CHAPTER FIVE: Hogwarts

Hogsmeade Station was deserted when the train pulled in. Roxanne unloaded her trunk, checked the compartment for anything she might have missed and chose a spot lit by the setting sun to wait. She didn't have to wait long. A tall slender woman, severe-looking with black hair pulled into a tight bun, came striding quickly toward her. She introduced herself as Deputy Headmistress McGonagall. Roxanne extended her hand in greeting. Professor McGonagall took it reluctantly, as if such friendliness were improper, then removed her wand from her long black robes, muttered a few incomprehensible words and levitated Roxanne's trunk in front of her.

"This way, Miss Stewart."

**********

Roxanne had read some of "Hogwarts: A History," while at the Leaky Cauldron, but her first sight of the castle towers rising over the rocks, the stone glittering in the setting sun, was stunning. She stopped in her tracks and gasped slightly. The castle stood imposing and strong. She had to take a few running steps to catch up again with Professor McGonagall. Although McGonagall seemed less than friendly, Roxanne was glad for her company as great guttural cries drifted over the grounds from the dark forest. The black lake came into view, its surface swelling darkly with the writhings of the unseen monster it held.

The tiny hairs on the back of Roxanne's neck stood on end. She could feel the magic of the place penetrating the air, seeping into her flesh- disquieting and comfortable at the same time.

Professor McGonagall led her inside through the massive oak entry doors and, settling her trunk at the foot of an impressive stone staircase that sloped and curved into the very heart of the castle, led her on into an expansive, high-ceilinged hall. Four long tables stood empty, candles suspended in the air casting their flickering light on their shiny surfaces. Slender stone pillars rose and faded into the enchanted ceiling, whose rosy sky was fast fading into star-dotted indigo.

Roxanne froze, staring upward. The description in the book did not do justice to the sight.

"I hope you will find your studies here as fascinating," called a voice from the other end of the room. To her great embarrassment Roxanne saw, for the first time, a fifth large round table at the front of the hall, and several robed men and women sitting around it. At the far side of the table stood a very old wizard dressed in long, flowing robes, and tall pointed hat. His shining silver-white beard hung nearly to his knees. He was beckoning to her to join them. Professor McGonagall had gone on ahead of her and was taking her seat to the right of the old wizard. With all eyes scrutinizing her closely, she shuffled forward.

"I am Albus Dumbledore-headmaster of this school," said the old wizard coming around the table to meet Roxanne with hand extended. He took her hand in his and patted it in a fatherly way. "Welcome to Hogwarts, young lady," he said with a warm twinkling eye. "Your reputation precedes you."

With a somewhat sheepish smile and the pink rising in her cheeks, Roxanne let him lead her around to the empty chair on his left. Sitting himself, he leaned close to her and whispered, "I certainly hope, after all, that you are Roxanne Stewart."

She nodded. He smiled and turned to the others at the table.

"Everyone, I am pleased to present Miss Stewart. Miss Stewart, the wizards and witches gathered here tonight will be primarily responsible for your education" He pointed to each in turn stating their names and areas of study:

Professor McGonagall-transfiguration
Professor Flitwick-charms
Professor Sprout-herbology
Professor Snape-potions
Professor Moody-Defense Against the Dark Arts

Roxanne struggled to stifle a shudder at Moody's appearance.

"I trust Hagrid took good care of you," said Dumbledore.

Roxanne nodded, still eyeing Moody, who eyed her back with one enormous eye.

"Other professors, and other subjects will be added when term begins in the fall. But for now, I think we should proceed with the sorting. I am famished and would very much like my dinner. Professor McGonagall."

"Certainly, Headmaster," said Professor McGonagall rising and producing a ratty old wizard's hat from beneath the table. It was patched and worn and musty with age. Professor McGonagall placed it gently on the table, where it immediately began squirming. Roxanne gripped the arms of her chair. She'd learned about the sorting at the Weasley's, but had not gotten far enough into her book to read about the sorting hat. What appeared to be a tear near the brim gaped open and the hat coughed.

The hat said "Pardon me," in a gravelly voice.

"Excuse me?" said Roxanne her eyes wide with surprise.

"Forgive me. Are you hard of hearing? I said PARDON ME!" the hat roared.

The professors around the table watched silently, unperturbed by the hat's behavior. It scooted itself closer to Roxanne and peered at her--at least it seemed to peer, though she couldn't make out any actual eyes.

"So! You're the surprise student, are you?" it growled.

Roxanne looked around for help, not exactly sure how to address the hat. No one offered any.

"Er, yes. I guess so."

"Do you know who I am?"

"No."

"I am the Hogwarts sorting hat," it said, shuffling ever closer. "It is I who will decided your fate at this school. I will discern your true character and place you in a house suited to it. Any questions?"

"Er, do you take requests?"

"No, I do not!" the hat roared, taking a threatening jump toward her. "Now, put me on. There's a good girl." The hat wriggled in her grip and settled itself carefully on her head.

Silence.

"How odd!" it exclaimed finally. "It can't be. No, no. It's quite clear. You belong in GRYFFINDOR!" it bellowed.

Professor McGonagall gasped slightly. The headmaster's eyebrows furrowed. "Yes, that is odd," he said.

"Are you sure?" Roxanne said to the hat.

"Do you question my judgment?" growled the hat indignantly.

"No!" Roxanne cried, not wanting to upset the hat any further, especially while it sat on her head. "It's just not exactly what I expected."

"Indeed, nor I," said Professor Dumbledore.

Professor Sprout looked perplexed. "What is it, Albus?"

"Well, her family are all Slytherins," said Dumbledore. "They have been for generations-except your father," he said, turning to Roxanne. "He was a Hufflepuff as I recall."

Roxanne nodded, cautiously taking the hat from her head and placing it back on the table. "That's what he said in his letter. I'm sorry, I don't understand-what's odd?"

"House assignments generally, though not as a rule, run in families," Professor Dumbledore explained. "While it is not uncommon to have two houses represented in a family, it is highly unusual to have three."

"Especially in a family like yours," added Professor Snape.

"What do you mean, 'a family like mine?'" Roxanne asked cautiously.

"As the Headmaster told you, your family have been Slytherins for hundreds of years," drawled Professor Snape. "They are fiercely proud of their heritage, and consider themselves to be of the purest wizard blood. To be delicate, your father's sorting was a disappointment to them. It was quite a scandal in some circles. And when he married a muggle," he said the word with distinct distaste, "his family was thrown into disgrace. Their prestige and reputations were irreparably tarnished."

"Your grandfather wanted an inquiry-wanted the sorting hat examined for hexes," said Dumbledore. "It was I who convinced him the hat was functioning normally. There is no telling what he will do when he learns of this."

"Does he need to know?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I'm afraid he is awaiting my owl," answered Professor Dumbledore gravely.

"I'm sorry," interjected Roxanne. "I thought he was dead."

"No, my dear," said Dumbledore, placing a hand on hers. "It would have been easier for your father to have you believe that, under the circumstances. But your grandparents-both of them-are very much alive."

**********

Roxanne ate little when dinner finally arrived, magically appearing on the table, food heaped on glittering golden platters. The events of the last few days had shaken the sense of security and confidence she'd only just started putting back together after finding about her father's long-held secret.

While she had little sense of the honor that accompanied a place in Gryffindor house, she easily sensed the rarity of her placement there as a descendant of Slytherins. She recognized the freakish qualities that had set her apart her entire life-the qualities she had hoped would be unrecognizable among her own kind. Her hopes of finding a niche in which she could fit were fading fast. Even in the wizard world she was a freak.

The Lucius Malfoy problem just seemed to grow, eating up her confidence as she encountered more and more furrowed brows with each telling of the story. Her uncertainty that nothing would come of it grew as well. Apparently, wizard bullies were not at all like the muggle ones she'd known so well.

This last revelation had completely shattered any remaining shreds of confidence-that she had grandparents who knew of her, yet chose to ignore her. How would her life have been different if she had known them? How might it have been better? How might it have been worse?

She paid little attention to Professor McGonagall's comments and instructions as she led Roxanne to her room-an unused classroom hastily thrown into some semblance of living quarters with a large four-poster bed, a dresser, a small table and two chairs.

In the morning she was lost the instant she walked out the door. The corridors looked like a hopeless labyrinth. She half expected to see a Minotaur around the first corner. But the castle was quiet, seemingly deserted. She wandered the corridors, descending and climbing endless staircases, turning endless corners.

Nearly desperate now, sure that she'd never be seen again, she rounded one more corner and nearly collided with a pale old man dressed in deep green robes. He was storming down the passage, away from Professor Dumbledore. The man started when he saw her. Then his eyes narrowed, he growled angrily and swept past her, grumbling to himself. Professor Dumbledore came to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"What did he say to you?" he asked.

"Nothing," Roxanne frowned. "Who is he?" But she suspected the answer before she heard it. The face that had scowled back at her was her father's-older, paler, but without doubt. He was her grandfather. And he hated her.

**********

Breakfast at the round table was quiet. Several professors read the wizard newspaper-the Daily Prophet. Professor Dumbledore read and reread a letter he had received by owl post that morning, intermittently enjoying the large steaming omelet on his plate. Roxanne sullenly poked at her sausages and fried potatoes.

Dumbledore took one last bite of omelet, one last sip of pumpkin juice and cleared his throat. "Shall we proceed then?" he said looking around the table and, seeing that everyone was finished, clapped his hands together. The table was suddenly cleared of breakfast, dishes and all.

"Miss Stewart, the teachers and I have devised a learning schedule for you. But first, Professor McGonagall would like to go over the rules. Minerva?"

"Thank you, Professor," Professor McGonagall said, standing. "First, I wish to welcome you to Gryffindor house. I am the head of Gryffindor. Therefore, any questions you have should be directed to me.

"Your age does not permit you to share the dormitories with the younger Gryffindors. I hope you find your quarters suitable. You may decorate to suit your tastes-within reason, and if you have time.

"You will not be permitted to earn house points for Gryffindor, nor may teachers take points from Gryffindor in your behalf." She looked directly at Professor Snape, who seemed deeply disappointed.

"Points?" asked Roxanne. "I don't understand."

"Teachers may award, or take, points from the four houses. Students earn points through their successes, or lose points for rule-breaking. The house with the most points at the end of the year is awarded the house cup- a tremendous honor." She shot a furtive smile at Professor Snape.

"Gryffindor house has won the cup four years straight now," whispered Professor Dumbledore in Roxanne's ear. "I'm afraid Professor Snape is not overly excited about that-he's head of Slytherin house you know."

"As there were those who wished to preserve their power to punish you if necessary," (Professor Snape wore a slightly more pleasant scowl) "you will still be subject to detention."

At Roxanne's puzzled look Professor McGonagall explained, "Performing assigned, unpleasant tasks. Any teacher may assign you a detention. But all detentions must be cleared through me." McGonagall looked at Snape again, who was looking disappointed again. "You will take your meals at the head table with the teachers; you will be allowed to visit Hogsmeade whenever your duties allow; you will not be allowed to compete in student sports, clubs, or activities, though you may observe; you are discouraged, Miss Stewart, from forming close associations with our underage students as it will be very easy for me to lay blame on your adult shoulders should anything unfortunate happen. Do I make myself quite clear?" Professor McGonagall said looking as threatening as possible from under raised eyebrows.

"Yes, Ma'am." Roxanne had been in trouble enough times to know a serious threat when she heard one.

"Any questions?" asked Professor McGonagall, easing back from her menacing stance.

"Just one," said Roxanne, smiling hopefully. "Is there a pub in Hogsmeade?"

Moody, who had been watching silently until now, chuckled softly. Snape snorted derisively, his eyes narrowed.

"As a matter of fact, there is," smiled Professor Dumbledore. "A fine establishment called the Three Broomsticks."

"However," warned Professor McGonagall, "it would be wise to avoid repeating your performance at the Leaky Cauldron the other day."

"Now hold on. I wasn't drunk-"

"Perhaps not," shot Professor McGonagall, "but your foul mood was the direct result of a drunken binge the previous night. Correct?"

Roxanne opened her mouth to object, but finding she had no good argument, and noticing the rapt attention of her audience, shut it again and dropped her eyes.

"Now," said the Headmaster brightly, retrieving a roll of parchment from his robes and handing it to Roxanne, "we'll discuss your schooling."

Roxanne unrolled the parchment. It held an outline of a typical 7-year Hogwarts education, with required courses written in red, elective courses in black. She noticed that all first- and second-year courses were red.

"As I am fairly confident you would prefer not to spend seven years learning what your juniors are already quite proficient in, we've decided the best course will be to condense your education somewhat. With a few small adjustments on our parts," and his hand swept around to indicate the gathered teachers, "and a great deal of hard work on your part, including studying throughout the summers, we expect you to graduate in not more that three years." He studied her reaction over the top of his silver-rimmed spectacles.

Roxanne swallowed hard. "Three years?" she said, staring at the extensive list of classes more intently. "Could I take the seven year option instead?"

"No," Dumbledore said simply, but forcefully. There would be no arguing the point. "You will complete your first-year course work over the summer. Fortunately the staff gathered at this table have agreed to sacrifice their summer vacations in order to accomplish this. They deserve your gratitude, and respect." He held out another smaller roll of parchment. "This is your summer schedule. You will note that you have one week in which to study and pass each subject. As Professor Snape has pressing business away from Hogwarts, you will begin, today, with potions."

Snape rose sullenly and signaled for Roxanne to follow.