Disclaimer: I don't own it! Any of it! Well, maybe the younger generation of characters, but since they're descended from J.K.'s, then I suppose they're hers too. :-P

A/N: triquetraperson: Good guess, but there wouldn't be much of a story if Harry had been killed. But I'm not giving away anything . . . ;)

Avocado75: Thank you! :)

Sorry this chappie took so long—I wrote about half of it and then came back to find all I'd done erased . . . bummer. :(

I heard a knock on the compartment door and proceeded in quickly putting on my first year-type robes. When I had finished, I strode over to the dark cherry wood door and slid it open revealing a very worried-looking cousin of mine.

"Tyler!" I cried in surprise and dropped my black tie, which I had been about to put on.
He seemed just about, if not more, shocked to see me. "How--?" he said in awe, his light blue eyes nearly bulging out of his head, "James and Katelin said you had missed the train!"

"A li—" I was on the verge of telling him about the lion, but . . . what if he didn't believe me? I mean, anyone who went on about talking lions blowing you onto a train would definitely seem to be barking mad. No, I couldn't tell him what had really happened. "I, er. I did catch the train," I began, trying very hard to think of a good lie . . . is it just me or do I have to lie a lot? . . . "It's just--erm--they had already left the compartment when I hopped on?" It had actually sounded more like a question, so to hide it I coughed and kneeled down to "tie my shoe."

I think Tyler knew I was lying--I'm really a terrible liar and also because my shoe didn't have laces. Tyler isn't top of his class for nothing . . . but if he did know, he didn't say anything, nor did he inquire any further.

"So, er, where are James and Katelin?" I asked hastily, to change the subject once I had stood up again.
"They're in the front car," Tyler smirked coyly, "and they should be doing their last-minute homework, but they're so worried about you that I doubt they are. And then, there's that very big chance that a certain Slytherin git's paraded in on them; partly why I left them in the first place. He always tends to "run into" our family on the train the first day, doesn't he? I didn't want to get involved in anything, 'cause he's a Prefect this year." He said that last bit a little darkly, because if he really was Aunt Hermione's son, then he surely had wanted to become Prefect as well.

I sniffed disdainfully, just thinking of that evil family whom we've despised for so long. I'd never met Draco Malfoy in person, but I'd heard dreadful stories about that stupid bloody man, and his son as well. I'd actually met his son, Damian, who was a few years my senior, once before. I was very young; it was back when we still lived in England originally. A shiver ran up my spine . . . no, I was not about to repeat what he'd done then, even in my mind.

Tyler sat down on a three-person bench and stretched his long arms and legs in luxury, making me giggle lightly. Tyler obviously had inherited his tall frame from his father—another Weasley trait, I thought sullenly, that James and Katelin had that I didn't.

Tyler retrieved a chocolate from his pocket and offered with a full mouth, "Want one?" but it came out sounding more like, "Wa'un?" Yuck, I hated chocolate frogs; they always made me feel like I was eating a real one, fresh from a mud puddle. I shook my head no and wrinkled my nose. He shrugged and proceeded to eat his anyway, holding up its glittering wizard card over so he could see what famous wizard was on it. Tyler let out a surprised noise and he began to choke on his mucky mouthful of chocolate.
"Wow!" he exclaimed once he'd forced the frog down his throat. "Abby, look at this!"

I sat down next to him and glanced disinterestedly at the card. I didn't collect wizard cards obviously since I wasn't too fond of chocolate frogs, so whoever it was was probably some old bloke who invented magical dentures or someone else weird that Tyler hadn't gotten yet. I was about to look away to take out my book, but something caught my eye: two bright green eyes that belonged to the man in the picture shone up at me like emeralds. Those eyes looked awfully familiar . . .

That's when I recognized them as mine.

"They've never printed him before!" said Tyler incredulously. He flipped the card over and read the back aloud:

"Harry Potter: 1980-2004. Famous for killing the dark wizard Lord Voldemort at age 17."
But I was only half-listening to Tyler--I already knew that bit about my father. That's actually all I knew about him, because no-one's ever really told me much of anything. Tyler turned the card back over and clumsily shoved it into my hand.

I stared blankly at it lying there for a few seconds, still taking in his features—so very much like mine. For once in my life, I didn't feel like the odd one out; I was seeing someone who was like me. "Why are you giving this to me?" I asked finally, not fully understanding. If this was the first time this card was printed, then why didn't he want to add it to his collection?

Tyler snorted disbelievingly and raised his pale eyebrows. "Why am I giving this to you?" he asked incredulously, "He was your dad, not mine."

"But--but wouldn't your mum and dad like to keep it? After all, they were his best friends." Why didn't I want that stupid card anyway? I mean, hadn't I been longing to have a picture of him all my life? Stop being a prat, Abby, just take it!

"It's not like my parents don't already have loads of photographs of him." He proclaimed. I must've had a doubtful expression on my face, because he said forcefully, "Look, just take it. Give it to Katelin, or James, or your mum. I don't want to keep it! It just wouldn't feel right . . . after all, you've never even seen a picture of him."

I accepted the card grudgingly. I don't know why I didn't want to keep it. Tyler was right--I had always wanted a picture of him, to see what he looked liked. But suddenly when I looked back at his teenage face, I felt a rush of white-hot anger surging through my veins. Why would I be angry with this man that I'd never met before? If he had defeated the Dark Lord, why did I want to punch his face in?

I shoved the wizard card into my pocket and leaned back against the seat, breathing heavily and scowling deeply. Tyler had already settled into a text book. Tyler has always been a bit of a goody-goody, and maybe that's why I often got frustrated with him. I looked out the window for a short while, but I kept shifting around restlessly, so I decided to go find my brother and sister.

"Oi, where're you going?" Tyler asked curiously when I stood up and opened the sliding compartment door.

"I'm going to go find Katelin and James." I replied haughtily, turning to leave.

"Oh, you might want to bring your luggage with you," he said evenly, ignoring my angry tone, "or the house-elves will think you're a Prefect--I left my stuff in another compartment as well.

I turned around to grab my trunk, but then realised with a horrifying jolt that I hadn't taken it with me when I was blown here. I felt my throat drop down into my stomach. "Oh no!" I gasped, "I must've forgotten it back at the platform!"

"Don't worry;" said Tyler comfortingly, "you can just owl your mum when we get to Hogwarts. I'm sure somebody will find it."

I was still a bit apprehensive, but I left Tyler to his reading and continued walking throughout the train.
Knowing me and the horrible luck I have, Tyler's prediction about Malfoy came true. I opened the door into a compartment, only to find the three other occupants to be none other than Damian Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, two massive, stupid boys who gave the impression of walking boulders.
Malfoy's eyes shot upwards from his--it seemed to be some sort of animal skull he was holding?-to see who the visitor was. When he saw that it was me, his lips twisted into a sneer. I mimicked his.

"Weasley," He spat.

"Malfoy," The word leapt from my tongue with all the venom I could muster. Crabbe and Goyle stood up menacingly, punching their fists into their hands and flexing their muscles (bulk) grotesquely.

"So Weasley, word is that you'd missed the train." said Malfoy, examining his fingernails. Upon closer inspection, I realised that they were painted clear, and manicured perfectly. I suppose you had your father get you another train-oh wait, you don't have one, do you?" Crabbe and Goyle laughed stupidly at his remark. How dare he? That great, bloody slime ball! I was about to reply very scathingly, but someone else was quicker.

"You know, it isn't very nice to make fun of someone just because they don't have a father." The girl who had spoken had come from the compartment behind me and was very tall with a dirty blonde braid that fell down to her waist. She looked about my age, and she had a very dreamy expression on her face, and she seemed nice, I suppose.

"No one asked you, Lovegood. If I had wanted a lecture on whom I can or can't make fun of, believe me, I would not have come to you for advice." Malfoy snapped.

Lovegood narrowed her eyes, and her dreamy manner had suddenly evaporated. "And I didn't ask you for that rude comment, Malfoy. Maybe you should think before you open that big, hypocritical mouth of yours." She said coolly.

Ha! I had an ally who was smart, unlike those boulders Malfoy had beside him. I didn't bother to stifle my laughter and said, "But how would he be able to think? He hasn't really got much of a brain to think with."

Lovegood smiled and added coolly, "Is that why you have Crabbe and Goyle with you all the time, Malfoy? Do they do all your thinking for you? After all, they are geniuses compared to you."
Malfoy scowled and stalked out the door, beckoning Crabbe and Goyle to follow. Oh, how the mighty have fallen . . .

Lovegood extended her hand and I shook it. "I'm Sharon Lovegood. Well, actually my surname should be Pennifold, as it's my father's name, but I think Lovegood sounds nicer." Just like me, I thought. She sat down on a bench. I was about to introduce myself, but she spoke first. "You're a Potter, aren't you?"
I was raised my eyebrows, a bit taken aback that she seemed to already know my name. "Yes, I suppose I am, but how--?"

"My mother talks of your family quite often. She was friends with your parents, I think, when they were at Hogwarts. Your mother was in the same year as mine."

"Oh." I said. "But how could you tell I was a Potter?"

Sharon had that dreamy look plastered on her face again. "It's your eyes. They're very distinguishable. Mother says your father's eyes were green as well."

I shrugged, trying not to think of the face on the wizard card. I sat down as well, in the seat across from Sharon. We sat silently for a moment, then:

"Is it true that you've traveled all over the world?"

I nodded and asked, "How did you know?"

"Mother told me," she answered simply. "You know, I do live right near the Burrow, so I've been over there a lot and heard things . . ." I was mildly surprised that I'd never heard of her before, let alone met her, since I used to go to the Burrow a lot back when I was younger.

"Is that why you're wearing first year robes?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes," I said, "But I'm not going to be a first year—I'm going to be a third year." I noticed that she too was wearing the first year tie.

Curiously, I asked, "What year are you in?"

"Oh," Sharon replied, "well, Mother had wanted me to go to Beauxbatons for at least my first three years of schooling, because she was getting married to a French bloke. But I'll be in my fourth year now."

That made me feel a bit better, and less self-conscious about being a new third year. "What house do you want to be in, then?" I asked curiously.

"Ravenclaw," she answered immediately, "but I suppose Hufflepuff wouldn't be too bad, after all, my father was in there." Sharon seemed to be having a difficult time making up her mind, because then she said, "No, no, Gryffindor because it sounds like it would be fun . . . then again, my mother was in Ravenclaw, so I'll probably be placed there." Giving up, she said whilst sighing, "Well, as long as I'm not in Slytherin, then I won't mind."

Yes, she does seem a bit on the odd side . . . but then, aren't we all, really?

"What house do you want to be in?" she asked me, smiling.

"Well, all of my family's been in Gryffindor for generations." I said, suddenly getting an anxious pang in the side of my stomach. What if I wasn't put into Gryffindor?? My family would be so disappointed! An even worse thought occurred to me: what if I was put into SLYTHERIN?
"If I had to be put in the same house as Malfoy, I would probably leave the school!" Sharon continued in a manner of hyperbole, widening her eyes.

I couldn't agree more with her. The thought of possibly being in Slytherin made my stomach churn terribly, and for a moment I was afraid I was going to be sick. "So would I."

I sat with Sharon for a while, mostly looking out of the dark window in silence, and pretty soon the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station with a shrill whistle.

I stepped off the train with my new friend (did she even consider me a friend, or just an acquaintance?), and noticed almost immediately that it was raining quite hard. Sharon retrieved her polka-dotted umbrella from her large robes, and held it over both of us as we made our way through the enormous crowd of students.
A man with shaggy black hair towered above us all. "Firs' years!" He called over the pouring rain, which was coming down in buckets. The umbrella wasn't really helping us stay dry, so Sharon put it back away in her pocket. "Firs' years, this way!"

"Do we go with him?" I wondered aloud. All the other teenagers were hurrying to get onto a horseless carrage before they got completely soaked, but we weren't really one of them . . . yet. My brother, sister, Sharon and I still had to be sorted.

"I suppose," Sharon answered, but in the bellowing gusts of wind and rain, her response sounded far away. We pushed our way to the crowd toward the giant man, and I realised that this was Hagrid, who I had heard all about from my family.

"Abby!" someone cried behind me, although I could barely hear it above the weather. I spun around, and made Katelin out though the buckets of icy rain coming down upon us, standing behind me with a thoroughly surprised expression on her face. "How did you get here?? Did you get back through the barrier to Mum?"

"I'll tell you later." I replied quietly. Katelin nodded (although I don't think she heard me anyway) and didn't inquire further. "Where's James?" I asked after a moment, noticing that my brother wasn't with Katelin.

"He sort of ditched me." Katelin said darkly. "Ran off with some girl named Evelyn Green. Don't worry, I'm sure he's having a jolly good time--"

"Firs' years, follow me!" Called Hagrid, and led the first years and Katelin, Sharon, and I through a thick forest of dark trees.

Soon our magically moving rowboats rounded the bend, and--there it was: Hogwarts, its infinite glowing windows, lighting our way across the dark water of the lake. "Wow." Many of the first years breathed.

Hagrid led us to a tall, oak front door and rapped his huge fist on it three times. The door swung open, revealing an old woman wearing her hair in a tight knot at the back of her head. "Come inside." She said sternly. This must be professor McGonagall, if Uncle Ron is to be believed. Wow, she really does look like she's sucking on a lemon!

We entered into a room that would have been able to fit several large houses inside comfortably. Many puddles formed on the stone floor from our soaking clothes.

The woman led us into a small chamber off of the hall. "Welcome to Hogwarts." She said, the shadow of a smile crossing her face. "I am Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress. There are a few things I must go over with you before the sorting." She cleared her throat loudly. "There are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin."

My stomach flipped flopped, and by the look on other kid's faces, they were anxious too. I felt eleven all over again. Katelin on the other hand, seemed fairly confident that she would be in Gryffindor. Sharon was looking at the ceiling distantly.

"While you are here, your house will be like your family." McGonagall's speech seemed like it had been rehearsed many times, or she had just said for far too many years. "If you misbehave, you will lose house points for your house, but if you do something worthy of gaining house points, we will award house points to you. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the house cup. I will be back shortly when the sorting is ready."

McGonagall walked over to us, and said in a business-like tone, "You two—where is your brother?" she asked Katelin and I sharply. We both kind of shrugged, and she continued, "Well, make sure you tell him this, because I haven't the time to go searching for him at the moment. Now, you three will be sorted just like the other first years—In the Great Hall with the Sorting Hat. But, it will be announced that you are transfer students, so you'll be learning on a third and fourth year level. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am." Katelin did an army solute. Oh, dear. Professor McGonagall definitely seemed like the no-nonsense type of person (and I already had predicted at this point that Katelin and James would most definitely not get along well with her). True enough, the severe-looking professor just glared at Katelin and left the chamber.

As soon as she exited the room, chatter burst out among everyone.

"I know I'll be in Gryffindor." Katelin said confidently, after making a face in the direction which McGonagall had left. "And you will too, of course. I mean, every single Weasley has been in Gryffindor. Come to think of it, so have all the Potters."

"I know you'll be in Gryffindor," I told her anxiously, "but--but what if I get sorted into another house, Kate? Mum and everyone else would be so disappointed!"

Katelin dismissed this question with a wave of her hand. "Don't be silly, Abby, of course you'll be in Gryffindor!"

I sighed, defeated. "I suppose." We both fell silent and I glanced at Sharon, who was still looking at the ceiling, as though it had something very interested on it.

Just as I was about to look up as well to see just what was so interesting, McGonagall came burst dramatically though the doors of the chamber. Sharon focused her attention on the professor. "Follow me." McGonagall said.

We shuffled back through the door into the hall, where each and every footstep hit loudly on the ground, ringing throughout the whole room. The floor was covered in the puddles students had made while walking though it, and knowing me and the luck I have, I slipped and fell flat on my bum. Nice one, Abby, I thought to myself as several of those annoying first years giggled behind their hands. Hmph.

The room we entered a but a moment later was absolutely brilliant! Double cool with knobs. The four ancient wooden tables lined up in a row were filled with the older students, watching us as we strode over to the slightly raised up teacher's table. I began to feel very self-conscious, having all those people scrutinizing me as I walked by. But fortunately for me I lack in height so I blended in nicely with the first years. Katelin and Sharon (and James, who was up in front walking next to a pretty blonde) on the other hand, stood out like beanpoles next to small insects.

Beautiful levitated candles were scattered throughout the room, lighting everything up in their dim, warm glow and the ceiling I had heard about so often was a dark grey at the moment, to match the sky outside.

McGonagall placed a wooden stool upon the raised platform all the teachers were sitting at and placed an old, patched and tattered wizards' hat on top. "When I call your name, kindly step forward and put the hat on your head. When it has said the name of the house you are in, please go the appropriate table. Anderson, Peter?"
A small boy with raven black hair stepped forward and sat on the stool, carefully sliding the hat onto his head. The hat had barely been on his head for five seconds before it cried, "RAVENCLAW!"

"Boomer, Angelica?" A girl with blonde pigtails placed the hat on her head. It was nearly a whole minute before the hat yelled, "Hufflepuff!"

"Cringly, Stephen?"

"GRYFFINGDOR!"

"Green, Evelyn?" A pretty brunette who looked like she had just had dung shoved under her nose perched herself daintily on the stool, and neatly put the hat upon her head, as to not mess up any of the straight chestnut hairs. Wow, it's like looking at a female Malfoy, only not platinum-blonde, I thought, scrunching up my nose at the thought. It took the hat even longer for Evelyn that for Boomer to decide.
Soon enough, the hat declared Evelyn a Slytherin. Yes, definitely a female Malfoy . . .

Many more students were called up, but I was a bit too nervous to acknowledge them anymore then what houses they were put into. There were four more Slytherins, three more Hufflepuffs, eight more Ravenclaws, and three more Gryffindors. Finally, McGonagall had reached the W's, and my pulse quickened. Why on earth am I so nervous about a sorting? None of the first years seem to be getting this worked up about the sorting.

"Whiton, Persephone?"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Weasley, Abigail?"

My stomach churned really badly, and my pulse grew even faster and louder as I stepped up to the stool and placed the hat on my head. I was sure that everyone could hear my heart beating, but try as I might, I could not slow it down. The hat fell over my eyes, so the mass of students disappeared from my line of vision and that did slow my pulse, for a bit.

"Ah," said a quiet voice inside my head. "Another Weasley . . . no, you're more of a Potter, I can tell. I must say, that I questioned being able to sort another one. You are very much like your father--same ambition, same bravery, same cleverness. Ah yes, and there's something else about you . . . you have a certain thirst to prove yourself as a Potter . . . you also hate always being different as well . . . hmm. Yes, there's no doubt about where you belong, my dear. SLYTHERIN is the house for you!"

I froze in horror, and I felt my throat drop into my stomach. I think I stopped breathing at all. Finally, Professor McGonagall had to usher me over to the Slytherin table. It was as if all the things I'd had ever had nightmares about had come true. I couldn't even bear to look at James, Tyler, or Katelin. Not even Sharon, after all she'd said about being put in Slytherin.

I ate my dinner in silence, and vowed never to talk again. Yes, alright, I'm a bit of a drama-queen, but imagine being in my place right now—alone, and in the house against everything my family ever knew.

What had I ever done to deserve Slytherin?

. . .Advice, anyone? Please R&R and I'll love you forever! .