Dominique Weasley would never claim to be beautiful, not because she wasn't aware of the fact, but because mortal beauty would always seem tacky to her next to the sweeping natural beauty of the grasslands and ocean that her home overlooked, such that she spent all her young life surrounded by the bleached landscape and vast skies.

The morning of September 1st was strangely calm in the small cottage that overlooked the sea. Victoire had long since learnt her lesson of not leaving her packing to the last minute after leaving her wand of all things behind in her third year, while Louie had never needed to be taught it, always being so diligent and orderly from the first.

Dominique might not have packed all her possessions, yet the girl was not one to panic or make a fuss about such things, secure in the knowledge that she could simply steal anything she had forgotten from her sister. Such was the benefit of having an older sibling who couldn't get legitimately angry about anything. Instead the girl had risen early not to double check her trunk as would have probably been a sensible move, but to walk along the beach one last time.

The crashing waves could be heard night and day at Shell Cottage, and while Dominique had taken no note of them for the first eleven years of her existence, during her first year at Hogwarts she had suddenly found herself unable to sleep without their relentless pounding. The crisp salty air, the gritty sand, the swishing grasses that adorned the dunes like so many crowds of whispering friends, all of it held the deepest of places in the heart of Dominique, along with the serenity presented by such isolation.

Dominique loved lessons at Hogwarts, loved her teachers, her four poster bed that seemed such luxury compared to her bunk bed shared with Victoire. Yet the lapping water at the banks of the Black Lake was a poor substitute for the rushing waves the broke upon the grass-scattered shore, and the rough grey rocks that protruded from the rough turf of the ground's slopes were ungainly when juxtaposed with the smooth white stones that disrupted the waves of dusky sand.

But Dominique was not just here to admire the view, she had a task to fulfil, set by none other than the Chosen One himself, and this held the title as the most important action she was entrusted with every year.

Taking the muggle pen knife gifted to her by Grandpa Arthur -- much to her mother's chagrin -- she cut a handful of coarse sea grass from where it swayed and pulled out a strip of grey fabric from her pocket, looping it around the grass twice, tying a knot with her teeth. The heather was harder to cut, but she sawed away and eventually a sprig came free and was tucked into the side of the bundle. As she trudged back up the beach a thin piece of bleached driftwood caught her eye, then a white-flecked grey feather, then a half shattered shell protruding like a pale spire from the sand.

They were all tucked into the bundle, and Dominique continued upwards until she came to the site of burial of the house elf that had been called Dobby.

Dominique had never been granted the honour of meeting the war hero, since he had died protecting Uncle Arry, allowing the then boy to continue on to destroy all of Tom Riddle's horcruxes and eventually kill him, however her uncle would always talk about the house elf when he visited, tracing the letters of Dobby's gravestone with so much sadness. Dominique would come out to sit with him when the house grew too crowded and noisy, listening to his tales since she was too small to even walk the beach on her own and had to sneak away.

Carrying out the quiet ceremony on the first day of September had fallen to her alone for the first time this year, as James was starting Hogwarts and Uncle Arry couldn't spare he time until later in the day.

She laid the bouquet on the headstone that bore Dobby's name, and began to speak the words that had become somewhat of a ritual, although usually it was not her that was given the honour of delivering them, and she spend a few minutes running them through in her head to be sure she wouldn't make a mistake.

"Another year, another piece of the shirt worn by Uncle Arry when you saved him for the final time, another piece of you is freed. Thank you."

"Thank you," echoed a squeaky voice from behind her, accompanied by a sniffle, and Dominique spun around to see a female house elf standing several paces back, her hands tucked behind her back and tears streaming from her huge brown eyes that were raised to meet the girl's own. She was small even by elf standards, and rather shockingly had donned a neat skirt and blouse rather than the usual raggedy attire worn by house elves.

"W-Winky is sorry. Winky has heard from the Headmistress that today was the day for Winky to visit Dobby's grave, even though Winky should be preparing the Welcoming Feast with the others--"

Her breaths were coming in ragged gasps, and she seemed so worried that Dominique felt the need to reassure her. "You work at Hogwarts?" Winky bobbed her head a few times, the smart blue hat on her head balancing in a precarious manner that it might have tumbled off had she nodded more vigorously. "Well if Headmistress McGonagall gave you her permission then there is clearly no issue with you visiting. Did you... You knew him? You were friends?"

"Dobby was a good friend to Winky," she confirmed, lips trembling. "Winky was not a good friend to Dobby. Winky was not even nice to Dobby."

Her huge brown eyes were so watery that Dominique could see the scene reflected in them, and her tomato-sized nose was running. Winky made no effort to brush away her tears though.

"C-Can Winky leave Dobby something on Dobby's death stone?"

Dominique nodded wordlessly, stepping back and gesturing towards the headstone.

To her surprise, the house elf brought out an unopened bottle of butterbeer and carefully balanced it on the smooth white stone, before stepping back.

"Can Winky speak?" she whispered, and Dominique nodded. "Winky is thanking  you. Dobby, Winky is wanting to tell you something very important, so Winky is hoping you can hear her. Winky has not taken a drink of butterbeer in six whole years, Winky has kept the same bottle all this time, and now Winky is leaving it here. Winky is thinking that she will never drink butterbeer again, but also Winky is hoping Dobby can forgive her. Winky was a bad elf, Winky was freed by her own fault, and Winky was taking it out on her only friend. Winky is happy now, but she is sad that Dobby can not be with her. Winky is sorry."

The elf broke down into tears again, this time rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes now that they were empty. She cast one last longing look, towards either the grave or the butterbeer, Dominique couldn't tell which, and turned back to the girl. "Winky will be seeing at Hogwarts," she declared, "the pineapple turnovers is being the best food at the feast tonight." Then she snapped her fingers and vanished with a loud crack.

Dominique flicked a lighter to the bundle of grass, turning away as the smoke curled up into the sky, and was deeply surprised to find herself blinking back tears from her own eyes.

She pushed open the back door that entered into the kitchen, to be presented by her mother with a square of toast and a warning that they had twenty minutes before the taxi arrived to take them to King's Cross.

Her dad was drinking his tea at the table, seeming, as always, slightly shocked at the sense of calm the family presented on a morning that had always been so hectic in his own childhood. Bill Weasley seemed to perpetually expect something to go wrong on the first day of school, but most times the journey to the train station went off without a hitch.

That day was no exception, as the first real difficulty they had to face was dodging a pair of photographers from the Daily Prophet on their way to the platform. A feat that Bill Weasley would pull off with ease, summoning up wigs and sunglasses while Dominique's mum shook her head and suppressed a smile.

When the five joined the Potters on the platform, Uncle Arry gave them a strange look out of the corner of his eye, before double-taking. "Bill?"

Her father removed his sunglasses with a wink, adjusting his Afro wig.

James Sirius was regarding him with a thoughtful expression which Dominique had learned through unpleasant experiences with itching powder, jelly, paint and a host of other traumatising substances did not bode well for those in his immediate vicinity.

Meanwhile, Aunt Ginny was shaking her her. "As the oldest here, shouldn't you be the one setting the example?" she questioned her eldest brother.

Bill merely ruffled her hair in a manner that few others dared to. "Well, at least we successfully evaded the front page of the Daily Prophet--"

A flash went off.

"DENNIS!" yelled Uncle Arry as the group turned to the source of the flash.

The photographer had already taken off, yet he threw a grin over his shoulder. "Sorry Harry!"

Victoire looked incensed as she pulled her own wig off, allowed her long hair to fall free, turning to address her father. "Now we're not only going to be on the cover of the prophet, but we'll be looking like idiots as well!" she exclaimed, just as Teddy and Aunty Andy arrived. "Oh, great timing guys! You missed Dad destroying my social life in one fell swoop."

Teddy snorted, and was subject to Victoire's attempt at a glare, a feat she was fully incapable of. When no one seemed intimidated, least of all Teddy, she sighed in defeat.

Louie meanwhile looked to James in excitement. "Hey, do you want to sit with me and Leila? This is great! Finally a family member at the school who isn't one of my sisters!"

Dominique flicked his arm as he dragged their cousin away, but she didn't think he'd even registered his own insult.

Victoire was tugged away by Teddy, calling a cheerful goodbye over her shoulder, leaving Dominique as the only child left with the five adults.

As Aunt Ginny began to explain to Aunty Andy that she'd left Albus and Lily with their grandparents, Uncle Arry pulled Dominique aside.

"Did everything go alright this morning?" he queried, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Oh yes, it was fine," Dominique reassured him. "I burned the bouquet and said the words. There was an unexpected visitor though... Do you know a Winky?"

Uncle Arry's eyed widened. "Winky the house elf? Yes, yes she was a friend of Dobby's. How was she?"

"She seemed very upset, and she was worried about taking time off work, but she was very smartly dressed. Also she said something about not having taken a drink of butterbeer for ages -- I'm not really sure to be honest."

Her uncle nodded. "Butterbeer is very potent to house elves, and Winky had a problem with the amounts she consumed. It's good to hear that she cut the habit. Goodness, I can't believe it. Winky the house elf. The last time I saw her must have been the battle of Hogwarts."

"She still works there--" Dominique began to explain, but was cut off by the whistle blowing for the train. The remaining adults had transferred everyone's trunks on board, so Dominique gave all of them a quick hug.

"Have a good year, Dom!" called her dad, still wearing the wig. Bearing that in mind, she quickly pulled off her own and tucked it and the sunglasses into his hands.

"Don't call me Dom!"

"Have a good year Dom!" chorused four of her family members, the exception being Aunt Ginny who batted Uncle Arry on the shoulder.

"Don't call her Dom. Have a great term Dominique, we'll see you at Christmas."

She waved at them with a laugh and hopped onto the train.

A radiant smile was still ghosting her face as the train set off, and she realised that according to the promises she had made to herself during the summer she should look for a group of people to sit with on the journey.

A much easier option presented itself to the girl of finding an empty compartment or sitting with one of her siblings, and she found herself sorely tempted. Yet surely she was not one to take the easy way out?

No, Dominique Weasley came from a family of those willing to take risks. She may have been a Ravenclaw, but she came from a line of Gryffindors, and if they could fight wars at her age, she was sure as hell going to sit in a compartment with strangers and be damn friendly while she was at it.

Chin held high, Dominique made her way down the train, looking not for an empty compartment, but for one full of people.