As all the members of Gryffindor House, both returning and new, followed Percy Weasley to their Common Room; many of the first year and transfer students lingered behind the pack to gawk at the magnificent castle surrounding. It was quite large—even larger than it appeared to be from the tiny rowboats. No measure of recount, or photographs and wordy articles from the Daily Prophet, could truly capture the grandeur of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The stairs were built with beautiful, aging stone—the walls of the spiraling towers were methodically lined with large, intricately framed portraits of time passed; offsetting that extra sense of curiosity-inducing history to the atmosphere… portraits moved and had life. Many of the men and women portrayed in those pieces of art twiddled friendly fingers at the unfamiliar faces.

Harry Potter, while also stunned and awed, had still managed to notice that Aralynn had fallen behind. Once she realized that the shaggy-haired boy was striding at her side, she smiled softly at him. "Incredible, isn't it?" she asked, eyes skirting around. "I've known about magic my whole life. I've lived through trips to Diagon Alley, and listened to tales about Hogwarts, but I could never picture a place this truly beautiful and magical. Having been raised separate from the wizarding world—with Muggles—I can't imagine how this is for you."

"Oh, absolutely brilliant," answered Harry. "Bit intimidating and unbelievable, but brilliant. I still expect I'll wake from a dream at any second."

"It is intimidating, isn't it?" Aralynn laughed. "It is for me, too, even despite my comfort with magic. It is a dream—only a very real one. Could you ever have imagined a place like this existing? Of magic existing?"

"Oh, never!" Harry exclaimed with a chuckle. "It's… quite amazing, really. When Hagrid first came to me and told me that I was a wizard… I didn't think it was real, even though I knew my imagination definitely wasn't creative enough to develop… something like this."

"Hagrid told you?" Aralynn questioned, eyebrow cocked. "The large man from the rowboats?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Hagrid is great. Ah—I started receiving letters at home during the summer holiday. I didn't know who they were from because I never got the chance to open them. My Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia did everything they could to keep the letters away from me. It worked, but letters kept coming—more and more every time. It got so bad that Uncle Vernon took us to this rickety shack in the middle of the sea—thinking that no letters could be delivered there, especially since it was storming. Just after midnight, it was my eleventh birthday, and Hagrid broke down the door! Then he told me the truth—about me, and my parents… about my scar."

Aralynn was listening intently, and that was obvious. She had always been very fascinated to hear about the lives and pasts of others—it interested her. She enjoyed learning about people; reading them; studying their expressions and body language to figure out their character and personality. Though, the mention of his scar was what had drawn her full attention. She wanted to ask him what he knew about it, but figured it was best to leave it be. At least for now. "When is your birthday?"

"The thirty-first of July," answered Harry.

"Merlin's beard!" Aralynn exclaimed. "You've had little over a month to learn about this? No wonder you feel so behind." She offered a sympathetic smile. "You shouldn't worry so much, Harry. I know this is… probably extremely overwhelming for you, but you'll get the hang of it. Ron and I will be here to help you, and I'm sorry about the attention you'll gain from your scar… from your past. I can act as your bodyguard!"

Harry laughed. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I think I can handle it. It will be odd at first, but I'll get used to it. What scares me more is the magic! I'm very excited about it, but I do feel like I'm lacking. I have so much to catch up on."

"We all do, really," Aralynn reassured. "We're all new to this, just like you. We can help each other—support each other. It's going to be okay."

After entering the Common Room, which was decorated with maroon and gold furniture, and was lit by the fire roaring in the fireplace, Harry and Aralynn shared a brief hug. "Thank you," Harry said to Aralynn before following his assigned dormmates up the boys' stairs.

Aralynn watched after Harry Potter, thinking about the peculiar scar on his head—about the identical one she had on hers. Why did they both have it? Why did she feel so connected to him? Thoughtfully, she sighed, and then brought her attention to Percy as he announced her bunkmates, and their assigned dormitories. "Let's see," Percy began, clicking his tongue. "Ah, yes. Hermione Granger, Fay Dunbar, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Aralynn Weasley."

The girls walked up their respective staircase, and into their assigned dormitory. Aralynn watched the girl with the bushy hair that she, Ron, and Harry had met earlier on the train. It was clear to her that the girl—Hermione Granger—was feeling uncomfortable and out of place. She then decided to march right up to the girl and befriend her. After all, Harry and Ron had been giving her the cold shoulder. She didn't deserve it. "Hello!" Aralynn greeted brightly, offering her hand to the girl. "My name is Aralynn. I believe we met on the train, briefly?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione replied with an awkward grin. "You were with your brother—the one with dirt on his nose, and Harry Potter. My name is Hermione Granger." She then took Aralynn's hand and shook it. Aralynn noted that her grip seemed to relax. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you, too," Aralynn responded with a nod. "I overheard you talking in the Great Hall—about all that you've read and learned; that you've practiced spells already."

Slowly, Hermione nodded. It was clear that she was proud, but also wary of being insulted for her obvious intelligence. Aralynn had no such plans—in fact, she admired Hermione for this. "That's wonderful," the redhead told the other. "You value learning… I do, too."

The assurance brought a bright and toothy smile to Hermione Granger's face. "Oh, isn't it wonderful? There is so much in the world to read about and experience. I absolutely adore it… Have you skimmed through any of the textbooks yet?"

"A bit," answered Aralynn with a short shrug. "It can be somewhat difficult to get reading done at home… lots of chaos."

"You're a Weasley, aren't you?"

Aralynn felt blood rushing to her ears. She half expected the girl to insult the family… many people did. Silently and cautiously, she nodded.

Hermione grinned. "I met a few of your siblings in the Common Room earlier. There are quite a lot of you. Is it nice to have siblings?"

"Do you not?"

The girl shook her head, somewhat glumly. "I'm an only child. My parents are Muggles. They're dentists."

Aralynn nodded, but she wasn't quite sure what a 'dentist' was. Still yet, she wanted Hermione to know that she was listening and following their conversation. "Oh—by the way, I wanted to apologize for the way my brother, Ron, acted on the train. He wasn't particularly kind."

Hermione shrugged, but with a soft smile on her face. "I appreciate the apology, but that's quite alright. I know I can be a bit… abrasive… at times."

"That doesn't mean you deserve to be treated rudely."

The girl beamed, lurching forward suddenly, to give Aralynn a hug. Then she stepped back, looking a bit embarrassed. "Sorry," she muttered. "You're the first person who's really… been kind to me tonight."

Aralynn smiled brightly at her. "You're more than welcome, Hermione. It's getting a bit late, though. We should head to bed. I'll see you in class."

Hermione wished Aralynn a good night, and the two both crawled into their four-poster beds, and quickly drifted into a peaceful slumber. Well, for Aralynn, the peace was short-lived. She had had a strange dream—which pertained to nothing in particular, it seemed. It was simply a blinding flash of green light, underlaid with screaming. Even a dream, or rather nightmare, so simple, jolted her awake. After catching her breath, she had instinctively touched her scar.

Why? She didn't know.

The first morning of classes was rough. Aralynn hadn't slept well at all and kept stirring awake all night. Her nightmares had all been the same—that green light and awful screaming. It wasn't a dream that Aralynn had ever had before, and she wasn't entirely sure what it meant. All she knew was that, for reasons unknown, it made her tremble with fear.

While history would have otherwise fascinated her; she found it exceedingly difficult to sit through History of Magic, as taught by the ghostly (literally, not figuratively) Professor Binns. Though she would be ashamed to admit it, she nodded off several times. The rest of her classes seemed to go smoothly. Professor McGonagall had given Aralynn and Hermione a rare smile when they both had managed to transfigure their matchsticks into shiny, silver needles. The last class of the day was Potions with Professor Severus Snape. Aralynn had been walking throughout the corridors alone when she spotted Harry and Ron and jogged to catch up with them. She had joined in the middle of a conversation.

"Percy told me that Professor Snape wants Professor Quirrell's position to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Harry.

"I've heard loads about Snape," Ron replied.

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"Oh, just that he's dead awful."

Harry's face paled. "What do you mean?"

"People say he's cruel," Aralynn intervened, surprising both boys. "Fred and George say he hates all of his students."

Ron nodded. "And that he's… well, a bit dodgy."

For a moment, Harry looked as though he was going to be sick. "I saw him in the Great Hall. He looked at me, and… for some reason, my scar started hurting. I wonder what that means?"

"Can't be anything good," Ron said.

This obviously frightened Harry a bit, and Aralynn stuck her elbow into Ron's ribcage. Ignoring her brother's yelps, she shoved herself between the boys and smiled at Harry. "Try not to worry. I'm sure Professor Snape isn't as horrible as people say. Fred and George aren't exactly the most reliable sources of information, anyway."

As soon as they entered the Potions classroom, Aralynn immediately regretted her reassuring words. Professor Snape wasn't as awful as people said—he was worse. There wasn't a single student he seemed to be kind to, except perhaps the Slytherins. Which, Aralynn thought, was typical. Professor Snape was the Head of Slytherin House, after all. Of course, he was biased.

In the classroom, Aralynn took a seat next to Hermione, who had eagerly taken out her Magical Drafts and Potions textbook, opening to the first page. The professor of the classroom entered the room with a slam of the door—he was slender with long, greasy black hair and sallow skin. He wore robes as black as night, which billowed behind him as he swept swiftly to the head of the room. He looked around the room with his dark eyes, seeming to glower at each of the students. His disdain for the children was already quite apparent.

Professor Snape had started the class by taking roll call, reading over each student's name with a voice thick and crawling like tar. The call was taken quickly and fashionably, until the man paused with his eyes lingering over one name in particular. "Harry Potter," he said, lifting his head to stare at the boy menacingly. "Hogwarts' newest celebrity. How pleased we are to have you grace us with your presence."

Harry stared awkwardly, clearly discomforted by the spotlight that had been forced upon him. It seemed that Professor Snape was singling him out, but his expression stated clearly that he didn't know why. Yes, for all intents and purposes, he was 'famous…' but why did this man seem to hate him so? For little more than a name and a scar?

"In this class, you will learn to make several drafts and potions. This is a magic so subtle… so artistic… it hardly seems to be magic at all. Yet, I assure you, it is one of the most powerful and valuable abilities you could possess. Potionmaking requires quite a hefty skillset. Here, I can teach you many things… many things behind liquid that can bring life, or usher death. That is, so long as you're not incompetent oafs. Not that I have much faith in that… most students I have taught throughout the years were completely inadequate. I don't expect you lot will be any different."

Aralynn blinked uneasily. There was a certain desire lingering in the classroom to prove to Professor Snape that the students were fresh and eager to learn. They wanted to show their worth—to assure him that they weren't dunderheads. Unfortunately, the execution of that seemed impossible. He was quite sure that they would fail.

The man swept around the classroom, looking between each of the students' faces. As he passed by Hermione and Aralynn, his confident step faltered, and his eyes focused on Aralynn. The hardness in his black, tunneling eyes seemed to soften, but only briefly. They were quick to blaze again. As Aralynn looked back at her professor, she noticed something of sorrow and longing hidden underneath the unreasonable anger. He then turned sharply, eyes on the back of Harry's head.

"Potter!" he shouted, moving around to stand before him. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry looked lost. Obviously, he wasn't going to know the answer—he had never had any sort of magical upbringing. Sure, he had textbooks, but if his aunt and uncle were as awful as he claimed them to be, would he had even had the opportunity to skim through the texts before now? Awkwardly, he started to open the textbook before him, but Snape smacked the tip of his wand down on the cover. Harry quickly withdrew his hands.

Snape sneered, looking triumphant. "No answer?"

Harry remained silent. Snape clicked his tongue at him.

"One more shot," he said. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Aralynn had only now noticed that Hermione had her arm outstretched as far as possible. She was nearly climbing atop her seat, trying to get the attention of their professor. Snape, however, while completely aware of her—was ignoring her. His sights were fixed tightly on Harry.

After a moment, Harry cleared his throat. "I-I don't know, sir."

Once again, Snape looked pleased. "Did you not think it imperative to study before the term?" he snapped. "No, of course you didn't. Why should you? The famous Harry Potter—well, thought he could just slide through his classes and exams on sheer luck, couldn't he? Why, he had done so before with the Dark Lord. Why not a bit of parchment?"

Harry was appalled. He opened his mouth to protest, but he was quickly cut off when Snape began explaining the answers to the questions he had asked. He then decided to take a point from Gryffindor, simply for Harry's audacity to try and 'give cheek'.

The class ended with several more points taken from Gryffindor after Snape had paired them to brew a potion to cure boils. The Gryffindor students exiting the classroom looked extremely put off and hung their heads unconfidently. Aralynn shuffled past Neville Longbottom, who was covered in boils and groaning as he headed for the Hospital Wing. She wished him a speedy recovery and moved to Harry's side. "I would like to formally apologize for trying to tell you that Snape wasn't awful."

Harry laughed, but it was halfhearted. "You didn't know."

"Still, I tried to make you feel better. I think I might've set you up for failure there. He was worse than anyone made him seem. I could hardly believe it."

"How would you know?" Ron jeered. "He wasn't rude to you. He was actually pretty nice, if you ask me. He helped you. Playing favorites already!"

Aralynn glared at Ron. "Don't blame me," she hissed. "I don't know why he seemed to be a little more lenient with me. Maybe I showed promise!"

Ron sniggered. "Don't be thick. Out of everyone in the class, Hermione showed the most 'promise,' and he didn't like her, either."

Aralynn heated with anger. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That Hermione is smarter than you."

Aralynn smacked the back of Ron's head with her One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi textbook, weaving throughout students in the corridors as she stomped away.

At supper, Aralynn made sure to sit as far from Ron as possible. She felt somewhat guilty, as she wasn't trying to punish Harry, but she knew that they had become quite close very quickly. Instead of sitting with the boys, she sat with Hermione, and listened to her excited chatter about their classes. Somehow, she had even managed to muster enthusiasm for Professor Snape's class. Normally, Aralynn wouldn't have minded Hermione's fast-paced talk about all that she learned, and what she wanted to learn more about, but Ron's previous comment still had her irate. Sure, Hermione was brighter than her, but the way Ron had said it was quite disparaging. The brunette seemed to notice Aralynn's angry silence.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Peachy," answered Aralynn.

Hermione closed her textbook and turned towards Aralynn. It was clear she meant business. "You haven't said a word, and you've been completely ignoring your treacle tart. What's on your mind?"

Aralynn proceeded to explain what Ron had said after their Potions class, and Hermione looked just as angry as she felt. "How rude!" she exclaimed. "I don't think I'm smarter than you, Aralynn. I can't believe he would say something like that. Sure, Snape was a bit softer with you, but why should that be a bad thing?"

"Ron says he's favoriting me," said Aralynn.

Hermione shook her head. "Nonsense. Maybe you just happened to annoy him the least."

"Maybe."

After the feast, Aralynn followed behind Harry and Ron once she noticed that they weren't heading back to the Common Room. They crossed the grounds and headed to a shabby hut standing just before the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. The very large and bearded man who had greeted them at the boats on the lake when they arrived at Hogwarts; threw the hut's door open and welcomed the boys. He eagerly waved them inside, and Aralynn slipped in right after.

When Ron noticed that she had accompanied them, he narrowed his eyes. "Nobody invited you," he said.

"Nonsense!" bellowed Hagrid. He was staring at Aralynn admiringly, looking as though he were about to cry. The great man sniffled and dabbed at his eyes with a nasty handkerchief. "Aralynn's always welcome here."

While she wasn't sure how Hagrid already knew her, she gave her brother a taunting sniff and moved to sit down near Harry. The large man was moving around the hut, preparing tea, and plating snacks. "Glad ya got the chance ter visit," he said. "Been wond'rin how yer classes have been goin'. All's well, I hope?"

"Well enough," Harry replied, taking a cup of tea from Hagrid when he offered it.

"Summat seems ter be botherin' ya," Hagrid pointed out. "Not likin' a class?"

"Potions," Harry said. "Professor Snape hates me."

"Codswallop!" exclaimed the giant. "Ain't got no reason ter hate ya, Harry."

"He does, though."

Aralynn showed Hagrid a slight smile. "He is a bit cruel."

Hagrid huffed. "Snape's never been the nicest feller, but he's a Hogwarts teacher, nonetheless. He don' hate you."

"Seems to," muttered Harry. Ron was still glowering at Aralynn.

Hagrid waved his hand at Harry. "How 'bout you two?" he asked, looking between the Weasleys. "How're yer classes goin'?"

"Well," Aralynn answered with a smile. "They're interesting."

"Snape likes her," Ron hissed. "Hates the rest of us but likes her. He was nice to her."

Hagrid grumbled. "Fer the last time, Snape don' hate none of his students! He just ain't very… affectionate s'all. Besides, why wouldn' Snape like Aralynn? He's got good reason ter like her!"

This took Aralynn aback. What was that supposed to mean? Snape and Aralynn had just met, why would he have had good reason to like her? "What d'you mean, Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked puzzled. "Well… er, I mean—yer a nice girl, right? Bright student? That's plenty o' reason."

There was something Hagrid knew that Aralynn didn't.