A/N: Wow, I'm way overdue for this story. Sorry, writer's block. Well, the beginnig of part two is here! This part of the story takes place in book 6, although I did tweak things a bit. Anywho,enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own them, however, if I had a say in the story, this is what might happen. . .

Intimidated With Amaranta

Amaranta was having a staring contest with Fawkes, the phoenix in Dumbledore's office. The Blommarian's crystal blue eyes were beginning to itch as the phoenix's crimson eyes glared on relentlessly. Her slender, porcelain fingers gripped the arm of her mahogany chair with gusto, but she could not hold it any longer. With a cry of anguished defeat, Amaranta blinked her dry eyes, now filling with tears.

"Darn it, Fawkes, you always win!" Amaranta cried, rubbing her eyes with the side of her hand. "Sometimes I wonder if you ever blink at all!"

Fawkes tweaked his feathers victoriously, as he blinked at Amaranta, who was laughing at her own folly now. They both stopped when they heard the click of the office door. Amaranta flicked around, her golden locks bouncing eagerly.

"Albus!" she cried jubilantly, jumping out of her chair.

"You need to call me Professor Dumbledore from now on, Amaranta," he said sternly although his wizened face was stretched in a wide grin. "You will be a student here, from now on, so you must address me accordingly. Now sit, we have much to talk about."

Amaranta obeyed although her tapping foot betrayed her energetic feelings. Dumbledore walked around his wooden desk to sit in the large headmaster's chair. Her stomach churned when she saw the blackened, shriveled hand protruding from his purple-and-gold sleeves.

"Amaranta, I have always told you that you weren't entirely human, that you were truly a Blommarian," Dumbledore began.

"Yes," Amaranta smiled. "I appreciate the honesty."

Dumbledore chuckled, and then grew grim. "Unfortunately, I haven't been entirely honest with you, I'm afraid. Amaranta . . . You existed once before, in a previous life. You died only a few months ago. Because your heart contains a Heart Flower, I took the fruit of your heart, and your memories, just before you died and replanted you, which is why you still exist here, today."

Dumbledore paused to read Amaranta's reaction. She simply stared at him, wide-eyed.

"You're kidding, right?" she retorted.

"I would not jest on such a serious matter," Dumbledore said. "I am completely serious Amaranta. I do not want to lie to you. Though, I will give you the option of reacquiring your memories. Please listen to this Amaranta, for I want you to know what you're getting into: You're past is dark and filled with much unhappiness, not that you weren't happy. When you were with Mr. Malfoy and Harry Potter, you were a very happy child, but I want to warn you of what you will be facing. Do you want to get your memories back?"

"I really existed in a previous life?" Amaranta asked in awe.

"Yes."

"Could I do magic really well?" She suddenly asked eagerly.

"You were quite the expert in Defense Against The Dark Arts."

"I would like to have my memories then, please!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Please understand that your past was dark. You may not like all that you see."

"The past is the past, right?" Amaranta said. "It won't change who I am now. The fact that you and the centaurs raised me doesn't change. I just would like to know, is all."

Dumbledore smiled wistfully, but gave in. He produced a crystal vial filled with a silver matter from his robe, and held his wand out from the other hand. Carefully, he removed the cork. "Just take deep breaths," Dumbledore said calmly. "And try to clear your mind; it'll be easier that way."

Amaranta had lost her innocent smile and was anxiously watching Dumbledore's wand as it extracted the silver wisps from the vial. Slowly, he drew the matter to her temple, where she was met with an instant fiery pain on contact. She opened her mouth in a silent scream and clenched her eyes shut, just before passing out.

"I think it's best if you practice with Hermione. . ."

I know what you're doing, you evil, vile, twisted, awful. . ."

"A thousand arrows. . ."

"I-It's called k-k-kissing. . .or snogging. . ."

"You really shouldn't get attached to such a girl. . ."

"Hand over the prophecy!"

"P-P-Please. . .F-Father. . ."

Like she had just reached the surface of relentless water rapids, Amaranta sprang awake, gasping for breath, and she found her face wet. Had she actually been underwater? No, the pain in her eyes said otherwise.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore's weary-laden voice drew Amaranta's eyes to her side. "The burden was too great. It was foolish of me to give them all to you at once! I should have taken into account how a life's worth of memories must've felt. I'm sorry, Amaranta."

The old man's voice was only an annoying drone in her throbbing head. She grimaced at how the reverberations of his vocal chords rattled her brain. However, the pain could be overlooked, for she had much to contemplate and muse over. She had just been handed her entire life to her.

Amaranta looked different in her previous life. Light was unacquainted with her, and as a result, she was deathly pale, and her once pale, blonde hair darkened to a brown. Her eyes were sunken and dulled to a grayish blue. She had been so afraid that she didn't even know what fear was anymore. How contrasted her lives are! The previous Amaranta frightened her. She had felt so empty, so worthless. She would've shunned such a girl. How could they be the same person.

"Darkness," Amaranta muttered, "is such an awful and horrific thing."

Guessing to the nature of Amaranta's train of thought, Dumbledore led her to a reclining chair which he produced from thin air at the wave of his wand.

"The welcoming ceremony isn't for another three hours," Dumbledore spoke softly as he materialized a warm, wool blanket that floated down on Amaranta. "Do you think you'll be able to make it? It is not mandatory. Do not tax yourself."

"No, I want to go," Amaranta turned to stare out the window. The day was quickly waning, and the sun was beginning to set. "I want to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and. . .Draco, as well."

Dumbledore smiled sympathetically. "Get a good rest then," he said, as he moved towards the door. "I'm going to go prepare for the ceremony. I'll come back up a little earlier to check on you again."

"Ok, Albus."

"That's Professor Dumbledore, now," he reminded her, with a smile, then left the room.

Amaranta woke up after a good three hour's sleep. A glass of water on the table next to her told her that Dumbledore had visited her during her nap. She gratefully chugged the water with a refreshing sigh.

The welcoming ceremony will be beginning soon, Amaranta thought, her headache a vague memory of the past. Oh no! What if I slept through it? Hopefully, it's still going!

Her heart rate accelerating, Amaranta flung the wool blanket off of her and scrambled to the office door, almost forgetting to put her shoes on. She flew down the spiral steps and ran past the gargoyle statues. Light on her toes, Amaranta giddily skipped down the hallway towards the Great Hall. Although she had never met her friends, she couldn't wait to see them again.

However, her drunken gaiety was interrupted when Amaranta came across a very striking young woman standing in the middle of the corridor, holding a potted plant. Her vibrant, green eyes are what shocked Amaranta first. They were a sharp emerald with a dark forest of knowledge swirling around the iris. Her shocking blonde hair is what alerted her next. The exotic waves of her sunny mane seemed to cling to her face like ivy, and a soothing smell of oak and fresh pine snuck its way into Amaranta's nose, that left and acidic and poisonous taste in her mouth. Her skin was fair and as sooth as a porcelain doll, and Amaranta was surprised that such small feet could support the sheer weight of her busting chest. The plant she held was none other than a black rose, its petals alluring and velvety, but its red-tipped thorns seemed extra sharp and they stretched themselves to their limits to try and inflict pain on the nearest victim. Frankly, Amaranta couldn't see much of a difference between the two.

Amaranta realized that she had been gawking stupidly at the girl, and then closed her previously open mouth. "Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall?" Amaranta asked her. "You're a student, right?"

The young, beautiful girl smiled to reveal perfect, pearly teeth. "Yes, I just wanted to give my friend here a little sunlight," a chill shot up my spine. Dammit! Even her voice was perfect! "It's ever so dark in the Great Hall."

"Alright then," Amaranta decided to buy her story. Something about this girl evoked a sense of antipathy in her. "We can go down to the Great Hall together. What's your name?"

"Me?" she said in a cute, innocent voice that made Amaranta want to rip her crawling skin off. "My name is Dianthe Greene. I'm a transfer student from Transylvania. I'm starting my sixth year here at Hogwarts."

"Wow, Transylvania!" Amaranta exclaimed. "You don't have the slightest accent! You have such good pronunciation! It's a pleasure to meet you, Dianthe, I am Amaranta; I'm also a sixth year!"

Dianthe gave a smile that unnerved the young Blommarian. She could almost hear the words "I know" come from her mouth.

Amaranta gave an awkward smile back as she followed Dianthe Greene to the Great Hall. She wanted to say she "led" the girl to the Great Hall, however, her confident stride asserted her authority over the plain Amaranta. Was it possible for anyone to lead such a leader? Amaranta glanced at the sensuous that flowed from the girl's head. Hers was so much brighter and glamorous, than Amaranta's pale, stringy lengths that fell off her temple. With the same hair and eye color, it was understandable that people will naturally compare the two. And if it was a battle looks, then Amaranta would surely fail.

"They probably wouldn't recognize me anyway," she thought aloud as she brought the tip of her wand to her hair. As she slowly moved her wand through her hair, it darkened to a deep brown, lighter than what she remembered from the past, but dark enough to resemble her former self.

The girl beside her said nothing, and betrayed no sign of having noticed a change at all. She walked through the double doors of the Great Hall with that sadistic smile of hers, as the girls were welcomed with a sudden silence. Dumbledore had been in the middle of his welcoming speech. He only smiled at the two girls.

"Ah, Amaranta, I see you have brought our new student here," Dumbledore spoke kindly, but then projected his audible voice to the crowd, "We have a new transfer student today, from Transylvania. I am pleased to announce she will be joining the Slytherin ranks this year. You may join Amaranta at the Slytherin table, Miss Greene."

Amaranta's rosy face followed Dianthe to the Slytherin table, and she cursed her receptive ears. The noisy gossip that followed Dumbledore's announcement attacked her as she made the long walk to the other side of the Great Hall.

"Whoa! She's a looker!"

"Such good looks wasted to the Slytherins!"

"Do you think she'll go out with me?"

"Why is she carrying a black rose around?"

"Funny how we have a new transfer student."

"This one's a lot better though!"

Amaranta gave a venomous glare to the Ravenclaw boy who just spoke those words, who shrunk back under her sepulchral gaze. She tried her best to ignore the vexing comments around her, but she found that task very easy when a bleach-blonde head poking out from the sea of black robes made her heart skip a beat. She had never actually met Draco Malfoy, but she could remember being with him. Her face grew a darker red when she remembered that one Christmas morning in the top floor of the Malfoy Manor. She was much more learned now, living in a school and all.

Draco Malfoy had caught her gaze and was gaping back at her with restrained excitement. He gripped the rim of the table so that his knuckles were white, and he quickly motioned for her to sit next to him. Since Crabbe and Goyle were sitting in the seats opposite from Draco, he had a seat left empty at each of his flanks, with an aggravated Pansy Parkinson glaring at the gap between him and her. Amaranta eagerly sat next to Draco, and they gazed into each other's eyes like reunited lovers.

However, Amaranta's heart shrank with fear when she saw Dianthe Greene sit on Draco's other side. However, the gorgeous girl ignored Draco as he did likewise.

"You're really . . . alive?" Draco breathed, ignoring Dumbledore as he continued his speech.

Amaranta grew pale. "Do you-"

"Potter told me," Draco answered her unfinished question. "It all makes sense now. But you haven't changed at all, well, you do look a bit more healthy, but you're eyes haven't changed."

"But I guess this means I won't be able to visit the Malfoy Manor anymore," Amaranta muttered with obvious disappointment.

"That doesn't matter!" Draco whispered. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect you from him! My parents won't know a thing! And I'll stay at Hogwarts for the holidays!"

"Draco, you don't have-"

"I want to!"

Amaranta smiled shyly. Everything was repaired between Draco and her. Although she could never forget what he did to her, she could never leave her best friend.

Draco gave a relieved smile: an unusual sight, even for Amaranta. "I'm glad," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "When Potter told me you'd become 'a new Amaranta' I thought you'd become a completely different girl, but you're still the same, if better! It feels like I'm finally meeting the real Amaranta."

Amaranta opened her mouth to say something, however the Sorting had begun, and silence was admonished upon the crowd.