"I'll miss you so much, my dear," Narcissa Malfoy cooed, pulling her son in a warm embrace and kissing him on both cheeks.

"Mother," Draco hissed, traces of pink appearing on his face. His eyes darted around rapidly, as though unable to comprehend that people in King's Cross Station had other things to do besides staring at the Malfoys. "That's enough!"

Diana wanted to snap that Draco was lucky to have a living mother, but restrained herself. Instead, she tightened her grip on her cat carrier, turned her head and tried to distract herself with her surroundings: the smoke of the engines, the whistling and screeching of trains pulling in and out of the station, the laughing and chatter of the bustling crowds. Sometimes she'd spot individuals with mismatched clothing, owls in cages, even an idiot with a wand sticking out of his pocket, an unwelcome reminder of where she was going, and how blissfully ignorant Muggles were of the dangers lurking among them.

Lucius placed his gloved hand firmly on Draco's shoulder. Despite his strict standards and general distance towards his son, Diana never doubted he held genuine affection towards Draco, which was reinforced by the rare warmth spotted in his eyes. "I trust you'll do our family proud, Draco."

"I will, Father," promised Draco. The unspoken addition of 'unlike her' weighed heavy in the air.

As if on cue, both parents turned towards Diana. Lucius's eyes grew cooler, though his small smile remained fixed in place. Narcissa's eyes were indecipherable, a testament to her own mother's capability in instructing her daughters.

"Diana, my dear, this is an exciting moment in every young witch's life. Do try to wipe that sour expression off your face, will you?"

Diana wasn't consciously trying to appear gloomy, but Lucius's words all but ensured her expression would stay that way. He sighed. "I have the utmost faith that Hogwarts will be the opportunity needed to cultivate your appreciation for our world and your heritage. As much as you wish otherwise, you are a Malfoy by blood. The Brisingamen is proof of that."

He gestured toward the adornment on her neck, which weighed heavier than normal. She loathed wearing this stupid thing—despite the protection it offered—and felt like a prized poodle at a dog show. "I doubt it."

The edges of Lucius's lips twisted downward, but before he could say anything, Narcissa gently touched his arm. "Darling, we have some time before the children need to board. Perhaps you could elaborate more on the coursework expected from him at Hogwarts while I speak with Diana."

Lucius's lips thinned, but he did what his wife asked and pulled Draco off to the side. Narcissa turned toward Diana and raised one perfectly-shaped brow. "Diana…"

"What?" The girl crossed her arm, unable to repress the pout on her face.

Narcissa crossed her arms in return. "You know what."

"Well, I don't want to go," sulked Diana. "I'm not going to pretend to be happy about it."

"You need to have manners," chided Narcissa. "Even among the four of us, it's important to maintain decorum. And how many times have we spoken about the dangers of testing my husband like this?"

Today it was 'my husband' instead of 'your father.' Interesting. Maybe he's finally getting out of the doghouse. "Sorry," she lied.

"No you're not," sighed Narcissa. "But I suppose that can wait for now. Within the next few months, you'll learn social graces by necessity of being in Slytherin. Soon they'll come as naturally as breathing." Diana scowled, both from the assumption of her sorting and reminder of her destination. "Do you want to stay at the Manor? Because that's the alternative if you do not receive a proper Hogwarts education."

"No…" grumbled Diana, minutely shaking her head.

Narcissa's eyes softened. "I'm well aware you have reasons to be hesitant, and I'll spare you the platitudes of how this will be a good opportunity. What I do want to remind you of is that you're not alone."

Diana's brows furrowed. "There are going to be other children…like me at Hogwarts? Is that what you mean?"

She doubted her father was the only wizard who took advantage of a Muggle, and suspected several "Muggle-borns" were actually dual products of assault and Obliviation.

"I wasn't referring to that," Narcissa replied evenly. "I was talking about your brother. Draco. Growing up in your other home, you never experienced the value of having a sibling or understood the uniqueness of that type of bond. At Hogwarts, the two of you need to support each other, lest you allow it to wither and fade."

For a split second, Diana thought she saw Narcissa's eyes grow misty, but it was over in a blink. "Furthermore, you also have me, and while I confess my reasons for investment in your success are selfish, they are genuine. If you have any problems with the girls—or anything at Hogwarts—please send me an owl."

"Okay…" mumbled Diana. She was starting to feel a strange pit of…something…in her stomach. It couldn't be sadness, because what was there to feel sad about?

"Good." Narcissa tilted her head in the direction of Lucius and Draco, who were speaking in hushed tones and glancing periodically at Diana. "I believe they're finishing up as well. Do you have any other questions for me?"

"No." Then, before stopping herself, she muttered, "Thanks."

Narcissa smiled tightly, but Diana wasn't sure what she was thanking Narcissa for, exactly. Thanks for offering to help? Thanks for putting up with my shit over the past month? Thanks for not turning me into Cinderella?

Regardless, she had no time to dwell on it. Draco and Lucius rejoined them, and after another session of "I'll miss you's" from Narcissa to Draco, the siblings walked in front of the brick wall they were supposed to run into in order to reach Platform 9 ¾.

It sounded completely mad, but Diana knew enough about the wizarding world at this point to just go along with it. Besides, the worst that could happen would be that it wouldn't work and she'd get a concussion or go comatose, which was still preferable to living with the Malfoys or going to Hogwarts.

Before Lucius or Narcissa could say any more, she ran towards the wall and didn't look back.


Clearly, Draco didn't receive the same speech Diana did. After reaching the platform and boarding the train without incident (unfortunately) Draco said, without looking back, "I'm going to find Crabbe and Goyle."

Although she never met the pair, she heard enough about them from Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius to paint a dismal picture. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were—in charitable terms— Draco's "friends," though from what Diana gathered, they were bred to be Malfoy lackeys since birth. Diana wasn't sure if they were genuinely as dim-witted as the Malfoys perceived them to be, or if this was another case of the Malfoys underestimating those they view as lesser. They also had fathers who were Death Eaters, which made Diana's blood boil at the implications.

"You said 'I'm,'" observed Diana. She grabbed the back of his robe so he couldn't scamper off. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't know," scoffed Draco, rolling his eyes. "Find an apartment or something."

He yanked the robe out of her hands and bolted off. Looks like our 'bond's' off to a great start.

Diana sighed as she navigated through the train, searching for an empty compartment. It was obvious why he didn't want to be seen with her, and she understood why. She certainly didn't enjoy his company, but for reasons she couldn't quite pinpoint, frustration bubbled inside her all the same.

Finally, she spotted an empty compartment. Scooting inside before someone else could, she immediately pulled the Brisingamen off her neck and stuffed it unceremoniously in the suitcase. She closed the sliding door, plopped down, and unhooked her cat carrier, allowing the white kitten to stretch and meow happily.

The train whistle signaled the start of the journey, and sure enough, a rumble of movement followed shortly after. No turning back now.

After Diana fiddled through her suitcase and pulled out Hogwarts: A History, she had only a couple minutes of reading before the rat-tat-tat of knocking caused her to groan. Gently picking up the kitten from her lap, she moved to open the sliding glass door and allowed the girl with bushy brown hair to push her way in.

"Hello," she greeted breathlessly. "The other compartments are crowding up. You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" The girl plopped herself down without waiting for a response, and stuck out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger."

Granger. The name didn't ring a bell, which meant she wasn't from a family of dark wizards or politically connected. "I'm Diana"—she made a split-second decision—"White."

"Your kitten's adorable," cooed Hermione, eyes sparkling. "Such a precious little thing. Is it a boy or girl?"

Diana smiled. Anyone who liked animals couldn't be evil. Maybe this girl was like her. "Girl."

"I always wanted a cat of my own," Hermione continued to ramble. "What's her name?"

"I don't know yet."

Hermione's eyes bulged. "How could you not know? She's your pet!"

Diana was a bit put off by the judgmental tone, but couldn't deny it was warranted, especially since she had the cat for a couple weeks now. After Lucius dismissed the name Sarah, she considered Marie before realizing it would be too painful to keep saying. Her other name ideas of Snowy and Icy were disregarded by Narcissa as "too banal," which left Diana at Square One. "A name's important and I want to make sure it's a good one. I'll come up with one…soon."

"You should name her after famous witches," suggested Hermione, letting the kitten sniff her fingers. "I see you've already cracked open Hogwarts: A History. I read it three times already. How many times have you read it?"

Diana started to sweat. "Um—"

There was another loud knock on the sliding glass, except this time it was a woman pushing a cart full of sweets. Grateful for the momentary reprieve, Diana used her Malfoy money to purchase everything on the menu that didn't look like living (or dead) animals or insects. As a result, she ended up with only a tiny handful of treats and handed one to Hermione.

"Thank you!" she chirped, opening the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "So, how many times have you read it?"

Diana thought the arrival of the trolley would distract Hermione from her train of thought, but apparently not. "Once, but I skimmed mostly, so I'm reading it again."

"You shouldn't skim, otherwise you could miss out on important details," Hermione chided, popping a red bean in her mouth. "Do you remember Morgana and Nimue?" Diana opened her mouth, but Hermione kept plowing ahead. "Those could make good names. Oh, and Helga and Rowena of course. I would say Helena too, but since her ghost haunts the castle it might be in poor taste. Speaking of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, which house would you like to be in?"

Diana blinked, trying to catch her bearings. Hermione's raw intensity and pushiness reminded her of Claire's caricature of Samantha. "I'll probably end up in Slytherin."

In a gesture Diana felt was unnecessary, Hermione brought her hand to her heart and her eyes widened again. "Slytherin? You know the sort of people who end up in Slytherin, right? I thought you said you read the book so—oh! Perhaps you skimmed the chapter. It's called—"

"I know what Slytherin is," Diana interrupted, nibbling her Pumpkin Pasty. Seeing Hermione feel this way towards dark wizards made her feel hopeful, but also compelled to defend herself. "I don't support the blood purity stuff, but I can't think of any other house that matches my qualities."

"Well, I"—she smiled and puffed out her chest—"want to be a Gryffindor. It seems like the best house by far. Though I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, either. I'm quite clever and probably wouldn't have trouble with the riddles in front of—"

A harsh banging caused both girls to jump. Diana slid the door open (again) and a sullen Draco shoved his way in, lips twisted in a scowl. He sat down next to Diana with a huff and crossed his arms. The kitten mewled and nuzzled his side in greeting, which he ignored.

Asking how it went would be redundant. Diana held out a Bubble Brew as a peach offering, which Draco snatched and gulped down without a word of thanks, staring intently out the window.

Hermione, however, demonstrated less tact. "You look positively dreadful. What happened?"

Draco jerked his eyes away from the window, and his scowl morphed into a sneer. "That's not any of your business, now is it?"

Hermione flushed slightly, but didn't say any more. Draco took another swig of his soda, and—eyes drifting to Diana—decided to unload anyway. "If you must know, Theodore Nott's a bloody backstabber. That's what happened."

You're complaining about backstabbing but want to be in Slytherin? "What did he do?"

"He's taking what's rightfully mine!" Draco practically shouted, causing the kitten to scamper back to Hermione's lap.

Diana vaguely recalled Theodore Nott from her trip to Hyperborea. His father was awful, but he seemed alright. Then again, it's not like two minutes are enough to know a person. "Are you talking about Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Them, and everyone else! They're fawning over the weedy bastard like he's Apollo descending from Mount Olympus. Nott, of all people. His family doesn't have half the legacy or influence the Malfoys do. It's pathetic, really. Goes to show how weak-minded some people are, I suppose. "

Diana's brows furrowed. "I don't get it. Are you jealous or something? People are allowed to like other people beside you, you know."

Draco looked at her with outrage. "Jealous?! Jealous?! Why would I be jealous of the scion of a family whose only accomplishments are to ride on the coattails of other, greater families?"

"I didn't mean—"

"I knew you wouldn't understand," snapped Draco, grabbing the container of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and popping three in his mouth at once. Between chews, he clarified, "You don't understand how Slytherin works. They think they smell blood in the water and are trying to back the strongest Kelpie."

"Why is Theodore the stronger, um, Kelpie?"

"He's not," Draco emphasized forcefully. His eyes grew colder, glaring daggers at Diana. "That's just what they think. And you should know why, sister."

Why should I—oh.

Ohhhh…..

Diana felt stupid for not putting the pieces together before, but she was also surprised that Lucius's bad publicity was significant enough to impact Draco's social circle. She knew for a fact that Cantankerous Nott was not only a Death Eater, but also a man vile enough to have participated or been complicit in her mother's abuse.

So it's about optics then, Diana decided. The Malfoys having egg on their face with Diana's existence besmirched the family name—at least for now—causing Draco's dream of being the presumptive Slytheirn prince to go up in flames. Instead, the soon-to-be Slytherins coalesced around the newcomer who came from a dark and powerful family but without the public baggage.

Before Diana could figure out how to reply, Hermione's eyes darted back and forth between her and Draco. "Sister? You're siblings? Oh, how foolish of me….it should have been obvious, really."

Diana leaped at the chance to change topics. "Hermione, this is Draco. Draco, Hermione."

"What's your surname?" demanded Draco, straightening his back.

"Granger," replied Hermione with no hesitation.

"Granger," echoed Draco, smugness and disdain dripping from his lips. "That's not a wizard name."

"No," agreed Hermione, nonplussed by Draco's palpable arrogance. Dana had to give the girl some credit. "They're dentists."

Draco frowned. "What on earth is a dentist?"

"They're Muggles who clean teeth," supplied Diana, mentally filing the question of how wizards kept their teeth clean for another day.

Draco's lips curled in a manner reminiscent of his father's. "So you're a mudbl—"

Diana stepped on Draco's feet, causing him to wince. She thought she was being subtle, but judging by Hermione's puzzled expression, she wasn't. Desperate to change the topic again, Diana quickly asked, "How did you find out you were a witch?"

She didn't give much thought of the question before it left her lips, but after it did, she realized she was genuinely curious. Hermione seemed a lot more confident at peace with the idea of a wizarding school than she was.

"We received the letter in the post," Hermione recalled, face brightening at the recollection. "Of course, my parents and I thought it was a prank at first." Sounds familiar. "Then several more letters arrived at our house, day after day, and then the deputy headmistress—Professor McGonagall—came to visit. She told my family all about the wizarding world, and Hogwarts, and—oh, it was so wonderful! I always knew I was different, and this proved it."

Draco shot Diana a triumphant smirk. 'See? This mudblood appreciates the gift of magic. Why can't you?' Ignoring him, Diana asked cautiously, "And your parents were okay with all of this?"

Hermione's smile faded. "No, they weren't…not at first. They insisted I go to a Muggle school, no matter how much I begged." She pouted at the memory. "Honestly! They can be so narrow-minded sometimes."

"What changed their mind?" questioned Diana, skin starting to prickle.

"I'm not entirely sure," admitted Hermione, stoking the kitten's neck absentmindedly. "Workers from the Ministry came and talked to my parents when I was visiting my grandparents, and whatever they said convinced them to send me to Hogwarts."

Diana felt her stomach plummet into and icy dread, but before she could say anything, another restless knocking interrupted her thoughts. Oh, for God's sake…again? Really?

She opened the door, giving a stocky, wide-eyed boy with dark blonde hair the opportunity to ask breathlessly,"My toad–Trever–he's m-missing—have you seen—"

He stopped upon seeing Draco, whose cool, light blue eyes danced with a mixture of amusement and condescension. "Longbottom. Why aren't I surprised you've lost something already."

Longbottom's face flushed as he glanced at his shoes. "My toad, I d-don't know where he went…"

He said more, but mumbled so softly it was inaudible. A twinge of sympathy tugged at Diana's heartstrings.

"You look"—like you're about to pass out—"kind of tired. Why don't you rest, and I'll look." A spark of eagerness and self-importance flashed in Hermone's eyes, so Diana rushed to add, "Hermione, can you watch over Neville? I think he might have that wizard disease…the one that happens when you feel really upset and stressed."

Diana had no idea if one such illness really existed, but apparently gambled correctly.

Neville paled. "N-no I don't—"

"Now that you mention it, I do see the telltale signs of Augery's Agony," Hermione mused, squinting her eyes as she mentally dissected Neville like the toad he was looking for. "Or perhaps Bramblepox. Do you feel chills? Have you seen rashes in unexpected places?"

Diana swiftly made her exit amidst Neville's sputtering answers and Hermione's relentless interrogation. After making her way down the end of the passenger car, she took a deep breath. The conversation brought a multitude of emotions to the surface, and she needed space to breathe. She needed to be alone.

"You expected me to sit with Longbottom and the mudblood? Are you insane?"

Diana didn't hide her groan as she turned around to see Draco, arms crossed and scowling. "You need to stop calling people mudbloods. It's not going to help you make friends, and you're going to need all you can get if you're already getting iced out."

"I'm not 'iced out,'"protested Draco, though the pink on his ears indicated otherwise. "It's just taking them a bit longer to come back to their senses. And I don't need friends anyway. I need allies."

"Okay, fine, you need 'allies,'" corrected Diana, rolling her eyes. "Like I said, you're not going to get them by calling people mudbloods or insulting them, like you did to that boy earlier."

"I don't want or need an alliance with Neville Longbottom," Draco sneered, "and I don't care a bloody whit about his stupid frog."

Nevertheless, he accompanied Diana as an unnecessary hanger-on, lurking in the background as she went to the different compartments, inquiring about the toad. Sometimes they'd hear animated whispers after leaving, and while Draco appeared outwardly nonchalant—despite no doubt hearing them—such occurrences made Diana nervous and eroded her willpower to continue their quest. She was about to call it quits when she decided to open one more compartment. "Hi, we're looking for a missing toad. He's—"

She blinked. Inside were two boys her age: one was a freckled redhead munching on a chocolate frog, and the other was a scrawny black-haired boy with glasses. The same black-haired boy she saw at Madame Malkins. "Oh, it's you."

She said it with surprise instead of disdain, but winced at how rude it sounded nonetheless. What would Narcissa say?

The boy with glasses smiled nervously. "H-hello..."

Draco popped his head in, curious about the irregularity. "Nice to see you again, I suppose," he drawled, and the black-haired boy quickly nodded. Draco's eyes then drifted to the other boy in the compartment. His lips curled into a sneer. "Oh and I know you. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe…you must be a Weasley."

Diana's eyes immediately locked with the redhead's, who looked not at Draco but at her, with the panic of a deer caught in a trap. This was clearly the son Arthur told her about, and like she predicted, he was less than thrilled with being her mandatory friend.

He stared down at his shoes while Draco's eyes returned to rest on the scrawny boy. "I don't believe you ever told us your name."

"Oh, um…" The boy started to blush. "It's Harry…"

Holy fucking shit.

Draco suddenly looked much more interested. "Harry…Potter?"

Harry nodded, without much enthusiasm. Diana could practically see the gears spinning in Draco's mind.

There were a few seconds of thick heavy silence before Draco continued, voice lighter than before. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." He hesitated, before adding, "And I suppose…you're not doing a bad job so far. The Weasleys are…okay." His fingers started to twitch as the redhead's (and Diana's) jaw dropped in disbelief. "A strong lineage despite their lack of success in all avenues of life…perseverance in the face of failure can sometimes be commendable." His mouth twisted what Diana assumed was supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a pained grimace. "I can help you there, too."

Draco stuck out his hand for Harry to shake. Harry glanced at the redhead, who appeared just as confused as Harry.

Please don't laugh at him, Diana silently begged, palms sweating.

There was another beat of silence, then Harry tentatively reached out and shook hands with Draco. Diana exhaled, and Draco's forced "smile" relaxed into something more natural.

"I-it was nice meeting you again," babbled Diana, wanting to leave before either one of them fucked this up. "See you both at Hogwarts."

After an exchange of murmured, awkward goodbyes, the Malfoys exited the compartment and rushed back toward their compartment. "I think that was good," Diana whispered to Draco. "Alliance number one down. Two, possibly."

"You realize it was utter nonsense, right?" Draco whispered back, rolling his eyes. "The Weasleys are blood traitors. It's simply more advantageous to pretend otherwise, given the circumstances."

Diana knew 'the circumstances' didn't simply refer to how the Weasley boy befriended Harry: It also related to Arthur's involvement with Diana and—as a result—the Malfoys as a whole. She also knew Lucius would rather have swallowed glass than consider making peace with the Weasleys. Draco had to realize this, too.

But—regardless of whether or not the plan would be successful in the long term—he still chose to try it. A pertinent reminder that no matter how much influence Lucius had on him, Draco was still his own person.

Diana smiled. "I know. It was still good."

"Shut up."

But Diana couldn't help but notice the way the corners of his lips flickered upward in a small, rare, genuine smile in return.


They spent the remaining amount of time with Hermione and Neville, who—to Diana's relief—found Trevor ("He was in my suitcase the whole time!" he exclaimed, beaming). Draco remained quiet for the duration of the trip, though it was a calm quiet instead of the sullen silence of earlier.

At long last, the train arrived. They exited into the cool autumn air and put their luggage on a separate carriage before following the booming, boisterous voice of Hagrid. He guided the first years through a narrow path that led to a dark lake. Hermione gasped in delight upon seeing Hogwarts for the first time; Diana couldn't deny the castle looked even more impressive at nighttime, lit up and sparkling.

Like an anglerfish…

Biting her lip, Diana boarded a rowboat with Draco, Hermione and Neville, feeling a tug of anxiety at being separated from her cat and creeping dread for what was to come. They glided their way across the lake and traversed the stone pathway leading to the castle entrance.

Professor McGonagall was the first one to greet them, causing disdain to coil within Diana. She pointedly ignored the woman's speech about the Sorting Hat, as well as the brief gaze of pity that flickered in her direction, while the group of first years made their way through the ancient halls of the castle.

I shouldn't be here…

This thought was reinforced when about twenty pale, transparent spectral apparitions steamed through the walls. Despite being prepared for it, she let out a shriek, along with several other students. One of the ghosts—a monk—smiled and stopped to talk to them, but Diana couldn't focus on what he was saying. Seeing the ghosts reminded her of her mother, which brought a fresh wave of fear and resentment.

It wasn't fair that Sarah White, Julie Williams, and David Brown died as the result of wizards' callousness, viewed as playthings instead of fully-fledged people with hopes and dreams of their own. It wasn't fair that her mother couldn't be a ghost and stay with her, simply because she was born without magic. It wasn't fair that these wide-eyed idiots around her were naive enough to view the castle as a place of wonder and enchantment instead of a breeding ground for future monsters.

None of this is fair.

The scowl remained fixed on her lips even after entering the Great Hall and all its grandiloquence: the floating candles, starry ceiling, golden plates and goblets, even the worn, frayed wizard's hat perched innocently on the stool that inspired so much reverence from the school's inhabitants The deceptively cute song it sang and the animated chatter of her fellow-first years cause her scowl to deepen. Every student called up felt like another dagger in her side.

"Boot, Terry." Ravenclaw.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin." Hufflepuff.

"Granger, Hermione." Gryffindor.

"Greengrass, Daphne." Slytherin.

"Longbottom, Neville." Gryffindor.

Everyone looked so damn happy. Diana wanted to scream they didn't deserve to be happy, not while they lived in a world where Muggles were treated like animals. Worse than animals, even. Lucius didn't torture her cat, but he had no trouble tor—

"Malfoy, Diana!"

That's not my name. As Diana trudged her way to the stool amidst the whispers, she surveyed the excited faces and felt nothing but contempt for every student, staff member, ghost, and any other thinking entity that inhabited this wretched castle. How many of these Pureblood children had fathers, like her own, who took perverse pleasure in Muggles' pain? How many Pureblood students felt the same way? How many of these Muggleborns had parents whose memories were modified, like they did to Diana's mother? How many Muggleborns were cheerful only because the Ministry modified their memories?

I hate magic, she thought glumly, as the Sorting Hat was placed gently on her head.

"Oh, my," the Sorting Hat murmured in her ear, a far cry from the bombastic cheer exhibited earlier. "I've seen minds like this before, and it's never easy. A mind that's suffered pain and hardship no child should have to face is a tragic thing indeed."

I've experienced pain and hardship because of people like you, she thought bitterly, digging her nails into the edge of the stool.

"'People' like me?" the small voice echoed, this time laced with amusement. "Why, I'm no person, I'm a hat. Though I daresay there would be much better off if people acted more like hats and less like people."

Diana couldn't help it: her lips twitched into a small smile. Agreed.

"Now, regardless of how much you wish to pretend otherwise, you are a witch, my dear. You may deny it, chafe at it, tear at it, but the birthright is yours, and repressing it will do more harm than good. I sense much anger and fear in you that could easily take on a life of its own. In fact, it's already on the precipice of doing so."

I should be angry. I should be scared. Wizards ruined my life.

"A life can never be 'ruined.' Every life is unique and worthwhile, and if you've seen as many minds as I have, you'd agree. Horrible events can happen beyond your control, yes, but the way you react, the choices you make—that's a special power no one can take away. As your grandmother said, you're stronger than you know."

I don't feel strong, admitted Diana. But I want to be. I need to be.

"Oh?" the Hat pried in amusement, though they both knew full well what she was thinking. "Why's that?"

One day I'll either be in charge of this world or destroy it somehow, she mentally proclaimed with a bit more pomp that was necessary. I'm still deciding. But either way, there's going to be big changes, and these wizards will learn they shouldn't have messed with the Whites, or any Muggle for that matter.

"Ah, such ambition is admirable indeed…you'll find your best chance to win's in SLYTHERIN!"

Diana took off the hat; it was disappointing, but not fully unexpected. She made her way to the Slytherin table, which was no doubt packed to the brim with children of magical rapists, some of whom likely participated in the abuse of her mother. Their grinning faces reminded her of sharks.

Stop. They're just kids like me, she tried to tell herself as she sat diagonally from the black-haired prefect.

But kids can grow into monsters. She saw what her own father looked like as a child. Who's to say others at the table wouldn't have similar fates?

"Welcome to Slytherin," greeted the black-haired prefect, beaming. "I'm Gemma Farley."

Farley. Diana recognized that name; Narcissa would want her to play nice. "Nice to meet you. I'm Diana."

"Have you met the other first-years on the train?" asked Gemma, gesturing to the opposite side of the table.

Crabbe and Goyle were there, of course, mumbling something to each other as Draco walked up to the stool. Next to them sat Millicent Bullstrode, a stocky, black-haired girl who didn't look any more thrilled than Diana to be there. From what she could recall from Narcissa, Millicent's father–a scion of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families—married a Muggleborn, causing quite the scandal. Across from her sat a skittish brown-haired girl—Tracey something?—who was one of the first girls sorted into Slytherin. Narcissa didn't mention anything about her, which meant she wasn't socially significant in Pureblood circles.

The only first-year who was looking at her instead of Draco was Daphne Greengrass. Diana heard a lot about the Greengrass family, and Daphne didn't disappoint. Unlike Diana's wavy, unrestrained locks, Daphne's straight blonde tresses were pinned up by shimmering butterfly clips which no doubt came from the Greengrass's famous jewelry collection. Her soft smile belied the calculating gaze in her amber eyes.

Diana gave a fake smile in return before turning back towards Gemma. "Not yet," she said, watching as Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on Draco's head.

She expected Draco's sorting to be short and swift, but ten seconds of waiting soon became thirty, and thirty became forty-five, and forty-five became a minute. Judging by the whispers at the Slytherin table, she wasn't the only one surprised.

A sudden, horrific possibility rammed into her like a truck: What if Draco wasn't sorted into Slytherin? It sounded mad, but crazier things had happened. She didn't particularly like spending time with him, but there was no doubt she would like to have someone familiar beside her as she weathered the dragon's den that was Slytherin.

Luckily, her fears proved unwarranted. The Sorting Hat called out "SLYTHERIN," causing the table to clap politely and Diana let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Thank God.

Draco walked over to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Diana, lips thin. Diana shifted uncomfortably. "Lucius will be pleased we both got into Slytherin."

She thought the idea would cheer him up, but instead, Draco's eyes clouded. "I suppose."

Diana opened her mouth to say more, but snapped it shut after the table erupted into a thunderous applause. Theodore Nott made his way to the table, smiling, though it didn't quite meet his eyes. As predicted, Crabbe and Goyle fawned to him once he sat down. Draco's fingers twitched.

As Professor McGonagall continued to call the names of various students, Diana's gaze drifted to the High Table. The bearded man in the golden chair in the center could only be Professor Dumbledore, the man who—according to Arthur—advocated for her to stay with Sarah instead of Lucius. She recognized Hagrid, Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape, the latter three causing a fresh wave of bitterness and guilt to wash over her as she recalled their last encounter (What would Mum say about me being here? What would Grandma say?). There were others she didn't recognize, including a man in a turban whose eyes locked onto Harry as he shuffled up to the stool.

Obviously, the hero who vanquished the evil wizard's going to be in Gryffindor, she thought, rolling her eyes. Her eyes drifted back to Professor Snape. Watching McGonagall place the hat on Harry's head, the man's lips curled, as if smelling something rotten.

Diana realized with a pang of horror that he was going to be her Head of House. He was an arse, which would be bad enough, but he was also a Death Eater. Or former Death Eater, if he was to be believed.

Then again, like Marie said, his words didn't mean jack shit. His disdain towards Harry might already be indicative that his allegiance wasn't as saintly as he claimed.

In fact, who's to say a lot of people at her table wouldn't want misfortune to come to Harry, either? Their families might be holding a torch for Voldemort, like she suspected her father did. Harry would have greater chance of being safe if he was in—

"SLYTHERIN!"

A dead silence enveloped the Hall as Harry nervously took the hat off and handed it to Professor McGonagall, whose gaping expression was surely a rarity. It only lasted a couple seconds, however, before she composed herself. The Professors at the High Table did the same.

All except Snape.

Snape, who looked frazzled and aghast, as though he was punched in the gut and thrown in a pool of spiders simultaneously.

It was both cathartic and comical, seeing the arrogant, unflappable man so thoroughly shaken. A giggle escaped Diana's lips, piercing through the blanket of silence and causing her face to burn. That broke the spell, and the Slytherins—and the rest of the hall— clapped politely as Harry made his way to the Slytherin table and immediately plopped himself across from Diana and Draco, face flushed but pleased.

"I'm in shock," Draco said bluntly, leaning forward slightly, eyes gleaming. "I thought for sure you'd be a Gryffindor."

Diana wondered if Harry noticed the smug way Draco's eyes flickered towards Theodore's, who did not look happy: 'Yes, Harry Potter chose to sit next to me. Not so high-and-mighty now, are you?'

"It wanted to put me there," admitted Harry. "But I remembered what you said in Madame Malkins, about Slytherin being the house of the powerful, and, well, I kept asking for Slytherin, and I guess the Hat agreed." His eyes locked onto Diana's. "That's part of what makes this place so magical, right? Being able to make big choices like that."

Diana recalled Draco's olive branch to the Weasley boy, the way Harry went against everyone's expectations, and her own conversation with the Sorting Hat. "Yeah," she said, her vow to the Hat echoing throughout her mind. "Maybe you're right."

For once, Diana dared to hope.