Name: Katie. Or Bell to Oliver, who seems to have forgotten my first name.
Age: 16
Hair: There are only so many adjectives to describe my hair. Messy, untidy, disorderly, chaotic.
Current Mood: Sightly apprehensive and possibly fearing for my life
Current Location: In my dorm with Ange and Alicia.

Angelina was patiently bulldozing a brush through my hair, trying to work out all the knots that had accumulated during my stay at the hospital wing. They were trying to convince me to dye my hair, cut my hair, do something, anything with my hair.

"Katie, we wouldn't want to change a thing about you." She stated sincerely as she deftly untangled another matt of hair. Alicia merely snorted undiplomatically. Just because Alicia could look gorgeous in anything, at any time of the day, without even trying.

"But you just don't have a certain style. Nothing you wear is 'you'."

"That's not true!" I felt I should be offended, but I had no idea what Angelina was trying to say.

"Katie, look at what you're wearing." Alicia sighed. I was wearing a polo-top, converse sneakers and Canterbury shorts. My hair was…well, yeah. Not so good, but that wasn't my fault. Ange was fixing it anyway.

There was nothing wrong with what I was wearing. My outfit was pretty much what I wore everyday. There were no offensive slogans, I wasn't flashing anyone – that I knew of, anyway. I can never make guarantees about things like that.

"It's practical, I'll grant, but it doesn't say anything about you as a person." Angelina reasoned.

"It says I play Quidditch." I pressed stubbornly. This time it was Alicia's turn to lose patience with me.

Just in case Alicia's character hasn't shone through enough, I'll give you a briefing now. Alicia is a wonderful, un-judgemental person whom rarely gives advice or opinions on matters she deems are none of her business. She believes she's got more to worry about than analysing other people's lives. As a result she's had the fewest amounts of fights out of any of us, and is friends with just about anyone. Except Slytherin's obviously. She has a tendency to say exactly what needs to be said. But even she shocked me with what she said next.

"Katie, I'll tell you what your ensemble says about you. It says: I am a tomboy who buys the same style of shirt in different colours, so I don't have to try anything else in the shop on. I wear the same thing until it falls to pieces. I have one or two dresses being feasted on by cloth-moths and Doxys at the back of my closet at home. I do not own a pair of heels. I own one pair of flip-flops. The only thing I have in varying styles and colours is sneakers. I wear shorts and sneakers because I don't have enough grace to manage heels and dresses without flashing the entire Great Hall."

I stared at her gobsmacked, completely blind-sighted. She was 100 correct, but as blunt as a charging bull. I didn't know what to say. Should I be insulted? Should I give her the silent treatment? Should I crash-tackle her and say she was being illogical, like I did with Oliver?

"I have to be blunt to get through to you Katie." Alicia explained. "I could tell this about you simply by the clothes you are wearing: not because I'm your friend and I know you."

"But," Ange intercepted tactfully, "You have a great personality Katie, and you should show it any way you can, because you are an awesome person and an even greater friend. And I'm saying this as your friend, in the nicest way possible. If you don't want to do it, I completely understand."

"But tough, you're doing it anyway." Alicia regained control of the conversation. "We're going to the Hogsmeade right now, to find your own personal style. This is a get-better present from the whole team, but mainly Ange and me."

"So you're not doing this to get me with Oliver?" I smirked.

"Well, if he just happens to notice you look a little different, that's another plus, right?" Ange grinned cheekily.

"Show off that Quidditch bod, girl." Alicia grinned. "And those. Those you didn't get through Quidditch." She pointed to my chest. I blushed and suddenly had a vision of myself dressed up like a cheap tart in heavy makeup and low-cut, tight dress with six-inch heels.

"I get full say in the clothes I put on, right?" I bargained.

"Katie – it's not a make-over. We're not changing your look; we're un-covering it for the first time. This is self-discovery through retail therapy." Angelina reasoned, rolling her eyes.

I myself am sceptical of the success and ethics behind 'make-overs' but hey, it seemed an Angela and Alicia thing to do.