Chapter Four
Back To School
A quality of justice, a quantity of light
A particle of mercy makes the color of right.
Gravity and distance change the passage of light
Gravity and distance change the color of right.
-Rush, "The Color of Right"
It was storming outside, but inside the halls of Hogwarts, and under a mask of calm composure, Kitty and Illyana were beside themselves with excitement. Piotr looked on, uncomfortable in the school uniform and robe, and this teenaged body. He felt gangly, ill at ease, weaker than he liked. His sister had put him in the body he'd had when he had saved her from a tractor in the Ust-Ordynski Collective, the same day Professor Xavier had convinced him to join the X-men. It was an inexperienced body, untempered by the experiences he'd gone through.
"Heya, big guy," Kitty said, speaking softly in the wide hallway, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he answered. "No, that is not true. I feel uncomfortable. Vulnerable. I have been practicing – but things do not seem to come so easily." They'd spent some time after their respective transformations trying to familiarize themselves the spells Professor Dumbledore had allowed Rachel to share with them. He'd chosen a solid range of charms and transfigurations, given them the benefit of his vast knowledge of Potions, Magical Creatures and Herbology, as well as the basics of Arithmancy, Divination, and Ancient Runes. His knowledge of American Magical History was limited, but his library had produced a few volumes that Kitty was able to finish quickly and sum up while the Headmaster worked on their cover story as exchange students.
"Well, hang in there," she whispered, leaning in close. "We'll find a place to practice more, but the students should be getting here any second."
As she spoke, the doors to the Entrance Hall burst open and a herd of sopping wet, bedraggled children hurried in. Their quest for shelter, however, was denied by a hail of water balloons thrown by the poltergeist, Peeves.
Rachel watched the bombardment with an amused look on her face until one came flying in their direction. Her hand flew up and caught it telekinetically, and then reached out and caught the others falling on the students. All eyes turned to her.
"Ray!" whispered Kitty fiercely. "Wand!"
Her eyes flashed, and her hand was suddenly holding the illusion of the wand she'd been given. She flicked her hand and all the balloons flew back at the mischievous spirit, where they exploded when she made a stabbing motion. She followed that with a twist of her wrist, causing the water to form a globe around Peeves.
"Glacius!" called out Kitty, brandishing her own wand. The water froze into a large sphere of ice, causing the poltergeist to stop his taunts and stare incredulously at them. He wasn't trapped by any means, passing through the icy shell easily, but he did move off, grumbling, in search of other mischief.
"Miss Grey, Miss Pryde!" came a stern voice from behind them.
They turned around quickly, startled by the tone. "Yes, Professor McGonagall?" asked Kitty.
The stern face looked down at them, her green eyes glaring through her spectacles. "Explain yourselves. You are guests in this castle, and you are rewarding our hospitality by… showing off?"
Minerva McGonagall, deputy Headmistress, had not been pleased when informed of her Headmaster's scheme. They hadn't dared repeat the trick of holding their knowledge of J.K. Rowling's works for her; the strain had been great on the more mature body of an older Rachel, and the Transfiguration Professor was not known for the same curiosity and openness that Professor Dumbledore had.
"What, were we supposed to just let that thing drench us?" Rachel demanded hotly.
"This is a school, Miss Grey. Not one of your 'adventures'," the older woman said, distastefully. "I have enough of that with Mr. Potter and his friends. I will not have this school treated as a playground." Under her breath, so that the other students would not hear, she added, "And using your Muggle abilities risks exposing yourselves."
"We're sorry, Professor," Kitty said, giving her friend a nudge.
"OK, fine, I'm sorry too." Rachel said, "But me and that ghost are going to have trouble, I'm sure of it."
"Peeves' actions will not go unremarked. I would recommend that you not get into a feud with him. It will not go well for you." With that, she repositioned her pointed hat, and straightened her robes. "Please remain here until after the first years have been brought in and sorted. Professor Dumbledore will summon you then."
"Thank you," said Piotr, moving in between the deputy Headmistress and the still fuming Marvel Girl.
McGonagall walked away briskly, her carriage erect. She stopped briefly to chat with a bushy haired girl of about fourteen, who was flanked by two boys, who were just as recognizable.
"Wow," said Kitty, with a slight nod in their direction, her eyes widening. "Wow… there they are. Harry, Hermione and Ron. The Golden Trio."
"Not quite Radcliffe, Watson and Grint, are they?" Illyana commented, "But pretty darn close. I guess this means Snape isn't going to look like Alan Rickman." Her disappointment was evident.
They watched as the three protagonists of book and film headed off to the Great Hall, standing there in silence, reflecting on the whole surrealism of it.
"All told, that could have gone better," admitted Kitty after a while, "With McGonagall, I mean."
"Seems to be a bit of a recurring theme," said Illyana, "If I remember, didn't she slip on the water from the balloons in the book?"
"I… think so," answered her friend. She frowned. "Yes. I'd almost forgotten that."
"Great, I save her, and I still get yelled at," Rachel grimaced. "This just gets better and better."
"You know," Illyana chimed in, "I bet I can hurt ol' Peeves with my Soulsword."
"I wouldn't," Kitty said, "I think they need him next year, when Umbridge takes over."
The doors burst open again, and a herd of little ones, all around eleven years old, came piling in behind the massive form of Hagrid. The four X-men moved casually to the other side of the grand staircase.
"I hope Kurt's having as much fun as we are," Rachel grumbled, mostly to herself, watching Kitty and Illyana giggle over the tiny form of Dennis Creevey, who had fallen in the lake.
Kurt Wagner was not, in fact, having much fun. The jump back in time had robbed him of most of his resources, so he found himself doing a lot of legwork. He'd had to get money from Professor Dumbledore, as neither his bank nor credit cards were accepted, with expiration dates too far in the future. He also was worried about anything that might call attention to himself. The younger him was running around – at Braddock Manor, if he had the timing right. Not too long ago had been the confrontation between Rachel, fully imbued with the power of the Phoenix, and Necrom. Depending on the timing, Professor Xavier might even be present, trying to pull Rachel from the comatose state she'd been left in as a result of that battle.
He rubbed his eyes, blinking against the sun that was peeking through the clouds. He'd been trying to find a paper trail for Aescwine Natan, but nothing had come up. Granted, the state of computing in 2004 was not what it would be in just a few years, with many records not yet available online, but even still he'd hoped to find something of Sinister's fingerprints to show for his effort.
He looked at his watch. He was to meet an agent of Dumbledore's at a café around here. A disheveled man – in his mid thirties, perhaps, with his brown hair going prematurely grey in places – approached him. "Mr. Wagner?" the man asked, uncertainly.
"The one and the same," he said, offering his hand.
The man nodded, and took Kurt's hand in his and shook it. His eyes widened as he detected that it was not a five fingered hand, the physical touch piercing the illusion generated by the image inducer the mutant wore. "My name," he said hesitantly, looking about them, "is Remus Lupin."
Professor McGonagall had slipped back into the entrance hall, taking charge of the first years from Hagrid, who wandered over to the X-men.
"Why, hello ther'," he greeted them.
"Hi Hagrid!" Illyana said cheerfully.
The groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures instructor seemed to brighten at being recognized. "Heard of me, have yeh?"
Piotr nodded his head, unaccustomed at looking upwards. "Good evening. Professor Dumbledore filled us in about the staff. He said you were a man of great heart."
"Tha' Dumbledore, he's a great man, he is." He was blushing behind his great bristly beard. "Yeh're a tall one yerself, aren't yeh?"
"I had thought so. I have not felt so small since I was not yet a teen, getting a view of Lake Baikal."
"So yer from the States, eh? Pretty excitin' time t' be coming t' Hogwarts now. Great things are comin'. Funny tha', t' be honest. We've never ha' anyone from there before. But Professor Dumbledore say yeh all are th' future, tha' we can' keep hidin' ourselv's from each othe'."
"It is a commendable thought," the Russian said, carefully.
"So, if yeh don' mind meh askin', wha' sort of creatures have yeh studied so far? Maybe when yeh come to my class yeh can talk about some of the diff'rences."
"We'd be delighted," said Kitty, coming to her fiancé's rescue.
A tiny piece of paper slid underneath the doors to the main hall. At first it looked like it was being tossed by a breeze, but it suddenly began to fold itself, origami-like, into a swan that flew toward the four. It was hard not to be amazed by the deftness of the magic involved.
Hagrid reached out his large fist and grabbed it. He gave it a little shake, and it unfolded back into a piece of paper. His eyes scanned it, his lips moving silently as he read. "Looks like they're ready fo' yeh." He handed it to Kitty.
"Thanks!" she said, "The question is – are we ready?"
"Let's just get it over with," sighed Rachel, unenthusiastically.
They reached the double doors to the Great Hall and opened them quietly, slipping in to hear "Whitby, Kevin!" being announced by Professor McGonagall. They watched the Sorting Hat being placed on his head, and the subsequent announcement that he would be joining Hufflepuff House
Then Dumbledore stood, resplendent in his robes of forest green, adorned with sigils and signs the import they knew not. His voice boomed throughout the hall, "Before we enjoy our opening meal, we have one more favor to ask of our Sorting Hat this year."
There was a loud groan from a red-headed boy at the Gryffindor table.
"I dare say you will not starve, Mr. Weasley, as much as you might think you may," the Headmaster admonished the student with a twinkle in his eye. He continued, "I have long felt that our society has become too insular, that we keep ourselves apart, even from our fellow wizards around the world, with only events such as the Quidditch World Cup to bring us together. I have, then, undertaken some effort to alleviate our isolationism. One piece will be revealed later, but first, I would like you all to welcome the first ever exchange students at Hogwarts."
The whole all turned to look at them. Many were talking in excited whispers about the workings Rachel and Kitty had pulled on Peeves. Others were clearly sizing them up – as rivals, as potential friends – or more, based on some of the more appreciative stares. Dumbledore waited for the excitement to die down.
"Our friends here come from a small school in Westchester County. I have been in touch with their school's Headmaster, and they will be spending the year with us, learning about us, and hopefully engendering a positive relationship across the ocean. They will be joining our sixth years, so as to not interfere with the last months of NEWT preparation for those in their seventh year with us, and I've asked the Hat to put one in each of our four Houses, so, Professor McGonagall, if you would?"
The witch moved again to place the Hat on the stool, where for the second time that night, it began to sing.
For the first time in a thousand years
I need an encore for my song
And though I may extemporize
I still won't guide you wrong
From far off lands our guests have come
These times are surely changing
One to each house, their home this year
Is what I'll be arranging
Be it Gryffindor or Ravenclaw
To Slytherin or Hufflepuff
Put me on, and you'll soon see
I'm one hat that knows its stuff.
"Please come forward, place the Sorting Hat atop your head," McGonagall spoke. "When it announces your house, walk over to that table and take a seat. Grey, Rachel!"
*Gah! Don't they believe in disinfectant?* she sent to the others as she crossed the floor. *Based on the kids at the Institute, hygiene isn't always a top priority, especially for eleven year old boys.*
*Clearly they use magical germicide,* came Illyana's answer.
*Be serious, you two,* Kitty admonished them both.
The red headed girl picked up the hat and cautiously placed it on her head. Her face grew pensive, as the Hat made its decision. Finally, it let out a shout of "GRYFFINDOR!" to thunderous applause from that table, and polite clapping from the rest of the audience.
"Pryde, Katherine!"
Kitty looked nervous. She gave Piotr's arm a light squeeze before walking purposefully towards the stool. The hat did not wait long to sort her, with a hearty cry of "RAVENCLAW!"
"No surprise there," commented Illyana quietly to her brother, who merely nodded, worry evident on his face.
"Rasputina, Illyana!"
"Ooh, my turn!" she said, her blonde hair streaming behind her as she practically ran to the Hat. The Hat, in turn, struggled. It looked, for lack of a better term and for as much as a piece of headwear can look, confused. As the minutes rolled by, Piotr could see his sister whispering something.
"If you insist," the Hat said, "you can be in SLYTHERIN!"
"Rasputin, Peter!"
At the sound of his name, he sighed and headed forward. He did not like this, being separated from Katya. What he remembered of the films was a sense of divisiveness among the houses, worse than there had ever been between the various offshoot teams of X-men. He did not relish the idea of having to deal with the petty squabbles of youth. But he would be steadfast, and hopefully the time here would be brief, yet long enough for his fiancée and sister to both enjoy themselves.
In the movies, the Hat had spoken aloud, but it was instead inside his head that he heard it say, Very interesting. At least I can read you, unlike your sister. I've never had a mind I could not read like that. But nonetheless, it seems that the final House is also the perfect fit for you. You may be terribly brave, and there may be a darkness within you, but, absent Gryffindor, the House that suits you best would be- "HUFFLEPUFF!"
He nodded gravely, removed it and placed it gently on the stool. He straightened his shoulders and strode over to meet his new housemates.
A tall, handsome boy of about seventeen was the first to greet him. "Hi Peter," he said with a smile, "I'm Cedric Diggory, one of the prefects for Hufflepuff House. We're glad to have you!"
Piotr shook his hand, and mentally adjusted himself to the name "Peter" again. He'd gone back to his Russian name when he was with Excalibur, to avoid confusion with the spy – and Kitty's ex – Pete Wisdom, and it had stuck somewhat. It was, after all, the name he'd heard for the first sixteen years of his life. But he was to be Peter here, then Peter he would be. "It is my pleasure," he said, shaking Cedric's hand.
Professor Dumbledore stood once again, "And now that our guests are well placed, I hope you will all make them welcome during their stay. And with that, if you will allow me, Mr. Weasley, to say a few more words,…" The boy at the Gryffindor table blushed nearly the same color as his hair. "Tuck in."
Piotr – Peter, now – watched with some amazement as the table filled with large roasts, heaps of mashed potatoes, as well as decidedly British specialties such as Black Pudding and pork pie. He sampled a little of each, mostly out of politeness, and found it all delicious. "My compliments to your chefs," he said, "this is really quite excellent."
"Ah," replied Cedric, "Friar! Our guest offers compliments to the House Elves in the kitchen!"
A smaller translucent form drifted over, "Wonderful. I should say they will be well pleased to hear it, after the troubles before."
"Troubles?" asked the Prefect.
"Oh, Peeves was just being his usual self. The Bloody Baron would not let him come to today's festivities, and then some students apparently thwarted him from terrorizing the first years, so he went down to the kitchens and caused quite the disturbance."
"Why that thing is still in the castle is beyond me," said a younger boy of about fourteen, his blonde hair still dripping wet. "You'd think that Dumbledore would've had it exorcised years ago."
"Maybe, Zecharias," said Cedric, "and maybe he has reasons. You never know with Professor Dumbledore. He's brilliant, but he's got an odd sense of humor. Besides, I've heard Peeves has been here as long as this castle, and if Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin didn't – or couldn't – expel him, then I think we may be stuck with him."
"Has this Peeves actually injured anyone?" asked Peter, curious, "Other than their pride, I mean?"
"He can get a bit vicious, but generally nothing worse than the students pranking each other."
Peter nodded, remembering Illyana's threat of her Soulsword, which could destroy almost all things magical. If the poltergeist were beyond the measures of this world to control him, and he were a danger to the children here, he might suggest that his sister take steps.
"Peeves can be a bother," said the ghostly Friar, "but I've always felt it is in our interest to forgive his trespasses. And, should he step out of line, there is always the Bloody Baron to rein him in."
Dinner went on. There had been a disturbance over at the Gryffindor table where the one with the bushy hair – Hermione, he remembered – had spilled her drink, apparently causing the ghost of a knight to laugh hard enough to dislodge his almost completely severed head.
After a delectable course of desserts, Professor Dumbledore again went to the podium, silencing the student body. He told them, albeit with a degree of insouciance, of new items added to a banned list, and warned them about the Forest and the ban on younger students in the village of Hogsmeade.
He went on to say that the Quidditch Cup would not be held that year, leading to a massive outcry from the assembly, including much of the Hufflepuff table around Peter. Cedric, he noted, had a slightly disappointed expression, but did not seem shocked liked the others. As the Headmaster asked for order, he leaned in and stated, "You are not surprised."
"No," answered the boy, "My father is in the Ministry, and heard about something really wonderful happening this year. It's too bad that Quidditch will be lost, but it really will be the most exciting time to be here at Hogwarts."
Dumbledore was trying to explain when, as a particularly massive thunderclap boomed overhead, the doors to the Hall banged open, and a grizzled wizard limped in. Every eye in the room turned to watch him, a scarred caricature of a man.
"Who is that?" whispered the boy Cedric had called Zecharias.
"Mad-Eye Moody," Cedric whispered back. "He's an old auror, one of the best. My dad told me he was in a bit of trouble this morning, but I guess it was all sorted."
Peter took in the appearance of the man skeptically, knowing him to be a fraud. He had dealt with enough shapeshifters during his time with the X-men, Nightcrawler's mother Mystique, for one, and did not relish the idea of keeping this man's identity secret. To expose the man for what he was, however, would derail the natural course of events, and their job was to stop Mr. Sinister.
Dumbledore greeted him warmly and introduced "Alastor Moody" to the Hogwarts students as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but they were too stunned to offer even polite applause. Peter watch him intently, trying to see those mannerisms that would show him to be the villain, but aside from the dependence on the hip flask, there was no sign.
He was so focused on Moody that he did not hear the announcement about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He blinked as the children around him – he thought briefly that he needed to correct that line of thought, that his physical age was not so much older than them – began to talk amongst themselves excitedly.
A muscular, brown-haired girl was talking to Cedric, asking if he was going to try out for the Tournament, "C'mon, Ced, you're one of the best young wizards in the school, you gotta do this for Hufflepuff!"
He smiled, "I'll think about it, O'Flahety. It would give me something to do with no Quidditch this year."
"Tell me about it!" she laughed, "If only I was a year older, I know I'd take a shot."
"At least that age line will keep St. Potter from entering," joked another boy, to the laughter of those around him.
"Do you think you will be allowed to enter, Peter?" asked the girl, "Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Maxine O'Flahety, I'm one of the Beaters on the Hufflepuff squad."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Maxine," Peter said, "But, to answer your question, I don't believe we will be invited to participate, and it seems better for that, if it is traditionally among those three schools."
"Yeah, I guess so," she replied. She looked like she had something else to ask, but lost her nerve and returned to a group of her friends, who seemed beset by a giggling fit.
"Nice dodge," said Cedric approvingly.
"Thank you," he answered with a smile. He found himself liking this genial, charismatic boy, even knowing it was a mistake to become personally involved. He wondered if he would be able to let him be sacrificed, just to let this story go on as written. He could see Rachel's point clearly – it was one thing to think of the situation academically, quite another to step back when you had the power to intervene.
"All right, Hufflepuffs," Cedric said, "Time to head to bed. Second years, make sure the first years get settled in. First years, if the second years tell you something that sounds fishy, it probably is. Especially if it's Touchstone." A round faced boy with light brown hair tried to look innocent. The prefect gave him a suspicious look, "Really, Frederick? Aren't you feeling well?" He resumed his address to his Housemates, "If you aren't sure, feel free to ask me or one of the other prefects."
He headed determinedly out the door, Peter walking easily a half pace behind him, with the others a veritable sea of black robes and hats following.
A large group – far too large for Peter's tastes – were right at their heels, all of the girls whispering and giggling as they went.
"Sorry about that," said Cedric, noting the discomfort on his face. "The younger students tend to be a bit overenthusiastic, especially at the beginning of term." The prefect shot a glance back at on of the first years, who nearly tripped over her own feet at the sight of his gaze. She blushed furiously and dropped of the pace. "They tend to calm down as soon as classes start."
"Is that your experience, then?" asked Peter.
Cedric managed to look a bit sheepish. "No," he said with a lopsided smile, "not especially."
Peter reflected back to the days growing up in the Rodina – his homeland. He remembered walking home quickly, his ears burning in response to yet another attempt by one of the village's daughters to take advantage of his shy, helpful nature. Back then, he'd always heeded his mother's advice, leaving a legion of disappointed admirers, not to mention the countless aspersions on his manhood and sexuality by the jilted and the jealous.
He certainly did not relish having to live through that all over again.
Cedric took them down towards the kitchens, shortening his stride at times to allow the little ones to keep pace. When a stack of barrels appeared on their left, he called the column to a halt. "Listen up, everyone. This is going to be your home here to the next seven years. Look around you – these are your family. The other houses may be known for bravery, or cleverness, or ambition. They may even look down on 'poor little Hufflepuff'. But I'll tell you this – no House is like ours. We work hard, we watch each other's backs, and we make sure that no one is left behind. Hufflepuffs have reached Minister of Magic several times. Hufflepuffs wrote some of those books you'll be studying. But only the interesting ones, the boring ones all had Ravenclaw authors. Ask Susan about her aunt, who heads up the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and has a seat on the Wizengamot. There's no House with more professional Quidditch players than ours, probably because of how well we work together. Connolly and Moran, from the World Champion squad – both Hufflepuffs.
"It all starts here, at this entrance." He tapped a rhythm on one of the barrels, causing the slid to swing wide. "Now, everybody, the Sorting Hat has made us this family. Leave any fears, any prejudices, any worries behind you at this door. You're home, and we will take care of you."
With that, he crawled through the barrel, and then down a passageway leading to a cozy, low-beamed room all done up in black and yellow, with large, plush armchairs in front of a roaring fire. A large portrait of a matronly looking woman in yellow, drinking a cup of tea, was in the center of the room, flanked by intricate carvings of two badgers. The warmth of the wood and an abundance of well-tended plants contrasted sharply with the dank stones of the dungeon they'd passed through, and despite everything, it felt somewhat… homey, if that was the word.
"Come on, you'll be staying in the same room as me and my friends. Thankfully we've got an open bed for you." He turned to direct one of the first year boys to the lavatory, and then pointed to another passage. "This way."
Peter started to follow, but was distracted by a particularly beautiful still life (for a given value of still, as the candle in the painting actually flickered, causing the shadows to come to life). He turned to get a better look at the intricacies of this "wizarding artwork', and thus didn't hear Cedric's warning until too late.
The crack of his head hitting the lintel of the door stunned him momentarily, forcing him back. His right heel, already through the door, caught on the bottom, and he went down in a heap.
Cedric grinned, "I tried to stop you – I really did. I'm afraid it appears to be one of those lessons you just have to learn for yourself. I spent much of my first year with a near permanent black and blue spot on my forehead." He held out his hand to Peter, who accepted gratefully. "It's cozy, but the doorways here were never meant for people my size, much less yours."
"Bozhe moi," he grunted, regaining his balance. "This will not be easy."
"The ceilings in the bedrooms are a bit higher than the common room, but I'm afraid you're going to be stooping a lot this year."
Peter sighed, then yawned.
They walked quickly; Peter happy to stretch his legs, despite the slight bend to his stride he adopted to ensure the safety of his aching skull. He noted that he'd have to make sure to incorporate some yoga into his exercise routine to maintain flexibility. "Does Hogwarts have any sort of calisthenics?" he asked.
"Not as such, no," Cedric answered, "During Quidditch season, which, let's face it, is pretty much all year, we train pretty hard. Some of the classes can be demanding – wait until you have Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures – but nothing really organized. How was it at your school?"
Peter fought to keep from blushing. He really did not want to lie. "Physical training is very important in Westchester. We are taught that our powers – our magic – is not always available to us."
"I've heard that it's much harder to be a witch or wizard in the States."
"This is true. People fear that which they don't understand, and that fear turns easily to persecution. We have to hide ourselves, and there are very few places like Hogwarts or Diagon Alley to… be ourselves."
Cedric frowned, "That sounds terrible. I'll probably be bothering you with tons of questions over the year, but I have some prefect duties to go through and you probably want to get some rest. I'm sure my roommates and I – our roommates, I guess - will be catching up for a while, so I'll try to make sure we don't wake you when we come up."
"Thank you. I, too, will probably have many questions as we go along. But yes, sleeping sounds like an excellent idea."
With that, Cedric left the bedroom. Peter changed to some loose pajamas, and ran through a quick series of stretches before seeking his bed.
*Rachel, can you hear me?*
*Loud and clear, Petey.* came the thought. *Still waiting on Kate and you sister though. Probably still geeking out over being here. How're things working out for you?*
He sent the telepathic equivalent of a shrug. *I am sharing a room with Cedric Diggory…*
*Ouch. Probably for the best we'll be out of here long before he gets zapped.*
*I have serious reservations about that. How can we just stand idly by and let him die?*
Rachel's mindspeak was grim, *Welcome to my world.* Her attention was suddenly diverted. *Hold on, Kitty and 'Yana are here.*
*OK* came Kitty's "voice", *How cool was that?*
*I know!* thought Illyana, *I mean, there were some people grumbling that I'm not pure-blood, and I nearly let slip that both Snape and Voldy are half-breeds themselves… but apparently, when it came out that old Great Grandad was ol' Grigori Rasputin, all was forgiven. I think he was one of their kinda wizards!*
*A Harry Potter-esque wizard and a mutant,* Kitty responded. *Very interesting. I wonder just how much a genetic component exists for them? So… what's everyone's room like? We never got to see the Hufflepuff Common Room in the books or the movies. I think it was supposed to be up on Pottermore, but I never had a chance to sign up.*
*The door frames are low.* thought Peter, wincing.
Rachel then suggested that she just move the information telepathically to save time. Kitty was disappointed, but assented. Peter could tell that she had to keep from laughing when the memory of him hitting his head flashed by.
*First class is at nine o'clock, breakfast starts around seven. Did we want to meet up then, or earlier?*
*Meeting at seven would be fine, Ray*, thought Kitty, *Although we should probably sit with our Houses. I cannot believe I'm actually saying that!*
*Me either*! came Illyana's laughing thought.
*We'll need to find a place to stay in shape, to stay focused, and to plot how to take down Sinister. Think about that, everyone.*
*I think you two would probably know better than us*, Rachel sent.
*Probably. 'Yana and I will work on that.* Kitty sighed, *This is weird. Haven't had to sleep alone – or with five other people in the same room – in a long while. Guess we should all get our beauty rest.*
*Agreed.*
*Oh, and Piotr Nikolaievitch?*
*Da?*
*I love you.*
*I love you too, Katya.*
Several hours after midnight, the figure moved stealthily through the Hogwarts corridors. It had been a challenge to get in the castle, but the ultimate outcome would be worth it. Plans within plans, that was the way to success. And at the end of those plans within plans was the key to immortality.
Smiling, the figure slipped into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Patience was a virtue, one that had been mastered over these many decades. A few more months, and there would be no more need for patience.