(A/N: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. Chapter has been updated from original form.)

Marigold woke up rather late Friday morning. She was the last one in her dorm to get up, and she had to race through her shower and getting dressed, which was fine and all, but it took her a couple tries to get her tie tied.

When she finally made it down to the common room, she was happy to find Harry and Neville waiting for her. They both had frowns on their faces, and she wondered what was wrong.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late," she said, jumping off the last step. "What's wrong? You look upset."

"Oh, nothing," Neville said, somewhat forcefully.

"Come on, Neville, we agreed we would show her," Harry said.

"Show me what?"

Neville turned to Harry and shook his head. Harry gave Neville a look saying we got to. Then Neville just sighed.

"Here," Neville said, handing Marigold a piece of parchment. "We found it in the spot you usually sit in when you wait for us to come down."

Marigold looked down at the paper. There was a crude drawing of what she assumed was supposed to be her, and the words: What do Marigold and a Gnome have in common? They are both pests and can't do magic.

Marigold snorted. "This is hilarious," she said, looking up to Harry and Neville.

"It is?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Absolutely." She nodded, slipping the paper in her planner. "I wonder who drew it… oh well, let's go to breakfast before all the good food is gone."

Marigold led the way to the Great Hall. She knew that the two of them didn't believe her when she said the note was funny, but it really was. Marigold was used to verbal abuse; her dad had been a pro, after all. And this bit of bullying was weak in comparison.

What was funny was how hard the person had tried. Marigold assumed the parchment was from one of her roommates. After all, she had been keeping them up late, and they had assumed that she lied to them the first time they met.

She doubted it was Hermione; the two of them had been shunned by the other three and had been talking recently. She didn't think it was Parvati, either; she didn't really care about Marigold, and she also didn't seem like the type to leave notes lying around. She was the kind of girl who would say something to your face. That left Fae and Lavender. Marigold was sure it was one of them.

When they finally made it to the Great Hall, they were only fifteen minutes late; the mail hadn't even arrived yet. The three of them sat down and grabbed some food. A few minutes later, the mail arrived. Marigold got a letter from Charlie, and another letter from… Headmaster Albus Dumbledore?

Marigold immediately ripped open the letter and read it over carefully, making sure to not miss a single word. Everything around her seemed to melt into static.

Miss. Rosenberg,

I would like to formally invite you to my office Saturday morning at around ten thirty to discuss the terms of your scholarship. I would also like to discuss how your classes are going and how you like the school. I look forward to meeting you; I have heard a lot already and would like to put a face to your name.

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. To get to my office, go to the second floor and find the Gargoyle statue. The password is Acid Pops.

Marigold felt ill. Meet the headmaster? Albus Dumbledore himself? How could she just casually meet a guy who had been on a chocolate frog card? He said it was to just talk about school, but he also said he had heard a lot about her… who had been talking about her with the headmaster?

Marigold heard her name being called and looked up. Harry and Neville were looking at her with concern.

"What's up?" she asked. She opened up her planner and wrote down the time and place she was supposed to meet with Dumbledore.

"I just got a letter from Hagrid asking if the three of us wanted to go down for tea today after class," Harry said.

"Oh, yeah. That sounds like fun," she answered, closing the planner.

Scary meeting, Saturday at 10:30, flashed on the front of her planner, below her list of classes. Marigold wondered where the planner was getting its sense of personality.

After breakfast, the three of them hurried down to Potions class. None of them wanted to be late. Ron had gotten lost the second day of class, and Snape had taken five points away from Gryffindor.

As they descended the stairs, it got colder and colder. Marigold was shivering by the time they reached the bottom. Harry and Neville looked uncomfortable, too, but neither of them was shivering, so Marigold wondered if they were just nervous about class. She knew she was.

The three of them sat down at their usual table, and Marigold smirked at the nail marks. When Professor Snape waltzed into the classroom, the conversations died down immediately. He took roll, but didn't look directly at Marigold when he called her name.

For the first hour of class, Professor Snape gave them a set of questions to fill out. It felt like a quiz because they couldn't talk or use their books. Marigold knew about ninety percent of the questions, but some of them were worded oddly. She looked up only a couple of times. She was relieved to see that Malfoy had a look of constipated confusion. Unfortunately, Neville had the same look on his face.

Toward the end of the first hour, Marigold felt someone staring at her. She looked up, thinking it might be Malfoy, but she made the mistake of looking at Professor Snape. She realized he had been looking at her. Her stomach whirled, and she felt very awkward. She looked back down at her test and tried to ignore the fact that he was still looking at her.

At the end of the first hour, Professor Snape collected their answers, then set them to work on a cure for boils, partnering them up. Harry and Neville were partnered up together, and so were Marigold and Dean Thomas. Hermione and Ron were together, and Marigold noticed that Ron did not look at all happy about it.

Marigold and Dean divvied up the responsibilities and set to work making their potion. Marigold would read off some of the procedure, and Dean would follow the instructions; then they would switch. Marigold found that Potions was somewhat easier than Charms or Transfiguration. It was like cooking… with very weird ingredients.

"We need to heat the mixture at two-forty, for ten seconds, then wave a wand over it," Marigold read. "You should do the wand waving part," she said sheepishly.

"Alright, you sure?" Dean asked, taking out his wand.

"Yeah, I'm like a gnome when it comes to magic," Marigold said, chuckling.

"What?" he asked, a look of confusion on his face.

"Nothing. I'm sure."

After Dean waved his wand over it, they had to leave it for thirty minutes. During that time, Marigold and Dean talked a lot. She found out that he was a really cool guy. Neville had told stories, Dean being one of the roommates, but actually talking with him was fun.

He asked about the gnome comment again, and Marigold showed him the piece of parchment. He thought it was rather rude, and she explained she found it hilarious. Snape came by, seemingly curious as to why they were defiling his classroom with laughter. Marigold quickly hid the picture, but Snape had seen it. He didn't say anything though.

Marigold and Dean also talked with Harry and Neville, seeing as the four of them were stationed next to each other. But when the thirty minutes were up, Marigold and Dean went back to their potion. When they had finished, the fumes were admittedly slightly purple instead of pink. The two of them were confident they would get a decent grade, though.

Dean was pouring the contents of the potion into a vial when Marigold's arm started to burn. Somehow, Neville had melted his and Harry's cauldron, and all three of them were covered in potion.

Neville cried out in pain as red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Harry also hissed as boils erupted all over his arms. Marigold breathed in and out, trying to ignore the fiery sensation on her arm. Neville started crying, and Harry was breathing heavily. Students were screaming and jumping on their stools.

Professor Snape appeared out of nowhere.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled at Neville, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered in response, tears dripping down his pimple covered face.

"Go to the hospital wing, the both of you," Snape hissed at Harry and Neville. "And a point from Gryffindor for your stupidity and disruption."

The two of them ran out of the room. Marigold could hear Neville crying. She was so mad she couldn't even feel her arm anymore, but tears threatened at her eyes.

Professor Snape turned and caught sight of her gripping her own arm. Worry flicked over his face for less than a second before his usual angered wrinkles returned. "You go as well," he said before turning his back to her.

Marigold huffed and gathered up her and her friends' books under her good arm, then left the room. She made it up and out of the dungeon before crying out in pain. The boils on her arm were bursting and hurt worse than the time her father had broken her arm.

When she made it to the hospital wing, she dropped all the books on the ground. The lights were too bright, and she was dizzy. The matron was franticly tending to Harry and Neville, dabbing at their boils with a cloth. Neville was blubbering, but the pimples seemed to be healing, at least. Harry was sniffing, but not crying. His eyes were red though.

She staggered toward the matron, who noticed her and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Finish with them first," Marigold exclaimed when the matron turned to her. "They are covered! I'm fine for a few more minutes," she lied.

The matron nodded, then went back to dabbing the two of them with the cloth. Apparently it had gone dry, so she poured some potion on it; Marigold assumed it was the same potion the three of them had been working on in class, just correctly brewed.

When Harry and Neville were boil free, the matron finally turned her attention to Marigold, who, at that point, was crying. The moment the damp cloth touched her skin, Marigold sighed with relief. It took a considerably shorter amount of time for Marigold to be free of her boils, seeing as only one arm was covered.

When they were all cured, Madam Pomfrey, as she introduced herself, told them they would be fine. She told them they could stay and rest if they wanted, but they decided to just go down to Hagrid's. Class had already been over for a while, and they had agreed to meet Hagrid right after class. Madam Pomfrey agreed to let them go.

None of them said anything as they picked up their books and left the hospital wing. In fact, it wasn't until they were outside the castle and halfway to Hagrid's that Neville started crying again.

"I'm so sorry, you guys," he wailed.

"It's alright, Neville," Harry reassured him.

"N-no it's not," he wailed, "I melted your cauldron and I ended up hurting you two. Snape was right, I am an idiot!"

"Hey, don't you listen to Snape," Marigold said. "Neville… Neville look at me." He looked up at her, his eyes puffy and red. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "Listen to me, Neville. Snape is a creep and a terrible teacher. You are not an idiot. It was a mistake, it could have happened to anyone. Besides, Harry and I are going to be fine. You are okay too, right? No permanent harm done."

"You aren't mad at me?" he whispered.

"Of course not," Harry said. "As Marigold said, Snape is a jerk, and this was an accident."

"So… we can still be friends?" Neville mumbled.

Marigold was shocked that he would even worry about that. She dropped his hand and wrapped him in a hung, surprising him and Harry both. "Of course we can still be friends, Nev," she said. She let go of him a minute later. "Now, let's go down to Hagrid's."

"Okay," he said, rubbing away his tears.

The visit with Hagrid was a nice relief after dealing with Potions class. Harry told Hagrid about what had happened, and Hagrid had to be reassured several times that the three of them were ok. He then proceeded to offer them rock cakes, which nearly broke Marigold's teeth.

Neville seemed to really like Fang, Hagrid's huge dog. And Marigold really liked Hagrid's hut. It was warm and cozy, with hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling.

The three of them drank tea and ate the rock cakes as they talked about the rest of their week. Harry explained to Hagrid that he thought Snape hated him. Hagrid assured him Snape didn't, but he didn't meet Harry's eyes when he said it.

Marigold told Hagrid about how creepy Snape was, which was the first time she had brought it up with anyone in detail. Apparently Neville and Harry had noticed, and they agreed with her. They even shared some instances where they had caught him staring at her, or just acting differently around her compared to other students. Hagrid tried to assure them that they were imagining things… Marigold could swear he was avoiding telling them something.

Hagrid changed the subject, and he and Marigold talked about Charlie and dragons. A little while into the two of them discussing the Chinese Fireball, Harry interrupted.

"Hagrid!" Marigold noticed he was holding up part of a newspaper. "That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday. It might've been happening while we were there!"

Harry handed Marigold and Neville the newspaper clipping.

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

"Where did you hear about this?" Marigold asked, looking up from the paper.

"Over breakfast a few days ago. I thought it was interesting," Harry said. "What do you think?"

Hagrid very obviously changed the subject. He just grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry met Marigold's eyes and she knew he would want to talk about this later.

They stayed at Hagrid's for a long time, missing lunch in favor of staying with him. They finally did leave when Marigold reminded them that they had homework. The three of them went back to the common room.

Marigold saw Dean Thomas in the common room, and he told her they had received high marks on their cure for boils. She wasn't surprised; their potion had been nearly perfect.

Marigold returned to her spot by the fireplace and sat on the chair across from the boys. Harry told them about his trip to Gringotts with Hagrid the day Marigold had met them in Diagon Alley. He seemed to think that they had gone to the same vault and might have been the ones who emptied it. Marigold and Neville weren't sure about all that, but they agreed that something suspicious was going on.

They also agreed with Harry that Hagrid knew something about Snape that he wasn't telling them.

The three of them ended up finishing their homework for the weekend that night, working several hours before and after dinner. Each of them had to be reminded to keep working several times, as they agreed that they didn't want to do homework over the weekend. So when they finally finished their essays and review they were tired but content.

The three of them had also practiced casting magic. Marigold was still improving, even over the last twenty-four hours. Maybe it was the amount she was practicing, or maybe it was that she just needed to keep at it. Even though it wasn't exponential improvement, it was improvement.

The odds of her successfully casting a spell were getting better; it wasn't as difficult as it had been yesterday or the day before. If she kept at the rate she was going, she was sure she would be able to cast a spell her first try in a matter of weeks.

Unfortunately, her success rate wasn't the only problem. Though that was improving, the potency of her spells was not. They were still weak in comparison to Harry and Neville's.

When she went to sleep Friday night, she wondered what it was that was holding her back. She was happy she was making progress, though. She had been doing homework non-stop and casting magic all night; she had been so busy that she forgot to be nervous about her meeting with Dumbledore the next day. In fact, she had completely forgotten about the meeting altogether.

Marigold was standing in front of a really ugly looking gargoyle statue.

She had woken up just like any other morning: early. She had gone to breakfast like normal. Malfoy had laughed at her, Harry, and Neville over the boil incident the day before. Not an everyday occurance, but normal enough. After breakfast, the three of them went back to the common room and talked until it was time for her meeting. They had offered to walk with her to the meeting, but she told them she would be fine.

And she was.

She had found the statue easily enough, but now that she was here, she was nervous. All she had to do was say the password, but she felt stuck. He had already heard about her; what if she was nothing like what he had heard? What if she made a bad first impression?

Marigold sucked in a breath. "Acid Pops," she said.

At first, nothing happened; then the gargoyle leapt aside, revealing a slowly ascending spiral staircase. With a shaky breath, Marigold jumped on. When the staircase finally stopped, Marigold walked the rest of the way and found herself in front of an old oak door.

Right as she was about to knock on it, it swung open, revealing a rather large room with moving portraits hanging all over the walls. She quietly walked in and looked around. Several spindly tables with silver devices and other knick knacks were scattered all around the room. The sorting hat was perched atop a bookshelf lined with more books than Marigold could count.

But what caught Marigold's eye was a beautiful red and gold bird sitting atop a perch. It had long, gold tail feathers and black eyes. Marigold realized she was holding her breath, and she let it go.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" a soft voice asked.

Marigold jumped; she turned to see Dumbledore standing a little ways left of the bird. Marigold just nodded when she realized he had asked her a question.

"Fawkes is a phoenix. When they die, they burst into flames and are born from the ashes… you two are very alike in that way." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and Marigold wondered what he meant. "You are lucky to see him when he is so beautiful. A couple more weeks, and he will start losing his feathers."

Dumbledore sighed wistfully and took a seat behind his desk. Marigold turned to face him, still wondering what he meant when he compared her to the bird.

"I can see why he likes you," Dumbledore said. Marigold got the feeling he didn't mean Fawkes.

"Well, Professor McGonagall tells me you have been made aware of your scholarship situation. And I can tell by the way the teachers talk about you that your grades won't be an issue in the future. Though, I have been informed you have been practicing magic in your dormitory and in your common room, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir, though I didn't realize that was against the rules."

"Oh, it's not. I'm just curious as to why you spend hours practicing a single spell. Most first years don't have that kind of determination. You have made quite the impression on your Prefect."

"Oh, well… I am having a bit of trouble producing magic…" she mumbled.

"Is that so? Well, most first years have trouble, it's part of learning."

"With all do respect, sir, the students in my year have already gotten past most of the initial troubles. They are proficient in casting the spells they have already learned, having trouble only with spells they are still in the process of learning. I'm having trouble with spells I already know.

"My success rate is getting better, sir. But I'm still not in league with the other first years. When I do manage to cast a spell, it's not as good. The only strong spell I cast was one on the Hogwarts Ex-" she stopped talking, realizing she could get in trouble if he found out about that.

"I see," Professor Dumbledore said. He had a twinkle in his eyes. Marigold got the feeling that somehow he knew about the incident on the train.

Marigold watched as Professor Dumbledore stood up. He walked over to the bookshelf with the sorting hat on it.

"I have an idea," he said, tracing the books with his finger. "If you would humor an old magician," he pulled out a book, "I would like you to look over this."

Dumbledore handed her an old leather-bound book. The pages looked old and the cover was worn. Marigold read the cover and looked up at Headmaster Dumbledore, who smiled down at her.

"The Duelist's Guide to Nonverbal Spellwork? But sir, I am hardly able to cast normal spells. How can I be expected to do such advanced magic?"

"I have a hunch," he replied, his eyes sparkling.

"A hunch…" Marigold repeated skeptically. She remembered Dumbledore's speech at the start of term feast. She wondered again if he was just a bit crazy.

Dumbledore sat down at his desk again and looked at Marigold.

"Sir…" Marigold hesitated. "Is this about what happened on the Hogwarts Express? Because that was a bit of a fluke."

"My dear Miss. Rosenberg, I suggest you reflect on your time as a witch. Very rarely do flukes crop up. I am quite certain that if you look back, you will find at least something that will help you realize this book is a good investment."

Marigold paused for a moment; she caught sight of the Sorting Hat and remembered what it had said to her. Plenty of talent… a girl of few words… Marigold thought back even farther, to Mr. Ollivander the wand maker. Alder and phoenix feather… we can expect great things from you… very loyal wand type… reputation for picking the most advanced witch… suitable for nonverbal spellwork…

Marigold looked up at him. He was smiling, and she smiled back.

"Thank you Professor Dumbledore," she said, clutching the book tight against her chest. "I will read it and get it back to you soon."

"No need, you can have it. All I ask in return is for you to write me every once in a while, telling me how you are doing with the book. Maybe tell me about your friends sometimes. You wouldn't believe how boring it gets up here."

"Thank you, sir." Marigold smiled. Professor Dumbledore dismissed her, and she turned around and left the office.

Marigold found it odd that he would want her to write him. But she appreciated the book. As she walked toward the Gryffindor common room, she wondered what Harry and Neville had gotten up to. She made it halfway there before she remembered she had a letter to send out. She turned around and headed toward the Owlery.

Since the Owlery was in the east tower, and the Gryffindor common room was in the west tower, Marigold had to walk back across the school to get there. The walk was pleasant and calming after the nerve-wracking experience of meeting Headmaster Dumbledore. Everything was going fine until she turned a corner and found herself in an almost empty corridor.

Marigold wished it really were empty, because the only other student in the corridor was Draco Malfoy. Marigold groaned when she saw he had noticed her. She made her way to the end of the corridor, hoping Malfoy wouldn't say anything to her; what he was doing up here without his goons, she had no idea.

"Hello, Rosenberg," Malfoy sneered as she walked past.

Marigold ignored him.

"Hey, Rosenberg, didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to ignore people?" Malfoy asked, tagging along behind her.

Marigold sighed, but ignored him still.

"Rosenberg, what's it like being shadowed by Crybaby and Boy Wonder?" Malfoy mocked.

Marigold stopped in her tracks; he had gone too far again. She turned around and glared at Malfoy. "I would rather be shadowed by my two best friends than be seen in the light next to a prat like you."

"A filthy Mudblood like you would never be seen next to someone like me," Malfoy seethed, though his ears had turned pink.

"Malfoy, there is nobody around to hear your insults or laugh at how clever they may be. I have no intention of going at it with you, so please, just leave me alone."

And with that, Marigold continued on her way. She heard Malfoy mutter something else, but she eventually heard him walking in the other direction. Marigold didn't know what Mudblood meant, though it didn't sound good.

When she got to the Owlery, she grabbed the letter out of her robes. Before sending it off, she quickly asked Charlie what the word meant, then resealed the letter. She found the owl she had been using, attached the letter, and watched as the bird flew away.

She figured Charlie was a good person to ask what Malfoy had meant. She didn't say who had said it, or that they had said it to her; she merely asked what it meant. If she went to Harry and Neville and the word ended up being really bad, they would want to know who had said it. And Marigold had no intention of telling them and having them go off to Malfoy, giving him the satisfaction of thinking that he had gotten to her.

Marigold waited until the bird disappeared into the sky. As she walked back to the Gryffindor common room, she wondered again what Dumbledore had meant when he said she was like Fawkes.

Harry and Neville were talking excitedly in the common room when she got back. When they saw she had returned, they asked her how the meeting had gone. She showed them the book, and they both got excited.

The three of them spent the rest of the day reading through it together and practicing non-verbal spellwork, using the fire-making spell to practice. Marigold found it interesting that she was the only one of the three of them who managed to set a piece of paper on fire. Harry was able to get it to smoke, but Neville didn't get any results.

Marigold got it her fifth try, then again later on. When the boys finally went to bed, Marigold went to her dorm as well. She closed her curtain and practiced setting her parchment on fire. She had a cup of water in case things got out of hand.

Marigold noticed that it was easier for her to set the parchment on fire when she didn't have to say the incantation. Maybe it was because she had less to focus on? She had no idea.

Her success rate was surprising; it was significantly higher than usual. With normal spell casting, Marigold could successfully cast a spell maybe once out of fifteen tries. But with nonverbal magic, she could successfully cast a spell at least once out of ten times. Even better, her magic was somehow stronger when she didn't have to say the incantation.

When she finally went to sleep, she was the happiest she had been her entire week of being at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been right… the book had been a good investment.

(A/N: Thank you for reading. If you are new, don't hesitate to Follow and Favorite. All comments are thoroughly enjoyed.)