September 1st 1992

After the sorting ceremony, and some ghastly rumours about Harry and Ron flying the Ford Anglia to school (honestly the gossip mill is just ridiculous) Alex made her way up to the common room.

Harry and Ron finally decided to make an appearance. Hermione dashed towards them,

"There you are! Where have you been? The most ridiculous rumors — someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car!"

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.

"YOU FLEW THE FORD ANGLIA HERE?" screeched Alex, "I'D HAVE EXPELLED YOU RIGHT THEN AND THERE! RON! HARRY!"

"Good thing you're not head of Gryffindor you priss," snapped Ron.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue

"Skip the lecture," said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."

"It's 'wattlebird,'" said Hermione impatiently, "but that's not the point —"

As soon as the portrait opened the boys ran up the stairs, eager to escape the girls' reprimands. Hermione and Alex shared a look and sighed.

Oh well, there's always tomorrow.

September 2nd 1992

The next day was eventful...

Starting with mail at breakfast. Alex was sitting happily with her buttered toast and scrambled eggs on hand. She loved Mrs. Weasley, but she couldn't handle smelling or even looking at the sausages, of which she'd been forced to consume fifth helpings over the summer.

Too much of anything was a bad thing, especially sausages.

Unfortunately, that was when the peace ended.

There was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

"Errol!" said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

"Oh, no —" Ron gasped.

"It's all right, he's still alive," said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

Alexandra's eyes widened.

"It's not that — it's that."

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"She's — she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly.

"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and" — he gulped —"it was horrible."

Alex held her breath, looking nervously between Ron and the howler.

Ron opened it with shaky hands.

"—STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'DEXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOUSTOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW ITWAS GONE —"

It was Mrs. Weasley, her yells magnified a hundred times over, echoing across the great hall.

"—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULDDIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRYCOULD BOTH HAVE DIED —"

Oh merlin she was angry. Poor Ron.

"—ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK,IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRINGYOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

The howler ripped itself up, and Ron slowly sat up straight again, face crimson from embarrassment.

"It's over now Ron, you'll be fine," Alex comforted, thanking merlin she wasn't on the receiving end.

Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires and looked down at the top of Ron's head. "Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you —"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.

Alexandra looked down at her new timetable, so far she'd had herbology with the Hufflepuff's. They'd learned about the usages of mandrakes, which wasn't extremely interesting, but then again it was herbology. More interestingly, every student seemed to be in love with Lockhart, male and female.

He's probably loving all the attention, thought Alex.

Their next class was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. While not easy for most, Alex thought the class was simple, if you had focus and determination.

Ron wasn't faring well since he'd managed to snap his wand. It kept smoking and spluttering and he could barely manage a simple lumos without it backfiring.

Spellotape wasn't that effective.

"Stupid — useless — thing —"

"Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of sparks like a firecracker.

"Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag.

"'It's your own fault your wand got snapped — '"

They went down to lunch, where Ron's mood was not improved by Hermione's showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.

"What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hastily changing the subject.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Alex stifled a giggle.

Then Draco decided to cause a scene. Prat. It was just one first year that wanted an autograph.

"All right, Harry? I'm — I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think — would it be all right if — can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move."

A muggleborn boy then.

"Oh merlin, you're Alexandra Pott-"

"Evans, yeah, nice to meet you Colin," she shook his hand, wiping in on the back of her robes the second he let go.

"Could I please have a signed photo of the two of you? Pretty please?"

"Er-" said Alex. Harry put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head, motioning for her to let the boy continue.

"It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you two! Maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Draco stepped into view, flanked by his goons Crabbe and Goyle, strangely enough, he never talked to them out of Hogwarts.

"Of course Colin, we'd be delighted to have a photo." countered Harry, glaring at the blond boy.

"Harry-"

"Think of it as your one good deed a day." Harry stood next to the first-year, tilting his head at Alex.

Alex really didn't want to, but looking into Harry's vengeful eyes, she stepped into frame giving a little smile.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself." Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"Draco, shut up." Alex snapped, picking up her satchel. "Harry come on, we shouldn't be late for DADA."

"Poor Saint Potter, having to hide behind his sister. What's he gonna do? Call his mother? Oh wait, they're dead." jeered Draco.

Alex paused mid-step, wheeling her head around slowly.

"What did you say?" she said lowly, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I said-"

She didn't know what snapped in her. Maybe it was the comment about her dead parents, or the fact he thought Harry couldn't stand up for himself, but she felt the tips of her ears go red.

"You're nothing. Nothing without your father's name and money. Do you understand?"

"How dare yo-"

"Shut up and get out of my sight before I break your jaw." she glared at the taller boy.

Draco scoffed but turned away. "You're only proving my point, Evans." he said, a good few paces away.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily.

The four Gryffindors trudged to DADA with a foul look on their face. At least the lesson would be entertaining, it might even be informative.

Newsflash: It wasn't.

A quiz on Lockhart's life? Alexandra rolled her eyes.

"What do you wanna bet one of the girls get full marks?" she whispered to Ron, "Might be Hermione, with her crush on Lockhart."

"You're ridiculous, 2 sickles."

Alex felt the coins jingle in her pocket by the end of class.

For someone who'd saved the world from the likes of werewolves and vampires, Lockhart was shite at catching pixies.

Really bloody shite.

Calling them some of the most dangerous creatures ever, really? Annoying? Yes. Dangerous? Not quite... Although it was quite a head ache getting them back into that blasted cage.

"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, petrifying two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage.

"Hands on? "said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing —"

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books — look at all those amazing thing she's done—"

"'Mione, he prolly hasn't done ALL of that," snapped Alex, as she plucked the pixie off Ron's ear and threw it into it's cage. "It's humanely impossible!"

"Just because you can't do it doesn't mean noone else can!" growled Hermione, her hair pulled painfully by one of the remaining few pixies.

"HEY!"