Disclaimer: blah blah blah, not mine, blah blah blah.

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"Ah good, I was wondering when you'd get here," Blaise said, an amused smile tugging at his lips at the sight of her shocked face.

"Blaise?" Hermione asked, not sure if she should be relieved.

"Milady," he bowed low. She opened her mouth to ask about Draco, but the door opened, the first of the new prefects stepping into the room. Blaise quickly shot her a look that clearly said 'later' before turning to greet the Hufflepuff. It didn't take long for the room to fill, and soon enough all had arrived except for Ron. Ginny seemed to have woken up enough to get herself there, but wasn't offering very interesting conversation. No matter though, the Slytherin prefect never paused for her input, Hermione noticed with annoyance. Blaise shot her an almost nervous smile and turned to face the prefects.

"Well a couple of you have been prefects before," he began. Suddenly the door banged open and Ron fell awkwardly inside.

"Ah, there you are—we were just starting," Blaise commented amiably, motioning for Ron to sit down. Was he actually being nice to a Gryffindor? Instead of sitting, though, Ron stood, agape.

"BLAISE? What the bloody hell are you doing as Head Boy?" he asked in a loud voice.

"Apparently Dumbledore thought I was suited for the position, I guess," he responded. He nodded to Hermione and she, glaring at Ron to sit down, continued the prefects' introduction to the new year.

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Harry sat in the compartment alone, staring out the window. This was the first train ride to Hogwarts in which he hadn't felt worried or scared about Voldemort or what he had in store for them. It had all been so…terrifying, really, last year—the attack was subtle, secret—not dramatic with death eaters blowing in and trying to take over the castle. Instead, the Dark Lord managed to, over a number of months, replace most of the Hogwarts staff and faculty with Death Eaters under Polyjuice potion. No one even noticed the change until students started disappearing from student/teacher meetings. Harry shuddered, remembering the night Ginny hadn't come back from her appointment with McGonnagal. Anyway, all of that was over now—this year would be the best yet. He and his friends were safe, he had a beautiful girlfriend and prospects of going to the best Auror Training School in Europe. At last, he sighed, closing his eyes, he could finally be normal.

"Potter!" barked the deep drawling voice, shaking him out of his light doze. He opened his eyes to see Malfoy standing above him, sneering, wand in hand.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" He asked irritably.

"You shouldn't speak so disrespectfully to your superiors, fool." Draco sneered. "In fact, you shouldn't speak at all without permission." Now angry, Harry stood, but before he could grab his wand, lightning pain seared through his body. The familiar high pitched laughter was drowned out only by Harry's screams as he felt his insides twisting and ripping apart. Finally, the curse was stopped, leaving him flat on the ground, out of breath and face to face with Malfoy's shoes. Breathing heavily, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, he turned so he could see Draco's face. Harry's heart stopped as he realized—recognized—there was a terrible, familiar glint in the slytherin's red, slitted eyes. Their eyes met and with a jolt, Harry was thrown out of his nightmare, scar throbbing.

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Their meeting over, the prefects filed out of the car, chattering excitedly about the announcements and upcoming events of the next term. Finally, when all of them had left (Ron had to be pushed out before he made more of an idiot out of himself), Hermione turned to Blaise.

"How did you become Head Boy?" she asked, eyes narrowed. "You weren't even Slytherin prefect!"

"Disappointed? I suppose you were expecting Draco, eh?" he replied, gathering some left over papers off the floor.

"Leave Malfoy out of this—I just…I don't understand,"

"Ah, finally, a problem the bookworm can't solve. That'll drive you mad, that one will," he smiled, his dark brown eyes twinkling.

"Stop smiling at me!"

"Why?" she'd gotten his attention now—he stood and faced her, a perplexed look on his face.

"Because! You're Slytherin, you don't smile unless someone is in pain!" Hermione spat, frustrated. Blaise's eyes darkened.

"Well, you're in pain, aren't you? Because you can't figure out why I'm Head Boy?" he retorted. "Look, if we're going to have to share the Head quarters and be in this together this year, I'd kindly appreciate it if you kept your prejudices to yourself, whether they're generally true or not. I think you'll find as time goes on that I'm not like some of the more…cruel members of my house. Now, if you'll excuse me…" he nodded curtly, stepped around her, and out the door. Hermione stood in the doorway, watching him stalk away. Why had she lost control like that? He was right—she shouldn't have been so judgmental, she should go apologize—but he'd disappeared. Great start, she sighed. Oh well, at least she didn't have to share a place with Malfoy. Feeling slightly better at this thought, she stepped out of the car and went to find Harry and Ron.

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The train began to slow and soon enough, Hogsmeade was in view. Kalea glanced out the window as the town lights flew past, the only evidence that there was anything there at all. Then she jumped up from her seat and began to pull on her robes, hands shaking in spite of herself.

"Stupid—ridiculous—thing…" she muttered as she missed the button hole for the third time. Honestly, why was she so nervous all the sudden?

"Need help?" Ginny asked, trying not to smile.

"Shut up, you," she scowled, turning away from her and trying one more time. Not able to take it any more, Ginny walked over and helped her with the last few buttons.

"Thanks…" she smiled. "I don't know what's wrong with me—I never, EVER get nervous….but right now I feel like a first year or something!"

"Don't worry about it," Ginny replied. "Have you been sitting in here with Luna this whole time?" she asked, nodding her head at the sleeping form by the window.

"Oh, is that what her name is? Yeah, I've been here—just needed some time to think." Kalea glanced around the otherwise empty compartment and stuffed her things back into her bag. "Let's go find the others," she said, stepping past Ginny and leading the way down the corridor.

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"Harry, are you sure it was just a dream?" Hermione asked, brow furrowed with concern.

"Look, what else could it have been? Voldemort is dead," Harry replied, beginning to regret telling them about his nightmare. "It must have just been a flashback or something. The last battle is not one we can just sort of forget, you know."

"But…but you said your scar hurt when you woke up—and that only ever happened when Voldemort was feeling a strong emotion of some kind, right? I mean, he shouldn't be feeling any emotions if he's DEAD…unless there's an afterlife and….Harry!" Ron stopped, mouth open. "D'you reckon your scar's reacting to Voldemort's feelings in HELL?" he finished slowly, eyes wide.

"Ron, honestly, don't be so stupid." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows there's no such thing as Hell… haven't you read Lockhart's book, The Day I Died and Turned Into a Banana Slug?"

"You're not reading his rubbish still, are you?" Ron asked, incredulously.

"How would you know if it's rubbish or not? You've never read it!"

"I don't have to read it to know—its LOCKHART, remember? The one who stole stories from other witches and wizards and passed them off as his own?"

"No it's not, it's his brother's! Tommy took up the business after Gilderoy's accident, remember? Don't you know anything about the literary world?" she snapped.

"I know enough to say that I won't become a banana slug when I die!"

"How do you know?"

"Well how do YOU know there isn't a HELL?" he shouted back, face red.

Harry sighed and stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind him. Oh well, at least they weren't badgering him about his dream, anymore. They were now standing on opposite benches, shouting at each other at the top of their lungs about absolutely nothing—things were getting back to normal. Still, he couldn't help but feel like he was back in fifth year again, trying to interpret every dream and stray thought that crossed his mind. But how was this possible, Voldemort was DEAD! Harry'd dealt the final blow himself, watched as the great and mighty wizard was smote upon the cold stone floor. Sure, it might be a hard battle to forget, but this was no flashback. He could feel it…something was really, very wrong.

"…Hello?"

Harry snapped back to reality, realizing there was a hand waving in front of his face. Looking around, he was surprised to see Ginny and Kalea standing in front of him.

"How long have you two been there?" he asked, blinking.

"Long enough to know you were in your own little world…What are they fighting about now?" Kalea asked.

"Banana slugs."

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The Great Hall was decorated beautifully, as always. The ceiling reflected the sparkling sky, and hundreds of candles glittered above the tables, giving the room a soft, warm glow. The Sorting Hat had finished its song and had just finished putting Dacker, Steven into Hufflepuff when Hermione felt a gentle kick. She looked across the table at Harry and Ginny, who were having fork fights…then to her right, at Seamus, who was dozing off. Figuring she'd just daydreamed it, she turned back to the platform where Garrison, Christa sat with the hat on her head. Just as the hat shouted "Ravenclaw," she felt it again…a tiny, gentle tap on her ankle. This time she looked across the table on the other side of Harry and found Ron looking straight at her.

"What?" she mouthed.

"Nothing…" he grinned slyly. Her heart skipped—what was he playing at? They looked at each other for a few minutes, Hermione trying to read his eyes. Suddenly, the name Mitchell, Kalea rang out across the Hall and her attention snapped back to the platform where McGonnagal stood.

"It is a great honor that we have an international exchange student this year, from the esteemed Atlanta School of Sorcery in America. Kalea Mitchell, please step forward to be sorted." Kalea jumped at the sound of her own name and stepped as smoothly as she could towards the old stool. She sat down and McGonnagal placed the old hat on her head. Harry and Ginny dropped their forks as they, Ron and Hermione all waited with baited breath. The few seconds seemed an eternity before the hat cried out with all its might,

"SLYTHERIN!"

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K, this is the final rewrite of this chapter. Sorry the first version sucked so much, dunno what I was thinking when I wrote it, lol. Thanks to Caitlin for telling me honestly! Hon, you rock, please, seriously don't apologize for being candid and always always give me your opinion—it's extremely helpful! xxxxxx