-3-

Crash and Burn

No matter what people like Lucius Malfoy thought, Amelia Deauclair was not a fool.

If anything she was a cold-hearted, level-headed, analytical witch. She had been brought up so. Knowing how to please and how to intimidate was an art and those who became masters in that domain were the ones the most likely to survive while tiptoeing their way around the beasts. Witches and wizards may not have fangs, but their words cut deep. She knew when to smile, when to laugh and when to appear upset. Nobles evolved in a world where etiquette was more of a guideline than a mere suggestion. She knew the rules by heart and abided to them religiously or, more likely, she had become an expert through the years at making people think she did.

Rule number one: purebloods did not have friends. It was an unspoken law that was instilled in nobles before they even took their first step.

Rule number two: never leave your heart in someone else's hands except if you've got their guts in yours.

She had understood the stakes and those were the only rules she had never meant to break. However, fate was a treacherous bitch and it rarely took people's wish and ambitions into consideration when laying out its plans. Amelia was perfectly aware she was going against everything she had been taught when, months ago, she had thrown caution to the wind and decided to let her hair down. Therefore the disaster that had taken place back in France, mere days from summer holidays, was entirely her fault. She simply could not play the part anymore; he had made it impossible for her to continue to do so. Sometimes all it took to be thrown off the tracks was big brown eyes, boyish charm and enough determination to push through the walls. She had been doomed from the beginning.

There had been a moment when she had thought the both of them would remain sheltered from the outside world, protected by some crystalline dome in which what they decided to do with their lives was up to them. Oh... How she had wished so. However, as with everything made of something so fragile, a crack soon appeared in the glass dome and she had stared at it in horror as it slowly spread. The bubble she had retreated into, her haven, was falling to piece and nor him nor her could do anything to prevent its downfall. They had shared a glance at that point and she finally had to face what she had feared all along. There it was, in his eyes. The hurt. The betrayal. The pitying. They had held their breath for a second and then, everything had shattered and chaos ensued. Her parents made her pack her belongings the same evening. They were gone by morning.

She really should have known it would not last. Some things were just meant to crash and burn. She had been a fool then, for sure. Surely she should have known that friendship was unreachable for someone her kind. It did not lessen the pain though.

Loneliness is a terrible thing, particularly to those who have been blessed with good companionship long enough to see the fragile bonds deteriorate before them. Loneliness tears you apart from the inside and leaves you empty. Living with solitude is easy when you don't know any better. It is miserable and heavy but, going through the heartbreak that is the end of a friendship brings out a whole new level of sorrow.

Britain seemed so unwelcoming and their new house in London felt so cold that Amelia felt disconnected from the world. Left alone with her thoughts, she was assaulted by old demons all summer. Guilt as well as longing had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. It was something to leave someone behind. It was another to run away and leave a friend to deal with the mess you had made.

Not willing to face her father's stern disapproval and her mother's haughty indifference, she retreated in her own mind and, choosing to observe the outside world go on from the safety of her own room, she spent hours by the window, absently thumbing through a book she had no intention of reading. Her thoughts flew miles away and brought her back to France.

All she wanted was to go back to what she was before all hell broke loose, back when, for a fleeting moment, she had allowed herself to just let it go. Careless, reckless, keeping at arm's length the worries and responsibilities. She wanted to be allowed to forget whom they spelled her out to be and go back to who she was. The girl who had trusted him enough to laugh wholeheartedly with him.

It had started off pretty innocently, as a way to keep the memory of him alive in her head a little longer. She would picture what he would have to say about this and that; how he would scoff at the vindictive comments her parents would throw her way or roll his eyes at the people her mother would force her to meet. If she focused she could almost hear his voice in her ear, ridiculing the stiff noblemen and ladies parading one after the other in front of her and urging her to give them a piece of her mind when they, as Purebloods always did, underestimated little old Amelia Deauclair, not looking past her doe eyes and heart shaped face. After a while she did not have to make an effort to imagine his presence anymore, she felt that he was a part of her and, it seemed as if her conscience, that little inner voice she had not known she possessed, had taken the liberty to borrow his tone and inflections.

This newfound escape was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand it was all she could do to hold on to her sanity, on the other side, having discussion with yourself could hardly be considered sane at all. Soon enough, she was completely immersed in her dream world and more often than not, it would distract her from present interactions. She would have debates with herself, going down familiar roads and re-enacting conversations that had been held long before everything had gone awry.

Amelia knew that, in the end, this self-destructive trait would get her nowhere. It was deranged, and unhealthy at best but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was surrounded by people that wanted nothing more than take advantage of her. What better way to throw all of them off than making sure that she was damaged goods by the time her father tried to sell her off to some right jerk with enough titles of nobility to be worthy of her unstained blood?

The truth was that Amelia had never felt that much rage in her entire life. Her limbs were constantly trembling with suppressed fury, an anger she knew would serve for nothing, the previous debacle was proof enough that rebelling was futile. All that was left to do was to drown the ire, numb the pain and wait. Her time would come.

And wait she did. She had gotten pretty good at shutting herself off in the past years, but sometimes emotions were inevitable. There would be times when she would have to fight off the melancholy or the sadness but, more frequently, she had to hide the irritation she felt.

And to say Amelia Deauclair was currently annoyed would have been an understatement. Back stiff with displeasure, the girl stood in the middle of King's Cross railway station silently seething.

Pureblood witches didn't usually have to exert themselves. Ladies didn't habitually have to drag their own trunk and fight their way through a crowd of overexcited boys, giggling schoolgirls and emotional mothers. They didn't sweat, they let others do so. Yet here she was, desperately trying to howl her heavy luggage onto the train, and this, all by herself. Why the British Ministry of Magic would forbid underage use of magic was a mystery to her. She nearly growled in anger. Damn that bloody house elf for leaving her to fend for herself the second they passed the magical barrier! Even though she knew her mother had probably ordered Tecky to apparate straight back to the manor once Amelia was on platform nine and three-quarters, the girl couldn't help but feel a little exasperated. That old wrinkly creature was way too obedient for its own good.

Mrs Deauclair had refused to accompany her of course. Amelia had not expected her to do so either, she had known the moment she had informed her mother of her leaving that it was wishful thinking. Marguerite Deauclair had been nothing but cold to her daughter since their departure from France. Not that Amelia's mother had ever been anything but frigid. Besides, Amelia wanted nothing to do with the woman. The past few weeks had been particularly tense within the walls of the Deauclairs' household and Amelia was secretly relieved to be away for a couple of months. Merlin bless boarding schools. At least, she would be gaining back a bit of her limited liberty.

Her trunk was halfway on the floor of the train car when someone bumped into her from behind, almost sending her flying and effectively ruining all her efforts of the past ten minutes. As her luggage hit the platform with a resounding smack, she whirled around with fire in her eyes. Unfortunately, she was faced with a mass of unconcerned strangers who kept on discussing excitedly about new owls, dreaded N.E.W.T.S and some band called the Weird Sisters without taking a second to ensure she wasn't harmed. Apparently her attacker had not deemed important to stop in his tracks in order to apologise or even help her get her trunk back on the train. Well, things were just peachy, weren't they? She turned back to her belongings cursing bootlicking servants, disgraceful brats, uncaring mothers and rotten luck under her breath.

"Need some help with that?"

Only years of practice kept Amelia from gasping in fright. A tall teenager, who certainly had not been standing in front of her a few seconds ago, was smiling kindly at her, looking at her from under his blond fringe, obviously waiting for her answer. Somehow, even with the scar that ran along his jaw line and the tired look in his eyes, Amelia found herself oddly at ease around the boy, which was a sentiment she hadn't had in a long time. Maybe it was the latent kindness she could sense coming out of him or the way his eyes crinkled as he genuinely grinned at her, but the overall effect was pleasant and it made her forget about his unkempt hair and the poor state of his robes. She felt a smile tug at her lips in response.

"And they say chivalry is dead."

"Why, I always make a point to rush to the rescue of damsels in distress." said the young man bowing slightly before he swung the trunk over his shoulder as if it was weightless. She honestly had not been expecting such vivacity from him, he was not frail per se, but there was something fragile about him, he was emitting the kind of vibe one could get from a sick child. The impression was quickly quashed though as the boy sent a lopsided grin her way. Amelia repressed the urge to roll her eyes at him, he made her pathetic attempts at lifting the darn thing bloody laughable. So much for almost breaking her back.

"Oh? So you really do reach out to any defenseless girls? Out of the goodness of your heart? That seems pretty selfless. And admirable." pointed out Amelia as she followed him while he approached the stationary train. He shot her a glance and grimaced sheepishly. He looked so much like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar that the girl shook her head at him.

"Ah, you caught me. Truth is, I've never seen your face around here before, so I figured you were a new student and I was curious. Besides, I'm a prefect so it's kind of my job." he confessed. He chucked the luggage on the wagon floor and climbed onto it.

"And here I was feeling special." sighed Amelia in mock disappointment. She smiled again when the boy gave her a pained expression.

"I've dug myself a hole, haven't I?"

"Quite." responded Amelia chuckling softly. She had tried not to laugh but, she seemed incapable of reining it in. Away from the oppressing presence of her mother and safe from the nightmares that plagued her nights, Amelia felt lightheaded.

The girl knew she was acting foolishly, bantering and joking around with a perfect stranger was hardly advisable given her situation, but she had missed it. She had craved this all summer, human interaction devoid of any afterthought, and she could not help the warm feeling that grew in her chest. It was something she could not afford to do when surrounded by the usual crowd that gathered around her. Acting friendly with purebloods would be like slashing your arm open while bathing in the ocean and then waiting for the sharks to come and eat you.

"Looks like the mask is slipping, doesn't it?"

The sound of her inner voice, loud and clear in her head, brought her down to earth abruptly. It was like a cold shower and she inwardly shook herself. She did not need a repeat of what happened at the Malfoy ball. Refocusing on the boy who had helped her, she noticed his outstretched hand.

"A true gentleman." she noted while taking his hand and letting him hoist her up.

"To the core. I am a Gryffindor after all." he replied proudly. Then, realizing she probably had no idea what a Gryffindor was, he opened his mouth in order to clarify. There was no need of course.

Their moving to Great Britain meant Amelia had to deal with a whole new crowd of snakes and she knew better than not doing her homework. Knowledge was power and a pureblood always came prepared to battle. Therefore, the young witch had done her research on Hogwarts as soon as her parents announced she would transfer. She had been quite bemused by the fact students were divided into houses based on their personalities. Certainly people were much too complex to be categorized and sorted into four groups in such an undefined manner. Bravery, cunning, intelligence and kindness, honestly? For someone like Amelia, to whom lifestyle had left her with no other choice than to become a good judge of character, it was evident there was much more than that to human nature.

Amelia went to stop the boy before he could drown her with his explanations, but thought better of it and decided to let him talk himself hoarse. You often learned a lot more by listening to people talk, the way they would present something was frequently more interesting that the information they shared.

"New student, right. Should have remembered that." said the wizard as he slapped his forehead at his own forgetfulness. He stared at his shoes as he tried to come up with the best way to tell her about the houses. Suddenly he looked up and smiled. "Ok, I'll keep it simple. You see, Hogwarts was built by four founders. There was Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff. Every single one of them had different opinions of what qualities theirs pupils should possess. Unable to find a common ground they decided to split the students between themselves and each head favored the children that represented their ideal of the perfect wizard." The boy began to tick off on his fingers. "Ravenclaw kept the smart ones for herself, Hufflepuff welcomed the kind hearted ones while Gryffindor accepted the courageous ones within his ranks. Slytherin..." Hesitating, the teen frowned slightly, but quickly hid his discomfort. "Slytherin took the ambitious ones under his wing."

"Ambitious? You are saying this as if it was a bad thing." pointed out Amelia.

"Ah? No, no. Of course not. Knowing what you want and working to reach your goal, that's admirable." The boy, clearly feeling weary at the turn in the conversation, shifted from foot to foot. "It's just that there's a rivalry going on between houses. Nothing serious, just playful banter. Kids will be kids." he added with a small grin.

"Playful banter, eh? Doesn't it feel refreshing to finally meet someone who can't lie to save his life? "

Amelia refrained from rolling her eyes. Well, that confirmed what she had suspected then. She was willing to bet that the Slytherin dorms were filled to the brim with purebloods. Ambitious bunch they were indeed. That was certainly the understatement of the century. If, as she thought, most of the children of noble lineage ended up in Slytherin, she had no trouble imagining what other traits characterized them. No wonder blondie over there wasn't feeling so hot about them. If his torn robes were anything to go by, he wasn't raised in wealth and there was not anything Purebloods look down upon more than misery.

"Right. How do they know which houses the first years belong to though?"

"They get sorted obviously."

"Sorted?"

"Well there this hat, talking hat I should say. It has a pretty potty mouth too." The sandy haired wizard laughed. "You would not believe how sassy it can get when it's pissed. James said it swore like a sailor when Peter and him broke into Dumbledore's office and set fire to..." The boy trailed off when he noticed her raised eyebrow. The rest of his sentence ended in coughs. "Long story short, it has a nasty temper, don't mess with it."

"I will try and remember that." said Amelia holding back a sneer. Boys...

"Anyway, that hat, it's called the Sorting Hat. Fitting isn't it? Well, it sort of look through your mind and figure out what you're made of."

Not good.

Amelia's blood ran cold. "Like Legilimency you mean?" asked the young witch carefully keeping the worry out of her voice. Amelia had not control over much in her life, but she had managed, after a lot of hard work, to ward off her mind against the intrusion of people that wanted nothing more than have psychological power over her. She was not going to let a stupid hat ruin everything she had accomplished. There were secrets she'd rather keep for herself.

The boy was caught off guard for a second before he nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I've never thought about it this way, but I guess that's kind of what it is. Don't worry though, no matter what people on the train will tell you, it's not painful at all." Not trusting herself to speak, Amelia did not answer him. Reading off her silence as nervousness, the wizard shoved his hands in his pockets, looked quickly over his shoulder before he smiled reassuringly at her, apparently having reached a decision. "Look, if you're that stressed out, just follow me, alright? There's a book in my trunk called Hogwarts, A History. It's really good and you'll learn more on the Sorting ceremony from that than from my half-baked explanations. Besides, my friends will be there and they are going to be thrilled to be the firsts to socialize with the new kid."

Before Amelia had the chance to answer, a cold voice rang out from behind her. "That won't be necessary, Peterson." Amelia didn't even need to look to guess who this was. And just when she thought life was getting a bit boring...

The effect was instantaneous. Peterson, or whatever his name was, tensed and his gaze hardened, eyes flashing amber for a second. "My name is not Peterson, Black, and you know that very well." replied the boy with a snarl. Amelia couldn't blame him though, Bellatrix Black seemed to induce various negative reactions in almost everyone she met.

"Tell it to someone who cares Peterson." drawled Bellatrix before turning her back on him and pining her soulless stare on Amelia. Unimpressed, Amelia stood her ground. "Miss Deauclair, I have been looking for you. There is a place in our compartment if you'd consent to grace us with your presence."

Perfectly aware she had little to no choice in the matter, Amelia nodded lazily and bid her goodbyes to the reddening boy by her side. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

The sound of her voice seemed to wake him up and he stopped glaring at Bellatrix long enough to smile sadly at her. "The pleasure was all mine."

"Yes, I'm sure it was Peterson." mocked Bellatrix with a nasty smirk. Then, not waiting for his comeback, the dark-haired witch started to walk down the train's alley without a glance behind as Amelia wordlessly followed her.

The train's departure must have been near because all the kids that had previously been screaming and running around on the platform were now doing the same in the cramped alley. This didn't slow Bellatrix down however, she walked steadily without pausing once as people hurriedly made room for her, flattening themselves against the wall or disappearing behind compartment doors. It seemed as if anyone knew better than to stand in the witch's way. Amelia doubted this was solely due to the Black's reputation of Dark allegiances, Bellatrix simply exuded violence as others would exude grace, it was in her core, it showed in the way she moved and in the way she looked at people. At the tender age of seventeen, her eyes already held promises of pain and sadistic games.

Amelia had sensed Bellatrix's soft madness right away. She had expected as much though and it didn't alter how she treated the young witch, she acted the way she did with any other noble lady, with coldness and mistrust. She dealt with insanity on a daily basis, one more unhinged girl wasn't going to change anything. All Purebloods were a bit mad after all.

Soon Bellatrix stopped in front of a compartment and opened the door for Amelia, gesturing for her to enter first.

"Well, someone is feeling wary... Does she think you're going to run or something?"

"Shut your trap! I need my head for this."

"Gosh, Amelia. You hurt me."

Trying to ignore the little voice in her head, Amelia focused her attention on the people now staring up at her. A boy with small dark eyes, rough ugly traits and a mean smile quickly rose and hastily took her hand in his before he pressed his lips to her knuckles and introduced himself as Evan Rosier. Bending her head slightly towards him, Amelia stared blankly at him, struggling to keep her face straight save for a twinge of disgust. The teen's lips were awfully chapped and his hands were unpleasantly moist.

"Back off Rosier. You're being overbearing. A lady needs space and I'm sure Miss Deauclair does not appreciate having your face so near hers." snapped a girl with coffee-coloured skin glaring at him from her seat by the door. She got to her feet and smiled seductively at Amelia, having apparently fooled herself into thinking she could get into the girl's good books by displaying the same charm she used to get what she wanted from hormone-driven boys. "Rosalind Toke at your service, milady."

Playing the haughtiness card, Amelia barely spared her a glance and walked around her to get to the far-end of the compartment where, standing by the window, a familiar face was waiting for her to reach him. Tall with dull grey eyes, breath-taking looks and a snobbish air that betrayed generations of careful inbreeding, the boy was everything his parents could have wished for. "Regulus Black, Miss Deauclair. I already had the pleasure of making your acquaintance."

"Yes, I remember it quite vividly." said Amelia. Then, just because she felt like spiting him she added: "How is your mother, Madame Black?" The woman's behaviour had been despicable at the Malfoy ball and Amelia wouldn't be surprised if one day the resentful witch drowned in her own rancor and died of bitterness.

Amelia's tone was nothing but polite, but something in Regulus' eyes made her realize that he knew perfectly well she was having a go at him. Amelia almost wished the boy would put her in her place like she suspected he would have done if she hadn't been who she was, but, like the perfect gentleman he was, he didn't act on it. "She is doing quite well, milady. Thank you for asking. I will make sure she's informed of your concern for her."

Somewhat disappointed, Amelia nodded and turned to the others. "There is no need for all of you to remain standing. Please regain your seats." Amelia sat by the window on the opposite of Regulus while Rosier took care of her luggage and the others got settled. The train gave a lurch and slowly left the station. As the city gradually gave place to the countryside, the busy streets morphed into deserted meadows and Amelia became engrossed in her contemplation of the landscape, paying little to no attention to what was going on around her. Then, feeling the burn of stares on the side of her face, she lazily shifted her focus on the teens she shared a compartment with. Her eyes found Regulus' amused ones briefly before she glanced at Rosier who was, quite rudely, ogling her.

"May I help you?"

"Ah, say Miss Deauclair, you probably know Hogwarts is divided by houses by now?" inquired the boy.

"Yes, I was aware of that fact." said Amelia airily, hoping the wizard would leave it at that.

"In which one do you reckon you will be sorted into?" insisted Rosier.

"What is it with these people and their houses for Merlin's sake?!"

Annoyed, Amelia refrained the urge to snap. "Well, Mr. Rosier, I find myself quite confused. I am not certain as to which one I would rather be sorted into." replied Amelia suavely. She knew what he expected from her of course, but she was already fed up with the attitude of the whole lot, ordering her around, acting like right suck ups and asking questions they already knew the answers to, only to test her. It may be petty, but she had found out lately that making them fall in their own traps was quite entertaining and was oddly satisfying.

"What's so hard about that? I think it's quite obvious which house is the best, milady." retorted Rosier with narrowed eyes. The wizard, clearly hesitating between exasperation and disbelief, was getting red in the face as he glared at her. Bellatrix scowled at him whereas Toke paid rapt attention to the altercation and Regulus looked simply bored.

"Is it? Well, from the information I have collected from various individuals, Gryffindors are a lot of brainless troublemakers, Ravenclaws are a bunch of snobbish know-it-all, Hufflepuffs are a pack useless flobberworms and the Slytherin house is made of back-scratching cowards. Now, either you British are horrible human beings or I have been awfully lied to, but either way you can certainly see my dilemma." drawled Amelia. There was a moment of shocked silence which the witch revelled in, before hell broke loose.

"This is an outrage!" yelled Rosier eyes budging out of their sockets. "We Slytherins are the elite of the wizarding world's new generation. We carry within our hearts the true values of the magical community and its salvation within our blood." he growled. He pulled his hair in frustration and sat by her side, leaning towards her. "Who told you these lies, milady? I will make sure they won't ever be able to tarnish our house's reputation. When you insult one of us, you provoke all of us and I refuse to stand by while you are being badmouthed."

"While I am being badmouthed? Mr. Rosier, you are talking as if I was already sorted in Slytherin. As much as I appreciate your diligence, I hardly think it is appropriate." said Amelia raising an eyebrow.

"Miss Deauclair, don't you see, you are beauty and purity united as one, the epitome of what we believe in. Of course, you'll be in Slytherin, there is no other option." said Rosier having apparently forgotten he had asked her where she thought she would end up only minutes ago. He put his hand on her knee and smiled shrewdly.

"Is this kid for real?"

"I would be really careful with where you are going with this if I were you, Mr. Rosier. One could think you are overstepping your boundaries." breathed Amelia having finally had enough. Rosier retracted his hand immediately. "Flattery will not get you anywhere and it surely will not help you make your point." smiled the witch sweetly. Back-scratching cowards indeed.

There was a chuckle and Rosier glared at Regulus. "What are you laughing at? You, of all people, have no reason for laughing." eager to divert the attention from himself, Rosier wasted no time and attacked. "I've heard there was quite the commotion at yours, Black. Your brother finally decided to betray your family wholly, did he? How did your mother take that last blow?"

"Elated, she was. Threw a party too, everybody that mattered was there. The Minister of Magic, even. Didn't you receive an invitation?" retorted Regulus right away. Rosier frowned, obviously unable to recall this particular event. Regulus' face, which until now had remained relatively impassive, broke into a predatory smile. "Oh wait, you wouldn't, right? My bad..."

Short, devastating and to the point. Amelia was impressed, there was no doubt this kid had been taught by the best. Unfortunately for Regulus though, Rosier didn't seem to appreciate the quality of his wits as much as Amelia did.

"Why you little…!" snarled the burly wizard fumbling in his robes in search of his wand. Before he could do anything harmful, Bellatrix got to her feet and pointed her own wand at the base of his neck. Rosier froze instantly.

"Enough! Get a hold of yourself, you look like a fool." Bellatrix barked. Then turning her head towards Regulus she added, "And you! If you don't want to have your head served on a platter, I'd tone it down a notch." She went back to her seat and glowered at Rosier one last time. "If I hear you mention that blood traitor once more, I'll make you regret the day you were born."

Bellatrix then turned her dark cruel eyes to Amelia who simply grinned, daring the older girl to call her out for her attitude. Bellatrix smirked. "There is no doubt in my mind that Miss Deauclair will be sorted into Slytherin. After all, the others houses are filled with mudbloods and blood traitors, Miss Deauclair is neither."

"She's got you cornered, doesn't she?"

"As you say, Miss Black." agreed Amelia coldly.

The rest of the ride was event-less and spent in sour silence. A boy with greasy hair came to remind Toke of her prefect duties at some point, but other than that nothing happened. The sky was dark when they finally arrived at destination and Amelia welcomed the fresh night's air with relief before a booming voice startled her. Craning her head up, she surveyed the monstrosity of a man standing in front of her and weakly returned his greetings. The gamekeeper, as he presented himself, told her he had been informed of her transfer and asked her to follow the first years. Glad not to have to come up with an excuse to part company with Bellatrix and Co. Amelia nodded and did as asked.

Soon the witch found herself in a tiny boat, squeezed in between a boy with flaming red hair and a girl with pigtails. Halfway across the lake, the girl, captivated with the sight of the castle, leaned too far over the edge of the boat and fell head first into the water. Amelia was quick to fish her out though and, ignoring the child's spluttered thanks, she conjured a blanket to cover the girl's shoulders. Amelia had to admit, the sight of Hogwarts, illuminated and towering over them, was baffling.

Once they reached the shore, a stern looking woman, who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, led them into the Great Hall. Amelia's eyes were immediately glued to the ceiling which for some reason seemed to be absent. How particular. A raspy voice somewhere on her left started to sing, quite horribly too, and Amelia realised with a jolt that the terrible chanting came from a battered hat sitting on a stool at the end of the four tables filling the hall. It didn't take her long to figure out this ugly piece of headgear was probably the famous Sorting Hat she'd been told about. Talk about anticlimactic.

Once the Hat was done with its… singing, McGonagall came forth and started reading off names on a long parchment. Bored to death, Amelia allowed her mind to wander, only getting out of her reverie to discreetly levitate the same drenched girl from before back on her feet when the kid, apparently unable to stand on her own two feet, face-planted on her way to the stool. Quite unsurprisingly, the eleven year old witch, whose name was allegedly Juliet Darlings, was sorted into Hufflepuff. Amelia's attention drifted away once again until Professor McGonagall called her name and it was her turn to try on the talking headpiece.

The last thing Amelia saw before the brim of the hat fell before her eyes were a pair of grey irises, watching her with something akin to half-hearted hope.

"Here goes nothing."