Chapter 1: Train Station
Professor Horace Slughorn, former head of Slytherin and current headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat behind his desk, settling his walruslike bulk into his favorite chair. Joining the headmaster were Filius Flitwick, the rather small man who taught charms and was head of Ravenclaw, Neville Longbottom, the Herbology teacher, war hero, and head of Gryffindor, and Mathilda Merrythought, Potions professor and head of Hufflepuff. There was no representative for Slytherin in attendance.
"To another fine year at Hogwarts!" Slughorn declared, popping open a bottle of wine. "To good students, good lessons, and good friends! Personally, I rather enjoy this time of year. We have a good returning crop of students, I'd say."
"Agreed, but what about the new ones?" Neville Longbottom asked, offering his empty glass to Slughorn. He also slid Flitwick's closer to the headmaster.
"Well, there aren't any 'Boys who Lived,' if that's what you're worried about," Slughorn joked, filling both glasses. "We're finally running short of transfer students. We've only got two candidates this year, and there was actually room for them!"
"Hogwarts is such a wonderful school, and I'm glad people want to come here," Merrythought took her own glass of wine, subtley filching a piece of crystallized pineapple from the jar on Slughorn's desk. "But if y ou start in a school, you should finish it! It's far too much trouble to make these poor children forget everything they've learned from Beauxbatons, or wherever." Since The Dark Lord Voldemort's defeat at the hands of Harry Potter, Hogwarts School had gained a sort of celebrity status. In the last nineteen years, there had been more requests for transfers into Hogwarts than in the previous century. "Who are the new students, if I may ask?"
"Two girls." Slughorn answered, filling his own glass to the brim. "One from Beauxbatons. She's been trying to get in here since she was eleven, poor thing. Parents were really impressed by what happened to old You-Know-Who, and they kept playing me with letters, gifts, attempts to visit, that whole thing. They even threatened to move here to try to force our hand!" He said this with a bit of a chuckle, corking the bottle again. "Miss Serenity Starsdawn. Strange name if I ever saw one."
"She'll fit in with a few of them," Longbottom said. "How old is she, and what is her record?"
"She's a fine student, and this will be her last year. I believe she turned seventeen in May. Of course, her parents talk her up, but we'll see how she does, won't we?"
"We will," Flitwick answered, taking a sip. "Sounds nice, anyway. Who is the other student?"
"A transfer from Salem." An audible groaning sound filled the room when Slughorn said this. He looked over his shoulder to see that, in several portraits of previous Hogwarts headmasters, the subjects were looking away from him.
"Oh, give it a break! It's not that bad." Merrythought protested, glaring at the portraits. "America just needs more time to bloom, and it'll have an excellent Wizarding community. What's her hame, Horace?"
"Sypha Veranades," the headmaster answered, pointedly ignoring the portraits. "She lives with her Aunt, who moved here in June. The aunt's from Durmstrang, but raised her niece in the States. The girl's record is spotty, very spotty – excellent book work, irregular marks in actual magic. She even had to repeat her first year, and there was talk of her being a Squib. Supposedly her magic doesn't always work the way it's supposed to."
"I can understand that," Neville commented, "My first few years here were anything but stellar. Perhaps if she's in Hogwarts, I can help her. Better if she's in Gryffindor. What year is she?"
"She's seventeen, but it's her sixth year." Slughorn refilled his glass. "Imagine that! You're an adult, and you still haven't gotten your O.W.L.s back!"
"Do they even have O.W.L.s in America?" Merrythought asked.
"No, but she took them here before she sent her transfer request," Slughorn answered. "That impressed me. Initiative like that is a good thing – it makes up for other deficiencies. Either way, we'll see what happens."
"What about the new teachers?" Mathilda Merrythought interjected. "I love your surprise for Defense Against Dark Arts – the students will love it. Are you sure she can do this while keeping her other job?"
"Of course, of course!" Slughorn set his empty glass down, helping himself to some pineapple. "She said so herself – and it's only for this year. Even without the curse, we go through a lot of Defense teachers, don't we?"
"Too many," Neville agreed. Although the curse over the position broke when Voldemort died, Defense teacher was a difficult position to fill. The previous teacher, recently retired, had lasted for seven years. "And Transfiguration, too. Can you believe it?"
"Professor Ovid said he wanted to retire while he remembered his real shape, that's right." Slughorn laughed again. "Well, I've found someone to fill his position, and to fill in as Head of Slytherin, at least for now. How is that?"
"Professor Eytinge has good credentials," Flitwick said. "But are you certain about putting him in charge of the house? He didn't even graduate from Hogwarts."
"Durmstrang, yes. Leo Eytinge and I go back, and I think he'd be a good addition to the school. Nobody else who applied could take Slytherin. Isn't that a pity? I'd do it, but I have the whole school to look out for, you know. He should be here tomorrow, and then you'll all have a good look at him."
The others nodded, and the informal meeting continued. Finally, Neville Longbottom asked, "Will you be continuing the Slug Club, sir?"
"Of course!" Slughorn bellowed. "The Club's done very well before, even after I took this position. You'll note I don't influence my students' grades, and they still get in trouble if they break the rules. I think it's a good way to meet students and for students to meet each other."
"I think it causes some elitism," Neville responded, looking down into his drink.
"Nonsense! Complete and utter nonsense! If someone has a bad attitude because of the Club, wouldn't they just do it in Quidditch, or with their studies, or their bloodline?"
There was no outright agreement, but some sounds of basic assent. Horace Slughorn smiled, and changed the subject. "I hear we're getting another one of Potter's kids this year."
"Little Albus. He's a darling," Neville responded. "Looks like his dad, too. I look forward to seeing him with his brother in Gryffindor."
"We all do," Flitwick said with a smile. "Such a delightful family, even if James acts a little too much like his namesake."
"I think it's good for the school," Merrythought said, another piece of pineapple having found its way into her hands. "And not just publicity, but I think they will set a good example for the school."
"There's nothing like teaching your students' children, you know." Slughorn interrupted. "Nothing like it at all. Harry was an excellent Potions student, just like his mother – James is no slouch, and I suspect little Albus will follow." He smiled then, and lifted his glass.
"To Hogwarts, and to the new schoolyear!"
In the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there was an enchanted quill. This quill was active throughout the year, recording the names and locations of future students of the school. When the time came each year to invite new students to the school, the list is checked, and letters were sent to each eligible youth. In this way, every student would have ample time to be prepared before the start of the new term each September. One exception to this would be Sypha Veranades, who was in full panic, trying to stuff books, robes, and other assorted supplies into a trunk.
"Am I forgetting anything?" Sypha asked herself, pressing her hand against her forehead. "Books!" she shouted, quickly scuttling off to find her textbooks.
"Don't forget your cat this time!" a voice shouted from down the hall.
"I won't!" She called back, taking Advanced Potion Making, Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, and Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six from her shelf, stuffing them into a separate bag. "Aunt Violet, where's my Confronting the Faceless?"
"It's in the bathroom," Aunt Violet answered from across the small house. "I told you to get your books ready yesterday!"
Quickly stowing the books in her luggage, Sypha turned and ran down the hallway. A small grey shape dashed between her feet and tripped her. She hit the floor, and Confronting the Faceless hit her head.
"Solomon!" The short girl yelled, scrambling to her feet and taking the book again. "Bad!" She added, giving a baleful look over her shoulder as she walked back through the hall again. Solomon, a fat gray tabby, gave her a victorious look and then proceeded to lick himself.
"Now for the tough part," Sypha muttered to herself, kneeling down to stuff her last book into the bag and fit them all in her trunk. It wouldn't close. She picked up a small kennel cage, hearing a rattle inside – the cat treats and toys were still in there, undisturbed. Smiling, Sypha walks back into the hall.
"Solomon," she said, adding extra sweetness to her voice. "I have a treat for you." Solomon was still where she had left him. His self-bathing stopped and he looked up, keenly peering at the plastic prison his owner held in front of him.
"Just go inside, Solomon," Sypha set the kennel down carefully, about to reach for her cat. Solomon took a break for it, beginning to run past her when she caught him in both arms. The cat yowled.
"Gotcha!" She smiled and knelt, bringing Solomon to the kennel's open door. He spread his furry limbs, bracing himself against each side of the door with a paw, holding on for dear life.
"Get… in… there!" She shouted, trying to push the cat inside. Solomon held fast, hissing at her. She put her shoulder into it, and just as his grip seemed to be slipping, Solomon let go of the door and lunged in Sypha's hands, paws wrapping around her face. She fell back with a startled squeal, making loud muffled sounds as she tried to pry him loose. When she pulled him off her face, Solomon's claws came out and he latched to the sleeve of her new Hogwarts robes.
"Stop that! Bad!" Sypha protested, trying to guide the cat into his kennel again. He latched onto her arm with an iron grip. "Come on, I'm almost late as it is!" Solomon wouldn't budge. Finally, she gave a harsh sigh and quickly peeled off her outer robe, trapping the cat in the fabric. Solomon howled and thrashed, but Sypha stuffed him and the robe the kennel and shut the door before he had a chance to scramble free. Then she realized what she had just done. Opening the door would allow a jailbreak, and the struggle would continue again. To keep the kennel closed, however – with part of her new school uniform inside – could definitely be worse.
"Solomon?" she said after a moment's hesitation. The cat looked at her with baleful eyes, as if daring her to try, just try to take her clothing back from him. "Just… just don't shred it, okay? Please?" Solomon padded back, kneading her robe and arranging it on the floor of the kennel. He laid down, resigned to his new term of imprisonment, yet still triumphant.
"Please?" Sypha asked her cat one more time before she turned around, back to her luggage. She tied her mousey blonde hair behind her head, wincing a little where Solomon had clawed her scalp. She tried to close her trunk again, sighing when it popped open. It was that book – Confronting the Faceless, which refused to stop giving her trouble today. She pressed one more time, struggling as the latch just missed catching.
Sypha took her wand and opened the trunk, pointing it at her textbook before quickly saying, "Reducio!" The book began to shrink, finally allowing her to shut her trunk and finish packing. She smiled, inwardly pleased at the spell's success. Perhaps moving was a good thing, after all.
"I know you're seventeen, but you still shouldn't perform magic outside of school." Sypha jumped and turned, seeing her Aunt Violet. Violet Veranades looked down to her niece, and offered a thin smile. "Are you quite ready to go, now?" She asked Sypha. "We can't be late, can we?"
"I'm sorry, Aunt Violet." Sypha looked to her shoes. "I'm packed, yes."
"That's a strange way to treat your uniform." Violet picked up the kennel, letting Sypha take the rest of her luggage.
"I'll get it out in the train. Can we go now?"
They had lived in the East Meon house for three months now. Before then was Salem, Massachusetts, and before that, Boston. Sypha even vaguely remembered living in Florida at one point in her life. It seemed Aunt Violet had the restlessness bug. A cold, quiet person by nature, Violet Veranades was not exactly a "warm" caregiver, although her niece had little to complain about in life. A natural teacher, Violet demonstrated her belief that education begins in the home by drilling behavior and ethics into Sypha's head. This was how she expressed love. Sypha understood this, and the two of them got along fairly well.
They stood just inside King's Cross, in the building that housed Platforms 9 and 10. The hustle and bustle of human traffic, mostly muggle, ran around them. Sypha stood, her luggage in a cart, keeping one hand free to carry the caged cat.
"Remember." Violet stated, "The platform is between Nine and Ten. To enter it, run into the wall. Do you understand this?"
"I understand, Aunt Violet," Sypha answered, nodded, and in a fit of impulsiveness hugged her. Violet blinked once in surprise, but gently encircled her arms around her diminutive niece's shoulders. "you're doing so much for me," she said, hugging her aunt tightly. "Thank you so much, Aunt Violet! I promise I'll take care of myself!"
"You are my niece," she answered, and gently pushed Sypha back toward her luggage. "Now go."
Sypha stepped back, took her cat in one hand, and then started pushing the luggage cart away. Her speed steadily began to pick up as she neared the wall between platforms. For a brief moment, she thought about how ironic it would be if she picked the wrong platform, and smashed herself against the wall. However, she could see in front of her somebody else in front of her, running through and heading into Platform 9¾. "Goodbye!" Sypha shouted, and was gone.