The farewell was an emotional experience this time around for myself and parents: so much changed for just us during the summer with the arrival of the letter. So many questions answered, and so many still left unanswered.

They have things they wish to share, and at this point, everything I know I want to keep from them. How can I tell my parents that my magical family, if left in the dark about my heritage, wouldn't even blink at the thought of spilling my blood. Because to them, I am that unworthy for the magic I possess as a muggleborn witch. It would break their heart to know that.

Once I test the waters with Theodor, maybe, just maybe, by Christmas break I will be able to tell them more. To share something about the bloodline I am a part of.

I just have to somehow convince a bigoted, purist, that the long long sister of his, has the word muggleborn tied to her name.

The sorting was loud and full of excitement as normal; each house cheering louder than another every time a new name was called for them. There was no evidence of last year's event, unless you saw through the faces of the crowd.

Their eyes were either glaring daggers into the back of Harry, or they were glass covered and misty as they smiled through the loss of the familiar face that was Cedric.

I twirl my fork in the food on my plate, not really registering what exactly I chose for dinner; Cedric's death at the end of last year shook everyone up, and for good reason. The implication that Voldermort could have been brought back from the grave is quite frankly, terrifying.

The chaos, and destruction that was left in the wake of his life, is why there is still fear associated with the name. Everything that was tied to Voldermort was dark and dangerous, and it represented an almost alarming collective ideology. The fact that he had as many supporters as he did at the time, had every witch and wizard living in a state of fear of being another victim of the great cause: blood purity and the protection of the Wizarding World.

Anyone who questioned the Dark Lord, or possessed opposition was met with a very grim fate.

In the name of protection of the Pure Wizard, his wand spilt more magical blood: so the very thought of his return, is one that everyone wants to ignore and deem it impossible.

But it is not a possibility I can ignore: my kind-well, the kind I am labeled as, was hunted down by these extremists for sport. Slaughtered and used for indecent pleasure. And If I cannot convince Theodore to see me as human, that will be my fate should Voldermort truly be back.

I am not naive enough to think I will be safe because I am still a child: those under Voldermort do not care. According to them, all muggleborns are filth: we steal magic from those who are pure, that we are the reason why they have squibs in their noble blood. Ergo, we deserve the most vile of punishments: unforgivables's, rape, enslavement and death. That is what will await me with this monster's revival.

I have no reason to doubt Harry; all these years, all these crazy- you can't make this up- type of situations we have been through together. If Harry says this is what happened, I believe him one hundred percent: he would never lie about this, nor would he try and cover up a murder with such a story. He is not that person. He is not a liar, he is not a murderer, and he is not someone who would use his fame to twist the truth. And because of this faith I have in him, I know I have to plan my moves smartly: just like Ron in a game of chess.

I am not going to be confrontational as I normally am about information I know, I do not have the luxury of knowing Theodor, nor do I have the time to wait to know him. I am going into tise drama blind. If I can get him to talk to me, and get to know me as me- not a long lost pureblood twin sister, maybe I will stand a chance.

I set my fork down, and smile towards my friends, the less they know about this situation right now the better.

Leaning forward I whisper towards both Harry and Ron while this pink muppet rattled off, "Boy's, I am going to sneak off to the library, there is some research I want to get the jump on- I will see you later in the common room."

I didn't have to linger to hear them both laugh and call me a know-it-all; but I smile because from anyone else, that little comment would have gotten me flustered. Not that it's not untrue, but I would rather be known by my name and not a characteristic.

It is the familiar scent of hundred year old books, and aging wood shelves that makes coming into the familiar hall of the library so comforting. Pages of books unread were calling to me like a siren's song: tempting me with endless pools of knowledge with every turn of page.

I shrink into the desk that I have claimed as my own since first year, the sunlight hits his particular desk until the bitter end of the day, when dusk comes to claim the light. Tucked in the corner and away from the bigger tables that seem to attract those who like to gossip and chatter the entire time anyone is seated at them. This desk is perfect to slip into and forget everyone and everything around you and just get lost one tome at a time.

Setting my bag down, I start my search. In the muggle world, there is no undeniable truth about DNA: it is one truth that there is no question on. But, if I were to suggest using anything muggle to someone raised to think that we-they-are inferior; there would be no way to get him to agree to taking a DNA test. So I am just going to have to cheat.

Charms would require me being close enough to him, which at this point, seems impossible.

Potions would be my best option: and it is the one class I struggle to stay on top in.

But if I can find a potion that could compare DNA, and prove that there is no way I can cheat the results, maybe, just maybe that will be enough to convince him I am someone to him.

My fingers brush against the spines of many books, and my skin starts to get goose bumps at the thought of the research I will have to look for in each of these books.

Smiling to myself, I pluck the first book from the shelf and start the process.

The sun has set by the time I put the last book away, and have my notes neatly tucked in my bag.

I have managed to find two spells with potential to be what I need: but in order to confirm, I am going to have to swallow my pride and talk to Professor Snape. Because as many answers the written word solves, they bring forward a lot more that only a master would be able to resolve.

Taking a quick detour to the owlery on my way back to the dorm rooms, I climb the steps one by one, and my resolve shakes with each step.

Should I really be doing this? Will this change anything? Is this really worth it? Would he want to know?

I shake my head and grab the letter from my bag, this has to be done-if he responds then I will proceed, if not, then I will take this to my grave.

I grab the bag of treats and wait for an owl to fly down to the perch so I can tie on the letter.

It didn't take long till the yellow eyes of a Great Grey owl blinked at me. His treat was given, and the note tied to his leg.

"Can you please deliver this to Theodor Nott."

With a coo, the great owl was off.

I watched until his silhouette was long gone from the faded light of dusk.

Clutching by bag just a little bit closer to my chest, I turn down the stairs and head straight to the common room to see the two best friends anyone could ever have asked for.

End Chapter One.