"Did you see that sixth year Ravenclaw who couldn't take his eyes off you at dinner?"

"Who?" Lavender screeched, her voice climbing an octave.

"Jeremy Hayes," Pavarti squealed.

"Oooo, the one with the amazing brown eyes?"

"Of course!"

"Do you think he likes me?" Lavender said and I could picture her brining her hands to her mouth in an exaggerated gasp.

I rolled my eyes, wrapping a towel around myself before sliding the shower curtain back. Pavarti and Lavender both smiled, Lavender still ranting off questions faster than Pavarti could answer them.

"Hey, Andy." Pavarti cut her friend off as she started to ask another question about exactly how attractive that boy was. She reached over Lavender's sink and picked up a sickly pink bottle in the shape of a star.

"Isn't Andy a bloke's name?" Lavender said and Pavarti jabbed her elbow into her ribs. "What? I wasn't being mean or anything!"

"No, it's fine," I said, coming over to stand in front of a mirror so that we were all looking at each other through our reflections.

"How do you spell it?" Pavarti had tipped the pink bottle into her palm and a paste the same horrible color as the container plopped into her hand.

"With a y."

Lavender tilted her head towards Pavarti with a look that screamed I told you so.

"It's a family nickname, I guess," I said. "Just sort of stuck."

"So what's your real name?"

The door opened again and Hermione walked through, completely dressed in her school robes and her gleaming Prefect badge pinned to her chest.

"I have to . . . leave early to attend to some matters," Hermione said slowly as everyone turned to look at her at once.

"Early?" Lavender yawned, trying to comb down the mess that was her hair. "This is the crack of dawn for me. If Pavarti hadn't said anything about looking nice for Jeremy, I bet I'd still be sleeping."

Hermione looked like she was using her entire will to not retaliate.

"Andy," she said, turning to me. "Would you like to sit by me at breakfast? Ron and I have some duties the first few minutes, because we are Prefects, but I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind if he had some company."

I was slightly thrown by her request. Sure, it was polite. Extremely polite. But that thought hadn't been anywhere in my mind and I stood there a moment too long before replying, my voice failing to hide my surprise.

"Y-yeah, sure."

"Good." Hermione's smile didn't reach her eyes. She already looked like she had sank into Prefect concentration mode. She turned and shut the door behind her.

"Mmmm," Lavender paused, deep in thought. "Lucky girl. I would want to be a Prefect if it meant spending mornings and nights with Ronald Weasley."

I couldn't help the giggle that slid past my lips.

"What? He's cute!"

"No, no." I couldn't stop smiling. "Not that. It's just – " I cut myself off, turning my face away, unable to look her in the eyes as I continued to laugh.

Lavender huffed, jerking her head away."Whatever, I think he's dreamy."

I wasn't laughing at her, which was what I knew Lavender was thinking. I wasn't laughing at anyone, in fact, but more at just how amazing this was. How amazing my imagination was.

As if someone had heard my thoughts, Pavarti lifted her wand and mumbled a spell. Her towel rose by itself, floating through the air to fold itself over a shower curtain while she continued to brush her teeth.

"You act like you have never seen magic before." Lavender ran her hands through her fair hair, lifting locks into different styles as she gazed at herself in the mirror, her lips pursed. I realized I had been staring, my mouth slightly open in awe. I snapped my mouth shut. "What did they do back where you're from?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My mind was too scattered to strand together a single, coherent thought.

My robes were a perfect fit. The cuffs fell directly over my wrists, not too long and not too short. The hem rested comfortably at my ankle. The high grey socks I had discovered shoved into the far corner of the trunk covered the bruise on my ankle. It throbbed slightly, a pain strong enough to make me wince if I pressed against it too hard or if I banged my foot into something solid. Though what concerned me the most was the livid color. And, as time quickly began to take effect, the imprint was becoming brighter. I didn't have to bend over to see the finger marks anymore.

Everything I pulled on was ten times better than all the costumes I had attempted to make at home. The sweater was hand-stitched and embroidered with the Gryffindor house colors along the hem and neckline. My tie was silk and cool to the touch, as well was the lining on the inside of my robe. Sure, the bruise on my ankle made me stop and think. Was it just my imagination again? But that still wouldn't explain the fire. Or the people who broke into my house. I couldn't continue asking myself, as I just ended up with even more questions.

I found my way to the Great Hall with ease. Almost (Plus, I followed the back of Neville's large head all the way there). I tried to stay upstairs in the common room until I was sure Hermione and Ron were already at the table so that I wouldn't be utterly alone facing Harry, but after a short five minutes I realized that I was absolutely starving.

If it was even possible, the Great Hall looked even grander than it had the night before. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows that seemed to be the size of football fields. Banners hung from the ceilings, sporting the Hogwarts crest instead of a specific house. The four tables that took up most of the space stretched on forever and were decorated according to house color. It was very busy, people shuffling from table to table, the constant clanging of silverware and the continuous echoing of voices bouncing off stone walls. Because of the room's gigantic size, I couldn't decipher where the certain sounds came from.

The Gryffindor table wasn't hard to spot. Then again, maybe it was where most of the noise was coming from. The area seemed dense with people and the joy in the air was almost tangible.

When I spotted Harry it was as if everything slowed down. My breath hitched in my throat and all the conversation starters I had practiced the entire way from the common room flew out of my mind. But that didn't stop my feet from moving forward. Before I even knew it, I was suddenly staring down into his expectant, bright gaze.

This time, I didn't freak out when our eyes met. Instead, there was a strange feeling that settled into the pit of my stomach. I couldn't even explain it in words if I had to. There was just . . . something. It wasn't a something was terribly wrong feeling, but the word pleasant wouldn't be a good candidate either. But the strangest thing was, Harry's gaze faltered for just a moment. Like he was thinking something was strange too.

"Hullo, Andy," Harry said, his green eyes sparkling.

I had to admit, an English accent had always been appealing. What American girl wasn't attracted? But I had never been thrown head-over-heels for any voice. Though, as I stood there hugging my robes to my chest and trying not to let my mouth hang open, I was seriously rethinking everything I had lived by. In just two words, Harry had managed to make my legs feel like putty.

"Hi," I said, my voice smaller than I had ever heard it before. I tried to smile.

"Do you," Harry's eyes shifted between the empty seat across from him and back to me, "want to sit down?"

"Oh," I said stupidly, stumbling over the hem of my robes as I sat down. I gave another nervous smile, feeling my blood rush up to my face, knowing I was probably as red as the silk lining in my robes. There was an awkward pause but, of course, I had to open my mouth.

"Hermione invited me," I blurted, as if I had been caught doing something wrong. As if sitting down, after he had practically told me to, was a sin.

Harry smiled again, running a hand through his ebony hair and making more of a mess than it had been before. I glanced for a few moments, but forced myself to look away quickly.

"How are you enjoying the castle?" He was just trying to be polite, I could tell. But I really didn't care at the moment. I could do small talk. Maybe. Please.

"It's amazing here," I said and this time my smile was true. But my face was still burning.

"I know." He picked at the scrambled eggs in front of him. I suddenly became aware of all the food in front of me and slid the nearest plate towards me. My mind blocked out everything else at the sight of food, as if I hadn't seen it for days.

"Hungry?" Harry chuckled as I loaded my plate with sausage, toast, jam and something that looked pretty tasty but I couldn't name it if anyone asked me.

I stopped, spoon hovering over my food. After regarding my heaping plate of food, I glanced up to see him looking at me with an amused expression on his face.

"It's been a long morning." My remark came faster than I had intended. Harry laughed. Lightly, but it was definitely a laugh.

We continued to talk for a little longer, small phrases here and there. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione showed up a few minutes later.

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

Professor McGonagall handed out our school schedules. Harry took one glance at his and tossed the paper aside with a sigh, but I couldn't help the butterflies that settled in my stomach. I was so excited, yet wizard classes seemed so daunting at the same time. I was never the person who dealt well with nervousness. First, it was the butterflies, and then came the shaking. I was praying to every god or goddess out there I would not succumb to the shaking.

Given the amount of time Hermione and Ron had been away doing their Prefect business, they didn't have time to eat before our first class started. Hermione grabbed a piece of toast while Ron proceeded to cram everything that wasn't mushy into his pockets. I had to bite my tongue to hold back a laugh when Hermione shot him one of those perfect, irritated looks.

I followed the Golden Trio out of the Great Hall, making sure not to get distracted by one of the many decorations that adorned the hallways. And making sure I was walking close to Harry. But not too close, of course. They kept me on my toes, asking questions about my old life that I had no memory of. I answered them the best I could, of course, but I didn't miss Hermione's pondering expression at some of my answers. My story wasn't unbelievable, just a bit . . . farfetched. Even I could say that. My knowledge of the Wizarding World was vast, but I didn't know everything.

History of Magic had an interesting enough title for me, but I caught Ron and Harry's exchange of pure boredom the moment we sat down at our desks. Professor Binn's classroom was on the first floor, hidden within a secret nook in the back of the castle. I remembered the description of him; he was a ghost who had died in the teacher's lounge, so suddenly, and had just shown up the next day and continued to teach. But let me tell you, his voice could have put me to death.

I sat next to Hermione, my chin resting on my palm throughout the entire period. Sadly, I just ended up doodling swirls, snitches and stars on a piece of parchment with my quill. It wasn't like he was talking about anything important anyway. I didn't learn anything new about magic and I could have sworn he had forgotten what he had been lecturing about mid-sentence at least three times.

Potions with Snape wasn't any better. And I had seriously been going in there with my hopes too high, I realized about five minutes in. He had singled me out as the new kid the first chance he got. He reprimanded me for not being prepared enough for having a cauldron, despite the fact I hadn't even found one in my trunk. I was next to Harry, so I would be unfortunate in having to share his cauldron. So much for making a good first impression. And I was going to be so mad at the person who was in charge of the dream. But wouldn't that be me? No, because I would have known to bring a cauldron to potions class.

"I take only the best in my N.E.W.T. Potions class, so unless you want to drop out now, I prepare you nothing less than an 'outstanding,' though I know some of you will only scrape by with an 'acceptable' in you O.W.L. . . . "

He eyes lingered on Neville as he finished and behind me, Malfoy snickered. Unfortunately, we had to share our first lessons with the Slytherins. And so far, I didn't like it.

Malfoy remembered me. We still hadn't shared a word, but I continued to feel his slivery gaze bore holes into the back of my head. He didn't frighten me. But the staring made me feel uneasy.

"You will be making the Draught of Peace. You have an hour."

Snape was just . . . The word awesome would have qualified twenty minutes ago. Now I was starting to see the reason Harry disliked him so much. His eyes were so black I couldn't even see the pupils. And I know Snape had all his own reasons and all to act like a jerk towards Harry. But me? Really?

I worked with Harry on his potion, and even with my diminutive wizard training, all to or so hours of it, I was able to catch him on a couple things.

"Thanks," he whispered as Snape passed, unable to say anything horrid about his potion and instead went to pick on Neville again. "This isn't my strongest asset, as you can probably see."

I laughed lightly and held my hand out to stop his fingers for the third time. I didn't quite trust myself with the flammable potions and the rat tails or lizard guts yet.

"What?" His eyes were so green I had to stare at the tip of his nose to keep from blushing.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Harry?"

He stared at the board again for a moment, where Snape had written the recipe (though in a scraggly handwriting that was almost impossible to read), and blushed slightly, reaching for a flask that contained the syrup of hellebore. Whatever that was. That was not a question for me.

"Thanks," he muttered and added two drops like the instructions said before moving on to the next line.

Snape, of course, pointed out how Harry must have done nothing in the assignment because it came out fine, so he took off half of the credit. Harry had scowled but walked out silently and Malfoy was sure to be at the door to taunt him. But I didn't miss the look he sent me as I followed.

Professor Trelawney was a bit scary at first. Overall, she was just a very distracting person. In her dress and her personality. She had been wearing so many robes and scarves and bangles that I didn't see any reason for her not to have a heat stroke. Her train of thought darted around like a butterfly searching for a flower. She gave us a month's work of homework in a thing she called a 'Dream Journal'. I almost bursted with laughter when she said that with her big, bug glasses and beaded limbs that jingled like wind chimes every time she moved. It was when Harry made the sarcastic comment about Ron's seemingly normal Quidditch dream, which surely meant that he was going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow, I couldn't hold it in anymore and doubled over in giggles.