Disclaimer: Jk Rowling owns everything Harry Potter. She also owns my body. Don't judge.

Also, you must read this story in a southern accent or all is for naught.

Side note: Have you ever, like, needed to cry but just couldn't get the tears going? I have. Then I had the brilliant idea that in order to get the waterworks going I should most definitely google "Fred and George feels." 30 minutes later I realized that whatever had upset me in the first place all stemmed from the fact that Jk Rowling killed Fred in the last book. Then I realized that everything I had ever been upset with stemmed from that deep rooted trauma. Then I realized that I'm such a dick to everyone because I've been trying to compensate for the fact that Fred is dead. So there's that. Moral of the story: Don't ever google "Fred and George feels."

Anyhow, I would like some reviews but please be nice. I'm in a very fragile emotional state (see above paragraph).

I was in my room, rearranging a few things trying to make it look less glum when Sirius poked his head into my room and smiled at me.

"Hey Lyra. Could you come downstairs for a bit. There's someone I want you to meet." I narrowed my eyes at him and nodded. I still hadn't forgiven him for tearing me away from Madame Tyler and the Academy. As I stepped into the kitchen I was greeted by a tall, ancient man with a long snowy beard.

"Good morning, Lyra." He greeted me motioning me to take a seat. "I am professor Dumbledore."

I stared at him unimpressed. His eyes twinkled as he continued. "I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Sirius has asked me to consider taking you into my school." I raised an eyebrow at him as if asking "and?"

"I've put together a written test which I will have you do now if you don't mind. And then you will demonstrate a few spells for me and I will see how far along you are and if I will be able to accept you."

I accepted the packet grimly and began instantly. I found most of it extremely easy. The only part I seemed to have trouble on was the History section due to the fact that History at my school had focused mostly in the Americas and not Europe. I explained this to Dumbledore as I handed the packet back to him. The spells he asked me to demonstrate were all very simple. For the finale, he asked me to brew a Draught of Living Death providing me with all the ingredients with a flick of his wand. This I did with ease. Madame Tyler had always loved brewing and she made sure each student was able to produce stellar potions. Dumbledore leafed through my written test as I prepared the potion and when I finished he leaned over the potion and smelled it. Nodding approvingly Dumbledore looked impress.

"Well, I think you'll be quite able to handle continuing your education at Hogwarts."

Of course I'll be able to handle your wussy school! I thought silently. I wouldn't besmirch the name of Madame Tyler by being any less than perfect.

"Unfortunately, it's too late in the year for you to resume this year so you will begin your classes next September. I feel confident this short interlude will not diminish you talents. You seem to be fairly ahead at any rate." he complimented me.

"Thank you, sir."

"I think you'll like Hogwarts very much, Lyra." He peered down at my somber expression before he smiled and left to talk to Sirius.

The next few months passed slowly. Bree and I continued working on the house to make it look presentable and I continued studying my books which I had brought back from the Academy. Sirius was often gone, checking up on his god son, I assumed. Then one day, as I was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping some homemade sweet tea when Sirius burst through the door looking haggard.

"He's back." He panted when I fixed him with a questioning stare. "Voldemort is back." I stared at him in shock.

I'd heard quite a bit about this Voldemort in Wizarding Warfare of the 20th century. I gathered this was not good news. Soon my sister appeared downstairs and Sirius and I explained to her the significance of this Voldemort's return. Then Sirius went on to spout off about this "Order of the Phoenix" thing and how we were using the house for headquarters. I rolled my eyes. Exactly what I needed, more triflin' Brits snoopin' about. It wasn't long after that people started making appearances. This girl with pink hair and this tall black guy with an earring seemed to be regulars. I saw Dumbledore quite a few times as well. One day as I was holed up in my room reading about the significance of Newt's Tails in potions making someone knocked at my door.

"C'min." I drawled lazily.

"Hey, Lyra." It was Sirius.

"Hey." I said, not taking my eyes from the page. Sirius walked in and sat down on the twin bed directly across from mine.

"So, Lyra." He began, he looked nervous. I smiled a bit and put down the book. I hadn't been the nicest person to Sirius ever since we left New Orleans and he'd been tiptoeing around me like I was a bomb about to go off. "How would you feel about sharing your room with possibly two other girls." I narrowed my eyes at him. He dove ahead, "Seeing as this the headquarters for the Order and there are people who need a safer dwelling as it is . . ." He trailed off and looked at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes. It was a good thing Sirius had never had kids, he was a total pushover.

"It's your house, Sirius." I replied. Then, looking at his pained expression, I added. "I guess I could use some company." His expression brightened at this and he jumped up and gently patted my head beaming.

"I thought so as well! And you'll have plenty of it. The Weasley's have seven kids, after all." he made his way towards the door saying as he left. "No need to look so shocked, Lyra, they're only bringing the four." I scowled at his retreating form.

The day these Weasley's were set to arrive, I helped Sirius move a third bed into the corner of the large room and then set about rearranging my things and making space in the closet for the other girls. Quite suddenly a heard a loud boom downstairs before Sirius' hag of a mother started yellin' some shit about blood traitors. And if that weren't enough another woman joined in the shrieking, yelling, "FRED! GEORGE! THE NEXT TIME YOU SET OFF ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE WRETCHED FIREWORKS I WILL PERSONALLY THROW YOU IN A NEST OF DOXIES!" I stared at the door wide-eyed. Who are these loony crackers? As the woman continued her threats I heard a series of rushed footsteps pounding up the stairs and someone saying,

"In here, Fred!"

and then,"No, in here."

And then two voices together, "Right, divide and conquer."

And suddenly my door was thrust open and a lanky ginger rushed in, slammed it shut, and locked it. He stood at my door, peeking through the peep-hole breathe abated.

"Ahem" I cleared my throat roughly. Slowly the boy turned around and I was greeted by an angular face with hazel eyes and a high nose with a smattering of freckles across it. I glared. "Can I help you?" He stared at me wide-eyed.

"Er- sorry?" he looked confused.

"Can I help you." I repeated coldly.

He continued staring. "Um, what?"

"Can I HELP YOU?" I enunciated slowly. This time he smiled.

"Oh, haha. No, actually. Sorry bout bursting in here and the- well, I couldn't really understand due to your accent." I stared at him, my mouth forming a rigid line and my brow lowering angrily. He shuffled nervously. "I mean. It's a nice accent, quite cute actually." I was about to respond that cute was the last thing I was trying to be and to suggest that he clean his imperialist ears when another one burst in saying.

"George, are you in here? Oh, there you are." I stared at the other one and he stared at me. I groaned inwardly. Why were there two of them?

"Y'all twins?" I thought I'd ask just to make sure no one had been drinking Polyjuice potion. It seemed like just the sort of thing these boys would do. The newer one stared at me blankly.

"Huh?" I gave him a deadly glare.

"Forget it." I muttered darkly, turning back to my book. The twins looked at each other, shrugged, and walked over to the twin bed across from me and sat down, grinning at me infuriatingly. I sighed and lowered my book.

"I'm Fred, by the way." The one on the right stated.

"No you ain't." I snapped. "He just called you, George. I ain't stupid." I added. Their grins widened.

"Grumpy, aren't we?" The other one asked. "I do love a challenge, George." George nodded eagerly as I continued glaring at them. "What's your name?"

I picked my book up again before hissing, "Lyra."

"Well, that's pretty!" George declared brightly. I grumbled something unintelligible a I continued reading. After a moment I peered over the top of my book to see the twins still staring at me.

I tossed the book aside once again saying, "Alright what do you two want?"

"Oh, we're just waiting out the storm." they grinned at me, obviously indicating their mother whom I could hear still huffing about. "So, you're from America?" Fred questioned me. I nodded.

"Jackson, Mississippi." I confided to them. "It's in the South."

"Thus the accent." George grinned.

"What accent?" I sneered as I propped myself against some pillows. Fred and George looked at each other and then back at me. George cleared his throat.

"So . . . you're going to Hogwarts in September?" I nodded at him. "Cool . . .cool." He looked down. "Where did you go to school before?" He asked. My face fell as I was reminded of the academy.

"Serpentinoir Academy for the Magically Gifted in New Orleans." I stated proudly. "It's in Louisiana." I added.

"I knew that." Defended George quickly. I shrugged, shaking my thick black hair out of my face and propping myself on my elbow.

"So this Pigmole-"

"Hogwarts." Fred and George corrected me in unison.

"Right. So this Hogwarts place. Is it a decent school?"

"Decent?" Started Fred, incredulously. "It's only the best bloody school in Britain!" I shrugged again.

"I hear it's the only wizarding school in Britain."

"Fair point." George conceded. "But it really is great!" And with that the two launched off on a lengthy verbal tour of Hogwarts. I was only half listening to their Hogwarts promotion when a flurry of footsteps were heard and a soft knocking assaulted my door.

"Come in!" The three of us called. I glared at Fred and George as another thin ginger entered the room accompanied by a dark girl with bushy hair.

"Y'hear that, boys. It's called knocking." I continued glaring at the boys. "It's what generally precedes entering an occupied room. In polite society." I added for a good measure.

The two girls stared at the boys. "What are you two doing in here?" The bushy haired girl crossed her arms.

"What are YOU doing here?" Fred mimicked her movements.

"Yeah." Said George standing up, crossing the room to the third bed and plopping down on it. "This is OUR room. Go find your own." The two new girls simultaneously rolled their eyes at the twins then looked at me expectantly.

"What?" I shrugged at them.

The redhead stared. "This is the GIRL'S room." She stated the obvious.

"Uh huh." I continued as Fred and George grinned at me. "I still don't see the issue." Fred and George's grin slowly slipped off of their faces as they realized I was questioning their masculinity.

"HEY!" They both looked indignant as the stomped towards the door.

"Dont worry, George. We'll find the manliest room around. And you lot arent invited. Cause it's for men. Which we are. Men."

"And you'll know which one it is cause it will be reeking of manliness." Supplied George.

I wrinkled my nose at him. "Ew."

"So avoid whichever corner of the house the Backstreet Boy's latest hit is coming from?" I questioned George.

"The what?" George shot me a confused glare.

"Nevermind." I sighed.