Don’t be deceived by the title, it can mean many things... and I was bored and couldn’t think of anything so the current title comes into play later.
Enjoy Still not much yet but more interesting stuff is coming up soon xD

Chapter 2
Slytherins

I managed to be one of the first people of the train. I watched people ahead of me go into carriages, yet I saw younger ones lining up and then getting into boats. I assumed the boats were for just the younger kids and found an empty carriage. I climbed in and waited for it to move, hoping I would be the only one taking the ride inside. As soon as I thought this, the door opened. I heard a chuckle...

“Are those seats taken?” I recognized Harry’s voice.

I resisted sighing, and responded, “No.”

He climbed in and four people came in behind him. I knew three of them, but the fourth was another guy. He seemed somewhat timid, more reserved into his tall, dark-haired self. I caught the mumblings and heard his name was Neville. The ‘Golden Trio’ sat in front of me again, and after a mumbled bickering about who would sit next to me, Neville ended up on my side. The carriage rattled off in silence.

“So... what is your name?” Hermione asked me.

I silently looked back at her for a moment.

“Deanne,” I finally responded.

“I’m Neville,” Neville told me, a hand outstretched to shake mine.

I looked at him, then down at his hand quickly, and up again. I just merely smiled faintly and said, “Hi.”

Neville was taken aback and withdrew his hand, frowning in thought. The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was silent; the only noise made was the movement of feet leaving the carriage. I followed the five to the castle, listening to their whispers. I chuckled inwardly; they definitely don’t know what I can hear or do.

“Did you see that earlier? Honestly, could you not be any colder?”

Oh, the irony in Ron saying that. I only didn’t shake Neville’s hand because if he was to feel my skin, he’d be even more shocked than he was when I didn’t. No one likes to touch me, only the rare exception to those that have gotten used to me. My skin is like ice; I don’t have the warm skin everyone else does. I figured it'd be best to save Neville the shock.

“She at least said something, so you can’t say it was entirely cold,” Harry pointed out.

“But she was cold enough to...”

“Guys, shut up about being cold!” Hermione snapped, shivering. “I’m starting to feel cold...”

I rolled my eyes and continued into the castle. A few steps in, I felt a tap on my clad shoulder. I stopped and looked to my side and saw a professor. She was a rather old woman with grey hair peaking out from under her pointed hat.

“Deanne.” It was not a question.

“Yes.”

“I’m Professor McGonagall, the headmistress. Would you follow me?”

I did as I was told and found myself in a dimly light classroom. An old hat sat on the table.

“Now before you’re sorted, I have a question about your... diet.”

“How long are the meals exactly?” I asked quickly.

“It’s usually an hour for each meal. I understand if you don’t...”

“I don’t know, I might,” I cut in, knowing what her question was. “So what’s this about sorting?”

“Oh yes, the Sorting Hat,” Professor McGonagall picked up the old, dusty hat.

“Sit down.”

I did as I was told. The hat was placed on my head, and it started to move.

“Ah yes, we have been waiting for you...”

I was shocked; why was some dumb hat talking to me?

“Out of all the unique people that have come through these walls, none have been like you... hmm, your self-control is amazing, I must say. If it weren’t for that, you would be well suited for Slytherin... where else to put you...?”

The hat sat silently on my head, thinking. Wait, do hats even think?

“Ah, yes, I know...” the hat muttered. Suddenly, it exclaimed, “Gryffindor!”

McGonagall removed the hat from my head, surprised.

“I didn’t know I was that courageous,” I muttered.

“There’s more to Gryffindors than just bravery and courage,” McGonagall responded, chuckled. “Congratulations.”

Silently, we left the room and made our way into the Great Hall. There was a huge group of young students standing at the far end of the room. Everyone had turned around and looked at McGonagall, but their eyes quickly latched onto me. I sighed and sat at the table I recognized was for Gryffindors.

“Got lucky, eh?”

I looked up and saw Harry with his friends across the table.

“Well that hat gave me an option, but I guess it didn’t work out,” I responded, in more of a sociable mood suddenly.

“Really? What’d it say?” Ron, who sat next to Harry, asked curiously.

“Something with an S...”

“Slytherin?” the two asked simultaneously.

I nodded slowly. “Is that bad...?”

“Depends on your perception of ‘bad’...” Harry started. He was cut off by a loud catcall from the other side of the hall. They glared at whichever group made the noise, and I turned around. A large group of guys were laughing as the noise continued between them. At the heart of it all was a guy with silver-blonde hair, his bangs practically millimeters above his pale grey eyes and framed a face paler than his hair.

“And that’s the worst it gets,” Harry finished.

“MR. MALFOY! DESIST OF THAT RACKET THIS INSTANT!” McGonagall yelled. Everyone was taken by total surprise, flinching in their seats and finally looking at something other than me.

“Malfoy...” the name sounded familiar to me.

“You know him?” the two in front of me asked, astonished. I turned back to them.

“Not personally, I just recognize the name...”

“Well, Malfoy is the worst it can get. That obnoxious, pompous ferret...”

“Ronald!” Hermione snapped, finally speaking from next to him. She elbowed him.

“Wha’? It’s true!”

“Just because it is, it doesn’t mean you have to say it every time he does something rude, obnoxious, annoying...”

“You’re right Hermione; Ron would run out of breath.”

Snickers made their way down the Gryffindor table. I looked over my shoulder and saw his piercing stare on me, unmoving and unwavering. He whispered to his friend next to him, his eyes still on me, perfectly unaware I could hear his words perfectly.

“She new?”

“I dunno,” a gangly, brown-haired Slytherin responded, shrugging. “Probably.” He looked at me as well, and I turned around.

“No idea who she is?” I heard Malfoy ask.

“No...” I could tell the guy wanted to ask why, but didn’t brave enough.

“Useless...”

“Why do you ask?”

I turned around to see this. Malfoy was glaring at the other guy.

“What...?” the guy asked dumbly.

“My mom knows her parents,” another guy next to him said. I looked at the guy next to him and tried to place him. Malfoy automatically turned to the guy, interested.

“Who are they, Avery?”

I started to remember now. I couldn’t remember his first name, but my parents used to be close with his. That was years ago, though.

“The Lyon family; pureblood, even her parents were in Slytherin.”

Oh yeah... I thought I recognized the name when the hat said it. It's been ages since my parents talked about Hogwarts, let alone their education.

Malfoy smirked, the expression reaching his eyes. “What’s her name?”

Avery appeared to be in thought.

“Something with a D... Dee...”

My eyes blazed angrily at the nickname.

“Deena... Deeya... Dean... Deanne! Deanne Lyon,” he finally said.

I could almost imagine the satisfaction seeping from Draco’s eyes. I sighed inwardly and tuned out his conversation, focusing on the one before me. It was barely even the first day and I knew that this would be a long year.