On September the first, Lucius and Lucius alone came to see me off. Draco was in a sulk and refused, and Narcissa stayed to keep an eye on him. He apparated the two of us into the busy King's Cross Station, and told me to walk through the ticket box. It was a strange feeling, but so many strange things made up this world I was a part of that I wondered very little now. The unfortunate part was, we ran straight into The Weasleys and their Seven Children.

On seeing each other, Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley stopped to glared as though they were trying to burn each other. Arthur automatically threw out a hand to push his family behind him. I looked from one to the other. Lucius had told me a lot about how horrible the Weasleys were, which, as a result made me get a warm, fuzzy feeling about them.

"Good Merlin, Arthur, is that your whole brood? If every wizard bred the way you do, we'd have no room to stand, I'm sure," Lucius sneered.

"I'm sure you'll come around to my way of thinking when your son dies off, Malfoy," Arthur Weasley spat back.

Lucius' posture grew that much stiffer, and I just knew that we were going to be here a long time. So I tugged his sleeve.

"Lucius, I'm going to be late."

Ten pairs of eyes looked at me.

"HEY!"

"It's you!"

I stared around for the source of the noise and found the two boys I'd met in the joke shop. I scowled.

"Oh, great. It's you."

"You know these people, Lacole?" Lucius asked, still glaring at Mr. Weasley.

"We're very well aquainted," I said dryly.

"Well, what a pleasant surprise." Lucius made the word 'pleasant' sound like profanity.

"I didn't know you had a daughter, Malfoy."

"I don't. This is my niece."

I tugged his sleeve again, and he put on a nasty smirk.

"It has been extremely pleasant talking with you, Arthur," Lucius said with a note of supreme smugness, before looking down at me.

"I do hope you enjoy Hogwarts, Lacole," he murmured, and then swept away majestically.

"Yes, I'll miss you too, Lucius," I told the ceiling with a sigh. Lucius and his melodrama. Then, on perceiving that the entire Weasley clan was still looking at me, I gave a wave.

"Wow, Lucius sure doesn't like you," I said brightly.

"I knew you were a Slytherin!" Said Fred or George.

I asked him which he was, he claimed he was Fred, his twin called him a liar, and they got into a huge argument about it. I watched, and my eyebrows slowly made their way up my forehead. Then their mother told them to shut up, and they went into hysterics. I'd never in this life come across anyone so careless and happy, and it made me yearn for the same. I asked them what year they were in, and they refered to themselves as 'ickle firsties'. Under both their parents' disapproving gazes, they each slung an arm across my shoulders and found an empty compartment for the three of us. Then they closed the doors, and waved at their parents cheekily through the windows. I giggled.

"You guys are so weird."

They each made an exaggerated bow, and sat down opposite me with huge grins plastered all over their faces. I looked from one to the other, trying to find difference, and failing sadly.

"So," said one twin.

"So!" Echoed the other.

"You're Lucius Malfoy's niece!"

"A shame, that."

"Truly, Fred."

"I keep thinking you're a good sort."

I snorted.

"Oh come on. You're just saying that because I exploded your hair so well."

The two grinned, agreed that I'd done it with style, and that marked the beginning of our against all odds friendship.

Soon we were joined by two more first years, Cedric Diggory and Angelina Johnson. With rowdy twins, open Cedric, and friendly Angelina, I, the bitter little Slytherin with the wrong crowd, faded into the background. I watched them laugh with a funny feeling clutching at my heart. I had been too long alone, I, who was so easily influenced by the world, and after ten years of not interacting with a single warm-hearted, frank-natured human being, I had forgotten how it was to be true. The lies and illusions that were my family had smothered me, and I could never be truly happy with them. For the first time, I wondered if I could ever escape.

Fred and George were surprisingly considerate, despite appearances, and often included me in the conversation. Slowly, I joined in their talk of Hogwarts, laughed with them, and shocked myself at how good it felt. Lunch rolled round, and when Fred and George brought out nasty looking sandwiches, Cedric and I cheerfully bought sweets enough for everyone. Fred and George promised not to prank us too soon in thanks, and then we unwrapped all the chocolate frogs to look at the cards. The afternoon passed very fast, and soon the train slowed, and we all got off. Clutching Illusion's cage and trying not to get knocked over (I wasn't a very big eleven year old) I lost the others who had been in my compartment. It was only outside that I heard the hollers of the groundskeeper, and hurried to the boats.

The other four had already filled a boat together, and I had to sit in one with three unpleasant looking boys who stared at me as I got on.

"I've not seen you around," said one.

"Nor I you."

"Who's your father?" Asked another one snottily. I was reminded of Draco Malfoy.

I gave him a nasty smile.

"It's funny you should ask, because I don't have one."

The boy laughed.

"I thought so. Could tell that you were a little nobody."

"I dare you to say that again." Not that I particularly objected to being a little nobody, in fact, it might even be nice, but when you're who I am, not allowing yourself to be insulted is a matter of principal.

"And why shouldn't I dare?"

"Who's your father?" I shot back.

"Natheniel Pucey, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," the boy said in a boasting voice.

"Natheniel Pucey? Never heard of him, but I'm sure I can drop in a word for him to Lucius Malfoy," I replied, my smirk revealing exactly what sort of word it would be.

The boy paled, and the two others looked at me curiously.

"What's Lucius Malfoy to you?"

I considered briefly telling him that Lucius was my foot servant.

"My uncle."

And I knew, without a doubt, that these three were all Slytherins in the making, because their attitudes changed at once. To Slytherins, power was everything. I abruptly missed Fred and George Weasley.

"I'm so sorry," the boy blurted, "I had no idea…"

I gave a good imitation of Lucius' trademark cold smile, and said nothing else.

"I'm Cameron Warrington," said the boy who had said nothing up to now.

"Pleasure."

"I'm Brandon Montague," said the other.

"Again, a pleasure."

"I'm, uh, Adrian, Adrian Pucey," said the boasting boy awkwardly.

I said nothing, and looked up to see Hogwarts rising up before us. It surprised me. After the dreary castle of my infancy, I'd gotten the idea that all castles were gloomy, or at least forbidding. Hogwarts, on the contrary, was quite inviting, with a light in every window. Hogwarts School. A place to look forward to.

The huge gigantic gargantuan groundskeeper led us all up to the front doors, and handed us to a severe looking woman. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. We were all ushered in, and after a long boring wait, we filed into the Great Hall.

Hogwarts had more of the majesty that came with age than the manicured elegance of Malfoy Manor. The soft yellow light, the crowds of students, the four long tables, served to give an aura that Malfoy Manor had not. I hadn't been told exactly how we would be sorted, and now, I did wonder, as Professor McGonagall brought out a stool and a ragged hat. The hat then proceeded to sing. I listened vaguely with one ear, because, in all honestly, it didn't sing very well at all. But I got the idea that we were to put it on.

I watched as one after the other, the new students were sorted. Cedric Diggory went to Hufflepuff, and Angelina Johnson to Gryffindor. Montague, one of the boys from the boat, was a Slytherin, as I had expected. Then it was my turn.

"Why, hello, Miss Riddle," said a gravelly voice, "you're one of Lord Slytherin's brethen!"

"Yes." And hurry up and send me to his goddamned house.

The hat chuckled.

"Oh, it's not that easy! Did you think that being his child would give you an automatic pass there? No, no. Do let me see. My goodness, you're a clever girl. Wit, ambition...oh, learned cunning, quite learned. You are hiding yourself, my young friend. You are one of Slytherin's, but you would not benefit there, mark my words！No, you'll have a better time in-GRYFFINDOR!"

Professor McGonagall pulled the hat off my head, but for a moment I simply sat there in shock, the polite clapping washing over me. How could I be a Gryffindor? I was neither courageous nor chivalerous. The hat had said so himself, wit, ambition, Slytherin's qualities, so why had it sent me to a house that no one I had a snowball's chance in hell of fitting into? Oh God, Lucius was going to flip.

"The Gryffindor table is that way, Miss Riddle," Professor McGonagall said with a small smile.

I moved towards it like a zombie.

Fortunately, Fred and George Weasley were soon sorted into Gryffindor too to cheer me up, otherwise I might have done something extraordinarily cliche like dying on the spot. Gryffindor. Well, okay. At least my father Lord Voldemort was not alive to deal out the slow, painful death he had promised me. That was good.

It was during eating that I got the feeling of being stared at. I looked up, and there was the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, watching me intently with too-blue eyes. I waved. He waved back, and I returned to my dinner. I was far too disturbed to think of the strangeness of Dumbledore's attention.

After dinner, Dumbledore gave some notices, welcomed Professors Quirell and Burbage, and we all went to bed. My room in Gryffindor tower was shared with Angelina Johnson, and two other girls. After going to bed, I lay awake some time thinking of the hat's words, the reason why I was lying in Gryffindor towers and not wherever the Slytherin dorms were situated. I fell asleep thinking about it, and had a dream where Lucius came and sent the sorting hat up in flames, and then he became my father, with the scarlet eyes, saying again those words which had haunted me for years, killing me…this time, I was not startled awake, and tossed and turned in my sleep until dawn.

Dumbledore was a good man. He was a forgiving man and a kind man. But he had come to learn, that with one child, he couldn't be too cautious. So this day, when he had heard his name, seen a face of such striking resemblance, he had not had his early night as he usually did every September the first. Instead, he had made a floo call to the ministry, and procured the file of Lacole Natasha Riddle. It was now before him, as he sipped his tea around the sherbert lemon in his mouth. Bellatrix Lestrange's child. Her father was unknown, presumed dead. It was very easy for one with the knowledge he had, to think of who that was. His lips thinned uncharacteristically.

But yet, yet, she was a Gryffindor.

He had started the moment the name came out of Minerva's mouth, and fixed his eyes upon the small, pale, black haired girl walking towards the stool. Exactly like he had been. His sharp, twinkling eyes had not missed her shock at the hat's sentence. He watched, he watched her throughout dinner, watched her with the carefulness he had not and should have watched her father with. She was a perceptive child. And her eyes, her eyes-dark like her mother's, not blue like his, but the expression in them was what he remembered. Far too old, too bitter. Could his old friend the sorting hat have been mistaken? But then, he had suddenly remembered yet another child, on whom he had seen that expression.

He threw another handful of floo powder into his fire.

"Good God, Dumbledore, you have the nastiest timing," said Severus Snape crossly as he buttoned up the robe he had been about to remove for bed.

Dumbledore wisely said nothing, and turned on his twinkle.

"What do you want?"

"Have you noticed young Miss Riddle, Severus?"

Snape frowned.

"That little Gryffindor first year? What about her?"

"She's a very special child, Severus. Do keep an eye on her, won't you?"

"Tell me why exactly I should do that," Snape demanded curtly.

Dumbledore paused, contemplated. He decided to go with the truth, for once.

"Her mother is Bellatrix Lestrange. You wouldn't like her to follow in those footsteps, would you?"

Snape stared into his eyes for a brief moment, and Dumbledore smiled. Then Snape's expression twisted with hate.

"She's a Gryffindor, isn't she? More likely to tred in the footsteps of your precious Sirius Black.," he sneered.

"I am very unhappy with Sirius' final choice," Dumbledore said gravely, his old heart leaping a beat as he thought of the tragedy that was his favourite Gryffindor boy.

Snape said nothing.

"But of Miss Riddle," Dumbledore persisted, "I hope a better end for her. You know best what it is to turn from the dark. Persuade her. Teach her."

"If you wished me to teach her how to be a spy, I would. How to turn away? I do not know, Dumbledore. All I have done, I have done for her." He paused, and laughed bitterly.

"Perhaps you can have her fall in love with your Boy-Who-Lived."

Dumbledore said nothing, once again. Severus' love for Lily Evans was one of the most painful things he had witnessed, and the guilt he had gotten the better of often popped up obstinately when Severus spoke of her. Thankfully, that was not often.

"Nevertheless," he said quietly.

Severus gave a thin smile.

"I'll do what I can, Albus. Now, please-get out of my chambers."

Dumbledore complied, knowing when the time was right to beat a well-executed retreat, and returned to his bed to sleep as restlessly as Lacole had.

I've just returned from army training, which was horribly tiring, and terribly inspiring. It inspired me to write this. Oh, and do drop a review or two, won't you?