Note: This is not the sequel to Fallen from Grace. That one's coming, I swear it. It'll be up as soon as I feel like writing the last couple of chapters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Ember and anything else you don't recognize.

Warning: This contains femmeslash so if you are opposed to this in any way, my advice is to press the back button on your browser now. If you do not heed this warning, you cannot hold me responsible for any tainting of your delicate mind that may occur. Ergo, please don't flame me just because you aren't into the idea of slash. Nobody's forcing you to read this.

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In a brightly lit room with various pictures hanging from the walls, Ember Cree lay on her stomach on the padded table, cringing. She was a very attractive seventeen-year-old, with short black hair with a forest green side-fringe, pale skin and eyes that were deep purple with silver flecks. Every so often she would let out a tiny whimper - her flesh was being cut up.

"You sure you're okay with this?" the man tearing into her asked.

"Yeah, sure. Just hurts a bit. Totally worth it, though," Ember said encouragingly. The man smiled at her and moved his wand down again to give her the tattoo that she wanted. She was at a magical tattoo parlour, the difference between magical and non-magical being that magical tattoos moved. While it was extremely common for painted pictures to move, it was incredibly difficult to learn to make tattoos move, so there were only a few parlours in the world that did it, and they were very expensive.

Ember could well afford it though. Her parents were rich, but Ember preferred to be self-dependent – she worked at a muggle book store and had been putting in many extra hours lately to amass the money she needed for her new tattoo. She already had a rose on her left upper arm and two Celtic-style crucifixes on the insides of her wrists, the rose which grew, blossomed and died over twenty-four hours, and the crucifixes unmoving, done by a muggle tattooist. Now, the man with the wand was just putting the finishing touches on the huge purple dragon that was splayed across her back, the head breathing fire at her shoulder blade and the tail twisting around on her left buttock. Once the design had been completely etched into her skin, he tapped it once with his wand and it started to move. The fire periodically flew from the dragon's nose, the wings flapped, and the tail writhed around wildly. Ember covered her breasts with her arms and stood up, looking behind her into a mirror to see the man's handiwork.

"Oh, it's just beautiful, Hector," she said to the man, who simply smiled in return. She lowered part of her black short shorts to admire the end of the tail. "It looks so lifelike, you'd think I had a dragon of my own and it was following me about."

"I am paid to be good, my Lady Cree," he said in a stilted tone. She laughed. "Do you want to test it with your wings, to see if it all fits right?"

"Sure, don't see why not," Ember replied, and two huge, purple bat-like wings sprouted from her shoulder blades. This was a trait she had received from her father – he had received a dragon's blood transfusion before she was conceived, and he had several powers that were not natural to regular wizards. She, however, just received the wings. Having them in her back hurt her, but she feared ostracizing from the people she knew, so only outstretched them when at home or with Hector – she had known Hector for years, and so trusted him with her wings.

"That's lovely," he said. "I did have your wings in mind when I did the dragon, Lady. But I daresay the dragon doesn't measure up to your beauty by half."

"Don't be humble," she said, facing away from him to put her top back on, a black tank. "You and I both know you're the best in the world."

"Well, it's only competition between me, Takamishi in Japan, and Derevnikov in Russia," Hector said, putting his wand away. "And just between you and me, Derevnikov is a hack."

Ember laughed and paid him before walking outside into the warm Australian sun. Even though her back ached, she decided not to apparate home but to walk. It's such a lovely day, Ember reasoned. She felt differently after about two minutes of walking.

"This is awful!" She cried to no one. "I hate walking! I hate legs!" And with that, she apparated home. When she got there, she saw her mother having a cup of tea on the couch. This was the moment when she realised something was severely wrong. Her mother only ever had tea when under emotional stress. "What's wrong, mum?" Ember said, sitting next to her mother, who seemed not to notice her daughter's presence. Ember's father came into the living room and sat in the couch adjacent to theirs. His purple wings were constantly out, unless he said the complex spell which forced them into his back for a temporary amount of time. He smiled at Ember, showing pointed teeth. Her mother sipped her tea.

"It's cold," she said absently. Ember's father leant forward.

"I'll get it," he said, blowing a stream of fire gently towards the mug. It steamed instantly. This seemed to shock Ember's mother enough that she was back in the land of the living.

"Thank you, dear," she said. "Don't you want to tell Ember something?"

"Er… yes," he said, and turned to his daughter, who gave him an enquiring stare. "You see, Emmy-Bear," he said, using her pet-name he hadn't used in years, "today I got an owl from some people in England. Apparently, they're in a bit of trouble with a man who calls himself Voldemort, and they think… that my powers could come in useful. So we're moving there."

"When you say 'we'," she said softly, "Do you mean you and mum?"

"No, darling, all three of us," her father said tentatively.

"So you mean you, mum, and that couch? Because there's no way I'm going to England."

"Ember!" Her mother said sharply. "You know full well what your father means. And you are going to England with us, you can do your last school year there."

"But they have different school years to us," Ember said triumphantly. "I can't just go there halfway through their year when I'm on summer holidays."

"We're leaving tomorrow, before your sixth year ends. We will get there a few days before you leave for Hogwarts," her mother said. "That's the name of the school. Now pack your things, we're leaving the day after tomorrow."

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Ember scowled. Her parents had waved her off teary-eyed on the platform, but she had only pretended to be emotional. She was still angry at them for making her go halfway around the world. Hardest was saying goodbye to her friends – they could scarcely believe it when she told them she was leaving. Chucking her trunk in the baggage car, she scowled again. Well, she thought, I'd better make some stupid friends in this stupid place. She looked down at herself. She was wearing her regular black tank top and a pair of loose black jeans with a studded belt. Could be worse, she thought to herself as she swept her green fringe out of her face.

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Seventh-year Ginny Weasley sat with her friends in a carriage, gossiping. In all the years she had been friends with them, she had loved girlishly talking about boys, clothes, and music. She loved being a part of the ditzy Gryffindor group of four girls who were the most popular girls in school. Now, their inane chatter hurt her ears.

"How cute was Harry Potter?" Said one girl.

"Alicia! You can't say that!" cried another of Ginny's friends. "Ginny well used to go out with him and that!"

"I can say what I want, Phoebe," Alicia retorted with a smile. "So Ginny, how good was he at kissing?"

"I'm not going to tell you guys that!" Ginny giggled behind her hand, plastering fake enthusiasm on her face.

"I think she's saying we have to find out for ourselves," said the last girl, with an Australian accent.

"Steph! That is so not what I am saying at all!" Ginny cried, giving her a friendly slap on the arm. "Do that and I'll give you a right punching."

"Alright, don't get so defensive!" Steph said, holding her hands up.

"Ooh, you know what, girls," said Alicia suddenly. "I heard there's a new girl in our year. From Australia."

Phoebe, Alicia and Ginny looked at Steph. "What?" She cried. "Just because I'm Australian doesn't mean I automatically know her!"

Suddenly, the carriage door opened to reveal Ember. She apologized and was about to leave when she saw Steph, who groaned. "I stand corrected. Ember," she said.

"Stephanie," Ember replied. The two gave each other icy stares for a moment or two before Steph blinked.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Steph said suddenly.

"Just standing here, obviously," Ember said frostily. "I wasn't aware you went to Hogwarts."

"I do," said Steph. "Why are you still here?"

"Just asking myself the same question," Ember said coldly, and slammed the door shut. She traveled the rest of the trip in a carriage alone, fuming. Of all the schools in the world, she just has to go to this one. Bitch. Ember and Steph had loathed each other since the day they locked eyes over a crowded classroom seven years before. It was the happiest day of Ember's life when Steph moved away. She never thought she would have to see her again.

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Ember stood alone in the corner of the Great Hall, bare moments after the last first-year had been sorted. She felt incredibly self-conscious about herself standing alone, but then the attention was drawn from her to the front of the Hall when a woman stood and spoke. Her hair was in a tight bun and her mouth was barely a line on her face.

"Good evening, students," she said. "Now that the first-years have been sorted, I would like to introduce a seventh-year who will be joining us from Australia this year. Please make her feel welcome. Ember Cree, please come up and be sorted."

Ember felt her cheeks burn as she walked to the stool with the sorting hat on it and felt hundreds of eyes on her. She sat on the stool and slipped the hat onto her head. I hope nobody had lice, she thought for a moment before the hat spoke in her mind.

"Lady Cree," it said, amusedly.

You know full well I'm no 'Lady'. It's just what Hector calls me. She thought to the hat.

"Yes, well, I can see much intelligence in you… quite a bit of bravery… loyalty… but also cunning. Where to put you?"

I don't care where, just put me somewhere, she thought. People are beginning to stare.

"One trait rises dominant over the others, however…" the hat continued, as if it hadn't heard her. "I think…

RAVENCLAW!"