Prologue: Acceptance
"Quills down," intoned Professor Flitwick sharply. He ran his fingers through his greying hair, which was slick with the sweat that accompanied June heat, as twenty quills clattered against wood. The stifling silence previously enforced by the Quietus charm broke as students shifted in their seats, none of them daring to speak a word but all relieved that the written portion of the test was over.
"Make sure once more that your full legal name is printed on the front, and that all the autofill information there is correct," Flitwick said, his voice hitting a characteristic squeak. "Your exam scores may be canceled otherwise."
Jenna Carver Hilliard watched the papers float into the air and towards the front of the room, where they coalesced into a pile on the desk. She let out a long sigh, noticing other students around her doing the same.
One at a time, the students began to stand and stretch. Some formed small groups; others made their way out of the classroom. There was a flurry of thumping as shoes hit stairs.
Though they had seen a good amount of reform in recent years, the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests remained true to their name. Jenna was feeling particularly exhausted, even though she had gotten plenty of rest in the nights leading up to her examinations. It could have been that her body was simply unaccustomed to getting more sleep than what she typically ran on, or, she supposed, it could have been attributable to the sheer number of tests she'd taken in quick succession.
It was to mental exhaustion that she now gave herself over, resting her head on her hands, which were folded on the table. She pulled her right hand out from underneath and slid her wand out of her pocket. 11", hawthorn, dragon heartstring core. She gently tapped her forehead and the pain from the headache she'd been developing over the past half hour was diminished to something more bearable. Sighing in relief, Jenna closed her eyes briefly.
But only just briefly, because she was well aware that Flitwick would try to engage her if she was the last to leave.
She pushed her chair backwards in one fluid, deliberate motion, and followed the stream of Hogwarts students out onto the staircase.
"Hey," Kiang Eli said, looking up from his book long enough to give Jenna a little nod of acknowledgement as she entered the Ravenclaw common room and approached him where he sat in a plush chair against the window.
She collapsed in the seat next to him, sliding down so that her butt was positioned exactly in the middle of the chair.
"I guess that's that, then," she said with a yawn. She should have been relieved that she was done with her NEWTs, but she only felt apprehensive. "Up for the Chief Warlock to decide now." Deciding that her neck was rather uncomfortable pressed up against the straight part where her back was meant to go, Jenna slid back up so she was sitting normally.
"Indeed it is," Kiang said slowly, then he closed his book and looked up at her. "Jenna, you're anxious."
"Yeah," she responded, folding her hands and then unfolding them and then jamming them in between her thighs and leaning forwards. "I know that my chances of not getting accepted are slim. I know. You've all but drilled my head open and shouted it directly at my exposed brain."
Kiang smiled. "And if it doesn't work out?"
"Then Plan B is to work at your shop," Jenna said without hesitation, leaning back into the chair again. "Assuming you get that loan. I know, Kiang. I'm just…"
"Just…?" The concern in his voice radiated towards her.
"God, you know how anxiety works! I can't just turn it off. Doesn't matter if everything's lined up nicely for me." She paused. The Ravenclaw common room was filled with kids reading books, silent as ever. Every now and then a page would be flipped, or someone would murmur to themselves, or both, and all the while a clock ticked gently on the wall. Jenna was uncomfortably aware of how conspicuous they were, dropping her voice down lower. "But if I do get accepted, I'm going to miss you, dammit."
"I'll miss you too, Jenna. If you ever—"
"I know. I know. I'll keep in touch." And she stood up, and leaned over his chair, pulling him into a tight hug. A second year looked over curiously, then looked back down at their book quickly.
"Do you want to find an empty classroom?" Kiang whispered.
"No," Jenna said, shaking her head even as her chin dug into the boy's shoulder. "No, it's okay. If I ever… well if I ever need comforting I'll floo over to Diagon Alley, I suppose."
"I'll make sure to set up a nice back room, don't worry," Kiang said, letting go of her. He pursed his lips.
Jenna wiped the moisture from her eyes and sat back down. "Are you going home for the summer, or are you going to try to set things up?"
"Depends," Kiang said. "If I do go home it'll be to extort my folks for a few hundred galleons. If Gringotts finds me ineligible for a loan, or whatever."
They sat in the relative silence of the common room for a few minutes before Jenna rose up once more and headed for the exit.
"I'm going to go find Luke and Bella," she said, without turning to see Kiang's reaction.
Lucas and Isabella Lestrange were at a table in the Great Hall, huddled together over a sheet of paper where they were presumably working out how they'd done on their NEWTs. They were in the middle of a disagreement over the answer to one of the transfiguration exam questions when they noticed Jenna's approach.
She had first gone looking in the dungeons, but had been told off by the Head of House Slytherin, Andromeda Tonks. Professor Tonks (who taught several of the mathematics courses at Hogwarts) had explained with an unpleasant snort that her great niece and nephew had already left for the Great Hall, as the acceptance ceremony would be starting within the hour. She'd emphasized that her family was known for its punctuality and had been indignant at Jenna's implication otherwise.
"How have you been holding up, then?" Isabella asked. Her speech was precise and sharp but amicable, not unlike McGonagall's. Clearly there was some correlation between intelligent people and that particular tone of voice. Jenna walked around the table and sat down across from them.
"Alright. I was just talking with Kiang. And you two?"
"Our disagreements are disconcerting," said Bella, and her twin brother Lucas nodded gravely. "We may have gotten Acceptables on our transfiguration exams."
"At least that's not failing," Jenna said with a shrug. "Your other stuff's definitely good enough to get in."
"Not if the fact that we were away last year knocks us down a few notches," Luke said.
"Oh, come on. You were at Mahoutokoro. You took classes there. It's not like you were vacationing in the Bahamas."
"You never know," Luke said, one eyebrow raised.
"Fuck you guys," Jenna said. "There's not a chance you won't be accepted."
"Then fuck you too," Bella responded with a smirk. "Because there's not a chance that you won't either. You're destined to be an auror—well not that destiny is a thing, but metaphorically speaking at least. And you were practically born a prefect. Er, sorry," she added hastily, as Jenna's face fell a little. "I don't mean to diminish the accomplishment. I know it's a point of personal pride."
Jenna's father, Robert Hilliard, had been a prefect of Ravenclaw in Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts and then been made Head Boy by Headmistress McGonagall the year after. He'd gone on to become an Auror and had been killed in a battle with a dark wizard in Greece when she was only eight years old.
"It's fine," Jenna replied, shaking her head. It should have been, but it wasn't, really. Eleven years hadn't done enough to diminish the pain of losing her father. She'd learned from one of the psychology books she'd read that the best way to grieve was to let the emotions flow until she was able to make peace with what had happened. On her own she'd found that reopening those wounds in a bid to accept them was akin to carving into a scar to help it fade.
Bella opened her mouth to continue, but just then the big doors slammed open and Mcgonagall stepped into the Great Hall, several hundred students in tow. John Dawlish was there as well, wheeling in a pale fifth year in a wheelchair.
"He's okay," Luke gasped. "And he's here."
"Well of course he's okay," Bella said. "They got him to the Stone before it got too serious. And it's not like they were going to just leave him rotting in the hospital while the rest of us attended the ceremony."
"Could've just watched on a screen," Luke said with a shrug. "I'm surprised his dad's the one bringing him too. The guy's an auror; I can't imagine he has free time like that."
McGonagall stepped up to the Head Table, where the Hogwarts faculty sat, as the students sat down at the rest of the tables in the room. Auror Dawlish sat at the end of one table with his son. No one sat down next to them.
Once everyone was seated, Headmistress McGonagall took a few steps forward to the lectern and cleared her throat.
The silence that fell then as every pair of eyes in the hall focused on her was palpable. The Headmistress had no need for an amplification charm, not now, not with what was coming.
"Today marks not the end of the year," she spoke, her voice echoing through the hall, "but the day that our graduating class takes its leave, in search of a life beyond the walls of this castle. Many of them already know where their travels will take them, and the rest will hopefully discover their paths before the calendar year is out. But some have applied to the prestigious Potter University, and now we will learn which of those who have applied will be welcome to attend next year."
There was a collective gasp as the doors to the Great Hall swung open a second time. Three figures strode forward, their shoes clacking against the wooden floor. All of them wore black suit jackets and black pants down past their ankles, just shy of touching the ground.
In front was the imposing form of Harry Potter himself, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chief Warlock, and the embodiment of the Magical Reformation. His black hair was slicked back and his face was lined with the early stages of wrinkles. He wore an intense expression, his green eyes piercing and intelligent.
Behind him and to his left walked Neville Longbottom of the Wizengamot, whose transformation from frightened Hufflepuff to capable fighting wizard had been nigh instantaneous under the command of General Harry Potter of Chaos in their first year at Hogwarts. He wore a pair of silver glasses which caused your eyes to skate around them if you tried to look at them directly. So that no one could look into his eyes and attempt to assert dominance, if you believed the rumors.
And behind and to the right of Harry Potter, her stride longer than it ordinarily would have been so that she could match those of the adults next to her, walked Hermione Granger, the Girl-Who-Revived, the Destroyer of Dementors, and the President of Potter University, trapped forever in the body of an eleven-year old girl. She practically oozed innocence, a supposed side effect of her return to life.
The three new arrivals approached the Head Table and McGonagall stepped back so that Harry Potter could take his place at the lectern.
"Good evening," he said pleasantly, his face assuming a more relaxed expression. "I trust that you are all anxious to hear the results of our deliberations, but I would first like to say a few words, in honor of the good Albus Dumbledore, who was once Headmaster of this school. And here they are: Happy happy boom boom swamp swamp swamp!" Several first years were taken aback. One began to cough violently and needed to be escorted out by Madam Pomfrey, who looked as though she'd had quite enough of Harry's little annual surprise. Jenna was unfazed; it was her seventh time hearing this line.
"As you may already know, due to the rising population of school-age children able to perform magic, we have received significantly more applications from the other wizarding primary schools around the world than we are accustomed to, which has made this year particularly competitive. We have also received many applications from those who have tried before to get in, and did not make it through the selection process.
"Whereas you may find yourself discouraged at this news," he continued, raising his hand, "this is an exciting prospect for Potter University, for where there is competition, there is talent and raw intellect for us to shape and inspire." His green eyes gleamed. "I expect that the quality of students attending my school will only continue to increase as time goes on.
"I would say more here, but I fear I am on a bit of a tight schedule. Ms. Granger, if you will?"
Harry Potter stepped back and took President Granger's spot even as she took his at the lectern.
"I will now list the students who have been accepted to Potter University, in alphabetical order," President Granger spoke. Her voice, though it would not have matured physically, conveyed wisdom and reason beyond that of a child. It was to be expected, but it was no less unsettling.
"Katherine Arland," she began.