Okay, this story started out as something completely different. But I liked where it ended up, though I don't know where it's going. I want to explore these characters during HP's time, so this may end up as a few different stories. Please read and review. Happy comments make me want to write, mean comments make me want to shrivel up and die.

Disclaimer: Not mine…never has been, never will be (tear). I am not JKR, and I did not steal her work and have no intention to. (Remember kids: plagiarism is the devil!)

Chpt. 1-Trainride Home

Lyric Dumbledore sat quietly in the train while all of her friends walked in and out of the train car laughing and talking. They were all on their way to Hogwarts, and this was their seventh and final year. Lyric was sad to be leaving the school. For so many years, it had been home. No one seemed to notice how quiet she was being. Her two best friends, Iona Grady and Tristan Merton, sat daring each other to eat the puce-colored Bertie Bott's Bean in front of them.

Iona was an exotic beauty. She had long thick black hair, deep chocolate colored eyes, and a perpetually perfect tan. Her father had been an English business man that traveled to Mexico and fell in love with her mother, a descendant of Mayan Indians. Her mother had also been a witch, which came as quite a shock to her father on their honeymoon. Despite looking like some untouchable Mexican princess, Iona had a sunny disposition and bubbly personality.

Tristan looked like he belonged on the cover of a men's fashion magazine. He was nearly six and a half tall, very lean, and the most amazing blue eyes. His dirty blonde hair was always tousled, but it just gave him that too-cool-to-do-my-hair look. He hadn't always looked quite the same. When he arrived at Hogwarts as a first year, he barely hit five feet and was "pleasantly plump", according to his mother. Somewhere between his second and third year, he suddenly became very attractive, and grabbed the attention of girls much older than him. He swore that Professor Trelawney had been making passes at for years. His parents were both wizards, as well as his three younger sisters, the youngest of which was just starting her first year.

Lyric had always felt a little out of place around such two attractive people until this past summer. For some reason, she felt her looks had finally come together. Her big sage green eyes had always been her best feature, but after her flat brown hair had been bleached to a sweet honey color by the summer sun, her eyes became far more intense and enchanting. Then once unmanageable curls had softened, given her the look of a wood nymph. And Lyric was happy to admit that she no longer feared ending up with one of her cousins' body-types: the bean-pole look or the azalea bush. Though no one could tell through her robes Lyric had finally developed the feminine curves that she had always hoped for. She was no where near as endowed as Iona, but she was definitely feeling more like a woman. She was actually a bit depressed though that no one commented on her new found beauty, except for Iona who had proclaimed "You're stacked!" after seeing Lyric in her swimsuit at the beach this summer.

"C'mon," cried Tristan, "I ate the clear one, and it turned out to be moonshine. I'm still a bit tipsy."

A little over an hour ago, Tristan had been slightly more drunk, and had treated all of his friends to a stirring rendition of the Hogwarts school song wearing nothing but his school scarf tied around his waist to a fashion a loin-cloth type outfit. He had thoroughly frightened a group of second year girls looking for the bathroom, though she knew they would giggle about it in the halls for the entire school year. Lyric wasn't sure if it really was the moonshine singing or if Tristan just used it as an excuse. He was known for being the life-of-the-party.

"So," cried Iona, "I ate the grass clippings bean and the blood bean, and admit it, you liked the moonshine.
It gave you an excuse to act like an ass."

Lyric tore herself away from feeling melancholy and laughed at her two best friends. The two of them had spent every train ride to and from school since they were first years testing for the most disgusting flavors. So far they had vomit, bile, rocks, fish skins, and haggis on their list. Tristan kept begging for Iona to let him stick rum-raisin on the list, citing it the worst flavor ever invented by Muggles.

"Fine, I'll do it," Tristan finally gave in. He popped the bean in his mouth and immediately regretted it. He spit out the bean and began to dry heave as Iona laughed uncontrollably.

"What was it?" she asked in between fits of laughter.

"I can't be totally sure, but I think it was a moldy orange," he coughed out. He then took a large swing of pumpkin juice. "Oh God! The flavor just sticks in your mouth."

"Here," said Iona, shoving a brown colored bean at Tristan, "it's chocolate."

Tristan's eyes widened as after taking a bite of the bean. "Ack! It's worse," he shouted, "rum-raisin."

Iona and Lyric lost themselves at that point. Tristan ran the restrooms to try and wash the taste out of his mouth. They kept laughing until their sides hurt.

Two identical looking girls popped into the train cart. Amarantha and Amaryllis Parker were close friends with Lyric and Iona, as the four had been roommates since the first year. Though they looked alike with their shoulder-length blonde hair and navy blues eyes, the girls were as different as night and day. Amarantha was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, while Amaryllis was the Head Girl for Gryffindor and top of their class. Amarantha was terribly outspoken, while Amaryllis remained the shy, quiet type. The one thing they both had in common was a desire for Tristan.

"What so funny?" asked Amaryllis.

"Tristan got a moldy orange flavored bean," Iona answered after calming down from laughing.

"Oh, that's disgusting! I tell you, I gave up on those beans after eating one I swear tasted like a dust bunny," said Amarantha, who had an anecdote for everything. She sat down next to Iona as Amaryllis took a seat next to Lyric. "So, what's new with the world?" Amarantha needed to catch up on her gossip.

"Nothing much," said Iona. "My father flipped when I told him I wasn't going to a Muggle university like he had planned on."

"What did he think you were gonna do next year? Study Muggle medicine? Be a banker? Honestly, what did you think you were going to Magic school for?" Complaining about parents was another favorite hobby of Amarantha's.

"I don't know," Iona said. "I told him I was going to be an astrologer and he just had to leave the room. Lucky for him though, my brother will be getting a 'proper education' at a normal boarding school." Iona's brother had no discernable magical ability, though he secretly practiced simple spells from Iona's textbooks. "What about you girls?" asked Iona.

"Our father is in trouble with the Ministry for telling a co-worker that we were magic. Luckily, the man just thought Dad was using a metaphor," the twins parents were both Muggles, so it came as quite a shock when the two of them got acceptance letters to Hogwarts. They still had a difficult time with the idea of secrecy.

"Oh, just to warn you girls, Skeeter is on the loose looking for stories. She already has enough for two issues of the Wart Report."

Rita Skeeter was another seventh year. She belonged in Ravenclaw. Her main passion in life was "reporting" the news. The Wart Report was the school gossip paper that she published by herself. Despite everyone hating her and knowing she was a complete hack, the paper remained one of the more highly read pieces at Hogwarts, much to the chagrin of the professors, who would have preferred that students picked up a textbook a little more often.

Just then, Tristan appeared in the doorway. "Ladies, ladies, ladies," he said pompously, "looks like I'm a lucky man this afternoon."

The twins said nothing. Tristan was the only thing that shut Amarantha up. They quickly made excuses to leave and headed back to their train car.

"So," said Tristan, "while I was in the restroom, I overheard some fourth years talking about the Potters."

"I wish people would leave that poor boy alone," said Lyric sadly, "I realize we're all excited about being rid of You-Know-How, but the poor child lost his parents."

"That's the thing, an anonymous source has told the Prophet that the boy actually died. They're just saying he survived and they're hiding him so that the Ministry can boost morale."

"Tristan, that's just some ridiculous rumor. Of course it happened. No one would ever think to label a dead child as The-Boy-Who-Lived," Lyric was angry know. She had know the Potter family for years and used to baby-sit for Harry. She was one of the few people to see the boy after Voldemort's attack. She was sworn never to talk about it though.

"Yes, but-" Tristan began.

"Tristan please," Lyric interrupted, "this is depressing, and you're ruining my last train ride to school."

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I also heard that the Professor Slughorn retired over the summer," Tristan added excitedly. He loved to be the first one to get news.

"Really," asked Iona, "I figured that old goat would teach until he just keeled over in the middle of class on top of his cauldron. Who's his replacement?"

"That, I cannot tell you," Tristan said. "But since the old man didn't know very much about being a Potions master, the job could pretty much go to anyone with half a brain cell." Both Tristan and Iona turned to Lyric at the same time. "Did you're uncle mention anything?"

Lyric rolled her eyes. She was used to people asking her about going ons at the school. Her uncle was Headmaster after all, but Tristan and Iona knew that it was a strict family policy not to discussed school matters.

"I know less than you do Tristan," she replied annoyed. Lyric then turned out the window and watched the world go by. Tristan and Lyric continued discussing possibilities for professors. Outside, the sky was turning dark and stormy. Lyric could just make out the tall towers of Hogwarts in the distance. Despite the weather, she was filled with a new warmness, she was home.