The weeks ran smoothly by as I began to get back into the swing of school life. I found that by now I was actually making friends. Pansy and Millicent, who were both rather vile personalities, had taken to asking me about what they were wearing on weekends, what boys they liked and teasing my relentlessly about Blaise. It was far better than their looks, ignorance and talking behind my back.

I decided not to let any of what Malfoy had said to me change my relationship with Blaise, so as we sat down for lunch after a painful few lessons with Professor Sprout about the many uses of Mandrakes once they're fully grown, instead of cringing, I smiled when he said;

"So Princess, what are your views on Umbridge?" Professor Umbridge had been the topic of most conversation these past few weeks, especially since she was appointed 'Hogwartrs High Inquisitor', giving her the access to every class (which she willingly took without any trouble with voicing her opinions and disrupting the class) and could make up any rules she pleased. Every time I saw the woman I hated her more and more.

In answer to Blaise's question, I raised my now healed hand. I must not act like a muggle.

"Princess, don't..." he started, hurt in his eyes at the horrendous state of my hand.

"I hate her Blaise, with every fibre of my being I hate her and the way she acts so innocent, but how she enjoys to see you in pain. I hate the malicious gleam in her eye as she realizes she's doing something truly evil, something that will make us detest her even more, but what I hate most is the lengths that she will go to to make herself hated, and that the Ministry is ready to help her get there."

"Amen to that!" said a voice, and it wasn't Blaise's.

Draco Malfoy came and sat next to me on the other side, still quite intolerable, but lucky that I had just been ranting about Umbridge. He looked a saint in comparison. He took a glance at my hand, which was now gripping the table, my knuckles white. I must not act like a muggle. He gave me the same pitying look Blaise gave me, and for a second I saw the same flash of pain I saw in Blaise's eyes as he saw what she had done to me. It was almost unbearable coming from him.

"Sorry to barge in on you, Princess," he said, extra loudly so that I felt Blaise squirm in his seat next to me. "but I'm not actually here to feel sorry for you or to complain about Umbridge, I have a message for you. Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office as soon as you can get there." he carried on with some grumbling about Professor Dumbledore and how he didn't deserve to be headmaster and Professor Umbridge and how she had given him such a good role and how he was grateful. None of it was anything I wanted to hear as I quickly got up and left the great hall.

I turned back to see Malfoy nudging Blaise as both their eyes followed me. Ugh.

I reached the statue behind which I knew Dumbledore's office stood to find that it had already been opened and was now a twisting staircase. I climbed it immediately, not thinking to knock, only knowing that Dumbledore expected me straight away. I ran in and bumped straight into Professor Snape. Angrily, he opened his mouth as if about to scold me when from behind him, I heard a kind, aged voice.

"Now now, Severus, it was I who asked Miss Wint here to come in such a hurry, do not blame her." Reluctantly, Snape nodded and left.

"Well, Angeline," he began, and I turned to see Professor Dumbledore, in all his legendary greatness. He had the longest, silvery beard that I had ever seen, and behind a pair of half-moon spectacles, the kindest and most vigilant eyes gazed back at me. "I fear I am a bit late in this meeting but I have had previous business to attend to. I would like to say welcome, and to check that you are not finding the pressures of wizarding life too unbearable. I have heard from many of your teachers that you have been doing exceedingly well, as if you had been doing magic your entire life!" he gave a little chuckle. "However, I would like to know your views. How do you feel you are doing?"

I paused, my gaze wondering momentarily to the sorting hat perched on one of the many shelves which soared over my head and up to the ceiling of the office. Was this the time to inquire about my house? But his attentive eyes gave me a look as of to say, speak.

"Well, the only thing is, I was wondering why I had been sorted into Slytherin when I spent most of my life in the muggle world, yet most Slytherins can't seem to tolerate them,"

"Ahh," began Dumbledore, gently nodding his head. "The sorting hat is never wrong, Angeline. It sorts according to personality, what is in your head and your heart. There are only two things which override this, asking to be out into a house, or," and he leaned closely into me as he said this, as if he were sharing a long kept secret, "lineage."