Disclaimers: Not mine at all.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway loud and sloppy as a girl ran towards her first class. She was late , of course, as always and she knew Professor Foster would have her hide for being late for the third time that week . . . not that this was the first third time. This being her sixth year made it that much worse.

Long black hair flowed behind her as she tried to come to a sliding halt to turn down the next corridor. Of course, it didn't work and she ended up sliding past her turn. Aloud crash sounded, the metallic clanging n angry suit of armor echoing off the walls as she cried out "Sorry!"

This girl was, of course, me.

I am the youngest (out of three) and clumsiest child of Albus Severus Potter, Tory Potter (actually Toralyn but I hated that name). . . . Heck, why stop there. I'm the clumsiest kid in the "Weasley-Potter-Malfoy-Longbottom connection" and the whole of Hogwarts. People, wizards and Muggles alike, are only safe from me when I'm up on a broom (something I must have inherited from Grandpa Harry, my dad says). As long as I'm on solid ground, though, I might as well be a sloshed elephant.

But I've always been rather different from my family. While everyone came out with that same Weasley red hair (except maybe slightly darker), I got Grandpa Harry's black hair. Where my cousins got the blue and brown eyes of the family, I got the green. The only people I thought I had something in common with were Cousin Teddy and Victoire and their two kids, Dora and Remus . . . but then again, Dora was a metamorphous like her dad and Remus had blond hair like his mum, so never mind. But I was Grandpa Harry's favorite and I suppose that counted for something (everything).

I reappeared back at my turn, trying to shake the suit of armor's metal hand from my ankle. Of course, when I did, it hit his helmet (head) and I was pretty sure he was saying some pretty foul things to me.

"Sorry!" I said again before looking over my shoulder. "Come on Weasley!"

Anthony Weasley appeared around the corner, huffing and puffing, pushing his own red hair out of his face. The youngest of his own family (out of two), Anthony was the son of Uncle Hugo and his wife, Aunt Heather. My cousin was the brains of the family, twice so having inherited the brains from our Aunt Rose and from Great Aunt Hermione. Of course he kept himself in shape but you wouldn't know that if you saw him right then.

"I'm not an athlete, Tory!" he said, angrily, straightening his blue and silver tie. "And it's your fault we're late so don't rush me."

"We're going to be even later if you don't hurry up!"

"Don't rush me I said!"

Running back I grabbed his wrist pulling him forward as he groaned. Of course, Foster wouldn't care if he was late, Prefect that he was. I was only the candidate for the captain of her house's Quidditch team, but that didn't mean anything to her.

Pausing outside the Transfiguration classroom, I pushed my hair behind my ear and opened the door quietly.

Students sat at their desks, writing what was written up on the board while Professor Marie Foster wrote away in her notebook. Anthony walked in before me and I followed trying to be quiet but, of course, I tripped, my bag flying from my shoulder and scattering my books all over the floor in a loud clutter.

"You're late again, Miss Potter," Foster said, not even looking up from her notebook. "Five points from Gryffindor. Take your seat."

Foster didn't really dislike me, or at least that's what she said. She just felt that I had the potential to be "as good at schoolwork as I was a Quidditch" and that I couldn't just "fly" my way through school (her almost exact words). But you'd think that if she did like me she'd at least act like it.

I'm not stupid or anything . . . in fact, I'm very smart even if I'm not as smart as Anthony, but I tend to become easily distracted which is why my scores, while still good, aren't as good as they should be (according to my mum and dad).

Grumbling to myself, I picked up my things and moved to sit between Anthony and my other cousin, Lesley Malfoy, the only daughter of Aunt Lily (the Second) and Uncle Scorpius. She smirked at me blowing her red bangs from her forehead and tucking her short red hair behind her ears. "You're not at all sly, are you, Potter?"

I gently tugged on her green and silver tie. "Stuff it, Malfoy."

Don't get me wrong, Lesley and I were the best of friends really, but, seeing as how she was a Slytherin and I was a Gryffindor, we kept up this playful little "enemy" banter.

On the other side of Anthony, Elliot Longbottom leaned over, his brown eyes wide. "You do realize that if you're late again, Foster will give you detentions for the next two years."

"No I didn't know, Longbottom, but I'll be sure to keep that in mind," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"You better pay attention to the lesson, little badger," Lesley said, grinning evilly. "Grandpa Longbottom may not dock you points, but that doesn't mean other teachers won't."

"Your remarks are getting a little old, Malfoy," Elliot said. "Can't think of anything else to say?"

"Please, will you three just be quiet?" Anthony said, scribbling notes on his parchment. "This spell is definitely N.E.W.T worthy. You'll be made if you haven't learned it for next year."

"It's only September, Weasley," Lesley said, rolling her eyes.

"Doesn't matter. I swear how either of you three ended up in N.E.W.T level classes with me is definitely beyond my comprehension."

"At least something is," I said, reaching behind him to pick a leave from Elliot's brown hair. "Out in the greenhouses again?"

"I was helping Grandpa with this new plant. It's very rare and –"

"Five points from Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw," Foster said. "I you four wish to speak, take it to detention."

"Yes, Professor," we all said, focusing on our notes.

This was how it usually was for the four of us. All descendants from great people, Weasley, Longbottom, Malfoy and I were a quartet so to speak. None of us were seen without at least one of the other, despite the fact that we were in four separate houses. After the war though, there was no need to really act as if we hated each other and we were all more or less family (Elliot was around enough that he might as well be family). We even got detentions together. That's how great our connection was.

Like I said, I was the youngest of three. My brother Theodore was following in Great Uncle Bill's footsteps and becoming a curse breaker, while his twin Gregory was fighting Vampires somewhere in Transylvania. Anthony's older sister Lisa was successfully becoming the editor of the Daily Prophet, a job that kept her busy for hours. Lesley, lucky brat, was the only child, though she swears she heard her mum and dad talking about having another kid. And Elliot has an older brother too, Joshua, though he was off studying plants in the Amazon Jungle.

The rest of the family was still just as huge, considering they all seemed to love to have three or more children so I had about thirty something or more (I've lost count) cousins with some on the way. We've thus been titled, as stated before, the Potter-Weasley-Malfoy-Longbottom connection and we, Anthony, Lesley, Elliot, and I, were the youngest, the kids' kids, which is why we were closer than most.

I loved my family though, despite the fact that when we took pictures I was the only one who really stood out besides Grandpa Harry.

But still, it wasn't easy for any of us to be the youngest, especially me, the youngest descendant of Harry Potter, The Man-Who-Saved-Lives. My closest family, Dad, mum, my brothers, Aunt Lily and her kids, Uncle James (the second) and his kids, and not to mention Grandpa Harry and Grandma Ginny, had done so much already that there wasn't anything left.

How was I to compete with destroying the most evil wizard known to man when I'd feel as if I was just copying someone in my family?

I needed to find me.

But what was me?

And I hated being so well known. It made everything I did seem so . . . unearned. I felt the need to prove that I could do things on my own, without my last name being Potter.

But it was like avoiding the unavoidable, like trying to hide an elephant among poodles. My last name may not have had the same eye-widening breath-taking effect as Grandpa's did back when he had reappeared into the wizarding world, but it still stopped many and turned heads, even if I was the sixth Potter to attend Hogwarts since Grandpa. I had tried to get Headmaster Bagley to change my last name, just for the sorting, but of course it was no use. I even tried to say that I was a different Potter, but now that everyone knew, they expected so much more from me than I could give.

But the fact that I looked just like Grandpa played a big factor in it all.

I just wanted to be me, Tory, not the expected Toralyn Potter. . . .

And that was pretty much how I felt in a nutshell. Of course, Elliot, Anthony, and Lesley were able to sympathize with me but only to a certain extent.

"Let's go, Tory, or we'll be late again, Anthony said, tapping my arm.

Groaning I stood, wearily following my friends towards the next class.

Maybe I'll find myself in Charms class.

A/N: Sigh, the woes of the youngest child. Anyway, just to make sure you guys understand, Tory is Albus Severus's daughter and a Gryffindor, Anthony is Hugo's son and a Ravenclaw, Lesley is Scorpius' daughter and a Slytherin, and Elliot is Neville's grandson and a Hufflepuff. Plus, I figured they are taking N.E.W.T Level classes and so they wouldn't be separated by House. Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoyed. This of course was the information chapter. Be ready for excitement in the next.