My parents faces were filled with shock and horror as they sat across the kitchen table from me.

"His face was on the back of your teachers head?!!"

"Surely this is not a safe environment for a school? You are just twelve years old!"

"Yes but it is OK because Harry dealt with it." I tried to placate my parents concerns. "And besides, Professor Dumbledore doesn't seem worried."

It was the summer holidays and I was filling my parents in about my first year at Hogwarts, including the very dramatic ending.

My first year had been extremely challenging being in Slytherin; a house that still refused to except me. But I found kindness and companionship with my new friends; Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. They treated me as equals and not something disgusting that they had just stepped in. I had a feeling, though, that my friendship with these three had made the Slytherins turn even more against me... if that was possible.

One of the Slytherins I shared a dormitory with was a girl named Pansy Parkinson; the pug faced girl who spoke to me on my first night. She had made it her mission to make my life as miserable as possible in Slytherin. I had to put up with constant name calling, a trip here and a shove there. Once I entered my dorm to find all my clothes were scattered everywhere and my favourite book ripped to shreds. I knew she was behind it.

The rest of the Slytherins acted like I didn't exist. I didn't know if this was worse. They would speak over me or talk round me but never to me. Not one of them acknowledged I was even ever there. Once I tried talking to a group sat down on the leather sofas, but as soon as I sat down to join them they all suddenly got up without a word and left. At least Pansy didn't make me feel like I was invisible.

Which is why I was so grateful that Hermione remained friends with me and gradually we became friends with Ron and Harry too; the four of us trying to solve the mystery of what Fluffy the dog was guarding. It was a wonderful distraction and made it less unbearable to go back to the Slytherin common room every night.

"Perhaps the sorting hat is faulty," Ron had wondered out loud one day. "Because there is nothing Slytherin about you Rosie. Any house but Slytherin."

"Oh Ron! Of course the hat is not faulty! The sorting hat belonged to one of Hogwarts' own founder, Godric Gryffindor, and goes back a thousand years!" Hermione had sighed impatiently.

"Exactly! It's old! It's probably about time Dumbledore invested in a new one!"

I smiled, remembering this exchange between my two chums. How I missed them all so much. I had written to them lots over the summer but although I had plenty of letters back from Ron and Hermione, I had never gotten a reply from Harry. Odd.

Just as I was thinking this, an owl started tapping at the window so I got up to let it in. It was Errol; Ron's owl who resembled a moulting feather duster and was looking very worse for wear. I took the letter off of him whilst he collapsed exhausted on to the draining board.

I replied immediately; already looking forward to seeing my friends again.