The Hogwarts students had not taken a liking to the Americans. Walking through the halls together, they would constantly hear insult after insult, but they never let that bother them.

They had spent many weeks working with Madame Pomfrey and what the Europeans called "Healers" to try and restore their memories. It was quite obvious to them that they were magical doctors, but none of them ever appreciated being called "Doc".

Throughout the weeks, they went through class after class, hardship after hardship. No memories ever returned. Unless, of course, you count Percy's nonsense dreams.

There were flashes of war and creatures he couldn't identify. The other 4 he came with flashed through his mind. Annabeth looked younger in many of these flashes. She was maybe about 12 in the first dream he had of her. They were on the beach with some other guy, half goat man. They were both screaming at him to not walk into the ocean. He didn't listen, and as soon as his head went below, his dream changed.

Annabeth was maybe 14 years old. She was holding something on her shoulders, obviously struggling. Percy was screaming, begging someone to let him take her place. Her hair had developed a grey streak. All he could do was scream before the possible boulder nearly crushed her, once again changing his dream.

The last part of the dream was set a few years further. They were maybe 17 years old. Dream Percy and Annabeth were trudging through a quite depressing place, dark and hot; it smelt like sulfur. They were in pain and scared. It was practically hell walking in the open. There were pimple-like things all across the surface. Every time one popped, a monster would come out: something out of their worst nightmares. The only salvation was a temple of sorts. Annabeth had taken his pen (since when did he have a pen?) and wrote something before burning it. Why was he so excited that he had a pen?

As they continued through, they reached a house in the dark. It was way beyond where they could reach, floating over a chasm. Percy and Annabeth came to the conclusion they should jump, and as soon as they did, he woke up.

--

"Percy!" yelled Hermione.

He turned around and stopped as he waited for the bookworm to catch up.

"I was wondering if you and your lot would like to come hang out in the common room with me and my friends?"

"Oh-uh-sure," replied Percy. "What time?"

Hermione blushed, "Well-uh. Now."

Percy nodded. "Let me go get my friends."

The Americans were all out by the lake, besides Percy, of course. "Ah, welcome, Aquaman!" Leo greeted.

"Aquaman?"

Leo shrugged. "Seemed fitting. I've deemed Jason here 'Superman', so you get Aquaman."

Percy looked at Leo like he had lost his mind. "Uh, anyway. Hermione invited us to hang out with her and her friends."

Annabeth encouraged everyone to grab their stuff.

As they walked, Jason spoke. "We don't even know the password to the common room."

"Yeah, we do, Jason. I'm in Gryffindor," Percy replied. They walked in silence the rest of the way.

"Filii Deorum," Percy told the fat lady.

"That-uh-do you know what that means?" Jason asked, nervously.

Percy thought a moment. "No. I just think it sounds cool. Latin, I think? McGonagall came up with it."

At this, Jason swallowed, choosing to not speak up.

The Americans had entered the common room. It was huge, colored in maroon and gold. Students milled around the room talking, doing homework, or even sleeping on the couches.

"Percy!" Hermione yelled.

They walked over and sat on the ground around the Golden Trio plus Ginny.

"So," Harry started. "Percy. Jason. What do you have on your arms?"

The boys looked at their arms. "Uh, robes?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Let's see the skin of your left arms."

The boys rolled up their sleeves nervously. What were the markings underneath supposed to be?

"SPQR?" Ron asked.

"What do those mean?" Harry starred at the markings, thrown aback.

"We're not sure," Jason answered. "But we think they look sick!" Percy nodded.

Ron gave a nasty face. "Why would you want your arm to look sick?"

Nico chimed in, "I think they mean it looks cool. Which, it does."

"Jason has a bird, and Percy has a trident! Do you think they're important?"

"The burning question in my mind is what these lines under it mean," Leo said.

"I'm not sure," Hermione responded. She and Annabeth looked at each other, "Research?" they asked at the same time. Laughter erupted from the group of 8. Is it not amazing what happens when time passes? You finally learn how this story may play out.

--

Here he is again, dear old Draco Malfoy. Life wasn't going the course he had thought. Upon the end of the war, he figured he would end up in Azkaban. Obviously not, as he was sitting in a potions class. Professor Slughorn was going on and on about a potion. Which one, Draco wasn't sure.

"Now, students," Slughorn continued through Draco's thoughts. "I understand that there were issues last year, so as some of you are new to this class, I would like to mention that we are going through old lessons as a reminder of what all we've done. Today, we're starting with the potion Felix Felicis. Can anyone tell me what that is?"

Two hands shot in the air, eager to get the answer out. "Ah, Mr. Zabini. Interesting to have you eager to answer. Go ahead," Slughorn picked.

"Felix Felicis, also known as "Liquid Luck". The effect: makes the drinker lucky. Side-effects: one, giddiness and recklessness with overuse. Two, extremely toxic in large quantities. Three, highly disastrous if brewed incorrectly. Characteristics: molten gold in colour, and droplets leap like goldfish above potion's surface when in cauldron. It takes six months to brew and is one of the more advanced potions. The inventor is a man of the name Zygmunt Budge."

Hermione huffed while Slughorn nodded. "Correct. 5 points to Slytherin. Today, we're going to start the brewing process. The Felix Felicis, however, is not the only thing we'll be focusing on; I'll explain this later. For now, I'm going to place you into groups. No, you can't switch. No, you won't complain. No, there's no getting out of this."

Name after name was called while Draco stared into oblivion. That was, until his name was called. "Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley."

No. No. No, no, no! This couldn't be happening to him. After all he did to avoid Granger, the Wonder Twins, and the Weaselette, he was placed in a group with half of them!

"Professor, you can't do this!" Ron yelled. Protests started filling the room.

"As I have stated, there is no switching, no complaining, no getting out of this," Professor Slughorn had repeated. "Everyone go sit with your groups."

Hermione, who happened to be sitting next to Ginny already, refused to move. If she had to work with Zabini and Malfoy, they could go to her.

The room was full of rustling as students moved to their new seats. They all hated the situation they were in. It was understand, though. Many of the students were paired with people they did not like, or were forced into groups with the people they fancied. All in all, it was not an ideal situation for anyone involved. Except Slughorn. He took joy in seeing his students bonding. House unity. That is what they all needed.

Being a teacher, whether a good one or not, Slughorn was well versed in the lives of teenagers. He knew who liked who, who hated who, and all the other tiny, little things.

From the moment he met Draco Malfoy, he knew there was something different about him. It was not the fact that his parents were Death Eaters or that he was a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Draco Malfoy would be the one student he knew would go against everything he ever believed in. Slughorn believed that Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, son to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune, would simply go against everything he was taught was right. He knew Draco would learn that blood does not matter. He knew Draco would learn to love and accept those different from him. Slughorn knew that Draco would be different.

As did he think those things about Hermione Granger. She was practically perfect in every way, but she held grudges. She did not care whether you were Pureblood, Muggleborn, elf or wizard. Hermione cared about all, even, unknowingly, those who wronged her in the past.

Yes, Horace Slughorn, the one teacher everyone can collectively agree is not the best, was 100% a matchmaker. He knew the ins and outs of it all, even if he did seem oblivious. He knew those who were meant for each other, and soon, he would prove it. He would prove it with his amazing knowledge of potions.