The rest of the train ride is surprisingly uneventful.

Hannah Abbott later joins our compartment, causing a blushing Neville to stammer out a lie of what we were all doing in here, stuffed in the tiny room. Eventually, Ginny, Luna, and Neville leave us, allowing Susan, Astoria, and I to explain the Resistance to her; Susan, in a clipped voice, said that Hannah was trustworthy, and that was that.

God, I can't believe that I'm actually doing something. I can't believe that I have friends. Susan, who's still holding my hand (which fits like a warm glove and feels like home), stares out the window, curly hair tucked behind her ears.

Astoria, Hannah, and I are chatting, laughing about stories from the previous years as the somber mood from before creeps upon us. I am, however, determined to ignore it until we are at the castle and the gates are locked.

A year ago, I wouldn't have been able to talk to anyone.

As Hannah and Astoria continue chatting, I lean on Susan's shoulder, looking out the window. A bright flower meadow flies by, and the sky grows darker, tinges of red and orange painted across.

"The flowers are pretty," Susan murmurs, squeezing my hand once. Her warm fingers send tingles up my spine. I don't want the feeling to stop.

Is this how friendship feels like?

(Or more? Is it more?)

"Yeah," I hum, squeezing her hand back. "But you're prettier."

It comes out louder than I intended. Flushing red for the millionth time, I'm tempted to go die in a hole as Astoria coughs in front of us, shaking with laughter. As I shoot her a glare, lifting myself up from Susan's shoulder, Susan shifts in her seat.

"Is that right?" Susan asks, her lips quirking upwards. "I appreciate it, Potter. Thank you."

Okay, good. It's perfectly fine. As a friend, I can call a friend pretty. As a friend.

Astoria sobers up, and Hannah, who was silent the entire conversation, now eyes Susan with a smirk on her face.

"So, Astoria," she begins, and they begin their conversation once more, as if they've never stopped. It's admirable, to be able to do that.

As they converse, Susan leans in, whispering in my ear: "You said I was prettier than that flower field, but I could pick any flower there ━━━ and none of them would be able to measure up to you."

I start coughing rapidly, almost keeling over as Susan pats me on the back. I feel like my cheeks are brighter than Susan's hair, flaming. The butterflies out in the world didn't even compare to the ones in my stomach, fluttering, punching me repeatedly.

I look up, and Susan is smiling innocently, as if she didn't just say that. I simply said that she looked prettier. She took my paper-like words and twisted it into an origami crane.

The flowers don't even measure up to me?

Heat flows into my cheeks again, and I resist the urge to cover them. Astoria and Hannah stare at us with raised eyebrows, fleeting smiles, and mischievous expressions.

"What did she say, Anne?" Astoria asks, and I turn away, my cheeks turning redder.

"I told her the same thing she told me," Susan says simply. "I never leave a compliment hanging."

Well, yes. But, also, no.

My eyes find Susan's. They are twinkling like stars that haven't shown up in the sky. Only I can see the shine.

She knows exactly what she said.

"They're in their own bubble," Hannah stage-whispers.

"Oh, for sure," Astoria adds.

"I can hear you," I say, irritated as Susan laughs.

"That's the point ━━━" Astoria begins, but the compartment door is thrust open.

Pansy Parkinson stands at the door, staring at us with her dark eyes. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail, star-like earrings dangling as her pale skin contrasts with her dark hair.

"The Heads are going around doing an inspection," she drawls monotonously. She glances at me quickly, her eyes flashing with something unidentifiable, before addressing all of us. "It's just to make sure that no filth enters our school."

"Will the filth be exterminated?" Astoria asks carefully, a mask of steel slipping onto her face.

Parkinson sighs, a quill in her fingers as she spins it. "They'll be sent home, wands snapped. What happens next is all up to the Dark Lord. Perhaps he'll have mercy. What else is he going to rule over?" Her eyes glint almost maliciously. "Us?"

I want to open my mouth, but I have to be smart. Starting a fight isn't the right thing to do. There is nothing I can do, not until later, at least.

"Well, if there's nothing else you need to do," Hannah says coldly. She's a part of the Sacred 28, so I'm sure Pansy has at least an ounce of respect for her. But then again, the Weasleys are too, and everyone knows how their situation is.

Parkinson nods. "See you, Abbott, Bones, Greengrass ... Potter."

She walks away, leaving the door open.

"Who's the other Head?" I ask carefully.

"Draco Malfoy," Susan says without an ounce of hesitation, squeezing my hand, reminding me that my home is not a house, but the people around me. "The absolute bastard."

"I'm glad Pansy came around then," I mutter.

Hannah frowns. "How is Pansy better than Draco? They're both world class bastards."

"Didn't you date ━━━" Astoria begins, but Susan shakes her head.

"It's okay," I say. My voice doesn't wobble. "Draco hurt me. In more ways than one."

Astoria pales. Everyone knows the implications of what I said.

"I'm sorry," Hannah eventually says. "I shouldn't have asked. And you shouldn't have been through that."

I shake my head. "What's done is done. You didn't know."

Susan smiles, nudging me gently.

I give her a hesitant one back. This is definitely not the hardest conversation I'll have.

. . .

After a thorough inspection, our bags are taken away. Astoria leaves us to sit at the Slytherin table with her sister, Daphne. Hannah, Susan, and I, the only remaining seventh year Hufflepuff girls, are all sitting together, almost bunched up.

Plates are already set in front of us, emptied with no food. First years are bundled up, Professor McGonagall leading the way. Her face is tight, miserable.

I think we all are.

The Sorting goes miserably, as expected. Every single time the kids aren't Sorted into Slytherin, they are booed by the Carrows and most of the Slytherins. Every time they are, a staff member congratulates them, puts them on a pedestal, making them think they are special.

From experience, I know the danger. I know that when you think you're special, you'll do anything to maintain that feeling.

Alecto Carrow stands up. Everyone stops to stare. The Headmaster, fucking Snape out of all people, sits there, eyes beady.

I bet that was his dream all these years. To kill Dumbledore and take over his job, his life. What a horrible man.

"Welcome, students," Alecto says, voice cold. Her malicious eyes find mine, and her face splits into a wicked grin. "This is Hogwarts, where only the purest shall rise. We follow the teachings of Salazar Slytherin, the ancestor of our very own Dark Lord."

"All Hail the Dark Lord!" Amycus Carrow growls, clanging his goblet.

Uneasy murmurs fill the hall.

"Before you feast, remember this: insubordination will be punished. If you have filthy blood, watch out. Muggle Studies and Dark Arts are required subjects ━━━ you will be punished if you aren't there." Alecto spreads her arms. "Well? Feast!"

Food magically appears, as usual ━━━ but Gryffindor's table is barren. Hufflepuff's is meager, but enough to live; Ravenclaw's is the same as usual; Slytherin's is almost overflowing with delicious food.

We eat delicately. The Slytherin table sounds boisterous, but even they look uneasy. The rest of us barely say any words.

I quietly chew on my food, observing the other tables. Astoria catches my eye, and I say nothing when she slips some food in her robes, Daphne doing the same.

Pansy and Draco are at the other end, close to the staff. They eat with no shame, stuffing their faces while the Gryffindors starve.

Draco's grey eyes lack light as if the only good thing about him is gone. Pansy, however, looks perfectly fine as she eats, chatting with him.

But Draco's looking at me, as if he wants to throw last year's events out the window and start over. Stay careful, his eyes seem to say. I'm sorry. Don't be mad. Please don't cause trouble.

I narrow my eyes, turning away. No. Screw you. That's what I want to say.

Instead, I spy Alecto, silver goblet shining as she laughs raucously next to her brother. Insubordination will be punished, hmm?

She glares at me from the staff table, eye glinting malevolently. I narrow my eyes, clenching my jaw.

Then punish me, Alecto.