Hello everyone!

This fanfiction has been well over a year and a half in the works. It's far from perfect, and I'll almost certainly tweak it as we go along, but I'm thrilled to finally be sharing it! Massive thank you to shini-amaryllis for putting up with my endless spouts of nonsense over my love for Daphne Greengrass ;)

I will also be cross-posting this story to Archive of Our Own for wider accessibility. If you'd like to find it there, my username is akinasperanza :)

Happy reading!

July 31, 1991

After the rain of the previous day had left London hot and muggy, Daphne Greengrass could hardly wait to escape the humid blanket smothering Diagon Alley.

Clearly, everyone and their owl had had the same thought, because the crooked alley was as crowded as Daphne had seen it until now while wizards left and right did their very best to get their shopping out of the way before the temperature rose even further. Daphne's school books were already stacked neatly on her desk at home–her mother had stopped off to collect them on the way home from the shop, not even a few days after Daphne had received her letter–but she wanted to make sure she stocked up on her spare reading material before she began her journey to Hogwarts on September 1st.

Hogwarts. Even thinking about the castle sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. Daphne had been raised on her parents' tales of their days in school, from the time that the window of the Slytherin common room cracked and sent a spray of lake water directly at her mother, to when her father returned to Hogwarts after a few too many firewhiskeys at the Three Broomsticks and couldn't work out the riddle to his common room door and was woken up at lunchtime the following day. Their stories were exciting and promised an unforgettable experience—but Daphne had to get there first.

Finally, after elbowing her way past the crowd of people in front of her, Daphne made it to the doorstep of Flourish and Blotts and wrenched the door open, the cool air hitting her like a ton of bricks. Sighing in relief, she stepped inside and allowed the nice cold draught to envelop her senses for a few moments before making her way to the entresol floor and weaving her path slowly through the aisles.

Virtually an hour had passed, and a steady stream of customers had entered Flourish and Blotts while Daphne had tucked herself away in one of the upstairs corners with a small stack of books. As she finished her final book, a textbook on toxic potions fumes, and stood to return it to its shelf she instead found herself crashing into a slight figure, sending them both careening to the floor and almost upsetting a particularly precarious stack of Arsenius Jigger textbooks in the process.

Pushing her hair behind her ears as it began to fade from silver to an embarrassed shade of ochre, Daphne hurried to collect the books that she had been carrying before assisting the boy with his.

"I'm so sorry," Daphne apologised profusely, helping the boy stand. He shrugged, his emerald eyes piercing into hers as she handed his books to him. "It's not a big deal."

The pair of them settled into an awkward silence as they shelved their books.

"Are you going to Hogwarts too?" The boy suddenly spoke up, and Daphne briefly felt startled as she shifted her eyes to where he stood beside her. He hardly looked old enough to be attending Hogwarts, with his slight frame, but she guessed that appearances could be deceiving. Of all people, she should know.

"Oh! Yeah, I am," she spoke after she realised she hadn't yet given him an answer. "Do you know what house you're going to be in?"

He seemed to be trying to hide his confusion, in the way that he shook his head in response. Whether he was Muggle-born or simply hadn't been raised around magic, Daphne couldn't guess, but she could easily see he seemed to be a bit out of his depth.

"Well, if you'd like to learn a bit more about Potions, I can recommend a couple of books?" She suggested. "My mum runs an apothecary."

"Oh, um, sure?" He stuttered to agree, and Daphne brightened before reaching up above them, trailing her fingers over a few spines before grasping the two that she was looking for. They were compiled with Muggle-borns in mind, that much she knew, but they could be just as useful to anyone raised with magic that wasn't very experienced with potion-making.

After handing the dark-haired boy the books she had plucked from the shelves, Daphne glanced at her watch and realised with a jolt that she was running late to meet with her mother.

"I'm sorry, I have to run," she apologised, hastily pulling her hair into a loose braid before raising her hand. "I'm Daphne, by the way. Maybe I'll see you on the Express?"

"Harry," he replied, shaking her hand slowly. "Yeah, maybe."

With a wave tossed behind her, Daphne made her way down to the main floor of the store, bracing herself before stepping out in the humid July sunshine.

By the time that Daphne had settled into her compartment on the Hogwarts Express, the time was nearing to 10 and her parents had already left the platform. From the moment that Daphne had stepped through the brick, she was floored as she took in the colourful train which stood before her, and a whirlpool of excitement began to build in the pit of her stomach as she gazed around the platform at all of the families and overexcited pets.

"Why can't I come with you?"

With a pang of guilt, Daphne took her younger sister aside and crouched until she was looking up into her crystal blue eyes. Astoria looked far more like their mother, something that Daphne particularly noticed now, which only served as a reminder that her parents wouldn't be able to wait for the train to get moving.

"Because I'm older," Daphne smiled in an effort to comfort her as she tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind Astoria's ear. "Besides, didn't mum say you're going to stay with grandma for a while?"

Astoria's face brightened considerably.

"Grandma said that she's going to take me to visit her friends in Villefranche-sur-Mer! She said that she'll let me go swimming!"

Astoria quietened. "But I don't want to do it without you."

"I know," Daphne murmured. "But I'll be coming back for Christmas! And after Christmas there's only a few months more and then I'm home again for the summer."

Astoria seemed less unsure, and a few moments passed before she leant forward and wrapped her arms around Daphne's neck.

"I'm going to miss you," she whispered into Daphne's hair.

"I'll miss you too, little dove," Daphne replied as she hugged her sister around her waist. After several moments, they separated and went to rejoin their parents, who stood closer to the train with Daphne's luggage at their side.

As soon as they reached their parents, Daphne's mother was the next one hugging her daughter.

"Don't forget to write, will you?"

"Of course not, mother," Daphne whined slightly as she was released, before being enveloped into the shorter embrace of her father. "Remember to choose the house that suits you the most. Don't worry about where you end up; it's what you do in the classroom that counts," he advised her, and she nodded before glancing at the clock on the wall. After her father had helped load her luggage onto the train, Daphne spent a final few moments with her family before they had to leave. Her mother had to open the store (Charlie, the apothecary assistant, had left for Romania the previous evening), and her father had to apparate Astoria to their grandmother's Paris townhouse before he left to work at the Ministry.

After waving goodbye, Daphne suddenly found herself without a clear idea of what she was doing. After standing in the doorway for a few moments, she shook her head before grasping her luggage by its handle and meandering slowly down the train until she found an empty compartment.

Rather than stress herself further, she simply left her case on the floor beside her as she curled up on the plush bench seat. Daphne pulled a forest green notebook from her case, it's handwriting old and weathered. The book was written in cursive Welsh, but as she engrossed herself in the text she found herself growing used to the flourishes of the letters and finding it far easier to read. She vaguely noted when the Express began its journey, chugging its way slowly from the station, but it wasn't until the compartment door slammed open that she glanced back up from the journal, snapping it shut as green eyes met grey.

"Good morning, Draco," she said pleasantly, eyeing his companions critically. Vincent and Gregory she had expected–they had always followed him around at galas and lessons–but Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott were two faces she was certainly surprised to see in the Malfoy scion's company.

She let her gaze settle on Theo, raising her eyebrow as she questioned him silently. In response, her cousin simply shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry to do this, Greengrass, but we're going to need this compartment now."

Daphne blinked in surprise at Draco's tone before turning her eyes back to his. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you're sitting alone, aren't you?" Draco explained, a condescending note to his voice. "But we've got five of us. Surely you can find someone to share a seat with."

Daphne could feel the pit of her stomach begin to boil in anger, but she refused to play this game. Draco had spent their entire childhood seeking every way possible to earn a reaction out of her, and she refused to give in this time.

Quashing her anger, Daphne spent a few seconds clearing her mind of her frustration, imagining a blissfully blank white page open in front of her. Opening her eyes and breathing out, she stood wordlessly before gathering her belongings, only pausing to cast a stern look at her cousin before exiting the compartment.

For several moments, Daphne simply stood outside what was once her compartment, seething in silent frustration before she started her trek back down the corridors, peering inside the less raucous ones to see whether there was space for another occupant.

Daphne had almost reached the end of the train before she found a compartment that didn't seem to be bursting at the seams with people. She assumed that the train had to be magical somehow (more so than it already appeared) because it seemed to have shrunken shorter than it appeared at the station. As she looked through the compartment door Daphne spotted a familiar mass of black curls, and tamed her smile before sliding open the door.

Harry's eyes blinked from the scenery outside the window to the compartment as he heard the door slide on its mechanism, recognition filling his gaze as he took in her familiar blonde hair.

"Hello again," Daphne started, a bit unsure in her mission as she wrung her hands together. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Harry shook his head, and simply watched from his seat as Daphne smiled in thanks and wheeled her trunk into the compartment behind her before sliding the door shut and taking her seat opposite him.

"I told you that I'd see you on the Express," she spoke up, lips quirking as Harry smiled for what seemed like the first time since she had seen him.

"Did you get there?" Harry asked, and Daphne's brows furrowed as she regarded him in confusion. "Where ever you were rushing off too."

"Oh!" Daphne blinked, surprised that he had remembered. "Yeah, I did. I was supposed to be at my mum's apothecary helping her out with the brewing for the afternoon. She had an assistant, Charlie, but he was leaving at lunch to pack to go off to Romania so she was a person down on Brewing Day and I said I'd help." Daphne rambled. Suddenly, she realised that he probably hadn't been raised around magic, and opened her mouth to explain herself when the compartment door slid open again, and a vaguely familiar figure popped his head through the door.

"Is anyone sitting there?" He asked, gesturing to the seat next to Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Exchanging a quick, questioning glance with Harry, Daphne eventually shook her head in Ron's direction, and he grinned before stepping inside.

"Sorry about Ginny," the ginger boy spoke to Harry after he settled himself in. "She's not usually that shy."

Clearly this boy and Harry knew each other, and Daphne had almost reached down to collect her notebook from her bag again (who likes to be a third wheel, really) when the boy stuck his hand out in her direction. "Ron. Ron Weasley."

"Daphne Greengrass," she responded after a few moments, shaking his hand firmly before realising why he seemed familiar. "Wait, is Charlie your brother?"

Ron seemed flummoxed. "Yeah, but how'd you—"

Daphne almost sighed aloud as the door to the compartment slid open once more, an action which didn't go unnoticed by Harry. They locked eyes as Daphne sucked in her breath to stop herself, and his vivid green eyes were unable to hide the amusement lurking within them.

Turning to the compartment door, Daphne blinked several times as she realised that she was not seeing double and there were, in fact, two redheaded twins standing and grinning at Ron. She quickly gathered that they were more of Ron's brothers, judging by the similarities, and they also clearly looked not unlike Charlie, who Daphne assumed must be their older brother.

How many were there?

"Hey Ron, we're going down to the middle of the train–Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there, if you want to come."

Judging by Ron's reaction, Daphne could easily see that seeing Lee Jordan's giant tarantula was the last thing he wanted to do, and she couldn't stop herself from letting out a quiet giggle. The twins' heads swivelled in her direction, eyeing her for a few moments before speaking.

"Who's this?" They asked, turning their heads back to their brother.

"Daphne Greengrass," she responded before Ron could. "You're Charlie's younger brothers, right?"

The twin on the right shared a surprised look with his brother before nodding. "Yeah, I'm George and he's Fred. How'd you know Charlie?"

"He worked as my mum's assistant over summer," she explained, tilting her head to the side. "You look quite alike."

"I thought your name seemed familiar," Fred grinned. "Do you want to see Lee's tarantula?"

"Not particularly," Daphne responded mildly, "I see enough of them in jars to last me a lifetime, let alone one that's still alive."

"Fair enough," George responded. "See you all later, then."

After the twins had closed the compartment door behind them, Daphne, Harry and Ron sat in silence for several moments. She didn't think that it was anything uncomfortable, they just lacked anything to talk about until Ron blurted out, "Are you really Harry Potter?"

At this, Daphne's head swivelled to face Harry almost instantly. Of course, she knew the stories; everyone did. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the infant child who had been orphaned after mysteriously defeating the Dark Lord. She knew that there were dozens of rumours about him, from his status as a Dark wizard to supposedly growing up with Muggles. The latter rumour, in Daphne's opinion, didn't seem too far off; from when they had met in Diagon Alley, she had gotten the feeling that he was a bit overwhelmed by his surroundings and he clearly had little knowledge of magic. If anything, she had simply assumed that he was Muggle-born, but this revelation fit the puzzle perfectly. However, she was somewhat struck by the fact that she hadn't recognised him. After all, Harry Potter supposedly possessed a lightning scar on his forehead–the forehead consistently covered by his long curls.

Daphne couldn't believe that she hadn't made the connection sooner. Astoria was going to kill her.

She zoned back into the conversation just as Ron finished explaining that he thought that his brothers were joking when they said it.

"Do you really have the scar?" Ron asked eagerly, leaning forward.

"Ron," Daphne hissed scoldingly, startling both of the boys sitting across from her, "you can't just ask for something like that!"

The redhead seemed apologetic and turned back to Harry before he shook his head. "It's alright," he reassured, before turning his head to Daphne. "Thank you, though."

Nodding, Daphne retreated further into her corner from where she had leant forward and watched as Harry brushed his hair from his forehead. The scar was larger than she had thought it would be, covering about a third of his forehead and shattering into varying small branches of lightning off of the main scar itself. Daphne found herself leaning forwards again out of curiosity.

"So that's where You-Know-Who–"

"Yes, but I don't remember any of it," Harry interrupted Ron, and Daphne got the feeling that he had gotten hounded by very similar questions over the past few days.

"Nothing?"

Daphne directed a glare towards Ron, who seemed eager to learn everything he could about the Dark Lord's downfall.

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

The compartment lapsed into silence as Ron seemed to process the information that Harry had given them, while Harry turned back to stare out the window for a few moments. Daphne couldn't think of any words of comfort, so she merely tapped her fingers on the windowsill to draw his attention before shooting him what she hoped was a small, supportive smile. It must have worked, because he returned it before turning to face the both of them once more.

"So, are you both from wizard families?" Harry asked, and Ron and Daphne both nodded.

"I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant," Ron recalled, "but we never talk about him."

Daphne shrugged, her fingers tugging at the hem of her skirt.

"I think all of my family are wizards. My grandma's French, so I guess there are a lot more wizards to marry in Europe than there are in Britain."

"So you both must know loads of magic already, then," Harry questioned, and Daphne shook her head so rapidly that several strands fell out of the braid her hair was tied back into. "We aren't allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts either," she explained, tucking her hair behind her ears. "From what my dad said, the Ministry has some way of telling when an underaged wizard uses magic when they aren't allowed to. I think some kids get away with it if they're super close to their parents, but it isn't really a thing."

Ron nodded along with what she said, before contributing to the discussion himself.

"I think some kids have a tutor teach them stuff, but it's not usually to do with magic."

Daphne nodded. "My sister and I had a tutor, but we never learnt spells or anything. We were taught how to play the piano and violin, and how to speak different languages, but nothing magical."

Daphne could see that this had assuaged Harry's doubts, even a little. Growing up in a Muggle household, she could see why he might feel a bit out of depth if he assumed that all of the wizard kids had been learning magic for years. Luckily that wasn't the case.

"–heard you went to live with Muggles," Ron continued on, "what was that like?"

"Horrible," Harry spat, leaving both Daphne and Ron blinking in surprise at his vehemence. "Well, not all of them. Mrs Figg was nice, and some of my school teachers. My aunt and uncle and cousin are awful though, so I guess having three wizard brothers sounds better."

"Five," Ron corrected gloomily, and Daphne's eyes widened. Five? She knew about Charlie of course, and she'd just met Fred and George, but that meant that she was two brothers short. Thinking back, she recalled Charlie mentioning that he had an older brother, so that made six. Was the other brother younger?

"I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts, so you could say that I have a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left–Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was Quidditch Captain," Daphne was impressed. She knew that Dumbledore took the Head appointments very seriously, and knowing that Charlie was in Gryffindor Daphne could only imagine the scrutiny of Gryffindor's Head of House, Professor McGonagall. "Now Percy's a Prefect. Fred and George joke around a lot, but they still get good marks and everyone thinks they're funny. I'm sort of expected to do as well as they did, but if I do it isn't as good because they did it first anyway. You never get anything new with older brothers, either, just hand-me-downs. I've got Bill's old robes and Charlie's old wand as it is."

Hearing Ron talk about his brothers, and how they equally pressured and overshadowed him, Daphne began to wonder whether Astoria would one day feel the same way. It was different of course–there was only two of them, as opposed to six of Ron's family–but she hated the idea that Astoria could one day harbour resent for her simply because of their age gap.

"What about you?" Harry asked, turning to Daphne. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Just a younger sister," she replied, "Astoria. She'll be coming to Hogwarts next year. She's a little upset that she can't come with me this year, but Mum and Dad said that she can spend the year in France with our grandma so she's kind of gotten over it."

"Is she a pain, your sister?" Questioned Ron. "Mine's the same age as yours, and she's always fussing about one thing or another, or complaining about how we don't let her play quidditch."

How many siblings did this boy have?

"She's alright," Daphne thought back to their music lessons, and how Astoria had made a game of trying to distract Daphne from her piece to make her mess up. "She can be a bit frustrating sometimes, but aren't all siblings?"

Ron seemed to acquiesce to this, nodding his head quickly. "I even got Percy's old rat," he complained, wrinkling his nose as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat, grey rat.

She giggled at Harry's reaction, a mix of curiosity and horror which was very entertaining. Even Ron laughed a little as he explained further, "his name is Scabbers, and he's completely useless. All he ever does is sleep. Percy got a new owl for becoming a Prefect, but we couldn't aff–I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

The tips of Ron's ears tinted pink as he quietened, absentmindedly stroking the sleeping ferret in his arms. Daphne and Harry exchanged a look, before Harry went on to describe how he too had always inherited his cousin's–Dudley, Daphne found out, which she thought was an absolutely horrid name–old clothes and how he'd never gotten proper presents.

"—until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or my parents or Voldemort–" Ron gasped aloud, startling both Harry and Daphne, while Daphne's eyes widened considerably at hearing Harry speak about the Dark Lord so brazenly. Some of her father's associates, she knew, had worked for him before the war was over and even they never dared to mention his name.

"What?" Harry asked, flummoxed.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" Ron sounded both shocked and impressed.

"Well, I never knew that I shouldn't," Harry explained. "See what I mean? I've got loads to learn...I bet I'm the worst in class."

"No way," Daphne interrupted, shaking her head. "There are plenty of Muggle-borns who pick up on magic super quickly, and I promise you that I know one or two Purebloods who can barely read a book, let alone use a wand properly."

It was then that they heard a commotion from outside the compartment, and the three of them glanced up to see an elderly woman pushing a trolley slide the door open and peer inside.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" She grinned, and Daphne glanced at her watch to see that it was about lunchtime already. They had almost definitely left London by now; the hustle and bustle of the growing city had given way to sheep and farmland, and the weather was already beginning to cool down.

Harry and Daphne both leapt to their feet to explore the trolley's goods, while Ron muttered something about a sandwich his mum had packed for him. Daphne barely held back a laugh as Harry took in all of the sweets on the trolley–they were clearly a bit different from what he was used to. She acted as a guide, explaining each treat and what it could do while buying herself several Sugar Quills. Harry, who clearly had never had any of these in his life, chose to buy some of everything–"That way, I can see what I do and don't like"–and Daphne helped him carry it all into the compartment before setting it down in a rather impressive pile on the floor.

"Go on, have a pasty," Harry tried to convince Ron, as he complained about the corned beef in his sandwich. He clearly didn't want to feel like charity, but Daphne could see his eyes as they moved from the pasty to his sandwich and back again.

"I'm not having any of them," Daphne tried to encourage him, "I don't like pasties."

Seeing that he wasn't taking from anyone's meal, Ron finally conceded and took the pasty from Harry's outstretched hand. Together, the trio munched happily on the variety of treats they had with them, while Daphne and Ron occasionally explained to Harry what a certain sweet would do if he ate it.

In particular, Chocolate Frogs seemed difficult to comprehend.

"They're not real frogs, are they?" Harry seemed doubtful, scanning the packet with a critical eye.

"No," Ron answered as Daphne laughed into the quill sticking out of her mouth. "But check what the card is because I'm missing Agrippa."

"Oh, I have a few spare Agrippa!" Daphne exclaimed, rummaging through her bag. "Swap you for a Morgana?"

After they had swapped cards, Ron went on to explain to Harry how Chocolate Frog packets contained collectable cards inside of them of famous witches and wizards. Ron revealed that he was now missing essentially just a Ptolemy, and Daphne interjected that the one card that she was missing was a Godric.

They both watched as Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog, only to reveal a familiar silver-haired headmaster in the image on his card.

"So this is Dumbledore!" He exclaimed, turning the card over to read the back. By the time he turned it back around, the figure had vanished. Harry looked shocked. "He's gone!"

"Well you can't expect him to hang around all day," Ron chuckled, and Daphne cast an inquisitive eye over Harry. "Do pictures not move in the Muggle world?"

"I–well–some of them do, but not like this. It's very different." Harry tried to explain. Her brows furrowed, but she nodded and instead divvied up the remaining Chocolate Frogs with Ron, with Harry's permission. Murphy's Law, one of the cards she received was another Morgana, but she also collected two more Rowenas and a Merlin.

Daphne smiled fondly as she looked over the Merlin card. His face was as familiar to her as her parents, given the amount of time she spent with the portrait of him hanging in the library room of her home. She looked up as she saw Harry tear open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, wrinkling her nose has Ron issued Harry with a warning, "You want to be careful with those. When they say every flavour, they mean every flavour."

"There's chocolate and peppermint, sure, and marmalade," Daphne explained further, "but there's also spinach, liver and tripe."

"George reckons he got a bogey-flavoured one once," Ron nodded sagely as Daphne's face screwed up in disgust. Poor George.

Carefully, Daphne plucked a vivid red bean from the bag while Ron selected a dark green. With a decisive nod, they each bit into the bean, and while Ron gagged–"Blergh, sprouts!"–Daphne grinned gleefully. "Candy apple!"

As the game progressed, they each took turns on a bean each. Curry, coffee, baked bean, grass, and anchovy all made an appearance, while Daphne took one for the team and ate the pepper bean that neither Harry nor Ron were particularly keen on.

The neat fields and farmland had disappeared from view as the Express sped through forestry, twisting rivers following the tracks of the train as dark hills rose high above. As they continued to chat and compare the wizarding world to the Muggle, the trio heard a knock on the door as a round-faced boy entered, looking tearful.

"Sorry, but have you seen a toad?"

The three shook their heads, and the boy began to tremble. "Are you sure? He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Harry offered encouragingly, and the boy sniffled before nodding. "Yeah," he agreed miserably, "well, if you see him…" Trailing off, the boy exited the compartment and travelled further down the train. Daphne quickly double-checked her bag to make sure that a toad hadn't somehow snuck inside, but she was satisfied that there wasn't any creature hiding in her bag that shouldn't have been–though her kitten, she knew, was curled up inside one of the deep rooms of her trunk–and turned back to the conversation at hand.

"If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose him as quick as I could," Ron was saying.

"You can hardly talk!" Daphne exclaimed teasingly, "You brought Scabbers!"

Laughing, Ron agreed before looking down at his companion in disgust. "He could have died and you wouldn't even notice the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday and the spell didn't even work. Here, I'll show you."

Rummaging through his trunk, Ron pulled a very battered-looking wand from one of the side compartments, and Daphne could clearly see that the wand had to have once belonged to Charlie. For all of his good traits, he was not particularly light-handed and had accidentally broken potions phials more than once. His wand, meanwhile, was chipped in places and the unicorn hair core appeared to be poking out of the end, something Ron was quick to point out to Harry before clearing his throat and raising the wand in the air. He hadn't yet said anything when the compartment door slid open, and this time the round-faced boy was accompanied by a girl with a bush of voluminous brown hair, already dressed in her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she proclaimed loudly. Daphne shared a glance with the boys before turning back to face the door.

"We've already told Neville that we haven't seen it," she responded, though the girl's attention was far more focused on Ron's wand than anything else.

"Are you doing magic?" She questioned, sitting herself down beside Daphne. "Let's see then!"

Ron looked taken aback, and Daphne doubted that she looked very different. Clearing his throat again, Ron began reciting what Daphne highly doubted was a real spell. If anything, she would bet that it was the fault of one of the twins. They seemed the type.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Hermione questioned, voicing Daphne's thoughts aloud. "Well, it's not very good is it? I've tried just a few simple spells myself, but they've all worked for me. I've learnt all of our set books by heart, of course–nobody in my family's magic at all, so it was such a surprise when I got my letter–I just hope that I've remembered enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Harry, Ron, and Daphne exchanged incredulous looks. Daphne had been almost certain that the girl, Hermione, was going to run out of oxygen before finishing her sentence.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered, and Daphne and Harry each offered their own names. Hermione paused at Harry's, her eyes widening.

"Are you really? I know all about you, of course, I got a few extra books for background reading and you're in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century."

"Am I?" Harry muttered, appearing dazed by this information.

"Didn't you know? I would have wanted to find out everything if it were me," Hermione exclaimed. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I think Gryffindor sounds the best though I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad either."

"All of my brothers are in Gryffindor," Ron responded gloomily, "my parents were too. I don't know what they'll do if I'm not, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad."

"My dad was in Ravenclaw," Daphne added, "and my mum was in Slytherin. I wouldn't mind either one, but Gryffindor would be ok too. I can't see myself being a Hufflepuff, though."

Hermione nodded, processing the information, before standing and joining Neville at the doorway.

"We'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better get changed, you know, I expect we'll be arriving soon."

With that, she and Neville left off down the corridor again, and the trio collectively let out a breath of air.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," Ron grumbled. Daphne agreed that Hermione seemed to be a bit much, and nodded her head against the window before swivelling around to stretch her legs out on the seat.

"What do your older brothers do now that they've left?" Harry asked Ron.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," Ron explained.

"Mum's still searching for a replacement for Charlie," Daphne recalled her mother discussing it over dinner the previous evening. "I think she's planning on writing to him later to thank him for helping out this summer. She was super stressed about filling up all her orders after she practically ran out over Christmas."

When Ron began on his Quidditch tangent, Daphne quickly stood and stepped out into the corridor. Further down the train, she could make out the figure of Cedric Diggory and she called out to him, jogging down to meet him halfway.

"Is everything alright?" He asked as she approached him, his eyebrows furrowing as he quickly checked over her figure. Of her older cousins, she had always been closest to Cedric. While the others dismissed her and always had something better to do, Cedric was always happy to sit with her, listen to her childlike ravings, or even take her to visit Diagon Alley for the day.

"What? Oh, yeah, everything's fine. I was just wondering if you knew how far away we are."

Cedric shook his head before tilting it to the side, a concentrated look in his eyes. "Maybe about an hour or so? The driver usually makes an announcement when we're half an hour away."

Nodding, Daphne turned on her heel and made her way back down the hallway. "Thank you!" She called behind her, waving before entering back into the compartment. She then left the boys to their discussion, tuning out and instead pulling out her notebook to continue reading.

Engrossed as she was in the journal, Daphne initially didn't hear the train driver announce that they were half an hour away from their destination. It took Harry tapping on her page before she looked up, pink colouring her cheeks before she hurriedly closed the notebook and pushed it deep into her bag. Peering out the window, she could see that it was getting dark and the mountains and forests were barely visible beneath a deep purple sky. After opening her trunk, Daphne tucked her bag away into one of the spare rooms while she pulled out her robes. She could see the corner of Ron's jacket sticking out of his trunk, hence why he was having difficulty closing it, and both she and Harry helped to sit on the trunk while Ron latched it shut.

After the three of them were back in their robes, Harry shuffled over on his seat to make room while Daphne switched sides so that she could face the right direction as they made their approach. Cramming their pockets with the last of the sweets that Harry had bought, at the castle appeared as a spec in the distance the three of them stood and joined the crowd gathering in the corridor outside the compartment. Finally, the train stopped, and Daphne found herself separated from Ron and Harry as the throng of people pushed and shoved to get out. She was about to fall forwards when a hand caught at the sleeve of her robe and pulled her upright–she could just make out Harry's paling face behind two seniors standing between them, his hand still gripped tight to her sleeve.

"Sorry!" She squeaked as she bumped into two first year girls who had also linked arms in an attempt not to get lost. They both almost looked like sisters, with the same jet black hair and blue eyes, though she could see that the first girl's hair was curly whereas the second girl's hair was pin-straight with a streak of blonde peeking out from behind her right ear.

"At least give me your name first," the first girl joked, causing Daphne to choke out a laugh. After offering her name, the girls introduced themselves as Felicity Eastchurch and Imogen Stretton.

Eventually, all five of them stumbled out onto the train platform, Felicity and Imogen splitting off with a cheerful farewell while Harry, Ron and Daphne bumped into each other as they tried to stick together. In comparison to the crowd of people she had been caught up in, the cold night air felt like a slap to the face as she shivered, keeping herself between Harry and Ron in an effort to shield herself as she felt goosebumps erupt across her arms. Suddenly, she spotted a lamp bobbing over their heads, and gaped as a large silhouette formed in her line of sight.

"First years! First years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Daphne shot Harry a look as a big hairy face found itself illuminated by the lamp its figure held.

"Who is that?" She asked incredulously.

"Hagrid, the gamekeeper," Harry replied mildly, leading her and Ron to huddle close to the large man.

"C'mon, follow me–anymore first years? Mind your step, now! First years, follow me!"

Eventually, the group of first years began following Hagrid down a slippery, steep path barely lit by the lamp Hagrid lofted high above his head. Daphne gripped Harry's arm tightly as she slipped precariously as they came to a bend in the path.

The crowd gasped as they turned the corner to see Hogwarts laid out before them. Directly at their feet was a large black lake, and atop a mountain on the other side stood the magnificent castle, her windows sparkling with light in the starry sky.

"Woah," Ron uttered under his breath, and Daphne could barely gather the strength to nod in agreement.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, and Daphne lowered her eyes to see little boats sitting in the water by the shore. After the trio made it to their boat they were followed by a boy who introduced himself as Dean Thomas.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid shouted over the commotion of introductions. "Right then–forward!"

Their fleet of boats set off across the water at once, gliding across the lake as if it were glass. Everyone was silent as they took in the scene before them, their first glimpse at the true magnificence of the castle which was to become their home as it grew ever closer. With Ron, Harry and Dean distracted, Daphne took the chance to glance around the other boats until she found Theo staring back at her, as if he had known that she was searching for him. His eyes seemed to communicate an apology, but Daphne was not able to do more than gently shake her head before she turned back to the imposing castle.

Hagrid suddenly yelled for them to duck as they reached the cliff, and they all bent their heads while the boats carried them through a curtain of ivy and along a dark tunnel before the boats came to rest at what appeared to be an underground harbour, where they clamoured out of their boats and onto the pebbled shore.

"Oi, you there! Is this your toad?" Called Hagrid as he checked the boats. From behind her, Daphne heard Neville call out "Trevor!" before rushing past their group to collect his pet from the large man. They then collectively climbed up a passageway in the rock until they came out right at the front door of the castle. Hagrid knocked heavily on the door, and within moments it swung open to reveal a tall, elderly witch dressed in emerald green robes. Based on description alone, Daphne guessed that this must be Professor McGonagall.

The doors opened wide, the first years piled into the Entrance Hall of the castle and gazed around in awe. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches with a ceiling so high it appeared to simply disappear into the void above them, magnificent marble staircases facing them which led to the upper castle floors. Cautiously, the first years followed the dark haired woman up a set of internal stairs before she turned to face them. Daphne could hear hundreds of voices echoing out from within the room behind her as they all crowded into a small side chamber to the side of the hall and awaited whatever the woman had to say.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she began, "the start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered on Ron's nose, where he had a smudge of charcoal, and on Daphne's ruffled robes from where Harry had grabbed it to prevent her from slipping down the track to the boats. Out of the corner of her eye, Daphne could see Harry attempting vainly to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall finished, "please wait quietly."

While Harry turned to Ron to ask how they were sorted into their houses, a movement to their left caught Daphne's eye and she spotted a familiar head of platinum hair making its way toward them.

"So it's true then," he called out as he neared closer. "What everyone was saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

The crowd hushed as Draco's words carried through the room, and Daphne glanced between him and Harry with concern. She could tell by Harry's demeanour that he recognised Draco, but she didn't know how they had met.

"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Draco introduced Vincent and Gregory beside him, as they stood by and simply watched. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron coughed, clearly attempting to hide a snigger, and Daphne let out a sigh as she saw Draco spin upon him.

"Think my name's funny do you?" He spat. "No need to ask why you are. Red hair, freckles, and hand-me-down robes? You must be a Weasley."

Draco turned back to Harry as Ron shrunk beneath Draco's hard gaze while Daphne did her best to squash the anger building in her stomach. Where did he get the right to look down on any one of them? All he was doing was making himself look like a fool.

"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You might have made a decent choice with Greengrass–" Draco turned briefly to Daphne, "–but you don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held his hand out for Harry to shake, and Daphne couldn't help the small burst of pride which flared in her chest when Harry refused to take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he replied coolly, and a pink tinge made its way onto Draco's cheeks. He seemed to realise that this was a lost cause, but before turning away completely he briefly faced Daphne herself.

"I honestly expected better from you, Greengrass," he said slowly, "after all, a family as prestigious as yours must be careful not to associate with the riff-raff, wouldn't they?"

Levelling her stare, Daphne stepped closer and shifted her hair back to her own shade of icy blonde.

"I honestly expected better from you, Malfoy," she mocked, tilting her head as she clenched her fists in an effort to keep her composure. "After all, a family as disgraced as yours must be careful not to damage their reputation further, wouldn't they?"

Draco's face flashed white–whether in fear or in anger, she couldn't be sure–and he bared his teeth slightly before turning on his heel and storming off to the other side of the chamber.

"Wicked!" Ron whispered proudly as Daphne turned back to the boys beside her, and they collectively let out a sigh.

"He won't forget that," she murmured, and noticed out of the corner of her eye that both of the boys nodded in agreement before she whipped around, startled by a few screams from behind her.

She gasped as about twenty ghosts streamed through the back wall of the chamber. They didn't seem to have noticed the first years, floating and talking among themselves as they appeared to be arguing over something.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance–"

"My dear Friar, haven't we all given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name, you know, and he's not even a real ghost–I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights suddenly noticed the group, and they all seemed to collectively huddle together in the face of this startling occurrence.

"New students!" the Friar, a short, fat figure, smiled around at everyone. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few students nodded in response, but the entire collective remained mute at the prospect of talking to ghosts.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" The Fat Friar continued, "my old house, you know."

"Move along now," Professor McGonagall's sharp voice cut in, "the Sorting Ceremony is about to start." One by one, the ghosts floated through the opposite wall as the professor instructed the first years to form a line and follow her into the Great Hall. Until now, Daphne hadn't stopped to consider herself nervous but as they began to move into the hall, but her legs felt shaky as she moved forward. In front of her was a boy with sandy hair, and she could feel Harry nervously wringing his hands behind her as they walked through the large double doors.

As soon as she stepped inside, Daphne felt an overwhelming sense of homeliness. The magnificent hall was lit with thousands of candles floating in midair over the four long tables housing the multitudes of older students. At the top of the hall, a fifth table sat overseeing the rest of the room which was where the professors sat, the table laid with glittering golden plates and goblets matching the pieces on the students' tables. Professor McGonagall led the first year students to the very front of the hall, while the rest of the students watched them in silence. The ghosts flickered in amongst the tables and students, drawing her eyes up to the ceiling above. It was dotted with stars behind a velvety backdrop, clearly spelt with a charm to produce a reflection of the sky outside, which Daphne heard Hermione explaining to someone else behind her. It was hard to believe that there was a ceiling there at all.

Daphne raised a questioning eyebrow as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of them before placing a pointed hat upon it. For several moments, there was complete silence as everyone stared at the Hat, before a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The entire Hall burst into applause as the Hat finished its song, and Daphne couldn't help but clap along with them.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron hissed towards Harry and Daphne. "I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Daphne snorted at the absurdity of the idea of fighting a troll in the castle before turning her attention right back to Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and I will place the hat on top of your head to be sorted." She called before beginning. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line and sat down before the hat was placed upon her head. The hat had barely fallen over her eyes when, after a moment's pause, the hat shouted out–

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table to the right cheered and clapped as their first new member went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table, the Fat Friar waving merrily from where he floated in the centre.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted again, and Susan scuttled off to sit beside Hannah.

Daphne zoned out as a tall boy was sorted into Ravenclaw, pondering over her house. Her father had been in Ravenclaw and her mother had been in Slytherin, but no one in her family had ever really started a house tradition; the Hydes and Greengrasses were outliers in that aspect among their pureblood brethren. Realistically, she knew that Slytherin was a high possibility, but the only house she could truly discount herself from was Hufflepuff.

She blinked, bringing herself back to attention as Hermione's name was called. She was practically bouncing upon the stool in her excitement, and though she was not sorted as fast as Hannah or Susan, it wasn't long before the hat cried out–

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Daphne barely had time to register Ron's groan of annoyance before Hermione had run off to the Gryffindor table and the professor was reading the next name from her list.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

After reassuring looks from Ron and Harry, Daphne cautiously stepped up to the stool and waited for the hat to fall atop her head. As soon as the hat was dropped, its floppy brim covered her eyes and left her in darkness.

"Hmm, a difficult one you are," a voice spoke in her ear, causing her to jolt in surprise. "Ambitious with an excellent mind to boot. Plenty of courage, too, I see. Enough wit to drown someone, and enough cunning to do it. Where do you think you belong?"

Daphne stopped to think, hard, about what she knew of the houses and what she knew about herself.

Well, definitely not Hufflepuff, she started, eliciting a chuckle out of the voice echoing through her head. I'm not patient enough for that, and far too competitive. I suppose that means that I'm quite impulsive? I like to think that I'm clever, and determined to do what I want. But when I don't, I get angry very easily.

"An excellent assessment," the Hat replied, "but where do you think you should go?"

Daphne got the distinct feeling that this was a test.

Isn't it your job to tell me? She thought, amused. You're the one supposed to be sorting me, not myself.

"How is it any different?" The Hat responded. "The Sorting is based on your own traits–the fact that I am the one analysing them doesn't change the fact that they are yours."

Daphne could hear the hall beginning to murmur as she continued to sit shrouded in darkness.

"Nevertheless, I think that you are certainly indecisive. Very much like your grandfather."

She took that to be a compliment before the Hat bellowed:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Finally, the Hat was lifted from her head, and she blinked as she adjusted to the briefly blinding light of the hall. Though it was slow to begin, the Gryffindor table erupted into raucous applause as Daphne hopped down from the stool and made her way to the table, rubbing at her eyes as she did so. She chanced a glance back and caught Harry and Ron looking her way, and so she sent them a supportive smile as she sat between Hermione and a boy who introduced himself as Percy Weasley. Further down the table, Daphne could see the Weasley twins grinning in her direction, and Percy Weasley introduced the boy beside them as Lee Jordan, the boy with the tarantula.

Daphne sat and watched as Neville–surprisingly, in her own opinion–joined the Gryffindor table, pursing her lips tight as Draco was instantly collected by Slytherin. As she glanced over to the Slytherin table and caught his eye, just as Theo was also sorted to the serpent house, she could see that behind the confident facade he was expressing, he was just as nervous as she was. In some way, this was a comfort, knowing that even someone like Draco Malfoy could be anxious over something like Hogwarts, but this fact had the opposing effect just as easily.

Daphne's head swung back towards the stool as Harry's name was called. The entire hall erupted into whispers and shouts at his name, exclamations of shock and surprise. She could see that he was feeling overwhelmed, and watched as he stepped up to the stool and disappeared behind the raggedy Hat like she had.

"How long did the Hat take with me?" She whispered to Percy.

"About six minutes," he responded, surprising her. It certainly hadn't felt like six minutes. "You were a Hatstall. Even Professor Dumbledore was beginning to look curious."

Daphne knew that her own father had been a Hatstall, before the Hat had made its decision and settled on Ravenclaw. When she got the chance, she had to see if she could ask one of the professors more about the hat. It was strange how the hat was supposed to sort you, and yet you ended up doing most of the work. What, then, was the point in having it?

As Harry started to inch closer to the five minute mark, Daphne saw the rim of the Hat flutter before its mouth opened. Nudging Percy, who had turned to scold his brothers, they both turned just in time to witness the Hat broadcast its decision.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table erupted into chaos as everyone around Daphne began to clap and cheer for the Boy Who Lived. The Weasley Twins began to whistle, and Daphne thought that Percy looked so proud he was about to cry as Harry hurriedly slipped from the stool and made his way to the table, making his way to his seat between Hermione and Daphne after Percy vigorously shook his hand. Daphne offered Harry a reassuring smile as, after Lisa Turpin became a Ravenclaw, Ron was called up to the stool. Though Daphne didn't think there was any doubt that Ron would get into Gryffindor, she could sense the boys on either side of her tense as Ron sat down.

Finally, once Blaise had been sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat to one side while Professor Dumbledore stood to address the hall.

"Welcome," he began, "to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

Daphne exchanged bewildered glances with both Harry and Ron as the rest of the hall clapped for the eccentric headmaster. She honestly didn't know whether to laugh or not; it seemed, so far, as if the Professor was as strange as her parents' friends claimed that he was.

"Is he–a bit mad?" Harry voiced her thoughts aloud, sounding uncertain as he glanced around the table.

"Mad?" Percy questioned airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world, but I suppose he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Glancing down from Percy, Daphne's eyes widened as she took in the setting in front of her. What had previously been gilded golden platters were now filled to the brim with foods of all kinds, from roast meats and vegetables to Yorkshire pudding and, oddly, mint humbugs.

While Ron and Harry piled their plates with food, Daphne selected small portions of everything–save for the mint humbugs–before carefully biting into a piece of roasted chicken. It was delicious.

"That does look good," the ghost in the ruff from the outside chamber said sadly, watching as the Gryffindor first years tucked in to their meal.

"Can't you–" Harry began, before the ghost shook his head.

"I haven't eaten in almost five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself–Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

Suddenly, the ghost cast an inquisitive eye over Daphne and she couldn't help but feel oddly exposed.

"Say–have we met before? You appear familiar."

"I highly doubt it," she replied mildly, ignoring the startled looks of Ron and Harry in favour of badgering her way through her piece of chicken.

"I know who you are!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. "My brother's told me about you. You're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy–" the ghost began stiffly, before the boy beside Hermione, three seats down from Daphne, interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

"Like this," he said, clearly miffed, before seizing his left ear and tugging until his whole head swung from his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it were hinged. At the stunned faces of his audience, Nearly Headless Nick seemed pleased with himself as he flipped his head back onto his head.

Daphne put down her chicken. She had lost her appetite.

"So, new Gryffindors! I hope you'll help us to win the House Cup this year? Slytherin have gotten the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost insufferable."

"The Slytherin ghost," Daphne explained helpfully before Ron could ask. He seemed suspicious that she knew so much, but didn't press as they turned to look to the Slytherin table, where Daphne was delighted to see the Baron sitting between Draco and Theo. Theo kept glancing from the ghost's robes, stained with silvery blood, and back to his plate in trepidation.

By this time, almost everyone had finished their meals and were simply talking among themselves. Within an instant, the food from the table disappeared, leaving their plates glistening before the platters which formerly hosted their roast meal suddenly instead held puddings of every variety. Just from where she sat, Daphne could make out blocks of ice cream in every flavour she could think of, apple pies, chocolate éclairs, a multitude of berries and even jelly. As Daphne helped herself to the bowl of raspberries, earning amused glances from the Weasley Twins as she slowly slid the bowl away from them and closer to her, discussion turned to their families.

"I never knew my dad," Daphne heard Dean explaining to Seamus from across the table. "He died before I was born. As far as we know he was a Muggle, but he might have been a wizard. Either way, we don't know much."

"Really?" Daphne inquired, intrigued. She knew it was impolite, but it was certainly the strangest story she had overheard since she began to accompany her mother to her store in Diagon Alley. Dean simply nodded, spooning another scoop of caramel ice cream into his mouth.

"I'm half and half," Seamus supplied, "Me dad's a Muggle, Mam's a witch. She didn't tell him until after they were married–bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out!"

Daphne giggled as Fred and George exchanged unreadable looks over Ron's head.

"What about you, Neville? Daphne?"

Neville nodded at Daphne to talk first, so she addressed Dean as she continued eating her way through what appeared to be a never-ending bowl of raspberries.

"Both of my parents are wizards," she explained, "and honestly I don't think my family has had any Squibs in centuries. My grandma on my mum's side is French, so a lot of my cousins and distant relatives are scattered through Europe. I haven't even met half of them."

"Wow," Ron murmured, surprised. She had explained part of her family history to Harry and Ron on the train, so they did not seem as shocked as a few of the others were, but she still hadn't told them the whole story. She probably never would.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," Neville supplied, "but the family thought I was a Squib for ages. My great-uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off guard and force some magic out of me–he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once and I nearly drowned–but nothing happened until I was eight. Great-uncle Algie came round for tea and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by my ankles when my great-aunt Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased–Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here, because they all thought that I might not have enough magic to come. Great-uncle Algie was so pleased that he bought me my toad."

"Merlin, Neville," Daphne replied, the only words she could think of. She had met Augusta Longbottom once when she accompanied her father to the Ministry one day as a kid, and to this day she had never felt so intimidated. For a small woman, in rather ridiculous clothing, her presence was almost double her height. Nevertheless, she never would have expected the woman to sanction her grandson being dangled outside of an upstairs window.

Daphne's head shot towards Harry as he let out a short cry of pain.

"Harry?" She called, alarmed. "What is it?"

A strange look crossed Harry's face as he continued to look towards the High Table, before he looked towards Percy on Daphne's left.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked.

"Professor Quirrell?" Daphne turned, curiously. She'd never heard of a professor by that name.

"The professor in the turban," Harry explained quickly, and Daphne nodded her head in understanding. The teacher that Quirrell was talking to seemed rather stern, with a hooked nose, sallow skin, and hair that Daphne hoped appeared so greasy only in the flickering candlelight.

"That's Professor Snape," Percy supplied, biting into an éclair. "He teaches Potions, but he doesn't really want to–everyone knows he's been after Quirrell's job for years."

As Percy turned away, Daphne shot Harry a look that she hoped conveyed her disbelief that it was really just "nothing" as he had said. "What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?" Harry refused to look at her, swirling his spoon through his ice cream as he avoided her gaze.

"You know what!" She exclaimed, prodding at Harry's arm with her finger. "There's no way that that was just nothing."

Sighing, Harry glanced up and into the waiting eyes of Ron Weasley. Daphne looked to Ron too, and they essentially had a conversation through their eyes alone before they turned simultaneously back to Harry, waiting.

"It's just my scar," Harry informed them quietly. "As soon as that Professor Snape looked at me, my scar began to hurt. I'm sure it was just nothing."

Ron shrugged and went back to his dessert, while Daphne frowned thoughtfully into her raspberry bowl. She'd never heard of scars aching on command before, not like that, but she supposed that Harry's scar would be unique considering its origin. Brushing the thought from her head, Daphne turned her attention to Professor Dumbledore as he stood to his feet again.

"Just a few more words now that we're all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give out. First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember this as well," Professor Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley Twins. "I have also been asked by Mr Filch, our caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term; any student interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

Finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

"He can't be serious," Daphne exclaimed to Percy in disbelief, swapping an unsettled glance with Dean.

"Must be," Percy responded, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere–I mean, the forest's full of dangerous creatures, everyone knows that. He might have told us Prefects, at least."

Dean simply raised his eyebrows in response before turning back to the bespeckled headmaster.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

Daphne could hear the older students barely suppress groans of complaint as, with a flick of his wand, Dumbledore created lyrics twisted out of a long, golden ribbon.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," Dumbledore bellowed, "and off we go!"

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

It was a mess. Everyone finished the song at different times, Daphne laughing towards the end as she finished her serenade together with Ron, Harry, Seamus and Dean. Hermione had finished shortly beforehand, and Neville hadn't even started. At long last, only the Weasley Twins remained as they wrapped up their incredibly slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. The people in the portraits whispered and pointed as they passed, which caused Harry to jump the first time he noticed it. As Daphne walked, stuck firmly between Harry and Dean, she almost walked off of the edge of one of the staircases in her food-fogged state. It was only Dean's quick reflexes which prevented her from tumbling down and into the entrance hall, which Daphne was extremely thankful for as she sheepishly sandwiched herself between Dean and the wall. After walking through several passages hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, the group came to a collective standstill before a bundle of floating walking sticks. As Percy took another step forward, they began to throw themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy informed the first-years quietly. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice. "Peeves! Show yourself!"

The hallway remained empty, save for the floating walking sticks and a loud raspberry sound blown down the corridor.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

With a small pop, a little man with dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, legs crossed and hands clutching the walking sticks as he floated in midair.

"Ickle firsties!" He exclaimed with a cackle. "What fun!"

Suddenly, they were forced to duck as he swooped down at them, giggling wickedly as he did so.

"Go away Peeves, or the Baron will hear about this! I mean it!" Percy barked, and the small man stuck his tongue out before vanishing and dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. The only thing they could hear was the rattling of the coats of armour as he swooped past.

"You want to avoid Peeves," Percy advised the group as they continued on. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, and he doesn't always want to."

They stopped at what appeared to be a dead-end, the wall in front of them hung with a portrait of a large woman in a strikingly pink, silk dress.

"Password?" She asked, seeming uninterested.

"Caput Draconis," Percy replied, and Daphne tilted her head in confusion before righting it and separating from Dean slightly in order to call out to Percy as the portrait swung forward to reveal a short tunnel in the wall.

"'The dragon's head?'" She questioned, while all Percy did was nod.

"It's a reference to the school motto," he explained, before pausing slightly at the end of the corridor. "How'd you figure that?"

Daphne shrugged as Percy led their group into the Gryffindor common room. "I learnt a bit of Latin when I was younger."

The room was cosy and round, filled with comfy-looking armchairs and a short couch facing a large fireplace to the right of two separate spiral staircases.

"The boys dormitory is up the left staircase, and the girls is up the right. You'll have to be up bright and early before classes tomorrow, so I suggest that you all get a good night's sleep."

With that, their crowd dispersed, the rest of the first years going up into the dormitories.

"How'd you know the password?" Ron asked as they prepared for their own group to split apart.

Daphne shrugged. "I took Latin lessons when I was younger," she explained. "I'm a bit rusty, but I know enough."

The answer seemed to satisfy his curiosity, and that of Harry, Dean and Seamus too, because they all too happily parted ways as they went up to their dormitory.

The girls introduced themselves to each other as they changed into their pyjamas. Anna Mirfield and Natalie, the girl on Daphne's other side, were both half-bloods who had attended Muggle school together; Parvati Patil had been split from her twin sister by the sorting, but she had formed a close bond with Lavender Brown. Lucy Hurst and Fay Dunbar had gravitated to one another on the Express when Fay, who was fluent in sign language, bumped into Lucy, who was mute, while at the sweets trolley. Alison Denshaw was the only girl that Daphne was otherwise familiar with, aside from Hermione, and she could hardly say that it was a pleasure. Alison's father had worked with Daphne's at the Ministry for several years, and during that time they had been forced to associate on several occasions. It was only through Theo holding her back that Daphne hadn't thrown herself at the girl by now–she was a haughty little toad, and it appeared that she had a cling-on in the form of Sally Birchgrove.

One by one, each of the girls pulled their curtains closed and fell silent. Daphne, instead sat by the moonlit window, writing a quick letter to her parents before quietly letting Morrigan, her trusty owl, out from her cage to deliver it. As chance would have it, a great gust of wind rattled through the open window just as Daphne went to close it and she shivered as she hastily pulled it shut.

Sleepily stumbling her way back to her bed, Daphne had barely closed her own curtains and crawled beneath the covers before she was fast asleep, dreaming of long silver hair and an eerie red light.