*Jem's POV*

My alarm woke me at 7am. It was an enchanted six inch wooden owl that my mother had given me when I first started at Nimirix. The best thing was that it flew about my head, hooting until I managed to capture it and sit it back on my chest of drawers.

I sat up in bed and stretched, it was Monday. Monday meant classes. In all honesty, I wasn't too concerned about the work-load. In Australia, we were actually a year ahead of the English; I was 14 turning 15 instead of 15 turning 16 like Oliver and his fellow class mates. This was the second time I would be starting my sixth year of lessons in a magical institution. Even though the ages of witches and wizard at home were different, we completed school at age 17[in eighth]; the same age of Hogwarts students at completion of school.

I hadn't mentioned this to the people I had met yet, namely Oliver, Fred and George, but I had met with Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore mid-holidays. We had discussed how the year would work and how the lessons would be arranged. Professor McGonagall had spoken to my professors and if I was sick of repeating classes they were more than happy to send my seventh year work load to Hogwarts. I had decided to take Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms and Potions. It was a smaller work load then the other students would be taking on in their sixth year, but the two professors had decided it didn't matter which classes I chose not to take, considering this year would be about the culture and Quidditch as opposed to my academics. That is not say that I wouldn't be achieving my best in class, I just wouldn't have to worry as much about it.

I dressed in my Nimirix robes – it was much like the Hogwarts attire – I slid on my black pleated skirt and the crisp white business shirt, the only thing different was my purple and orange striped tie. I knew it was going to be cold outside. I had told the boys when we were on the train that I would be the strange foreign girl shivering in the middle autumn. In Australia, the maximum temperatures in autumn got up to about thirty degrees, I was used to feeling the heat. England would be a nice reprieve from the heat – summer other here would barely reach mid-twenties. Though, that meant that when winter hit, I would freeze, I'd never even seen snow.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I slipped out of my box-room to see who was in the common room. I smiled as I saw one of the twins sitting on the couch that I had sat a few hours ago. He was flicking his wand around and playing with another paper creation that was strolling around the table in front of him.

I walked to the couch and sat next to him.

"Good Morning," I said, good naturedly, "How did you sleep?"

"Well, thanks," he said then looked at me with a smile of mischievousness, "I'll bet you a sickle you can't pick which twin I am."

I laughed, faking confidence, "I know who you are, George," emphasizing the name for effect.

"Fred." He corrected me with a bigger smile.

I went red, "Oh," I said, smiling, "I know. I was just messing with you!"

Fred laughed, "Ah," he said, "You got me." We both laughed, "Here's a trick that our mum uses,"

Fred dropped his wand and the paper creature fell lifeless on the table. He turned to face me, "Mum says that I'm about an inch taller than Georgie." I smiled at the affectionate nick name, "but, if we're sitting down, I have a scar over my left eye," he turned so I could see his eyebrow. There was a faint but visible scar as long as his eyebrow.

"Alrighty," I said seriously, "Fred – taller, scarred." He nodded, "George – short stuff, baby faced." He laughed with me.

"Who's short?" came a voice as it bounded down the stairs, George walked over to us.

"Some weirdo." I answered, receiving a chuckle from Fred.

The twins and I chatted for a while, talking about their family, my family and everything in between. It was great to talk to other people from large families. I had four older brother and they had four brothers and a sister. We spoke for about half an hour until the brothers decided it was time for us to go to the hall for breakfast. We walked together, Fred pointing out all the different passages that lead to classrooms I would be in and George pointing out the best "snog spots" in case I found a "foreign love" as he had put it. We all laughed at this as we entered the great hall.

The roof was less dazzling than last night; the stars really did make it amazing. The sky was a slight bit cloudy, as if to bring rain later in the day – just the way I liked it. I spotted Oliver a few people down at the back of the hall, he saw us walk in and waved us over.

"Someone's up early." I commented as I sat next to him, across from Fred and diagonally across from George.

"I was flying," Oliver answered between sips of orange juice, "first day of term tradition. Sleep in on the first days of term—" he started.

"Loose the House Cup." Fred and George finished in unison.

Oliver gave them a look and continued on his breakfast. I looked around at the breakfast feast; it was a lot more extravagant than Nirmirix. We were greeted each morning by juices, coffees, teas or smoothies along with toast, seasonal fruits and a few cereals. We had bacon, eggs and pancakes on Sundays. Hogwarts seemed to have everything I could think of to eat – except, I noticed with dismay – coffee.

"Great," I mumbled.

"Alright, Love?" Fred asked, hearing my annoyance. I had found on the train that the Weasleys, Fred especially, were quite partial to calling their female companions 'love'. Hell, the only time I would care what someone called me is if it were behind my back.

I furrowed my brow, "No coffee."

George chuckled, "No coffee for athletes." He and Oliver said at the same time.

I almost whipped my head to Oliver, "What?"

"Athletes in my team are not allowed coffee." He said.

"That's not fair." I said plainly, "I can't function without coffee."

"Well, you need to learn," said Oliver, icily as he passed my schedule for the term, "here. Your first class is Defence against the Dark Arts. We've got our classes together."

There was a small ding and I watched as people began to leave the great hall. Oliver did so too and bidding the twins farewell, I grabbed a chocolate chip muffin and took off behind him.

What was his problem?

And more importantly, how the hell am I supposed to function without coffee?