My name has been Kherington Squires for the past seven years. I have curly black hair and blue eyes this term. I am seventeen years old and attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am in Gryffindor. I have two older brothers and one twin sister, but she’s at Beauxbatons. My parents thought that it would be best, since our whole family tries to fly under the radar.

That’s what I’ve been doing for basically my whole life – flying under the radar. I was on the fringe as Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin built Hogwarts. I noted and recorded their fighting and even saw Salazar Slytherin build his secret chamber. I was one of the first students at Hogwarts, and I was a fly on the wall as the Sorting Hat grew older and as professors came and went. I stood by, silent and nameless, as Tom Riddle framed Rubeus Hagrid and unleashed a wretched beast that even killed a girl. I watched quietly and discreetly as James Potter and Lily Evans fell in love and later died. I subtly observed as Sirius Black was arrested unjustly and as Peter Pettigrew got away. I was on the sidelines as Harry Potter fought evil after evil with his friends by his side, and I personally saw him defeat Voldemort. I was aware of each of his children passing through Hogwarts and excelling in their studies, and I oversaw each as they overcame evils of their own. I have seen countless people die. I never interfered or helped or even offered advice; call me evil if you must. I just stood by on the edge of it all, watching wordlessly.

I have seen and met every Hogwarts Headmaster and explained my situation to each. I have watched generations fade away and family lines die out. I have introduced myself to almost every Minister of Magic and mastered every spell that there is to know. I have battled unknown demons and been to unmarked places, documenting each.

Needless to say, my journals make for an interesting, if not boring read. They are the journals of a third person, a watcher, an observer. I am not a coward; I just allow nature to take her turn. As I said before, you may call me evil. I am not evil, just realistic. No matter how I meddle or intervene, nature will come eventually, doing her realistic work. What will happen must happen.

Historians have quoted my mysterious journals, confused by my being but captivated and intrigued by my knowledge. I am untraceable, a vague absolute. I am a contradiction. I’m not a ghost, nor a dragon. I have only seen the Sorcerer’s Stone. I haven’t tasted unicorn’s blood, or sought out a magical spell that will sustain me through eternity. I am certainly not under the influence of fairy dust.

There is no name for me. I appear and function as a normal witch. My family just goes on forever. I do not recall a time where I was anything but seventeen years old with a twin sister and two older brothers.

I simply cannot die.

Going to school forever is incredibly monotonous. If you’ve ever written a research paper, you’d understand why. My siblings and I recycle papers, of course, but we have to redo them every three years or so, when new events or assignments come up. Still, reviewing information that you have known for hundreds of thousands of years becomes extremely boring.

The summer had just ended when we called our nine hundred fifty-second family meeting. We rarely had these meetings, so I knew that it must be important. My sister Cielle and I walked down the stone hallway (in perfect tandem, as twins often do) to the library, where meetings were always held. My brothers Pieter and Alexsandre were already there, quietly discussing whatever the meeting was about. I got a few snatches of the conversation as I sat down.

“-only option is to start again-�
“We can’t uproot-�
“It’s the only way…�

Cielle and I sat down, officially establishing the meeting. Our parents never attended these meetings, as they promoted independence. They never really exercised any control over us, as we were free thinkers of our own, and nearly as old as they were. I took the straight-backed chair and turned so my legs were draped over one of the arms. Cielle sat on the floor, leaning against the couch where Pieter and Alexsandre were sitting. We looked at each other knowingly for a few moments before Alexsandre, the oldest at physically twenty-one years old, spoke.

“We have all come together to discuss what we are going to do at the end of this summer. We have been at our current high school for the past three years, probably a bit longer than we should have been. The Muggles haven’t noticed, being hopelessly oblivious, but we’ve overstayed our welcome. This debate is now open for opinions.�

Cielle spoke first, as she often did. My sister was hopelessly outspoken, and she always said exactly what was on her mind. “We should pursue careers now, outside of school. You know what it’s like, sitting through too many classes for too many hours repeating too many facts that we already know! I would flunk out, just to protest, but I think it’s important to be well-rounded in both the Muggle idea of education and magical knowledge.�

“Well then,� I dared to laugh, “it seems your protest has failed. But I think it’s a good idea to forget continuing with school and pursue a career finally. I sort of miss being a professor at Hogwarts.�

“I miss being a psychiatrist,� Cielle grinned. “Petty problems amuse me.�

Pieter, of course, had to state his opinion. “I say we just change our identities again, alter our appearances, and start again here. There’s no need to move us again if we can look different from one another.�

“We wouldn’t have to move if we were employed,� Cielle said. “And part of the beauty of it is that we would actually be making money. Not that we really need it, but would you rather be making money or doing simple arithmetic day after day?�

“Plus, don’t you think we already appear unrelated?� Pieter said, contradicting himself as he always did. Pieter was the type of person who had to be in agreement with other people. He was correct, though; we did all look different. For example, though we were twins, Cielle had dark brunette hair and dark brown eyes – completely different from me. Pieter had black hair like I did, but had hazel eyes. Alexsandre had light brown hair and eyes; in all, we were completely unique.

Alexsandre stood, signifying that he had something to say. “I think we should move back to the summer home,� he said solemnly. His words seemed to have weight enough to speak a goblin down.

“I agree,� Pieter said immediately, over Cielle’s incredulous stare and preceding my disbelieving laughs.

The ‘summer home’ was our manor in the Wizarding world – the home we had not lived in for three decades. It was, as our whole life was, discreet; it was at the base of a mountain and in a forest. I had missed it, but returning didn’t sound like such a good idea.

“You mean…return to magic?� I asked. “Are you sure? I don’t think that the last generation we were in school with has died off yet. We might be…Oh, nevermind.� I had forgotten that we could always change our appearance. Apparently, I was over-thinking this. “I agree, then.�

“As do I,� Cielle sighed, standing up – a silent motion to adjourn the meeting. I, too, stood. Pieter shot up and his seat and Alexsandre merely nodded.

“I will go and tell Mother and Father of our plan, then,� he said. “It is important to get their opinion on our decision.�

Alexsandre was always thoughtful like that, but we all knew they would agree. We were a family, and if majority ruled, then they followed us, as we followed them. Deep inside, I knew that if our plan was to separate, they would allow us. We would never separate though. We may go to different schools and pursue different careers (which we were actually planning on doing), but we would always live together. None of us had found love, and none of us were planning on it. Love was a temporary thing.

We all disbanded to go pack; we would be leaving immediately. I would be going to Hogwarts, Cielle was off to Beauxbatons, and Pieter was to attend Durmstrang. Alexsandre and Mother were going to work at the Ministry, and Father was already employed at Flourish & Blotts.

The next day, we were ready to leave.

Our goodbyes were not tearful, nor very emotional. Time seemed to slip by for us, unnoticed. We were merely parting for a season. It wasn’t a sad time. In fact, it was happy; we didn’t have to change our identities or appearances. The last time I was at Hogwarts, I was the short, pudgy, blonde Rebecca Storms. I had hated that body. Now that I was in the lean, tall, graceful body I had grown accustomed to, my future looked a little brighter. Ah, the beauties of being a Metamorphmagus (which had nothing to do with my immortality, though my whole family possessed the gift).

I Apparated early in the morning to the alley behind the train station. I dragged my trunks behind me, the items inside magically condensed so they didn’t hold as much weight. The platforms were crowded, so I had to push a little bit to get to my destination. Once I reached platform nine and three-quarters, I slid through the brick pillar easily and, like everything, under the radar, unnoticed. I left my trunk next to the loading station by the baggage compartment and drifted toward the train thoughtlessly. I hadn’t seen the Hogwarts Express in a long while, and old memories flooded over me like water.

I had never really connected with anyone in my past terms at Hogwarts. I wasn’t ever lonely; I just didn’t make close friends. I was the Observer. I watched and analyzed friendships and relationships and predicted their outcomes. I was always right.

At every Triwizard Tournament I had attended, I had ignored the Goblet of Fire. Why enter my name? I was never egotistical, but I felt that I would honestly have an advantage over the others with my several years of extra experience. I always went to the Yule Ball with this boy or that boy and had my fill of capricious fun. My date was often a complete stranger, as most of the students were. I spoke when spoken to and answered when asked something. I ignored the advances of obnoxious boys and avoided kind girls seeking new friends. I was simply a Watcher.

Sliding into the first empty compartment I saw, I bought a few things off the trolley immediately and threw my feet onto the seat across from me, crossing them at the ankles. I might as well get comfortable. I mentally sketched out the personality I would attempt this year. The good thing about always having another opportunity is that I can always be someone else, try on new personas. I came to a quick conclusion: I was going to do something completely different for the coming term. I was going to be friendly and meet as many people as I could.

That was my plan, until a grinning boy entered my compartment, obviously pushed in by another smiling boy outside. I fell underneath my involuntary, apathetic mask and looked out the window silently. This boy didn’t deserve my attention; his very presence bespoke arrogance.

“My name is Aiden. Aiden Silkwood,” he half-laughed, winking at his friend through the door, which he had closed, “and I will be your escort to Hogwarts. You’re new, right?”

I nodded slightly, noting his Gryffindor badge through the corner of my eye. He was already dressed in his robes? He didn’t have a Prefect badge. What he did have was beautiful, sea green eyes and sandy blonde hair. Noticing this made him even harder to ignore, but centuries of practiced helped me keep my poker face while I chastised myself silently. He was too insignificant to ruin everything.

“Well, I guess you’ll get a Private Sorting, then. They haven’t done that in a long time, I hear. Want to know why?” His eyes were dancing. I had never seen dancing eyes.

“Not particularly,” I murmured in a bored monotone, but I was truly curious. I knew why, of course. It had been Pieter, and not really that long ago. I was just curious to see how he would tell the story.

He continued anyway, almost predictably. “It’s because we never get transfer students. Everyone is either a Muggle or has gone to Hogwarts since they were eleven. You, my friend – I didn’t catch your name by the way – are different.”

I purposely side-stepped his almost-question and continued staring out the window. I knew that I was different, of course. I didn’t need an airheaded, pompous child to tell me that. If I wasn’t different, I would have been dead long ago. But he naturally didn’t know that, so I had to remain civil.

Aiden stared at me for a moment before saying, “I can tell you’ll be in Gryffindor. You’re headstrong, I can tell – stubborn. No girl has ever ignored me before.” He was definitely a conceited jerk. “You’re probably smart, too. But about the Private Sorting – you should invite me! I’ve never seen one, of course, and it’ll be cool. I mean, I think it will. I don’t really know what happens. Do you?”

Would he ever stop talking?

“Before the first years are sorted, they take me into the Headmaster’s office and stick a tattered old hat on my head. He says the name of a House and then I join everyone else in the Great Hall.” I didn’t bother looking at him. I knew his eyes were dancing.

“Oh. Sounds…cool…” His tone was obviously disappointed.

I snorted, and he took this as a response and continued talking about himself and his life and every detail that I usually ignored about people. After I while, I stood, walking past him and out the door. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to get my robes on,” I replied, and paused for a moment, before saying, “I’ll be back in a sec.” I didn’t know why I said it; in any other case, I wouldn’t have bothered. It was what a normal person would say to someone they knew; I didn’t know Aiden. I was sort of comfortable, though, and the words seemed unusually natural to say. So I did, just before leaving. A walking contradiction.

I really did have every intention of returning, but just as I was about to reenter, the train stopped. We had arrived at Hogwarts.

I ignored the stares all around me. I understood them, of course; who wouldn’t stare at an obvious seventh year wearing first year robes? There was also a moment of brief confusion where I had to decide whether I was going to ride the boats or the carriages. In the end, I went with the carriages; there was no need to draw even more attention to myself.

I sat across from a vaguely familiar boy – the one that had originally pushed Aiden into my compartment. I found myself secretly wishing that I had pushed him back out, but I immediately hated the idea. The boy, whose name I later learned was Jack Lawless, was a Ravenclaw and an obvious relation to Lukas Bider, whom I had ignored the advances of nearly seventy years previous. Jack was probably his great-grandson, but still shared his dark brown hair and hint-of-purple eyes. I found myself ignoring him, unsurprisingly.

The carriage ride was luckily short, and I was whisked off to the Headmaster’s office by an unfamiliar professor in no time at all. I entered warily, observing the shelves of neat, orderly files that had replaced Dumbledore’s odds and ends that Headmistress McGonagall had kept. I hadn’t been at Hogwarts since she had led the school. Now, predictably, the Headmaster was Albus Potter. He wasn’t a particularly bad Headmaster, I had heard, but he was no Everard. My first glimpse of his office implied more of an obvious, organized intelligence rather than the mad genius that so many Headmasters had shared. I could deal with it.

Potter emerged from the deeper parts of his office and looked me over with his squinting green eyes, which looked slightly clouded with age. He had a long, slightly pointed grey beard and grey hair that reached to the bottom of his shoulder-blades. He wore periwinkle robes with a pointed cap at a merry angle, but his face was solemn. I had the urge to shy away from his tight gaze.

“So you are the anomaly,” he said in a tired, dismissive voice. “I am very glad that you have chosen to return to Hogwarts.”

“Oh, don’t be so uptight, old man,” a voice drawled from one of the back corners. I watched in concealed surprise as Scorpius Malfoy walked forward.

His hair was kept in a short, spiky cut, and though it was white, I knew it had once been silver blond. His appearance deeply contrasted with the Headmaster’s. His robes were straight and disciplined and black, and he wore no hat. He had no beard or wrinkles, but his cruel eyes held wisdom. And yet, they were sparkling with laughter.

Potter wearily pointed to Malfoy, as if Scorpius were a small, annoying child. “This is the Deputy Headmaster,” he said, “Professor Malfoy.”

“I’m also a ridiculously talented Charms teacher,” Malfoy winked.

“I find it enthralling that you went to school with my grandfather, my father, me, my son, and now my grandson,” the Headmaster said. Funny, he didn’t sound very ‘enthralled.’ He sounded bored.

“I’m curious, Kherington. What was your name when I was in school?”

I was glad to answer the friendlier man. “I was Rebecca Storms.”

“Ah, the charming blonde that was always hiding.”

“That’s me,” I grinned. The two men had such clashing appearances and personalities. And they had called me the anomaly. Hypocrites, I thought smilingly.

“Scorpius, the feast is starting soon. Don’t you think we should finish here quickly so that we can begin with the festivities?”

“Well, you’re not in a very festive mood. Still, I suppose we can do this quickly.”

In no time at all, I was sitting on a small wooden stool with a ratty hat on my head. I was only slightly uncomfortable at Malfoy’s excited look and Potter’s indifferent one. One call of “I believe the last House you were in was Hufflepuff, so let’s put you in...GRYFFINDOR!” and the Deputy Headmaster’s face fell slightly. Potter’s face couldn’t fall any more.

“Pity,” Malfoy laughed as we were walking to the Great Hall. “You would have made a fantastic Slytherin. You probably already have. Tell me, Kherington, what is your favorite House?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. We had reached the feast, though, and I discreetly slid into Gryffindor table. I saw Aiden sitting on the other side, a few people away. He winked at me and ran over to sit across from me, keeping his head down so he didn’t draw attention.

“Hullo, love!” he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes as he continued, “I told you that I’d see you sitting at the Gryffindor table. Jack owes me a Galleon. Anyways, I never did get your name.”

I remained silent, watching and pretending to listen to the Headmaster’s start-of-the-year speech. Why was this boy still talking to me? Then, I remembered my resolution on the train; I was supposed to be meeting as many people as I could. I figured I’d start tomorrow, when I was in a better mood and when this Aiden Silkwood wasn’t following me around like some demented puppy.

“No? That’s all right. I’ll get it from one of the other girls once you’ve met more people.” And then, he started talking again. He talked to me for the whole feast, in fact, along with Jack. They just…talked, and talked, and kept talking.

I smiled the whole time, even as I fell asleep that night.

The next day, I woke up early to the gray light and fresh smell of the morning. I was warm and comfortable, but my face was towards the window and felt slightly chilly. My nose burned with the brisk air, contrasting with my cozy legs. From my shoulders down, I was hot chocolate, but my head and neck were lemon ice.

I stretched, popping my elbows and shoulders experimentally. I breathed in deeply one more time, kicked my arms and legs out as far as I could, arched my back, and opened my eyes as I exhaled and relaxed. The red and gold curtains looked soft and inviting.

Whenever I started my mornings like this, I retained my smile for the remainder of the afternoon. I rolled out of bed, mentally proclaiming my day as perfectly acceptable. Grabbing my robes, I drifted into the girl’s washroom. I had a lot of things to think over.

For one, I was a bit confused as to my motives for reaching out socially. It could be the fact that I was somewhat lonely; for decades, I had only been close to my family. Every so often through the centuries, however, I would take a risk and make a friend or two. At the end of my seventh year, I’d part with my new acquaintances tearfully and then be killed in a tragic, freak accident or move to Peru, never to return. Once, Cielle had made a terrible mistake and let slip the truth about our family to one of her “friends.� We were anxious for a long while, until, luckily, our story became a legend. Later, the tale faded into a fairy tale, which drifted into nothingness. No matter what my motives were, I would not make the same mistake.

Another thing I had to think about was what sort of grades I was going to get this term. So far, I felt like I had been letting off a careless, unaffected vibe. My banter with Aiden and Jack had made me look like a rebel without a cause. This gave me a sense of relief, as I knew I wouldn’t have to put out an effort to get good grades.

Left to my musings, my thoughts took ambling turns and left me to thinking of classes. I had already memorized my schedule, so I knew that I’d have to be back in the Common Room in fourteen minutes in order to meet up with the other seventh years before going to History of Magic.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting near the fire, staring up at the stairwell. Six minutes later, four bleary-eyed girls tramped down the stairs loudly and gracelessly.

“You’re already up?� one of them whined, raising her eyebrows at me. “Impressive. I’m Lila Covington.�

“Kherington…Kherington Squires,� I said, looking down at my palms.

“Thank you, Lila,� Aiden said, emerging from the mouth of the boy’s staircase. “I told you I’d find you out, Miss Squires,� he said, winking.

I looked away without a word or expression and stood up as the rest of the seventh years entered. The group was a chattering lot, and noisily, we made our way to the large classroom with deep corners; one of which, I immediately sat in. To my mild chagrin, Aiden took a spot next to me.

“I wouldn’t have asked Lila to do that if I’d have known it’d make you mad,� he said, looking down. He reminded me of a kicked puppy, with his large eyes and pouting lips.

“I’m not mad,� I said defensively. I was only frustrated that he wouldn’t leave me alone.

Professor Richards had started the lesson, and I was desperately trying to take notes and pay attention through my neighbor’s muted chatter, but then I remembered that I wasn’t going to be a good student. Groaning inwardly, I leaned back and looked pointedly at my follower.

“I’m really not mad,� I promised.

“Then, pray tell,� Aiden said, changing his voice to a high falsetto and batting his eyelashes, “why are you ignoring me?�

“Because I don’t know how else to get you to leave me alone,� I admitted.

“Well,� he said, now speaking like a constipated Victorian, “all you had to do was ask.� He frowned, but still continued whispering in my ear as the teacher’s watchful gaze scanned the room like a sound detector.

I tried my best to not regard him as he continued to speak to me through the lesson. Soon, we were partnered in Potions and stirring up a sleeping draught for review. Moments later, it seemed, we were in Defense against the Dark Arts. Then, Transfiguration came like a swift wind. The day passed in no time at all, seemingly prompted on by Aiden’s chatter.

The days moved into weeks which stretched into months – two, to be exact. I had kept my image flawlessly, and was still a nonchalant girl with three very good friends – Jack, Aiden, and Lila. The four of us were a happy lot, even with the rising storms of corruption that the Ministry had been accused of.

Three days into my second month at Hogwarts, I received a letter from my brother. It read:

Kherington –
There have been problems at work for Mother and I. Controversies have run rampant. The latest policy that the Ministry is trying to pass is to legalize the use of the Unforgivable Curses. Our family is trying as hard as it can to oppose the issue, but we can only work so hard. I hope school is going well, and Christmas break is fast-approaching. Soon, we will all be home again.
Your brother –
Alexsandre

Aiden had asked what I thought of the letter and the headlines of the Daily Prophet.

“I don’t mind too terribly.�

He had looked at me in disbelief for a moment, and I dearly wished that I could explain myself to him. When you were immortal, petty problems in the magical world meant nothing. I knew that, as everything did, it would pass on with time. Aiden, of course, couldn’t comprehend that.

Instead, he replied laughingly. “Kherington Squires, you are heartless.�

There was a trip to Hogsmeade a week later, and the excitement sizzled like electricity in the air around me. I quietly admitted to Lila that I was a little anxious myself – a fact which she found extremely amusing. Students from different years and Houses blended in together, and without their robes, I couldn’t tell whether I should smile or glare at them. It didn’t matter, though, because Aiden, Jack, Lila, and I were quickly on our way. The air was thin and cold, and a light layer of snow was all that separated us from the street and the warm comfort of The Three Broomsticks. We eagerly pressed on, Lila leading us inside.

“I didn’t think it would be this empty,” she observed in a reserved tone. Lila lived for the hustle-and-bustle, busy sort of environment. She loved being the center of attention. “Maybe we should try Honeydukes? I was hoping we could find somewhere…warmer.”

“Get a Firewhisky,” Jack said in a raw, blatant tone. Jack was one for the obvious, a trait which I had recognized in his great-grandfather.

“Well, excuse me,” Lila snapped. “I only drink water. It’s a part of my new diet.”

“No wonder you’re cold,” Jack observed.

“No, I’m cold because nobody’s around!”

“How are people supposed to make you warm?”

“Hello! If you multiply the rate of body heat by the number of bodies and factor in the size of the building…It obviously works.”

Jack and Lila continued bickering back and forth while Aiden and I observed, eyebrows cocked and amused faces plastered on. We ordered our drinks (and water for Lila) and sat, discussing our classes and professors. We tried to avoid discussing politics, the most popular topic of students in our year. The issues at hand had become more evident, and there had been a clear difference of opinion that had almost turned into a rivalry – a gaping hole in the House Unity that was left from the immortal Gryffindor-Slytherin rift. One side – primarily Slytherins and Ravenclaws – believed that under certain circumstances, the Unforgivable Curses could be acceptable if used sparingly. They believed a Dementor’s Kiss was a more severe punishment for prisoners in Azkaban than a little shout of “Crucio!” here and there. The other side, made up of Gryffindors (excluding me) and Hufflepuffs, believed that to legalize the Unforgivables would be to thrust the magical world into the Lord Voldemort-era, or worse, the Dark Ages.

Frankly, I disagreed with both sides, or rather, remained neutral. While neither side had actually seen the Dark Ages, I had lived in them, and they weren’t so bad for my family. That could be, however, because of the vital role we played in them.

Aiden’s voice interrupted my musings. “What do you think, Kher-Bear?” he asked, using his irritating nickname for me. “Should we go to Honeydukes?”

“I was actually thinking about stopping at Gladrags to grab new school robes,” I said.

“I’ll come with you while Jack and Lila go to Honeydukes,” he said, throwing the pair a complementary gag. The pair ran on a love/hate relationship; currently, it appeared that they were ready to suck each other’s faces off. We left.

Walking through Hogsmeade was interesting when Aiden was by my side. He pointed out things I had never seen before: how there were bird tracks in the light snow that had blown underneath the protective cover of hanging eaves, how the man selling candy was counting change wrong and gaining a few extra Knuts in the transaction, how the ice in the windows made pictures…And I started noticing things myself, like how Aiden spoke with his hands when he was passionate about something, how he grabbed my arm for emphasis, how the snow made his cheeks deliciously pink…or was it the vigor of his loud speech that gave him colour? I couldn’t tell.

“Just drink it in,” he said, holding my arm and forcing me to stop. He inhaled deeply, face heavenward, eyes closing. “You can’t get air like that just anywhere.”

“You’re going to choke on snow,” I observed mildly, smiling.

“You know what? You’re right. Let’s go.” His eyes were elsewhere now, slightly distracted. He grabbed my arm again as he hurried past Gladrags, deaf to my confused, half-formed sentences and right into Madame Puddifoot’s.

“Aiden, no-…We can’t go in the-…Stop!” Every protest was silenced by the shoving crowd around us. Only when we were in the comfort of the cozy tea shop could I fully form a sentence. Unfortunately, I was amused by that time. “It’s so tacky,” I said laughingly.

“Well I figured we’d just stop to get a quick drink,” Aiden said conversationally, apparently ignorant to the fact that we had just downed a pint of Butterbeer each.

“All right,” I said suspiciously, figuring I’d humor him and play along.

We sat down in one of the little booths and I ordered water. I wasn’t thirsty, but Aiden seemed to silently protest and ordered me a tea instead.

Aiden, of course, talked for the next half hour, and I just sat by silently and watched him. I didn’t know exactly what he was talking about, but he made it terribly fascinating. I then discovered that I could like Aiden…sort of.

*

“And promise me you’ll come back?”

“It’s only Christmas Break,” I laughed. It was a few days later, and we were back in Hogsmeade, but we were at the train station this time.

“You never know with you,” Jack grinned, glancing at Aiden.

“It’s true,” Lila said. She was also getting on the train behind me.

“Sure,” I grinned and slid onto the train, grabbing my own compartment and waving as the train pulled away. I leaned back and fell asleep quickly. I was almost home.