We received our schedules, and the first class was Muggle Studies. I could have laughed. I would have, too, except that Clara and Percy were discussing the post office and I felt left out.

"Oh, smile, Lauren. Geez, tired of this place already?" Fred shoved me slighly as we entered the classroom.

I grinned meekly, embarassed that even at the school I'd forever dreamed of attending (I would have settled for existing), I found the time to be bitter about Clara and her unintentional ways of attracting boys. "Never!" I exclaimed, and fwapped him upside the head with my wand, hoping his hair wouldn't accidentally catch on fire or something of the sort.

"Percy and Clara seem to be getting on quite well," he said, reverting back to normal seriousness.

Oh great. Was this his idea of cheering me up? "Oh yes, they certainly do," I agreed. Sighing, I ended the discussion of that by asking him what time lunch was at.

"Are you nervous about starting fifth year classes?" Percy inquired of Clara as she buttered her toast.

She stopped for a moment, looking him over, as if she wasn't sure that she could trust him with the information. But soon enough, Clara opened her mouth and answered, "Yes, actually."

I was struck by her confident tone, like it should be surprising for her to be nervous. Percy took this in stride and smiled. "I would be nervous, too. But don't fret, I'm sure everyone will be very glad to help you out."

On my right, I heard George whisper to himself, "Especially you, Percy, especially you." Did I catch a hint of bitterness? Surely Clara hadn't, she couldn't have, already become the object of so many male human beings' affection? Could; no, had she?

Suddenly it occured to me that someone was talking to me; who? I blinked myself out of my thoughts to register that Hermione was asking me what class I predicted I would find the most interesting. Smiling, I answered, "Definitely Potions." The area around me got quiet at this pronouncement.

"Potions?" echoed Ron.

I nodded.

"Too bad you're in Gryffindor," said Fred wryly.

I shrugged it off. I knew all about Snape, of course, from the books. It didn't phase me. Potions had always interested me ever since I'd thought about them, and perhaps if I was good at them, Snape wouldn't have too much against me.

"Especially since you'll be playing Quidditch." Whoa- what? Attention, Lauren, Gorgeous Quidditch Keeper #21 is speaking to you! My head whirled around to look at Oliver Wood.

"I... suppose so," I stammered uncertainly. So much for the confident approach.

"So what do you think of the place?" Oliver questioned, gesturing around him.

I smiled. This was something I could be truthful about. "I can't decribe it," I said, "but I can say that there's a special feeling that comes with this, 'place,' as you called it. It feels like things happened, are happening, are going to happen. Just sitting at this table makes me feel like I'm involved and a part of somthing. I don't know."

He nodded, and for a moment I was afraid I'd given too much information. But then, realizing that Oliver Wood wasn't all that was going to be lovely about Hogwarts, I decided that if I had, screw it. That was me.