At a quarter to eleven, Dominique and Jack emerged from their room and wandered out into the common area. They had talked about exploring the grounds before orientation, but Jack had ultimately decided to take a power nap while Dominique had chosen to simply enjoy a few minutes of quiet after all of the stressors of that morning.

She was an introvert at her core and being constantly around people always exhausted her—especially in new situations. She'd learned to deal with it at school by hiding in her four poster bed with the curtains drawn and, of course, getting out on her broom and away from the world. Here though, there was no escaping on a broom; not when everyone else would be up there as well.

There were others in the common area this time, showing that this building wasn't as empty as she'd assumed. Most of the people were looking as if they also were headed toward the orientation that started at eleven, though she couldn't be sure. They were predominantly young—roughly her age—and Dominique could pick up a few different languages being spoken. A trio of blokes on the sofa were speaking Italian, while a couple on the opposite side were talking loudly in Swedish.

"Hey," came Michael. He'd come up behind them with Ellibit on his tail. They seemed more relaxed than earlier, and even had a glow about them. Ellibit smiled at Dominique, as if all their bickering from that morning was forgotten. That was quick; she'd been sure Ellibit would be more of a brooder. It seemed that whatever they'd done with their downtime had cheered them up significantly.

"Hey," said Jack, letting a small yawn escape him. "You two want to walk down with us?"

They nodded, right as Giggleswick emerged on his own from the corridor. He avoided eye contact with Dominique and Jack, but he did walk straight up to Michael. "Where did they say this thing was happening?"

"In that long building," Michael said, "come on, we're all headed down there." He looked behind Giggleswick, as if searching for something. "Ansel coming?"

"He went out earlier. The Slytherins were going exploring so he went along with them."

Dominique was already bored by this exchange, though it was mostly by Giggleswick's presence; she wasted no time heading toward the exit without so much as a word. The trio of Italian speaking boys from earlier had gotten to the door first, and one made an over-the-top gesture to hold it open for her. He was smiling ear to ear, and his teeth were startlingly white.

She forced a polite smile, feeling strangely exposed all of the sudden; she quickly turned to see if anyone else was coming. Jack and Ellibit were a handful of paces behind, with Michael and Giggleswick behind them. She noticed that the Italian bloke made no point of holding the door for Jack, who had just managed to catch it before it slammed in his face.

White teeth continued to grin at her, and while he wasn't bad looking, she didn't know what to do in this situation. She still wasn't quite used to this sort of attention from the opposite sex after years of essentially being ignored. She'd been a late bloomer mentally, which had affected the way she allowed herself to bloom physically. If she hadn't chopped all of her hair off the summer before sixth-yeah, she probably wouldn't have even bloomed at all.

That haircut had changed everything for her, and she never could have seen it coming. Prior to that, she had been sort of a mess; she could admit to that. She never bothered to brush her hair or do much more than maybe shower—though some days she'd skip that too. Her clothes were always too big for her, and sometimes items she took from Louis. Only her school uniform ever fit her properly, and that was because her mother purchased those and refused to let them be ill-fitting.

Funnily enough, she was actually very pretty, she just did everything in her power to mask it. With a little soap and water, a hairbrush, and the right clothes, she'd always known she could be attractive. She'd absolutely deny it, but she knew it. In her family, it seemed impossible to not be. Victoire had been one of the prettiest girls in school when she was there—with her always perfect looking hair, bright blue eyes, warm smile and demeanor. Louis had been a bit awkward for about five minutes back when they were kids, but he'd grown into what most people considered a complete stud these days. He was tall, with dark auburn hair, the same blue eyes that they all had, and a strong jaw line that Dominique often heard girls at school swoon over.

Their mother had been known for her beauty in her youth, and getting older and a wrinkle or two still hasn't changed much about her. Striking blue eyes, dainty and symmetrical features, silvery blonde hair. Dominique was often told she was the one who looked most like her, yet instead of that exciting her, it had always terrified her. The attention on her looks; the idea of people finding her attractive—it had made her feel anxious for as long as she could remember. It was probably why she tried so hard for years to hide it and make it go away.

Her father had been an attractive man growing up—she'd seen the photographs—but an injury in the war had caused him to become semi-disfigured. A werewolf had attacked him and slashed deep, irreparable gashes into his face. Despite this, he still had friendly blue eyes and the most charming smile. You could tell he was once a very handsome man, it just wasn't apparent at first glance. She found that somewhat comforting. People were forced to confront the ugly and were either repulsed by it, or they ended up pleasantly surprised by what was underneath. And for years, that was the way she chose to live her life. The people that mattered would like her no matter what she wore or said. They'd look past the outside.

But that haircut had changed everything. She hadn't done it for the sake of a makeover—she was simply tired of her hair—but it had done wonders for her face, which now people could see without the rat's nest of hair piled on top. According to her mother, her features now "popped". She had hoped that was some sort of joke, but she did notice that she had turned more heads last year. Even at school, everyone seemed to be giving her a second glance—Henry among them.

She'd already grown it back out to her shoulders because the attention had made her uncomfortable, but it turned out that even with the longer hair, people were still paying attention. Things weren't as they once were because—and she hated to admit it—but because of Henry showing interest, she had started taking care of herself. She'd wanted to be more attractive. Now that he was gone, she was just stuck with the results. It was too late to go back to her lazy old ways.

The Italian boy's friend said something to him that made him turn away, which caused Dominique to slow a little now that she was free of his attention. Maybe she should have smiled back or said something. She couldn't just expect things to happen if she didn't at least make an effort. With a heavy breath, she stopped and waited for her classmates to catch up.

The group of them followed the path toward the orientation hall, where a crowd was gathered and filing into a large auditorium style room. There were at least a hundred chairs—half of which were already occupied with bodies—and a large, raised stage at the front of the room. On that stage were more chairs, some of which were currently occupied by older wizards who were laughing and talking amongst themselves. Dominique thought she'd recognized the older woman with the short bob hair, but before she could quite place her, a woman in a bright red robe pointed at her to follow a queue that had formed at the back of the room.

"We have to pick up our orientation materials," Jack said, stepping ahead to get into the queue. He'd moved just as two other girls managed to barely beat him to the next spot, causing a very minor run-in. One girl, who was petite with blonde hair, offered a quick apology in French for having so quickly jumped in front of him; despite not speaking the language, he clearly understood her tone. After a quick round of polite smiles and silent reassurances that it was no big deal, Dominique watched as the petite girl who'd spoken nudged her friend, who had been silent up until that point. She gestured for her to turn around.

"I think this is the shortest queue I've seen all day," Jack said, completely oblivious to the two girls in front of him who were now watching him. It had only taken a moment, and they shared a quick smile before turning back around.

"I think I read that there are three or four of these orientations, so not everyone comes at once," Ellibit said, learning forward to see where the start of the queue was. By the looks of things, there were only about ten people in front of them. "They've already had one this morning."

Michael cleared his throat in an obvious manner, having also seen the display in front of them. "Jack. Mate." He pointed at the girls.

"What?"

"In front of you."

He turned to look, but the girls were already turned and talking amongst themselves in French. Dominique took a step closer, hoping to eavesdrop a bit since she was fluent. However, they were a bit too quiet to make anything out.

"You should say something," Michael said in a hushed tone. "They were giving you the look." He turned to Giggleswick. "You saw it?"

"I wasn't paying attention."

The girls stopped speaking for a moment and turned around once again, only this time they caught all five faces looking right back at them. The petite girl seemed embarrassed and turned back around, but the other girl—who was taller and had her curly hair pulled up in a ponytail—stood firm. She was pretty. When she smiled— was directed at Jack—it only made her prettier. She glanced around at everyone. "Bonjour."

There was a mixed responses of hellos, though Jack managed a dopey sounding, "Hi."

"Parlez-vous français?" she asked him.

He looked at Dominique, who immediately made a face at him. What'd he want her to do? That was basic stuff. "She's asking if you speak Fre—"

"I know what she's said," he said, "I'm not an idiot. I was trying to see if—you know what? Nevermind." He turned back to the pretty girl and shook his head. "Not really. Do you speak English?"

She shook her head. "Very little."

"Do you really need to speak each other's language?" Michael asked. Ellibit swatted him.

Ponytail shrugged and returned to talking to her friend; this time, Dominique could actually hear their conversation. She must have looked obvious in doing so because once she and Jack made eye contact, he seemed to sense what she was doing. He was now studying her face for reactions.

"He's cute, but he's English. I've never had a good experience with English boys."

Dominique let out a short laugh, which made Jack furrow his brown in a curious manner and mouth, "What?" She shook her head and signaled for him to let her listen. She was actually only laughing because Jack was Irish, not English. It was something he wouldn't have let slide had he known what was being said.

"I usually find them to be boring. But he is cute. I like his accent. And he's tall, but not too tall. Looks like a Beater, if I had to guess."

"Definitely. I've always had a thing for cute Beaters."

"You definitely have."

"The other one he's with are more what I'm used to when it comes to English boys. Dull."

The other girl laughed, and so did Dominique, which made both of them suddenly stiffen up. One glanced over her shoulder at her, though Dominique forced a cough and averted her eyes elsewhere else in an obvious manner. She would honestly make for a pitiful spy.

"Do you think she understands us?"

"If she did, wouldn't she have said something earlier? When we were trying to talk to her friend? She stood there. If she spoke French, why not say something?"

"Maybe they're not friends, maybe that's his girlfriend?"

"Do you think so?"

"She could be. She's pretty, so I can't see her being with other boys. Unless she's got awful taste."

Dominique did her best to hide her snicker at that, but this one was hard to disguise. She did have awful taste, but that was another conversation entirely.

"Do you know who she reminds me of. There's that portrait in the library. In the back room—"

"Yes!"

Petite girl turned and looked directly at Dominique, and this time, she wasn't quick enough to avert her attention elsewhere. She found herself staring right back at her. The girl turned away once more and, in a much lower voice, said:

"I really think she's listening to us."

With that, Dominique straightened up and looked directly at Jack, attempting to draw attention away from herself now that they'd figured her out. "The queue is taking forever."

His brow furrowed curiously, just as the girls in front approached a large table and had a short conversation with the man behind it. Both girls were handed books; they took them before Ponytail had a final little smiley exchange with Jack while Petite girl gave Dominique a long look before turning to look for seats. Jack watched them go, and wasn't paying attention to the man in the red robe who was now asking for what language he was most comfortable with.

"English," Dominique said, taking his book for him as the man handed them two copies to take. Jack only seemed to snap out of it once she took his book and thrust it hard into his chest. Ellibit laughed from behind them.

Almost immediately they were met by another woman in red robes who looked at the copies of the books they were holding and then pointed them to the opposite side of the auditorium. Jack seemed slightly disappointed since the French girls had gone the other way, but he did what he was told nonetheless.

"So, wait, what'd they say?" he asked her once they were seated. "What was so funny?"

"Are we still talking about that?"

"Depending on what they said, we are. I think that one girl seemed keen."

"Then maybe you should have asked her what her name was, you dolt."

"I didn't ask her anything because I don't speak French. But you do, and you could do me a favor and tell me if it's even worth my time to try and talk to her again. What'd she say?"

She took a deep breath, but didn't look at him. "They thought you were cute—especially the one with the ponytail. They liked your accent. They were pleasantly surprised because usually, the English boys—"

Jack opened his mouth to interrupt, but she held up a hand to silence him, having already anticipated him objecting.

"Their words, not mine. Apparently they've never heard an Irish accent before or they don't know the difference, I don't know. Anyway, as I was saying, the English boys they've met are usually trolls or something. You were a nice surprise."

"Because I'm not English," he joked.

She smirked. "They also figured out quickly that I was listening to them, so they didn't say much more. I think they thought I might be your girlfriend because I didn't help you translate. Apparently, if I wasn't your girlfriend, I would have helped you understand?" She shrugged. "They underestimate how little I care about you having sex."

"I hate you so much sometimes," he said, though he was smiling as he said it. She grinned, turning forward to face the stage and watching as the room started to fill up entirely. Given the various amounts of languages that were clearly in the room right now, she wasn't even sure how this orientation was going to work. The woman with the short bob was standing in the center looking rather important. It was then that Dominique recalled who she was—a famous Spanish Chaser from at least two decades ago called Isabel Cerve. The famous Chaser was now holding wand to her throat; her amplified voice carrying across the room.

"Bienvenidos!" she said before continuing on in Spanish. Dominique looked over at Jack, who shrugged and looked as confused as she did—as most of the room did. Michael was now mumbling something about having come to the wrong orientation.

"Sermonius augeo," Cerve suddenly said, pointing her wand directly out into the crowd. She did it twice more, her wand pointing at different sections of the room each time. Dominique didn't know what had just happened and looked around a little dumbfounded. What charm had that been? Others looked as confused as she felt.

"Is there anyone who can't understand me?" asked Cerve, smiling out at the crowd. She was speaking English now but her lips weren't in sync with her words. It was almost as if she was still speaking Spanish, but the words were coming out in English.

"If not," she continued, "please go to the back and one of our helpful staff members will assist you. That was a charm that should put us all on the same level of communication."

A man, who had been standing nearby, held his own wand to his throat and began saying the same statement over and over and over again in various languages. He said it at least ten times, and Dominique quickly realized that he was speaking to anyone who the charm may not have worked on. Sure enough, a handful of people stood and began walking to the back of the room—Ellibit among them.

"Things are so much easier without the language barrier," Cerve said, pacing around the stage. "It's a newer spell. And before you get too excited and think you will now be able to understand every language for the rest of time, making your holiday travels easier, it does wear off. Most of you will find it will last for the week you are here, but for some of you it may drop sooner. Please come and see us and we'll take care of that."

She seemed to be scanning the back of the room, watching as Ellibit—the last one—had retaken her seat. "Looks as though everyone is taken care of. Wonderful! Shall we begin?" She smiled. "Welcome! I am Isabel Cerve, current head of the IQA and former member of the Spanish National Team. We are always happy to see such a wonderful turnout from so many Quidditch enthusiasts."

There was a round of applause, which Cerve let die out before continuing. "Most, if not all, of the Quidditch greats from the last twenty years have passed through here. And perhaps I'm speaking to the next one right now. A future all-star Keeper or Seeker. Maybe a hall of fame Chaser or Beater? This is the first step."

More applause. Seemed as if these people would clap for anything.

"Now, before I continue, I'd like to introduce some of the people sitting behind me. All IQA officials in their own capacity—leaders in their positions. They are the heads of your position, and you will most certainly be seeing them on the pitch when we begin training tomorrow. " She turned to address the first man sitting on the end—he was enormous with a bent nose and a pocketed face—and Dominique knew whom he was immediately—Kentworth Judge, a renowned Beater. She knew all of them, but she especially knew the grey haired, skinny man on the end with a crooked smile and the smaller stature. He'd been the Seeker for Ballycastle for sixteen years. He was the Seeker on the winning Irish World Cup team in 1994. He was very well known in the British Seeking community.

"And our head of Seekers," Cerve said, "Mr. Aiden Lynch."

Jack smiled, turning it quickly on Dominique. He would have known him too, seeing as Jack was a huge Ballycastle Bats fan. Lynch had won them many a match in his day and become an icon; he'd had his number retired.

Cerve immediately delved into explaining the history of the IQA, the Trials, the importance of doing one's best and achieving the best possible ranking one could. "The rankings," she stressed, "are of the utmost importance."

"They will be issued at the end of the fifth day," she continued. "This will have allowed us to observe your skills during three days of intense practice, as well as one day of heavy match play. You will be awarded a number one through eight—right being the highest and one being the lowest."

She then reminded everyone that while scoring one through eight was the highest observational score they could achieve, the actual rankings topped out at ten. "You might be asking how does one get to a ten or even a nine? Well, the answer to that is currently in your hands."

Dominique looked down at the workbook she'd been handed. Beside her, Jack was fanning through the pages, and she noticed that there was a lot of sheets and forms to fill out. A lot. On Jack's opposite side, Michael could clearly be heard telling Ellibit, "We were supposed to get a break from homework for a few months."

"The workbooks you've received are worth an additional two points on your ranking upon completion. Yes, two entire points. You must have them completed and turned in by the start of play on ranking day. They will be evaluated by IQA staff that day and tallied to your final score by that afternoon. That also means you can't fill the books with nonsense. While every answer need not be perfect, the effort is what will be acknowledged. We often find someone trying to be clever by answering every question with the same word." She shook her head. "That will not earn you any points. Even half work can get a single extra point, so it pays to get this done in your down time."

Dominique wasn't exactly sure when she was going to have the time to do all of this on top of the intense practicing and heavy match play, but two points went a long way in this place. Two points could separate the elite from the average; the average for the poor.

"I should also add that in your position orientations later on today, you will also be receiving additional work to include in your books. It is important this also gets completed."

"Shit," Michael muttered. "Who has time for all of this?" Dominique and Jack both shrugged in a similar manner.

"Now," Cerve continued. "After you have received your final rankings, you will be separated into groups for the final two days of match play. The final, Premier match of the Trials will take place on the afternoon of the final day—and we intend to feature the best of the best. It is a very high profile Quidditch display. Only fourteen people can start and eight extra people will be chosen as alternates. Anyone who is anyone will be watching that match, so securing a spot can do wonders for your future."

Dominique took a deep breath. That was where she wanted to be—the Premier match. It was harder for someone in her position, where there would only be two starters versus a Chaser that would have six. She would have to be top two—maybe top three to secure an alternate spot. She wasn't quite sure how many people here were Seekers, but she could only hope they were mostly here for the fun and partying. The less competition the better.

Orientation wrapped up after that, with more words of warning as to how important achieving a great ranking was and how this experience was filled with distractions and to be careful. "We've never cracked down on the distractions because we know the real world is full of them," Cerve would say in her closing remarked, "and we are looking to separate the weak from the strong. While we encourage you to have a great experience, be warned. Many have fallen victim to the distractions."

After it had concluded, Dominique followed the crowd of people out of the auditorium in a wave. Everyone was headed the same way and either talking about how much bookwork there was or claiming they'd be the one to get a top score. There was a confidence in many of these people that Dominique had to wonder if they could backup. She knew that out of her small Hogwarts' group, only about half of them were worth anything out on that pitch, but someone like Ansel probably thought he was.

They reached a spot outside in the lobby area where Jack and Michael stopped to talk while Ellibit was flipping through her workbook. She was either uninterested in what they were saying or very interested in her book—Dominique couldn't tell. Though, after getting wind of what the boys were talking about, she suddenly had a guess.

"Now that you can understand them, you should go find the cute one who was trying to chat you up," she heard Michael saying to Jack. He was gesturing around the lobby where people were coming and going; some standing around in groups and other headed straight out the doors.

"Should I?" Jack asked, giving the room a once over.

"Yes!" said Michael. "Now that the language barrier is gone, absolutely. Look, mate, I'll help you look." He turned back to Ellibit. "Hey babe, I'll be back in just a few. I'm going to help Jack out. Be right back!"

He didn't wait for an answer and was already turned and off into the crowd with Jack before she could mumble, "If you must." She shook her head and looked at Dominique with an expression that seemed to say "boys."

Dominique rolled her eyes. "I do hope he has a plan for what he's going to do with these girls if, Merlin forbid, one agrees to sleep with him." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Because he's not bringing them back to my room."

Ellibit laughed a little, her eyes watching the crowds around them as the auditorium continued to empty behind them. At the same time, it was drawing a new crowd for the next orientation, which caused heavy traffic through the doors. Dominique's stomach rumbled; she was hungry. She was about to ask Ellibit if she thought the food in the commissary would be any good, when she caught Ellibit's eyes growing wide.

"What?" Dominique asked, turning to look. She saw nothing more than people walking in every direction. "What is it?"

Ellibit stepped closer to her, her voice now low for some reason. "Over there. Just by those doors. The one in the dark blue. Do you see him?"

"See who?" she asked. Was it someone famous? She'd heard in previous years that world famous Quidditch players—and sometimes even the legends—would turn up here. She could only hope that one of her favorite players made an appearance.

"Right there!" Ellibit pointed aggressively. "How do you not see him? Ughh, I used to be so in love with him when I was younger. He still looks so fit."

"Who!?" she asked again, though she did finally see a familiar face in navy blue emerge from the crowd. It wasn't a famous Quidditch player, but he had been rather known back at Hogwarts for his nice cheekbones, great hair, ridiculously green eyes, and physique. In fact, the only thing that was really different about him since the last time Dominique had seen him was that he now had very neatly kept facial hair covering the lower half of his face. That probably upset quite a few girls, but Dominique actually didn't hate it. It was the first time she'd actually even considered him slightly attractive because she—unlike every other female in all of Hogwarts for the last five years—had never cared much for—

"Stuart Reynolds," Ellibit said in a sharp whisper since he was now headed in their direction. "Do you see him?"

"Yeah, I do," she mumbled, somewhat disappointed it hadn't been someone famous.

"I seriously used to stare at him across the pitch when we played Ravenclaw," she said, somewhat transfixed by him.

"You're still staring at him," Dominique muttered, noticing that Ellibit was tensing up more and more the closer he got to them. Was she holding her breath?

They watched him as he passed. Dominique didn't know him well enough to say anything, and she really didn't care to considering he had been a real dick to Victoire a couple of years back. That was all ancient history now, but she'd never bought into his mass appeal one way or another. He was honestly too attractive. She liked boys who were a little rougher around the edges.

He caught Dominique's eye, as one would when passing, and smiled in a polite, but also incredibly confident sort of way. She'd seen her brother use that kind of smile before, usually on the younger girls at school who stopped and stared and hoped to catch his attention. Stuart had clearly pulled that smile on girls hundreds of times before; it was an effortless move for him and the bare minimum in making some poor sap swoon and moon.

"He just smiled at us," Ellibit said, practically bouncing. "Do you think he remembers us?"

Dominique shrugged. "I did knee Henry in the crotch after one of our matches with Ravenclaw back when Reynolds was their captain. I seem to remember him calling me 'absolutely mental,' so he might still remember me."

Ellibit spun back around to look at her, her expression silently screaming, "what the fuck?" but Dominique was unbothered. She was about to remind Ellibit that she very much had a boyfriend since she seemed to have momentarily forgotten that little detail, but she was quickly distracted by a lanky guy with floppy, copper colored hair over Ellibit's shoulder. He made eye contact with her at the exact same time she noticed him and, like Stuart, he smiled as he approached. It wasn't nearly as cool or effortless, though.

"Are you seventeen already, Weasley?" asked Durrin Adams, her old teammate and former captain from school. "I swear, you were thirteen yesterday. And yet here you are." He stopped walking. "Hey, Ellibit."

Ellibit waved just as Dominique muttered, "I'm only two years younger than you. You sound like my grandparents."

"You'll always be that little third-year to me." He smiled.

"It's good to see you." And he sounded as if he meant it. The two of them had a very up and down relationship when he was her captain. She naturally pushed back against much of what he said, and he naturally made her fly laps every single practice because of it. She was sure he regretted picking her for the team a few times, but she consistently caught the Snitch and secured the House Cup for them during her fourth-year. She'd also been the primary reason they'd lost it in her fifth-year, but she never liked to talk about that. But despite their spats, she would always have a certain soft spot for him; if only because he'd chosen her over the others to be Gryffindor's Seeker.

"Good to see you too, Durr."

He gestured toward the auditorium. "I need to get in there," he started stepping away, "but here's hoping we can catch up later. And if you're here, that means Jack would be here too, right?"

She waved her hand aimlessly. "He's around here somewhere."

Durrin threw her a thumbs up before adding, "Hey, did you see Stu Reynolds walk by earlier? You remember him? Lightish brownish hair, got a beard thing now. Some people think he's handsome, but you know, not as good looking as me, obviously."

Both girls immediately pointed toward the auditorium, which only made Durrin laugh for some reason.

"You know, I've never once asked a girl that question and they haven't had an answer for me," he said before turning around and disappearing entirely though the doors. Dominique begrudgingly grinned. She could so distinctly remember hating him at times, but now she genuinely missed him and their team of a few years ago. She'd have never thought that back in her fourth and fifth years, but given what their team had become, that old team could not have been stopped. She'd give anything to have those days back.

"If they haven't found those girls by now, they're not going to," Ellibit said, sighing loudly, noticing that while the entrance was filling with people, the exit was nearly empty. "Maybe I should go look around?"

They had been gone for awhile, and Dominique's stomach was once again rumbling and urging her to get something to eat. The commissary would probably be a madhouse now, and the longer they stood around, the longer the queues would probably be. If there was one thing she was already exhausted by it was the queues. She could only hope that once everyone had somewhere to be following day, they would subside. Today though, everyone seemed to be doing the exact same thing—and they were all queuing up to do it.

"If they're not back in one more minute, I'm going to eat without them."

"I'm going to do a quick walk around the perimeter," Ellibit said. "Maybe they got turned around. This place is huge. Mike's got an awful sense of direction. He still get lost around school."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Dominique mumbled, wondering why she was even waiting around anyway. She barely even liked Mike and Ellibit. Weren't they arguing with each other a few hours ago?

Ellibit had apparently not heard her because she didn't respond. She'd turned off into the crowd and was now scanning faces in search of Michael. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Now Ellibit hadn't bothered to return either. This was dumb. If Jack wanted to look for girls, he could do that on his own time. She was hungry and ready to get out of this building. She wanted to explore the grounds and—

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, which caused her to swing around quickly. She was surprised to find the ponytailed girl from earlier staring back at her. Her petite friend was standing behind her looking apprehensive.

"Hello," said Ponytail, her expression polite.

"Um, hi," said Dominique, though she was about to correct herself when she realized she was speaking English to a French girl. Then she caught herself again, remembering this girl didn't know she could even speak French. But then, catching herself again, now there was that charm from earlier and they could all understand each other. She was starting to question what language she was supposed to be speaking and finding all of this very confusing.

"I'm Vanessa. That's Chloe," Ponytail said, pointing to her friend. "We were the ones talking to your friend earlier."

"I remember," Dominique said, noticing that Vanessa's mouth movements were not matching the words that she could hear her speaking. The charm definitely worked, but it was bizarre to see the French coming out, only to hear English.

"We never introduced ourselves," Vanessa said, looking over at the girl now called Chloe and gesturing for something in her hand. "Difficult when you don't speak the same language." At that, she turned and gave Dominique a very particular look, as if she was insinuating something.

"It...is."

"Sorry, we didn't get your name," the girl called Chloe asked, having just handed Vanessa a small piece of parchment she'd been carrying. Dominique chewed the inside of her cheek a little. If they questioned whether she understood French before, her very French sounding name wasn't going to do anything but feed that hunch.

"It's Dominique."

There is was. Both of their faces now lit up as if their suspicions were confirmed. It was Vanessa who called it to the open. "Dominique? You speak French, don't you?"

"I've been known to on occasion."

"We could tell," said Vanessa, now reading over the piece of parchment in her hand before folding it up. "Next time you should say something."

"Eh, I don't really like talking to people," she said. "I wouldn't take it personally."

Both Vanessa and Chloe made similar expressions and neither seemed to really know how to process that. Vanessa shook it off first and held out the piece of parchment. "Anyway, we looked around for your friend—whose name I never caught."

"You mean Jack."

"Jack," she repeated, her accent pronouncing it Jaques just as Dominique's mother did. She smiled a little after clearly having solved some mystery. "Right. Couldn't find him, so if you don't mind, could you give this to him?"

Dominique didn't take it. She starred at the parchment being extended out toward her for much longer than the girls probably would have expected her too. It was an awkward moment, and both girls exchanged quick glances wondering what was happening. Dominique relished this for some reason; she found it funny. But even she knew when enough was enough, and finally sighed loudly before taking it. "Yeah, fine."

"Thank you," Vanessa said, seemingly relieved. "Nice to meet you."

"Yep," Dominique said, raising the parchment up in a sort of salute. Vanessa had grabbed Chloe by the arm and started to pull her away, but Chloe didn't move. She was still staring at Dominique.

"Can I ask you a question?" Though she didn't wait for a response before adding, "Do you have a twin or something? One whose portrait hangs in Beauxbatons' library?"

Her face dropped. What a strange question. Why would Louis have a portrait in their library? Why would he have a portrait at all? He'd never been to Beauxbatons a day in his life. Even if he had, how would they even put those pieces together and connect her to him?

"I do have a twin."

The girls exchanged curious looks; they honestly looked a little shocked. That had probably been more of a rhetorical question that they clearly hadn't expected an answer to. "Do you really?"

"Why would I make that up?"

"But...how?"

"Because my parents conceived two kids at once. That's usually how it's done."

Chloe laughed at that, but Vanessa still looked as if she'd been startled. "But that portrait is older than you are. It's been there since I started school." She looked at Chloe. "You know is has."

Dominique blinked a few times, having absolutely no idea what the hell was happening in this conversation. "I don't know what you're on about with this portrait stuff, but I can't see why my brother would have one at your school. I mean, give him a few years and he'll probably be running things and have portraits everywhere, but not yet. "

"Brother?"

She nodded. "My twin brother."

"Wait, what?" asked Chloe, sounding confused. They both looked even more lost. "Your twin is a boy?" She shook her head. "No, the portrait is of a girl. She looks like you."

"Just like you," Vanessa agreed. "The resemblance is scary."

"Do you have a cousin or someone who would have gone to Beauxbatons? Someone who looks like you? You obviously have some French in you."

It was as if a Bludger slammed into her head, knocking some sense into this entire conversation. Everything suddenly made perfect sense. So much so, that Dominique had to laugh—rather loudly—which had to have made these girls think she'd gone absolutely mad. It really should have occurred to her earlier, especially given she only knew of one person who'd gone to Beauxbatons that would have done anything worthy of getting a portrait.

"She looks just like me?" Dominique asked, finally composing herself. "I've been told that. My mum went to Beauxbatons and was kind of a big deal from what I was told. Triwizard champion and all that. I guess they gave her a portrait."

"They do that for distinguished students," Chloe said. "There are quite a few around the library."

"Wait, why do you go to Hogwarts?" asked Vanessa. "If your mother went to Beauxbatons."

It was a question Dominique had wondered over the years, and to be honest, no one in her family was quite sure. Yes, her father was English and they'd been born and raised in England, but did that simply mean you went to the school where you were born? What if they'd both moved to Egypt as her father had once wanted to—would they have even gotten a letter from Hogwarts? She didn't know. All she did know was that Hogwarts was where she'd gotten her letter from on her eleventh birthday—much to her mother's dismay.

"I guess because my dad went to Hogwarts."

Chloe made a face, mumbling to Vanessa, "Remind me not to marry an Englishman. I don't want to risk my children not going to Beauxbatons."

"You'd want to stay away from Irish guys too, then," Dominique said. "And speaking of Irish guys, Jack's Irish. Just so you know. You called him English before. Back in the queue."

Vanessa smirked a little. "I knew you were listening to us." She turned to leave, but quickly said, "Nice to meet you. Perhaps we'll see you around. If you're a Keeper or Chaser, we may even see you later."

"Seeker."

There was a silent acknowledgement of that, but at that point the conversation was evidently over as they strolled away across the lobby. Dominique looked around. No one was left now. The doors to the auditorium had closed and the next orientation had apparently begun. Where the hell were Jack and others? She hadn't moved, so how did she get left behind?

She glanced down at the parchment in her hand and unfolded it. There was a name and a room number scribbled on it. She rolled her eyes and folded it back up, shoving it into her pocket. They had better not have left her behind and gone on to eat without her. She'd eat this stupid piece of parchment if that was the case.