Harriet was the center of so much attention as she walked between Gryffindor Tower and the Great Hall.

"There she is!"

"She has the face of an angel!"

"Is she related to Harry Potter?"

Everywhere she went it seemed the whispers followed her and got ahead of her. It was ridiculous, but Harriet had learned long ago from High Priestess Iset not to let the crowds or regular people bother her.

So, she hummed quietly on her way to her first class:

"Hush my dear … hush don't cry

Take that thought … hush it out

File it away … put it into a jar

Protect your emotions

Protect your mind…"

Hermione who was walking next to her said, "What's that?"

"Oh," Harriet replied. "It is just a little song I learned growing up. It helps me deal with things that bother me. It is what Iset used to teach me Occlumency."

Hermione looked at her new friend in wonder. "Occlumency? Isn't that a very advanced skill?"

Harriet chuckled. "You English make it into an advanced skill, but it can actually be quite simple. I will teach you during one of our study sessions."

Thanks to the combined efforts of Harriet and Hermione neither one was late for the very first class – Charms.

Charms took place with Professor Filius Flitwick. He was a diminutive little wizard, but Hogwarts a History said that he had some Goblin blood in him that made him short. That morning he took roll call on top of a pile of books. The very first lesson was a lecture on the basics of wand movement and pronunciation of incantations.

Ron Weasley who sat behind her kept trying to whisper in her ear.

"This is boring. Why do we have to take notes?"

"What are you doing late? Want to play a game of Wizarding Chess?"

It continued until Harriet whispered very quietly a wandless muffling charm on the wizard. Then, she was able to pay attention better.

Harriet's only difficulties were to keep Weasley from the attention he kept giving her but she didn't want and learning the new pronunciations. She wasn't sure if they would accept Egyptian phrases and words.

Transfiguration was the second class they had. It was the class Hermione had really been looking forward to. But quickly they all learned that this class was very serious. The Professor Minerva McGonagall whom Harriet had met when Professor Dumbledore had brought her back from Egypt was a very strict teacher. She inspired a healthy fear even in Ronald Weasley.

"Transfiguration," she said with her stern demeanor, "Is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. Harriet thought to suggest that she could do that too, but thought better of it.

Professor McGonagall said, "It will be a while before I will permit any of my students to do that complicated bit of Transfiguration."

Instead, She had them take a lot of complicated notes. Finally they were given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.

On her first try Harriet looked at the match and watched it bend and turn into a needle. She didn't use the incantation or any flick of a wand.

"Well," Professor McGonagall said, "That is quite impressive, Miss Potter, fifty points to Gryfinndor."

She also gave a rare smile to Harriet's friend, Hermione who by the end of the class was the only other student able to make the change.

Harriet was eager to prove herself in Defense against the Dark Arts. Back in Egypt, she had learned how to ward off dark fairies and counter powerful jinxes. She had hopes that she could show her Shield Charm, but Defense against the Dark Arts was a disappointment.

The room was heavy in the odor of garlic – a sign that Professor Quirrell was trying to ward against some particularly nasty Dark Creature. When he walked in and she felt the first prickle of another attempt to enter her mind, she ended up focusing on Quirrell's turban. There was something fishy going on with that.

Defense against the Dark Arts was simply a matter of reading the book – during class and taking notes on the assigned reading.

Astronomy for obvious reasons took place on a tower at midnight. Whoever made the schedule did not make it convenient for those who had classes the next day. They would trudge up the steps of the Astronomy tower with their telescopes and they would look into those scopes making their own star charts and memorizing the position of the stars in conjunction with the time of year. This was difficult for Harriet who had learned the Stars of the Southern Hemisphere and had learned the names of these stars in Egyptian.

Herbology was difficult for the same reason. She had been around plenty of magical plants before, but the plants she had learned did not grow in England and their names again were different. She was at square one with the rest of the class. But Hermione with her notes and nearly photographic memory and Neville with his natural knack for magical plants, she was performing well.

Finally, the day for Double Potions arrived. When Harriet and Hermione left for potions, they had to travel deep into the dungeons of Hogwarts not far from what many thought was the place where Slytherin had their Common room.

Potions began just as Charms began. Professor Snape flowed his way up to the front of the class and pulled out his class list and started with roll call. After Harriet answered, "Potter, Harriet,"

"Ah, yes," he responded, "Harriet Potter. Our new – celebrity."

Draco Malfoy – former friend of Harriet along with Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Harriet made a note in her head that she would not just easily forgive such a temperamental fool. When Snape finished calling the names, he looked up at the class. His eyes were black with no warmth – cold and empty.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but you could catch every word. He had a gift, like Professor McGonagall of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.

Harriet and Hermione sat at the edge of their seats desperate to start proving that neither were dunderheads.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harriet scrunched her eyes and thought back to what she had read. She was pretty certain that was not in the first year's Potion book. Hermione's hand shot into the air next to her.

"I don't know, sir," she replied.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything."

Hermione's hand remained high, but he ignored her focusing on Harriet.

"Let's try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without leaving her seat. Harriet could feel laughter behind her, but calmed herself with breathing exercises and again searched her mind. She wished she had more time.

"I don't now, Professor."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harriet looked up into his cold eyes. "I promise to do better, Professor –" she said deciding to try humility to work with the Professor.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

Harriet found this one in her mind. She had read that book.

"Professor, there is no difference. They are the same plant. I believe it also goes by the name of Aconite."

Harriet waited patiently as Snape studied her carefully.

"One out of three questions, Potter –" he said. Then, he turned with a wicked grin to Ron. "Well, why aren't you copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment.

When the notes were taken, Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Harriet was paired with Hermione. Snape swept his long black cloak, watching them all weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs. He criticized many of the Gryffindors, but she even heard him criticize Pansy and Blaise from the Slytherins. The only one he didn't criticize was his godson, Draco.

"Look at the perfect way, Malfoy here," he crooned, "has stewed his horned slugs."

Then suddenly, clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville a few tables away had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while, Neville who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing away the spilled potion with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Dean Thomas. Then he rounded on Seamus Finnegan and Ron Weasley who had been working next to Neville.

"You – Weasley – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's a point lost for Gryffindor."

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but got kicked by Seamus.

As they turned their potion in, Hermione and Harriet had gotten an E. It was the second highest grade in the class next to Draco's.

"It is so unfair," Hermione complained to Harriet as they walked up the steps. "Our potion was just as good as Malfoys."

Harriet replied, "From what the older Gryffindors said, 'No Gryffindor ever gets an E from Snape on the first day.'"

After a few weeks of school, Harriet and Hermione really only had complaints about two teachers: Binns – a ghost who taught History of Magic and Quirrell who taught Defense against the Dark Arts. The rest of the teachers were fantastic. Snape could be cold and even cruel, but the two worked ahead and cross-referenced their notes and were able to put together Potions that kept exceeding expectations.

Harriet and Hermione loved to spend their free times between classes in the Library or in the Common Room. They always checked their notes cross-referencing each other's notes for mistakes or something that was missing. This is often where Hermione excelled over Harriet. She just seemed to do better as staying focused and taking notes. She also seemed to get less attention, Harriet thought.

They studied for their classes, but sometimes, even Hermione enjoyed just talking. Soon, she learned a great deal about her new friend.

"So, you didn't grow up in England?" Hermione asked her.

Harriet shook her head no. "I grew up in Egypt, and my name really isn't Harriet Potter. It was Dumbledore's idea to call me that."

Hermione thanks to Harriet's influence was less and less likely willing to accept anything from a book or from an authority figure just because they declared it to be so. She was becoming more and more open to other things.

"What was your name?" she asked quietly.

"Anck-su-Namun," Harriet responded quietly. Harriet did her best to explain what happened when her father and mother died and when the Dark Lord had cast his killing curse on her.

Hermione was willing to accept it, mostly because Harriet showed an ability to do powerful complicated magic – something someone her age shouldn't be able to do.

There really was only one thing about her past that Harriet withheld from Hermione – the way she had surrendered to Imhotep. She was too ashamed to tell anyone that.

Hermione had many questions. Hermione was eager to learn of Occlumency and Legilemency.

"I'm willing to start with Occlumency," Harriet said. "and I think you won't have too many difficulties there – you seem to do the memory portions of it on your own. But I won't teach you Legilemency until you are truly able to protect your mind."

Right at that moment, Draco Malfoy strolled in with Crabbe and Goyle.

"Potter –" he said.

Harriet turned. "Oh, hello Draco," she smiled. "Congratulations on becoming Slytherin. It happened just as you said it would."

Draco looked down on her his neck not even bending down to look at her. "Yes, well, Slytherin is the best –" he said, "And I can only have the best. You however – seem to be willing to accept lesser things."

Harriet narrowed her eyelashes at him. She really was going to force him to work hard to regain her friendship.

"Though," Draco drawled, "If you were to stop being found in the presence of a Mudblood –"

Harriet looked at him, clearly not understanding what he was saying. Draco just rolled his eyes.

Harriet shrugged her shoulders casually. "Her blood isn't what is important, Draco, but her heart and her mind. If she knows something that I can learn, I really don't care who or what she is."

"As I said –" Draco replied and then turned away disgusted. He followed Crabbe and Goyle out of the Library. Harriet meanwhile turned to her best friend. "Boys –" she whispered as she smiled encouragingly at her.

As classes continued, Harriet continued to have little run-ins like that with Draco Malfoy. Those run-ins tended to happen either in the Great Hall, the Library or before or after Potions. And the run-ins became less and less as Draco grew bored of trying to get under her skin. He soon found that enjoyed tormenting Weasley easier.

Harriet often heard Ron complaining about Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle and the slimy snakes. Harriet and Hermione just kept their noses to the books and stayed out the rivalry. But that was about to soon become more difficult.

As Harriet and Hermione were studying at their favorite table in the Common room Ron dropped himself in the chair next to Harriet.

"Those slimy snakes –" he said for what must have been the hundredth time.

Harriet and Hermione smiled at each other as Ron seemed to start another one of his rants but then they put their heads back down into their books.

"I was so looking forward to learning how to fly, but now we have to take our Flying Lessons with them, starting on Thursday."

Hermione glared on Ron. Harriet just chuckled.

"It should be entertaining then at least."

In the Great Hall on the morning of those flying lessons, Harriet could hear Malfoy talk about flying all the way across the Hall. When she passed Daphne in the hallway, she heard Draco talking about flying and she gave a look of sympathy to Daphne who rolled her eyes at Draco's speech.

"It is a shame," he drawled, "That first years never get on the House Quidditch teams. You know that I can fly good enough to escape those flying tin machines of Muggles."

But Draco wasn't the only one who seemed to be an expert on flying. As Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Ronald Weasley would not be outdone. He told Harriet and even Hermione more than once that he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom.

Neville like Hermione and Harriet had never been on a broomstick in his life. His grandmother would never let him near one. Harriet loved Neville as a brother, but she whispered to Hermione: "I think that is for good reason. The poor boy is always having accidents."

Hermione was absolutely nervous about flying – just like Neville. It wasn't in a book, and Harriet was uncertain too. She could fly – without a broom, but wasn't sure if she might look foolish flying on a stick with bristles at the end of it.

Near the end of breakfast, a barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed Harriet and Hermione a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh …" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "… you've forgotten something … "

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Ron who for some reason had sat next to Harriet again was close enough to see everything. He jumped to his feet, apparently looking for an excuse to fight Malfoy.

It was a good thing that Professor McGonagall who could spot trouble real quickly was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harriet, Hermione, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. And then, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harriet glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'UP!"

"Up!" everyone shouted.

Harriet's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Ron crowed when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two – "

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Harriet could see his scared white face looking down at the ground, as it fell away, then saw him gasp, then slip sideways off the broom and –

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harriet heard her mutter. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "it's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

Harriet said loudly to her fellow Gryffindors. "I think Malfoy forgot that the Remembrall is Neville's –"

Hermione chuckled. "It is turning scarlet."

Draco's head turned red. Harriet pressed the advantage. "Hand it on over," she said, "I will remember to give it back to him."

But Malfoy leapt onto his broomstick and took off. Harriet looked up into the sky, impressed. He could fly on that broom. "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harriet just sat there watching. But Ronald grabbed at his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us in trouble."

Harriet watched as Draco held the Remembrall aloft. Then, he found a bird's nest in a tree and Draco put the Remembrall in. He looked around one last time then brought his broom back down to the earth.

No sooner had Draco returned to the ground then Professor McGonagall was stomping out of the castle. "Madam Hooch told me that you lot might be up to trouble. I am here to watch you until she returns."

Ron said, "Malfoy took Neville's Remembrall."

"It's up in a nest in that tree," Hermione pointed.

Professor McGonagall pointed at the tree and said, "Accio Remembrall –" and the little ball flew right to her hand.

She stared at all of them until Madam Hooch was able to return from the Hospital wing.

When everyone was situated with brooms in hand, she said it again, "Now, when I blow my whistle, and only when I blow my whistle,"

"Only after I blow my whistle, do you kick off from the ground, hard." Then she added, "Keep your brooms steady, rise those few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two – one."

Harriet sat her bottom on her broomstick and kicked hard to the ground. Up, she soared into the air. Air rushed through her air, and her robes whipped out behind her. What a feeling! There was a rush of fierce joy as she realized that she'd been able to do something without being taught.

Not everyone had done as well. Draco had made it up. Parvarti Patil had gone up, but not quite as well. Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle and made it up, but not far from the ground. No other Gryffindors.

"Come back down, everyone," said Madam Hooch.

There were a few advanced instructions for those who had been able to lift up, and after an hour, they were marching back to the dorms.

All the talk was about Quidditch for the dining hall that night. But Ron was steaming. Harriet poked Hermione. "He's going to do something.

Sure enough, Ron jumped up and stomped over to the Slytherin table. You could hear him clearly at the Gryffindor table.

"Malfoy," Ron shouted, "What you did to Neville's Remembrall was ridiculous. I ought to –"

At that moment, Draco stood up along with Greg and Vince. "You ought to do what, Weasel?" he sneered.

"You think you are so brave –" Ron replied, "With your little friends by your side."

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," Draco replied. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's dual. Wands only – no contact." Ron looked a little nervous. "What's the matter, Weasely? Mum not let you stay up that late?"

Hermione stood up and Harriet decided to go with her to try to restrain her. "That is breaking curfew, Malfoy." Neville came up suddenly and with his hand in a bandage said, "I'll be his second."

At this Pansy let out hysterical laughter. Harriet smirked at how ridiculous this was. She took Hermione's arm, and she whispered. "They are boys. It's all bluster. Let's get away before someone puts an end to this. Harriet walked Hermione back to their table, but Hermione watched carefully the interchange.

Weasley continued, "Who is your second, Malfoy?"

Draco looked at Crabbe, then Goyle. Harriet couldn't read his mind, but guessed he probably didn't know which would be better.

"Crabbe," he said at last. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

Ron and Neville walked back to the table. Hermione had her hands on her hips and she was in rare form.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you said, Ron –"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered back.

"You mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

Harriet spoke up. "You do know Malfoy isn't going to show up, right?"

Ron narrowed his eyes. "He is tricking you to go to the Trophy room. I've heard your brothers complain that Filch is always in there cleaning those trophies. Malfoy is getting you to go to the one place Filch is sure to be."

Ron just glared at the two of them. "None of your business, Potter. Goodbye!"