A/N: Some of you might have noticed that the content of these chapters is slightly different than it was before. People were mentioning that in the early chappies the characters were acting a bit too old for their age, and I have to say I agree. So I revised all the ones before fifth year. Tell me if you like it better this way.

As I walked down the aisle, I grew scared. Every compartment was full of laughing friends and I couldn't possibly enter any of those. Once in a while I would think I'd caught a friendly eye, but then the people would scoot over and there would be no room anymore for me.

I felt like crying. To my horror, a tear slid down my cheek. As if it wasn't bad enough that I was alone and friendless, now I was a crybaby too.

I hurriedly rubbed my cheek to get rid of the tear. Then I pressed on, still looking into every compartment—if I could just find one that was empty, or one that only had a couple people in it.

Near the end of the train there was a compartment that seemed empty except for a rather tall dark-haired girl sitting with her back to me. Hope was bubbling in my chest—maybe she was nice, maybe she would let me sit by her….

I tentatively approached the door, ready to run away at any second. The girl was reading a book. I loved to read: we had something in common! The hope swelled even larger, like one of the huge bubbles Petunia and I used to blow, sitting on our sidewalk on lazy summer days.

Thinking of Petunia made me feel like I was going to cry again. I shook my head to banish the memory. The new girl looked nice enough from the back, but I was not going to let her think I was a little kid.

Taking a deep, steadying breath and squaring my shoulders, I rolled open the compartment door and was about to speak.

But then the girl turned around. I felt my eyes go wide with horror and fear and it was all I could do not to gasp. She had the proudest, haughtiest face I had ever seen, but that was not what scared me. It was her dark, heavy-lidded eyes, contemptuous and terrifying, with a look that said she would have no trouble eating me alive right then and there.

Any greetings I had thought of were lost in my throat and I couldn't breath, couldn't move, couldn't speak. I was shrinking rapidly, turning into a bug beneath her cold, menacing black stare.

She said nothing, merely gazed at me in silent scorn. I wished I could move so that I could run out of the compartment, but my legs had turned to jelly. Still she glared. Then she spoke suddenly, getting to her feet, and I cowered even more.

"What do you want, you filthy child?"

Her voice was hoarse and raspy, like a wasp's nest. I couldn't say anything—my mouth was glued shut. She began to advance upon me. Terror seemed to electrocute me suddenly and I bolted from the room, dragging my trunk in frenzy behind me.

"Here, you can come in here!" a soft voice whispered, so quietly that I almost didn't hear. Two large blue eyes were peeking out a compartment a little farther down, and I ran towards them. Casting a last horrified look behind me, I saw that the dark-eyed girl was leaning casually against the door, glaring at me as I continued down the passageway. Her white, spindly fingers clutched a thick wand. Instantly I feared that wand.

I rushed into the compartment being held open for me and shut the door quickly, turning around to face the girl who had saved me. At the time I merely registered that she was very pretty. Over the years her face has become so familiar to me that I hardly notice the individual features anymore—I merely see the face of my friend. But in my mind there still lingers the image of when I first saw her, and now I am able to verbalize the observations which, at eleven years old, I was not quite eloquent enough to put into words.

It was as if God had woken up one morning and decided to make a flawless human being. Long, curly golden locks were spilling down the back of a smooth, willowy frame. Her movements were lithe and elegant, and there was an almost feline grace in her motions. Large indigo eyes framed by dark, wavy lashes were staring intently at me and her skin was like rose-stained ivory.

"Hi, my name's Lily Evans," I said, grinning at her. Her anxious look turned into a smile. "Can I sit with you?"

"Sure," the girl said. As I set down my trunk, she said, "I'm Isabel Peters." There was a slight pause as I sat down across from her, but then she spoke abruptly.

"I know I seem really stupid, but do you know anything about this school, this…Hogwarts? It's just," she said hurriedly before I could respond, "no one in my family has magic, so this is kind of a new experience for me."

"I don't know. I'm muggle-born too." She gave me a questioning look. "It means I'm the only magic one in my family," I said, feeling proud to know this. "Honestly, I don't have any idea what we're in for." Isabel visibly relaxed.

"Well, it's nice to know I'm not the only one who doesn't have wizard and witch parents. I mean, imagine being the only person in the entire school who didn't know magic yet! It was probably easier for everyone else to accept the fact that they're wizards, or witches. I know when I first got the letter, everyone I told thought it was a trick. Did the owl frighten the living daylights out of your family, too?"

She said this all very fast and then blushed scarlet. "I'm sorry, I'll shut up," she muttered, looking humiliated. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if to hide her appearance. I noticed that her clothes were rather shabby. I liked her a lot—it was hard not to—and didn't want her to feel embarrassed.

"Do you anybody here?" I asked her. Izzy looked up, almost as if she couldn't believe I was still talking to her.

"No, I'm a first year and I haven't met anyone yet," she said, the redness receding from her cheeks. "What about you?"

"Not a soul. Well, unless you count the boy that helped me through the barrier. His name was…Josh, or…Jake, or something. I know it started with a J."

"Well, that's one more person than I'll know," Izzy said, looking nervous again. I realized that in my thoughts she was already Izzy, that without knowing it I already thought of her as a friend.

"At least now you know me," I told her bracingly. "That's at least one person out of, probably…about 500." Izzy laughed.

"Better than no one, I guess."

"A lot better than no one," I said pompously.

"Well…I'm not so sure about that," she teased me tentatively.

"Hey!" I complained, grinning, and she seemed relieved that I hadn't taken offense. Both of us were now giggling. I had opened my mouth to ask her whether she knew the dark haired girl who had scared me when two girls, looking about my age, fell haphazardly through. The taller of them stood up quickly and shut the door. Then both turned back to me and Izzy.

"Sorry 'bout that," the shorter one said, dusting off her robes. She was quite small, at least four inches shorter than me, with curly tawny hair to her shoulders. Bright gray eyes peered out from beneath dark, curved, rather bushy eyebrows and she had full lips set over a very stubborn chin. Her voice sounded a little Scottish.

"That's all right," I said, still slightly bemused.

"I'm Ari Sol," the taller girl introduced. "We're first years." As with Izzy, I was not able to appreciate her full appearance until several years later, and so once again I must give a revised version of her looks from our later years.

She was dark-skinned, with beautiful black eyes that could easily have inspired thousands of love ballads. They were like the night itself, seemingly endless but warm and sparkling. Her ebony hair was pulled back into tight cornrows that swung with her every movement, the beads braided into the ends hitting softly against the base of her neck. She looked firm and commanding, but at the same time I could see that she would be the one whose shoulder you would most want to cry upon. In fact, there was an altogether motherly air about her.

"Lily Evans," I said, craning my neck to look her in the eye—she was extremely tall. "We're first years too."

"And I'm Jen. Jenica Wuthers. Jen." This was the shorter one. I giggled.

"Make up your mind!"

"My parents decided to give me the most bizarre name they could. I mean honestly. Jenica?? Why not just do Jessica or Jennifer, and not try to combine them? But they just couldn't make anything simple for me. Luckily it at least has an easy nickname. So, I'm Jen."

"I'm Isabel Peters," Izzy said shyly. Ari smiled at her, and Izzy looked less anxious.

"Anyway," Jen continued, "so we were kinda hoping we could hide here for a while."

"Hide?" I asked with a laugh. "From what?"

"From the two biggest gits Hogwarts will ever see." Izzy and I exchanged a slightly lost look. Ari rolled her eyes and shoved Jen down on the seat next to Izzy's. Then she sat down on my left.

"It's these two guys that Jen somehow knows. Don't ask her how, it's a long story and once you get her started there's no stopping her. I can't make head or tail of it, but the gist is that these guys are real prats."

"Ah," I said, feeling as if I couldn't really understand. Both of these girls, though the same age as me, seemed quite older than they were. "Any particular reason why you're hiding from them?"

"Because they're prats," Jen said firmly.

"Because Jen just set James' hair on fire," Ari corrected. I gaped at her.

"You can already do magic?" Izzy asked, sounding envious. Jen shrugged. I could tell she was trying to appear indifferent but was extremely proud of herself.

"I only know a couple spells. I learned that one about a year ago, when my brother tried it on me. Burned at least three inches off before Mum grabbed her wand and set it straight. Boy," she said grinning, "Win sure felt sorry after Mum had finished with him. But I wanted my own revenge, so the next day I stole his wand and started practicing. Then I got him back. Mind you, Mum went absolutely bonkers on me: you're not old enough to even be touching a wand, think what could have happened, you could've taken his eyes out…but it was definitely worth it." Izzy and I were both laughing by the end of this anecdote.

"Anyway, she used the spell on James so we need to hide out for a while." As Ari said this, I suddenly remembered—

"James?" I asked her.

"Yup. James Potter and Sirius Black. If you're blessed, you'll never have to meet them. But they have an unfortunate habit of getting around everywhere."

"James! James Potter!" I said triumphantly to Izzy, who looked at me, startled. "That was the name of the boy who helped me through the barrier."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," said Jen, straightening up and looking at me incredulously. "James Potter helped you? I have never before heard those words together in a sentence. Are you sure we're talking about the same James Potter?"

"How many James Potters can there be?" Ari asked, rolling her eyes. "But that is weird. Are you sure his name was James Potter?"

"Yes!" I said indignantly. "And he was perfectly nice to me! Well, I mean…" I had suddenly remembered our last words to each other. Jen nodded, satisfied.

"Knew James wouldn't be nice to someone to save his soul. What did he—"

But at that precise moment, the door swung open for the second time that day, and James Potter was now standing in our doorway.

A/N: I actually like the way I wrote Izzy a lot better now. She's sweeter, and more the way I pictured her. Jen and Ari are basically the same as ever cuz I just think that's how they'd be.