The hall fell silent. Her grey eyes shined as she stepped off the stool, and walked towards her new house table. As if somebody had clicked the play button, the table in green erupted in cheers. Her frail body was enveloped in a group hug, consisting of Draco, a girl with a short bob cut, and a dark skinned boy. “Hello, I’m Pansy. I see you’ve already met Draco, but beside me is Blaise. We’re both also third years.” The red haired girl smiled at the trio. “My name’s Amelia.” Pansy lead them to a secluded part of the long table. “This is where we sit. You can join us, of course. Our other housemates aren’t the nicest.” She plopped down next to her new-found friends, a feeling of happiness spreading over her body. She glanced around the hall while her friends gathered food onto their plates from the never ending feast. Her godfather caught her eye, up at the teacher’s table. She waved, and as if by instinct he glanced her way and waved back. “Who are you waving at?” Blaise asked, swallowing a gulp of pumpkin juice. “My godfather. He’s a teacher up there.” He looked up at the table to spot the dreary potions professor keeping an eye on the girl in front of him. “Snape!?” she laughed, nodding. “Yep.”
While Pansy was in the middle of retelling the tale of her mother’s new pregnancy, Amelia’s eyes began to wander. She glanced over at the Gryffindor table, catching the eye of none other than her brother. His eyes narrowed as he leaned over to whisper something to the frizzy haired girl beside him. Amelia rolled her eyes, turning to talk to her friends. “I swear, I know her from somewhere. Maybe she is related to me.” He mumbled to Hermione. She huffed, flicking to the next page in her book. “Honestly, Harry, it’s probably nothing. The actual percentage of her being related to you are very low, nonexistent almost. Just give up on it.” He looked back up to spot the red haired girl now talking to his worst enemy, Draco Malfoy. She laughed at something her said, her grey eyes squinting slightly. He knew deep down that he knew her. It was like the universe was pulling him towards her, almost as if. “She is my sister.” he breathed all at once. His eyes widened as it dawned on him. His mother’s swollen abdomen in his baby pictures. The pink blanket next to his crib where his father held him, smiling at the camera. “It all makes sense now.”
The snow fell down slowly as four figures danced around laughing. It had been months since Amelia’s sorting, and since then the four friends had grown closer than ever. Every now and then, though, something would pop up. For instance, when Draco was admitted into the hospital wing after suffering an attack from Hagrid’s hippogriff. “It’s only a scratch, Draco.” Amelia groaned as she carried his bag. He tried to shake off the cast, growling. “Tell that to Madam Pomfrey. She was the one that insisted I where this **** thing.” Or the time Harry was given a new broom by a mysterious person. “Did you hear that they took his broom? Flitwick stripped it for curses!” The best part was, however, Professor Lupin’s DADA class.
Pansy and Amelia sat in the boring DADA classroom, chatting about whatever came to mind. “Do you think he was in a terrible accident?” Their latest topic was Professor Lupin’s strange scars. Amelia shrugged, “I don’t know, mayb-” The door slammed open, a man in shabby clothes waltzing in. “Good afternoon class. I’m your new DADA professor.” His gaze stopped on Amelia, feeling his mind was playing tricks on him. “Excuse me young lady, what is your name?” Her grey eyes caught his, her soft voice ringing throughout the room. “Amelia. Amelia Potter.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Right, right. Turn your textbooks to pages 103-107. Read them and write a two-page essay about the contents.”
“Do you think we’ll get detention?” Draco breathed, collapsing on the ground. Amelia shrugged, waving her wand a bit. A patch of snow melted as Amelia sat down. “We shouldn’t. There isn’t any rule stating that we can’t play in the snow.” Pansy cleared her throat, gesturing to the trio walking towards them. “Look who’s comin’.” Blaise mumbled, tightening the scarf around his neck. Before them stood the golden trio; Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley. “We’d like to speak to Amelia.” Hermione was the first to speak. Draco clutched onto her arm. Hermione rolled her eyes. “She’s not an object, Malfoy. Come on Amelia, we need to talk.” Amelia glared at the few in front of her. “What makes you think I’ll go with you?” she asked shrilly.