Cookie05: I know, it's super weird.

ButterflyFlyToMe: Yes it is (they also celebrate it in Canada, but they do so on a different date.) Annabeth is the only one that goes home. I had a feeling that this sort of thing was discussed with Dumbledore before the term.

killerpizza504: Thank you.

malfoyforever: I'm glad you liked the little Blaise Zabini part. He always struck me as a flirt. As for your other point, when I look back at the books it seems that for the most part everyone (House-wise) is against the Slytherins. But when you look at it, many of them aren't that bad, like Snape and Andromeda. Even Malfoy proved that he couldn't kill in the later books. Vaisey comments on Dumbledore's favorism in an earlier chapter ("Us Slytherins had technically won the House cup, but no, Dumbledore's favorite boy earned the House an extra hundred and seventy points, even after the final tally was counted.")

darklilyofthevalley: Very true.

Random Person with No Name: Thanks. As for your other question, I get them from several websites and books. There is no one place in particular. If I see something that I find interesting, I will often write it down.

SouperInsaneNinja: Glad you like it. As for the platypus fact, I believe I found it on somewhere. There was a list of animals and what their young are called. And since I love animals and have far too much free time, I figured: eh, why not? (Baby echidnas - - the only mammal other than the platypus that lays eggs- - are also called puggles. Likewise, a puggle is a type of dog, a mix between a pug and a beagle.)

"There she is!" Luke cried. The blond boy smiled so widely that Annabeth was sure that his face would crack. She ran right up to him, embracing her older friend in a big bear hug. "It's good to see you! Camp's been so boring with you gone. Now things are sure to get interesting again!"

Annabeth wasn't sure whether to take this as a compliment or an insult, but in the end she decided that it really didn't matter.

"So," said Luke, once the hug-fest was over, "how's England?"

"It's good. Really good. I'm learning so much and I've made some really good friends."

Luke grinned slyly. "I bet you kicked all of their asses, huh?"

Annabeth shrugged, blushing slightly. A small giggle escaped from her throat, but it went unnoticed.

A random girl whom Annabeth did not recognize ran up to them, cutting their reunion short. The girl had long, curly dark hair and Asian features. She looked around Annabeth's age. The girl bounced up and down excitedly. "Oh. My. Gods! You were in England? That is sooooo cool! You are sooooo lucky!"

Annabeth frowned. "Who are you?"

Luke smiled at the girl, although it looked somewhat forced. "Oh right. You haven't met the camp's newest arrival. This is Drew, daughter of Aphrodite. Drew, this is Annabeth."

Annabeth extended her hand somewhat reluctantly.

The girl did not take it. Annabeth had a feeling that she didn't even notice it. Instead she just kept on talking. "I already know who you are. Luke told me all about you. Gods, he wouldn't stop talking! You're the daughter of Athena. You've been here since you were seven and came at the same time as he did. There was another girl with you, too. The dead one. Thalia, right?" Annabeth flinched at the name of her (thought to be) deceased friend. And although she doubted that the girl had meant to be insulting, she immediately withdrew her hand.

"So," said Drew, continuing to chatter, not noticing the death glares she was getting from Luke and Annabeth. "Did they have cute accents?"

Leprechaun gold. What would I do without it? Harper wondered. Ha, those Weasleys weren't the only ones who could play tricks. The money looked genuine enough, but within a few days it would vanish. It was an old trick he had learned from his brother.

Earlier that day, Harper had been spying on Potter, when his pair of extendable ears broke. But when he went back to the Weasleys to buy a new pair, the price had nearly tripled! If they thought that he would pay them that much, they were kidding themselves. Their products had now become more or less of a black market now, with Umbridge lurking around every corner and all, but that was still no excuse!

Forrest held one ear to his own, while swinging the other other around by its cord, trying to pick up on any interesting conversations.

" . . . anything?"

Harper recognized that voice. Hell, he would recognize that whiny tone anywhere. It was Rose Zeller, the little Hufflepuff wuss that Vaisey had somehow befriended. Harper snorted. Sometimes he just didn't know about that boy. Befriending muggle-lovers. It frankly disgusted him. Annabeth was alright, rather annoying, but still respectable. But Rose . . . Harper couldn't understand why anybody would voluntarily spend any time with that girl.

"I'm sure he'll answer soon," came another voice. It was vaguely familiar, but Harper could not quite recall where he had heard it before.

"It's no use!" Rose cried. "I've been trying and trying, but he just won't listen! I . . . I think he hates me. Who wouldn't? I know that I certainly would," there were a couple of pathetic muffled sniffling sounds.

"Maybe the post is just late."

Rose stopped crying. "'Maybe the post is just late'," she imitated the other boy, "really, Anthony, really? Come on, you could at least come up with a halfway decent excuse! Some help you are!"

Anthony! That's who the other kid was: Anthony Goldstein, the Ravenclaw prefect. What was he doing with Rose? Prefects normally did not waste their time with mere first-years - - or at least, that's what the Slytherin prefects did. He should have guessed that everyone else would be softies.

Anthony, his pride clearly hurt, said, "I was just trying to make you feeling better. There's no call to be rude."

"But he hasn't written at all! I send him an owl everyday, and he still won't respond. I didn't realize I'd hurt him so badly. Can I stay at your place for the holidays?"

"You won't need to," the older boy said, once again calm. "He'll write back. I promise."

Harper listened as the two walked off until their footsteps died completely. What was that all about? It seemed that Rose had done something that upset her father enough to ignore her. Maybe see wasn't such a goody-good-good after all.

Thirteen-year-old Argento Vaisey watched at his brother with a look of extreme discomfort. He was still with that girl. Why was he with her? Agrento had first seen Aleron with the Hufflepuff the previous week, and the time they spent together seemed to becoming more and more frequent. They only time he had gotten ahold of his brother long enough to ask what they were doing, Aleron had mumbled something about a homework assignment and shrugged him off. Argento was sick of it. He was going to confront his brother and the girl today.

He made his way over to them on his way to lunch. While doing so, Vaisey accidently collided with Forrest Harper, the youngest Harper child. The little boy got up and dusted himself off, mumbling something under his breath.

Vaisey muttered a half-hearted apology, his eyes not once leaving the direction of his brother. Forrest followed his gaze and smirked.

"Repulsive, isn't it?" the young boy said, sneering at the couple. The Hufflepuff was laughing at something Aleron had said. Argento thought he might vomit.

"I happen to be making my way over to them as well," he continued, getting Argento's attention.

"Why?"

"I overheard her talking to a prefect the other night. She's hiding something. I don't trust her. You go ahead, I see that I'm covered."

He made his way over. "Aleron, who's that you're with?" he asked.

The younger Vaisey boy made a face. "Come on, Rose, let's go," he said, tugging at her shirt collar.

Argento laughed. "Rose, is it? We're using first names now, huh?"

"Leave her alone," he said through gritted teeth.

"So tell me Rose," Argento continued, completely ignoring his brother, "what's your surname?" Rose looked down at the ground and mumbled something inaudible, causing the older boy to frown. "What?"

"Zeller."

"Hmm. . . can't say I've heard of them. So tell me 'Zeller', where are you from? What does your father do?"

Rose bit her lip and had a slightly panicked look in her eye, but quickly collected herself. "Manchester," the eleven-year-old replied in the most confident tone she could manage. "My father's a rabbi."

"A what?" the time it was Aleron who spoke.

Rose blushed. She looked like she would rather be anywhere but there at the moment. "A r-rabbi," she repeated. "A type of muggle spiritual leader. I'm a half-blood," she added quickly.

"Oh." Argento looked rather disappointed with the lack of exciting material. "Well, anyways, choose your friends wisely, Aleron. I think I'll spit in Astoria Greengrass's food now. Bye."

"Sorry 'bout him," said Aleron, "he's been rather bitter since . . ." he felt a lump in his throat and was unable to finish the sentence. "Well, you know."

"Yeah," she squeezed his hand, "I do."

HP fact: "Tom Marvolo Riddle" is also an anagram for "immortal odd lover".

Random fact: The wingspan of a 747 airplane is longer than the Wright brothers' first (successful) flight!