Having gotten past the ugly turnstiles crowded round the entrance to the common room, Niamh surveyed her surroundings with interest. The couches by the fire were her favourite part of the room. They looked warm, cozy and inviting. She let herself fall into the nearest one, reveling in its soft feel. Niamh looked around. "I wish I could make a friend," She murmured to herself. "I told Papa being a transfer meant not having any friends. But would he listen?" Niamh was only vaguely aware that she was thinking aloud. She wondered what her best friend back home in France was doing now.