Autumn term, 1996

The last few days at the Burrow had been as good as they could possibly have been under the circumstances. Harry had been sad to leave the place. He waved until the train had turned a corner and Mr and Mrs Weasley were lost to view, then turned to see where the others had got to. Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen; Harry suspected they had already headed for the Prefects' carriage. Ginny still lingered nearby, though. Without thinking twice, he approached her.

"Fancy trying to find a compartment?"

"I can't, Harry, I said I'd meet Dean," said Ginny brightly. "See you later."

"Right," said Harry.

He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her. It didn't help that he was surrounded by countless mesmerized girls, all of whom were gaping and gawping at him. Harry had suspected all along he would not be able to escape the fame which accompanied his stupid title of the Chosen One, yet his assumptions had done little to prepare him for the unpleasant sensation of being in the constant spotlight. Anxious to avoid the other students' prying looks, he stepped into the first—seemingly—empty compartment.

"Charm your hair blond and don't face the glass door," a bossy voice suggested from behind him.

Harry spun around, perplexed. "Excuse me?"

The compartment he had hurriedly entered already contained an occupant. It was a girl. Harry noticed at once she was wearing a Gryffindor tie. She had to be either in his year or in a year below, though he had the impression he had hardly ever seen her at Hogwarts.

She was tall and possessed regular features, sober grey eyes, and mousy hair. There was something very stern about her, as though she were related to Professor McGonagall.

"Judging by the way you burst into this compartment, I'd say you were trying to avoid unnecessary attention," the girl elaborated. "The easiest way to misdirect whomever you're unwilling to confront is to quickly alter your appearance— a coat and a simple charm on your hair will do. Just try not to come too close to the compartment doors: otherwise they'll see your face."

Harry stared at her.

"You should be all right, really," the girl said with a small smile. "I promise I won't go yelling about your whereabouts."

Harry nodded, his eyes still fixed on her. Their silence was becoming a little uncomfortable. He ought to say something, he knew he ought to, but he had no idea what. He would have liked to know her name, yet this would reveal that he had never paid attention to her, even though they had definitely shared the same Common Room for years.

Gingerly, he sat down opposite her. At that very moment, he spotted the title of the novel she was reading.

"Are you a Muggle-born?" he asked curiously.

She smiled again. "No, I'm not, but this shouldn't imply I don't admire great thinkers. Solving riddles requires more than considerable deductive abilities and a brilliant magical skill. As a future Auror, I need to be both open-minded and aware of the numerous possibilities and tricks the dark minds rely on."

"You want to become an Auror?" Harry questioned with interest.

"It's been my childhood dream ever since I can remember," she admitted, her voice softening slightly before she caught herself. "Anyway, I can tell just by looking at you that you recently spent a healthy amount of time somewhere near Devonshire."

"I spent the last few weeks of the holidays in Ottery St Catchpole," Harry admitted, nonplussed. "How did you know?"

"In the same way as I know that you've been wearing loose clothes lately," the girl said. "The fertile red soil on your shoes can only be found in Devonshire. As to how I knew you'd spent more than one day in the said location, it's simple: you keep tugging at your tie as if you found it restrictive. In a few days, the tie will feel like a second skin, but now it feels invasive because you must have been wearing something more comfortable."

She had a certain enthusiasm about her. It reminded Harry of Hermione's enthusiasm whenever his friend was given the chance to explain some complicated topic only she understood. For the first time, Harry had the perfect opportunity to form his own observations about the girl. She obviously didn't have many friends who shared her passion for Auror work, hence she seized the opportunity when it came.

"All right, that was easy," Harry agreed. "But you might as well have been wrong. Devonshire is not the only place on earth with such type of soil."

"Of course!" the girl exclaimed, apparently not offended in the slightest. "It is essential for an Auror to have good observation skills, but being prepared to accept that his or her assumptions might be erroneous is just as important."

"I see." Harry smiled. "But why Devonshire and not some other place?"

"Well, considering the mild intensity of your tan, I thought you must have spent your summer in England; your tan would have been much more pronounced if you had stayed on the continent during this time of the year. But there was also this reddish dust typical of the sandstone, so I narrowed the possible locations down to the South West of England. And… um... I got lucky as well," she finished, somewhat lamely.

"Do you analyse everybody like this?" Harry inquired, starting to feel amused.

"You know what? Let's try it," she proposed to his utter bewilderment.

Without waiting for his reply, she put her book down and bolted towards the compartment door.

"Wha—"

"Shhh…" she insisted. "Observe the people on the train…"

Feeling sceptical, Harry peered out, careful not to be spotted by any of the admiring girls. To his great annoyance, however, his gaze landed on Ginny and Dean, who were walking hand in hand. Ginny was laughing as she spoke to him, and her delicate fingers were playing with one of her fiery locks of hair.

"She's lying," the girl commented suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"My observation leads me to believe that the girl with the long red hair is being deceitful. As you can see, she is leaning her head back, touching her lips and hair, avoiding direct eye contact with the boy and looking to her right instead—these are all the tell-tale signs of lying the girls usually exhibit."

"Ginny is not deceitful!" Harry countered coldly.

All at once, he no longer liked this girl or her obsession with logical deductions.

His frosty tone did not escape her notice. She turned her sober grey eyes to his green ones and looked at him very attentively, her mouth a comical 'O' of surprise. Her posture had shifted into a defensive stance.

"I'm certain of my observations," she said. "Watching human behaviour is easier than deducing people's motives because it doesn't require such variety of knowledge. However, it was not my intention to insult your friend. What I meant to say is that she wasn't being truthful while flirting with that boy, which is logical when you think about it: people often exaggerate when they flirt, since they want to appear in the best possible light."

After this clarification, they gaped at each other. Harry was not entirely appeased. He didn't like it when someone attacked his friends, even though it was understood the girl had not meant to insult Ginny.

"I bet your observations get you in a lot of trouble," he said at last.

"Oh, all the time. Especially with Slytherins."

Harry's bad temper evaporated at this statement. He had a fair idea what the girl might have said to the snakes on occasions.

"Err... I'm Harry…," he said awkwardly, realising that they still hadn't introduced themselves to each other.

"I'm Fay. Fay Dunbar," she answered. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

AN: Fay Dunbar is not JKR's creation, but a creation of a company who produces video games based on Harry Potter franchise. Notwithstanding, when I accidentally stumbled upon this character I was thrilled. A Gryffindor girl who wants to become an Auror has so much potential, don't you agree? Not to mention that writing such a character gives an opportunity to explore a different kind of intelligence. So, keeping that all in mind, I decided to give it a try. I hope you like it.

Special thanks goes to the amazing Tarpeia for beta-reading.