Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the plotline that you recognize from Harry Potter, which all belong to J K Rowling – I also do not get paid for this and write purely for enjoyment.

A/N: This is the first chapter of my first fanfic. This is basically a 'What If?' Harry Potter fanfiction taking place during his sixth year. This should follow the basic plotline – though I may change some things to fit. Enjoy!

A/N EDIT (Apr 2) : I've found a beta!

The Hogwarts Express (EDIT)

The girl sighed in relief. She'd gotten away. She knew that if – when – they found her, there would be hell to pay, but she didn't care. She wasn't about to prance onto the train with them. It'd do no good to the undoubtedly horrible reputation she would have within the first day.

At least no one knew who she was yet. She'd made sure no one looked at her for too long. Her long dark hair was tied up, and she kept her head down. She hoped she looked enough like the typical Hogwarts sixth-year. Perhaps she did, as no one spared her a second glance.

She hauled her trunk onto the train and began to look for a compartment. She had no idea where she could sit. She wasn't looking for anyone; rather, she was looking to stay away from someone. She walked down the aisles, cautiously peeking into the compartments with open doors. A few were still vacant, but she needed to be able to choose with whom to sit. The perfect place, of course, would be a compartment with only one spare seat.

She found one soon enough, and pushed open the door. Three people were seated inside, two boys and a girl. She began to ask if she could sit with them, but stopped short.

There weren't three people, there were four. She did not know how she could have missed the fourth, he wasn't small enough for that. Perhaps it was the shy, awkward way he was seated, or the way he looked down at the floor.

Yes, it was easy to miss him, but once she'd seen him it was hard to look away. She knew exactly who he was – and she didn't want to face him.

Maybe it wouldn't be the best idea to sit here, maybe she could just walk out not while she still -

'Do you go here?'

Or not.

She looked at the boy who had asked the question. He had dark, messy hair, and his eyes were bright green behind his round glasses.

She knew who he was, too. No need to look at the tell-tale scar on his forehead for that. Again, guilt and shame welled up inside of her. She was really starting to wish she hadn't decided to board the train by herself.

'No, no I don't. I mean, I didn't. It's my first year at Hogwarts.'

The boy looked puzzled.

'I thought not. But you look familiar – like I've seen you before. Doesn't she, Hermione? Neville?'

The girl started when she met the boy's – Neville's – gaze. She looked down, hoping...

'It does seem like we've met, but I can't see where... you probably just have one of those faces,' the girl, Hermione, said.

She smiled, and the girl smiled back gratefully. It seemed like they didn't recognize her. Sometimes she really wished she was a metamorphmagus.

Well, since she was here anyway, she might as well sit.

'Can I sit here? Pretty much everywhere else is full – or Slytherin.'

The redhead chuckled. 'Not even at Hogwarts yet and you know to avoid the Slytherins? Blimey, Hermione, she's as smart as you!'

She saw Hermione turn red as she took the vacant seat next to her. She was now sitting across from Harry, who was looking at her with an amused expression. She squirmed slightly as she met his gaze.

'Ron meant that as a compliment...' He hesitated. 'Wait, we haven't been introduced. I'm Harry Potter. This is Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Oh, and Neville Longbottom.'

'Dez.' She smiled weakly and hoped he didn't notice the lack of last name.

Fortunately, he didn't have the time to, as Hermione asked her,

'Are you Muggle-born? I've read of some cases where Muggles' magic wasn't noticed until much later than eleven – although not so far as sixteen...'

'No, I'm not a Muggle.' God knew she was the furthest thing from it. 'I was just... away for the first five years of my schooling.'

'Oh. Well, that makes sense. I hope you like it at Hogwarts, it's quite a bit different from other places really, but you'll get used to it...'

As Hermione talked on about classes and teachers, and Harry and Ron made the occasional comment, Dez thought about her first acquaintances. A Muggle, a Weasley, Potter and Longbottom. She wondered what her parents would think – or do. She stopped quickly – it was best to not go down that train of thought.

Instead she looked at Neville. He seemed quiet, and didn't join in the lively conversation between the other three. Though he didn't show it, there seemed to be a constant sadness about him – or, she corrected herself, a hole. A slight emptiness, easily hidden and almost unnoticeable. But she knew to look for it.

'Hey, what house do you think you'll be in?'

I'd rather not think about it. 'I – really don't know. We did not have different Houses in – my other school.'

'Better not Slytherin... I've been here five years and I still thank Merlin I'm not lumped in with those idiots.'

So what dear cousin told me is true – Everyone despises Slytherins. Though he didn't put it quite that way.

She sighed again, and wondered if this was really a good idea. She'd already be the oddity, the one who came in late and didn't even take her OWLs. She'd probably look odd, too, standing with the first-years, waiting to be Sorted.

'Does... is everyone in Slytherin... horrible? I mean, are there no exceptions?'

She wanted to take back the words as soon as they left her mouth. The question she had been wanting to ask had slipped through her lips and had left an acrid taste in her mouth. All the occupants of the compartment looked at her like you would a madman. She blushed and tried to look away, but there was nowhere to turn in the small space and she was forced to look at the others' bemused expressions.

Ron was about to say something when the door slammed open. Another student had opened it rather forcefully and was standing in the doorway. Dez looked up, and wished she hadn't. The boy's very familiar silver eyes caught her dark ones, and they widened, then narrowed to slits as he looked around and took in the compartment's other occupants.

'Potty. Weasel. Mudblood,' Draco Malfoy drawled. 'Ah, and Long-bottom, too! Shame to see you all. It's been to short...'

'Shove off, Malfoy,' snapped Hermione.

'Do you want to become the Great Bouncing Ferret once more?' asked Ron, almost hopefully. 'Because I've been practicing – you might end up with a few extra limbs, but no one'll notice – or care, really.'

Dez couldn't help but snort at this. Draco's head whipped around to face her and his expression darkened dangerously. She smiled widely at him, knowing it would be over soon enough. She'd always wanted to die in style.

'Dear Desdemona... how... strange to see you here in such company... What would your mother say, I wonder...?'

The blood rushed to Dez's face, and her hands clenched into fists. Darn Draco... he knew just how to make people tick.

'Go away, Draco. And it's Dez. Can information not stick into that oversized head of yours?'

She tried not to look at the four others, who were looking on to their exchange in shocked silence.

'I suppose it is hereditary in our family to dispose of unimportant details. But you have always had a problem with that, haven't you? Fitting in...'

Dez scowled, her flushed face a perfect mirror of Draco's pale one.

'Forgive me if I am not sufficiently idiotic to fit in like you do, Drakie...'

Draco paled as he heard this, and Dez smirked a perfect Malfoy victory smirk. She stood next to him and looped her arm in his.

'Don't – don't call me that, Desdemona, or swear I'll - '

'Trivial details – it seems like Narcissa does not remember that either.'

If looks could kill, Dez would have keeled over right there. But she just uttered as self-satisfied laugh and pulled a scowling Draco out the compartment before he could spill – say – anything else.

But then again, Dez thought as she pulled the door shut, if looks could kill I would be long dead.

The now four students stared as the door slid shut. Ron, Hermione and Harry looked at each other.

'A black-haired Malfoy, huh? Guess I've seen odder.'

'Shame,' Hermione sighed. 'She seemed almost – nice.'

'You think?' Ron exclaimed. 'Did you see that smirk of hers? Could give Malfoy and Snape a run for their money! Shoo-in for Slytherin, she is!'

'Ron, what have I told you about judging people, you don't know what she's like, and besides, Dumbledore did want us to show House Unity -'

Harry did not listen to the two bicker – he'd seen and heard it all already. His brow furrowed as he concentrated. He could not shake the feeling that he had seen someone – two someones, actually – that looked just like her. It was odd, he thought, because he knew that the two people had no business being associated in any way.

She piqued his curiosity almost as much as Malfoy's odd behaviour during the summer did. Now that he thought of it, could the both be somehow related? It seemed like too big a coincidence not to be.

A little while later, after his lunch with Slughorn, Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket, and, throwing it over his shoulders, followed Zabini to the Slytherin compartment.

A/N: This is an edit of my first chapter - because when i uploaded it I had forgotten that Harry followed Zabini after the Slughorn lunch. And yes, Luna was in the compartment in the book, and Ron and Hermione weren't at first, but I needed it this way... Please review!