A/N: So, this will hopefully be pretty loyal to the books... basically, I've stuck my character, Dami, into Hogwarts during the trio's sixth year, and we'll see where it goes from there. I'm not promising that the events in the book won't change because of her, though.

I don't own Harry Potter, though it would be so totally cool if I did.

I have no idea how often I'll be able to update, and this is just on a whim, but I hope it's decent.

I live off reviews. :]

Chapter 1: A Beginning Again

Dami hated being the new kid.

Unfortunately for her, she'd been the new kid more than a few times in her life. It wasn't her fault—it wasn't anybody's fault, really, except maybe the Ministry's. Her father was head of the Department of International Wizarding Relations, and that meant that Dami had spent her childhood and adolescence in eleven different countries.

It was alright when she was a child. As a small, dirty, auburn haired girl, she'd viewed the whole thing as an adventure. The wizard diplomats loved her, and she was always given preferential treatment. However, once she'd hit school age, the trouble set in. It wasn't that she was a bad kid—she wasn't—it was just that Dami never had any friends her own age, and suddenly getting thrown into a wizarding school in Greece filled with other magical children her own age, she didn't know how to act.

And then, the fact that they kept moving didn't help anything.

With the Ministry's recent admittance that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named actually was alive again, Dami's father was summoned back to London, and—for the first time in her life—Dami would living in the country of her birth. She'd heard lots about Hogwarts; both her parents attended the school, and always talked of it ever so fondly.

Still, that did not help the fact that Dami hated being the new kid.

September 1st rolled around all too quickly. Dami's parents excitedly showed her the entrance to Platform 9 ¾, reminiscing about their wonderful school days, giggling like the young students they once were. Dami rolled her eyes, and pushed her trolley ahead of her. It was loaded with her trunk, rucksack, and bird cage—which held a magnificent, brilliantly white cockatoo with a shocking yellow crest. Her name was Queenie, and she was a ninth birthday gift for Dami while the family was living in Australia. The large, intelligent bird was Dami's closest friend, and had stuck by her for over seven years.

Queenie chuckled softly at the steaming scarlet engine in front of them, and called throatily, "Dami! Dami!" The girl stuck her fingers—painted dark purple—through the bars of the cage, and scratched her bird's neck.

"Shush, girl, s'okay. I'll let you out when we get on the train, alright?" One thing Dami loved about her bird was, not only her letter carrying abilities, but also her skill with human speech. Dami had coached Queenie on words, and they could carry on small conversations.

Dami's parents approached her from behind, squeezing her shoulders.

"Well, darling, are you all set?"

"Ready to go, Dami?"

She shrugged out from her parents' loving hands.

"Yeah, I'm good," She turned, giving them each a quick peck on the cheek, "I'll see you at Christmas, right?"

"That's it," murmured her mother.

"And Dami, be careful, alright? These are dangerous times, you know better than most. I don't want to hear anything about you pulling off dangerous stunts and such."

"Yes, Dad," she grinned, slightly sheepishly, remembering her knack for getting into trouble. Behind her, the train let out a low, mournful whistle.

"I'm off!" Her parents helped her lift her trunk and Queenie's cage onto the train.

"Have a good term, darling!"

"Write us!"

Dami smiled at them until the train rounded a corner, and they were gone from sight. Slowly, she bent down, grabbed Queenie's cage, and began to drag her trunk down the corridor. Nearly to the end of the train, she found an empty compartment. She closed the door, lifted her trunk onto the luggage rack, and opened Queenie's cage.

The majestic white bird stretched her long wings and settled happily on Dami's arm. She tugged affectionately at the girl's hair, before settling down.

Dami stared out the window at the English countryside. She had no expectations for Hogwarts. She was more concerned with what was going on in the government than in school. Though her parents attempted to keep the information from her, she had grown adept at eavesdropping, and often listened as her parents held frantic, worried arguments about the progress of the war.

Dami's father always stuck by the Ministry, despite it's ineptitudes at times. Though he'd suspected that Dumbledore was telling the truth about You Know Who, he'd kept quiet, believing that keeping his job was the most important thing in times like these. Dami's mother, on the other hand, primarily concerned for her family, tried to convince her husband to break off from the Ministry. Once You Know Who was out in the open, she was convinced he would target important ministry workers first.

Dami was interrupted from her reverie by a knock on the compartment door. She looked up, to see a brown haired girl looking in at her. She smiled. Dami pulled open the door.

"Hi!" said the girl, entering the compartment. She was followed by a red haired boy. They both wore prefects' badges. "My name's Hermione Granger," continued the girl, "And this is Ron Weasley. We're prefects, we're in your year, and we're supposed to help you get settled and aquatinted with school. Can we sit down?" Without waiting for an answer, the two dropped down into seats opposite Dami.

"We don't get transfers often at Hogwarts, you know," said Ron, "but for the most part, everyone's nice enough. We'll help you get the hang of things."

"Your name's Damina, right?" asked Hermione.

"Damina Dietrich, yeah, but please, call me Dami."

"Dami, right," she said, smiling, "So, is this your first time in England?"

"Well, actually," replied Dami, preparing herself for a lengthy description of her entire life history, "I was born here, in London actually, but I've moved around my entire life."

The two appeared interested, so Dami proceeded:

"I grew up mainly in Russia and Thailand, but we spent a year in Peru as well. Then, when I was nearly nine, we moved to Australia. We moved to Greece right before I started school, when I was eleven, and then to Italy partway through my second year. We only stayed there for a short while, though, before going to Bulgaria, then Finland. In my fourth year, we moved twice, first to Turkey, then to the United States. We stayed in the States up until a few weeks ago, when we moved back to London."

"Wow," breathed Hermione, "How fascinating," she turned to Ron, "Imagine getting to live in so many places! Imagine all the history and cultures and everything!"

"Oh, lay off, Hermione. Will you stop thinking about school related things for just two seconds?"

She glowered at him, and Dami laughed.

"Well, we'll be seeing you, Dami," Ron said, getting to his feet and stretching luxuriously, "We've got to be off and patrol the corridors."

"But we'll meet you later, alright?" Hermione assured quickly, "To show you around and everything. Have a good trip!"

Dami waved them from the compartment, laughing silently about what a odd pair they made.

"Do you think Hogwarts will be that bad?" She asked Queenie, who whistled throatily, "Yeah, I didn't think so."

Dami glanced out the window, at the mist curling around the trees as the train whizzed by.

"Then again, it really isn't Hogwarts I'm worried about."