I don't own Harry Potter or any of his universe. Sadly.

Trembling my way up to the stool I could hear mummers whipping around the great hall like a violent wind. I was not conceited enough to think that the attention was due to my appearance, I have the long, dark hair of old Italy and my eyes are wide and framed by long, brown lashes. But the shape of my face did not compliment these features at all; my cheeks-bones a little too broad, my ears a touch too prominent. I have never been ashamed of my looks as they were a gift to me from generations of Italian ancestors and a clear signal to my Mediterranean heritage. Nevertheless, I knew why students had cast each other wary looks as I walked forward to take my place under the hat and be sorted: I was an outsider in a time of war.

I had only recently come to this country, escaping our problems back home, but I had felt it straight away. The fear which was slowly making its way across the water into Europe, and my old home, had already gripped this country with its tight and merciless claws. This kingdom had been left with three options, and now was the time for preparation. These were people readying themselves to fight, flee or submit when faced with the threat of death. I had walked, a stranger, into a school uncertain of trusting anybody.

Whispers and unsure looks were exchanged at three of the five tables as I sat on the stool. Two remained silent. One of these soundless tables belonged to the experienced faces of the teachers, which did not trouble me at all. But at the other table, silent as the grave, my gaze did not rest on the faces of professors, but on the cold, hard eyes of children. Varying ages, but all dressed in black robes with a rim of green.

This must be the Slytherin table. I thought, dreading being placed in that house with those students. My own face would soon turn cold and hard if that were all it were to see everyday.

But there he was. Sat amongst the grim expressions, his own eyes cold and his expression emotionless. Could what Luna said really be true? Was his heart closed off to all? Even to his own house, his own friends? I looked at the people around him. Could they all really be as detached and unaffected as they looked? Please not that house. Putting my heart behind these words, I allowed myself to hope for a place at another, more friendly table. I need friends, real friends. Good people to repair the heart my old ones ripped apart.

Immediately I forced myself to cut off these thoughts, even just remembering their names would be painful. I mustn't think of them, or I'll dream of them. The friends that turned away from me. The people I thought I could trust with my secret were the very ones whom…. I wouldn't be able to bear the day if I kept thinking bad thoughts. They hurt me too much. This is your new home now Brianna, make it a good one. Squeezing my eyes shut, I placed the tattered hat low over my eyes.

'Why…'

I felt my stomach contract with surprise; the hat had spoken in my ear! It was a very strange experience but I refused to make a fool of myself while I knew he was watching. So I sat still while it continued.

'I see many things in you… an unusual combination indeed. Fierce, yet no fear of hard work. I see you have suffered, oh yes, but what do you need?'

I sat still as stone, waiting.

'There is something drawing you towards Slytherin,'

Draco's face flashed before my eyes.

'But that would prove problematic I think. No, too much loyalty for that. Yes, I think this'll be the stuff, I'm putting you in...'

'HUFFLEPUFF!' the hat cried to the Great hall at large.

A table to my right clapped and cheered. As I ducked my head out of the hat I felt my face flush bright red with embarrassment and pleasure. I hurried over to what was now my new 'house'.

A boy and a girl, whom looked about my age, moved apart to make room for me. I slipped in between them before meeting their eyes and grinning my thanks. The girl with brown hair smiled at me, her smile doing more than just reaching her eyes, but filling them too.

'Susan Bones' she said, her tone warm and welcoming. 'It'll be nice to have another Huffelpuff girl in our dorm; we're a bit outnumbered at the moment!'

I just beamed.

'This is Justin,' she gestured to the boy who had moved up for me.

He nodded, sandy coloured hair bobbing as he did so.

'And I'm Hannah.' A girl with blond plaits across the table from me stuck out her hand

I took it and smiled.

'I'm Brianna. I'm pleased I can help even out the numbers a bit. I Know all too well what its like to be attacked by immaturity everywhere you go.'

Susan and Hannah laughed loudly while Justin just rolled his eyes, but he did it over dramatically, so I knew he was joking. For a second worry clamped my insides. I was afraid they would ask too many questions, and I really didn't know what to tell people about my past yet, but I needn't have worried as Justin only has the chance to say

'We're all sixth years, same as you.'

Before professor McGonagall began sorting the first years and made any chance of an uninterrupted conversation impossible.

The sorting flowed from one student to the next, only a few mishaps making it memorable. One boy tripped just as he reached his newly assigned table, and flung out his hands to grab the thing closest to him for support. Unfortunately, the thing closest to him was the ghost of a young woman in a medieval dress and he fell, face first, through her lap! The whole school laughed as the sprawling boy tried to drag himself out from under her chair, batted by the feet of the affronted lady. Next to me Justin laughed loudly as the furiously blushing boy dipped his head at her and stuttered an apology before practically sprinting to a space on his bench.

Eventually the laughter died down. As an extortionate amount of food appeared on the large tables and Hannah began a conversation about her holiday. The company of these people was comfortable, their laughter good natured and easy. Already I felt like I would settle into life as a Hogwarts student with no trouble with housemates like these.

However, the loyalty and compassion of all of Hufflepuff, was not enough to prevent Justin from being a typical boy. He was oblivious to the frequent glances from a girl further down the table, although I noticed them within minutes. At a moment when he and Hannah were caught up in an argument about whose summer had been worst, I leaned to Susan and asked in a hushed tone

'So, is he ignoring her or can he really not tell?'

She looked puzzled, but caught on quickly once I'd flicked my eyes subtly towards the girl in question. As I did this, I caught sight of the blond, Draco boy, but ignored the clutch in my stomach at the sight of him, and focussed on Susan.

'Oh, Sally-Anne.' She informed. 'She's loved him since first year I think. It's a shame, because he genuinely has no idea.'

She giggled a little bit and even the tone of her laughter was warm.

'We've tried to make him notice her as a woman' she winked, 'A couple of times now we've arranged accidental meetings and such, but he refuses to make it easy for us. Too loyal to their friendship to see her as more than a friend.' A shadow crossed her face and she lowered her voice.

'At least that's what Sally-Anne finds easiest to believe.' Her eyes darted towards the girl, 'All Hufflepuff girls in on the secret are sworn to secrecy and under strict instructions not to ask him about her. So we've never found out how he feels about her for sure.'

Her voice was serious and sombre as she spoke of this promise. This was puzzling. Back home we told those we liked that we liked them. Usually with not- so-subtle glances and flirtations, but something would generally be done. There is no shame in feelings. Confused and thinking of these hidden emotions, my mind drifted into the past, but was suddenly jolted back from my old home to my new school in Scotland by the whispers sweeping all four corners of the room.

I recognised him immediately. Harry Potter, the boy who lived. He walked straight-backed through the tables, but there was no arrogance in his stride. Then he passed my table. My mouth dropped open when I saw his face. Although he did not look harmed, blood was smeared down his chin and was still wet on his robes beneath. This was the first time which I had encountered Harry Potter, and he looked like he had just walked out of an adventure from a story.

I only found out later that it had actually been the fist of the boy I struggled not to stare at all evening, and not a courageous act, which caused the blood to drip sickeningly onto his tie.

As I finally lay my head on my new yellow pillow that night, after bidding good-night to the other girls in my dorm, I finally thought over what Luna had said about Draco. Staring up at the canopy above, I thought of the story she had told me of a man named Lucius. A cold hearted father who showed his son no love. How this son in turn never showed love to others. Pushed away from those who should love him, he protected himself subconsciously by keeping others away. This boy became the cause of his own loneliness. As he grew, he developed the belief that he was better than everyone else and his father encouraged him in this; the only thing in which he ever had. By the time he was on the brink of manhood he had, through cruelty and viciousness, become the 'Prince of Slytherin'. And the tale only got worse.

This boy carried with him the appalling views of his parents, handed down to him like a torch. Views about the purity of blood. Disgusting ideas that repulsed me and made my head hurt just by thinking about them. Nevertheless, my heart still hurt for the young man. A boy neglected by his father, a child growing up friendless and unloved. He was guided by his upbringing to be the very man he was, and a terrible sadness filled me as I thought of my own little brother growing up alone and troubled; his life full of so many problems already. His problems the reason we'd had to leave Italy so hurriedly. That night I cried myself to sleep for the two boys who would always suffer for their past.

My dreams must have felt the pain from my day as I saw disturbing things in them. Once I saw a large double bed with green and silver sheets, in a large and coldly furnished room. He lay on the bed. His pale limbs sprawled out, yet only taking up one space, the bed was so large. Before my eyes, time seemed to speed up and race itself. The sun coming up and down, making light flicker through the curtains erratically. Days were passing. The lines on his face grew in number and depth. His hair turned to silver then on to white alarmingly quickly as he lay there still on his giant bed. I watched the sand of his life trickling away, but the space on the other side, remained empty. Then the dream ended without warning, and I was left awake in the dark night with the uncomfortable knowledge that he had died alone.