In the time of the Order of the Phoenix, a mysterious transfer student from the United States of America comes to Hogwarts. With hair to rival Hermione's, and a tongue to rival Draco's, the suspicions and tensions rise in Professor Snape's classroom. And we thought Dolores Umbridge was the problem...

This story will be told in many different parts, in many different times. It will jump from the years at Hogwarts to the years after the war, and it'll be up to you to figure out the puzzle.

Ella 16

The thought of leaving sunny, gorgeous Monaco for dreary England was wearing thin on Ella. The summer was nearly over, though, and so was everything else. She could breathe a sigh of relief and finally justbe a sixteen-year-old girl, living abroad, lying on her bed in her own room.

Looking to her left she saw the entire coast. Ships dotted the clear blue water as they came to dock in the white piers of Port Hercule. It was so busy all the time, especially in the summer, where everybody—Wizard and No-Maj alike—came to gamble their lives away and win fortunes like none had ever dreamed of. Sometimes she wondered what it was like in the off-season, but would likely never see it.

She would miss her room here at Meme's penthouse; the pristine white sheets, the white linen curtains, the full window pane that showed the Mediterranean Sea in its entire wondrous splendor…she would miss it sorely in comparison to her room with Tracey and Millicent and Daphne, all four of them crammed together under the lake. At Ilvermorny, she had her own small room, sort of like a loft, in the Western tower, and she could stretch out and be messy and dance around in her underwear if she needed to unwind. The clock down the hall struck two, and Ella sat up and stretched; it was time for lunch.

She rolled off her bed and adjusted her pink shorts in the mirror of her white vanity, ensuring there weren't any terribly unsightly wrinkles. Her teeth, too, were free of any sort of unsightly anything, and her hair was only in need of a re-tying of her loose yet elegant ponytail, flowing in waves down to the middle of her back like sea foam at night. She didn't think earrings were needed for lunch, so she left her ears bare. With a quick pinch of her freckled cheeks to bring some life back into them, she glided downstairs.

The penthouse was a gorgeous and lofty sight, as if made out of sea air. There were five bedrooms in all in the suite, all of which were in the loft suite that rose to the absolute top of the very-high ceilings, which did not skimp on the glass windowpanes all the way up to the top. Down the stairs you came into the entry hall, which was lined with seashells of varying colors. Inside were polished wood floors made of a special Chinese bamboo that Meme had acquired on a trip to Shanghai, enchanted to never scratch or be dirty. There were lovely silk Moroccan rugs in jewel tones of bright blue all over, and cushy white sofas that looked like they were made of clouds. Through the living area, you passed several lovely art pieces, collected from all over the world, and finally to the dining room, which was a sight in and of itself. They lived in the Penthouse Suite of the Hotel Sirene, which the Christophes owned. There was, of course, a lovely ancestral chateau which belonged to the Christophes, just along the coast, but Meme preferred to live near her work.

Meme sat in her elegant white hat, and elegant white dress with a giant silk rose that overtook her entire left shoulder, at the head of the glass table, in one of the glass chairs. The table was from Venice, you see, dating back to the 16th century, enchanted to never break nor scratch. The glass table and chairs were a gift to the Christophes from some King for some service done, apparently, but Ella honestly didn't care much for history. She was just grateful that the chairs were fitted with blue silk cushions to sit on.

Ella came and kissed her grandmother on the cheek. "Salut, Meme. Comment ca va?" She sat at the right side, which thankfully meant the got to face the sea.

Her grandmother gave a smile and called for a cognac. "You are getting much better wiz your French," she said.

"Merci boucoup! Je pratiquant." The table was set for two with white linen napkins and polished silver. Ella folded the napkin in her lap as the Cognac came on a glass tray. Ella drank from her water goblet as plates of steaming food came from the kitchen, setting themselves down. For lunch, they were having poached lobster with fragrant saffron rice.

"Ooh, my favorite!" said Ella when it set down in front of her.

"Bon appetite," said Meme.

"Merci!" As always, the lobster was so juicy and fragrant, just like taking a wonderful, buttery bite out of the ocean. With every pierce of the fork, a tiny gush of delicious juice came out. It was so hard to eat in a ladylike manner when there was lobster on the plate that you just wanted to gobble down, especially when it was this delicious.

"School startz for you next monzth," said Meme. "Your 'ogwartz letter arrived just zis morning, as well as an engagement announcement for your cousin Fleur. She iz marrying zat Curse-breaker boy from Gringotts."

Ella frowned, her mouth full of saffron rice. Immediately, she knew where this was going.

"And, she 'as asked for you to be a Bridezmaid."

Ella swallowed hard. She drank her water and dabbed her lips. "May I know why she asked you and not me? I haven't seen her in years. Frankly, I thought she hated me."

Meme shrugged and took another bite of her lobster. "Fleur zinkz you're lovely when you're not talking." She licked her perfectly line lips and dabbed them before saying "When I zent ze pictures from Chrizmaz, she mentioned 'ow lovely you are. She didn't know you were in Europe, and would like you standing next to 'er on 'er wedding day."

Ella managed a smile, nodding in a very reserved manner. "That sounds awful," she said. "I don't want to be up there next to those Veela. I'll look ridiculous."

"Alors zat doezn't matter because you're doing eet." Ella rolled her eyes in disgust and continued eating. "While we are on ze subject, 'ave you given any consideration to your own future?"

Tucking a bite of rice into her cheek, the young Slytherin gave a shrug and said "I'm going to be a Potioneer. I've received excellent grades on my O.W.L.s that will reflect that. I'm going to be amazing and nothing's going to stop me." The way she said it wasn't in a bragging way, but rather matter-of-fact-ly. "But first I'm going to graduate Hogwarts as Head Girl. I'm almost there."

Meme nodded in consideration. "Oui. C'est vrai. Mais 'ave you thought about marriage?"

Shocked, Ella nearly dropped her fork. After a moment of consideration of every possible angle, she swallowed her rice and decided on saying "Does this have something to do with dinner at the Malfoy's the other night?"

"Madame Malfoy 'as made an offer," said Meme, pushing her near-empty plate aside, placing her fork and knife in such a way that indicated she was ready for the next course. Ella copied, even though she wasn't done yet. She waited silently as the plates were magically cleared and a dessert of fig sorbet with honey floss appeared in front of them. Meme seemed to be waiting for Ella to say something, to give some sort of reaction, but she did nothing except for wait. Finally, Meme took a spoonful of sorbet, and Ella was free to do the same. "Draco wishes to marry you."

Without thinking, Ella all but shouted "We haven't even kissed!"

This seemed to impress her grandmother quite a bit, for she gave a smile. "Tres bien. 'e respects your virtue." Inwardly, Ella was both laughing and screaming at the thought of her 'virtue.'

"I just—!" She quickly sighed through her nose and then composed a thought. "I didn't even think he actually liked me. I've honestly been kind of awful to him all last year."

"You were playing a part," said Meme with a nod of her head, folding her hands in her lap. "And you did very well at zat. Now zat eet eez over, I think it is time zat you start thinking about it."

"But I'm sixteen," whined Ella, slumping her shoulders and twisting her face into a rather pouty moan. "Now that it's over, I've been given the gift of being sixteen. Can't I just enjoy that?"

Seemingly astonished by what Ella could only interpret her grandmother's interpretation of her granddaughter's selfishness, Meme brought a hand to her chest. "Mon Dieu, Ella! You are a Pure-blooded Witch and eet eez 'igh time you acted like one!" This was not true, but her grandmother didn't know that. "I'll not 'ave ze last of my line sitting around and waiting for someone else. We must strike while ze iron eez 'ot."

Rolling her eyes, much like the typical American teenager, Ella protested. "Can't we do one thing at a time? Throw me a Coming-out Party and see how that goes?"

"But we 'ave to decide 'o to invite. And zat means looking at prospects—" Meme then snapped her fingers and a file appeared in her hands. "Alors," she said, flipping through the papers. "Fleur 'as informed me zat 'er fiancé 'as several bruzzers—"

Ella nearly screamed; in fact, she opened her mouth to scream in protest—

"—I was looking at young Percy Weasley. 'e eez only a few yearz older than you. Quite talented, I must say. 'ead Boy of Gryffindor, quickly rising to ze top of ze Ministry of Magic… Academic, ambitious, a perfect fit for someone to manage ze shares and 'otels and casinos from above."

"Oh." Feeling immediately quite embarrassed, she thought of that tall red-haired boy in that fetching suit, the one that escorted Potter to the Headmaster's office the night all went to Hell and Dumbledore vanished. The thought of being related to Ron Weasley made her internally sick, but soon she reconciled the thought with the realization: she would be his big sister, and therefore under her command. She then shrugged. "I take it you don't care for the Malfoys, then?"

Her grandmother set down the papers on the table and leaned back a bit in the chair. "Do you?"

"I personally would prefer to marry someone I've actually met before. As much as it pains me to say, I do like Draco. He's smart and snarky and very romantic when he wants to be."

"Mais you 'aven't kissed."

Ella shrugged, throwing up her hands in disbelief. "I don't understand why."

After a moment, Meme sighed through her nose and said. "Everything is over wiz ze MACUSA et vous, mais I don't think you should be mixing business wiz pleasure."

"Didn't stop you," commented Ella, perhaps without thinking.

"Neverzeless," said her grandmother, her tone a little more firm, "ze Malfoys are on ze wrong side of 'istory,' and ze Weasley family iz not. Frankly, eet eez becoming more and more difficult to find a Pureblooded family zat eez not 'eaded by a megalomaniacal zealot. And ze Malfoys 'ave just seen zeir 'ead of 'ouse sent off to Azkaban. I'll not 'ave you mixed up wiz zat."

Sighing, Ella looked down and noticed that her fig sorbet had started to melt, and her honey floss had completely dissolved into the purple-red goodness in her gilded bowl. She supposed that just wanting to be sixteen was too much to ask. Resigning herself to her(apparent) fate, she managed a smile. "I suppose there's no harm in meeting this Percy."

"Bien," said Madame Christophe. "Because you're already 'aving lunch wiz 'im tomorrow in ze 'otel restaurant at one o' clock." Ella inwardly groaned and cursed at her grandmother's constant feigning of giving Ella any sort of free will. "'owever, een ze spirit of fairness...eez zere anyone you would like to consider as a prospect in ze future?"

Well, that's unexpected, thought the young Slytherin to herself. She stirred her sorbet absentmindedly while she mentally listed all the boys in school that she could stand being around, aside from Draco. "Neville Longbottom?" she finally said. Meme's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I mean...he's the first person that comes to mind when you ask. He's kind-hearted and passionate about what he does, and he's a fairly skilled duelist. He was even involved in that whole 'Dumbledore's Army' nonsense and managed to survive Death Eater attacks. I think that says something."

Her grandmother smiled. "Young Neville's parents were Aurors. I knew 'is muzzer briefly before she..." She then grew quiet. "Alors, quelle tragedie. Poor Frank and Alice. Zey were so in love, and zey fought for what zey believed in." Meme then nodded. "Very well, mon petit coeur. I shall contact 'is grandmuzzer for tea zees week."

Phew! Can I just say how hard it is to keep spoilers away from you guys while dropping hints about what's going on with a jump-around timeline? It's HARD! But it's really fun.