Ares knew where he'd go even before he put the Hat on. He'd read
Hogwarts: A History over the past few days, as much as he could. He knew
where he belonged. He was Drow. The Hat would know it, feel it, and place
him accordingly. The Hat could not be influenced.
Except that, apparently, it could. He'd felt the magical surges as each of the twins wore the Hat. Strong ones, which always meant Artemis. No other creature he'd ever met could make those. He wondered if anyone else had heard the strain in the Hat's call. Artemis should have been with him, Apollo too. Instead, she'd forced the Hat, and now they both sat at the Gryffindor table. He saw Artemis' apologetic face as he crossed to the cheering table to join Ray. He wanted to reassure her that she'd done the right thing, the necessary thing. He couldn't, though, because somehow he wasn't sure it was right or necessary.
The headmaster stood. "My apologies for keeping you from your supper," he said, "but the teachers and I thought it best to explain the older students who have just joined you. We are very pleased to be hosting seven students from Wildmoor College. Please make them feel welcome.
"While I'm greeting newcomers - I'm sorry, I won't take long," he added, seeing anguished faces amongst the crowd, "I'd like to take the opportunity to introduce Professor Weasley, who has taken the post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher and Professor Kramer, who will be teacher Defence Against the Dark Arts. Also, Mademoiselle Delacour, whom some of you may remember, will be starting a French program." There were some cheers, more for Professor Weasley than for Kramer because he seemed nicer. When Weasley stood and waved, Ares could see he was a stocky man about twenty-five, with bright read hair and tons of freckles. A burn he could see clearly even this far away decorated the man's forearm. The other teacher, Kramer, was a heavy-set older woman with a sour face.
Delacour stood and waved, to great cheers from the male population. Veela, he decided, or at least partly. The woman, no more than twenty-two or so, looked like a pale copy of the younger Artemis, so unless she were an elf – she wasn't, her ears were rounded – she'd have to be.
There was a fourth new teacher, of course, but the headmaster had doubtless thought it best not to call even more attention to Artemis. Considering how many of the students - both boys and girls, although it was mostly stunned-looking older boys, he was probably right. These would have sore necks tomorrow, from trying to surreptitiously watch both Artemis and Delacour.
"Let the feast begin." The headmaster clapped his hands ans the golden plates filled with food. Ares dug in with a will. Four hours of flying were enjoyable, but you were often sore, tired, and hungry afterwards. If the food wasn't up to the standards of Wildmoor's increadible kitchens, it wouldn't have been noticable from the way he ate.
Halfway through a pile of roast chicken, baked potatoes, and roast beef silver letters appeared infront of him as if drawn on the air by an invisible hand. Eat your broccoli.It's good for you. Artemis hated to eat vegetables, and would fight Matron everytime the elderly woman told her to eat them, but she always made sure he got enough. Oh, potatoes and corn were fine, peas and carrots too, and she'd eat cauliflower if it had aa thick cheese sauce, but asparagus, broccoli, and brussel sprouts in particular were out of the question. The letters twisted themselves into another message. Ray too. Talk later? Ray saw the message and glared across the hall at Artemis. He stubbornly maintained that he was allergic to any food that was green, and had since he was seven, but as yet he'd shown no ill effects from eating them.
Ares concentrated. This sort of air writing was fairly easy for Artemis, but he needed to really think about it. Apollo couldn't do it at all. On the other side of the room, small, fiery red letters appeared infront of Artemis. Because of the distance and people between them, he couldn't see the writing, but Artemis could easily read his message. Not tonight. Tomorrow. Find place. He assumed she'd seen it, so let the spell go. Releasing the difficult spell was like letting his breath go after holding it. He felt what seemed a great weight lift off him, partly because the spell was done and partly because he'd get to see Artemis for sure tomorrow.
Except that, apparently, it could. He'd felt the magical surges as each of the twins wore the Hat. Strong ones, which always meant Artemis. No other creature he'd ever met could make those. He wondered if anyone else had heard the strain in the Hat's call. Artemis should have been with him, Apollo too. Instead, she'd forced the Hat, and now they both sat at the Gryffindor table. He saw Artemis' apologetic face as he crossed to the cheering table to join Ray. He wanted to reassure her that she'd done the right thing, the necessary thing. He couldn't, though, because somehow he wasn't sure it was right or necessary.
The headmaster stood. "My apologies for keeping you from your supper," he said, "but the teachers and I thought it best to explain the older students who have just joined you. We are very pleased to be hosting seven students from Wildmoor College. Please make them feel welcome.
"While I'm greeting newcomers - I'm sorry, I won't take long," he added, seeing anguished faces amongst the crowd, "I'd like to take the opportunity to introduce Professor Weasley, who has taken the post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher and Professor Kramer, who will be teacher Defence Against the Dark Arts. Also, Mademoiselle Delacour, whom some of you may remember, will be starting a French program." There were some cheers, more for Professor Weasley than for Kramer because he seemed nicer. When Weasley stood and waved, Ares could see he was a stocky man about twenty-five, with bright read hair and tons of freckles. A burn he could see clearly even this far away decorated the man's forearm. The other teacher, Kramer, was a heavy-set older woman with a sour face.
Delacour stood and waved, to great cheers from the male population. Veela, he decided, or at least partly. The woman, no more than twenty-two or so, looked like a pale copy of the younger Artemis, so unless she were an elf – she wasn't, her ears were rounded – she'd have to be.
There was a fourth new teacher, of course, but the headmaster had doubtless thought it best not to call even more attention to Artemis. Considering how many of the students - both boys and girls, although it was mostly stunned-looking older boys, he was probably right. These would have sore necks tomorrow, from trying to surreptitiously watch both Artemis and Delacour.
"Let the feast begin." The headmaster clapped his hands ans the golden plates filled with food. Ares dug in with a will. Four hours of flying were enjoyable, but you were often sore, tired, and hungry afterwards. If the food wasn't up to the standards of Wildmoor's increadible kitchens, it wouldn't have been noticable from the way he ate.
Halfway through a pile of roast chicken, baked potatoes, and roast beef silver letters appeared infront of him as if drawn on the air by an invisible hand. Eat your broccoli.It's good for you. Artemis hated to eat vegetables, and would fight Matron everytime the elderly woman told her to eat them, but she always made sure he got enough. Oh, potatoes and corn were fine, peas and carrots too, and she'd eat cauliflower if it had aa thick cheese sauce, but asparagus, broccoli, and brussel sprouts in particular were out of the question. The letters twisted themselves into another message. Ray too. Talk later? Ray saw the message and glared across the hall at Artemis. He stubbornly maintained that he was allergic to any food that was green, and had since he was seven, but as yet he'd shown no ill effects from eating them.
Ares concentrated. This sort of air writing was fairly easy for Artemis, but he needed to really think about it. Apollo couldn't do it at all. On the other side of the room, small, fiery red letters appeared infront of Artemis. Because of the distance and people between them, he couldn't see the writing, but Artemis could easily read his message. Not tonight. Tomorrow. Find place. He assumed she'd seen it, so let the spell go. Releasing the difficult spell was like letting his breath go after holding it. He felt what seemed a great weight lift off him, partly because the spell was done and partly because he'd get to see Artemis for sure tomorrow.