At three in the morning, Harris decided sleep was impossible. He got up, and quietly retreated to the common room. It was silent, dark, empty. Almost creepy, with the snake motif, and dungeon walls. His books were still in the girls' room, so he couldn't study. Sneaking out at this hour would be crazy, and, besides, he didn't have anywhere to go.
Someone had left out some blank parchment, an inkwell, and a quill. He went over to them. Anything left in the common room will be considered common property, the prefects had warned. That worked both ways, didn't it? He claimed the writing materials as his own, and began writing:
Dear Mum and Father and Everyone Else,
Hogwarts is awful. I have Death Eater Jr. and his faithful sidekick Martin in my room and they hate me. I can't sleep. Evalyn, who I thought was okay, just told him last night that I'm not worthy of being called Slytherin. I met Charlie Weasley yesterday. He's a Gryffindor. We got along great. That is a very bad thing. Now the Gryffindors want to be my friends, and the Slytherins hate my guts. This would all be fine, even normal, IF I was a Gryffindor. I'm not.
Tonight, after detention, we heard Professor McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor House talking to a Slytherin professor (Avery said it was probably Snape) about me. She wanted him to do something (we missed that part of the conversation), but he said no. Professor Wallsby, my Head of House, also said no. She might bring it to Dumbledore next. Snape and Wallsby hate me, too, I think.
I don't like it here. Can I come home?
Miss you horribly,
Harris
PS: If I die, Jansten can have my broom after he kills Avery to avenge me. Harris tapped the feather end of the quill briefly against the post script. There were any number of reasons he could die, aside from Avery murdering him, but he decided to leave it as it was. It would be far more preferable to take Avery with him than to have Jansten worry about whether he should kill Avery who deserved it, Charlie who didn't, or some random house elf who might have accidently missed a fish bone. Simpler this way all around.
He folded the note and told himself he'd get up to the owlery to send it after Potions. He left the ink and quill for whoever came across it next. He found a copy of the first year potions text book under a couch cushion. It was a measure of how bored he was that he (a) found the book at all, and (b) started reading it.
He was partway through chapter two when Evalyn came out of the girls' hall. Her eyes widened when she saw him. "Harris."
Harris closed the potions book, folding over a page corner to hold his place, and put it down beside him. He did not answer.
"Look, I'm sorry about last night," she said with a quick look toward the boys' hall. No doubt making sure Avery wasn't anywhere in earshot.
Harris just looked at her. Forgiveness would not come easily.
"He'd find out today anyway, Harris. He was actually speaking civilly to me again. I couldn't back down before because he'd see it as weakness. Look, I know he's a jerk, but there's no sense in feuding for seven years. My father told me to at least try not to antagonize him too much. We're going to fight again, I can guarantee you that right now, but sacrificing you gives me some credibility with him. I can't influence him if he automatically disregards everything I say."
"I thought we were friends, Evalyn." He hoped that didn't sound as pathetic as it sounded.
The pity in his eyes made his stomach churn. Her words could have been a physical blow. "Harris, you're not a Slytherin."
Harris doubled over and squeezed his eyes closed. He would not cry. Slytherins don't cry. Tragyls don't cry. Crying was for babies.
"Your best chance is to get brave, and beg Dumbledore for a reSorting." There was no quarter in her voice.
By strength of will alone, Harris' eyes were still dry when he lifted his head toward her. "I will graduate Slytherin." Assuming he lived that long. Assuming he didn't drop out. But he didn't let these doubts enter his words.
She looked at him for a long moment. "And that, Harris, is exactly why you shouldn't. Hopeless causes are for Gryffindors."
Harris lowered his head again. His fists were clenched in anger, but his eyes leaked and dripped onto them. "I will graduate Slytherin," he repeated, in a whisper. His normal voice would have cracked. This time he didn't need to hide doubts. Even if it killed him a minute later, he would survive to that point. He'd see to that. He'd show her and he'd show Avery. Assuming they survived to see it. The hat had told him he had ambition. Right now, it was focused on graduating and surviving in Slytherin House.
He stood abruptly and stalked past her. Without a word, he used a candle to burn the note he had written to his family. Revision was neccessary.
Harris was the last of the first years to arrive at breakfast. Evalyn had taken his seat across from Martin, leaving only the one opposite Avery open. So. Now he was leader of the opposition party. He had no followers, but it was good to know. He drew in a breath and took his seat. The only time he lifted his eyes from his fork was to accept a letter from Odyssius, the Tragyl family owl, when the mail came.
The letter was just an account of Menteron's escapade with the Muggle neighbors, and the punishments both twins were now suffering for their crimes. Harris couldn't help but feel envious that his own troubles were not so easily resolved. He'd much prefer a few days in leg-lock over seven years trying to be something nobody believed he could be. The letter's post script was written so small he almost mistook it for a squiggly line. If you get another chance, give Avery a right cross to the jaw for me. Don't tell Dad I said so. - Mum
Mum's line buouyed his spirits until he saw the door to the potions classroom.
Snape was no where in sight when he entered. As in McGonagall's class, the room was divided down the middle. Gryffindors sat on one side, Slytherins on the other. Harris gave a hard look to Evalyn and Avery (who were sitting together) that was pure bravado backed only by terror and uncertainty, then sat next to Charlie Weasley. He forced himself to smile a greeting. "Hello, Cousin." He was pretty sure the smile looked sickly. Charlie surely heard his voice shaking. The rest of him wasn't any more steady. Mum would have taken one look at him, put him in back in bed, and called in a mediwitch.
Charlie looked surprised, but to his credit, his first reaction was to put a hand on Harris' back and ask, concerned, "Are you all right, coz?"
It was almost more than he could stand. Charlie wasn't supposed to be his friend. Evalyn was supposed to be his friend. Harris curled forward, not crying, but dangerously close. He'd known Evalyn three days. What did it matter if she didn't like him as much as he thought she did. So what if all Slytherins despised him? They were all untrustworthy creeps anyway. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to control himself.
Charlie, his hand still resting on his back, must have felt the near sob ripple under his fingers. The hand started to rub circles like his mum had done when he cried as a child.
Before this could upset him more, the door swung open with a crash, and a dark being billowed down the central aisle, drawing every eye. Harris sat straight and Charlie pulled away abruptly, startled by the door's noise. When the black creature reached the front of the room, it swung around to face them, and stopped dramatically. Only then did Harris realize it was human with pale skin, a hooked nose, and a long, dark cloak that he drew around himself like a vampire. Long, black hair fell about his face, and when he spoke, Harris recognized the low voice from last night. "There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class."
Dark, baleful eyes swept the room, freezing on Harris. Harris swallowed hard, and felt sweat prickle on his brow and under his robes. Charlie put a hand on his knee and squeezed comfortingly. Snape's speech faltered for a bare moment, then words and sweeping gaze picked up where they had left off. Harris was left with the distinct impression that Snape, too, found him unworthy of wearing green and silver. He was completely ignored throughout the rest of class, though he was the only one to raise his hand to answer the occassional question. Reading the text that morning might have paid off, had Snape acknowledged him.
Instead, the professor called on Charlie, or Walrus, or one of the other Gryffindors, and took off points when they didn't know the answer. Towards the end of lecture, Harris had given up raising his hand. So he wrote it on a piece of paper, and passed it discretely to Charlie. Snape called on him, Charlie read the answer off the scrap. Snape swept toward them, his dark cloak billowing as he moved. He picked up the scrap before Charlie or Harris could hide it.
Cold, dark eyes regard Harris, making him squirm. "Did you write this?" he asked, his quiet voice seemed more threatening for its lack of volume.
Harris nodded, terrified.
"Five points to Slytherin for a correct answer. Ten points from Gryffindor for cheating. Detention, Mr. Weasley." But his warning glare was leveled at Harris, not Charlie. Snape slowly crumpled the piece of parchment, his glare not wavering for a moment. Harris imagined him crushing recalcitrant students in much the same manner. The professor dropped the parchment ball on their desk, then abruptly whirled and returned to the front of the classroom. In some ways, he was even creepier than Aurora. Surprisingly, he did not once single her out. Pity, really. She probably knew the answers. Then again, that was probably why he didn't.
When class finally let out, Harris escaped the room as eagerly as any Gryffindor. He walked with a group of five Gryffindors, half-pretending he belonged with them, half-humiliated by the looks Avery, Martin, and Evalyn sent his way. Charlie must have sensed his misery, because he wrapped an arm around him. Harris forced a smile, but his words were genuine. "Thanks, big brother."
Charlie grinned, pleased, "No problem, kiddo." Then he turned serious. "What kind of crazy stunt was that, coz? Sitting with us in Snape's class? You trying to get yourself banished from your own house?"
Harris shook his head. "They can't banish me."
"Shunned, then."
"Too late. That happened last night. Might as well be guilty of what I'm getting punished for."
Charlie pulled away to give him an odd look. "You have a very depressing view on life, coz. What are you guilty of?"
He shugged as if what the other Slytherins thought of him didn't matter. "They think I'm a Gryffindor in snake's clothing."
Charlie looked at him for what seemed a very long time. For once, Harris couldn't read his expression. "Well, that's not such a bad thing, is it?" Charlie finally asked.
Harris looked at the floor. Charlie couldn't understand. His House liked him. His House was full of nice people. No stupid Hat had put him in with a lot of backstabbing jerks and told him these people were like him and they would be his friends and family for the next seven years. Someone he trusted hadn't decided that it would be in her best interest to throw him alone to the wolves in order to cultivate a temporary alliance with his worst enemy. Charlie was a mighty and brave Gryffindor, after all. He wouldn't need to live the rest of his life with people whispering behind his back, I heard he was Sorted into Slytherin. "I guess not," he mumbled in answer, unconvinced. In truth, very few things could be worse. Snake's clothing didn't fit Gryffindors.
Charlie smiled at him encouragingly, "Don't worry, we'll win you over soon enough." The thought that they might succeed terrified him as much as his murderous Avery nightmares. Only his promise to Evalyn kept him from running up to the owlry and sending out a very short note: Mum - Take me home. Right away. Now. Please. - Harris
Keri entered the twin's room at quarter after ten Tuesday morning. Normally, she would have been at work for over an hour by now, but she had called in 'sick'. "Finite incantium!" she cast, even before the boys noticed her presence. Surprised, Clarence dropped his Potente Potions book, and Menteron startled from where he sat on the floor, in the center of a circle of Every Flavor Beans. Keri wasn't sure she wanted to know what he was doing.
"Hi!" Menteron greeted, then looked surprised. "Hey, my voice works again!"
Experimentally, Clarence tried moving his legs. They lifted at the knees. The same look crossed his face. "Me too!"
He climbed out of bed and fell almost immediately. Keri crossed to him in a split second, catching hold of him just barely in time to ease him to the ground more slowly. He shook his head, and looked around with comically wide eyes. "Whoa. Dizzy."
"You haven't moved in over two days," Keri chided gently, "Take it easy." He nodded carefully, and she slowly helped him rise too his feet. Menteron watched anxiously, his Bean circle forgotten.
"I called the school, and the Headmaster wants to meet you boys before you start tomorrow. A taxi will be here in a few minutes, so if you two are ready, we'll apperate down to the end of the drive an wait for it."
"All set!" Menteron assured.
She looked at them critcally, not willing to take an eager five year old's word for it. "Clarence, lose the robe. This is Muggle school you're going to."
"Right," he agreed with a faint blush. He changed quickly, then stood next to his brother. They wore the same blue and red striped shirt and khaki pants.
"Good enough," she passed their verdict, taking Menteron's hand in her left, wrapped her right arm around Clarence, and awkwardly flicked the wand in her right hand. "Apperate!" As the room shuddered around them and reformed into the tree-lined drive next to the iron-wrought gate, she reflected that Apperation was decidedly ill-suited for transport of more than two people.
Both twins had Apperated properly beside her. The mere thought that they might not have riled her stomach to nausea. She pushed it away, and went to unlock the gate. "Alohamora!" The key had long since been lost. The three filed out and she fastened the gate closed behind them. The cab arrived not long after. "Becket Primary School," she told the driver.
It was a nice looking building, with green lawn flanking the walkway to the front door. A sign just inside the lobby instructed vistors to go to the main office, and offered a bent arrow as directions. Keri led the twins that way to an open office door with black letters proclaiming it as the "MAIN OFFICE". Clarence read it aloud for his brother's benefit.
A woman turned from a typewriter as they entered, and smiled at them. Keri felt mildly pleased with herself for recognizing the Muggle object. "Hello, welcome to Becket's," the woman greeted, "Are you the Tragyls?"
"Yes," Keri nodded.
She pointed to an adjoining office with a door labeled "HEADMASTER LEWIS", and said, "Go on in, you're expected." She lightly touched a strange device that looked only remotely like a telephone on her desk, then went back to the typewriter.
The Headmaster's door opened a moment before they reached it and a man with salt-and-pepper hair smiled kindly at them. "Hello. Come in please." He offered the woman a polite nod, then ushered Keri and the twins inside. She wondered briefly how the man had know they were there without ward spells, then dismissed the thought as he offered her and the boys chairs.
As he took his own seat behind a reasonably clean desk, he smiled at the twins assuringly. "Hello, boys. This is just a get-to-know each other kind of meeting. What are your names?" Keri had given that information and more over the phone - thank Merlin for Muggle Studies and a public one with instructions for Wizard use in Diagon Alley - so she guessed the question was more to put the boys at their ease.
"Menteron," the elder twin said with a shyness that she never would have expected from him.
"I'm Clarence, Headmaster Lewis." Equally unexpected, Clarence spoke with quiet confidence. She would have expected their reactions to have been reversed.
The Headmaster raised surprised eyebrows. "And how did you know my name, Clarence?"
By the expression on the younger twin's face, he could have asked how the boy knew the sky was blue. "Your door said so."
Mild surprise turned to astonishment as he switched his gaze to Keri. "They read already?"
"Clarence does." Menteron blushed faintly, suddenly ashamed of his lack. To make him feel a little better, she added, "Menteron can recite most of the alphabet."
The Headmaster nodded slowly. "I see." Keri was impressed by his ability to move on with the interview instead of alienating Menteron by focusing on Clarence's extraordinary brilliance. "I understand you two were originally going to be taught by tutors. Why the change?"
"Tutors are boring," Menteron explained with emphatic directness, at the same time that Clarence said, "I'm going have a tutor, too."
Keri was pleased to see that the man understood both boys. She felt increasing comfortable with Menteron's choice of school. "Have you any questions for me?"
They looked at each other, then back at him. Clarence was evidently chosen as spokestwin. "Just one. I'll be in Menteron's class, right? Even if I can read now?"
The Headmaster hesitated. "You may find it too easy," he began tentatively, before Clarence interrupted.
"That's ok. I want to be with Menteron."
Keri smiled tightly, somewhat embarassed that her 'perfect' son had cut off a Headmaster. "He will be maintaining his tutor, Headmaster Lewis. He won't be held back by staying with Menteron. If it isn't too much trouble, I could have Ms. Flannigan come to coordinate lessons so that she won't cover the same material. I'd like to avoid splitting them up if possible."
Headmaster Lewis considered the suggestion and nodded. "That sounds reasonable."
The relief of the boys was not at all discrete. "Yes!" they exclaimed together, jumping to their feet, and clapped their hands together in a double high five. Keri sighed quietly. So much for the 'proper manners' she had tried to teach them. The Headmaster smiled indulgently, and touched a button on a device that looked the little brother to one on the secretary's desk. After a moment, the woman opened the door.
"Kindly take the boys to Madam Baker," he instructed her, "Mrs. Tragyl, if you would stay for a moment. Madam Baker is the First Years' teacher. She likes to meet new pupils before they begin." The explanation seemed as much for the benefit of the boys as for her. They followed the secretary from the office, the door closing behind them. Keri felt a sudden fear as her little boys were lost to sight.
It was silly. She worked four days a week, in twelve hour shifts. This was hardly the first time they were seperated from her. The only difference was that now they wouldn't be safe at home, but out in the Muggle world. Wizardborn purebloods, who had never taken Muggle Studies, were going to a Muggle primary school.
The Headmaster cleared his throat, and she got the distinct impression it was not the first time he had tried to gain her attention. Seeing he finally had it, he smiled sympathetically. "They are your oldests?"
She shook her head. "No. Harris just began secondary school. But they are the first not to be home tutored until they turn eleven. Harris I know can take care of himself, but," she looked back at the closed door. She sighed again. "Clarence is brilliant, but neither of them yet know the meaning of the phrase 'too dangerous'." She offered him a weak smile, and a piece of evidence to prove her point. "Menteron fell out of a tree just yesterday." She decided he really didn't want to know about Clarence's misadventure.
"They will be supervised at all times, Mrs. Tragyl," he assured her. "Madam Baker is currently assessing them to make sure they are comfortable being away from their parents, but they seem to be a well-adjusted pair, if somewhat dependant upon one another."
"'Dependant' isn't exactly accurate, Headmaster. They are close friends as well as identical twins. Given a choice, I'd like to be in the same class as my best friend rather than a different one, too." A memory of Betty Merriweather tried to rise, but she surpressed it with the ease of practice. Now was not the time.
"Point taken." There was a brief pause. "Does Menteron resent the fact that his brother can read, but he can't?"
Keri shook her head. "Only insomuch as it interferes with playtime. Clarence spends a lot of time reading; time that Menteron would rather he spend in the sandbox with him. I'm sure Menteron is smart, but he is completely unmotivated. After only one lesson, yesterday, his tutor was ready to scream with frustration. On the completely opposite end of the spectrum, Clarence will read and absorb everything he can get his hands on, including books I would have difficulty getting through. I don't know how much he understands of it, but he can remember it." Hogwarts, A History was as dry a book as she had ever run across. The first few chapters were fine: Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff were extraordinary people. But then it degenerated into an Architectural treatise, followed by endless biographies and accounts of every last Headmaster and most of the teachers the school had ever employed.
The Headmaster of Muggle Becket's Primary School made a thoughful sound. "Clarence will find what we teach Menteron's class far too easy."
Keri smiled faintly. "I mean no disrespect to you or your school, but Clarence is viewing the whole thing as a kind of fun playgroup. Anything he learns will be incidental. He's been tutored for over two years already, that's what he considers education." At the slight frown forming on the man's face she quickly added, "It's not that he won't take things here seriously. I assure you, Clarence will be an excellent student, he's almost incapable of not being one. He just thinks that," she struggled to put her thoughts into words. Clarence had put it best, so she paraphrased him, changing her voice to a imitative higher pitch, "a real school with real other students and everything will be, like, cool, ya'know?"
She had managed to stun him. The Headmaster looked at her dumbly for a moment, then he began to laugh quietly. She wasn't sure if the reaction was in response to the image of a classy Slytherin wife (wearing a severe floor-length dress and a tight bun in her dark auborn hair, no less) speaking like a five year old or the thought of his respectable school being described so gracelessly. Of course, he wouldn't know what a Slytherin was if it bit him with venomed fangs, but old-blooded aristocratic arrogance was certainly not limited to the wizarding world.
The laugh was still in the Headmaster's eyes as he extended a hand toward her again. "I look forward to their start tomorrow. Term began yesterday, as you know, so they will be a little behind." They shook, and she left the Headmaster's office. The secretary had several forms for her to fill and sign while she awaited the return of her boys.
It was on the fourth form that she discovered something to give her pause. She looked up suddenly, "Religious education is required?" She feared the trepidation was obvious in her voice. What little she knew of Muggle religion was that it justified burning witches.
The secretary blinked. "You may exempt them, if you wish," though her dubious tone suggested doing so would be unusual if not suspicious. For the first time, she wondered if maybe Waltr was right about the dangers of Muggle school. Eccentricities like calling classmates 'muggles' or not knowing what a 'television' is could be explained by their 'odd' parents and upbringing. Accidental magic wouldn't neccessarily be linked to the twins, and muggles had a tendancy to rationalize inexplicable events. Self-delusion was a wonderful thing. But religion? How would the twins respond to the 'kill witches' tenets? Clarence would certainly know all about the medieval witch hunts. She believed she caught him setting up a game in the sandbox to mimic it, so Menteron probably knew as well.
"Mrs. Tragyl?" Keri blinked and looked at the secretary, hoping nothing of her thoughts showed on her face. Acting and deception had never been her strong points, though. The muggle woman looked mildly worried.
"Yes?"
"Is something wrong?" There was something strangely familiar about the words, as though this was not the first time the woman had asked her this.
"No," yes, "Everything's fine." My babies are just going to muggle school where they'll be taught that they and everyone in their world are evil.
The twins returned, thankfully interrupting the conversation. "Clarence," she called the younger twin to her side, with a shaky smile. She pointed to the offending line on the form. "Would you boys like to be excused from religion class?" Ultimately it was children who would need to live with the decision - be suspected for not attending or remaining silent when witchcraft was mentioned.
A woman had entered the office behind the twins, and she raised her brows at the question. "You are not Christian?" she asked, a small note of curiousity in her voice.
"We just don't go to Church, Madam Baker," Clarence answered. Keri wasn't sure whether she should be proud that he understood the delicacy of the situation or worried that he could be so subtly misleading. Madam Baker's expression chaged to one of mild disapproval, directed mostly against Keri.
Clarence waved over his twin and the spoke in quiet whispers, Menteron occassionally shaking his head, Clarence giving his brother the occassional begging look. After the third of these, Menteron crossed him arms, shook his head forcefully, and said loudly, "I said, no! You're the Ravenclaw, not me!"
Clarence looked disappointed, but he nodded acceptance of his brother's decision. He looked up to his mother, "Menteron says he wants to not go, but I do. It'd be neat to know what they say." At Keri's worried look, he added, "I promise I'll be careful. Please?"
Keri sighed, fearing that their cover of being non-practicing members of the Church of England was already blown. But she nodded. "Very well."
"Wicked!" he exclaimed happily. Keri winced, wishing he had chosen any other expression this one time.
Headmaster Lewis was filling out admittance forms for Menteron and Clarence Tragyl, when the door to his office opened and Madam Baker entered. He smiled up at her. "Hello, Michelle." Something in her expression made him add, "Anything wrong?"
She took the chair Mrs. Tragyl had occupied not long before. "Nothing specific," she denied. She shook her head to clear it, and he saw her visibly pull herself into professional mode. "I spoke to the twins, individually and together, as you suggested." Lewis made an encouraging sound. "They're both charming little boys. Friendly, intelligent. I don't believe either will have a terribly difficult time adjusting to being away from home." She hesitated, then continued, "They've been fairly isolated though, so there will be some adjustment neccessary. I understand that today was only the third time they've left their house, and the only people who visit are their grandparents, occassionally. Menteron once spent the night with some distant cousins, and briefly met some neighborhood children yesterday, which, incidently, prompted the family's sudden interest in Becket's, but Clarence has virtually met no one his age outside of his siblings."
By his own interview with the pair, Clarence had struck him as the more social of the two. But perhaps that was simply because Lewis was an adult. Mrs. Tragyl may have been more correct in wanting him to stay with others his own age than she realized. He nodded his understanding to Michelle, and she continued her assessment, "Neither strikes me as the dominant twin. Menteron seemed to defer to Clarence when speaking to me, but when their mother asked Clarence a question that affected both of them, Clarence did talk to his brother before answering, with a different answer for each of them."
Lewis lifted a brow, and she obliged by explaining the situation. "Apparently the Tragyls do not regularly attend religious services. Mrs. Tragyl asked Clarence if they wished to be excused. The twins spoke - argued, actually. Menteron wanted to avoid them, Clarence wanted to go. From what I understood of their discussion, Clarence was trying to convince Menteron to come with him. Menteron said," she paused, trying to remember, "that Clarence was the Ravenfoot, whatever that is. Clarence then told their mother that he wanted to go, but Menteron didn't. Something weird about that."
"Oh?" Lewis prompted.
"Mrs. Tragyl obviously didn't want him to go. I'd even say the idea scared her. But she did agree when Clarence promised that he'd be careful. What's there to be careful about in religion class? That wasn't the first thing that struck me as odd about them, either. There were a number of times when I caught the boys revising what they were about to say, as though they had almost spilled some secret. Menteron once used a foreign word I didn't recognize, and Clarence hissed at him as though he had made some awful faux pas."
Lewis nodded thoughtfully. "Their father may simply not be British. Perhaps they follow his religion, but since England is predominately Christian, they choose not to advertise their beliefs."
Michelle considered the possiblity, then nodded. "That would explain most of the other peculiarities as well. Simple cultural differences." Now that the cause of the 'oddities' had been identified, Lewis felt certain his teachers would extend the utmost consideration and support to the children. He would speak with the gym, religion, music, and art teachers to inform them of the twins' special needs.
Speaking of special needs: "You know Clarence can read, right, Michelle?" he asked as she prepared to leave.
She looked at him in surprise. "He can?"
"Very well, according to his mother. Most of what we should be teaching him, he already knows. I understand Becket's is something of an educational experience for him rather than an education."
Michelle mulled over that for a moment. "Well, at least I'll have interesting times."
"I think that's a chinese curse, Michelle."
She smiled at him. "I know it is."
Valr was waiting in the foyer when Keri and the twins returned to the Targyl Residence. She had spent most of the afternoon in Diagon Alley trying to find their supplies for tomorrow. Of course, a lot of the required items were Muggle-made, and near impossible to find. Who would have believed a #2 pencil was a kind of writing implement? What was wrong with quill and ink? She'd eventually broken down and risked entering a Muggle 'department store' to ask after some things. The clerks had looked at her strangely a few times, but had, overall, been very helpful.
"Owl came," Valr said shortly, and handed her a note. By the serious look on his face, she knew he had already read it, and it was bad news. She opened it, trepidation making her hands shake slightly. Harris' handwriting. What could Harris have said to make Valr so solemn?
Mum, Dad, Others
I got your letter this morning. Tell the twins I said they're getting it easy. You asked how I liked school. I don't. Both Slytherins and Gryffindors think the Hat made a mistake with me. Someone should tell the Daily Prophet that they agree on something. I might not be a normal Slytherin, but I'm not a Gryffindor either. I wish I was a Hufflepuff. Then I wouldn't have to deal with Avery or Evalyn or Charlie Weasley. Well, maybe Charlie. But he wouldn't be so determined to 'turn me from the dark side' as Walrus puts it. We'd just be second cousins, like we're supposed to be.
Between them, Evalyn and Avery turned 'the dark side' from me, if we define 'the dark side' as 'Slytherins'. I might wear the Slytherin uniform, but I'm not one anymore, as far as they're concerned. Even the Slytherin potions professor ignores me. But I'll show them, and I'll show him, too. I'm going to be the best potions student he'll ever see until he meets Clarence. And I'm going to beat this school. I'm going to graduate. And I won't ask for a reSorting. They can't make me not a Slytherin just because they'd rather not have me.
So that's my life. Charlie says it's depressing. I think it's terrifying and stressful. Tell Jansten to forget Slytherin House. It's not worth it. If he really wants to know about dark wizards, I'll tell him about my roommates myself, in detail.
Miss you horribly,
Harris
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