The Slytherin Ostracism

Father was supposed to be back by August 15th, then by the 21st, then "Just a couple days", but by the time September 1st shined through my window, Father hadn't arrived.

I had spent the previous night curled in my bed, waiting to hear the slight pop of him Apparating. It never came, and I drifted off to sleep. I woke at first light.

My childhood bedroom was triangular in shape. The roof stood tall above me, and the walls slanted in. Across from my bed was a large skylight. It took up most of the wall. My father installed it—by magic, of course—when he and Mother first moved into the house. It was to brighten the house, to add natural light—something my mother often complains about not having enough of. That was before they had to build this room for me. The house had come with three bedrooms—one for my parents, one as my father's study, and one for their child.

They had not expected twins. A pediatric healer at St. Mungo's told them a baby girl was along the way, not a baby girl and boy. They decorated the third room for that baby girl. My Mother tells me that as soon as they got home from the hospital—the local one, not St. Mungo's—that Father raised his wand and worked for several hours until this room—my room—was complete.

This large window is special in two ways. It is always clean—bird poo, rainfall, leaves; they all disappear moments after landing on it. And though I can see the sky, and neighboring buildings, and a little park a block over; from the outside, it only looks like roof shingles. The window is kept together by thin iron bars, creating fifty neat squares—I know, I've counted.

My room is not as clean as the window. Though I keep it quite clean compared to Alice's. My bed is almost never made, and there are few books strewn around, along with various coats. The walls are cream, and the paint is peeling. There are black wood support beams coming up from the bottom floor. And the floor is a hard wood, also stained black.

Other than the window, I'm fond of the bed. The chimney runs up next to my bed—creating a great gray stone wall that warms when Mum lights a fire. Out of the same stone my Father created a bedframe, which warms just the same. Of course, Alice complained when she realized I had that. And she got her own warming bed soon as Father was home. Though I don't see why. Her room is far larger, far prettier—they could have let me have something of my own.

Other than that, I have a solitary dresser, a small closet, a large bookcase in the corner, and an old black leather reading chair, plus a lamp. When I rose on September First, I stretched and rubbed my eyes. I walked to the window for a moment and looked at the pink sky. The sun was just beneath the rolling clouds, and it lit them up with those pink rays.

I crossed the room to the cage sitting atop my bedside table. Newt sat in his cage, the sunlight illuminating his black feathers. He had been such a quiet bird since bringing him home. He woke and looked at me with his tilted head. I tilted mine, he moved to match. I moved again, he copied again. I fed him some pellets and he ate. I watched him eat for a bit before crossing the room again.

I sat down in the reading chair and scooched it up to the window. I looked up at the moon—full and just above the line of houses. I reached behind me to retrieve a brown leather book and cracked it open. I was a little bit more than half way through Hogwarts a History. I was reading about the history of why chimeras are no longer allowed in Hogwarts. It was due to a rather terrible prank a Gryffindor student had unleashed on the school. The boy had let out two chimeras, and labeled one with the number one, and the other as the number three. It did not fool the teachers, who caught the two chimeras in a matter of minutes, but only after twelve students were mobbed by the beasts. The student was expelled immediately, and chimeras haven't been allowed to the school since. Though for years there were whispers that a third chimera roamed the grounds.

A very stupid prank indeed.

But I couldn't read the book for much longer. Mum said breakfast would be at six thirty, and my alarm clock now read six eighteen. There was to be no waiting around. We had to make our floo network open-gate at eight o'clock, and mother wanted us bathed, dressed, fed, triple checked for packing, and down by the fireplace at seven fifty.

I closed Hogwarts a History and went to my trunk. I reached for mother's long roll of parchment and started to check off items once more.

I should explain about the floo network open-gate. If you've been to Kings Cross recently, you'll know that it is more difficult to get to the barrier between platform nine and ten than it was for the entire history of the Hogwarts Express. Whereas it used to be possible to travel around the platforms at your leisure, now there is extra security between the station and the central unpaid area. To deal with this, the Ministry of Magic has been sending families with Hogwarts students magical tickets to get them through these barriers. The unfortunate part of this, is that they sent them to father, due to Mum being a muggle and not being in their system. He was supposed to be back by now with them. Consequently, we have to pick them up in London, and so our fireplace is being linked to the Ministry's floo network for ten minutes starting at eight.

I finished with the second check of all my possessions and looked at the clock. Five minutes till breakfast. I headed out of my bedroom, and down the stairs to breakfast. I heard an alarm go off in Alice's room, but no movement. I wheeled around and walked into Alice's room without knocking.

Alice rolled over in the bed at the sound of her door opening. Her eyes bulged, and she asked, "What time is it?"

"Breakfast in a minute," I said.

She tore back the sheets and jumped straight into her slippers. The slippers had once been white, but now resembled a flattened gray mush of sheep's wool. I'm sure they were still warm, but stains from spilled milk, and some strawberry jelly, created a discolored effect that made them look horrendous. Alice—in a white and blue nightgown—pulled a blue robe on and raced past me downstairs, the fastening ties dragging behind her.

We made it to the table on time. Mum checked the clock but had no reason to reprimand us. She was already dressed, wearing a brown tweed coat, with a blue sweater and white shirt beneath. Her pants were white, and she wore blue and silver sneakers. "Big day," she said. She mustered a smile, which Alice returned. I did not. I watched her lip quiver and her eyes fill with moisture. "Eat up. I want those trunks triple checked."

I was amazed to see how normal breakfast was. Fried tomato, scones, a grapefruit, and water. No big celebration. No off to school decorations. Just the same old food, same old dishes, same old mother. "Wash up" was the command after breakfast.

I checked my trunk two more times and brought down my trunk and Newt-plus-cage to the edge of the fireplace. Alice still showered so Mum asked me to track down Mochi and put her in the crate. Alice was supposed to make sure she was in the house the night before, but I found the ball of brown fir on the garden wall, a headless rat by her paws. Mochi gave me a small nod before returning to grooming herself. I could see a bit of blood still on her left paw, where white fur grew. She did not take kindly to being picked up away from her breakfast. And I got a scratch or two on my hand before I wrestled her into the crate. Soon she was yowling next to Newt, who stared at her and made soft hooting noises, trying to match the sound and length of her yowls. Eventually Mochi stopped only after Newt managed to mimic her perfectly.

Alice finally stopped showering. I bathed, dress, and got downstairs just before seven fifty. Alice only managed to check her trunk once over, and mother wasn't pleased. I could hear her berating Alice as they came down the stairs and to the fireplace. Mum took a silver scarf and wrapped it around her head, then put on her sunglasses. "Get your things."

We did. Alice held both Mochi and her trunk, while I took hold of Newt and my trunk. Mum held onto Athena's cage as she took a handful of powder from an urn above the mantel. She threw it into the fireplace and at eight oh six we stepped into the green flames. Mother shouted, "The Ministry of Magic Guest Reception," and off we went.

I tried to take everything in, being my first time using floo powder. But all we did was spin, and pitch, and there were tons of fireplaces zooming by us, and then it all slowed, and Mum stepped out onto a great big fire pit.

A man in a gold round desk swiveled in his chair to look down at us. He stood and walked through the desk. He was a young man, in excellent form, and wearing navy blue robes with a gold M on the front. He also wore a navy-blue necktie, fitting perfectly in the collar of his robes.

"Ah Mrs. Husher, right as expected."

The elevator doors closed behind us and I caught a glimpse of the fire pit erupting into green flames again before we headed up. We exited on basement six.

I'd read that the Ministry was underground of course, and that the space between basement three and two is extra wide for a muggle underground railway, but I imagined it would still be grand. Instead, the hallways were carpeted and old; the pictures on the walls moved, which Alice liked; and little paper airplanes soared around the place. They had added magical windows with every available space, but everything smelt small and squished and, well, boring.

There was a bit of excitement when we heard shouting in one of the offices, but it was all very quick and Mum got our tickets—having to fill out a couple forms first—and we were out of the office. Back into the lifts. We got out on basement eight again, but this time in a different area. Around us were twenty or so lifts in a large hallway. Mother turned—she seemed to know where she was going—to the right, and the whole area opened right up into the atrium. Witches and wizards were bustling about, but at a different speed and urgency than Diagon Alley. All of them funneled around a huge gold statue in the middle of the room.

I stepped behind Mother and noticed the floor was marble, a white marble—vastly different than the photos of the ministry from just ten years ago: all green marble everywhere. The walls were blue and gold and white as well. The statues in the middle had changed too.1 A wizard and a witch, clad in robes dating back to the dark ages, pointed their wands toward the center of the statue, where a real fire roared. A house elf stood beside the witch and wizard, holding wood for the fire. A goblin, on the other side of the fire worked some type of weapon crafting machinery. Near it, two centaurs stood, one hunting with a bow, it's front hooves high in the air, the other looking up to the magical sky at the top basement level.

I'd read that the new statue of magical brethren had been heralded as a progressive stance towards sentient magical creatures and wizards, but I couldn't help noticing how poorly maintained the house elf looked, and I kept thinking "for who" regarding the weapon the goblin crafted. From what my father has told me, though Centaurs do star gaze and hunt—the most common things people know about Centaurs—they also have a complex society and are often conversing together, rather than out on a combo hunting-star gazing trip.

Mum told us to take a look; we'd be here only a moment. Alice went to go look closer at the witch, but I'd seen enough of the statue. I went to look for a plaque. Between the wizard and goblin there stood three plaques. One detailed the first five renditions of Statue of Magical Brethren. The next discussed the Voldemort era statue. The third discussed the current one and how "Constantly defining new relationships with magical creatures should be a goal, and not a burden." I didn't read much of that. I got lectures on that subject whenever Father was home. I did read the second plaque.

After the death of Prime Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, Lord Voldemort used Death Eaters within the Ministry, and the use of the imperious curse, to overthrow the Ministry. Turning from a symbiotic relationship with muggles to an authoritative one, Lord Voldemort used this space as a propaganda outlet, showing muggles to be subservient to wizards—a thought which had long been decreed as an out-of-favor opinion. Cornelius Fudge 1999.

I read somewhere that when that plaque was first placed, Fudge had accidently called it the imperious charm. While reading it aloud during the inauguration ceremony of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the crowd erupted into both fits of laughter and heckling. Even Shacklebolt was seen shaking his head disapprovingly.

Mum swept us out of the atrium soon. It was barely eight thirty, and the train didn't leave until eleven. Mum asked us what we wanted to do. Immediately, Alice asked to see Big Ben.2. I had barely had time to think of anything to request before we were off in a cab towards the Thames.

We'd seen London before, Alice and I, on a field trip two years ago. We did all the requisite tours and sightseeing. It was supposed to be an educational trip, but I only remember getting to know strange facts about English history, i.e. Anne Boleyn's mouth and eyes still moving after being decapitated. Wizarding history at the time of King Henry VIII was much more interesting. An obscurus was tearing up Normandy, and fled to the southern shores of England, attempting to find refuge at Hogwarts, only to destroy itself in a shipyard.

I had no interest in seeing London, but since our luggage had been batted off to the train, I had nothing to do but stand alongside American muggles taking photographs with their flip phones. It seemed a waste of time to me. But soon enough we were back in a cab and streaking off towards Kings Cross. The atrium has this large white contraption. I'm not sure what it's supposed to be—maybe a giant fan, or shell—but it seems to have nothing to do with Kings or Crosses.

I could spot Wizard families already, even an hour out from eleven. Large trollies with owls, cats, I thought I spotted a niffler in a shiny silver cage before some men blocked my view. Trunks: orange, white, gray, green, brown, red, yellow—any shade imaginable really—were stuffed in. Children ran, laughed, whined, cried, kept silent, etc. With how loud wizarding families talked about muggles, Hogwarts, dragons, the Ministry, etc., it was amazing to me how muggles didn't discover the wizarding world on every September the First.

Mum gave us our magical tickets and we passed through any security precaution that presented itself unscathed. Next, we were walking between platforms nine and ten, and I saw a boy about my height run through the barrier. I looked up at Mum, then back to the barrier. I cracked my neck. Alice made a face. Mum tried to say something about how to do it properly, but I didn't stop to listen. I strolled right on up to the barrier, then through it, and stopped on the other side. I looked at what felt like a familiar sight3. The Hogwarts Express; its scarlet color popped out from the beige bricks around us.

Steam pouring from the Express I approached the edge of the platform before Mum and Alice came through. I could hear Mum calling for me, but I didn't respond. I walked up to the train and put a hand on its side, feeling the cool metal. The train whistle blew, and more steam poured out. I looked at the safety valve atop the engineer's cabin.

Mother found me and scolded me for not staying with the group. The train didn't leave for another half hour, but Mother ushered us onto it, holding her scarf around her face. She didn't weep, but her face did get red as she said goodbye. I'd forgotten to give her a kiss, so halfway up the little stairs I turned around. She nearly crushed my lungs she held me so tight.

"Oh and don't forget to exercise daily," Mother said. "I don't want you to add to the obese wizard problems of today. Oh, but don't tell people your mum said that okay?"

No sooner Alice and I were on the train, and Mum was out of sight.

"Should we find a compartment?" Alice asked.

That was a stupid question. What else was there to do? But just then the sound of heavy boots stopped behind us. We turned. In the doorway between two cars was a tall man in overlarge overalls. He was clean shaven and carried a bit more weight than the photograph I'd seen of him. The conductor stood, his hands on his hips, looking down at me.

"This him?" asked the conductor. I thought he was talking to Alice before I saw a head poking out from behind his knee. The house-elf I'd met in the conductor's chair years before nodded. He rubbed his hands and kept glancing around. "Right. Come with me. You too," he added to Alice. We followed.

"If I get in trouble because of you…" Alice started. But she trailed off, her threat emptying into silence.

We walked through six cars. Students in muggle clothing jumped and shouted and swore and then sobered up as they saw the conductor walk through. The conductor said nothing to the students about behaving, didn't even open his mouth, just nodded and smiled. Some eyes lingered on the house-elf in front of me.

We walked to the front of the train, where the conductor sat in his chair—much better fitting for him than the house-elf and said, "You've already met Kricket, but my name's Earl." He held out a hand to shake. Alice reached around and beat me to it. She shook first. He commented on the strength of her grip. He did not on mine.

"Notice anything different?"

I pointed to a silver knob, just above a long handle.

"To right," he said. "It's an invisibility mechanism—provided by some Ministry bloke named Aldridge Weasley—I least I think it's Aldridge. Supposed to use it when we're in muggle towns." He looked at Alice, "And what about you darling?"

I could feel Alice bristle without looking at her. But I interjected. "It was only me, sir. She didn't come."

"Right," he said, and he turned in his chair looking out the window. "And call me Earl. Now Kricket filled me in on what he told you, so…" This was the second time he'd said Kricket, and I still didn't understand. But as Earl discussed what I learned my last time on the Express I realized Kricket must be the house-elf's name. How had I not remembered that?

Alice yawned and silently pouted as Earl showed me an in-depth analysis of the train's mechanics. Kricket asked her about what she liked and Alice happily went on about the Magpies. It was hard to listen to Earl while Alice was spewing on and on about Quidditch. It was too bad I couldn't be a part of both discussions.

A half hour later and the conductor had to kick us out. Alice and I both thanked him profusely. And Alice waved bye to Kricket, who bowed, and we watched the door to the cabin close as the train started off. I looked out a window. A thousand arms were out the window waving to parents, and dogs, and children even littler than Alice and I.

"Shall we—"

"Yes, let's find a compartment."

All the compartments were full. Of course, they were. The train always had exactly the amount of seats needed for the journey. In the case of March 19th 1917, the Hogwarts Express was no bigger than a pickup truck, having only one passenger, a miss Robin Percival.

Alice and I sheepishly walked through nine cars now, peaking into compartments only to be told there was no room. Though intimidating looking seventh-year men were perfectly nice, we did come across some rudeness towards the back of the train.

"These compartments are for Slytherin only" said a 5th year boy with a prefect's badge and green scarf. "You'll have to find some seats up there." He pointed behind us.

A compartment door behind us opened and black-haired girl with emerald earrings. She didn't look much older than us, though she wore heavy eye makeup. "I think there's a free compartment at the very back she said.

We gave out thanks and Alice and I meandered in that direction. "I wonder why these are for Slytherin's only?" Alice said. She was trying to pull something out of her hair. She jumped. "Spider!" She batted it off and tried to squash it. I kicked her foot over and bent low. A small spider, legs pressed close to its body, had fallen to the ground. It jumped, but my wand was out and I used the impediment jinx to stop it. I flicked my wand and banished it—hopefully onto the far corner of the platform where a pile of wood crates had sat.

Alice didn't bother asking how I did that. I don't know if she genuinely wasn't impressed with my wand work or was purposefully ignoring it. We opened the compartment door. "Don't know why you bothered to stop me," Alice said. "There's billions of those things."

"There's billions of people, but you wouldn't want to be squished," I retorted.

A bark of a voice interrupted our discussion. "Slytherin's only. Fuck off."

There were only two people in the compartment, and we had seen them before. The pale dark-haired boy and his younger blonde sister from Madam Malkins sat by the window. The boy was leaning towards us. He was much bigger than Alice and me, long and lanky and very thin. His hair was longer than it had been a month ago, and it fell in front of his face in curls. He wore green canvas trainers, khaki trousers, a gray and white argyle sweater, and a green tie on a white shirt.

The girl—well she was dressed just as nice—white shorts, along with a white blouse, but she was wrapped in a large purple and black blanket with a large black knit cap on her head. The cap pronounced the heart shaped jawline. She sweat. Her eyes appeared sunken, and she shivered. She turned to us and sniffed. Her brother put a hand on her chest as she leaned towards us.

"This is the only place with any room," I said. "So, we'll be sitting here." I sat on the girl's side, but a little way from her. I gave her a smile, she returned it. Her canine teeth were still a little pointed. I didn't know if her bite was still active. I kept my wand out. I didn't think she'd be allowed on the train if it were—but all the same

Alice sat across from me. She looked at the girl. It was unlike Alice to be so quiet in front of new people, but I guess the girl made her uncomfortable. A copy of the Daily Prophet sat next to the boy. It looked untouched. "May I," I said indicating the paper.

"Sure," the boy said. "Bores the hell out of me."

"Oh, why?" Alice asked. She looked over to the boy. "Our mum never gets the wizard's paper."

"Muggle parents?" the boy asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Half," I spat, opening the paper. There was a major story on Potter crashing a Death Eater rally—not a real Death Eater rally, just a wannabe one, young people being stupid. He'd made twelve arrests. "Aren't we not allowed to discuss parentage? Or is that a rumor?"

"Aren't you a first year?" the boy said.

I nodded.

"How do you…"but he didn't seem to care enough to finish the question. "It's a Ministry rule, but the Headmistress doesn't enforce it."

"You'll be of wizarding blood then," I said. "Madam Malkins," I said in response to his questioning face. "We were in the shop when you were fitted for your robes. Said she was your aunt."

Alice butt in. "Are you okay?" she asked the girl.

"She's a werewolf," I answered, reading a much more interesting piece on the international wizard chess championship, where a Mr. William Weasley had brought home the gold to England. "Bound to still be feeling the effects of her transformation. I mean the moon was out for a long while this mor—"

The boy was up, wand out, and his face red with anger.

"You shut it. That's private. You can't just—you mustn't tell—no one's allowed to—" The boy brandished his wand. Before he spewed any spell I flicked my wand. His own soared into the air. I caught it and uttered "Silencio." The boy became quite.

Alice looked petrified. The blonde girl had hid her face in the blanket. "We're not going to say anything you prat," I said. I handed him back his wand and unsilenced him.

The boy had found his voice. "Are you Picardians?" he asked.

"What?" Alice asked, obviously thinking of our family favorite muggle show, Star Trek.

"Professor Emmerett Picardy," I answered. I couldn't keep the annoyance out of my voice. Alice scowled. "Author of Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live. He argued that werewolves suffer from a permanent loss of moral sense." I turned back to the boy. "And no, we're the children of Charles Dunbar Husher, you know, CD Husher, author of Lupine Lawfulness: And Why Picardy is a Giant Git."4

"Are you really?"

It was the girl who had spoken. Her vocal chords were still messed up and she sounded scraggily.

Alice answered, "Yeah, course we are. I'm Alice. Alice Husher, and this is my brother Raven. And course we won't tell."

"Shelby," the girl managed. She smiled again, showing those pointed teeth, but quickly shut them. Alice put a hand forward to shake, but I held her forearm.

"Is your bite still active?" I asked.5

The boy answered. "No, the wolfsbane potion—while it can't stop the transformation—cleans out the venom making her sane and—"

"Totally harmless, yeah I get it," I said. I looked at Shelby. "We'll get you some chocolate frogs to eat when the trolly comes, eh? Dad says magical ailments are always helped by chocolate due to the coco bean having some magical traces."6

Shelby smiled with her lips pressed tight.

The boy thrust his hand out. He didn't smile, but any anger in his eye left. "Edric Westwater." We shook. He shook with Alice too. I went back to reading the paper.

"What year are you?" Alice asked.

"Second," Edric said.

"Can you tell me why all the Slytherins are sitting in the back of the train?" she asked.

I peered over the paper. Edric had a wearier smile on. "Been rough for Slytherin house since Voldemort was killed," he answered. "Lots of folks think we're all going to be the next Voldemort, or Grindelwald, or Morgan Le Fay."

"Or the Wicked Witch of the West," I muttered, turning the page. Shelby laughed. Edric smiled. They'd seen the Wizard of Oz. Good, they weren't completely devoid of culture.7

"Apparently, it's been like this since the Battle of Hogwarts," Edric explained. "Slytherins are shunted to the side nowadays. Sometimes it feels like it's us against the other three. We've been ostracized." He pointed his thumb at his chest, proud of the statement. But I bet anything he was just regurgitating that sentence from an older student. He probably didn't even know what ostracized meant.

"Well your founder did put a Basilisk in the school to kill muggle-borns," Alice said.

"Sounds like something coming from a Gryffindor," Edric said, putting his arms behind his head and his feet on Shelby's lap. "What house you gunning for?"

"Don't care," Alice said. "Dad was a Slytherin." This brightened Edric up. "Grandma was a Gryffindor and Grandad was in Hufflepuff."

"You'll be in Ravenclaw," Edric said to me. "Brains like yours—disarming even before you've been to Hogwarts."

I smiled. Being in Ravenclaw would be agreeable indeed. I turned another page. A story about an undiscovered harras of Hippogriffs in northwestern Canada and Alaska had made Magizoologists reconsidered everything they knew about the species. Studies were underway.

"Don't encourage him," Alice said dryly. "He was the git who made his own wand when he was five." I ignored this. Both Shelby and Edric remarked in admiration. I hid behind the paper. "And he apparated a couple years ago onto the train. Headmistress McGonagall came to our house and everything."

"I thought that was just a joke!" Edric cried. "Some prefect told me about that last year. Said you caused all sort of commotion on the train. They had to stop for two hours looking for you. Got to Hogwarts late."

I did not come out from behind the paper.

Alice moved off the subject of my personal accomplishments and started asking Edric all sorts of questions—much to my pleasure. She got very little from him though. He kept saying things like, "I don't know, you'll probably like it better if you just experience it." We talked merrily until lunch time, when the lunch trolley came down to our compartment.

"Anything off the trolley—" but the plump woman with short gray hair stopped talking. "I'm not sure if I want to give you anything." She pointed at me. "Stowaways aren't to be rewarded."

"Come off it," Alice said. "He can't starve all the way to Hogwarts!"

"What's your favorite type of candy?" I asked the trolley lady.

She peered at me. The lines on her forehead deepened. "I'm rather fond of the sugar mice," she responded.

"May I gift you one as an apology?" I asked, putting down my paper.

"No, I'm on duty," she said, and she did not sound pleased. "But you may purchase from the trolley."8

Mum's warning of obese wizards reached my mind as Alice and I approached the cart. There seemed to be more sweets on it than we'd ever eaten in our life. We exchanged glances that told me Alice was thinking the same thing. We bought two of everything, and as many chocolate frogs for Shelby that we could afford.

Having never had wizarding candy—except for one chocolate frog that came with a Ron Weasley card I chucked—I tried each slowly, savoring the taste. The Bertie Botts were fun, though I had to stop for a while when I had a fire one that scorched my throat and tongue.9 I did not like the Cockroach Cluster or the Fizzing Whizzbees—the Whizzbees made my tongue feel tender after the fire Bertie. But I really did enjoy the frogs, the cauldron cakes, and something called a Dragon Claw, which was a filled pastry that looked exactly like a Dragon Claw—mine was chocolate and raspberry.

The Westwater siblings ate some snacks too, and they shared in some of the candy that Alice and I couldn't finish. It turned out that Shelby—who's voice was much better after she ate the chocolate frogs that we'd bought for her—was a big English Quidditch League fan. She supported the Holyhead Harpies and was one of the few child supporters who didn't list Ginny Weasley as her favorite player. Instead she said the aging Gwenog Jones topped her list of favorites.10

As it darkened outside Edric suggested we all change into our Hogwarts Robes. I summoned mine, and Edric shook his head disbelievingly. "Are you always gonna show off?" he asked.

"Just practice," I said. I seethed inside. I did not want to be a showoff.

"Do you always wear your house color on the first day of school?" Alice asked, pointing at his shoes.

"Just the Slytherins," Edric said. "It's a sort of solidarity sign. Professor Slughorn started it after kids started crying when they were put in Slytherin. Each first year gets an item of clothing now, bewitched to always fit. Mine were the shoes. I wore the tie on my own." He looked at both me and Alice. "I hope we get both of you. We'd have a chance at winning the house cup this year."

"Who won last year?" I asked.

Of all things at Hogwarts, the inter-house championship was the most interesting to me. Points for good deeds, for right answers, for helping, for discipline, for bravery and friendship—what a way to inspire good behavior and studiousness from children. More than Quidditch, more than Chess tournaments, more than my classes even, I wanted to be a key contributor to my house—whatever house that would be.

"Hufflepuff," Edric said. "They've won six out of the last eight."

"Who—" but Edric was already answering.

"Ravenclaw won the year before last, than Hufflepuff all the way back to when Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley won it for Gryffindor after the Battle of Hogwarts." He smirked. "Course no one but Gryffindor had a chance then—McGonagall gave everyone who fought in the Battle a hundred points to their house. Gryffindor went up over a thousand points on Ravenclaw right after that sentence. But then Hermione Granger was sitting there, wasn't she, and McGonagall looked right down at her—" I suppose Edric had heard all this, since he'd only been at Hogwarts for a year—"and said, and for Ms. Hermione Granger, for help to Harry Potter in defeating Lord Voldemort, I award you two thousand points. It was over right from then."

"Slytherin hasn't won since then?" Alice asked. She had finished putting on her robes and was now sitting in the black fabric, her feet hanging above the floor. I could hear the disappointment in her voice. She of course would not want to be on a losing team.

"Well we won the two years before that, but most people don't count the year under Umbridge—"

"Who—"Alice started.

"Doloras Umbridge, come off it Alice," I snapped. "Senior Under Secretary, Hogwarts Inquisitor, then Headmistress, sitting in Azkaban for heading up the Muggle-Born Registry Commission."

Edric nodded, leaning forward to slip back into his shoes. Shelby pushed his sleeve out of her face to look out the window. "I think we're arriving." She sat up a bit more in her seat. "We definitely are. Those lights are coming really close."

"Do we get our stuff? Our owls?" Alice asked.

"Don't be stupid," I said. "They get taken up to the castle."

Edric looked to Alice and shrugged. "I didn't know that last year."

Alice looked at me and stuck her tongue out. Shelby giggled.

The train slowed, and soon it was a stop. We all piled out into the hallway with the rest of the Slytherins. I couldn't tell if all the swearing was exclusive to just Slytherins, or school children in general. I spotted the girl with the black hair and emerald earrings. She smiled at me and waved. I notice just how blue her eyes were now. They seemed to sparkle.

But she was not wearing any robes of green, but of black. She too was a first year. But then—

I stepped forward, not hearing Shelby trying to ask me a question, and said, "But you're a first year." I pointed at the earrings.

She smiled at me. "But I'm hoping for Slytherin. My big brother is in it." She pointed up to a boy who looked enormous. With short black hair, a sharp jawline and a barrel chest he towered above me. He wasn't thick or fat, but his robes were tight around him. He wore a green jumper underneath his Hogwarts robes.

A with a short bob-haircut—presumably a friend of the older brother—slapped a party hat on the girl I was talking too. "You can't stop wearing this Courtney," she said. "Oh sorry!"

She had slapped me in the nose, though not hard. I waved away her apology. She was not wearing any green at all, and her robes were yellow in the trim. A Hufflepuff. "Claudia Nighy, I'm this one's"—she pointed to Courtney—"older sis. It's her birthday today. Lucky twat. First day at Hogwarts and birthday, my God." She extended a hand. "You are?"

"Raven Husher," I said. I shook the hand.

"And a Scot!" she exclaimed. I blushed. I didn't think my accent was that bad. She looked over my shoulder. "Oh, I do hope your friend is alright."

I turned to see Shelby leaning against the compartment door, a hand on her forehead. She was being pressed too tightly by several older students. Edric hadn't seen, he was talking to Alice about something. "Happy Birthday," I said to Courtney and turned back to Shelby.

"You alright?" I asked.

Shelby nodded. "Do you know if there is any water?"

I looked back inside our compartment, but all our trash had been vanished. I did not yet know how to conjure dishware. "Open your mouth," I said. She did so. I pointed my wand and muttered, "Aquamenti." Water shot from the tip of the wand to her mouth. I maintained the spell until Shelby gave me a thumbs up.

I heard a few laughs. A boy with untidy blonde hair and green eyes laughed at me. He was a first year too, with his only black robes. His friends—one rather large boy with green trimmed robes; one smaller boy with short hair and black robes; and one girl with the same untidy, but long, blonde hair all laughed with him. I heard the boy say something nasty about my wand and the water going into Shelby's mouth.

Soon the boy was out of my gaze, and Alice pushed me along with everyone else, trying to shuffle out of the train. It was dark out and I heard more than one-person trip while getting onto the landing. I watched Edric help down Shelby onto the lit platform, and let Alice go in front of me. I was the last out from our car.

A noise to my left made me turn. A girl in black robes with vibrant red hair was attempting to put her caged owl back inside the train. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't know. We're supposed to leave them. Could someone just—" a hand took the cage from her and placed it back inside. She stepped down off the step and looked my way.

Her hair swooshed all about as her head turned. Her eyes locked on mine, and she smiled. She waved. I waved back, slowly realizing I was staring far too long. In fact, I'd been staring so long I didn't see two boys to my right pull their wands out. I didn't hear the shouts of "Expelliarmus," the disarming spell, and "Stercus Oculus," the conjunctivitis curse. I didn't see the two spells collide with each other. I did see the pink flash before me, and felt an invisible force push me off my feet. I hit the train and crumbled onto the platform.

1 I mean, of course they had. The ministry wasn't going to leave up a wizard sitting upon a throne crushing muggles.

2 Of course, she meant the Elizabethan, the tower, and not the bell, Big Ben. Because she's an idiot.

3 A strange feeling due to the fact that I'd only seen the train in person once before. And stranger still when you consider I only saw the train from the inside.

4 That is the actual name of my father's twenty-two-page article scientifically proving how werewolves do not suffer from permanent morality loss.

5 Werewolves were fine beings, but still, if you could avoid being one, it'd be best.

6 I made up the last part, but placebo effects area real thing, so there's that.

7 This is rare for pure-bred children. They only know round fifteen stories from the wizarding world, and half of them are basically the same story.

8 She kind of appreciated the offer then.

9 It did no real damage.

10 Excellent taste from Ms. Westwater.