Kitsune sat on the outer wall surrounding Hogwarts and let her legs dangle. A leather overcoat concealed her horrible crimson and purple school robes. She squinted at the sun, shrouded in cloud, and gathered it was about 4:30. Herbology had already started at 4:15. Oh well, no one would miss her; and she certainly wouldn't miss them. With Mrs. Pod breathing down your neck, what was to miss?

Her dark plum hair settled in locks in the middle of her back and her dark brown eyes shined with anger. To Kitsune's distaste, it started to rain. A large drop of water landed squarely on her upturned nose. Then more water ran between the creases the black leather coat. Kitsune swore under her breath and folded the coat hurriedly. She shoved it under her purple outer robe and began running towards the school. As she ran, her black boots collected grass and her hair hung miserably plastered to her back.

The leather overcoat had belonged to Kitsune's mother before the Ministry took her. Kitsune's parents had been Death-Eaters in Lord Voldemort's inner circle. With the fall of the Dark Lord, the Death-Eaters fled. Kitsune's parents stayed true to their leader and were bound to a prison cell for the rest of their lives. Her mother, Risu, birthed Kitsune in prison and she was taken from her parents immediately. The headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, adopted the troubled child. The only reminders of her parents traveled with Kitsune, the leather overcoat and a crumpled picture of them in their mid-twenties.

Kitsune was brought up well enough; she never fit in, but she could fend for herself. At times, she felt guilty for being fond of Dumbledore; but in her heart, she loved the old geezer. So here she was, 14 years later, Kitsune Baka, in her fourth year at Hogwarts. Amid desperate wishes to be in Slytherin, she was sorted into Ravenclaw, the house of know-it-alls and geeks.

Kitsune flung open the front doors of Hogwarts and wrung out her hair, not caring about the big puddle she left behind. Sure enough, Filch marched out of his office. "BAKA!" he shouted, Mrs. Norris at his heels. "You realize what you've just done? You've mindlessly whipped up another twenty minutes of work for me! And without a care, too!"

The fourth year sighed. "Sorry, Filch," she said, exaggerating his last name until it sounded like scum. "I'll serve my detention in the usual Trophy Room at 8pm." With that she walked briskly towards Herbology. To her disgust, they were pulling dirty, ugly babies out of the ground. She didn't notice everyone was wearing earmuffs as she pushed open the doors to the indoor greenroom. A piercing scream erupted and she fell unconscious to the floor.