DISCLAIMER: Nothing related to J.K. Rowling here is mine.

The piano's final note slammed in foreboding conclusion to a jazzy melody. The dancer had frozen, smiling tiredly as she absorbed the applause. She breated deeply through her nose, stepping toward the front of the stage. Pulling her wand out, she magnified her voice. "Thanks," she paused to catch her breath, drying her free hand on her black pants. "You've all been super, but I'm tired and I have to go sleep."

The audience chuckled in agreement, several conjuring clocks or checking watches to see the time or yawning in response. A small group of leering wizards were watching her closely, debating as to whether she had used Sacharissa Tugwood's potions to look as she did or was perhaps part Veela. Regardless, she had a striking appearance, not one come across especially often, and when it was present, one could expect vanity as well.

Disappearing behind the curtain, Alli sat down for a moment of rest. A goblet of water was thrust into her hand by the smiling face of her house elf. "That was the best," she squeaked enthusiastically, her voice loud in proportion to her feather-strength body and spidery fingers; despite her apparent frailty, she had Alli's leg trapped in a vised hug. Pops had her face scrunched, eyes the shocking color of Cornish Pixies tightly closed, with her head bowed against Alli's leg so that her parchment-like skin gave the effect of a Mandrake. Sipping the water, Alli put her hand down on the elf's wispy red hair.

"Alright, Pops, I know you liked the show, but please get off my leg." Pops looked slightly offended but obliged. "We have to go," she stated as she pulled on her cloak. A bit too young to apparate, with Pops at her feet, she moved toward the partly rotted wooden door, grayed with dust and age.

"How the bloody hell'd you get in here?" spat a shrunken head bobbling by a pot of Floo powder between the door and the fireplace. "No underage witches, Missy. Dodgy stuff happens 'round this time."

Without replying, she pushed the handle-less door and brushed the dust and smut from her fingertips on her robe. Pops, at her ankles, was ducked over and clutching her toga, tan and covered in cowboys and horses; it was an old curtain.

"It might be a good plan to go back home," Alli addressed pops. "Typically, the professors don't enjoy their students being followed by house elves."

"Yes, miss," Pops sighed, snapping her fingers and disapparating. Wiley curmudgeon, Pops is.

Alli moved swiftly toward the far side of Hogsmeade, eyes slightly glazed from overexertion and under sleeping. After having double Potions and double Defense Against the Dark Arts, she had a plethora of homework to deal with an a tendency toward doing fair chunks of it the morning before it was due. It wasn't to say she didn't prioritize her schooling, she was just busier than she'd sometimes like. Her life could be summarized within these crowds; a man with drooping eyes seemed to be rushing to finish perusing the thick manual on prevention of Doxy infestations, a cluster of girls wearing school colors chattered bemusedly, two people stood in the shadow of the awning outside of Dervish and Banges. They were standing close and, though obscured by darkness, were probably kissing. A throng of people, poorly disguised as Muggles, migrated toward the train station, attracting looks of disgust from Draco Malfoy and his detestable father.

Mariette Edgecomb scowled theatrically before bursting into giggles after being hit with a flock of snowballs by Gianna, a Hufflepuff who sounded suspiciously American.

"Hey there, tree elf," Alli called. "We're going to be late!"

"DAH!" she scowled. "Farewe—" Alli had gripped her wrist and pulled her along, weaving against the current. Gianna smacked into a Slytherin girl with icy-pale eyes against olive skin and hip-length black hair.

"Nice job, half-blood," she hissed.

Without acknowledging her, they pressed on. They were close, indeed, reaching a cherry door just before they would have been considered tardy. Wilkie Twycross stood like a chameleon in front of the white-washed walls, barely visible with the one exception being his brass pocket watch, peeking from behind a white cloak. Alli was amused by this; she could see Gianna imagining him being invisible against a backdrop of snow and being plowed down by a friend on a broomstick. This particular friend, Cassidy, was brilliant in many aspects, but she couldn't, under most circumstances, control a broomstick.

Apparation would certainly be a good thing for her.

Alli was to the left of Hermione, a Gryffindor who was intelligent, if not a little annoying. She was friendly, nonetheless, and was willing to offer help to many people as they needed it. She looked confident in her abilities. Snape would have called it insufferable smugness. In fact, Hermione had caused him to deduct so many points, she had lost them their lead against Slytherin and Hufflepuff just for raising her hand so frequently. Had that girl been in Slytherin, Snape would be the insufferably smug one.

"You are having a checkpoint quiz today," Twycross announced, gazing down his nose at Ron Weasley. "If you can't pass it, you will not be able to move on with the rest of your classmates and you will be delayed in getting your Apparation license."

More than one person hedged at this, hoping to become as wraithish as Twycross; if they couldn't be seen, they couldn't be quizzed. He continued speaking. "Now, so long as you've remembered the three Ds, there will not be a problem. All you have to do is Apparate into the hoop in front of you. Simple," he concluded.

He began on one end, starting with a Slytherin girl, Miss Baxter, who wore bright yellow socks and the skirt from her uniform. The pop of her Apparation was weak but successful. Following her, all were successful, until Twycross stood in front of Crabbe's hoop.

Crabbe scrunched his face and disappeared with a boom like thunder. "Wha-Where has the lad gone?"

Sounds of uncertainty rippled through the watching group. "Erm… sir?" Hermione began. "I think that's his nose just over there…" She hadn't needed to point it out, because a shock and bloody Crabbe pushed the door open, looking as if he wanted to vomit. Looking away, Alli covered the lower half of her face to avoid the smell of the blood. Twycross left the room, reentering the room while scourgifying his hands of blood.

"Right then," he cleared his throat and gestured a hand at Cassidy. She set her face in concentration, taking a moment before popping into the hoop.

"YEAH, BOY!" Gianna hooted in an ironic tone, louder than she intended.

Twycross glanced at her witheringly and proceeded along the line. The last person to Alli's right was the Slytherin girl who had snarled at Gianna. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, unruffled, and Apparated into the hoop without hitch. She smirked and turned her head to look at Alli with superiority. "Excellent, Miss Fatin! Excellent," Twycross enunciated, moving to stand before Alli's hoop, silver metal and glinting. She was nervous but not unprepared.

After a moment of focus, Alli felt as if she was under the force of a rolling pin, her breath pressed out of her. She experienced nothing but darkness and the sensation of swirling. Within seconds, the swirling hadn't stopped, but she realized her eyes were closed. Opening them gingerly, she realized that it was a success.

Twycross made a note on his clipboard and moved along.

Before long, the door was open, revealing even deeper snow, unseasonable for the first of November. Alli tumbled into the snow, squeeing in bliss but immediately regretting it for the ice stuck in her hair and migrating down the neck of her cloak.

Cassidy pulled Allison out by her arm, still tittering at Gianna.

"Oh, come on," Gianna protested lightheartedly, stroking her eyebrow. "At least I didn't lose all of my hair like Ron! I just splinched a piece of my eyebrow!"

"And it looks beautiful, Gianna," Alli replied.

"At least you passed," Cassidy reminded her.

"AH! YES! But if I hadn't, more time to spend with the uber delightful Instructor Twycross," Gianna wiggled her eyebrows to enhance her sarcasm.

"Oh my, yes!" Cassidy exclaimed, ducking a snowball sent at her by Leila, a zany half-veela Hufflepuff who appeared to be aiming for the boy to her left. "Oh, war, is it?" she called. Popping a speckled, circular mint into her mouth from a Honeydukes bag, Leila began making facial indication of coughing, but she produced a noise like fanfaring trumpets and tossed a snowball in the cluster's direction.

"Hello, Cassi—" Dylan, a fellow Hufflepuff, began but was interrupted by taking a snowball to the face. "Oh. Well, that wasn't pleasant."

"Hi, Dylan," Cassidy answered to thin air. He had already disappeared into Dervish and Banges to examine the most recent models of Sneakoscopes. The snowball fight had ceased under murderous of a cluster of girls with murderous scowls; Pansy Parkinson was linked at the arm with Daphne Greengrass. Leaning again a table was Arewa Fatin, air of smugness having left her face since she passed her quiz with distinction. She had a light dusting of powdery snow on her gray coat, remnants of her presence near the barely-over battle. Behind her, Malfoy was exiting the teashop with a dark-skinned seventh year. Both were clutching a cup and the older boy was levitating a tray for the girls.

"Thanks," Arewa purred, accepting the cup that the blond boy handed her.