Ok, I'm back and I'm ready for updater-age! I got some ideas whilst cleaning the bathroom (again… this seems to be my place of inspiration… I shall have to spend more time there.) Aaannyhoo, seein' as its half term an' all, methinked I could update this story quite quickement. And with the French again. If that could be called French. Well I said it in my head with a French accent. So RR guys!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the settings or characters that thou recognizes. Though I would be interested to see who reads these things anyway… except me…

Chapter 1

….

Four years to the day from that night which I spent in complete and utter agony - physically as well as mentally – and here I am yet again. Every year is the same. Wake up with a new-born chip on my shoulder, screaming and wailing like the babies I deal with every day, and as the day progresses, the seconds act as years to the little chip, and it grows and matures, until, at the end of the official worst day of the year, I've got a moaning old granddad chip on my shoulder. This humungous chip can't sleep either, so when I go to bed, my head hits the pillow, and all of my body (except the shoulder with the chip on) wants to shut down and go into log-mode. As in sleeping like one. But alas, it is not to be. The chip will keep me awake with its cynical old-chip views of life and, more depressingly, of what is to happen to my little Evelyn when she goes to school. She's not really little anymore. She just turned 15 in July. Tom's grown up and flew from the nest, he now works at a factory somewhere which markets Philibuster's Fireworks. Marie's now 17, and has been offered places in fashion schools everywhere, entitling her to a higher education designing or modelling. We're all so proud of her, and she is the closest thing to a perfect role model for all my girls. Our Marie has been through a great deal more than you would expect one of the 'beautiful people' to go through socially, but has stayed true to herself in so many ways. The last child, Hermi (short for Hermione) whom I didn't mention before, is probably the most talented young witch I've ever come across. At just turned 15, she is book smart, but not particularly street wise or sociable. I suppose it's getting the balance really, although she and Eve do have an understanding which could be termed friendship. The whole family is proud of both our 'legitimate' girls, both in different ways. Hermi is Ravenclaw's female Prefect, a feat which I personally am so very proud of, as it seems to be getting harder as the years go on. I'd always wished to be the cleverest witch in school, seeing as I was lacking in the gorgeous-ness department. I never got that far with it, though, because there were always other things which I perceived as more important. I have since realized it was because of a truer vocation in life- children. But I digress.

I am roused very early from my 'asleep' state by none other than the subject of my muddled thoughts on September the 1st, so I can cook 'her royal majesty' breakfast - as she puts it. Daniel grunts and rolls over in his sleep. No doubt he did the log thing, with no fried foods clouding his sleep one little bit.

….

I remember the first few years at Hogwarts as a blur, the first year oddly clearer than the latter years, probably because I was separated from my book smart sister, me into Slytherin, and her into Ravenclaw. I remember her telling me something about century-old tensions between my house and that of the Lion-hearted Gryffindors, but I can't say as they exist anymore. Yeah, we all have our flaws, yet somehow, now, everyone is equal in a way. My relationship with Hermi is so strange. During the school year it weakens, but, quite obviously, at home we are closer than ever. A lot of the time we have massive sleepovers with all our friends from all the different houses. Mostly it's Slytherin and Ravenclaw, although there are Ruby Sweet from Hufflepuff, Mandy Harmanez, Olivia and Grace Chestnut from Gryffindor as well. It's all girls; neither Hermi nor me would ever dare to invite a boy to our house. This makes it hard to stay in contact with some of my boy-friends, and the couple of 'boyfriends' that I've had over the years. I'm not really close to any boys, and neither is Hermi. Not that I would know, she places a lot of things closer to the vest than I do. Although my thoughts aren't particularly revolutionary, and I prefer to just straight out tell someone if there's a problem, because I believe that 'a problem shared is a problem halved' or something not quite so cheesy. But anyway, this year is going to be much different from the rest, because one of the things I have vowed to myself to do is to keep in contact with my dear sister a little bit more. At least then I'll know what's really going on between her and Alex Bogsworth. He is so not deserving of her affections.

I arrive at the Great Hall, gazing up at the starry-ceiling, it seems to have been getting darker earlier and earlier recently, something which it doesn't usually do at this time of year, but ah well. It gives me something to look at. I quite like making patterns out of the stars. Carol, Amelie, Lucifer and I all take our seats at the long table, but, as I'm busy staring at the stars, I get stuck on the end, a placement I neither like nor am used to. It is Lucifer and I that keep the conversation going, Lucifer with her wicked humour and I with… I guess just that I can keep talking no matter what. I learnt that little skill off Marie, and utilise it frequently now that she's gone away. It annoys the hell out of my parents, because, in their eyes, the only good thing about losing Marie is that she won't be forever nattering on. Hah is what I say. Looks like Carol will be the talkative one tonight; I'm not quite up to it. Too many late nights. I absent-mindedly yawn, and look instead to the person sitting on my right-hand side. The other three are conversing furiously, Carol and Lucifer already into bitching about some Hufflepuff, while Amelie is doing her usual job of calming them down and trying to make them think about some of the mean things they have said. She's a darling like that, Amelie. She has a beautiful gift of seeing the good in people, and believes strongly that everyone has a good side. Although she didn't get into Slytherin for that. Oh, no. Once, Lilac Slightly called her the most awful name, and, of course Lucifer and Carol were in there straight away. They called her so many things back, Carol shouting meaningless names back at her, and Lucifer coming out with slightly more witty comments less regularly. Carol is very good at blindly insulting people. She picks up on things very well, and registers them for later ammunition. That's probably the only thing her and Lucifer have in common, that and their ability to bitch no matter what the hour or circumstance. But Amelie sat there, coolly, and, although she didn't stop them like she usually would, her brain had formulated the most devastating plan. This plan utilised the old proverb 'what goes around comes around' and boy did it come around. It hit Lilac slap bang in the face like a mallet too, and didn't stop there. The cruel pranks went on unchecked virtually all year, Amelie slyly getting away with it each time. Each one required many hours of planning and some involved us. We had to be absolutely precise, or it would be our heads. Eventually Amelie stopped, after her good side took over once more and she saw what she was doing to Lilac. She later told me that she never regretted doing what she did, but felt slightly mean about it. Needless to say no one bothered crossing her again. I asked Hermi to track Amelie's lineage, to see if what Lilac called her was true or not, and luckily it was just a stupid name whipped up on the spur of the moment. Amelie would have no friends if people were to find out it was true.

The boy next to me was quiet, but was sitting with a lot of his friends. I knew they were his friends because I had seen them in past years, all together, but he wasn't usually this quiet. He seemed to be staring at his plate non-stop, as if the few specks of dust littering it were the most fascinating jewels he had ever seen. Although seemingly so engrossed in his plate, he sensed my gaze and managed to tear his eyes away from it.

"You gazing into your crystal… err… plate?" I asked, shrugging off my would-be-wittiness. He gave a little chortle inwardly.

"Sorry. A lot on the old brain." Was his reply. I had expected a little more, and when he realized this, he opened his pink little mouth and began a short explanation. "My mates have been hassling me all day, but it's just one of those things I'd rather keep to myself."

"Better out than in, is what I say. I'd find someone I could confide in and then drown them in gory details. But that's just me personally. It's not me to not have my opinion out there."

"Yeah, I'd noticed. You're Eve Salamander, aren't you?" He asked me, his eyes narrowed. I didn't find it odd that we hadn't formally met before, I don't know a lot of people, although many know me by face, as I'm considered to be quite loud.

"Yeah." Now was my chance to show that I knew who he was. I'm sure that my friends have talked about him in the past, in the year above us, that's it… Luke… no… it's an odd sort of name, begins with an 'L' though… He'd got me. I couldn't think of the name, and I smiled apologetically after a few moments frantic name-searching.

"Lysander." That's it! I knew it began with an L… anyway; I became aware that he was still talking. "Yeah, a lot of people forget because it's such an odd name. Most others remember it for the same reason though." He gave one of those thousand-watt smiles, you know, one of those pure ones which only a few people have. They always seem to brighten up your day. Tom's got one of those. Dunno where he gets it from though… I grin back.

"Well I'm sure I won't forget it now… Lysander Shortfoot, right?"

"Yeah, that's it. Glad you remembered." He was just about to continue when Professor Dusthorpe cut across us. I was mighty peeved at this, he was a major hottie… anyway, he started his beginning-of-the-year speech, and I pretended to Lysander to fall asleep. He gave a stifled laugh as Professor Macintosh; the Head of our House gave us a little glare, which made it all the more funny. I was just about to carry on with this train of thought, when Dusthorpe mentioned something which tickled my fancy sufficiently. I got sucked in to something which turned out to be very trivial, he had just phrased it well so that it would catch the attention of people like me, completely un-interested. He carried on with more, extremely boring facts, and the Sorting Chair was placed on the platform on which the teachers sat. The Sorting Chair is what tells you the house you're in, it enchanted to spring to life and walk the person sitting on it to their table, thus proclaiming the House that that first year is in. It is quite frightening when it suddenly springs into life, scuttling quickly and quietly across the floor, and many are petrified of it. The Care of Magical creatures' teacher, Professor Magda, sat down at a newly conjured grand piano, her voice magically magnified so that she could sing in accompaniment to the School song. Her voice echoed for a few seconds, and then the rest of the school (excluding the terrified first years) boomed along with her. It hardly sounded like a choir of angels, I can tell you that for free, although I could hear Carol's all-mighty voice at some points, stronger than the rest, because she has a brilliant singing voice and she knows it. Most of the boys who were friends with Lysander just mouthed the words, but, surprisingly, Lysander joined in, although he definitely couldn't join the ranks of Carol just yet…

So the First Years were sorted, we got an over-excited blonde girl with a lisp, and a few others who just squeaked when spoken to. I felt really sorry for the poor little mites. I glanced over and saw Hermi dealing with an over-confident first year, who was being desperately bolshy, and even though Hermi is used to quite small children (in the summer holidays we help out at a local nursery) she was finding it very difficult to cope. The stress was evident on her face, and I made a distinct mental note to make a remark on the highly attractive shade of purple she was turning whilst he carried on about how he was going to do in school.

….

As I was sitting in my dormitory, (I don't particularly like being downstairs in the common room when it's this busy, so I come up here with my friends. Somehow I feel different to everyone else when I'm in a big crowd of Slytherins like that; we can be so snooty sometimes. But I guess everyone feels the same.) We were engaged in a midway interesting conversation, which I felt would have got better if not for the smart looking owl tapping on the window, a raggedy piece of parchment wrapped around its leg. At first I wondered why the parchment was so soggy and bedraggled, but then I realised it was raining, and also, it didn't matter, because Amelie, being the animal rights protestor she was, had let the bird flap in through the now open window. I rushed to close it again as a gust of wind blew a good few drops of rain into the room, and the magnificent bird settled itself on my bed and ruffled its feathers importantly. Lucifer pounced on the unsuspecting creature (not literally) and practically tore the letter off its little leg. (Her parents don't send mail very much; they separated and are too busy bitching at each other to notice her.) She greedily took in the posh parchment, and swiftly turned the envelope over and gobbled up the name and address on it. She realised her mistake at once, and carefully put on her casual face, her 'nothing's wrong with me' face. She lazily tossed it over to me, not saying anything. I knew that she would do this, but I didn't expect the letter to be aimed in my direction, I only just sent my first owl of the year, I wouldn't have got a reply just yet, and this owl didn't belong to anyone I knew. Now it was my turn to examine the mysterious piece of paper hungrily. I basically massacred the envelope in my attempts to get in, and soaked up the words on the paper gratefully whilst standing on Amelie's bed waving the paper out of the other's reach. We shared our room with 3 other girls, all with quite different personalities, but all enormously likable. At the moment they were downstairs making merry, so we had the Dorms to ourselves. Except I was supposed to be going now, the letter turned out to be a summoning to Dusthorpe's office. All I did was cross my fingers and hoped to dear Voldemort that I wasn't already in trouble.

….

OK, so how was it guys? I intentionally put some direct quotes from one of the Harry Potter's or other, and made similarities because, well, you know. It adds a little extra. Or so I think… RR!! I hope that I'm not giving too much away too soon… but I can always go through and correct if I am… tell me people!!!

Lotsa love and appreciation 4 readin my fic (whether u thought it was worth the time and effort or not)

Bracken xxx mwah!