Mrs. Harper prided herself on being a very understanding kindergarten teacher. She liked to believe and trust her students until otherwise proven, and her classroom was usually in a certain sort of order—except for one student.
And that student's parents were seated in front of her at that very moment.
"So you're saying…she has no friends?" The little girl's mother seemed so worried, and Mrs. Harper felt for her. Every parent wanted their child to have a wonderful experience in school… Most were let down. "But…does she not play well with the other kids?"
"It isn't that," the teacher soothed. "She tries her best, but she just… Eliana is on a different plane than the others, I think. Actually, that's why I asked you here." She steeled herself—this wasn't an easy thing to say. "I don't believe our facility here is right for her, unfortunately. You ought to look into homeschooling, she's very bright and ahead of her class already. Or an advanced program, perhaps. I just don't believe she's going to get much out of traditional schooling, and honestly it's best to switch her early, before she's settled in more."
Her father frowned deeply. "Are you…expelling her?"
"No no, not at all." She'd expected that reaction. "Eliana can remain here, if you choose that. I'm merely recommending that she'd be happier elsewhere."
Late that night, in tears, her mother asked. "But where can we send her? I don't know what to do…"
"We'll have to homeschool her, like Mrs. Harper said," her father sighed. "There's no other choice."
And Eliana, seated quietly at the top of the stairs, listening in, looked at her doll floating beside her and wondered how she'd ever find a place in the world when the world didn't seem to work like her. Blinking away tears, she hugged her doll to her and shut her eyes against the light flickering out of her fingers. Somehow she'd be okay. She had to be.
Five years later, when her letter came, everything made sense. A witch. Eliana was magical. She and her parents cried together because god, she finally knew where she fit in.
"Come on, sweetie, you'll be late!"
Eli stared up at the steaming train in awe, hardly hearing her mother's voice. She'd only lived among magic for all of twenty-four hours—they'd spent the night in Diagon Alley, since their home was in Sussex and they'd never have made it to the station on time.
"Eliana!"
She started at her father's sharp tone, grinning as she chased after her parents. All around her, children were saying their goodbyes, parents were in tears, and one little brunette girl was clinging to her mum and sobbing. Eli was proud she wasn't upset—she was just excited to fit in, to learn magic…and hopefully stop accidentally setting things on fire when she was excited.
They loaded her trunk up on the train and Eli climbed on, letting her mother kiss her and her father hug her—before she bounded off down the corridor, beaming ear to ear. Eli felt courageous, happier than she had in in ages. The train whistled and began moving, and she pressed a hand to the window to steady herself. Through the glass, she could see her parents awkwardly making their way through the crowds. Muggles, they'd been called. Non-magic folk. It hadn't sounded derogatory, but the handful of stares Eli's parents had received told her being a muggle wasn't necessarily a good thing either.
Sighing, the blonde continued down the corridor. She resolved not to care about her parentage, and just focus on school. That's why she was here, after all.
Two redheaded boys sprinted past her, laughing through their apologies as they chased each other down the hall. Eli shook her head—she'd never behave like that. Well, okay, maybe she would with Mary Woodgate down the road, but not anymore. She was eleven, and she should act more maturely.
Eli searched until she found a compartment with only one occupant, which she figured would just have to do, in the end. She slid the door open and stepped halfway in, smiling awkwardly at the dark-haired boy inside. "Um, hi," she greeted, her earlier courage waning.
The boy looked just as shy. "Hey."
She took a breath and moved inside fully. "Can I sit here? There's nowhere else…"
He looked delighted. "Sure, of course! Nobody else wanted to, I think they all had friends already." He quickly stuck out his hand at her. "I'm Simon MacKenzie."
She shook his hand, grinning again. He seemed so nice. "Eli Chaplain. Well, Eliana, but nobody calls me that except my parents."
Simon nodded and took a seat across from her. "Okay, Eli it is, then." He hesitated only a moment before blurting, "So are your parents magical?"
She blinked. Was that a normal question? "Er…no they aren't. They're, um…muggles."
"Mine were magical, but I was raised by my muggle aunt," Simon told her easily. Eli realized he was just…making conversation. He was a very strange boy, she decided. Not bad-strange, just…just strange. "My parents died when I was little, that's why my aunt raised me. But she knew all about the wizarding world."
Eli eyed him jealously. "I didn't know about it until I got my letter."
But Simon seemed unbothered by her gaze. "Well, I'm sure you'll learn quick enough. Everything is much easier with magic."
She thought about her favorite doll bursting into flames, her dresser with all her clothes inside turning to ashes…yet impossible flowers had bloomed from the ashes, and she'd healed the family cat's broken leg once… "It's…complicated, I think," Eli told him hesitantly. "Very complicated."
They chatted on the ride to Hogwarts, and Simon explained everything he knew about the school to Eli—the houses, the way classes worked, the dormitories, and the intimidating Headmaster. Finally they spotted kids their age in their school robes, so they took turns on trips to go change. Eli returned giggling, spinning endless circles. "I feel so…heavy," she laughed. "But floaty!"
Simon shoved her as she spun too close, grinning at her. "Oi, watch it!"
Eli purposefully spun into his legs, giving him a kick as she did. "Watch what?" she asked daintily. Her newfound friend just shook his head.
The first years rode in boats up to the castle, and Eli just stared—she'd never seen anything at all like it. Hogwarts looked like something out of a fairytale, or an ancient novel, a place out of time and almost glowing of its own accord. She felt at home instantly, for it felt like her soul.
She stuck close to Simon as they walked up what seemed like endless flights of stairs, finally reaching two huge doors where a teacher in dark green robes halted them. "Welcome, first years," she greeted, warmly but somewhat sternly. "I am Professor McGonagall. Now, shortly you will follow me into the Great Hall to be sorted into your houses. Your belongings will be brought up to your dormitories, as well as additions to your uniforms in your new house colours, for you to wear to classes tomorrow. Any questions?"
Simon's hand shot up beside Eli.
"Yes, Mr.…?"
He cleared his throat. "MacKenzie, ma'am. I just wondered… What if we don't like our house? Or they don't like us?"
She frowned at him. "We would address that depending on the situation, Mr. MacKenzie. But I assure you, our students are very welcoming." Behind the professor, the door cracked open and a man with long, scraggly hair stuck his head through, whispering urgently.
Professor McGonagall nodded firmly. "It's time. Follow me, please."
Eli clutched to Simon's sleeve as they headed into the Great Hall, feeling everyone's eyes on her head as she stared pointedly at the ground. Where had her confidence gone? She huffed out a breath and looked up, meeting the eyes of the students to either side of her. Much better. The hall was beautiful, as well, with floating candles, a cloudy ceiling, and stained glass windows. She was glad she'd looked.
The first years all grouped at the foot of the raised end of the room, staring up at a ratty old hat on a single chair. Behind that was a huge long table with adults sitting behind it, all eyeing up the new students arguably as if they were raw meat. Eli brazenly stared at the fiercest looking of them, a man in elegant black robes with a hooked nose and a rather dark expression on his face. But he didn't seem to notice her.
Professor McGonagall called them up one at a time, in an order which seemed totally arbitrary. But Eli didn't mind, since she got to see the types of people getting sorted to each house—Simon seemed aware of some of the surnames, and pointed out that every student sorted to the Slytherin house was what he called 'pureblood.' "What's pureblood?" Eli whispered.
"Means they have no muggles in their ancestry. They're all magical, really old families. That's what my aunt told me." He paused, then sighed. "My aunt by marriage. I'm pureblood, actually."
Eli stared at him, surprised. She definitely wasn't. Was that a bad thing? "Does that make you better than me?" she challenged.
Simon grinned. "Totally."
She smacked his arm, earning herself a sharp look from the professor. He was joking, and she knew that, but she didn't take kindly to being spoken down to.
"Simon MacKenzie," McGonagall called. With a deep breath, the boy jogged up the steps and sat on the chair, allowing the Sorting Hat to be placed on his head. For a moment, the hat seemed to deliberate, and though Eli couldn't make out the words, she was certain it was communicating.
Finally, a word rang out: "Gryffindor!"
With a huge grin, Simon hopped down and rushed to his new house, amid cheers and grinning and extended hands.
"Frederick Weasley."
Eli watched as one of the redheaded boys from earlier walked up, confident and relaxed. The hat barely touched his head before it sent him to Gryffindor. Moments later, his apparent twin was called up, a boy named George, and he was sent even quicker! They joined another couple redheads and she stared at them openly—how many were there? Goodness.
"Eliana Chaplain."
Eli flinched as her name was called. Her only friend in the bunch was in Gryffindor, but from the chatter she'd heard Ravenclaw was for the most intelligent young witches and wizards. That could be a good fit. Slytherin was for purebloods, and the occasional half-blood, so that was out from the start. And the other, Hufflepuff, seemed okay but she couldn't get a read on who went there. So, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw preferably. Easy.
She walked briskly up to the chair, confident in her upcoming placement in one of those two houses. Surely she'd make it.
The hat was placed upon her head, and a voice seemed to emanate from inside her very skull. "Hm, interesting… A firestarter… Haven't had one of those in a while!"
Her head tipped to the side, against her will. Eli held her breath. What had it called her?
"Most interesting… Cunning, strong, brave… A penchant for destruction with a clever mind to direct it… Oh, this will be fun…"
A shiver ran through her. Destruction?! Eli didn't enjoy destruction, never. She hated how she always burned everything up. One of her goals was to control those outbursts and eventually get rid of them altogether, not…not use them!
"All in time, Chaplain, all in good time. For now…your path is set."
This time, the Sorting Hat spoke outside her head, its voice ringing out in the hall. "Slytherin!"
Silence.
Eli sucked in a breath as the hat was removed. Usually only purebloods made it into Slytherin, she knew that… She'd gotten a sense of their pride in that fact as well, and now…she'd been Sorted into that house? But how? Surely this was a mistake…
But Professor McGonagall was looking at her expectantly, if anxiously. "Miss Chaplain, if you please…"
Slowly, Eli rose to her feet and crossed the room, nearly stumbling on the bottom stair. The entire table was just…just staring at her, some curiously and others with unabashed hatred. A muggleborn in Slytherin. Eli felt more out of place than ever before.
Simon looked at her in panic from his place at the Gryffindor table, but there was nothing for it. She could already feel the gap between them. Eli faced away from him when she sat down, between a couple other first years who looked at her like she was a creature from the deep. All her hopes of fitting in here vanished, and suddenly this magical school was a trap designed to ruin her life, just like every other school she'd tried.
Well…damn.
Eli found herself shunned by her fellow Slytherin first year girls that night, in the basement dormitory. She was so agitated by their hostility—"Why are you even in this house? There hasn't been a muggleborn in ages!"—that she took a blanket and slept on the common room couch instead of her own bed.
The next morning, their head of house—in this case, the intimidating Professor Severus Snape—came to the common room to distribute schedules and maps for those who needed them. Eli was still sleeping when he arrived, and was startled awake when he spoke to her.
"Miss Chaplain, might I ask why you're not in your bed?" he asked, looking furious.
Eli sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes and trying to hide her fear. Her first full day and she was already angering her head of house. Great start. "I—I'm sorry, sir. The others didn't make me feel very…welcome, I'm afraid. I thought I'd get more sleep down here."
Snape's face melted back from some of that anger. "Well, Miss Chaplain, you might have heard you're the first muggleborn to be accepted into this house in a long time. Our founder was quite…selective, in his students." He offered her a hand and helped her to stand, as she was still fighting yawns and not fully awake. "However… The Sorting Hat placed you here for a reason, wouldn't you say?"
She clenched her teeth against a yawn. The professor was…scary, in a way, most definitely. But he also seemed to be giving her some sort of a pep talk. She couldn't get a handle on his personality just yet. "I…I suppose so."
He inclined his head. "We are a proud house. Do not let the judgment of others hold you back—simply forge your own path." With that, Snape drew two sheets of parchment from the stack he'd been carrying. "Your schedule and a map of the grounds, Miss Chaplain. I suggest you arrive in class on time."
Eli took a risk and flashed him a grin. "Thanks, professor." She turned tail and ran upstairs, ignoring the irate looks from the other girls in the dormitory. A proud house, he'd said. So she'd be proud and pretend they didn't bother her. Maybe one day they wouldn't. For now…if she wanted revenge she had to start learning how magic worked.
The first week was a bit rough. Eli realized her house was pretty much hated by all the others, regaled as a house of proud arseholes with bad intentions. Simon bravely crossed house lines to remain her friend, and though they hung out between classes, they couldn't sit together or work together on anything school related besides homework. And honestly, being a muggleborn, she couldn't make friends in her own house to begin with.
Of anyone, she realized her only ally was the person the other houses hated or even feared—Professor Snape. He seemed convinced she had a place in Slytherin, and frequently reminded her in conjunction with her academics. She excelled at Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, things he assured her were very Slytherin traits. And she was cunning, even Eli could admit that to herself. She'd taught herself how to brew a potion to cause vomiting for twenty-four hours, managed to cook it up in her free time at the end of class, and slipped it to her dorm-mates as revenge for treating her poorly.
Everything held for a couple weeks, and it was okay, for the most part. Until they were assigned a research project in Defense Against the Dark Arts. A group research project. And of course, within moments of their professor announcing that they could choose their own groups, Eli found herself alone between grouped masses of Slytherins and Gryffindors. She bit her lip to keep her emotions in—calm, keep track of yourself—and resigned herself to a project by herself. Fine, she'd do it better than any group could, she'd have the best one in the whole class-
"Ah, Miss Chaplain… Why don't you simply work with…with this group?" the Professor suggested, gesturing at a group of three boys in front of him.
Eli looked over, surprised—then her eyes widened. Oh, this wasn't good at all…
The group he'd suggested was made up of Simon and the redheaded twins she'd seen around him a handful of times. In other words, Gryffindors. He was trying to pair Gryffindors with a Slytherin! She'd be ripped to shreds!
No. No, Professor Snape was right, Eli knew she was in that house for a reason. She'd survive. "Works for me," she answered simply.
Eli grabbed her things, crossed to their chosen desk, and spun a chair around to sit beside Simon. She turned a vibrant smile on the boys, trying for goodwill, but the twins were just glaring at her with all the anger they could find.
"Uh, guys, this is Eli Chaplain," Simon introduced nervously.
"She's a Slytherin, Simon," one of the boys muttered. "You know her?"
Eli jumped to her own defense. "We met on the train. And for your information, I'm a muggleborn. The Slytherins hate me too."
The other twin gave her a confused look. "You're a muggleborn? Slytherins are never muggleborns."
"Tell me about it," she grumbled irritably. "I only know half-bloods, that's all. You know, we're not as bad as you think. All I know about most Gryffindors is they hate me before they've learnt anything about me. So are all Gryffindors judgmental arses?"
The second twin laughed at that. "All right, you got us there. I'm Fred Weasley."
Simon scoffed at him. "No you're not, he's Fred, you're George." He nodded towards Eli knowingly. "Watch these two, they like to switch places."
"We do not!" the twin Eli knew now to be Fred argued.
Decisively, Eli leaned forward and flicked his ear. "You're Fred, he's George. And if you pretend otherwise to me again I'll turn your hair pink forever, so everyone always can tell the difference," she threatened calmly.
Fred leaned back from her, eyes wide. "Point taken, Miss Chaplain."
She flicked his hand this time, and crossed her arms. "Eli."
George snickered and nudged his brother. "Better keep an eye out for this one, eh Freddie?"
Rubbing his ear, Fred just nodded. Simon flashed a brief grin at Eli, and she returned it bravely—so maybe her own house didn't like her. So what? She could make friends with Gryffindors, what other Slytherin could say that? As Simon pulled out his textbook and suggested they start their project on attributes of mermaids, she just couldn't wipe a dopey smile off her face. Things really could turn around here.
"All right then, Eli. Georgie and I have devised a test to see if you're really worthy of being our friend," Fred announced one day. While Eli ate lunch with her own house, tucked away alone at the very end, she joined up with her newfound friends afterwards in their free time. Fred and George almost always showed up, as they seemed to never need to do schoolwork, while Simon came maybe half the time. Over a couple weeks, Eli had gotten to know their other friend Lee Jordan, another Gryffindor boy who struggled to accept her presence. He'd certainly turned around quick when she helped him with his Potions homework once, though. Her companionship with the Gryffindors seemed to agitate Professor Snape, but he remained on her side both in class and in the matter of her Sorting.
Eli sighed and looked up from her Charms homework—two inches of parchment on the proper use of an unsticking spell. "A test? Really? Nearly three weeks of me and you still don't believe I'm not some awful Slytherin turncoat?"
"It's not that," Simon piped up. He tossed a twig idly at Fred, who ignored it. "They want your help since Lee and I said no."
She eyed the twins suspiciously. "Help with what?"
"We need to check out Filch's office, of course!" George told her brightly.
Eli snorted. "Of course," she mocked. "And why would you need to do that? You'll be in detention for months! Maybe even the whole school year, did you ever think of that?" She narrowed her eyes. "Why would I be any help, anyway? I'm a rotten actor."
"It's simple," George assured her.
"You love cats," Fred finished.
Eli groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. "I am so going to regret this…"
And that's how, an hour later, she found herself hovering right in the path of Filch's usual rounds, pretending to work on her homework in an alcove but really waiting for the caretaker to appear. Fred and George were a few halls down, working on gaining entrance to his office, and they'd asked for fifteen minutes to get in and out. No easy feat. But…well…they'd been right. Eli loved cats. They'd discovered that on their first weekend as tentative friends, when she'd worn a jumper embroidered with the face of a kitten. If she'd had the money, she'd have bought a cat in Diagon Alley.
Filch had a cat, a smart little thing called Mrs. Norris, who seemed to help him spy on the students. But she was a gorgeous kitty and to be honest, Eli had been looking for an excuse to pet her. She supposed it was as good a time as any.
Finally, Filch himself rounded the corner, Mrs. Norris at his heels. He shot her a suspicious look down his nose, before obviously intending to walk on past her—but Eli drew herself up and stepped into his path. "Mr. Filch, hi," she greeted as brightly as she could.
He grunted at her. "Out of my way," he grumbled.
Eli stood her ground. "I just—your cat is so beautiful, sir. Is it okay to…to pet her or anything? She seems lovely."
The caretaker looked at her in shock. "You—want to pet my cat?" he demanded. Then he narrowed his eyes. "She doesn't like other people."
However, Eli was already ignoring him and crouching before the cat, wiggling her fingers and clicking her tongue like she'd done for the ferals in her neighborhood. "Hey, sweet kitty," she murmured, extending her hand. Mrs. Norris approached her curiously, hesitantly sniffing at her fingers a moment before pulling back. Eli felt disappointed, and nearly gave up—but the cat moved forward and bumped her head into Eli's hand, asking for pets just like any other kitty.
Eli grinned, delighted. "She's so sweet," she giggled, stroking her fingers down the cat's back and then scritching her chin. "We used to have a stray near my house who looked like her, a sort of Maine Coon or tabby. She had kittens but my mum wouldn't let me keep one. I remember one was totally black all over, like a fluffy black cloud."
Apparently won over by his cat's acceptance, Filch mumbled, "I've had 'er since she was just a kitten… Fed her m'self since she was just a week old."
For as long as she could, Eli kept the conversation going—but the caretaker wasn't much of a conversationalist and really, you could only talk about someone else's cat for so long. So finally she had to back off and let them go. She just hoped it had been long enough for the twins.
As they'd agreed, Eli went on to her classes—she was just waiting for Potions, where she sat across the aisle from Simon and diagonally from the twins. She'd find out then if everything went well.
Her next class, History of Magic, dragged on terribly as always—she tried her hardest to take proper notes but it was so hard to concentrate on the old ghost—but afterwards was Potions and thank goodness for that. Eli rushed right in, dragged her textbook out, and checked the chalkboard for the day's lesson. Professor Snape was nowhere to be found yet, as were most of the Gryffindors, but a handful of Slytherins were there already. She copied down the potion in her notebook—a basic sleeping draught, it seemed—and began studying the recipe.
A few minutes later the boys arrived, chatting excitedly among themselves in hushed voices. To avoid any extra ire, they pretended not to know Eli in most classes—Potions especially. But as they passed, George winked at Eli and nodded.
She grinned triumphantly. They'd done it! The twins had gotten their look in Filch's office without getting caught, and she'd helped. Maybe now they'd stop thinking she was going to turn on them.
The class passed uneventfully, and while Eli managed to make a decent enough potion to earn Slytherin an extra five points, she noted the twins created something that looked more like black sludge—purposefully, apparently. They were experimenting and somehow didn't think they'd get points docked for that.
After classes that evening, Eli caught up with Simon and the twins in the Great Hall just before dinner. "So?" she demanded. "How'd it go?"
Fred beamed at her. "Well, we didn't get caught."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I gathered that. Did you get anything good? Or was it all for naught?"
"We got…well…" George sighed and shrugged. "We took this bit of parchment Filch had locked up tight, but it just seems to insult people who try and read it."
She felt so disappointed. With how the caretaker seemed about his office, he ought to have better contraband than that! "Well, that's rubbish then. I'm not helping you ever again if that's all you get out of it."
"Fred's still convinced there's more to it," George confided in her, smirking at his twin. "I doubt it, though. Filch is just mad."
Simon nudged Eli and shook his head. "They said he had it behind six different locks… So obviously he thinks it's something important. But it was all covered in dust… Whoever made it is probably long gone."
"We'll figure it out," Fred asserted. "We just need a little more time."
By the week before Christmas holidays began, the twins had mostly given up on the parchment. Likewise, Eli had given up on her house. She even ate with her Gryffindor friends sometimes, though she received the oddest looks for it. Not that she cared—people who messed with Eli had a strange habit of coming down with horrible illnesses.
Well. People who messed with Eli or her friends.
She had developed a reputation she quite enjoyed—her house didn't hate her so much as fear her, at least her fellow first years did, and the older Slytherins simply kept their distance. Of course, most Gryffindors did too…except for Simon, George, Fred, and their assorted friends. The twins had gotten to be pretty popular in their own right, and though Simon didn't quite fit in properly the two defended him and insisted he belonged in their group. They didn't need to defend Eli, of course.
When it came time for Christmas holidays, Eli spent dinner with Simon and the twins while they discussed their holiday plans.
"Mum wants me home," Simon told them, through a bite of turkey. He called his aunt 'Mum,' seeing as she'd raised him. "My sister's coming home from Beauxbatons as well, and they're throwing her a big Christmas party since she hardly ever comes back for it."
George looked surprised. "Your sister goes to that flouncy school?"
On the other hand, Fred was confused for a very different reason. "You have a sister, Simon?"
Eli giggled. "You've always got your head somewhere else, don't you?"
"He might lose it if it wasn't attached to his head," George told her in a loud stage-whisper. In retaliation, Fred nearly shoved him off the bench. Batting his brother away, George added, "We're going home too, Mum always makes such a fuss over the holidays."
Suddenly, Eli felt very lonely. "I'm staying here," she sighed. "My parents are taking a trip, they won't be home until classes have started up again." Her friends would all be gone? And just when she was getting used to not being by herself.
"I'm sorry, Eli," Simon murmured, looking sad.
But Eli waved him off. "I'll be fine, don't worry. I can catch up on my reading. Plenty of magical books to pass the time." She put on a bright smile, but inside she was struggling. Christmas alone…
The twins exchanged pointed looks. "You know," Fred began.
"You could always," George continued.
"Spend Christmas with us," they finished together.
Eli stared at them in surprise. "But—I couldn't possibly, your mum and dad aren't expecting me and besides, I'm not a…I'm a…" She sucked in a breath, composing herself. Calm. Focus. Don't panic. "Well, I'm a Slytherin, aren't I? And your whole family are Gryffindors. I'm not sure I'd be welcome."
Fred poked her arm from across the table. "Rubbish. Mum's always happy to have company, and besides-"
"You're not like them," George pointed out. "You aren't an arse and you don't look down on us just because we're Gryffindors. Honestly, we'd all be happy to have you."
"Come on, Chaplain. Come and have a proper wizard's Christmas with us." Fred beamed at her, looking incredibly excited.
Simon nodded his encouragement. "It'll be better than staying here, Eli."
She sighed—no matter her discomfort, it was better to try it now than make excuses every holiday. "All right, fine. I'll go."