AN: This does have a bit of Suspian, yes. But let me clarify, I've made a few timeline changes. One, it's in the nineties, so yeah.. Also, Susan is going into her fifth year at sixteen, with Harry and co., when she looses everyone in The Last Battle. Enjoy!

I kept my head down as I walked through King's Cross Station, so I didn't have to meet anyone's eyes. Especially Cho Chang's. Don't get me wrong, I'm okay with the older Ravenclaw girl, but she's been weepy over Cedric Diggory's death, and although it was quite sad, it's not as tragic as finding out that your siblings all just died over the summer.

"Be good this year, Susan." Aunt Alberta said. She looked much older than she had the last time I'd seen her, but then again, that was before she lost her own son, my cousin. Bags were under her eyes, and her hair was much grayer than it had been.

"I will." I promised. My voice sounded hollow.

"Remember to...come home over the holidays." Uncle Harold said slowly. I nodded. We were the only family left, now. We had to be together as much as possible.

"I will." I promised.

"Well, goodbye, then." Uncle Harold said awkwardly. He and Aunt Alberta walked away, leaving me alone on Platform 9 and 3/4 with my trunk, owl, and carpetbag. I bought a Daily Prophet for the train ride at the news stand, and boarded the train. My trunk was in the luggage coach, and I took a drafty, empty compartment by the end of the train station. I fingered my Time-Turner around my neck.

I had one for classes, in order to take multiple classes at one time. After my siblings were reported dead, I threw myself into my classes, and requested extra classes from Professor Flitwick. In addition to Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures, I'd added Divination, Alchemy, and Magical Theory. More advanced electives, but I could handle it. Besides, it helped me forget the pain that several deaths had left, even fictional ones from that little game that my siblings and I used to play.

I opened up my Daily Prophet. More slander about Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. He claimed that You-Know-Who had returned, and was the killer of Cedric Diggory. The Ministry of Magic claimed that Cedric Diggory had died in an accident during the last round of the Triwizard Tournament, and that Harry Potter was just mad. I didn't know what to believe, but Potter didn't seem mad to me, but then again, madness is never evident from a distance, in my experience.

What did catch my attention, however, was an article with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

UNDERSECRETARY DELORES UMBRIDGE TEACHING DEFENCE AT HOGWARTS

By Margaret Relding

It's been rumored that the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts is jinxed. This year, only woman was brave enough to take the post up. May I remind you that werewolves, frauds, and mad men have taken this post, under Dumbledore's so-called vigilant watch, so hopefully Madam Umbridge will bring some security to the table. Minister Cornelius Fudge commented that, "We hope Madam Umbridge will bring some much-needed change to Hogwarts."

For how she'll do exactly that, turn to page 22.

I remembered Professor Lupin. He seemed nice, for a teacher, and certainly taught us quite a bit. Was it worth judging all werewolves off of actions of a few, like Fenir Greyback? I'd heard nasty things about him, but if I were Queen, I'd-

I stopped myself. Narnia isn't real, I reminded myself. It was just a childish game you used for some comfort in your quickly-changing life with your siblings. You're a grown-up now-you know better than this.

But you know he was real, don't you? Another little voice in my head asked. He was just a fictional crush based on my unrealistic standards. I reminded myself.

But Caspian- the little voice had gone too far. I'd begun to cry in memory, and I conjured a tissue out of the end of my pale oak wand, and dabbed at the mascara that was beginning to dribble down my cheeks, before it could reach my pristine white shirt that was uniform.

He isn't real.

I got off the train, and placed my trunk on top of another one. I jumped onto the top, and sat down right across from... Cho Chang.

Oh no.

She was crying, too.

"Sniffilus Fil." I casted, and a handkerchief sprouted out of the end of my wand, right out of the part that looked like a lion's mouth, ready to roar. Had it always had that? I couldn't remember, but it reminded me of that horn Father Christmas gave me- in that game.

I handed it to Cho, who blew her nose loudly, sounding like a honking swan.

"I know you must miss him." I said, trying to comfort her.

"What would you know, Susan? You've never lost anyone you truly cared about." Cho cried.

I gasped. Then I remembered- I'd never told Cho, because she never needed to know.

"I have." I said gently. I'd seen death itself, I remembered, seeing the thestrals. In that stupid, childish game. The thestral disappeared. That's unusual.

"Who?" Cho asked.

"I lost my siblings and my cousins just this summer." I explained. Tears began to burn my ducts again. I conjured a handkerchief of my own, and dabbed.

"So that's why Peter isn't here." Cho murmured.

I frowned. Does she only care about Peter, because he might have been a replacement?

"That's right." I confirmed. I looked down at my trembling hands. I'd never scold Edmund to tuck in his sweater again, tuck Lucy into bed again, put my arm around Peter and tell him that everything would be alright...

I felt like I was choking, but I tried to swallow it down. Act normal.

I sat with Mandy Brocklehurst, and Padma Patil once again, and between Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, both of whom were trying to flirt with me. I smiled back, returned a few witty replies, pretended I'd care. Yet none of them would compare to him.

Of course they wouldn't, Susan, I scolded myself harshly. He's made up perfection for you. Unachievable standards. You don't want to end up all alone, do you?

"Hem, hem." Professor Umbridge coughed. Right in the middle of Dumbledore's speech! How impolite! Why, if I were Queen- you were never a queen, Susan- I'd tell her to leave the throne room of Cair Paravel- your stupid made-up palace.

"If I may have a word?" The toad asked. Professor Dumbledore gestured for her to speak.

"How happy I am to see all of your smiling faces!" She said, with a rather creepy-White-Witch (your made-up villainess) kind of smile about her. I knew I wasn't smiling. "I'm sure we will become great friends over the course of the year."

Everyone, especially the Ravenclaw and Slytherin table, looked dismayed at being talked-down to like we were all nine years old.

Aslan never talked down to Lucy, when she was nine. I shook my head slightly. No! There is no Narnia!

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering.

"A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgement.

"Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

With that, the old toad shut up, and sat back down.

"Thank-you, Delores. That was quite...illuminating." Professor Dumbledore said. "Return to your common rooms."

"'Progress for progress's sake must be discouraged?'" I cried upon entry in the common room. "That's the whole point of Ravenclaw, for Aslan's sake!" I clapped a hand over my mouth. Why did that slip out, in front everyone?

"We're all about pursuit of knowledge, just to know!" Terry agreed.

"This means one thing." I then continued. The whole common room, including the ovalmancers, stopped dead, in front of me. I think it was the regality I had when I was Queen of the imaginary Narnia radiating off of me. When I called myself Queen Susan, the Gentle.

"The Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts, and for whatever reason, they don't want us to think for ourselves." I finished.

There was applause except from a few, like Marietta Edgecombe. Children of Ministry workers.

AN: Read, review, and no flames.