Okay, so I lied. I think its the next chapter or so, and finally, you will all know where Marie does get sorted. And when the time comes, I will start a new poll. Who do you wish Anya goes with to the Yule Ball? Leave your opinions.

Shout-out to LionsWing and AmyRoxx123. You two always make my day!

Cautiously, I put a foot on the porch. The floor creaked but otherwise nothing else happened.

Making a face, I looked over my shoulder. Marie and Natasha were waiting on the garden near the small bird fountain made of stone. The latter was watching me patiently, all traces of her earlier eagerness gone, standing still with her hands inside the pockets of her favorite black coat. Being careful of not being noticed by the older woman, Marie waved her hand impatiently, mouthing "Go on!" insistently.

I rolled my eyes and turned to face the double doors. For a moment, I thought I was seeing things.

"Can't be," I muttered. There were carvings on the wood, similar to those in my vault back in Gringotts, but oddly, the winged pentagrams seemed to be more a warning than just a simple drawing. My hand itched to trace those, but instead, I raised my left one and knocked.

I wasn't sure why I had done it. Perhaps it was childish curiosity or maybe I really had finally gone loopy, like I had told the others.

Marie seemed to be thinking the same, as she loudly voiced what she thought of it.

"That's it? Really? No 'open sesame'?"

I wrinkled my nose, my lips pursuing. Just as I took a step back, I gasped and doubled over, backing into the railing. I tried to not wince at the pain on my back.

"What the hell?" I breathed. Just as it came, the pain on my arm was gone. But instead, a tattoo, the same drawing in the door was now marked on the skin of my wrist. I was both horrified and amazed by this.

I turned to see Natasha, making sure to show the tattoo on my hand: she would have no problem seeing it with the light. To my surprise, the redhead smiled in satisfaction.

"The House is recognizing you as its master," she said, unfazed by my glare. "It only lets inside those from our family."

"If that happens to the owners, I wouldn't like to know how it treats its guests," said Marie, stunned as she chewed her fingers of her left hand while the other continued tapping her leg.

"There's nothing to worry. If you don't have invitation of the hosts, well..."

"It makes me sound as a vampire," the girl said, frowning.

"Hello?" I called loudly. "While you two get on the house's details, I would like to remind you - it gave me a freaking tattoo!"

"Give it two seconds," said Natasha. I stared at her, a shiver running down my spine at the fact that she did not flinch at my reaction. Did this happen often when she has visits? Natasha didn't strike me as a sociable person, even though she was in friendly terms with both Lupin and Mrs. Weasley. Her lack of enthusiasm for Sirius' innocence was enough proof of it.

The burning sensation on my wrist caught my attention and I watched as the tattoo on my skin disappeared. In the end, there was no trace of what happened.

At the same time, the doors of the house flew open inward. I couldn't see anything but darkness. Even so, I walked in.

I stood in the darkness, and in the next instant, light suddenly came from above. Instead of matching the color of the house, the interior was blue. The entry room was very small, only inhabited by picture frames hanging on the walls and a pair of red upholstered stairs on the left side. There were two doors on each side, but Natasha headed to the stairs

As we followed her, she began to talk.

"Welcome to Wiccan Manor, also known as the Night Sky's House. Founded by our ancestors, Aidan Barton and Madeline Rosenberg, its purpose is to shelter those wizards who are in need of help."

"And what is our situation?" I asked without preamble. I was sure she was trying to stall the conversation for a while but I was tired, I was hungry, and I didn't want her of all people, to annoy me at this hour in the morning.

"Your nightmares. Not the usual ones but the recent," said Natasha, not slowing down her pace.

I wasn't surprised she knew. Either she had once caught me rolling in my hammock, sweating and whimpering, or Marie had told her everything. The latter sounded more probable to me.

We continue our journey in silence, not even stopping to look at the window at the top of the wall. The stairs stopped in a corridor full of doors on each side, heading towards another pair of stairs, these more delicate looking than the last. I let Marie climb up first. Biting my cheek, I followed, and it was not until I was half way I realized that the stairs were not being supported by anything.

I was floating in the air, heading to an invisible floor. Panicked, I nearly stumbled but I stopped as I started moving my arms in the air for balance, probably looking like a newborn bird.

To my relief, I did step on something firm, and the ground was no longer invisible as it looked from the stairs. I was in a circular room also full of doors, and the roof was made of glass, allowing me to see the vast blue sky. I was beginning to suspect the house was somehow bigger on the inside, and my doubts were confirmed when I spotted an open door and saw another pair of stairs, this one looking more normal then the last two.

Natasha paid no attention to any of those details, immediately going to one of the doors that had a small golden plaque wearing the omega symbol and opened it, looking back at us expectantly.

But I realized she only meant me as Marie tapped my shoulder, Natasha's eyebrows shooting up in amusement, and embarrassed, I entered the room before her.

It was an office. A strange mix of a office an a study, its size and oddity almost rivaling Dumbledore's. The walls had been painted with the Ravenclaw colors - bronze and blue - and most of the furniture resembled the ones back in Gryffindor Tower. There were about three shelves aligned together on the left, two filled with books, the first on the right covered with odd knickknacks I couldn't describe or fathom at all; I only recognized a miniature version of a grandfather clock and what looked to be a bomb with a timer.

Completely caught off guard, I couldn't help but turn to Natasha in disbelief. For someone so tense and perfectionist as her, I would have never imagined she lived like she was some sort of... psychopath. In fact, the only normal looking was the desk. Not even the chairs got the same privilege.

I sat down without being invited to do so, tilting my head to the side as Natasha sank on her seat comfortably, placing her long legs on the desk and leaned back, sighing in relief. She obviously was on her habitat, looking like a satisfied feline. I wondered if her attitude had anything to do with her Slytherin status.

"Your dreams," said Natasha. "What was the last one about?"

Biting my cheek, I told her exactly the same Harry had said to Hermione and Ron. I also told her that he too, had dreamed the same. She didn't look surprised.

"Ron says this has already happened," I commented. "Back in the Blitz."

Natasha balled her fists. "Yes, when Grindelwald came to power. The Weasley boy isn't far from the truth."

"But this has already happened before," I told her hesitantly. "When Harry faced Voldemort in our first year."

For a long time Natasha stared blankly to the wall behind us, her eyes turning foggy as she lost herself in the past. Had I not blinked in boredom, I would've noticed her eyes briefly turning black. (I never noticed, not until I learned to watch and see)

"Do you trust me?" she asked me suddenly, her voice sounding loud in the quiet study.

I pursed my lips and found myself smiling humorlessly. I looked over the scarlet-haired woman's shoulder, recalling the moment I decided to stop asking questions and let everything take its natural course. It hadn't been an easy decision and it had taken all of my pride to not take my words back, to not succumb to the mysteries surrounding my father, and until now, I'd succeeded.

"You know I do," I muttered. The words left a bitter taste on my mouth.

"Then trust me on this: we have ten months, ten months until everything changes, only one week with me to teach you the basics, and you need to control this connection you have with Potter before that day comes.

I hesitated before I asked, sounding meek to my own ears, "What if he already knows?"

Natasha met my gaze coolly, "Then we shall make it difficult to him," she said, her voice bordering on angry. "We are from fighting blood. We will not stand back."

I was surrounded by pink.

Approaching the nearest wall, I let my bag fall to the ground, and I started to analyze the small details that made this my room.

Although I wasn't particularly fond of the pink color, this one was more softer, almost pale but not quite, making it more my taste. I opened the curtains of the window and watch as the sunlight contrasted with the walls, and it was almost as if I were surrounded by golden light. I smiled, whirling on the spot.

The room was the same size as the girls' dormitory at Hogwarts, but the twin mattress didn't possess a canopy to my disappointment. The bed had been shoved to the corner of the room, right under a smaller window, which from above, was full of empty shelves. To the other side of the room, there was a large board with a small package of different colored pins at the bottom, and I suspected it had been purposely brought so I could put all of my drawings there, just like I had done in St. Louise's.

I thought that if it had a desk, the room would be completely perfect. Still whirling, I stilled, staring at what had been an empty wall otherwise than its window.

It now had a desk.

I frowned. "Hello?"

It was quiet. Then, to my surprise, the lights flickered.

"You're alive!" I breathed, smiling at the ceiling. The lights once again flickered, as if it had nodded.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" I mused.

The power went completely down. Worried that I offended the House - huh, I don't say that often - I began to search for the switch, swinging my arms on the air in hopes of hitting a wall. The light returned, but brought a surprise with it.

I stood there, staring in surprise at what had been an empty board. Right now, it had big words: wELcOMe HoME, anYa. It was mismatched, the letters seeming to have come from newspaper cuttings. Not only that, but the bed spreading had changed, now beige and full of colorful pillows. Slightly disturbed, I noticed a plush toy that looked similar to Billy the Bunny - from the button eyes to the bowtie. I just hoped Natasha had brought all of my belongings from the Orphanage, if not, then the House was not only bigger on the inside but also psychic.

"Well, crap," I said.

"Marie! Are you ready?"

We were going to Diagon Alley and it was the first time Marie was going to interact with the Wizarding World. I wasn't sure how she would react to magic, seeing as her only experience had been with me and it hadn't been exactly planned. Natasha was waiting by the living room where the chimney was, but impatient, I had run back to the stairs to see her come down quickly, anxiously tapping my fingers on the railing. I didn't know what was taking her so long to dress up: I only had put on a pair of blue jean shorts I'd covered with patches and a violet hoodie. When Marie saw me, she had wrinkled her nose but didn't comment on it. She was slowly getting used to my atrocious sense of fashion - if I had one at all.

"Hold your horses," said Marie from the top, climbing down slowly. She was wearing a distinctive blue dress that looked more like a nightgown than public clothes.

"Diagon Alley might disappear if you lose our time."

She snorted. "It won't, its a place Places can't go anywhere."

"Its a magical one," I reminded her. "Everything can happen when magic is involved."

Even Natasha seemed to be in the mood. For once, she was not wearing that black coat of hers, and instead chose to wear an olive jumper with a pair of jeans and black heels. Out of the three of us, she was the only one that looked remotely Muggle.

"Ready?" asked Natasha.

Using the Floo Network, we landed inside the Leaky Cauldron without complications, not counting when Marie mistook the place as Diagon Alley and asked Tom the bartender for a wand. We quickly ushered her to the back, where the walled courtyard was. Like Professor McGonagall did three years ago, Natasha pulled out her wand and tapped the brick wall in a different pattern. The bricks moved aside, revealing the not so cheery marketplace.

"Well," I sighed. It was disappointing to see the lack of people. "Welcome to Diagon Alley, Marie."

Our first stop was Gringotts. Knowing there wasn't enough space in a cart, I told them I would wait up here, waving at Akins who was going to lead them to Natasha's vault. Marie returned carrying a heavy-looking sack over her shoulder, a really sad expression on her face as Natasha put a hand on her head, looking grim. I bit back the torrent of questions that threatened to spill out of my mouth.

Not surprising me on the least, Marie's first request was to go to Flourish and Blotts. Ever since she got her letter, she confiscated most of my old books, and although certain topics were very advanced, Marie understood them perfectly. I could have easily given them away, but she did not accept it, telling me politely she wasn't a charity case, but I started to doubt her intentions when instead of asking the manager, she headed to the darkest section of the shop. Besides the official books, Marie bought other two wrapped in paper bags, the manager looking at her strangely as we walked out.

Next was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Ocassions, then we went to the Apothecary, and from there, we went to Ollivanders'. Gazing at both Natasha and Marie, I realized they looked a little more than worried.

"Ms. Rosenberg, Miss Barton!" said Ollivander joyfully when he saw us. "Eleven inches, silver lime with a dragon heartstring from the last Catalonian Fireball. Oh yes, I remember your wand, perfect for charm work and transfiguration," he said to Natasha. "I do hope you have been taking care of it, after all, it was one of my finest works!"

"I always polish it in the mornings, sir."

"I don't doubt it," he chuckled. "And Miss Barton, has your wand met your expectations?"

"Oh, it has done its work marvelously," not to mention, it had done the most extraordinary curses I could possibly imagine.

"I'm glad to hear that. Oh, what do we have here?" Ollivander looked down at Marie curiously, his eyes scrutinizing her face.

"Marie Harlaown," she introduced herself.

Ollivander nodded. "Yes, I have heard of your family. Excuse my manners, I'm Mr. Ollivander. How may I be of assistance?"

"We are here to buy a wand for Marie," said Natasha, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Wonderful," said Ollivander, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a familiar long tape measure. "Which is your wand arm, my dear?"

"The right one."

"Very well. Stay still."

As the tape measured her, Marie listened with rapt attention as Ollivander gave his speech, nodding from time to time as he said something of he chores, and slowly growing nervous as he finally said, "The wand chooses the wizard."

He gave her wands, each of them ending on the air as the man threw them away, slowly forming a pile of wood. Ollivander stopped, looking at her eyes in the same way he had to me, and she gazed back at him, unflinchingly.

"I wonder..." he muttered. "Yes, yes..."

Ollivander went to the back and returned with a bag, slowly pulling out a a thin reddish stick within.

"Cherry and dragon heartstring, twelve and 1/4 inches, unyielding."

Marie cautiously took the wand and gazed at it in wonder. She waved it on the air, pink sparkles erupting from the end of it, shooting up to the ceiling like small fireworks.

"Impossible!" she gasped, looking at it adoringly.

"Not impossible, Miss Harlaown, not at all. You only needed to find the right anchor, just as this wand needed too find its rightful owner. Many tried to purchase it, but even the wand knew it wasn't made for them. They weren't suited for her." He smiled, offering his hand to shake. "Its my great honor to have meet you, and I hope everything goes well."

Marie, to my extreme surprise, grinned. "Ta, sir!"

Time flew and only three days were left before I returned to Hogwarts. Most of my things were already packed, my clothes were still on the laundry, and Caleb never stopped fidgeting whenever he was on the late Otto's cage. On the board, all of my new drawings had been pinned: theories written in the middle of the night after waking up from a nightmare, small sketches that included Voldemort's new ugly form, cuttings from the Daily Prophet, new and old, including some of Rita Skeeter's articles. There wasn't enough space left despite the board covering the entire wall but I still could see the small calendar I had hung on the corner. As each day passed, I marked it on red, always adding the words 'no progress' under the date.

It wasn't my fault and Natasha knew that. Since the day the conversation took place, she has taught me methods, all of them with the purpose of tricking the enemy inside my mind. Some of them I recognized from having watched Riddle, others were easy to do, but there were two, two that I couldn't control and always gave me a headache.

The first, learning to lock my memories and thoughts in form of a labyrinth. The second, how to manipulate passages if the enemy manages to infiltrate my head.

Little progress was made even though the older woman had warned me it was normal, that no person of my age had tried to learn this when it was already difficult for a grown-up to get the hang of it. As much as she tried to comfort me, it did little to soothe my growing frustration.

A knock pulled me out of my reverie. Marie was hanging by the door, looking at anything but me.

"Hey," I said. Her strange behavior was quite obvious. "You can come in."

"I have something to tell you," she whispered, sitting on my bed. As I was on my desk chair, I pushed myself until I slid as close as I could get without invading her space.

I clapped my hands. "I'm all ears."

Marie sighed. "I wasn't supposed to receive a letter." At my blank reaction, she clarified, "From Hogwarts."

"Okay," I drawled. "But you know, since you came from a family full of wizards -" or so she said, "- it was quite obvious you would receive one."

"No no, you don't understand. I wasn't meant to receive an acceptance letter from Hogwarts."

I frowned, "Are you a Squib?" To my knowledge, I knew that the Ministry of Magic kept a list of those born without magic.

"No," said Marie. She looked from one side to another and then, after giving a deep breath, said, "I'm an Emphat."

I frowned in confusion. "Sorry? A what?"

"An Emphat is someone who is affected by other people's energies," she hastened to say. "And has an innate ability to intuitively feel and perceive beings."

"I still don't get it," I rubbed my head.

Looking mildly annoyed, Marie continued, "It means I can feel emotions. It's not a strange occurrence for Muggles but within the Wizarding World... well, its like being a werewolf; they look at it in fear and cower. Wizards already have the ability to see and read thoughts, like Leglimens, but we differ in that we are able to manipulate their emotions. Sometimes, we leave a scar behind."

"And you are telling me this why?"

She swallowed, looking at me with great fear, which confused me.

"Don't - don't you find strange that you began to trust me when you returned from your second year?"

I raised my eyebrows. "No. Should I?"

"Oh you should," she said. "You should be really really mad at me."

"Marie, you're beginning to worry me."

"No, you still aren't getting it!"

"And you are freaking me out!" I barked, jumping from my seat. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Answer me this," she says instead. "Answer me... didn't you felt it?"

"Felt what? Marie, felt WHAT?!"

"When I called you Annie - why did you tell me about Riddle when you never speak of him to your friends?"

I stumbled away from her, confused and angry. All the air left my lungs, my heart hammering against my chest, and I swallowed, trying to think - think - what exactly happened that day.

Natasha said there were times memories were strategically locked, only waiting to be revealed when the right time came. Of course, to release it, there had to be a trigger but sometimes it could be left forgotten, never remembered and the memory would be just one secret that would never be mentioned aloud. Words have power, just like spells can do enough damage at the perfect time of the battle.

When Marie asked why I trusted her about Riddle, it was as if a light bulb had gone on inside my head. Ignoring the headache that threatened to worsen, the memory of that day started playing through my eyes.

With only a week fresh from Hogwarts, I had already managed to shut out the outside world by locking myself in my attic without speaking to anyone. The following days were of desolation and tears. I got to throw all objects my hands could get and by the third day, I had run out of clean things and the darkest side of the attic was my next target. Not only that, my mood worsened, the nightmares growing from simple details like 'You don't have friends' to 'You did this to us', making me more paranoid than I already was.

I asked Natasha if she didn't have some dreamless potion or something: she said I needed to fight by my own.

It had been Marie who had braved enough to face me directly. With long strides she approached me, her mouth opening into what seemed to be an accusation and she stopped, staring at me as if she was seeing me for the first time. Kneeling, she asked me if I was alright. And I had looked into her eyes, her so disturbing blue eyes, captivating me, until I was suddenly spilling out everything that happened that ear, bursting into tears.

Marie also cried with me and slept in my hammock whilst I hugged her tightly, feeling like I needed something to anchor me while I still had the chance.

"What did you do?" I asked, suddenly horrified that all of it had just been a manipulation on her part, when she knew I hadn't been on my right mind.

"I'm so so sorry," Marie wiped at her cheeks, making me notice she had started to cry at some point of my silence. "I can control it - I swear I can, but you were so loud! So angry, so sad... so lonely. So, so lonely."

I blinked at her.

"Just like now," she said. "Even though you have friends, you have never been so lonely than in this moment. Its like if you were a beacon, Anya. You give your everything, but you can never take it back."

Marie's story will be explained on the next chapter. How do you think Anya will react after she hears it?