Disclaimer: I do not own the potter-verse. I make no money from this story, etc, etc.

Chapter Two

Once the students arrived at the school and were in the Great Hall, Anne nervously waited to be sorted with the first years. Her father's approval, and possibly her very life, depended on her being sorted into the right house.

"Smith, Anne!"

Anne gingerly sat on the stool and slipped the hat over her head.

"Hmmm... nothing like your parents, are you?" began the hat.

Anne gulped.

"Plenty of bravery in you, to be living among those wretches that call themselves human beings. Gryffindor might be the place for you... but I can see that might cause complications later on. You're brainy, I can see that too. Have kept up with your studies. Ravenclaw is another possibility."

The hat paused, considering. "A poor candidate for Slytherin, you are. You're not sly or ambitious. I suppose that leaves Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. You do have freakishly annoying Hufflepuff tendencies."

Anne heaved a sigh of relief. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were definitely the lesser of four evils.

"Got a preference?" asked the hat.

"Uh, well—" began Anne.

"Too late! It's HUFFLEPUFF for you!" yelled the hat in glee, laughing maniacally.

"NOOOOOOOO!" yelled Anne. Hufflepuff may be the lesser of four evils in her opinion, but she knew her father wouldn't agree. That's why she was going to pick Ravenclaw.

"The sorting hat ruined my life!" wailed Anne.

The Hufflepuffs who had started clapping trailed off, shocked. The Slytherins were snickering (obviously) and the other two houses were also in various states of shock and bewilderment.

"Miss Smith!" exclaimed a shocked McGonagall. The regal matron grabbed Anne by her elbow and forced her to stand. "Your behavior is simply unacceptable!" she hissed. "Thank goodness you are not one of my own. Professor Sprout will know how to deal with you. In the meantime, go sit with your housemates!"

Anne moped with her head down all the way to the Hufflepuff table. She sat down and sighed morosely.

"I'm doomed," she moaned and her head fell to the heavy tabletop with a bang.

Some of the less good-natured Hufflepuffs scowled and moved to sit at the other end of the table.

"This is the worst day of my life!" continued Anne, talking into the tabletop.

"Oh, it can't be all that bad," said a voice near her left elbow.

"Luna!" exclaimed Anne, looking up. "What are you doing here?"
"Sitting. And talking to you."

"But don't you have to sit at the Ravenclaw table?"

"Oh, it's not a requirement, technically speaking," said the blonde, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

"Really?!" asked an excited Anne. "That's the best news I've heard all day. So, I can sit with any other table I want to, right?"

"Oh, yes," said Luna. "I frequently sit with the Gryffindors. The spirit of Dunkerdoodle is most strong in that particular vicinity."

Anne stood abruptly and skipped over to the Slytherin table. Luna had calmly and collectedly followed and stood serenely next to her new friend.

"Hello," Anne chirped, sweetly. "My father was in Slytherin. Can I sit here?"

"No," sneered a platinum blonde, blue-eyed teenager.

"But I have to sit here!" whined Anne, her eyes filling with tears. "My father will kill me when he finds out that I'm in Hufflepuff."

"Fine," said the boy. "You can sit here. But you have to do something for us."

"What?" asked Anne with tears in her eyes.

"We'll figure that out later," smirked the lad, with malice glinting in his eyes.

"But Draccie," whined the girl at his left, "What about me?"

"Wrong conversation, Parkinson," said "Draccie". "And don't call me Draccie. It's Draco."

"So, what do you do for fun around here?" asked Anne.

"Well, we usually torture mudbloods like Granger, over there," said Draco, gesturing toward the Gryffindor table.

Anne gasped. "You just said a bad word!" she exclaimed.

"What? Mudblood? That's nothing around here. You should get used to it," replied Draco. "So who was your father? If he was in Slytherin, my father would know who he was."

"Oh, his name is Tom Riddle," said Anne.

Draco frowned. "I haven't heard of the Riddle family. And isn't your last name Smith? Why isn't it the same as your father?"

"Uh," began Anne. Shoot, she thought. I should have practiced my lieing more often. "Well see, my father is dreadfully famous and he didn't want people to know that he had a daughter because I might get kidnapped, so I always go by the last name Smith."

"If your father is so famous, how come I haven't heard of him?" asked another Slytherin nearby.

"Uh... Oh, right. I forgot. He's from a different dimension. A different time actually. He's from the future and he sent me to the past so that I could be unrecognized," said Anne.

"Time travel is impossible," said Draco sneering.

"No it isn't," piped up Luna. "Why, everyone knows that Dumbledore is really Merlin in disguise."

"Pass the potatoes?" Anne asked nervously trying to change the subject.

"I don't know," said the plump girl next to her, wrinkling her nose. "The potatoes are my favorite and you're kind of weird."
"That's an understatement," said Draco. "Look," he said, leaning forward to make his point in a more intimidating manner, "I don't think you're cut out to be here. Anyone who hangs out with Loony Lovegood is soft in the head. And I haven't heard of your family at all, so you're probably just as low as the Weasley family if not worse, since it seems you have the same taste in friends."

"Luna," shouted Ginny from the Gryffindor table. She frantically waved at Luna, encouraging her to come to their table.

"I should go," said Luna. "It appears that Ginerva is suffering from an attack of the Ringdots."

Luna left and Anne stayed behind, looking at her plate miserably. Draco looked at her with an eyebrow raised. Finally he said, "Why haven't you left yet?"

"What?" said Anne, looking up. "Why would I leave?"

"Yes," sneered Pansy Parkinson, "Why haven't you left yet?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're timing is perfect as always, Pansy."

"Thank you, Draco," purred Pansy.

"I'm not going to waste anymore time on either of you," said Draco, standing up. "I'm going to the common room."

Anne looked down at her plate again, her eyebrows knitted in puzzlement. What was this feeling that was deep inside her that made her want to do bad, bad things? Was she possibly... angry? No, that couldn't be it. She had never been angry in her life. But then, she had never been blown off in her life, either. She was the daughter of Lord Voldemort, for heaven's sake. Anne suddenly banged her fist on the table. She was going to get what she wanted and darned if she didn't!

"Pass the potatoes!" she bellowed. "And while you're at it, send me the gravy!"