I shuffled my feet nervously as I stared at the gargoyle guarding the door. I could hear the chatter from downstairs in the Great Hall. My stomach was churning and I could feel my eyes start to prick with tears. I cursed myself, or rather my luck, over and over, remembering the conversation with my parents earlier that year.

XXXX

"But Mom!" I had screeched. "This isn't fair! I'm almost 16, and I want to stay here with my friends. Let me move in with Beth, please." I had at this point gotten down on my knees and begged.

"No buts, Linny!" She had rolled her eyes at my display. "You're going to love it in England."

I scowled. "And what about my schooling? Are you sure Hogwarts is going to accept me? They follow such a different curriculum." This was my last resort.

My mom's face twitched and broke into a smile. She gleefully shoved the letter under my nose. "This just arrived in the mail from Headmistress McGonagall."

I snatched it and read it quickly. I paled. My doom was sealed.

XXXX

"Are you going to stand there all day?" the gargoyle asked.

"Maybe," I said stubbornly.

"Just give me the password. I don't like waiting." The gargoyle snorted, and if he could've rolled his eyes, I'm sure he would've.

I took the letter out of my pocket to read it again.

Dear Ms. Caroline Benedetto,

After looking over your past grades from the Golden Coast Academy for Young Witches and Wizards, and talking with your past professors, I have seen fit to enroll you as a sixth year for this upcoming term. Attached is a list of things to bring to Hogwarts. Please do not forget anything.

Also, once you arrive, please see me in my office located on the third floor. The password is Devil's Snare.

Regards,

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I sighed, and regarded the gargoyle carefully. "Devil's Snare."

He stepped aside nimbly. "Thank you."

I huffed and moved onto the staircase, which in turn moved, almost exactly like an escalator, and deposited me outside a thick wooden door. I knocked twice, hoping she had forgotten and I could go home.

"Enter." No such luck.

I quickly stepped in and shut the door behind me. A woman with graying red hair examined me over thin spectacles that matched her equally thin lips. Her office was impressive, to say the least. Books lined the walls and a table was devoted to trinkets that shone in the evening light.

"Ms. Benedetto, I presume?"

"Yes, ma'am." I winced at hearing my American accent. It seemed so out of place here, as did I. I cursed my parents silently.

She just looked at me carefully. She soon sighed, however, and stood up. "Come, and sit," she said as she gestured to the seat in front of her desk.

I complied, and watched her as she pulled a raggedy looking hat off of a shelf nearby. She regarded me again carefully. "Here at Hogwarts, we are divided up into four Houses. Each person is placed into a House depending on his or her skills and personality. Usually, we do this at the feast on the first day. However," she paused and regarded me again, "you are rather a special case. We might as well do it in here and avoid more sensationalism, which will undoubtedly follow you. You are, I think, the first transfer student we have ever received."

I winced again. More unwanted fame. Great.

She continued. "Your House will be your home. You will live with the students in your House, dine with them, and have classes with them, though, for the most part, you do all that with every other House. During the school year, students are awarded points which go towards their House, and at the end of the year we tally them up and award the House Cup to the House with the most points." She paused for a moment. "I think that should do it. Let's see where you are."

She plopped the hat unceremoniously on my head. It hummed, and I heard a voice whisper in my ear, "You know, you are very interesting. Brains, yes, but courage, too. I say, you're rather clever."

I snorted.

"You would thrive in an academic environment, I think. Ravenclaw?"

I panicked, and an image imprinted itself in my head. Myself in suspenders, coke bottle glasses, and a pocket protector.

The voice chuckled. "Yes, a sense of humor, too I can see. Ah, and a temper. In that case, you'd better be a GRYFFINDOR!"

The voice had shouted this last bit, and I winced for a third time. The hat was yanked off of my head. I looked to Headmistress McGonagall. "Could you hear what was going on?"

She looked at me, and flashed me a small smile. "No, the conversation the Sorting Hat has with you is entirely private. Except, for of course, the decision it ultimately makes. Gryffindor, for you, apparently." McGonagall sat back down in her chair. "My old House. I'm rather fond of it still." She shook her head. "Well, enough about that. We need to discuss your academics."

I nodded, terrified again.

"I have discussed this with your old professors. Normally, as a sixth year, you would have been forced to take O.W.L exams before starting this year. However, you seem to be uncommonly bright, and therefore, I will be offering you classes as recommended to me by your previous professors. You will, of course, have a choice as to which of these classes to take." She pulled out a sheet of paper. "May I ask what you are planning to do once you graduate?"

I blinked. "Once I graduate? But, I have another three years to go, don't I?"

"I'm afraid not. You have two."

I felt like I was going to faint. McGonagall noticed.

"Don't worry about that now. I'll have pamphlets sent up to your dorm room sometime later this month, and you can talk to your Head of House about it. His name is Professor Longbottom. For now, just choose what you would like to do." She gestured to the paper in front of me.

I looked at it. Immediately I knew what I wanted to take. I looked up at McGonagall. "How many classes is a normal load?"

"Most students your age take five or six classes, though six or seven may be better for you as you try to figure out your future career," she told me. "Have you decided?"

I nodded. "Um, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transiguration, Potions, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies."

McGonagall took all of this information down. "I'll give you your schedule tomorrow at breakfast. As for now, you may head over to the Gryffindor Tower. The entrance is behind the Fat Lady's portrait on the seventh floor. I believe the password is Fortuna Major."

She walked and opened the door as a sign for me to leave. I bowed my head and made my way out, but stopped the minute I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Ms. Benedetto," she sighed, "I know this transition will be hard, and the students here are not always kind. But believe me when I say Gryffindors in particular are known for their loyalty. They are a good group of students, generally, and I am glad you have been placed with them." She smiled briefly. "Now, get to bed. Curfew is 10 p.m. on school nights. Thankfully, you've only arrived one day late, and it was a Sunday. Good luck, Ms. Benedetto."

I smiled at her, and was left to find the Gryffindor Tower on my own. After quite a long hike to the seventh floor, I was winded and confused. I walked up to a portrait of two women washing shirts.

"Excuse me," I said politely, after I had caught my breath.

"Ooh, an American!" One of the women giggled. "To what do we owe the pleasure, love?"

"I'm kind of lost," I confessed. "I'm trying to find the Fat Lady?"

"She's that way," the one who hadn't laughed pointed to the right. "Go straight down the hallway, and take the first left. She's the one in the pink dress. You'll probably hear her before you see her, though. Awful racket."

"Thank you!" I waved as I raced down the hallway. Just as I was about to make a left, I collided with someone.

"Oi! Watch it!" A boy who looked to be about my age rubbed his chest. I had unfortunately head butted him, but it was hardly my fault for being a full head and a half shorter than him.

I mumbled my apologies, hoping he couldn't catch my accent. But today was not my day.

"Hold on, you sound funny." He bent his head closer to mine. "And you're not in uniform. What's your name?"

I was starting to become frustrated. I was tired and wanted to go to bed.

"My name is Caroline Benedetto. And I do not sound funny. I'm American. This is how we talk."

His eyes grew as big as saucers. "An American? Why are you in Hogwarts? Do you go here? Why aren't you in uniform?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "This isn't a prank is it? Did Jack put you up to this? Who are you really?"

I rolled my eyes. Obviously he was not that bright. "Look, I told you who I am. I'm not in uniform because I just got here. I'm a transfer student. And as far as this being a prank," I shuddered, "I wish it was. I'm tired, and I'm going to bed. Good night!"

"Hang on." He held me still. "What do you mean you wish it were a prank? Don't you realize Hogwarts is the best place to learn magic?"

I removed myself from his grip and began walking. "My old school was perfectly fine. Probably better, in fact."

"I really, really doubt that. If you love it so much in the States, then why'd you move?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he matched his stride with mine.

I reached what appeared to be the Fat Lady and turned to him. "I assure you, it wasn't my decision. Are you always this annoying, or am I special?"

He scowled. "Believe me, you're not special, Yankee."

I could feel my anger bubbling up. "You know what I hate about –"

"Are you going to argue all night, or is someone going to give me the password?" The Fat Lady peered at us sleepily.

"Fortuna Major!" I snapped. I was through the hole before she had even finished swinging all the way open.

There was a fire in the fireplace even through it was only September 2nd. But I liked it. The room was red and plush and comfy. For the first time since I had arrived, I felt relaxed. There was a bulletin board in the corner. I made my way towards it and read the notices. Quidditch tryouts? Hmm…

"Oi, Yank!"

And just like that, the tension was back. I quickly turned around and glared at my tormentor.

There were only a handful of people in the room, all of them boys. One boy was in a chair by the fire reading. He lazily looked up at the boy and I in a staring, or, should I say, glaring contest. He snapped his book shut and approached us. "James, what've you done now?" he asked exasperatedly.

I looked down at him in surprised. They actually could've been twins, tough my tormentor, who I figured was called James, was taller and more burly, with brown eyes instead of green and had freckles. This boy also had glasses, though their hair was equally as dark and shaggy.

"I didn't do anything, Al! This, this bloody Yankee ran into me when I was on my way to grab a couple of butterbeers." He looked indignant.

"Did you get any, then?" A boy with blond hair looked at James hopefully.

"No, I didn't, you twat!" He glared at me again.

I scowled even more, if it was possible. The boy that could've been James's twin, Al, I think it was, stepped in between his brother and me.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I apologize for whatever my idiot brother has done to offend you, Ms. ?"

"Benedetto, Caroline Benedetto." I supplied.

"Albus Potter." He grinned and stuck out his hand. I shook it enthusiastically. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad here after all, if there were rational people around. "You know, I've never met an American before and definitely not one who's a witch."

"Headmistress said I was the first transfer student. It was kind of a sudden move." I shrugged.

He nodded. "Well, I hope you enjoy it here. It's a good school, a good place to live. I suppose I should formally introduce you to my brother, James." He gestured vaguely behind him. I just glared at James, who was pointedly looking away. "This is Jack Gowan." The blond haired kid nodded. "And my cousin, Hugo Weasley." Hugo had flaming red hair and grinned shyly up at me, which I returned. "Well," Albus continued, "I suppose you're tired if you've just arrived, which is what it looks like. Girls' dormitories are up the stairs on your right. Hope to see you at breakfast tomorrow."

"Thanks," I said as I smiled gratefully. I made my way up the stairs until I saw one marked 'Sixth Year'. I ignored the muffled sounds of Albus and James arguing.

There were three other girls in my room. They were all sitting on one bed, flipping through a magazine. When I entered, their eyes looked shocked. I smiled sheepishly, but was frustrated inside. I just wanted to sleep!

The blond one recovered first. She bounded up to me, long hair swishing behind her, with her warm brown eyes twinkling up at my own green ones. I was not tall, 5'7 at best, but she looked to be just 5'4. "Hello! We wondered who the other bed was for! Are you visiting?"

"Um, no. I've just transferred." I blushed.

She looked startled. "Transferred? From where?" She slapped her forehead before I could answer though. "Don't answer that. You're obviously American. It's quite odd to have a transfer student, you know."

I nodded. "McGonagall said I was the first." I was embarrassed. I didn't want attention.

"Well, I'm Jane McCoy," she said as she stuck her hand out for me to shake, which I did. She pointed over her shoulder to the two girls over her shoulder. "The girl with brown curly hair is Georgie Davies, and the one with brown straight hair is Carly Hicks. Welcome!"

I smiled at the two girls on the bed, who returned it. "Hope you like it here," Carly said as she moved off the bed to be closer. Her hair was in a bob, and was incredibly shiny. I touched my hair. It was red, definitely, but it was a darker red, almost like congealed blood. I hated it, so I always kept it up in a bun.

All this musing about my hair had made me loose track of the situation. I shook my head to clear it. Georgie was saying"- nice but always assigns essays. Do you know what you're taking yet?" She turned to me suddenly as she tugged on the mass of curls barely contained in a pony tail.

Stop thinking about hair! I mentally scolded myself as I replied, "McGonagall said she'd give me my schedule tomorrow morning during breakfast."

Jane patted me on the back. "It's quite early, but I'll make sure you're up." She winked, and then smacked herself in the forehead. "I can't believe what a ditz I am!" she moaned. "What's your name?"

I laughed. "Caroline Benedetto. But most people just call me Lin or Linny."

"Well, Linny, that bed is yours," she pointed the the one immediately to the left of the door, "and mine's the next over." She clapped her hands together. "I'm sure we'll all be great friends."

As we got ready for bed, I couldn't help but hope that Jane's prediction would come true.