Disclaimer- The Wizarding World and all in it belongs to JKR, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, etc.

Author's Note- Sorry for the long wait, but stuff came up. I'm happy to present this chapter, and things are moving on well. Thanks as always to my beta- TideTurner27, who always takes out time from his beauty sleep to help me out. Warm thanks to TremendouslySassy for the brilliant cover pic. I love it!

Beta's Note- It's been a while, but this chapter is worth it.

P.S- A Blank Canvas will be updated within a couple of weeks.

I woke up disoriented, with my head pounding like a bludger hit it. Covering my eyes, I pushed aside the blankets and got off the couch. I tried to stand and managed fine for a second before crashing back, exhausted.

"Don't push yourself, Harry!" She admonished, carrying a tray with a steaming cup. "You need to rest."

"I learned about this muggle beverage ages ago, and since then, I always wanted to try serving it. It's queer how less opportunities I get to play hostess. Here you go, child." She helped me sit and handed me the cup. I took a tentative sip. It really was delicious.

Smiling pleasantly, she continued, "You are emotionally and physically exhausted. Your magic flared as a defense mechanism, doing quick work of the living room, but don't worry about it, I had wanted to refurbish it for quite some time."

"How long... was I out for?" I asked after a while.

"An hour." She replied from somewhere behind me. The lights around me dimmed significantly, making it easier to see. She walked back gracefully, seating herself on the chair facing me. "We can wait, Harry, till it becomes easier for you to talk about the incident." She began fidgeting with the end of her shawl, "But in my experience, waiting seldom helps." She finished hesitantly. "The raw magic which burst out, I've never seen anything like that before. It's not safe for you to be in general company, Harry... Not safe for others."

"It wasn't like this... before, you know, it started a few months after Ripper disappeared. It... He... When - he showed up..."

I sighed and took another sip of the sweet beverage.

"I might not be able... to talk. I had buried these memories, deep inside... Pretending that they didn't exist. They terrify me."

She nodded sadly.

"But I can show you, if that's alright."

Vying for Hufflepuff?

Headmaster Dumbledore had stayed up longer than usual that night. The school year would start the next day, and every bit was in place. He concluded the letter on his desk by signing his name in big, swirly letters, although his mind was not in his work.

Harry Potter would be coming to Hogwarts tomorrow. He honestly didn't know what to expect. Taking off his half-moon spectacles, he rubbed his eyes, contemplating on his plans for the coming year. A risky plan, with more areas of error than he would like, but then again it was necessary.

A familiar wave of sensations washed over his fingers. The wards were alerting him of an unauthorized entry into the grounds. The headmaster was up in an instant. He flicked his wand, and the office began to arrange itself, the pensive trudged back to its place, the envelopes on his desk stacked neatly into a drawer. The breach was from the lake, and the person was traveling at a high speed... heading straight to the headmaster's tower?! The wards surged again, and this time Dumbledore felt the intensity of magic the perpetrator brought. With a grim smile, Dumbledore motioned at the curtain and opened the balcony door. Standing there, holding a broom in his hand, was a friend. With a tall stature, trimmed grey beard, combat robes, and white hair tied in a ponytail.

"Albus," he spoke in a foreign accent, a mingling of many.

"Muric," Dumbledore got up to greet him, "how are you, old friend?"

Muric Alpharde strode in the office, shutting the door behind him. His right leg fell heavier than his left, giving his footsteps a characteristic note. It had always been like that.

"I am good, Albus. I have been busy."

"Your book is doing really well, I've read it myself, and I must say..."

"Why am I here Albus?" Muric interjected. He was in no mood for word games.

Dumbledore sighed and fiddled with a lemon drop. "It's time."

Muric sat down, looking straight at him, "And if I refuse?"

"I will not stop you, Muric, and Hogwarts will always have its doors open for you."

"Then we are done here." The visitor got up to leave. He barely had turned around that Dumbledore spoke,

"Harry Potter is arriving tomorrow."

Muric stopped in his tracks. Turning around slowly, he whispered, "What are you playing at, Dumbledore?"

"This is where you belong, Muric, you've evaded it for the last ten years, but this place is your home."

"I have another home now," Muric replied with a glint of anger in his voice.

"Where were you all this while?" Dumbledore was curious about it.

"You know I cannot tell you that, Albus."

"I know, but all this secrecy Muric, this cloak and dagger business isn't necessary amongst us, least of all we are allies."

Muric sighed heavily and brought up a round disk, slightly larger than a knut. It was a dull red colour, fading at the edges with three interlocking circled embroidered in gold. Dumbledore's face went through a variety of expressions.

"It exists?!"

"Don't ask me more."

"Who..."

"Enough Albus, enough. What do you want from me?"

Albus leaned back and looked at him critically. "Stay with us for a while, teach here. These kids could use a mentor like you."

"You expect me to teach them. What exactly? About kelpies, grindylows? This is a waste of time..."

"Duelling," Dumbledore replied simply, "teach them duelling. Stay for a term, and then you're free from us, forever. You go ahead, and I will never contact you."

Muric stared back with an unreadable expression. "You know professor, I will never understand your games."

There was a long silence that followed the conversation. Albus sat patiently, waiting for a response from his old student. Muric was a Hogwarts alumni, one of his earlier students, and one of the very best.

"The terms starts tomorrow, I suppose?" Muric smiled warily.

"As always. See you at the welcome feast. Minerva will organise your lodgings." Dumbledore offered his hand to Muric, who respectfully shook it.

"Alright Albus- Headmaster", he corrected.

"Muric, the name, if you will. Please. I am curious, more than you can imagine."

Muric smiled softly.

"Imperial," he said in a low voice.

"Imperial Arts."

A thin ray of sunlight peeked through the curtain, spreading a golden glow in the empty Canterbury halls. Upstairs, Daphne closed her trunk soundly, blowing off a stray strand of hair off her face. She hurried around the room opening and shutting drawers, cabinets, in near paranoia of forgetting something. Astoria looked on interestingly, as she watched her sister hobble around. These were rare moments that she lost her composure.

"Books, Robes, Wand... Wand, Tori where's my wand?" Daphne turned to her sister, who was staring at her with big blue eyes.

"I don't know", Astoria said innocently.

Walking over to the bed suspiciously, Daphne tossed the pillows off and saw the tip of her wand poking out from behind the mattress. She stowed her wand in her purse, brushing her fingers off the white streak lovingly.

"Now you be good Tori, and write to me, every week."

"Wait, am I not coming to the station?" Astoria asked.

"No," Daphne responded. "An owl arrived earlier today. Lady Macvity wants to talk. Mum will be going with you." A small smirk hinted at Daphne's lips. "Come now, Tori, how bad could that be."

Astoria buried her face in her pillow.

It was halfway down the stairway that Daphne noticed Tipsy levitating her trunk near the door. The house felt a little empty to her, and unnaturally quiet. A faint gloom lingered in the halls. It was then Daphne realised, all too suddenly, that she would actually be leaving in a while. Going away for months. Steadying herself, she walked across to the library, as her sanctuary always cheered her up. But every step she took, reminded her of the fun times she had at the manor. Tears slowly welled up in her eyes, confusing her more than ever. Abandoning all etiquettes, she ran to find her mother.

Isabella Greengrass was working quietly in the kitchen when Daphne entered. Sensing her daughter approaching, she turned around, wiping her hands with her apron. "Ready, Daphne?"

Daphne nodded.

Isabella smiled at her daughter, tucking her hair behind her ear, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Daphne mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Homesick already?"

Daphne mock-scowled at her mother. She always saw right through her and Astoria. Isabella pulled Daphne into a hug, "Hogwarts is a wonderful place. You'll make friends, learn all sorts of magic, you're ready for it Daphne."

"Mum," Daphne said, with a croaky voice, "what if I am not?"

"Well, with Tracey present, I doubt there will ever be a quiet moment, and you know..." Isabella's face grew sombre for a moment, after which her smile returned, "Listen now, this is a secret. Don't tell father, and heavens help me if your sister hears it. Personally, I was never a big fan of rules. And I've lost count of the amount of detentions I had served for breaking curfew. So, have fun, okay Daphne, I'll understand."

Daphne giggled, and pulled back, her eyes shining with anticipation.

"I'll miss you, Mum."

"I'll miss you too, sweetie. You'll write to me regularly, won't you?"

Daphne nodded.

"Father is in his study. Look at the time dear, it's nearly nine. Go on now."

King's Cross Station was a busy place. Filled with busy muggles and magical folk, with the former oblivious of the latter's existence, and the latter trying (and failing) to merge with the surroundings inconspicuously. Evidently so, as a large part of the magical populace present at the station consisted of students, ready to board the Hogwarts Express for another year of learning at their dear school.

Daphne pushed her trolley through the dispersing crowds, skipping a little, partly due to excitement and largely due to the fact that she was cutting it close. Her father had a protective arm around her shoulder, surprising her by being all too quiet.

It wasn't long that Daphne exclaimed out. "Alright, this is getting ridiculous. What's all the secrecy about! It's just a train platform, father."

"Yes, Daphne. And here we are... Platform nine to your left, ten to your right."

Daphne looked at her father critically.

"Father, are you suggesting..."

"Technically, you should have expected that. The ticket clearly mentions Platform nine and three-fourths."

"I'm not running into a brick wall," Daphne responded, narrowing her eyes.

Cyrus Greengrass was enjoying himself. His daughter had taken to the Wizarding customs, like a gnome to a plum. And very rarely did she act like a child, her behaviour was far too mature. He sometimes missed his adventurous, playing-in-the-mud princess, that phase had passed too fast. But in the current volatility of the Wizengamot, it probably was for the best.

"Father, its fifteen minutes to eleven. If I miss the train, so help me God, I'll... I'll tell mother all about the Christmas cake," she finished with a sadistic smile.

Cyrus coughed loudly to hide a welp of surprise. "No one is mentioning that night, and how do you even know about it. More importantly, does your sister know?"

"She could."

"Merlin, look at the time, hurry up Daphne."

Daphne looked pointedly at the brick column.

"It's the only way!" Cyrus said with a hint of desperation in his voice. "Want me to go through it with you?"

"No..." Daphne said, her eyes shining with determination.

Her legs quivered, and her heart raced. She began walking towards the barrier, her steps quickened, the trolley gained momentum, and suddenly she wasn't in control. She was almost running towards the dull red column, which was upon her in an instant. She closed her eyes, in sheer panic, anticipating a crash... that never came. Her trolley slowed down, and she finally dared to open her eyes. Greeting her was the majestic scarlet engine, with gold engravings that read 'Hogwarts Express'.

The platform was a frenzy of activity, with students of all years moving around, saying goodbyes and greeting friends. She walked towards the great clock, dazzled by the ruckus around her. And it was between all this ruckus that she saw her father, standing beside a newspaper stand, grinning at her. The sweet smile that Daphne adorned was a testament that Cyrus Greengrass was in a load of trouble.

"Daphneeee! Daph!"

Daphne turned back to find Tracey waving at her from one of the coaches. She jumped onto the platform, bustling through the crowds and gave Daphne a hug.

"Where were you? Been waiting an hour. Good day, Mr. Greengrass."

"Hello Tracey. Why don't you and Daphne find a compartment. Is your father here?"

"I saw him chatting with Lord Smith a while back," Tracey replied.

Cyrus nodded. Public meetings always turned political. But that could wait. He turned to his daughter who was now listening to Tracey describe something animatedly. Tracey's mother, Helen was a muggleborn, and thus, Daphne always had a progressive upbringing when it related to anything muggle. Cyrus was glad that happened. Daphne never bumbled around in Muggle London, which was a characteristic trait of half the people he knew. He felt proud of Daphne on that account.

The train bellowed out a gush of steam signalling departure. Cyrus knelt down to face his daughter.

"This is your opportunity, Daphne. Make the most out of it. And if you need anything, write to me at once. Any trouble, about any issue, don't hesitate."

Daphne nodded and embraced her father. Her eyes stung as tears threatened to fall, but Daphne was stronger now. And she had a lot to look forward to.

"Go on now."

Daphne pulled her levitating trunk out of the trolley and disappeared inside one of the carriages. Tracey collected the rest of Daphne's belongings and went up to Cyrus.

"Don't worry, Mr. Greengrass," she said. "I'll take care of Daphne."

Cyrus smiled at her, as she bowed to him briefly and disappeared into the crowd. He stood rooted to the spot for quite some time. All it took were a few words of an eleven-year-old, to calm the worries of a father's heart. He chuckled at himself, Tracey never failed to surprise him.

The train started to move slowly, and a loud horn resonated across the platform. It was time that he got down to business. With an entirely different flair, Cyrus Greengrass, leader of the Grey faction of Wizengamot, turned around and walked away.

The train was far more crowded than Daphne had expected. It was hard enough to maneuver herself along the passage, let alone drag a 4 feet trunk through the ruckus. Slightly miffed, she looked around for her best friend, who conveniently went missing whenever required.

The cabin to her right lurched open suddenly, as the train started to move. She peeked inside to find a boy staring right back at her. He had a sickle balanced on his forefinger and thumb, midway of what looked like a coin toss. His expressions rivalled those of Astoria when she was caught doing something silly.

"Anyone here?" She asked after a hesitant silence.

"No one," he answered, stowing the coin in his pocket. He helped her fix her trunk under one of the seats and shut the cabin door softly. Time for introductions, she imagined.

Now, basic introductions would usually comprise of them telling their names, and shaking hands. But orthodox Pureblood customs (ones which the Greengrass family followed) had a few more formalities. She had the designation of an heiress of a Nobel house. Customs dictate that she should mention her title before her name, and emphasize the stature of her house. Handshakes had a different meaning too. It signified that both parties consider the other to be socially equal, whether it be wealth or influence.

In the pecking order, the Greengrass family had arguably six equals, Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, Bones, Longbottom, and Smith. She even wasn't permitted (by her customs) to shake hands with Tracey, which was absurd, and kind of a non-issue (Tracey always hugged), but following all of these traditions was tedious. The question still hung. What should she do?

"You alright?" He asked. "Seems like you sort of drifted away for a second."

Daphne nodded. She was well known in Pureblood circles and had attended nearly all formal events organised by the Nobel families. She was certain that this boy had not received Pureblood education, and would obviously not follow their customs. Judging by his dress, he was almost undoubtedly a muggleborn. So, when in Rome, Daphne decided, she would do as the Romans did.

She stood up and held out her hand, "Hi, I'm Daphne Greengrass. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The boy's eyes lit up, as he shook her hand, "Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you too."

Of all different outcomes, Daphne had never expected this. She held her breath, for once completely baffled. Her eyes slowly shifted to his forehead, but her heart gave in before she could see the dreaded scar. She looked away hurriedly, wondering if he had noticed her strange behaviour.

Harry Potter's story was celebrated by the entire Wizarding community. But not by her. She always choked up when she imagined growing up without her parents or sister, and Harry Potter had lost his parents the night he got the scar. Everyone knew that.

Daphne shyly looked at him, half with pity, and half fascinated. If anything, he looked confused. Well, that was expected. She quietly drew her hand back, and took her seat by the window, with her heart hammering inside her chest. Merlin, where was Tracey when she needed her!

Daphne steadied her emotions, berating herself mentally. She was the daughter of a Nobel house, for Merlin's sake, and she expected a degree of sophistication from herself. Once her nerves had calmed down, she turned to face him.

For a fairytale hero, he was rather scrawny. His hair was a mess, and his glasses drooped down every time he turned his head. He was... normal, like someone you might meet at a park, or at a broomstick store. Did she expect something more? She didn't know, but it sure as hell didn't feel like she was sitting with the most famous person in magical Britain.

"Daphne? Are you alright? You got lost again it seems." He brought her out of her thoughts. Before Daphne could answer, the door lurched open once again and a young redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at a vacant spot opposite her. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. The train had left the dense part of the city, and other than an occasional barn, there was nothing but crops and fields to see. Daphne had never felt a silence get as uncomfortable as it was getting right now.

"I'm Ron, Ron Weasley", the redheaded boy spoke up suddenly.

"Daphne Greengrass." she responded, offering her hand shakily. Did Weasleys follow Pureblood customs?

Ron shook her hand twice and moved slightly away from her. He turned towards Harry and spotted the scar before Harry introduced himself.

"You're Harry Potter!" He exclaimed happily.

"Yep, that's me," Harry answered, his voice rather cheerful.

Ron sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window.

Daphne was not going to endure another round of awkward silence. There was a reason she put up with Tracey, mainly because situations like these never arose with her around.

Houses seemed a safe topic, she thought. "So, which houses would you both want to be in?" she asked slowly.

"Gryffindor," Ron answered, his eyes quite distant. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"What about Slytherin?" Daphne asked narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing," he replied hastily, "I probably won't fit in there. Besides, it's You-Know-Who's old house." He turned to face Harry nervously, who was looking quite interested.

"So.." Daphne countered primly, "Doesn't make everyone there evil."

At this point, both Daphne and Ron turned to Harry, as if expecting him to break the tie. Obliging, he replied, "Either one... either one. Hold on, which is the fourth house again?"

"Hufflepuff," Ron answered with a snort. "It's basically for dummies."

Daphne didn't correct him but was liking his prejudice far less every second.

Harry looked out of the window, deep in thought, as silence descended again.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

Oh, Merlin! Daphne started to panic. Of all topics to choose, they would talk about Quidditch. She had no love for the sport, and to sit there, and listen to them go over plays, formations, highlights... It was too much to handle. It would be best if she slipped out for a stroll.

"Er - I don't know any," Harry confessed.

Wait, what? That's a first. Daphne didn't know a single person oblivious to Quidditch and its teams. It was such a big part of the Wizarding culture, that it was impossible to not know it. You might hate it (like herself) or love it to death (like Tracey), but you have to know about it, right?

The compartment door slid open, and Daphne's childhood friend stepped in.

"Tracey!" Daphne cried out in joy.

"Wow, what did you guys do to her?" Tracey giggled. "I like her more already."

"Hi, Harry! And hi, umm..."

"Ron Weasley."

"I'm Tracey Davis, best friend, and confidant of Daphne, the sour-faced lady in whose company you found yourselves in, and Ron, you have dirt on your nose," Tracey remarked, seating herself next to Daphne, who indeed had a sour expression now.

Ron pulled out a dull handkerchief and rubbed his nose.

"So, what's up?" Tracey asked cheerily.

"Harry here," Ron began, "doesn't know anything about Quidditch."

"Have you been living under a rock all this while?" Tracey asked. "So, I have to teach you to fly, as well as explain Quidditch to you. Save up mister, it's gonna cost."

"Hey," Harry protested, "it never came up."

"Oh you wait - Quidditch is the best game in the world -" Ron grinned.

And they were off, explaining Harry about the four balls, seven players, and their individual roles.

"Joy." Daphne murmured.

Daphne spent the next few minutes gazing at the trees whipping by.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a tinkling bell sound that brought her out of her thoughts. The Quidditch trio were now discussing the finer points of the game, ranging from famous plays of even more famous teams. There was a soft knock, and the door slid open.

A smiling, dimply woman looked at them kindly, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Daphne smiled back, she really wanted one of those notorious ice mice.

The mood in the compartment had now lightened sufficiently. Daphne had accepted a chocolate frog from Harry, who had insisted on treating everyone. She was a lot happier since then as she got a rare card, Vindictus Viridian. Weasley kept staring at it longingly, but as a collector worth her galleon she would never succumb to pity. Amidst all his hubbub, there was another entry in the compartment.

This time, it was a fully robed, brown bushy haired girl, and Neville Longbottom. She knew him well enough, as Pureblood circles are small.

"Harry!" She brightened up, as she came in the cabin. Ron looked at her with a puzzled expression, and shifted towards the door, making way for her to sit beside Harry. On their inclusion, the cabin was as full as it could get. The girl introduced herself as Hermione Granger, a muggleborn, and within a minute, started emanating what Tracey called Ravenclaw vibes. Quite the chatterbox, she talked (mostly to Harry), about various aspects of Hogwarts, and what they could expect from the renowned institution. Daphne could give credit when earned, and it had to be admitted, that Hermione Granger had done her research well.

Apparently, Neville had lost his toad. It was a characteristic trait of the boy, for as long as Daphne had known Neville. She looked on sadly, and consoled him, "It'll turn up soon."

And it went on like this. The whole lot of them chatting, leaving Daphne to her thoughts. Daphne deemed herself a great judge of character, and she would play around with the idea of sorting people.

Now, Weasley would be a Gryffindor, they all were.

Hermione, probably in Ravenclaw.

She and Tracey would undoubtedly be in Slytherin.

Neville, hmm... Neville would be a Hufflepuff.

And now came the challenging bit. Harry Potter. Honestly, she couldn't read him. There was something off about him, some sort of facade. Daphne knew it all too well, as she was adept at ignoring people and situations. But then, where would he go? Harry caught her eye, as she was staring at him lost in thought. He smirked slightly, and looked away, back at Hermione. Daphne scrunched her nose... probably Gryffindor.

It was getting darker now, and Daphne thought it would be best to get changed. She excused herself and dragged Tracey to the back of the carriage with her. A short while later, they had changed, looked presentable and were contemplating whether to finally go and find the old crowd.

Pansy bored them, and Tracey was having too much fun.

After a quick, silent conversation, they made their way back to the cabin, only to find Harry and Weasley, fully robed, plucking out chocolate wrappings and dusting them under the seats. Tracey jumped for the window seat, and Daphne sat beside her, patting her robes down.

The compartment door slid once again, and it wasn't Hermione who entered. It was a pale boy, with his sleek blonde hair combed back. He was sporting a smug expression that Daphne knew all too well.

"It is true then, what people are saying... Harry Potter is joining Hogwarts." He walked in with his usual entourage, Crabbe and Goyle, all of them focused on Harry.

"My name," he said with a smirk, "is Draco Malfoy. You'll soon find out some Wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's.

That's when Daphne thought she should interject. After all, no one deserved to suffer Draco's company for longer than absolutely required, let alone get impressed by him.

"My, jumping straight into friendship, how very considerate of you, Draco. Vying for Hufflepuff?" Daphne asked innocently, examining her nails.

"Daphne?!" Draco spluttered, "Why are you here?"

Daphne looked up at him, with a smile hinting on her lips. "Socializing," she answered, as Tracey sniggered. Harry gave a sideward glance to where Daphne was sitting, and spoke in a cheerful manner, "I can figure out the right sort by myself, thanks."

Draco turned slightly pink. He looked around condescendingly, "Mind you, Potter, one would have thought you had some right thoughts about your company. But it seems I've been mistaken. Hanging around with Weasleys and half-bl..."

"Heir Malfoy," Harry spoke loudly, the mirth vanishing from his face, "I'll be fine without your help."

Malfoy's face remained expressionless. Realizing that he was getting nowhere, he signalled the boys behind him and stormed out of the compartment.

Quite happy with himself, Harry leaned back listening to Weasley harp about how dark the Malfoys were. What intrigued Daphne, was the calmness by which he had diffused the situation. Judging how the conversation ended, Daphne realised that Harry Potter could very well find himself in Slytherin, and she admitted to herself, that he could do wonders there if he played his cards right.

It had become dark now, and Daphne could see lights twinkling at a distance. A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The train began to slow down. The corridors got a lot more crowded and noisy, with students of all years talking, laughing, and catching up. Daphne felt her stomach lurch at the thought of the upcoming year. She would learn magic. Magic! All the theory she had to memorize for the last few years, hearing tales about the great deeds achieved by famous wizards, and how well they used to wield magic. It was finally hers to learn.

They trudged along the crowd and jumped off the train. Daphne had left all her belongings back in the cabin, save her wand, and her treasured chocolate frog card. Headmasters prior to Dippet were so hard to find.

"Alrigh' now, follow me, firs' years," boomed a loud voice. Daphne and Tracey followed the crowd away from the carriages, and towards the pier. Docked there, were small boats all lit by dim lampshades. They got in them, forming groups of fours, accompanied by Harry and Ron Weasley. Both of them were quiet as well, in anticipation of the sorting, she supposed.

"Every'ne in, we're off." The giant man thumped the boat he was seated on, and all of them started to drift slowly. They passed a couple of arches, looking around whispering amongst themselves. Finally, the boats turned towards the old castle - "Ooooh," went the crowd.

"Heads down!" he yelled as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. Passing the ivy, the boats reached a boathouse, and the student clambered out of them, dusting themselves, looking around interestingly.

"Whose los' their toad?" asked their guide, as he checked the boats. "Trevor," Neville cried out in joy, running up to him, and holding out his hand. They all then trekked up a stairway facing the cliffs, to the side of the castle's main entrance.

"Everyone 'ere?"

The giant man knocked the door three times.

I really hope that I can continue writing with the same motivation when I started. Will get back with the next update soon. Cheers!

Fic recommendation- This might get me a lot of hate, but please, go and read 'Behind Blue Eyes', by Paffy, if you haven't done that yet. It's a beautiful story, and has a great Harry/OC characterization. One of my absolute favorites.