As always, thank you so very much for all your reviews; I am glad the beginning of this has met with overall approval! Do please continue to review - I will try to respond individually, but things are a little bit manic at the moment and I don't always succeed. Please do note that I look forward to each and every one. I will do my best to update this frequently, but sometimes - like, often, real life gets in the way and I get distracted... I apologise in advance for that. Anyhow, do enjoy and please, please review.


Chapter 2: A Whomping Entrance

"Minerva, the boys didn't get on the Express!"

The first day of term is always somewhat stressful. After all, there is a whole new host of first years to think of. It always worries me that Hagrid is the one to bring them over the lake to the castle. I understand the symbolism and the majesty of approaching the wonder that is Hogwarts from across the lake for the first time, but does it really have to be Hagrid? I would happily trust the man with my coat, but I'm not quite sure that I trust him with my first years. Frankly, it's a miracle that more of them don't look like drowned nifflers as they walk through the castle doors. With that in mind, I could certainly have done without the head in my fireplace, at seventeen minutes past eleven in the morning. The Hogwarts Express would only just have left for Merlin's sake.

"Are you sure, Molly?" I ask reasonably, after all with it being Ginevra's first year this year, it wouldn't surprise me if Molly had been a mite distracted. "They could have just slipped past you when you weren't watching…"

Or indeed, even if it wasn't her youngest daughters first year at Hogwarts, come to think of it. That is one of the issues with having quite such a large brood of youngsters as Molly and Arthur have raised; with every incremental increase, it becomes ever easier to misplace one. I should know. Taking a group of first-years out for the first time teaches you lessons you will never forget. One of them, indeed the most important one being the art of delegation. Or in other words, not being the poor soul in charge of thirty excited eleven-year olds. How Molly hasn't managed to lose one or two of her clutch before is beyond me.

"They definitely didn't!" Molly protests indignantly. "Augusta and Bathilda were both standing with me and none of us saw the boys get on the Express. In fact, we didn't even see them on the platform. But they've gone! We've checked all over the station and they have simply vanished!"

"Hold on, Molly," I say quietly, a slow and uncomfortable suspicion beginning to rise within my chest at her words. The sight of a marvellous tawny owl soaring towards my window does nothing to ease my growing concerns. "Who exactly are we talking about here…?"

I almost don't need to hear her panicked response, for I can recognise Augusta's distinctive script instantly. My heart sinks as the owl sweeps through the open window and lands heavily on my desk. First Molly. Now Augusta. And trouble always comes in threes.

Dear Minerva,

I would be grateful if you would be able to inform me when Neville arrives at Hogwarts, or if he and his friends do not appear before the end of the Sorting Feast. I am with Bathilda now and we are currently assuming there was some form of mishap at the station that resulted in them missing the Hogwarts Express.

Neville has a level enough head when it suits him at least, and I am sure an alternative method of transport has been located. If this turns out to be a boyhood prank however, you can assure Neville that he will have to answer to me to personally.

Yours sincerely,

Augusta Longbottom

There are a few things I can think of that would be considered worse than losing three second years on the first day of term, but not many if I am brutally honest with myself. And why didn't they get on the train? What was the problem? Did one of them fall ill or get injured perhaps? But if that was the case then surely, they would have stayed put until the adults came back from the platform… or even better, sent one of them through to get immediate help. Molly would have heard something if a child had been rushed to a muggle hospital without a guardian, I am sure, and there was nothing of that ilk. All she heard were some discontented mutterings about keeping a wild animal locked up in a cage and knocking it around like that. But that makes no sense either. Potter owns an owl, but he dotes on the thing and both Weasley and Longbottom rely on the school owls to relay messages for them if the family owl isn't to hand.

A prank then? Except, I can see James and Sirius planning something ridiculous like flying a muggle car onto the grounds as a statement, but the same isn't true for these three. Potter is still too timid and conscious of authority, Weasley far too afraid of his mother to pull a stunt like that and Longbottom too well brought up; it just doesn't fit with the boys I know. The only thing I can think of that might make sense is if for some reason, they couldn't get through the barrier. But that's impossible. In all the years I have been teaching at Hogwarts, I have never heard of such a thing. No child has ever been refused access to Platform 9¾. Nobody else was affected, or I'd have had a swarm of owls raining on my desk from irate parents by now and Molly, Bathilda and Augusta obviously successfully exited the barrier without a problem. It doesn't add up.

I'm both puzzled and more than a little concerned as I make my way down to the front entrance to await the arrival of my latest batch of first years. This is a special time of the year, a magical time and one that is the greatest of pleasures to take part in. For many of these students, this is the first time they have ever seen Hogwarts, for others this is their whole introduction to the world of magic and wonder that they have discovered themselves to be a part of. For the next seven years, Hogwarts will be their home and their House their family, so for this one day at least, they need to be wowed by what they see before them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," I say, looking around at the small faces and shuffling feet in front of me. I can immediately pick out Ginevra Weasley, like all of her siblings she has the characteristic flaming red hair and bespeckled face. There's one boy with a noticeable resemblance to Marcus Flint and another one that may just be a Haywood, and the girl with an aura of distinct dottiness with a necklace resembling a collection of used Butterbeer caps has to be Xenophilius's daughter. "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."

After giving them a brief run through the houses and what will be expected of them next, I leave the small group to try to tidy themselves up slightly before they stand before the entire student body. Glancing into the Great Hall, it looks as though the majority of the students have settled themselves down in their usual haphazard manner, although there will always be a few latecomers and stragglers, despite them all arriving on the same transport. It never fails to amaze me. Apparently however, this will include three of my own this year as I cannot see Weasley, Longbottom or Potter. That concern twinges at me again, but there is little I can do until the Sorting ceremony is over.

The staff table has had to be enlarged this year as well, to allow for numerous additional members of staff. I can see many of the older students are already trying to put faces to names or guess who will be teaching each topic, whilst the younger children look at the front of the hall with some bemusement. There was little need to give the first to fourth years the full range of IMP and TOAD's after all. Collecting the gaggle of children, they follow me obediently as I walk into the Great Hall, looking somewhere between excited and petrified. This also doesn't surprise me; there is a long running tradition of Hogwarts for the first years to be unaware of the sorting ceremony and somehow this tradition generally holds true through the years. I have discovered that childish minds can imagine all kinds of inventive alternatives, but rarely see themselves sorted by a hat. They look at the patched and threadbare hat that I place on a stool in front of them sceptically.

The looks of astonished shock when the Sorting Hat opens its brim and sings is a sight that will never get old to me. Each year, the same process and each year this is the moment that truly catches them off guard.

Oh, I may look dishevelled,

But just sit beneath my brim

For I hold secrets great and small,

Some vulgar, some more prim.

...

All young minds within these halls

Come meet me from those doors

No secrets can you keep from me

Though some have tried, of course.

...

My purpose though is not to judge

Nor spill tales to waiting ears

Trust in me to keep my peace

You have no need to fear.

...

My greatest role within these walls

Is to look into your minds

And find the place for you right here

That fits with your design.

...

For your House will be your family

As Hogwarts is your home

The friendships forged in blood and fire

Are purpose enough alone.

...

Those minutes sat beneath my brim

May seem to be too brief

I see the changes you can sustain

Through triumph and through grief.

...

So is Gryffindor the home for you,

The house of brave and bold

Where courage and unstinting nerve

Are cherished and foretold.

...

Or Slytherin perhaps, young friends

Where sit the cunning minds

Ambition is held utmost here

You reach your ends, I find.

...

Yet Ravenclaw of course stands proud

For knowledge is their drive

These curious minds find great reward

And many here will thrive.

...

Last but not least, dear Hufflepuffs

Working with unfailing toil

The backbone that supports us all

Foundations in the soil.

...

The time is here, step forward now

And discover your true place

Trust in me, be not afraid my child

I wield my skill with grace.

...

And when the applause dies down, I step forward holding a long roll of parchment before me.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," I gesture to the battered looking thing with a small smile; you would never have guessed from looking at it that it is a valuable and irreplaceable magical artefact. "Acero, Sofia!"

A tall, whip thin girl steps forward, puts on the hat and sits fairly gracefully on the stool. A moment's pause before the hat opens its brim and bellows, 'RAVENCLAW!' The Great Hall erupts into applause as the new Ravenclaw finds a seat at her House table, and I continue through the list. It doesn't surprise me overly that Flint, Elias finds himself in Slytherin, although the Lovegood girl is an unexpected one; she looks more like a Hufflepuff than a Ravenclaw to my experienced eye, but the Sorting Hat knows best. And we finish with Weasley, Ginevra who, entirely unsurprisingly, is met with a bellow of 'GRYFFINDOR' almost the moment the hat touches that shock of red hair. The twins are almost bouncing off the table.

Albus stands up with a clap of his hands and the room gradually quietens to a more reasonable level, before he speaks. Unlike previous years he waits an extra couple of beats until there is the best approximation of silence you are going to get with a half full of excitable children and adolescents.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts, one and all, both new and returning students! The banquet will be served soon you will surely be glad to here, and I hardly wish to keep you all from the delights that do await you. However, some introductions do need to be made before we can begin!" Albus sweeps his hand to take in the expanded staff table and numerous new faces. "As you can see, Hogwarts has had a bit of a facelift over the summer and we have found all sorts of new stuff to replace the fluff that your brains are filled with. We are exceptionally lucky to have attracted some of the excellent and specialist minds, most of whom will only teach at the higher levels and I won't keep you from your food for that. However, there are a few new faces that will be relevant to you all."

"First, we welcome back Professor Lupin who will be teaching the newly re-structured Protective and Defensive Spellcraft and Lore as well as the new Duelling classes for third year students and above. He will be working closely with Professor Kettleburn and Madame Quinou who are leading the Magical Species sections of the curriculum. Professor Golding and Professor Tingle will be taking charge of the non-magical lessons for Mathematics, Science, The Written Word and the Introduction to the Muggle World."

"And finally, there are a few small changes to our existing staff line up. Professor Binns has hung up his ghostly teaching cloak," Albus remarks with a twinkle in his eye, clearly not missing the sighs of relief that permeate the hall, " although he will continue to occupy those chambers, so if you have a burning need to learn about the Goblin Wars, you will know where to find him." The heartfelt groans that fill the hall suggest that, if my guess is correct, that particular wing of the castle will now become utterly deserted. "So, it behoves me to introduce Professor Hopkirk, who has been in charge of the examination scripts for many a year and will now get a chance to see the other side of the galleon of education. And of course, I must not forget to mention Professor Snape…"

The entire hall goes so quiet it is as though everyone stopped breathing at the same time. Even those with wandering attentions through Albus' introductions are suddenly fixated on our Headmaster. Albus lets the tension build for a long moment, and I note one or two of my younger Gryffindors going all but purple with excitement.

"We are exceedingly lucky to have such a capable and experienced Potions Master in our midst," Albus begins, amidst a low grumble of disappointment and sighs. "Few institutions are able to boast such expertise in their teaching staff. However, with so many new opportunities within the Potions IMP, it has been considered carefully where our resident Potions Master's skills are in most demand. For this reason, we welcome Professor Reynolds, who will be teaching Potions through to the TOAD examinations, whilst Professor Snape concentrates solely on the upper year students in the advanced classes, unless cover is required."

There's a moment of indrawn breath as though our student body is just waiting for the universe to creep up behind them and shout 'Just kidding!', but when Albus continues to simply stand and look at them benignly, it seems to sink in. The room explodes in a cacophony of noise as students whoop, scream and holler and hats go flying off in every which way they possibly can. I don't dare look at Severus for fear that he would see the slight smirk creasing the corner of my mouth. His teaching methods have always left a significant amount to be desired, when all is said and done. Mind you, Severus himself was over the moon with the thought that he'd managed to wash his hands of the majority of the dunderheads once and for all. I have every reason to suspect that he's even more pleased than the students with this new arrangement.

"Let the feast begin!"

Food appears on the tables before the students and they fall upon it excitedly, the din rising once more, but my attention is caught by a loud crashing that seems to originate from somewhere on the castle grounds. Within moments, Argus is standing at the doorway looking distinctly disgruntled, although that is his standard facial expression I will admit, and I find myself standing to determine what has occurred now. Few others seem to pay attention to the disturbance outside, although some of the first years look nervous. For the rest of them, this is normal fare for Hogwarts. If you got upset every time you heard a crash or a bang, you'd spend most of your student life in a state of nervous distraction. That said, I'm not the only one to begin making my way to the entrance, as both myself and Severus stand at the same time and walk, if not together, then at least with the same purpose in mind.

"You seem to be missing a few students, Minerva," Severus remarks to me in an undertone as we approach the entrance. "Careless of you, this early in the term…"

"I'm not sure it's my carelessness on the table when they don't even make it onto the Hogwarts Express," I reply in an equally low tone. "But yes, if they don't arrive by the end of the feast…"

I let the sentence tail off as in all reality, if they don't arrive by the end of the feast I really don't know what I am going to do. Bathilda and Augusta have been checking the obvious places, it doesn't seem like simple truancy and I'm running out of options. I suspect we'll have to get the Ministry involved, which is something I could really do without. Fudge has the tact and diplomacy of a niffler on firewhisky and it won't even be an hour before the entire wizarding world knows the Boy-Who-Lived has gone missing. We close the door on the students behind us and look expectantly at Argus.

"You'll never guess what those brats have gone and done now," Argus opens with, gesturing wildly outside. "Just you come and see. A pity they let the old punishments die out. You wouldn't get this kind of behaviour back in those days, you believe me…"

"Argus, what exactly is going on?" I question tartly.

"They've gone and landed a bus in the Whomping Willow of all places!" Argus exclaims in utter disgust. "A fine specimen that tree, but the damage they'll have done to it…"

"Who has landed a bus in the Whomping Willow?" Severus drawls slowly, his tone one of cold contempt.

"I don't know, do I?" Filch snorts. "It's got to be some of those good for nothing kids though, hasn't it? Who else is going to be landing a flying bus in the middle of a prized tree?"

I barely refrain from raising my eyebrows at the man. He's usually got nothing but complaints about the Whomping Willow; how it scares Mrs Norris and shouldn't be permitted on Hogwarts grounds. It's only because he believes he has a chance to see some poor soul get ripped apart by Severus on their first day that he's so defensive of it all of a sudden, I know.

"Let us go and find out, shall we?" Severus's snide drawl continues. "After all, once we have the answer to the question of whom, it is only a matter of time until we can get to the crux of the issue of why…"

"Why? Why?" The older Squib splutters, looking as though Severus had suggested something particularly unusual. "Who cares about the why!? Hang them up by their thumbs is what we should do. They won't do it again after that in a hurry, no they certainly will not. You know it's working when you hear the screaming…"

I shake my head in disgust at Argus's medieval attitude towards school discipline and set off at a fast trot to the site of the Whomping Willow. Argus does have a minor point; the Whomping Willow is one of the only specimens of its kind in the United Kingdom to the best of my knowledge, but it's not exactly an heirloom of the school. If anything, it's a disaster waiting to happen, but for some reason Albus has a soft spot for the violent thing and won't hear anything said about having it removed for the sake of student safety. Last time I mentioned it, I got some nonsense about how every magical school needs a sense of adventure… as though the centaurs, the mermaids, the ghosts and the poltergeist didn't already provide enough of that.

The sight of a bright purple bus being batted between the gigantic swooping arms of the giant tree in front of us is enough to stop me in my tracks however. Every so often it stops as though trying to vanish, but not even inanimate objects can apparate within the grounds of Hogwarts. Instead, it finds itself well within the long reach of the flailing wooden limbs, being batted and hammered from one direction to another. It strikes me that the tree is almost playing with the vehicle, as though it were a cat torturing a mouse for sport or entertainment. I don't think the Whomping Willow has that much awareness, but it's quite an amazing sight to see.

For a moment my brain goes blank, unsure what to do when confronted with the sight of the rapidly denting triple decker bus in front of me. Hogwarts has flung many mysteries and surprises at me over the years, but this is a new one even for me and I find myself simply staring in disbelief. Severus' reactions are faster than mine and he darts forwards, ducking under the thrashing boughs with astonishing reflexes. Without any fanfare, he sends a compressed ball of air spinning toward the base of the tree and, to my absolute amazement, the tree branches stop their frenzied violence as though they had never been moving.

The bus drops sharply to the ground, but the awkward downward motion is arrested by a sharp wave of Severus's wand and floats as gracefully as a bright purple bus can to the ground. I look at Severus in newfound astonishment. He did that instinctively, on reflexes alone and I have no idea how he even knew what to do. I'd have perhaps tried to immobilise the thing manually, indeed I suspect any member of staff would and it would probably take a cohort of us together. How in the name of Merlin did Severus know exactly what to do in order to bring the entire tree to a grinding halt?

My thoughts are soon interrupted however, as soon the tires reach the safety of the ground, and the door bangs open leaving a rather dishevelled looking group to tumble out of it, looking around dazedly. With some great relief, I quickly spot the three smaller forms of my missing second years amongst the group and start towards them quickly.

"Who now placed a thumping giant tree there!?" A bespectacled older wizard snaps grumpily, gesturing wildly to the stilled branches of the Whomping Willow. "That weren't there when I was here last… and look at what it's done to my wheels! Someone's gonna have to pay for this, you know!"

"I understand it was Albus Dumbledore who presided as Headmaster over the planting of the Whomping Willow," Severus drawls snidely, his tone only just short of sarcastic. "I believe he was of the opinion that it was big enough for thestrals, buses and flying cars to notice before they decided to see it up close and personal… and it has been there over a decade now by my count…"

"How were I to know!?" The man blusters. "It weren't there in my day! That there thing could take someone's eye out! And look what it's done to my bus!"

"Look what your bus has done to this fine historical specimen," Severus replies tartly. "A unique and valuable specimen of great interest to herbalists and potioneers from all over the country. Thousands of Galleons of damage, I would have thought… We will of course have to discuss compensation for the results of your thoughtless and reckless actions…"

I tune out the worried protests of what is evidently the driver of the purple monstrosity sitting on the Hogwarts grounds, even as I bite back a smirk at the temerity of my younger colleague. It is possible that the only word of truth he has just spoken is that the tree is unique; there's certainly no other in the United Kingdom to my knowledge. But as far as valuable or interesting goes, you can't harvest any useful materials from it for potions or enchanting, its wood has been found to be drastically unpredictable when used for wands and the only thing it does remotely well is hit anything that comes close to it with a violent intensity. I'd for one would be willing to get rid of it for a bent Sickle and I know for a fact that Severus is of a similar mindset.

Thankfully, it looks as though my boys are uninjured, if distinctly pale and shaken. The main casualty appears to be the young Weasley boy's wand which appears to be emitting dangerously red sparks from the broken ends as he looks down at it mournfully. The look of abject dismay on his face doesn't overly surprise me; I suspect he is wondering how in Merlin's name he is going to explain this particular conundrum to his mother.

"I did tell you not to stick it in your back pocket!" Longbottom remarks shakily, his gaze also caught be the fatally damaged wand wood. "I don't think even Ollivander will be able to put that back together for you…"

"My mum's gonna murder me…" The Weasley boy groans miserably. "This one belonged to Charlie and with all the new books and things this year for us all, there's no way they'll be able to buy me a new wand!"

"Well, you can't spend all year with that, Mister Weasley. We will have to sort something out on your behalf," I remark, watching as three heads shoot up and watch me nervously as I continue dryly. "But first, would you kindly explain why you took an alternate mode of transport to the Hogwarts Express this year, boys? I do hope you have a reasonable explanation…"

"Well, uh… the barrier…" "It's like this Professor McGonagall…" I close my eyes as the three boys all start speaking at the same time. "We really didn't have a choice, Professor!" "We couldn't get onto the train!"

"And why didn't you send us a letter by owl?" I respond dryly, once the explanations have petered off. Four faces stare at me with varying degrees of mortification and realisation. I settle my eyes on the magnificent white creature at Harry's feet. "I believe you have at least one between the three of you?"

The boys just gape at me for a few long seconds and I allow the moment to stretch out cruelly. Boys will, after all, be boys and it could have been far worse. They could have ended up anywhere… The Knight bus would not be my preferred choice of transportation, but it does show a remarkable amount of common sense, after all.

"I… We… didn't think –" The Longbottom boy eventually chokes out, his face even paler than when they had stumbled out of the bus.

"That," I remark, watching the boys flinch at my dry tone, "is obvious."

Another long moment of building silence.

"That said, boys," I smile down at them and watch as their faces as they slowly realise they do not seem to be in any trouble. "There was some remarkably quick thinking there. You kept a cool head in what appeared to be an emergency. Ten points to Gryffindor for a level-headed assessment of the situation without panicking. Come on, let's get you checked over by Madame Pomfrey. You know, she'd have my hide if I let you go to your dormitory's after being thrown around like that even if you look ok. You'll be glad to know your sister was sorted into Gryffindor, Mister Weasley. I have somehow managed to collect the entire clan of you. Thankfully, not all at the same time."

Slowly we set off toward the castle, leaving Severus to continue his discussion with the bus driver. I'm sure he'll have words to say later about the giving of points for actions not on Hogwarts grounds or even in term time. Let him. They've had a scare today and it's the least I can do. Particularly as it really was quite decent problem solving from a group of twelve-year olds. Anyhow, Severus should be mollified by his exchange with the bus driver. I am not going near that with a broomstick. Let the old man talk his way past Severus's sharp tongue.