As students flooded the Great Hall, Amarea stared at the empty plate in front of her. A variety of food sat on the High Table: fried eggs, sausage links, bacon, an assortment of pastries, tea, juices, and anything else that she could think of. 

"I suggest the raspberry scones." Amarea looked over at Dumbledore, who was currently readjusting his half-moon glasses. Humming, she takes a sip of her tea. "Or those," Dumbledore says after a few moments, pointing to a large cinnamon roll. 

"I'm not hungry," Amarea replies, shaking her head. 

Ignoring his protests, she looks around the room. Rain fell harshly onto the ground outside and owls flew into the hall, water droplets falling onto the students. They dropped off all sorts of letters and packages, both large and small. McGonagall walked between the tables, handing out schedules, occasionally stopping to chat with the tired teenagers. 

"So...what exactly am I doing here?"

"That is for you to decide," Dumbledore replies cheerily. "Although I do suggest keeping an eye on Harry."

---

Leaning on the cool stone, Amarea runs her fingers over it, appreciating the smooth texture. She was glad it was a gloomy day; she didn't have to worry about the sun. People stood in huddles around the yard and a fine misty drizzle was now falling. Still nervous about the outside world, she decided it would be best to have a roof over her head, opting to stand on the edge of an outside hallway. 

At the sound of footsteps behind her, Amarea tenses, standing up and looking over her shoulder. At the sight of the boy, she returns to her original position, releasing a breath. Although she didn't want to be bothered, Amarea was glad that he wasn't a threat - not that there should be any threats at Hogwarts in the first place. 

"Who are you?"

"Amarea."

The blond boy rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I'm not stupid." He places his hands in his pockets, studying her.

"You look the part," Amarea says, smirking to herself lightly. 

His mouth falls open at her sentence, and he walks closer, leaning against a pillar and turning to face her. "You're not a mudblood...are you?"

Scrunching up her nose, Amarea turns to face him, "I assume you're pure-blooded then. Wouldn't expect any different from a Malfoy." Draco nods proudly. "I honestly don't think my blood status is any of your concern." Looking up at Draco, she raises an eyebrow, "Is that all you needed?"

"How do you know Sirius Black?"

"Who wants to know," she asks, already knowing the answer. "Just you?" Draco nods slowly, and she rolls her eyes. "So you already told your father about that...you work fast, I'll give you that."

His mouth falls open slightly; he closes it after a moment, not sure how to respond to the acquisition. "I'm not stupid, Draco. I know about your family. Besides, I'm glad you told him...it's about time."

If Lucius Malfoy knew, then so did they. And if they knew...

So did he.

---

Amarea had walked into Severus' classroom thirty minutes ago, and they were still arguing. "Get out of the chair."

"No."

Snape sighs, rubbing his eye tiredly. "Seriously? I don't have time for this." He jabs his thumb behind him, referring to the line of students outside the classroom.

Flicking her wand, a stool flies through the air, almost hitting the man. It lands beside Amarea, who was sitting in what was once Snape's desk chair. Getting up from his crouching position, he glares at her. "Come sit, Sev." 

The potions professor ignores her, walking over to the door, which creaks as he opens it. Students filed into the classroom, eyeing Amarea. "Settle down," Snape says coldly, making Amarea scrunch up her nose. She understood why he acted differently around others, she did the same thing. However, that didn't mean that she liked it; she much preferred the Severus that she had grown up with. 

"Before we begin today's lesson, I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape by with an Acceptable on your O.W.L., or suffer my...displeasure. Amarea will also be joining us in the lesson. Ignore her."

"Rude," Amarea says quietly, scoffing under her breath.

Not paying attention to her comment, he continues, "After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me. I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye." Amarea notes how his eyes rest on Harry, watching his lip curl at him. Harry glares back. "But," Snape says, "we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell. So, whether you intend to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining..."

A movement on her neck, makes Amarea reach her hand up. Two snakes, one larger than the other curl around her hand. She strokes them slightly, letting the smaller one wrap around her hand. The larger of the pair settles back around her neck after readjusting, falling back into a comfortable state. Looking back up, she catches Draco's stare. Not holding the gaze, she finds Harry in the class, who looked like he was sweating. His cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks.

Getting up from her chair, she walks over to them. Snape follows her closely, looking at Hermione's product first. The surface of her potion was a shimmering mist of silver vapor, and Amarea looked over at the board. Hermione's potion looked almost perfect for a Draught of Peace potion.

Snape looks down at Harry's with a smirk, "Potter, what is this supposed to be?" The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry. 

"The Draught of Peace," Harry says tensely. 

"Tell me, Potter," Snape says softly, "can you read?"

Amarea turned her head at the sound of a laugh, glaring at the blond boy. After glaring at him a while, she turns back around, looking at Severus and Harry.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

Harry shakes his head, responding quietly, "No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," Harry says, louder the is time. "I forgot the hellebore..."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is entirely wort-"

"Severus," Amarea says harshly, making everyone's head snap in her direction. Turning to Harry, she gives him a reassuring nod, "It's a simple mistake, Harry. Next time, just make sure you add the hellebore syrup; it's essential. Evanesco." With a wave of her wand, his potion vanishes, and Harry is left standing with an empty cauldron.