A/N- Thanks to my wonderful beta, potterphile12, for her fantastic work! Oh, and I don't own Jo's characters, Hogwarts, and that stuff, but I do own Cassandra and her parents.

~

If you ever think you have a rough life, if you ever feel like you just need to sit down and cry, or perhaps go and tear someone’s eyes out because life just isn’t fair, try being a squib.

I didn’t always know I was a squib. For awhile my parents and I thought I was a late-bloomer. We hoped that by the time I turned ten I would turn Mother’s hair purple. Then an owl would be tapping at the window, with a letter of acceptance from Hogwarts.

It didn’t work that way. I got my letter from Hogwarts, all right. My parents were thrilled when they saw the big school barn owl. Maybe I had done magic and nobody had noticed it. But the letter was somber. It wasn’t an official note from the school. The letter didn’t even have the Hogwarts crest. It was just a scrawled note from Professor McGonagall, whom Father has known forever. It said she would be over at noon to talk to Mother and Father.

The hour we spent waiting for the professor to come was one of the longest of my life. Neither one of my parents would talk to me. Mother was in the kitchen, doing something to a turnip that didn’t deserve to be tortured like that. Father couldn’t seem to decide what to do. At first he paced in front of the fire, his black robes billowing out behind him. Then he stood still, leaning against the wall. Finally he sat down in the red high-backed chair he keeps in front of the fire. Our house-elves are instructed to keep the fire going even in summer, and that summer was so cold we needed it most of the time. Father looked so imposing leaning forward and staring into the flames that I was a little bit scared of him right then. I didn’t want to stay with him. in case he turned into a great big dragon and gobbled me up. So I ran outside.

I didn’t truly comprehend what was happening. None of the other children I played with had ever been able to do magic. They weren’t Muggles- my parents and I didn’t know any Muggles. But they were the sons and daughters of witches and wizards and hadn’t been allowed to do magic. Some of them showed their magic early, some of them had got it later, but we all assumed we would be able to do magic eventually. I thought that the letter wasn’t right, couldn’t be right. Maybe I would get my magic tonight even!

But Mother and Father were so disappointed in me, I decided that I would do magic right there and then, to please them. I concentrated on a particularly dry, dead bush that I hated. Burn, bush I thought, screwing up my eyes and forming my hands into fists. Come on and burn so Father won’t be mad at me. But it wouldn’t catch on fire, and I started to worry somewhat. What if I wasn’t magic after all? I looked down at my red robes that my mother had bought to go with my dark brown braids and pale skin. The magical world was the only world I had ever known. What if I wasn’t allowed to be part of it?

Professor McGonagall appeared on our walkway just then, wearing intimidating tartan robes that seemed to fan out around her as she walked. She had been to some of the dinner parties Mother and Father liked to throw and she always frightened me, but not as much as she did right then. When she walked up to where I was standing on our front steps she had the saddest expression on her face. She looked at me for a moment and I wanted to run away and hide where she wouldn’t find me and tell me bad news.

She smiled at me. “Let’s go inside and see your parents, Cassandra,” and that scared me too. She had only ever called me Miss Pralent before. But what could I do? I opened the front door of our big grey house and walked inside silently, Professor McGonagall right behind me.

When we reached the living room my mother was standing at the back of my father’s chair, completely silent. When the professor and I came in, my mother gave a small sound of shock and almost lost her balance, steadying herself only by holding on to the chair. My father didn’t look up.

“So it’s true, then,” he said in a hollow voice. Professor McGonagall nodded quickly. My mother gave a small sob and collapsed onto the overstuffed sofa. I felt absolutely horrible. It was my fault my mother was so sad! I had to make things right.

“Professor, ma’m,” I said, my heart beating faster with fright, “you must be wrong. I’m a witch. Mother and Father can do magic- I have to be able to do it too. And all my friends. Mother says that I’m a late bloomer, is all.” I didn’t want it to be true. I had to be a witch. I just had to.

“I’m afraid you’re not, Cassandra,” Professor McGonagall whispered. “You’re not a witch. You’re a-”

“She’s a squib,” my father interrupted, his face turning red. “My daughter. A squib.” Mother gave a loud cry of distress, burying her face in her hands. Father did not look at me or Mother, but just kept staring into the fire. I ran over to Mother.

“Mother, Mother, don’t cry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I was crying too now- not sobbing like Mother, but quiet tears. I sat down on the floor at her feet, not leaning against the chair comfortably like I usually did.

“Now stop that this instance,” Professor McGonagall said There was no pity in her voice now. “Get up, girl. it’s not the end of the world.” I jumped to my feet, wiping at my eyes. You couldn’t do anything else with a voice like that. “And you, Belinda, stop that sniveling at once. You still have a daughter and should be grateful.” My mother didn’t look up, but she stopped sobbing quite so loudly. “And Albert, get up and face the facts. Yes, your daughter is a squib. She’s still the same girl she was before.” I’d never seen anybody tell Father what to do, and expected him to scream that he would do nothing. But he looked up and sighed, watching me. I’d forgotten Professor McGonagall used to teach Mother and Father when they were in school. Father was in Gryffindor, so she was his Head of House. Mother was in Ravenclaw, but she was very good at Transfiguration and was a bit of a pet of the professor’s. It was odd, seeing my parents act like school children.

My father spoke at last. “You’re right, of course,” he muttered, watching the ground as he stood up. “I’m sorry, Minerva, I overreacted.”

Professor McGonagall shook her head. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to, Albert. It’s your daughter.” Father looked at me rather sadly, turning around in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Cassandra,” he said, and I walked over and gave him a hug. He wasn’t scary looking anymore, just sad.

“I’m sorry too, Father,” I said, laying my head on his shoulder and sitting on the armrest. Father usually hates when I do that, but that day he said nothing about it, just hugged me back. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get my magic soon enough.” He smiled at me, but it was a sad smile, and his eyes met Mother’s. She looked away.

“What do we do now, Minerva?” asked my mother. Her grey eyes were red as she looked up, her back hunched over in her house robes. She usually would change when we had a guest over, but that day she was too distraught to think about it. Now she was playing with the apron string.

“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about,” Professor McGonagall answered. Her voice was business-like now. “As Headmistress of Hogwarts, it’s my duty to inform you that we can still take Cassandra into our school.” Her voice had cracked slightly when she said ‘Headmistress of Hogwarts.’ I knew about Professor Dumbledore dying. Mother and Father had gone to the funeral. But Father took no notice. His eyes lit up like a flashlight.

“You can? You mean-” He sounded so excited, I was surprised when Professor McGonagall interrupted him.

“No, Albert, I don’t mean to coax magic out of her, though she would be allowed to attend certain classes such as Herbology and History of Magic. Mr. Filch is getting on in his years, and needs an apprentice. Cassandra could attend the school as an apprentice caretaker.” I could hear Mother’s intake of breath, and I think Father stopped breathing altogether. I was still too thrilled with the prospect of going to Hogwarts to worry about why I was going. Wasn’t it enough I went? I so wanted to please Mother and Father. Hadn’t they always talked about how wonderful it would be when I went to Hogwarts? So what was the problem?

“Our daughter… an apprentice caretaker?” I could hear the horror in my mother’s voice, and suddenly my mind went careening off into the opposite direction. A caretaker? Me? Mother and Father obviously didn’t think it would be a worthy profession for their little girl, and so I didn’t either.

“Yes, Belinda,” Professor McGonagall said sternly, and suddenly I hated her, hated her for what she was making my parents go through. “She would be able to go to Hogwarts and get an education. She would have a good job in the magical world. She’d even be able to take her O.W.L. exams in certain classes.” An image appeared in my mind of a Muggle I had seen once when Mother took me into London for new robes. He was in a wheelchair, and the woman pushing the wheelchair was talking to him. Oh, isn’t that wonderful, dear? You’ll be able to attend school with the other children! And that’s what I felt like, an invalid, somebody who should feel lucky about doing what other children took for granted.

“It’s the best we’ve got, Belinda,” my Father whispered, then stood up, as I fell into the chair, deprived of a place to lean. “Very well, Minerva, she will go.” Mother gasped, but I felt a surge of hope. If Father wanted me to go, it must be the right decision. Professor McGonagall nodded, and Mother stood up for the first time since the Professor had arrived.

“Please… Minerva… when will she leave?” asked my Mother, and suddenly I had a horrible feeling in my chest. Did my Mother want to be rid of me? Didn’t she want me, even as a Squib? Professor McGonagall gave her a long, hard look, and then nodded to herself, mumbling something under her breath I couldn’t catch, though it sounded like ‘Albus’.

“I’ll take her now,” she stated briskly. “Term starts in two weeks and there is work to be done around the castle. Mr. Filch lives there year-round, and I’m sure he’ll be… happy for the assistance.” A shadow seemed to cross the Professor’s face. I looked at my Father, and he nodded, not meeting my eye. I knew what I had to do.

“I’d like to help Mr. Filch,” I said, my voice steady, though I felt shaky inside. I had never been away from my parents before. At dinner parties their friends would say things like, “oh, she’s a perfect clone!” and it was true. Anything my parents said I automatically agreed with. My mother picked out my clothes for me. I didn’t know how to be Cassandra Pralent without Cassandra Pralent’s parents close at hand.

Professor McGonagall gave me an odd look. “Very well, Miss Pralent.” I felt a little better hearing her call me Miss Pralent. Maybe everything would be alright after all. “Pack your things and be down in half an hour.” Half an hour! Half an hour to place my life in a trunk, half an hour to say goodbye to my home. I almost protested, but Father looked pleased, so it had to be right. I jumped out of the chair and ran upstairs without a word.

When I reached my bedroom I shut the door behind me, dragging a trunk out from underneath my bed. What to bring with me when I wasn’t sure when I would be back? Students were able to go home for the holidays, but would I be allowed?

I decided to start with the basics. Reaching for my bed I ripped off the sheets, folding them into the trunk with my pillow on top of it. I doubted I was going to sleep in a nice dormitory with sheets provided for me. What else? Going over to my closet, I flung open the doors and peered inside. There were dozens of robes in a rainbow of colors, from gardening robes to dress robes. What did caretakers wear? Standing on my tip-toes I grabbed all of the robes I had, including the ten or so dress robes, and threw them into my trunk. I piled shoes on top of it.

Did caretakers need Mary-Jane slippers, and fur-lined robes? I was going to find out. When I tossed a toothbrush, comb, and bottle of shampoo on top I could just barely get it closed when I sat on it. Upon reflection I grabbed a small backpack and tossed some books inside. I was ready. Without looking at my room I clambered down the stairs, pulling my trunk behind me, with the backpack over my shoulder.

An awkward scene met my eyes as I arrived downstairs. Mother and Father were sitting stiffly on the sofa, while Professor McGonagall sat straight and tall in Father’s arm chair, sipping a cup of tea. All three of them looked up when I clambered noisily into the room, and none of them looked particularly happy to see me. Professor McGonagall gave my parents a look, and they stood up, awkwardly embracing me. I hugged them back with much more enthusiasm.

“Well, off we go, then,” Professor McGonagall sighed. “Hold tightly to my arm.” I grabbed on, and without even a ‘good bye’ from my parents I could feel my lungs being pressed in, like I couldn’t breathe. Just before I was sure I was going to die the feeling stopped, and we were standing in front of a tall castle, with ominous looking gates. “Here we are,” the professor said, pulling the gates open. I picked up my trunk and my backpack, standing up straight and tall as I walked towards a new life.

Now we reach the part of my life that ends my remembrance and starts a new… adventure? Possibly. Era, more likely. All I know is that I’d been sent away by my parents. I thought they loved me! I thought they cared about me! But suddenly I wasn’t too sure. I had a cold feeling in my chest just thinking about it.



By now Professor McGonagall was a ways ahead of me. I hurried after her, trying to drag my trunk, backpack, and run at the same time. Finally I tripped over the hem of my robes, landing on my stomach with a sickening thud. Professor McGonagall turned around when she heard the noise, sighing.



“Let me, Pralent. Locomotor Trunk!” The trunk floated into the air, and Professor McGonagall marched onward, leaving me with my backpack. I struggled up from the ground, rushing after her.



After what seemed like ages we reached the castle- huge, grey, and so far from my home I wanted to cry. I couldn’t, of course. Not with Professor McGonagall there, watching me now and looking for signs that I might be unhappy. No. Besides, Father and Mother wanted me to come. It had to be the right decision. I gave Professor McGonagall a smile which she did not return, just turned and rapped smartly on the door.



When it first opened I thought it was purely magic. But then I saw the man standing in the doorway, ragged robes matching his scraggly grey hair. A cat the same color of his hair with lantern yellow eyes wrapped herself around the man’s legs, watching me. The man looked me over, and then grunted.



“Mr. Filch,” Professor McGonagall barked in a harsh voice such as I had never heard her use before, “this is Cassandra Pralent. She is the one I was telling you about.”



They had talked about me? I gulped, watching Mr. Filch. I figured it was up to me to make the first move.



“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Filch, sir,” I said, bobbing as I curtseyed. My bright red robes were quite a contrast to the darkness of the castle and the battered rags of the caretaker. “I’m Cassandra Pralent, and I’m really looking forward to working with you.” My smile showed my dimples, but it faded as Mr. Filch grunted. Was this really what my parents wanted?



“Mr. Filch will take you to your living quarters now, Miss Pralent.” Professor McGonagall kept concern out of her voice, but something in her eyes said that she was more than a tad worried. “You can find me in the Headmistress’ Office.” Nodding to Mr. Filch, she swept away, leaving me with the man and his cat.



“Well, come on, then.” It was the first words I had heard from my new companion. His voice was grisly, and it gave me an odd picture in my mind of burnt, overcooked bacon. He turned away from me and limped into the castle. What had given him that limp? The years of bending over cleaning, and running over to stop students? He seemed to read my mind, and turned around. “What are you waiting for? And stop staring at me with those beady little eyes of yours.” I had never heard anyone call my eyes beady before, and my hands flew up to my face. The man grimaced, and continued to limp away from me. Who was this man? But wherever he was going was where I was supposed to be, so pushing my still floating trunk I followed him. The door shut behind me with a resounding boom, and the gloom of the castle seemed to close in on me as I raced after Mr. Filch. For a man who had so much trouble walking, he could go very fast.



The castle was so… empty looking. There must have been an inch of dirt and dust on the walls. Suits of armor creaked at me as Mr. Filch headed towards a huge staircase. Perhaps the staircase was grand once, but this had spider webs on it! I could see dead insects lying on the ground, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten recently. But didn’t the castle have house elves to clean?



My curiosity had to be fulfilled. “Mr. Filch,” I asked, coming to the man’s side, “why is the castle so dirty? Don’t you have house elves?” Mother had always told me about the hundreds of house elves they had at Hogwarts, and how they kept the castle beautiful and spotless. Maybe they were on strike. But Mr. Filch turned to me and gave me such an evil smile I was terrified.



“Oh, yes, young lady, we have house elves,” he said, continuing towards the stairs, as I followed. “But they mostly cook, and clean the house common rooms. We’ll be cleaning the rest of the castle starting tomorrow, with some assistance from a select number of elves.” Oh, Chocolate Frog card help me. Was that even possible? The castle was gigantic, and I had never cleaned before. Something told me my fur-lined dress robes wouldn’t be entirely appropriate for the task ahead. “But here,” he added, “is where you will live.”



We had reached the side of the stairs, where I could just barely make out a keyhole in the dusty marble. Pulling a small metal rod out of his coat, Mr. Filch placed it in the keyhole and turned it. The stairs opened up, as a slab of marble seemed to melt away. I gasped.



Inside was the most disgusting, unkempt room I had ever seen. It was darker than the castle, and I could just barely make out that it was a room at all. I looked up at Mr. Filch, questions and fear showing on my face. He laughed again, shoving a pack of matches and the thin metal rod into my hands and giving me a forceful push into the room.



“Push on the door from the inside to open it. Dinner in an hour in the Great Hall. You’ll report to the Great Hall at five o’clock tomorrow. Night, now.” Mr. Filch had a look of almost gleeful malice on his face as he left the doorway. The marble reappeared, and I was immersed in darkness.



The tears came quick and fast. This couldn’t be right! I had to have magic in me somewhere! This couldn’t be the life I was meant for! I was destined to do great things. Mother and Father never said so, but I could always tell by the way they spoke of my future- how I would be sorted into Ravenclaw or Gryffindor like they had been; which they assured me were the best possible houses to be in. And I would excel in all my classes, and go on to do something great, like be an Auror or a Healer. They never wanted me to be a squib caretaker, did they?



But there was no point in sitting here moping. After all, Mother and Father had sent me to Hogwarts to be a caretaker willingly. Mother had wanted me to go. Didn’t she? Well, I was here. I sighed, reaching my hands out in front of me to try to find a candle. I tripped over something squishy, and I hit the wall once, but eventually I hit a single candle.



Now what? I had seen pictures of people using matches… an entertainer at one of Mother’s book clubs had them, and it was very funny to see him try to make a fire without magic. But what was his technique? How, exactly, did you get fire to come out of the little stick? I decided to experiment. Pulling a match out of the little box I hit the end very hard against the candle. The match broke. Apparently that wasn’t the correct way to do it. What else was there to try?



Ten minutes later there were a small pile of broken matches around my feet, but I had finally lit one! I held it against the candle, lit it, then blew out the match before it burnt my fingers. When I saw the room in a good light for the first time, though, I wished I had never figured out how to use the matches. If I had thought it was disgusting before, it was nothing compared to what it looked like now. How long had it been unused? A ratty sofa, the same color as Father’s chair at home stood against the far wall. A black high backed chair covered with something scratchy sat perpendicular to it. In front of the sofa was a dark, low wooden table. I touched it gingerly, feeling the rough, bumpy surface beneath my fingers. On the other side of the sofa sat a stool. I walked over to it and sat down tentatively, but the moment I put weight on it the legs gave out and it collapsed underneath me, leaving me sitting on a pile of wood. On the other wall was a fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been used for years, and a small stove.



As I got up carefully, watching where I was stepping, I noticed a tiny door at the end of the room. Upon further investigation it entered into a bedroom, with an empty black bookshelf and a four poster bed. The tall wardrobe in the corner reminded me that my trunk was still sitting outside the door.



As I went back into the first room (which I dubbed the sitting room in my mind) I took in more. The mouse’s nest in the corner. The silky strands of web on the walls. I couldn’t take it. I sat down on the floor and sobbed.

*

Ding, dong, ding, dong, ding dong…I sat up with a start. How long had I been lying there? Hours? Days? Probably not weeks or months, because presumably I would not be waking up, but it felt as if I had never been anywhere but that spot on the floor, and had an instant desire to get out, to leave my rooms.



What was it Mr. Filch said? Push on the door from the inside? My hand hovered over the dusty marble not quite ready to leave. As horrible as my rooms were the castle outside was completely unknown. Just as I was about to take a deep breath and shove at the marble, I heard footsteps outside, and then voices. I pressed my ear as close to the wall as I dared.



“I just don’t know, Filius.” It was Professor McGonagall, her voice considerably softer than when I last heard it. “The girl doesn’t grasp it!” Who were they talking about? Some girl, from the sounds of it. But who? The voices continued, growing distant. I didn’t take a second to think, just pushed against the cold marble. It disappeared, and I dashed outside, crouching low to the ground. Professor McGonagall and a tiny man I had never seen before had stopped by four gigantic hourglasses filled with jewels. By keeping as close to the stairs as possible I could keep out of sight and hear the conversation at the same time.



“…couldn’t we at least sort her, Filius? After all, she’s going to be taking some of the offered classes.” I could just see Professor McGonagall out of the corner of my eye; she looked worried.



“But what would we do, Minerva? The Hat won’t sort her when she has no magic. The Houses are for young witches and wizards, and Cassandra is a squib.” The tiny man reached up and patted Professor McGonagall on the elbow. Cassandra? They were talking about me! I strained my ears to listen. “She’s different from the other children. They would hate her for who she is. Remember when we tried placing Argus in a House?”



A large lump was forming in my throat. I was…different? I glanced down at my dress robes. They were morphing into tattered robes, the color fading like the dust of my rooms. Why would everybody hate me? I wasn’t that odd, was I? Were squibs such a bad thing? The man, unaware of my plight, kept talking.



“Squibs aren’t like the rest of us, Minerva! I have nothing against them, certainly, but you have to stop pretending she’s just another student.” I wasn’t another student. I was a whole different species. I was a squib. I slid to the ground as the voices grew distant.



So that was why Mother and Father didn’t want me. They didn’t want to be shamed with a squib. The pieces fell into place, and the lump in my throat grew larger. I’d been rejected, and now I was a caretaker. A cleaner of dirt. Not even a witch. I was barely human. I wasn’t human. I was different than humans. Humans either were witches and wizards or they were Muggles. I was the abnormal one, the one without a category. The one alone, with nobody. Nobody at all.



“Squib,” I whispered to myself, waiting for the dam to burst, but no tears came.



Maybe squibs weren’t human enough to cry.

I must have sat there for a full hour before I managed to pull myself up from the ground. My legs felt like rubber and my hands were shaking. A set of beautiful double doors was to my left, and I could hear cheerful voices from inside. That must have been the Great Hall. Mother and Father had told me about it. Thinking of Mother and Father brought more tears to my eyes, but at least I wasn’t sobbing anymore.

I couldn’t go in there. The staff would just look down on me for being a squib, and I wasn’t really hungry anyway. My eyes wandered to the gaping entrance to my rooms. My trunk was still floating next to it. Mother always hated when I left trunks out. “If you want to live like a street rat,” she would say, glaring at my trunks and clothes left around the room, “go out in the street and throw your belongings around there. If not, ring for a house elf and don’t let me see this mess again.”

I would nod and yell for our house elf, Willable. He would come and put my trunk away and mother would smile at me and usually take me out for tea. But Willable was at home and I was here. How did one unpack? Would I be forced to take my clothes out of the trunk and put them in those awful drawers?

It wasn’t something I wanted to think about, but I couldn’t leave it in the entranceway all night. I didn’t know how to alert the house elves. Walking shakily over to the trunk I gave it a tremendous push. It collapsed to the floor, spilling my robes everywhere, but I was not to be bothered. As I walked out of the room, drowsiness seemed to overtake me at every step. The Entrance Hall was beginning to spin around me. I grabbed onto the banister of the staircase for support, pulling myself hand over hand until I reached the first stair. I could barely see the marble reappear in the doorway as I spread myself over the step.

I was asleep before my head hit the marble.

*

The next two weeks seemed to drag on as slowly as the snail that was making its way across my sitting room floor. During the first few days I would hop out of bed, put on a nice pair of dress robes, and make my way down to breakfast.

But the company was dry at best. Professor McGonagall was rarely around. A couple of professors would occasionally drop in, but even they seemed hesitant to stay and chat as I ate burnt toast. What happened to the mouth-watering descriptions of feasts Mother and Father had told me about?

That, at least, somebody explained to me. Professor Slughorn reminded me of a walrus I had once seen a picture of, with his bulk taking up a good part of the staff table. But he was willing enough to talk to me, something that after days of silence I would have befriended the giant squid for doing.

“You see, my girl,” he said as he helped himself to a box of pineapple he had brought with him, “the elves are quite busy, eh? Cleaning the dorms and such. Wasteful to make a feast when only a few eat. It’s best to supply your own,” he added, eying the toast and marmalade I had been provided with this morning.

It didn’t seem the house elves would be so busy, considering I was doing most of the cleaning, but I didn’t bring that up with Professor Slughorn.

Mr. Filch would be waiting outside the door when I was finished trying not to gag on the bread. (We used only the finest white bread at home, but this was brown!) With a grunt he would shove a suitcase I had discovered to be full of cleaning supplies into my arms and limp off, cursing under his breath about idiot kids. I would scurry after him, afraid to be left alone in the dark and dreary looking castle. Though some of the spider webs were gone after a day’s worth of my scrubbing the staircase until it gleamed, the Entrance Hall still frightened me.

Mr. Filch would finally stop after what seemed like an endless amount of stairs and turns and tell me what to do. Wash the floors. Dust every bit of armor twice, and don’t forget the insides too. Scrub every miniscule bit of dirt and dust off of that wall, and then do the ceiling. It was like I was Cinderella from the Muggle fairy tale. I soon felt a loathing for the man that I had never felt for anyone else. As I scrubbed my hands raw he would be bent over some paperwork, occasionally dusting a single trophy. What right did he have, making me do this work while he sat at the front of the classroom or at the top of the stairs and relaxed?

More and more I longed for my Mother and Father. Without Mother to reprimand me my living quarters stayed dismally dark and dusty, though the castle they were contained in was beginning to gleam. I felt no pride in my work, however. All I could think about was what Mother would do, what Father would say. They would never approve of their daughter, their Cassandra, being treated like a servant! It was an outrage, a scandal just waiting to be exposed by the Daily Prophet. Somebody was usually reading the newspaper at breakfast, and the hope that the headline would soon read ‘Hogwarts School Exposed- Cassandra Pralent, of the Pralent Legacy, Treated as Slave’ was all that kept me going through those horrible two weeks.

Around noon Mr. Filch would grunt in my direction, and then toss me some sort of overripe fruit- usually a banana, with brown splotches on its yellow skin. I had used to love bananas, but I soon hated them because they were associated with that horrible man who was keeping me from my parents.

I didn’t hear anymore about my lack of magic, my being a squib, but I could see the dislike in the faces of the staff at dinner when I had finally finished the allotted slave work. Dinner was a much larger affair than breakfast was, especially as we drew nearer to the start of term. Most of the teachers were there, as well as a few witches and wizards I didn’t recognize. They talked amongst themselves and ignored me for the most part, but occasionally they would glance in my direction and then hurriedly turn back to their conversations while I caught words like ‘squib’ and ‘parents.’

I always sat at the end of the long table. Professor Slughorn had explained that it was not always there, and that during term the teachers sat at a staff table while the different houses ate with their peers. I didn’t know where I would eat then. Professor McGonagall, when she was there, was always glancing at me, then at Mr. Filch, then back at me again. There were bags under her eyes, and she looked older than usual as she talked, almost weary.

I met a few other professors. The transfiguration teacher, Professor Marchbanks, stared at me for a long time even after I introduced myself to her. She was a small, elderly woman, and my first instinct was to be kind and gentle with her, but she was watching me so severely I was almost glad not to be taking her class. Professor Hagrid was such a big man I could only stare at him the way people had been staring at me. He chuckled and patted the top of my head as he said, “You’ll ‘ave to come down and ‘ave a cuppa tea, Miss Pralent.” That might have been the only time I had smiled in the whole two weeks.

But as horrible as it was to be stared at professors, grunted at by Mr. Filch, and worked like a house elf, I was cheered up by the prospect of the students arriving. Dozens of children my own age to talk to and play with! After two weeks of old witches and wizards for company, the thought of other children allowed me to have sweet dreams of my Mother and Father as I lay in my still disgusting rooms on the night of August 31. The day before the students were due to arrive.

*

I woke up early on September 1. At long last, I would get to make friends! I could show them all the secret passageways Mr. Filch had forced me to scrub the entranceway to, and we could have tea parties in my rooms! Mother always loved to help me throw tea parties. Best of all, the start of term might bring a letter from Mother and Father. I had heard nothing from them in the entire two weeks.

As I jumped out of bed, carefully avoiding all sorts of bugs, I rummaged through my trunk to find the perfect outfit for the day. Floaty blue dress robes? No, too summery. White lacey robes? I would still spend the day cleaning.

I tore the trunk apart until I reached the bottom. There lay dark green velvet robes with a fur collar and lacy sleeves. Perfect. Tying my hair into lopsided braids (I never could get them as straight as Mother could) and pulling on Mary-Jane shoes with lacy white socks, I pressed against the cold marble entrance and practically skipped into the Great Hall.

I flew through my work that day. Most of it was just little finishing touches- a dust here, a quick scrubbing there, and poof! A sparkling castle, looking much more cheerful than it had for the past two weeks. Even Mr. Filch couldn’t find anything to complain about.

Tension was high that day as we got ready to go. The Great Hall had four house tables set up, with a staff table at the front. All the pictures were on their best behavior, and the few ghosts I had glanced around the castle seemed excited. The staff and I were gathered in the Great Hall, waiting. Professor McGonagall had on the same robes she had worn when she had come to see me at home. I felt a pang just looking at them. Professor Slughorn was eating a particularly large box of pineapple as Professor Marchbanks entered the Hall, looking frazzled.

“The train has been spotted!” She called. Her hat was crooked and was slipping over one eye as Professor McGonagall nodded.

“Staff,” she barked, “the boats should be arriving in twenty minutes. Griselda, go get ready to greet the first years. Filch, the trunks!” Mr. Filch grunted and nodded, limping towards a back room off of the Hall. Professor Marchbanks turned to leave the hall, and I made to follow Mr. Filch. I was, after all, his assistant.

“Wait, Miss Pralent,” called Professor McGonagall. I stopped, my shoes squeaking on the polished floor. The professor nodded at me. “Go with Professor Marchbanks.” I thought I could detect a hint of a smile on her face. “Mr. Filch can get the trunks.”

My face broke into a smile. I turned on my heels and raced after Professor Marchbanks with my braids flying behind me. She was waiting at the door, frowning slightly. “Come along, Miss Pralent.” I followed her into the Entrance Hall, anticipation growing with every step.

Professor Marchbanks moved toward the doors with me following behind her like a shadow. I could hear the rain beating down outside like a drum, and I couldn’t help but wonder how horrible the journey must have been. With a swish of Professor Marchbanks' wand the doors flew open to reveal the first year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The doors creaked loudly as they opened to let a new generation of Hogwarts students into the Entrance Hall. I stood next to Professor Marchbanks, my smile stretched wide across my face. Never in my life had I been with more than three or four children. How wonderful this was going to be! It would completely make up for the previous two weeks, torturous as they were.



A damp bunch of eleven year olds was revealed as the doors opened. Water dripped from their black school robes, and I winced as the rain blew into the Entrance Hall. After two weeks of scrubbing it was almost tragic to see mud all over the shining floors.



Professor Marchbanks nodded her head briskly. The children piled into the hall, chatting excitedly. I stood off to one side, unsure of what to do. Should I introduce myself? Tell the students to please wipe their feet outside? But Professor Marchbanks spoke up before I was able to open my mouth.



“Students!” She didn’t need to raise her voice as silence fell instantly within the hall. I thought she winked at me, but I wasn’t sure as she turned to the mass of children. “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Marchbanks, and I will be teaching Transfiguration.” An excited whisper could be heard from the middle of the students, and from the look on Professor Marchbanks’ face I was not the only one who had heard it. “Silence!” She called, and then continued. “This is Cassandra Pralent.” She nodded at me, and I gave a grateful smile to her before turning to the students.



“Hello,” I said. My voice was no more than a whisper. I had never been very good at speaking in public places. “I’m Cassandra.”



“Why didn’t you ride the train with us?” The speaker was a tall girl with short, bobbed hair and shabby robes. Professor Marchbanks frowned as she began to explain.



“Miss Pralent is not a student here, Miss-” The professor had pulled a long scroll out of her robes and was studying it as the girl cut in.



“My name’s Alta.” Alta looked at me with disdain. “So why aren’t you a student here, Miss Cassandra?” Her voice was cold and mocking, and I couldn’t help but step backwards. What had happened to nice playmates? “It’s a valid question.” The girls standing around her giggled. I gulped.



“I’m assistant caretaker,” I whispered. Alta frowned.



“Sorry, Cassandra dear, didn’t catch that. Speak up, will you? I’m sure everybody else is just as curious.” The other students were all nodding and mumbling their agreement. My face burned.



“I’m assistant caretaker,” I said, this time loudly enough that the whole hall could hear me. Professor Marchbanks looked disturbed, but Alta was grinning from ear to ear as the students stared.



“Why are you doing that?” This time a boy from the back spoke, a red head with owlish glasses. He was smirking.



“Well, now, let’s all go into the Great Hall and get you sorted into houses,” Professor Marchbanks interrupted, looking flustered. But the boy’s smirk only widened.



“What? We’re all wondering it, I just said it,” muttered the boy. I wanted to disappear.



“I’m a squib,” I said, whispering again. But this time Alta caught it. She burst into laughter, and as she whispered it to her friends the whole lot of them began to giggle with glee. I stared down at my shoes.



“Enough!” Professor Marchbanks clapped her hands together. “Into the hall, all of you!” I stayed close on her heels as she shepherded the gossiping students into the hall. I couldn’t believe I had wanted to be friends with them. But I had always been reasonably well-liked by other children growing up. I had never been the favorite, but I’d had friends. What about Aera, and Guinevere? Christopher, Rebecca? Rowan? All friends growing up. Could it be that they didn’t like me? I only knew them because all of our parents were influential witches and wizards. Witches and wizards… it hit me. What if these students hated me because they spotted a squib? Maybe everybody except me could tell who was a squib just by looking at them!



I’m sure they’ll like me when we get to know each other, I reassured myself. Of course. The students were just nervous, that was all. It wasn’t because I was a squib. After all, I couldn’t help it. I was so sure.



The last student entered the Great Hall as I followed Professor Marchbanks through the doors. I gasped when I saw the Hall. When I had left it had been almost empty, containing only teachers. But now…



Students of all ages filled the tables, watching the first years with curiosity. They ranged from second years that didn’t look much older than I was to terrifying seventh years, looking bored with the whole affair. I glanced over the tables, looking for a familiar face. I found none, but my eyes fixed on a stool in the center of the Hall, upon which a battered looking hat sat. The entire Hall seemed to be staring at it, so I joined them as I decided the hat would go quite nicely in my rooms. It had the same battered air about it.



But with a tearing noise, the hat made me jump into the air with shock as a flap opened in the front of it, and it began to- sing? I watched with amazement.



Shocked that I can sing?

I am not just a hat.

I sing because I sort you,

(and am excellent, at that.)

Some of you will always be

For Hufflepuff, loyal and true,

Or maybe wise old Ravenclaw,

With colors grey and blue.

Perhaps the cunning Slytherin

If you are strong and sly,

Or Gryffindor, you don’t back down,

Instead, you’d rather die.

So step up to the stool, young one,

And as I conclude my song,

I feel the need to tell you

That I’ve never yet been wrong.



Applause echoed through the massive hall, and Professor Marchbanks stepped forward with a large scroll of parchment.



“Abrams, Alta!” she called, and the tall girl who had laughed at me stepped forward, her face a picture of smugness. As she sat on the stool that hat was placed on her head, and she sat tall and proud as the hat contemplated its decision.



“GRYFFINDOR!” it shouted, and I was shocked as Alta went to the Gryffindor table with pride reverberating in every footstep. Father always told me Gryffindor was a wonderful house, filled with wonderful people, like him. Alta hadn’t seemed very nice. Maybe she was really a good person underneath it all?



A few more people were called while I was standing by the doorway, deep in thought. In fact, by the time I started to pay attention they were on, “Morgan, Sarah!” My jaw dropped in surprise as the girl emerged from the crowd of first years and made her way to the stool. I wasn’t the only one.



The girl’s skin was the palest I had ever seen, like paper. Her hair was white, completely absent of any sort of color. She was tall (though not as tall as Alta) and wore silver rimmed glasses over the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Her eyes were large and round, framed by short white eyelashes. I couldn’t stop staring. Murmurs went through the hall as she hopped onto the stool and placed the hat on her head. It didn’t waste a second before yelling out its answer.



“HUFFLEPUFF!” The table with a black and gold banner hanging over it applauded as the girl made her way towards it. As she sat down, I thought she might have winked at me. It was impossible to be sure, though. ‘Ockley, Joanna’ and ‘Palling, Solomon’ were sorted before they came to a person I recognized. It was my friend from home, Guinevere! She was the only one of our group who was my exact age, and I was thrilled to see her again. Maybe, I thought, Guinevere could be my new best friend! I’d never had a best friend before, but Guinevere, with her dark hair and brown eyes, had always been nice to me. Maybe we could be closer this year.



“Remsen, Guinevere!” the professor called, and Gwen walked up to the stool with a smile on her face. The hat was only on her head a second before calling out “Ravenclaw!” I tried to catch her eye, but she must not have seen me as she walked towards the cheering.



I gulped at the next student. ‘Trevelyan, Jeremiah’ was the red-headed boy who had spoken in the hall. I was definitely pinning him as a Slytherin. A few students had been sorted there so far, and they looked like a nasty bunch. I waited for the shout of the hat as he sat on the stool, the hat hanging down over his eyes.



“RAVENCLAW!” the hat called, and I gasped. Ravenclaw? That was the OTHER excellent house! Mother had belonged to it, and was always telling me how wonderful it was. How could somebody who had been so rude to me possibly be in such a good house?



I sat in shock during the rest of the sorting, only moving once it was done as I followed Professor Marchbanks up to the staff table. A few people pointed at me as I took a seat at the end of the table and I tried not to think about them as Professor McGonagall stood.



“Welcome students old and new!” she said as the students quieted. “I know that many of you were surprised that we were opening again, but Hogwarts will continue on through harder times than this.” Silence reigned in the hall, and many older students looked solemn. I couldn’t help but notice some of their heads turning to look at empty spots at their table, where I could only assume students used to sit. What had happened to them?



“We have some new additions to our staff this year. The new defense against the dark arts teacher is Professor Eric Munch.” A wizard in desperate need of a shave (and judging from the dark circles under his eyes, a good night’s sleep) wearing raggedy robes stood up for a moment as the students clapped. A burst of laughter came from the Gryffindor table, and I turned to look for the source. A tall, dark haired boy, probably seventh year, was laughing silently in his seat as a girl with bushy hair looked shocked and a boy with bright red hair looked confused. What, I wondered, was funny about the new professor?



“We are also pleased to announce the addition of Cassandra Pralent as assistant caretaker to Mr. Filch.” That was me! Professor McGonagall looked at me meaningfully, and I stood up for a moment as Professor Munch had done. I could hear whispers, one of which was most definitely coming from Alta at the Gryffindor table. My applause was smattered with muttering, and my face was red as I sat back down.



“The Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students, and they are advised to avoid the portable swamp. Mr. Filch would like me to remind you that all Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes products are banned, including their new line of Attack the Caretaker products. And now, let the feast begin!” As Professor McGonagall sat down with a look of visible relief as a great feast filled the table.



I stared. Two weeks of eating rubbish and the house elves could cook like this the entire time? Possibly it only looked good. I took a hesitant bite out of a chicken leg, and my eyes widened in delight. It even tasted fantastic! Once I figured out where the kitchens were I would be having a talk with the elves about how to feed eleven year old girls during the summer. Willable would certainly have never fed me burnt toast.



In the meantime I dug in, ignoring the stares of students who were no longer preoccupied with food. Perhaps I was eating a little messily, but why did they care?



Then I was able to make out what the staring students were gossiping about. It was not, as I imagined, about my eating habits. No, the word I was able to make out was ‘squib.’



Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. Was everybody going to be like this? They didn’t even know me! What had I ever done that I deserved such treatment from these people whom I had never met before? I answered that one myself. Nothing.



“Here, Miss Pralent, have some pineapple.” Professor Slughorn was levitating a box of crystallized pineapple in front of me, his waistcoat bulging even more than usual from a good meal. “It’s quite delicious. Honeydukes stuff, you know.” The pineapple did look appetizing, but I shook my head.



“No thank you, Professor,” I said, staring down at my plate. “I’m not that hungry.” Professor Slughorn shrugged before turning back to Professor Munch, who was sitting to his right and looked like he might enjoy a piece of pineapple.



Thank Merlin the feast ended soon after that. Professor McGonagall called for all the prefects to escort first years to their dorms and I slipped out in the confusion, making my way toward my rooms. Unfortunately I was not able to escape unnoticed. As I opened the doorway to my apartment under the stairs I was spotted by none other than Alta Abrams.



“The squib has a den!” she shrieked in delight, and her friends laughed with her as they headed up the stairs. “Good thing, too. Squibs probably stain the sheets. I doubt you’d ever be able to get the smell off.” This, too, earned a round of giggles from the surrounding girls. I ran into my apartment with my face burning, wishing to disappear on the spot.



Tomorrow I would begin classes.

My bed seemed to groan beneath me as I rolled over, sticking my head beneath my pillow. What was that horrible yelling sound? Then I recognized the voice. Filch.

“Get up, get up!” he yelled from what sounded like right above me on the stairs. “We’ve got a lot to do today. Kids today, don’t wake up at a normal time anymore…” Blinking sleepily I glanced up at the grandfather clock that was stationed near my bed. Five-thirty in the morning? That was preposterous! Only house elves woke up this early.

Mr. Filch must have started to jump up and down now, because little bits of ceiling were showering my head. “I’m up!” I yelled, rolling out of bed. “Please, can you stop jumping? You’re breaking my ceiling.” I had no answer, but the ceiling ceased falling on my head as I pulled off my nightgown and put on a pair of green robes that were utterly disgusting. I had learned something during my two weeks cleaning. These robes had stains all over them, and were ripped at bottom. Perfect for cleaning the school. Brushing my teeth and then pulling my hair into messy braids, I opened the entrance to my apartment just as I was pulling on my Mary Jane shoes.

“About time,” he said, glaring at me. Nobody could glare like Mr. Filch. “You ran off last night before we were finished cleaning. Do it again and I’ll hang you by your wrists from the ceiling.” I gulped, but nodded. He seemed satisfied with his threat. Mrs. Norris stared up at me. She was, I had discovered, an evil cat. She was always following me and hissing at me if I missed the tiniest spot. Oh how I hated her, and her master too.

“I left you the Entrance Hall to do,” Mr. Filch said, grinning evilly. “Mop’s in the closet over there. I’ll be in my office, and by the time I come out I want to see this Hall spotless.” He turned and left me standing in the doorway, Mrs. Norris right next to him. I closed my eyes for a moment. How bad could the Entrance Hall be? Closing the entrance behind me I stepped out to assess the damage.

I gasped. Mud was everywhere. On the floors, on the bottom of the walls, footprints leading into the Great Hall. My legs felt weak underneath me. I hadn’t noticed all this yesterday- there had always been a great crowd of people blocking the floor from view. Was there any possible way I could get out of this? No. Sighing, I went to get the mop.

It seemed like hours later the floor was finally clean. Leaning on my mop I looked around the room for any sign of mud. There was none. My robes were covered with the stuff, and I had taken my shoes off and placed them on the stairs to protect them. My socks were black (though they had been white when I put them on.) My braids were coming undone, and sweat dripped down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I had sweated. I never enjoyed large amounts of physical activity at home. But I was finally done, and that was worth a little sweat. That is, until I heard Professor Marchbanks behind me.

“Miss Pralent!” she said, standing a little farther away from me than what was necessary. “What are you doing out here? You should have eaten by now!”

“But Professor Marchbanks,” I said, a little confused, “none of the other students are down for breakfast yet.” I would have noticed if they’d come down. Or up, in the case of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs.

“Well you’re not a student, are you?” she said. That tossed off remark seemed to pierce me in the stomach. “You’ll have to go eat now, with the students. They’ll be down any minute.” She glanced at my robes as I stood up. I think she winced. “Perhaps a good disinfectant would also be helpful.” And then she was gone, up the stairs and towards her office.

Placing the mop in the corner, I was about to enter the Great Hall when I heard laughter behind me. Was it Alta and her gang of Gryffindor girls? I turned around slowly, dreading the taunting she would undoubtedly have in store for me. But I had a pleasant surprise when I completed my turn. It was not Alta after all. It was Guinevere, walking down the stairs and laughing with some other Ravenclaw girls. My face broke into a smile, and I ran up to greet her just as she and her friends reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Hi, Gwen!” I said, jumping up and down with excitement. “I’m so glad you’re here! I thought nobody was going to talk to me, but now I won’t have to worry about them, because I’ll have you! I’m Cassandra Pralent,” I added to the two girls she was standing with. One of them, a stocky girl with black hair, nudged Guinevere and giggled.

“Do you know her, Gwenny?” Gwenny? What a horrible nickname. What would she call me when we were friends? Cassie? I nearly shuddered at the very thought. Perhaps that was why Gwen looked so uncomfortable. “Well?” the girl persisted, and Gwen shrugged.

“Our parents were friends,” she muttered, avoiding my gaze. I was confused. We had played together at least once a week, more when we were younger. What was she talking about?

“Don’t be silly, Gwen,” I said, “I’m sure they won’t feel threatened by our friendship.” I gave the stocky girl and the other one, who had wildly curly brown hair, big smiles. “What are your names?” They seemed like nice girls, after all. Maybe we could all become the best of friends!

“I’m Jennifer,” said the one with curly hair, “and that’s Beth,” she said. “And my mum said I shouldn’t associate with squibs. So bye.” Jennifer walked away and Beth followed, bumping into me hard as she did. Gwen didn’t look at me as she scurried after her friends- of which I was not one.

I followed them into the Great Hall with a burning face and red eyes.

*

After nibbling at some toast it was time for my first class of the day, Herbology. Gardening had never been my cup of tea. But at least we would be outside. I wouldn’t have time to shower before class, and I was as dirty as I could possibly be. I only managed to stop back at my rooms for my school bag that had been supplied by Professor McGonagall and filled with supplies I would never have even touched before coming to Hogwarts, they were so dirty. I was certain Mother and Father couldn’t have had anything to do with it- it must have come out of the orphan’s fund. I had heard Mother discussing it at tea a few years ago.

I was sitting in a velvet chair, looking like a princess in my lacy white robes (at least according to Mother) while she discussed the orphan’s fund with her good friend Madam Smith. She had a son who was already at Hogwarts, and loved to tell me stories about his immense skill. A nice woman, though she had been very critical of the orphan’s fund. But if Mother knew I had to use it I’m sure she would have sent me supplies immediately.

I reached the Greenhouses just as class was about to begin, standing at a table near the entrance. I had never been in the Greenhouses before. Professor Sprout gave me a small smile before beginning the lesson. I stood out like a chocolate frog in a bowl of Drooble’s in my robes. All the students here were in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Including, unfortunately, Alta and her friends.

“Welcome to Herbology,” Professor Sprout announced, her voice projecting through the greenhouse. “In this class you will be learning about a number of dangerous plants and occasionally observing the proper way to tend to said plants…” My mind began to wander as Professor Sprout continued to talk. I could barely keep my eyes open, and my head was drooping when I heard my name being called.

“Pralent? Pralent!” I turned around sleepily and found Alta at the table next to me, calling my name and grinning wickedly. “Is the little squib girl tired? How’d you get in here, anyway?” My face burned, but Professor Sprout was too busy explaining the basics of fertilizers to notice. I stared at the table, trying to ignore Alta and her friends.

“Maybe she doesn’t speak English,” suggested the one of the girls standing with Alta. She ran her hands through her short, boyish haircut as she spoke, ruffling the black locks that looked like they were trying to curl. Alta smirked, giving her a high five under the table.

“Nice, Ophelia,” she said, but Professor Sprout finally heard them and gave them a sharp look. Alta, Ophelia, and the other sidekick (an Asian girl named Emily, I believe) stood up straighter, and Alta wiped the smirk off of her face.

“Miss Abrams, since you seem inclined to talk while I am talking,” Professor Sprout said sternly, “why don’t you tell me what type of fertilizer you should use when planting alihotsy bushes?” Why was Alta smiling? Professor Sprout would probably take points from Gryffindor when she got the answer wrong. It had to be an act.

“Dragon scales mixed with Essence of Insanity, Professor,” Alta stated, smiling sweetly at Professor Sprout. “Because Essence of Insanity stimulates the hysteria-causing qualities of the leaves, and dragon scales make the mixture solid.” My jaw dropped. Even Professor Sprout looked surprised.

“Well, um.” Professor Sprout seemed flustered, but she collected herself quickly. “Five points to Gryffindor, then.” This was officially one of the worst days of my life. But it was about to get worse. “Miss Pralent, can you tell me which potion turns to poison when the leaves are added?” I gulped. How in the world was I supposed to know that? I had been too busy cleaning to look at any of my school books.

“I don’t know, Professor,” I mumbled, not looking at Professor Sprout. I could see some of the Hufflepuffs grinning. (It goes without saying that Alta’s crowd wore smirks.) Professor Sprout nodded, but did not smile at me.

“I just mentioned it, Miss Pralent, if you had been listening. Euphoria,” she said to the class, “is the answer.” She continued to talk for another half hour, but I wasn’t listening. I was just happy to leave when class was over.

Other students walked in groups, but I walked alone, staring at the ground. I could hear Alta chatting happily to Emily and Ophelia behind her, and a group of Gryffindor boys were comparing chocolate frog cards. The Hufflepuffs were all walking together as they discussed the lesson. But as they got ahead of me, I realized that there was one girl missing from the crowd.

“Hi, Cassandra,” I heard behind me, and I jumped about a mile, dropping my books. The Gryffindor boys burst out laughing, and I turned around to see who the culprit was. It was Sarah Morgan, the missing Hufflepuff with the colorless hair and skin. She smiled at me as she pushed her glasses up. I didn’t answer, just knelt down to pick up my things. She also leaned over to help. “I’m Sarah,” she said, sticking out her hand as we stood up. I sped up to get away from her, and she followed.

“What do you want?” I asked curtly. I wanted nothing to do with this girl. She was a Hufflepuff, which everyone knew was the worst house. She looked strange. And judging from the Muggle comic sticking out of her bag, she was a Muggle-born. I could do much, much better than her.

“I thought you might want a friend,” she said frankly, and I sped up again. Once again, she followed. “Because everybody hates you, really, and I don’t see why. Nobody would tell me why. What’s a squib, anyway?” I gaped at her.

“It’s someone with magic parents who doesn’t have magic,” I said, resigning myself to the fact that she wasn’t going to go away- though I did manage to keep a few feet between us. I didn’t want to actually brush up against her paper-white skin. It was creepy looking. But if she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

“Is that all?” she said, grinning. “From the way some of the other kids talk you’d think it was some terrible disease or something. Do you want to eat lunch together?” I was shocked at this girl. Couldn’t she tell I didn’t want to be friends with her? I may have been a squib, but that didn’t mean I had to sink to befriending creepy looking Hufflepuff Muggle-born first years.

“No.” I shook my head for emphasis. “I don’t want to be friends with you.” Luckily we had reached the castle by then, and I was able to turn down a corridor where she did not follow. Taking a shortcut to the Great Hall I ate at the staff table while she sat with a girl and a boy at the Hufflepuff table, reading aloud from her comic book. Occasionally she would glance up at me, but I ignored her, staring only at my plate.

The next month followed the same routine as my first day had. Wake up, clean, go to a class, eat lunch alone, go to another class, clean some more, eat dinner, do homework, and go to bed exhausted. It was a vicious cycle, in my personal opinion, varying only in the classes I had each day.

Potions turned out to be a nightmare. Mother had been good at Potions when she was at school, but I hadn’t inherited her skill. I took the class with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and the red-headed boy who had made rude comments before the sorting ceremony, Jeremiah, turned out to be almost as bad as Alta. He was a Ravenclaw, and while Alta was turning out be some sort of Herbology genius, he about matched her in Potions.

While his actual potions were not as good as some of the others, he knew enough about the background of potion-making and the different ingredients to make Professor Slughorn leap for joy. As hard as I tried to read ahead in our textbook, I just couldn’t keep up with him. He was like a human encyclopedia and rubbed it in my face whenever he was out of the sight of a teacher. (I was beginning to see why Alta was in Gryffindor. She never cared if a teacher was staring straight at her when she mocked me.) He was Professor Slughorn’s pet student, and unlike with popular Alta, I wasn’t the only one who disliked him.

But even with his obnoxious, know-it-all attitude, Jeremiah still had a group of friends among the Ravenclaws. What, I wondered, was I doing wrong? It certainly wasn’t because I was a teacher’s pet. Professor Slughorn made minimal remarks about my potions, which were only of an average quality. Because I had no wand, I couldn’t use it to stir the potions and give them the extra magical edge the other students had. Most of the time he only addressed me in class now when he had to magically light the fire under my cauldron. Gwen completely ignored me. Sarah Morgan would occasionally glance at me, but after the first week she had stopped offering me a place at her table.

History of Magic was no better. It was my only class with the Slytherins, and I began to realize why they had such a horrible reputation. Although none of them made fun of me to my face like Alta or Jeremiah did, I could hear them whispering behind my back, and couldn’t concentrate on Professor Binns’ dull lectures. As much as I tried to take notes, I found myself writing down nonsense, and failed the quizzes. So did everybody else, but they could make up for it with essays. All my homework was done hurriedly, in-between cleaning. Half the time I fell asleep while I was doing it.

Mr. Filch continued to give me near-impossible tasks. On one memorable day I had to scrub the Quidditch goalposts. With Mr. Filch standing underneath me, I shimmied up the post as far as I could and cleaned off unearthly amounts of mud. I only managed to get up about ten feet, but Mr. Filch didn’t remark about the large amount of mud still on the post. I was getting the idea that he cared more about torturing me than actually cleaning.

I received no mail from my parents. I assured myself that they were undoubtedly busy with their social calendar. The annual Pralent Halloween Ball would, after all, be held at the end of the month. My parents had to be very busy with that. In fact, without me to help them they were probably terribly flustered, with no idea what to do. I expected a frantic note from them any day now, begging for me to come home.

Occasionally Professor McGonagall would call me from my duties to attend a Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Munch. She only did this once a week or so, when there would be no practical wand work in the lesson. Professor Munch seemed nice enough, even if he always looked like he was about to fall over from exhaustion. I wondered if he had another job at night that was keeping him up. Surely Professor McGonagall wouldn’t hire somebody who was already working, would she? But then, I had never expected her to hire an eleven year old squib as the caretaker’s apprentice. Stranger things had happened.

Professor Munch seemed to be a senseless rambler with no real idea of what was going on in the outside world. He had a strange fascination with anything that you could poke people with, as well. I went into his office once a week to clean, and it was filled with sticks that looked like he had found them in the Forbidden Forest. The entire wall behind his desk was covered with a giant picture of himself waving in front of Ollivander’s. (It must have been an old picture, since Ollivander had been found dead over the summer.) He also enjoyed giving out ridiculously long assignments on topics he said that he had covered, but hadn’t.

One day when I was in his class with the Gryffindor first years, generally avoiding Alta, he paused his lecture to remind us that our five foot report on vampires was due tomorrow, and that he was very much looking forward to our demonstrations of how to ward off an approaching child of the night.

The class exchanged glances. Well, the Gryffindors exchanged glances. Nobody would bother to glance my way. In truth this had been a reasonably good day, without more than a few minor comments from Alta. Her best friends Emily and Ophelia had tripped me at lunch, but that was to be expected, these days. Then a black boy in the third row spoke up, telling Professor Munch that he had never given us that assignment. Professor Munch looked puzzled.

“I gave you that assignment in the middle of September when we began studying vampires,” he declared. His love of pointy things apparently extended to Dark creatures, as well. According to the lesson plan he had given out at the beginning of the year, we would be studying vampires, werewolves, and the use of the wand. The class shook their heads. He shrugged. “Oh well! A five foot essay on vampires due tomorrow, then, and a demonstration for the class on how to ward them off. I can’t adjust my schedule just because you children were all foolish enough to forget the assignment. Dismissed!” We left the classroom grumbling. Except me.

How was I supposed to get this done in time? It was the middle of October, and I had double Herbology tomorrow, as well as Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic. I had an essay due in Herbology and an analysis on goblin wars due for History of Magic, and I still had to work with Mr. Filch. Was it possible for me to get expelled, since I was not actually a student? It wasn’t as if I had a wand which they could snap. What if the school governors decided to snap something else instead? My neck, for example? Mr. Filch certainly seemed up for the job. I had no doubt that he would jump at the chance if it was offered to him. My mind started making up all kinds of horrible things that he could do to me as I stood up from my seat and left the classroom, watching the floor. It was because of this that as soon as I entered the hall I ran straight into Ophelia.

“Watch it, squib!” Ophelia said, shoving me backwards into the wall. I glanced around, scared out of my wits. Any minute now Alta and Emily would close in on me, taunting me. But my quick scan of the room gave me a surprise- Alta and Emily were nowhere to be found. My surprise must have shown in my face. “You got a problem, squib?” Ophelia seemed angrier than usual, but a little unsure of herself. Her dark eyebrows were furrowed together, and she was frowning. “Just… leave, Pralent.” I scurried away while I had the chance.

Was the dynamic trio becoming a dynamic duo? I watched the three of them at dinner that night. The three of them were sitting together as usual, though they had an even larger group around them, listening in. For reasons I could not explain Alta was fast becoming one of the most popular first years in Hogwarts. All of them were laughing hysterically now, eating their dinner like they didn’t have a care in the world. It certainly didn’t look like Ophelia was being left out. I put the matter out of my mind temporarily. I had more important things to worry about- namely, how in the world I was going to finish all my homework.

After dinner I still had a couple of hours before I was due with Mr. Filch, and I took the opportunity to knock out a reasonable Herbology essay. Just as the ink was drying I heard the pounding on my door that I knew to associate with one person. Mr. Filch.

“You’re cleaning the girl’s bathrooms today,” he said as I rushed out of my rooms. “The first three floors. Get to work!” He shoved some cleaning supplies into my arms and strode away, muttering about lateness. My heart sank. The bathrooms always took hours! I suppose that I could have taken my essays with me and ignored the bathrooms, but then Mr. Filch would slaughter me. No, there was no way out of this.

I managed to hold back my tears until I got to the bathroom, but once I was there they seemed to come out in floods. It wasn’t fair! Why me? Why did I have to be stuck with being a stupid, stupid squib?

I tried to imagine what my life at Hogwarts would be like if I wasn’t a squib. It was a blissful picture. I would be in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw like Mother and Father. Gwen and I would be the best of friends; leaving those girls she had replaced me with out cold. We would be the two most popular first years in Hogwarts, as well as the most beautiful and talented. I would use my immense magical powers to turn Alta Abrams into a vile little toad…

That was when it really hit me. The daydreams I was enjoying? It would never happen. Ever. Because my being a squib… this wasn’t something I was ever going to outgrow. I would be a squib for the rest of my life. Until the day I died I would be mocked, rejected, and scorned. I would grow up and take over Mr. Filch’s job and be laughed at by all the students and teachers that passed through Hogwarts. They would all go on to do fantastic, important things, and I would be stuck at Hogwarts forever, all alone.

So I cried. I leaned against the wall and slid down onto the cold, hard floor, as hard and cold as the heart of Alta Abrams. If she had one. As much as I tried, my tears just wouldn’t seem to stop. I wanted to claw away at my face, my skin, my robes… anything I could to just leave the body of Cassandra Pralent behind me and become somebody else. Anybody else! Anybody but… well…. me.

I don’t know how long I was sitting there. The tears subsided after awhile, but I just couldn’t feel the need to stand up, to go about my duties like a good little caretaker and then stay up all night to do my essays. What was the point, anyway? Even if I got straight O’s in all my classes from now until I was seventeen, would it honestly make a difference? After all, I would still be stuck here as caretaker. Did it matter if I was expelled? Mother told me that when someone was expelled from Hogwarts they snapped their wand in half so the person couldn’t do magic. So really, what could they do to me?

As soon as it occurred to me I began to laugh hysterically, laugh until I was almost doubled over in spite of myself. I hadn’t laughed since I had gotten to Hogwarts. It felt good, even if it was because of something so bad. I was still laughing when the door opened and a rather surprised looking girl came in.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here,” she said, but not leaving. She was tiny, but strong looking, with broad shoulders, for a girl. I doubted she had ever even heard of lady-like, considering the cuts that I could see on her cocoa colored skin, and her black hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

“It’s fine,” I choked out, in between the fits of laughter. “I was just cleaning.” I recognized her as a Slytherin, but I didn’t care right now. What did it matter anyway? In seven years she would be out in the world doing great things, and I would still be here. Who cared if she made fun of me now? She was studying me intently, not smiling.

“You’re the squib, aren’t you?” She seemed slightly scornful, but no matter. I was almost giddy, high off of my emotions. I nodded, giggling as I attempted to stand up and fell right back down again.

“That’s me,” I said cheerfully, attempting to curtsy but losing my balance instead. “Cassandra Pralent. The little squib girl, ready to clean at the snap of your fingers!” If I had been thinking straight my face would have been bright red right now, but in my present state I merely giggled again.

“Joanna,” the girl said by way of introduction. “Pleasure, I’m sure. You come here often?” She was a Slytherin, after all. From my month of experience they weren’t ones to blurt out their intentions. I wondered what she really wanted.

“Whenever the good Mr. Filch sends me, I come,” I replied. I laughed at my tremendous wit as Joanna raised an eyebrow. “Do you?” This, as well, was fantastically funny in my eyes.

“When the mood takes me,” she said smoothly. Why wasn’t she laughing? Didn’t she see the humor? I did. “It was interesting talking to you, Cassandra.” She nodded at me as she turned to leave. “See you in class.” Then she was gone, the door swinging behind her, and I was laughing again. I fell asleep where I was sitting an hour or so later, having completely ignored both the mess and my essays.

Had I not been temporarily insane, I would have been thrilled that she had actually called me ‘Cassandra’.

My eyes opened slowly, fluttering open and shut a few times before I was finally able to take in the area around me. Where was I? This looked like the girls’ bathroom. Wait a moment… I sat up, rubbing my eyes as I woke up fully. This was the girls’ bathroom.

My face slowly turned scarlet as I recalled the details of last night. Had I really giggled? Acted like a fool in front of a Slytherin? The entire school would now know that Cassandra Pralent had a fit in the girls’ bathroom. Not that they would use my name. No, they would just call me squib. It rarely came as a shock, these days. I sighed as I got up off of the floor, my neck stiff from the odd position I had slept in. My eyes glanced around the room until they fell on the pile of books I had carried with me the night before to work on my homework, and my heart sank further.

Perhaps if they couldn’t snap my wand in half they would simply expel me from the magical community forever! I couldn’t let that happen. Knowing that magic was real but not being able to acknowledge its existence would be just as bad as being a squib! I grabbed the parchment and started to scribble words, but I gave up and tossed it aside after just a few sentences. There was no point. I would never finish it before class started. I gathered up my books and made my way to the Great Hall for breakfast- if I was going to be forced out of magical Britain I didn’t have to worry about changing my clothes or fixing my braids.

Breakfast was wonderful, as usual, but I couldn’t concentrate on my food. I still had an hour before Herbology that I was supposed to spend cleaning with Mr. Filch, but after I had finished eating I decided to walk around the grounds instead. If I was going to be kicked out, I at least wanted to spend my last few hours doing something besides taking orders from that monster of a man.

It was a few days before Halloween now, and it was chilly as I stepped outside and wrapped a scarf around my neck. Something had been chewing on the ends of it while it was sitting in my trunk, and I played with the tattered bits absentmindedly as I walked down to the lake. The wind tore at my hair, pulling it out of its braids. I didn’t bother fixing them. My head felt surprisingly light without the tugging weight of them.

“ ‘Ello, Cassandra,” I heard, and turned around to see Hagrid behind me. “It’s too cold to be out here yerself, ye know. Come into my hut, ‘ave a cuppa tea.” I nodded and followed him across the grounds, not paying attention to the landscape. It was all just trees anyway. Hogwarts, Hogwarts, stupid, stupid Hogwarts. What did I care that I was leaving?

“In here,” Hagrid called, and I looked up at him to see a wooden hut. My first instinct was to shudder. It was old and decrepit and… old. I was about to refuse the tea when a particularly cold gust of wind almost blew the scarf from my neck. Perhaps a small cup of tea would be nice after all, as long as I didn’t inhale.

He held open the door for me, and I was greeted with surprising warmth as I stepped inside. The first thing I saw was a huge dog leaping at my face. I screamed and covered my head with my hands, shaking in terror. Of course! They couldn’t snap my wand, so they decided to execute me instead! Hagrid was part of the plot!

I heard him laughing behind me, and the monster animal was slobbering all over my robes. I removed my hands from my head, face burning. It was just a dog after all. Still, there was no reason Hagrid wouldn’t give me my tea and then kill me. I decided to stay on guard, just in case.

The next thing I saw was Joanna and Sarah sitting at Hagrid’s table, watching me with piles of books on their laps.

“What are they doing here?” I mumbled. To start with, Sarah was considerably below me. Even though I was about to be killed, I could still have standards. Besides that, Joanna was a Slytherin. That would have been enough evidence to be frightened of her, but she had also seen me having a fit in the bathroom. Were they here to watch me die?

“They’ve got somethin’ for you,” Hagrid said gently as he went over to where a teapot was just starting to whistle. “Wanted to give it you themselves.” Pouring the boiling water into four huge mugs, he added a fistful of tea leaves to each and set them on the table. The wooden mugs he used were old and cracked, but I still felt myself being drawn to their fragrant aroma. Sarah and Joanna silently opened their school books to reveal slightly squashed rolls of parchments that they passed towards me. I opened the first one and read the top. ‘An Analysis On Goblin Wars, By Cassandra Pralent…’ I looked up at them, shocked.

“You wrote my essays for me?” They were all clear and concise, just past the needed amount of parchment. Sarah shrugged.

“Jo said you weren’t able to get them done last night, so we did them for you,” Sarah explained. “We just split the work in the library.” Jo? Were they friends?

“But don’t think we’re trying to suck up to you,” Joanna was quick to add, and I was reminded of the famous Slytherin snake striking.

“You shouldn’t have to fail because you had… other duties,” Sarah said, not looking at me. Would I have done the same for her? No, I answered myself. I wouldn’t have. Hagrid looked pleased as he tasted the tea. I didn’t say anything, just reached forward and took the cup, trying to sip it without my lips actually touching the wood. It was good, and it gave me time to think about what to say. What could I possibly say? But before I could even think about it, the two gathered their books and stood up.

“Thanks for the tea, Hagrid,” Joanna said, without acknowledging me. Sarah gave the man a smile, but didn’t even spare me a glance. I watched them as they opened the door and headed up to the greenhouses. Hagrid patted me on the shoulder so that my spine cracked.

“They’re good girls,” he said fondly. Once again I was surprised. Sarah was strange and Joanna was a Slytherin. These were not your traditional good girls. Hagrid seemed to know what I was thinking. “Now wasn’t that nice of ‘em, to write the essays again, with different words and all?” I looked at him sharply.

“Didn’t they just copy their own essays?”

“No, they wrote ‘em from scratch.” Hagrid smiled at me, but I was confused. Why on earth had they done that? I had treated Sarah as fitted her station in life, but I had never expected to be helped for it. And Joanna… well, she was a Slytherin! They were evil people who didn’t help others, weren’t they? “Best be getting to class, Cassandra,” Hagrid said after a minute. “I’ll explain ter Filch that you were in my care this mornin’. Have a good day.” He ushered me out of his hut more confused than I was going in.

I was in a daze the entire walk to Defense Against the Dark Arts. What had that all been about? Joanna had made it clear that they didn’t need me as a friend, but they had done my homework for me. I treated Sarah Morgan with contempt whenever I encountered her, but she had probably spent hours working for my benefit only. Why?

Joanna was already seated when I arrived in class, and I studied her closely as I took my usual seat in the corner. She seemed like a Slytherin. She had a green and silver scarf on, and she was talking to another Slytherin first year that had made fun of me before. What made Joanna so different from that other girl? That I could answer for myself. Joanna had done my homework, whereas the other girl would have laughed in my face.

“Essays on your desks!” Professor Munch called, and I pulled the squashed roll out of my bag and placed it in front of me. With a Summoning Charm the scrolls rushed towards him. “I am in no mood to lecture today,” he cried, throwing his arms about dramatically. I had noticed him doing this a lot. “So you are going to split into pairs for some practical work!” Had my heart just stopped? I couldn’t do practical work, not when it required a wand. And pairs? Even worse. “I will turn out the lights, and each of you will go on the opposite side of the room as your partner. I will declare one side the vampires, and they will have to sneak up on their partner and bite them.” I wasn’t the only one who looked slightly alarmed at that, but Professor Munch didn’t notice. “Go on, pair up!” Students stood up from their desks and began to stand together.

I panicked. It took only a few minutes before everybody except me had a partner, and I stood awkwardly next to my desk as the Slytherin students whispered. Professor Munch looked surprised.

“Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else right now? Never mind,” he continued before I could explain, “you’re here now, and I can’t do anything about it.” Did he sound resentful? “No partners, then. The side of the room that is vampires can attack anybody on the other side. Bite people by poking them with your wands. If you’ve been bitten, fall down. Those being bitten can use any spell they can think of to repel the vampires.” Did Professor Munch just give a group of Slytherin first years the right to use any spell they could think of? Was he mentally challenged? Worse yet, I didn’t have a wand or the ability to use spells. But there was no time to protest, and I was shoved over to the side of the humans by the other students. “Begin!” Professor Munch called, and the room blacked out.

I hovered nervously at the back of the room, unsure of what to do. The vampires had not yet begun to attack, and I couldn’t help but be frightened. I didn’t like being in a blacked-out room with so many Slytherins, even if one of them had done my homework for me. I gave a little shudder, more than ready for the class to be over.

That was when I heard the mutter. Before I could do anything my arms and legs snapped to my side and I fell to the ground, still as a board. I couldn’t scream for help with my mouth snapped shut, and I could hear the quiet laughter of several students around me.

“Prop her up!” one of them whispered, and to my horror I was lifted up and leaned onto the wall. I still couldn’t see anything, but I could feel the students as they poked and prodded me. “Just a little study on Squibs,” the one who had spoken before said to me. “Tell us, can you feel it if I go like this?” and she slapped me across the face so hard I could hear it.

“Nobody wants you, Squib,” a boy said, and then the spell was taken off of me with another muttering. The lights went back on as somebody across the room yelled that everyone was out, and I was able to see again. I was the only one standing up. Everybody was lying down on the other side of the room, and I could see the smirks on the faces of many. Not only could I not tell who had slapped me, I couldn’t see the person who had freed me from the bind. Not Joanna. She was a Slytherin, and I still refused to trust her. Professor Munch, perhaps? But it had sounded like a girl’s voice.

“Vampires win this round,” Professor Munch announced as he moved to the front of the class. “Now switch sides, vampires be humans and humans be vampires…”

“Pralent!” The door swung open with a bang and revealed Mr. Filch in the entrance, positively fuming. “Get over here!”

“Can I help you, Mr. Filch?” I was never so grateful to Professor Munch in my life. Inconsistent he might be, but he distracted Mr. Filch’s attention. Mr. Filch turned to him and glared.

“The girl was supposed to work this morning,” he growled, “and she’s a caretaker, not a student!” The words stung as much as the slap. I hated to associate myself with Mr. Filch in any way. “I’ve spoken to the Headmistress about it, and Pralent isn’t in any classes until she shapes up on my end.” I gasped. No classes? Then I would be completely a caretaker, never being able to escape from Mr. Filch. Merlin, what a thought! I could see Professor Munch shrug. No! Shouldn’t he be concerned that I wouldn’t learn anything? But he only shrugged. “Come on, Pralent!” Mr. Filch roared, and I was once again consumed with a hatred for this thing as I gathered up my books and followed him out into the hallway.

“I’d string you up by your thumbs if it was up to me,” he said, “but the Headmistress says no, you just got to learn. Well you’ll learn with me alright, and make no mistake. They’ll be no sleeping in, no working on essays, no tracking in extra mud! Just work, Pralent. You hear?” I nodded.

Well, it certainly hadn’t been my best day. I’d had two people I wasn’t friends with do my homework for me. I had been attacked by a Slytherin and then protected by a different one. You could say I had a friend, if Squibs had friends. I was beginning to think they- we- didn’t.

But how was I supposed to find them if I spent all my time working with Mr. Filch?

Torture. Pure, horrible torture. That’s what awaited me as Mr. Filch woke me up on the morning of Halloween and told me to get up. It was already four and I had work to do. For the last few days I had been working for Mr. Filch with no time to myself, and now I was ready to tear my hair out whenever he came near me. (My hair, for the record, was not doing well from all the exposure it was getting to magical cleaning supplies. If I didn’t wear it in braids it stuck straight out from my head.)

Today I was to scrub the library. Mr. Filch and I had been spending a lot of time in the library the past few days. We would go in, and he would send me to scrub the shelves Madam Pince had taken the books off of. Then he would disappear and I wouldn’t see him until lunch. Oddly enough, I never saw Madam Pince around either. Strange.

Today I was to be cleaning the Restricted Section. It was so early that it was still dark outside, and I yawned as I grabbed a rag from the bucket next to me and began to work. There were some bonuses on working in the Restricted Section. None of the other first years came in there, and it was rare for me to encounter an older student. Even when I did, they never teased me like the first years did. Most of the time they would just step out of my way and I would continue cleaning.

But there were minuses as well. If I ever happened to accidentally open a book it tended to scream at me. Once a book attacked me when my foot got too close to me, and the black-haired Gryffindor boy I had seen laughing at Professor Munch during the Sorting had to pry it off of my foot. I had been too shy to thank him.

I carefully avoided all of the books laying on the ground as I scrubbed fiercely, imagining the bookshelf had Alta’s face on it. She was going out of her way to find me and make fun of me, preferably when I was doing something particularly dirty in a place where loads of people could see me. Sometimes a teacher would be present as well, but while they scolded her and occasionally took a few points from Gryffindor, no major punishment ever took place.

Just as I was turning around to squeeze the extra water out of my rag I backed into something that gave a horrible ‘oof’ sound. I stifled a scream- Madam Pince could never stand for noise in the library. What in Merlin’s name was it? Gulping, I reached into the empty space and felt myself grabbing onto something soft. Tugging on it, the softness flew away to reveal a bushy haired girl who was probably in her sixth or seventh year. I was about to scream for Madam Pince, quiet or not, when the girl reached down and put her hands over my mouth.

“Shh,” she whispered, looking around for signs of Madam Pince. She wasn’t there, and the girl sighed in relief.

“Who are you?” I asked fiercely as I tore away from her hands. “I could report you! Nobody’s allowed in here without a note!” I was shaking, I was so scared. Did she even go to Hogwarts? What if she was a Death Eater, sneaking into Hogwarts to kill? Normally I wouldn’t be worried, because as a Pureblood Death Eaters would most likely leave me alone. But now that I was a Squib…

“Hermione Granger,” the girl said quietly, “and I could report you as well. What’s your excuse? It’s the middle of the night, and as school prefect it’s my duty to inform you that you should be in bed. There are classes tomorrow.”

“Don’t take classes,” I muttered, suddenly turning red. “I’m apprentice to Mr. Filch, and he told me to clean the library.” Suddenly I recognized her. She was the girl sitting next to the black haired boy who had saved me from the evil book! Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger… of course! I had seen her picture in the Daily Prophet, next to Harry Potter! Wait a moment… Harry Potter. Did that mean I had been saved by Harry Potter? Merlin!

It didn’t take me that long to connect the dots. Hermione Granger, Harry Potter’s best friend, skulking around the Restricted Section… alright, so I still didn’t know what was going on. But it was worth a shot in the dark.

“You’re doing something for Harry, aren’t you?” I accused, pointing my rag at her. It wasn’t quite a wand, but it was so caked with mud from the Great Hall I could always beat her over the head with it. “Don’t lie, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” It was the only reason that made sense. Hermione seemed nervous.

“No!” But she was panicking, I could tell. “I’m just… patrolling. For prefect duties.” Please. I rolled my eyes.

“If you don’t tell me what you’re doing,” I began, “I’ll tell Madam Pince you were sneaking into the Restricted Section and she’ll ban you from the library. She’ll do it, too, I saw her put up wards against a third year last week.” He had been eating chocolate and spilled some on his books. But it was alright, Madam Pomfrey only had to give him a few potions to get him back to normal. I smirked, satisfied with my blackmail, but then Hermione Granger pulled out her wand.

“I’m really, really sorry about this,” she apologized, “but I’ve been practicing the spell, and I know the theory by heart, so it should only erase the last few minutes.” What? I backed up against the bookshelf, gulping. “Obliv-”

“Wait!” I cried, rushing forward and grabbing the wand from her hand. “Don’t make me do anything you’ll regret later!” I danced around in a circle, jabbing the wand in front of me. How did you use one of these things, anyway? I had never gotten the opportunity to try. Hermione leaned forward to grab her wand back, and whirling it in an exaggerated way I shouted, “Wingardium Leviosa!” It was the only spell that came to mind- I had seen the first years practicing it in the hallways.

Nothing happened. The wand seemed to droop slightly, and I drooped right along with it as I dropped the wand and slid down onto the floor. I guess I really was a Squib then. Funny. I suppose I had hoped that the wand would work, but even the hopes were gone now. May as well let Hermione curse me.

“Do your worst,” I shrugged, resting my head against the wooden bookshelf. “Do that Obbly curse. It doesn’t matter anymore.” But I saw Hermione pocket her wand and kneel down to my level, looking concerned.

“You’re a Squib?” I nodded. I wouldn’t cry. I’d done enough of that in the last few days. I would be strong like Mother and Father. I still hadn’t heard from them. A couple of days ago I had written them a long, long letter describing my life, but just yesterday the owl had returned with the letter still unopened. Stupid owl, it couldn’t even find my house. Mother and Father were probably sick with worry! So last night I had sent the letter with a different owl. But they had been strong. I knew they wouldn’t let other people know how worried they were about me. They would be keeping up appearances. I had to do the same.

No, I didn’t. I didn’t. I knew my life was horrible. Would it be cowardly to admit it to a stranger? But appearances… they were so important. Weren’t they?

Ever since I had gotten to Hogwarts everything I thought I knew had disappeared. The girl who hated me most was a Gryffindor. A pureblood friend in Ravenclaw had abandoned me. The other students hated me. I would never be prefect like my parents. I suppose I would never be perfect like them either. I cleaned, even.

So why was I still holding on to my old life? Well, I knew the answer to that one. I was scared. My old life had been so perfect. Perfect looks, perfect family, and perfect little girl. Maybe I had to let go of that life and try to accept that I wasn’t going to change. Maybe I had to let go of the old ways and open my hand for the new ones.

I didn’t know. I just didn’t know. But I knew what I had to about Hermione Granger.

“Let me help,” I whispered as I leaned forward. Hermione shook her head no, but I wasn’t giving up. “Filch showed me some of the secret passages over the summer, I can go into all the common rooms, I don’t have to worry about classes or homework. I clean all of the teacher’s offices. Let me help, Hermione. Please.” Hermione looked troubled.

“Fine,” she whispered. “But you can’t tell anybody. Harry’s going to be angry as it is. Can you come back to the common room with me?” I nodded. This was more important than shelves, and I knew he wasn’t allowed to actually string me up from the ceiling because he complained about it on a regular basis. “Give me back the cloak,” she added, holding out her hand. I had almost forgotten about it. Pulling me up from the ground Hermione pointed at the shelves, muttering, “Scourgify.” They were instantly clean, and as she threw the cloak over the both of us we carefully exited the Restricted Section Hermione began to explain.

“This is an invisibility cloak,” she began. “Nobody can see us, but they can hear us, so be quiet until we get out of the library.” I nodded. She was hunched over so that the cloak covered both of us, and as we tiptoed out the door I caught a glimpse of Mr. Filch and Madam Pince. They were sitting at the front desk. And they were holding hands while they stared into each others eyes.

I wanted to throw up, but Hermione hurried me out of the library before I got the chance. As soon as we were in the hallway I let out a shudder, which Hermione smiled at as she shooed me into one of the secret passageways.

“They do that every night,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. What’s your name?”

“Cassandra Pralent,” I answered, and she nodded.

“Alright, Cassandra.” She pulled the cloak off of both of us and sat down on the floor. I smiled at her pajamas. They were covered with little lambs. “Have you ever heard of a man called Lord Voldemort?”

I gave her a look. “Just because I’m a Squib and eleven doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” I snapped.

“Sorry,” she said with a little smile, “I wasn’t sure. Then you know how Harry defeated him as a baby, and how he’s been fighting him on and off for the last few years.” Was she ever going to tell me something I didn’t already know? The entire Wizarding world already knew that! “Well before he tried to kill Harry, Voldemort, he… split his soul.” I gasped. Alright, that was definitely something the entire world may not have known. “And he put them into things. Something important to him. Like his diary, or a ring belonging to Slytherin. There are six in all, and they’re called Horcruxes. So far we’ve gotten rid of two, and we think we know what two others are, but we still have to find two more. That’s why we’re back at Hogwarts. Harry thinks they’re here.”

Wow. An entire plot to kill You-Know-Who, right in the school! And I was going to help! Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“What are the two you know about but can’t find?” I asked. What sort of things held a soul, anyway?

“A locket belonging to Slytherin and a cup belonging to Hufflepuff,” she answered. I noticed how worried she looked, talking about the Horcruxes. Wait a moment… a cup belonging to Hufflepuff?

“Hermione,” I said slowly. “Do you know what this cup belonging to Hufflepuff looks like?”

“A golden cup with two handles and a badger on it, Harry says,” she answered promptly.

“The sort of cup that would look very decorative on the mantel of a fireplace,” I croaked out, not believing it, “and go very well with the furniture in the parlor of a mansion?” And I swear, the color completely drained out of Hermione’s face.

“Cassandra,” she said, “you know where a Horcrux is?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, “I know where a Horcrux is.”

Hermione wasted no time after that in getting me to the Gryffindor common room. My heart was pounding the entire time, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in the last three hours or so. At first I was the reject Squib, doing nothing but scrubbing shelves, and now I was part of a mission to defeat the most evil wizard who ever lived! Maybe it was a sign that I really did need to embrace the future. Unless this mission killed me… but frankly, things couldn’t get any worse. If I was going to die as a Squib, I may as well make sure it’s while I was doing something to save the world, now that I had the opportunity.

I had never been in the boy’s dorms of the Gryffindor common room before, and I positively gawked at how Hermione just rushed up there without even bothering to knock. They could have been getting dressed! But Hermione didn’t seem to care as she rushed over to the bed where I could see a head of red hair sticking out from the blanket.

“Ron!” she whispered fiercely as she shook him. “Wake up! This is important!” The boy blinked groggily as he lifted his head.

“Hermione?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes, “what’s going on? Who’s that?” He pointed at me, and I couldn’t help but blush. He was very handsome, even with his hair all messy.

“I’ll explain later, get Harry up and meet us outside the Room of Requirement.” The Room of Requirement? What was that? It seemed to mean something to Ron, who immediately woke up the rest of the way and jumped out of bed, throwing on a tattered robe and going over to shake the shoulder of the black haired boy in the bed next to him. So that was Harry Potter! He didn’t act famous.

Hermione ran out of the dormitory and I ran right after her, afraid of being left behind with a bunch of seventh year boys. Boys who might have been changing! It was scandalous, yet I had just been in their dorm. Would wonders ever cease?

Hermione didn’t stop until she had left the common room and had come to a strange looking tapestry containing trolls trying to dance. It was so strange looking I felt myself staring at it for a full thirty seconds before I heard Hermione calling my name.

“Cassandra!” she said again, sounding a bit impatient this time. When I looked up I saw Ron and Harry standing next to her, breathing heavily. Ron’s robes were lopsided, and Harry’s glasses were crooked. I was suddenly overcome by shyness, my face turning red as I watched my feet.

“Hello,” I whispered, not looking up but still sensing that Hermione was giving me a funny look.

“We need a secret place to meet and discuss,” Harry said to the wall across from the tapestry in a loud, clear voice as he walked back and forth three times. To my shock a tall wooden door appeared which Harry opened and stepped through. Hermione followed, and Ron gestured for me to go ahead. I did so, blushing furiously.

I gasped as the room was revealed. I had never seen this place in all my weeks of cleaning the castle. The ceiling was high, and the walls were lined with book shelves featuring all sorts of different books. Books on the Dark Arts, books on Defense Against the Dark Arts, books on history, and books on the haunted homes of magical Britain- even a few Muggle books! In the middle of the floor was a collection of squashy red chairs surrounding a table that had books laid out on it, some open. Harry, Ron, and Hermione went straight to the chairs and sat down, looking as serious as three seventeen year olds could be. I stood behind Hermione’s chair, shaking a little. What had happened to the brave girl who had demanded to help in the library? She had been replaced by me, a quivering mass of Squib.

“What’s this about, Hermione?” Harry was speaking! Fine, so I was slightly star-struck. Father had always admired the boy’s escapades when visitors were at the house, boasting that he and the Boy Who Lived shared the same house! Admittedly, in private I heard him confide to Mother that the boy was probably having delusions of grandeur, but that had to be Father’s little joke. Like when he told me about the time he and his friends, in their seventh year, had met a Squib working in a shop and had accused her of being a Muggle, getting her fired from her job. I had giggled when I heard it. Now, remembering the story for the first time in months, it didn’t seem quite as funny.

“This is Cassandra,” Hermione told him. “She’s apprenticed to Filch, and she knows where Hufflepuff’s cup is.” The reaction to the statement was worth recording. Harry’s jaw dropped, and Ron looked like he had bitten off his own tongue in shock. Hermione nodded. “That was my reaction.” I must say, hers hadn’t been nearly as spectacular.

“You’re sure about this?” Harry asked. “We don’t need another false trail.” Ron nodded in agreement. He hadn’t spoken yet. Maybe he really had bitten off his tongue. They all seemed to be looking to me for an answer. I gulped.

“Yes,” I quavered, still not completely composed. “It was in an old building that my Father bought. They were going to auction off everything, but Father saw the cup and took it home. He said it was exquisite.” I was getting my spirit back now. I remembered when he brought the cup home. It shone like the sun. The seventh years exchanged glances.

“He just took it?” Ron asked. I suppose his tongue was still whole after all. “His arm didn’t fall off or anything?” What in the name of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans was he talking about?

“Of course not,” I replied. “Father said there was only a simple curse on it that would bring a slow painful death to anybody who wasn’t the owner of the cup.” I could touch it, since it technically belonged to the Pralents, but Mother couldn’t until Father took the curse off.

“Where do you live?” Harry asked curtly. “We need that cup.”

“Wait just a moment!” I cut in, “I’m going with you. It’s my house, after all.” I could see my parents again! They were probably pining for me. “And Hermione promised!” That part was a bit whiny eleven year old brat, but I couldn’t help it. I learned it all from watching Jeremiah, anyway.

“I did,” Hermione said meekly. “We better take her, Harry.” Harry was exasperated, I could tell, as was Ron. Ron ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. It was still very handsome hair, and I blushed when he looked at me.

“Besides, if you touch it,” I added, going for logic instead of whining, “you’ll die. I won’t. So when do we leave?” It had been so long since I had been out of Hogwarts. I hadn’t even left the castle in weeks! The fresh air, the breeze, and then home… I sighed with happiness at the prospect.

“Hang on!” Ron stood up, and I marveled at his height. He was almost twice as tall as I was. “What will we tell McGonagall when we suddenly disappear from school? The three of us might be able to get away with it, but Cassandra, don’t you work here?” He knew my name! I could have swooned. “Won’t Filch get upset?”

“Ron’s right, Cassandra.” Hermione was speaking to me gently, like I was a kitten. Nobody had spoken to me like that since I had seen my mother. It soothed me slightly. “Filch could get you kicked out of Hogwarts, I bet. Working here has got to be better than not being here at all, right?”

“Wrong.” My voice shuddered, and I could feel a sob coming up in my throat as tears gathered in my eyes. “You’re wrong. Anything would be better than working here and being so close to magic I could taste it, and then not being able to do even the simplest spell or make a decent potion or even magically clean my rooms.” The sob broke free now, and the tears were running down my face. “You… you don’t know what’s it like. Okay? Nobody does, because you have magic and I don’t, and I don’t care if I ever see this stupid school again, because I don’t want to be here. Okay? I just don’t.” I wiped the tears away from my face. The three of them were watching me, and then they turned their backs so that I could just catch what they were whispering.

“It’s still too dangerous for her, she doesn’t know what she’s got going for her here, and she’s only eleven!”

“You were eleven when you rescued the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry, and listen to her! She’s miserable, and you want to just leave her to that?”

“Her too? Come on, Hermione, we can’t save every species on the planet! What are you going to start now? The Squib Protection from Intolerance Team? S.P.I.T. for short?”

Now I was just a species? Part of me wanted to spin around and scream at them, but I tried to maintain my cool. Screaming at them would get me stuck here. I couldn’t stop more tears from appearing, though.

“That was uncalled for, Ron, and frankly I’m surprised at you. Don’t you have a cousin who’s a Squib?”

“Look, you two, it doesn’t matter anyway.” Harry seemed to be the voice of reason in their bickering. “We have to take her with us so that she can get the cup, and we’ll think of an excuse for Filch. It seems like she needs a vacation.” His voice was grim, but I could have thrown my arms around him in thanks as three turned around to face me. “We’ll leave now, then, we need to get this done. Can you fly?” Hermione elbowed him. As a Squib, I couldn’t get a broomstick up in the air unless it was specifically designed for Squibs, and even those would never get me back to my house. It was much too far.

“Couldn’t we Apparate?” I suggested. “Wouldn’t that be quicker?” Harry shook his head.

“None of us are good enough to take you with us. How about Floo Powder?” Now it was my turn to shake my head.

“Father blocks incoming calls between September and Christmas, they’re business months.” Mother always hated that. Her friends always complained about having to walk or Apparate over to the house.

“You’ll ride with me, then,” Harry said, “and Hermione will ride with Ron.” Why did Hermione get to ride with Ron? I wanted to ride with Ron! Even after the S.P.I.T. comment he was still very handsome. Much better looking than any of the first year boys. And so much taller!

I didn’t have time to protest before I was being ushered out of the room and was waiting in the hallway while the three seventh years raised their wands and summoned a small trunk each. Nonverbal spells! Jealousy swept through me. I would never be able to do that. Ron and Harry were looking at me expectantly, but Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, you two, do you expect her to be prepared with anything? Come on Cassandra. Let’s go get you some clothes for the trip. It might be a few days.” A few days? Away from Mr. Filch? And cleaning? And that horrible evil cat Mrs. Norris? It was like heaven on earth!

“I don’t need any clothes!” I was bouncing up and down with excitement, my braids hitting against my back. “I still have some at home! Come on, let’s go!” I wanted to see my parents as soon as possible! Every second I spent without them was another second where they could forget me… no. That was silly. Why would they forget me? Hermione looked uncomfortable, but nodded.

“Come on,” Harry said, and we all raced down the stairs into the Entrance Hall. ‘We’. I liked the sound of that. It had been so long since I had used it. Ron unlocked the door with another spell and then we were outside, the wind whipping through my braids and causing them to smack my face hard. Ron grinned.

“Accio broomsticks!” he shouted as he raised his wand, and two brooms shot towards us. I wanted very badly to throw myself on the floor to protect myself, but then Ron might think I was silly. That would be bad. That would be very bad.

Hermione climbed onto the back of Ron’s broom, and I got on behind Harry with a look of contempt in Hermione’s direction. I didn’t care how nice she had been to me. She still shouldn’t be holding onto Ron as tightly as he strapped the trunks to the brooms using- what else, - magic, of course.

And before I knew it we were taking off, and I could only hold on and try not to look down.

Can I just take this moment to say that flying is quite possibly the most uncomfortable form of travel known to witch or wizard? I couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Harry was a natural, of course, grinning the entire time we were in the air, paying no attention to the Squib who was desperately clinging to the broomstick behind him and trying not to grab onto his waist in sheer terror as the broom twisted and turned over Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and eventually the bare countryside. I had flown before, certainly, but it had been with Father. He would be extra careful about staying low to the ground, and he never went too fast for me. I had liked flying with Father.

I spent a long time watching Ron and Hermione fly. Hermione, too, looked scared, but she didn’t hesitate to hold tightly onto Ron. He didn’t seem to mind and once, when they thought I wasn’t looking, I saw them riding with her head on his shoulder. That vixen! Ron was too polite to push her away, of course. I was sure that was it.

I didn’t admit it to Harry, but I was exhausted. After giving him my address he didn’t talk to me at all, though, so I doubt he would have noticed if I’d fallen asleep and plunged to my doom. Only the thought of Mother and Father kept me from slipping away into the comforting clutches of the wind, clouds, and stars. They were beautiful, sparkling in the early morning sky.

Just a few weeks ago my world consisted of Alta’s taunts and Joanna’s help, Ophelia’s bullying and Sarah’s strange coloring. It seemed a long time since I had thought of Sarah and Joanna. No doubt they had forgotten about me, forgotten about the little Squib girl they did homework for. Probably even Alta had given up searching for the butt of all her jokes, and Ophelia and Alta’s other sidekick, Emily, had found new jokes to laugh at. This should have made me happy, but instead I felt empty inside. Had I made so little impact on the school that they would have forgotten me already?

“Cassandra!” I glanced around with a start. Harry was turned around on the broom, looking concerned. “Are you awake? Your house is too far away for us to finish the journey tonight. We’re going to get some rest and then finish the trip in the afternoon, alright?” I nodded. What else could I do? I didn’t have a say; I simply thanked Merlin as the broom came to a stop on the ground and I stumbled off of it, glad to be back on solid ground again before looking around.

We were in a barren moor, without a house in sight. Why had we stopped here? Why not at one of the many fine inns all over England and Scotland that catered to witches and wizards, where we could all get comfortable beds, a warm bath, and a hot meal? Didn’t they have any money? Well, that wouldn’t be a problem. Father had accounts all over Great Britain. I decided to bring the subject up myself.

“Hermione,” I said in a low voice, walking over to where she was dismounting from the broom, “if money’s a problem, Father is known to almost all the inns in Europe. He would be happy to let us use his money to sleep there. It would be preferable to sleeping on the ground.” But Hermione shook her head. Why was she shaking her head? She needed to stop doing that! I didn’t want to sleep on the ground! I might be attacked by a giant man-eating flobberworm during the night!

“People would notice if we stayed at an inn,” was the only explanation she gave me before leaving me to talk to Harry and Ron. Well, fine. I would do perfectly well on my own, thanks very much. I didn’t need her. So I curled up in a ball on the ground, trying not to shiver.

I woke up around eleven to find a blanket draped over me. As I sat up, blinking and yawning, I noticed where I was. The moor! I was going back home! I jumped up in a flash and in no time at all was waking up Hermione.

“Come on!” I said, as I shook her, “come on, Hermione! We’ve got to get going! It’s still Halloween! Mother and Father will be at home now, I know they will!” It was strange to think of all that had gone on since three o’clock or so this morning. I had met Hermione, I had left the school, become part of a mission to save the school… mind boggling.

Harry and Ron were awake now as well, and as Hermione woke up she told me to go and attend to the broomsticks. I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I hovered around them, straightening the twigs, and soon we were up in the air again, me behind Harry and feeling sick.

It was only an hour or so before I recognized the outskirts of our lands. Home! No broomsticks not carrying a Pralent were allowed over the grounds, so Hermione and Ron would wait for Harry and me just outside the grounds. Harry and I continued the flight in silence until we were in sight of the house. It looked just as I remembered it. Harry and I got off the broom, and Harry walked a little behind me as I positively skipped to the house, greeting everything I saw- the garden, a tree I loved to read beneath, and, finally, the front steps of the house where I had seen Professor McGonagall only a few months ago.

“This is it!” I yelled back to Harry. He nodded at me, giving me a small smile at my excitement. I supposed that without parents of his own, it made him sad to see me about to be reunited with brilliant, loving parents. They would make him feel welcome, though.

I ran up the steps and knocked on the heavy door five times, practically bouncing up and down on the spot. I could hear footsteps approaching, and my heart beat faster with every step I heard. Who would see me first? Mother? Father? Would Mother cry? Would Father have to sit down? The door swung open, and I prepared myself to be swept into a parent’s arms.

It was Willable, our house elf. I threw myself onto him anyway, even though I would have rather seen Mother or Father. Good old Willable! He’d been with us since I was born, at least, and probably before. His entire family had served ours.

“Willable!” I squealed, hugging him tightly. He stood stiffly for a moment before pulling away. I was confused. We’d always been good friends. Did he have some sort of disease?

“Master, Mistress!” he called, turning and walking into the living room. I followed him, unable to contain myself. Harry walked into the house, standing in the doorway and watching.

“What is it, Willable, did something fall over?” It was Father! He stood up from his high-backed red chair, folding the Daily Prophet and sighing. That was when he saw me. His face went blank of all emotion as I threw myself on him, hugging him around the waist. Tears were streaming down my face, I was so happy. I had missed him so much. But he didn’t hug me back. Why not? Maybe he also had some sort of horrible disease that he didn’t want to pass on to me! Maybe the whole house did. How horrible!

“It’s me, Father!” I sniffled, wiping my eyes. “Cassandra. Oh, Father, I missed you so much! They treat me absolutely horribly at school, I suspect they sent you fake letters from me saying that I was wonderful, and they confiscated your letters so I wouldn’t know! Is that what they did, Father?” He pulled away from me, and I fell to the floor in a heap. “Father?” He shook his head. Just then, Mother poked her head around the corner to see what was happening. “Mother!” I shouted, the tears coming again. Her face blanched, and she stepped out around the door and ran to where I was huddled. I knew Mother loved me! I did!

But she stopped when she saw Father. He looked at her and shook his head. Mother’s hands were trembling as I reached out for her, but she stepped behind father. I could see tears forming in her eyes, but she didn’t budge. What was going on? Why were they doing this? I was crying harder now, but neither my mother or my father reached down to hug me or scoop me up into their arms, telling me everything was going to be alright. Why were they doing this?

“Go.” Father spoke to me, but he was looking above my head. “You shouldn’t be here. Go back to Hogwarts. That’s where you belong.”

“Father…” I choked on my sobs. “Father, everyone hates me there. I belong at home with you and Mother and Willable. I can help Mother around the house, and maybe I can become a potions master! I can even help you set up for the Halloween Ball, Father. Let me stay, Father, please, let me stay! I’m your daughter...” But she shook his head again.

“You… you are no daughter of mine.” Tears were streaming down Mother’s face, and she turned away from me, holding onto Father’s arm like a lifeline. “Willable, go back to work. Don’t let her back in the house.” Father… Mother… “Come, Belinda.” And he turned, Mother following him as he left the living room. I could hear Mother’s cries from the kitchen. Willable hurried upstairs, not looking at me. As for me, I just laid there and cried.

“Cassandra?” It was Harry. I’d forgotten he was there. He sat down on the floor beside me, not making any move to comfort me. I had always pitied him for not having parents, for having only Hogwarts as his true home. But now… now I was just like him. My parents, the one thing I was sure I could count on, had abandoned me. They told me they loved me! They hugged me and kissed me and dressed me up. But as soon as I wasn’t their perfect Cassandra anymore, they had left me as someone else’s problem. Even Mother, though she cried, had made no move to help me and welcome me back into my home. “Cassandra, where’s the cup?” The cup? What cup? Then I remembered. I looked up at the mantle. The cup was gone.

“Gone…” I whispered the word. The cup was gone. My family was gone. My home was gone. And as Harry took me outside to meet Ron and Hermione and the four of us flew back to school in stunned silence, I knew that I was gone.

Why was it that I always ended up cleaning something? It was a vicious cycle: do something horrible, clean, do something horrible again, clean some more. Hermione had walked me back to my rooms after we had arrived back at school. We had all grimaced entering the Great Hall- it looked like Mr. Filch hadn’t started cleaning again since I had left. The filth written on my door was just as bad, and I tried to stand in front of it as Hermione said good-bye. She, Harry, and Ron had decided to try and track down the cup, so they wouldn’t be in school for awhile. I didn’t care.



Filch had simply shoved the rag at me and disappeared, and I was left to try and scrub down the stairs. I hadn’t cried. Crying had been doing me no good. No, I was just trying to ignore the world when I looked up and saw pasty skin and white hair.



“What do you want, Sarah?” I was exasperated. I didn’t want to deal with pity right now, or never-ending questions about where I had disappeared to. I just wanted to be left alone, so I could pretend I had no family. It was a pleasant dream.



“McGonagall’s been looking for you,” she answered. “She blew a gasket when she heard you disappeared with those seventh years. I thought she was going to kill Filch.” I didn’t say anything, just kept on scrubbing. “So where were you?” Apparently, people with no color also have no people skills.



“I… I went home.” I couldn’t tell about the Horcrux hunting, I knew that. “To visit my family.” I should have lied, should have said I went back to the orphanage or something more believable. “For Halloween.”



“So what did they do to make you so depressed?” I looked up at her sharply. Her eyes were big and round behind her glasses.



“I’m not depressed.” I stood up ready to move on, but she put her hand on my arm to stop me. My first instinct was to flinch. Her hand felt surprisingly… normal.



“Listen.” I didn’t want to listen, but she didn’t to care. “When I was at Muggle school, the kids there made fun of me, and I thought it would be really different here. It’s not, if you haven’t noticed. I’m still considered weird. But I’m used to it by now, and I just suck it up and don’t let people get to me, because they’re all blatherskites. So why do you let them get to you?”



“Why do I let them get to me?” I was furious now, all my rage from my parents’ rejection coming out on Sarah. “Well excuse me, little Miss Perfect Sarah Morgan. I’m not resigned to being hated by everybody I meet. I’m not a weird, colorless Muggle-born who has a bad habit of sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, okay? I’m a girl from a rich, pureblooded family who had the lousy luck to end up a Squib and am having a little bit of trouble adjusting to being hated by my peers! Forgive me for not enjoying it!” I was breathing hard, and Sarah was just staring at me.



“Why are you depressed?” Did she ever let up? Well, if she wanted answers, she was going to get them. I was sick and tired of this Hufflepuff hanging on to me like a lichen.



“For your information, my family happened to disown me!” I was screaming now. “I went to my house and my parents pretended they didn’t know me, so now I’m just going to pretend I have no family, if it’s alright with you.” Now I was crying, big, gulping sobs breaking up the words. I didn’t want to cry in front of this girl.



“Why would you want to pretend you have no family?” She just didn’t get it, did she? No. She didn’t. I tried to dry my eyes, but it was hopeless, and the tears kept coming.



“It’s easier, okay? It’s just easier to pretend.” And I sank to the floor, and Sarah was sitting next to me and letting me cry like we were… like we were friends, or something. Except we weren’t. Were we?



I didn’t care if we were friends or not. I just needed to cry, I suppose, and I certainly cried that day in November. It felt like hours before I stopped, sat up, and looked at Sarah. She was watching me.



“It’s lunchtime,” she announced, glancing at her watch. “Then we have Herbology. Professor Sprout will understand when I don’t come, though. Now…” She glanced at me, grinning slightly. “Do you finally want to join us for lunch?”



She had asked that many times before, and many times before I had blown her off. But today, for the first time, I made a change. I knew my parents would hate for me to eat with Sarah. It went against everything they believed in.



So for the first time since she had asked me the question, I nodded.

Why was I doing this again? My mind raced back to the entrance hall as I walked in step beside Sarah. Sarah. Right. The rebellious streak inside me was cheering and jumping for joy, but mostly I was trying not to make eye contact with anybody as Sarah took me to the doors of the Great Hall. Apparently she didn’t like it.

“Stand up straight,” she ordered, eyeing me critically. “Stop staring at the ground. It’s no wonder they all attack you if you show that you’re scared of them.” She wasn’t? The students of the school terrified the living daylights out of me. “Come on, Cassandra, you can do better than that.”

I gave her a look. What did this girl expect? I had agreed to eat with her. It didn’t have to be made into a huge affair. Apparently, she caught on.

“Fine. But don’t hunch over so much, at least.” And then with a tug the door swung open, and I was standing in the doorway of the hall with what felt like every eye on me.

But I wasn’t scared. No, I marched in there with my head held high. Let them giggle. Let them have their fun. I was better than them, because I was a Pralent-

But I wasn’t a Pralent, and my new found resolve disappeared as Alta and her gaggle of gigglers stood up to confront me.

“Did the little Squib girl get back from her vacation, then?” Her smirk was self-satisfied as Ophelia and Emily stood in the background. Wait- just Emily stood in the background. Where was Ophelia? I didn’t have time to think about it. “Does the union allow you days off, then? Maybe you should protest for longer trips. Nobody missed you.” Emily smirked with Alta, and my face burned.

“Look at her, Alta; she’s red as a tomato!” Emily was sniggering, and Alta soon joined her. Why couldn’t the earth open up and swallow them?

“Abrams, don’t you have better things to do?” I spun around. It hadn’t been Sarah’s voice, but it was a voice I recognized just the same. Joanna stood next to Sarah, her arms crossed across her chest. “Like get up your Transfiguration grade, perhaps? Last time I heard, you don’t have time to be picking on anyone.” Alta flushed, and although I had turned to face Alta again, I could imagine the grin that Sarah was probably wearing.

“You’re one to talk,” Alta shot back, regaining her composure. “Friends with a Squib and a freak? Maybe you should work on your social calendar, Slytherin, if all your friends are Squibs or Hufflepuffs.” Joanna barely blinked, but Sarah pushed me aside, ready, I suppose, to confront Alta herself.

“You know what your problem is, Alta?” Sarah shot out. “They put you in the wrong house. The Sorting Hat must have been confused, because it’s obvious that if anyone doesn’t belong in the house of the noble, brave, and true, it’s you.” Alta’s face turned redder and redder as Sarah stood there. Joanna had moved off to one side, but I was still standing almost next to Alta as she pulled back her fist and punched Sarah in the jaw.

Sarah stood there, her hand reaching up to touch the blood that was on her face. It was the most colorful thing about her, and she seemed fascinated by it. Then she spoke.

“That’s all you’re going to do?” Her glasses had been knocked off her face, and her blue, blue eyes seemed to search Alta. “Punch me? You honestly think-” she stopped as Professor McGonagall finally reached the incident.

“Abrams! My office! Now! And Morgan, to the Hospital Wing. Ockley, go with her.” Joanna looked around with a start as Professor McGonagall called her name. Sarah nodded as a protesting Alta was led to the Headmistress’s office.

“Eat at the Hufflepuff table; we’ll meet you later,” Sarah called over her shoulder as she left. Well, this was great. Just great. Not only did I have no idea what had just happened- had Sarah and Joanna defended me? - But I was left with no one to sit with. Except for the Hufflepuff table. But if I sat there, Mother and Father would hate it. They hated Hufflepuffs. They-

Strengthening my resolve, I made my way over to the Hufflepuff table.

So that was one obstacle crossed. Now, there was a second one. Where did I sit? With the first years, probably, but I didn’t actually know them. I wasn’t a brave Gryffindor. I wasn’t even a loyal Hufflepuff. I was houseless, so I was most likely traitless.

I did notice a group of short boys and girls sitting at the end of the table. I had seen them talking to Sarah before. But what if they hated me? What if they called me a dirty Squib? What if they made fun of me?

“Pralent,” I said to myself, “get a grip. What more can they do that hasn’t happened to you already?” Perhaps when the worst had already happened, the rest was easier to take. Who knows? But willing each foot in front of the other, I took the few steps that were left to arrive at the group and sat down at the very end of the table.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m Cassandra.” Utter silence from the group at the table as they stared at me. I tried not to make eye contact. “I’m eating here today, so if there’s anything about me you’d like to make fun, go ahead and get it over with now.” I was shaking in my seat, my hands quivering as I took a sip of pumpkin juice. “Anyone?”

“Hi.” I glanced up in surprise. A sickly looking boy was smiling at me from the seat diagonal to me. “I’m Carter.” He seemed to be the signal for the rest of the group.

“I’m Jane.” A girl who looked exactly like Carter gave me a shy smile.

“I’m Mirabelle.” This girl had long, long black hair that went below the chair. I wondered if she could sit on it. “Sarah’s told us about you.” She wasn’t smiling. “She said you might be eating with us.” Did I detect a hint of menace in her voice? Not that I cared, of course. I didn’t care about anyone anymore, which made it easier to respond the way I did.

“So what’s wrong with you?” They stared at me, confused, as I took another sip of juice.

“What?” Carter didn’t seem all smiles anymore.

“Well, you’re friends with Sarah. As far as I can tell, she only befriends people who have something wrong with them. So what’s wrong with you?” Why did Mirabelle seem so angry, and why did Jane look shocked? It was the truth.

“Have some chicken.” Jane’s voice was small as she put a leg on my plate. “It’s very good.”

“No, seriously!” I smiled politely at them. “What makes you guys so strange that Sarah is your friend? Because let’s face it, she likes the scrape the bottom of the barrel, doesn’t she?” I laughed merrily. Now Mirabelle looked furious, and Jane was staring into her lap, ignoring her food. “Speak up, don’t be shy. It’s not like the rest of the school doesn’t know about it, I’m sure. I’ve just been out of the loop for awhile.”

Jane leapt from the table and ran out of the hall, tears streaming down her face. Carter, giving me a horrible look, ran after her. Mirabelle remained at the table, staring at me in disbelief.

“She took a punch by a Gryffindor for you,” the girl said, still staring. “And you repay her like this? By making fun of her friends?”

“Why not?” I replied with a shrug. “The three of you never leapt to my defense. I’m sure you made fun of me. Just returning the favor.” The girl looked like she wanted to slap me across the face, but she restrained herself, simply standing up from the table and shaking her head.

“Maybe there’s a reason nobody likes you, and it’s not because you’re a Squib.” With that, she walked briskly out of the hall, presumably to follow Carter and Jane. Not that I cared. It was a dog eat dog world out there. The world hadn’t treated me very nicely, so why should I be nice to other people?

Shrugging my shoulders, I resumed my lunch and took a bite out of the chicken. Jane was right. It was good.

*
After lunch I went up to the Hospital Wing to find Sarah lying in a bed, sipping a purple potion and grimacing. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, so I went in and sat beside Sarah’s bed. Joanna, I assumed, had gone on to her next class, but I didn’t have classes, so there was nothing better for me to do.

“Oh, hello, Cassandra.” Sarah looked genuinely glad to see me. Whatever. “Sorry about the scene back there. I was probably asking for it.”

“Sure.” I wasn’t listening, just staring at the wall and trying not to think.

“I didn’t think I’d be this long, but the painkillers Madam Pomfrey gave me turned my hair purple. Some sort of allergic reaction. I might be in here a little longer while she finds a different potion. This one just changes my hair back. So how was lunch?”

“Mm,” I agreed, still staring at the wall.

“Cassandra!” I looked up with a start. Sarah seemed annoyed.

“What?”

“How was lunch?” Should I tell her? Yes, I decided. It didn’t matter, anyway.

“It was fine,” I told her. “I met Jane and Carter and Mirabelle.”

“Did you like them?”

“I made Jane cry, Carter run after her, and Mirabelle lecture me,” I informed her, and I got a very good look at her tonsils as her mouth dropped open.

“Oh my gosh!” It was amusing how shocked she was. “What did you do?”

“I just asked them what was wrong with them, since you only befriend freaks.” Why did she look so angry? It was the truth, after all.

“Cassandra, you-” she shook her head. “Those are my friends! Why on earth are you acting this way?”

“Because I can.” There was no hiding the bratty undertone in my voice. “I got hurt. Why shouldn’t they?”

“They already did!” Sarah pounded her fist on the bed. “Jane and Carter’s mom was killed last month. A Death Eater attack in London. You just told them that they were freaks because they didn’t have a mother!”

“So what!” I shot back. “So what? I don’t have a mother. I don’t have a father, either. Why should they get to be happy?”

“Shut up, Cassandra!” Sarah was spitting mad now. “Listen, I realize you led a sheltered life, and that it’s not your fault that lousy things happen to you. But that doesn’t mean you can take it out on everyone else. Just because you have bad parents doesn’t mean that you need to hate the world, alright?”

“They’re not bad parents.” I jumped up from the bed, refusing to let Mother and Father be talked about by this Hufflepuff. “They just had a momentary lapse of judgment, when I go home for Christmas everything will be fine!”

“Will you listen to yourself?” Sarah was breathing heavily now. “Cassandra, you have bad parents. Accept it and move on. The world doesn’t revolve around you, no matter what your parents made you think, and there are people in the world who have it a lot worse than you do. Your parents sent you away to clean hallways for seven years. That’s not what good parents do, okay? It’s just not.”

Deep down, I suppose I knew that Sarah was right, in a way. But I wouldn’t accept it. They were still Mother and Father, and I knew they loved me. I couldn’t let go of them as easily as I had thought. But Sarah had struck a nerve. Maybe I wasn’t the only one with problems. What would I do if Mother died?

“Don’t make me eat with them again,” I said in a small voice. “It was stupid of you to think they would accept me when they had never tried before.”

“Probably,” Sarah agreed. “Tomorrow, we’ll eat outside. Maybe Jo will come with us.” I glanced at her.

“You don’t hate me?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t. But I might if you keep taking your problems out on me, got it? I’ve got one or two of my own.” I smiled. I was still upset, but maybe being friends with Sarah would help me. I’d tried everything else. Maybe friendship was the key.

“Got it,” I said. “And, Sarah…” I took a deep breath. What I was about to ask her was probably a stupid idea. She’d probably laugh. But suddenly I really hoped she would say yes. “Do you think you could tutor me? Since I can’t go to class, maybe after I finish cleaning every day you could teach me some lessons? I don’t want to fall behind.” I expected her to laugh at me. But to my surprise, she didn’t.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” she declared. “And Jo would definitely like to help with that. So… friends?” I loved the word, savored it in my head before finally nodding my head.

“Friends.” What a wonderful syllable! It filled my world with joy and hope.

“You better get back to work,” Sarah declared, glancing at her watch. “Filch will have another cow. But Jo and I will meet you in the library tonight at seven, okay?” I nodded.

“Sounds good.” Friends. Sarah seemed to be filled with color. “I’ll bring some food.”

“One more thing…” Sarah looked mischievous. “Since we’re friends now, can I call you Cassie?”

“No.”

“Cassandra it is, then.”

“Cassandra,” I repeated, loving the sound from the mouth of a friend.

“What do you get when you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?”

“What?”

“Hot cross bunnies!” Joanna and I groaned as Sarah giggled. “Come on, it was funny!” Who knew that Sarah would have such a love of bad jokes?

It was nearing the end of December and Joanna, Sarah, and I were eating lunch next to the lake as we had every day for over a month now. Even now that the ground was covered with snow, we still made the trek out here every day to stand under a tree and eat the sandwiches that Joanna would get from the Great Hall. It had become a ritual for us; the only time of day when the three of us were together to simply talk.

Hogwarts was completely different now that Sarah had taken me under her wing. Through Sarah’s eyes, everything about the castle and grounds was wondrous, and though I didn’t appreciate it nearly as much as she did, I still enjoyed it more than I had before. And while Sarah knew everything there was to know about the grounds, Joanna had helped me to discover the dungeons, especially an abandoned classroom where Sarah and Joanna taught me about Herbology and the history of magic. I still wasn’t allowed to attend classes, but with help from the two of them I was almost as skilled as they were in classes that didn’t involve magic. I could certainly recite the years of the goblin rebellions just as well as Sarah could.

Learning about magic certainly helped to brighten my days. Although Alta and Emily- I rarely saw Ophelia with them anymore- still taunted me on a regular basis, their insults didn’t affect me as much as they previously had. Mr. Filch was still absolutely horrible, but it helped to know Joanna and Sarah were in the dungeons waiting for me to finish. My parents? That blow still stung. I tried not to think about them, but the problem was staring me in the face when Professor McGonagall told me my parents were going to America for Christmas. Obviously I wouldn’t be going with them, and it was that that we fell to discussing under the tree.

“Have you figured out what to do yet?” Joanna asked me as Sarah gradually stopped giggling. Sarah had invited me to spend Christmas with her, but Mr. Filch wasn’t allowing me to leave. It was probably better that way- seeing Sarah with her family might make me even more homesick. Joanna was also going home, but she hadn’t invited me and didn’t seem to speak of her family with longing. Obviously something wasn’t right, and I wasn’t upset that no invitation had been extended.

However, this left me in a bit of a dilemma- for the first time since Sarah, Joanna, and I had become friends, I would be at Hogwarts without them. The worst part, of course, was that a fair amount of people were staying here. Almost all of the magical families realized that their children would be safer at Hogwarts then at home, and with the recent increase in attacks many of the students didn’t have a home to go to. Jane and Carter, for instance- though I never spoke to them, Sarah told me their dad had been killed last week, and that now they were orphans. Sarah pushed the subject of Jane, Carter, and Mirabelle whenever the opportunity presented itself. I always ignored it. Now, however, I had to think about myself.

“I don’t really have a choice,” I said, shrugging. “I’ve got nowhere to go and I’m not allowed to leave anyway. I’ll be staying here, won’t I?”

“She meant what are you going to do about- you know.” Sarah apparently wanted to know if I was comfortable with the two of them leaving me open to assault from the other first years without any sort of protection from them. In truth? I was scared stiff. I had considered stuffing myself into a toilet and joining Moaning Myrtle more than once. That, however, would not go over well with my friends. Ah, friends. The word still felt sweet.

“Just stick to my work,” I told them, as I had rehearsed in front of the mirror in the girl’s room this morning. (I almost never went into my own rooms if I could help it. When Madam Pince didn’t kick me out I slept in the library, trying to ignore any sort of amorous encounter. When she did notice me asleep under a table, the girl’s bathroom was my main refuge. I even kept some robes behind a toilet.) “They can’t hurt me if they can’t find me, after all. I’ll just scrub like a good girl until you two get back.” They seemed satisfied with this arrangement, and we finished eating quickly. They were both going home today and needed to finish packing. As for me, I had some work to do for Mr. Filch.

Today I was hanging Christmas decorations- a pleasant task, believe it or not, when I managed to stay away from the caretaker. As soon as I saw Mr. Filch heading my way, a scowl on his face, I busied myself helping Hagrid carry bundles of decorations into the hall.

“So ‘ow are you, Cassandra?” Hagrid seemed genuinely pleased to see me. I almost never made it down to his house. “Keeping yerself busy?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Quite. There’s a lot to do around the castle, with Christmas and everything. I suppose it’s because so many students are staying here this year.”

“Probably,” Hagrid agreed, and we passed the rest of the time with minimal small talk, mostly moving Christmas decorations around the castle. I even took the time to polish the suits of armor in the entrance hall. Believe it or not, I felt rather proud of myself as I admired my handiwork later that evening- even more so when Sarah and Joanna admired it. They had come down to say goodbye.

“Promise me that you’ll owl,” Sarah said, pointing her finger at me. “I don’t want you slacking off. And if it gets too bad, then you can hide in my dormitory.” I smiled. Like I would be welcome in her dormitory.

“I promise,” I said anyway.

“Take care,” Joanna said, shaking me firmly by the hand and giving me one of her knowing looks. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.” I still couldn’t figure her out. Perhaps that was why she was in Slytherin. Before I knew it the two of them were gone, and I was left standing in the entrance hall without a friend in sight.

Did friendless Squibs send off some sort of signal? Before I could blink Mr. Filch had appeared, holding a mop and looking murderous.

“Scrub,” he commanded, and disappeared as fast as he had come. Sighing, I did as he told me. One day, I knew, I would rebel against him. I would stab him to death with my broom and then suffocate him with my mop. It was thoughts like these that kept me moving.

“My wild wizard knows that my broomstick doesn’t fly…” I couldn’t help but sing it. I had always hated The Weird Sisters, but this particular tune, not so much a song as a mournful ballad, seemed to get stuck in my head every time I heard it. (Joanna had a small wizard radio.) It was particular good to sing while mopping the entrance hall. I twirled around my mop, pretending to waltz and getting a bit carried away with my singing. I had become so loud that I hadn’t heard the person come up behind me and ran right into them.

“Watch it!” I turned around quickly to see- just my luck- Jeremiah, the Potions expert of Ravenclaw rubbing his head. (He was shorter than me, so I suppose it collided with my shoulder.)

“Sorry,” I told him, trying to remember Sarah’s advice- if I encountered anyone, don’t show fear. Be strong. “Didn’t- didn’t see you.” No! I was stuttering! That was a sign of fear! What was I doing?

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, suddenly turning red and glancing down at the floor. “Professor Slughorn sent for you.”

“For me?” I barely saw Professor Slughorn these days since I wasn’t taking classes. “Why?” Jeremiah shrugged, his face still red.

“Dunno. He needs you now. In the second dungeon on your left when you go in.” The left? I had never been in there before except to clean, and it was basically empty. But Jeremiah was Professor Slughorn’s favorite student, so he must have known what he was talking about.

“Okay,” I agreed, dropping my mop. “Erm… thanks.” Jeremiah didn’t say anything, just disappeared up the stairs. I had gotten rid of him! I was strong! I was powerful!

Leaving the mop where it was, I proceeded into the dungeons, knocking tentatively on the door on the left hand side. When nobody answered, I pushed it open gently.

“Professor?” I called his name, but nobody answered as I stepped into the room. “I got your message-” I had to stop talking, though, because I was screaming.

A bucket of beetle eyes and slugs had just dumped itself over my head. As I screamed, laughter came from behind me. I tried to walk forward, but the floor was slippery from the slugs, and I fell flat on my back, sliding into the wall with a crash just as the lights were suddenly extinguished.

The girlish laughter grew fainter as running feet left the dungeon. I wasn’t stupid- Alta and Emily had struck, and now I realized it would only be a matter of time before they struck again. I couldn’t help but shed a tear or two as I tried to pull the slugs out of my hair. I was a crying mess lately. Still, this time I would not run from them. I would fight back with a vengeance, and I would not let them get to me. What I would do, I didn’t know. But as I left the dungeon to try and wash up, I knew it would have to be something good.

*
It was Christmas Eve, and so far Alta and Emily had struck twice more, both times by systematically dirtying the school I worked so hard to clean. Whenever I saw Jeremiah, he turned bright red, but he never delivered me another message after the first incident. I never saw Ophelia with the pair of Gryffindor girls anymore. She was always by herself. But I had more to worry about than my problems with the other students. Right now I was worried about Christmas.

I had sent Mother and Father their Christmas presents a week ago- scarves that I had ordered from Gladrag’s Wizard Wears. I didn’t expect much from them, to be honest, but all the same I was scared. It was fine to think I might not get a present from them, but to actually wake up on Christmas morning without a humongous pile of presents in front of me could possibly send me over the edge. As Sarah said, I was in a fragile emotional state.

I had the evening off, and so was able to go down to the Great Hall for Christmas Eve dinner. The students were chatting merrily, and I almost smiled as I darted among the chaotic hall. With Christmas tomorrow, nobody had time to notice a Squib darting among the turkeys. I even managed to make myself a plate at the emptier end of the Ravenclaw table without being ridiculed.

Of course, I should have realized it was too good to be true.

“Why aren’t you home, Squib? Parents don’t want you either?” I turned around to see none than Alta, standing there with Emily and a smirk on her face. I could feel myself turning red, and the pair giggled at my discomfort. “They have to want you more than we do. Or do they hate you as much as us?”

I didn’t make eye contact with either of them, just like Sarah had told me. Instead I just kept serving myself turkey, even though my plate was full.

“Does being a Squib make you a pig, too?” Emily giggled at her own wit, and Alta nodded appreciatively. “No- a turkey!” The two burst out laughing at that one, and just as I was about to reply, a voice came from next to me.

“Did you get that one out of a Christmas cracker?” I looked around in shock, and at first I didn’t see anybody. Looking down, however, I saw Jeremiah standing next to me, a determined look on his face.

“I wasn’t talking to you, pipsqueak,” Alta replied, raising one eyebrow. “Mind your own business. You don’t want to associate with our little Squib.” Jeremiah looked terrified, but to my shock, he replied.

“Sod off, Alta, unless you don’t want the whole school to know about the spaghetti incident.” I swear, the color drained out of Alta’s face so fast that I expected to see a puddle of blood on the ground. Without another word, Alta shot a look of loathing at Jeremiah before taking off to the Gryffindor table, Emily close behind. As for me, I couldn’t contain myself any longer.

“What was that about?” I didn’t mean to sound rude, but what else was I supposed to say? Jeremiah didn’t reply at first; he just kept staring at the ground with a blush on his cheeks. Then he quickly pulled a chocolate frog out of his pockets and shoved it into my hands.

“H-happy Christmas, Cassandra,” he stuttered. Then he darted away, leaving me standing in the hall with a forgotten plate of turkey at my side.

My eyes opened quickly, and I shot out of the bathroom as fast as I could. It was Christmas! For years I had woken up early on this special day filled with wonderful food and presents, and today was no exception.

Today, though, I wasn’t waking up in order to get presents; I was waking up to give one. Mr. Filch would probably need my help cleaning up the Great Hall for the feast, and I wanted to go down to Hagrid’s hut and deliver my present before hand.

Arriving at my rooms, I pushed open the door and gasped at what I saw inside. Presents! Not the huge pile of elaborately wrapped expensive gifts Mother and Father usually sent me, but a small stack of four poorly wrapped presents on the sitting room table, giving the dark room an almost cheerful look. I rushed over to them immediately, picking up the first present and ripping open the card.

“Happy Christmas,” I read, sitting down on the floor. “Hold on- we’ll be back before you know it! Sarah.” I smiled, and a small lump formed in my throat. Stupid me, I hadn’t gotten Sarah a present. I’d have to get something for her and give it to her when she came back. Pulling the brown paper off of her present, I gaped as it revealed a beautiful pair of dark blue robes. They were made of a simple material, and I could tell they weren’t nearly as expensive as the robes I wore at home, but it still made me feel all funny inside. Laying the robes aside carefully, I reached for the next present and opened the card.

“See you soon. Joanna.” Joanna? Why was she sending me a present? Sure, we were friends, but I didn’t realize we were gift-giving friends. Another present I would have to make. Opening the package, I smiled in delight as a box of Sugar Quills fell out. She must have remembered how much I loved them.

The third present was from Hagrid: a small wooden statue of an eagle. Luckily I had remembered to get him something in return. But who could the fourth present be from? Mother and Father would never send me a present, especially in a box so grubby looking. Maybe they made it like this as a surprise? My heart began to beat faster as I opened the box quickly.

My heart sank, though, as I pulled out a bottle of Madam Clean’s Ever Scrubbing Solution. Mother and Father would never send me cleaning supplies, even one that would be useful. I managed to find a crumbled card stuck to the bottom of the Scrub and read,

“I thought you could use this. You’re cool.” The note wasn’t signed, and I could feel a blush rising in my cheeks. Never mind the use of childish slang terms; someone thought I was ‘cool’! Somebody else actually liked me! Galloping Gargoyles, what other surprises would today hold?

Humming happily to myself, I changed into a pair of green robes that didn’t show the ground in dirt and skipped off the Hagrid’s, carrying his present. The rest of the students were still in their dorms either sleeping or opening presents, so I was able to enjoy the freshly fallen snow without worrying about running into Alta. The snow was still falling lightly, adding to the three or four feet that was already packed into the ground. Snow always put me in a good mood, and by the time I reached Hagrid’s hut I was practically giddy. Knocking on the door, I began humming to myself again. As the door opened I put a big smile on my face and held the present behind my back.

“Happy Christmas, Hagrid!” I announced, but it wasn’t Hagrid who opened the door.

“Cassandra?” Hermione sounded surprised to see an eleven-year-old standing in the snow. I was a bit surprised myself. “What are you doing here?” Shrugging, I ducked under her arm and into the warmth of the hut. It was cold outside, after all, and I had left my winter cloak in the castle.

Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and Hagrid sat around a table, looking just as surprised as Hermione. From the expressions on their faces, they had been talking about something important. Well, that was fine. They had barely spoken a word to me since Halloween, so I certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge them. Instead I went over to where Hagrid was sitting, pointedly ignoring the stares of the Seventh years.

“Happy Christmas, Hagrid,” I repeated, placing my poorly wrapped present in front of him. “This is for you.” Hagrid smiled widely at me as he gingerly opened the package. I had gotten him a small bottle of treacle that I had begged off of a house elf; Hagrid seemed to enjoy making things out of it. His grin widened as he saw it.

“Thanks, Cassandra!” He was obviously pleased with it, and I grinned back at him. “Cuppa tea?” Ignoring the looks that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were exchanging, I nodded. “Give ‘er yer seat, Ron,” Hagrid told him, and as Ron rolled his eyes and stood up I delicately sat in his seat, pleased with the situation. Ron was such a gentleman.

“Thank you for the present, Hagrid,” I said as he poured a cup of tea in front of me. “It’s lovely.”

“Don’ mention it,” Hagrid replied, his grin not fading. “Thought it could brighten up those rooms of yours. You know Ron, ‘Arry, and ‘Ermione?” I nodded. “They was just in ‘ere to talk about- well.” Hagrid looked guiltily at the three, who had seemed to tense up suddenly. “Talking. Yer welcome to sit with us at the feast, if you like,” he offered generously, and despite the looks on the faces of the Seventh years, I was touched.

“I’d like that, Hagrid,” I replied.

We made small talk for several more minutes, Hagrid and I chatting animatedly as the trio sat in silence. I would have liked to stay longer, but I had cleaning to do. Dirt never slept.

Promising to join the four of them at dinner, I prepared to leave, shivering a little more than I had to and eyeing Ron’s cloak enviously. Hagrid noticed.

“Give ‘er yer cloak, Ron,” Hagrid told him, and as Ron started to protest, Hermione stopped him.

“It’s alright, Ron, we can share,” she told him with a smile. “Here, Cassandra, take mine. It’ll fit you better.” The nerve of that vixen! I couldn’t refuse it, of course, but I pouted all the way back to the castle. Wearing Ron’s cloak would have been the best Christmas present I could ask for.

*

As I lay in my bed that night, I smiled to myself. Sure, my sheets were dirty and had several holes, and perhaps none of my rooms had natural light. But today had almost made up for it. Mr. Filch had informed me that he would be busy all day, and the last I saw of him he was holding hands with Madam Pince as they walked towards Hogsmeade. I had been able to do my holiday work that Sarah had given me, and by the time I had arrived at the feast I wasn’t covered with dirt as I usually was.

Wearing my new robes from Sarah, I had managed to slip into a seat across from Ron and next to Hagrid- there were no house tables on Christmas. Alta and Emily had sat on the other side of the Hall, and I had stuffed myself silly while getting to watch Ron the entire time. The three of them had eaten quickly and then hurried out, but even then I was able to talk to Hagrid and Professor Slughorn, who, judging by the wine that kept reappearing in his glass was in a very good mood.

Yes, I decided, smiling at the ceiling, today had been a good day.

*

It was the last day of vacation, and I was using the Ever Scrubbing Scrub I had received for Christmas to scrub the stairs outside the Ravenclaw common room. The Scrub really was fantastic. One spray, and it would attack any dirt in sight until I sprayed the spot a second time, upon which all remnant of the spray would disappear. It only worked well on dirt, but it freed up my time to work on more difficult stains, such as the ones caused by the slugs Alta had just poured on my head. The stupid things were stuck in my hair and had even gotten down my robes, an extremely unpleasant experience.

“H-h-here,” came a stuttering voice from behind me, and as I turned around I saw Jeremiah, turning bright red as he knelt next to me with a rag and started scrubbing the slugs from the ground. “G-go to the bathroom and r-r-rinse off. I’ll f-f-finish here.”

“What?” I was shocked. Didn’t this boy hate me? What was with the sudden change? “What are you doing?”

“J-j-just go, Pralent,” he muttered, his face still bright red. Standing up slowly, I turned and made my way to the bathroom. What, exactly, had just happened?

Whatever it was, I thought as I stuck my head into the sink, I would have a lot to tell Sarah and Joanna.

January is, without a doubt, the worst month of the year. Its only purpose is to fill up the space between Christmas and Valentine’s Day. If that wasn’t depressing enough, Hogwarts decided to ‘give purpose’ to that otherwise useless month by filling it with work. Like my job isn’t hard enough without having to write essays every five minutes. I suppose I could just not do them, but I needed to keep up in case I was ever put back into regular classes.

Not only that, but the dismal weather of dark days and blizzards put Mr. Filch into a horrible mood. Since the constant storms kept everyone inside, more and more students were perfoming magic in the corridors in a fit of cabin fever. And if you thought that was bad, you’ve never had to clean up after an indoor Care of Magical Creatures class.

I was complaining about this to Sarah and Joanna one night in the middle of January as we worked on Herbology essays. I caught Joanna rolling her eyes every now and then, but mostly they just sat and worked on their essays while I ranted. Unfortunately, this was slowing my writing down considerably, and the cold in the dungeons made it difficult to write anyway. But all the same, I was only on my third paragraph when Sarah rolled up her parchment. Joanna had finished a few minutes earlier.

“How can you possibly be finished?” I moaned. “This is impossible. Why do I need to know the seventeen variations of Devil’s Snare?” Tossing down my quill, I leaned back against the wall and shut my eyes briefly.

“Any chance you’ll get to come back to class soon?” Sarah asked, playing with a Muggle toy that she had pulled out of her pocket.

“Doubt it,” I replied, barely opening my eyes. “Mr. Filch is a true pig.” Joanna gave me a funny look.

“You call him Mr. Filch? Not Filch?”

“Of course not!” I was shocked. “That’s so rude!” It took me a moment to realize the absurdity of my statement as Sarah suppressed her laughter. “I mean… I don’t know. I’ve never called an adult by just their last name before. It’d be odd.”

“Okay, Lady Cassandra,” Sarah joked. “Forgive us for not curtsying in your presence.” She laughed, and Joanna smiled. I ignored her, going back to my essay. It was getting late, after all.

“Have you gotten any more notes?” Joanna asked softly, her eyes meeting mine. “Either type?” I shook my head.

I had been getting strange notes lately. Most of them were insults, and I tried to ignore them, but it was hard when an owl started pecking at my head until I opened them.

But every so often the same owl would send me a kind note, telling me to ‘Keep at it’ and that I was ‘Really great.’ If it weren’t for those, I’d assume they came from Alta, but she wasn’t one for trickery. Why any person would insult me one moment and compliment me the next was beyond me, but Joanna seemed to find it amusing.

“Not for a few days,” I answered. “And it’s odd. I haven’t seen Alta and Emily in a week. Usually I at least see her while I’m cleaning. It’s like she’s avoiding me.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Sarah grinned. “She’s finally realized you’re not to be messed with.”

“Perhaps,” I murmured, wanting to share Sarah’s enthusiasm. Joanna looked worried, however. Did she know something I didn’t? I tried to catch her eye, but she didn’t meet mine. Why would Alta be avoiding me?

I was about to find out.

*
A few weeks later, near the end of January, I first got the idea that something was going on. It was another stormy day, so I was stuck in the library, cleaning again, while Madam Pince and Mr. Filch had a discussion in Madam Pince’s office. I was supposed to clean there, but when I tried to open the door it was locked and, from the feel of the handle, had a chair wedged against it. For people having a discussion, it was strange that I couldn’t hear them saying anything.

Shrugging, I had begun dusting off bookshelves only to stumble across Alta and Emily giggling at a table. As soon as they noticed me, the two began to giggle harder and glance at me.

“N.S.A., Pralent,” Alta told me as she stood up, Emily still giggling. “N.S.A.”

“What?” I didn’t want to interact with her, but I was curious. What in the world was N.S.A.?

“Are all Squibs this stupid, Pralent, or is it just you?” Alta grinned nastily as she shoved a piece of colorful parchment into my hands, shoving me against the bookshelf at the same time. Laughing, she and Emily gathered their things and set off.

As I read the paper, my heart sank, and I had to sit down at the recently vacated table to keep my legs from giving out underneath me.

“No Squibs Allowed,” I read, breathing a little fast. “N.S.A. for short. This includes not only Squibs, but friends of Squibs, relatives of Squibs, lovers of Squibs, and Squib sympathizers in general. If they can’t do magic, why should they get to be magical? Meetings held the first and third Thursday of every month. Ask for Alta Abrams for location.” Merlin’s beard. This was… this was about me. And despite what the multicolored paper and the swirly handwriting might suggest, this was about hate.

At least I managed to get to the bathrooms before I threw up.

*

“This is absolutely the worst thing that Abrams has ever done!” Sarah shouted, pacing back and forth in the dungeon where we gathered to do school work. I had wordlessly handed her the flyer when she walked in, and she had exploded almost immediately. Joanna was silently reading it now. “We can’t let her do this to you, Cassandra. This is the straw that broke the hippogriff’s back!” She was fuming as Joanna cleared her throat.

“Hate to interrupt your rant, but there’s something you two apparently missed,” she said calmly as she handed the flyer back to Sarah. “Our friends printed on the back as well.”

“The N.S.A. Black List,” Sarah read angrily. “The following are not to be associated with by members of the N.S.A. unless it is for purposes of taunting. Cassandra Pralent, also known as Public Enemy Number One.” My face burned. “Sarah Morgan, also known as- as…” she stopped, her hands shaking. Joanna stood up and, taking the paper from her, continued reading.

“Also known as the Ghost Girl of Hufflepuff. Joanna Ockley, also known as the Slytherin Traitor.” Johanna shrugged. “Hagrid. Filch. Jeremiah Trevelyan.” What was he doing on the list? Perhaps he had a relative that was a Squib. That would explain why he helped me on Christmas. “Ophelia Cramson.” Ophelia? Alta’s Ophelia? How was she on the black list? Joanna stopped reading. “That’s it.”

I was fuming. How dare she do this to me? I was finally doing all right at Hogwarts- nothing spectacular, but I was getting by- and she throws this at me? I was going to kill her. Alta Abrams was going to regret the day that she met Cassandra Pralent!

I must have said the last bit out loud, because Joanna shook her head. Both Sarah and I looked at her in shock.

“Revenge sounds pretty good to me, Jo,” Sarah snarled. “And if Cassandra doesn’t mind, I’d like to get in a few punches myself.”

“That’s not how to solve this!” Joanna replied, acting angry for the first time since I met her. “Don’t be stupid, Sarah. That’s what Alta wants. Then she can run crying to Professor Marchbanks and you get in trouble and Alta wins. There’s a better way.”

“Oh?” Sarah asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And how’s that, Joanna? Just go along with it? Pretend it’s not happening? I’m sick of pretending that the hate isn’t happening! Or is this a Slytherin thing? Are you on Alta’s side because her blood us purer than mine?”

Joanna reacted like she’d been slapped. The color drained out of her face, and without a word, she gathered her things and left the dungeons, presumably to finish her essay elsewhere. Sarah was still fuming.

“Sarah, maybe you should- breathe,” I suggested. I was a bit scared. I always assumed Sarah didn’t get angry. She was usually able to brush off insults to herself. Was this because Alta was insulting me? No, that wasn’t it. Alta always insulted me. “Sarah?” I said tentatively. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Sarah whirled around to face me, and to my shock, I could see that she had tears in her eyes. “Does this indicate okay to you?”

“Well, I- I…” I stuttered. Sarah rolled her eyes, gathering up her things as well.

“Leave me alone,” she snapped as she stormed out of the dungeon. As I sat, numb, I wondered if I was right back where I started- friendless. And it was all thanks to Alta Abrams, Gryffindor life-destroyer. I hated her. I hated her so much that I-

That was when the wall exploded.