Drew had been sent to the principal's office countless times, but she'd never heard of anyone being sent to the Headmaster's office. She figured this Professor Dumbledore seemed way too important and too busy all the time to be bothered by some minor deadly squabble in the hallways.

She knocked on the professor's door anyway. After all, she had absolutely no care of what going to happen now. Nothing was giving Eliza back to her, no matter how much she wanted it.

The gargoyle was stonily glaring at her. She booped it on the nose.

She nearly fell over when it moved and began lecturing her, "No manners!! Kids these days! No 'how do you do, Mr. Gargoyle?' Noooo you get a punch in the face! What a greeting!"

"It was a poke," she defended herself, glad for something to distract her. It was so easy to fall back into anger — the only emotion that hasn't let her down yet. "It wasn't a punch, so consider yourself lucky."

"Was that a threat you insolent brat?"

"Yes, it was, you rude piece of rock."

"Arrraghhhh —!"

The ugly statue was interrupted mid-shout of frustration by Dumbledore opening the door.

"Ah," he said, looking back and forth from Drew to the gargoyle, before resting his eyes on the statue. "How do you do, Mr. Gargoyle?"

It nodded approvingly, "Now that's how you do things. I'm mildly frustrated, thank you. And you, Headmaster?"

"Mildly curious. Come in, Miss Getaway."

Dumbledore sat himself down in his ancient chair and waved at the equally ancient chair on the other side of the claw-footed desk, "Please sit."

She slid into the seat and heard a small creak.

"You needn't worry about the chair," he said softly, "students hardly ever fall through it. Lemon drop?" The professor passed her a bowl of yellow candy, which she recognized from a Muggle store.

"Yeah, sure," Drew popped three of them in her mouth at once so she wasn't able to speak. She wanted to think about what had just happened so she could figure out how she was going to talk about it.

While waiting for her to finish chewing, Dumbledore passed a little glass container to her. "Healing balm for your hand," he explained kindly.

She remembered that the acid was still burning a little. Such minor pain. Drew stuck her finger in the jar and spread the cream over her hand, "Thanks, sir."

He continued to fiddle with his fingers and peer at her over his spectacles.

Drew was still chewing on the candy, and took the opportunity to take in his office. It was huge and circular, with a fireplace roaring in front of two more newer-looking armchairs.

Shelves of thick books were everywhere, along with lab-like equipment and cabinets bursting with trophies. One shelf had the Sorting Hat on it, which looked like it was either sleeping or in deep thought.

The rest of the walls were covered in paintings of past Headmasters. Some weren't aware of Drew's presence and were doing quite the most embarrassing things.

Still, it was cozy. Drew felt a tiny bit better.

Professor Dumbledore coughed quietly, and she took her attention away from a phoenix and realized she'd swallowed the candy.

"So Miss Getaway, what brings you here? I sense something terrible has happened."

"Snape sent me here," she mumbled, staring at her hand as it healed slowly. If only mending her heart would be this easy.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose, "What happened?"

It was provoked, sir, was usually her default response, because instinctively she threw blame at someone else so she didn't have to feel the guilt. But this time she said, "You know my supposed friend Eliza? She...well, she isn't my friend anymore. I kind of slapped her." She raised the previously burned hand, which was now back to normal.

"Why is she no longer your friend?"

Drew hadn't meant for it to turn into a ten-minute long rant, but it did. In the end, she nearly burst into tears, but she thankfully held back. The Headmaster didn't even interrupt her. He only patiently listened, nodding and eating Lemon Drops like chewy popcorn.

By the time Drew stopped to take a breath he'd eaten so much he ought to be bouncing off the walls.

"Well," he said carefully, becoming unusually serious, "from what you've said, I have gleaned much of your personality. I take it that you are the kind who snaps easily. I advise that you try to control that, as it would get you in trouble if it happens again. As for now, five points from Slytherin. I'll leave Professor Snape to decide on your punishment. Tell him one detention will do."

"Wait, that's it? I thought for sure getting sent here would mean something worse."

"Perhaps Professor Snape was wishing for just that." He sat forward, looking at her intensely, "Drew, I am very sorry about what happened with Eliza. I...I had a friend once, who I liked very much, just as you liked Eliza very much. He wasn't a good man."

Then he closed his eyes, reminiscing. Curious, Drew asked, "How did it end?"

"Not well," he murmured, opening his eyes. "Drew, don't feel too terrible about this. It was not your fault."

"I don't," Drew said stonily, "feel terrible about this."

In the light of the roaring fireplace, the Headmaster gave her a tragic look. "Alright. Care for one last Lemon Drop before you go?"

* ° * ° *

The first semester was passing by quite fast. Drew continued to push Eliza away from her mind until the thought of her or her graceful black hair didn't make her furious anymore.

As punishment, Professor Snape had grumpily told Drew to polish the candelabras in the dungeon classrooms for an hour. Not bad at all.

During classes, Snape ignored her and offered no praise when she did a good job, but it really wasn't that bad compared to how he treated Gryffindors. She supposed Slytherins did things like this all the time and he was used to ignoring it.

Drew had stayed out of any major trouble. She got detention from time to time for talking back and being "unnecessarily violent" with people, but she didn't get into a real screaming fight like the one with Eliza. There was one she had with Zacharias Smith, who insisted on sniffing at Slytherins distastefully whenever they passed.

Drew had promptly punched him in the face, and she could have sworn Wilby nodded a little.

She'd gotten only a single detention for that, since it was Professor Snape that Smith went running to and the Potions master didn't care about his feelings.

Eliza had resolved to not speak to Drew at all, and she moved to an empty bed on the other side of the dormitory, which Drew was fine with.

That left an empty bed, which Isabell and Drew began fighting over daily, when they had pretty much ignored each other before.

Millicent Bulstrode seemed indifferent about the change, but it was hard to tell because she always just grunted at everyone. Drew had finally learned her last roommate's name: Cyndee Pyramid. She was, to put it bluntly, strange.

Cyndee was quite paranoid, and when she talked she was sort of unfocused, like she was watching something out of sight. She seemed to have traits of none of the Houses, and was simply...there. A blank, confused, and delicate person.

Drew once snapped at her, and she looked ready to shatter to pieces. It took ages of quietly rocking back and forth until she calmed down. Drew had actually regretted her outburst.

She was unnerving, but Drew really didn't mind her, as long as she stayed on her side of the dorm.

* ° * ° *

Two months into her friendship with Wilby, Drew asked him about what Eliza had said. "I mean I didn't know what to think, since you've never talked about your dad before. When I had that huge fight with Eliza, she said that your dad is a Death Eater and that I shouldn't trust you."

He blinked at her. "What?"

"I knew she was bluffing. As if a face like yours could belong to an ugly You-Know-Who follower."

His cheeks flushed pink and he furiously went back to reading his Potions textbook.

Throughout the year, she kept trying to get him to actually argue with her, but the most opposing thing she'd ever squeezed out of him was that not all Taylor Swift songs are depressing.

It must be a sad life, angry about virtually nothing.

* ° * ° *

The Quidditch games were epic, and as long as nobody died a most painful death, the injuries were quite exciting.

The ones between Gryffindor and Slytherin were probably the most entertaining, since they were the most competitive. The sides were always screaming at each other and shaking fists, as if distracting the Quidditch players would help matters.

"D'you think I have a shot at joining?" Drew asked Wilby in the common room. "Maybe in third year."

He drummed his fingers against the table, "I think you have a shot at anything."

"I knew it," she murmured.

In the Slytherin Dungeon, only the green lamps having from the ceiling and the fireplace lit the place up. This was because there were no windows, obviously, which pretty much made their dormitory into a dead end when the mountain troll got into Hogwarts.

And not only was the school attacked by ugly creatures, Professor Quirrell turned out to be a power-hungry maniac who wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone, which was at Hogwarts for some reason, but Harry Potter managed to stop him.

Drew hoped his replacement would have a secret just as cool, but better at teaching and stuttered less.

The only thing left before summer were the school exams. There was nothing Drew hated more, except perhaps learning itself.

She'd passed every single one of her exams with at least an Acceptable except History of Magic, which she completely hadn't cared about. Her unbelievable grade of Outstanding in Charms was what made up for her Dreadful grade in History. The only reason she didn't get Troll because she'd written her name and apparently that was more than what half the class had done.

* ° * ° *

On the Hogwarts Express, she asked Wilby what he was going to do over the summer. He merely shrugged, which was an exercise he did every few minutes. "Stay home I guess."

"That's boring," she said. "You should go out more."

He shrugged again. "I have a pitbull at home, so it's not that bad."

"Oh. I didn't know you had a pet."

"Mum needed company while I was gone."

Drew thought about her colour-changing cat, Jinx. She was usually with her sister, but there were days when Drew woke up with the cat sleeping on her face. Jinx didn't do that often, because Millicent had a cat who didn't get along with Jinx. It was a hissy black one that was as equally bad-tempered as its owner.

The train stopped, and she leapt to her feet, "Okay, dimwad, at least come by my house on my birthday. Yes, I'm inviting you."

They got off the train onto Platform 9 3/4, then walked through the barrier back to King's Cross.

Aurora was already with their mom and was tapping her foot impatiently while furiously petting Jinx.

"I'm coming!" Drew grumbled. "See ya, Wilby. And do stop smiling like that!"

"Okay. See you on July 21st!" he waved.

"Mom!" Ari shrieked happily. "I got at least Exceeds Expectations on all my subjects, and got Outstanding in Transfiguration! Unlike Drew, I studied."

"Sweetheart," their mom said sternly, "don't talk to your sister that way. I'm sure you studied hard, Drew."

"Yeah, mostly," Drew muttered. She was looking at Wilby's mom, whose only similarity to her son was her large watery green eyes. Cecilia Blue was hugging him close and patting his hair.

No wonder Wilby spoke of his mom in such high regard, they were practically soulmates.

Drew snickered at that and turned away, ready for two months back in the Muggle world. She was going to take her time. After all, Eliza wasn't at Hogwarts to go back to.