Delia

Screaming and a few short words was how I came to be in Peter Richardson's care. My father had knocked my mother up and she was tired of taking care of a child by herself. Blaming my father for all her misfortunes and bad luck had been her only hobby. It was almost a routine to curse my father anytime she broke a glass or missed a train, like he was the one who caused it.

I came from the countryside of Romania when I was only ten years old. I had been the sole blame to my mother's hate of life, other than my father, for previous ten years. I was happy to get away from the negativity as I looked up at this stranger called father. I had watched my mother stomp away muttering Romanian curse words under her breath, leaving me at my father's front door step.

When he opened the door, a little blond girl looked from behind him and I later learned that she had been in almost the same predicament. She was my half sister.

My name was Delia Arcos, but I adopted my father's last name, Richardson. Delia Richardson; the ironic part of it all is: I look exactly like my father. Red hair, blue eyes, and a slight frame, but I was and am not anything to be toyed with.

That was five years ago and my father is still uncomfortable with being a father. He stood there at platform 9 and ¾, watching everyone hugging and crying, but doing any of it himself. This is how it has been every year. My sister and I will wait for everyone to board the train and at the last minute we will say a proper goodbye. It involves me muttering 'see ya' and my sister and father giving an awkward hug; the sort of hug that acquaintances would give after seeing each other at a party.

The whistle howled and I said my usual haste goodbye. I walked towards the train with my baggage trailing behind me. I stepped on and immediately looked for an empty compartment. I walked by all the first years, seconds, thirds… fifth years normally sat farther into the train. I finally found an empty compartment. I opened the door and sat down.

About five minutes later, my best friend Claudia slid open the door and sat down. She immediately started talking. We catch up on the latest gossip on the train ride to and from school, a tradition of sorts. She was a Malfoy through and through, even though Mr. Draco Malfoy wasn't really her father. She had all his features though. Thin, long, blond hair and large ice blue eyes. Her skin almost seemed an incandescent white. She had been born to a pair of squibs. Her father was actually a Malfoy, but had been removed from the family, to not embarrass the family. When she started to show signs of magic, her parents had no idea what to do, so they sent her to Draco Malfoy and his family, and Draco gladly called her daughter, which may or may not be for acceptance. Claudia doesn't really care, so I don't worry about it.

Claudia leaned in and started quietly, "Did you hear about Alex Zabini dating that Margaret girl? I saw him over the summer and she was holding his hand and such."

I waved my hand at such nonsense, "His father arranged it. It's really nothing. He can't stand her. He wrote me over the summer."

Claudia's eyes widened, "Wrote you over the summer did he? When's the wedding?"

I rolled my eyes. I hated when she did this, she assumed that every guy I talked to was interested in me. "Seriously Claudia, we're friends. That's all."

She leaned back and smirked. It was a smirk I'd seen before in her faux father. The Malfoy smirk, the one they were so famous for. "Mmhmm."

I knew she didn't believe me. The truth of the matter was, I didn't believe myself. I had fancied Zabini since first year. He was the star of the quidditch team; the smartest in all his classes, a Divination major; which I even thought was kind of strange for a Zabini. According to father, he is exactly like his father minus the major and his looks. Some say Alex looks like his mother, but since no one has ever seen her it really just is speculation.

Jelena

Oh, this glorious day again, I thought to myself not so sarcastically.

Hogwarts has been my favorite place since coming to the last memorial service about five years ago.

My mother had come to England from Croatia with my father because she was pregnant and he had promised to care for her, which he did. Once she had me though, she left for London from out of our little flat in Leeds to 'live life' according to the note my father has kept all these years.

My half-sister, Delia, came to live with us just weeks after the memorial. She holds some bitterness towards our father for being such an um, 'man-whore' as she put it. I understand why she does. We have both heard stories of our father's shenanigans of his younger days trailing around Europe for St. Mungos. But honestly, she could at least try to be nice to him. It's not like he left her. That was her mother. Father had no clue that the promiscuous barmaid that he lured to bed did not take monthly potions for that sort of thing.

The whistle blew and my stomach became unnaturally queasy, like something was wrong. Delia muttered her usual 'see ya' and stalked off. I sighed at her retreated back and stepped up to my father.

"Goodbye Father," I said, "I'll miss you. I'm sure Delia will too." I leaned in to give him a hug. He awkwardly patted me on the back.

"Goodbye my Lena, be safe."

I was suddenly teary eyed, but released him with out another word and walked towards the train with my things.

I quickly found my best friend, Clementine, reading our new potions textbook.

"Let me finish this chapter," she said without looking up.

I took no offense. Unlike Delia and Claudia, we didn't care for gossip too much. Books are much more interesting.

As I stowed my trunk on the shelf, I pondered why my goodbye put an uneasy feeling in my gut.

Was it because this was OWL year? Maybe because Delia and I barely spoke a word over the summer? Maybe my fathers' goodbye?

Peter Richardson is a shy man. He speaks very little, but when it does it is always something important. He has never told me to 'be safe' ever. Since the second war, no one has worried about safety. The Ministry has renewed itself, and with Ron Weasley as the head of the Aurors, dark wizards are very rarely heard of. What did he want me to be safe from?

I pressed my hand to the cold glass looking for my father. I saw the last swish of his cloak as he apparated. The train then lurched and Clem closed her book.

Ah, another year at Hogwarts.

Claudia

Another year and another reign, she was getting closer and closer to the top of Slytherin royalty. It was tradition, Slytherins had a hierarchy. Traditionally it was the seventh years that held the throne. A boy and girl looked over the Slytherins as if they were king and queens of it all. But, I had built a reputation, an untarnishable one.

I looked up and saw my best friend, my partner in crime; she was the only one that knew the truth about me. How my father wasn't really my father, and how in the mist of it all I was practically born to muggles; well squibs…same thing. She still accepted me.

"Did you hear about the exchange student?"

I watched her eyes widen. "Do tell."

I smirked and leaned in closer. "They say he transferred from somewhere in America. His name is Cayden."

Delia laughed "American? They're as dumb as they come. Their school is so far behind, their just quidditch crazed."

I shrugged "You never know. All I think is fresh meat. But, I can see that you're so caught up with Alex that you wouldn't think that way."

Delia waved a hand "You have no idea what you're talking about."

I smiled "Hun, I know exactly what I'm talking about in that particular subject."

I looked up as our door slid open. We looked up at the woman with a trolley filled with sweets.

"Anything off the trolley dears?"

We both shook our heads and she closed the door.

Alex

I'm not cocky, just confident. Though others would disagree; I couldn't help that I had been born with good genes. I stared at my reflection in the window; I looked nothing like my father, thank god. I had been blessed with my mother's good looks and my father's charm. I smirked and looked across from in the compartment. There sat Margaret, my new amusement; compliments of my father.

She really was a beauty, with golden blond hair that was wavy and sat perfectly at her shoulders, ice blue eyes, and porcelain skin. She looked almost like a doll. She was currently looked at a mirror, perfecting her lip gloss that was already perfect. I snorted; she was so vapid and entertaining. She looked up and rolled her eyes.

I stood up "I'm getting some air, I feel like if I stay in here any longer my IQ will drop 20 points."

I left her calling me all sorts of names. I smiled and slid the door behind me. I watched the landscape rush in front of me. It was the sort of place my father would live. Hills and hills of absolutely nothing, it was exasperating and boring, I preferred the city.

I turned to the noise coming from my left. I saw a flash of blond hair walk by me. It could only belong to one person. "Malfoy."

She turned and smirked at me "Zabini, can I help you?"

"Die." I smiled viciously.

"Go to hell Zabini, just because our fathers are friends does not mean I have to like you." She turned and walked away.

I sneered, how she could be Delia's friend befuddled me.

Delia…

She was my new confidant…and I hated her for it. She caught me when I was most vulnerable this summer.

It wasn't going to happen again.

I turned and walked back in the compartment. I was partial to Margaret; she didn't pry or try to talk to me. She just did her job as a pseudo girlfriend…for the time being…

Clementine

"So, how was your summer?" I asked Jelena.

"The way it always is. Father was gone. I read a lot. Delia and I had minimal interaction. It seems like we have been growing farther and farther apart the older we get, but I guess that's just what happens. How was your summer?"

"It's okay to be sad," I said. Lena was rarely was anything other than 'fine', or 'good'.

"I know."

I rolled my eyes. "My summer was the usual as well. Mum and Dad took me to my grandparents and then 'went away on business.' I doubt they will ever tell me they are separated."

"Parents are not perfect," Lena said.

"You would know," I smirked. She smirked back. "Have you owled Jarrod lately?"

Jelena's smirk faded into a blush. "Yes. He's looking forward to the welcoming feast."

"More like he's looking forward to see you!"

"That-that's not true!" she spluttered.

"You know you lot are this close," I hovered my pointer finger over my thumb half an inch away, "to being official. I'm your best friend. No need to hide it. Everyone already knows anyway. I wouldn't even doubt your sister and Claudia have discussed it." She harrumphed in response as I smirked again.

Suddenly, the compartment door slammed open. May Archibald glared at me. We had been fighting for top of class since first year.

"I'm looking forward to being better than you again this year," she said, "See you around, Clammy-Clem." Her smirk grew more pronounced as she slammed the door shut and sauntered away.

I seethed. "Sometimes I just want to…." I trailed off letting my tone finish the threat.

Lena rolled her eyes. "You know she just comes in here every year to get your nerves up."

"I dropped those beakers years ago! Does she really still need to bring it up?"

"No, she doesn't. Barely anyone remembers that anymore, Clem."

"Then why did Zabini call me that when he saw me board the train?"

"Because it's Zabini. And you've got to admit those beakers stunk up the whole dungeon, Slytherin dorms, and the surrounding hallways. It was pretty memorable."

I turned my towards the window to hide my blush. "It was first year…" I mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," Lena said patting my arm, "I'll always be your friend no matter how much permanent damage you cause to the school."

I mock-scowled and pulled my arm away, "Thanks." We laughed as I said, "I know you are. I will be too. No matter what."

"You got it."

We smiled at each other as we started dressing in our robes.