Hi, faithful readers! I'm sorry about the long wait, but (finally) here is the next chapter in Sam's story! Enjoy!!

As we made our way back to Hogwarts I tried to make small talk with Tom.

"Now that was an adventure, wasn't it, Tom? It almost doesn't seem real!"

Tom nodded absentmindedly. He was looking around us and up at the glorious welcoming-home morning sky

"I bet if my parents knew what we have done, they'd disown me. Well…maybe not. But I'd bet they'd come close. I can just picture my mum's face. Shriveled up like raison and squawking like a parrot. At least that's how my brother describes her when she's irate.

"I remember one time, Tom, when there was this squirrel in the back yard, and I coaxed it into the house with a trail of peanuts. And we spent practically the whole day trying to chase it out. It was chaos! But the stupid squirrel couldn't seem to get the idea in its mind that we wanted it out. It just kept hiding under the furniture and making that annoying squirrel chatter. One of our neighbors actually called the police 'cause she thought that there was a mad burglar in our house. Utter chaos! But my dad managed to scoop the squirrel up in a colossal net and then he threw it back outside. You should have seen it run, Tom! The poor thing! It really was spooked!"

My story didn't seem to get any reaction out of Tom. I guess I'd have to try a different tactic.

"Would you like to hear a riddle Tom? You know, like your last name?"

"Not particularly," was Tom's pathetic reply. I ignored it, of course.

"Well, Tom. Here is the riddle: What can you put in a bucket that will make the bucket lighter? It can be clearly seen by the eyes, and is weightless. What is it Tom?"

"That's a stupid riddle. You'd put a hole in the bucket of course."

"You've heard it before," I stated, clearly shocked.

"No. It was just stupidly simple, Samantha. How long did it take you to solve that one? Five years?"

I gave Tom an evil glare, but said nothing. I had to actually ask my dad for the answer after several hours of puzzling. Tom either had to be lying, or extremely dexterous. I think the latter.

Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, like popcorn popping. It had been just the seed of an idea a while, but now it was fully an idea.

"Hey, Tom. Why don't you give me the address to the orphanage? I can come and visit you sometime. It would give you some company, you know."

"No," came Tom's swift reply.

"Fine then," I replied smartly, "I'll find the address to it myself."

Tom snorted. "You don't even know the name of the place."

"But I have my resources," I replied slyly, even though I had not resources at all, at least not to my awareness.

Tom shook his head at me, rolling his eyes, his neat black hair bouncing. I turned to a whole different conversation.

"You know, Tom, you're endearingly attractive. Very cute. I bet girls will be flocking after you like chickens after their mother when you're about sixteen. I bet you'll get your face on the front of a popular magazine. Or maybe you'll be a star in a hit movie."

Tom groaned in exasperation. "Will you please just shut up Samantha?"

"No, I absolutely will not shut up!" I stamped my foot to dramatize the situation.

"I repeat myself again: you are cute. Perhaps when we are allowed to go to Hogsmeade you'll take me out for tea or something."

"I wouldn't do that, stupid."

"Oh. Well, maybe I'll take you. You do need some friends Tom. And a girlfriend. Maybe I can be that for you. I'm your friend right now, aren't I?"

"Fiend, maybe."

"Define 'fiend' Tom."

"A troublemaker. Annoying. Mischievous."

"Mmm. Interesting. But maybe you're the fiend, Tom. How come you're so evil? I don't want a fiendish boyfriend."

"I'm not your boyfriend!" Tom said fiercely, looking like an irritated monkey. Ready to throw any nearby bananas. Lucky for me, there wasn't any.

"Do you not like me?" I asked Tom.

Tom gave this unsatisfactory reply: "You're you."

"And that means…." I trailed off, waiting for Tom to complete my sentence.

"You're generally acceptable."

What a weird reply.

"Would you even consider me as being your girlfriend? Maybe just an idea of it in the very back part of your mind?"

"No."

"Is there some other girl you like, Tom?"

"No." I could tell he wasn't lying.

Then, to my surprise, he said suddenly, "But I like you better than any other student in Hogwarts. Everyone else is dimwits and all the teachers are even worse."

For some reason, I felt greatly complimented. "So you're saying I'm not a dimwit?"

"That's kind of what I said."

I smiled. "That's good to know," I said, even though a felt a tiny bit sorry for the "dimwits." But just a tiny, tiny bit.

"Hey, Tom. I know this is a personal question, but how'd your mum die? Do you know anything about her? How 'bout you dad? Have you figured anything else out about him?"

"I was told my mum died right after she had me. She had just enough time to name me my stupid name. Tom Marvalo Riddle. What a joke."

"Marvalo? That's a strange name. Were you named after your dad?"

"My dad's name was Tom Riddle. My mum's dad is Marvalo."

"I wonder why your dad left? Surely he would have stayed by your mum's side."

"I don't know," Tom said forlornly. "I used to think that people with magical abilities didn't die. So I thought that my dad was the wizard. But now I know better. I was so juvenile then. Maybe it was my mum who was the witch….but I bet she could have used her magical abilities to prevent her death."

The word 'death' made my mind stir. I asked Tom, "What's with you and death anyway Tom? You seemed to become pale as a ghost when I mentioned it to you just a few hours ago."

Tom stared at the ground, so I continued. "Most people are scared to die, Tom, I know. They just don't want to let go of life. But I mean, you seem so courageous. You practically went berserk when I mentioned it. How come?"

"Aren't you scared of dying?" asked Tom, staring at me full in the face for the first time.

"Well yeah. Sort of. I don't think about it much actually. Enjoy your life is what I say. Everyone dies sometime. It's not like anyone's invincible. Some people probably think they are, but really, no one is. But for me, dying is just something I've accepted. Sure, I was afraid of that pebble killing me after those seven years. Yes, I'd like to live to be fairly old. Have grandchildren at least. But yes, I'll die sometime. And it's not like I'll be in eternal blackness. There's life after death, Tom. So what are you so scared of?"

Tom stared down at the path and didn't answer. We were almost to Hogwarts, I could see, so I dropped the subject. Hopefully I could approach it some other time when we were alone. If I ever got that chance opportunity, that is.

When we reached the doors, they were surprisingly unlocked. "Someone hasn't been doing their job," I joked to Tom, but he didn't laugh or even break in a smile. I guess I wasn't the greatest comedian, or either Tom had no sense of humor.

After leaving Tom, I made my way back up to Gryffindor Tower, were the Fat Lady seemed to be waiting for me.

"I've been waiting for you," she told me. "Since midnight. Now here you are, looking wide awake in this early morning sunlight. Where have you been?" Her voice was very demanding, and I had the feeling that I had made the Fat Lady quite angry. That's never good. I think people in portraits can have an awesome temper.

"Around," I replied. That really wasn't a lie, was it? I mean, I had been in England throughout our whole journey.

"Around," the Fat Lady said flatly. Then she said, "Young lady, do you know what a baryonyx is?"

I had no idea. I told her so.

"Well," the Fat Lady sniffed loudly, "I do hope one comes after you. Maybe I can order me some next time you try to come out so late at night. A baryonyx would put you in your place."

I could tell she was insulting me…in a shrewd way. Ugh.

"Cat claws," I said, hoping she would allow me entry with the password.

"Too bad," the Fat Lady smirked. "I changed it this morning. And this time I really did. You'll just have to wait out here for thirty minutes or so. Until someone comes out."

"Why can't you just let me?" I asked her. "You know who I am. What's the holdup?"

"Absolutely nothing, unless you count the fact that you have caused me many sleepless nights. Now I'm going to waste your morning."

"I wish a baryonyx would come after you," I muttered rudely. I guess I was tired, frustrated, and just wanted to get back to bed. Usually I didn't have such an unrefined disposition.

"Well, it won't," The Fat Lady said. "I was joking with you earlier. They're dinosaurs, and they're extinct. And the password is 'lukewarm.'"

"I'm sorry," I told the Fat Lady sincerely. "I'm just tired, honest. I usually don't speak like that. Lukewarm."

The Fat Lady stared at me, and then let me go through the passage. "Thanks," I told her politely. I didn't want to get on the Fat Lady's nerves any longer. I hoped that she wouldn't tell anyone about my late night outs. That would be disaster. Major disaster.

I made way up to the girls' dorms, and quietly opened the door.

The sun shining through the window was about the same as it had been before. Just over a scraggly tree in the field.

All the other girls, except Summer, were asleep. Summer was sitting up in bed, fully clothed and looking at a book.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you Summer?" was the first sentence out of my mouth.

"No." She slammed the book shut. "But please tell me what you've been doing. You were so inarticulate earlier."

"Could you just please forget about it?" I asked Summer. "Please Summer?"

He voice was hard as she said, "Sure. But I won't forget. I won't tell anyone, but I won't forget. Something big was going on, I know it. But what?"

I didn't answer her, but pulled back my covers and climbed into bed. "Goodnight," I told her, hoping that that one word would kill the conversation. Nope.

"No, not goodnight. Good morning. The sun's up, Sam. What are you thinking? Are you mad? You'd better wake up and get dressed and shower, or you'll miss breakfast, which will be in…one hour."

I was too tired to argue, so I just rolled over in bed and buried my head underneath my pillows.

I heard Summer's muffled voice say, "Fine. Be that way. I guess I had the wrong impression about you earlier. Now I know you're just gormless and arrogant. Goodnight!" The words were hard and cold, and I wondered what I had done to make Summer so angry. Then I realized that it really was all my fault. I had left her dubious and frightened earlier, and I came back asking her to forget all about what I had said. And then I rudely dismissed her when she wanted to talk.

I got out of my cocoon to tell her I was sorry, that I really didn't mean it, but she was gone. I just buried myself once again under the covers, but my conscience would not let me sleep. I was like that until about forty minutes later, when Jo shook me and asked me if I was ill.

"No," I told her from under the covers, even though I wasn't so sure. I knew that I wasn't feeling so great.

But I got up, dressed, and made my way down to breakfast with the Green sisters. I moseyed along the whole while, like an old zebra might after a younger herd. But I wasn't old. I was an outcast. Maybe like some zebras were. At least I felt like an outcast. Outcast. The word hurt.