Chapter Two: To Hogwarts
The next month couldn't pass swiftly enough. Slade constantly begged to be taken along, but Apollonia—who would be accompanying Maeve to London, where she would get on a train that would take her to Hogwarts—insisted that while he and their parents were allowed to see Maeve off at the station, they were not permitted to travel all the way to Hogwarts with her.
"And what will you do afterwards?" Maeve had asked.
"I'm teaching at Hogwarts this year," she announced proudly. "They've made some changes to the curriculum and staff. It'll be interesting to see what's new. Minerva's the headmistress now; there'll be a new head of Gryffindor House—that's the House I was in; it's a good House, if I do say so myself, and I think you'd do well in it…" Maeve and Slade had been invited to spend more time over at Apollonia's house since the arrival of the letter, where they were now allowed into the study—full of ancient books and arcane instruments, as well as housing the cage of Phœbus, her familiar and the owl that had delivered Maeve's letter. Mr. and Mrs. Kerrigan were quite as busy as ever, jet-setting around Europe, and were quite happy to entrust their children to Apollonia's care. (They had already contacted someone to look after Slade in case it was needed while both they and Apollonia were away.)
Maeve slept over at Apollonia's house on the last night of August, and woke well before the rap on her door. Slade had decided not to tag along when they had informed him what time he would have to get up: It was barely dawn outside, the distant trees and hills shrouded in haze, and even most of the birds were still asleep. Maeve leapt out of bed, however, excited beyond words that today, she would embark on her very own real-life adventure.
"Where is Hogwarts, anyway?" she asked Apollonia, as the smell of toast and eggs filled the kitchen.
"Somewhere in northern England. Not terribly far from here, actually," the woman responded, setting a saucepan on the stove and filling it with rich-smelling Turkish coffee. She lit the burner beneath it with her wand and sat down at the table. "I couldn't tell you exactly where, though—it's Unplottable, which means it can't be put on a map or precisely located. I could find it if I need to," she went on, briefly glancing at the morning paper (which, Maeve noticed, had moving pictures on the front), "and I usually fly there or Apparate to Hogsmeade, but since you're going into your first year there, we have to go through all the formalities and take you down to London so you can ride the Hogwarts Express. I'd rather we both fly there—hmm, you don't have a broomstick, though—but that's the way it is."
They took a fast train south from Allendale to Kings Cross station in London, where Apollonia checked her watch as she lugged a trolley laden with trunks behind them. "Good, we've nearly half an hour before it leaves," she observed. Maeve looked down at her ticket, actually reading it for the first time, and was confused.
"Platform nine and—?" she began, but Apollonia cut her off.
"Ah, yes, here we are," she said, stopping in front of a blank brick pillar and glancing around. "Don't worry, now—just follow me—" She dropped her voice, so that Maeve had to lean closer to hear her over the sound of the people milling around them. "The entrance is here, it's just bewitched to look solid." She reached for the barrier, and Maeve noticed that her hand went straight through the wall. "Come quickly, now, we don't want Muggles to notice—" And she was gone, pulling the load of luggage with her. Maeve looked around, then walked toward the pillar—it didn't feel like there was anything solid there (she had always been good at telling where things were with her eyes closed—solid objects tended to block air currents and were easily perceptible)—she forced herself not to blink, it felt like she walked through a brick-coloured screen of smoke, and then she was standing on a platform next to an old-fashioned steam engine, bright red, with HOGWARTS EXPRESS stencilled on the side. Behind her, she saw a wrought-iron gate; Muggles on the other side walked right past, completely oblivious, but a tall and slender young woman with flaming red hair strode purposely toward the pillar, pulling a trolley behind her, glancing at the watch on her wrist just before pausing before the barrier to make sure no-one was watching. Maeve stepped aside to let her through, and Apollonia's face lit up as the girl entered.
"Ginny!" she cried, throwing her arms out. Ginny smiled and returned the older woman's hug one-armed, the other hand still firmly on the handle of her luggage cart. "Where're your family? I can't believe they let you come here all by yourself!"
"Oh, there's a big row at home," Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Apparently, George's good—and unmarried—friend Selena is mysteriously pregnant, and Mum has been shouting at him ever since he and Fred arrived last night…I got fed up and told them I was going without them if they didn't hurry up, and they were too busy yelling to notice."
"Maeve," said Apollonia, stepping away, "this is Ginny Weasley, one of my best students." Ginny went pink and mumbled something. "Ginny, this is Maeve Kerrigan, who'll be starting at Hogwarts this year." Maeve stuck out her hand, and Ginny shook it warmly.
"You'll love Hogwarts," she assured the girl. "You the first one in your family to come here?"
"Yes," Maeve responded, as Apollonia began ushering them toward the train, which had let off a big burst of steam. "My parents were really confused, but they seem to be taking it quite well. I hardly ever see them anyway, so I don't know what they really think of it…"
"Busy Muggle lives, eh?" Ginny said with a smile. They heaved their luggage onto the train, leaving the trolleys behind. "Come on, let's find a compartment. There should be some good ones—most people don't get on until it's about to leave—" She led the way down a narrow corridor, Olcadan exchanging hoots with the animals that were already on board, and Maeve peering through the glass doors into every compartment they passed. Most were, indeed, empty—she didn't know what, exactly, Ginny was looking for—but Maeve stopped short in front of one pair of doors. There was a young woman in there with blue hair. Blue, just like an anime character. And she was playing World of Warcraft. On a PSP.
"Maeve?" Ginny asked, pausing and glancing back. "Oh, who's that? She must be new…" She slid the door open, and the sound of 'Sweet Dreams are Made of This' floated out into the passageway. "Er, hello…are these seats taken?" Ginny asked. The blue-haired woman looked up.
"Oh, no. Come on in," she said, reaching over her head to where an iPod dangled from the luggage rack and hitting its pause button. She had an American accent—faintly Northeastern, Maeve thought. A large, very fluffy white cat was curled up on the seat next to her; it opened one gold eye and stared at the two newcomers before going back to sleep. Ginny helped Maeve heave their trunks up into the luggage rack, and they plopped down onto the seat opposite the other young woman, who logged off her game and stuffed the PSP into a satchel at her feet.
"So, er—are you a transfer student?" Ginny asked.
The blue-haired girl laughed. "Oh, no. I'm a teacher."
Ginny's eyes went round. "Really? No way! You look so young!"
"Heh, thanks," she said. "Everyone tells me that. It's probably because I'm not that old."
"I like your hair," Maeve commented, impressed by the natural-seeming hue. "It looks so real."
"Oh, it is real," the woman explained, tossing her head proudly. "I always feel so sorry for the Dipfers, looking all normal the way they do…"
"'Dipfers'?" Ginny repeated.
"Oh, right. They're what you folk call 'Muggles' over here," she elucidated. "Sorry, I went to school at Estrellita, and we use some different terminology across the pond." She idly scratched her cat's head, and went on, "Oh, by the way, my name's Ivy. Ivy Valentine."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Ginny, and this is Maeve…"
Maeve's jaw dropped. "Ivy Valentine! You mean, just like the character in—"
"No, no," Ivy corrected her. "If you remember, her real name was Ivy, but she also went by Isabella Valentine, which was what her adoptive parents called her."
Ginny glanced back and forth, not following. "Who's—?"
"A character in a video game," Maeve explained. "A whole series of video games, in fact, starting with Soulcalibur and all the way up to—"
"Hang on," Ginny said, cutting her off. "What's a video game?"
Maeve stopped short, utterly confused as to how someone could not know what a video game was. Ivy shook her head.
"Ginny clearly wasn't raised by Dipfers," she explained. "A lot of the stuff in the outside world isn't widely used among witches and wizards. Some of it doesn't even work well with magic around—I've noticed that nothing with components more complicated than a vacuum tube works if you get it near someplace like Hogwarts, which is so full of enchantments that there's a constant aura of magic, like background noise."
"Well, you two seem to be getting on well," Ginny commented. "My dad would love to have a chat with you sometime— He works for the Ministry of Magic," she added, "and he's just fascinated by Muggle artefacts of all kinds. I remember we used to have a car that he took apart, enchanted to fly and turn invisible, and put back together again." She chuckled. "Good times, those. Ron and Fred and George went to rescue Harry from the Dursleys in that car…" Her voice trailed off, and she looked out the window, her eyes suddenly sad. The train whistle blew just then, and the children milling outside began rushing around, giving their parents last-minute hugs and hurrying around with their trunks and cages. It was nearly ten o'clock, which was the departure time stamped on Maeve's ticket.
"Have you heard from Harry recently?" Ivy asked, and Ginny's head jerked back up.
"Yes," she said. "He's been off doing…things…ever since he defeated Voldemort, but he sends Hedwig by the Burrow regularly, and he's promised he's going to come see me this term." She smiled, a brilliant smile that made her even prettier, and Maeve realised that Harry must be her boyfriend. Ivy gave Maeve an odd look, then understanding flickered across her face.
"You're Muggle-born, right?" Ivy asked, and she nodded. The blue-haired woman gave a nod of her own. "We'll have to tell her all about the Wizarding world," she said meaningfully to Ginny, who smacked her forehead.
"Of course! I should've known. You don't even know who Harry Potter is!" The two women launched into an explanation of famous magic-users, all of which Maeve soaked up like a sponge, until there was a timid rap on the compartment door after the train had begun to move. They looked up, and a beautiful pale girl was standing there, a large black bird on her shoulder. Maeve thought it looked rather like one of Tira's Watchers from Soulcalibur III. Maeve stood up and opened the door.
"The other compartments are all full," the girl said quietly, scanning the room's occupants with eyes as black as her inky hair. Ginny stared hard at the newcomer for a moment with a very odd look on her face, then turned away, shaking her head. "Is it all right if I sit in here?" She had a Welsh accent.
"Oh, certainly," Ivy said, scooping her cat closer to make more room (he looked quite disgusted at the sudden interruption in his nap). Maeve noticed that the black-haired girl had only one small trunk with her, which she deftly lifted up onto the rack, her thin frame belying wiry strength. She sat down opposite Maeve and looked down shyly; she was a very pretty girl, with ivory skin and high cheekbones. Ginny still seemed confused, but said nothing.
"I'm Maeve," Maeve told her, shutting the door. "Are your parents Muggles, too? I had no idea I was a witch either; this is so exciting, but I'm a bit scared, too. What's your name?"
"Carlota," the new girl responded. "Yes, this is all so new to me. My parents…it's weird; they didn't seem surprised when I got my letter so much as worried, almost as if they were…I don't know, afraid something like this was going to happen…"
"What's your last name?" Ginny asked, sounding slightly more forceful than Maeve thought was necessary.
Carlota looked up, slightly alarmed. "Phoenix," she responded. "W…why?"
"Carlota Phoenix?" Ivy repeated. "That's a lovely name," and she shot a look at Ginny. Clearly, Maeve thought, there was something going on about which Ivy and Ginny were not ready to inform her. "And who is your bird?"
"Oh," Carlota said, smiling for the first time, "this is Gary." She looked up at him and made a clicking noise in her throat, and he responded by clacking his beak. "He says hello, and that your owl doesn't need to worry—he's not going to hurt him." Olcadan had been watching the much-larger bird warily.
"You can talk to birds?" Ivy asked, impressed. Carlota nodded.
"What about snakes?" Ginny asked. Carlota looked confused, and shook her head.
"No, but I've always been able to talk to birds," she explained. "Gary's actually been my friend for quite a while now…I think it's very good that I'm going to a magic school; Mum and Dad always thought it was weird that I could talk with birds, but now I guess it must be a magic talent or something."
"Since she's Muggle-born too, you'll have to tell us both everything there is to know," Maeve said brightly, turning to Ginny, who still seemed slightly sullen for no apparent reason. Ginny forced a smile.
"Right," she said, and launched into an extensive (and heavily-biased, due to her obvious love) recounting of Harry Potter's history.
Ivy and Ginny stepped off the train, watching Maeve and Carlota hurry off after Hagrid to row across the lake. "Ginny," Ivy said sternly, putting a hand on her shoulder, "would you care to explain to me why you were so hostile to that new student, Carlota?"
Ginny dropped her gaze, looking both angry and embarrassed. "It's—it's complicated," she muttered. "I…don't suppose you know who Tom Riddle is—was, do you?"
"Of course I do. What's that have to do with anything?"
The redhead glanced after the crowd of first-years. "She… I think she looks like him. It just caught me off guard, you know?" Ivy furrowed her brow.
"Now that you mention it…" But then she shook her head. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. You heard what she said—both her parents are Muggles, her last name is Phoenix, she talks to birds—besides which, Tom Riddle had no living relatives, he made sure of that."
"Even so," Ginny grumbled, "it seems an awfully eerie coincidence to me…"
Maeve was amazed at the Great Hall in Hogwarts, with its enchanted ceiling and medieval-style architecture. Something nagged at the back of her mind, but the more she thought about it, the more slippery it became. She and all the other new students lined up in the middle of the hall, before a stool on which stood a very old and frayed hat. Suddenly, she knew: This hall was the place she had seen in her dream, and that hat—what was it doing here, anyway?—had been worn by one of the people therein, the tawny-haired one called Godric. She was just wondering, with a racing pulse, how she could have foreseen something like this—was it a talent, like Carlota's ability to speak with birds?—when a rip near the hat's brim opened like a mouth, and it began to sing. Maeve was still too bemused by the fact that her dreams might be clairvoyant to pay attention to the words of the song, and when it had finished, she absent-mindedly clapped along with the rest of the hall. A trim, sandy-haired woman stepped forward from the long table at the head of the hall, holding a long roll of parchment in one hand. She cleared her throat, and addressed the waiting line of students: "Adams, Eglantine."
The first girl in line, short and round with a pouf of golden hair, ran up to the stool and put the hat on; it was much too large for her, but as it slid down over her eyes, it called out "Hufflepuff!" so the entire hall could hear. Apparently, this was how students were Sorted. Maeve scanned the staff table for Apollonia, and caught her eye—she waved, and Apollonia smiled back at her. There was a dark-haired, olive-skinned man sitting near her that Maeve thought looked somewhat familiar, but couldn't identify how so. Other teachers at the long table ran the gamut, from a tiny gnomelike fellow who was barely visible over the table, to Ivy (who was easy to pick out due to her vibrant hair, which was the object of many glares from some of the other professors), to Hagrid the gamekeeper (who was apparently half-giant), to a sallow-skinned, black-haired man with a hooked nose; he looked very distracted, as if there was someplace else he desperately wanted to be. The line slowly inched forward, until finally Maeve found herself facing the stool.
"Kerrigan, Maeve."
Maeve's heart was beating very fast now. Even though Ginny had explained what the Houses at Hogwarts were, she didn't know which one she was going to be in; most people didn't, but that didn't stop her worrying. Her thoughts raced as she climbed up to the stool and lifted the hat. What if she was dreaming? What if, the moment she put on the Sorting Hat, she woke up, back to her mundane life, back in Allendale—
She sat down on the stool and gingerly placed the hat over her head, holding the crown up over her eyes with one hand. A tiny voice spoke in her ear.
"Well, goodness me! This is…well…" The Sorting Hat sounded flustered; Maeve's worry increased. "Dear me, you must be the most difficult student I've ever had to Sort. You're courageous, clever, resourceful, independent, and loyal, all in roughly equal measure…" The voice paused. "I have to say, I don't know. You could do well in any House, but I can't put you just anywhere. This…this has never happened before."
The sandy-haired teacher bent down, and saw Maeve's terrified eyes under the brim of the Sorting Hat. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"I—I—" Maeve began, but was cut off by a brilliant flash of light from the other end of the hall.
"Well, now!" The voice was very familiar. As the light faded, Maeve recognised the elflike woman—wearing a different dress and jewelry, but clearly the same person—from her dream, striding up the paved floor toward the stool. "It seems I have returned just in time, doesn't it?"
She glanced around the Great Hall. "Four…tables…?" she murmured, her eyes narrowing. "You," she demanded, tapping a random boy at the Ravenclaw table on the shoulder, "what do these tables represent?"
"Oh…er…" he stuttered, struck nearly dumb by her radiant beauty, "they're, er, the four Houses of Hogwarts—Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin…"
"Four!" she repeated, stalking away. "After all I did for them, and they didn't even name a House after me…! Right, then, that's going to have to be rectified." She glided up the steps to the stool on which Maeve sat, lifted the Sorting Hat from its perch on the girl's head, and turned it over in her hands, examining it while murmuring phrases in a language Maeve didn't recognise, but which sounded musical and vaguely familiar.
"That should do it," the elflike woman said after a moment, holding the hat upright and replacing it on Maeve's head. The voice in her ear returned.
"Oh, yes, that's much better… Oh, hmm, I might have some re-Sorting to do, yes…but I think now that I can safely put you in FATALUMA!" The last word was loud enough for the entire Hall to hear, and Maeve was quite relieved that she was, after all, not here by mistake, but the students and teachers murmured amongst each other.
Maeve hopped down from the stool and turned around to see a severe-looking witch, with square glasses and an impeccable bun, rise up from the tall-backed chair behind the staff table. "A fifth House?" the witch demanded, peering down her nose at the woman from Maeve's dream. "Might I ask who you are?"
"You do not know?" The shock in her voice was clearly audible. "I am Mab, Queen of the Fairies, Mother of They Who Walk in Dawn and Twilight! I simply cannot believe this. That the four founders, whom I took under my wing and taught as I would my own children, never passed down word of who their benefactress had been? Unbelievable! Simply unbelievable." Maeve thought she heard Mab mutter, "The ingrates."
"But—what…what are the qualities you would look for in the students you would pick for such a House…Mab?" the black-haired witch (probably the headmistress, Maeve realised) asked.
"Fataluma," Mab said, turning to face the hall with a sweeping regal gesture, "is for those who shine. Those whose souls sparkle with uncommon power. Creatures of noon and of midnight, wearers of glitter and silk, my House is the one for you. Are there any here—" she swept her gaze across the tables, full of older students— "who feel as though they are living a life that would not have been your choice? Expectations pressed upon you that seem somehow wrong? Come to me, don the Sorting Hat, and you will know."
"Yes, yes, that's all well and good," the headmistress said, apparently becoming slightly irritated at the whole proceedings, "but there are things besides new standards for Sorting—we've room for only four tables in here, for one, and a fifth House would need dormitories and a common room, not to mention a Head of House…"
"She can do it," Mab said, pointing behind her without looking back. Maeve stole a glance, however, and noticed that Mab had chosen Ivy. "I put my trust in her." Finally turning back, the fairy-queen gave the blue-haired woman a knowing smile, to which Ivy responded with a thrilled squeal. The headmistress was taken aback.
"Sh— she can—!" Her mouth went very thin and white, and one of her hands twitched on the surface of the table. "Well, I suppose we could—that means we'll have to—" She bent down and whispered in the ear of a male professor seated on her right side, and he rose from his chair and led Apollonia and Ivy from the room. The headmistress did not seem like the type to fluster easily; Maeve guessed that she was put off by the fact that an unknown woman had appeared in her Great Hall and taken command.
The headmistress cleared her throat. "Well, then, Queen…if that's all you needed—"
"Mm, yes," the elfin lady said, waving a hand magnanimously. "For now." There was another flash of light, and she disappeared. There was total silence in the Great Hall for a few moments, then talk burst out from all quarters.
"Quiet! Quiet, please! Your attention," the Headmistress called over the din, and the noise-level dropped significantly. "It appears that we have a new House here at Hogwarts…a new House, free to follow its own path, to shape its own future.
"I will not require anyone here to be re-Sorted," she went on, "but first-years already Sorted who wish to be reassessed, using the new criteria, may do so tonight. Older students who would like to be Sorted a second time may make appointments to see me within the next two weeks…" She ran a hand over her hair, which was still perfectly-groomed. "That is all. Please carry on."
A few students worked their way free from the tables at which they had already sat down and moved back to the line, obligingly taking up positions at the end. Two more students, a boy called Timothy Kipling and a girl by the name of Larissa Larsen, were Sorted into Fataluma (Ivy was lurking in the back of the hall, and with sweeping gestures, moved the four tables over slighty and conjured a fifth, at which Maeve gratefully went to sit down; her feet were beginning to hurt), and joined her, looking thrilled to be part of something new. Maeve looked up when she heard Carlota's name called.
The Sorting Hat was silent for a moment. Maeve crossed her fingers, hoping her new friend would be in the same House, but was disappointed when the headgear called out "Slytherin!" Not, however, as disappointed as the students at the table beneath the green-and-silver banners were; they all erupted in jeers and boos as Carlota rose and began to move to a seat.
"This is an outrage!" "It's got to be a mistake!" "There's no way—!" Through the chorus of angry overlapping voices, Maeve heard several obscene words, as well as something that sounded like "mud-blood". Carlota was horrified, rooted to the spot, looking like there was nothing she wanted more than to vanish forever into a hole in the ground. Gary launched off her shoulder and sped toward the Slytherins' table, cawing angrily. A few of the students put up arms to protect their faces, but most simply continued to rant, one or two throwing plates and utensils at the bird circling overhead.
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" bellowed a voice, and Maeve saw that the hook-nosed teacher had risen from his seat to glare down at the rioting students. They fell silent immediately, and he went on in a cold voice, "The Sorting Hat has never been wrong. Obviously, if it says Miss Phoenix belongs in Slytherin, she belongs in Slytherin. The founders would have agreed, including our predecessor. Would you dishonour his memory so?"
The Slytherin students quieted down, contenting themselves with furious glares shot around the Great Hall. Carlota inched toward their table, receiving many dirty looks, and no one moved aside to give her a seat on the bench. The teacher who had yelled at them (perhaps the Head of Slytherin, Maeve wondered?) came down from the staff table, his robes billowing around him, and took her by the shoulder, steering her gently toward a seat. "Move over, you two," he demanded, shoving apart two larger boys who seemed mainly disgusted rather than hateful. He leaned down and whispered something in Carlota's ear once she had seated herself, then returned to his place at the staff table.
"What's going on?" Maeve wondered. "I'm not terribly familiar with attitudes here…" Timothy, sitting on her left side, answered.
"The Slytherins have always been real uptight about 'pure blood'," he explained. "A lot of them come from families that think magic learning should be kept in magical families, and people with Muggle parents shouldn't be allowed here."
"Well, that's hardly fair!" cried Larissa, who had seated herself across from them. "My dad's a wizard, but my mum's a Muggle. I really want to learn magic—Dad's been showing me spells since I was little—what does it matter what somebody's parents are like?"
"I agree, it's really dumb," Timothy said. "There are loads of people from Muggle families that are absolutely brilliant at magic, and there are people in Wizarding families who can't do anything more complicated than changing the colour of their cat's whiskers. Blood is totally unrelated to skill." An owl shot over their heads just then, streaking toward the staff table, and everyone turned to watch as it swooped down toward the professor Maeve thought was the Head of Slytherin, and he stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. He glanced up the table to where the Headmistress sat; she gave him a nod, murmured something inaudible, and waved a hand. The professor hurried to her seat, whispered something in her ear, and then vanished abruptly with a sound much like the cracking of a whip. Mutters of surprise and speculation rose up from the students; the Headmistress rose from her chair.
"Please, continue with the Sorting," she directed. The new House received only two more members—a high-strung girl named Erica and a rather unremarkable-looking boy called Brian—but then the students who wanted to be re-Sorted had their turn, and three of them were reassigned to Fataluma: Amery Douglass, Wesley Feldon, and Amaryllis Jackson. Maeve still felt that their table was quite empty compared to the other four tables in the hall, but nobody else seemed to mind. The sandy-haired witch lifted the stool and Hat together and bore them out of the Great Hall as the Headmistress rose from her chair again.
"Before we begin the feast," she said to all assembled, "I would like to welcome all of you to Hogwarts. This year promises to bring many changes…" Maeve couldn't help noticing how long her eyes lingered on the Fataluma table— "but further discussion can wait until we have supped." She sat back down, and suddenly all the tables were covered with platters of food—chicken pies, roast beef, puddings, more variety than Maeve had ever seen in one place before—along with jugs and goblets filled with a pale orange liquid that smelled vaguely of pumpkins. As she filled her plate (knowing full well that she couldn't possibly hope to sample everything, even if she took the tiniest portions physically possible), Maeve noticed the Headmistress excuse herself from the staff table and leave the room; she returned several minutes later with Ivy and Apollonia in tow, and they all reclaimed their positions at the High Table.
Once Maeve had stuffed herself (the offerings on the table were a welcome break from the frozen dinners she had become accustomed to over eleven years), all the crumbs on the plates faded, and the dishes of meat and vegetables vanished only to be replaced by an equally mind-boggling number of desserts. Maeve groaned sadly; she hadn't thought to save room. Hoping none of the treats laid out would go to waste if uneaten by the other children at the table with her, she helped herself to a small bowl of Jell-O, then sat back and waited for the Headmistress to finish her dinner and address the students.
"Well, now," said Ginny, who was seated behind Maeve's back and facing the opposite direction at the Gryffindor table, "your first day here and you're already making waves!"
"I…well, I didn't mean to cause anyone trouble," Maeve demurred.
"Trouble! No, this is probably the most interesting thing ever to happen at Hogwarts—beats out Fred and George turning a corridor into a swamp by quite a margin." To assuage the confused look, she went on, "It's a bit of a story—I'll have to tell you about it sometime." She glanced up at the staff table. "Oh—" The Headmistress had risen from her chair. The noise in the Hall died down quickly.
"Now that we have all eaten," she said, after clearing her throat, "I have a few start-of-term announcements to make.
"Firstly, our students both new and old are reminded that magic in the corridors between classes is not allowed, and exploring the Forbidden Forest on the castle grounds is strictly prohibited. Quidditch tryouts for House teams will be held in the second week of the term; please see Madam Hooch if you are interested.
"Lastly, I am pleased to announce the appointment of new faculty and curricula," she said, and gestured at others seated at the table as she spoke. "Professor Zenobio Tsolakis, recently arrived from Greece, will be taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts post." There was scattered applause at this. He was the handsome black-haired mage Maeve thought looked familiar. "Apollonia Frye, professor of Enchantment, is Head of Gryffindor House as of today." Apollonia beamed, and Maeve clapped louder than anyone around her. "And finally, Ivy Valentine—who has been appointed Head of Fataluma—will be beginning the teaching of Illusion, as well as substituting for Potions when necessary." Most of the other professors, Maeve noticed, did not seem particularly happy about the Headmistress' last sentence, applauding only half-heartedly.
"Why don't they like Ivy?" Maeve wondered to Ginny.
"It's probably because she's so young," the other girl surmised. "A hair colour that lurid can't be helping, either. I'm guessing that she's a Metamorphmagus, like Tonks, and a lot of people didn't like the fact that Tonks kept her hair bright pink most of the time." Noting the half-formed question, she went on, "A Metamorphmagus is someone who has the ability to change their appearance at will. It's a talent, can't be taught or learned, like Parseltongue—that's the ability to speak with snakes—or the ability to predict the future."
"You are dismissed," the Headmistress finished. "Have a good night's rest, and I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow morning." The other tables all rose to leave the Hall, but Ginny lingered behind Maeve for a moment.
"Oh, your House don't have prefects yet," she observed. "That may be a problem. I'd help, but I have no idea where your dormitories are… Oh, I've gotta run, I'm Head Girl—I'll see you later!"
Now that Maeve thought about it, she was mildly concerned. She became aware of the fact that most of the other students were glancing over at the Fataluma table as they shuffled out of the Great Hall, and felt very self-conscious to be sitting there with only seven other children, but her concern lifted immediately when Ivy rushed over, clutching what looked like a spear entwined with vines of—what else?—ivy.
"I'll show you to where we'll be living," she panted. "Sorry I'm out of breath—had to run and get my stuff," she said, indicating the spear.
"What's that?" Brian asked.
"Oh, this—this is my focus," Ivy explained. "I use a staff instead of a wand."
Maeve thought back to shopping in Diagon Alley, where the wandmaker had had her try dozens of different wands to see which one suited her best; none had seemed to please him, but he had finally sold her one that he said was the best he could provide (seeming very flustered). "Do we really need focuses—er, foci?"
"Well, no," Ivy explained, leading her students from the Hall. "The Canadian school of magic teaches their students to channel raw magic energy; they don't use wands, staves, or any other objects. I interned there for a while, and I learned to follow some of the techniques they use. I still prefer Undrentide—" she nodded to her spear— "as my focus, at least for most magic."
Professor Tsolakis came up alongside Ivy. "Professor Valentine, do you mind if I speak with Maeve in my office for a moment?" He had very little accent, surprising given his very Mediterranean appearance. Ivy glanced over at Maeve.
"I…suppose not. What's up?"
"Professor Frye mentioned that she had some difficulty in Ollivander's," Tsolakis said, and he turned to address Maeve, who glanced at Ivy for direction.
"I know where his office is," she said. "I'll come by and grab you once I've shown the other students to the dorm."
Maeve followed the teacher to his office in silence, torn between concern that she had somehow done something wrong and quiet admiration for the professor ahead of her. He was very handsome, and his bearing was slightly noble. He almost, she thought, resembled one of the Greek gods, except for his dark hair and complexion—all the pictures in her books of mythology depicted the ancient deities as fair-skinned and blonde.
"I…I haven't done anything wrong, have I…?" she finally asked, as he opened the door to a large study and stepped aside to let her in.
"Oh, no! Of course not. It's not even your first day of class. Why, were you planning on doing something wrong?" he asked, eyes twinkling.
"N-no," she said, feeling relieved. Maeve glanced around the office and was amazed at the array of maps, diagrams, and artefacts arranged about the room. "Wow," she breathed.
"You like it?" Professor Tsolakis asked, heading for a tall cabinet behind the desk. "None of the recent Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers stayed here for more than a year or so; the office was quite empty and well-worn when I moved in, and I got to do all the decorating myself." He looked over his shoulder. "Go ahead, sit down! What are you waiting for?" Mildly surprised, she dropped herself into one of the overstuffed armchairs near the fireplace, which was dark and empty. Tsolakis seemed to notice this, for he muttered a word and the logs in the fireplace burst into flame. Turning back to the cabinet, he extracted a long thin box with triangular etchings on it; as he shut the cabinet and approached the other armchair, Maeve got a better look at the markings, and thought they rather resembled cuneiform.
"Right," he said, sliding the lid from the wooden case and reaching inside. What he pulled out was a long, slender rod of metal with two flattened loops on the end; the thing was whitish-gold in colour, and had filaments of a red-gold metal wrapped around the shaft. It looked, Maeve thought with a thrill, just like the Rod of Frost from the computer game Neverwinter Nights. "Why don't you give this a try?"
Maeve took the wand and felt an immediate warmth in her fingers, along with a sudden rush of emotion, almost as if the wand were responding to her touch. She waved it experimentally, and the tip glowed blue and sent out a cascade of azure sparks. "Oh!" she gasped. "I like this one!" Reverently resting it in her hands, she said, "Mr. Ollivander seemed very frustrated for some reason. I don't know what he was searching for, but he didn't seem satisfied with any of the wands he had me try, not even the one he sold me… I wonder why he didn't have any like this one in his shop." She made to hand it back to Professor Tsolakis, but he declined.
"Keep it. It's never worked properly for me, and now I know why. Mr. Ollivander probably told you that the wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around—that's the truth. This is the wand you were meant to use. Why don't you bring me the one you bought in Diagon Alley when you have your lesson tomorrow?"
Surprised into silence, Maeve could do nothing but turn the wand over and over in her hands, examining it. Finally she asked, "What's it made of?"
"Ah," Tsolakis said, smiling, "something uncommonly used for wandmaking nowadays. You probably noticed that all of Mr. Ollivander's wands for sale were made of wood with some kind of magical core. In ages past—particularly during the Middle Ages, when alchemy was most popular—it was common to craft wands and rods from other materials, including stone and metal. This particular specimen is made of Aurichalcum with a core of electrum."
"Aurichalcum—?" Maeve repeated, looking down at the wand with renewed awe. "Wait, isn't that brass?"
"I see you know your chemistry," he said approvingly. "Actually, modern Muggle scientists can't settle on what the ancients meant when they referred to 'Aurichalcum' or 'orihalcum'. Many agree that it was, indeed, an early alloy similar to brass. Magical Aurichalcum, however, is a mixture of gold, silver, copper, and hydrargyum."
"Hydrargyum!" she cried, concerned. "That's Latin for 'mercury'!"
"Yes, but there's no need to worry," he assured her. "Aurichalcum is utterly nontoxic, and can actually be beneficial in some cases, when worn as jewelry or used in a potion."
"Oh…okay," she agreed, unsure what else to say. "What about electrum?"
"Ah, yes. That, unlike Aurichalcum, occurs naturally. It is comprised of gold and silver, occasionally with trace amounts of other metals. The electrum in this wand, I believe, has a touch of platinum."
Maeve gaped; she couldn't help it. "But—but that means—this wand must be worth thousands of Euros!"
He shrugged. "Quite possibly. But that doesn't matter, as you're not planning on selling it to any Muggles, are you?" He fixed her with a significant look.
"N—no! Of course not," she said hastily. "It's just—I never—" She exhaled, forcing herself to calm down. "I mean, platinum…"
There was a knock on the doorframe just then, and they both turned around to see Ivy's head poking into the room. "Hello there," she said. "Got everything sorted out?"
"I think so," Tsolakis said with a smile, giving the other teacher a nod. "Good night, Maeve. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
When Maeve and Ivy arrived at the common room and dormitories for Fataluma—a new wing of Hogwarts conjured that very night—they found the Headmistress waiting outside the door, with none other than Carlota by her side.
"Professor?" Ivy prompted.
"Severus has asked a favour of me," Professor McGonagall explained, and indicated the raven-haired girl. "He is concerned for Miss Phoenix, and since he cannot be here tonight, he requested that she spend the night with a friend. She has asked to sleep here, with Miss Kerrigan."
"Where is Professor Snape, anyway?" Ivy asked. The Headmistress shook her head.
"He has asked me not to reveal that information. When he returns, he will inform whom he deems appropriate."
"I see. Can you tell me how long he will be gone?"
"He was unable to give an estimate, but I expect he will be back no later than dawn. You will be informed if it is necessary for you to substitute tomorrow."
"All right," Ivy agreed, then looked down at Carlota. "Got all your stuff, then?"
"Yes," the girl responded. The Headmistress nodded curtly, bade them good night, and strode off.
"Titania," Ivy said to the leaf-clad nymph in the painting on the door, and the figure in the artwork smiled and the door swung open. "Do you have a cage for your bird?"
"Gary?" Carlota looked confused as she hauled her trunk into the common room, which was two stories high and had a ceiling studded with stained-glass windows. "No. Why would he need a cage?"
Ivy's eyebrows rose. "Well, if he's well-trained enough… Still, it might make the other kids worried if he's loose all the time."
Carlota looked scandalised. "I couldn't do anything like that to him! It's enough that he decided to leave his flock back home and come here with me. I can't ask any more of him." Gary made a clucking sound at her, and she gave him a look. "What do you mean, 'it's okay'? You'd hate it! Besides, I don't have a cage."
Ivy waved her hands. "Well, it probably won't matter for just one night." She pointed to a door next to a large, flowery bush. "Your dormitories are in there. There should be enough beds for everyone."