XIV.

A plain girl with straight brown hair leaned against the edge of the doorway, studying her intently. Dorathea shifted uncomfortably under the hard gaze and, though her most recent training told her it was the height of impoliteness to continue to hold out her wand, she didn't want to drop her arm. Just yet.

"You look like Theo." The girl said. "Theo didn't say anything about having a sister."

"He didn't," Dorathea said, then added quickly. "Know. I mean. He didn't know. I didn't know about him until this Christmas-"

"Yule." The girl corrected, a faint smirk crossing her thin lips.

"Yule," Dorathea allowed grudgingly, "I appeared in Hogwarts- drawn by the magic of the castle." She elaborated on the story she and Theo had created, but under the girl's pointed stare she felt as though every hole in their story was growing larger and larger.

"You grew up with Muggles." The girl said and, at Dorathea's flinch, added, "Only Muggleborn's call it Christmas rather than Yule. Did you like them?"

"What?" Dorathea squeaked.

"The Muggles. Did you like them?"

Dorathea opened her mouth, but the words escaped her. Dumbledore expected her to lie- to say that she enjoyed the Dursley's, that they had treated Harry like one of their own. But they hadn't. She hated them! Dorathea realized in astonishment, tears prickling at the edges of her vision. She hated the Dursley's and never, ever wanted to return to them. Why hadn't she ever realized that before?

"Well, at least you have a reason for why you never fit in." The girl said, having read the answer on Dorathea's face, "How bloody convenient for you. And a Nott too." She sucked her teeth, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

"What do you mean?" Dorothea's voice had gone cold.

"Oh, you know." The girl pushed herself off the doorway and sauntered over to the opposite side of the room, "The Great and Ancient House of Nott. Pureblood. Wealthy. Not much competition by way of adjacent family."

"What do you mean." Dorathea repeated angrily, " Are you saying that I am somehow impersonating a Nott? That I chose Theo because- because I want to take his inheritance? Or want an easy life?"

The strange, infuriating girl only raised her eyebrows expressively but didn't comment. Despite the fact that Dorathea was basically impersonating a Nott and had no real claim to the family outside of a botched polyjucie potion, Dorathea felt a white-hot rage growing in her chest.

"I am a Nott." She cried, "I have the mark and everything!"

The girl's expression went from aggravating to fascinated in an instant. "The mark. What do you mean?"

"The family mark! Every pureblood has one- it marks you as a true member of the family!"

"Really?" The girl grinned, showing teeth as sharp as a fox's, "Can I see?"

"Absolutely not!" Dorathea snapped, clasping a hand over her elbow, "Who are you even?"

"Lisa. Lisa Turpin."

"Turpin? I've never heard of a Turpin before." Dorathea said doing her absolute best to impersonate Lady Malfoy's haughty tones. The girl's fascination disappeared as quickly as it came. She threw herself on the far bed and draped an arm over her eyes.

"Lovely. You're going to get along famously with Broccoli-Worst. I'll spoil her fun though: I am terribly poor, a dirty bastard, and am incorrigibly Dark." The last was said with a sharp smile directed towards the canopy of her bed. Dorathea hesitated, the anger burning out as fast as it had come. She remembered what it had been like to be terribly poor with the Dursley's and not knowing who Harry's parents were. Slowly, she lowered her wand and sat down on the edge of her new bed.

"What do you mean dark?"

The girl rolled over to look at her with an amused expression. "What do you mean what do I mean? Silly question for one Dark witch to ask another."

"I'm not Dark!" Dorathea cried.

"You're a Nott, aren't you?" Lisa said calmly. "Everyone knows the Nott's are dark. Theo taught me my first dark spell. And his father was one of Voldemort's key supporters."

Dorathea blanched- feeling the color drain out of her face. She knew that Voldemort had supporters in Slytherin. Knew that Malfoy's father and probably some of the horrible other ones had been in his thrall. But Theo? Theo couldn't be dark!

Lisa once again read the emotions crossing Dorathea's face easily and laughed. "Are you absolutely sure you're a Nott?"

"You," Dorathea said with frigid dignity, all pity for the girl vanishing, "Are a very mean person."

Lisa just laughed.

. . . . . . . .

The introduction of the other girl's in the dorm was much less uneventful.

Morag MacDougal arrived next. The tall, dark-haired girl with too many freckles gave Dorathea a cautious nod, ignored Lisa, and retreated to the bathroom with a plush blue towel.

Padma Patil appeared next, followed by a frizzy-haired blond who was talking at her excitedly about her Christmas break. As soon as the Indian girl set eyes on Dorathea, her entire face lit up and she hurried over.

"You must be Dorathea Nott," she said, "Everyone has been talking about you."

Dorathea was hardly going to mention that the incessant topic of conversation was the reason she had left the common room, so she only gave a polite nod and a smile. "I hope it's been interesting."

"Fascinating!" Padma agreed, "Half of the people think that you are part of a grand conspiracy, half the people think you are a fated savior of the wizarding world-"

"Except she's not, because Harry Potter already is the savior." The blond-haired girl interrupted crossly. "He's the Boy Who Lived. That's why he's going for special training. I wish I was going for special training. Father tried, of course, but it was top secret. It would be wonderful if Harry and I could have trained together…." The girl trailed off dreamily as Dorathea blanched.

Harry had attended a year and a half of classes with this girl who clearly had been harboring a crush for at least as long if not longer, and she didn't even know the girl's name!

Padma must have caught some of Dorathea's confusion because she elbowed the blond girl in the ribs and hissed at her to introduce herself. The girl blinked, then blushed.

"Ah, I'm Mandy Brocklehurst-"

Ah, this must be Broccoli-worst. Despite herself, Dorathea caught Lisa's eye. The aggravating girl was laying on her bed, watching the whole exchange with the same, condescending smirk she had used on Dorathea. Dorathea looked away quickly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Dorathea said more charitably than she normally would, "I do hope we can all be good friends."

Padma and Mandy looked pleased with the pronouncement and echoed the sentiment. Dorathea glanced at the four girls in the room and then at the six beds.

"Is there another classmate?" She asked. "I believe Morag already went to the showers."

"Su Li," Padma answered with a small sniff that was mirrored by Mandy, "She's still downstairs. Gambling."

"Oh?" Dorathea looked startled. True, some of the older Gyrffindors had placed bets on the outcomes of an exploding snap or other games- Ron had once won four knuts off a fourth year in a chess game- but there had never been any actual gambling. Dorathea could still hear Aunt Petunia's opinions of the act: immoral, degenerate, addicts wasting their time and their children dinner money on false highs.

"Has that started? Finally," Lisa rolled off the bed and headed towards the door.

"We have class tomorrow," Mandy called out, "Don't come back super late and disrupt everyone again. Or-"

"Or what?" Lisa whirled on her heel and leaned forward eagerly, "Or what are you going to do Brockle-worst? Try and touch my bed again and we'll really see who studied the better spells over break."

Mandy apparently became very interested in unpacking her trunk as Padma only sighed and shook her head. With no one to catch her interest, Lisa eventually sauntered back towards the door and disappeared down the stairs.

"Is she-" Dorathea stared to ask.

"Yes." Padma and Mandy answered simultaneously.

. . . . . . .

A/N: Ah, Ravenclaws. I love them all. But especially Lisa.