AN: Welcome to the second part of Clara's first year! I've run through this a few times, but since it's unbeta'd, there may still be some mistakes. I hope you still enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: If you met me, you would know that I, in no way, am capable of planning out anything as marvelously as the great J.K. Rowling has with Harry Potter. She, and Warner Bros., owns it. Except Clara. She's mine. Bradford is also mine.

DISCLAIMER PART 2: McGonagall's speech is taken from the page on the Hogwarts Houses at . All rights to that belong to HPL, J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and each regions respective publishers.

The remaining month before the start of school passed by in a fairly awkward manner. Snape and Clara were, of course, still learning how to handle each other. So one day, after a lunch of meat pasties, when she approached the door to his study, Clara hesitated.

She had to ask him something of the utmost importance.

Swallowing around the large lump in her throat, she knocked tentatively.

The calm, aloof voice, although muffled, allowed her entrance.

Opening the door, she took a few steps to stand a short distance away from his desk, upon which rolls of parchment, inkwells, and quills rested. Again, the walls of his study were covered in black and brown leather but from the titles she had briefly seen, they seemed to be more theoretical and educational in nature.

Snape himself was scribbling on a sheet of parchment, pausing only to refresh the ink in his quill. He'd been working on whatever it was for a few days now so she had thought best to leave him be. Until now.

"Umm...Uncle?"

He continued writing without sparing a glance at her. "What do you want?"

"Is...is there a store nearby? I need to pick something up."

This made him halt. "What do you need?"

"That...is personal. Why don't we just keep it a secret?"

Laying down his quill, he looked at her vacantly. In a low voice that reeked of consequences unless obeyed, he told her, "I shall ask once more. What...do you need?"

Laying down the law already. Nice. She stared at him, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. After a few minutes, she sighed and, blushing, told him. "I think my period started today...I need pads. Or something. I don't know."

Snape gripped the bridge of his nose and appeared to grow a few shades paler. As he spoke, he didn't look up from some point behind his eyelids. "There's some Muggle money around here. Try the top-left drawer in the kitchen; take what you need. If you go towards the end of the street, turn right, and keep straight for about five blocks, there's a convenience store."

"Thanks..."

He actually refused to open his eyes to look anywhere until after he heard his study door click shut and the fading footsteps go down the hall.

Fortunately for both, that was the only major incident. The rest of break was spent as it normally was, passing time in the sitting room, reading.

When the day to leave for Hogwarts came, Snape made sure she was packed, several times, and set her things outside on the porch. While she waited, Clara sat on her trunk and watched Bradford shuffle his feathers in his sleep. She had to wait a fair while before Snape returned, his comparatively smaller trunk behind him. After locking the door, he turned to her.

He offered her his arm. "Make sure you have a firm grip. Your luggage, too."

Wrapping her fingers tightly around Bradford's cage and the handle to her trunks, Clara looped her arm around Snape's.

"You may want to close your eyes."

She barely had the time to follow his advice before she experienced the feelings of that one second one feels as an elevator starts to move and a disconcerting twisty feeling that left her nauseous and barely standing in an empty hallway in King's Cross Station.

Trusting his firm grip on her shoulder, she let Snape lead her over to a padded bench. Once seated, she put her head between her knees.

"I suppose I shall have to give you more of a warning next time."

Clara whipped her head up then groaned as the nausea that had almost completely left returned. "What do you mean by 'next time?' As far as I'm concerned, you can stick whatever you call that—"

"It's called Apparition and unless you have a better method, I believe you'll have to settle for it. Keep your head between your legs."

She did as told, only because it seemed like her best option at the moment. Eventually, she looked up and found that herself to be in the sole company of Bradford who crankily shuffled and called.

Unwilling to become lost in the terminal, she waited, head cradled in her hands, for a short while for her uncle to return from wherever he had gone.

When he did come back, she noticed that it was with a trolley.

"Are you feeling any better or do you still want to play the southern belle?"

"I get carsick easily! Geez!"

"Really now? Sure you're not hamming it up for sympathy?" At his rather tame smirk, Clara realized he was teasing her.

Smiling as innocently as she could, she told him, "Please, if I wanted to do that, I'd just tell you I'm having cramps." She chuckled when he gripped the bridge of his nose and breathed heavily for a bit. "What? You can't say it wouldn't work."

Sighing deeply, Snape turned away and placed her trunks and the owl cage onto the"It's ten-thirty. If we don't hurry, we'll be late for the train."

"Alright. Where're we off to?" She pushed the trolley, following Snape's lead.

"Platform 9 ¾."

"You do realize that most train stations don't deal with fractions, right? There was a survey that said people found them too confusing."

"When will you realize that Muggles and wizards work in completely different ways?"

"When you realize that, even though I was raised as a Muggle, I'm just as fluent in sarcasm as you are."

All she gained in answer was a cough although from what she could see of the way his shoulders moved, it seemed to be mixed in with a bit of a laugh. From what she'd learned about his personality, he was about as likely to admit it as it was to see snow in Ecuador. First time for everything, I guess.

Soon, they made it to the area where the passengers for the trains of Platforms 9 and 10 dawdled.

"So...where's this magical Platform 9 ¾ you were talking about?"

This earned her a cool, disapproving gaze before he walked swiftly, without regard for any wayward stares, towards the leg of a brick archway. Instead of crashing into it, he disappeared.

"Point taken."

She backed the trolley up as far as she could do so without looking crazy, assuming that passing through the solid-looking creation required a fair amount of speed. Running forward, she couldn't help but notice some passers-by laughing at her.

When she came out on the other side, she looked as if she had a fading sunburn across her cheeks and nose. Looking around, she quickly found Snape who was standing near the ruddy conductor.

As she joined him, she noticed his eyes examining her appearance. Quickly handing over her larger trunk and Bradford to the conductor, she followed Snape on board.

The first car was already almost completely filled up and, as far as she could tell through the door at the back, it was the same for the next, even though both were easily at least double the size of a normal train car. The first thing Clara noticed was that most of the benches in this compartment were in an open space and were filled with teenagers in fairly normal street clothes—not what she had expected at all. The second thing was that each student seemed to already have settled firmly in their cliques and appeared to be entirely upperclassmen, unlikely to appreciate a first year in their midst.

She turned to ask her uncle where she should sit, only to find that he had left her. "Great. Time to be awkward and alone." Tightly gripping a worn book she had taken with her, she went down the center aisle quickly. Previously, none of the teenagers had talked boisterously and paid her no attention. However, now most stared at her and the ones that didn't were whispering to each other.

Finally making it to the door at the back, she passed through, noting that the loud talk resumed with her absence.

This compartment, while none stopped their conversations, was still almost filled to the point of being uncomfortable so she passed on again.

The third and fourth cars were styled differently, having separate privacy "rooms" for smaller groups. Finding one that was empty, she placed her suitcase on the floor below herself, spread out on the plush bench, and began to read.

At 10:55, about five minutes after she arrived, three ruddy red-headed boys, all panting, approached the door to her room.

The oldest one, a bit chubby, smiled kindly and spoke confidently. "Sorry, miss, but would you mind if me and my brothers joined you? The other rooms are kinda full, you know." Said brothers were chatting amongst themselves, clearly excited about starting school. Both still had some baby fat around their cheeks and shaggy hair and wore identical wool sweaters save for the large embroidered F and G on their fronts. It wasn't until she actually looked at their faces that she realized they were twins, identical to boot.

"Umm...sure. Come on in."

Withdrawing her legs to a more comfortable curled position resting in the corner of the room, she gave one of the younger brothers, the one wearing the F sweater, the rest of the admittedly large bench for his stuff. As he placed his things on the rack above them, he addressed his elder brother. "Charlie, we really should get here sooner, shouldn't we?"

Charlie, already settled in, was leaning across the seat and had placed his feet in the other twin's lap, much to his disdain. "Bring it up with mum. After all, it's not everyday she gets to make a First Time to Hogwarts breakfast."

"Still, we barely made it on time!" The Twin Whose Name Started with an F plopped down onto the bench, huffing as he did so.

Choosing to ignore his siblings' comment, Charlie turned to where Clara sat and held out his hand. "Charlie Weasley, sixth year Gryffindor. And my brothers."

Shaking his proffered hand, Clara asked, "So you've got the rest of a set of triplets somewhere on your body?" earning herself a few chuckles.

The twins moved to shake her hand next, exclaiming, "We're identical!"

The one in the F sweater pointed at his counterpart and said, "He's George."

Imitating him, George answered with, "And he's Fred."

Again, they spoke at the same time. "Nice to meet you!"

Laughing, she spoke. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm Clara Richards."

"This your first year at Hogwarts?" Charlie inquired.

"Yeah. Actually, I didn't even know about it until about a month ago."

"Really? Are you a Muggle-born then?"

"Why, is it bad?"

"To some, but I guess for others like you it's a shock to go from one lifestyle to something completely foreign."

"Haven't got much experience with it yet, but you'll be the first to know."

Fred spoke up. "Actually, it's our first year, too,— "

"—we won't be too far if you need someone to talk to." Both smiled cheekily at her.

"Tha—" She yawned largely. "Sorry, late night packing. But seriously, thanks."

"Not a problem!"

She looked at Charlie. "They do that often?"

Eyes closed, he nodded.

"How do you stand it?"

"Would you believe that there's a special breed of heavy items that are attracted to them?"

"If that's what you have to tell yourself to get to sleep at night, sure."

They laughed at the twins' in spite of their loud protests.

Finally sitting up, much to George's relief, Charlie asked her what house she was hoping to be put in.

"House? What's that?"

"It's... Well, basically it's a Sorting system; don't ask me how it works though. There's this Sorting Hat, and it decides what house—Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff—to put you in."

"We're hoping to—"

"—get into Gryffindor, ourselves."

"Bit of a family legacy, you see."

"Really? I couldn't stand that. Too much pressure."

Fred and George who, by the crestfallen looks on their faces, probably hadn't even considered the possibility of not making it into Gryffindor robes shared a panicked look between them.

Charlie grinned easily to reassure his younger brothers. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll both make it in. Even if you don't, Mum and Dad won't disown you or anything." He once again turned to Clara. "So, what House do you want?"

"Um...I'm not sure to be honest. I'll probably be fine with whatever I'm given."

The rest of the train ride was passed in comradely conversation, shared treats which, due to a lack of apparent foresight regarding wizard money, Fred chivalrously bought her, and quite a few matches of Wizard's Chess between Charlie and Clara before they changed into their school robes about twenty minutes before their arrival. Charlie's, his having already been sorted, was lined with gold and red stripes as was his grey wool sweater; both sported what must have been the Gryffindor crest. A reared lion roared on a field of yellow and gold.

At their destination, they gathered their things and George and Charlie quickly left the compartment. Clara was about to exit when Fred grabbed her hand.

"If you make it into Gryffindor, feel free to chat me up, alright?"

Blushing loudly again, Clara pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'll be sure to do that."

"Great! Hey, has anyone told you your hair's really pretty?"

Shocked, she could only get out an incoherent syllable before George peeked into the compartment. "Hey, Fred, you comin' or not?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there!" Satisfied for the moment, George left them. "See ya in a bit, Clara!"

Alone, she freaked out, just a bit, before leaving to join the other students.

The trip to the castle itself took place on a chain of carriages drawn by their own powers, for the upperclassmen, and what she found out to be charmed boats to cross the lake for the first years. She, Fred, and George managed to get into a boat by themselves, plus a curly haired boy.

Once inside, the upperclassmen went ahead to the Great Hall while the first years waited just outside the grand oak doors. The walk to the Entrance Hall was went by too fast for Clara to actually absorb the details but at rest, she realized the sheer magnitude of just this room. The ceiling was somewhere far above their heads and the walls were riddled with moving portraits of everything imaginable; the walls themselves were a faded, elegant floral pattern on a deep red velvet background.

Thoroughly distracted by the beauty of the lobby, Clara was caught unawares by a mischievous whisper in her ear and screamed.

When she whipped around to find the culprit, she was met with the sight of two guffawing ginger twins, doubled over in laughter.

"Oh, ha, ha. Pick on the new girl, why don't you?" Miffed, she crossed her arms turned back to face the stairs leading towards the Great Hall.

"C'mon now, I didn't mean it!"

"Besides, we're all new here," one of them pointed out.

"Doesn't matter. Until I can get you back, you're not forgiven."

"Big talk for coming from someone who doesn't know who did it."

"Yeah? Guess what."

Two voices came from behind her. "What?"

"Shut up."

Before they were able to make a comeback, an old woman wearing velvet robes and a large, droopy hat carrying a roll of parchment. Clapping her hands, she called the group to attention quickly and spoke in a kind voice that belied a tone of experienced authority.

"The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Pausing, presumably for emphasis, the professor opened the doors and led them through into the Great Hall. Four massive rectangular wooden tables, and the students seated there, took up the majority of the room's space while straight ahead was a platform for the professors' table. Towards the front and to the center was an old stool with an older patched grey hat sagging on its seat.

From all around Clara came gasps of wonder and, looking up, she saw why. What was clearly supposed to be the roof was instead the night sky, exactly as it was through the windows. A few grey clouds ghosted by, in front of the stars and behind the floating candles that served as the only source of light besides the candelabras on the tables and torches on the walls.

They followed the professor to the stage and waited where she told them at the bottom of the stairs. She stood next to the stool and picked up the hat before unfurling the roll of parchment then looked over her shoulder to an aged man with stark white hair and beard and half-moon spectacles.

With a gentle, soothing voice one might expect to come from a grandfather, he announced to everyone, "Let's start the sorting, shall we? Professor McGonagall?"

She nodded and read the first name on the list.

Everyone was quieted as the boy, Roger Davies, sat where McGonagall pointed. She then lowered the hat. It had barely touched his head before the hat sprang to life and yelled proudly, "Ravenclaw!"

An entire banquet table burst out into cheers as Davies joyfully jumped off the stool and ran towards his new house's table.

Most of the subsequent people called up were placed into either Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin, including Cedric Diggory, but there were a few new Gryffindors, leaving the remaining children anxious over which they would be placed in.

Finally, it was Clara's turn. Looking at Fred and George, who smiled and clapped her on the back, for support, she climbed the stairs. Breathing deeply, she saw a dark-haired figure at the far end of the professors' table eying her speculatively. She finally reached the stool.

Staring hard at it before sitting, she screwed her eyes shut as she felt the material of the Sorting Hat cover her forehead.

Before her, there had been children upon whom the Sorting Hat had deliberated longer than the others, but most of them were quickly sorted. Like for all the others who took time, the entire hall quieted. Even though it was right next to her ears, Clara couldn't decipher the Hat's mutterings.

So she was just as surprised as Fred and George when the Hat shouted, "Slytherin!" to the room.

She tried to smile, but it was forced. Hopefully, the cheering Slytherins thought it was just because she was nervous. In truth, she was despondent over not making it into Gryffindor.

It was made even worse by the fact that all but one of the remaining five students were placed into said house. At least they don't have to worry about what their family thinks of them now.

This brought her attention to Snape, who was blatantly staring at her, until the hall quieted down as the same aged man from before stood and walked to a podium.

In that same old voice, he introduced himself as their headmaster, Dumbledore, and the rest of the teachers in turn; some were more applauded than others. Hearing the headmaster's introduction of her uncle reminded her of his position as her new Potions teacher.

In any other situation, Clara would be elated to have a close relative as a teacher. From what she'd learned about him, though, her next few years would be torture.

So...how did everyone like that? Seriously, if you love the Twins and liked what I did with them, or have any helpful tips/suggestions/advice for writing them, please leave a review with that information in it.

Look out for the next part!

EDIT: Fixed a minor mistake with the carriages and boats. :)