AN: Still Harry POV. Some sentences straight out of the book. I've changed a few things when editing. How come none of you told me I had so many misspellings?

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Harry awoke the next morning feeling confused and a little disoriented. He remembered the last thought he'd had before slipping into a peaceful, dreamless sleep was of that girl. But, why was he thinking about her? Sure, she was gorgeous; rather, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, but why? Why did she affect him the way she did? He remembered the great hall. There's no way a normal person could do that to so many people. Even veela weren't that charming.

Charming! She must have put a charm on herself to make everyone fall in with love her!

No. That was unlikely, especially seeing how she clearly wouldn't talk to anyone at the feast, let alone smile

Harry didn't know why he was thinking about it, or why he even cared. He would have thought the girl had put a love spell on him if he didn't know he was thinking the same things as everyone else in the school.

"Harry? Are you up yet, mate? You'll miss breakfast...."

"I'm up Ron," he'd answered rather shortly. He felt bad for taking his anger out on Ron, then he remembered Ron's prefect status. What was Dumbledore thinking? Making Ron a prefect?

He'd hoped half heartily, that the girl wouldn't show up for breakfast. He couldn't suffer her presence, at least, not this early. Hermione chatted away with Ron about what they expect in Umbridge's class today. Reminding Harry that she was indeed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, bringing his spirits down even lower. Then they started on another subject one that Harry dreaded even more than Umbridge.

"He, what's the deal with that new girl?" Ron asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't know. She completely self-absorbed."

"Maybe she's just shy," Ron defended. "She is really hot though..."

Hermione huffed, hiding Harry's quiet sigh. He really meant to say something else, but his mind seemed to be in shambles.

"You think so too, huh?"

Ron laughed, "Everyone thinks so. Even the girls, well except Hermione (snicker), can't stop talking about how pretty she is. We all thought she was part veela, like Fleur. But-"

"She doesn't glow," Harry finished. "But, who is she? Where did she come from?"

"What's she like in the dormitory?" Ron asked Hermione.

She frowned, obviously trying to find something negative to say.

"As a matter of fact, I couldn't tell you. I haven't seen her at all. Not last night or even this morning."

Now that was something worth talking about. Or was it? Why was he looking for a reason to talk about her? Didn't he have much, MUCH more important things to worry about? Like perhaps Voldemort, and the Order? But then, why couldn't he get her off his mind? He remember locking eyes with her, and the urge, no, the need to be near her. Maybe she'd put a spell on him then? But, why would she do that?

And it was doubtful that she'd put a spell on the entire school, for Harry had overheard many conversations that'd centered around her just this morning, let alone last night. Maybe everyone's just curious, and looking for something else to occupy their minds, instead of Harry, Dumbledore, and You-Know-Who. Maybe even Harry didn't want to think about it.

It just seemed so strange that she would come to Hogwarts at such a time, when there were all these malicious rumors flying around about Hogwarts. So, either her parents believed Harry's story and sent her to Hogwarts to be safe, or . . . or she was a spy for Lord Voldemort . . .

Where did that come from? But, it was plausible. This wouldn't be the first time Voldemort had gotten one of his own in Hogwarts. However, the suspicion seemed a bit premature. So, in an effort to cover his new found paranoia, Harry asked, "Do either of you remember her name?"

Both Ron and Hermione had opened their mouths to speak, only to realize that neither of them in fact knew anything about her including her name. It was definitely too early to assume she was on the dark side.

The owls had arrived; Harry'd looked up, noting that Hedwig was nowhere to be seen. That didn't surprise Harry, since his only correspondent at the present time was Sirius, and he probably didn't have anything new to tell him after a mere twenty four hours. Maybe Harry should send him a letter about the new girl. Maybe once he knows her name, he can as Sirius if her family had been renowned Death Eaters.....

Soon after the mail arrival, Professor McGonagall began passing out schedules, which did nothing to improve Harry's mood.

"Look at today!" Ron groaned. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, double Defense Against the Dark Arts....Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman in one day!"

"That's the worst Monday I've ever seen...." noted Harry, happy that the conversation had taken this turn. Anything to try to not think about that girl, for the more he did, the grander his imaginings became. But how healthy was the paranoia? Harry thought it was better than think the same thoughts that plagued his mind upon first seeing her.....

"D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?"

They talked unenthusiastically about the O.W.L.s, and possible career paths, even though the topic they truly wanted to discuss was that of the girl.....

By the way, Harry's first wish had come true. The girl had completely skipped breakfast.

Harry's mind was conflicted as he headed to History of Magic. He'd been wondering when he would see that girl next. He wasn't really sure whether he wanted to see her or not. It seemed he wasn't in control of his thoughts or his body when he looked at her, but she was just so beautiful...why wouldn't anyone not want to look at her?

But he didn't have to worry, for she wasn't there. She didn't even care to walk in late, she just wasn't there. Every fifth year shared the same schedule with their house, so there wasn't really a legitimate reason for her not to be there. His mood went down all more, Harry realizing just how much he wanted to see her.

And thus his second wish was granted at break time.

A small argument ensued between Ron and Hermione when Hermione had confronted Harry and Ron on their lack of attention in class. The banter would not cease until they'd reached the rainy court yard, and just before seating themselves, they spotted the girl, coming from the direction of the direction of the Dark Forest.

Harry didn't notice, for he'd been transfixed by her visage himself, that everyone in the court yard went silent, being overcome with longing and adoration as they always were when in her presence. She was again, oblivious, her eyes cast down as she neared the school.

She wasn't dressed in school clothes, for one, but was scantily clad and a black leather ensemble, as if her beauty weren't already too much to bear. Harry noted that she walked extremely gracefully to be wearing combat boots. Harry cursed mentally. Why was it that everything about her was just so......perfect?

The, one thing worth noting was that she was carrying something. It shone a little, for there was no sunlight to reflect off of it. Harry guessed that it might be gold. Now that was suspicious. She hadn't been seen since leaving the hall last night after the feast, and now she was seemingly coming from the dark forest, in muggle clothes, carrying what looked like gold. It didn't really make sense, and Harry couldn't begin to guess what she'd been doing.

Harry, having finally torn his eyes away from her, glanced to see Hermione glaring at the back of Ron's head as he gawked at the girl, only stopping when Harry took notice. He then proceeded to glance around the court yard to gauge everyone's reaction to her. It was as if they were watching some unnatural phenomenon, yet this was all for a girl. Fleur had never received such reverence, especially from the females.

The girl had passed them, coming quite close to them, for they weren't very far from the entrance to the school. She refused to look anywhere except for the ground directly in front of her feet. For all her quietness and obvious disdain for attention, Harry got the feeling that she was the opposite of shy.

"Bloody hell....."

Ron had finally seated on the other side of Harry, away from Hermione (after looking at her and assessing that this was the best course of action). "And I thought Fleur was beautiful."

Harry shook head, forcing himself to focus on his friends, instead the unwarranted thoughts about the girl that seemed to come from somewhere far away instead of his own mind.

It was quite easy, actually, this "attack" of random thoughts being much less irresistible than it had before. He wanted to agree with Ron, but also didn't want to talk about the girl, or further upset Hermione. Harry didn't know if Ron genuinely couldn't help himself from making this confession, or if he'd said it to make Hermione jealous. Either way, she seemed on the short side or fury right now.

There was a rather tense silence after the girl had gone out of sight, but this was short lived, for someone had walked around to corner toward them.

"Hello Harry."

It was Cho Chang, who happened to be on her own now. Harry had been watching her long enough to know that this was rare indeed, for she was almost always surrounded by a group of giggling friends. It seemed an odd coincidence that whenever Harry saw that girl, Cho showed up. He wondered off handedly what Cho thought about her. He almost asked her too, but through further deliberation decided against it.

"Hi."

"So, you got that stuff off then?"

Harry felt his face grow hot as he remembered their first meeting this year, when Neville had accidentally covered the entire cabin in Stinksap, just before Cho had walked in.

"Yeah," he replied, trying to pass the memory off as funny rather than mortifying. "So....How was your holiday?"

He mentally cringed just after asking her that, for he knew that Cedric's death had undoubtedly affected her summer just as much as it did his.

"Oh, it was all right....yours?"

"It was okay."

It was a rather awkward conversation, and was blessedly ended by Hermione mentioning that they had to leave or they'd be late for their next lesson. The two said goodbye and parted.

The trip down to Snape's dungeon was silent, Hermione still mad at Ron for so much paying attention to that girl, and Harry's mind split between his crush on Cho and his abnormal obsession with the exchanged student.

They'd entered the Potions class room, only to see the beautiful girl once again. Needless to say, they were caught off guard. Yet again, as the students filed in, staring at her when the noticed her presence, she was oblivious. She was look at the gold thing she was holding earlier, which harry could see now was some sort of book. He wasn't close enough to see what was written in it, but he could see that the individual pages were made from gold, and whatever was written in it was carved in.

Harry jerked his head away in order to be able to seat himself without tripping. the trio sat in their usual spot in the back, which was indeed just across the way from the girl. The students waited in silence for Snape to start class, unable to form rational thought in the beautiful girl's presence.

"Settle down." the call to order was completely unnecessary; even under normal circumstances, the students would cease all noise at the sound of Snape's entry.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk, his eyes staring in the direction of the students, resting momentarily on the exchange student, who was still intently studying her golden book (Harry thought it quite odd that Snape did not address her, and seemed not to mind at all that she wasn't paying any attention, the memory of his first time in this class and how Snape had chewed him out for taking notes),"I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you've learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my . . . displeasure."

His gaze this time lingered upon Neville, who gulped.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease to be studying with me," Snape went on, "I take only the best into me N.E.W.T. Potion class, which means thatsome of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year.

"But we have another year to get before that happy farewell," Snape said softly, "so whether you plan to attempt a N.E.W.T. or not, I advise you to concentrate on maintaining the high pass level I've come to expect from my O.W.L. students.

"Today we will be mixing a Potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."

On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of the utmost attentiveness. In total opposition, Ron slumped even further in his seat. In a daring, swift move, Harry glanced over to the beautiful girl, who was still buried in the golden book. He glanced over the rest of the classroom, noting that all of the students appeared to have gotten over the initial shock of the girl's close proximity to them, and seemed to be carrying on just fine. Snape, on the other hand, was just ignoring her all together.

"The ingredients and the method"- Snape flicked his wand -"are on the blackboard" - (they appeared there)- "you will find everything you need" - he flicked wand again- "in the cupboard" - (the door of said cupboard flung open)- "you have an hour and a half . . . Start."

The students set out to start their work, and just as Harry would have expected, Snape couldn't have assigned a more tedious task. It was difficult enough to try to make the potion without any distractions, yet not only was Snape floating around the room in an effort to make the students more nervous than they already were, not one student could go more than a few minutes without glancing in the beautiful girl's direction. She hadn't put away her book, and wasn't even focused on the task at hand.

"A light silver vapor should be rising from you're potion, " Snape said five minutes before the end of the period.

Harry was sweating, for his own potion was emitting thick black smoke. A glance around the room told him that no one's potion was going that well, Ron's firing off green sparks, and Seamus nothing at all. The only cauldrons with a surface of shimmering mists of silver vapor were that of Hermione's and the exchange student's. Snape looked down his hooked nose at Hermione's, and having found nothing to criticize, moved over to the cauldron of the beautiful girl. He stared deep into the potion, making a face that was reserved for his favorite Slytherins.

"Well done, Miss . . . ?

"Mademoiselle de Laboucher," she responded, not looking up. Harry nearly fainted. Her voice was . . . sweet, deep for a girl, but still ultimately feminine. It was lush. From movies he remembered watching during long summers at the Dursleys', he pinpointed her accent as that of Lousinana, not French, even though that's what she'd spoken just now. Her voice matched her in its beauty.

"Yes . . . Mademoiselle." Snape repeated, not attempting the French name.

"Now," he began, "everyone, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing. Homework: twelve inches on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion making to be handed in on Thursday."

Harry noticed Hermione's infuriated gestures as she filled her flagon. Harry was just dumbfounded. Never in the history of Potions class has Snape complimented a Gryffindor. And this little incident did nothing to dispel the notion that there was something extremely off about that girl.

And how was it that her potion came out so perfect when she barely paid it any mind?

For a Gryffindor to have such an effect on Snape was unheard of. It seemed the teachers weren't impervious to her . . . whatever it was . . . either.