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"Now girls, those are misfits," Liana commented to a group of four other Slytherins as they moved to block the way. "A pure-blood idiot, half-blood twit, and mudblood loser." Out of all the insults, the one aimed at Kahla was the strongest, but all she did was frown as the other girls snickered.

The three friends had been heading back to their dorms after talking together for a while. The sorting ceremony and following dinner had been over for about half an hour. Most of the students had gone to bed, leading Gail to wonder if Liana and her posse had been waiting just for them.

"Well, sorry we can't all be as perfect as you," the Gryffindor retorted calmly, rolling her eyes.

A corner of the platinum blonde's mouth was tugged slightly downward, but she pretended to ignore her arch-enemy's words. "See the one in the middle, girls? That's their leader. Or at least, she fancies herself one. But I've heard from others, even non-Slytherins, that she's too bossy to lead properly. Thinks she's 'helping out the team' but won't even listen to their suggestions. She may seem popular, being Gryffindor's seeker an' all, but she's really quite lonely. As a result, she's got some control issues, especially with friends."

Liana smirked as Gail frowned. She knew the others were starting to crack. As Tim opened his mouth to defend his friend, she continued on, her group sneering.

"And that bloke there, with his mouth hanging open? Another looney. He can see the thestrals that pull our carriages. Know why? I heard it was because when he was younger, his best friend was killed right in front of him. Is that true, looney?" she asked, her mouth forming into a malicious grin.

Tim's eyes brimmed with tears. Choking back a sob, he turned and ran, Kahla following after a brief nod from Gail.

"I don't appreciate you insulting me, but at least that I can ignore. Know that I will get you back for hurting my friends." Her voice was dangerously low.

Liana shrugged nonchalantly. "I know you'll try." With that, she and her group pushed past Gail, heading back to the dungeons for their Slytherin dorms.

Knowing she probably wouldn't be able to find her friends by now, Gail went to the Gryffindor common room to wait for Tim. That was ten minutes ago. Five minutes ago, he had come, said Kahla had found him, he was alright, and she didn't need to worry, then went up to bed.

Of course, she knew he still probably felt terrible, and so did she. The Slytherin's insults to the confident Gryffindor had hit closer to home than the blonde knew. Since her friends often came to her for comfort, she had hidden her own insecurities, not wanting to bother them when they were already bothered. But hidden or not, they were still there, and wouldn't disappear, no matter what she tried.

So, feeling bad for Tim and Kahla as well as herself, she sat on the floor in front of the warm fire in the cozy Gryffindor common room and quietly sobbed. Understandably, she didn't feel like changing into her pajamas at the moment, so she was still in a yellow t-shirt, blue jeans, and her Gryffindor robes. She hoped that no one would wake up and come down or come in late through the portrait, since she wasn't really too thrilled at the idea of making excuses for her crying.

Helena's eyes turned a murky kind of grey as she paced and worried. No-one else was in her dormitory yet, and she wanted to know why. Her friends normaly shared the dormitory with her, but they had not shown up on the train. She knew that Kela had moved with her family and was now going to Beauxbatons, and that Sheila was going to be coming a week later because of her Father's accident, but where were Lana and Rose? (I'm either going to find a reason they're gone and have Helena meet new people or create their profiles.) "Gaech?" she whispered.
Gaech heard Helena call him, as he had known she would. They always greeted each other after the Sorting and the feast. He apperated right in front of her, and jumped up delightl, hugging her. "You look well, Madam Helena! I'm glad you are finally back at Hogwarts. How have you been?" he beemed.
"Gaech, it's so good to see you! You're not looking bad yourself. Have the other elfs stopped giving you a five foot radius?"
"Oh, yes, they now only stay one foot away!" When Helena looked worried, he quickly added, "Oh, they like me fine, they're just afraid of touching clothes... you know how some of them are."
"Fantastic! I'm sorry Gaech, but I have a question. Do you know where Lana and Rose could be? They weren't on the train, and it worries me..."
"I'm afraid I do not, Madam Helena..." Gaech chewed his lip in a worried way. The headmaster didn't always alert house elfs to everything, but he knew that Gaech was friends with Helena and her friends... he would have told him if he knew.....
Helena sighed.

Alice Gardener climbed the spiral staircase leading to the Ravenclaw commonroom. It was the first day of her 6th year hear at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. As she walked her dark robes flapped outwards, touching either side of the narrow stone passageway. Her long brown hair was braided down her back with a dark blue ribbon woven in. Her steps echoed upwards through the spiraling tower as she continued to climb.

Her memories flashing back to her first day at Hogwarts, she marveled at how naive and intimiadated she had been. She remembered back to that fateful day that would change her life forever, the day that her letter arrived by owl. That day she was flung into a world that she had only ever dreamed existed. Some memories were impossible to describe in words. Now, as she stood before the familiar Ravenclaw doorknocker and tried to clear her mind, her memories all came flooding back.

The familiar voice sounded. "When was Nocholas Flamel, noted alchemist, born?"

"Dang." Alice looked down. Out of the infinite stores of knowledge and wisdom in the world it just had to be a history question, didn't it? There were only three things that she struggled with, and dates were one of them. Thinking quickly, she rifled through her brain for information on Mr. Flamel, "noted alchemist". She remembered vaguely of studying him in Fourth year, and blurted out the first series of numbers that came to mind. "1325?"

"That's correct," said the voice. Alice sighed with relief. Once again her brain surprised her with its own ability. As she entered the shadowy yet peaceful commonroom, she spotted a boy standing by the window. "Hey," she greeted him in passing, her American accent painfully out of place. "What's up?" From the looks of him she judged him to be a few ears younger than her, but she had no clue as to what his name was. Names were the second thing that she was hopeless at.

The Third Year frowned and raised a brow. Regarding the girl's wet face with his skeptical gaze, he decided it had probably been a pretty bad burn to make a Forth Year girl cry. Gryffindors were the brave ones, weren't they?

Not only that, but she didn't seem to mind giving him an answer, and that was off. What girl would admit to crying so hard because of some slight thing such as a burn? He figured most Forth Year Gryffindors would be too prideful to admit they'd accidentally made any mistake and injured themselves.

"How'd you burn yourself?" he inquired softly, playing along until he knew more about the situation. Despite all his obvious faults, amoung his arrogance and foolishness Neverwood was also actually quite clever. He extended a hand out to her. "Here, let me see."

There seemed to be some sort of puncture wound in the flesh of the side of his palm, but it was hardly noticible in the dark of the common room.

"Mew!" A fleeting cry of distress emitted from who at first seemed to be the boy by the window of the Ravenclaw tower. However, the second time it sounded, a little furry head popped up over his right shoulder. A tiny, orange tabby kitten scrambled to claw her way up her master's rigid body. "Mrrrow!" Her wide, peridot-green eyes fixed on the Sixth Year Ravenclaw girl whom had just strolled in.

Determined not to go unnoticed, the valiant feline crounched, springing into the air and pouncing on Alice as the long-haired student passed. She aimed for the shoulder, but, as inexperienced as she was, the young creature could have easily over-estimated her abilites.

Elis grumbled to herself as she sat before her mirror, brushing the longest locks of her hair. She had sat there grooming for a good long time, muttering about the horrible mannerisms at the feast in the Great Hall when she heard something swish gently behind her. Looking up, she turned abruptly, unhappy at being inturrupted. "Who's there?" she demanded.

Vincent shrugged as the Slytherin posse walked away from the scene. The brownie had pretty much exploded upon impact with the cold stone floor, scattering fudge and frosting like chocolatey shrapnel.

("Hey," she asked, smiling politely, "you okay? What made you ever think trying to be nice to those girls would be a good idea?" She grinned. "They're not exactly known for their amiability and kindness.")

Vincent turned around to face Kahla. He considered her words for a moment, then cocked his head quizzically. "Why do you think I offered them a brownie? It's the mean people who need kindness most. In her case, it probably won't help much, but no harm done." He gazed thoughtfully down the corridor. "They're all gits, really, but who are we to judge? Considering Hogwarts is a boarding school, all we got is each other. Of course we go see our parents once, twice a year, but we're a whole generation of witches and wizards and we're all alone, really. It's almost scary to think about, how limited the social gene pool is, if you get my meaning. The whole house thing almost makes it worse, pitting us against each other, sowing petty rivalries, when really, once you get down to it, we're all the same. Pureblood, half-blood, mudblood, it all runs red, y'know? Oh, well I'm probably boring you half to death with my rambling. It's kind of a shame about the brownie, though. My pop always says never leave food uneaten, 'cause you never know when you're going to have your next meal."

As if to drive the point home, the previously inert feline called Maxim decided it was time to act. In an impressive display of agility, the cat slipped out from under Vincents arm and onto his chest like a river of furry quicksilver. Maxim placed his large back paws squarely against its master's torso and, using every ounce of rippling muscle, leapt for the remains of the brownie, it's mouth wide open in anticipation. The force of the push was so strong that Vincent was sent stumbling backwards. Unfortunately, one of the young wizard's feet landed on top of a rather slippery patch of frosting, and he collapsed comically in a robed heap.

He chuckled softly as his cat guzzled up all he could fine, "Oh right. Waste food? I forgot about my own personal vacuum cleaner." With a slight grunt of effort he sat up, crossing his long, gangly legs. He looked up at Kahla with his soft, green eyes and realized how very pretty she was. "So," he began, "tell me about yourself."