"Welcome, new students, and welcome back older students! This school will be your home for the next nine months; I hope you will enjoy your time here. However," Here, his voice hardened, and I saw again the shadow I'd noticed when Morgana became a Slytherin.

"There's always a however," Colin muttered.

"We will not permit the use of magic outside classes. Anyone caught practicing magic beyond a Hogwarts sanctioned class will be punished severely. Duelling will be punished by expulsion."

"Duel tonight?" Colin said. "I think yes."

We high-fived again and were rewarded by a dark glare from that Mycroft bloke as we dissolved into silent laughter, which only served to make me laugh harder. He simply doesn't look very scary.

"Our caretaker, Mr. Nott, asks that you keep the corridors clean and free of prank store products. Otherwise, we have no announcements. I hope you enjoy your feast."

Food appeared on gleaming plates, and Colin leaned forward. "Hi, I'm Colin. What was your name again?"

Sam looked up in surprise. "Oh, Sam Winchester."

"Really? You look like a Tobias."

I scoffed as I heaped mashed potatoes onto my plate. "Don't listen to him, Sam. He reckons I look like a Caroline. What house is Dean in, by the way? He's your brother, right?"

"Uh, yeah—he's a second year Gryffindor—how'd you know that?"

"I have three siblings, and I saw you two arguing on the train. 2 plus 2 equals 4."

"Not the best example of deductive reasoning, but I suppose you're adequate in regards to reaching the correct conclusion," Mycroft observed, managing to sound incredibly condescending even when it was a twisted sort of compliment.

"Shut up," Colin, Sam, and I said.

I glanced at his plate and realised he wasn't eating. "Come on, Mycroft, even you can't be too posh for Hogwarts food. Eat something—maybe you'll stop being such a git then."

"The amount of fat in this food—" He began, but was cut off by Colin standing up and shoving a roll in his mouth. "Mmffgg!"

"Fifteen's too young to be panicking over your weight," Martha Jones added.

I propped my elbows up on the table and studied the professor in the bowtie. "Does anyone know that Professor? With the Muggle clothing, the really young one?"

"That's the Doctor," Mycroft said when he finished chewing. "He teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Doctor who?" Sam rejoined.

Mycroft shrugged. "Just the Doctor. Not Professor or anything—I don't think anyone knows his name."

"What's Professor Song teach?" Colin asked.

"Transfiguration."

He grinned. "She's not half bad looking."

I elbowed him sharply, not particularly needing to picture my professors as attractive. "What's Pendragon like?" I asked Mycroft, nodding to the headmaster.

"Don't break his rules," Mycroft replied quite simply. "He doesn't joke around, and his punishment methods aren't exactly legal. He has connections in every department in the Ministry, and more wealth and prestige than any wizard in the world."

All of us first years fell silent and looked around at each other in unease. "That doesn't sound good," I managed finally. "Why is he Headmaster?"

"His wife died in the War. I think he just wants to make sure no one else dies because of someone like Tom Riddle."

"There are better ways," Sam muttered.

"You would know," Mycroft retorted.

Martha jumped in quite tactfully then, steering the conversation to the other Professors; I learned that Professor Harkness was the Charms teacher, Professor Jones taught the now-mandatory Muggle Studies, Professor Harper was Potions, Professor Gaius taught Herbology, Professor Sato was Arithmancy, Madame Hudson was the school nurse, some bloke called the Master taught Astronomy, Professor Cooper-Williams—that was the groundskeeper's wife—taught Care of Magical Creatures, Professor Monmouth was the History of Magic teacher, and Professor Smith was the Ancient Runes teacher.

"Who's the Quidditch coach?" Sam asked eagerly.

"Mr. Owens—though he prefers Craig, rather unprofessionally."

X-x-X-x-X

The very next morning, we were given our schedules. "Dammit!" I hissed. We didn't have anything with Hufflepuffs today, just one Double Defence Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor and Herbology with Slytherin—plus Transfiguration on our own.

"Do look after my brother," Mycroft said lazily as I tucked into beans-and-toast.

I looked up in surprise. "What? Me?"

"You do appear the most competent out of this bunch—though admittedly, that isn't saying much."

Martha scowled at him and Sam looked offended, but Molly just shrunk away and Colin actually laughed. I gaped at him, not really sure whether to be offended or flattered myself. I decided to hide behind my goblet of pumpkin juice instead.

"He'll likely try to get a hold of poisonous herbs," Mycroft continued. "Try to make sure he doesn't, to the best of your ability?"

"Oh, shut up and find some cake," Colin said easily as he loaded his plate with bacon.

I inhaled pumpkin juice and came up spluttering. I'd learned from Molly Hooper last night what the funny badge on his robes meant. "You can't address a prefect like that!" Or, as it came out, "Yacantdresspreftlikeat."

"How eloquent," Mycroft said in faint amusement.

Colin made a crude gesture around the fork in his hand. Mycroft replied by implying the other boy hadn't evolved much further than Neanderthal status. Sam snapped something at Mycroft.

"If you are all going to be gits, I'm going to visit the boys before class," I said sharply, pushing my food away and stalking off with my bag.

Molly caught up a moment later. "Hey," She said.

"Hullo."

"Who are you visiting?"

"Oh! It's this painting of a knight and his squire—they're pretty funny."

"How do you know this already?" She asked.

"Oh, it's new, so they shoved it on the train and we ended sitting with it—me, Eva, and Colin, that is. I reckon you'll like Eva. She's probably whipping those Hufflepuffs into a proper House right now, instead of the awkward oh-we're-nice-don't-mind-us Hufflepuff of old."

"She sounds kind of scary."

I laughed and patted her on the shoulder. "No scarier than me."

"Kind of my point," Molly replied, offering me a grin.

We dissolved into laughter just as Pendragon swept into the room. He nearly ran into us, and then stopped and peered down. "Oh, hello. Where are you two going?" He asked.

"Um… We… Uh…"

"Well, you see, there's this painting…"

"She met it on the train—well, I mean, not met, but since they move…"

"I was going to see it and she came along…"

"So, yeah."

"You mean the painting of Sir Michael and Master Fisk?"

"Yeah!" I said, seizing on it like a lifeline.

He nodded in appreciation. "That is one of my favourite paintings. We introduced several this year. And girls? Do stay out of trouble," He told us sternly, before leaving.

Molly clutched my arm. "Blimey, he terrifies me."

"Me too," I admitted. "Me too…"