A/N: It has been an extremely long time since I've written so I decided to write a Hufflepuff/Slytherin story to dust off my keyboard. ;) I don't know how long or short this will be, but if you enjoy it or have any advice (be gentle though, I'm sensitive lol) please let me know!

Disclaimer: I own nothing so there's that.

Jessica Seek breathed in the smoky air and stared with horrified wonder at the great metal beast. It was gray and strong and waiting to whisk her away and drop her off in the middle of nowhere. Looking back, she wasn't quite sure how she got here. There had been hospitals and surgeries and the funeral and then suddenly there was Minerva McGonagall standing on her doorstep, hair tied in a strict bun and eyes sparkling with a sort of magic Jessie had never seen before. She walked briskly inside when Jessica timidly welcomed her, and sitting on the sofa she asked for her parents.

"Er . . . My dad is changing his clothes. Upstairs. In his room. Um. Can I get you anything . . .? Tea or-or something? I know how to use the kettle. And we have sugar cubes. Do you uh like sugar cubes?"

But Charles Seek had mercifully chosen that moment of terrible rambling to make his entrance. He had paused at the sight of the stranger in their home and taken a second to observe her odd sense of fashion, the dignified way she held herself, the ancient air she claimed as if she were much older than she looked or, at least, she had seen enough to add to her years.

After that it was a fog of long winded descriptions about a place called Hogwarts and people called wizards and witches. Jessie had been sure it was Isabelle Brown's idea of a joke. She was cruel any other day of the year; why not rub salt in Jess's still fresh wounds the day she wore all black and watched the coffin sink beneath the earth? But then McGonagall had pulled out a lean, crooked stick and muttered a few words and then silent blasts of red and golden fireworks were exploding into existence inside her house. They sparked and dazzled and formed strange shapes: a lion and an eagle, a serpent and a badger. It was fire that didn't burn, damage, destroy. And Jessie's throat closed at the sight and her heart skipped and she didn't realize she was crying until McGonagall was kneeling in front of her and telling her that it was okay, that she was special, that her magic—Jessica Seek's magic—was not unnatural or frightful.

It was beautiful.

And then she was in Diagon Alley and she was realizing that this—all of this—was real and she was magic and the world really was wonderful despite its obvious flaws. Professor McGonagall helped her exchange her "Muggle" currency for the strange wizarding kind and then they walked through the stores buying books and cauldrons and funny little quills. McGonagall talked as they went along and Jessica was determined to soak in every word.

She learned that her new school "Hogwarts" had four "Houses." She wasn't quite sure how that worked, but when she closed her eyes, she saw the cabins from Percy Jackson's Camp Halfblood and her heart skipped a beat. Apparently, she would somehow be assigned to a House when she and the other First Years arrived. She could be Gryffindor where they were brave and selfless, but not necessarily arrogant. She could be Ravenclaw where they were smart and studious, but not necessarily obnoxious in their intellect. She could be in Hufflepuff where they were kind and friendly, but not necessarily ignorant. Or she could be in Slytherin where they were ambitious and cunning, but not necessarily evil. Jessica didn't know why her new teacher—er, professor—felt the need to justify each House so staunchly but Jessica tucked the new information away and prayed that if this was all a dream, she would never wake up.

The remainder of summer was sluggish, silent, and lonely. Her father worked late and when he was home he committed himself to the telly or his bedroom. Jessica wandered the house aimlessly and in those moments when her heart sank or cracked or threatened to fail, she would pull her Hogwarts trunk out from under the bed and she would carefully unpack its contents, counting slowly as each item passed through her hand.

One black hat . . . three sets of "robes" . . . One set of glass phials . . . eight textbooks . . . and one glorious, perfect 9 inch Cherry Wood wand with a unicorn hair core.

She held the wand with a sober grip and sometimes muttered nonsense words in the desperate hope that something worth believing in might happen. It never did. It remained cold and useless in her hands. But she believed anyway.

On the first of September, Jessica woke early to pack, un-pack, and re-pack her trunk (just to be sure she wouldn't forget anything). She debated briefly wearing her robes to the platform, but she feared it might make her seem too professional and adult and she wanted the other kids to like her so she threw on the first outfit her fingertips brushed and pulled pulled pulled her trunk to the living room.

Where she sat.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Jessica couldn't be quite sure, but she thought that maybe she had already graduated from Hogwarts by the time Charles came out of the bedroom, dressed and ready to go. The car ride was silent and uneventful (except for when Jessie couldn't stop fidgeting and her dad snapped at her and she had to apologize and try to keep her happiness under tight wraps). She jumped out of the truck almost before he had put it in park and yanked her trunk out from the bed while her dad got sluggishly out of his seat.

They walked side-by-side into the train station and Jessica chattered excitedly about the magic entrance to Platform 9 ¾ that Professor McGonagall had told her all about. Charles grunted vaguely and pushed her trunk in front of them and Jessie could almost pretend that he was listening.

He didn't come with her through the super-secret-wizarding portal to Platform 9 ¾. When she asked, he stared at the brick wall with apathy and vague distrust. Jess wasn't sure he really understood what was happening or that he really believed in magic despite McGonagall's light show in their living room. But if she could just get him through with her, maybe they would see a fairy or a dragon or wizards flying about and he would have to believe it . . . he'd have to believe her.

"I really should be headed home," he said gruffly instead and they stood there for one, two, three awkward beats of silence in which her heart hammered frantically in her chest, begging him to please please please come with her. But then he hugged her, really hugged her, for the first time since before the funeral and Jessie knew that this was goodbye. So she wrapped her arms around him too and when he abruptly pulled away and left without another word, she didn't feel quite as disappointed as she expected.

She was going to Hogwarts.

Grinning despite herself, Jessie wheeled her trolley around, stared at the very-solid brick wall and ran.

Augustine Thornfield knew that he was destined for the emerald green Slytherin House. It wasn't just that his blood was pure (that didn't matter much to anyone now that You-Know-Who had been dead and discarded for two decades) or that his family had been Snakes for as long as anyone could remember (except Great Uncle Travis who was a Gryffindor and kept mostly to himself). He knew that he was a Slytherin because he had pride and motives and a 7 Year step-by-step plan to excel. He was sly too. He had successfully pulled more than a few pranks on his older, more experienced siblings throughout the years and he knew just the right way to act or speak to make his way law in their shared household.

So when other less-informed 11 year-old children asked him which House he hoped to be in, he didn't bother to respond. If they didn't know, they clearly hadn't been paying attention. Most of them, he was sure, would not be Ravenclaws. Maybe Lions where the people were rash and unthinking or Hufflepuff where they were stupid and naïve. Either or. It didn't matter much to Augustine.

He wasn't surprised when a letter arrived that summer addressed to Augustine P. Thornfield. He also wasn't surprised to read the words: "You have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." But he was, nevertheless, filled with all the boyish excitement that accompanied childish accomplishments and he ran straight to his mother's waiting arms where she swung him around and sang that embarrassing, ghastly Hogwarts school song. But just this once, Augustine didn't quite mind.

He thought he ought to have been allowed to shop for his school things alone, but his mother had other ideas. Though she had, at least, been kind enough to send his father off with the three eldest boys. It wasn't really that he didn't like his family but . . . he knew his was an old name and it had certain dark ties to the last Wizarding War. His mum had not fought You-Know-Who's side but she hadn't fought the Order's either. He was assured regularly that his father had remained as neutral as she in the war but he wasn't quite sure if he believed it. He'd never seen his father in short sleeves, after all. And he knew there was a period right around Harry Potter's last few years at Hogwarts where his parents had separated.

Mostly Augustine tried not to think about it.

As for his brothers . . . well, it actually really was that he didn't like them. He was big enough to admit that. Oliver was self-righteous (especially for a 13 year old with a majorly unfortunate acne problem), Thomas was loud and 15, and Ian was nice enough but oddly distant from the rest of the family (probably because he was a legal adult set to graduate in no time at all).

But it's not like he cared or anything.

Shopping took longer than expected and August might have been tempted to be bored if it wasn't for the simple fact that they were finally, finally, finally buying his Hogwarts robes, cauldrons, and books. His mum let him get the color changing ink and an extra just-for-fun reading book and even a double scoop ice cream cone ("Don't tell your brothers, love," she warned him with a wink).

His most favorite part of the whole day was visiting Olivander's. The old man had long retired but his grandson was young and fresh out of Hogwarts and, admittedly, not nearly as creepy as his predecessor had been. They made their way slowly through rows and rows of wands until August was given the 12 inch Ash Wood with a dragon heartstring core. For a moment, August's world came to a slow, steady halt. Time moved at half speed and some secret missing piece clicked into place. This was his wand. He knew that Olivander's grandson agreed when he looked up and saw the young man's approving smile.

After that they gathered the rest of the family (except Ian who had found some girl from his year and mumbled a vague excuse for staying behind while he followed the girl in a love-sick haze of absolutely disgusting puppy-dog eyes) and flooed home. The first thing August did after thanking his parents and dragging his trunk upstairs was to pull out his journal, flip to his 7 Year Plan and check off the first necessity:

- Be accepted into and prepare for Hogwarts

He stared greedily at the next three-part assignment—which was to go to King's Cross Station/get on Platform 9 3/4/travel to the castle—and prepared for bed.

The summer passed in a relaxing whirlwind of wizarding chess against his mum, Quiddich against his brothers (until they got into an argument over some rule or another and only called truce after mum started crying), discussing his latest books with his father, and daydreaming about what was still to come.

August's mum woke him hurriedly on the morning of September 1st and dragged him to the kitchen table all the while screeching that they were running late. Oliver, of course, had been ready since before dawn and he stared down his nose at his unpunctual brothers and berated them for stressing Mum out while Thomas threw food at him when he wasn't looking and Ian ate his porridge in the same disgusting haze he'd been in since Diagon Alley.

Augustine swore then and there that he would never be as obnoxious, conceited, or foolishly in love as his brothers.

They arrived to Platform 9 ¾ with plenty of time to spare, just like Augustine knew they would. Every year, his mum screamed that they would be late and every year they were on time (if not early). August stood in his billowing wizard's robes and inhaled the familiar taste of smoke and coal. He reveled knowing that this time the great and wonderful Hogwarts Express was there for him. He looked up at the mighty metal beast and despite his annoyance with his brothers, his suspicions about his father, and his sudden sharp pain at the thought of leaving his mum behind, he smiled.

He was going to Hogwarts.