Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Express

"No! Mum please! You can't let him come!" Izzy wailed, her normally rosy cheeks now scarlet from crying. "I'll be humiliated in front of all of Hogwarts! Please don't do this to me! It's so unfair!"

"Isolde Rionach Boot, how can you be so selfish? You brother has done something no other child has ever done in the history of Hogwarts. You should be proud of him," their mother replied. Matthew remained silent pretending to be more preoccupied with his owl. Well, technically it was Terry's, something of a gift from his brother when he had gotten his Hogwarts letter.

"He can go next year, can't he? They'll call me the Squib's Sister! They'll think I'm a Squib too!"

"Isolde! How dare you say such a thing!"

"Well, it's true!"

"That's it! Not one more word out of you until we get to King's Cross!"

Izzy folded her arms and threw herself against her seat, sulking. She looked even more like a child with her lower lip protruding. She still had the same blond curls as when she was a toddler and Matthew had to stifle a laugh when he snuck a glance over at her. He couldn't blame her for being upset. This was supposed to be her year and now all the focus would be on him. Or, at least, that's what she had been moaning the past few weeks.

He knew he should resent her for it, but every time she started he could not help but want to laugh. He had really done it. He was going to Hogwarts. The first squib ever to be enrolled. The occasional thought that there might be challenges always seemed to flit away as quickly as it reared its head, replaced by his ever-growing excitement.

Of course there would be challenges, but he was more than ready to meet them. He had been accepted for demonstrating "Extraordinary Magical Knowledge". He hoped that would be enough for the Sorting Hat to allow him to carry on the family tradition of being in Ravenclaw House.

He ran his fingers through his sandy hair and straightened his glasses. Almost no wizard children wore glasses, Izzy had pointed out in one of her fits, except for Harry Potter (well, and Percy Weasley but he was a pretentious git - a word that had landed her in her room for an hour). Matthew really didn't need them most of the time, he didn't wear them for sports, except Quidditch, but they put the world in more focus. He liked being able to see the birds as more than blobby creatures.

"We're almost there," Mrs. Boot called back in a singsong voice.

Izzy threw herself against the back seat again with a "hmph!"

They unloaded the car (a purchase Mr. Boot had made a few years back when they realized that it would be quite difficult to hide taking Matthew to and from his activities by broom). Anyone watching from the outside would have marveled at exactly how much they were able to fit in the boot of the little vehicle as they extricated two very large trunks, an owl cage and a number of other odds and ends and placed them on trolleys.

"Time to get back in your cage, Tycho," Matthew said, urging the bird toward the cage. Tycho turned his head from the cage and hooted irritably, he was not eager to be confined. "Would you rather fly to Hogwarts?" Matthew asked, almost as irritable as his owl.

"Hoot hoot!" Tycho answered happily.

Matthew looked imploringly over at his father, secretly taking the bird's side. He imagined it must be a glorious thing to fly the grand hills and forests to Scotland. Far better than being stuck in the luggage rack of a train in a cage. "Into the cage, Tycho," the elder Boot said sternly. Tycho did as he was told.

"Well, it wasn't my choice," Matthew whispered to the owl who stuck its beak up as though it was willfully ignoring him.

Izzy carried her white cat awkwardly in her arms; combined with her red sailor pea coat and matching beret she looked years younger than she was. So much so that a number of people kept asking her "Are you lost, little girl?" as she walked purposefully past toward platform 9 ¾, well ahead of her family who struggled to keep her in sight. She disappeared through the barrier before Matthew had even gotten to platform 8.

"She'll get over it." Mrs. Boot attempted to assure Matthew.

"It's ok, Mum. Really it is. We probably won't even be in the same house."

Mrs. Boot looked as though she wanted to object but couldn't. Izzy had never found much use for books after she had discovered they weren't meant for building with.

"You are sure she's ours, right?" Mr. Boot joked.

"That's what the hospital told me," Mrs. Boot replied in the same way she always did.

They approached the barrier. He had been through plenty of times when he'd come to see his brother off, but still as they drew closer his stomach began to tighten. What if it didn't let him through? What if it knew he was a squib? That he didn't belong? What if, when he ran up to, he just bounced off? "Are you ready, Matty?" his mum said. He could tell she was anxious too.

"Would you... would you maybe go through with me?"

"Of course, Matty. Of course." She gripped the bar of the trolley, standing next to him. "Let's take it at a bit of a run, shall we?"

They ran at the barrier and suddenly, as it always had, it vanished and they were standing in the middle of the platform where dozens of wizarding families were saying goodbye to their loved ones. Izzy was staring in amazement at the train when another young girl ran up to her, Matthew recognized her at once as Agnes Greengrass, one of her best friends. Agnes pointed to something on the train and the two girls ran off together. Subconsciously his hand moved to the wand in his pocket as if to somehow assure himself that he actually belonged here.

It was an eleven-inch ebony wand, plain in appearance excepting two gold lines that served as trim for the handle, one on the top and one on the bottom. When they had gone to Diagon Alley, Matthew had brought the wand, with the thought to sell it.

Well, it had been more his parents' thought, really. They weren't keen to have a Death Eater's wand about the house, even as a trophy. He was less eager to part with it. He had had it since he was ten and he felt like it was his now. But the unexpected expense of sending two children off to Hogwarts at the same time proved a challenge for the Boots and he was asked to do his part.

Matthew vividly recalled presenting it to Ollivander while his sister swished her new wand about (Ash, ten inches, Unicorn Hair, unyielding; a rare combination). The old man rolled the wand in his fingers, examining it so closely his pointed nose was almost touching it. "Eleven inches, dragon heartstring and ebony, slightly bendy: this wand belonged to Magnus Rosier. Hmmm… I sense regret, and a great sadness... "

"How much will you give me for it?" Matthew asked, prompted by a push from his father.

"Oh no no no! I cannot take this wand!" Mr. Ollivander said, quickly handing the wand back to Matthew.

"Why not?" Matthew asked.

"Because, my boy, it has changed its allegiance. Did you, perhaps, win this wand in battle?"

"In a manner of speaking..." Matthew didn't much like to talk about the Battle of Hogwarts. He had never known what became of the Death Eater he had pushed off the stair; he hadn't wanted to know. What if that man had fallen to his death? Now that he knew the man's name, that horrible curiosity rose within him again. "But it can't have changed its allegiance. I'm a squib!" His parents winced at the word.

"That is very curious... All the same, it has chosen you as its new master. It won't work properly for anyone else."

"But it won't work for me either!" Matthew objected. He had wanted to keep the wand but it seemed a terrible shame that it should choose to waste itself on him.

"The wand chooses the wizard, anything else I could say would only be conjecture. But I think it may harbor a good deal of regret for the dark magic it was forced to do by its previous master. Wands are not just objects that can be used by anyone for any purpose. It may have felt it had been betrayed when it was used to do dark magic. I believe if I sold it again it would not work for any wizard. Perhaps that is why it has chosen you; because you can never force it to do magic against its will. But do keep in mind, that is only a guess."

Or, as Izzy had put it: a wand as defective as he was. That remark had caused her to be grounded for a week. He had tried to remind himself she was just angry, but that remark had stung him though he tried to pretend it hadn't. Still, it came to his mind now. A wand as defective as he was.

But still, it was his wand. And knowing it had chosen him made it seem more like a friend. He felt more confident just having it by his side. He had avoided looking up its prior master, but he got the sense his parents had done so for they seemed warier of the wand than they had been before.

He could see his sister hanging out a window, waving, with her friend Agnes wedged in beside her, doing the same. "Goodbye, Izzy! Goodbye, Agnes! Behave yourselves!" Mrs. Boot shouted, waving, with her husband by her side.

She turned to her son, straightening his collar. "Goodbye, Matty."

"Goodbye, Mum." He had promised himself he would not cry, but now tears stung his eyes.

"Don't forget to write us."

"I won't, Mum."

"Oh, Matty!" she cried, hugging him tight.

"It's alright, Mum, I'll be back for the holidays before you know it."

"If you ever decide you want to come back... before then... you can."

Matthew could tell she had been holding this in until this moment. "You worry too much, Mum. I'll be fine," he attempted to reassure her as much as himself.

"I know, I know. Take care of yourself Matty."

"Watch over your sister," his father said, looking to where his daughter now hung with almost her entire body out of the train, Agnes holding her steady by the shins so that Izzy could make faces at a young boy. "I think she may need it."

"Always, Dad."

His father seemed unsure of whether he should embrace his son or not, finally he settled on a handshake. "Goodbye son. You're a tribute to the Boot name."

Matthew boarded the train nervously. He recognized a few faces among the compartments but the moment he met their eyes they turned away. Izzy's compartment was completely full, but from her scowl as he passed he got the sense she was not keen to sit with her older brother, anyhow. She returned to showing off her new wand to her friends.

He finally reached the end of the corridor where there was what appeared to be an empty berth. He opened the door and plopped down only to discover it was not, in fact, empty, but was occupied by a scrawny girl reading the Daily Prophet. Despite her size she looked to be about his age. Her face was narrow, with a hard-set expression. Her auburn hair had been chopped so that it just reached her chin, she brushed the right bit aside so that it sat, pinned by her ear. She was almost swimming in thin-knit green and gold Holyhead Harpies style Quidditch robes which covered a pale purple Weird Sisters T-shirt and grey jeans.

"Holyhead Harpies, eh?" Matthew attempted to sound friendly.

The girl ignored him, turning the page of the paper and holding it up so that it concealed her face, leaving the only thing visible her fingers and shoes. He found the shoes quite amusing. They were muggle sandshoes, without a doubt, faded black and worn, with a pattern of little rainbow colored skulls. There were no two ways about it to Matthew's mind, this girl looked cool and her aloof demeanor only added to the effect.

On the front page of the Prophet two faces scowled at him from their mugshots, the headline read:

Rabastan and Rodophus Le Strange: Still at Large

Every day the Daily Prophet featured pictures of Death Eaters who had still not been rounded up in the two years since the end of the war. Sometimes, they featured a story about a daring raid by Aurors, or the capture of a particularly notorious Death Eater, but almost as often, they told of brutal muggle slayings or witches and wizards who had disappeared. While a number of Death Eaters had surrendered following the Battle of Hogwarts, it seemed just as many had decided that if they were destined for Azkaban they would make it worth their while.

Not much caring for the way the Le Stranges were staring at him, he turned his attention to the back page where a cheery looking couple wearing very old fashioned striped bathing suits that looked like something Queen Victoria might have worn waved from in front of a sandy beach:

Nicholas Flamel and wife celebrate milestone anniversary in Greece

Here's to another 600 years! Flamel says.

Matthew had a hard time believing they were 100 let alone over 600. He knew sorcery could slow the aging process but this seemed quite a leap. It must be a typo. "600 years sure is a long time to be married," he said, fiddling with his wand.

The girl ignored him again, flipping to another page. This time he caught a glimpse of her hands. She was wearing gloves despite the warm weather. They were leather and fingerless. Seeker's gloves.

"So, are you a seeker?"

The girl pulled the paper down low enough that she could see Matthew. "Why are you even talking to me?" she asked in a disdainful tone.

"Well, there's no one else to talk to is there?"

"Did that flobberworm, McLaggen, put you up to this?"

"Who?"

Matthew's look of confusion must have been enough to convince her that whoever this McLaggen was Matthew was not in league with him, for she said, "Not yet, but I will be."

"You sound pretty confident."

"Avery graduated last year, there's not another person who can even come close to me on the Quidditch pitch."

"I play keeper."

"Will you be trying out this year, then?"

"No," he looked down, "probably not."

The girl made a scoffing sound, "Why not?"

"I can't fly."

"No wonder you're a keeper then. They can't fly worth bullocks."

Matthew knew she had misinterpreted what he meant but did not feel the need to correct her. He smiled. "My name's Matthew," he said, extending his hand.

"Ceelee." she said, shaking it.

"So the Holyhead Harpies. You must be a Ginny Weasley fan then."

"You think?!" she said, pulling out a worn Ginerva Weasley trading card. Ceelee's face practically glowed as she showed it to him. "She's only the best seeker in the league! She graduated my first year so I never got the chance to play with her but one day I'm going to get onto the Holyhead Harpies and then I'll show her what I can do."

"Hopefully she'll still be playing by then."

"Of course she will! Why wouldn't she be?"

"Well, isn't she going with Harry Potter? Maybe they'll get married and she'll want to start a family."

She grimaced as though she had tasted something unpleasant, "Yeah, but how many Hogwarts relationships really last?" Matthew shrugged. The pair fell into easy conversation about the World Quidditch Cup and how England had been robbed in the second to last game of the finals. Matthew was really starting to feel like maybe this year would be good after all when the door to the compartment opened and three burly young men in Gryffindor robes appeared.

The ringleader, a large, muscular young man with curly blond hair spotted Ceelee and immediately started singing loudly with no attention to key "You Stole My Cauldron but You Can't Have My Heart"

"Get lost, McLaggen!" she said.

"Aw, but Celestina, you charmed the heart right out of me!" the young man jeered.

"Celestina?" Matthew asked.

"Aw, you didn't tell your little boyfriend your name?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" she shouted. It was true, but she didn't need to object quite so vehemently, Matthew thought.

"Hey, leave her alone er... McLaggen." Matthew said, standing, his wand still in hand.

"And who are you? Don't think I've ever seen you around before." McLaggen took a step toward Matthew. At this moment Matthew realized he may have let his emotions get a bit carried away, for besides being a whole head taller than he was, McLaggen was almost twice as wide and all muscle.

"Matthew, he's not worth it," Ceelee said, gripping his arm.

"Matthew... Wait, you mean The Matthew! Matthew Boot! The Squib!" McLaggen shoved Matthew so hard he fell into his seat. "They'll let anyone into Hogwarts these days! What were you going to do with that wand, Squib? Point at me? Bet it's just a toy!"

In a flash Ceelee had drawn her wand and had the tip against McLaggen's throat. He raised his hands. "Leave him alone, McLaggen," she warned.

"Or you'll what? Do me like your dad did my brother?"

"You watch your tongue." She dug the tip of the wand in deeper. The tip glowed threateningly.

"Bet she didn't tell you who her dad was, did she?" He directed this question to Matthew before lowering his eyes to look at the diminutive girl. "Did you, Celestina Carrow?"

Matthew was dumbfounded. Carrow. His mind flashed back to his brother, body and face still covered in bruises and cuts from the Carrows' punishments.

"I got up on a table during dinner and told everyone how Harry Potter had broken into Gringotts," Terry had said victoriously when his parents had asked him what had happened. "They beat me up good. Neville got it worse than me, though. Wait till you see his cheek."

Ceelee wasn't just any girl, she was the daughter of the Amycus Carrow.

"I said sod off, McLaggen," she growled fiercely.

"Alright, alright, we're going," McLaggen said. "Come on, Jerry, Byron. Nothing worth seeing here."

Ceelee took off her Holyhead Harpies robe and began putting on her silver and green stripped tie. "Gryffindors! Can't just leave well enough alone! Sorry about that. Liam McLaggen's had it in for me since the first day." She slid on her robes and looked over at Matthew who still stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and horror. "Whatever." she mumbled, stuffing her Harpies robe into her bag. "I was just looking for a quiet place to read anyway. It's too noisy here." She slung the bag, still threatening to spill its contents, over her shoulder and opened the compartment door, looking back from the passageway just a moment as she shut the door. For a second, if it existed at all, Matthew thought he saw a glimpse of hurt in her eyes.