AN: I redid all the other chapters because I needed to get back in the mood for this story (I even redid the cover). Hopefully you aren't too disappointed with the change?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry's world, but I do own the changes that Lynx makes to it.

Dumbledore's Daughter

05 | First Night

It was raining. She had smelled the horrid storm clouds a mile before they came, but it still hadn't prepared her for the half-hearted drops that assaulted the windows. Immediately, she yawned, drowsy.

"Woah!" Ron whispered, trying to keep her from hearing. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Hermione demanded, exasperated.

"The way she yawned! It was exactly like the tiger!"

She rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, Ron, he's a leopard."

"Whatever." He waved her off.

Lynx didn't have much experience with people, not since she was nine. It was only thanks to visits from Dumbledore—that happened few and far between—that she knew how much the world had changed, but hearing Harry Potter and his friends talk about Harry's trials and other unimportant topics, she realized how far behind she was.

For instance, she was raised to tell everything bluntly. Her mother had always said it was better to be hated for the truth than liked for a lie, so she had always said what was on her mind. Watching the teenagers talk, though, she realized that maybe that wasn't how it was done. She could tell by the twitch near Harry's brow that he was irritated, could tell by the light creases between his eyes that he was worried, but he said nothing. Of course, Lynx had to remind herself that her eyesight was considerably better than anyone's in the compartment—not as good as her mother's, but good enough to be distracted by the slightest change in someone's expression.

Honestly, she didn't want to spend her time psychoanalyzing everything she was taught, nor did she want to spend it watching Harry, but it was either that or fall asleep and, as much as the old man trusted them, she wasn't ready to relax just yet.

After what seemed like forever, Hermione said, "We'd better get changed."

They stood up and started slipping on their robes, covering themselves, but Lynx stayed where she was. Since she was technically a new student, she shouldn't have the uniforms stuffed in the suitcase above their seats anyway, so there wasn't much for her to change in to. Besides, the plan was for her to be the last one off the train, an assurance that she would end up in the same carriage as Harry, so she figured she could wait to slip on the black robes. When the train started slowing down and everyone started scrambling up and down the corridors, hurrying to get everything together before getting off, she decided it would be okay to slip it on, though.

Hermione and Ron left as soon as the train stopped, in charge of supervising the students until they boarded their carriages, leaving Harry, Ginny, and Neville to carry their things. Feeling sorry for them (because they didn't have a snow leopard to carry their luggages on it's back), she decided to offer some help.

"I can carry that owl," she said, gently taking the top of the brown owl's cage.

"Oh, uh, thanks," Harry replied, bewildered. He clearly didn't think she would bother. Instead of commenting further, though, he secured Hedwig's cage in his arm better and moved with Ginny and Neville.

She didn't follow them, sure that he would be safe with all of the students around, and stayed back, watching as the students shuffled to get off the train. Many of them glanced at her, whispering things about her being odd, but she paid them no mind. When the last of them had left, she looked at Nolan.

"You'll have to go on ahead of me, Nol," she said. "If one of the teachers spot you, they might mistake you for a threat. The old man said it would be best for you to go to his office until dinner's over."

He stared at her, unwilling to leave when it was raining, but something caught their attention.

Together, they turned to the ginger animal. Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, was standing in the doorway, his lion-like tail swiping back and forth. His face was squat, nose pushed in, and his yellow eyes watched them carefully.

Lynx raised an eyebrow.

He knelt his head in a strange sort of bow before turning to around, waiting.

"Follow Crookshanks," she said to Nolan. "I'm sure he can show you where to go."

Nolan let out something that could only be called a sigh, but did as he was told, following the cat out of the compartment, opposite of where the kids had assembled.

Lynx waited until he and Crookshanks were out of sight before she left the compartment too, forgetting about the owl in the cage until it tittered excitedly. She looked at it, curious, but when she got the urge to let it loose so she could chase after it, she decided to focus on what was going on in front of her.

Outside, it was wet and cold. The rain seeped into her clothes, making her uncomfortable and tired, and the students crammed everywhere brought back the feeling of claustrophobia—if she thought she could get away with it, she would've snuck into the forest and Changed, running to the castle instead, but Dumbledore wouldn't be pleased to learn that she stretched her legs in the Forbidden Forest, and he would be even less pleased if she left Harry alone, even if his friends were with him. She'd just have to follow all of the other students like a normal witch.

Resigned, she scanned the crowd, eyes lookings for chaotic dark hair. When she caught Hedwig's scent instead, she trailed it listlessly, meeting up with the group.

"There she is!" Ron said.

Lynx blinked, holding out the cage for him to take.

Her lack of response seemed to make him uncomfortable. "Well, thanks," he said roughly. "C'mon then, let's get in. What were you saying, Harry?"

"I was saying: what is that pulling the carriage?"

Ron looked uneasy. "Nothing's pulling the carriage," he said, alarmed. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I… yeah…" He trailed off, befuddled.

Lynx knew what he was looking at: a Thestral. It was fleshless with every bone showing, as if the skin was tightly wrapped around it, every curve and dip of its skeletal visible. It's dragon-like face was probably the creepiest, excluding the white, expressionless eyes that were following Harry's movement as he got into the carriage. Because of their position, she couldn't see their bat-like wings, but she knew they were there, wide and impressive.

She didn't say anything, though, fading into silence as she climbed in with them.

"I can see them too," a misty voice said. "You're just as sane as I am."

Everyone looked to the lanky blonde.

"This is Loony—" Hermione stopped herself, awkward, and cleared her throat. "Luna Lovegood."

The tension and awkward didn't end with the introductions, however. The blonde, Luna, didn't seemed perturbed by it as much as everyone else, simply playing with her necklace with one hand, the other holding a copy of some magazine upside down.

"Interesting necklace," Hermione tried.

"Oh, thank you," said Luna. As the carriage started moving, she leaned over to whisper, "Keeps the Nargles away."

Neville nodded slowly, as if he didn't know what she was talking about, but didn't want to be rude. No one else tried to appease her, though, everyone completely dumbfounded by this.

"Where's Nolan?" Ginny asked, trying to break the tense atmosphere.

"He and Crookshanks went ahead of us," she said easily. "I hope that's okay with you, Hermione," she continued quickly, looking at the bushy-haired brunette. "Nolan really likes Kneazles."

She blinked, surprised. "Uh, no, that's fine."

Lynx smiled, letting the conversation die out.

The carriages moved up the hill at a pace that nearly killed her. She was antsy, closed-in—between the rain and the company, she was starting to get edgy, impatient. At this rate, she wasn't sure if she'd survive living at the school.

Thankfully, the carriage came to a halt at the bottom of stone stairs. Lynx, as the last one who got on, got off first, heading towards the hall she knew the first years were.

"Wait, where are you going?" Hermione called after her, stopping her. "We go this way."

Lynx turned to her, smiling. "I need to be sorted," she reminded her, "so I have to go in the back with the first years."

"Why didn't you just go with the first years in the first place?" Ron wondered, tilting his head.

"I'm not a first year," she said, shrugging. "Besides, I'd stand out in a crowd of eleven-year-olds."

He nodded, accepting this answer, and she turned away again, heading towards the small room next to the Great Hall the old man had told her about. She thanked her mother for her strong sense of smell—the only thing that kept her from getting lost was the fact she could smell wet fabrics branching off to a hidden door near the Great Hall—and joined the group of newcomers. She caught McGonagall's eye as she blended in, earning a nod.

In the dining hall, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were sat at the end of the table, on the other side of Nearly Headless Nick.

"So what do you think her deal is?" Ron asked.

"I'm not sure…" Hermione mused. "This is the first time I've heard of students being accepted after their eleventh birthday. There wasn't anything like this mentioned in Hogwarts, A History."

"First time for everything?" Harry offered.

"Possibly…" But she wasn't convinced.

"It's not just that," Ron insisted. "Since when were you allowed to have a leopard as a pet?"

Hermione didn't have time to answer, however, because the Great Hall double doors opened, showing horrified first years walking single-file through the hall. Everything went silent, conversations fading out as Professor McGonagall lead them to the front of the dining hall, carrying a stool and the Sorting Hat in her hands. She placed the stool where Dumbledore usually gave a speech afterwards and put the hat on the seat, stepping away.

The rip in the brim opened wide and started singing. His song, unlike usual, didn't describe the Houses and the qualities they preferred, but, rather, a warning that horrible things would happen if the students didn't stand together. When it was over, it caused such a commotion that Professor McGonagall had to glare to get the students to quiet down.

With one last disapproving look, she looked at her thick roll of parchment, calling off the first name.

"Which House do you think she'll be sorted in?" Ginny whispered, slipping beside Ron.

"Definitely not Slytherin," replied Ron, snickering. "Did you see the way she went after Malfoy? Thought she was going to clock him."

"I hope it's Gryffindor," she said. "I would feel so much safer with Nolan guarding the girl's room."

Ron made a face. "What d'ya need guarded from?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It would just make me feel better is all."

"Carlisle, Lynx," McGonagall called.

Lynx tried to look worried, but the indifference was hard to cover up. Even if she wasn't sure what House she was going to be placed in—Dumbledore had said it would be more authentic to let the hat choose—she knew that all of her classes were going to be with Harry. Plus, if everything went as planned, this would be the only year she would have to attend Hogwarts, so where she was put would be pointless anyway.

Sitting down on the stool top, she looked at the sea of people in front of her. All of them seemed interested in her, though she couldn't fathom why, curious eyes being the last thing she saw before McGonagall put the hat over her head.

It's been a long time since I've read a mind like yours, the hat murmured into her ear. She resisted the urge to cringe away from the intrusion. A very long time indeed.

Should I take that as a compliment? she wondered.

Oh, yes, he assured her, voice gravelly with concentration. The last time was almost thirty years ago. A Leo—

"Just get on with it," she accidently groused out loud.

Very well, the hat hummed patiently.

He studied her mind for a few more seconds, nearly making her squirm, before the rip near the brim opened wide and yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted into a loud applause, whistles and cheers filling the hall. Lynx stood up, glad to be rid of the hat, and went to take her seat at the table.

Ginny grinned, coaxing Lynx to sit next to her. "I knew you'd be sorted here."

"Oh?" was the only thing Lynx offered as a reply.

"Of course!" she said. "No one who could stand up to Malfoy like that could be in anything but Gryffindor!"

She let out a quiet chuckle, refusing to think about her encounter with the young Malfoy. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

"This means you'll be staying in the room with Hermione and me," she continued gushing. "We have a bed opened since the girl that used to room with us graduated."

"Cool," said Lynx, rather uninterested. She didn't like sleeping in beds—they felt too confining. She preferred something more opened, like treetops or vast grassy fields, a place where she could see the sky.

Thankfully, her conversation with Ginny ended quickly when a group of fourth years called her over. With a little wave goodbye to everyone, she went to join them, leaving Lynx mindlessly playing with her plate.

The stares were suffocating. She should have known that her presence would be interesting to others; after all, how many students randomly transferred after their eleventh birthday, with a pet leopard no less? She didn't understand how Harry was ignoring them—if this continued, she might throw her plate at someone.

Slowly but surely, the line dwindled down. Between each person, Lynx could hear people gossiping with each other—if they weren't talking about her, they were talking about Harry—and she decided it was much better to listen to the sound her cup made when she ran her finger around the edge than to listen to the absurd rumors the other teenagers came up with. Finally, the last person was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Dumbledore took his place at the podium in place of the stool.

"To our newcomers—welcome," he said, smiling. Lynx tried to ignore the people looking at her pointedly when he said this. "To our old hands—welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

The table groaned as a sudden mass of food appeared out of nowhere. The plates in the middle of the table that were once empty were now filled with heaping amounts of vegetables, breads, and sauces. The smell of overcooked meat and tarty pumpkin juice made her wrinkle her nose, sending a distasteful look at the old man. In turn, he nodded his head to the plate in front of her before sitting down.

She looked at her plate and blinked, a grateful smile forming. Instead of the medium-cooked chops, her plate was full of eland. She noticed it was broiled enough to crisp the outside (giving it the illusion of being cooked), but she could smell the blood under the burnt skin, and was forever grateful to whoever made it. A flask in front of her had iced water in it—she could hear the ice clink together as she picked it up to take a sip.

A few people glanced at her as she cut it open, but most turned away before the red dripped out. She knew she had to eat it quickly—she could only imagine the rumors that would spread if anyone saw her eating a raw piece of meat—but it was too good to rush through. The crunch from the broiled skin was a perfect contrast to the juicy red center. It practically melted in her mouth, making her groan in appreciation.

She finished eating before the others and debated on whether she could get away with sneaking to the old man's office to get Nolan so they could sleep, but decided against it when she caught Dumbledore's eye. Sighing, she resigned herself to nibbling on bread.

When most of the others finished, stuffed and sleepy, the old man stood back up and smiled brilliantly as he took his place the podium once again.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notice," he began.

Lynx zoned him out. She had already been told the rules before she left for Mrs. Figg's place. She wasn't allowed to wander too far from the school, even if Nolan accompanied her, and if she insisted on sleeping outside, it either had to be high in a tree on the main grounds or in the Shrieking Shack—she had been forbidden to go in the forest until Hagrid came back. If she decided to sleep in the fields, she had to be up before any students, which meant she'd have to wake up around 4 in the morning to be safe, earlier when Quidditch tryouts started, and there wasn't any hunting allowed. Nolan was more depressed about that one, but there was nothing to be done: if he accidently killed a unicorn or centar, a war could be started.

Suddenly, as if someone had poured ice water on her head, Lynx felt something cold run through her body. Her instincts lit immediately, like they were trying to fight the cold, and she looked towards Dumbledore.

Except Dumbledore wasn't the only one standing at the podium anymore. In front of him, a short, stout woman was smiling brightly, face nearly matching her hideous pink cardigan. In fact, if Lynx had to describe the woman in one word, it would be 'pink.' Her disgusting knitted hat was pink, covering dark curly hair, and matched the cardigan to a T. The dress under the cardigan was pink, matching the ugly, barely-an-inch pink heels. When she started talking, her voice grated against Lynx's nerves, making the hairs on her arm stand up.

For the first time since she sent him away, Lynx was glad Nolan wasn't here. Any time something pricked at her instincts, Nolan went on the defensive. It was fine when they were dealing with Malfoy—who didn't have much power—but now it was a professor and, from the look on the other professor's faces, one that was not welcomed.

She had to be Umbridge.

Everyone clapped halfheartedly, snapping her attention from the short witch to those around her.

"That was illuminating," Hermione said darkly as Dumbledore continued with his speech.

"Don't tell me you liked it," Ron said incredulously. "I thought it was the most boring speech I've ever heard, and I live with Percy!"

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable. It explained a lot."

"What does it mean?" asked Harry, surprised.

"It means the Ministry is interfering with Hogwarts," she elaborated.

People started clamoring around, chairs scuffing against the floors as people got up: obviously, everyone had been dismissed.

"Ron! We need to show the first years where to go!" Hermione said, flustered.

"Alright," he said, resigned.

Once again, Harry was left alone. Lynx sighed. Originally, she had thought she would get away with avoiding him, since she had been lead to believe that his friends would be attached to his hip, but if they kept leaving for Prefect duties, Lynx would have to keep closer, close enough to be friendly, which wasn't something she wanted to do at all. Before all that, though, she had a leopard to pick up. Slipping away from the crowd, she headed to the headmaster's office, taking extra care to avoid anyone.

Thankfully, Nolan greeted her at the bottom of the steps to his office. The slight jump in his step told her he had been fed, and the proud way he straightened when she got closer said that he had also been groomed.

"Don't you look handsome," she teased, running her fingers down his neck.

He growled affectionately.

She scratched his ears. "How was dinner?"

He rubbed his face in her palm, another growl letting loose.

She chuckled. "That good, huh? I'm glad."

He nodded.

"C'mon," she said, breaking whatever he was going to do next. "Let's get to the Gryffindor Tower before anyone comes this way; I don't want anyone to see you just yet."

He grunted, but did as he was asked, following her quickly down the hall.

Again, Lynx thanked her mother for her sense of smell. Trying to find her way through Hogwarts was one of the most challenging things she had done in a long time—if that didn't tell you how uneventful her life had been as of late, nothing would—and the frustration alone was enough to make her say screw it and just go outside.

But she had a job to do, and pretending to be a normal, everyday student was one of them.

Finally, she and Nolan managed to find their way to the Gryffindor Tower. The fat lady in the painting merely stared at her expectantly.

Lynx pursed her lips. What was the password again?

Nolan huffed.

"Oh, right." She rubbed his head again. "My bad. Is it Mimbulus mimbletonia?"

She gave Lynx a curious look as she swung open, revealing the black hole behind her. Lynx climbed through it, Nolan not far behind her, and emerged in the Gryffindor common room. It was more or less how she pictured it: full of students in old armchairs. There was a fire cracking near her, but she ignored it.

In the middle of the room, Harry was having a standoff with another student. From the expression on his face, it wasn't a friendly one.

Her arrival seemed to break some sort of tension. Immediately, everyone turned to look at her, almost grateful to have someone else to focus on. When they saw Nolan, however, they recoiled.

"Is everything okay?" she asked politely. By the expression on the boys' faces, the answer was no.

"You don't know what everyone's saying about him?" the boy in front of Harry spat, throwing a finger to point at him.

Of course she knew. Mrs. Figg enjoyed ranting about the Daily Prophet whenever she got the chance. "More or less."

"Then you know he's a madman!" he said, furious. "Do you believe all this rubbish he's saying about You-Know-Who?"

"And what would he gain for lying?" she wondered out loud.

Both boys looked surprised, and the one attacking Harry dropped his finger, sputtering. "What—well—I mean—the Prophet said—"

"Yes, but I don't see why either of them would go through so much trouble," she said simply, hoping to end the argument.

It seemed as if the guy wasn't finished yet, though. "Then you're mad too," he snapped, finger pointing at her like a dagger.

Nolan growled lowly, eyes narrowing.

Immediately, he backed away, eyes wide. Lynx sent a look to Nolan, effectively stopping his defense, and followed Harry to the boys' dormitory, ignoring the whispers behind her.

Angry, Harry kicked his trunk, making a nasty cracking sound as it hit the brim of his bed. She could practically hear his blood roaring as he undid his tie.

"You okay?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

"Fine," was the retort she got. It was ended at a point.

"I can tell," she said sarcastically. "You shouldn't let people get to you like that."

He turned on her, eyes on fire. "What do you know?" he demanded. It felt like he wanted to go on a tangent.

Instead of indulging him, she sighed and turned to leave. She wasn't this guy's friend, she thought. This was a favor to Dumbledore; no reason for her to let the idiot take his frustrations out on her. She had taken up for him, like she was supposed to, so that was the end.

"What's going on?" Ron appeared in the doorway.

"Nothing," she said and, leaving them both standing dumbfounded, left to find her room.