I would like to give a big hug to those wonderful people who reviewed me (as of last time I checked–sorry if I missed anyone!): Iternity, Nebula, JPS, Miaka Hime, Songbreeze, Okirarra, Tegasus, jupiterschild, and ~Moni16~, my friend who listens patiently to me when I rant about how wonderful Sailormoon is, even though she's never seen an episode and doesn't particularly want to, and is willing to read my fanfics despite that.

Seeing as J.K. Rowling has chosen to focus almost solely on Gryffindor, I have little to no information on the rest of the houses. So, I made it all up! If I made something up that actually exists, in a different fashion, in the book, e-mail me, inform me in a review, or chalk it up to the differences (albeit slight, at this point) between canon Harry Potter, and Harry Potter with the senshi added.

That said, have fun!

Notes (7/2): Argh! I'm beginning to think I'm under an expansion curse! My chapters keep getting way bigger! ^_^;; Oh well. I suppose it's better that way.


5. Hogwarts



The first out of my boat, I turned and held my hand out to help whoever was getting off next. Unfortunately, Michiru and I had been separated in the crush of new students, and she had ended up on a different boat.

Thank you. Another hand grasped mine as the quiet voice reached my ears. I turned my eyes away from their search for Michiru toward the girl who currently clasped my hand. Standing, she looked to be just a bit shorter than me, with short dark hair and eyes that seemed dark in the uncertain light. Otherwise, though, her skin seemed almost unnaturally pale.

Are you alright? I asked. You look pale. The black robe only accentuated the paleness of her skin.

She shook her head, smiling. It's nothing. I'm naturally this pale. She bowed her head briefly. Thank you again.

I reached briefly, mentally, finally finding the pleasantry I was looking for. You are quite welcome. It was my pleasure.

She released her hand from mine, gently, and I berated myself for having completely forgotten I still held it. With another quick smile she turned and disappeared into the mass of black-robed children, her dark hair becoming quickly indistinguishable from a multitude of others with hair equally as dark.

Belatedly, I wondered what her name was. I dismissed the matter--after all, sooner or later, I would see her again. I turned and helped the other two out of the boat, both boys and both unknown to me, before heading up the steps to the large door at the top--the entrance, I assumed, to Hogwarts.

Are we there yet? A groggy voice asked. I looked down and grinned. Keldir had taken up residence in a loose enough coil around my neck that I doubted anyone else had even noticed his presence. Of course, they would have had he decided to come out and explore, but he had napped for most of the journey and kept relatively quiet the rest of the time.

Pretty close. We're at the door now.

But you sstill have to go through that . . . Ssorting . . . before you get to go on to bed. And, of coursse, ssupper.

My stomach growled and Keldir . . . chuckled. I would have thought it impossible for a snake to laugh but, somehow, he managed. That's right. Yuk it up.

Do you think you could manage ssome ssupper for me ass well? He asked hopefully. I'm a mite peckissh mysself.

I frowned slightly. I can't see myself coming into contact with any mice in the near future. I could just let you go scrounge something for yourself, though. We could meet up again later. I twitched an eyebrow as I looked down the neck of my robe, knowing his reddish eyes were gazing back upwards. Just try not to get into too much trouble.

The silver snake nodded, a very human-like gesture that I could feel against my skin. I'll try. He sighed. I sidled through and around several people until I reached the wall and pretended to lean against it.

I surveyed the nearby environs through hooded eyes. All right. Looks as clear as it will get.

Roger. Keldir acknowledged, his voice humorous. Ssee you around. Adeptly, he slid down my arm and dropped to the floor, quickly sliding away along the shadow of the corner of the wall. Divested of my companion, I walked toward the doorway, situating myself as close to the front of the group as I could get. The giant man raised his fist and knocked on the door.

Giant . . . I wondered if giants existed. After all, if dragons and unicorns and phoenixes and goblins could . . . why not? And I was willing to bet that the tall, shaggy man was at least part giant. No one who grew that tall or that large could be fully human. Not that I minded. After all, at least originally I wasn't human either, not in the Terran sense of the word. My mother had been pureblooded Uranian and my father Lunarian, from one of the lesser noble families. Not a single drop of Terran blood between them.

Had I been walking instead of standing, I would have paused in mid-step. How did I know that? Or remember, more precisely. I could remember barely anything from the Silver Millennium, and I knew that was not one of the memories I had previously possessed. Perhaps memory returned gradually? But then . . . why had it not done so . . . before? Why wait until now?

And even now, that was the only memory that appeared. Nothing else new, no matter that I strove for any scrap, anything to enlighten me further as to what my life had been like before my first death.

Only moments passed after the giant's knock before the door swung open. The woman who had opened the door was dwarfed completely by the giant's enormous bulk, yet she somehow had such great presence that she drew every eye regardless. Her black hair that looked to be going a bit grey around the temples was drawn up in a severe bun and she wore a long robe of such a beautiful emerald green that I immediately began to covet it, even if green is usually more Michiru's color.

Formidable. That was the only word I could think of to describe her. Of course, it didn't hurt that she could almost have been the identical twin of my second-grade math teacher. Idly, I wondered if this woman in fact had an identical twin sister . . . no real way to tell, though. Suzuki-sensei had never told us her maiden name. Still, the similarity was enough to make me wary . . . and very respectful . . . toward this woman.

The firs' years, Professor McGonagall. The giant's voice boomed out again, this time at a more moderated level.

Thank you, Hagrid. The black-haired woman--Professor McGonagall--seemed utterly unconcerned that the giant--Hagrid--stood at least half-again as tall as she. Her voice, too, was almost exactly a match with what I remembered of Suzuki-sensei's, similar to an almost creepy extent. I will take them from here.

Following Professor McGonagall up the remainder of the steps, we entered a large entrance hall lit with torches along the walls. I admired the effect--it made the place look like an ancient castle, immense and foreboding. A door to the right seemed to open onto the dining hall--peeking through I saw lines of tables, filled almost entirely already with black-clad figures. For some reason, though, we didn't go through that door as I expected, but instead into a much smaller room off to the side.

Welcome to Hogwarts. Our guide said, and actually smiled slightly. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. Ah. That explained why we had not gone directly in.

This place is amazing. A voice to my right whispered. I turned my head. Usagi. The entrance hall is so big! Even larger than the one at the Crystal Palace.

I nodded. Now that you mention it, I think it's bigger than the one in the Moon Palace, too. I whispered back. But I think I like the Moon Palace's style better. White and silver and Greco-Roman architecture gets a bit annoying after a while, but I still like it better than this semi-medieval motif Hogwarts seems to ascribe to.

I got poked, and from her start, probably Usagi did too. We turned. Michiru had evidently appeared behind us while we were conversing. Shush, you two. She whispered, annoyed. I'm trying to listen.

Immediately, I shushed, just in time to catch what seemed to be the end of Professor McGonagall's oration. . . . I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.

So . . . did I miss anything important?

Michiru shook her head, smiling, and flicked her fingers at me. She said, her voice fond. No, nothing much. Still, that's no excuse for not listening. What were you two talking about, anyway?

Comparing the architecture of this place to the Crystal Palace, in Usagi's case, and the Moon Palace.

And finding it wanting? Michiru smiled. Silly. This place was built in an entirely different era with a very different brand of magic.

We both think it's larger. Usagi volunteered. Definitely larger than it looks from outside.

It's hard to tell how large this place is from the outside because by the time we were close enough to more accurately judge distance, we were already in that underwater cave and the castle was out of view. Michiru agreed. I certainly wouldn't want to try to besiege this place. If they go that far out of the way to hide the main entrance, I bet all the others are equally as hard to deal with.

You know . . . more than anything else, this place rather reminds me of the Earth Palace. It had the same kind of . . . medieval look to it that this place does. What do you think, Michiru? She looked at me, her gaze unreadable. . . . Michiru?

I don't remember the Earth Palace.

I say, what are all these palaces you people are nattering on about? You some sort of foreign royalty or something? That why you talk all funny? As one, the three of us turned, to face a quite tall young man, dressed in something very ruffly which I am sure was quite stylish . . . a couple hundred years ago. He was very . . . white . . .

I blinked. I could see through this young man to the opposite wall. You're a ghost? It was the only explanation I could think of. Witches, giants, and ghosts . . . There are more things in heaven and earth' indeed!

Quite right, child. He beamed patronizingly down at me, and I suppressed the urge to kick him. It would probably do absolutely no good whatsoever, which would annoy me even more--so better not even to bother. Sir Lyndon Shirley, at your service. He bowed elegantly, that much I'll admit.

Haruka Ten'ou. I returned curtly, eyes narrowed. And most definitely not

The ghost opened his mouth, about to reply, when a sharp voice cut suddenly through what he was about to say. Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. In his place, I doubt I would have had the temerity to interrupt Professor McGonagall, either.

So we formed a line as she instructed us to, and the whole big group of us trooped out into the hall. Looking around, at the table on the far left I spotted two . . . no, three people that rather resembled Ron. Perhaps those were his brothers--I thought I remembered him mentioning having three still here at Hogwarts. I looked up, and gasped when I saw, not a ceiling, but the starry night sky, complete with the full moon off to the east.

I think both the Moon Palace and the Crystal Palace got beat, hands down. Usagi murmured, her eyes directed upwards much as mine were. I nodded fervent agreement. If . . . when I return home, remind me to talk to Mother about installing something like this.

In our ragged line which quickly came to more closely resemble a formless mob, we ended up arrayed in front of the fifth long table in the room--set at right angles with the other four, I assumed it was the teachers' table. In front of us, the good professor placed a simple four-legged stool, and onto the stool she put a dirty, battered old hat. It had to be magical, I decided immediately. That was the only possible reason for keeping something that . . . well, did I mention it had rips, tears, and even holes in spots? I sincerely doubted it would protect a head from much of anything anymore.

One ghost drifted closer and poked at it. The professor merely shooed it away absently, as if such things happened every day. Well, who knows? Perhaps they did, here. Once a respectful hush had fallen over the crowd, us new first-years, the other students, and teachers alike, a rip in the brim opened, and the hat began to sing.

Sure, it sounded a bit out of tune in parts, and it didn't sound to be all that tuneful a song to begin with. Still, the amazing thing is not how well a bear dances, but that it dances at all'. I forget who said that, but it's certainly true in this case. Even more astonishing, the fact that even if the song wasn't particularly tuneful, it rhymed quite well. And provided useful information--my first idea as to even the basic identity of the four schools--as well. I had an idea, now, as to which of the schools Michiru's parents had tried to refrain from biasing us against.

The professor stepped forward holding a rather long scroll--but then, it would almost have to be that long, in order to contain the names of all . . . forty, fifty, something like that . . . of us. When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. She informed us all, then adjusted her glasses and looked at the top of the list. Abbott, Hannah!

The pink-cheeked, blonde girl sat down and timorously placed the hat on her head. A few moments' pause, and the hat abruptly yelled, More pink-cheeked than ever, the girl took the hat off and tried very hard not to rush over to the table on the far right. I smiled. I remembered being nearly that self-conscious, once.

Aino, Minako! My heart stopped. No. No way. This was not happening. I watched in a daze as she calmly walked up to the stool and sat, placing the battered old hat on her head.

The robes fit her childish figure well, and she wore them with the assurance and self-confidence that gives her the ability to pull off almost any costume, no matter how ridiculous. With the exception of her change in stature, she looked in every other way identical to how she had looked those months ago, roughly six years from now. The intrepid leader of the Inner Senshi, Princess Serenity's personal guardians . . . I wondered where she would end up. The pause this time was slightly longer in duration, but the final answer no less definite.

More names, more decisions, none that particularly stuck in my memory. Chiba, Mamoru! I closed my eyes. Had everyone come? All of them? The worst of the bad memories we had left Japan to avoid facing? And they ended up . . . here. Though two of . . . what, seven? . . . seems hardly conclusive, I was suddenly certain that they were all here. Heh. Fitting, for the man who planned to become a doctor.

Chiba, Usagi! About to sit down at the Ravenclaw table (second from the left), Mamoru spun. He seemed almost about to walk back up the aisle, but the boy at his side (Boot, Terry!?) grabbed a sleeve, and he sat down reluctantly. I turned my attention back to the front. The hat seemed to be taking inordinately long to decide. Well. That house couldn't be too bad if the hat sent Usagi there.

Granger, Hermione! Our acquaintance from the train, who had been so flatteringly appreciative of the spell I had cast. Quite an ego-boost, although I know I didn't perform that spell nearly as . . . neatly as Michiru's mother had. I certainly expended far more energy on it than she had. Oh well, I suppose that sort of thing comes with practice. Hermione walked over and took a seat beside Minako.

Hino, Rei! For once, I would truly have enjoyed not being right. I waited, along with the rest of the shrinking group of first-years, for the black-haired priestess to step up. The hint of a frown crossed Professor McGonagall's face. Hino. Rei!!

She stepped forward a bit, then looked around. Temporarily abandoning Michiru, I slid my way through the throng until I got closer to her position, close enough to hear her mutter in Japanese, What do I do now?

I sighed. I really hated revealing myself to them before absolutely necessary, but whether or not we were still friends . . . well, we weren't really friends anyway . . . whether or not we were still on fairly polite speaking terms, she was still a fellow senshi. Go up to the stool, sit on it, and put the hat on your head. I said quietly. And ask for a translation spell. I shook my head. How you managed to get this far without getting someone to teach you English . . .

She turned to me and glared. I was taught English for several years in school. I can read it just fine, most of the time. Who are you anyway?

Did my hair really make that much of a difference? How many of the others can't speak English either?

She began ticking the others off on her fingers. Setsuna speaks it like her native language, Minako is fluent, Ami and Mamoru can cope as long as people speak at a normal rate . . . but Mako-chan, Usa--Serenity, Hotaru and I . . . She stopped suddenly. Why am I telling you this anyway?

Because I can help. I replied simply, then stepped forward, suddenly uncomfortably aware that I was the focus of every eye in the room.

Are you Miss Hino? The frown was no longer a hint or passing.

I shook my head. No. Just an . . . interested bystander. Rei Hino has not yet come forward because she did not fully understand what, exactly, it was that she was supposed to do.

Wasn't she listening? And who are you?

I bowed my head slightly. Haruka Ten'ou. I heard a gasp . . . no, several, from directly behind me and to either side.

Softly, but easily loud enough for me to hear, Rei hissed, I don't want your help. Traitor. And another part of my heart died. Why did these people matter so much to me? Why did I care?

And I am sure she was trying to listen. I continued, pretending I had not heard. However, you may not have realized this, but she and at least three other students speak little to no English. A situation you may wish to rectify.

At the center of the head table, an old man with long silver hair leaned forward. And what is this language that she speaks?

Right. They hadn't heard her speak, not enough to be able to tell . . . and I've heard that to the untrained ear Japanese sounds practically indistinguishable from Chinese or practically any of the other vaguely Oriental language. I said.

Ah. Well, there is a problem. He said genially, although his eyes remained sharp. Because, you see, in order to perform the translation spell properly, one needs fluent knowledge of both the language you are attempting to teach and the native language of the person you are trying to teach--or at least a language in which they are as fluent as with their native language. And none of us know Japanese.

I shut my eyes and wished I had just let Rei drift randomly. This was beginning to give me a headache. Rei, I know you hate my guts, but just for now believe that I'm trying to help you and get Usagi, Makoto, Hotaru, and yourself out in front of me.

Why should I?

I turned. One does not scream at one's teammates, former or otherwise. One does not act so immaturely (except Usagi and Rei), even if one is technically only eleven years old. It is quite simple. You need to learn English. I know a spell that can teach you English. I am the only one who knows the spell, can perform the spell in this specific case, and has had past experience doing so. I raised my voice slightly. Ask Setsuna if you don't believe me.

Past experience? And who have you performed the spell on? Her garnet eyes were cold.

I tried to force my gaze to grow as cold as hers, but I rather doubt I succeeded. She still has a bit of a headache, as I only did it a few hours ago on the train, but you can go over and talk with her at as great a length as you want, if you want.

Setsuna turned. Regrettably, she has a point. I would perform the spell myself, except I have no idea what it is--and I would have no experience with casting it, while she has already cast it successfully at least once.

Fine. I trust you, Setsuna. Rei stepped forward, distaste in her every stiff movement. Having listened to our conversation, conducted as it was all in Japanese, the other three stepped forward without further prompting.

What are you doing? Professor McGonagall demanded.

I smiled sweetly at her as I brought out my wand. Rectifying the problem. I pointed in the girls' direction and, focusing on spreading the effects over all four at once, said those now-familiar words. Anglicus Linguisticus Veritas!

You know . . . I swayed on my feet, watching with amused detachment as my vision greyed out almost to the point of causing me to faint, before slowly retreating. . . . I could really learn to hate this spell.

Rei flared. Curse you, Haruka, that hurt!

I couldn't help it. I smirked. It's supposed to. That's what you get when you get an entire language shoved into your head all at once. You do realize you're speaking English now.

That point, she didn't even dignify with a snub. She walked up to the stool and jammed the hat on her head as the other girls--and I--melted back into the line. Was that really necessary? Michiru asked softly. They would have figured it out eventually.

I shrugged uncomfortably. You know me. I get these occasional strange altruistic impulses that I can't help but follow. In the background, the hat shouted Loyal . . . yes. Despite all her arguments, Rei most definitely was that.

I know. She squeezed my hand. And I love you all the more for it. She leaned against me. I love you for yourself and every little part that makes up you. No matter what anyone else thinks.

How strange. I smiled softly, squeezing her hand back. Because, you see . . . I feel exactly the same way. No matter what anyone else thinks.

Kaiou, Michiru! One last, brief hand squeeze and she was gone, gracefully floating up to the stool and placing the hat on her head. Although the hat took but a moment--a far shorter period of time than it had spent on several others before--that moment seemed to stretch out to encompass eternity. For, in a way, the hat was at the same time deciding where I would go--there was no way I would let myself be separated from Michiru so drastically, not after I had already come far too close to losing her too many times before. As with Usagi, that table did not cheer nearly as fervently as any of the other three had, except for a single person. Usagi looked like she was on the verge of jumping up onto her chair in excitement, and was somehow managing to make almost as much noise as the rest of the table combined.

I wondered who had taught her to whistle that shrilly.

Kino, Makoto! Although she was still holding her head, her walk up to the stool was as steady as I'd ever seen it. Like all the other senshi except myself and Usagi (the pink-haired one), she looked exactly like I recalled--except smaller. The strongest of the Inner Senshi and one of the most boy-crazy . . . heh, I wonder how that turned out, now that we had been catapulted back to an age that was not that far removed from the boys = cooties' stage.

Longbottom, Neville! The eminently forgettable boy from the train who had lost his toad. Hm . . . perhaps he had hidden depths.

Malfoy, Draco! That . . . that . . . gaijin! I have nothing against foreigners. Really I don't. But in Draco's case, I was willing to make an exception. He was one of the most detestable people I had ever met . . . but he was only human. Human, not a youma, or a general, or any sort of great and powerful evil out to take over/destroy the world/galaxy. I suddenly had the urge to smile at him. How nice, to have nothing worse to worry about than detestable little boys like him. Yay. Wonderful. If not for Usagi and Michiru, I would be willing to believe almost anything bad of a house that was willing to accept him.

Meiou, Setsuna! Again, despite being only about half her former height, in all other ways she hadn't changed a bit. What had once been a very beautiful face (second only, in my mind, to Michiru) was now stunningly . . . cute. A cuteness that she seemed blissfully unaware of. (Let me put it this way: I would not want to be the one to tell the Guardian of Time that she looked like a cute little child. If she was in a good mood, she might find it funny. Otherwise, she'd most likely find a very . . . inventive . . . way to retaliate. I'd rather stay on her good side, thank you!) Again, the loyalty factor--she was, perhaps, the most loyal of us all. Perhaps not always loyal to a particular person, but loyal to the timeline, so loyal as to spend millennia doing nothing more than watching over the world. I would have gone crazy from all that forced inactivity . . . and the loneliness. Is it any wonder that she is accounted the most aloof of the senshi, when she knows it is quite possible that she'll still be around long after we're dead?

Mizuno, Ami! Heh. Even I could see that one. When her intelligence was both her greatest strength and her most apparent character trait, where else would she go? The fastest I had seen the hat decide, yet! She went over and took a seat by Mamoru.

Potter, Harry! Immediately, whispers started up all over the hall. Dull roar' doesn't even begin to cover it. The black-haired boy looked unnaturally pale as he went up and put the hat on his head. Nervous? I would be, in his place, especially with having to live up to an appellation like The Boy Who Lived'. The hat actually took a fairly long time with this one, and I could see Harry shifting on the stool as the entire hall waited.

The far left table erupted. Two of the red-haired boys were jumping up and down, yelling (almost shrieking!) We got Potter! We got Potter! Similar cheers were voiced by nearly every other Gryffindor--except poor Minako, who cheered normally but just looked confused as to why everyone was going to such excessive effort. Personally, I hoped the two of them became friends at some point--it would do Harry good to have at least one friend that didn't think he was practically Kami-sama Himself. And, actually, it would do Minako good to realize that fame was not necessarily a good thing.

A couple more names, a couple more faces, none of which I recognized or saw any real reason to remember. Schneider, Lindsey! caught my attention, though, as the pale girl I had helped off the boat stepped up. In this brighter light I took note that her hair was a dark blue-black, since her back was turned I still had no idea what color her eyes were, and she was even more pale than I had thought. Black was most definitely not her color, as it made her look almost like a ghost, temporarily shoved back into human flesh. Well, now I had a name to put to the face. Perhaps, sooner or later, I would also discover a personality to match with the face and name. Make that most likely sooner rather than later.

Ten'ou, Haruka! I gathered up my courage. After all, if everyone else could do it, I could do it too. I walked up to the stool, hoping no one else realized how shaky I felt, and placed it firmly on my own head.

Hm . . . The thought, I knew, was not mine. Thus, it had to be . . . the hat? Hm again. Where should I send you, child?

I really wish, I thought plaintively, that people would stop calling me that. Slytherin, please.

Slytherin? If the hat had eyebrows, I felt certain it was raising them now. That had occurred to me . . . it's probably the best choice, actually. Any means' certainly does seem to describe you fairly well, although your ends' are on the whole more selfless than ordinary . . . but . . . you want to go there? Why? You'd do well enough in Gryffindor . . . and you'd probably be happier there. Everyone wants to be a Gryffindor.

Everyone? I think not. I thought about being in the same house as Minako and barely suppressed a shudder. That strength of animosity, I do not need to deal with on a daily basis. Added to being separated from Michiru . . . I might be able to be talked into accepting any of the other houses, but not Gryffindor.

Heh. Don't get many people pure-hearted as yourself who actually want to be part of Slytherin . . . and I've never met anyone qualified who didn't want to be in Gryffindor. The quality of Slytherin really has degraded, after all. I think you're right . . . this could be a good thing after all . . . very well. I place you now in

I took the hat off and set it down deliberately on the stool before walking down to the Slytherin table--between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, second from the right. Halfway down the length of the table, I heard Tomoe, Hotaru! I sat in an empty seat between Michiru and Usagi, across from Lindsey, and a diagonal away from Draco Malfoy, who would persist in glaring at me.

Good evening, all. Now that my Sorting was over with, the release from tension had left me feeling uncommonly at ease with the world. Even with the small slice of the world known as Draco Malfoy.

What was all that going on when Rei's name was called? Usagi leaned in. I only caught part of it.

I examined my fingernails. Rei did not know English. Neither, as it turned out, did Makoto, Hotaru, or Usagi.

Oh dear. The pink-haired girl's eyes danced. And you took it upon yourself to . . . rectify the situation?

In the background, the hat chanted and Professor McGonagall called the next name. Tsukino, Serenity!

Something like that. I replied demurely, fighting to hide my own smile. I knew it was not nice of me to enjoy the other four girls' pain and I didn't, not really, but . . . I don't know. Perhaps its because I finally got out of an encounter with Usa--Serenity with the firm knowledge that, for once, I was in the right. And it felt so good!

Usagi winced sympathetically. That's got to smart. She raised her head. How many of us are here? Everyone?

Suddenly, I was even happier that I had turned down the hat's offer to put me in Gryffindor.

Michiru assured her glumly. Up to and including Mamoru.

I leaned back to look at the ceiling and the full moon rising slowly overhead. Now the only ones missing are the Starlights. I murmured sardonically.

Michiru elbowed me. That particular headache, we don't need.

And Puu? Her eyes were bright. She's here too?

Hufflepuff. Weren't you watching?

No, not really. This is great! I need to talk to her. Her hand went to her neck and a half-hidden chain briefly.

That may be harder than it seems. After all, she's not too fond of us just now--and that probably goes for anyone who chooses to associate with us.

Across from me, Lindsey looked down at folded hands. And the only person who likes a Slytherin, she murmured, is another Slytherin.

Weasley, Ron! One of very few people left, the red-haired boy who sat across from us on the train mounted the podium.

This is Setsuna we're talking about. Usagi insisted. She'll talk to me, I know it!

I smiled slightly at my friend's vehemence. For your sake, I said softly, I hope you're right.

Ron was excitedly welcomed to the Gryffindor table by the red-haired twins that had earlier shrieked so loudly when Harry became one. Brothers? They certainly looked enough alike from this distance.

Soon, the Sorting ended, with Zabini, Blaise! () As he took his seat at an empty space further up our table, the Headmaster--for that was who I assumed the genial man with long silver hair was--stood and focused his smile upon us all.

He made some comments, nonsense words that, unsurprisingly, made no sense. Before we eat, he finished, I shall take note that a larger number of our newest young students than usual come from outside the borders of bonny England. With a spirit of appreciation towards diversity, I extend to these students a hearty English welcome to our country. Let the feast begin!

Immediately, food in large quantities appeared before us. Even more surprisingly, some of the portions in front of us were traditional Japanese foods. Lindsey speared a large sausage from a bowl that had appeared almost directly in front of her and smiled. Sweet of him. And of whoever made these foods. Freed of the sausage, her fork came up to point towards us. You're not English, I presume. Where are you from?

I helped myself to some sushi and, on a whim, a piece of steak and a pork chop. Might as well make the most of this opportunity to observe another culture, after all. Japan. Specifically the Juuban ward of Tokyo. And you? She had a slight accent, very slight, but that and her reaction to the headmaster's--Dumbledore's--speech had convinced me that she was most likely not English.

She took another bite from the sausage. I'm from Brey. It's . . . I suppose you could sort of call it a suburb of Koblenz. At our blank looks, she shook her head and laughed a little. Sorry. You wouldn't exactly know where Koblenz is, either, would you? It's in Rheinland-Pfalz, pretty close to the western edge of Germany.

I wrinkled my nose as I smelled the most awful . . . my head turned to the right, and sure enough, there it was. Nattou. And Usagi was shoveling a spoonful of the gooey substance onto her plate. Usagi . . . don't tell me you like that stuff!

She shrugged and grinned at me. It's an acquired taste. One I acquired quite early, as it's one of the few things my mom cooks well.

It is impossible to cook nattou well. It's just harder to tell that you've done a bad job.

Michiru tugged my ponytail gently. Haruka . . . be nice. Usagi can like whatever foods she wants. You don't have to necessarily like everything she does, nor does she have to like everything you do. If she's anything like her mother, after all . . . Amused glance. . . . I doubt she likes carrots very much.

Usagi made a face. What I don't understand is why everyone seems to think I should automatically like them and that it's cute to give them to me as a gift. The volume of her voice lowered, and she muttered, Just because my name means rabbit' . . . grr . . .

Lindsey giggled. I admit, knowing that, it would be hard to resist. But I can see how the joke would get old.

She became the focus of deadly serious red-brown eyes. Very quickly. I assure you. Several hundred years ago. Literally. Dessert appeared and that quickly, Usagi was diverted. Strawberry pudding! My favorite! She dug into a large bowl of pudding the exact same shade of pink as her hair.

By the time the food disappeared, we had all eaten our fill and more. I, personally, felt about five miles wide . . . but I knew I wouldn't for too long. One of the benefits to being a senshi is that we all have insanely active metabolisms from spending so much energy on being a senshi. Sometimes, I think it's the only reason Serenity is still as skinny as the rest of us. Still, from the amount I ate at that first meal, I suppose I shouldn't make fun of Serenity for her eating habits.

After all the leftovers were cleared away (I wondered where they went), the headmaster stood again. As if strings had been pulled closing every mouth, every student in the hall immediately fell silent. The silver-haired man cleared his throat. Now that we have all been adequately fed, I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

I paid close attention--it's always a good idea to know the rules, if only so that you break them out of intent instead of from ignorance. (Of course, claiming ignorance works if you get caught . . . sometimes. It's better to not get caught.) So, the forest is forbidden to all students. I wondered why--a resident bloodthirsty werewolf? Probably something similarly bizarre.

No magic in the corridors between classes. Hm . . . how about in the corridors after classes? Or on the roof, or in the dorms? Or right here, even? Although here was perhaps not that bright an idea, with practically all the teachers in the school nearby. Quidditch trials . . . a pity, but that didn't apply to me. No first-years on the Quidditch teams--especially if there were only seven players taken from the entire House of . . . what, seventy, eighty people?

Third floor corridor on the right side. I fixed that location in my memory as someplace to avoid. Despite his way of acting almost senile, Dumbledore had made an impression on me as someone to respect. If he didn't want us going by there, then I was pretty sure I didn't want to be anywhere near there. Still . . . whatever was there must be interesting . . . I could almost feel my curiosity bump itching. That seemed to be the last of his announcements.

And now let us sing the school song! He cried. School song? I wondered how they would teach it to us, the first-years who (for the most part) had no idea there even was a school songs? Then I noticed that, as he flicked his wand upwards, golden streamers flew from it, streamers than formed themselves into cursive words. Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!

Usagi launched herself instantly into a spirited rendition of the floating words to the tune of an old American pop song, Yellow Polka-dot Bikini. I'm not sure I want to know where she learned that song, much less why she chose it. Draco sang to the tune of the Imperial March, what I've always thought of as Darth Vader's theme, from the Star Wars trilogy. Perhaps in some perverse tribute to her country of origin, Lindsey began singing the Queen of the Night aria--the high one, and she was singing it in the original key!--from The Magic Flute.

Michiru and I? Well, at first we just stood gaping at the pure musical cacophony. Then we heard, clearly above the rest, the strains of a very slow funeral march. We met eyes and grinned identical, mischievous grins. Two (or, in this case, four) could play at the slow game. In perfect accord, we launched ourselves into one of the longest of our piano/violin duets. As people finished singing, they sat down, until we and our musical rivals' were the only ones left. Our rivals' ended up being that redheaded pair over in Gryffindor. I wondered how many years before this they had tried the same trick . . . somehow, before us, I had no doubt they had succeeded.

But, unfortunately, we had at least three to four years of experience on them, and more than two of those years had been spent in a professional musical career of Michiru's (and occasionally mine, when she needed me to play accompaniment) own. So, going blue in the face and looking like they were considering just flat making up new verses, the two finally conceded. At my side, hidden by the table, Michiru tapped my hand once--first potential ending, coming up fairly soon anyway.

Dumbledore conducted our last lines, although he seemed fairly surprised as to who he ended up conducting. Then, in perfect tandem as we had done in so many performances before, I swept a deep bow at the same time Michiru attempted to curtsey--harder than it sounds, when you're wearing a straight robe. Shocked silence prevailed until (a pleasant surprise!) the two redheads began the applause. No hard feelings, then. Good--I appreciated their sense of humor (being somewhat like my own . . .).

After that, he dismissed us and we were all careful to crowd close to our prefect--I wouldn't want to try to find the Slytherin dorms on my own, after all. I kept my eyes peeled for Keldir but, evidently, he was not yet done searching out his own supper. Near the exit, though, we were accosted by the two redheads--and up close, it was painfully obvious they were twins. Good singing. One congratulated us. No one's managed to out-sing us since we first started coming here. I restrained myself from smirking.

What was that piece you were singing? The other interrupted.

A duet for the violin and piano that I composed. Michiru replied. True. I helped a little, but the genius and nearly all of the hard work came from Michiru.

The first shook his head. I hope you aren't into the business of practical jokes, too, or we'd be out of business. I'm Fred Weasley, and this is my brother George.

Don't listen to him. I'm Fred, he's George. The other stated. Before I even started, I gave up on trying to tell which was which. Especially when all I knew was that they had two names between them, Fred and George. As to which name belonged to which twin . . . as I said, I gave up.

I'm Haruka Ten'ou, and this is Michiru Kaiou. I returned. You must be Ron's brothers, right? Then I noticed our prefect was almost out of sight. Oops! Gotta run! Talk to you later, 'k? And run we did.

* * *

Our trunks, I was glad to see, had already been brought up to our rooms. Or rather, room, singular. All six Slytherin first-year girls were put in one room, with six *large* four-poster beds with lovely dark emerald green hangings.

Six? Yes, there was Michiru, Chibiusa, and I, a rather chubby and mean-looking girl named Millicent Bulstrode (think female version of Crabbe or Goyle), a rather hard-faced girl named Pansy Parkinson (talk about names that don't fit a person's personality), and, of course, the pale, blue-black-haired girl, Lindsey.

So the six of us unpacked our trunks, got our pajamas on, and fell into our respective beds. Michiru and I slept in the same bed, as always. I figured if anyone took exception to it, that was their problem. Certainly not mine.

Before we went to sleep, we locked eyes once more, and I could see the same thoughts in her eyes as were in mine, no doubt. Today had been a very interesting start to what promised to be an interesting, eventful, and all around fun seven years. The only thing I didn't like about Hogwarts so far, after all, was Draco Malfoy.

As I rolled over to go to sleep, conscious of and comforted by Michiru's warm presence beside me, I thought of the twin Weasley brothers and their penchant for practical jokes--perhaps I'd lend them Keldir sometime, if he was amenable. It would be interesting to see what sort of things the self-proclaimed practical jokers could do with a cooperative snake.

I thought of Chibiusa and how different she seemed from the last time I saw her, only months ago to me, yet years to her. She had grown up quite a bit. Still, I wondered at her choice of songs. Yellow Polka-dot Bikini?! When? How? And perhaps most puzzling, why?

I thought of provoking Draco more, and a silent smile lit my face. He was so easy to provoke, after all. And I thought of Michiru, as I always do, and slept.




End Notes: Please don't hurt me for putting Haruka and Michiru in Slytherin! *dodges random flaming brick* I'm trying to better understand people who are pro-Malfoy and Snape, and I couldn't do that nearly as well if my two absolute favorite characters were in Gryffindor, their hereditary enemy.

Besides . . . *grin!* It's so much more fun this way!



6/10/2001
7/2/2002