A/N- I decided to go with third person, which leaves the reader to determine for themselves which parts of this recollection are actually reported to Dumbledore and which are kept secret. Also, pay attention to this chapter. There will be brief and fairly vague mentions of Annabelle's roots and where she is coming from here, and the vagueness is done intentionally. Here, you will only be told what you need to know for where we are at in the story. The rest will be revealed and explained further in due time.

This was ridiculous.

There was simply no other word for it, and there was absolutely no explanation for this form of cruelty inflicted upon her by those she lived with other than complete and utter madness. There was no reason for her to be here of all places when she should be doing something far more...what? Productive? Helpful? Useful...yes, that was the word. Of what use could she possibly be to the House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? She cursed under her breath as she slipped through the barrier at King's Cross Station onto platform nine and three quarters, wishing fervently that she were back at the House training or gathering needed information with the rest of the roughly two thousand youths living there in secret in order to prepare a revolt against a rising threat to wizarding society, not attending school like every other average, ignorant child, pretending to be blissfully unaware of the mounting danger. She'd been told that the House required a spy within Hogwarts' walls, so that if the enemy had any followers, particularly Professors, training impressionable students in the Dark Arts, the House could be informed as soon as possible so that any necessary action could be taken. That was a load of rubbish. She'd obviously done something wrong, and Isaac wanted to get her out of the way. It had happened before. No one had been sent to school, of course, but they'd be sent on idle "missions" after proving themselves weak or unnecessary so that they wouldn't get in the way of those capable of learning the skills needed for the resistance. So, she was being punished for inadequacy. The only problem with this theory was that she hadn't the slightest idea what she'd done wrong. As far as she was concerned, she was keeping up with training just fine, more than fine. Nothing added up.

Ah, well, there was no use in dwelling on it now. Isaac never once went back on a decision, so she was stuck, and she might as well make the most of it. Who knows? Maybe a bit of exposure back into the outside world would get her some valuable information. Yeah, right...but she could hope, couldn't she?

She heaved an enormous sigh as the final whistle sounded on the Hogwarts Express. Whether she liked it or not, she needed to get on that train. With a swift rolling of her eyes, she bounded across the platform and boarded the train just seconds before it started rolling down the tracks. She surveyed the aisle of compartments in front of her, hoping she'd be able to find an empty one so that she'd have time to fabricate a believable back story for herself. She could form one off the top of her head if necessary, but that was dangerous. One bright professor or, however unlikely, an exceedingly bright student would be enough to pinpoint any holes that might exist, and this simply couldn't be afforded. Much to her disappointment, however, there were no compartments left unoccupied. In fact, it was a challenge to find one with any room for her at all.

Surprisingly enough, the compartment furthest toward the back of the train contained only one girl. Peering in through the open curtain, Annabelle judged the girl to be twelve or thirteen years old. She was a very small, mousy looking girl with ragged, stringy brown hair pulled back into pigtails, sickly white skin that appeared to be nearly green, and light blue eyes adorned with very large, thick, perfectly round glasses. She was staring miserably out the window with her chin resting on her left hand.

Annabelle threw open the door as roughly as she could so that it would make a noise loud enough to announce her appearance. The girl jumped, and her head quickly snapped from the window to where Annabelle was now standing.

"Are you lost?" she asked with slight irritation ringing in her tiny voice, "Or did you come in here to make fun of me?"

Wonderful. She'd been landed with the school outcast. She didn't have time for this. Behaving cordially toward this girl would make her clingy and essentially give her extra baggage to carry around. She wasn't entirely sure she could handle the annoyance. Nevertheless, if she were to bully her, the results could be even more disastrous. She'd have already created a new enemy, and that was the last thing she needed. She knew better than to underestimate someone upon first meeting them, even when that someone appeared to be this...pathetic. Groaning inwardly, she plastered her very best cordial smile onto her face and addressed the scrawny little girl.

"Actually, I was just wondering if you'd mind if I sat with you. I'm new to Hogwarts, so..." she trailed off with perfectly executed uncertainty; Annabelle Reeds could act her way out of any given situation.

The girl appeared to have been caught off guard. Annabelle could guess that she'd never been approached in the past unless she was being tormented.

"Oh..." she said slowly, her eyebrows shooting upward, "I...I guess that would be alright..."

Annabelle flashed her most glowing smile and swiftly sat down on the seat across from the girl.

"I'm Myrtle, by the way," she said, sticking out her hand just a bit too eagerly, "Myrtle Engle."

"Heather Brown." Annabelle gave Myrtle the first name that came to her while grasping the other girl's hand briefly. Heather Brown...not bad.

There was a period of silence during which Annabelle stared out the window, secretly amused that the girl so obviously possessed no ability to communicate. Myrtle simply stared at her hands with an extreme air of awkwardness about her. Finally, she worked up the nerve to speak.

"You...you said that you're new to Hogwarts this year, right? You can't possibly be a first year..."

"No, I'll be in my sixth year," she replied, the wheels turning in her mind as she attempted to fabricate a sufficient back story, "I was home-schooled until now, but my parents no longer have the time further my education, nor the skill necessary to take me as far in my studies as I would like to go. I have more or less...exhausted their resources."

That would do just nicely. There was no harm in creating an intimidating reputation for herself early on, although she was certain that it would develop on its own once the term had commenced. She had no doubt that her time at the House had given her enough skill and talent to surpass that of any student here by a landslide. Although Isaac had advised her to keep her knowledge in check, and to make as many friends as possible so as to become better equipped to gather information, this seemed like a waste of time. As far as she was concerned, the only "friends" she needed were her enemies, meaning that she only needed to get close to someone if she suspected they were in league with Grindelwald, and since she had deemed that very unlikely, she might as well do things her way.

"I'm a third year," Myrtle piped up, the slight sense of apprehension never leaving her face, "and I'm in Ravenclaw. I hope you get sorted into my house."

This was a subject that intrigued Annabelle.

"What are these houses?" she asked, leaning forward a bit in her seat, "And what do you mean by 'sorted?'"

As Annabelle had expected, Myrtle launched happily into an explanation.

"Well, everyone gets Sorted in their first year. It's quite uncomfortable, actually. They make you sit on a stool right at the front of the Great Hall for the whole school to see, and they stick an enormous, ugly old talking hat on your head. That's the Sorting Hat, and it will put you into one of the four houses. You spend most of your time with the people in your own house. Like I said, I'm in Ravenclaw, the house for the cleverest, wisest witches and wizards. Then there's Hufflepuff, for the very compassionate people, and Gryffindor for the brave, and Slytherin for the ambitious. Which house do you think you'll be in?"

Annabelle thought for a moment, analyzing her own personal qualities and matching them up to that of each house. She discarded Hufflepuff as a possibility immediately; compassion wasn't exactly her strong point. Ravenclaw was unlikely as well. She got to the level of skill she was at through hard work, not inherent intellect. That left Gryffindor and Slytherin. There could be no doubting her ambition. Revenge was certainly a factor of her obsession with bringing down Grindelwald, but there was so much more behind it. She did not merely want Grindelwald to be overpowered; she wanted to be the one to do it. She wanted the glory and recognition that would follow, and above all, she wanted the unimaginable to occur. Despite being a woman, she wanted to be offered the position of Minister of Magic. She craved the power and sense of importance that came with the title. Her bravery was an entirely different story. She was only brave when she needed to be, and she was never reckless if only because she couldn't afford to be. That could hardly be characteristic of Gryffindor, so that meant...

"I'll be in Slytherin," she mused in a near murmur, speaking more to herself than to Myrtle, "I'm almost positive."

Myrtle appeared to be disappointed and a bit disgusted, as if the idea repulsed her.

"I sure hope not," she said, "All of the most dreadful people end up in Slytherin. You seem nice enough, though, so I'm sure the Sorting Hat will put you somewhere else."

Annabelle couldn't help but laugh at the misconception that ambition was an evil, destructive quality. Utterly ridiculous.

"What's so funny" Myrtle asked, arching her eyebrows warily, obviously afraid that she was being made fun of.

"I find it hard to believe that a house was made entirely for horrible people," Annabelle answered, a grin still playing on her lips, "Surely there must be one decent Slytherin."

Myrtle thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"No. They're all horrid, and that Olive Hornby is the worst of them. And then there's that awful group of boys that..."

She trailed off, appearing to be lost in her own thoughts.

"That what?"

"What? Oh, those boys that hang around Tom Riddle. I was just thinking that he doesn't seem quite so bad. Maybe he just surrounds himself with horrible people."

The remainder of the journey passed by in relative silence, both girls staring contentedly out the window. Before long, the train came to a stop in front of a magnificent castle overlooking a large lake.

Annabelle glanced up at the enormous building with only mild interest. She'd been shown pictures of the place, and therefore wasn't taken too off-guard by its splendor. Myrtle, on the other hand, was behaving as if it were she was seeing the castle for the first time. ("Oh, oh, isn't just marvelous, Heather?) Eager to be rid of her increasingly irritating companion, Annabelle slipped out of the compartment, and bounded down the aisle, running directly into a student who must have been equally keen to detach himself from his compartment.

The boy slammed the book he'd been buried in closed and swung around to face her, the look on his face that of pure malice. He had jet black hair combed perfectly away from his eyes, not a strand out of place, and his eyes were a surprisingly deep shade of brown that might even be considered black. He was quite possibly the palest person she had ever come across, and she wondered briefly if he were suffering some kind of illness. The strange look on his face took her aback for a moment, but her face remained a perfect mask of innocent composure.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, straightening out her robes as an excuse to break eye contact with the boy, "I guess I just wasn't looking where I was going."

"No, I suppose you weren't," the look of malice was now gone from his eyes, and replaced with a completely impassive expression, "I do not recall seeing you before. Are you a new student?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes," said Annabelle, hiding her amusement at this boy's confidence in his knowledge of everyone at Hogwarts, "My name is Heather Brown," she offered, sticking out her hand in greeting.

"Tom Riddle," he said with a curt nod; he had either not noticed her hand or had blatantly ignored it, "I am one of the school's Prefects, so if you will follow me, I can direct you to the gamekeeper outside the train. He will bring you and the other first years to the castle."

"I'm not a first year," Annabelle replied indignantly, "Do I seem eleven years old to you?"

With a roll of his eyes, Riddle replied, "Of course not, Brown, but you have yet to be Sorted, am I incorrect?"

When Annabelle gave no reply, he said "Then you are to enter the castle with the first years and be Sorted amongst them when you are admitted into the Great Hall."

With that, he turned swiftly on his heals and headed for the train's exit, leaving Annabelle to run in order to catch up with him. Once outside the train, she lost Tom Riddle in the sea of black cloaks that had quickly formed around the platform of the train.

It appeared his assistance was unnecessary, however, as a loud, booming voice cried out, "Oi! First years, first years over here! All first years to the far right of the platform! FIRST YEARS!"

This was going to be a long year.

A/N- Sorry about how long this took to update. Microsoft Word was giving me some trouble. Yes, I realize that the pace has been very slow so far, but starting on the next chapter, it will start to pick up. Thanks for reading, and if you are so inclined, reviewing!