Being a teacher at Hogwarts wasn't quite what Rose had expected. As a student, Rose had paid very little attention to the lives of her professors – as far as she had been concerned, the teachers turned up to her lessons and then disappeared into a kind of purgatory until the next lesson or meal. It had never really occurred to her that the teachers lived in Hogwarts too. Now, as a teacher, she realised quite how much she had ignored as a student.

Perhaps the thing that alarmed her most was the fact that the teachers' rooms had been just behind their offices this whole time. She wasn't sure why, but that fact made her strangely uncomfortable. She thought back to all of her detentions with Professor McGonagall – it felt odd to know that her personal room had been only metres away. Rose wondered whether teachers ever engaged in secret trysts, then promptly abandoned that train of thought. It made her feel faintly queasy.

Instead, Rose set her suitcase down at the doorway and looked around her private rooms for the first time, located through a doorway at the back of the hospital wing. It was a deceptively large space. On the bottom floor was the office, and then through another door was a small living room slash kitchen. A narrow spiral staircase at the back of the room led the way to an attic room which was definitely the bedroom. It was all very familiar after her stint as an emergency medic for the order during the war, and though it wasn't nearly as homely as the Burrow or her new cottage, it would do. She soon set about moving her clothes into the wardrobe, the first thing she always did when moving somewhere new, checking it thoroughly for boggarts before doing so.

After her clothes were safely stashed away, Rose began to tackle the debris at the bottom of her suitcase and put it in its rightful place. Pyjamas, underwear, socks, and shirts and trousers all went in the chest of drawers. Makeup, toothbrush, toothpaste and any other toiletries went in the bathroom. Her hairbrush went on top of the dresser, next to a mirror that had been provided for her. With the practical things out of the way, Rose went about sifting through the more sentimental things she had packed.

There was a picture of the whole family from last Christmas, which went straight onto her desk in the office. She didn't care if the students saw – her family was, and would always be, the most important thing in her life. She loved each and every one of them more than she could ever say, even Percy. The photograph of her and Molly, aged five and fifteen respectively, sat on her father's knee with the ten-year-old twins sat on the floor in front of them, however, she deemed more private, and put on her mantelpiece instead. The same went for the picture of her and Lily on the latter's wedding day.

Next in the suitcase were the letters – countless, numerous letters that Rose didn't have the heart to throw away. In fact, Rose had never thrown away a letter in her life. Instead, they all lived in her memory box, under her bed, along with other sentimental titbits that people had given her through the years. That was where she slipped the box now, under her four-poster. She knew it was overly sentimental, but she couldn't help herself.

Unsure what to do with herself, and aware that she had no commitments for the day, Rose set about breaking in the quarters in the only way she knew how – by making a cup of tea. She filled the kettle at the tap, but before using her wand to bring the water to boil, she realised it was slightly chilly, and diverted her attention instead to lighting a fire. She aimed her wand at the neatly stacked wood – put there, she assumed, by house elves – and whispered incendio. A fire immediately crackled to life. Rose sighed contentedly as the warmth hit her; she really did love magic.

She moved over to the kitchen and tapped briskly on the side of the kettle. The kettle whistled, indicating that the water had boiled, and poured it over a tea bag into a teacup and saucer. She chuckled to herself at the fact that Dumbledore had thought to provide his staff with complimentary teabags – a must have, of course. She sat down on the old, but comfortable, sofa, sipping on her tea and wondering what to do with the rest of her day. Obviously, she didn't need to get to work immediately, as not even Hogwarts students could manage to injure themselves before they had even arrived at the school. As she finished her cup of tea, she decided that she should probably write to her family and tell them how she was getting on.

Setting the dirty cup by the side of the sink to be washed later, Rose left her quarters and entered her office, scouring the drawers of her desk for spare parchment, quills and ink. There were just enough scraps for a few letters, but Rose realised quite quickly that she would have to visit Hogsmeade before term started. Sitting down at her desk, Rose began to pen the first letter, one for her sister.

Dear Molly and Arthur (and everyone else, of course),

Just wanted to let you know that I am all unpacked and ready to start teaching! Remind Fred and George that if they dare try and prank me on my first day, I will give them detention for the rest of the school year, and I won't regret it.

Have already made my first cup of tea – who knew that Dumbledore provided free teabags? Not me, but I'm incredibly thankful. I miss you all so much already – especially Robin – but have lit a fire and am trying to replicate the feeling of being at home. It's not quite the same, but what is?

Shall visit you all as soon as possible, but I think I shall stay here for a while and settle in. Do let me know that Robin is on the train safely, won't you? Can't quite believe I won't be there to send him off myself. Give him all my love, and tell him I shall see him soon.

Will send you lots of letters and keep you up to date.

All my love,

Rose

Collecting the parchment up in her hands, Rose folded it up and sealed it with some wax, until she had a letter that an owl could carry. Then she made her way to the Owlery, the route familiar to her from her own days at Hogwarts. The Hospital Wing was on the first floor, so it was quite a trek, but Rose didn't mind. It was close to the kitchen and the Great Hall, so as far as Rose was concerned, it was ideally situated.

The Owlery smelt strange, like bird droppings, and the floor was littered with tiny rodent bones, but the view was magnificent. Rose also had a soft spot for all animals, but birds in particular, and so she loved meeting all the owls and cooing at them like some strange demented old lady. It was the one that cooed back that Rose took an immediate shining to. He was a small barn owl with kind eyes, and Rose was entrusted her letters to him, tying them carefully to his outstretched leg.

"To Mr and Mrs Weasley at the Burrow, that's in Devon," said Rose slowly so that the owl understood, "Do you understand?"

The owl clucked happily, which Rose assumed was a yes.

"Excellent. Go on then! Off with you."

The owl nuzzled her hand affectionately before flying off into the afternoon sky. Rosie watched it go, leaning on the railing of the balcony. She let out a breath, and watched as it misted up in the cool September air, her mind already drifting towards the future. Would she be a good school nurse? She hoped so, and that would have to be good enough for now. Pushing herself off the railing, Rose began to descend the stairs; there was another cup of tea and a warm fire waiting for her in her rooms that she couldn't resist any longer.

Two lefts, a right, the third door down and… There it was – the staff room. It was quite an innocuous door really; no wonder Rose had never noticed it at school. She had a strange feeling that Fred and George knew exactly where it was however, a fact that worried her mightily. This being said, it still didn't worry her as much as what she was about to do.

It wasn't that she was scared exactly – the feeling would be better described as a crippling onslaught of nerves that had taken root in the bottom of her stomach and made her feel more than a little nauseated. As soon as she stepped over the threshold of that door, Rose would have to take her place at the staff meeting, and thereby accept the responsibility of being a medic at Hogwarts once and for all. The thought made her feel ill. Oh, if only she was teaching potions… Or maybe Herbology…

Her hand faltered over the door handle. Alright, breathe… But still she couldn't bring herself to walk through.

"You know," said a voice behind her that made her jump, "you have to press down on the handle to make the door work."

Rose swivelled round on the spot, coming face to face with Professor Sprout. The Herbology teacher was watching her, wearing a suitably amused expression. Rose laughed nervously.

"Ah, Professor Sprout! I was just… err…"

"I know what you were doing, Rose," interrupted Professor Sprout. "You were panicking."

Rose shook her head airily, pretending that the suggestion was preposterous. "Panicking is a very strong term, professor –"

"Strong, but true," said Sprout, her eyes twinkling with humour. "It's alright, Rose, we all get nervous. And there's no need to call me professor away from the students – it's Pomona."

She held out her hand, rough from years of gardening, to Rose. Rose tentatively took it, smiling weakly. It was an odd sensation, being reintroduced to a woman she had known for years, only now on a personal level. Professor Sprout grinned back.

"Now, I know it's nerve-wracking, but if we don't get inside within the next two minutes, Minerva will have an aneurysm, so I think it's time to bite the bullet."

Rose bit her lip. "You're right." She grasped the door and whispered, "Bombs away…" before throwing it open.

All the other teachers were already seated, bar Professor Sprout, who gently guided Rose inside the room. It was almost fully occupied by a large table. Rose's attention was immediately drawn to the giant form of Hagrid, who was sat closest to the door. He grinned and winked at her as she walked past. Professor Dumbledore shot her a merry smile from where he was sat at the head of the table; Professor McGonagall looked at the new arrivals sternly from Dumbledore's right-hand side, but Rose got the feeling she didn't really mind that they were slightly late. If Rose was right, then she suspected that Professor Sprout was often late to these things.

And then, her eyes drifted to the right and locked eyes with the man on Dumbledore's left – and her jaw dropped. It was impossible – it was unbearable –

It was Snape.

Her expression soured instantly. It was some small consolation that Snape's face had clouded over with rage also as they remained motionless, staring at each other. She could feel the familiar tingle in her fingers that suggested her magic was about to explode forth in uncontained fury, and it took all of her concentration to suppress it. Snape was being less successful, as a large vein was throbbing in his forehead. Clearly no one had told him that she would be teaching here either. The tension in the room in general had become so thick that it could have been cut with a knife. None of the other teachers said anything, or even dared to look at them.

None, that is, except Dumbledore.

"Ah, Rose, so glad you arrived safely! Do take a seat."

She hesitated, wondering if he was going to acknowledge the situation at all. When he didn't, she felt she had no choice but to sit. Next to Snape sat Professor Flitwick. Rose assumed that the seats were therefore reserved for the heads of houses, and she was proved correct when Sprout took the seat next to McGonagall, indicating that Rose should sit next to her. Rose found herself sat opposite Professor Hooch and in between Professors Sprout and Kettleburn. It was an incredibly long table, necessary to accommodate all of the staff, and Rose noticed there were a lot of whispers when she sat down. Snape was obviously not the only person who wasn't aware that there would be a new staff member.

"Now that we are all here," said Professor Dumbledore cheerfully, looking over the top of his half-moon spectacles at the parchment in front of him, "let us begin by introducing our new staff member, Rose Prewett, who will be taking over from the long-serving Poppy Pomfrey as our new school nurse."

There were murmured welcomes from the staff, though they were muted; ten years had passed since her brief stint in Azkaban, but no one had forgotten it. Still, there were some people who remembered her from her student years, like Professor Kettleburn, who gave her a hearty handshake with the arm he still had – she had been a particular favourite of his.

"Good to have you here, Rose," he said, winking.

Rose smiled in thanks, though it was decidedly strained.

"Please welcome also Charity Burbage," said Professor Dumbledore, indicating to a woman sat further down the table, who bowed her head in recognition. "Charity will be our new Muggle Studies professor now that Quirinus has taken on the role of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Again, a chorus of welcomes followed. Charity Burbage seemed a lot more comfortable than Rose – probably because no one thought she was a murderer.

"As usual," continued Dumbledore, "Argus has refused our offer to attend the meeting but would like to express his annoyance that he has to take on the extra role of keeping students out of the third-floor corridor this year. For that reason, I implore all of you to do all you can to help him and keep on the lookout for rebellious students who may think to explore, unaware as they are of the seriousness of the situation."

Dumbledore's eyes flicked briefly over to Rose, and she couldn't help but feel that he was thinking specifically of Fred and George. However, she found herself more interested in why exactly the third-floor corridor was being closed off than she was her nephews' less than shining reputations.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Dumbledore began to address the issue. "Many of you may be wondering why we are closing off the third-floor corridor this year," he began gravely, placing his fingertips together. "My close personal friend, Nicholas Flamel, has requested that I help him protect his greatest discovery: the Philosopher's Stone."

There were murmurings up and down the table, though Rose noticed that the more senior staff seemed unsurprised, as though they had already been informed. Rose knew of Nicolas Flamel – what self-respecting potion-maker didn't? – but was still too upset about the presence of Snape to care that much.

"As we all know, Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the world, so I agreed that the stone could be stored here. It has been transferred from Gringotts to the castle very recently, where Minerva, Filius, Pomona, Severus, Quirinus and I have worked tirelessly to ensure that it will be protected. I assure you there is no need to be concerned, but I must emphasise that under no circumstances are the students to be informed, for their own safety. I cannot say why Nicholas is so concerned about the stone, but if someone is trying to steal it, we can assume it is for less than honourable reasons, and the would-be thief is unlikely to care about harming our students. Therefore, we must do our best to protect them."

A sombre silence fell over the room. Rose herself was more than a little alarmed – when she had taken the job, she had no idea that Hogwarts might be infiltrated by a reckless thief. If she had, she might not have accepted Dumbledore's offer. Her job at Beauxbatons might not have been thrilling, but at least she had been safe.

"Irma has moved all of the books in the library detailing the existence of the Philosopher's Stone to the restricted section," said Dumbledore, interrupting Rose's train of thought. "If you desire to know more, I will not prohibit you from taking these books out, but I expect you to keep them well out of the grasp of students." Dumbledore suddenly smiled, as though a great weight had been lifted off him. "Now, to happier matters! Minerva, I believe you have some notices to give out concerning the points system?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall in her thick Scottish accent, "and then Rolanda would like to announce the dates of the Quidditch matches…"

"Forgive the interruption, headmaster," Snape's slimy voice interrupted suddenly, causing McGonagall to blink in shock, "but perhaps we should have a vote on whether we approve of our new staff member?"

Dumbledore shot him a sharp look, but merely said airily, "Do you have a problem with Charity, Severus?"

Further down the table, Charity Burbage flushed as Snape scowled even harder.

"I am talking about Ms. Prewett," he said smoothly, although there was a definite catch in his throat when he said her name. "I wasn't aware that Hogwarts was in the habit of hiring ex-convicts."

An uncomfortable hush covered the room. Rose had been determined not to rise to the situation, but her famous Prewett temper got the better of her.

"Well, how funny, because I wasn't aware that Hogwarts was in the habit of hiring Death Eaters, either."

The lack of '-ex' did not go unnoticed by Snape, whose face drained of what little colour it had left. He stood up so fast that his chair toppled over, and so did Rose, her chest heaving.

"Say that again," he snarled, hand dangerously close to his wand.

Several of the other teachers pushed back from the table to avoid getting caught in any kind of crossfire. Thankfully, it didn't come to that. Instead, Dumbledore jumped for his chair and thundered, "Enough!"

Neither of them looked at the headmaster, but nor did they reach for their wands. Rose was well aware she wasn't making a particularly good impression, but she found she barely cared. If Dumbledore hadn't been there to stop her, she would already have cursed Snape into oblivion by now.

"If you will all excuse us," Dumbledore said sharply, "I believe Rose, Severus and I need to have a quick conversation alone."

He had made no indication as to what the other staff members were supposed to do with themselves, but thankfully McGonagall was there to hurry them into the corridor, murmuring about continuing the meeting outside. Rose wondered if the other staff were disgruntled at the interruption, but wasn't able to confirm either way, as she wasn't willing to tear her eyes away from Snape to examine their expressions. Eventually she heard the click of the door behind her, indicating that everyone had filed out of the room at last.

Dumbledore was clearly angry. That being said, he was much more adept at controlling his emotions than either of the younger two, and so when he spoke again, he was deliberately calm. "Please, let us sit."

He did so himself in example. Snape and Rose were not convinced, but with great resignation they did so.

"Now," said Dumbledore, with a hint of relief in his voice that they had at least obliged in some small respect. "I must apologise."

He looked sincerely between the two of them, and Rose at last met his gaze, if reproachfully. He sighed and continued.

"I thought that if I neglected to warn you of each other's presence at Hogwarts in advance, that your animosity would be kept in check by the presence of the other staff." The corner of his mouth twitched slightly in annoyance. "Clearly, I was wrong."

"You expected me not to react?" spat Snape, in a tone that Rose had never been able to use in response to Dumbledore, despite everything. "You expected that I would sit silently by, while you hired this – this traitor –"

"Oh, I'm the traitor, am I?" Rose hissed, flaring up again. "The only person whose word we've ever had for that is yours, Snape, and I don't think –"

"ENOUGH."

They both quailed this time, though still seething. Dumbledore looked from one to the other in the same manner that a teacher would look at two badly behaved students.

"Enough. Both of you were declared innocent by the Wizengamot, on the basis of my testimony. If you are both going to continue working here, then you will respect my authority and my judgement, as I promise they are more informed and less tainted with hatred than either of yours."

Neither of them responded. Rose was seriously considering whether she wanted to work at Hogwarts at all now she knew that Snape would be working alongside her, but before she could voice this thought, Dumbledore (as though reading her mind) continued,

"Good. Now that has been settled – Minerva, could you bring everyone back in please!"

"So, how are your new quarters treating you?"

Rose turned around at the sound of the voice to see Professor Sprout stood next to her, also helping herself to sandwiches. After the meeting, which had been particularly subdued, Professor McGonagall had vanished away the long table, replacing it with a much smaller one, covered by a tablecloth. On top of the table were teapots, coffee pots, jugs of juice, squash and milk, a sugar pot, trays of biscuits and plates of triangle sandwiches in a variety of different flavours. Rose had awkwardly followed the rest of the staff, who had immediately began helping themselves, a little worried that by the time she actually reached the table, everything would be gone. However, it became apparent that everything magically refilled, and Rose soon found herself holding a mug of sweet peppermint tea, as well as a plate with several cheese sandwiches and digestive biscuits. She had been guiltily helping herself to another sandwich when Professor Sprout had spoken up.

"Oh, just wonderfully!" said Rose, internally cringing at how immature she sounded. "I'm all unpacked and ready to go… practically, anyway. Although, that reminds me," she said, pausing to take a sip of tea, "I need to visit Hogsmeade before term starts for parchment, ink and quills…"

"Well, you'd better get on that soon," said Professor Sprout as they made their way over to some armchairs and sat themselves down. "The students will have emptied the whole street out before you can say 'Quidditch' at this time of year."

Rose grimaced. "I'll head off tomorrow in that case."

"Probably for the best. You might also want to grab some firewood – the bigger rooms always manage to get quite chilly, and the hospital wing is so grand…"

"I can help with that," came a gruff voice suddenly from behind Rose's head. She craned her neck to see that Hagrid was standing behind her chair. His own plate looked tiny in his hand, although the amount of food piled on top of it still seemed immense. "Got plenty o' wood down by the forest."

"Oh, are you sure, Hagrid?" said Rose, squinting up at the giant. "I wouldn't want to put you out, I can always get my own…"

"Not at all, it's me job! Although," he added, lowering his voice, "a bottle o' Fire Whiskey wouldn' go amiss…"

Rose grinned back. "Consider it a deal."

She was starting to feel more positive about the whole situation as she returned to her quarters after the meeting had finished. What did it matter if Snape was around? From the way he had skulked in the corner of the staff room eating his sandwiches alone, no one seemed to be particularly enamoured by him. In contrast, a great number of the teachers seemed to like her, which was a welcome surprise. She had even agreed to meet Pomona for tea the next day before the students arrived, and Hagrid had said she was free to visit his hut anytime.

As she climbed down the stairs to the hospital wing, Rose felt as though things were actually going rather well. She should have known that such security couldn't last for long.

She could hear the footsteps following her, though she had thought nothing of it until she heard the swish of a cloak as the professor came to walk beside her. She had known it was Snape even before he opened his mouth; the man's mere presence made her skin prickle with unease.

"So," he drawled, not bothering to look at her. His sneer was still evident however, plastered as it was all over his face. "The prodigal Prewett returns… Oh, no, wait – that was your brothers." He smirked evilly. "My mistake."

Rose's stomach churned at the mention of her late brothers, though she knew that she had to avoid making another scene if she valued her place at Hogwarts. Instead, she pulled a mock confused face, also not looking directly at her unwanted companion. "But Professor Snape, I do believe I beat you by one mark in N.E.W.T. level potions – or have you forgotten?"

It was something the Potions Master couldn't deny, but he instantly found another way to get under her skin. "And what use you put it to at Beauxbatons – I'm sure there's not another staff member at Hogwarts who is as skilled at wasting their potential as you are."

His voice was silky smooth, like a viper's hiss. Rose wanted to trip him up – she thought the image of him, sprawled out on the corridor, tangled up in his black robes, would be very amusing. James and Sirius would have approved. She supressed the urge.

"What do you want, Severus?" she asked coldly, relishing in having the authority to use his first name.

"Nothing but your resignation, Rose," he murmured as he began descending the stairs that led to the dungeons.

"– packed with muggles, of course –"

Robin wasn't listening to his aunt, which was hard to do considering that Mrs Weasley's voice had a tendency to pierce even the deepest daydreams. He wasn't even listening to his twin cousins as they teased him about how the sorting hat was going to send him straight to Slytherin like his mother. Robin wasn't, in fact, focussed on anyone in his family. Instead, his eyes were glued to the boy with glasses and messy black hair, stood a few feet away, clearly working up the courage to come over to talk to them.

Robin tugged on his aunt's sleeve.

"Now, what's the platform number?"

Ginny jumped up and down in excitement. "Platform nine and three quarters! Mum, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough Ginny, now be quiet. Alright Percy, you go first."

Percy strolled through the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

Robin tugged again. "Aunt Molly?"

"Fred, you next."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George!" replied Fred. "Honestly woman, call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred."

Fred ran through the barrier, George following close behind.

"Ginny, don't tug at my sleeve, you'll pull it off."

"That's not me!" said Ginny, affronted. "I'm over here, minding my own business!"

"Aunt Molly!"

Mrs Weasley looked down at last, concern plastered onto her face. "Oh, Robin, it's you! What is it, dear?"

"I think he needs our help."

Robin pointed at the boy, who was still watching them cautiously from the side-lines. Mrs Weasley blinked in surprise, before her face broke out into a kind smile. "Hullo dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron and Robin are new too."

Ron gave an awkward little wave before turning bright red. Robin eyed the boy warily, whom he recognised as Harry Potter from his trip to Diagon Alley, wondering if he was going to introduce himself to Mrs Weasley. Harry, however, seemed to have been thrown off by Robin's extended family, who were strangers to him, and thus neglected to mention that they already knew each other.

His voice was stuttering with nerves. "Yes. The thing is – the thing is, I don't know how to –"

"How to get onto the platform?" said Mrs Weasley gently. Robin could feel the urge to envelop him in a hug radiating from her, and marvelled at her restraint. "Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now, before these two."

Robin watched as a very disconcerted Harry dubiously pushed his trolley in front of the barrier. The black-haired boy began walking slowly towards it, being jostled to and fro by people rushing to catch their trains.

"He's going to crash into it," Ron said glumly. Mrs Weasley frowned.

"Hush, you!"

Robin didn't like to admit it, but he thought his cousin was probably right. However, Harry surprised them all by gliding seamlessly through the brickwork and into the station on the other side.

"There, see!" said Mrs Weasley smugly. "All it takes is a little confidence. You next, Robin – if you see him on the other side, give him a hand."

"Alright." Robin hoped desperately that Harry would have disappeared into the crowd before it got to that, but dutifully strode towards the barrier, following his aunt's advice and pretending he wasn't terrified of smashing his face in. He closed his eyes just before the moment of impact, and was relieved to find that it never came – instead, he found himself on platform nine and three quarters, buffeted by students as they rushed past with their trunks, parents hot on their heels. For a second, he wasn't sure where to go or what to do, but then he heard a familiar voice over the chatter of the crowd.

"Oi, Robin! Over here, mate!"

George's red hair was just visible over a gaggle of students all gathered around something. Robin carefully navigated this trolley towards them, and the students parted like the Red Sea as he did so to reveal Lee Jordan, Fred and George's best friend, holding a rather large box. Lee grinned.

"Aight, Robin? Come to see the show?"

Robin frowned. He had only met Lee a few times, when the twins had invited him with them during the holidays to Provence. "What show? What's in the box?"

Lee's smirk grew even bigger if that was possible, and he began to open the lid of the box – before he could finish, however, Fred slammed it shut.

"Not Robin, Lee – he's deathly afraid, you'll give him a heart attack."

George nodded, steering his little cousin away by the shoulders. "Yeah, and I really don't want to face Aunty Rose if he dies before he even gets to Hogwarts. I need the Hospital Wing to remain a safe space."

"What was in the box?" Robin asked as the twins practically carried him away from Lee, who looked rather miffed.

Fred shared a look with his brother. "Nothing you need worry about. Where's mum, anyway?"

Robin was about to answer that he wasn't exactly sure when he spotted Harry from the corner of his eye, struggling to lift his trunk into one of the train carriages. "He's going to squash himself."

Robin didn't realise he had said that aloud until George replied, "Yeah, you're probably right. Want a hand?"

The last bit was louder and directed at Harry, who looked up. He seemed both scared and thankful. "Yes, please."

"Right you are. Come on, Fred."

"Don't move," said Fred to Robin, before joining his brother in assisting Harry get his trunk on the train. Robin, quite the opposite of running away, pushed his trolley closer, certain that his mother would want him to look out for Harry as much as possible.

"Thanks," said Harry as the three of them finally succeeded, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead. Robin let out an audible gasp at the lightning-shaped scar that action revealed, and Harry quickly dropped his hand. Too late though – the twins had seen it.

"What's that?" said Fred immediately.

George blinked. "Blimey, are you –?"

Fred nodded. "He is. Aren't you?"

"Guys, let him be…" Robin said quietly, though no one was listening.

Harry didn't quite seem to understand what was happening. "What?"

"Harry Potter," they responded in unison.

Harry blushed, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Oh, him. I mean, yes, I am."

Fred and George simply stared. The awkwardness may have continued for much longer had Mrs Weasley's voice not suddenly rung out, loud and clear across the platform.

"Fred? George? Are you there? Where's Robin?"

"We're coming, Aunt Molly!" Robin yelled back, grateful for the distraction. He jerked his head to where she was stood with Ginny and Ron. "Move it, you two, before she gets in a right tizzy."

Fred and George took one last look at Harry before following Robin's advice and making their way over to Mrs Weasley. Harry smiled thankfully at Robin, who nodded in response, before joining the rest of his family further down the platform.

Mrs Weasley was busy fussing over her youngest son by the time he arrived.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

She leant over with her handkerchief to try to rub it off, but Ron batted her away. "Mum – geroff."

Fred sniggered. "Aah, has ickle Ronniekins got somefink on his nosie?"

"Shut up."

Mrs Weasley's brow furrowed. "Where's Percy?"

Robin pointed behind her, where Percy was striding towards them. "He's coming now."

"Can't stay long, mother," announced Percy rather pompously as he came to stand with them. "I'm up front, the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves –"

"Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy?" said George with mock surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

Fred looked thoughtful. "Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it. Once –"

"Or twice –"

"A minute –"

"All summer –"

"Oh, shut up," snapped their older brother, looking as though he'd really love to throttle them.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway," said George, tugging at Percy's sleeve and narrowly avoiding being swatted.

"Because he's a Prefect," Mrs Weasley said with great pride, pinching Percy's cheek.

"And her favourite," Robin added matter-of-factly, earning him a sour look from his aunt.

"You watch it, Christopher Prewett. I may not be your mother, but I can still cuff you around the ears for being a smart Alek."

Robin held up his hands in surrender. Mrs Weasley turned back to Percy.

"Alright, dear, well, have a good term – send me an owl when you get there."

After allowing his mother a quick peck on the cheek, he left them to join the other Prefects, and it was time for Mrs Weasley to round on the twins.

"Now, you two – this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one owl from your Aunt Rose telling me you've – you've blown up a toilet seat, or –"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron and your cousin."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"As is our very own Christopher Robin," said George in a twee voice, ruffling Robin's hair and earning himself a smack on the arm.

"Does this make Ronald Pooh Bear?" asked Fred, tongue in cheek.

"Shut up," muttered Ron.

"Hey mum," said Fred, with a sly grin. "Guess what? Guess who we just met on the train? You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

Robin's stomach plummeted.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

Ginny's face lit up. "Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please…"

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in the zoo. Is it really Fred? Surely Robin would have recognised him?"

The twins looked confused. "Robin?" asked George. "Why would Robin of all people recognise him?"

"Because they've met before."

Ginny's mouth fell open. "You've met Harry Potter?"

Robin wished the ground would swallow him whole. "Yeah – but it's really not that exciting," he said quickly, noticing the look on her face. "He's just like any other boy really."

"Oh, Robin, why didn't you tell me?" Mrs Weasley asked, shaking her head disappointedly. "I would have made more of an effort. Poor dear – no wonder he was alone. Rose did warn me of course, but I didn't think… I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Mrs Weasley stopped musing over what had happened earlier instantly, and her face became very grave. "I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare," she added as the elder twin pulled a puppy-dog face at his mother. "As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

From somewhere on the platform, a conductor's whistle blew.

"Hurry up!" said Mrs Weasley suddenly, as the boys clambered to lift Robin's trunks onto the train. Once the door was closed, the four of them did their very best to lean out of the window at the same time, each receiving a kiss on the cheek from Mrs Weasley. Ginny began to cry.

"Don't Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mum."

The train moved away, and soon it was simply a speck in the distance, though Ginny had done her best to run after it. Ron turned to Robin as the latter attempted to drag his trunk down the hallway.

"I'm going to see if I can sit with Potter. You coming?"

Robin bit his lip, feeling guilty for what he was about to do. "Nah, I'm alright. You have fun."

Ron gave him an odd look, but didn't argue. Robin tried not to think about what his mother would say as he stumbled up the hall, looking for an empty-ish compartment. Eventually he came across one with only one occupant, a girl who looked to be around his age, with frizzy brown hair, who was already changed into her school robes. She had her nose in a book – Hogwarts: A History – and was seemingly so engrossed that she didn't hear him knock and only noticed his arrival when he slid the door open.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked.

Her brown eyes widened in surprise, but she shook her head. "No, it's fine – help yourself."

Robin smiled awkwardly as he shuffled in, attempting to lift his trunk into the bag rack, but then deciding against it, abandoning it on the floor instead. The girl looked on with what he sensed was disapproval, but continued to pretend that she was reading as he settled himself next to the window, content to spend the next few hours in silence watching the world pass by. It seemed that the girl was unable to supress the urge to speak, however.

"I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

Robin nodded in acknowledgement of that fact. "I'm Christopher Prewett – but everyone calls me Robin."

Hermione smiled shyly. "It's nice to meet you, Robin."

"You too, Hermione."

Assuming that the pleasantries were over with, Robin leant back in his chair and resumed scenery watching. Hermione had other plans.

"Are you a first-year too?"

Robin nodded again. "Yep."

A moment of quiet.

"And you come from a family of wizards and witches?"

"Yup. One of the oldest wizarding families, in fact."

Hermione's eyebrows raised in curiosity. "How interesting."

A small pause.

"My parents are muggles."

Another pause whilst Robin tried to think of a response.

"Cool."

Yet another pause, lasting even less time than the previous.

"Do you know what house you'll be sorted into?"

Robin was beginning to wish he had just bit the bullet and joined Ron and Harry. At least he could have had some peace in the uncomfortable silence.

"Not really, no. My whole family's been in Gryffindor, but my mum was a Slytherin, and my dad –" He stopped. "I don't know, actually. I assume Slytherin as well. We don't talk about him much."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Why is that?"

"Uh… I don't know."

"Do you know your father?"

A small wave of irritation washed over Robin. "You ask a lot of questions."

She turned bright red. "I'm sorry… I …"

It appeared that she couldn't think of anything to say in response. At last, she fell mum, lifting the book to hide her face so that he couldn't see it burning. Robin felt bad that he had snapped at her.

"What about your parents? What do they do – in the muggle world?"

Hermione's eyes appeared over the top of her book again. "They're dentists."

Robin nodded. "The teeth people, right?"

"Yeah, the teeth people," she said. He couldn't see it, but he thought she was smirking behind the hardback. "Do you not have those here?"

"Oh, we have them. They're just a special branch of Healers."

Her eyebrows knotted together in confusion. "Healers?"

Robin sighed and chewed at his lip, trying to think of the word he was looking for. "I think muggles call it a doctor."

Her mouth formed a small 'o' shape in understanding. Robin, who felt he was getting somewhere, was about to ask how she had discovered she was a witch when the door to the compartment slid open to reveal a kindly looking old lady pushing a trolley laden to the brim with sweets and treats. He smiled in recognition – his mother didn't like to talk about her days at Hogwarts for some reason, but this was one of the few things she had discussed in great length with him.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" the lady asked, smiling pleasantly. Robin grinned at Hermione, who looked confused.

"What do you want?" Robin asked her, jangling the change in his pocket. "I recommend the Chocolate Frogs – they're my mum's favourite."

Hermione cocked her head to one side. "What about you? What's your favourite?"

Robin smiled. "Liquorice Wands."

For a second, she hesitated, but then reached into her pocket for some spare change. She stopped, however, when Robin reached forward and put a restraining hand on her arm. "Don't – I'll pay. My treat."

Hermione tried to protest, but Robin could be stubborn when he wanted to be, and he treated her to a pumpkin pasty and a cauldron cake. True to his word, Robin stocked up on liquorice wands, though not before buying a few chocolate frogs for his mother. They ate in companionable silence, but after they had finished, it wasn't long until Hermione went back to her friendly interrogation. Where do you come from? (Born in London, but lived in Provence pretty much all his life.) Does that mean you speak French? (Yes, technically it was his language.) Do you have any brothers and sisters? (They were both only children, but Robin had seven cousins who he saw on a semi-regular basis).

"What about your mother?" asked Hermione. Robin noted that she didn't ask about his father, which was a relief. "What does she do for a living?"

"Well, she used to teach Potions at Beauxbatons, which is another magic school in France. That's why we lived there."

"The French magical school?" Hermione interrupted. Robin kept forgetting she needed clarification over the simplest things.

"Yeah, that's right. And this year she's going to be the nurse at Hogwarts."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Your mother teaches at Hogwarts?"

Robin couldn't help but feel a small bubble of pride. "Well, not teaching. Not Potions. Which is weird, because that is her specialty… She'll be in the Hospital Wing most of the time. Though I suppose that does make sense, because I'm pretty sure she trained as a Healer before we left for France."

His companion was about to start gushing – he could tell by the way her lips were twitching – but she was distracted by a knock at the door. Behind the glass was a rather worried looking blond boy, with a round face and robes that were slightly off centre. Robin waved that he should come in, and he did so, though with great trepidation.

"Hullo – sorry to interrupt, but I don't suppose either of you have seen a toad?"

Robin blinked in surprise at the question. "A toad?"

The boy nodded miserably. "His name's Trevor. I've lost him, and my gran will be ever so mad if she finds out I lost him on the first day…"

Robin knew what he was angling at, but was disinclined to help. He didn't really want to spend his first trip on the Hogwarts Express searching for a missing toad. However, Hermione was giving him a look of gentle encouragement from the other side of the compartment. He sighed.

"What's your name?"

"Neville," said the boy quickly. "Neville Longbottom."

"Well Neville, I'm Robin, and this is –"

"Hermione," said Hermione quickly, sticking out her hand for Neville to shake. He eyed it warily before doing so. "Hermione Granger. We'll help you find Trevor, don't worry!"

Robin groaned inwardly, but did his best to smile. "Of course. Just let me change into my robes and I'll be right with you."

The robes fit perfectly, though Robin thought they looked rather odd without the colourful tie and badge depicting which house you were in. He hadn't really given any thought as to which house he would be sorted into until Hermione had mentioned it, but now he found himself preoccupied by the question. He didn't particularly care for Ravenclaw, and he thought that Hufflepuff, although not terrible, wasn't for him. So, it was between Gryffindor and Slytherin, he thought. Gryffindor would be easier – his mother had always said that being a Slytherin was difficult, and that had only gotten worse after the First Wizarding War. And it meant he could be with Ron, who was undoubtedly going there.

Robin shook his head violently to dispel the confusing thoughts and stepped out of the compartment into the corridor, where he almost instantly ran into Hermione.

"Alright?" he asked, looking her up and down – she looked a lot more hassled than she had been twenty minutes ago when she had set off with Neville.

"Where have you been?" huffed Hermione, crossing her arms. "You've been absolutely no help finding Trevor."

Robin rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying not to let her in on the fact that it had been his goal all along. "Oh, yes, Trevor – how's that going?"

Hermione simply sighed. "Not well – Neville's distraught."

"Ah well," murmured Robin as they walked along the corridor, heading nowhere in particular. "I'm sure he'll turn up."

They ambled in silence for a while, though Robin noted that Hermione wasn't particularly suited towards ambling. She kept trying to direct Robin back towards their compartment, though he studiously ignored her and continued to explore the train. As they passed into the second carriage however, her face lit up.

"Oh, Robin, you'll never guess who's in this compartment!"

She pointed to the compartment on her left. Robin pretended to seem thoughtful.

"Hmm… Harry Potter?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess," murmured Robin, trying to hide his smirk. The smirk was short-lived, however, as before he could stop her, Hermione had bounded into Harry's compartment, forcing Robin to follow. He grimaced and stepped into the compartment just in time to hear Hermione exclaim loudly.

"What has been going on?"

Robin's eyes widened as he took in Harry and Ron, stood in the middle of a huge mess of sweet wrappers. "Merlin, it looks like someone cast confringo in here…"

Ron didn't acknowledge either of them, instead picking up Scabbers by the tail, who had been hidden by a Chocolate Frog box. "I think he's been knocked out. No – I don't believe it – he's gone back to sleep."

He shook his head in despair, whilst Robin watched on in confusion. "That doesn't help explain anything."

Again, Ron didn't pay any notice to his cousin, instead turning to Harry. "You've met Malfoy before?"

"Yeah," said Harry slowly, readjusting his glasses. "With Robin, actually."

At last, Ron looked over at Robin and Hermione. "What?"

"In Diagon Alley," said Robin, uncomfortable with the attention now he had it. "It wasn't that exciting."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Well, you did punch him in the face."

Ron swivelled on the spot. "You punched him? You?"

Hermione too was shocked. "You punched someone in the face? With Harry Potter?"

Robin frowned in annoyance. "Yes. But he was asking for it."

"I can't believe it," muttered Ron, dazed. "You're supposed to be the good one in the family. I wish we'd managed to punch him… slimy git. I've heard of his family. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's dad didn't need a reason to go over to the Dark Side." He glanced over at Hermione, and Robin noticed the irritation in his eyes. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up the front to ask the driver and he says we're nearly there." She wrinkled her nose in disapproval. "You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Ron retorted hotly. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

Hermione sniffed. "Alright. We just came in here because I didn't think Robin had met Harry, but I see now I was wrong. And you've got dirt on your nose by the way, did you know?"

She flounced out of the compartment. Robin shot the two boys a resigned smile before following her. He caught up with her at the end of the corridor – her frizzy brown hair was easily identifiable among the crowds of giggling first years.

"Hey – sorry I didn't tell you about the Harry thing. I didn't think it was that important."

"It's fine," she said haughtily, though by her tone he could tell it wasn't. Before he could respond, however, a disembodied voice floated through the train, cutting him off.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Ah, thank goodness," said Robin jovially, trying to diffuse the tension. "I can't imagine lugging that trunk of mine all the way to the castle."

Hermione 'hmphed' in response. She stayed fairly unresponsive as the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station and the students all descended onto the platform, though she did brighten up when she encountered Hagrid, who was guiding the first years towards a narrow path down towards a lake.

"Is that a –"

"A giant?" asked Robin. "Yeah, it is."

"Alright, Chris?" said Hagrid, beaming down at them both. Robin smiled back.

"Yes, thank you Hagrid!"

The first years followed the giant down the path and to the lake, where they came across a fleet of boats. Above the lake, on the top of a mountain, sat Hogwarts castle. Most of the first years gasped when they saw it, and even Robin felt a sense of awe overcome him at his sheer magnificence.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid bellowed as the first years clambered in to the little rowing boats. Robin and Hermione found themselves in a boat with Harry and Ron, much to the latter's chagrin. Everyone was quiet as they sailed across the lake, too nervous to speak, even near the end when they had to crouch down and pass under the cliff and emerged in an underground harbour.

"Oy, you there!" Hagrid called as Neville left his boat. "Is this your toad?"

"Trevor!"

Neville looked truly overjoyed. They clambered up a small passageway that took them right in front of the castle, so they were stood on the steps of two massive oak doors.

"Everyone here?" asked Hagrid, scanning the faces of the children. "You there, still got yer toad?"

Neville nodded, and Hagrid, reassured, turned to the doors and knocked three times.