A/N: Thanks to my AMAZING reviews and followers and favorites for supporting me! You all make me want to thank you in person for taking the time to read my story and boost my self-confidence, but alas, I can't :) Here's another chapter!

There was a question in the last reviews:

Ali (Guest): Ali asked why Cassie never gets noticed, and it's a really good question. I would answer it too, but it's all a part of the plot :)

P.S. Guess whose POV it is?

Holy shit, she's HOT! (A/N: Guess yet :)? ) Her hair falls in loose curls like liquid gold down her back, her eyes an impossible shade of crystalline blue. I was coming back from grabbing the Map from our dorm when this girl turns straight into me. Obviously I was annoyed; I mean, who wouldn't be? I was trying to get back to my friends and this weirdo just comes from nowhere. Why shouldn't I be frustrated? But, regrettably, one look at her face and my hormones tell me otherwise.

"Sorry," she says, moving to brush past me. But I stop her, gently grabbing her wrist.

"No, it was my fault," I say with a charming grin, "I should have been watching where I was going, especially since there was someone as beautiful as you in here."

She looks unimpressed and raises her perfect eyebrows. "Probably," she states.

I am taken a little aback but nudge on. "Any chance I could get your name, so I can properly ask you to an apology dinner?"

Golden Girl rolls her eyes and declares a simple, "No." She leaves me at that, walking leisurely up the girls' staircase. I try to picture her gorgeous eyes as she leaves, but they seem less memorable then they were at first.

I shrug. There are plenty of other beautiful girls who would die to date the infamous Sirius Black, Marauder playboy.

I can't get her out of my head. That damn girl. It's the second month of school, and yet the Golden Girl still haunts my thoughts. Her face grows more distant every day, but I can't stop thinking about her. Nobody has ever turned me down before. She didn't even blink an eye at refusing my request. Is she even from this planet?

I try looking for her again, every night in the Gryffindor common room, but she's never there among the bustling students. I even resort to asking Evans and McDonald if they've ever seen her. They look at me as if I am nuts, telling me there is no girl with golden hair and luminescent eyes in our house, probably not even in the school. Did I imagine her?

Multiple times I attempt talking to Prongs and Moony about this. However, they have never glimpsed her either, and try to dissuade me from my search.

"It had been a long day, Padfoot," Moony starts. "I wouldn't be surprised if this random beauty 'Golden Girl' was just someone you envisioned. I mean, really? Golden hair and the most 'mesmerizing' eyes you've ever seen? What is she, a Disney princess?"

Prongs and I stare at Moony blankly. He mutters something indistinctly about "ignorant purebloods."

I ignore him and shake my head. "She was there. I know it. I spoke to her."

Prongs shrugs. "My Uncle Xander used to have entire conversations with people who weren't even alive or didn't even exist. He would just be sitting in his armchair, catching up with a colleague who'd been dead thirty years. I caught him talking to a beast he called the Crumple-Horned Snorkack once. It was visiting from Sweden."

Moony and I stare incredulously at him.

"What?" Prongs exclaims indignantly. "Something like that could very well happen to Padfoot!"

"Your Uncle Xander was 127 years old, Prongs," Moony reasons. "We all attended his funeral in third year right after he was diagnosed with dragon pox. And on top of all that, he had a pet Fwooper.*"

Prongs rolls his eyes. "It was just a suggestion. I doubt you have anything better."

Moony is always the reasonable one: "Hallucinations are very common among people who suffer from extreme exhaustion," he says, "It was a very long train ride, and Pads had just eaten a very large meal."

I shrug. This whole thing is so ridiculous that I'm actually starting to wonder if Golden Girl really doesn't exist.

"Who knows, mates," I say. "Who knows."

We head to the kitchens for a snack later, despite having eaten at the feast a mere few hours earlier. We pick up Wormtail from the dorm along the way; he says he could go for some cheese.

The Invisibility Cloak is nearly too small for us sixth years, for it doesn't even cover our ankles. Moony is able to walk free from its obstruction because he's a prefect, and prefects can be out patrolling after curfew, but the rest of us have to cower in the hallways under its protection. Detention on the first day would not be good. Even the Marauders don't stoop that low.

The kitchens are across from the Hufflepuff common room in the basement, but I doubt the Puffs even know it's there. They are the rather meek house; I hate to say it, but even the Slytherins have more guts than those Badgers. We stop in front of the painting that guarda the entrance to the kitchens, and Moony tickles the pear. It giggles, morphing into a small brass handle. I reach from the Cloak and pull it open. The smell of roast beef and fresh baked bread wafts through the opening, and I can see the house elves scrambling to the door to serve their young masters. Us.

I have always loved the house elves. Growing up, I had one at home at Grimmauld Place, but Kreacher is a horrid little thing with a strange devotion to my mother. He is always kind to Regulus but hates me with a certain passion; it is, of course, utterly and entirely mutual. The day I love Kreacher is the day I snog Snivellus. (I just grossed myself out there.) But the Hogwarts house elves, on the other hand, are the sweetest and friendliest you'll ever meet. They refuse to take pay though Dumbledore offers it and are most honored to be working at the prestigious school. I greet the little elf who is residing at my feet.

"Good evening, Guppy!" I say my hello. "How are you today?"

Guppy widens his large orange eyes up at me. "I is well, Mister Black. We's all are happy the young masters are back. Would Mister Black like anything?" He grins eagerly.

I barely mention a bit about some pastries and pumpkin juice when Guppy starts again enthusiastically. "We's be delighted, Mister Black. We's are so pleased to serve the young Masters!" He turns to the other Marauders. "Would the Misters like anything else?"

"We're great, thanks Guppy." James replies.

Guppy returns in record time with our pastries and a large pitcher of pumpkin juice on a silver platter. We give him our thanks, sit at the small, corner table, and he retreats, bowing, into the hustle of the other elves. I grab a treacle tart and stuff it whole in my mouth. The four of us chew silently until the kitchen portrait slams shut with a bang we can even hear clearly from our table in the back corner.

A breathless voice echoes off the kitchen walls. It's Guppy. "Mistress, Mistress! We was afraid you wouldn't come see us again this week!"

"Since when have I failed to visit you all in the kitchens, Guppy?" The voice was clear and teasing. "One would think you're losing faith in me."

"Of course not, Mistress! We was looking forward to your visits all summer!" Guppy assures excitedly. "Mistress, you is our greatest friend."

"I'm touched to be considered that by you all, Guppy," the voice says, and I can almost hear her smile. I assume it's a girl, for it's much too high to be that of a male student or teacher. She speaks again, "I've told you many times, though, you shouldn't call me Mistress. You all are my friends, as I am yours."

I can hear the excited and happy chittering of the other house elves who look towards the girl –still invisible to our table – with a kind of worshipping admiration. They really do love her; she must be someone special.

As we are listening, Wormtail drops his fork with a clattering on the marble floor. It rings throughout the kitchen as seemingly loud as a gunshot.

"What was that, do you think?" The girl asks curiously.

Guppy rolls up and down on the balls of his feet. "It must have been the Masters, Miss. They is eating their pastries and pumpkin juice right now." He jumps up in the air a bit, enthusiastically. "I shall go help them, and then we can talk!"

The little elf is about to turn when the girl speaks again, warily. "Who are the Masters, Guppy?"

Guppy answers eagerly. "Why Master Black, Master Pettigrew, Master Potter, and Master Lupin, of course! They come often like you do, Miss! Let me show you."

"I must go now, Guppy-" the girl begins, suddenly cold, her figure retreating, but Guppy instead grabs her hand and pulls her over to our table in the corner.

My jaw drops when I see her. Her golden hair is still as lustrous as ever, hanging sweetly down her back in those gorgeous loose curls. She has discarded her school robes and uniform skirt for a simple pair of dark jeans and a plum sweater. The clothes make her turquoise eyes stand out even starker against her pale skin.

It was Golden Girl.

In my peripheral vision I can see the eyes of Moony and Prongs widening in shock and disbelief. They are purely astonished; I am not sure whether to be grateful that she's real or offended that a girl actually turned down one of my dinner date offers.

She stares at us Marauders for a few stolen moments in a tense stance but quickly turns to Guppy. "I really must go, Guppy." She states, waving to the other house elves, but turning quickly on her heel and leaving.

"Bye, Miss!" Guppy calls after her happily. She does not respond, except with the quiet shut of the portrait.

I face the rest of the Marauders. "Now do you believe me?" I ask them.

They all nod their heads mutely. (Well, except for Peter. He is still stuffing himself with pastries and hasn't really noticed anything unusual, like usual.) I told them she was real.

We are all back in the Gryffindor Tower common room, talking of our adventure with Golden Girl in the kitchens.

"I just can't believe she's real!" Prongs exclaims for like the fifth time in thirty minutes.

Moony sighs. "I know, Prongs. But she is, and we have to face the fact that Padfoot was right."

"Ha!" I shout, eliciting a few looks from some random first years. "I was right! You admit it! I told you she exists!"

Moony cocks his head to the side, much like a contemplating dog. "I wonder why we never noticed her before," he inquires. "She's at least our age, and much too pretty to not have dated Pads; I do believe he has snogged at least half of the girls from fourth year on."

Prongs shakes his head. "But remember, she rejected him the other day, mate."

Moony chuckles. "Finally someone does. Hopefully it'll deflate his ego a little bit."

"I'm right here, you know!" I protest. "It's rude to talk about other people when they're in the room!"

Wormtail starts. "I thought it was rude to talk about other people when they're not in the room," he asks.

I scoff. "Whatever."

"You sound like a bird, mate. Brining out your feminine side, are we?" Prongs judges. Moony and Wormtail snort.

I scowl at the three of them and chuck pillows at their heads. They all duck, but one pillow hits its target, causing Prongs's hair to muss, flattening his hair on one side of his head. I laugh at him; now he's the one to scowl.

"I don't see what the big deal about this girl is?" Wormtail asks airily.

Prongs gasps. "Wormtail!" he says, "This day will go down in history. Paddy was turned down by an actual girl! One that actually exists!"

Moony laughs at my expense. Wormtail giggles lightly.

"I will find her." I reassure myself while my mates laugh. "I'll find her somewhere if it's the last thing I do. Nobody escapes a date with Sirius Black."

My mates just keep laughing at me.

A/N: *For all those who don't know, a Fwooper (the bird James's Uncle Xander had) is an actual magical bird whose song causes insanity. It is originally from Africa and is brightly colored, but also highly dangerous, its Ministry of Magic classification being XXX.