Walking through the gates of Hogwarts for the very first time, the first-years followed no rule of arrangement as they climbed the well-worn stone steps. Jaws were dropping or hanging slightly, eyes were wide, and the mind was in awe, contemplating the beauty and mystery of their surroundings. Pure-bloods, halflings, and first-generation were all stumbling in a compact cloud of dark robes and bright eyes with no regard to their feet.

In all the chaos, some were pushing forward. Most simply wanted to get a closer look at the woman clothed in green waiting for them at the top of the stairs, while some were whispering between themselves of her being a real witch, or a professor - maybe even the headmaster? No, the headmaster was too important to be greeting them, or... was it?

"Disorganized brats," he heard someone mumbling under their breath right behind him.

The boy turned to see who it was. He could recognize a feminine voice, but her displeased and impatient facial expression helped him in linking the voice to a person. Yet, how strange...! He had trouble linking her face to a name - and he knew everybody! Not personally, but from his family telling him about all other wizarding bloodlines, pure or not, in order to prepare him for their inevitable contact.

He saw a girl with a fair complexion as clear as porcelain, without a single freckle, pore, or scar. She had light ginger hair which reminded him of the sun, for some peculiar reason, reaching her mid-back in a luscious and elegant cascade of perfectly defined loose curls, like that of nymphs and fairies from his mother's tapestries. Her eyes were cold and green, shining like precious stones, so very beautifully accentuated by the dim lighting of the staircase. Even so... he didn't know who she was. He was absolutely clueless!

Could this mean she was a muggle-born...? Was it even possible? No! No, not with that robe carefully crafted to fit her shape and her silk ribbon tied so precisely under her collar. Her blouse had gold-framed buttons and lace-trimmed sleeves. This could simply not be a commoner... But he didn't know her! How could it be?

He watched her step closely next to Professor McGonagall. She walked into the Great Hall as if she owned the entire place! How reckless, how arrogant, how insulting to him and his entire family! How... mesmerizing! He ran a few steps to walk on the professor's left side, while she naturally chose the right side. When they reached the very front, she stopped them and presented the headmaster, Dumbledore, and then the sorting ceremony.

"Look at them," he decided to initiate a whispering conversation, "stepping on each other's toes to be placed in one house or another. This is, of course, merely a formality for me - my entire family has been in Slytherin!"

The girl took one look at the one who had stopped on her left. Pale, absolutely perfect skin, without a single sign of adversity, platinum blond hair sleeked back in a strict, almost German way, sharp but strong bone structure, and eyes gray like the most precious of metals. He may have had a difficult time placing her face, but it was rather easy for her to place his.

"Perhaps," she replied to him briefly before turning her attention on the headmaster. "I think the entire Housing system is artificial and pointless, but it does bring some color to the uniforms."

"Really?" he chuckled. "Where are your people usually placed, then?"

"Gryffindor or Slytherin. I honestly hope for Gryffindor simply because green and blue make me look dead."

Professor McGonagall began calling names on her list and someone stepped between them, briefly interrupting them.

"I think green would look good in you." He tried to imagine the girl in all her fantasy glory in green robes, as brilliant and cold as the emeralds in his father's rings.

She shrugged. "I won't be wearing any colors this year, regardless of my house." Before he could ask for it, the explanation was delivered to him. "I am mourning."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!"

He rushed on stage, trying to smile and enjoy his brief moment, although the girl's words echoed in his mind. The professor lowered the hat over his head, but before it could touch him, the hat decided.

"Slytherin, of course!"

Draco stood up with pride, glad to be admitted into Slytherin. He quickly made his way to the table of his house to receive the applause and admiration of his fellow students. Once that was done, he sat down, waiting impatiently to see where the ginger would be placed. Several names came and went - a Hufflepuff, two Ravenclaws, another Slytherin, three Gryffindors, another Hufflepuff.

"Katherina Priscilla Caesarius!"

No... Then he was right?! Draco watched as the girl took a few steps forward, sitting down on the chair. She pursed her lips and clicked her tongue. But she couldn't be a muggle-born! A mudblood! No, it was impossible! Draco found his fist clutching the corner of the table.

"I prefer my full name, professor."

McGonagall looked at the other professors and at Dumbledore for a moment.

"This is your full, correct name at this moment, as far as I am aware."

Dumbledore nodded. "Once we receive official documents, the change will be made, Miss Caesarius."

Katherina rolled her eyes as the hat was placed on her head. It hummed and sighed, trying to come up with an answer.

"Hmm... Plenty of bravery and ambition, a fair amount of wit and determination, and a great deal of sorrow, I see. Are you hoping for any House in particular?"

As she was getting ready to repeat the same uninterested answer she offered Draco, a third-year Slytherin stood up. "Enough mudbloods in our house! Throw her elsewhere!" he shouted, greeted with a choir of laughter and cheers from his mates and a few severe frowns from the professors.

"As a matter of fact, I believe I will be joining my cousin in Slytherin, thank you," the girl spoke. Her eyes were shooting daggers and her tongue dripped venom. She would have set that bastard on fire if there weren't so many others to see.

"Slytherin it is!" the hat proclaimed.

Hearing the verdict and watching his housemates laughing at him this time, the third-year slammed his hands on the table. "This is unacceptable!"

"It is, actually," Katherina approached their table like a panther circling its prey, "Charles Richardson Avery, would you rather hang our laundry in public, or do you prefer to discuss this in private? I can destroy you regardless - you're nothing but a vermin." Words flowed off her tongue with the speed of an angry Italian, but her voice held the low, arrogant tone of a true Brit.

Rich took out his wand and pointed it at her in a threatening way. "You don't belong in this family, you filthy muggle! You never did, and you never will, and everyone at Hogwarts knows it! You can keep requesting the Avery name for all eternity - once I become the head of the family...!"

Draco and everyone else was watching their argument as Katherina crossed her arms over her chest.

"What will you do, Rich? Quite an ironic nickname. My muggle father's money is the only thing keeping you from avid poverty! Everything the Avery family owns today is taken from my father, the most powerful muggle in all of Europe and Asia! What will you do, disown me? Your grandparents disowned my mother, but if you disown me, your legacy becomes illegitimate! Good luck rubbing off your titles in the face of every other noble family without a single penny to your name!"

"Silence! Silence!" the voice of the headmaster echoed through the long hall. "Be done with this at once! I kindly remind you that dueling on school grounds is strictly forbidden, with the exception of strict supervision! Now, please take a seat, Miss Caesarius, Mr. Avery, and let us continue!"

"You will pay for this humiliation," Rich mumbled under his breath as he sat down. Around him, his third-year colleagues began asking a billion questions:

"You didn't mention you had a pretty cousin!"

"Only that Stephanie, but she's... I don't want to say ugly..."

"Hideous," another laughed.

"And smart."

"She's gonna die alone," the previous one mocked Rich Avery further.

As the ceremony continued, Draco eyed the girl with unmatched curiosity. If Katherina's mother was born without magic... did that mean that her grandmother had a third child? Possibly illegitimate, as well. How come this scandal never reached the Malfoys? His father will surely want to hear about this. Still, she possessed magic, and if he was to believe her sharp words, she was also rather rich. Even so, she was still the daughter of two muggles! But... rich, and linked to the Averys.

"Can I help you, Malfoy?"

Draco realized he was looking at her and turned to face the professors. "I was ready to ask you the same question."

She laced her fingers lightly and placed her hands on the table, between the two of them. "I believe your father could help me. I don't like getting into debt unnecessarily, though."

He turned towards her with a look of confusion. Was this an insult, or an observation? "First, it would be me helping you to reach my father. Second, what are you talking about with unnecessary debt?"

"Simple. It doesn't matter which one of the Malfoys would intervene, I would still be in their debt. But you see, I don't need it. My father was born into poverty, he was a bastard in an orphanage who worked his way to the table of kings and presidents, and controlled the white, the black, and the magical markets of Europe and Asia for the past two decades. He earned his fortune and his power, and I intend to do the same."

A small smile was tugging at his thin lips. "Why work hard when you could have it much easier?"

"Easy comes, easy goes - you will learn."

Feeling her sarcasm in the tone of her voice and in her mocking smile, Draco frowned and bit the inside of his lower lip. "Fine! We don't mix with muggle-borns, anyway!"

"You already know I come from strength, yet you choose to ignore it. Were you spoiled, Malfoy?" the girl taunted him. "You are terribly immature in your thinking, much like the vast majority here. I confess, when I saw you, I was hoping for some intelligent conversation, if nothing else."

"Who are you to say? You just admitted to coming from a disowned bastard mother and an orphan!" he snapped.

She played with her long nails on the tabletop. "Funny... You were born into power, so you should be accustomed to it. Isn't it the nouveau rich who are the most likely to abuse power, to form superiority complexes, and to judge others by the price tag of their clothes?"

Draco took one long look at her. "...You do realize who I am, right?" he asked with a hint of amusement meant to hide his anger. "I can make your life here hell."

"Of course... However, I never said I wouldn't be open to... collaborating, for example. I only said I won't agree to you or your father helping me just like that, it's all."

Quick to notice the nuance difference, Malfoy took a brief moment to consider.

"...Are you offering me something?"

Katherina tapped her right index nail on the table. Confused at first, Draco tried to see something in that direction, but other than a few unimportant new-years, he couldn't see anyone... Wait! What's it! He counted eleven tappings, and the eleventh on her right was her cousin! The Slytherin Prefect!

"That's not a first-year position, you should know!"

"Not even for a Malfoy...?" she asked in a low voice. "What a pity! I guess I won't be sharing my war spoils, after all."

Draco fixed his gray eyes on Rich. "How far have you planned this?"

Katherina threw him a subtle smirk that lasted merely a fragment of a second. "Can I trust you?"

"...Well, you definitely have good taste," he pointed out in an attempt to smudge the line between a compliment and a self-compliment, "but what would my father say about you, being... you, and doing... this?"

"I'm not afraid of your father, I'm just used to making my own luck instead of waiting for handouts. Besides... who would tell him, other than you? And even if you did, would he really care for that dumb, arrogant, impulsive weakling? You know Lucius Malfoy better than me."

Dumbledore announced that the feast was officially open and they could dive into their food. Everything looked really good, while the scents were mingling together in the most inviting aroma. Even so, they barely touched anything on their plates.