A/N: Thanks for the comments, favorites and follows! Here is a bonus chapter for you to enjoy on this fine Memorial Day.

"Sweet!" I screech the moment I set eyes on Hogwarts and its grounds.

"Yes, the castle is quite nice," James admits, shrugging.

"No, silly, I was talking about the Quidditch pitch! Oooooh, this year is gonna be fun…"

"I thought you weren't allowed to play any sports."

"Pfffft. Ben is full of it-shay. Of course I can play! Now that I have my inhaler I can do anything!" I must have an evil expression on my face, because James clears his throat, looking nervous.

"Er—not to be rude, but when you get that look on your face it's kind of a turn-off."

"What?"

"I mean, some guys might like it if their bird looks at them like they want to take over the world and rip out everyones' entrails, but personally I'm more for the flowers and chocolates."

"Very funny, James. Veerrrrry cute." I smack him in the head. "You sound just like Jack!" I laugh, and then realize what I've just said and an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss overcomes me. "Jackson…"

He'd love it here, everything about it. I never thought I'd go anywhere without him, much less a castle in a different country. We used to do everything together; we were inseparable. So what am I doing here? Now that I have my inhaler, shouldn't I be able to go back to Washington?

And now there's the issue of James, and our "friendship," or whatever it is. I don't want to leave him either.

"What are you thinking?" James asks. I shake myself out of my thoughts, and turn to him, trying not to cry.

"Trust me, James. You do not want to know."

"Max…please. You can trust me. I think we've been over this."

Here's where I reach a problem. Even if I wanted to try and explain Jack's and my relationship to James, I couldn't. Our friendship is too special, too huge to be put into words. I mean, what would I say, exactly? Do I love Jack? Is there more to our relationship than plain old friendship?

"Thank you James. I just…I have some stuff I need to sort out before talking to you. Give me a few hours. Maybe days." Maybe never.

"That sounds fair," James says, shrugging. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the person you were secretly writing to back at my place, would it? Jackson?"

"Oh, right. I'd almost forgotten how you read my private letter."

"Hey! It was lying right out there, practically begging me to read it! I thought you were over that."

"I am, I am. You're right, it is about Jackson…it's always about Jack…"

"No it isn't," James says. "Nothing is ever only about one person."

"What about Lily?"

"Okay, I may have been a bit obsessed with her—"

"A bit?"

"—okay, a lot, but that isn't my point! My point is that not everything I did was because of Lily."

"And this is supposed to make me feel better how? You and Lily and me and Jackson are not exactly good comparisons."

"Why not?"

"They just aren't, okay? Sheesh!"

"Sorry. Here, give me your hand."

"Huh?"

"Your hand, give it to me."

I take James's hand in my own; it's warm and dry, and a lot bigger than mine. Once we're off the train we go and try to find a carriage to ourselves. Meanwhile, I think. A lot. I think about the kiss Jackson and I shared, about the 'I love you' we exchanged before I left him. When James and I are seated in the carriage, I clear my throat.

"I've given it a lot of thought," I say. "Well, at least ten minutes of thought, anyway. And I think I'll tell you."

"Tell me about this Jackson?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then."

"Right. So. Um." Where to start? "Jackson and I knew each other since we were both in diapers. From the age of two we were completely inseparable." And I tell him about growing up, about how much Jackson meant to me, how he was there for me when my parents died. "I guess some part of me always expected us to…you know…hook up some day. I mean, seeing my life without Jackson in it was like…I don't know, I couldn't even imagine it. It was incomprehensible. I never specifically thought about starting a serious relationship with him, at least not at first; I just figured we'd always be together. It was stupid, to think that. Nobody ever stays together their whole lives. People grow apart." I shrug. "Right before leaving we…we kissed, and I told him that I loved him. Love him. I love him. Oh, and did I mention Ben hates him?"

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to tell James all of this. He's a great listener; silent, but attentive.

"Life is short, Max."

"You have no idea."

"What did you say?"

"Never mind."

"Anyway, like I was saying, life is short, and you should spend it with the person you love. And if that person is Jackson, than I don't think anyone should have the right to stop you."

"You make it sound so easy…but what if there's more to it than that? What if," I venture, as our eyes meet, "What if I like someone else, too? What if I don't want to leave them either?" Neither of us looks away.

"In that case," he whispers, "I have no idea. Follow your heart."

Now, that's one of those cliché phrases I usually hate with a passion, but now it seems like that's really the only advice that makes any sense. But what if I can't follow my heart? What if I don't know what my heart is telling me?

Wow. I just used about three billion cliché phrases in one paragraph. I have reached an all-time low.

"So. Here we are." The castle looks even huger up close; I have to tilt my head back to see the whole front door.

"James…"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For…for listening. Nobody ever listens."

"No problem."

We walk into the great hall; it's fantastic! A huge ceiling looms overhead, only it doesn't look like a ceiling at all, but a big dome of sky. I grin; holy crap, this school makes G-WAM look like a crap-hole. There are four enormous tables, with banners hanging above them; my eyes drift immediately to the gold and red one with the noble-looking lion on it, and smile. Gryffindor; James's House. I start walking towards it when James stops me.

"I think you have to be sorted yet. So…um…you're going to have to go over there with the first years."

"WHAT?"

"Sorry."

Scowling, I stomp over to the incoming first years, who look terrified by my very presence.

"What are you staring at, shorty?" I ask a particularly scrawny boy with crooked glasses and tufty pale hair. He whimpers, quickly moving as far away from me as possible.

"Nervous?" Ah, Ben is here.

"Nah. I know where I am going; Gryffindor. You?"

"I don't really care where they put me, but yeah, Gryffindor would be nice." He shrugs.

"Well, you better not get into Slytherin."

"Prejudiced already? Grow up, Max."

"You grow up!"

"Verrry mature."

"Thanks."

"Okay, first years, follow me!" A strict voice calls. The person herding us has straight brown hair pulled up in a neat bun, and large compassionate eyes. And yet, I can already tell she's a hard-ass.

"Are you Maxine and Benjamin DeVough?" she asks, and before waiting for an answer, continues, "You will be sorted last."

"Grrrrrreat," I growl, imitating Tony the Tiger. She doesn't get it, meaning I end up looking either mentally challenged or mentally deranged (or both). Neither bode well for my future reputation here at this fine castle on a hill.

"Try not to act so…" Ben pauses, choosing his words carefully. "…for lack of a better word, insane. Okay?"

"Sure thing, bro. You got it."

Slowly the line in front of us disappears, until we are the only two left.

"I hope you realize you are going first." I whisper to Ben.

"WHAT?"

"Noses!" I put my finger on my nose a millisecond before he does. Yesssss! I win! Bwahahahaha!

"Darn you!" He turns and walks quickly up to the sorting hat. I notice quite a few giggles from girls as he does so; yup, there are a lot of cheeks of the rosy variety in the hall.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat cries after only a few moments of deliberation. I cheer along with everyone else; now we'll be in the same House, at least. Actually, that might be a bad thing…

"Okay, Miss DeVough, you're-up!"

"America!" I shout. Silence. "You said you're-up, which sound like Europe, so I said—oh, for the love of god, have you no sense of humor?" More silence. "Guess not." I pull the hat on over my head, not sure why I have to put on a hat to be sorted.

Hello there Oh Great Hatty One. How goeth things on your side of the pond, I question the hat. Gawd, I'm hilarious. And then, the hat actually answers back. And following is an incredibly and disturbingly accurate description of the conversation the hat and I have:

Hat: Quite well, thank you. It's not often anyone asks me about myself. I sometimes feel so very lonely…

Me: On with it! Focus, hat, focus! Now, repeat after me. Gryf. Fin. Dor.

Pause.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouts out loud. Its voice echoes around the hall. This takes a moment to sink in.

Me: WHAT? I TAKE THE TIME TO ASK YOU HOW YOU'VE BEEN DOING AND YOU PUT ME INTO RAVENCLAW? WHAT THE FRICK!?

Hat: You belong in Ravenclaw. You are incredibly intelligent.

Me: Well you know who's not? YOUR MOM!

Hat: Don't you go dissing my mom now, ungrateful child! (Do hats even have moms?)

Me: I'll diss whomever I damn well want to!

"RAVENCLAW! RAVENCLAW! RAVENCLAW!" The hat screams.

Me: Very mature hat, very funny. Not. You are the most obnoxious thing that has ever touched my hair!

Hat: Then take me off!

Me: NOT UNTIL YOU PUT ME INTO GRYFFINDOR.

Hat: NOOOOO. "RAVENCLLLLAAAAWWWWWWW!"

Now, I should mention that while I am having this internal argument with the hat, the others in the hall are still watching. Staring. Shocked out of their minds. Ha. I throw the hat off all at once, and hop to my feet.

"THIS IS ALL A MISUNDERSTANDING!" I yell, so that everyone is sure to hear me. "THE HAT WAS JUST KIDDING. IT REALLY SAID 'GRYFFINDOR.'"

"NO I DIDN'T!" The hat booms cheerfully. Darn you to heckfire, hat!

Eventually I give up, and storm to the Ravenclaw table, which doesn't clap at all. Somehow, I think they get the picture that I don't wanna be here. And by 'here,' I mean anywhere but in Gryffindor, with James and Ben.

I'm considerably cheered when food starts popping up on my plate, though. I'm starved; I stuff everything I can fit into my mouth, hardly chewing, which earns me looks of disgust and disapproval from my new House-mates.

"Bwhut?" I ask innocently. The girl sitting closest to me edges slowly away.

Once I can eat no more, I look around my table a bit. It's full of smarty-pants. I don't belong here. Not me, the grade-F procrastinator. The hat was just being cruel.

One girl, who has long black hair and large amber eyes, does smile at me. I decide to be her friend. I go over to her, grinning.

"Max," I say, extending my hand for her to shake.

"Hattie," she says, shaking my hand.

And there ya go. Insta-friends.

I also spot a certain dread-locked fellow. HE'S IN RAVENCLAW? WHAT?

He raises an eyebrow, grinning lazily at me.

"Do you always get into fights with headwear?"

"Not often. I try to stick to fighting with shoes most of the time. They have more sole." I crack up, and so does Jimmy.

"You're pretty funny," he admits.

"I'm glad someone around here appreciates my good humor."

"Where did you come from, anyway?" Hattie asks.

"The great country of Washington."

"Country? Since when?"

"Since now. If Texas can call itself a country, so can we gosh-darnit!

"Texas doesn't call itself a country." Jimmy points out.

"Pfft. That's what you think. But behind your back they're all, 'oh, look at us, we were once a frickin country and we're gonna kick all yer asses.' They're badass, in Texas." Jimmy just stares at me.

"With that statement you have just insulted millions of people." He pauses for effect. "Congratulations."

"No problemo. I try, I really do."

"So, Max…what was going on up there with the sorting hat? Were you guys…fighting? I've never seen the hat that riled up before." Hattie has this cool accent; I think it might be Russian.

"Well…no offense, but I kinda was hoping for Gryffindor. The stupid hat is freakishly cruel, putting me with the smart kids. I guess there's always Jimmy to keep me company, right?"

"That is extremely insulting. I will have you know that I am highest in our year in every class except Transfiguration. I have fourth in there; somehow the practically retarded Potter, Black, and Lupin beat me out. Don't know how they managed." I can tell he's really pissed about this; I decide to remember it, so I can use it against him later if I have to.

"Who teaches music around here? I play the violin."

Blank stares.

"We don't have a music program here. Or an art program. Or a sports program, other than Quidditch."

"WHAT? THAT'S TERRIBLE! WHAT KIND OF CRAP SCHOOL DOESN'T HAVE A MUSIC PROGRAM?"

"You're yelling again," Jimmy says calmly.

"Oops. Sorry. It's just, I can't believe it! I even brought my frickin violin here!"

"Hey, it's not like it's banned or anything; calm down! I play the piano. We have one in our common room, actually, due to popular demand." Hattie grins, showing brilliantly white teeth. "My mum is a muggle, and is brilliant at keyboarding."

"Sweet! What about you, Jim-bo? Play any instruments?"

"Me? Play instruments?" He laughs for about an hour.

"So if you don't play sports, and you don't play instruments, what do you do?"

"I…paint."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Like…what kind of stuff? People, fruit, landscapes…?"

"Mostly abstract. Dark abstract."

"Figures," I mutter. I am just thinking about how funny and weird it is that Jimmy is a painter when James comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me in a hug. Needless to say I am so shocked I nearly inhale all of the pudding on my plate.

"Are you okay?" James asks quietly in my ear. "Here, why don't you come over to my table for a bit?"

"Is that allowed?" I ask.

"Sure! Dumbledore's a sucker for House Unity and all that stuff."

"Okay! Hey, um, I'll see you guys later, kay?"

"Sure! It was nice meeting you," Hattie smiles shyly. Jimmy gives me a small nod, his face curiously blank.

"I can't believe you weren't put into Gryffindor!" James says once we're away from my House table. "I mean, I just figured…but I guess if it had to be any other House, at least it was Ravenclaw. Your brother is in shock, I think." I look at Ben, who is just staring at his plate of dessert. James and I sit down beside each other across from him.

"You okay?" I ask.

"I just…can't believe…you…were put into…Ravenclaw…"

"Eh. Well, who knows. I guess Gryffindor just wasn't the right fit."

"No…I mean, I can't believe you got into Ravenclaw, the House meant for smart people…"

I dump my pudding on his head.

James puts his hand on my back.

Lily is looking like she could care less about any of this.

Maybe this year won't be so bad after all…