After I had thrown a tantrum to go on the train instead of apparating to Hogsmede and hanging out with the teachers for a few hours, I set out to find the Weasley family and in turn Harry Potter who would be asking for help with the platform. It was about time I worked on the plot.

" — packed with Muggles of course —."

Ah, I knew Molly wouldn't be hard to find. I was practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of meeting a canon character who wasn't Snape. Especially the Weasley Matriarch. The Weasleys always had a special place in my heart, and I was determined to befriend as many of them as I could. Maybe I could even spend a holiday with them. I mean, Molly's cooking was legendary . I would have to try it before I died (again.)

I shuffled up to her as fast as I could.

"Now what's the platform number?"

"Nine and three-quarters!" Piped up a tiny ten-year-old Ginny. Aw, she was adorable. I had always been a big fan of Ginny.

Fred and George did their thing before running into the wall. Aww, baby twins.

"Excuse me," a voice called out at the same time I did. I turned and looked into the green eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived. The main character of my favorite series in my life past. Harry Potter.

The first thing I felt was, weirdly enough, disappointment that his eyes were more jade in color than emerald. But that made sense, I supposed. True emerald eyes didn't really exist. Even if this was a world filled with magic. I silently cursed all those fanfictions that referred to those eyes as "Avada Kedavra green" for getting my expectations up.

The second thing I felt was my head screaming at me to cool my jets and act natural.

"Mam," I said before Harry, "could you help us get on to the platform?"

"Oh, you're both American, are you?" She asked kindly. For a brief moment, I was reminded of my mom, but I squashed that real quick.

"Well, I am. Don't know about that guy," I nodded my head towards little Harry.

The green-eyed boy jumped slightly, "Oh no," he said, as English as everyone else, "I'm not."

"No worries," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between nine and ten. Best to do it in a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go before Ron."

"Er— okay," said Harry.

I looked at Harry once more and gestured to the wall, "On three?"

Harry looked at me apprehensively before nodded.

"One… two… THREE!"

We ran into the barrier. Well, not really. "We glided through the barrier" would be more accurate.

"I'll find a compartment for us."

"Oh! Alright. But where do…" Harry began to say something else but I walked off towards the train to do what I told him. I knew he'd be getting help from the twins with his trunk, so I knew there was no need for me to linger. I had persuaded (aka whined at) Snape to take my stuff to Hogwarts for me, so it would be weird if I just loitered around.

It was about two minutes before Harry joined me.

"Hey."

"Hello. Thank you for saving me a seat… Er— What did you say your name was?"

It took everything in me not to coo at Harry, "Oh, Salutations. I'm—"

Before I could reply, the compartment door slid open.

"Is it alright if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Harry and I nodded.

"Sure. You're Ron, right?" I asked as if I don't know damn near every detail ever to exist about this kid. He had always been tied with Sirius Black for the title of my favorite character. Wait, why couldn't I have been born as Sirius Notorious-Poon-Hound Black's daughter? That would have been way cooler!

"Yeah, Ron Weasley." He turned to the other boy, "Are you really Harry Potter? Do you really have the scar? Could I see it?"

Harry nodded, turning a little pink before brushing aside his bangs. Ron looked like his whole decade was just made in those few seconds.

"I guess that means I don't have to ask you your name, huh?" I joked.

He laughed nervously, bangs falling back into place. Although, he seemed to appreciate my nonchalance over the Boy-Who-Lived thing.

"So that's where You-Know-Who—"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" Said Ron eagerly.

"Well— I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron.

I suddenly felt very ignored.

"Are both your families all wizards?" Harry asked the both of us, sensing my annoyance.

"Er— yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"Well, sort of. I'm a half-blood. My mother's family is all muggles, and my… father is a half-blood as well." Calling Snape my father left a taste in my mouth resembling the combination of mint toothpaste and orange juice.

Harry suddenly looked downtrodden, "You both must know loads of magic."

"Oh that's right, I heard you were sent to live with muggles. What were they like?"

"Horrible. Well, not all of them," Harry turned to look at me, "Is your family nice?"

I inwardly winced, but answered nevertheless, "Yeah. They love me a lot."

Harry went on to mention how he'd've liked to have three Wizard brothers. Ron corrected him and began to describe his family. Things went on as they had in the book, with a few contributions from me. I distinctly ignored Ron bringing a sleeping Peter "Scabbers" Pettigrew out from his robe pocket. I would have to figure out the solution to that problem sometime later. Then the trolley lady came around and I pestered Ron into trading the pastry Harry had given me for his sandwich.

"Lucky for you, I happen to have a pumpkin allergy and love corned beef."

"Thanks, then. Oh, sorry, I realized I forgot to ask your name," aww, the famous Ron Weasley blush. These kids were so cute.

"I'm—"

Once again the compartment door opened. Oh my god, oh my god, baby Neville Longbottom, my beloved.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

We all shook our heads and Neville let out of cry of frustration.

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him."

He left.

Ron began to talk about how lame toads and Scabbers were. He brought out his iconic wand that was formerly Charlie's, unicorn hair sticking out and all .

"Oh, before I go on, what did you say your name was?"

"I—"

GOD DAMN IT, HERMIONE.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

Hermione sat down beside me. Poor Ron looked so confused before he waved his wand over Pettigrew.

" Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Unfortunately, Pettigrew was fine.

Hermione launched into a very long, very fast rant.

"—I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really? " Said Hermione before going off am another rant that left sweet Harry feeling dazed. I briefly wondered if Snape had somehow cast a curse on me to make it so I could never introduce myself without interruption. That seemed like the kind of thing he would do.

Harry asked Ron about his brothers' houses. Ron explained the Gryffindor legacy set by his parents and siblings that he'd have to live up to. Ron then asked me about the American system.

"Your family would have gone to Ilvermorny, yeah? Percy's got a pen pal there. I heard they've got houses there too."

"What's Ilvermorny?" Asked Harry.

"It's like Hogwarts, but in America," I explained. "And yes, there's Pukwudgie for the heart and healers, Horned Serpent for the mind and scholars, Wampus for the body and warriors, and Thunderbird for the soul and adventurers. Mom was in Thunderbird, but my father actually attended Hogwarts. He was in Slytherin."

Ron and Harry were about to blush through an apology over the light Slytherin bashing that occurred earlier, but I told him it didn't matter to me.

"I'd like to be in Gryffindor or maybe Hufflepuff. Their dorms are right next to the kitchens, and everyone's supposed to be really nice. All that stuff about them being "duffers" is utter bull— I mean, nonsense." That part was true. If I couldn't make it to Gryffindor, Hufflepuff was definitely where I wanted to go.

"Wait," said Harry, "if you're American, why are you going to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, my mom died a few months ago, so I had to move to England to live with my father."

The mood dropped severely and the boys gave their condolences.

"S'all good. I'm doing a pretty good job of not thinking about it."

Silence persisted and I huffed, "Ron, you're a boy. Who's your Quidditch team?"

"What's Quidditch?"

"What's— Oh, you'll love it." Ron began to describe the game in great detail and I tuned out. I had always thought Quidditch was stupid. I wonder if they'll let me make an anti-Quidditch club? Probably not, but maybe I could form a soccer— sorry, football club. I bet the muggle-born and half-blood kids would be into it. I wasn't very athletic, but as a proud Mexican-American, it was my duty to make sure every school had soccer. My ancestors would disown me if I didn't.

"Oh, this keeps happening. Your name?"

I let out a breath. Finally. "My name's—"

FREAKING DRACO MALFOY HERE TO RUIN EVERYTHING AS USUAL.

"Is it true?" He said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry.

I tuned this conversation out as well. Would I never get to tell people my name? Would I go throughout the entirety of my Hogwarts career with everyone calling me "Hey You"? Was that my fate?

Suddenly, Draco was looking at me, "You look familiar, but I don't believe we've met. What's your name?"

"Aurelia Prince," I said quickly. God, that took forever. I was glad I practiced the new surname before today.

"Prince?" He raised an eyebrow. "Good name. Yet.. you're American?"

"Astute observation," I said dryly.

He studied me for a split second before something clicked, "Yes, you two are definitely related. I hope to see you in Slytherin, then?"

I shrugged noncommittally, "Won't know till the sorting."

"I suppose so." He turned to Harry. "You'll soon find that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. Miss Prince is fine, but you don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

The boys verbally had it out but before a fight could break out physically, I stood up.

"Knock it off. It's rude to argue in front of a lady. Were you not all taught proper decorum?" Truthfully, I just didn't want to deal with the headache of them fighting. Otherwise I myself would have to knock some sense into them, but I had promised Snape I'd behave. Although, if he got wind that I fought James Potter's son, he might actually start being decent towards me.

They all at least had the decency to look embarrassed and apologized. Before Draco left, however, he turned to me, "Shall I escort you to better company?"

"Thanks, but I'm claiming neutrality in this. See you later, Draco."

He paused before nodding. No doubt over-analyzing the fact that I had both declined him yet called him by his given name. He took off from the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

Harry awkwardly asked if Ron or I had met his family before.

Ron grumbled about dark wizards and how prejudiced the Malfoy's are. I merely shrugged.

"Well, he and his family knows some of my relatives on my father's side, but this is my first time meeting any Malfoy."

I took note of the lack of Hermione who should have just burst in and realized she wouldn't because of the lack of commotion. I was suddenly very glad I had changed prior to the King's Cross.

"We should be arriving soon. I'll leave so you both can get changed. Just knock on the door once you're done. Oh, before that…" I took my handkerchief out of my pocket and handed it to Ron, "You've got a bit of something on your nose. Sorry, I thought it'd be better to tell you before we left the train."

He accepted the handkerchief surprisingly well, "Thanks."

The sorting had so far been going according to how it went before. Abbot in Hufflepuff, Granger in Gryffindor, Malfoy in Slytherin, Potter in Gryffindor, etc. until it was finally…

"Prince, Aurelia."

I walked to the stool with my head held high. I could do this. Be confident. Everyone is still looking at Harry, anyway. Although, I did notice a few Slytherins look my way. They were expecting me, no doubt. Well jokes on them, because I'm going straight to—

"No. You will most certainly not be going to Gryffindor," said the Sorting Hat quietly in my ear.

"Oh come on!" I replied in my head.

"You aren't nearly noble nor sincere enough for Godric's house."

"Bah, poppycock. I'm pretty brave. I hold open the door for little old ladies. Besides, me in Gryffindor would help everyone. I'd be able to help Harry to the fullest extent."

"No."

"Ugh, fine. I suppose it's Hufflepuff fore me, then?"

The hat laughed in my ear.

"Now why not? I'm loyal. I'm hardworking."

The hat just kept laughing.

" Oh, just say I'm too bitchy! But I don't want to have to solve a riddle I can't cheat every time I want to go to my common room, you can't put me in Ravenclaw!"

"You're forgetting the final house."

My blood ran cold. " No. No, I refuse."

"You've spent the past eleven years pretending to someone else. Someone who, according to you, should not exist. You're cunning, sly, and quite full of ambition. You'll use any means to achieve your goal."

By now I had noticed the whispers of my classmates. Ah, it had been a few minutes, hadn't it?

"Yeah, but my goal is literally for the good of the world. So put me in Gryffindor so I can save the world, or so help me God I will dance on your ashes."

"You aren't helping your case, you know."

"Ugh, pretty please with a cherry on top put me in Gryffindor or you will rue the day—"

"SLYTHERIN!"

" Watch your back, hat."

The sorting hat laughed as McGonagall took it off my head. The Slytherins loudly applauded, Snape looked shocked, and Ron and Harry sent me sympathetic looks before applauding.

"That sure took some time," said a girl with an upturned nose. She must be Pansy Parkinson. "What other house was the hat stuck on?"

Oh, yeah. A hatstall was usually for when the hat couldn't decide between two or more houses. Oh well, now that I'm a Slytherin I think I should be allowed a little lying. As a treat.

"Slytherin and Ravenclaw. But the hat ultimately decided my talents were best suited here."

Pansy gave a haughty grin, but I could tell the arrogance wasn't directed at me, "Obviously, since this is the best house. I'm Parkinson. Pansy Parkinson."

I smiled back at her, ignoring the fact I was shaking hands with someone who in another life would sell out her classmates. "Aurelia Prince. It's a pleasure to meet you, Pansy."

"Likewise!"

We turned our attention back to sorting and it was somehow still Ron's turn. Something was off. Ron should only have been there a few seconds. Was something—

"SLYTHERIN!"

I choked and swore I caught the Hat somehow wink at me.

A Weasley? In Slytherin? How could I have messed with things THAT much? Poor Ron looked as though he'd woken up married to Aragog. He was frozen in place, pale blue eyes seeming void of life. Not even McGonagall moved. You could have heard a pin drop in the Great Hall.

Until you couldn't.

Percy Weasley broke the deafening silence with clapping that would have been obnoxious in any other situation. Harry and I followed his lead. Then the twins. Then the whole of Slytherin. Then the entire student body. Coming together to applaud this obviously frightened young boy and let him know he was going to be okay. Sometimes I didn't hate children.

McGonagall ushered Ron away and called up the next student. I threw an arm around his shoulder and drew gentle circles on his back once he sat down. "It'll be okay, bud."

He threw me a smile that was both utterly terrified yet grateful at the same time. I noted that he didn't pull away or even blush from embarrassment.

I noticed the other Slytherin students watching us interact. Ron for obvious reasons (seriously, what the hell did I do to cause THIS) and me for being friendly with a Weasley. This would either get me labeled as a blood traitor and ostracized or seen as some kind of grand schemer trying to luring the youngest Weasley son to the dark side. Truthfully, I cared little what they thought. As long as they left me and my friends alone. I didn't think that was too much to ask.

The rest of the sorting flew by with the last boy, Blaise Zabini, making his way to Slytherin. Albus Dumbledore had stood up after the last applause. He was everything I'd ever imagined, legendary twinkling eyes and all.

"Welcome!" He said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

I snapped and nodded, "Poetry."

Ron laughed, at least.

Draco scrunched his nose, "Father was right. He's absolutely mad!"

A weary looking upperclassman sighed, "You lot have no idea."

"Aluminum."

My dorm mates clapped and squealed.

"Okay, say "jumper," next please!" Exclaimed Daphne Greengrass.

I raised an eyebrow, "Sweater."

Once again the form was filled with giggles. Apparently all but Millicent Bulstrode, who had a brother-in-law from New York, had never met an American before and thought the way I pronounced/called things was the pinnacle of entertainment.

"Braces!"

"Uhhh… what?"

"Suspenders," supplied Millicent.

"Ohhh, okay. Yeah. Suspenders."

"Holiday!"

"Er— which kind? Are we talking vacation or like, Halloween?"

"Muggle!"

"Well I also call them muggles, personally, but in America it's usually No-Maj."

"Alright, enough of that," began Pansy after another wave of giggles, "What's America like, Aurelia?"

The girls all huddled closer, Tracey Davis' glasses almost falling off from excitement. I had never thought being American of all things would be interesting to people— let alone the English. I guess it made some sense, though. These weren't regular non-magical people who knew all about how obnoxious my homeland was. These were eleven year old witches who'd been trapped in a small bubble. A few had mentioned going to France or Italy for vacation— sorry, "holiday"— but America was unknown to them. It was kind of sad, honestly, but I wasn't about to go giving people with more money than I'd ever see in a lifetime my pity. Down with the bourgeoisie and all that.

"Is it true it's illegal to marry muggles or even be near them?" Asked Daphne.

"Merlin, America must be paradise if that's true," said Pansy, completely serious. The others sighed in agreement.

I blinked. I certainly hadn't been expecting that, let alone that reaction. I searched my brain for anything pertaining to that. One thing did come up but it bummed me out to think it might actually be canon. "It used to be seriously illegal. You could get arrested for merely associating with one. Marrying one was completely out of the question and would get you thrown in prison faster than you could say "Quidditch." But it hasn't been like that for a while."

"Since 1957," supplied Millicent. "But Marianna and Daniel have been working with his family and other proper witches and wizards to fix that."

"Your sister is a saint," said Daphne, "Working so hard for the betterment of America."

My throat closed a bit. Those people were working towards a re-segregated America and they were happy about it?

It was taking everything in me not to storm out and demand to be put in another house. I scratched behind a purring Clawdius's large black ears to calm down. These were just kids. They didn't know any better. I glanced down at my honey colored skin then back at their soft pale faces. They didn't know. They weren't even talking about the kind of segregation I was most familiar with, but the parallels were too deep.

I suddenly felt a wave of utmost respect for my mother. A muggleborn witch born in 1959. How must it have been for her to go from muggle America who hated her for her skin and heritage, to wizard America who hated her for her parents not having magic like she did? She was a part of two worlds, and they both stood against her. All that alongside bearing the child of a Death Eater at nineteen years of age. All that, and she still remained kind. Until the very end.

"I should get to bed. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day and I need to mentally prepare for all the ridiculous amount of "u"s I'll be adding to my words."

Daphne pouted, "But we were about to start talking about boys."

I gagged, "Yeah, I think I'll pass."

Pansy snickered, "Why? Don't want to talk about your Weasley pet? Makes sense, after all. Don't know how you could go touching Blood Traitors without burning your hand off."

I gagged a second time, "Ew, he's not my pet." I gnored the bit about Blood Traitors.

"You were all over him at the Welcoming Feast," Tracey accused.

"I was comforting a scared little boy."

"You had your hands all over a B lood Traitor ." Wow, they really liked emphasizing that.

"Lay off," said Millicent. "She's probably got something planned for him."

Thanks, Milly. "Yes, exactly that. I mean, the youngest Weasley son is in Slytherin. When was the last time that happened? It'll be good to have him under my belt. That means he's mine." I added. I wanted to make sure people left him alone. I didn't actually have any plans other than "be his friend" but I couldn't tell them that.

I groaned at the ridiculous amount of giggles.

"Not like that! Anyway, goodnight!" I set Clawdius on my my pillow then shut the emerald green curtains of my bed and buried my face in my cat for some quick serotonin. I had forgotten how unbearable middle school aged girls were. Was I this bad at their age the first go around? I couldn't remember, but something in my gut told me I was somehow worse, just with a lot less prejudice. At least I had that last part going for me.

I dreamt of my mother that night, and when I woke up, Clawdius had been licking the tears off my face.

The first week of proper school was both very exciting in the moment, but otherwise not all that memorable. Charms and Herbology were very fun, and I even was having a fun time in History of Magic. Despite what Ollivander had said about my wand, I found I was struggling a bit in Transfiguration (which was, in fact, permanent. Take that HPMoR) and DADA. Though I had a feeling I was having a hard time with the latter was because the freaking Dark Lord Voldemort was attached to Quirrell's head and I was the only who knew about it.

Yeah, I was gonna have to get the stone at some point, wasn't I? I couldn't just reveal Voldemort now. That would throw off things way too much and I'd lose any advantage I might've had. It was probably better to just make sure Dumbledore's here the night he tries to steal the Philosopher's stone and make sure the Golden Trio (could I even call them that anymore?) didn't stick their noses in to stuff that didn't involve them. As long as they left the stone alone, there shouldn't be any way for Voldy to get it.

I was taken out of my inner monologuing by Ron, who was frantically pacing and causing the leaves to crunch.

I looked up from my place beneath the red and gold oak tree, "You alright, bud?"

Harry, who had been sticking by us at every opportunity he got this week, also looked very concerned for our ginger friend.

"Tomorrow is Friday!" He exclaimed.

The Chosen One looked at me and I looked back. We were both utterly lost. "Er— yes?"

"We have double potions with Snape tomorrow! They say he greatly favors the Slytherins," he groaned.

Harry blinked. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed, "Ronald, be a dear and look at your tie for me."

He paused did as he was instructed. He was still for a moment before turning bright pink, "Oh." He broke out in to a smile, "I have a chance at passing potions then!"

"I'm utterly doomed then," mumbled Harry.

Ron sat down next to Harry and me. "See, being in Slytherin has its perks. How's your family been about it, by the way?" I asked.

"They've been really great about the whole thing! Percy won't shut up about how the hat had considered him for Slytherin, but Granny Cedrella sent me some of her old scarves from her school days. Dad said Mum's still in shock, but she'll get over it."

Harry pouted and I slowly rubbed his shoulder. He was still a little skittish when it came to physical contact, but I could tell he was slowly starting to crave it. Poor baby was as touch starved as you could get. "The hat offered me Slytherin. Insisted I would do well. I told him to bugger off. Now all my friends are in Slytheirn and I'm going to fail potions."

I rolled my eyes as Ron gave him a sympathetic pat on the head, "Just keep your head down and follow instructions. Even if you were in Slytherin, Snape would still hate you." I told him.

His head snapped up, "What? Why? I've never even met him!"

"Er— well, Snape and your dad had a legendary feud back in the day, and from what I've heard, you're a spitting image of James Potter."

Ron's eyes widened, "I've never heard of them hating each other."

"That's because you don't listen." And also because you hadn't read a seven book series where the entire plot technically got kickstarted because of said feud.

Harry looked baffled, "He hates me because I look like my dad?" Bafflement turned to anger, "But he's dead! I never even go to meet him!"

"Yeah, Snape's notoriously petty like that. Again, just… behave. Don't do anything without him telling you to"

Ron threw an arm around him, "Rotten luck, mate."

"I'll try to protect you, if that makes you feel any better."

"Me too!" Piped Ron.

Harry smiled appreciatively, "Thanks."

"No problem. What are friends for?"

Snape, like Flitwick, started class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new— celebrity."

I groaned internally. This whole thing was stupid. Snape was stupid. James was— well, he died a hero, but he was at one point stupid! Point is, I didn't know if I was going to be able to deal with this nonsense for seven goddamn years. Harry looked over at me, and in that moment I knew he thought the same.

"You are hear you learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word… "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…" he went on.

God, and everyone called Sirius a drama queen. The man sounded like he wanted to make sweet tender love to a cauldron. I once again wondered just how it was I came in to being when he was clearly only attracted to red-headed childhood friends and potions.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

I winced. I had really wanted to prepare Harry for these questions, but I knew that would just cause trouble. Either Harry would get suspicious or Snape would ask Harry more questions that I didn't have the answers to.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut— fame clearly isn't everything.

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Prince!" He said, throwing me off greatly.

My eyes widened as I realized he expected me to answer. "Uh, that would be Draught of the Living Death. It's a really powerful sleeping potion."

He stared at me in surprise for a split second before going back to Harry. Wait. Why did he look shocked that I knew the answer? Was he trying to humiliate me too?!

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you find me a bezoar?"

Hermione's hand flew up again in an obnoxious manner, but Harry was instead looking like he wanted to die from embarrassment. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, on the other hand, were dying of laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" He suddenly turned to me, "Prince!"

I hated this man more than ever. "I don't—" he glared at me so intensely that I even I of all people was scared, "I mean, you would look for it in the stomach of the goat, sir. It's supposed to absorb most poisons."

Harry looked at me, clearly feeling betrayed. I couldn't blame him. But what the hell was I supposed to do? Snape's always glared at me, but the way he was looking at me now... Was it because I told the Dark Lord Voldemort the prophecy that would get the woman I loved killed. Oh wait. That was him, wasn't it? Hmm, wow. How odd.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monks hood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly.

I was so grateful he hadn't made the quip about Hermione clearly knowing.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "Prince!"

I looked at Snape pleadingly. I had a feeling that I knew what this was about. This was my punishment for being friends with Harry, and for the attitude I'd shown him all summer. Either I'd get humiliated, or Harry would. Snape glared at me in response.

My face flushed hot with shame. I felt as though I would cry from frustration. "They're the same," I choked out.

"What's another name it goes by?"

I swallowed, "Aconite, but in America it's often called the Devil's Helmet Flower or Queen of Poisons." God, why did I have to show off like that?

Snape grinned with all the venom of a viper going in for the kill, "Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Prince."