Chapter Two: Hogwarts and the Welcoming Feast

Hosgmeade Station, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain;
1
st of September 1976

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What had initially started out as a gentle drizzle a little more than halfway through the train ride to Hogwarts had erupted into a deluge the moment the train had pulled into Hogsmeade Station, pelting the disembarking students with icy droplets and soaking them to the bone in moments.

One Izora Hallowell and one Dmitri Ţepeş were currently trapped in said deluge, both completely soaked and rather miserable—or in Dmitri's case furious. The two of them were standing on the side of the road that led to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade Station, huddled close together under a large tree that did very little to protect them from the current downpour, anxiously scanning the crowd of students, second year and above, currently climbing into the thestral drawn carriages that would take them to the castle, searching fervently for their other best friend, Galen Silverwood. Unfortunately, the burly Scot was proving to be surprisingly elusive to find, much to Dmitri's annoyance.

"Where the bloody hell is that overgrown ox?" Dmitri growled before slipping into Romanian and beginning to curse.

Izora winced slightly at her friend's tone—and his more colorful swears—and she hugged her robes tighter around herself, shifting closer to Dmitri for warmth while continuing to desperately search the steadily dispersing crowd of students for Galen. She had so much to tell him; about her summer, her father, but she especially wanted to tell him about the train ride.

Shortly after Dmitri had joined her and the three remaining Marauders, Izora had continued reading The Hobbit, listening to Dmitri, Sirius, and James banter back and forth with half an ear while Peter occasionally chipped in—but mostly remained silent, busily munching on the plethora of sweets the boys had gotten from the Honeydukes Express trolley. At some point, when the journey was a little more than three-fourths of the way through, Sirius and James had wrangled Dmitri into playing a game of Exploding Snap (the Barvarian Rules Snap variation unfortunately) with the three of them.

This was proved to be rather detrimental to everyone in the compartment's health. James ended up breaking his glasses, Sirius ended up covered in soot, Peter lost an eyebrow and singed the other, and Dmitri set the sleeve of his Transylvanian Bats jumper on fire which then nearly lit James', luckily, vacated seat ablaze. It was only because of Izora's quick reflexes and her excellent mastery of the Aqua Eructo charm that prevented any more damage from occurring. And then the three Marauders were on the receiving end of a stuttered, but still exceptionally effective, dressing down from Izora Hallowell. By the end of it Sirius, James, and Peter thoroughly felt as if they'd had their bollocks handed to them (James and Sirius going even so far as to express their admiration and awe of her verbal thrashing—they were both now even more determined to befriend the young woman). Izora Silencio'd them in response and regulated them to a timeout then she banished Dmitri—who had that point had received so many similar dressing downs from the blonde that he was near immune—from the compartment with strict instructions to change into his school robes and to go back to his own compartment. She would find him once the train reached the station, seeing as how she didn't trust the three Maraurders to their own devices.

When Remus had returned to the compartment a little less than an hour before the Hogwarts Express was set to arrive at Hogsmeade Station, he'd found James and Sirius waving their arms and gesturing frantically with their hands unable to move—she'd hit them with the Leg-Locker Curse after they had ignored her regulated timeout and tried to sit beside her—their mouths opening and closing without emitting any sound, Peter huddled in a terrified ball as far from Izora as he could physically get, and said young woman sitting quite calmly in the seat beside the window, reading her book. Needless to say, the Prefect had been immensely amused at his best friends' predicaments after Izora had explained what had happened in her halting, stuttery way. Peter even chimed in after Izora had lifted the silencing charm from him—much to James and Sirius' chagrin.

It goes without saying that Remus made the conscious decision to look the other way just this once, leaving his two friends silenced and unable to move their legs until the train had pulled into the station, despite the many crude gestures and dirty looks he received from the two young men. He ignored most of those—with the exception of the particularly nasty ones which he retaliated against with a stern smack upside the head—in favor of quietly conversing with Izora about her book while Peter went back to comfortable munching on his sweets, having relaxed considerably now that the ever sensible Remus was back

It had been a very riveting conversation and as it progressed, Izora found herself growing more comfortable with the quiet, rather subdued Marauder; she stuttered less, her posture relaxed marginally, and she even laughed occasionally. She allowed Remus a small glimpse of the person she only let Dmitri and Galen truly see. It had been sort of refreshing, but mostly terrifying and as soon as she realized what was going on, Izora had mumbled out several broken, stuttery excuses and fled the compartment, barely pausing to grab Draci, her black robe, and her school bag before she bolted.

Some bloody Gryffindor I am. I bet they think I'm a complete nutter. Izora thought with a little bitterness as she remembered her flight from the compartment. In her cowardly haste to get away from the compartment—and the boy that made her feel far more comfortable in his presence than she should—she had forgotten to grab her book from the seat where Remus had placed it after asking if he could look it over. Despite the freezing rain beginning to numb her face, her cheeks burned with remembered humiliation. At least they'll leave me alone.

Izora clung to that reasoning even as she hugged herself for warmth, huddled in her soaked robes. Izora was pulled from her chaotic and self-deprecating thoughts but a deep baritone voice shouting in a thick Scottish brogue.

"Izora! Dmitri! Over here!"

Izora swung her head in the voice's direction and relief flooded her when she caught sight of Galen's familiar figure. The Scot cut an impressive figure as he forced himself through the thin crowd of straggling students, his broad brawny form making it easy.

"About bleeding time!" Dmitri all but snarled as Galen finally reached them, black eyes flashing angrily through his shaggy hair that was plastered to his face.

"Oi, you damn tosser, why didn't you give her your cloak?" Galen demanded his velvety brown eyes unamused as he took in Izora's shivering and rather pathetic figure as he swept out of his own wet cloak and draped it over her shoulders. "There you go, luv. Let's get you into a carriage, yeah?"

Feeling utterly miserable and looking very much like a drowned rat, Izora nodded with a short sniffle and allowed Galen to tuck her under his muscular arm and against his side. He led her out from under the tree, leaving Dmitri sputtering and swearing crossly in Romanian behind them before he gave chase.

When they reached an empty carriage, Galen ushered Izora inside of it then climbed in after her, taking his wand from his trouser pocket as he went. Dmitri joined them in the carriage a second later, slamming the door shut behind him and dropping down onto the bench across from Izora and Galen. The carriage lurched forward as soon as the door was shut, the wheels creaking as the thestrals drawing it trundled up to the castle.

"Thanks for abandoning me." The Hufflepuff grumped with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest and all but pouting.

"Quit your whining, you ninny." Galen snipped back then he waved his wand over Izora and himself, "*Emulgeo."

The drying spell instantly evaporated the water plastering Izora's pale blonde hair to her scalp and her clothes to her thin body, leaving her blessedly dry. She sighed in relief and shoved the curtain of hair hanging in her face out of the way, flashing a smile at Galen in gratitude.

"Thanks, Gal."

"Yeah, thanks Gal." Dmitri mocked, still soaking wet because Galen was punishing him for not being a chivalrous numpty like he, himself, was. Scowling, the Romanian born wizard pulled his wand from the pocket of his robe and waved it over himself, muttering the drying charm under his breath, "Emulgeo."

Galen gave him a smug look, for a moment looking every inch the Slytherin he was then he turned to look at Izora with concern. "Alright then, luv?"

Izora nodded in affirmation as she slipped out of his green-lined school robe and handed it to him to put back on then she reached into the inner pocket of her own red-lined robe, pulling Draci and placing him in her lap. The marten, nice and dry from the charm Izora had placed on the inner pockets of her robes after buying them, chattered and nuzzled her hand.

"Where were you sitting on the train, Zora?" Galen questioned lightly, casually draping his left arm over Izora's shoulder and scratching Draci's head with his right hand. "Mitri and I went looking, but couldn't find you before the train left the platform."

"Don't call me that." Dmitri demanded sharply, scowling at the much hated nickname that had been bestowed upon him then he sneered and quirked a brow at Izora, "We couldn't find her because she was sitting with The Marauders."

"Aye?" Galen's eyebrows shoot up to nearly his hairline and he looked down at the young woman tucked under his arm curiously, "That true?"

Izora wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes slightly at his disapproving tone. He was always so overprotective. She shot a nasty look at Dmitri before replying with forced nonchalance;

"Yeah, didn't h-have much of a choice really. They just sort of b-barged in."

"They didn't give you any trouble, did they?" Galen asked, his brown eyes darkening as thoughts of what kind of mischief those four troublemakers could have gotten up to in her presence. Poor Zora.

"No, no." Izora mollified, fibbing only a little bit. James and Sirius had been the only ones to give her any real trouble, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. Remus, of course, had been a perfect gentleman to her during the short time they'd spent in each other's company and Peter had been much too shy—and later terrified—of her to cause problems. She felt rather bad about that.

"Mm-hm." The Scot hummed and eyed her skeptically, not sure if he really believed her or not. She stared back at him plainly, blue-green eyes wide and limpid, and after a moment he sighed, conceding that he wouldn't be able to tell if she was being honest or not. "If you say so, luv."

Izora ducked her head, hiding a triumphant little smile behind her curtain of hair as she stroked Draci's back with her fingertips.

"Has you by the bollocks now doesn't she, Gal?" Dmitri muttered with a smug little smirk, folding his arms over his chest and lounging back against the carriage wall.

Galen kicked him in the shin in retaliation, laughing deeply when the lanky young man swore at him sharply. Izora shook her head and rolled her eyes heavenward, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as her two best friends began to bicker like an old married couple. Completely ridiculous the both of them, but Izora wouldn't trade her friendship with them for anything in the world.

Dmitri suddenly lunged at Galen after an ill-timed comment about the Hufflepuff's mother—who did not look like Baba Yaga's ugly sister, but was actually a very beautiful and lovely woman. She also didn't eat wandering heroes or children, although she made a delicious roast duck. Izora yelped and scrambled up and out of the way, knocking her head against the roof of the carriage. Draci screeched irately as he was dumped from Izora's lap onto the wooden floor and he dove under the bench seat just in time to avoid being crushed by one of the two wrestling boys as they fell to the floor.

"Bloody gits!" Izora shrieked, choking on laughter as she stood on the bench seat, keeping her hands pressed against the ceiling to keep her balance and ducking her head to keep from knocking it again. "Stop! I said stop, you muppets!"

The carriage jerked to a stop and Izora yelped as she was throwing off-kilter, teetering on the bench before she tumbled forward, landing in a heap on top of her two best friends. Sprawled out on the bottom of the carriage, the trio groaned in discomfort. Dmitri, the poor Hufflepuff, had the worst of it, seeing as how he'd somehow managed to end up on the bottom of the pile.

"Sorry, sorry!" Izora gasped and she clambered off of Galen's back, scrabbling to pull herself back onto the bench seat.

Trapped beneath the much burlier Slytherin that was Galen Silverwood, Dmitri shoved at his shoulder and snarled, "Ger'ff- me!"

"'m tryin'!" Galen growled back as he pushed himself to his feet then dropped back onto the bench seat beside Izora.

Dmitri shot him a dirty look, but refrained from commenting as he got up and pushed the carriage door open, stumbling out into the rain. Galen followed him a moment later then they both helped Izora out of the carriage after she'd retrieved Draci from under the bench seat. With her marten carefully tucked away into the inner pocket of her robe, Izora grabbed Galen and Dmitri's hands and ran towards the open castle doors.

Izora was giggling quietly by the time she and her two best friends entered the castle, the hilarity of what happened in the carriage finally catching up to her and she leaned against Galen, clutching his arm as she nearly doubled over in mirth. Galen's lips twitched into a grin, revealing the two deep dimples in his cheeks and he chuckled deeply. Dmitri merely rolled his eyes heavenward with a martyred expression.

Still giggling quietly, Izora patted Galen's arm then pulled away from him, "See you b-boys at breakfast."

"Yeah, yeah." Dmitri grunted with some impatience then he ruffled Izora's hair in a fleeting show of affection, and sauntered towards the Great Hall, shoulder-checking Galen on his way past.

"Prat." Galen grumbled, snorting wryly when Izora giggled before he dropped a quick kiss on her forehead—eliciting a brief tingle at the back of her mind, "See you at breakfast, luv."

"Yes, now sh-shoo." She waved him away, laughing lightly under her breath when he, walking backwards, winked playfully at her. Shaking her head and biting back a smile, Izora walked into the brightly lit Great Hall.

Izora listened to the laughter and chatter of friends catching up after a long summer as she made her way to the Gryffindor table, landing in an empty space near the end of the long bench seat. She folded her arms on top of the table, unconsciously keeping her elbows off of it, leaned forward slightly, and continued to idly people watch; she spotted Dmitri at the Hufflepuff table, turned slightly towards a brunette sitting beside him with his elbow propped up on the table, leaning against his fist as the girl talked excitedly. He looked so very bored.

Izora bit her lip to keep from smiling, glanced away from her best friend, her gaze roaming until she found Lily sitting about midway down the table with the other girls in their year; Marlene McKinnon, a delicate-seeming blonde with lovely sky-blue eyes and a flirtatious disposition. She knew how beautiful she was and she knew how to use it to her advantage, pretending, more often than not, to be the stereotypical dizzy blonde trollop instead of the frighteningly intelligent and calculating young woman that she was. Next to Marlene was her best friend, Alice Prewett; taller than Marlene by about six inches, she kept her blonde hair cropped short and her brown eyes always seemed to be smiling, as if someone had told an off-color joke and she was trying not to laugh. She wasn't as flirty as Marlene—being a committed relationship with Frank Longbottom, a seventh year Gryffindor, since the beginning of fifth year—Alice was quick-witted and very playful.

Sitting across from the two blondes and beside Dorcas Meadowes—a petite brunette with dark green eyes and a shy temperament—Lily caught her eye and waved with a small smile. Izora returned the smile with a small, shy one of her own and looked away from the four girls. She got on with all of them well enough, seeing as she'd spent the past five, soon to be six, years sharing a dormitory with them, but she wouldn't really consider them friends. More like acquaintances; they had polite, if halting, small talk about impersonal things, they helped each other out with school work when it was needed, little things like that.

If she was being honest with herself, Izora had a feeling that if she was a little less closed off, a little less shy and wary of people, she could be good friends with at least Dorcas and maybe, maybe, Lily. Marlene and Alice were a little too lively and excitable for Izora to handle.

Her blue-green eyes found Galen sitting at the Slytherin table clear on the other side of the Great Hall and Izora felt her heart warm. Like her, he sat near the end of the table, closest to the doors with several other students from varying years. Students Izora knew for a fact were either muggleborn or halfbloods, like her best friend. Being sorted into a house that held blood purity in such regard was hard and isolating for those whose blood was considered 'dirty' and 'impure'. Most of the muggleborns and halfbloods—at least the ones that weren't trying to kiss up to the purebloods—tried to keep their heads down, avoid being noticed by the purebloods of their house, and keep to themselves. Before Galen's influence, the muggleborn and halfblooded Slytherins would have never stood up or defended their fellows against the purebloods, but Galen had banded them together. He kept them mostly safe—if his physique weren't enough of a deterrent, his skill when it came to dueling certainly was—both from his own house and students from other houses that believed all Slytherins were the same.

Sometimes Dmitri would joke that Galen had been sorted into the wrong house and then Galen would show him exactly why he was in Slytherin. Moments like those were always great fun for Izora.

Galen saw her looking and lifted his chin in a little nod of acknowledgement and Izora raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in a little wave. He grinned, but it fell a moment later and his expression darkened marginally. Izora had only a moment to be confused before a warm body landed in the open space beside her on the bench.

"Here you are, Izzy!" James Potter tossed his arm over her shoulder—she tensed—and all but bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Oi! Pads, Moony, Wormy! I found her!"

Izora flinched. The Great Hall actually went silent and people turned to look at them. Heat suffused Izora's face and neck and she just knew her pale skin had turned gone red with embarrassment. She ducked her head, shielding her face with her hair, and slouched down on the bench in mortification. James appeared unconcerned with the attention, waving the arm that wasn't currently wrapped around Izora's shoulders around like a lunatic.

Izora shifted, turned her head slightly towards James, and scowled at him. James just grinned cheerfully at her in response, hazel eyes glinting with mischief and humor behind his round spectacles. Izora narrowed her eyes and contemplated how much trouble she'd get in if she hexed him. It wouldn't be hard; take her wand from her robe pocket, point it at him under the table, a quick anteoculatia, and bam! a pair of prongs for the boy whose friends call him Prongs (although she had no idea why they called him that).

She had just about convinced herself that whatever trouble she got into for hexing him would be worth it when Sirius dropped down onto the bench on her other side, Remus and Peter taking a seat on the bench opposite them. Remus had the decency to look sheepish, sending a displeased look at his two friends, who completely ignored him.

The silent hall burst into whispers and loud chatter and Izora's face burned even hotter. Oh Sweet Morgana, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Remus gave her an awkward, apologetic smile. She grimaced in return and looked down at her empty plate.

"We've been looking for everywhere, dove." Sirius said flirtatiously. He shifted on the bench to face her better, leaned his elbow on the table, rested his cheek against his raised fist, and smiled at her roguishly, turning the full force of his wicked grey eyes on her.

Izora's face went beet red—ah, so that's where her blush went, she'd thought she had lost it—her eyes went wide as saucers, and she actually squeaked. It wasn't a loud noise, barely a peep, but it was loud enough for the four boys sitting around her to hear.

Sirius tossed his head back and barked out a loud laugh; James snorted then brayed like an arse; Peter made a strangled sound and bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with his own giggles; Remus let out a short, raspy laugh then covered his mouth with a hand to hide his smile, looking sheepish for laughing, but his honey-brown eyes were bright with mirth.

Why? Izora mentally whined, tilting her head back to stare at the enchanted ceiling with a mortified pleading. Sweet Morgana, why me?

Her inner Gryffindor reared her head, indignant and mutinous, and more than willing to unleash the most painful hexes she knew on the four Marauders. Fortunately—for them at least—Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands once. The students fell silent once more and turned towards him expectantly.

"I know that many of you are probably quite hungry," The Headmaster began, his blue eyes twinkling over his head half-moon spectacles as he regarded the students with fondness. "So without any further adieu, let the Sorting begin!"

He clapped his hands again and sat down as the Great Hall doors creaked open and McGonagall walked regally into the hall in all her stern and magnanimous glory. The gaggle of first years followed after her, looking frightened and awed as they glanced around them. McGonagall walked up the short steps that led to the dais where the staff sat at the High Table and stopped beside a stool with an old, raggedy hat on it. The first years skidded to a stop before the first step, looking around unsurely and whispering quietly to each other.

"Ohhh," The hat suddenly burst out, startling the first years. They looked at each other in shock then back at the Sorting Hat as it continued its song.

"You may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see!
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me!"

Izora smiled, her embarrassment receding as she focused on the Sorting. The Hat's songs were always so amusing and the first years' reactions never failed to make her giggle a little. Of course, she hadn't found her own Sorting quite so humorous—the Hat had seen over a thousand years of Sortings and when it had touched her head…Well, if not for Dumbledore and McGonagall, she'd have passed out.

"A thousand years of more ago
When I was newly sewn
There lived four wizards of great renown
And whose names are still well known;

Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.

United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning
To make the world's best magic school
And pass along their learning.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
And Thus Hogwarts School began!

Each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they wished to teach.

While still alive they did divide
Their favourites from the throng,
Yet how to pick the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?

Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head
The founders put some brains in me
So I could choose instead!

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.

There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be."

The Sorting Hat fell silent, the last of its song echoing throughout the hall and McGonagall stepped forward, pulling a roll of parchment from the billowing sleeve of her robe. She snapped the parchment open and glanced down at the first years;

"Now, when I call your name, you will step forth and I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head and it will Sort you into your future house." She cleared her throat, held up the parchment up at eyelevel and read the first name from the top of the list, "Malia Burbanks."

A petite girl with dark hair shuffled from the group of first years and nervously stepped onto the dais.

"Ten sickles on Hufflepuff." Sirius whispered under his breath as the tiny girl clambered onto the stool and McGonagall dropped the hat on her head.

"I'll take that bet." James muttered from the corner of his mouth, shaking Sirius's hand behind Izora's back.

Izora frowned at them admonishingly, unknowingly mimicking the exasperated look on Remus's face as he shook his head at his friends. It only took a minute or two before the Hat made its choice and bellowed;

"Hufflepuff!"

The Hufflepuff tables broke out into loud cheers, the girl took the Hat off her head, looking very relieved, and scurried to her new house's table. James cursed and Sirius smiled smugly at his best friend. Izora couldn't help but roll her eyes at them, her lips unwillingly twitching up the tiniest bit. They were annoying toe-rags, but Izora couldn't deny that they were funny on occasion.

Remus caught her eye and effected a martyred expression, shrugging his shoulders in a 'Yes, they're idiots, but what can you do?' gesture. Izora smiled lightly, a faint blush staining her cheeks when he returned her smile with one of his own. The Sorting continued with James and Sirius betting on the first years, Peter and even Remus occasionally chiming in.

"Arthur Carmine."

Izora and the four Marauders watched as a blonde boy, surprisingly tall for an eleven year old, walked up to the stool, turned, and took a seat. Even from this distance, Izora could see his eyes were a startling shade of silver-blue and they stared down at everyone in the Great Hall with a certain cool haughtiness that only a member of the old pureblood families was capable of.

"Slytherin." James and Sirius said almost immediately.

"No." Izora said quietly, speaking up for the first time. She folded her arms on the table and leaned forward, ignoring the curious looks the boys were giving her. "H-he'll b-be in R-R-Ravenclaw."

"Are you willing to bet on that?" Sirius asked challengingly, arching a dark brow at her. Izora shrugged one shoulder without looking up from her arms. Sirius harrumphed quietly, "Fine. One galleon says he's in Slytherin." He paused for a moment then added as an afterthought, "And a date for the first Hogsmeade weekend."

Izora glanced at him from the corner of her eye then shrugged again. She knew she was going be right, so it wouldn't hurt. "M-make it f-four g-g-galleons."

The four boys looked surprised that she'd actually agreed, exchanging bemused glances. Sirius shook himself from his stupor and smirked at her, "Deal. I hope you have something nice to wear."

"A-and I h-hope y-you're re-ready to p-pay up."

"Oh don't you worry, dove." Sirius winked at her quickly then looked back towards Arthur as McGonagall set the Sorting Hat on his blonde head. "I'll be more than willing."

Izora wrinkled her nose at his suggestive tone, rolled her eyes, and focused on Arthur. He sat perfectly still on the stool, hands resting in his lap, and waiting calmly as the Sorting Hat deliberated on where to place him.

"Come on, come on." Sirius muttered under his breath, focusing on the sorting with entirely unnecessary focus.

A minute passed.

Two then three minutes went by.

Sirius leaned forward eagerly, holding his breath; James sucked in a breath and ran a hand through his hair agitatedly; Peter began to fidget in his seat, tugging on the hem of shirt; Remus slouched, playing with a frayed end of his robe's sleeve. Izora hid a smile and leaned back, calm as can be.

Nearly four minutes had passed since McGonagall had placed the Sorting Hat on Arthur Carmine's head and in those four minutes, the tension had risen considerably in the Great Hall, everyone waiting expectantly. It was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

The silence was abruptly broken by the hat roaring, "RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaws leapt to their feet, erupted into wild, boisterous cheers, and clapped uproariously. Arthur calmly removed the Sorting Hat from his head, hopped off the stool, and sauntered towards the Ravenclaw table, accepting the back pats and handshakes from his new housemates as if it was his due.

Sirius sat back heavily in his seat, blinking rapidly in shock, turned towards Izora and asked, "How?"

"The C-Carmine fa-family is a-al-always S-Sorted in-into R-Ravenclaw."

"How do you know that?" Remus asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"My gr-great a-aunt i-is A-Arthur's gr-grandmother."

James laughed loudly, clapped Izora on the back—she winced, he hit harder than probably intended—and leaned around her to snigger at his best friend, "I think you've been had, mate."

Sirius swore at him, crossed his arms, and turned away to sulk petulantly. Izora arched a brow, but other than that, her expression remained serene and untroubled, in fact she was quite satisfied with herself and she was sure her expression reflected that. James was still chuckling, Peter had started to snigger, and Remus was shaking his head, a small smile on his face.

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Remus reflected on the pleased expression Izora had adopted as the Sorting continued. Like his friends, he'd found it surprising that she was in Gryffindor; she was so painfully shy, she avoided making eye contact, she spoke with a stutter and rarely above a whisper, and Remus had the feeling that if she would happily turn invisible if she could.

He thought that maybe her timorousness might be a result of having to share a compartment with the infamous Marauders, but the short conversation he had with Lily as they made their way to the Prefects Compartment at the front of the train had changed his opinion. According to his fellow Prefect, Izora Hallowell was exceptionally timid around everyone, including her own dormmates. Lily had admitted that the only time she'd ever seen the tall blonde even looking remotely relaxed and comfortable was with her two best friends, Galen Silverwood and Dmitri Ţepeş, two boys she'd known since first year.

Remus had never met Dmitri Ţepeş, but he did know Galen Silverwood. One of Slytherin's sixth year Prefects alongside Ursula Gaunt, Galen Silverwood was six feet tall, weighed at least fifteen stones—none of it fat—and looked like he could wrestle dragons with his bare hands. He spoke with a thick Scottish burr that had just a hint of Irish in it and he was, despite his intimidating appearance, exceptionally polite and kind. He was not afraid to dock points from his own house, defend someone from a different house if they were being bullied, and he was a fierce protector of the muggleborns and halfbloods, both in his own house and the other houses—Ursula Gaunt, a pureblood, had made a snide remark under her breath about 'mudbloods' to the other Slytherin Prefects and Galen had responded bitingly. Neither Ursula, nor the other five Slytherins had spoken much after that.

Remus had spent quite a bit of time observing him during the Prefect meeting and had even conversed with him a bit before heading to patrol his section of the Hogwarts Express. To learn that Izora could be friends with the bloke had surprised Remus, simply because Galen Silverwood was a Slytherin and she was Gryffindor, but by the time he'd returned to the compartment he shared with the blonde and his three friends, he could see why she was, especially if she'd known him since first year. Silverwood had a certain presence about him; it was soothing and protective. When you looked at him, you knew instinctively that he would watch your back. Remus could easily recognize that trait in the Slytherin because he shared it with James and Sirius.

Yes, Remus could see how a lasting friendship between a shy, timid Gryffindor girl and a calm, protective Slytherin came about. Of course, now that he thought he had a good grasp on Izora's character, she had to go throw him through a loop. No one could really imagine how dumbfounded he'd been when he returned to his friends' compartment and saw James and Sirius frantically waving their arms around, their mouths moving but no sound coming out and Peter huddle in a corner on the seat by the compartment door. Izora, quiet, timid Izora Hallowell, the girl who cringed away from being touched and blushed so brightly when she was embarrassed, had used the Leg-Locker Curse and Silencing Charm on James Potter and Sirius Black.

Remus had looked towards Izora questioningly, she'd blushed bright red and, without meeting his eyes, had stuttered out an explanation for his friends' current predicament. He had stared at her thoughtfully, trying to wrap his mind around the mental image of the blonde, who until that moment didn't seem able to hex even a fly, cursing three of the most popular boys in their year. Remus realized in that moment that when it came to Izora, there was more than meets the eye. She was a puzzle, a very curious puzzle and Remus was intrigued.

He had always liked puzzles, Remus reflected now as he sat across from her at the Gryffindor table, listening to the rest of the Sorting with half an ear and clapping whenever a first year was sorted into his house as he studied her surreptitiously.

In the hour that followed his return to the compartment to the time the Hogwarts Express had pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Remus had gotten a glimpse, a very brief glimpse, of what possibly made Izora a Gryffindor. Leaving his friends' to their well-deserved fates, Remus had taken Sirius' original seat—he made sure to keep a seat between them, to make her more comfortable—and quietly asked about the book she had in her lap. She responded tentatively, her large eyes—a lovely shade of blue-green—warily flickering from him to James and Sirius then back again. Remus was patient though—he had to be with friends like James and Sirius and Peter—and that patience paid off. The more he got her to talk about the book—a piece of muggle literature known as The Hobbit, the more comfortable she became; her voice, though still quiet, rose above a whisper, she stuttered less, and she lost that defensive hunch to her shoulders. She even brushed her hair out of her face, tucking the pale strands behind her ears and making these exasperated faces when the strands fell right back as she spoke excitedly about the book. Remus had even managed to get a quiet laugh from her a time or two whenever he reached over to smack James or Sirius after one or both of them made a particularly rude gesture in his direction. And each time she would cut herself of with this comical look of surprise on her face; as if the sound had startled her.

The train was almost to the station when things changed abruptly. Izora seemed to realize that she had allowed him a peek at who she really was and the thought had frightened her. Remus could do nothing as she almost visibly withdrew into herself right before his eyes before she mumbled several stuttered apologies and excuses, grabbed her school bag, her pet from the cat carrier under the seat, and her black robe, and then fled the compartment without a backwards glance.

Remus had been bewildered, his mind reeling at how quickly she'd gone from excitedly explaining The Hobbit to him to running away like a scared rabbit. She had been in such a hurry to get away, she'd even forgotten to grab the book off the seat between them, where he had placed it after she'd let him flip through it.

Remus could feel the weight of the book in the pocket of his school robe where he had tucked it away after the train had reached the station. He planned on finding her on the station and giving the book back, but she proved to be a difficult person to track down. He had looked for Izora until nearly all the carriages had gone to the castle and James pointed out that she was probably already at the castle and that they would help him find her during the Feast, so long as they could get out of the bloody rain. Remus had agreed with some reluctance and the four of them hustled into one of the last carriages.

I'll give it to her after the feast, before I round up the first years with Lily. Remus promised himself, turning his gaze away from Izora—who had remained oblivious to his subtle scrutiny—and towards Dumbledore when the old Headmaster stood up once the last first year had been sorted.

Alas, although Izora remained ignorant, two of his best friends had not. James and Sirius had been just as subtly scrutinizing him as he studied Izora and the two troublemakers exchanged mischievous glances above the blonde's head as soon as Remus wasn't looking. Mad plots and schemes were already forming in their minds.

"To our newcomers," Dumbledore began loudly, his voice reverberating through out the Great Hall and pulling everyone's attention to himself. He smiled and stretched his arms out wide in greeting, "Welcome! And to our old students, welcome back! Another year of witchcraft and wizardry awaits you, but alas, while there is a time and place for speech-making, this is not one of them!"

That got a few scattered laughs from the students and he smiled at them, blue eyes twinkling. He clapped his hands then spread his arms out in an impossibly grand gesture, "Tuck in!"

And just like that, plates and cutlery appeared in front of the students and various dishes decorated the tables. James and Sirius whooped and began piling an obscene amount of food onto their plates, grabbing at whatever happened to be in reach. Remus shook his head with a sigh, flicking his gaze to the enchanted ceiling in an imploring manner. Honestly with their pureblood upbringing, you would expect the two of them would have better table manners, but no.

Remus snuck a glance at Izora as he filled his plate with considerably less food than his two friends and a decidedly slower pace. She seemed completely unperturbed by the two boys practically attacking their food like a pair of starving wolves—he snorted a little at that thought—and was calmly cutting a piece of roasted chicken into smaller pieces.

"Is that all you're eating?" Sirius questioned after swallowing a fairly large mouthful of potatoes. He gestured at the pieces of chicken and the greens Izora had added to her plate with his fork, "No wonder you're so skinny, dove."

Remus tried not to roll his eyes at the nickname Sirius had seen fit to bestow on the blonde. Peter had asked him, during the carriage ride to the castle why he referred to that away and Sirius's response had been, "I bet she coos in bed."

Remus felt entirely justified when he had smacked the back of Sirius's head after that. Now Remus contemplated kicking Sirius's shin under the table, but his friend was still talking, so he pulled himself from his somewhat violent musings to focus on what was being said.

"You should eat something with a little more substance, dove." Sirius was saying in what he probably thought was a sage tone of voice. "Most blokes don't like such skinny birds, you know."

Oh Sirius, you did not just say that.

Remus set his fork down, placed his elbows on the table, and covered his face with his hands.

–––––

"Most blokes don't like such skinny birds, you know."

Izora froze with her fork halfway to her mouth and slowly, very slowly, she turned her head to stare at Sirius I'm-The-Biggest-Stupidest-Prat-In-All-Of-Hogwarts Black, her expression a cross between disbelief and outrage. He looked back at her expectantly, chewing on whatever he'd just put in his mouth. She was still holding her fork up, the piece of chicken impaled on the tines, and for a moment Izora saw herself flicking the piece of chicken from the tines and stabbing them into Sirius's arm.

Most blokes don't like such skinny birds, you know.

Most blokes don't like such skinny birds, you know.

Most blokes don't like such skinny birds, you know.

The words rang inside her head, circling around and around. Her free hand tightened into a fist in her lap. She looked down at her plate, shielding her face from view with her hair.

Most blokes don't like such skinny birds, you know.

The words blurred together in her mind until they were replaced by a memory.

-— Ice blue eyes glared, withering in their intensity, from a wrinkled face.
"Rather thin, isn't she?"
Izora flinched at the contempt in the creaky voice, bowed her head, and tried to shrink in on herself, to seem as small as possible under that iced over gaze. Lucrezia Malfoy was a woman who did not suffer fools, gladly or otherwise. And unfortunately, she thought her granddaughter a fool.
Izora's mother grimaced, the expression unforgiving on her face.
"Yes, well, you know who she takes after, Mother."
Lucrezia sniffed haughtily, "Indeed…Still she is almost eighteen, her figure should have improved by now. You'll never be able to marry her off if with her looking like a corpse. Men don't like such skinny women."
-

She could take the criticisms from her mother and her grandmother because they were family and she had no choice, she could even deal with the snide comments she sometimes got from the Slytherin girls when they saw her around Galen because she understood why they made them—Galen, despite being a halfblood, was fit—but Izora did not and would not tolerate comments about her appearance from a boy she had met only hours ago. He knew nothing about her and only saw her as a possible notch in his bedpost.

Izora wanted to rage, she wanted to shout and throw things and shove that disgustingly full plate of food in front of him in his face. She wanted shout at him that she was a person and had not been placed on this Earth for his or any other man's enjoyment, her body was her own and his or anyone else preferences for how it looked matter not at all to her, because it was hers and not theirs.

She didn't do any of that though. Her pureblood upbringing and her own cowardliness kept her from do any of it. Instead, Izora clenched her teeth, inhaled deeply through her nose, forcing all the words she wanted to say and all the outrage she felt into a little box and locking it away in her personal tier of her mind labyrinth in that one breath, carefully placed her fork back on her plate—if she didn't, she would stab Sirius with it—and surreptitiously looked at the four boys through the curtain of her hair; James and Peter both looked uncomfortable, glancing between her and Sirius; Remus was leaning his elbows on the table and had his face in his hands, shaking a small bit; and Sirius was staring at her, his expression unsure and actually rather cagey. He knew he'd misstepped, but he wasn't sure how and now he was a little worried about how she was going to react.

He had nothing to worry about, for as much as Izora wanted to hurt him, she couldn't. She took another deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Y-your o-op-opinion has be-been d-duly n-n-noted, M-Mr. B-Black." Her voice was completely flat, dead almost. She picked up her fork and poked at her food, no longer hungry. Her appetite had abandoned her.

–––––

Sirius stared at the side of Izora's blonde head, attempting to get her to look at him with sheer will alone, but she didn't. She kept her eyes down, focused on her plate as she prodded at her food but didn't not eating any of it. A foot collided with his shin and Sirius bit back a curse, jerking his head around to glare at Remus. His tall friend glared back at him, his expression unforgiving, pointed his fork at Izora, and mouthed;

"Apologize. Now."

"How?" Sirius mouthed back, gesturing sharply with his free hand. "I don't even know what I did!"

"I don't care. Fix. It."

Sirius growled under his breath, cleared his throat uncomfortably—he wasn't used to apologizing—and shifted in his seat, turning towards Izora a small bit. "Listen, dove-"

"Don't."

Sirius winced. That one word, said without a stutter, cracked like a whip. She said it with such frigidness, Sirius was surprised he hadn't been frozen solid. There was also enough steel in that one word to make an armory. She didn't meet his eyes, didn't turn her head in his direction, and for some reason that made Sirius feel like a huge prat. He glanced at his friends, seeking some sort of assistance; James looked just as unsure and awkward as Sirius felt and he kept running a hand through his messy hair; Peter looked plain uncomfortable as he fiddled with his fork, his blue eyes flicking from his food to Izora, to Sirius, to Remus, to James, back to his food, and then he shoved a forkful in his mouth because when he started to feel stressed, Peter ate and he was very obviously stressed right then; and Remus was still giving him that look, the one that said if he didn't clean up the mess he'd made, Sirius would find himself hexed six ways to Sunday and it would be a very painful experience for him. Merlin, even if he did manage to fix whatever he'd done with Izora, he was still going to get it later. Remus let him and James get away with a lot, but there were some things that he wouldn't tolerate. Baiting their new friend was apparently one of those things.

Damn it all. Sirius exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He chanced a glance at Izora; she was still playing with her food, not really eating it, more like repeatedly—and kind of viciously—stabbing it with her fork. That was a bit worrying…but he could do this. He was Sirius Black, a bloody Gryffindor for Merlin's sake, he could apologize for being a bleeding wanker.

"Izora."

Her hand froze mid-stab and she turned her head a touch towards him. Ha! Progress. Not much, but at least she wasn't stabbing her chicken—and most likely picturing him while she did so—anymore. Sirius shook his head to get rid of that disturbing mental image and cleared his throat;

"I…er…" Sirius faltered when she turned towards him fully, focusing those big blue-green eyes on him. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes showed everything her face didn't. They were just so large and expressive and—a sharp kick to his shin jerked him out of his stupor and Sirius shook himself. "Sorry. For…er, being a prat."

She was still staring at him and it was starting to make Sirius a little bit uncomfortable. He fidgeted—fidgeted! He never fidgets!—and scratched the back of his neck. Sirius was just about to grab her and shake her just to get some kind of reaction when she shrugged and looked back at her food.

"Th-thank you."

Sirius gawked, but when she actually took a bite of her dinner instead of viciously stabbing at it, he snorted and shook his head, a little grin tugging at his mouth. Maybe this was why she was a Gryffindor; she didn't shout and get defensive when someone insulted her; no, she just refused to speak or even look at you until you're so uncomfortable, the apology just tumbles out of your mouth.

Sirius glanced over her head at James, who looked back at him, his eyes wide behind his spectacles. James blinked owlishly and mouthed "What the bleeding hell was that?"

Sirius shook his head, just as bewildered as his friend, and mouthed back, "No idea, mate. But I kind of liked it."

"You're mental, Pads. Completely mental."

Sirius contemplated pointing out his best friend's unhealthy attraction to one Lily Evans, a girl renowned for her temper and her willingness to unleash it on James, decided against it and grinned at James instead before returning his attention to his food. It wasn't the same after all; James genuinely liked Lily and went out of his way to get her attention, even if was only in a negative light. Sirius was just curious about Izora; she was so quiet and shy and he wanted to know how far he could push her buttons before she snapped at him. He did it to Remus all the time. It was sort of a game to him and he really hadn't meant to be insulting when he said what he did. And he certainly hadn't expected her react the way she had. Perhaps he was too used to Moony's reactions—the taller teen usually just affected a martyred expression before smacking and/or hexing him.

Sirius didn't doubt that Izora had very much wanted to hex or smack him, but something had kept her from doing so. Sirius grinned. He wasn't sure how far she could be pushed before she well and truly snapped, but he was very curious to find out, and after a quick glance at James, he could tell his best friend was of a like mind.

Sirius glanced at Izora from the corner of his eye, saw her calmly eating her dinner—she'd even added some more chicken to her plate—and his grin became a smirk. She was a novelty and a challenge. It was a good thing he and James loved challenges.

This year was going to be very interesting, indeed.

–––––

Sometime later when Izora was full to bursting, she pushed her empty plate away, picked up her goblet of water—she wasn't overly fond of pumpkin juice—and took a healthy sip. After Sirius's apology, the Marauders had left her mostly alone. Sirius and James had tried to engage her in conversation, but Izora was as stubborn as a mule, and she refused to acknowledge either of them. The most she had done was apologize to Peter for hexing him back on the train, to which he responded with a word of gratitude and a sweet smile understanding.

Peter was a rather curious conundrum. He wasn't as handsome or as charming as Sirius, he wasn't as athletically gifted or as funny as James, nor was he as intelligent or wry as Remus. In fact he was, to be perfectly frank, completely average. Average looks, average intelligence, average athleticism, he was just…average. And yet he was one of the most popular boys in the school.

Izora found that a bit curious and rather encouraging. She also found it a tad disheartening, because she knew that outside of the other Marauders, people only seemed to like him because he was friends with James, Sirius, and Remus. The three other Marauders clearly cared about him, always including him in their conversations and jokes, teasing him and opening themselves up to be teased by him. But without them, Izora doubted Peter would be where he was now on Hogwarts' social ladders. It was a sad thought because he seemed like a genuinely nice person to her.

The feast was winding down and Dumbledore stood from his seat for a third time, clapping his hands loudly to grab the attention of the students. Gradually the chatter died down and everyone focused on the Headmaster.

"Now that we have filled our bellies to our heart's content, I must once more ask you for attention for a few moments while I give out a few notices before we may retire to our beds." Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me remind you that all students caught wandering the halls after the nine o'clock curfew, will receive detention." His blue eyes peered over his glasses and seemed to focus on the four boys innocently sitting around Izora, "He would also like me to remind you that the list of banned items has been extended to some two hundred and twenty-nine, and now includes dungbombs and nose-biting teacups."

Sirius and James sniggered on either side of her, Remus seemed to be biting back a smile, and Peter was grinning down at the now empty table in front of him. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled from above his glasses as he regarded them.

"The complete list can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office if anyone would like to check it." He paused, letting that sink in before continuing in a more serious tone. "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Dark Forest in the grounds is forbidden to all students."

James, Sirius, and Peter glanced at Remus, who looked particularly self-deprecating and exasperated with his friends in that moment, and quickly muffled their laughter. Izora arched a brow at them, more than a little confused. How curious. She had the distinct impression that she was missing out on some kind of private joke between the four. She glanced over at Dumbledore and her other brow joined its brethren near her hairline when she saw him regarding the Marauders with clear amusement.

"Hogsmeade is also prohibited to all those below third year." Dumbledore continued then clapped his hands and smiled at his students. "And now it is late, and I must remind you all how important it is to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. To bed now!"

Izora was up and out of her seat before the last word had even left the Headmaster's mouth. She heard Sirius and James calling out to her, but she ignored them and allowed herself to get lost in the sea of bodies as her fellow students left the Great Hall, en masse. It was a highly uncomfortable situation for her, but better than being mobbed by the Marauders.

She saw Galen standing near the end of the Slytherin table, calling out and gesturing to the first years to come to him, and she waved when his gaze snagged hers through the crowd. He flashed a quick smile and raised his hand in acknowledgement before the group of first years grabbed his attention once again. Izora quickly lost sight of her best friend as the swell of bodies carried her from the Great Hall into the Entrance Hall. A very warm hand caught hers and pulled her through the crowd, forcing Izora to stumble along until she broke clear of the crowd, near the bottom of the staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower, and stumbled right into the arms her rescuer.

"I thought you weren't one of those girls who fawned over me, dove."

Sirius Black, of course. Who else would it be? If Izora were a less mature person, she would have cursed, stomped her foot, and shook her fist at the heavens.

Why? Why do the fates seem intent on throwing the Marauders and me together? Izora wondered sullenly, jerking away from Sirius and brushing imaginary dust from the front of her robes, surreptitiously looking at Sirius from beneath her lashes. He had that ridiculous tongue-in-cheek grin on his face and his grey eyes were bright with mischief. Izora wanted to smack him. Preferably with something heavy, like a book or maybe a tree branch.

James was also grinning at her from where he stood beside Sirius, but his grin was more like a puppy, eager and excited to play. Izora wanted to smack him too, despite the adorable dimple in his left cheek. Peter was with them too and he was looking at her with an expression that was equal parts curious, unsure, and slightly hopeful.

And while Izora would never actually curse, stomp her foot, and shake her fist at the heavens, she did look at the three young men before her in a martyred manner and all but whined; "Why w-w-won't y-y-you l-lot l-leave me a-al-alone?"

Sirius reared back as if she'd slapped him, clutched at his chest dramatically, and gasped as if she'd just dealt him some great injury. "How you wound me so, dove! My heart is completely crushed by your rejection. Isn't your heart just crushed, Prongs? What about yours, Wormy?"

"Completely, Pads." James wheezed in a similar tone to his best friend. He had hand over his heart and was looking at her with such a hurt expression on his face, it was almost believable.

"Irreparably." Peter added, gazing at Izora forlornly.

Oh, now wasn't that just brilliant, even Peter had joined in on his friends' idiocy. They were all ridiculous. Izora rolled her eyes, turned away from the three idiots, and made her way up the stairs without a word. Galen's mother always said that if you don't have something nice to say, then don't say anything at all. It was good, sound advice, especially at that moment, because Izora knew if she opened her mouth, some very unladylike curses would come out.

She skipped over the trip-step and bit back a soft sigh when she heard the three boys' footsteps following her up the stairs. They were like dogs with a bone as the muggle saying went (she would realize the irony in that thought some months later).

"You know," Sirius commented lightly as he appeared on her left, spun around, and began walking up the stairs backwards. "I get the distinct impression that you," He pointed at her emphatically, "Don't like us."

"Wh-whatever g-gave y-you th-that i-idea?" Izora asked drily, sidestepping around him when he nearly tripped. "Y-your c-com-company is j-just s-sc-scintillating."

James popped up on her right and slung his arm around her shoulders. "Sarcasm, Izzy dearest?" He quipped, placing his free hand over his chest and feigning offense. His hazel eyes sparkled impishly from behind his spectacles as he looked at her. "How uncouth. Wasn't that just uncouth, Mr. Padfoot?"

"Indubitably, Monsieur Prongs." Sirius agreed as he happily bounded a few steps ahead of them. He spun around to address Peter, who was now walking on Izora's left side. "What say you, Monsieur Wormtail? Do you find the mademoiselle's behavior uncouth?"

"Quite, Messrs. Prongs and Padfoot." Peter replied cheekily, tucking his hands in his pockets and grinning slightly.

Oh, I'll show you uncouth, you pompous louts. Izora thought irritably. She didn't realize she'd stuttered that out loud until Sirius tossed his head back and barked out a laugh, James and Peter joining him. Izora scowled, lifted her chin a bit and, shrugging James's arm off her shoulders, she stomped up the stairs past Sirius in a huff.

"I believe we've offended the lady, mates." She heard Sirius comment mirthfully from behind her, followed by more laughter. Izora swore nastily under her breath, reached in her pocket, her hand curling around the hilt of her wand, and she contemplated pulling it out and hexing them. Nothing too terrible of course, perhaps just a trip jinx—if they fell down the stairs because of it, so much the better. Maybe they would leave her alone then. Izora highly doubted it though as the three boys caught up to her, James and Peter walking on either side of her and Sirius walking backwards in front of her—if he kept doing that, Izora wouldn't need to use a tripping jinx on him, he'll end up falling all on his lonesome. And probably taking her down with him since he was in front of her. Bloody wonderful.

"Really though, Izzy, we're not such bad blokes." James wheedled with a charming smile, "What's the harm in befriending us?"

Izora rolled her eyes in response and kept walking. She could think of several reasons why befriend the Marauders would be harmful. She had spent the last five years at Hogwarts being inconspicuous, making her way through school in as unremarkable a manner as she could. Izora tried very hard not to make waves or draw unnecessary attention to herself and becoming mates with the bleeding Marauders would be like lighting a bonfire above her head and shouting; "Look at me! Look at me! Here I am! Come and get me!"

Izora mental shook her head; she had been taught from a young age that she would have to guard herself, to keep others at a distance and to hide her gift because if the wrong people were to get wind of what she could do…Izora grimaced. It would end badly for everything and everyone she held dear. It was a lonely existence, but she had Dmitri and Galen and she knew they would always have her back.

And yet…She glanced at the three boys walking around her, watched as Peter said something to Sirius and Sirius respond by putting the shorter boy in a headlock while James just laughed and laughed at the two of them before hollering over the banister at Remus, who was leading the first years up the stairs with Lily a few levels below them and the Prefect responding with a sort of exasperated acceptance while Lily burst into a rant at James for being so uncivilized and how shouting down the stairs was reprehensible behavior and when she got up there he was going to be so sorry. This effectively terrified the first years and completely delighted James.

The Marauders, all four of them, were so full of life, so very carefree and seemingly untroubled, and Izora wondered what it would be like to be their friend. And Lily, who was always been so kind and always went out of her way to be friendly, Izora wondered what it would be like to have her as a friend, to be able to talk to her about the things she couldn't really talk to Galen and Dmitri about—they were boys after all and there was just some things Izora had to keep to herself if she wanted to save all of them from embarrassment.

The ache that suddenly developed in Izora's chest startled her and she rubbed at the space above her left breast absentmindedly, a frown tugging the corners of her lips down. She had felt this ache before, several years ago when she was boarding the train at the beginning of her second year and had seen a mother fuss over her daughter—something Izora had never experienced. It was an ache caused by longing for something that could never happen.

Izora sighed and let her hand fall from her chest. Even if she truly did want to befriend the Marauders and Lily and she wasn't just having a fit of momentary insanity—it did happen on occasion—Izora knew she couldn't. The only way for Izora to get through her last years at Hogwarts unscathed and undiscovered was to retain her anonymity and she couldn't do that if she was friends with five of the school's most well-known students.

She had to protect her gift at all costs, no matter how alone she felt at times.


Izora shouldered the sixth year girls' dormitory door open, shut the door behind her, and shuffled over to bed furthest from the door. She, along with three of the four Marauders, had arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait shortly after she reached the decision to continue keeping the Marauders and Lily at a distance, and she'd immediately headed towards the stairwell that led to the Gryffindor girls' dormitory without a word to the three boys. James and Sirius had tried to cajole her into sitting around the fire with them, but she'd rejected their offer with the stuttered excuse that she was tired.

It wasn't a lie, Izora was actually quite exhausted, but she knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night. The first week back was always the hardest on Izora—she needed to reacclimatize herself to living with four other girls and relearn all of their different nuances. She also needed that one week to adjust to the nuances of the castle itself—it didn't matter what anyone said, she was convinced Hogwarts Castle was at least mildly sentient, it had housed over a thousand witches and wizards for the well over a millennium after all. Needless to say, Izora got very little sleep that first week of school.

She wandered, or rather stumbled, over to her bed and all but belly-flopped onto it, smooshing her face against the cool pillow. Izora sighed, mumbled a quiet word of gratitude to the house elves for wiping any residual memories or magic from her bed linens, rolled onto her back to stare at the canopy over her head, and started when anger chittering erupted from the pocket of her robe. She hurriedly sat up, fished Draci out from the inside the magically enlarged pocket, and sat the irate pine marten in her lap.

Draci growled, bared his sharp little teeth at her to express his displeasure at being squished beneath her, and jumped from her lap, scurrying over to the plate filled with berries, nuts, and fish and the bowl of water in front of her bedside table. Izora was sure that the plate and the bowl hadn't been there when she entered the room a few minutes ago and she whispered another word of thanks to the house-elves—and the castle itself—before forcing herself to get off her bed and change out of her school clothes. Her pajamas were far more comfortable than her uniform, even if she wasn't going to be sleeping in them.

She stripped off her gloves and put them on the bedside table, kicked off her school shoes and nudged them beneath her bed, removed her wand from her pocket and put it beside her gloves on the nightstand. After that, Izora moved to her trunk at the foot of her bed, flipped it open and methodically pulled out her favorite pair of pajama bottoms—stolen from Dmitri back in fourth year—from her trunk followed by the Montrose Magpies jersey she'd snitched from Galen in third year—it was still too large on her. Clothes in hand, she slipped into the loo to change and go through her normal nightly ritual. Standing in front of the large mirror above the sink, she pulled her hair back into a simple fishtail braid, washed her face, and stripped out of her robes and school uniform.

Once she was dressed in her nightclothes, Izora folded her clothes, exited the bathroom, placed her folded uniform on top of her closed trunk, and sprawled out on her stomach on her bed with her hands tucked under her pillows. Draci scrambled up the foot of the bed a few moments later, slunk across the duvet, and wiggled under her armpit, cuddling against the side of her chest. Izora turned her head, resting her cheek on her pillow, and Draci licked her face, leaving a lovely streak of fish-scented saliva across her nose.

"Bloody weasel." The blonde grimaced, sitting up and wiping the slobber from her face with the back of her hand. Draci rolled onto his back, kicking his legs as he chirred, coughed, and barked—laughing and mocking her in his weasel language. Rolling her eyes, Izora giggled and tickled his furry belly with her fingers, laughing a little louder when he playfully batted at her hand, chittering and chirring at her.

Izora and Draci were startled from their play by the dormitory door opening, emitting the other four sixth year Gryffindor girls. Draci flipped over onto his feet and puffed himself up, growling and snarling. Izora shushed him, running her hand down his back as she sat up and leaned against her headboard as the other girls walked further into the room, Dorcas closing the door behind them.

"Hello, Izora." Lily greeted the blonde cheerfully as she walked over to the bed to Izora's right. "Are you going to bed already?"

Izora fingered the end of her braid over her shoulder and nodded shyly, "Y-yes. G-goodnight L-Lily, M-Marlene, Al-Alice, and D-Dorcas."

The other girls wished her goodnight in return as they prepared for bed themselves and Izora drew the curtains around her bed closed, slipped under the covers, and pretended to fall asleep while waiting for her dormmates to actually do so.

"Did you see the Marauders sitting with Izora at dinner?" Marlene asked, keeping her voice quiet. Izora wrinkled her nose—Marlene always was a bit of a gossip.

"It was rather curious." Alice mused and Izora heard some shuffling followed by the thump of something falling and her cursing quietly. "Blast it all. I hate this bloody trunk."

That explained the thump. Alice's trunk was, for some reason, always tossing her things out of it whenever it was opened. No one could really figure out why. Izora listened as Alice continued her train of thought before her mutinous trunk interrupted her.

"I mean, Izora is a very sweet girl, but she so shy and quiet too. I can't possibly imagine why those four boys would have any interest in her."

"She did sit with them on the train." Dorcas's soft, demure voice pointed out from Izora's left where the blonde could hear her fixing her bed. "I was in the compartment across from theirs, sitting with Hestia Jones and Belladonna Tooky."

"Really? What did you see?" Marlene asked eagerly. Izora could practically picture the other blonde's expression, excited for a tidbit of gossip, and Izora rolled her eyes slightly. Draci seemed to be of the same opinion, because he chuffed.

"Well, I didn't see anything really. The only reason I knew even knew they were all in the same compartment was because I saw the Marauders through the door when Izora left to change into her uniform."

Marlene huffed in apparent exasperation and whined a bit, "Oh please, Dorcas, you must have at least heard something. You were across the bloody way for Merlin's sake."

"Well…"

"Leave it, Marlene." Lily said sternly as she apparently came from the loo. "What Izora does or who she decides to associate with is none of our business and no reason to gossip over."

"Come off it, Lily." Marlene shot back snidely. "Like you don't want to know why the some of the fittest blokes in Hogwarts were hanging out with Izora the Rabbit. Especially James."

Izora the Rabbit? Izora blinked rapidly, stunned stupid by what Marlene had just called her. Is that what they think of me?

"Don't call her that, Marlene!" Lily's sharp voice prevented Izora from lingering on the matter of the moniker she'd unknowingly been giving, apparently ignoring Marlene's jab about James. "You have no right to call Izora such a horrid thing just because she is an intensely private and quiet person. Especially when she's done absolutely nothing to you."

"Yeah, yeah." Marlene replied dismissively before returning her attention to Dorcas. "Tell us what you heard, Dorcas."

Izora heard Lily huff and mutter something about gossipy, disrespectful bints before it sounded like she climbed into bed.

Dorcas hummed for a second then replied in wary tone, "Um, well…there did seem to be some sort of incident when Dmitri Ţepeş-"

"That really rude sixth year Hufflepuff boy?" Alice cut in quickly. "The one that told Harriet Walsh from Ravenclaw to shove off and then hexed her when she didn't? That Dmitri Ţepeş?"

Izora's memory served up a tall young woman with fair skin, long dark hair, dark eyes and a trim figure. Harriet Walsh, now in her seventh year was a Ravenclaw that was, ahem, quite fond of Hogwarts' male population. She was extremely dogmatic and when she wanted something, she went after it and refused to give up until she had it. It made her a brilliant witch, but also a bit of a nightmare for the blokes that went to school with her. Terms like taken or not interested or even girlfriend, meant very little to Harriet and when she wanted a bloke, she went after him with the same unyielding intensity that she used in her studies. And somehow Dmitri had ended up on her radar last year. Harriet had pursued him relentlessly and, no matter what Dmitri did to deter her, she wouldn't leave him alone. At least not until he told her to piss off and that she was the last bird in this school that he would ever even think about shagging.

Natural, Harriet retaliated and quite brutally. Dmitri ended up spending three days in the Hospital Wing and earned two weeks of detention after Harriet mysteriously ended up with fluorescent pink skin, neon orange and lime green feathers for hair, and a matching beak. He had taken the blame for Harriet's condition despite the fact that everyone who had witnessed the altercation never saw him draw his wand.

Izora smiled a secretively to herself. When she and Galen had visited Dmitri in the Hospital Wing later that day, he had stated that the next time she wanted to defend his honor, she should do so in a manner that didn't earn him so many detentions. She had apologized, but had gotten to admit that it was certainly some of her finest work; much better than the time she'd actually giving Ursula Gaunt chartreuse colored scales and fuchsia hair for calling Galen a filthy mudblood.

She was pulled from her memories of that day by Marlene sudden exclamation.

"She hexed them?!"

Apparently, Izora had missed quite a bit during her trip down memory lane. That was unfortunate, she was curious about what Dorcas had seen from her compartment.

"Shhh!" Dorcas hissed back and Izora could imagine her shooting worried glances at the curtains around her bed. "I don't know what she did exactly. There was just a lot of hand gestures and wand waving after she put that fire out and sent Dmitri away. All I know it that one minute James and Sirius were standing up and the next they fell back into their seats like they'd had their legs kicked out from them."

"She's a lot braver than anyone believes." Lily stated firmly, apparently not as disconnected from the conversation as she seemed. Izora felt a rush of warmth towards the redhead and she smiled to herself, silently thanking the redhead.

That warmth died slightly when Marlene let out a quiet scoff.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Oh you will." Lily assured passionately, "And I doubt you'll like it when you do."

Marlene scoffed again, but didn't respond in any other way. Izora held her breath, listening intently as the girls settled down in their beds and dropped off into slumber one by one. Even after the last of them had fallen asleep, Izora remained lying in her bed for a few more hours, her mind whirling and going over everything she'd heard. It was a lot to think about, but she had time.


Author's Note: Finally, chapter two is up after...*checks last update*...2 weeks! Anyhooties, not much action in this chapter, but a lot of interesting things happen, like we get to see more of Galen and Dmitri than the other version and Peter has more of a presence (and he'll have an even bigger presence in the next chapter), and a little flashback of Izora's home life (also will be more of in the next chapter). So anyhooties, I really, really hope y'all like this chapter!

PS - I'm trying to use British colloquialisms in this story, but there's only so much help Google can provide so if anyone has any tips or suggestions, please send them my way. I'd be forever grateful. Also if anyone would like to suggest any music, books, TV shows, and movies that were around during the Marauders Era (70s) that would be awesome! Muggle stuff will be playing a large role when it comes to Lily/Izora bonding =D

BIG THANKS to everyone that faved, alerted, and reviewed! You are all amazing and you brighten my day every time I check my email and see those little notifications.

EDIT 4/10/15: Forgot to add this bit-

*Emulgeo- Latin for 'Dry Out' according to Google Translate. As a spell it literally does as the name suggests, drying out whatever the casts wishes, in this case rain soaked clothes.