light applause broke out, scattered amongst the students, barely anyone clapping from the Slytherin table. The tables that the students sat at suddenly filled with a feast fit for a royal banquet. Platters and plates and bowls and jugs were overflowing with copious amounts of foods, some that Octavia recognised, and others completely unidentifiable.

Pitchers were filled to the brim with bright orange liquids that smelled considerably like roasted pumpkins, jugs now contained freshly brewed teas and coffees, and platters held everything; creamy mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, braised ducks, green hunks of steaks, chicken legs and breasts, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and kidney pie, boiled potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, mustard syrup, and peppermint humbugs. For dessert, they had blocks of assorted ice cream, apple pies, spotted dick, chocolate gateau, treacle tart, pumpkin tart, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, cupcakes in the shape of cauldrons, chocolate wands, butterscotch custards, and cinnamon rice pudding.

"Um," Octavia hummed, her wide astonished gaze fixed on the array of foods. "Where did this come from?"

"Oh, the house-elves in the kitchen send it up," Pansy explained dismissively, piling hunks of sweet potatoes onto her golden plate.

"What's a house-elf?" Octavia asked, taking a pitcher and filling up her goblet with orange liquid.

"What's a house-elf?" Harry repeated, arching his perfectly sculpted brow at her. "Are you a muggle-born?"

"Yeah," O nodded, lifting her goblet and sniffing the juice suspiciously.

"That would make you the first muggle-born to be sorted into Slytherin in a century," Blaise drawled, appearing rather impressed.

"Is that a bad thing?" Octavia frowned.

"Depends on who you ask," Harry grinned.

"I'm asking you lot." Octavia said, glancing around at her fellow first year Slytherins.

No one directly responded, other than the occasional shrug or reassuring smile (particularly from Pansy). Draco just seemed to be too stupid to speak. He stared at her in apparent awe and wonder, his fork raised in his hand, hovering near his parted lips. Octavia merely assumed that he wasn't all there in the head as she sipped at the ruby encrusted goblet.

"Oh my god!" Octavia sputtered, slamming the goblet down and wiping at her tongue. "What is that?"

"Pumpkin juice," Pansy frowned.

"That's actually the grossest thing I've ever tasted." Octavia shuddered theatrically, pushing her goblet away from her.

"Well in that case, I'd suggest you stay away from those pasties over there. And that pie. Oh, and don't drink the dark orange juice, or eat those cupcakes over there."

Octavia raised her brows as Pansy pointed at several jugs and platters, warning her off tasting any of their contents. What the hell was the obsession in the wizarding world with pumpkins? So strange.

But Octavia had a feeling that it wasn't the only strange thing she would discover in the new and magical world she had stepped in to. A world full of wonder and amazement, mystery and thrill.

A whole new world.

A/N: There will be 3-5 chapters per Hogwarts year, until seventh year. Some things will be canon, others not. Mostly AU.