I took in the hustle and bustle of King's Cross. People were everywhere, trying to get to their respective platforms. It was very busy, and I remembered reading Hogwarts: A History, where it stated that there were about 1,500 students at Hogwarts.

I took a wavering breath; I had never been comfortable with crowded spaces. Not enough to be diagnosed with Enochlophobia, but still, very uncomfortable.

As I walked through the crowded station, my green sundress moved with me, flickering to the side. It defined my brownish, silvery-green eyes, and not really in a good way. Fashion was never my strong suit. With that, I was wearing brown boots, which I really favored.

I knew how to get to Platform 9 3/4, although it really should be called Platform 9 1/2, since we literally walk through straight the center of the wall. However, what it was called seemed more catchy.

I did not appreciate the large family shouting about muggles; Weasleys, I presumed, from what I read about them in a pureblood family tree book.

Now, don't think of me as a preservative pureblood. I just like to know about all of them. The fact that they marry their cousins ( bar the Weasleys, Potters, Longbottoms, and other tolerable pureblood families ) was thoroughly disgusting, but you couldn't say it wasn't intriguing. Anyway, where was I? Right, the Weasleys.

Once I became aware that in all my thinking, I had stopped moving and was attracting some stares from younger children. I kept moving. I had half a mind to march up to the Weasleys and tell them they were breaking the Statue of Secrecy in many ways, but I quickly reminded myself I had better things to do and inconspicuously headed to the Platform.

Nothing relatively interesting happened after that, not until I found a seat in an empty compartment.

I was thinking hard (originally: harder) about Dumbledore's letter, but not about Raina. The part where he asked me about changing my name. I hadn't replied yet, but now I made my decision. I'm not ashamed of my heritage. I don't care if I'll get attention; I'm not changing my name!

I was reading my fascinating book, Merlin and Morgana: Enemies For Life. It was historical, but told fun stories and had a hint of amusement. AKA - The Best History Book!

I was reading the part where Merlin made his ten laws of magic. Not like the laws of magic we all know and follow, but his own. It was written a couple of centuries ago, but was actually understandable.

1 - Thou shan't create wonders of magic out of thin air.

2 - Magic resides in the core of thee; ne'er in a wand.

3 - To unlock true-

"Father said that Kirrilee Destrate is in this very compartment," said a voice from behind the door.

I mentally groaned as I recognized the voice. Draco Malfoy. I almost regretted not changing my name. But how did Lucius find out where I was? This greatly unnerved me. But the conversation was not over. A new voice asked,

"Who's she?"

"Don't you know anything, Blaise? Destrate's parents got killed by the Death eaters. They wanted her, for some reason. I don't see how a girl could be that important."

Excuse me?

"I would know," Malfoy finished.

My blood turned cold. How would he know? Unless... I forced the thought out of my head when the compartment door burst open.

I had taken out a cloak earlier, so I pulled the hood over my head.

"Are you Kirrilee Destrate?"

Oh well.

"Yes."

"Back off Blaise," he whispered. "Let me do the talking."

I went back to my reading. But he had inherited the Malfoy stubbornness, or so I thought. It's not official, or anything, but still, who knows a Malfoy who's not stubborn and rude?

"Surely someone like you wouldn't hide their face?"

"Someone like me?"

He cleared his throat, clearly communicating the fact that he wouldn't elaborate.

"Please take off your cloak."

That was blunt. I did so, making sure to see Malfoy's face while I did so.

"You," he snarled.

"The one and only," I drawled, quickly losing interest.

I could hear Malfoy groan, and mutter something that sounded a lot like,

"If Father hadn't explicitly told me not to..."

Not to hurt me, obviously. But would Malfoy really try that in a train full of 1,500 people? Not to forget, some teachers take the Hogwarts Express.

"Well, I'm sorry we got off to a bad start, Ms. Destrate, so let's start over. Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Draco Malfoy,"

He picked up my right hand and kissed it ( making sure to squeeze my hand as hard as humanly possible. ) The traditional pureblood greeting. I, however, made no move to hide my abhorrence. So I disgustedly wiped my hand on the cloak I had removed and cradled it.

"I know who you are, and call me Kirrilee."

I WAS NOT BEING KIND TO HIM! So don't even CONSIDER thinking about it. I hated being called Ms. Destrate. Only Dumbledore could call me that. He did it in a kind way. Anyway, no one called me Kirrilee. Raina always called me "Kir". And that's about everyone I know.

Malfoy didn't know that. He actually thought he had my alliance, or whatever he wanted.

He smirked, and I went back to my book. I wish I could see the appalled look on his face.

Malfoy finally got the message and I heard two pairs of footsteps retreating. That was odd; I had forgotten the so-called, "Blaise" was there. I shook it off and returned to my book.

When the trolley lady arrived, a quarter-hour later, I ordered Cauldron Cakes ( my favorite! ) and finally looked outside. We were approaching Hogwarts.

I could hear someone -Hagrid, I think- calling for all of the first years in his heavy accent, and as I went there, a weird feeling pulsed in my heart. I couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, but it felt ticklish and exciting.

I boarded a boat and was immediately attacked by two girls, who immediately started gushing about boys and fashion magazines. They looked at me expectantly, as if they wanted me to start squealing about how much I loved makeup.

Not happening.

I tried to steer the conversation towards something else, so I asked them their names.

The first girl has blonde hair and blue eyes, but she was moving so fast, I couldn't really get a better look at her. Her name was Lavender Brown, and I was not really looking forward to being her friend.

The second girl is Indian, probably, and has black hair tied neatly in a braid. She was the one with the fashion magazines.

"I'm Parvati Patil," she said, "And this is Padma."

She pointed to a girl I hadn't noticed before. She was sitting in the corner of the boat and was writing something down in a notebook embedded with silver. Padma looked a lot like Parvati, so I assumed they were sisters, and since they were in the same year, they must be twins. I could see myself getting along with Padma.

However, the ticklish feeling returned, so I resumed reading my book. The first years were shepherded by a woman who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall to the Great Hall. A hat was brought out and set on a wooden stool.

Then, the hat began to talk, or rather, sing, which caused most of the first years to jump. I was not one of them. A third year had, sadly, ruined the fun and told me on the train.

THE SONG OF THE SORTING HAT

After that was over, it left all of us quite shaken. Professor McGonagall explained the rules of the Hat and called us up one by one. I tuned this part out.

I was very anxious. I wanted to be put in Ravenclaw; I really did, and I knew that wherever I went would affect my future greatly.

"Destrate, Kirrilee!"

This caused some murmurs between the students that knew who I was, which was not a lot, thankfully.

I walked to the stool and put on the hat. It covered my eyes, and I found that I actually liked this darkness.

Ah, Ms. Destrate, or do you prefer Kirrilee? You have been through a lot, it seems. You have the courage of a Gryffindor (took out the comma) to be alone. The intelligence of a Ravenclaw (took out the comma) to manage to survive by yourself. The cunningness of a Slytherin (took out the comma) to trick all those adults. And lastly, the perseverance and hard-working soul of a Hufflepuff (took out the comma) to do it all. My, my, where shall I put you?

Wherever you want, Mr. Hat. I fear that any part in this decision will take a toll on my conscience.

Are you sure? I nodded. You have the makings of a great witch, then.

Gryffindor!

My heart stopped.