"Where are they?" Hermione whispered, as the Sorting Hat sang a new song. Blushing madly, Ginny had snuck away from them to join the first years as they had entered and joined their trembling line. "Do you think they missed the train?"

Kate shrugged, watching as "Angell, Marissa," was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Where do you think Professor Snape is?" Hermione asked as "Crimmins, Belle" joined Marissa at the Ravenclaw table.

Kate frowned, looking at the staff table. "No idea,"

"Do you think the two are related?"

"What two?"

Hermione clucked her tongue at Kate's absence of mind. "Ron's and Harry's disappearance and Professor Snape's-"

"Oh, maybe," Kate craned her neck to look again around the crowded Great Hall. The sea of black pointed hats was somewhat dizzying and with the floating candles casting strange shadows, it was difficult to tell who was who from far away.

When Ginny Weasley was finally sorted into Gryffindor House and the feast had been well under way, Hermione and Kate finally stopped discussing what might have happened to Ron and Harry.

"I can't believe I didn't go on the boats with the rest of the first years," Ginny muttered, scooping up a forkful of mashed potatoes. "How stupid I must have looked."

"Don't worry, little sister," George grinned. "You don't look any dumber than the rest of the first years,"

"Oh shut up," Ginny growled.

Lee Jordan ran down to their part of the table and took an eager seat between George and Ginny.

"You won't believe what I just heard,"

"What do you mean?" Fred asked.

"Your little brother and Harry Potter," Lee laughed. "They missed the train and took a flying car instead!"

"You're joking!" Ginny, Fred and George chimed.

Hermione exclaimed her disapproval while Kate began to laugh uproariously.

"That's too good!" Kate said through her laughter. "They should have taken us too!"

"Yeah! The little pricks!" Fred shook his head. "They deserve a good walloping."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione sniffed, slamming down her goblet of pumpkin juice and sloshing some over the sides. "That can't be true,"

"I heard they'll be expelled for it," Seamus Finnigan turned to join the conversation.

"D'you think they've been?" Kate asked, suddenly sober.

"Doubt it," Fred shrugged. "We've done loads of illegal things and we've yet to be expelled,"

As soon as desert appeared, Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore left the staff table and didn't return for quite some time. The start of term feast was incredibly tense for Kate and Hermione this year. Hermione, who usually made sure to get some treacle tart, touched nothing and scrutinized every face up and down the Gryffindor table.

Hermione pursed her lips and soon after they had been dismissed to bed, she dragged Kate to go in search of Harry and Ron.

"They'll probably already be in the dorm by now," Kate groaned, as they marched up yet another set of steps. "And do we even know the password? What if we're locked out? Then the joke's on us, and I'll never forgive you."

"I asked Percy," Hermione said impatiently.

"Oh, care to share that little tidbit in case I decide to abandon our foolish escapade?"

Hermione glared at her.

"I'll take that as a 'no.'" Kate glanced up at a portrait of a snoring old warlock collapsed over a pile of books. "Come on, let's at least head back. Maybe they're going that way."

Clearly torn, Hermione finally agreed and bustled back towards their common room next to Kate. At the entrance, they saw the backs of Ron and Harry standing dumbfounded by the portrait. They didn't know the password yet, of course. Kate felt Hermione tense up next to her and start rapidly forward, her feet pounding the ground a little more ferociously. Not able to muster up any energy, Kate trudged after her.

"There you are! Where have you been? The most ridiculous rumors—someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car—"

Ron and Harry turned to face them, looking a little worse for wear. Kate sped up to look more closely at them.

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry's voice was glum.

"You're not telling me you did fly here?" Hermione's lips pursed and her tone reminded Kate strongly of Professor McGonagall.

"Skip the lecture," said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."

"It's 'wattlebird,'" said Hermione irritably, "but that's not the point—"

"Oh, you tell them—"

She was cut off as the portrait of the fat lady swung open. They were knocked back by a thunderous storm of applause. All of the Gryffindors seemed to have been waiting for this moment, standing on any surface available—arm chairs, coffee tables, each other—and they reached through to grab Harry and Ron, leaving Kate and Hermione to scuttle in after them.

Ron and Harry disappeared into the abyss of the crowd amidst cries of praise.

"Brilliant—!"

"…for years!"

"Good for you!"

"Ingenious!"

Kate saw Hermione scowling after them and decided to get into bed before Hermione did, that way she might avoid collateral damage.

"S'cuse me," she wormed her way through the crowd and sprightly darted upstairs. The girl's dormitory was empty, so she changed quickly, brushed her teeth, took out her contacts, and got into bed. When she heard footsteps on the stairs, she drew her curtains shut, not in the mood for anymore of Hermione's crankiness right then. She'd probably be dealing with it all tomorrow.

Unfortunately, Hermione seemed to know that Kate wasn't actually asleep and she burst through her curtains to sit huffily on Kate's four-poster.

"Hermione—!"

"Can you believe them? So stupid!"

"True," Kate agreed. "But we don't seem to know the whole story, do we?"

Hermione was silent to this. "You think there's more to it than just crass idiocy?"

Kate shrugged from her pillow. "Probably. They're not complete dullards."

"Maybe you're right,"

"About them not being complete dullards or more to the story?"

"Both,"

"Ouch,"

Hermione smiled slightly and the girls giggled.

That morning, Kate awoke with an ungodly jerk to alertness. She couldn't remember her dream except that it was nightmarish. Throughout her routine run, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. It wasn't until her shower that the post-dream tremors left her entirely. After stepping out, she wrapped a towel around herself and went up to the steamy mirror and wiped until she could make out her face. Her eyes were a bit red because of the contact lenses; she remembered that the eye doctor had said something about 40 percent of the time with contacts and 60 without to let her eyes breathe. She would get to that eventually. Habitually, she poked her cheekbones, as if to remind herself that the Predni-flub was gone.

She got dressed and went out to the common room, allowing her hair to air dry in a sloppy ponytail. With no one to talk to and nothing to do, she pulled out one of Gilderoy Lockhart's texts—Gabbing with Ghouls—and read a little more. She hated reading his books; they were so horribly pretentious and arrogant. She positively dreaded the prospect of his class and imagined ways she could avoid it. She found herself lingering with a disgusted sneer over a particular passage in the book, unintentionally re-reading it as her mind wandered.

Of course, every wizard must have his leisure time. Before I went on to heroically face the devastatingly powerful hag with a propensity to eat young children in Yugoslavia, I spent a bit of time at L'Homme Magique in Paris. Pierre, a friend more than salesman, helped me to find the exact shade of periwinkle that brought out my eyes. It is important, you see, to find that oh-so magical color….

He went on to describe every type of cloth he sampled and its merits and downfalls. Kate wondered how this man could be so impossibly self-centered and famous at the same time. Hadn't anybody else recognized the sheer idiocy of this dolt? She closed the book with an irritable sigh and glared at the winking picture on the cover. She turned it over on the sofa so that she wouldn't have to look at it anymore.

About a quarter of an hour passed before anyone trudged down the steps, and that first person was Oliver Wood, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Damn, beat me again," he yawned.

"Nyah," she stuck her tongue out at him.

"How adorable," he said sarcastically, taking a heavy seat next to her on the sofa. He reached under himself to extract the forsaken book. "Oh, you had to get this lot too?"

"Didn't everyone?"

"Looks it,"

"It's not self-promotional or anything,"

"It's rubbish is what it is,"

"Agreed," Kate curled her lip and hit the book out of his hand as Lockhart winked cheekily up at them. It landed with a soft thump on the carpet. "Enough of him."

"I rather wish I'd dropped the class. If I'd known it would be Lockhart—well…. My mum is so obsessed with this bloke and I don't understand."

"It's because he has marvelously beautiful eyes and a smile to die for," Kate fluttered her eyes.

"I take it you don't feel so inclined,"

Kate winked, imitating Lockhart surprisingly well. "Smart."

They sat in silence for awhile, staring blankly at the fireplace. Kate felt a bit awkward and so asked him about Quidditch, a sure monologue starter. That way she could be silent without feeling guilty. And there he went. It was nice to be back.