-PAST KIARA, 12 YEARS OLD-

Kiara had become very lost.

When she'd tried to get her parents inside Diagon Alley they'd been held back by some invisible force. Her mother had teared up and her father was stone-faced as they'd said their final goodbyes, but Kiara—who had become heartless after her recent accident—only gave a thin-lipped smile that she'd hoped looked genuine. Then she'd stepped through the brick wall that Headmistress McGonagall had explained to her in a letter, and disappeared without a trace.

Immediately she'd confused Ollivander's with Eeylops Owl Emporium, and her and Basil had been chased out. The students inside had screamed, hiding behind birds who'd spread their wings wide to appear as a threat to the timid snake. She had been turned around twice by bustling crowds of wizards and witches, not even able to ask for help in English and burdened by her small, but clunky suitcase.

"Excuse me, miss," a gentle voice had said beside her, and she'd smiled reflexively at him—just as she'd practiced. "Are you lost?"

She'd heard the word 'lost' and nodded, then added a feeble, "English . . ." Her Belgian accent had shrouded her speech. Except the man with black hair and round glasses, dressed casually in Muggle clothes, had appeared to perfectly understand her situation.

"Bonjour," a young boy had greeted, whose hair hadn't quite seemed to have decided if it wanted to curl or stick straight up. He then said something rapidly in English to his father and grinned back at Kiara. "Je m'apelle Albus."

"Bonjour. Al-bus."

Though the man (who had introduced himself as Harry) couldn't speak French, they had been generous enough to stick by her side and help out. Harry had helped her choose a few standard black robes in her size at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. She'd opened her bag and pulled out a wad of pound sterling that her parents had exchanged for her. Harry and Albus had glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

In order of explanation, Harry had taken out a small leather pouch with a tie and showed her three different types of coins: "Galleons," he'd explained, a coin between each knuckle. "Knuts, Sickles . . ." By the expression on her face, it had been clear that she had no idea what he was talking about. He'd said something slowly in English, pointing to the cashier, her robes, then himself.

Kiara's eyes had widened, and she'd objected immediately. "I can't let you pay for this, sir," she'd said quickly, in french. The man had given her an apologetic look, helpless to the language barrier.

Albus had caught her eye and nodded. "S'il vous plaît?" he insisted.

Such formal french for little old me! She had laughed to herself and at last she had relaxed, smiled genuinely, and said another familiar English phrase: "Thank you, Harry. Thank you, Albus."

The whole event was much more complicated than Kiara and her parents had expected from the letter. When it was time to get going, Harry had placed a hand on her suitcase and did his best to explain Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. She'd followed them. Once they'd arrived, Albus had held his hand out to her. Already he was almost a head taller than herself, and she'd looked deep into his eyes for trust. She had been frightened of walking through a stone column, but she was frightened of Albus, too.

Finally, she'd taken his pinky into the grasp of a few of her fingers and held it tight. He had been the first person outside her family that she'd ever touched, since the accident.

A toad jumped over her feet when she'd stepped through to the other side, and a little boy had gone racing after it. Nothing startled her anymore. Albus had tried to ask what her name is, but in that moment a group of his friends began to call his name. With a whimsical smile, Albus had waved goodbye and disappeared in the crowd before she could have told him.

-o-o-o-

-PAST KIARA, 12 YEARS OLD-

"I'm Callie, this is Lucy, and that's Jason. They're not new, but I am. Are you a first-year as well?"

The words had barely comprehended for poor Kiara, and she'd nodded vaguely. "OK," she'd added, for good measure.

Her eyes had passed over each character in the random train cabin that she'd chosen, lingering for half a second longer on Jason. He had been entirely bald—no arm hair, no head hair, not even any eyebrows. He'd noticed her curious gaze and smiled, explaining with a quiet "It's Polyjuice Potion paranoia. Pretty common around here, thanks to a group of Slytherins who threaten to become us and get us expelled. I'm just a little more paranoid than most."

Kiara had no clue what Polyjuice Potion was, or how someone could 'become' another person. I am not understanding him correctly, she had reasoned with herself.

"Maybe we'll be in the same House when we're Sorted. I bet I'll be Ravenclaw, like Lucy and Jason are. Do you want to see my list of the cutest boys at Hogwarts? Top five right now are James Potter, Daniel Boseman, Cory Malfoy, Professor Longbottom, and Albus Potter."

The boy, Jason, had looked away as though personally offended by what Callie had said.

"Jason, you'd be much hotter with hair. It's nothing personal! I'm waiting on a couple more friends. They'll be your friends, too. Are you waiting for anyone?"

Huh? That's what Kiara had wanted to ask, but she'd held back. So many of Callie's words and names had been lost on her, so she'd just smiled politely and looked out the window as the scenery passed. After denying some chocolate frogs that had made Kiara's stomach unsettled just looking at, they had arrived at Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-

-PAST SCORPIUS, 13 YEARS OLD-

It had been the would-be second-year student walking in with the handful of firsties that had snatched Scorpius's attention, despite the ease of getting distracted by his rowdy Slytherin friends. Starting at Hogwarts late doesn't really happen. His best friend Albus Potter had socked another boy, Finley Creek, in the shoulder. They had begun to shove each other back and forth while laughing, until Headmistress McGonagall had stared daggers into their heads.

The girl had a strangely delicate, soft look about her, with flowy, long dark hair framing her thin face. Her movements were as graceful as white clouds meandering in a gentle summer breeze. There was a certain way she carried herself; not confident, but not nervous. Simply . . . existing. Either way, she'd stuck out like a sore thumb from the rest of the first-years, all soon to be Sorted in the Great Hall. Many had looked petrified. (The real petrification, of course, had come later; the seventh-year Slytherins had decided to Petrificus Totalus the new first-years in Gryffindor.)

Scorpius had leaned forward to try to get a better look, when the Sorting Hat sitting upon the four-legged stool began to sing:

"Welcome, welcome, students of Hogwarts,
Take heed of my words and stray far from Peeve's bad farts,
And listen quite closely as I begin to say
That being the Sorting Hat hardly does pay.
But I don't do it for money (I'm only a hat, honey),
I do it 'cause I am the grandest hat of the land;
Keep your tall hats and squat hats on hooks at the stand.
Remember that I've lived for many more years
Than Filch and Mrs. Norris have struck hearts with fear.
Believe me, you should trust me and listen well,
For I have wise things I need to tell:
Perhaps you'll be Gryffindor, where only the boldest
Will stand with the winners, apart from the coldest
Of Slytherin, with ideas of desire and victory
That will wash out the wisdom of the Ravenclaw's hickory,
Who justly bite back with the smack of a book,
Leaving us Hufflepuff—they're mild and shook,
And only want food to stuff, not the hurt blighting
With certainly no fists of immature fighting.
Listen closely now and take care not to be frightened;
Step close and you'll find that you'll soon be enlightened.
And know that your only rational fear of me
Should be that I split you and hope for no tyranny
That further widens the irreversible ravines
Of the already separated, segregated teams.
Now come one and come all (unless you're not magic)
And hope for an ending that isn't so tragic."

"The Hat's been so bloody paranoid about splitting students into four groups," a seventh-year prefect next to Scorpius had said. "What's the big deal about it, anyway? I'd still hate everyone here." The girl's words had been drowned out by the thunderous roar of clapping for the Sorting Hat's yearly song, always different and always amusing—with the exception of Scorpius's second-year, when Peeves had sewn the Hat's mouth shut and everything it said was muffled and silly.

"Jefferson, Edward," McGonagall read out minutes later, surprising Scorpius back to reality as he'd realized he'd missed the Sorting of the last handful of first-years. He had been looking at the girl, who waited poised and silent.

A boy who'd looked like he'd have the build and speed for being on a Quidditch team as a Beater stepped up and sat, shakily, onto the stool. Headmistress McGonagall had placed the Sorting Hat on his head, and after one moment's passing, the Hat had yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF."

A few more students had gone up, being split to Ravenclaw, then Slytherin, then Gryffindor, but Scorpius tunes this out, until . . .

"LeClerc, Kiara."

His attention had been rapt as he'd watched her take her place calmly on the stool, ankles crossed, back straight, and hands folded in her lap. The Sorting Hat had shouted "RAVENCLAW" before it'd even properly settled on her head.

Her smile had been faint but sweet, and she'd joined the table that was hollering and shouting proudly. A few more names passed, until he had heard a familiar one.

"Potter, Lily."

Scorpius had watched as the Sorting Hat practically salivated over itself, excited to scream out "GRYFFINDOR," and Lily, with her long, strawberry-blonde hair spread out along her shoulders, had walked proudly over to her table. Cory had caught his friend Rose's eye and gave her a big smile and thumbs-up that she'd returned. Albus, who very surprisingly had become a Slytherin with Scorpius a few years back, stood up on the bench and cheered the loudest for his little sister.

The last few students had then been Sorted, the right tables cheering when a first-year was placed with them. Scorpius had waited for the sounds of his table participating to react to the Sorting, having found it difficult to concentrate.

"SLYTHERIN," the Hat said for someone he'd already forgotten. Scorpius clapped with the rest of them.

-o-o-o-

-PAST KIARA, 12 YEARS OLD-

Confused as to what her emotions were, she'd scrawled a few more words onto the paper and then had blown a cool trickle from between her pursed lips to dry the ink as fast as possible. She had still been getting used to writing with quills, rather than pens, and often smudged her school work. At least one of the feelings she had been having was emotional distress and an overall sense of disorienting chaos. Heart thudding strangely hard, she'd tied the rolled up letter to an owl's leg and sent it off into the night air.

To Basil, she'd said, "I do not suppose mother will be happy."

Yet, even as she'd said this aloud, she hadn't been able to help feeling almost relieved. She'd accidentally lost the home video her parents had sent her off with, in the hopes that she would watch them and remember a few things from her life. But she hadn't been sure she wanted to remember.

The first sign that it wasn't meant to be was when she'd learned that no trace of Muggle technology existed at Hogwarts castle. Perhaps then, she'd gotten tied up with something and had misplaced the VHS tape.

She knew she should have felt morose over the loss, but it paled in comparison to the real tragedy.

Losing her entire memory after the accident was worse than could be imagined. It's more than frustration for forgetting something as simple as how to get back to her bedroom at home. It even ran deeper than the disappointment of unlearning an entire language she had become fluent in—English, which her parents had been working diligently toward since she was three years old. It was the misery of knowing that she should remember her little siblings' favorite games, but couldn't. It was knowing that she should be able to cook her parents' comfort meals like the dozens of times before, but not able to. It was knowing that she should have been able to keep all the friends she'd had before the accident. She had turned cold and never responded to their invitations to play.

It had been like waking up in someone else's life. So the idea of reliving a happy childhood that may as well not have been hers pained her deeply.

If she never knows, it can't ever hurt her.

She'd half-heartedly checked the library when she'd first realized the tape was missing. When she'd been unable to find it there, in the Ravenclaw common room, in her trunk at the end of her bed, any of the towers, or her classrooms, she'd decided it was lost forever and went straight to the Owlery to write to her parents. At first it was just to apologize, but then it had turned into an explanation that she'd made a decision to never remember her past.

It had been a difficult letter to send. She'd had grief as if she had lost a close friend. But she knew her parents felt that their daughter had died.

"This is a chance to be whoever I want," she'd reasoned, practicing English with Basil (who was still becoming accustomed to slithering up all the stairs at Hogwarts and had looked upon her with tired sympathy). "Nothing and no one holds me back."

-o-o-o-

-PAST SCORPIUS, 13 YEARS OLD-

Scorpius's third year had been full of taking walks in the evening around the Great Lake—with enough time before curfew, of course, as he had been worried about being caught. (He would later grow up not to care.) Often times he would be with his friends Albus and Rose, or Finley (even though he was hoping to be made prefect in a couple years, which Scorpius had always thought sounded lame). But that day, he had been alone.

It was only when he'd walked to the top of a shallow hill that he'd seen a girl standing at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest, hand outstretched above her head and stroking . . . nothing. He'd walked down the hill and came up behind her.

"What're you up to?" he'd asked kindly, when his heart had still been full for everyone—Slytherin or not.

The girl had turned slowly, unafraid, to face him. Her delicate features gave away that it was the Kiara girl, the first-year who had just recently got bumped to second-year classes. A small trickle of blood started at her kneecap, taking a twisting, winding path to the top of her soaked white sock.

"You injured yourself?"

She'd opened her mouth as if to say something, but couldn't seem to find the words.

Of course, he'd thought. "Do you know English, Kiara?"

"Yes."

"OK. What're you . . . doing out here?"

She'd looked the other way for something that wasn't there. Then she'd shrugged.

Scorpius had laughed at the situation. He'd wondered if she was a bit mental, standing in front of the creepy Forbidden Forest all alone, and bleeding. Turning around briefly to look at her, he'd called for her to follow.

"Come on, Kiara. I'll bring you to the hospital wing."

"What?"

"I'll bring you—"

Shaking her head, she'd stepped forward and begun to walk past him, saying, "No, I mean why? It is only a bit of blood."

She hadn't waited for him as she'd walked back to the school.

-o-o-o-

-BACK TO THE PRESENT-

When Scorpius sees the snake girl lying on the Ravenclaw dining table, he nearly walks right out.

Except, she looks so peaceful. Her eyes soak in the Great Hall's ceiling, saturated with stars. Some of her long, wispy hair falls over the edge of the table. She's surrounded by open textbooks and a lot of loose papers haphazardly strewn—it makes him feel claustrophobic.

But Kiara is perfectly at rest amongst her chaos.

And, for a moment, he just watches her.

Jamie Button meows loudly and gives away his hiding place with her smug cat grin. Cursing under his breath, Scorpius turns on his heel and ducks his head, trying to get out quickly without being seen.

"Hi, Scorpius."

As if caught red-handed at a crime scene, he freezes, then turns around cautiously. Looking up, he quietly says, "Hello."

"How are you?"

He can't help but wonder why she cares, but he feels well, so he tells her so.

"I am glad."

Now that polite greetings have been exchanged he'd like to leave, but Jamie Button begins to swagger up to the table and complains from the floor to be lifted up. Even when Scorpius tries desperately to order her back to his side, Jamie Button seems to raise her tail in a sassy manner and meows continuously. She is ignoring him.

Defeated by the small might of a cat who he'd found stuck in a sewer grate in London last year, he sighs and walks up to her. To the girl, he asks, "Why're you here?"

He gently curls his hands around the small cat, lifting her up onto the table. Jamie Button immediately scurries off and cozies up next to Kiara, who laughs and begins to coddle her. Then she sneezes twice in a row. If Kiara is allergic to cats, she gives no impression that she cares.

"I bet Jamie Button wouldn't be so nice if she knew your wretched snake would eat her," Scorpius says coldly.

She just smiles and shakes her head. "Basil, never. Transfigurations are his meals, and he understands the difference. I promise that Basil has never intentionally eaten a cat, or the occasional small dog."

"What? You've fed it dogs?"

Her smile widens. "It is a joke, Scorpius. Basil is much too small for anything but mice. You are very serious."

"A joke," he sneers.

"Scorpius Malfoy. Acting so tough, even without his gang of Slytherins to back him up. . . . I am curious as to why?"

Slightly taken aback, he finds a grip and retorts with, "I asked you a question first."

"Yes. Why am I here, you asked. Because I am studying astronomy, and it is rather cold outside. Would you not agree?"

"Your English is flawless," Scorpius responds. It doesn't sound like a compliment with the way his tone lilts, even though he meant it as one. Instead, it sounds sarcastic. After all these years, even when he wants to put his guard down . . . he can't.

She doesn't respond. Her lips move silently as she gazes up at the ceiling, and he realizes she's trying to count the stars.

"You know, everyone calls me Cory."

"I know."

"So. Call me Cory."

"Would you not still respond to Scorpius?"

Scorpius tries not to appear affected by the way her voice sounds saying his name. He looks away from her, focusing on her star maps. Even though he would tell anyone else off, there are a few people he never corrects: Headmistress McGonagall. Professor Longbottom. His family.

"I would."

. . . and now Kiara. Though he can't explain why.

"What are you doing in the Great Hall?"

"I was . . . chasing down Button. She ran out."

"Away from the dungeons and all the way here."

"Uh, yeah," he says unconvincingly.

Kiara doesn't seem to buy it, but doesn't seem to care either way. "Would you join me?" she asks.

"No," Scorpius says quickly, his walls being immediately enforced under lock and key that not even an Alohomora can break through. "Someone might see me with you."

He snaps sharply at Jamie Button, and the cat—startled that Scorpius would ever be so severe with her—jumps down from the table and stumbles a bit on her three legs. His heart pangs as he sees his cat struggle, and even though he risks showing vulnerability in front of Kiara he gathers Jamie Button up in his arms and kisses her pink nose. When he notices her soft trembling from fear, he wants to kick himself.

He can feel Kiara's eyes on him.

"I'm sorry, Button," he mumbles. "I'll never snap at you again." She mews appreciatively back.

The two of them walk off, Scorpius not replying when he hears Kiara call out, quietly, "Goodnight." But Jamie Button glances warmly back at her over his shoulder.

He doesn't want to go back to the dungeons, even with nothing to do out here. They walk around the school together, with Scorpius stroking Jamie Button's fur with a gentleness only she, a cat, has ever felt. At Hogwarts, she may roam free. Over the summer, when they are home, she stays hidden and cared for in his big room. He fears what his grandfather would do, if he discovered such weakness in his only grandson.

Someone sighs, and a dejected voice says, "You're kidding me, Scorpius."

He freezes, recognizing the voice. Professor Longbottom walks swiftly down the corridor with his intense gaze. Lots of the seventh-year girls in his Herbology class like to whisper and giggle about him. Scorpius has never been able to see the appeal in a man so casually scary. Professor Longbottom is like his father, if his father also cracked jokes with students, made Muggle origami in class, and kicked his boots up on his desk.

"Sir, I was just on my way back to—"

"I just caught another student hanging out in the Great Hall. What is going on with all of you? And you . . . Come on, Scorpius. This is the fourth time I've seen you walking around, an hour after curfew. I've never said anything to Headmistress McGonagall. I can't keep letting you get by with this." He stops, points at Jamie Button, and says hello to her without skipping a beat. She mews back. Then to Scorpius, he says, "Detention."

"I understand."

"Everyone's leaving in the morning, so . . . it will be over the holidays," Longbottom adds, then walks past Scorpius to head to his own quarters.

"Did the other person get detention over the holidays, too?" he calls after him.

He pauses. "She did. But she has plans to go home. So we will see what our Headmistress says on the situation. Now, go! Off to bed, Mr. Malfoy!"