Hogwarts Express.

Sixth year back at Hogwarts. Nothing to write home about really, but both my parents are excited, because sixth year is the form when students start their NEWT classes. As a Ravenclaw, and as a pureblood, I am expected to do extremely well. Actually, it is not strictly about expectations anymore.

What my parents want from all of their children goes beyond expectations.

It is more a general unspoken knowledge that anything less than a stellar performance in my classes this term will lead to a quick abandonment and then disownment. Read: I will be left on the streets to make my own way if I so much as slip an inch and get an Exceeds Expectations on any assignment. I frequently daydream and over plot so a Life On The Streets would not be a good one for me. To my parents, bad grades at Hogwarts are the worst betrayal of any kind. I think they would sooner betroth me to a Lestrange than see me do poorly on any exam. Everything works out then since I am an amazing student.

Prefect.

Top of my class.

Tutor to Muggleborns and younger students alike.

I should be a parent's wet dream.

I was raised in an environment that is the epitome of what a Ravenclaw pureblood family should be about. We are Neutral in political matters. In the mid to upper echelons when it comes to finances. And more or less on the fence when it comes to just about every other aspect of life. Now being on the fence is not necessarily a bad thing—I have grown up to believe the opposite—but it sure as Hades does not put one in the mindset of Doing Things Soon; this is why people at Hogwarts usually see me buried in a book.

But I like books. Books are lovely.

I could blather on for pages and pages about how lovely books are but that is not my set goal for this afternoon. My set goal for this afternoon is to get in order my thoughts about this upcoming school year. You have joined me at the beginning, which is always a nice place to start, so I think, right now, I will make a list about what I want to achieve this 6th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1976.

#1: Quidditch Team.

My parents loathe Quidditch. The "official report" is that they have no opinion on it whatsoever, but I know that they would just as soon see that it got abolished in Britain. This means that if I want to rebel at all this year, I need to make our House team. I have been practicing in secret with my friend Tamara's broom all summer long, so I do not think making the team should be a major difficulty for me. Barbary—our Captain, and a 7th year, and who could forget, an overt dreamy eye catcher—is one Chaser down right now and who am I to deny my potential by not trying out?

#2: Get A Boyfriend.

Interesting that this is my Number Two. I have always wanted a boyfriend. I have never had one. For an entire month last year, I wondered very seriously if I was a Lesbian and consequentially sending out Lesbian-like-vibes to all males of age I knew existed since males tend to walk in the opposite direction when they see me approaching, but after kissing three separate girls and feeling no "sparks" when our mouths touched, I came to the conclusion that I am straight as an arrow. And you cannot bend an arrow; the wood would break; unless it was a young wood, or unless you put a Bending Charm on it.

Hmm.

Anyway, you get my point. Girls have cute faces and everything, but inside, they are insane obnoxious beasts and not worth anyone's time unless that person is very, very drunk off of Firewhiskey or some other blend of special Wizard spirits (Moon-Crazed Gin and Brewer's Delight to name two).

#3: Do Well On My Exams!

This should be an obvious one, but I felt like writing it down anyway. If only to make me focus more on What Is Most Important.

After Sensical Consideration, I believe #3 should actually be #2, but my brain this morning is apparently hung up on specimens of the male persuasion, ever since it espied Bertram Aubrey getting onto the Express, looking fit and very much changed, and it is unwilling as yet to let go of Naughty Thoughts, so the 2nd stays, haha.

#4: Be a Better Friend to Tamara Paulelicky…Paulylicky…something like that.

Tamara is sitting across from me right now. I guess it goes to show how wrapped up in my own head I get sometimes, but I can never, for the life of me, remember how to pronounce—or spell, apparently!—her last name. I have known the girl for ten years, and every year it has yet to change. Despite the fact that she has repeatedly lent me her flying apparatus. My brain recognizes Tamara as inconsequential and that is that.

This is a very sad thing, because I genuinely do like Tamara. Or at least I try to.

It is hard to genuinely like anyone who does not understand sarcasm.

Sarcasm being a British Invention, anyone who does not apply it in everyday language should be horsewhipped.

Bad Thoughts! Bad Thoughts!

I get that she is insecure, I really do. And I get that she is dyslexic and she just wants people to like her, so she tries hard to be what she thinks we might like, but only comes off as someone more than a tad annoying, like an amoeba or a Madam Pince. Just once, however, can I not be allowed to write in some semblance of peace? Seriously. I mean, Buggering Merlin and All His Toes, why can I not just be allowed to write in some semblance of peace? I am getting worked up a bit now, but it is only inevitable when I am the only other person in the compartment for Tamara to talk to.

How I wish she would just leave! We are on the Hogwarts' Express for Agrippa's sake, surely, surely there is someone else to visit, someone else to bug who just so happens to be writing in her journal as well, for you, Tamara P?

This lack of patience is why Tamara is on my List.

"Can I have a look, then?"

I closed the book on my finger—so Tamara would not look—and shook my head sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, but I really don't like people reading what I write! I'm very insecure about it, if you want the truth."

Tamara sat back down in her seat and visibly deflated. "Oh." Thirty seconds of brilliant blessed silence passed and then she started talking again. "But, why—?"

The door banged open. "Hello, friends, how goes it?" A tall female with white-blonde hair preceded this greeting into our small compartment, another girl, this one of medium height with black hair, followed directly behind her. Both were still in their casual leisure clothes which was something truly unfortunate as we should have been setting an example for the first years, but we are all allowed our careless banalities. I really did not want more company—I would have much preferred reaching a solid #5 on my What Is Most Important List—but I resigned myself to making conversation.

"Hello," I greeted, standing up and giving out hugs. "How have your holidays been?"

If anyone can roll their eyes sweetly at a person, then it is Blonde Camilla Jones. "Evie, you just saw the both of us last weekend. We went out for Ice Cream and shopped at Mrs. Phillips's Robes for All Occasions. You bought a blue one and cried about your mum."

"Yes, I know, but I'd thought I'd ask anyway. Get it out of the way for other things."

"Like what?" Lucille Sawyers-of-the-dark-hair asked me.

I shrugged, unable to think of anything. "Well…"

"Oh, budge over!" Lucille said. She suited command to action by nudging me out of the way with her hip. "Getting fleshy, I see!" She turned to Tamara with a big smile. Lucy has always had a soft spot for Tamara, though Merlin knows why, because she does not seem to have any patience for me. "Tamara! Good to see you! How's my favorite chicky?"

Tamara giggled. "But, Lucy, I'm not a chicky, I'm a girl."

I nodded in agreement. "And a finer one, God never did make."

Thirty minutes later, it was time for me to go to The Prefects' Compartment to meet the new Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl and get my assignment for the remaining ride to Hogwarts.

"You'll come back, won't you?" Camilla asked, sparing a glance to her right to look at Tamara and Lucy—they were braiding each other's hair and I am not kidding. "Time's like these I wish I hadn't handed in my badge."

Lucy turned her head. "What? What do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously.

"I just mean that Evie and I had so much fun last year…traipsing around the school—."

"I wouldn't call it 'fun,' Cam," I said. "It was actually a bloody waste of time most nights."

"Hear, hear!" Lucy said. "I remember waiting up for you guys. Boring, awful evenings. No one to talk to."

"You had me," Tamara said softly.

Lucy patted her head. "Sweetie, I know I had you, but you have to admit, you do fall asleep early. Sometimes, I would be talking to you and, poof! Out you'd go! I wouldn't know what to do with myself, because I'd be done with studying and it would be too early for bed."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, honey!"

Oh, Merlin. I exited before this could degenerate into something worse. Something like a Muggle Soap-Sud Drama. Camilla looked like she wanted to follow me outside, but knew she could not (and so was left to mope in her seat!). I decided to save a smirk for her for when I got back. It was her fault she was no longer a Prefect after all.

Not wanting to handle the added stress of being a role-model to the younglings on top of NEWT classes, Camilla had explained to Flitwick last term that she just did not think she was ready for both responsibilities. I think Camilla's real motivation lied in not wanting to be around her ex-boyfriend—who also happens to be a Prefect for Ravenclaw—but alas, I am not privy to Cam's inner thoughts. I, of all people, however, do know the stress a 6th year Prefect is under.

It is Big. However, I will not quit my Prefect-ship because I do not have anyone I need to avoid. Or at least, there are people I would like to avoid, but no one I have to.

Walking along the hallway to The Prefects' Compartment farther down the train, I started wondering who our new Head Boy would be.

I was very curious.

I knew our Head Girl could not be anyone other than Lily Evans, as she was The Original Swot, but the Head Boy position was still Up In Air last time I overheard Headmaster Dumbledore talking about it with the Head of my House, Professor Flitwick.

The fact that Dumbledore was discussing the Imminent Head Boy-ship with Flitwick of course led me to think that our new Head Boy was a fellow Raven. Out of the seven possibilities—we had a big crop of boys in 7th year—the only two I could think that stood any chance at all were Heathcote Barbary and Alexander Riktus; and that was because they were fellow Prefects. Out of the two, however, I dearly, dearly hoped Heathcote would get the position, because if I had to be under the thumb of Alexander Riktus as Head Boy, I would set down my books and go on Strike.

Anthony Featherhead, one of our 6th year Prefects—and an inveterate flirt for all his curly hair and supposed harmless-looks—met me at the sliding door to the enlarged Prefects' compartment. "Hey, Ransom, looking very prurient today. After you."

"Pederast," I murmured, just to be contrary, wondering why he was blocking my way.

Anthony looked amused. "What was that?"

"Pardon? Oh! I thought…well, did you want to go first, Tony?" Featherhead unfortunately did look quite firm in his robes. Obviously too firm. Obviously, he was wearing padding. The tight spots around the shoulders and arms clearly needed some tailoring if he was going to dress himself up to look fit. "Only I thought we needed to be in there now."

"Of course, of course." Featherhead gestured me in before him. "After you."

"Thank you."

Sitting down, I nodded at those I knew—which were not that many actually. There was redheaded Lily Evans, who I was more or less happy to note, if only because it proved my supposition (and I always delight when that happens) had made Head Girl. She looked a bit nervous, and I am not sure I envied her.

"Congratulations!"

Evans smiled. "Thank you, Evelyn."

Next to Evans was Alice Prewett, a Gryffindor as well, and current girlfriend of last year's graduate, Frank Longbottom. "Alice," I said.

"Evelyn."

There was Camilla's replacement of course: Mara Dice, the only other Ravenclaw 6th year girl aside from those whom I have mentioned previously, and a Bigger Bitch anywhere you did not meet—which is why I am only allowing her this one sentence in my entry for this afternoon and am not going to even greet her.

There was Remus Lupin, 7th year Prefect for Gryffindor, along with one of the Prewett twins—relation to Alice unclear. I could never tell those twins apart, but both were tall and good-looking enough to warrant a certain obliviousness of my existence so it never really mattered. I smiled at Remus, because he was giving me a kind look.

There was Marly Harold and Victor Bell, Hufflepuff 6th years, and our resident Golden Couple.

There were various and sundry Slytherins—a couple whom I nodded to. Severus Snape was sneering as always, but he looked in better health than the last two years I have seen him, which is a lucky break! He had gotten rid of that grotesque patchy mustache for instance.

Also in attendance were the 5th year Prefects. Amelia Selwyn and Lucretia Bordeaux were part of our House's contributions to the list.

Every Prefect looked to be accounted for. However Evans was still silent, supposedly waiting for the arrival of the Head Boy so the two of them could introduce everyone else together.

Five minutes later, and still no Head Boy.

People were starting to get Antsy, wanting to get the meeting over with. I was greatly surprised to find that neither Heathcote Barbary nor Alexander Riktus had gotten the spot. Whom it was, I no longer had a clue. Remus Lupin would have been my third choice, but obviously he was not it since he wasn't wearing The Badge.

"Oh, my God. It's not possible!"

That outburst had come from Lily Evans and I could tell this was exactly the wrong kind of impression she wanted to make on everyone. Truly, I could not blame her, because leaning against the open doorway to The Prefect's Compartment like a muggle movie Romeo was arrogant arse James Potter, proudly displaying his Gryffindor crest on which was nestled a shining, golden Head Boy Badge.

I groaned, in firm belief that James Potter as Head Boy was one of the last things Hogwarts' young minds needed. Potter was more the type to run a bawdy house than a Common Room. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Severus Snape moaning and clutching his stomach like someone about to sick up.

Potter stepped into the room. "Oh, Lily-Flower, I assure you, it is true! Why, I woke up last month and there that owl was—."

"Shut up!" Evans cried. "Just shut up! I have to think!"

Everyone was basically silent, waiting for Evans to think it out. It was not a rare occurrence to see a fight between these two, but I had to admit that that never stopped it from being entertaining. I have always gotten a kick out of seeing Evans's forehead burst into flame like it seems to be doing right now.

Alice Prewett tried to soothe her friend with a hand on the back but Evans was having none of it and brushed her away. "Please," she said to Potter, "please, tell me this is one of your jokes. Please!"

"Believe me," Potter returned, "I was just as surprised as all of you!"

Well, interesting year up ahead!

Cannot wait for The Welcoming Feast if this is the kind of excitement we should all be expecting.