Sorry again for the delay! On the plus side, I've finished my exams and have summer approaching, so I should get a lot more time to write.
Thanks HEAPS for the awesome reviews from the last chapter! Your feedback and comments were very much appreciated. =)
Now, onto chapter three: This was the hardest chapter to write, so forgive me if it's too jumpy or all over the place. It's sort of the final chapter before things start to...go wrong. =)
P.S - I saw Deathly Hallows the night before last at the midnight screening. It was great! I loved how the dialogue was like, directly out of the book. Hahaha.


Chapter Three
A Half Identity

A mirror will show you one thing and one thing only: what you want to see.

The Hogwarts Great Hall was dotted with students in black robes. Crammed on our house tables were mountains of mashed potato, towers of chicken drums, and streams of pumpkin juice. I happened to be strategically situated between a particularly high peak of mashed potato, and a bacon and egg pie. The combination of pie and potato soothed my jittery stomach, if only for a while. For the first time in two weeks, I ate like a normal person would. My spoon acted like a shovel, as I crammed carbohydrates into my mouth. I didn't fuss about drinking too much pumpkin juice, or even about clinking my cutlery against my plate, as I had done in the Potter household.

I was interrupted right before I was about to start dessert, which perhaps isn't such a bad thing. Dumbledore had risen from his seat. It took only a single cough for the aged man to get the attention of the entire hall. I looked on, curiously; he had always waited for dinner and dessert to finish before he addressed his students.

"I beg your pardon, and ask for your attention before you begin dessert. I have one important announcement," Dumbledore announced. I gave Cameron a short, confused look.

"Maybe someone's died?" she suggested, bleakly.

"The appointment of the head boy and girl has been delayed this year, and due to a number of…unforeseen circumstances, they have yet to be announced."

There was a quiet buzz around the room. I almost rose from my seat to get a good look at Lily, but by craning my neck uncomfortably, I was able to achieve the same result. Lily was several seats down with James; I wished for a camera; the hope on her face was almost heartbreaking.

I caught her eye, and muttered, "Apparently McGonagall makes mistakes."

"I apologize for any confusion…or distress," continued Dumbledore. It was as if he could sense Lily's discomfort. "The head girl this year, I am pleased to announce, will be Lily Evans."

I didn't applaud like everyone else; I sighed of relief. A head-girl-less Lily Evans would have been a nightmare to live with.

I turned to Lily, who was between standing and sitting, unsure what to do. She waved, hesitantly, and sat back down, flushed, but wearing a long smile. I caught her eye again, and gave her huge thumbs up of encouragement.

"Joining our head girl, will be our head boy: James Potter." Dumbledore's announcement silenced a large proportion of the student body – to be precise, the people who knew James Potter. A standout was Severus Snape, who looked like he had just swallowed a dozen sour lemons. Perhaps the most shocked of everyone was James himself - and Black - who was caught somewhere between a coughing fit and laughter.

Of course, James Potter took it all into his stride, and stood up. As he did so, loud applause erupted. James Potter waved to the Gryffindor's, and then the rest of the students. I wouldn't have put it past him to aim the next waves at McGonagall, who was doing something similar to Black. Clearly, Dumbledore's appointment was as of a shock to her as it was to the rest of us.

Potter then yanked Lily up from her seat, grabbed her hand, and raised their conjoining arms up into the air. Together, they absorbed the applause of the room. It was as if they had just announced their engagement.

I was in a place between feeling overjoyed for happy, and deep thought as to what possessed Dumbledore to make such a decision. James Potter had various talents; being a Head Boy was one of the few things he would be useless at. Nevertheless, Potter continued to suck in the praise, and eventually, took his seat. Lily was scowling at him, but managed to look pleased with herself at the same time.

In her typical fashion, Lily dived straight into head girl duty after dinner and gave the house prefects set instructions for the evening. After that, she dedicated the rest of her evening with the Gryffindor first years.

"Dweebs," James was muttering under his breath, as he passed a large group of first years that were hovering by the entrance hall, unsure what to do with themselves.

"James!" Lily snapped back. She yanked hold of his arm, and dragged him back in the direction of the nervous-looking first years.

Meanwhile, I trooped upstairs, and entered my dorm. My trunk and pet cat were waiting for me. My first job was easy; I reached into my trunk and yanked out my full-length rain jacket. I draped it over my closet mirror, accomplishing my first goal. From now on, my obsession with mirrors would cease.

My unpacking process was remarkably easy. I had three piles: the clothes I loved; the sensible clothes that due to weather, or certain conditions, I am forced to wear; and the clothes I really should chuck, but due to my annoying knack for never throwing anything out, that was not possible. It was ironic that the unwanted pile was the largest.

I had it easy compared to Emily, who had run out of storage space, and was piling clothes back into her trunk.

"First thing Lily can do with her new authority is install new wardrobes," Emily moaned as she skipped around, hanging scarves from every available place: her four-poster, her mirror, my cat cage.

"I think her first passed law will be prioritized around the first years," smiled Cameron, who had squeezed all her belongings into two drawers. Upon seeing this, Emily picked up a heap of summer dresses, and stuffed them into Cameron's leftover drawers.

"We'll see," Emily murmured. She walked over to Lily's wardrobe, and began placing her socks and gloves into the bottom draw.

"Oh be careful, Em," I said, grinning, "For all we know, that could be Potter's new draw."

"For what?" Cameron asked.

"I don't know. Toothbrush? Pajamas; socks? Surely they're at the sleepover stage?"

"Not in this room they're not!" Cameron laughed, dauntingly.

"Impossible. Boy's can't get up here anyway," Emily reminded us.

I gave her a long stare, and used my interior knowledge, "I don't think Potter will have much problem with that rule," I said, knowingly.

"Speaking of Potter," began Emily with a mischievous grin, "please, please, please tell us about the summer! Is it true Potter sleeps with his broomstick?"

"Hmmm," I said, nodding my head. Whether he did, I did not know. What I did know for a fact was Emily strived on silly gossip, and I was not one to disappoint.

"That must be…itchy," commented Emily, grinning slightly.

"I don't see the problem with it," remarked Cameron, who was in between hanging up various quidditch posters of different teams.

"You wouldn't," scowled Emily, who didn't share Cameron's passion of quidditch.

Ten o'clock came and went. The rumbling noise of a band of Gryffindor's celebrating the return to Hogwarts had lessened, and I highly suspected McGonagall had something to do with it. Amongst unpacking, I had become distracted with Emily's collection of wizarding fashion magazines. Subscribing to such magazines was just one of her many vices. I flicked through the pages with Emily on my side, commenting on things I liked, and more importantly, things I didn't.

From behind me, Cameron emerged, newly changed into her lounge pants and quidditch jumper.

"Common room?" she suggested.

Even I admitted to a touch of cabin fever, which this early on, was not a good sign. I nodded, and rose from my bed. I unbuttoned my robes, leaving the attire I had been in this morning at the Potter's house. Grinning at my pathetic attempt at looking normal and well, thin, I stripped off my waist-hugging cardigan, and instead, threw on a much looser hooded jumper.

The common room was still very much alive, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Instead of cheering and dancing on furniture, people were now deeply involved in several games of exploding snap and chess. It amazed me how a quiet, civilized, two-person game like chess could quickly be turned into a frenzy of cheering people. It reminded me of last years final quidditch match. I walked past, absentmindedly; Chess had never been a forte of mine, but rather a game that managed to bring out all my frustrated emotions.

Cameron and I followed Emily. With a raise of her eyebrows, and a small pout, she shooed a group of second years off one of the nicer sofas in the common-room.

"You're lucky Lily didn't see that," I muttered, disapprovingly, despite the fact I was secretly glad to have this sofa.

"Don't worry, I looked both ways for her before I did it," grinned Emily, who fully reclined back into the sofas comfortable padded backing, "besides, we're seventh years this year. Let's face it, our perks flex out only as far as we allow them to."

I nodded along, knowing full well that if I did not have Emily as a friend, such privileges for me would be very, very restricted. Emily compared her standards to high mountain peaks, which honestly, isn't such a bad ethic to live by. Living with such standards ensures high hopes of promise. I, on the other hand, am quite the opposite. My low standards are like low-lying plains, and on the off-chance that they are risen up, I am pleasantly surprised. By being so low to rock bottom, there is no room for disappointment. It is a lesson I have learnt the hard way: don't build yourself up for disappointment.

"I feel like a retired old woman," commented Cameron. Her hazel eyes glanced from group to group. All of them were in high spirits. There was music blaring from the radio in the back corner; a group of older looking girls were bopping to it, while in front of them, a clan of boys was watching them.

"I feel more sad than happy," I replied, as a justification to why I was not dancing like an over-excited garden gnome.

"About this being our last year?" asked Emily. When I nodded, she gave me a stern look, "Hogwarts will end up being insignificant when we actually start our lives, and do what we want to do."

"I don't know how much of a life we're going to have with You-Know-Who around," Cameron reminded Emily, and I nodded. Hogwarts was an over-sized safe house, and remains one of the few places I truly feel safe. The Potter House, despite all its disadvantages was another place I felt secure; Mr. Potter is the head of order and security, and I knew without being assured by any of the Potters that the security around the Potter house was the best magic could produce.

"Not you too!" Emily wined to Cameron, who merely shrugged, knowing she was right. It appeared Emily did too, for she forfeited the argument and changed the subject to something a little more diplomatic: hair products.

My eyes began to wander again with the change in conversation. I did a quick 180 degree scan of the room from my position on the couch. Something on a nearby sofa forced me to do a double-take. I shouldn't have been surprised that Sirius Black and his friends were distinguishable from the crowds of other people. After steering at them for two weeks in the Potter house, I had their appearance fresh in my head, just like, I am sure, they had mine. Black's mop-top hair-do was the first thing I saw, followed closely by his gleaming smile. He was slouched lowly on the couch, making his head level with Pettigrew's. His mouth was moving fast, and his eyes fixed on Lupin and Pettigrew who were to the left of him.

Unaware I was doing it until Emily pointed it out, I buried my neck into my hooded jacket in a pathetic attempt to hide my identity (and my double chin). How stupid of me to assume I would never see Black or his friends when we shared a house common-room. I felt like a scared little girl, too afraid of, well, everything, to deal with confrontation. Despite this, I felt more awkward sitting here ignoring him when just last week, I had shared a dining table, a batch of brownies, and a floor of Mrs. Potters house with the boy. It was almost my duty to say hello, or at least wave out. Of course, I didn't dare do such a thing. Just like burying my neck into my jacket, I had just became aware that my mouth had formed a scowl.

"I wonder what's keeping Lily and Potter," wondered Emily out loud. She followed my gaze and discovered Black. She connected my scowl to him before I had a chance to re-arrange my face.

"What?" she asked, simply.

"Nothing," I muttered. I diverted my gaze, and smiled at her and Cam.

"Whatever, let's go and say hello," suggested Emily, "I bet we're the only Gryffindor's who haven't." Emily watched me intently, awaiting my response. I pulled a fake tooth-less smile, and tried to make my head nod. When I failed in doing so, Cameron spoke up.

"The pathetic thing is, that's probably true," she muttered, standing up.

Emily followed Cameron's action, eagerly, "come on," she said to me.

"No," I replied, stupidly. Despite this, I found myself rising from the sofa. I slouched, and followed Emily and Cameron over to the other couch.

"Hey!" Greeted Emily, happily. She grinned, and assertively took a seat at the end of the sofa. Of course it was easy for her; she had always been on speaking-terms with the boys. That's who Emily was; she talked to everyone, even if she had reason not to. Like when Lily and Potter were like battling forces – shark and lion – thunder and lightening. Despite Lily's demands, Emily continued to speak to Potter without hesitation – the result being a slightly strained relationship with Lily for several months, "good holiday?" Emily asked.

"One of the better ones," said Black. He grinned at us. I moved to the side of the sofa, well out of direct sight.

"Did you get much quidditch in?" Cameron asked, when none of the boys spoke.

"When you stay with James, quidditch comes in mass amounts," commented Lupin with a small chuckle.

Cameron looked on with a hopeful gaze, and I knew what she was thinking. This year would be the year; this year she would finally make it onto the quidditch team. I had witnessed every blinking moment of Cameron's quidditch career so far: there's the good, like when she nearly made the team last year. The bad arrived during the final trail, which saw Cameron mouthing off at the captain and what had been a sure-to-be appointment, became a narrow miss. Cameron had the passion in her heart, and the drive in her eyes; she always has, and I hope for her sake, as well as mine, she makes it this year. James Potter is captain, and I am sure Cameron will use this to her advantage: this includes sucking up to his good-for-nothing friends – a theory I find useless as none of them, like her, are on the Gryffindor team.

"Did you have time for anything else?" asked Emily with great interest.

The boy's shared a knowing glance that I had come to know extremely well.

"Sure," answered Pettigrew, grinning, "right Howell?"

I didn't even hear him address me; I was zoned out, in my own little world. I hadn't even realized I was staring at a nearby girl's shoes until Cameron poked me in the arm. I turned, vaguely remembering Pettigrew asking for my assurance. With a look on my face that suggested the opposite of what I said, I replied with, "absolutely."

My tone had caused quite a stir, because I had the attention of everyone. It no longer fazed me. The recollection of summer had seen the return of my tough skin exterior, and for now, I had that protecting my pathetically weak heart. Not wanting to sit around and wait for my skin's magic to disappear, I excused myself, and walked away. Having never been any good at being rude, I muttered a quiet excuse as I departed.

I would take cabin-fever over summer reminiscing any day.

No sooner had I gathered my thoughts, and taken off my jersey, when I found myself no longer alone. Cameron had walked in so fast, the door nearly swung off its hinges. If that wasn't enough for the Hogwarts building to handle, Emily was stomping so hard, whoever was below us would probably believe an earthquake was occurring.

"Did you lot go to Mars or something last week?" started Emily.

"Of course not," I snapped, unintentionally.

"Saturn?" Added Cameron, grinning.

I calmed down at the mention of a joke, and flicked my hand at my friends, an indication that whatever was wrong, it didn't matter.

"But it does matter," argued Emily, knowing exactly what my hand had meant.

"No, really, it doesn't," I lied.

Emily and Cameron fell silent. I took a seat on the nearest thing to me, which was Lily's bed. My gaze was firm, and my lips shut tight. I didn't know where to begin explaining what had happened, and for once, words were hard to come by. Sometimes I wonder if it were even real; all of it I mean – the entire summer, not just what happened on the last night. Being back at Hogwarts, everything was back to normal. I was with my own friends, and Black was with his. My theory of never seeing him may fail, but not seeing him much was at the least, possible. Order had been restored at Hogwarts: Sirius Black was not meant to associate with someone like me. Rank was imposed for a reason, and I had seen that reason first hand. Terrible things happened when people of different social ranks – or groups - mixed. Mixing is where drama originates.

"I just don't hold a lot of time for Black – or any of them, really," I said, truthfully.

"Okay, fine," replied Cameron, "we're not asking you to marry one of them. If you want, we won't hang around them more than what's absolutely necessary, okay?"

I nodded; glad I didn't have to tell the truth. It was an embarrassing truth to utter out loud, and I figured if the words didn't come freely, they weren't supposed to come at all.

Emily had gone silent, and I knew this arrangement did not suit her.

"Em, it's fine," I assured her. I could insist all I wanted for my way to become law, but I knew, Emily would never conform.

She smiled at me, and for a brief moment, I felt what I believed was a short wave of peace in our dorm. That wave collapsed abruptly. The door to our dorm swung open with a bang, and Lily marched in. At first, her lips were thin, and her brows lowered. As she entered the room, her stomping ceased, as did her hard face. She was at a place in-between fury and anxiety, which I knew, was tied together by a ribbon of uncertainty and shock.

'I hope you cursed McGonagall for making you – and more importantly, me – wait until now to hear the big announcement," I said, laughing at my joke.

Lily took a seat on her bed, and then stood up again, as if unsure what to do with herself. Her very shiny badge was already on display on her robes, in place of the prefects badge that had been there for two years.

"I'm sorry for putting you through that, Rach," she apologized, with a flick of her head. She made it sound more dramatic than it was, as if I had nursed her clinical depression or something, "I think I'm still a little shocked," she commented.

"Congrats and everything, Lily, but you're shocked? Rachel and I have had a bet going since second year," said Emily.

When Cameron looked as confused as Emily was about Lily's supposed surprise, I knew I was the only one who fully understood the reasoning behind it. It wasn't her appointment, but rather Potter's, that she was so stumped with. My only confusion was between the tone of Lily's shock: was it a pleasant surprise that he boyfriend had been made head boy, or rather a too-close-for-comfort nightmare that James Potter – Marauder extraordinaire and general troublemaker would be working alongside her in perhaps Hogwart's most serious positions. Something told me the latter was prevailing.

"Maybe McGonagall does make mistakes," I said to Lily. Her look signified that she recalled our previous conversation. She nodded, gravely.

"I nearly fell off my chair when Dumbledore called his name," confessed Lily, with a guilty expression.

"Don't beat yourself up about that; I think half the hall did. Including James," I joked.

"Are you going to – you know – tell him?" asked Emily, who had always liked honesty, and didn't have too much trouble expressing it.

Lily looked horror-stricken, "I can't," she confessed with a huge sigh, "he thinks he's unstoppable, and well, unpredictable, but he's not, and I know if I said anything, it will hurt him so much." Lily attempted to sit down again, and managed to remain seating for more than half-a-second. She looked genuinely concerned for Potter's welfare, which made me feel squirmy. "We've only been together a few months! Isn't that too early for such a hurtful conversation? ...I think I'll just have to rely on the prefects more."

"Or…" began Cameron, with a cautious expression, "just be tough on him. You don't have to tell him you doubt him," she added, once spotting Lily's uncertainty, "but when you're patrolling or doing duty, remind him that you're his Head Girl, and until duty finishes, you're not his girlfriend. He knows this means a lot to your right?" Cameron asked, and Lily nodded, "then he's going to respect that."

"And if he doesn't," began Emily.

"We'll…figure something out," finished Cameron.

It took only a few more words of comfort and support to assure Lily that this was not a disaster. Once assured, she left to have a shower, humming her favorite chorus to her favorite song, as she left.

"I give it three weeks before Lily starts threatening to drop him off the Astronomy tower," muttered Cameron, as she prepared herself for bed.

"Really?" asked Emily, doing the same motions, "I give them two. Two days."

I didn't voice a prediction, although I did have one. I don't think my opinion mattered all that much. For now, Lily was settled, thanks to her three friends who had somehow miraculously solved her problem. A little envious of how easy it had all been for Lily to voice such an issue, I left the conversation and changed into my pajamas.

My coat remained hanging on my mirror, concealing its brutality. I didn't need to look into a mirror to see myself, for everything I needed to know was is in the rapid beat of my heart, and the gut feeling of knowing that unlike Lily, I didn't think I could voice my own problems like she did.

I was content with the draping coat, and my shut mouth. If things remained concealed, my identity as the ugly, clumsy, Hippogriff girl could remain hidden. I'd be left with a half-identity, consisting of the remaining parts of me. The best thing about a half-identity was its vulnerability to being lost forever. It can slowly crumble like a shipwreck until nothing but tiny fragments of how things used to be remain. And then, with time, who I was, ceases to exist at all. With nothing left, an opportunity arises for something new to be born in its place.


Jack Howell had been well-liked by the majority of those that existed within the Hogwarts walls. That included Mrs. Norris, who had taken a liking to his peculiar aftershave and socks that always smelt a little musky. Jack was liked for his academic success in transfiguration, his carefully selected witty comments – particularly about his poor grades in ancient runes and advanced English history. Charming was used a lot in conjunction with his name. So was handsome. Jack had lived at Hogwarts for seven years and like many before him, and many after, he'd spent all seven of those years being adored and enjoyed like a favorite trophy. In addition, as if he hadn't enough success, Jack had been Gryffindor's star keeper for five and a half years. That is what had made Jack Howell famous at Hogwarts.

Even though he had graduated over a year ago, my brother's existence remained largely evident as I headed to my first class. The people that weren't crowded in front of Gryffindor's public notice board (that still had an old clipping of Jack holding the quidditch cup in his final year – two years ago!) were staring at me as I walked past. Although the only thing Jack and I shared in looks were our eyes and height, people made the connection, which if I'm being honest, is mostly my fault. In my fifth year – Jack's last – Gryffindor had found themselves in the Quidditch final against Hufflepuff, who had an amazing all-male line-up. Despite criticism from most females (I don't recall a conversation with Cameron that year that didn't result in the observation that the Hufflepuff team was sexist), the team was faultless. I only knew this because Jack had spent hours telling me the exact specifics of their techniques, and listing their few faults. I attended the game out of respect for my house, but mostly for Jack. It had been intense, and I remember holding my breath in several instances. Players had endured several close-calls, and Madam Hooch's whistle had gone off every minute. I remember half-time, when Jack, rarely violent, had threatened to stuff Hooch's whistle down her throat. I also remember shortly after half-time. The two Hufflepuff beaters had been lurking around their goal, and when Jack plummeted to catch the quaffle, the two beaters had sent a bludger after him. I remember dashing from the crowd before the quaffle had even hit him. I never did see my brother hit the ground, but was the first to reach his body that was sprawled on the sand.

Turns out, Jack was fine, and after fifteen minutes (fifteen too long, in his opinion), he was flying again. What had resulted from that incident was my existence to all those that before hand, hadn't known I was Jack Howell's sister.

As I approached the transfiguration corridor, I couldn't decide if people were staring because I was Jack's sister, because I had made a dramatic scene at that final game against Hufflepuff, or because my jeans didn't quite fit but I had insisted on wearing them regardless because they made my thighs looks small.

Being in seventh year, I strolled directly into the classroom, smirking at the nearby group of fourth years who still had to line up and wait for the professor to lead them into the classroom. McGonagall's room was only a quarter full, and I doubted many more would turn up. Transfiguration was challenging, but I liked it because it's the sort of subject that if you work hard at it, passing isn't too difficult.

I spotted Lily first, her hair giving her position away. I wandered over, sitting my textbook on the table before I took a seat on the same chair, next to the same person, as I had done for the past six years. I couldn't explain Lily and my reasoning for remaining at the same table after all this time. After second year, we had established that we'd been sitting at it for so long, we may as well ought to continue doing so; sort of like a habit that you can't kick. I guess now the table is a tad more symbolic; it's a remnant of our lives here, and one of the few things that remains the same since first year. My uniform, books, out-of-fashion hairstyles, friends and crushes have come and gone over the years, but this table, positioned just to the left of McGonagall's desk, has remained unchanged. In that sense, I guess Lily and my odd fascination is nothing but normal: don't we all crave something, or someone that will always remain with us? Unchanged, as perfect as the day we first met them.

"Hi," I said to Lily out of habit, as I had seen her barely an hour ago in the dorm. Admittedly, an hour ago, I was being held captive by sleep, and had only a vague recollection of a conversation I may have had with her.

Lily ignored my greeting, and remained focused on the edge of her parchment, where she was developing an intricate doodle.

"Rach," she eventually said, still intent on finishing her drawing, "humor me with your issues."

"Why?" I asked, slowly.

"To distract me from mine," confessed Lily. She dropped her quill, turned to me, and leaned her shoulder against the desk, creating a resting place for her head.

I did not have to enquire what this was about.

"We were heading for breakfast, and we had just come out of the portrait hole when I realized I'd grabbed Emily's herbology book instead of my transfiguration one – they're both green, you see. Anyway, I told James I'd catch him up. I rushed back, and by the time I caught up with him, he was near the Entrance Hall. I walked behind him and watched how his hair flopped around, making a note to tease him about it later, when I saw him walk past these two second years. One kid had the other upside down with that stupid spell, and was swinging him like a bloody church bell – and James just walked on past."

I sympathized with a soft, understanding gaze, and then shot straight to reality, "you should be counting your lucky charms he didn't stop to egg the boy on," I said, honestly.

Lily shot me a look, and I ignored her.

"I mean, how many times have you seen Potter – I mean, James -," I corrected myself, "do that stunt himself? It's like breathing to him; he literally can't go thirty seconds without pulling it – or something else – on someone. Honestly?" I began, letting Lily know that I was about to get brutal, "maybe you should just pick your battles? – and be thankful that at least he ignored it, which I tell you, is an improvement."

"This is you paying me back for making you come with me to his house, isn't it?" suggested Lily, dryly.

"Yes," I teased, grinning.

"I hope it wasn't as bad as what you were thinking," answered Lily, sweetly.

Before I could retort with something along the lines of it was worse, McGonagall strode into the room. She reached the front, and placed her rolls of parchment and wand on her table. It wasn't until McGonagall told them to put their wands away, did I realize the arrival of the four boys.

For nearly as long as Lily and I had occupied our table, James Potter and Sirius Black had occupied theirs – the one directly behind us. Initially, in first year, they had started at the table in the back corner, and altered too and fro depending on James's feelings towards Lily. Like, when he discovered in fourth year that Lily Evans was potentially the cutest girl in our year, he ordered his group to move directly behind her. My favorite instance was when Lily had 'accidentally' shaved James's hair, which saw Potter and friends move back to his back-corner table. Unfortunately for me, Potter and friends have remained in the two tables behind us for a continuous stream of two years.

I hoped that a new year had brought a new level of maturity. It had always been difficult – not to mention frustratingly horrible having to endure hours of Potter and Black successfully transforming objects into animals without too much difficulty.

I was the first to reach the transfiguration door when McGonagall dismissed us five minutes early – a rare gift that I knew, would not be repeated in a hurry. I wondered if she, like me, had had enough of Potter and Black's pointless mutterings.

My satchel swung dangerously at my side as I trekked through the half-empty corridors. I liked leaving class early. Not only did it ensure I made it to my next lesson with time to spare, but also the corridors weren't packed to the brim with students rushing to reach their destination, too absorbed in just getting there to consider anyone else, or more importantly, their journey.

My astronomy room this year was half-way up the tower. The staircase didn't even bother me, and as I ascended, I barely felt the pressure in my legs, nor was I aware that I was taking the steps two at a time. I knew astronomy was going to be the highlight of my year. The class would be small – 14 people, max. I knew Sinistra was overly fussy about selecting her students, and picked them not by their grades, but rather their attitudes. It was therefore with confidence that I knew not Potter, Black, Pettigrew- or even Lupin – would be returning this year. After last years incident involving all four of them and Sinatra's much-loved limited-edition telescope set, their fate had been sealed, and I did not expect to see any of their four faces in class – least of all Black, who had been responsible for the breaking of one of the limited edition telescopes while pretending it was a Victorian-style fighting sword.

I reached the third landing, not surprised to be the first one there. I walked into the classroom, leaving the dark purple door that was decorated with corny moons and stars open. I took a seat on the right hand side of the room. I retrieved by book – which I had already half-read, and placed my satchel on the neighboring chair, saving it for Emily, who I knew, would be late (if she bothered to turn up). I couldn't help but smile: this would be just like old times.

Ever since third year, when Emily and I elected to start astronomy together, we had been seating partners. The enjoyment of sitting next to Emily had far exceeded any of my classroom expectations. Academically, we're in synch, but it became more than that. With her determination to be right, and my hard-working ethics (when astronomy was concerned, anyway), we were like the unstoppable duo – or as Jack would have put it, like the all-male Hufflepuff quidditch team. For once in my life, I shone like a star and not an artificial beam of light simply mimicking the brightness of stardom. Every lesson we laughed – gossiped – joked and bonded over everything from a planets peculiar coloring to last months Witch's Weekly magazine.

Astronomy class was like a cure. It didn't matter if I was secretly annoyed with Emily leading up to class; as soon as we were in the walls of the classroom, everything, down to the last ignorant comment on her behalf, was forgotten. In class, we changed from naïve girls to mature woman who forgot about disagreements and assignments. I sometimes wonder if astronomy is the reason we've remained friends all these years, and if it is, I what it is about the planets and moons and stars and other universes that bring people together? It's the unfamiliarity behind it all, and the realization that the journey into the unknown is much better traveled with a companion.

Slowly, other students entered the room and took their seats. I kept a watch, anxiously awaiting Emily's arrival.

After a few minutes, my stomach took a turn for the worst and started performing summersaults and flips – moves that I didn't think I, or any part of my body, had in me until now. As the gymnastics in my stomach doubled in complexity, a close colleague of mine surfaced: my small scowl that was having difficulty containing frustration and shock of the highest levels. Unable to control it, my mouth formed a perfect open circle as Black stood in the purple doorway. Before I had a chance to start making assumptions that he was lost – or had the wrong classroom – or was trying to ruin my life – Black took a seat two rows behind me. Still having difficulty with this whole controlling myself thing, I didn't even try to stop my eyes following him to his seat. My circled mouth extended in circumference as he pulled out the textbook corresponding to this class.

Black nodded at me upon catching my rude gawking. I spun around, not returning any gesture that could be interpreted as welcoming or pleasurable upon seeing him.

Fantastic. He would have a direct-angle of my backside for the entire year. After staring at my bum for as long as I could remember, a contrast between it and a large planet could be made.

"But Professor, I won't be needing a telescope this year at all; I have a direct close up shot of a planet right in front of me: the Planet of Howell's Arse," I could practically hear Black say to Sinistra.

In a matter of minutes – no seconds – astronomy had become less magical; a dead-beat class just like all the others. All I longed for was a new medical condition that wasn't quite strong enough to kill me, but would give me an excuse to abruptly leave astronomy and never return.

Emily arrived just before Sinistra. If I were a planet, like I presumed Black was thinking, I would be as far away from the sun, or the central pull of gravity, as possible. I would be in constant darkness, in search of a glimmer of light, even if it was as artificial as a street lamp.

"I don't know who peed in your cereal, but you should get over it," muttered Emily, bluntly. She got comfortable in her chair, and leveled her head as close to mine as possible without actually making it touch the desk, "get over it and move onto something enthralling; like Yvonne Lannel's new hairstyle. She's finally done what everyone told her not to do. Got a perm." Emily spoke with such a dramatic flare anyone would have thought Lannel's new hair was the new front-runner for Minster of Magic. I couldn't help but wonder how my friend would process my news: would it be as serious to her as it was to me, or end up next to Yvonne's bad hair-do and become the latest addition to silly class time gossip and scandals. Gossip at Hogwarts, I knew, was only inches away from getting its own newspaper – or at least its own notice board. It traveled at the speed of a snitch, but with the power and motives of a bludger that openly sought to hurt people.

"She looks like a poodle. And not the cute ones," added Emily when I didn't reply.

"Perms don't last forever," I said, sighing. Not like bums do, I felt like adding.

"Now you're peeing in my cereal," replied Emily. I didn't have to look at her to tell she had rolled her eyes.

"Sorry," I muttered. I lifted my head and smiled softly. My cheeks were tight with restraint as I did so. A smile, an action of happiness, should never be so forced or feel like hard work.

Sinistra was standing at the front of the class, waiting for silence. I nodded at Emily and we diverted our attention. Sinistra explained the class outline and our main topics for the year. She emphasized exam criteria and essay deadlines. My head began to compile the information into the part of my memory I, or rather my subconscious, had allocated for school stuff. The rest of my short-term memory was fixated on this morning's transfiguration class, and the fact that I had missed breakfast, and that my choice in attire first thing today had been a horrible mistake. As for my long-term memory, that was another story all-together. It was a storybook of information, people and places, and times: little fragments of all the things that made me who I was complied into one book. The book was my identity.

What made me Rachel Howell were the strands of knowledge I had acquired. People shaped my character, and each location to which I have ventured has a story. There are times in my life when I have smiled wider than a rising sun, and have suddenly caught myself lost for words; those are the times when ones breath is taken away.

Also disclosed in my long-term memory, imprinted like a tough stain, remained one other recollection. It, like the memories I hold most dear, defines who I am. To say that people shape who you are should be considered incorrect, but I know better. They do shape you, and most of the time it's not up to you to decide what your brain and heart choose to remember. The large-scale feelings of the brain and heart have a mind of their own and as humans we are left with the most difficult aspect of all. We have to look past the 'whys' and 'what ifs', and focus simply on the task of keeping ourselves alive: we must live and breathe, day in and day out, with the memories that we wish to one day forget.

Emily, Sinistra and the Astronomy classroom were clouded and distant, as if covered in a gas-like substance common of planets like Jupiter. When Sinatra's instructions were nothing more than undistinguishable whispers lost in translation, I felt myself glide away completely…

My mind was a dangerous place to be lead astray, and as I slipped away, I knew trouble was only moments away. Having insecurities make me feel weak, but also conscious of all the people that may notice it too. I've forgotten the people that are willing to accept me for just the way I am. Ironically so, all I notice are the few people who don't.

When Emily began tapping my arm, I snapped out of whatever whirlpool I was in, and turned to her, suddenly alert.

"You free for lunch after this?" she asked.

I half-turned around and stared at Black. He was playing with the corner of his textbook, appearing mistakenly innocent.

"No, sorry. I've got to meet with McGonagall."

"Oh, okay, what for?"

"My timetable needs to be changed," I muttered, definitely. It was hopeful to the point of stupidity to wish that with a small meeting with McGonagall, and a few simple timetable alterations, that Sirius Black would be out of my life forever.


McGonagall's corridor was the closest I got to achieve my goal. My strides had been long, and my satchel bag was in danger of falling off my shoulder, but I didn't care that I looked a little insane, or that my bag was hurting people alongside me. If I didn't have to attend another Astronomy lesson, it would all be worth it.

I felt a strong grip on my shoulder just as I had turned the corner. I spun around, and successfully managed to swipe the person with my satchel. When I saw it was Lily, I quickly formed an apologetic look – but not too apologetic; she had just delayed me achieving my goal.

Emily and Cameron were directly behind her; I frowned at their united front.

"You're coming to lunch," said Lily. I laughed at her tone that suggested a Head-girl weighty influence; I then straightened up. Rank was nothing when I was inches taller than her.

"I'm just off to see McGonagall," I answered, "I'll meet you there afterwards, if things go smoothly,"

"No," defied Lily, definitely, "you're coming to lunch, and you're going to tell us what is wrong."

Suddenly, astronomy class looked attractive, and as Lily dragged me by the wrist towards the Great Hall, I thought up a convincing lie – not only to convince my friends, but also myself.

As we turned the first corner, my favorite lie was that my Grandmother was fatally ill, and my concern for her has clouded over my usual relaxed attitude.

By the second corner, I much preferred the fib that I think I'm going to fail this year, and I'm concerned about every little grade.

Five corners later and the lies had become so horrible and heartrending that the truth looked nothing but trivial and petty. I'm guilty of many white lies, but only few big blunders, and I regret every one. This…thing…this insult could not become something larger than what it already was. I would inform my friends, and that would be the end of it. Black was a pig, and I resembled a Hippogriff; there are bigger, more important things than my pitiful self-esteem issue going on right around me that everyone else is too caught up in: Lily has her James/Head Boy fiasco; Cameron is too busy worrying about quidditch trials to do anything else but sleep and eat; and Emily…well Emily will be discussing Yvonne's hair crisis to anyone that will listen for the next month – at least.

"What classes are you changing?" Emily asked as Lily led us towards the Gryffindor table. She chose the furthest end, which was deserted.

"Astronomy," I replied.

"You are not!" Emily shot back, her mouth gapping.

"Nonsense, that's your best subject," Cameron added.

"I want to take Athermancy," I lied, although that class did look somewhat attractive; all Sirius-Black-less classes did.

"Sit down," Lily instructed us, "Rach is not moving out of astronomy, and she is not going to see McGonagall – at least not during this lunch time anyway. Now; speak." When I remained motionless, Lily continued her rant, "I'm serious, Rachel. What is it? Is someone sick? Have you failed a class? What on earth happened this summer that's got you so hung up?"

"How do you know it happened during summer?" I asked.

"Because you were normal three months ago – even though it was exam time…" explained Lily.

While Emily and Cameron had begun on today's sandwich selection, Lily's gaze remained focused on me – which was saying something because today's sandwiches were filled with cream cheese and salmon – a shared favorite between herself and me.

"Are you mad – like truthfully furious – at me for making you come to James's house. Is that it? Because if it is – Rach, I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, although noted that if I was a worse person, I could always blackmail Lily with that.

I sunk my eyes, and bowed my head, silently telling Lily – and the others, if they were watching – that I was about to confess. I felt insignificant, too hung up on how my friends would react to even consider forming a sentence together. Would they laugh? This is usually the sort of thing that Emily finds funny, and Cameron scoffs at. Would Lily have a go at Potter about it? Would she abuse Black, and therefore revealing to him that I overheard? Even worse, would my friends even care? Or, would they congratulate Black for simply stating the obvious - that yes my thighs were huge and my face had the prettiness of a Hippogriff – and reduce my self-confidence to minus a million? Could the repercussions of what I heard be worse than the actual remark itself?

"I just…overheard something, that's all," I confessed.

"About what? You-Know-Who? About school? What was it?" replied Lily, quickly.

"Nothing like that," I assured all my friends, for Cam and Emily had abandoned their sandwiches, "it was about me."

"When was this?" asked Cam.

"The last day of summer," I muttered.

"When we were swimming down at the lake?" Lily offered.

"It was at night, you were asleep…" Lily nodded, egging me forward. I gulped, reluctant to do so. My last thought before speaking was that maybe, if I was lucky, some good may come of this. Although I doubted it; secrets always had a way of becoming not-so-secret, and I had learnt that if you truly wanted to keep something concealed, the best thing to do was not to tell anyone. Not a soul.

"Well, it appears size and looks have a new scale – from sleek and shiny broomstick to awkward, clumsy hippogriff. According to Sirius Black, I am very much the latter." The truth came out the only way I knew how; it sounded like a joke. It sounded like every other serious thing I discuss: as if I truly couldn't care less. The apathetic tone and laughter-coated cough that followed concealed the pain.

"What?" asked Cameron. I couldn't quite tell if she didn't understand what I had said, or if she was searching for an answer to cure her disbelief.

I looked away from the table, from my friends. I could not look them in the eye, and feared that if I attempted to, my voice would fail. And so, it was with a bowed head and an expression of the highest discomfort that I repeated – in clear English – what I had overheard.

My words hung in midair like a dense rain cloud. As my friends changed from being relatively chipper to bewildered and angry, I wanted nothing more than for a giant gust of wind to blow my words – the truth - right back into my mouth. I wanted to conceal them again, and wished it was as simple as putting a rain jacket over a mirror.


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