On the very first day of school I sat alone in a compartment towards the back of the train. Upon hearing this you'll probably scoff, saying to yourself, "No wonder she doesn't have any friends," thinking that I put forth absolutely no effort to make friends for myself. On the contrary, I simply no longer try due to all the beatings, cold shoulders, and evil eyes I've been on the receiving end of. Not to say that everyone hates me at Hogwarts. Quite the contrary, haven't I just spent a lot of time, in my head, of course, proving that while every house hates or ignores me, many people are simply oblivious to my existence? But I dare not even approach those students happily ignorant of my situation. And no, I am not self-deluded: I know perfectly well that a friend won't fall on my lap and introduce himself to me.

The compartment door clattered open suddenly, startling me from my reverie. Four large boys fell into my hereunto quiet and peaceful compartment. What? I've grown quite used to seclusion, and the quiet that comes with it. It's not my fault that I started violently at the sudden onslaught of noise. Still, even though one of the boys nearly fell right on top of me, they didn't notice my presence. One of the boys seemed to be telling a outrageously hilarious joke, and I, per usual, seemed to have missed the punch line. Using their distraction of uproarious laughter, I slipped quietly out of the door, slowly sliding it closed. With a sharp 'click' I successfully shut out their laughter and joyful camaraderie. I sighed whimsically and leaned against the wall. I can't help but wish that I had the kind of friendship those boys have. Of all the friendships I've observed from the shadows, theirs was the strongest, the one I was most envious of.

Ah, yes, the Marauders, can't live with them, can certainly live without them. It's not that I hate the Marauders, as I've just admitted, I'm envious of them. It's simply that they tend to make my life even more crap than it needs to be. They are, you see, archenemies with the Slytherins. The very same nasty group that has been torturing me for years. I believe it all started because Black, the one in Gryffindor, was disowned by his family. His cousins at Hogwarts like to drive the stake of abandonment even deeper into his heart, being disowned by your family, even if they are sadists, hurts, just ask my mom. So, inevitably, the Marauders duel the Cousins Black and any other wanna-be death eater as well. Predictably, the Marauders beat the Slytherins in all their duels. Why the Slytherins keep coming back for more is beyond me. Maybe its some sort of honor thing. Although, why being beaten repeatedly would be good for your honor don't ask me. Being beaten in all their duels, or at least most of them, by a ragtag group of Gryffindors, two of them not even pureblood, tends to get their dander up. Later that week there's me, a helpless little Gryffindor who symbolizes all they hate, walking innocently along on my way to Arithmancy and, oh no!, there's an angry Slytherin leaning casually against a wall, and I'm left sporting a black eye. I can barely go two days without being jumped in the corridor, usually leaving me nursing some sort of injury. Then again, I've gotten quite good at healing charms if I do say so myself. So I guess I have the Slytherins and Marauders to thank for my great potential in a career as a Healer. But the Marauders aren't bad people, not by a long shot. I know they have no idea what tends to happen to me every time they anger a Slytherin. No, the Slytherins don't take defeat well, and the Marauders are too good at magic for their own good. What makes them celebrate in the Common Room, slapping each other's backs with glee, leaves me with aches and pains, barely able to sit, let alone be slapped on the back, the very thought of with makes me wince with pain. No, the Marauders aren't bad people, just happily oblivious, and I can't blame them for it. What I'd give to be oblivious too…

We'll begin with the leader of their little ragtag gang, James Potter. Although it is rather difficult to tell that he's the leader, to give Sirius Black all due credit. Only a discerning eye like mine, I spend way too much time people-watching as an alternative to boredom, could tell that Potter is really the one in charge. Anyway, as if being the ringleader of his little gang weren't enough, one look from Potter is enough to make any girl swoon. Well, or so I've heard, never having been on the receiving end of one of his sigh-worthy looks, but I can well imagine, sigh. Potter is blessed with wonderful black, messy hair that just begs for fingers to be rubbed through it. A plea that Potter finds necessary to answer himself, and many times a day. Some say that this habit of his is a studied effort to draw even more attention to himself, but I think that it's such a habit that he's no longer aware that he's running his fingers through his dark untidy hair making it, if possible, even more messy. And I've heard girls in the bathroom, unaware that I was in the very next stall, go into ecstasies over his "bea-u-teous" hazel eyes. He used to be a player, before that job was taken over by his best mate Sirius, but not lately. James Potter used to ask a new girl out everyday, but that too has ceased. I've heard it whispered that he has his eye on only one girl now, but so far I've seen no sign of that. Oh, and to put the icing on the cake of every girl's fantasies, he plays Quidditch, and not only that, because many boys claim they play Quidditch, he plays it well. McGonagall didn't make him team Captain for nothing, I suspect.

Sirius Black, the boy who very nearly became closely acquainted with my lap by almost falling on me back in my compartment, made for an extremely interesting study. No, I'm not a stalker, just, as previously mentioned, extremely bored and lacking in any real company. I mean, its not as though I never talk to anyone…um…there once was this time at lunch when I…oh, wait, I just meant to ask that little first-y to remove his elbow from my pudding. I wonder if there will be pudding at the feast…hmm…maybe I should track down that friendly trolly lady, I seem to be rather famished. As for being lonely, I guess I really do only talk to myself, dust bunnies, and imaginary friends. I have this one imaginary friend, his name is Claude, and he never gets bored of my rambling (which, if you hadn't noticed, I do a lot) or deserts me for other friends or because he's afraid. In fact he often beats the Slytherins up for me! Well, only in my imagination. Some of the ways I have him beat them are truly inspired. I once had him take down seven of them with only a banana. Oh Claude, if only you were real. What was I talking about again? Oh, right, the enigma that is Sirius Black, the only Black ever to be sorted into Gryffindor. First of all, most people think that Black is only a major player, in love with his own reflection, and no deeper than the shallow end of a swimming pool. But, if you pay attention you're likely to catch Black in one of his "spells," or so I call them. Reminiscent of when young girls used to have fainting spells from wearing their corsets too tight. Every so often Black tends to stare off into the distance with an intense look of…something…on his face, and even his friends cannot seem to rouse him from this state. From this I suspect he often thinks about something rather serious, his family perhaps, or the possibility of Leprechaun attack. Although, I could be completely wrong about him and he only has indigestion. I will postpone my judgment until more data can be gathered, which will be in about, well, never, as I never see myself in the position of holding any greater knowledge on the oddity that is Sirius Black than I do now.

Then there is Remus Lupin, the kindest werewolf I've ever, well, not met per say, although observed closely for years along without his knowledge and along with a select few other interesting subjects might be a good way of putting it. Hmm…yeah, that last one doesn't sound too stalker-ish…oh, wait, maybe it does. Ok, I resolve to tell no one of my odd, slightly stalker-ish spy tendencies. Back to Remus Lupin, yes, I know, surprising that such a kind, empathetic, and mostly ordinary guy is a blood-curdling monster once a month. It surprised me too. But I know it to be true. The mystery of his monthly activities had me distracted for some time, but I finally put it all together about third year. My mother taught me not to fear people who happen to be werewolves, probably in an effort to further alienate herself from the disturbing and prejudiced teachings of her ex-family. She did tell me, though, never to be around a werewolf on the full moon. They are helpless to instinct then, and attack any human wandering about. This is why I make it a point to know the moon cycle and never be caught outside during the full moon. I have always wondered, though, why the other boys also disappear each and every full moon without fail, sometimes I worry about that. Another mystery to keep me distracted, I suppose. No, I don't hate Lupin for his condition, if anything I can empathize with the loneliness and soul-crushing isolation he would feel if word of it ever got out. Although, his situation would probably be much worse than mine. Right now, though, I envy him his friendships with actual human beings. But there's more to Remus than his condition. He's caring and kind to all, those he notices, that is. His marks are second only to mine, Lily's, and a few of the Ravenclaws. If there was anyone in this school I would desire for a friend, it's him.

Peter Pettigrew is perhaps the most popular of the Marauders and maybe even Hogwarts. Somehow he managed to worm his way in to almost every group of well-liked students in the school. Although he's not very good at schoolwork, he's also not the worst. I've often suspected him of mooching homework help off his various connections. His best friends are the Marauders, though, he comes back to them as his base of operations. I believe the Marauders often use him to gather information before a prank. Peter's girlfriends tend to last longer than Sirius', but I've never seen him with the same girl for more than two months. I was amazed that he and Bertha Jorkins managed to last a full two months, but many students were betting that they'd last much longer. She's still pining after him, even after he replaced her with a long line of blonde bimbos. He's not quite on the same plane of hotness as James, Sirius, and Remus, but he's right up there. But there has always been something about Peter that disturbs me. Maybe it's the way his eyes tend to dart around a room, or the way his loyalties almost seem to shift depending on who he's with at the time. Either way, I wouldn't trust that, admittedly handsome, boy as far as I could throw him.

I had been standing in the corridor on the train for way too long. If I stayed leaning against the wall I was sure to attract the attention of an ill-intentioned Slytherin or two, those little buggers always seem to travel in packs, drat them. Luckily I had already changed into my Hogwarts uniform and didn't need to disturb the boys currently lounging in my compartment to rummage clumsily through my trunk, probably eliciting snickers from them, or worse, un-amused glares alerting me to my intrusion into their little circle. Unluckily, I had already changed into my Hogwarts uniform and didn't have that simple task to drag out in a vain attempt to occupy myself for the rest of the train ride.

"Oooh, look boys," came the evil cackle of none other than my chief tormentor, Bellatrix Black, from some where up above my head. I almost groaned and shut my eyes, but stopped myself; I definitely would not be showing weakness in front of the twisted mind of Bellatrix Black. Just my luck that she would show up. Never again will I bemoan my lack of anything to do.

"What do you want?" I asked quietly, my voice cracking. So much for not showing weakness. While it might have been better for me if I had said nothing, I was still a Gryffindor, and showing that small sign of resistance made me feel a bit better about myself. That feeling, small and hopeless as it was, was crushed out by the knowledge of my incoming beating.

"You hear that, boys?" Bellatrix trilled, once again referring to her posse, consisting of, you guessed it, boys. "It sounds like itty bitty Brown isn't feeling well on this fine morning. Poor itty bitty Brown." The smirk on her face was enough to make even a seasoned seventh year quaver in his boots, but not me: I was used to having it directed at me. Now that it had made its appearance, the beating was about to begin.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Bellatrix shouted, and I felt all my limbs lock up. I slumped to the floor, completely unable to move. Trust Bellatrix not to fight a fair fight. "You just think you're so-o great, don't you Brown. But while we're respectable purebloods, you're nothing but a cast-off Wellworth. Nothing," she punctuated each word with a kick, her voice still oddly monotone, "but a worthless little half-blood muggle lover. Go ahead and cry," she told me, "but your mudblood Daddy and slut of a Momma can't kiss your boo-boos." She turned and left, the boys following after her like obedient little dogs, each one kicking me for good measure on their way past my frozen form. Once they were far enough away she lifted the curse. She was not entirely stupid. While no one would believe me if I spoke up about her brutality, to be found petrified would give credence to my story. Plus, although she didn't know it, her insults made me angry, perhaps even angry enough to put up a fight. Oh how I'd love to duel her in a fair fight. She'd be the one left on the floor, bruised and battered! Well, maybe…

I took stock of all my injuries. While I had a couple bruised ribs, more bruising around my stomach, and a cut on my arm, my head had completely escaped injuries. Thank goodness!, I'm not all that good at healing my own head wounds. All in all, not nearly my worst encounter with the Stupid Slimeballs of Doom. I got up and stiffly walked towards the bathrooms. It would be simple enough to fix myself up in one of the stalls. Just as I was opening the bathroom door, a compartment door burst open.

"Oh," said Sirius Black to someone standing behind him in the compartment, "I thought I heard my dear cousin out here and I fancied a little fight."

"Better luck next time, Padfoot," Potter put in, "if she was here, she's already left."

"Huh," Black said thoughtfully, staring at one spot on the wall, "could have sworn I heard her out here, but if she was in the neighborhood, I'd've thought she'd look me up to have our annual little before school run-in. Odd if she was here without fighting anyone." I, too, wondered what on Earth Bellatrix was up to. Sirius was right in saying that she usually attacked the Marauders before school had even started. I can't help but wonder what horrible thing she could have planned this time. And on that happy note, I slipped into the bathroom to heal my injuries the best I could.