The next two weeks would be considered uneventful for most people, but for me, they are magical. Somehow, I manage to snag amazing new friends—friends, how I love the word—and finally find my place at Hogwarts. It took me long enough, that's for sure.

My fourteenth breakfast at Hogwarts surprises me more than having friends as great as Rose and Al. I make an enemy.

Rose and I are eating a dainty breakfast of biscuits and fruit when Al plops down next to me at the Gryffindor table and begins to stuff his face with bacon and eggs. I wrinkle my nose. "How can you eat that stuff?" I ask, wincing when he deliberately chews into my ear. "Ugh, you're disgusting."

Friends can say that to friends, right? I ask myself, worried. I still haven't gotten the friend-thing down completely. I hope so.

Rose answers my question. "Yeah, seriously, Al. That's nasty."

Albus proceeds to practically make-out with a biscuit. "Ew," I giggle. "Get a room, will you two? And please, spare us the details."

Rose giggles and opens her mouth to say something. Before she can, someone sits down beside her and says, "Hi, Rosie."

Rose's blue eyes widen as she realizes who it is. Then, they narrow in distaste that, for some reason, seems faked. "Go away, will you, Malfoy? We were enjoying ourselves before you showed up."

Scorpius Malfoy, the son of the enemy of Albus's father, says angrily, "How can you be having fun when you're hanging out with her?" He motions to me with a look of utter contempt on his face. His grey eyes are cold.

I try to ignore that.

The little nuisance continues, "I mean, she's a loser. Rose, you're above her. Mudblood," he hisses.

I slam my fist down on the table, spilling some of my pumpkin juice. "Look, Malfoy," I say, anger coursing through my veins. "I am not a loser. And I am not a Mudblood. Having Muggle parents does not in any way make me below you. And you really shouldn't be talking. Having a father who's locked up in Azkaban doesn't exactly make you oh-so kingly. So would you…please…get the hell outta my sight?"

Scorpius's face is twisted in malice. He says, "You have it in for you, Mudblood. You'll see." He says, "Goodbye, Rose. I hope to see you soon," and stalks off.

"What is his problem?" I ask no one in particular.

"Bloody hell!" Albus suddenly exclaims, turning to me. "That was amazing, Em! I didn't know you had it in you! But, that was bloody awesome!"

My heart warms at the compliment and the nickname he just gave me. Only friends give each other nicknames.

Rose looks extremely uncomfortable. Her eyes are sad, as if she just lost something—or someone—special.

"What's wrong, Rosie?" Al asks. He looks so concerned for his cousin that my heart just melts.

Rose mumbles, "Nothing." She looks depressed, but after a second she brightens and says, "Ready for Herbology? Professor Longbottom said today we're learning about Mandrakes!"

Al and I moan; Herbology isn't our favorite class. I really like Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. All Albus likes to do is play Quidditch; he's the Gryffindor seeker and he is phenomenal, just like his father and his grandfather. I decide to go see his next game; I've never gone to a Quidditch game before. I had no reason to.

Having friends makes life so much more worth living.

Rose says, "Oh, come on. You'd like it if you actually paid attention!"

I say, "I'm sorry. I just happen to think watching plants strangle Al is a little more entertaining."

Albus says, "Hey! That was one time!"

I laugh and say, "More like ten."

Albus says, "Well, I'm not the one who destroyed half of the greenhouse because I squished the Snargaluff pod wrong!"

Rose huffs, "Would you two please stop bickering?"

"Oh, Rose, that reminds me!" Al says, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "You know your essay for Potions? Emmeline and I were fighting, and—"

"—DON'T TELL HER, YOU—"

"—never mind," Al says, loving the look of loathing I'm giving him right now.

Rose is the epitome of a quiet, calm anger. She says slowly, "What happened to my essay?"

I quickly gather my stuff, give Albus one last glare, and say, "Oh, look at the time; we're going to be late, and I really need to pee. I'll see you guys at class, okay?" I run off, snickering.

The last thing I hear before the Gryffindor table is out of sight is, "ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER, YOU ARE A ROTTEN PRAT WHO HAS NO RESPECT FOR—"

Laughing as the door to the Great Hall closes behind me, I say to myself, "I love my friends."

Albus was right. This is going to be an amazing year.

For the rest of the day, Al and Rose are separated from me. I don't see them until late at night in the Common Room.

"I can't believe you guys destroyed my essay!" Rose whines, scribbling furiously on a parchment. "I have to write the whole thing again!"

"Rose, you should be happy. It's not every day you get a double assignment. I thought that you would be delighted." Al is lounging on the sofa, sprawled out across the entire thing. His barely-touched essay is resting on his chest.

Rose harrumphs something about Albus that wasn't quite nice, and I giggle. "Rose Weasley, language!"

Al says, "And that is the part of her that equals Uncle Ron. Other than that, she's a clone of Aunt Hermione—well, personality-wise."

I'm collapsed on the carpet in front of the fire, my half-completed essay lying on my face. I ask, "So your parents really defeated Voldemort?"

Rose says, "Yep." She acts like it's no big deal, but I can hear the pride in her voice.

Albus says, "It's really weird, imagining our parents our age, trying to defeat the greatest Dark wizard of all time. But, they did."

No one speaks for a little while, comfortable to sit in a companionable silence. Finally, I say, "Okay, Rose, I've waited long enough. Can you please help me with this essay?"

Rose laughs. "I thought you said Potions was your best subject. And I told you to wait about five minutes ago. You have no patience whatsoever."

"It is my best subject, I just stink at writing essays, and yeah, I know I don't, just help me with the bloody essay already!" I say quickly, my impatience very obvious.

Rose says, "Touchy child." But she hands me a list (bulleted and in chronological order, of course) of ideas.

As I begin to "borrow" Rose's ideas, I say, "Didn't Professor Tumms look nervous today? I mean, more than usual?" I picture the short man who teaches Potions class spilling half of the class's creations, as per usual.

Al says, "Yeah, he did. I wonder why?"

Rose grins and says, "Maybe it's because…nah, I shouldn't tell you."

"What?" Al and I exclaim, nearly jumping out of our seats.

Rose says, "I don't know…"

I practically tackle her and snatch her essay out of her hands. I say, "Tell or say buh-bye to your second essay!"

Rose glares at me and crosses her arms. "Fine. It just so happens that I overheard Filch and Skeeter talking today."

Al looks intrigued. "About what?"

"She was telling him to 'hide the evidence, and quickly, before anyone sees!' Then Filch ran away. I followed him." She grins impishly.

"Rose, you naughty girl!" I say, excited now. "Where did he go?"

She looks around to make sure no one else is here. Then she whispers, "He went in the library, in the Restricted Section. There was a door there, behind the last bookshelf. He pushed the shelf aside and went in. Then I ran away because Professor McGonagall was walking by."

"When was this?" Al demands, eyes wide. "This is exactly what I was talking about! I told you something was weird!"

Rose looks embarrassed as she says, "It was last night around two in the morning."

Al says, "Why on earth would you be up at—"

I ask, incredulous, "Why didn't you take me with you?"

Al stares at me like I'm some crazy person, which I am. I shrug and grin. "What? Em likes her adventure."

"And Al would like Em to stop talking in third person," he retorts. I stick my tongue out at him and he pinches it in between his fingers.

"Ew!" I say, wiggling it around to get him to let go.

He finally does—after I bite his fingers. Clutching them with his other hand, he whines, "What was that for?"

"For grabbing my tongue, you, you, you pedophile!"

"How the hell does that make me a pedophile?" Now he just looks bemused rather than angry.

I stammer, "I-I-I—you pedophile!"

He rolls his eyes.

Rose says impatiently, "Are you two done flirting yet?"

We both turn crimson. "We weren't—" I begin.

"—flirting!" Albus finishes.

Rose clasps her hands together. "Aw, you are already finishing each other's sentences!"

Al says, "Shut up. We weren't flirting. And Emmeline fancies James, so—"

"I do not fancy James!" I say hotly.

Albus says, "If you say so…but it doesn't matter right now. We have to figure out what to do about Filch and Skeeter. I have a plan."

(A/N: Long chapter! I hope you liked it!)

Note: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I do not own it. All characters not mentioned in the books (i.e. Emmeline) are mine.