2

The next morning I still feel tired. I can't stop yawning during breakfast and I drink some extra water, trying to make the pounding in my head stop. I didn't sleep at all last night and appearantly others notice it too.
''Are you feeling alright?'' Hermione asks with a worried look on her face. ''You look tired .''

As much as I appreciate her concern, I shake it off with a quick 'I didn't really sleep well', which isn't completely a lie. Harry quickly changes the subject and I give him a smile as I mouth a 'thank you'. Breakfast makes me feel a lot better and gives me enough energy to keep up with potionsclass. Although Snape's monotone voice isn't helping to keep me awake, I manage to hide my fatigue.

After potionsclass I have a free period with Harry and Ron and I'm glad about it. It's nice to have some rest before moving on to the next subject. ''We're going to the library. Finish our homework for Snape's class. Harry doesn't have much time today because he has Quidditch practise.'' Ron tells me. ''Are you coming with us?''

I tell him yes and can't help but feel sorry for Harry. I'm the reason he was up all night and now he doesn't only have a busy day with homework and lessons, he also has to focus on quidditch.

''I know Snape isn't in fond of us,'' Ron says. ''but this amount of homework shouldn't be allowed. I feel like after I finish this, I'll never be able to write anything again!''

I laugh and Harry follows.

''It's not funny.'' But as he's saying it, a huge grin appears on his face. We sit there, having small talks while making our homework. I look at the two boys and a sense of satisfaction flows trough my body. These are my friends, so is Hermione. My parents may be dead, but I still have a family. And a home.

I let out a satisfied sigh as I close my book. ''Are you done already?'' Ron asks.

''Yes, it was all about stirring techniques, which isn't too hard.'' My dad used to be great at potions and he did loads of experiments at home. I was only 8 years old when he taught me how to use different stirring techniques. My mum would get mad as she thought I was too young, and it was too dangerous letting a child stumble around in a room with all kind of potions. She preferred when I helped her cooking, which would upset my dad because he had no idea how everything worked. Although he loved seeing my mum preparing food in the kitchen, he could never get used to her muggle-ways of doing things.

''Not that hard?'' Ron shouts surprised, immediately drawing attention from mrs. Pince. ''It's bloody hard, that's what it is!''

I giggle and look at Harry but he agrees with Ron. ''Seriously Em, even Hermione struggles with this subject. That's when you know it's hard.''

''My dad had a talent for potions. He taught me when I was very young.'' I say, feeling good thinking about my happy childhood.

Both Harry and Ron glare at me with pity in their eyes as they remain silent. ''Guys, it's okay, really. They're gone, but I don't want to forget about them. I like talking about my parents.''

Ron is the first one to pluck up the courage to say anything. ''So you're dad was a wizard, who was good at potions. What did your mum do? She was a muggle, right?''

I nod. ''She was a medical assistent.'' Of course, Harry knows what I'm talking about but Ron looks confused. Explaining him what my mums job was, I feel relieved speaking so freely about her.

One hour later, we all get up and rush over to McGonagalls class. Transfiguration. Hermione and I used to have private lessons, because we were on top of class and it could get us extra points for Gryffindor. But David, the guy who used to teach those extra lessons, is really busy lately considering he's in his final year. So both Hermione and I have to go back to the usual, and have class with the others.

When we arrive, Hermione is already there and she's sitting next to Parvati Patil, leaving just one free spot for me. ''Ah miss Emily Thatcher. Good to have you back. Why don't you sit down next to mister Malfoy.'' McGonnagal says.