Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, as should be self-evident. I simply hope to borrow the scenery and a few characters, have them do what I will for a bit, and I promise to put them back when I'm done.

For entertainment purposes only, void where prohibited, side-effects may include nausea, dizziness, and compulsive singing. Discontinue use if a rash develops as this may be a sign of a serious complication. See your doctor if any of this makes the remotest amount of sense!

The doorbell rang and footsteps from inside were heard. A woman's face briefly appeared in the little window behind the curtain, peering out at the visitor. Cautiously, she opens the door to a strangely-dressed woman holding what appears to be sheets of parchment. She regards the visitor suspiciously, "So what are you selling?"

"I'm not selling anything. Mrs. Stand, is it?"

"That's right."

"I'm here to tell you about a school for your daughter, Caitlin. She's starting secondary school in the fall, correct?"

Mrs. Stand nods, still not budging, "That's right."

"I'm Professor Charity Burbage. I believe your daughter may have the abilities our school particularly seeks. Surely, you've noticed."

At this, Mrs. Stand steps aside, drawing the visitor in, away from the neighbors' prying eyes. This is not something she feels comfortable discussing on the front steps where the whole world can listen in. "I've noticed," she admits softly. "Are you saying there are...others...like her?"

With a sage nod, the other woman smiles, "Many others, there are thousands who can do what she does. There's nothing wrong with Caitlin, Mrs. Stand. She has a place at our school, should she wish to come. Is she home?"

"Oh, yes," she turns and calls over her shoulder, "Caitlin! There's someone here to see you!"

A moment later a short, skinny little girl with very short brown hair creeps down the stairs, looking frightened and guilty. "I didn't do anything today, Mum," she promised contritely.

Professor Burbage intuitively knew the girl spoke of doing magic. She felt a stab of sympathy, remembering how difficult it is to contain as a child. "It's all right, Caitlin, you're not in any trouble." The girl stands stiffly, as though unaccustomed to this being the case.

"Stop acting like that, Caitlin, or the lady will think we mistreat you! How is this going to make me and your father look?" Mrs. Stand turns to the other woman, "I promise, we never raise a hand against her, I don't know why she acts like she expects someone to hit her."

"Her classmates, most likely. I've seen cases of this before." She kneels down in front of the frightened girl, "They treat you badly at school, don't they? They're afraid of you?" The girl nods, trying not to cry. "Do they hit you?"

Caitlin nods again, sniffling shakily, "Only in gym class, when they can get away with it, if they can make it look like part of the game. Dodgeball, Red Rover, roller skating..." she trails off with a shudder and presses into the wall behind her.

Her mother turns to her, surprised, "I never knew that, why didn't you say something?"

"Doesn't matter, it wouldn't change anything, it would only get worse if I got them in trouble."

Both women stare at the girl, equally surprised by Caitlin's matter-of-fact delivery of such things, and angered by what's happened to her.

"They don't always hit, but they treat me different, no one likes me, I'm a freak."

As the Hogwarts Muggle Studies professor, Charity Burbage is used to looking at things from all sides and to understanding the Muggle's perspective, but she still can't help the knee-jerk disgust she feels at how Muggles treat their magical neighbors. She allows that yes, they may be perceived as strange, but this little girl certainly isn't a threat to anyone. "You're not a freak, Caitlin," Charity assures her. "You can...do things, can't you? Things happen around you and you can't always help it, right?"

The girl nods, still cringing in this admission, "One time when I was six, a car was coming, but it went right through me, I didn't get hurt or feel anything."

"Anything else?"

Her mother speaks up, "The rain. That was you, too, wasn't it? When it rains just over our house?" Caitlin nods again, too frightened to speak.

Professor Burbage straightens up, places her hands on Caitlin's shoulders and gives her a kind smile. She steers her near the couch where Mrs. Stand is seated. "You're not a freak. As a matter of fact, you're a lot like me."

The girl's eyes go wide and her tearful expression disappears. "You're like me?" she whispers hopefully. "Really?"

"And as I just told your mother, it's perfectly normal. There's nothing bad about it at all. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're just a little different. A little...special," she suggests, feeling that such an idea won't go to the child's head. "It's very simple, Caitlin, you're a witch."

The girl gasps and brings her hands to her mouth. For a second, Professor Burbage hopes she isn't insulted. It's easy to forget that "witch" is often used in a very negative way in this world. But then Caitlin breaks into a hysterical laugh. "Really? A real witch? I am?" She looks positively delighted.

Glad for such a positive reaction, Charity continues, "And there's a place for you at a school for witches and wizards."

"There's more? More like me? They wouldn't be afraid of me?! Oh, Mum, can I go? Please?! I'll be just like Miss Price!" she spins in place in rapture.

"Like...who?" the older witch asks the mother.

"She's from a movie, Caitlin's seen it about a hundred times by now. A witch learns magic through a correspondence course and...saves England somehow, during World War II."

"Sounds like she's had some positive role models, that's good, that helps."

"You know, I think somehow she always knew what she was," Mrs. Stand observes. "How much is tuition?"

"Hogwarts, our school, is funded by donations from alumni and other like benefactors, you won't need to pay for her education. She'll need to buy her own uniform, books, and equipment. It's all in here," she hands the mother a letter and beckons the child to sit down with her so they could read it together. Caitlin wriggles in her seat with excitement, unable to sit still while receiving such wonderful news.

"I can come with you both to show you were to purchase her school supplies. And you'll need to know how to get to the school train in September. Your ticket is here, don't lose it."

Together, they go over everything, from getting to Diagon Alley to getting on the train, from the currency exchange rate to new words she'll have to learn and get used to. With that, they prepare to go to London to do some shopping.

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After an exhilarating day, the young witch and her mother arrive home laden with strange new things. The girl runs upstairs with her shopping to try on her new uniform right away. She'd met a handful of other Hogwarts students in Diagon Alley as well; some looked at her scornfully after finding out she's a Muggle-born, with others it obviously didn't matter to them what her parentage was. A few older students had watched her scurry from one shop to another, looking on with nostalgia about being that excited for the first day of school. Now back at home, she is pleased with everything. After letting her new kitten out of his basket to explore, she empties the rest of her packages. She handles her new wand with utmost care: apple wood, with a core of phoenix feather, she holds the memory of it choosing her in her heart with sheer reverence. Despite the school rule forbidding first years to have their own broomsticks, it hadn't stopped Caitlin from popping into Quality Quidditch Supplies for a look. She even tested one out, sliding onto an older model sidesaddle, noting aloud that a witch must always be a lady, getting an amused look from the shopkeeper. Her mother made a mental note for a possible birthday present for next year.

Her mother peeks in the room, now feeling a mixture of happy and sad. Happy that there's a place for her misfit daughter, with others like her, where she may not have to be afraid anymore; but sad that she's entering such a new and separate world. She'd always known that her daughter was different, but never suspected she would turn out to be this different. She had gotten the feeling throughout the day that she will never again fully understand her daughter, with this new life she's starting. Afraid she'll slip away...

"Mum, look! This is so cool!" Caitlin cries, twirling around, still modeling her school uniform.

"I'm sure the novelty will wear off once school starts. Something tells me it's not going to be easy. You can show your father when he gets home, you can help him understand. Hopefully," she adds.

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Soon enough, the summer draws to a close, and Caitlin and her parents are at King's Cross with her luggage on a trolley. A ginger tabby kitten mews in his basket as he's wheeled in on top of the trunk. "Aw, poor Baby Buttons, we'll be there soon enough and then you're going to make so many new friends!" Caitlin promises her new pet. He'd taken to her the moment she saw him in the shop. She'd reached in her hand between the bars of his kennel and he'd butted his head right in for his ears to be scratched. Certainly the start of a beautiful friendship. They follow the instructions that Professor Burbage had given them to get her to the platform, she hugs her parents goodbye and prepares to charge at the barrier.

"Write whenever you can!" Her mother calls.

"See you at Christmas," adds her father, putting an arm around his wife as they both look a bit misty. Seconds later, they see their daughter vanish through the wall. Pausing a moment to gather themselves, they head back out to the car and drive home.

Meanwhile, Caitlin is wheeling in to Platform 9 ¾, looking awestruck all around her. She never would have imagined there would be so many people, so many kids, "like her". Hastily moving away from the wall to make room for the next arrivals, she goes up the train to look for a free compartment. It's a good thing she left when she did; out of the corner of her eye she sees a whole gaggle of redheads all popping out one after the other, and a boy about her own age with dark hair and glasses. Without a second look she heaves her trunk in and sets her cat's basket on the seat next to her. She looks out at the clock, it's almost 11, just about time for them to be off. There's a sensation of butterflies in her stomach as she thinks of what she's heading to. Without wasting a second, she changes into her school robes. Then Caitlin rummages around at the bottom of her trunk for the wizarding coins that were left from her school shopping trip. Stuffing the coins in her pocket, she closes her trunk and tucks it out of the way. It's then that the door slides open and three girls enter. Instinctively, Caitlin cringes back, scooting into the farthest corner of the compartment. At school, it had always been in her best interest to stay out of the way whenever possible. Two of the girls look at her with raised eyebrows.

"Hey, what's your problem?" One of them demands as she sits down in the seat across.

"N-nothing."

The second girl slides in next to the first, looking at her curiously, with a touch of sympathy now. The third sits right next to Caitlin, "Hi, I'm Susan. What's your name?"

"Caitlin," she whispers, looking at her feet. "Sorry," she gasps habitually.

"Sorry? What are you sorry for?" Susan asks.

"I dunno, being in the way? I don't know, I'm just..." Caitlin trails off, still not looking at any of her traveling companions.

By now Susan can tell that Caitlin must be so accustomed to being bullied that she expects it by default. "Hey, I don't bite. You're not in anyone's way." She turns to the other two girls, "Guys, she's scared."

"It's my first day, too, but I'm not acting like a little freak," the first girl snips, her nose wrinkled in distaste. "Get her to snap out of it, she's creeping me out."

"There's plenty of room in the other compartments, if it's that much trouble for you."

Scowling at the rest of them, the first girl leaves with her nose in the air. "Probably a Mudblood," she mutters disdainfully.

The other remaining girl takes out a book to read, unconcerned. Privately, she hopes Caitlin will grow a backbone. That's no way to go through life.

Susan goes back to her attempt at making friends with someone who may have never had one before. "Did they hurt you?" Caitlin nods. "Muggles?" Another nod and a murmured assent. "Your parents?"

"No! No, not them, they...didn't know. I didn't tell them. I didn't want them to worry. If I tattled on the ones who did it, it would only have gotten worse. So much worse."

"At school," Susan assesses. "Why?"

Caitlin gives a loud sniff, "Cuz I'm a freak. They all hate me. Because...because I'm a witch." She whispers the last word.

"They knew? Muggles aren't supposed to know-"

"They didn't really know, they all called me that, though. Because I like magic and those kind of stories. But they all told me it was all just make-believe, and only dumb kids got into that stuff when they're older than seven or eight. They were horrible to me. Call me names, trip me, gang up on me in gym class, take my stuff...I'd always wished witches were real and good and like regular people."

Susan giggles in spite of her woebegone companion, "Well, we are. I guess they have to think we're just made up or they'd come looking for us, wouldn't they? Caitlin, it's true, there are lots of us, and you're one, too. I'm sorry kids at home were so mean to you, but you don't have to worry about them anymore."

The other girl peers over her book. She'd grown up in a primarily magical neighborhood, and had been homeschooled up until she was old enough to start at Hogwarts. Her parents taught her that it's wrong to make sport of Muggles just because they were different; they're all people after all. She'd never considered that Muggles would give a magical child hell for being a witch, or even just showing interest in those types of subjects. Poor kid, she thinks with a short sigh.

"You know, I think things are going to get a lot better for you now," Susan supposes. "Want to be friends?"

This suggestion was just as mind-blowing as the revelation that she was a witch. Her eyes go wide and she nods and inches out of her corner of the compartment. Then, the basket between them rattles and mews, demanding attention. "Oh, Baby Buttons, I forgot! I was going to let you out of there once we were off!" Caitlin cries, opening the lid and scooping up her kitten. Petting him consolingly, she coos over him in a motherly way. "We're going on a trip, Mister B, we're going to...someplace better, I hope. This is Susan, she wants to be friends, too!" She holds her cat out for her new friend to greet properly, the beginnings of a shaky smile twitch her face. "I'm...sorry I'm so...weird, I just—I never—I..."

"You've never been friends with anyone?"

Turning her attention back to her kitten, she admits, "Never for long, they usually moved away, or got convinced by the others not to be friends with me."

Baby Buttons crawls over to Susan's lap, getting a delighted smile out of her. "I like your cat, he's such a pretty kitty."

"I always wanted a cat, my parents wouldn't let me have one before because they didn't think I could handle the responsibility. When it said in my letter that I'd be allowed to have a pet, they figured it would be a good time to try it. They said at the pet shop that he's big enough to start hunting for himself. Think there'll be mice for him to catch?"

"Well, Hogwarts is a big, old castle, I bet there are. If not, I'm sure you can buy food for him or just feed him table scraps if he lacks the killer instinct. I love cats, but mum's allergic."

"I think boy cats are friendlier than girl cats. From the ones I saw at the shop, anyway."

From behind her book, the other girl smiles to herself, pleased that these two are making friends so easily, when it obviously wasn't something that Caitlin was used to. Good thing she has a cat, they give people plenty to talk about.

In a few minutes, the door slides open, and a cheerful looking woman stands before them and asks if they'd like something from the trolley.

Clutching her money tightly, Caitlin stands up, amazed by the variety of treats that she sees. "How much is all this?"

"You're a Muggle-born, aren't you?" the trolley lady whispers confidentially. Caitlin nods, now apprehensive. "Let's see how much you have." Caitlin opens her hand and reveals a mass of sweat-covered gold, silver, and bronze. "Hmm, four galleons, six sickles, ten knuts. You could buy me out," she laughs, kindly exaggerating. Caitlin's expression brightens and she selects cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, and pumpkin juice for her and her compartmentmates.

She returns and doles out the goodies, looking a little shy with the girl who is still a stranger to her. "Oh, you didn't have to do that. I'm not even in your year. My name's Katie Bell, I'm a Gryffindor second year." When she sees how wrong-footed this makes Caitlin look, she accepts her offer. "Thank you, though."

A relieved smile springs onto her face as Caitlin sits with her friend once more. "I've never had any of this before. I didn't even know you could juice a pumpkin."

"I have it all the time at home, it's my favorite. Dad says it's good for me, but I don't let that stop me," Susan jokes.

"It's real, it's all really real! I'm going to school to become a witch! This is the best day of my life!" Caitlin laughs with manic glee.

The train chugs onward, the landscape changing as they go. There's so much to see out the windows that there's not much need to talk. They pass by woods and fields, and soon the sun starts to creep down to meet the horizon. Soon, a rough voice is heard from the corridor. "Firs' years! Firs' years, follow me!" All of the youngest students scramble out obediently. Caitlin bites back a shriek when she sees the owner of the voice. She'd never seen or even imagined such a huge, wild-looking man as this! And they were meant to follow him? Still, she allowed this man to lead her off the train and to a small fleet of boats. She caught up with Susan and got in the boat with her and two boys. The boats shoved off, steering themselves for their first look at their new school and home. The sight of the castle was spectacular, silhouetted strikingly in the moonlight. They reached their stopping point and entered the castle, all of them feeling a sudden rush of nerves.

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Caitlin watches the Sorting with interest, peering over the sea of tall pointed hats. Her friend Susan is put in Hufflepuff House, definitely the silliest-sounding name of them all, but from what the Sorting Hat had told in its song, it certainly sounded like the best one to be in. She'd never imagined a place where fair play and over-all goodness was so valued. As each student is assigned a House, they get a round of applause from the school at large, especially from the House that the child was placed in. One boy in particular gets an unusually loud and prolonged applause as his House is declared. She wonders who he is, she's certain he's the same kid she saw on the platform that morning. Others are pointing at him and whispering, making her wonder what all the fuss is about. "That's Harry Potter! The Harry Potter! Wow, it's really him!" she hears from all corners of the Hall. Remembering how many of her nastier classmates tended to get made much of like this back home, her lip curls in an involuntary sneer. Whoever he is, she's not impressed. No one that young needs to be treated like a celebrity. Before long, Caitlin's name is called to try on the school's Sorting Hat, it falls over her eyes and a voice speaks in her ear.

"Hmm, very interesting. Pure of heart, values fairness, but what's this? A thirst for vengeance? Curious combination. Your innocence masks a bitter and unforgiving anger. Slytherin would help you get revenge, to show your enemies what you're really made of, but then again...Moreso than vengeance you crave acceptance and justice. Well, which is it?"

She sits up there for a long time as the hat debates her fate, she doesn't know enough about either house to put in a word of preference. The older students already seated whisper among each other. There hadn't been a Hatstall at Hogwarts for a few years, and they're always a curiosity. A few look at their watches, fifteen seconds to go.

"-better be Hufflepuff!" the hat cries and Caitlin takes her seat next to Susan, who looks happy and relieved.

"We thought you were going to be a Hatstall," Susan tells her, "It sure took long with you."

"What's that mean?"

"Someone who takes over a minute for the hat to decide. Where else was it thinking of putting you?"

"Slytherin," Caitlin answers, giving the other long table a look. She sees a lot of sneering, unpleasant faces along it, part of her is glad to be among friendlier-looking fellows. Still...might they have helped her get back at her tormentors?

A fourth year Hufflepuff boy catches their conversation and interjects, "Trust me, you're better off here. That lot would sell out their supposed friends the second the opportunity struck. If it was worth their while. Funny it was stuck between them and us. You won't find two more dissimilar Houses."

Their conversation is interrupted as Professor Dumbledore calls their attention. With a few well-chosen words, the start of term feast begins. Caitlin forgets all about houses and their reputations as the food magically appears in front of them. "Where does all of this come from?"

Again, the fourth year boy answers, "Down in the kitchens. Over a hundred house elves live down there, they do the cooking and tidying up for the castle. They send the food up by magic and it appears on our tables. That's another reason it's good to be a Hufflepuff; our common room is right next to the school kitchens and some of us are friendly with the house elves who do the cooking. If they know it's your birthday, they'll send up something special for you."

"House elves? Like the shoemaker's elves?" Caitlin asks, entranced.

While the students from wizarding homes looked at her quizzically, a Muggle-born second year affirms. "Something like that."

"It's all real, it's really real!" Caitlin says to herself again.

The second year girl smiles and feels the need to introduce herself, "I'm Lizzie Roberts. It takes some getting used to, doesn't it? It'll all feel normal soon enough."

Caitlin agrees, giving her name in return. As she eats, she imagines how many elves must be living right under their feet, cooking away to make this marvelous feast. And they get to live right next to them, maybe she'd sneak out one night and go visit them! She feels like some wild animal that had been raised in a zoo all her life finally returned to her natural habitat. Everything she'd ever hoped for and was fascinated by was real and it was here. She wished her parents could see her now, and made a mental note to write to them as soon as she could.

"Can we write letters home?"

Lizzie makes an upward gesture with her fork, "Sure," she mumbles with her mouth full. "The owlery is right out that way. That's where the post owls live. Any student can use them. Just tell it where you want it delivered and it'll get there."

"Even to Muggles?"

"You'll have to give the full address the first time, but these owls are smart, they'll remember. Perfect sense of direction. My parents still aren't used to getting letters that way. They're glad I write, but Dad says it gives Mum a fright every time," she adds with a grin.

Desserts appear next, making Caitlin wish she hadn't eaten so much already, still she finds room for some apple pie. When these, too, fade away, their attention is called back to the Head Table where announcements are given before they're sent off to bed. Prefects lead the way to their common room, teaching the newcomers to tap the right rhythm on the right barrel to be let in.

"It's how we keep the other houses out. Ours might seem the simplest to get into, since there isn't a password, but our common room has never been seen by an outsider," the prefect tells them with a touch of pride. He leads them in and Caitlin's eyes go wide yet again. It's the most beautiful room she could have imagined! All polished wood and brass and copper, even in the nighttime it shone like the sun. A cozy fire crackled away amid comfortable-looking chairs and sofa; banners and hangings of bold yellow and black, numerous potted plants were situated among it all. It looks like a snug, winding burrow with perfectly round doorways and passages. All over the place are images of badgers: carved, embroidered, burned into wood...

"I'm Cedric, by the way," the boy she'd spoken to earlier tells her.

She giggles a little, nervously, "Sorry, but that's kind of a funny name. What's with all the badgers in here?"

"It's our House symbol. We don't start a fight but we'll finish one," he tells her with a grin.

"They're beautiful."

"They might look cute and fuzzy, but they're fierce when they need to be. Like us," Cedric adds. "Go on to the girls' dormitory, it's late. Classes start bright and early."

Caitlin goes to her dorm and finds her things already had been brought in and laid out for her. Her kitten had even been tended to, she finds a litter box and dishes filled with cat food and water for him. Baby Buttons is snoozing comfortably at the foot of her bed, awaiting the return of his mistress. As she gets into bed, though, she's struck with unease. The Sorting Hat had found Slytherin values in her, did she really belong in this sunshiney room, with friendly and fair people? They were like no one she'd ever met before. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that as much as she desired them, she knows nothing of such things as this House represents. Perhaps the Sorting Hat had made a mistake... Perhaps it is in the underhanded underworld of lies and deceit that she would be more at home. She certainly has more familiarity with those sorts of things. Honesty, goodness, while attractive, were entirely foreign. She creeps out of bed, getting a startled prrt! sound from her alarmed cat, and she goes back to the common area where she finds Cedric still up. Before he can say anything against her being up again she requests quietly, "I need to talk to someone, a teacher I think."

"Why?"

"I don't know if the Sorting Hat chose right for me. Who can I talk to?"

Cedric thinks for a moment before sighing, "Follow me." She obeys, trotting after him as they wind around the halls, until they reach the teacher's lounge. He finds both Professor Snape and Professor Sprout getting their lesson plans in order for the next day. "Excuse me, Professors, but Miss Stand is worried she may have been put in the wrong House."

"Oh, really?" Professor Sprout asks, "You were put in Hufflepuff, but where else did it consider putting you?"

"Slytherin," she answers, making Professor Snape flinch. He'd seen his share of Sortings in his time, and it seemed every year there was a smattering of students who initially felt at odds with the House that was selected for them, but the choice between Hufflepuff and Slytherin always seemed quite clear-cut. No room for debate, you're either one or the other. These two Houses hosted no similarities between their core values. He looks at her steadily, his eyes boring into hers, giving her the feeling that she's being scanned.

"Yes, that is strange. A most unusual combination. If you don't mind, Pomona, I will speak with her." Professor Sprout nods and leaves the room with Cedric, to give them a private interview.

Professor Snape regards her oddly; he'd never really thought much of Hufflepuffs. He'd always preferred his own Slytherin students, naturally. Next, the Ravenclaws, at least they showed some desire to prove themselves and to learn. Gryffindors he despised on principle. A load of swaggering, arrogant bullies who felt the world owed them everything. But he honestly had to say that he'd never really considered Hufflepuffs that strongly. They hardly ever won the House Cup, they were too busy playing fair and being nauseatingly cheerful. Yet here was a child torn between that and his own House. He looks through her, scanning her thoughts, touching on memories. There, that's what the Sorting Hat saw, and recognized as Slytherin.

"They hurt you. That's what fuels your desire for revenge." It's a statement, not a question. Yet she remains pure of heart. She still trusts, still craves fairness and acceptance, and that's how they keep hurting her. Lord, they get her where she lives, Snape groans inwardly. It had taken hateful remarks and actions to twist someone who would be inherently good and kind into someone who knows only lies and trickery, and expects nothing else. She lacked the cunning of the serpent, but her experience had been nearly enough to tip the scales.

"Yes, sir," she confirms needlessly.

"You wouldn't last in Slytherin," he tells her honestly, adopting a harsh tone to keep his stirring sympathies in check. "Oh, you'd learn, you might even thrive...but you...would no longer be you. What the Sorting Hat recognized as Slytherin marks was your pain, which is the cause of your anger and your desire for cold, sweet revenge. Take my advice," he whispers, "Don't heed the pain, or the ones who inflicted it upon you will have ultimately won. Your best revenge right now is to rise above it. You're no Slytherin. Go back to Hufflepuff, soak up all their goody two-shoes business they can dish out, you need it. You need it." He'd never admit it to anyone, least of all this child, but he saw himself in her. The cringing demeanor, anticipating the next blow, she could easily share his fate. A hate-filled, angry person with no understanding or use for compassion. "Do you understand?"

Caitlin nods, somehow able to understand that beneath his biting tone he's trying to save her. "There's something else I'm afraid of."

"What's that?"

"What if I hate Muggles?"

Snape sighs, "Your parents are Muggles, aren't they?" She nods. "Do you hate them?" Still silent, she shakes her head. "The people you hate, is it because they're Muggles, or is it because of the way they treated you?"

"Cuz of how they treated me," she murmurs.

"If the people who were cruel to you had been witches and wizards, would you hate them just the same?" She nods, looking increasingly upset. "Don't give in to the pain!" he barks sharply as he sees her eyes cloud over in an unhappy memory. "Hate is useless, it only hurts the one who wields it. You have a right to be angry, even sad, but don't wallow in it. Have some dignity for gods' sakes! You're a witch!"

Then she makes a striking observation, "They hurt you, too, didn't they?" Snape's eyes flash in anger, his lip curls into a snarl, but he doesn't deny it. He never would have imagined admitting such a thing, to a child of all people—a Hufflepuff child! Caitlin cocks her head curiously, "I'm sorry." She gets up to leave, feeling her dilemma was over, and much more comfortable with the Sorting Hat's decision. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

"What for?" he spits.

"For being nice to me. You really helped. I feel a lot better." And she leaves with a smile on her face and a song on her lips. Snape sits staring after her, stunned. He'd just been offered genuine sympathy, gratitude, and kindness in turn, something he'd never had since...happier times. Strange child, he ponders. As the door closes behind her he sits silently, shell-shocked. He'd just given a first year student a pep-talk, tried to rouse up a sense of self-worth. Why? Why had he done this instead of scaring her off or tossing her aside? He looks back at the door. Why didn't he do this for more students? When he'd pierced her memory, felt her pain, he'd found something else there that had unsettled him...bloodlust. Slytherin House would have played right into it and destroyed her. If anyone needed the sunshine and happiness exuded by the silly Hufflepuffs, it was this girl, who'd probably never heard a kind word from her peers in her life. Her anger is great, and deep for someone so young. There is darkness lurking within that trusting heart. Snape hopes that her cure isn't too late in coming. The other students would have no idea that she arrived close to the snapping point. She'd already had enough and was ready to crack at the next person to pull a prank on her or give a smart remark. He has hope that her new surroundings and classmates might help quell the storm before it comes to a head. He's seen anger like Caitlin's, he'd borne it himself in a similar time in his life, and he knows first-hand that the destruction it wreaks can be widespread and incurable.

Cedric and Professor Sprout are waiting in the hall to be called in when Caitlin skips past them happily. "He thinks I'd do better in Hufflepuff," she tells them simply. "I think he's right." With that business over, Professor Sprout gives her a nod and a pat on the shoulder. "If anything like this bothers you again, feel free to track me down. My door is always open." Assured that the girl already looks better, she goes back to her lesson plans.

As Cedric leads her back to their common room, he studies her. "That was it? He said you'd do better with us, and that's it?"

"Well, mostly. He said Slytherin would help me get back at the people who hurt me, but then I wouldn't be me anymore. I'd lose myself. I was afraid, though, that I wouldn't be a good Hufflepuff because I don't know about all that honesty and loyalty stuff the hat talked about. I know what the words mean, of course, and that they're good, but..."

And then Cedric can see how the Sorting Hat was torn between the two houses. It recognized her desire for loyalty and fairness, but she had no understanding of such concepts. She could have easily been twisted into a model Slytherin, morally bankrupt as she was made by her young experiences. Someone who craves kindness but knows only cruelty and deception will not know how to be kind at first. To someone so unfamiliar, she would take it as sarcasm or mocking, and then self-destructively drive potential friends away. She has a lot to learn and to unlearn. "You'll have help. We get kids here all the time who've been mistreated. It'll take time, but you'll do all right. I think the hat chose right for you, too. Funny that Snape would talk you out of Slytherin, though."

Back in the teacher's lounge, Professor Snape tells Professor Sprout his concerns for Caitlin Stand. Professor Sprout looks troubled, "I'll keep an eye on her," she promises. "I think it's a good match for her, though. She has a lot to learn, I hope she can before she does herself a mischief. Poor child."

"I think we got her in time, Pomona. She is still young, pliable. She would do well with some involvement," Snape suggests. "Find a group for her to join, even just collecting Chocolate Frog cards."

Professor Sprout is surprised that Snape is taking such an interest in the girl, but agrees with his suggestion. "You're right. If she has something in common with other classmates, and feels accepted, that would help immensely. She'll be shy at first, but hopefully we can coax her out. Charity told me that Miss Stand has had positive magical role models in her upbringing, clearly fictional, but still better than nothing. She may improve just with finding a class she likes. Being good at something, or at least enjoying the subject can do wonderful things for one's self esteem."

Caitlin crawls in through the barrel after Cedric and she hops to her feet, already feeling at home in this strange new place. She thanks Cedric and goes back off to bed, thinking of her recent interview with Professor Snape. Baby Buttons crawls up and cuddles under her chin, purring contentedly. She pets him idly, her mind still on the Potions master. He'd been hurt, too. Maybe that's why he was put in Slytherin. He let the hurt take over him. That's sad.