The room blurred around her as Ann made her way to the Gryffindor table. The girl Professor McGonagall had pointed to slid over on the bench to make room for her. Ann seated herself carefully, but was saved from immediate conversation by the sudden appearance of food. The other students dug into the serving dishes enthusiastically. Ann felt her stomach slowly turn over, and she swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. She picked up her glass of water and swallowed deeply, savoring the icy liquid as it poured into her mouth. She picked at a slice of bread, unable to force herself to eat more.
"Aren't you hungry?" The green-eyed boy across the table looked concerned.
"I-I'm not feeling very well."
Hermione touched her on the shoulder. "I was too nervous to eat my first night too. You'll feel better in the morning. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way." She pointed at the other two. "The redhead's Ron Weasley, and that's Harry. We're all sixth-years too, that's why McGonagall sent you to sit with us."
"Hermione, don't scare her, rattling on like that," Ron drawled. "You'll have to excuse her. She likes to talk."
"Ron Weasley, if you don't watch yourself, you'll be doing your homework alone for the rest of term." Hermione glared at him playfully."
Harry leaned toward the pale girl again. He noticed how she tugged at the ends of her hair and toyed with her bread and still didn't eat. "Ann. Where were you at school before?"
She jumped slightly, as if startled by the question. "I was at a private academy. My father's a Ministry of Magic diplomat. All the diplomats' children went to a special school together."
"Where was your school? In Canada?"
"Yes. In Toronto." She pulled a tiny sliver of bread apart and ate it slowly.
Hermione interrupted. "It must be exciting, being a diplomat! Is your father Canadian?"
Ann shook her head, ruffling her long auburn hair. "No, he's Quebecois. From Quebec. It's technically part of Canada, but the residents mostly speak French. Sometimes they talk about seceding altogether." She paused to finish her glass of water.
"Did he go to Hogwarts?" Ron queried. "Is that why you transferred?"
"No. My mother went to Hogwarts. She's Welsh- Rhiannon Pale. My parents met after school. We've lived all over, though, but I like Canada. It's so pretty, right on the Lake..." She trailed off miserably, twisting her napkin into a mass of wrinkles.
Harry suddenly felt sorry for Ann. She seemed to be deeply unhappy- maybe she was homesick already? His thoughts were again interrupted, this time by Neville Longbottom.
"So why're you here? It's weird, isn't it? I mean, coming in in your sixth year and all."
"Neville!" Hermione was aghast.
"It's all right," Ann whispered. "It is strange, I know. I had...problems...with a professor. My mother thought it would be best for me to change schools. She thought it would expand my horizons." She smiled wryly at the idea.
She doesn't want to talk about this, Harry thought. Something's upsetting her.
"Ann, what classes did you take at home?" She glanced at him, grateful for the deflection.