Over the holidays, in keeping with my promise, I attempted again and again to cast the patronus charm. Mostly, if the day was good, and I was in a good mood, silvery shimmery mist erupted from my wand. But otherwise, nothing. But I had been learning spells since I was barely 3, and a single non-working spell didn't dishearten me. I just promised myself to read up on the spell again and try again each day.

Apart from absorbing myself in Defensive learning, however, I practised my advanced Transfigurations, practised turning into my animagus form, practised household charms (I kept my room clean that way, though my parents didn't know) and weather charms (the household charms came very much in handy when my entire room was blanketed in a thick layer of snow). This was all done surreptitiously, because my parents' were law-abiding people, and many times I had had to stuff my wand under the pillow right before they entered, and thank myself on having inculcated in them the habit of knocking before entering my room.

Besides concentrating on spellwork, I also wrote long essays about wizarding literature and runes, and practised quidditch in the fields. Hearing my parents discuss the ridiculousness of the Dark Lord's regime also led me to become acquainted with the habit of reading the Prophet on top of listening to the BBC and Quidditch Stats on my radio and reading Which Broomstick, Transfigurations Today, Dealing with the Dark Arts, and many more journals and reports that I read sporadically. It was there that I read about dementors terrorising defenseless muggles, and the corresponding discovery on the BBC that the emergency rooms were flooded with depressed people, and death eaters hunting down prominent Wizengamot members.

I vaguely remembered meeting Madam Bones, and only when I was much smaller and when my father still kept contact with his Hufflepuff friends, but it was still horrifying to read in a paper and listen on the muggle news the brutal way in which she had been killed, and how she had been locked in her own room.

A week after returning from Durmstrang, I headed down to Diagon to meet Matthias. We were rather discomforted by the silence in the alleys, but it was still a blast to browse through Flourish and Blotts, laugh about the Weasleys' love potion sets. I prodded him with a fake wand that turned into a turkey and bit his arm, and he in turn turned me into a canary. We then proceeded to Fortescue's to consume the non-melt ice creams - butterbeer with ginger for me, and banoffee for him.

The very next day, Florean Fortescue was found missing, his shop with the windows shattered and door hanging from the hinges, and my parents forbade me from going to Diagon on my own. As the news got increasingly grim, my parents clamped down on my liberties. Too soon, I was also forbidden from visiting muggle bookstores or watching muggle theatre or just sitting in coffee shops poring over books, listening to my iPod with the earbuds plugged in deep. All the while, the news from the Daily Prophet got darker and darker, more random people murdered on the streets, the muggles were talking about a crazy extremist group, and everyone in the Wizarding World were trying to skate around the fact that it was death eaters in their silver masks wreaking havoc on my country and economy.

Meanwhile, I learned to get bored of the four walls of my room, and even moving from library to living area to dining hall in the grand Burke townhouse wasn't enough to satiate my frustration at being stuck indoors. I was no longer allowed to head down to the fields to play quidditch, nor was I allowed to shop for groceries, and every bit of me yearned for Durmstrang, yearned for the comfort of my friends, or light jokes, our gentle teasing. I was almost jealous of Delphine, watching her swoop in and out of my window, travelling to distant lands I had never before seen. My father had begun working exclusively from home. He was a businessman and an investor, so he didn't really need to go to an office. My mother, who had quit her work the previous year, also stayed in. Apart from our owls and house elf, Missy, who continued to frequent shops and purchase our groceries, no one came in or out.

And it wasn't too long before the tragic news was splattered over the front page of the Daily Prophet - All Students of Great Britain Between Ages 11-18 Are To Attend Hogwarts. Not written in as large or bolded lettering were the words stuffed in the middle of the news. Muggle born students were to submit themselves for questioning. They would not be allowed to go to Hogwarts anymore. But I, whose friends were all in Durmstrang, would be forced to attend this mysterious and strange school where, rumour had it, bad things happened in it every year. With a cursed Defence teaching position, and Dark Lords or Dark Wizards running rampant in the corridors, it was a disaster as a security place, and now it was the Dark Lord's recruiting ground. I finished reading the Prophet, and glanced up at my parents, who were looking at each other, and finally at me.

At last, my mother said: "You will have to go to Diagon to get her school supplies, and soon."

Indeed, when the letter came from Hogwarts, asking what subjects I would be taking, I sent off the owl, submitting the equivalent subjects to what I had been studying at Durmstrang, barring literature and a few other subjects with no similar substitutes.

They replied rather promptly afterward informing me of the textbooks and other equipment required, and the very next day, my father accompanied me to Diagon Alley to get my school supplies.

Over owl correspondence, I broke the news to my friends, and they commiserated with me. Svetlana sympathised whole-heartedly, and sent her blessings. Reilly, who was thankfully pureblood and whose position at the ministry had not been revoked, painted grim pictures of what it was like to work in the ministry under supervision of death eaters, her letters charmed with powerful protection charms that prevented anyone without my blood from opening the letter. Matthias too complained about his inability to travel around freely, still living temporarily in Britain, though soon to bid goodbye to this grim continent. Ingvar joked about gloomy Hogwarts and promised me a trip to Finland to look at their native bearded bears in one of the magical reserves once I was out of Hogwarts. Ilona continued to send me her hand-knitted scarfs and tapestries, and made me promise to tell her which Hogwarts house I was sorted into so that she could make a beanie in my house colours, and to tell her what Hogwarts was like. Unlike me, she seemed determined to think the best of Hogwarts. It seemed only Antoinette and I, both of us doomed to attend Hogwarts, didn't know what to say. Antoinette has just returned to England after visiting her grandparents in Paris, and she, like me, completely skirted around the topic of Hogwarts. Putting it to words, hearing confirmation, sounded too much like it was definitely going to happen, and a part of me hoped that it was a bad dream, that the law would suddenly disappear, get voted out of the Wizengamot.

Finally, soon after that dark day of discovering my unremitting and unasked-for acceptance into Hogwarts, I realised that patroni was less about happy feelings, like the stupid books said, but more about strong emotions. My ire at being forced into doing something I didn't want, combined with the determination to make the most of Hogwarts, irregardless, allowed my patronus to finally be cast, and it illuminated the room in a beautiful bluish-silver light. As the wolf prowled around the room, I found hope in his sleek grace and movement, and joy in my success.

Antoinette Rosier, met with me in a corner of the Platform 9 and 3/4, trying to avoid the fumes from the steam train, and the crowd. We were met by our old friends Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, who like us had been invited to several pureblood and exclusive garden parties and from there had gotten to know us. They looked at our dumbfounded, discomforted faces, and smiled.

"Hogwarts express," Daphne said with a twinkle in her eye, sweeping her hand in the direction of the train, and at the huge bustle of people in front of the carriages. "There's actually more people than usual, though the goodbyes are much quieter."

Indeed, although some parents were tearing up, there weren't any loud outbursts. In fact, everyone looked rather tame, and I had seen bigger tears on deck of the Durmstrang ship than here. Here, everyone seemed repressed, dressed in black robes as though attending a funeral and even the students' robes of black with House ties seemed duller than usual, lacking in energy or vibrancy. And no doubt the increase in students, despite fewer muggle borns, was because many students, like Antoinette and myself, had been studying abroad, or homeschooled.

Indeed, the elusive Shafiq clan had their entire family huddled together on the platform, before herding their children as a group up into a single compartment. A Shafiq had never in living memory been seen to attend Hogwarts, with their homeschooling tradition, and it was odd to see them here, now, and watch them board the Hogwarts train like broken dolls.

"We had better board," said Tracey. "It's almost time."

With a soft sigh, Toni and I exchanged short dismayed looks before we reluctantly followed the other two through the thick crowd, and onto the nearest compartment. Unlike them, our Hogwarts robes and attire were entirely black, from tie to stocking. The ties and Hogwarts badges did not have House colours. I expected that that would change once we were properly sorted.

Apart from the trolley lady, from whom I bought several pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs, I ate nothing on the way to the castle. We talked at first about everything and nothing, but once we exhausted conversation and the others started falling asleep, I began to read. We were joined after the trolley lady had left by a large, thickset girl named Millicent, whom I took to at once because of her thoughtful, intelligent and contemplative air, but even Millicent began composing a letter to her elder brother, who was working at Gringotts as a cursebreaker in Egypt and neglected to return, which I thought was a smart choice. I too would not have returned if I had any other options. My maternal grandparents had originally wanted my parents to move to China, where they lived, but the difficulty in procuring a portkey to leave the UK, and the dangers of Apparating so far away, ensured that we were stuck. Either way, I would have been forced to attend Hogwarts, so I resigned myself to becoming a first rate witch, even with their unusually-named classes.

Halfway to Hogwarts, rocked back and forth on the relentless, overzealous train, I began to feel queasy and nauseous. Resisting a frown, trying to keep a stoic face, I fell into distracted slumber with glowing yellow eyes and death eaters burning the streets down.

We arrived at the station, but though Daphne and Tracey and Millicent went on to board a carriage, Toni and I exchanged depressed looks and resigned ourselves to joining the first years taking what looked like a fleet of rickety old boats, nothing like Durmstrang's sleek, even if old, warships. We were not alone as older students, however. The Shafiqs all waited in a bunch together, and Ernest Fawley, who had attended Beauxbatons, joined us in our boat, along with Ulysses Mulciber, a fellow ex-Durmstrang student. Ernest was our age, but Ulysses was two years younger. He had been on the same quidditch team as I was in the previous year, and enthusiastically began discussing some new Quidditch moves he had learned over the Summer, with Ernest chiming in sometimes, and Toni mostly keeping quiet. She was a marvel at Charms, but I had never seen her express any interest in Quidditch whatsoever.

Once we stopped at the harbour, we all hesitated in getting off. We had already seen one boat capsize along the way to Hogwarts, and those students were now riding up ahead with the gamekeeper, Hagrid, sopping wet, which was a reminder to us all how flimsy these wooden boats really were. But I knew sitting woodenly in the boat would do nothing useful so I stood and began slowly inching my way up and out of the boat, ordering Toni to scoot over to the centre of the wooden seat we had shared earlier to stabilise the rocking boat.

Then, I offered a hand to Ernest, who carefully made his way out while Ulysses sat in the middle. Finally, with just Toni and Ulysses on the boat, they seemed to finally reach an agreement, and Toni steadily clambered out. I ordered him to get up at the same time and move to the centre of the boat, and with him standing at the epicenter, and with Toni's light weight, the boat didn't much rock.

Then Ulysses gingerly made his way off the boat, pausing several times as the boat rocked precariously. I offered a hand when he reached the foot of the boat, where he put one hesitant leg on the shore. Just as the boat began tipping downwards, I pulled him off right and pulled out my wand to create a shield blocking off the entire expense of the banks of the lake before the boat overturned, sending water crashing in all directions except on our bodies, and even with the sounds of thundering waves, I heard Ulysses' sigh of relief.

"C'mon now, let's go into the great hall," Hagrid ordered, and I couldn't help but think that all the enchanted self-moving boats in the world could not be worth the risk of capsizing and floundering about in the cold Black Lake.

We were brought through the main hall, so high above me I thought it could fit five life-sized versions of me standing on top of each other, and into the Great Hall, where the students sat in four rows decorated in colours of red and gold, blue and bronze, yellow and black, and finally, at the far end of the hall, green and silver. I paused to take in the beauty of the floating candles, the enchanted night sky ceiling, glanced at the teachers table, and sized up the two henchmen sitting on both sides of the Headmaster's high chair, a dumpy looking women with huge warts and black ringlets, and her similarly dumpy brother, whose eyes flashed with pride and self-importance, and felt disgust churning in my stomach. I knew of them. The Carrow twins, also known as the Decapitators. They were responsible for quite a few brutal murders in the previous war, but had faked imperius to get away with it.

Then there was Professor Mcgonagall, whom I knew by name from several Transfiguration papers, and the diminutive Professor Flitwick, who for all his size had been a duelling champion in his time, whose methods and successes I had read about in a book and admired, as my duelling professor at Durmstrang had taught me to. Beside him was Professor Sprout, who was known for her additions to our knowledge of plants and herbs, and how they should be grown. All those brilliant minds, subjugated under the cruel new laws, in this brilliant hall that would have been beautiful if not for the usurpers of the school.

The hat began to sing, opening its rip for a mouth and chanting something about unity. The Carrows were beginning to look murderous when it finally stopped with "Put me on, and let me sort you Where you'll find your kind. But do not let your houses divide. Unite, and that will decide the fate of your kind."

There was polite clapping among the students that told me a singing hat was not an oddity at Hogwarts, then the Sorting began in alphabetical order.

"Alderton, Embry" was a first year boy who was quickly sorted into Gryffindor. He was followed swiftly by "Aran, Joseph" and then, too quickly, Professor Mcgonagall was calling out: "Burke, Cassandra."

With a sigh, I stepped up onto the stage, trying not to feel awkward that I was a seventh year student amongst a sea of first years. I sat down on the low stool, and the hat was placed on my head, and I heard rather than saw the curtain fall across my brain, and the sorting hat talking in my head. It was a deep voice, and I was so unused to hearing someone directly in my head, reverberating and resonating, that I shivered.

"Hmm. You're a tricky one," the hat told me. "I usually find it's easier with seventh years because they have more fixed personalities, but you are hard. Very loyal, I see. Definitely would not allow anything to happen to your friends or family, and kind and compassionate enough to fit with the Hufflepuffs. Smart, too, with a love for acquiring knowledge and challenging the boundaries of magic. You'll be a delight to have in a classroom. Then there is that ambition, oh yes, a desire to prove yourself, to make your own name. Your determination would make an asset to Slytherin house. Yet your courage, which is what you prize above all. You are wise enough to know that being wise is not a thing to be proud of. But you are also wise enough to know that the ability to pick yourself up after a fall, to go for the path of most resistance, is the thing to prized because it is a thing to be worked at, every second of every day, and the reward is sweetest. Oh yes, Gryffindor and Slytherin would benefit from having you, I daresay. But where to put you?"

Here, the hat began musing, withdrawing from my head to brood on its own, and I sat in silence, wondering which house I was partial to. Slytherin was where all my family had been, other than my father, who had been a Hufflepuff. Our family had decided to make its own way without the connections and pureblood reliances, so I didn't have to choose Slytherin. Gryffindor, I thought, was interesting, a house of the brave. But bravery could be foolhardy. Ravenclaw was fascinating, but I wasn't sure I wanted to be surrounded by academics all the time. And Hufflepuff...well, I wasn't sure.

"You will find your kindest, most compassionate friends in Hufflepuff," said the hat suddenly, it's baritone voice ringing in my head. "But I believe that is not the type of friend you are looking for. You are looking for an interesting bunch, a group with unique character, all of them different. That, I think, only Slytherin can give you. Slytherin, where you will find your truest friends. And you already have friends there. I see no harm in letting you be sorted to SLYTHERIN!"

Before I plucked the hat off, however, the hat laughed in my ears, and inserted with a soft little voice: "In another world, in another time, you could have been in a Gryffindor."

But the hat was wrenched off me by Professor Mcgonagall, who was staring at me suspiciously for having dawdled, so I headed off to the house of green and silver, where Daphne made room for me at the end of the table, and where I was later joined by Antoinette, also now decked in green and silver from tie to badge and, in my case, boots.