It's now confirmed that the sequel to 'Exceptionally Ordinary' with be titled 'Infinitely Average' thanks to the pole I had on my profile.

Yes, I did say sequel. It'll be her 7th Year. I'm not sure if there will be a third 'book' because that's very far away in the future and I don't plan that far ahead, still, if people have idea's for more names put them in your reviews.

Oh, and I'm sorry for anybody who was going that you'd get to read about a drunk Riley, but I don't write drunks very well (as you saw with her mother… ugh) especially ones in a temporary depressive state.

Basically listening to the 'Perks of Being a Wallflower' soundtrack… if you haven't seen that movie or read that book I feel sorry for you, it is truly amazing…

"Sounded sad upon the radio,

Moved a million hearts in mono,

Our mothers cried,

Sang along, who'd blame them,

Now you're grown, so grown,"

– Dexys Midnight Runners 'Come On Eileen'

Chapter Thirty-Five:

"Here you go," Indiana pushed a plate topped with cooked food towards me, "A full English fry up, to help cure the hangover… or half full anyway, I didn't have any tomatoes or baked beans, sorry,"

"That doesn't matter, thanks for this," I smiled.

"And keep drinking water, it'll help," she instructed.

I could see the guilt in her eyes. She felt bad for getting me pissed outa my mind and telling her it definitely wasn't my first time totally smashed didn't seem to help either. Still, magical alcoholic drinks like firewhisky didn't leave you with the feeling of overwhelming nausea and a throbbing headache.

She looked me up and down, "Take these," she handed me a pair of sunglasses, "It'll help you're your newfound aversion to light,"

I went to laugh, but instead found myself scrambling my way towards the bathroom. Indiana followed, holding back my bright blue hair while I kneeled over the toilet. The site wasn't a pretty one as I emptied my gut, but it did make me feel slightly better afterwards.

Not for the first time, I wish I paid more attention in Herbology. There's probably some slimy and disgusting plant from the bottom of a lake that'd make me feel less zombified.

Indi sat me back down in front of my breakfast, and feeling better, I began to slowly eat.

"So what have you got planned for today? I asked out of curiosity.

She took a sip of her coffee and checked the time, "Well, I'm quitting my job at that Mexican Restaurant in order to start work at an actual well-paying job. You?"

I sighed, "Taking my elder sister out. She just had a kid and wants me to be the Godmother,"

"So what, you don't want to?" she questioned, sitting down opposite me.

With a shrug, I answered, "Well, look at me. I'm not exactly a stable person and I'm hardly reliable,"

Indi looked at me strangely, "You say that as if you expect to not be here for the kid,"

"Maybe I won't, I could die any day," I spoke bluntly.

She rolled her eyes, "Don't be dramatic, Ri. Anybody can die any day,"

I laughed bitterly, "I have a… higher chance,"

"Is something wrong? Can I help? Did you get involved in a gang…" her tone was serious.

I shook my head, "Don't worry, it's not like that…"

"Are you sick? Do you have cancer? Are you pregnant?"

"No! None of those things, Jesus, calm down," I shook my head.

She frowned, "Okay… just make sure you're safe, please,"

"Of course," I lied through my teeth.

When I stepped back into the house, nobody said a word.

"Good morning," I bluntly addressed the twins who sat beside each other in the kitchen and they almost succeeded in refusing to acknowledge my existence, but failed after a quick dart of the eyes in my direction and a chuckle at my more or less obvious hung-over status.

Sarah walked down the stairs. When she saw me she broke into what seemed to be a relieved smile and pulled me into a tight hug, "Where'd you go?"

"I stayed with my friend, Indiana," shrugging I allowed myself to be lead upstairs by Sarah.

"So where's the squishy thing?" I questioned.

Sarah rolled her eyes at me, "Daniel took little Elric to meet his other Grandparents, so that we could have they day… you do remember, right?"

I nodded, "Of course I remember, it's not every day I bring a Muggle to Diagon Alley,"

"How about you… clean yourself up before we leave. You smell like vomit, no offense," she smirked, arms folded across her chest.

Sniffing under my armpits, I quickly recoiled from the smell of my own boldly odour, "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," I smiled lopsidedly before turning to advance up the final flight of stairs to my room.

I had a penchant for long showers. I loved playing an old music and standing under the scalding water that cleared my mind, the smell of lemon shampoo filling my senses. I loved being able to think nothing but white, water washing away the negativity. I loved mapping out the cracks in the tiles and filling my mouth with water. The shower helped dull my throbbing head and pulsing thoughts, a welcome sedative to my muddled mind.

Stepping out onto the bathroom mat, I wrapped a towel around myself and whipped the fogged mirror with a cloth. Looking at myself, I remembered when I first realised I was a metamorphmagus… when I'd stand in front of a mirror for hours on end wondering who I was. I almost had a breakdown once, suffering from a massive case of identity crisis.

Everybody grows up with the knowledge that life will shape them, mould them. Experience will carve wrinkles in their faces and sadness with gleam in their eyes. Stress will age them beyond their years and love will make them glow, but I didn't have this. There was no constant. When I'm eighty and I wake in the morning, I will not see what the world gave to me but what I created myself.

In a way, I am everything and in another I am nothing. Truly, I identified with both; everything and nothing. A millions faces and a millions stories they did tell, but none of them my own. Sometimes I wish that world would carve me for once, sometimes I wish that I knew what I truly looked like, because even that I know not anymore. I try to keep a constant appearance, but it's so hard… everyday people grow, but I stay the same until I realise I'm lagging behind and I have to age myself bit by bit everyday so I can fit in with the rest.

Tracing the scar with the tips of my fingers, I smiled slightly… a small sad smile. It didn't matter that my face was twisted, that my upper lip seemed to curl towards the jagged claw wound. It may be ugly, it may horrid, but it was constant.

So long as it cut down my face, I had an anchor. It will age, fading slightly over time. No matter what mask I wore, my scar will be there to keep me grounded to the rest of the world. It gave me an identity. It made my shifting skins into something permanent.

And really, that's all I ever wanted.

Drying off my hair, I decided to keep my usual copper curls and amber eyes. The face I grew up with. The one I knew, but sometimes I wondered if it was my true one or just the one that I was wearing when my parents drugged me.

I tried not to think too much about it.

Still sometimes, much like now, my mind betrayed me.

Minds tend to do that.

Snow fell from the sky, so softly that you could miss it as it hid in plain sight.

I tied the grey-stained shoelaces of my old battered converse on the concrete doorstep and slung my linen rucksack over my shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Sarah yelled, beeping the horn. I grinned and jumped into the passenger seat of her small lime-coloured car and began driving. I rummaged through the collection of cassette tapes in her glove box until I came across something a band that was actually worth listening to.

Blowing the slight layer of dust off the cassette, I pushed it into the player and turned up the volume, waiting for The Smiths to begin playing.

"So where is the entrance to Diagon Alley?" Sarah asked me.

I smiled warmly at her, "It's out the back of a pub called the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road, London,"

Sarah nodded and her eyebrows furrowed in thought, "I think I know that road… a school friend of mine used to live close by…"

Shrugging, I let her figure out the navigation. I offered the Knight Bus as a form of transportation and she declined, so it's her job to get us there.

After a few minutes of fumbling with maps, we were on the road again. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep because the next thin g I remembered was groggily opening my eyes from Sarah. I climbed out of the car, walking down the street until I stopped outside of a crooked building that didn't really fit with the rest of the street.

"Do you even know we're going?" Sarah sighed.

I nodded and pointed directly in front of us, "There,"

She sent me a look of distain, "That's an old furniture shop, so seriously, where if it?"

With a sigh, I grabbed her wrist and tugged her along with me, pushing the reluctant door open and entering the pub. Wizards and witches of many ages chatted over drinks at the bar and many others sat at the tables with food, none really noticed our entrance as I led Sarah through the Sunday crowd with her mouth agape.

"But… but… this was a furniture shop…" she stuttered, looking around with wide eyes.

I smirked, "Magic, remember. Please don't tell me you're going to do that with everything we encounter…"

She shook her head, "I think I'm over the initial shock…"

"Good, because we're not even there yet," I indicated to the back door and she followed me into the small court yard out back. I pulled my wand from behind my ear and tapped the bricks in the wall in a counter-clockwise order; they then began shifting and changing until the bricks settled in the form of an archway.

"Welcome, sister, to my world," I winked and we stepped into Diagon alley.

Okay, this story is officially timeless. YES, Riley can have a laptop yet still listen to cassette tapes. YES, she can act as if The Beatles, Nirvana, Pearl Jam and The Smiths are from the same time. It's all very wibbly wobbly timey wimey…

PLEASE REVIEW!