Hey all!

Today we have our vvvverrrryyy special gueeesstt….TOM RIIIIDDDLLE!

Tom: I get it, everyone loves me, okay. No need for the special effects.

Me: Oh, that's not all. It was gonna be less messy but now you say that comment…*throws glob of paint into Tom's face* Disclaimer or I get the blue paint.

Purple Tom: *splutters and spits out paint* And people say Voldemort's cruel. Nicoisawesome doesn't own.

Me: Thanks. Just for satisfaction: *throws blue paint at Tom anyways*

"You can insult me all you want, but not my friends, you little-"
3rd POV

If someone were to ask Harry Potter how he knew Snape hated him, Harry would have so many examples he'd never stop talking. What Snape did then was another perfect example.

"OUT WITH IT, POTTER! WHAT DID YOU DO?" Snape roared. Pomfrey turned around, furious.

Celia thought that yelling in the Infirmary was a very bad thing to do, since it angered a certain Madame Pomfrey. And you don't want that.

"Professor Snape!" Pomfrey shrieked. "Control yourself!"

Snape cast Harry an evil look, like anything he did was suspicious. Harry was currently trying to swallow his chocolate painfully so he could speak, which Celia didn't know how that could be suspicious.

"YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER! HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT!" Snape bellowed, beside himself. Fudge looked completely startled and had that disapproving face directed at Snape.

Harry looked at Hermione, who was frozen with guilt and shock. Then he looked over at Celia.

Even with the gauze on and tired eyes, she was still really...really...Harry swallowed nervously. Celia seemed to be on the verge of laughing, failing miserably as she fought against a smile.

"That will be enough, Severus. Unless you are suggesting Harry, Hermione, and Celia could be in two places at once, then I'm afraid I see no reason to be troubling them." Dumbledore cut in quietly.

Celia couldn't help herself. She raised her eyebrows at the slip. It was a small slip, but a slip nonetheless. Dumbledore had said "Harry, Hermione, and Celia", but Snape had only been accusing Harry.

I'm surprised you caught thet.

To be honest? Me too. I was beginning to think Dumbledore could make no mistakes.

Snape sent one more death glare at Harry, who stared back defiantly, and finally, Snape turned and stormed out of the Infirmary,

Fudge watched him go, his complexion full of shock. "Fellow seems quite unbalanced. I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore."

That was the last straw for Celia. She managed to choke down a laugh, then pulled the covers over her, muffling the snickers. Harry could feel his lips tugging upwards.

"Oh, he's not unbalanced. He's just suffered a major disappointment." Dumbledore replied softly. Celia's snickers got slightly louder, and instantly Harry and Hermione could hear her trying to shut herself up.

After a while, Dumbledore and Fudge left, and Pomfrey went back to her office (after giving each of them a death glare like waking up was their fault). Celia emerged from under her covers, grinning manically.

"Sorry, I couldn't help laughing just a bit." She said.

Harry nodded mock seriously. "Just a bit." He finished sarcastically, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Before Celia could answer, though, there was a moan from Ron's bed.

Ron's entire body ached in pain, and he let out another low moan, sitting up. He blinked. "Wha-Sirius? Lupin? What?"

"Oh my gosh, Ron, you missed so much! So we took the Time Turner and then went back three hours and Hermione pushed us into a closet that smelled and we figured out that we had to save Sirius and Buckbeak and we ran to the forest and we saw our-" Celia began excitedly.

"I'll explain." Hermione cut in. Celia gave her an extremely annoyed look.

"Why?"

Harry laughed. "Because you're giving everyone a migrane."

"Hey!"

HHHHHHPPPPPPPPOOOOOO

Severus looked up, annoyed. It was abnormally quite without Celia there to make a racket, and he realized he had adjusted to the noise. He narrowed his eyes around the room and returned to grading his papers.

With a frustrated growl, he set the papers down. He had been reading the same sentence Longbottom had scrawled nervously across the paper eight times already, and he hadn't even started grading any other papers.

Severus reluctantly took a piece of parchment and wrote a note, then charmed the parchment to stick to Cecelia's door.

If he had it his way, that miserable Potter brat would have been expelled the day he and his insufferable friends went looking for the Philosopher's Stone. Of course, Albus had scraped up some weak excuse to save Potter and his friends' hides.

With a frown, Severus rubbed the side of his eyes tiredly; curse Potter and his brainless friends. The injury on the back of his head had caused him headaches at least once every two hours, and therefore his body refused to allow him to take a very-needed nap.

He might as well try to get some sleep, Severus noted. After all, this was Longbottom's potions essay; his ineptitude had already shown itself in the past two sentences, marked heavily with corrections.

HHHHHHHPPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOO

Almost everyone was afraid or nervous around a certain Potions teacher, but Celia never thought she'd be one of them.

Now, standing there with a healed head, Celia stood outside the door to her father's office, shifting her feet nervously. There was nothing to be nervous about; all he'd probably do was ground her and give her a lecture. Still, Celia wasn't looking forward to the lecture. The awkward, humiliating, long lecture full of intended tension and-

What am I doing?This isn't even helping me! Celia braced herself and opened the door, her hair back in a wavy ponytail. Thank Merlin it wasn't humid.

There was nobody inside. Celia let out a small breath of relief and went to her room. Taped to the door was a piece of parchment: I am in my bedroom trying to make up for my lack of sleep due to certain head injuries.If I am not up by dinner, do not wait for me or enter my room. Celia smiled slightly at the underlined words. If I am not at dinner, assure Potter and his friends the next time he makes a miserable attempt to hex me he will find himself expelled, with the approval of Dumbledore or not.

Okay. So she was going to survive, hopefully if she was lucky, until the next day. Then her dad was going to come and orally beat the dinner out of her. Great.

Celia's POV

WHERE IS IT?

Where is what?

"This," I said aloud, and zipped the suitcase flap shut. A folded piece of hard paper sat in my palm. I unfolded it.

Instantly, my throat tightened and I swallowed hard. On the front of the small paper was a picture. Caleb's honey-golden hair swirled in curls on top of his head, and his one dimple beamed down at me. He had an arm slung around a younger version of me: a grinning, waving, choppy-haired girl. I bit my lip. I missed him. I missed him so bad.

I set the picture down, eyes blurring with tears. I didn't even know if he knew about magic. I hadn't written to him, since before I left I had been angry that he had left-we'd been separated into different foster homes and Caleb had been fine about it. Or, at least, that was what it looked like to me.

In a sudden attempt to forget about him, I grabbed my iPod and checked the time. Almost dinner. I'd just take a walk around Hogwarts and go to dinner.

When I shut the door, I realized I was still gripping the picture like my life depended on it.

You're not going to put it back?

Eh. Too lazy. I continued walking, the photo stashed in my sleeve.

After a while, Tom left, summoned, and after a few moments I heard someone calling me.

"Oi! Oi, you!"

Yeah, because my name is "Oi, oi you".

I turned abruptly, confused. "Um…yes?"

There were three people in front of me, all taller. They looked like-fifth? Sixth years? Seventh? Who knew?

I frowned. They were all Slytherins.

"I heard you've been hanging out with blood-traitors and mudbloods, ickle Thirdie." The one in the middle said.

Instantly I stopped being sort of polite. "Excuse me? First of all, they're not blood traitors, and don't call my friends that. Second of all, I don't even know you, and you insult me?"

The guy in the middle spoke again, with a lofty tone that made me want to gag. "I'm Marcus Flint, Slytherin quidditch captain, so you better watch your mouth if you're even thinking of trying out."

I raised my eyebrows. "I'm not the one who should watch my mouth, 'ickle' Slytherin."

While I talked, I sized them up. They were all pretty bulky-and if you asked me, pretty ugly and rude too.

"Anyways," Marcus continued. "You're a Slytherin, and you've been hanging out with too many Gryffindor mudbloods and blood-traitors." He sneered at me like I was a piece of gum stuck to his shoe.

"So what if I do?" I couldn't see where they were going with this. "What does this have to do with you?"

The dude on the left, Guy 1, I'll call him, snorted. "So stop."

"You're ruining our reputation." Guy 2 added.

I stared at them in disbelief. "Um, no. No offense, but I could care less about your reputation, especially now that you've insulted my friends."

"Not just our reputation, you idiot," Marcus snapped. "The entire Slytherin House. We don't hang out with anyone outside our house. Especially Gyriffindors. We like to keep our reputation pure."

They stepped forward, and I gave an involuntary step back. Shoot. Shouldn't have done that. They all exchanged trumphiant looks.

Before I even knew what was happening, Guy 1 had grabbed my arm and the photo had fallen out of my sleeve. Marcus picked it up.

"What's this? Looks like a muggle." Marcus cast me a long glance and turned back to the photo, eying it. "Incendio."

I gasped and struggled against the grip on my wrist. "Stop!" The slow fire licked up the photo, until it shriveled up into a black lump.

"Now then," Marcus tossed the black lump behind him, still smoldering. "Stop hanging out with Gyriffindors."

I stared at the black lump and something got stuck in my throat. There was no way he expected me to say yes?

"Yeah, sure." I replied sarcastically. "NO."

Marcus licked his lips and glared at me. "Normally I wouldn't since you're a girl…listen to me, Thirdie." He leaned forwards and I caught a whiff of his i-never-brush-my-teeth breath. I leaned back, revolted at the yellow teeth. "We Slytherins have certain rules everyone has to follow. It keeps us pure and away from mudbloods. Now, be a-" He cracked his knuckles. I had to get out of here. Quick.

I saw his fist before I felt it.

Pain exploded on my jaw and I collapsed back. Only the hand on my wrist kept me standing, and I tried to struggle to my feet.

My lip was bleeding; I knew that much. Blinking black spots out of my eyes, I let out a quiet curse when I tasted the metal-like blood on my tongue.

"Do you stalk me or something? How do you know I hang out with them anyways?" I asked, trying to ignore the fact that he had just punched me.

Marcus sneered at me, flashing his yellow teeth at me again. Ew. "A little birdie told me. Let me give you a hint, Thirdie. He's a Slytherin you've been sucking up to."

"Oh, okay, that narrows everything down. Thanks. And the name's CELIA. If you're gonna insult me, you might as well do it properly." I replied, resisting the urge to massage my jaw.

Before Marcus could talk, I brought my elbow back and it hit Guy 1's face. Just in time, because when I ducked, Marcus took a swing. Again.

"It seems like," I panted. "For a Slytherin who wants to keep things 'pure', you seem to like resolving to muggle-fighting too much."

Three people against one. Not to mention they were all taller than me, stronger. What are you doing? Get the hell outta here!

I started to back away.

Behind me, Marcus called, "Fine, but I warned you! This isn't the last time! Go then; hang out with that worthless mudblood Granger!"

Keep walking. Keep walking. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from grabbing my wand and hexing him to oblivion.

"And that Weasley? His whole family's so poor they probably don't even know where their next meal's coming from!"

I stopped walking and turned around.

"Shut up," I retorted.

Marcus grinned, glad for a reaction. "Potter. The little orphan who doesn't have a family, all alone, destined to DIE." (AN: Does anybody else hate Flint?)

Slowly, I walked back to Marcus and looked him in the eye. "What did you just say?" I snarled.

Behind Marcus, his cronies nudged each other and echoed, "Orphaned!" "Mudblood!" "Worthlessly poor!"

Oh, ha ha. That was what they came up with?

Marcus nodded, staring back at me. "You heard me. I said-"

I punched him in the face.

And guess what? It was the most awesome thing I had ever felt in my entire life. The problem is, I had been bottling up all my anger, and when I finally released it…well…

I had expected Marcus to maybe stagger back a little. But he didn't. He flew. He flew across the hallway and slumped to the ground, howling and rolling around like a little baby.

And I didn't regret it. I just stood there, waiting to feel the urge to apologize and help him up, but I didn't. So I just waited for him to get up, anger coursing through my veins.

"Listen to this for once, Flint." I seethed. "You can get away with insulting me. You can get away with a few measly, snotty remarks about my reputation and whatever. But the next time you insult my friends like that, a fist in the face isn't all you'll get."

By that time, my hand was starting to hurt. I didn't care. Marcus stumbled to his feet, a head taller than me.

I rested a hand on my robe pocket, where I kept my wand. "Maybe I should hex you too."

"B-but, that's-not fair!" Marcus gasped, one hand still on his cheekbone, clutching it in pain. Behind him, his two loyal companions had fled the scene.

I smirked. "Oh, but Marcus. Slytherins don't play fair. You should remember that. It'll boost your reputation."

I will forever cherish the look on his face.

Half of me wanted to hex him until he ran sobbing to the Great Hall. I trained my wand on him.

"Do it, then." Marcus snapped, the defiant sentence completely lost by the audible gulp in his throat.

I considered it. "No." I stashed the wand into my pocket and shook my head. "You're not worth it, Flint."

Then I turned on my heel and walked away, a part of me wondering who the "Slytherin friend" I had been "sucking up to" was. (AN: Comment who you think it is!)

Hand still hurting.

Especially knuckles.

I need to learn how to punch properly.

OH-EM-GEE, ZIS CHAPTER VAS SO VERY FUN TO WRITE! And I hope you guys weren't confused by the bottled-up anger thing. This happens to many people. They get mad but don't let it show, just swallow the anger down. And when something happens that really pisses them off they go ultra-macho and release their bottled up anger. It's a bad habit Celia has, but I guess it could also be good since it gives her the ability to deliver Superman Punches. R&R for good chaps!