Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, that's all J.K. Rowling

A/N: This is a fanfiction by my friend and I. We'll both be writing parts of it – she'll be writing more from Draco's PoV, whereas I will be writing most of the main plot line. She'll be editing it, but we're always open to having someone else be a beta as well.

We're not yet sure how often this will be updated, but expect at least a chapter a week, although chapter sizes may be inconsistent.

It is a cool summer day in late June, as summer days go, and the eleven year old Akantha Rosier is happily perched on a tree trunk with a book. Her parents wouldn't approve of the book - it was a silly muggle fantasy book - but she has long ago decided that her parents' opinions matter little to her. Since the defeat of Lord Voldemort, they have merely been little whimpering fools who feel like they must lecture their daughter. Mum sometimes punishes her if she is caught with anything muggle related, but it isn't a threat that bothers the young soon-to-be witch. A breeze gusts through the air, resulting in several leaves getting in her hair, and so she looks up right as an owl flies by, heading in the direction of her house. Akantha's eyes zero in on the owl - could it be? She begins to scramble down the tree excitedly, then catches herself. No, she must go down slowly, dignified. After all, she is a Rosier.

She is a slight girl, slender and short. Her razor-straight black hair reaches her back, but is shorter to frame her catli. Thin wisps frame her head, like a halo of darkness. While her eyes seem normal enough, upon closer examination, they are an eerie shade of blue and brown - almost a hazel, but with blue instead of green. Perhaps even odder, they angle upwards, making the young girl look as though she's a cat. Throughout the whole time, a constant smirk has been on her face, claiming that Akantha always knows more than you do. After a quick glance at her book lying on the ground, she picks it up and throws it under the tree before sprinting off, arms flailing wildly as she races towards the house.

"Did the letter get here?" Akantha says in a bored tone that just barely masks her eagerness. A woman, Akantha's mum Iriel, appears around the corner, looking irritated.

"Akantha!" She admonishes, "Why, for once, can you not just wait outside when I tell you to? We have guests! Is that any way for a proper young lady to behave?"

"No..." the girl says slowly, a small pout on her face.

"I didn't think so." Looking at Akantha's sad face, she takes pity on her, "But yes, it did just get here by owl."

"I KNEW IT!" Akantha declares ecstatically, "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Where? Can I see it? What does it say? Please, mum?"

The woman sighs, pulling a letter from her pocket, "Calm down and collect yourself, dearest."

Akantha manages to take a few deep breaths, appearing calmer. "Right, mum. I'm better, promise." A large grin breaks out on her face as she starts opening the letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme

Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Rosier,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all

necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

"I'll be taking you shopping into Diagon Alley soon," Iriel says, "Best to get you your books and other materials as soon as possible, and we also have to send Heliotrope back to Hogwarts to confirm that you'll be attending."

"I don't suppose soon is now?"

Her mum chuckles. "No, but perhaps tomorrow. I'll have to talk to papa, but there isn't that much of a rush. We still have two months."

"Well, yes, but I have to start reading! Imagine the horror if I wasn't prepared for the teachers' questions?" Akantha says shortly.

"Most people aren't; it's certainly not the end of the world if you don't know the answer to every single one. You'll at least be ahead of all of the mudbloods," her mother says with distaste.

"Mum! Would you please stop that?"

Iriel glances up, a blank look in her eyes before she realizes. "Sorry, dear. You know I don't think much of...them."

"Well, it's not their fault," Akantha tells her angrily, "So stop treating them badly because of it. Some of them turn out to be brilliant witches and wizards, you know."

"And some of them aren't. They're ignorant of our ways, they shouldn't be here, invading our land."

"So what, they should just stay confined to their little dark ages? If they can do magic, they should learn how!"

Iriel draws a weary hand across her forehead. "Enough. We have this argument every single day, I swear. Wizards are more advanced. We are better. Muggles and their spawn should stay where they came from - and as for you, you need to stop reading their silly literature! How many times must I tell you?"

"You say enough and then you continue the argument, mother? I'm afraid I don't see how those two things really work." Akantha knows she is antagonizing her mother, and it is quite deliberate, but sometimes some things can't be helped, and this was one of them. Iriel was being completely ridiculous with all of this, and they might as well agree to disagree at this point.

"I didn't continue the argument," her mother says tightly, her mouth at this point an unsmiling line. In contrast, Akantha still has that little smirk on - it's stayed with her this whole time.

"Yes, you did. When you say 'enough' it implies that the conversation is over. At that point, both parties either stop talking or move onto a different subject. You stayed on the same subject. Therefore, you continued the argument after calling it quits."

"Fine. Point taken. NOW enough, or I'm calling your father."

Akantha arches a beautifully curved eyebrow, "Oh no. Not father," she says scathingly, "How dreadfully scary. Both of you have been a disgrace to the name of Rosier, and yet you say I'm the one who's that. Because I don't hate muggleborns - don't make that face, mother, I'm not going to call them mudbloods - then you think that I'm doing something wrong. Well, I'm not!" Her voice has escalated increasingly, her eyes are an icy storm of fury.

Her mother's eyebrows raise dangerously. "Akantha, you will stop this now. This minute. You are going to go too far."

"Damn you and your 'ideals'," Akantha hisses, but it's inaudible. With a swirl of robes, she turns around and flits up the stairs of the house.

Akantha is an early riser, as demonstrated by the fact that she gets up just minutes after the sun does. Promptly, she pulls out a laptop. It is her prize possession - if her parents knew she had it, it would get snatched up in a moment, never to be seen again. Here and there, she's tweaked it so that it has a very basic Internet system. It's slow, and not enough to stream videos, but it' something. She hopes to smuggle it into Hogwarts - maybe there will be a muggleborn who can help her get it running like a proper laptop, not the sad version she has now. She sighs as the computer attempts to load the simply page of what muggles call "Google". Akantha has no idea why muggles call it such, it's such a horrible name that means nothing. However, it's quite a handy website, as it enables to find everything she needs on the Internet. Unfortunately, it doesn't have anything on how to convince your parents that muggles are not the scum of the earth, but she can't have everything, can she?

The moment she hears her mother, the laptop is slammed shut, shoved under the bed, and Akantha springs up to get dressed, lest Iriel say that she's been lazy or criticize her for late risings. Not that her mother was one to talk, but hey, mothers are irrational. Everyone knows that.

Dressed and ready for her day, Akantha bounces down the stairs. "Are we going to Diagon Alley today? I want to get my school supplies as soon as possible so I can start reading the books."

Her mother glances up from a cup of coffee, a scone, and the morning's Daily Prophet. "What's that, dear?"

"I said, can we go to Diagon Alley today?"

"Oh, sure. Just let me finish this article, Rita Skeeter's outdone herself this time."

Akantha rolls her eyes. "Ugh, mum, you're obsessed with that woman. She's just a journalist, for Godric's sake."

In turn, Iriel narrows hers. "We. Do. Not. Use. That. Word. In. This. House."

"It's just a name, jeez!"

"Of an insolent mudblood who didn't know his place," she responds sharply, turning up her nose.

Akantha appears to be debating the wisdom of starting the 'mudblood debate' again, but decides against it, instead contending an awkward silence with her arms crossed over her chest. Against her own will - curiosity is a powerful thing - she beings to read the article.

Boy Who Lived Set to Attend Durmstrang

Harry Potter, the celebrated champion of Good and defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has decided that he will be attending Durmstrang, as opposed to Hogwarts. Durmstrang, a school located in northeast Europe, is notorious for it's "tolerance" of Dark Arts. Students learn the practices, as opposed to mere research, as taught at Hogwarts. Wizards everywhere are astir over the possibility of Harry Potter being the next Dark Lord - perhaps replacing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? It also must be wondered how the Boy Who Lived found out about the school. Muggle-born wizards are typically only contacted by Hogwarts, and no other schools, and while Harry is a half-blood, he was raised by muggles and would normally be treated the same as muggle-borns. It, then, must be wondered - is Durmstrang out to increase it's reputation with the famous wizard as one of its students?

By: Rita Skeeter

She looks at her mother in shock. "He won't be messing up my years at Hogwarts and stealing all my fame?"

Iriel chuckles softly, obviously just humoring her daughter, "No, Akantha. He won't be, but if he's going to Durmstrang, you might have a powerful contender in the Dark Arts."

Akantha scoffs, incredulous. "Him? He's supposed to be a 'good' wizard, isn't he? After all, he defeated Volde-"

"AKANTHA DAWN ROSIER! HAVE YOU NO COMMON SENSE?" her mother demanded, looking as though she expected Voldemort himself to come and jump out at her any second.

"It's still just a name, Mother."

"Of the most powerful wizard of all time, and the most dangerous of them all. He commands respect, and we will give it to him. 'We' happens to include you for as long as you reside under this roof."

"He's just a rotting corpse, now. Not like he can do anything," Akantha huffs.

"But he still has his followers, and shreds of his power. I refuse to let you risk anything with that big of a consequence."

"Fine, fine. Now, are you ready to go to Diagon Alley?"

Iriel smiles, all the tension disappearing from her face. "About that, dearest...your father and I have decided you will be going by yourself. As you'll soon be off alone at Hogwarts, we feel it's best for you to get used to being on your own. That is, if you're okay with it."

Grinning, Akantha nods. She's so tired of her parents always being in her way, and this is finally a step in the right direction. "Will I have to apparate there with you, and you come back, or can I floo there?" She hopes she can floo there - side by side apparation is dreadful.

"You can floo there, no worries," her mother tells her, sensing her dislike of apparation, "Just be careful."

"I know, I know. Don't say diagonally, make sure I end up in Gringotts, avoid looking at the goblins, don't ogle anything...don't worry, mum, we've been through all this before." Akantha says all of this in a bored, almost sleepy tone, only betraying a hint of impatience.

"Never hurts to be careful," Iriel chides, "You know where the floo powder is, go whenever you're ready."

"Uhh, mum? Money would be helpful."

"Oh yes. It might," her mother remembers, standing up and going up the stairs. Akantha stands around for a moment before helping herself to part of the scone and nibbling on it until her mother came back down, a fat purse in her hand.

"Here you are," Iriel says, eyeing the scone in her daughter's hand. "You could've have gotten your own, you know."

"I'm perfectly aware of this. However, I didn't want to," Akantha snaps, retrieving the purse from her mum. "I'll be leaving as soon as I get my robes on," she continues, whirling briskly around and back up the stairs, the purse jingling audibly.

Once in her room, she puts on her pair of casual robes - presentable, but not overly fancy - and pins on the Rosier family brooch to her shoulder. Her face wrinkles as she thought about what to do with her hair. Being eleven (and an eleven year old with very limited magic skill at that) she couldn't do much, but she doesn't wish to appear sloppy. Who knew, she might meet one of her teachers today! Akantha is a firm believer in first impressions, and doesn't want to give the wrong one. Sighing, she set about the task of getting her hair into a french braid and framed her face with a few strands of side bangs. With a last thought, she hastily grabs a brush and puts it in the pocket of one of her robes. The floo system was incredibly annoying in that it had a talent for mussing up one's hair.

With that, she troops downstairs to the fire, grabs a fistful of the floo powder and dumps it in. Moments later, she is in the emerald fire. "Diagon Alley!" she shouts, making a point of enunciating properly. The flames swallow her up, and a few minutes of blurring fireplaces later, she is spat onto the floor of Gringotts, soot over her robes. Hurriedly, she brushes herself off and looks into the smirking face of a young blonde lad, who can't be much older than her. She glars back with instant dislike, staring him down.

A/N: Please review! Constructive criticism is always helpful, and I love to hear feedback. Thanks!