A/N: This is my first attempt at a real fanfic that'll go on for a long time, so please be nice. :[

I'll actually upload chapters as quickly as I can manage, if I don't have homework, which I rarely do, I'll probably post one every few days. I hope they're long enough to satisfy my readers, if I have any, for a little while.

Oh, and I'm trying my best guys—I go to the Harry Potter Wikia to find out more things about it… if I do something, or change it intentionally, I'll add it onto the author's note.

I also tried to make Jordan a relatable character, I tried my hardest guys.

I rated this T because it'll have some language, and might have some smut in the very end and for safety. Nothing too bad in this fic, mind, I promise.

I don't really have much to say about the length, 'cause want it longer? Just tell me, I'll make it longer. Shorter? Okay, tell me. (: If I have positive reviews though, I'll get to it quickly and make it large.

(: That's about it—I don't own anything either.

RAISE YOUR GLASS

My steps are loud enough for them to alert the caretaker. He runs over to me and gives me a quick lesson on it, he has salt-and-pepper, slimy and shitty looking hair framing his wrinkly face and a long nose. His voice's strong, and deep, yet quiet and he seems to get it from the very back of his wrinkly throat. Finally, when I tell him I'm new, he lets me go off. But he tells me to beware because after my first week, no offense'll be forgiven. He seems reluctant to let me go, though; he seems to dislike me for some reason. I guess some things just don't ever change.

I bump into two girls on my way to my first class. A disturbingly beautiful, short girl with long, silky dark hair, dark eyes that look gorgeous, smooth tan skin that has an Asian look to her and a girl with curly, long orange hair on a tight ponytail. They are both wearing black robes, so my graphic t-shirt with a flannel over it and jeans, not to mention my cowboy boots, are completely out of place. Of course, I know this is the uniform, but I left mine in my trunk up on the Gryffindor tower. Dumbledore had said I wouldn't need it for the day, since lessons are now about halfway done.

"Hi," says the beautiful Asian, "my name's Cho." I can't help but notice how soft, and delicate, and girly her voice is. She makes my self esteem drop, she seems like the IT girl of the school. Her robes fit her in a way robes just shouldn't do. "And this is my best friend Marietta," she nods to the girl with the wide eyes and red hair. "You must be the new transfer, eh?" she says lightly, examining my clothes with a snotty distaste, her English accent as pronounced as ever. Guess I'll have to get used to it.

"Yeah," I say with a quick nod at both of them, "I'm new, from The Big Apple." They both look at me like I had spoken in pig Latin. Guess Dumbledore was wrong, not all Ravenclaws are as intelligent as he described them, according to their robes they're Ravenclaws… I think. "New York, state in America… United States?" they seem to nod and acknowledge me.

"Oh, well hopefully you'll get into Ravenclaw," oh, so the redhead can talk, I thought, with a heavy accent, anyway. I quickly brush some of my dark brown hair from my eyes.

"I'm already sorted into Gryffindor." I say shortly. I'm usually nice, way too nice some may say, but I don't want to spend too much time along with them, since their Ravenclaw-ness may just rub off on me. Oh please, dear Lord, no.

I stalk away from them after that, leaving Cho gaping at my back. I don't care, why would I care? Sure, I can tell that if I hang out with her I'll get in with the popular crowd. But I've had enough experience with them to be able to say something—unless you want to flash the biggest perv of the school, you probably shouldn't hang out with him.

And I feel like keeping my bare chest to myself, thank you very much.

I hold on tighter to my messenger bag and look around, before grabbing my schedule and checking it. I have Charms next, with Flitwick. Nice last name, I think slyly before making my way into his chamber.

Flitwick is a tiny man, a goblin perhaps? No, he's too normal-looking to be a full goblin… maybe half? I shrug and then smile brightly at him, but can feel eyes on my back from my fellow students. I totally, utterly, and completely ignore them. It isn't as if I'm about to make friends for a while with a bunch of wizards I don't actually know yet. I'll probably start simple, since I just rejected the friendship of the possible IT girl.

Little, tiny Mr. Flitwick sends me to my seat. Well, actually I hear everyone calls him Professor. Even to women teacher people. Oh well, I'll just have to get along with it. Anyhoo, the seat is in the front, which annoys me but he says it's for the best since I'm new I should get used to the program. What program he's talking about I've just about no idea. But I don't care, just as long as I get good grades.

Or how they call it here in England, marks. I just don't get it, okay? It annoys me, back in New York you have none of it. And it is far, far better than stupid… Scotland, I think? Okay, it's not that I totally am against English people; in fact, I love English accents. Who doesn't? They're fucking outright sexy, and I think everyone knows that. Just like, seriously.

So I slump down onto my seat, and everyone turns to stare at me as I place my bright red binder on my desk. I shrug at them, seeing they all had plain sheets of parchment in front of them. Luckily, I also do, but I had it tucked into my binder. Back in New York, it is much easier. You can use plain notebook Muggle paper, which my parents admit is far easier to find. Of course, I know from visiting Diagon Alley that I'm supposed to use quills here, so I have a load stuffed into my overloaded black, way-too-large pencil bag. Which no one else has, but me. Oh Lord.

The day's already bad, and it's barely starting. I've never been really good at making first impressions, but I just sit there and listen as Flitwick starts on the Freezing Charm. According to him, it's fairly easy, but he won't make us practice it just yet. I'm glad about that, since I want to get someone to be my partner for something other than curiosity or pity, and I haven't done it before. I don't think anyone's particularly eager to volunteer, anyway, since no one's really looking at me with anything other than distaste or maybe curiosity. Oh, well, their loss. But I can't really make myself think that, my self-esteem isn't that fucking high, thanks.

I let out a deep breath I didn't realize I'd been holding in when they let us go, but Professor Flitwick holds me back. He first asks to see my wand, and I give it to him, it's tucked into my boots. He raises an eyebrow at me but otherwise smiles and begins to check it.

"Well… I see, this is quite all right... elegant wand, perhaps? Willow, if I'm not mistaken… twelve and one-quarter inches, oh is this core merfolk hair? Haven't seen one in a while…" he mutters, while turning over my wand, "looks shiny… nicely taken care of," he raises his small head and gives me an appreciative nod, smiles and returns my wand, "now, if you'll just let me get you the list.." he ruffled thorough his drawer and said, "AHA!" before handing me a very, very long list of some spells.

"Now, if you'll just highlight the ones you've learnt and bring it back in tomorrow, don't worry about the homework, we've been practicing longer.." he gives me a smile and then waves me off.

Apparently, the class I just had was with Slytherins. Ooof, I've heard enough of them to know that I don't want to cross their paths too much. Not only because most of them are bullies, but specially because I'm in Gryffindor. It kinds of throws off my chances of having a Slytherin friend, anyway, since we're rivals and stuff. They're supposed to be shitty friends, so I don't really care, and why throw my own House onto being my enemies? Just go with the flow, love…

I go on my way to the dungeons, where I know my next class to be. It's Potions, which is what I think a nice change, since I've never actually done Potions before. Small groups come by my sides, some frizzy-haired girls are giggling by my side, there's a bunch of surfer-looking guys over by the corner of the entrance to the dungeon which we're supposed to have class in. I ignore both of the groups and walk inside, looking around, and not seeing anybody, so I look around for a seating chart.

"Perhaps you should wait outside as the rest of the class, shouldn't you, Ms. Simons?" I hear a thin voice speak. I whilst around and my eyes are widened like a toad's. I come to face a very tall, very pale, very slim, gothic-looking, unpleasant-to-be-around-aura-wearing guy. He really does look like the type of person who has something shoved up their ass at all times, to say at the very least.

"I'm—I'm sorry… I didn't…" I stutter at the Count Dracula-like guy. I've seen two vampires in my whole life, but neither of them scared me as much as this… Professor of mine?

"Of course you didn't," he sneered at me, "perhaps we ought to make you learn, shall we?" he seems to have had it at the ready, and hands me a neatly stacked pile of papers. I stumble and place them on the nearest table. My eyes widen at the sight. I really can't help it, I haven't seen that many papers stacked together in my whole life! Well, parchment, whatever.

Fucking hell, this greasy-haired dude was trying to kill me, wasn't he?

"And I expect a summary for tomorrow from you, on this, 10 and a half inches." he says coldly, and pats the table where I left the papers, "we haven't got assigned seats. You may sit wherever you like for the day," he sneers before he walks away from me. I can totally tell I won't like Potions as much as I thought I would. No, wait, that's a lie. I won't like it at all… in fact, I'm pretty sure I'll hate it.

I sit down quietly and begin to doodle idly on my notebook while waiting for the class to come to a halt. Or maybe for something interesting to happen at all, which probably won't but I'll just keep on dreaming.

"May I sit here?" asks a quiet voice. I look up to meet grey eyes that should be illegal on someone other than an angel itself, I'm sure. If he isn't an angel, well then I must be in hell and it is the sexiest demon sent to lure me further into it. If not, then I might have just fell asleep. Maybe I'm on that Muggle show my mom makes me watch, maybe I'm being punk'd! And if not…

Halt.