Anemone glanced at Erin, her expression first conveying sympathy, then encouragement. "Hey, you know what, I think your stammer is fading," she exclaimed happily. "That's great, it must mean your panic attack is almost gone."

Noticing the Beauxbatons girl squeezing her hand, she gave a flippant laugh, trying to hide her disdain of Fabian. "Oh, don't worry about him, really. He just likes to annoy me because I'm one of the few girls here who're immune to his 'charm'." She mimed quotation marks with her fingers, obviously trying to be humorous and lighten the mood. "Frankly, I think he's a right git, saw him trip a Second-year down a staircase a few days ago."

She tactfully failed to mention that she in turn had subtly performed a Jelly-legs Jinx on the Slytherin boy, causing him to take a tumble down the stairs himself.

"Are you going to be okay going in by yourself?" Anemone then asked as they approached the coach together. "You still have your book, right? Good," she added, confirming her question with a glance. "I'll see you at dinner, then. Tonight, Great Hall, Gryffindor table. Don't forget, don't be late, et cetera, et cetera. Now get some rest, you don't want Madam Pomfrey to come hunting you down like she threatened--er, promised!"

With a last friendly squeeze of the hand and brilliant smile, Anemone gently pushed Erin into the coach and was off.

* * *

THAT VERY SAME EVENING, IN THE GREAT HALL:

"You know your head's going to fall off if you keep looking around like that," Ron Weasley tactlessly informed Anemone as she craned her neck to see who was entering through the Great Hall doors for what must have been the fifth time.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded him, shooting him a death glare before turning to Anemone. "Who are you looking for?"

"Oh, someone I met earlier today from Beauxbatons," Anemone told her, sitting back down in mild disappointment. "She said she'd be here for dinner, but it looks like she hasn't come in yet."

"Well, it's not like the food's even showed up," Ron said, throwing a longing glance at the empty platters lined up in the middle of the tables. "Just give it a rest, would you?"

"RON," Hermione exclaimed in a dangerous tone of voice, causing him to look at her grumpily from the corner of his eye.

"Okay, okay, fine," he muttered. "I was just telling her."

Anemone gave him a mock-wounded look. "You're so mean, Ron Weasley," she pouted. "I made a new friend and you act like it's nothing. Am I going to have to hex you?"

She and Hermione could not help but laugh at his subsequent alarmed expression.

Erin came in looking not unlike Hermione used to before she'd made friends--arms wrapped tightly around a book that she planned to bury her nose in around food. She'd said that she would come see Anemone and her friends, but...she wasn't looking forward to it at -all-. Fortunately, she saw Anemone right away, though she swallowed down the shudder that went down her spine when she saw who she was sitting next to. She'd heard enough of the talk around the school already to know that Ron and Hermione were Harry Potter's right hands.

What sort of people were they? Were they yes men to Harry the same way Lucius Malfoy had always been to her father? She didn't remember any of these things of course, but the one thing she had been given, buried deep in the bottom of her trunk, was a book of photographs of her 'happy family' in the years leading up to her birth and the subsequent year after. No mentions of a mother, Erin had simply appeared in her father's arms one day. But she wasn't going to get wrapped up in her thoughts of the past, especially when it was such an unpleasant past.

She strode boldly up towards the table, but about three quarters of the way there, an errant hex came up from -somewhere-, hidden in amongst one of the tables and coming from origins unknown, to hit her square in the back. She went down like a ton of bricks, and female laughter sprouted up from several places in the hall, along with French accented calls of "Look at Erin!" and "Mangemort!"

She pulled herself to her feet quickly, looking around herself nervously. She seemed to be used to such attacks and hurried to Anemone's side quickly, her cheeks burning with shame. Hopefully, -hopefully-, no one at Hogwarts would know what the French word so many of her classmates had been quick to shout meant.

"ERIN!" Anemone shouted, looking around and seeing the target of the hex and laughter. She shot up from her seat and grasped the girl by the shoulders firmly as she came up. "Who did that to you?! Are you okay?!"

She glared around, trying to find an incriminating face, an outstretched wand, anything. But all she saw was a mixture of surprised, sympathetic, and mocking glances; the last of these came mainly from those clad in Beauxbatons uniforms, although the Slytherin table held its fair share, as well.

Ron took one glance at the girl before jumping to his feet as well, wand held out at the ready.

The sound of running feet came from the direction of the doors, and suddenly Harry was there as well, his own wand out and ready to cast a spell. "What happened?" He demanded of Ron.

"Someone hexed Erin," Anemone cut in, practically shaking with fury. "And she didn't do a thing, nothing!"

"Who was it?" Harry immediately asked, obviously ready to defend the Beauxbaton girl if Anemone and Ron were standing up for her.

"MISTER POTTER!" Came a sudden shout that dimmed down the laughter and mutterings. "MISTER WEASLEY. PUT YOUR WANDS AWAY THIS INSTANT."

Anemone looked around just in time to see Professor McGonagall march down the aisle between tables towards them.

"But Professor--"

"She was--"

"We just--"

"I know," the professor interrupted, her lips a thin, grim line on her face. "I saw what happened, but I will not tolerate a full-out duel in the middle of dinner! Or anywhere else, for that matter!"

"Then did you see who hexed her?" Ron asked much too eagerly, his eyes darting around for a target even as he put his wand away.

"That is enough, Mister Weasley," Professor McGonagall told him. "I will deal with this." Turning to Erin, she asked, "Are you all right, young woman? Do you have any idea who or why someone would do such a cowardly, underhanded act?" She said this last in a quieter tone of voice, trying to keep the possible incoming information between the two of them.

Fortunately the spell had been a simple knock-down hex. Then again, that marked it out as a foreign caster simply for its simplicity--Hogwarts taught hexes that were a bit more whimsical in nature, like jelly-legs and suchlike.

Erin leaned against Anemone for a moment, then tried to slink down into a seat. "It's n-nothing...really it's f-f-fine." She sighed softly, knowing that her classmates were too clever about this sort of thing to get caught. Idly, she wondered if it was Jeanette, to get back at her for having interrupted her flirting time. But no one stuck out more than another, and Erin was more concerned with staying by Anemone and trying to get herself to calm down.

She looked up when she heard another voice though, and for a moment it was as though she'd been hit with a second hex--this time, petrification. Her eyes were wide and she stared at the boy for several moments. Was he...really that oblivious that he'd try and help her just because someone had...

Wait.

He -didn't- know who she was. There was no way for him -to- know. She gulped down air like she'd been drowning, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him until a shout startled her out of it. She turned her head to look at the approaching teacher, swallowing down another breath and hoping her voice wouldn't fail her now that she needed it the most.

Who would do something like this? Wasn't it obvious? The fact that it wasn't meant that this teacher didn't speak French, if there hadn't been an immediate outcry about what her classmates were calling her. But she would need to speak to make it known. She struggled with her voice for a minute, praying it would last at least long enough to make what she needed to say clear enough.

She opened her mouth, and promptly closed it again when two girls with Beauxbatons uniforms came up to Professor McGonagall. Or more specifically, one was dragging the other. Fleur Delacour was one of (if not the) most beautiful students at Beauxbatons Academy. But few knew that she was also a good person, rather unlike the rumours about pretty girls being cruel by nature. She was dragging along one of the younger girls, holding her wand in one hand and her arm in the other.

"Profezzor! Profezzor! I saw what happened. Pleeze do not let the actions of one mizerable leetle girl darken our Academy's fine name. Renae cast eet." She shoved the girl forward, letting the teacher handle it from there on--Fleur was the equivalent to a prefect at Beauxbatons, and saw it rather as attending to her duties than as tattling.

Erin breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that she wouldn't have to speak up. She looked down at the floor for a moment, but then her gaze drifted over towards Harry. She couldn't help but stare.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned out even more until they formed a nearly invisible line. "Thank you, young woman," she told Fleur. "You may go back to your seat. I will deal with Miss Renae here." Anemone quailed from the fury in the professor's eyes, and it wasn't even directed at her.

"Let's get out of here," she muttered to Erin, noticing that by now every single eye in the Great Hall was upon them.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Wakanda," Professor McGonagall spoke up unsympathetically. "I require the presence of Miss Renae and your friend in my office. Right now. As well as that of Madame Olympe, if she wouldn't mind?" She cast a glance towards to the High Table where the Headmistress sat.

"I'll come with her," Anemone immediately volunteered, her arm around Erin. McGonagall eyed the way that Erin had to lean against the Ravenclaw girl for support.

"Very well, perhaps that would be best. Come along now, and no dawdling."

The professor made her way to the doors of the Great Hall, waiting for the girls to follow her before falling behind them, shadowing them on the way to her office.

'Trying to make sure we won't try to run off?' Anemone thought to herself bitterly. 'As if Erin could even walk by herself right now. As for that Beauxbatons rat, though, I don't care if she gets into more trouble. Not one bit.'

Anemone didn't care a lick whether or not her thoughts were showing on her face; nobody hurt her friends and got away with it. Nobody.

Back in the Great Hall, Ron sat back down in his seat and reached for a roll as the students gradually began to talk amongst themselves again. "You reckon they're going to be all right?" He asked Hermione and Harry, casting a worried glance at the double doors the girls had just exited.

"Depends on why Anemone's friend got hexed, I guess," Harry answered, sinking down more slowly, thoughtfully, into a seat next to Ron. "Why do you think that girl would do something like that?"

"Dunno," Ron mumbled around a bite of bread. "Cuffee gittinbekater fersummink--" he paused to swallow. "Or else that girl just did it for kicks."

Harry was silent; he himself knew all too well what it was like to be bullied for no good reason at all.

The moment Fleur had stood up, the headmistress of Beauxbatons was also on her feet and heading over towards the little group. She hadn't wanted to think it was one of her own girls, and had left the Hogwarts teacher to attend to it. But since it -was- one of her own, she wasn't going to try to ignore it and wish the problem away on its own. She patted Fleur on the shoulder as the girl retreated to the table she'd come from, taking Renae's wand from Fleur as she left. She had nothing to say--McGonagall had handled it quite expertly so far.

Rather, she had on her mind one single and important thought. Renae's little stunt had prompted some of the girls to shout a certain word... If any of the Hogwarts students or staff spoke even a bit of French, they might perhaps realise that the girls shouting 'mangemort' at Erin had in fact been calling her a Death Eater. While it wasn't precisely the truth, it was the closest they dared say. Oh how she rued the decision to inform the students' parents about Erin's lineage.

Erin wrapped her arm around Anemone's waist as they walked, trembling a little bit but otherwise all right as she trudged along. More so than she hated being bullied, she hated having to go to the office in the wake of each incident. Wasn't it bad enough that she had to deal with it in the first place without discombobulating her entire life around it as well? -And- she'd left her book at the table.

Hermione had noticed it, though, and flicked her eyes over the cover. Whoever this girl was that Anemone had befriended, she thought to herself, was an intellectual force to be reckoned with if she was reading -that- sort of material. Though Hermione had no way of knowing that Potions was Erin's -one- area of expertise. She looked up at Ron's suggestion and shook her head.

"I doubt it, Ron. Did you hear how many people started laughing? It sounded more like she's the Beauxbatons scapegoat for -everything- rather than a one-off incident. Not to mention the shouting.... Does anyone know what 'mangemort' means?"

Anemone was about to enter the office along with Erin, but Professor McGonagall stopped her.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Wakanda."

"But Professor, Erin--"

"--can bear to be parted from you for a few minutes, I'm sure. I'm sorry, but she's looking stronger, and you're not involved in this."

Anemone fumed as Professor McGonagall waited until the other two girls and Madame Olympe were inside her office before closing the door behind them all, effectively shutting the Ravenclaw girl out of the proceedings within.

The professor was dangerously silent for a moment, surveying the girls before her with the fury still present in her eyes.

"What," she finally said, "was that disgraceful prank in the Great Hall all about?" She speared Renae with her glare. "Would you care to explain, young lady? And you," she added, turning to Erin, "is it quite true that you did nothing to warrant such an underhanded attack? Be truthful now, both of you! Remember your Headmistress is here, so don't try weaseling your way out of this."

"No idea," Ron was meanwhile replying to Hermione's question. "Sounds like some sort of disease to me."

"Don't ask about eet!"

"What?" Harry asked, turning around in his seat--he was taken aback to see a Beauxbatons girl looking at him with a quite unfriendly gaze.

"We are not allowed to talk about eet," she hissed. "So do us all a favor and don't get us eento trouble!"

"Oh, like you're not already in any now?" Harry shot back, a bit riled to see that the girl's concern was only for herself and her fellow schoolmates--obviously excluding Erin.

The girl only tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Renae was stupid to do zat in such a public place," she stated boldly.

"You mean this has happened before?" Ron exclaimed.

She immediately clamped her lips together and turned away without answering. A moment later she and her friends burst out laughing at some unheard joke.

Harry turned back to his plate, feeling his previous ire rising. "I guess you were right about her being a scapegoat," he muttered to Hermione as he stabbed at his food.

Erin clung tighter to Anemone at first when McGonagall tried to separate them, but it was clear that the professor was not going to let her keep her friend around. She whimpered softly as she let go, trailing her hand down Anemone's arm to give her hand a squeeze before she slunk into the office. She'd never had a friend before, and despite how much she told herself she needed to keep an eye on Anemone, needed to be suspicious of Anemone...it felt so -nice- to have someone that seemed to genuinely care for her.

She wilted backwards in her chair, whimpering softly as the professor interrogated the both of them. Tears welled in her eyes just from the sheer fright of it, and she took a deep breath before she tried despite the odds to make herself known. "I-i-i'm s-s-s-sorry p-p-p-prof-f-f-fessor I m-m-m-must've m-m-m-made h-h-her ang-g-gry s-s-s-somehow....it-t-t-t w-w-won't h-h-h-happen ag-g-g-gain..." She shuddered visibly, wishing she could speak at least a -little- bit easier.

Renae smirked proudly, her face resembling a certain blonde Slytherin's with the triumphant sneer she wore. Erin was the perfect target for bullying. Not only was she who she was, she was too quiet and meek to stand up for herself. "You hear this, yes, Profezzor? Erin says eet will not happen again. Zo, eet does not need to appen again."

Madame Olympe folded her arms. Just what had been going on under her nose that this seemed to be a routine ending to Erin's bullying? That it would happen and -Erin- would be the one to apologise for it? She needed to have a long talk with the teachers, but that would have to be when they returned to France. In the mean while... She was at a total loss.

"Renae Marisse... This isn't very reassuring to me..."

Hermione took in the exchange between her friends and this girl who had popped up out of nowhere to put down their investigation. That only confirmed her guess. Whatever 'mangemort' meant, it was going to be an important clue.

"We...need to get a French dictionary..."

Anemone hissed in anger as she listened to the Beauxbatons brat's saucy reply; her ear was pressed quite firmly up against the door of the Deputy Headmistress' office. It might as well have been grown directly from the wood of the door. Even the Ravenclaw girl, who was not directly in the room, could tell that the brat's words were totally insincere.

"Nor is it reassuring to me," Professor McGonagall spoke up, her brows still knit together in a frown. Her glare remained directed on Renae, and it was clear that she did not believe her.

"The both of you would do well to be aware that the next time this happens, unless the evidence favors you, neither of you will get off so easily. Even though you are guests in this school, the Headmaster does have regulations for how guests are to behave. Now I will turn you over to your Headmmistress--she can do with you both as she pleases. Although afterwards, I'd recommend getting yourself to the Hospital Wing, young lady," she added to Erin. "Madam Pomfrey might want to prescribe a Calming Draught. Will you have need of the use of my office, Madame Maxime?"

Anemone jumped back with a gasp just as the door of the office swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall. The teacher was obviously not fooled by the Ravenclaw's hastily composed expression of innocence.

"Can Erin go now, Professor?" She tried nonetheless to craft a front of blamelessness.

"I assume that you know that for yourself, Miss Wakanda. You'll have to wait until Madame Maxime has her say with them. Come on, now, back to the Great Hall with you."

And so Anemone found herself herded back in through the doors and sitting in her seat on the other side of Harry.

"So?" Ron demanded as soon as her hind parts made contact with the wood of the long bench.

"So Professor McGonagall let them both off with a warning... Then she turned them over to Madame Maxime," Anemone replied glumly as she sat there without trying to feed herself. "That's when she caught me eaves--I mean, when she told me to leave--"

"Right," Harry smirked as Ron snickered.

"Oh, like you wouldn't have yourselves!"

"Who, us?" Ron asked.

"Go shake hands with the Whomping Willow."

It was nearly an hour before Erin returned to the Great Hall, dinner nearly over and she hadn't even gotten a bite to eat. She sighed softly as she trudged in, figuring that Anemone and her friends would have headed on without her. She was somewhat hoping that they had, though, hoping that she would be able to eat in peace, instead of having to sit across a table from Harry Potter himself.

She didn't know whether she should be grateful or worried when she saw the group still settled there. She took a deep breath and headed for the table, this time checking neurotically over her shoulders as she walked through the hall. She sat down on the bench quickly, hunching her shoulders a bit as she tried to get down and shrink down into invisibility before any of her classmates caught her.

Hermione hadn't had any luck in talking to any of the Beauxbatons girls--whatever 'mangemort' meant seemed to be a very, very taboo topic. Finally it occurred to her to speak to a teacher, though, and had managed to claim a French-English dictionary from one of the teachers. She didn't see Erin walk in, and was instead murmuring to herself as she looked through the pages. "Mange...mange...mange...verb...eat... Mort...mort... ...I can't find it..."

"Erin!" Anemone jumped up and hurried over to help the girl to sit, also looking around at the students for any sign of another spell coming for the Beauxbatons girl. "What happened in there? Are you okay?"

"Hey, what's 'mangemort' mean?" Ron spoke up suddenly.

Then he gave a yelp and shot a glare at Harry, who was glaring back; the black-haired boy had obviously just kicked his friend under the table.

"RON!" Anemone exclaimed, scowling at him. "You can't just ask her...! Erin was just...! Don't you have any SHAME?" Then she shook her head in disgust and turned back to Erin.

"Don't listen to him," she told the girl, unaware of Hermione's efforts to discover the meaning of the foreign word. "He's always like that... I mean, he's not a bad person or anything, he's just immature..."

"Who're you calling immature?" Ron called out, his ears turning pink with anger.

"You, WEASLEY!" Anemone shot back. "Because you ARE!"

"Uh..." Harry looked back and forth between them--the air was practically crackling with electricity sparking from each of their eyes. "Ron, you were kind of--"

"Oh, so you're taking HER side now, are you?" The red-haired boy accused Harry. "Fine! See what I care! I'll just go be 'immature' somewhere else!"

With that, the second-youngest Weasley leaped to his feet and stormed out.

"We're sensing that all is not well in Ronny-kins Land?" Fred piped up from where he sat several persons away directly next to his twin.

"Oh, you just now figured that out?" Harry muttered, stabbing his potatoes with fervor.

Anemone shook her head before turning back to Erin. "I'm sorry you had to see that... Now he's going to be holding a grudge... Anyway, are you tired? Do you want to eat something? There's still some food left..."

She glanced over at where Harry was decimating his poor potatoes.

She smiled sheepishly at Anemone's fussing, and nodded her head in answer to her question. "I'm fine, Anemone, really. I just..."

She cut off short when Ron piped up with his question, and her eyes moved straight to Harry at the question. She stared at his forehead, knowing roughly where the scar would be just from the same gossip that circulated the entire wizarding world. But her voice was completely gone.

"M-m-mmm." She gave up and shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself and shuddering a bit. She couldn't make herself say it, couldn't force the words out of her mouth. Everything felt awful now, and she couldn't stop staring at Harry.

What if he knew? What if he found out? She started breathing a bit faster, a bit more shallowly. She'd never been pushed past stammering and into an all out panic attack, but suddenly that seemed like an imminent possibility.

Hermione looked up from the book suddenly when Erin audibly went into such distress. She followed Erin's gaze to where she'd picked to stare, and the bushy haired girl frowned deeply. She didn't like where this was going, didn't like how this was turning out. The first half of 'mangemort' meant 'to eat', and the word obviously sent her into fits...

Except it hadn't when it had just been her classmates shouting it. What changed? What was different now that hadn't been... Except she knew where Erin was looking. Straight at Harry. What could that word possibly mean that Harry changed everything about it? That Harry's presence made it so much worse?

"Erin, do you want some pumpkin juice?"

The girl shook her head sharply, finally tearing her eyes away from Harry to stare down at her plate instead. She started eating things, just shovelling them in without a lot of care for what or why or how. She needed to eat and she knew it, but she wasn't really taking any joy from it.

It tore Hermione up to see her like that. She'd been bullied before as well, and she knew how awful it was. But this seemed to be more than that. It looked like a puzzle that would need sorting out before any answers were clear.

Just like every other year so far.

Harry looked up at Erin's sudden, intense burst of stammering--and proceeded to stare. Was it just him, or was she also staring... directly at his forehead? It wasn't a huge secret of what sort of mark resided on his temple, but... Why was she staring AND stammering at the same time?

"Uh," he said, trying very hard to try to curb attention away from his scar somehow. Was she one of THOSE people who got starstruck at the very mention or sight of him? Except that she hadn't been this way before... "Are you okay?"

"Of course she's not okay," Anemone snapped. Then her eyes narrowed in regret. "Oh, I'm sorry Harry, I shouldn't take it out on you. But she got this way earlier, you see. I think it's just..."

Then she stopped. The gears in her head had just begun to spin at dizzying speeds.

Erin had also gotten this way right after she'd mentioned eating with her friends... And Snape. Snape and the friends thing had kind of come one after the other.

The Ravenclaw girl shot a glance up at the High Table where the teachers still sat, overseeing the general activity in the Great Hall until most of the students left. She saw that Snape was still there, as usual with the expression on his face of having some sort of slight, yet unpleasant, odor held under his nose. She hastily turned her gaze away before he could notice her--the last thing she needed was yet MORE points taken away from Ravenclaw during that old git's class.

No, why would it be Snape? Erin didn't even know him. But... her stammering in the library HAD gotten distinctly worse after Harry's name had come up...

Harry...

Mangemort...

Harry and mangemort? Were the two somehow related?

But what did mangemort MEAN?

Anemone broke from her thoughts as she noticed the French-English dictionary that Hermione had open. Her eyes drifted from the book to the bushy-haired girl's own eyes; were they sharing the same thoughts?

But meanwhile, there was no way to tell exactly WHAT was going on. Anemone turned back to Erin, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Erin, should I go get some Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey? Would you like to go someplace quieter? Maybe you need to lie down?" She knew that her concern for her friends could get obnoxious, but... She couldn't help it if someone she knew was in distress. She wanted to aid Erin somehow, someway. She smiled at the girl as she waited for her to answer.

She got this way earlier... Anemone's words only fuelled more questions that needed answers, that didn't have answers. Hermione paged through the dictionary. "There. Morte...means...death." It connected instantly, if 'mange' meant to eat. But she didn't dare say anything, just stared down at the dictionary and wondered if anyone had heard what she'd said. Hopefully they hadn't, as the stricken look on Erin's face was utterly tragic.

What had she done to earn such a nickname? And one that she obviously hated. Was she from a pureblooded family, then? How cruel of her classmates to brand her with such a name because of that. But...what if it was more? She obviously didn't -dislike- Harry, if anything she seemed terrified of him. What did it all mean?

She looked into Anemone's eyes, her worry visible on her face. She shut the book with an audible snap. "I'm...going to return this. I'll be right back." She stood and headed back up to the teachers' table to return it to the professor she'd borrowed it from.

Erin shook her head, finding Anemone's hand and giving it a squeeze. She was used to her stammering, and while it was annoying, it wasn't life threatening. "N-n-not a p-p-pan-n-n-nic at-t-tack-k-k. J-j-just a st-t-tam-m-mer. J-j-just ign-n-nore it...."

She looked up at the girl and smiled weakly, and even dared to briefly look over at Harry for a moment before she shuddered again and went back to staring at her plate.

"Morte... death..." Anemone had gone white as a sheet. Harry did not look much better. "Mange... to eat... Merlin's beard..."

"Erin," Anemone whispered, grasping her friend's hand tightly. "Why were they calling you such a horrible thing? They... why?" She could only keep asking, not really wanting to know the reason, but still wanting to know so badly...

Harry sat there, silent, but staring at Erin with such intensity that Anemone felt sorry for her. She knew the boy's reasons for that look on his face; didn't everybody? Poor Harry, poor Erin, what were they both thinking right now?

"Excuse me, Miss Granger," came a quietly sarcastic voice as Hermione went to return her book. "Let's see what you have there..."

And with that, Severus Snape's long pale fingers plucked the French-English dictionary from Hermione's hands. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the title blaring across the cover. "What might you be doing with such a thing, Miss Granger?" He inquired softly, poison dripping from every syllable.

Erin hadn't noticed Hermione's fussing with the dictionary until more people started repeating the mispronunciation of what it was that had been said. But when that happened, her eyes widened and she scooted away. She could do without her meal--forget this, she just needed to get -away-. She had gone back to staring at Harry, her abject and total -fear- of him plain across her face. She'd just gone and made one friend, and it looked for all the world to her like she was about to -lose- that friend. She whined low in her throat, then let out a hissing sound that to most around the table might sound like a stammered 's'. Harry, however, would easily hear the stream of parseltongue profanity falling stutter-free from Erin's lips as easily as the tears that had started pouring down her face.

Hermione took in a deep breath when the dictionary was taken from her. She was doing her best to keep herself level and, most importantly, innocent as he took it from her. Realistically, she had every right to have a dictionary like that with her, especially given their foreign guests. She'd closed it, so it wasn't turned open to what she'd been looking up, so there was no reason for her to be worried. Right? "It's Professor Flitwick's, sir. I'm returning it now that I'm done with it."

"ERIN!" Anemone cried as the tears began to flow from the Beauxbatons' girl's eyes. "Erin, oh my gosh... Erin, please, just tell us why... and what's wrong, and..." The Ravenclaw girl was now almost on the verge of tears herself at seeing her friend's distress.

She glanced up in shock as Harry leaped up, staring hard at Erin as if she'd morphed into He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. "What..."

"Harry?"

"Why can you speak Parseltongue?" He exclaimed. "Why do they call you a Death Eater? Why... Why..." The only one he knew who could speak Parseltongue was himself... And Voldemort...

"Harry!" He jolted around as Anemone shook his arm. "Harry, not you too! What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, I'm asking--"

"Harry, I heard you... You weren't asking anything, you were stuttering just like Erin..." Anemone was staring wide-eyed at them both.

"I think we need to get out of here," she finally spoke. "People... people are staring, and Erin, Harry, the last thing we need is..."

"Yeah." Harry was looking at Erin again. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

"Hmm." Snape looked down his nose at the Granger girl. "What might you have been wanting to look up in there, Miss Granger? Surely any one of our guests would have been more than willing to translate for you?"

When Harry responded in parseltongue to her, all of the remaining colour drained from her face. She turned to Anemone, wrapping her arms around the other girl and starting to simply sob. The tears came faster now, and she was just a little bit quieter than wailing, mostly by virtue of having buried her face in Anemone's shoulder, wanted there or not. She was discussing leaving with someone, but Erin could only barely process what was being said around her. She was simply that terrified that she couldn't manage anything else.

They were causing quite a scene, and it was Fleur that came up to see what the matter was. She put her hands on Anemone and Erin's shoulders, giving Anemone a reassuring smile before leaning down to speak French into Erin's ear. "You're causing a scene, Erin. I'm sure you don't mean to, but why don't you let your friends take you away somewhere? Whatever it is...I doubt it's as bad as you are thinking it is."

Erin nodded quietly and loosened her grip on Anemone, trailing one hand down to instead take a hold of the other girl's hand while Fleur turned to speak, in English thankfully, to Harry. "You should let your friend go alone. You terrify her, eet eez obvious, non?" She was doing her best to smooth things over and keep relations between the two schools going along well, but it was admittedly difficult with one such as Erin. And in the company of Harry Potter no less...was the girl a glutton for punishment? Fleur sighed softly, turning her attention back to her classmate.

"Let her take care of you, Erin. I'll tend to things here."

"But I want to talk to--"

"Harry," Anemone interrupted firmly, her arms wrapped around the sobbing Erin. "I think she--" she nodded at Fleur. "--is right. Erin... whatever you want to ask her, I don't think she wants to answer. At least not right now," she added in an attempt to placate him.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her before glancing around the Great Hall; it was then that he registered just how many stares the small group was attracting right then. At his looking around, the whispers increased in volume.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know, she just--"

"Harry's there, what do you think...?"

"Eet ees only HER, eet ees nothing to worry about..."

Those last words, mocking, flippant and discarding at once snapped Harry out of it. He shook his head once, harshly, then stormed out of the Hall. He did not see Snape gazing after him with a meditative furrow in his brow.

When Harry had gone, Anemone squeezed Erin's hand. "Come on, Erin, let's go... I know just the place where it's quiet and nobody will bother us... It's all right, whatever it is, it's okay..."

Speaking such words that were meant to be soothing, the Ravenclaw girl proceeded to lead Erin out of the Great Hall, out of the castle itself altogether. Once outside in the night air, she raised her wand, murmured "Lumos," and led the way to the Lake.

Hermione watched Harry storm out, followed closely by Fleur who obviously wanted to speak with him alone, then turned her attention back to Professor Snape. "I...didn't think it was polite to ask our guests to translate for me. They're here as our visitors, not as our walking dictionaries, sir. Besides, learning a bit of French would be very welcoming for our guests, just like the headmaster wanted us to be, right?"

Fleur was hurrying after Harry, hoping she could catch him alone. Did he even know who he was talking to? Was that the source of the problem? Or would she have to break the rule that had been battered against them all before they'd even come and quietly -tell- him? She hoped doing that would be the right answer, it would perhaps be the only way to keep both Harry -and- Erin safe from each other, at least as far as she could tell.

Erin let Anemone lead her, gradually calming herself down from utterly frantic to at least capable of basic speech. As they walked, she spoke up quietly, barely above a murmur as she tried to explain what had happened to Anemone. "He knows....Anemone he knows...."

"Tsk." Snape handed the book back to Hermione with all the air of handing her a dead sewer rat. "Very well, then, Miss Granger. If that is what you say..." Though his tone made it clear that he thought just the opposite.

He then turned with a twitch of his black cloak and made his way around the Great Hall, alternatively glaring and snapping at students in order to shut them up and turn their gazes from the big double doors to their plates.

Harry was half-way down the corridor leading away from the Great Hall before he sensed Fleur behind him. Whirling around, he lashed out at her, "Why are you following me? You... you're protecting her! You're all protecting her! Why are you letting her stay loose? She should be in Azkaban, not in a wizarding school!"

Anemone felt Erin's quaking in her arms slowly cease. Hearing the girl's words, she murmured back, "I know, Erin... I know. And you know who he is, right? Then... you know that he has every right to be suspicious of you. But if everyone at your school knows what... who you are, as well, then I think that there's a good reason why you're being allowed to study there, even if they were calling you that horrible thing."

Anemone reached the Lake, glancing over at Erin. The waters were cool, calm and dark beneath the light of the moon, rippling slightly from the touch of a light breeze. Sinking down to sit on the shore of the lake, Anemone gestured for Erin to sit, too. "Come on, Erin. Would you mind telling me... Why were they calling you that? Why, when you seem to loathe it so much?"

Fleur was at once unimpressed with Harry's outburst and also quite understanding of why he might lash out like that. She stopped in place and folded her arms, not wanting to crowd him, but certainly not going to back down on this. "In Azkaban? And tell me, Aarry, what as zhe done to deserve that? Zhe ees the same age as you...ow old were -you- when it all appened?" She regarded him quietly, not sure if pressing on was a good idea or not. But...she'd opened this can of worms...she had to push through and finish it. "Zhe should go to prison just because of who er fazzur is? I thought you were a nice person...I guess I was meestaken, non?"

Anemone hadn't known that she and Harry had exchanged words in parseltongue. Had she? She couldn't have. Could she? She knew her words to Anemone had been cryptic. He knew, but she hadn't said what it was that he knew. So what could it be that Anemone thought she knew as well? But as the girl continued to question her, it started making a bit more sense. She knew what Mangemort meant, was that it? She pressed her eyes shut, sighing softly. It was...time she came clean about -all- of it. "They....th-they...call me that...b-be-because...m-my father....was...." She was surprised she was speaking so steadily, amazed she'd gotten that far. But her throat closed up on her and she shook her head, clinging onto Anemone and shaking frightenedly.

Harry hesitated. "They... they were calling her Death Eater, weren't they? Doesn't... she deserve that? Didn't she do something to get that name?"

It was one thing to discover that Voldemort had a daughter... It was another to find that said daughter sitting right across from him in the Great Hall, and quite another to find out that she MIGHT not be as twisted and evil as her father had been.

Still was. Dumbledore had always been of the opinion that Voldemort was not truly gone, that he was coming back. Harry trusted Dumbledore with his life.

Anemone held Erin as the girl clung her her and shook like a leaf in a gale. "Erin... Was your father one? Was your father a Death Eater? But you're not..."

No, the Beauxbatons student was shaking too hard, her tears were too genuine for her to have been faking her personality this whole time. Anemone did not know how close and yet how far she had been to hitting the mark about Erin's father.

"Erin, you're obviously terrified of anything having to do with the Death Eaters, or Harry for that matter. I promise, Erin, whatever you have to say, I'll listen, all right? I'll wait until you're calm enough to talk, all right?"

She let Harry rant, understanding his logic immediately even without really having to hear all of what he had to say. "What zhe has done? Ze day zhe came to Beauxbatons...all of us, ze whole school, were sat down and ze teachers told us about why zhe was banned from 'Ogwarts. Zhe..." Fleur faltered for a moment, not wanting to be the one to tell him, especially when they'd been forbidden from telling the Hogwarts students. But explosions like this couldn't happen. He -had- to know. She took a deep breath, then pushed onwards.

"Her fazzur was....ze Langue de Plomb... I...do not know how eet ees said in English, but...'is name ees ze one that ees -not- said." She looked at him quite seriously, silently praying he wouldn't start screaming or otherwise cause a scene. "As for herself? Zhe ees a lovely girl, -regardless- of who her fazzur was. Zhe either doesn't like or ees terrified of him...one mention ees enough to make her stammer terribly."

Stammering terribly was exactly what Erin was doing at that point, actually. She clung onto Anemone, but she was determined to tell her, one way or another. Her voice shuddered and shook, and forcing each word out took quite a lot of doing. Nonetheless, she managed to haltingly get out her story. "I'm...he was..." She closed her eyes, fresh tears welling and spilling down her cheeks. "H-harry...'s going to kill me...." She shuddered, resting her head against the other girl before trying again. "M-my f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-father w-w-w-was....." She took a deep breath, bracing herself for it.

She didn't get past a very stammery and repeated 'v-vol', though she spent a good few minutes trying to force herself to say it. It wouldn't come. It couldn't come. But...the name was distinctive enough, surely she didn't -have- to get any further than that to convey it perfectly.

Harry stood there staring a Fleur, trying to absorb the news. Her almost otherworldly beauty was having no effect on him whatsoever, as he was struggling with his emotions, trying to absorb the shock, trying his best to be rational. Something that his friends could certainly attest to, however, was that he did not always succeed at this.

'Malfoy's an awful little git, and so is his dad,' he thought fast and furiously to himself. 'But... Malfoy was also raised with his parents. Erin wasn't. Voldemort died when she was a baby, just like... my parents. But if Voldemort were still alive... No, if he were still here, what then? What would she have turned out like then...? But what about my parents, what if they were still alive? I wouldn't be the same, would I? I'd be different, wouldn't I? But I'm me. Maybe she is... Maybe she's...'

"Okay," he finally gritted out, putting a hand almost absentmindedly to his scar, just barely touching it. "Okay, maybe... maybe she... I don't know..." He shook his head. "I'll give it a go, okay? I'll... I'll give her a chance. If she's not in Azkaban by now... If she really hasn't done anything... Then..."

He looked down at the ground, still frowning, then back up at Fleur. "She really hasn't done anything, right? Yeah, I don't know her... I don't... It could all just be..." He shook his head again. "Fine. Okay? Fine."

"Harry kill you? Erin, he wouldn't... Why would he be that angry to..."

Anemone fell silent as she listened to Erin struggling to force out the word. "V-Vol..."

And it all clicked.

"Oh my god." Anemone drew slightly away to stare at Erin. "Erin... Is that why... Oh my god, Erin, no wonder Harry terrifies you. Has nobody ever given you a chance before?"

Seeing the tears pouring from her eyes, Anemone's own eyes began to water and she drew the girl into a hug. "Oh, Erin, I'm so sorry. All those other students from your school... They never have, have they? No wonder you're so scared..."