Tuesday September 5th, 1989

Hey Houdini,

First off, How are you? It feels weird knowing I can't just call you anymore. Be sure to write super-long letters so that I don't miss anything this year!

Second, Hogwarts has been great! It's everything I imagined and more! A giant castle, moving pictures and staircases, ghosts (Seriously! Ghosts!) wandering the castle without a Ghostbuster in sight! They're decently friendly, too, aside from the Baron. Don't get on his bad side. We even have a ghost teacher for history class. He's B-O-R-I-N-G! So boring! A bunch of us actually fell asleep in class yesterday! Luckily transfiguration was pretty interesting. Then there's Defence Against the Dark Arts class. That teacher might be worse than the ghost. He keeps dropping his cue-cards and rambling over the same notes. I'm not sure if he's even a real teacher. The older kids say that last year's teacher only showed up to the Wednesday classes so he could give himself long weekends with his girlfriend.

Our Transfiguration professor is the total opposite! She's one of those strict-but-brilliant professors that knows how to make a class interesting. I'm trying to stay on her good side until I know for sure how to

"Writing to your parents?" Jacqueline Pierce asked between mouthfuls of toast and jam.

"No, a muggleborn friend of mine from Surrey." Melissa explained between notes about school life. "Telling him what to expect once he gets to Hogwarts."

From her side, her other dorm-mate, Amy Flinton, gave the letter a sideways glance. "Not much point in telling him about Professor Phasian. I heard my brother, Jake, say that Defence teachers are thrown out or run away every year."

"Really? How come?"

"There's a jinx on the position." Amy explained. "No one is allowed to keep the job longer than a year. So, usually, by the time a school-year ends, Defence Professors end up quitting, dying, or have some kind of scandal that gets them thrown out."

"Huh. Well that… explains a lot." Was that why the books always had a new Defence teacher each year? Certainly fit the pattern. Melissa shrugged at the new development and turned her attention back on the paper in front of her. "Well, guess I'll include that in the letter."

Melissa finished her thoughts about McGonagall quickly, then added another sentence about Professor Phasian's soon-to-end tenure.

Also, weird fact, but it seems we were sort of right about those mantras. Spells are mostly Latin words mixed with wand-waving. I mean, there's also theory work behind it but you'll learn about it when you get here. Though it turns out that not using a wand for spells is a difficult thing to achieve. Maybe that's why they wouldn't work half of the time? Another weird thing, they don't teach Latin at Hogwarts. I asked the Transfiguration professor about it, and she says that kids might try to make new spells if they did, and that a lot can go wrong if you just make up orders for your wand without a firm grasp of magic. So I guess I shouldn't go off trying to make new spells, yet? Though it might come in handy to learn some more Latin in order to know what the spells in class do before learning all of the extra technical stuff

"How did you come by to meet a muggleborn boy?" Jacqueline asked, again breaking Melissa from her train of thought.

Melissa shrugged offhandedly as she finished her written sentence. "By chance, really. I was visiting some cousins and we became friends. Didn't know he was a wizard until a few months later."

"You mean, you befriended him thinking he was a muggle?" Jacqueline exclaimed sharply, her expression stupefied. Some of the kids around her paused in their own breakfast chatter to listen in.

'Oh. So this conversation is happening. Ah, well, it was bound to happen eventually.'

"Well, sure. Obviously. It's not exactly hard to do."

"But… we aren't supposed to talk to muggles."

Melissa had half-expected to get a harsh backlash from Jacqueline, but the other girl seemed so perplexed by the very idea of associating muggles that the only thing Melissa could feel was amusement at the girl's expense.

"We're not supposed to perform magic in front of them, that's all. Nothing wrong with having a conversation and making friends."

"Heh, speak for yourself." Another kid, Cassius Warrington, muttered. "If the Dark Lord had his way, all of those filthy muggles and mudbloods would be gone by now."

"Oy! You're not supposed to talk about him!" Jacinth Wystan hushed from the boy's side.

Rusalka Ignatov knocked at Cassius' arm. "Keep it down, Warrington!"

"Dark Lord?" Melissa asked in faux ignorance. More voices hushed at that, only to be followed by questions.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't know-?"

"He means You-Know-Who."

"Who?"

"How can you not know who he is?"

True to form, an answer came from the Ravenclaw table in the form of Corin. "He's like Hitler, but for pureblood wizards instead of the Germans."

"Oh, gotcha." Melissa offered him a thumbs up from her side of the aisle.

"...Who's Hitler?" Amy asked.

"Who's Hitler?" Corin jumped at that. "You know about You-Know-Who, but you don't know about Hitler?"

"Why would we care about some muggle?" Jacinth asked.

Not missing a beat, Melissa offered a straight answer. "Because he systematically killed eleven million people who didn't fit his ideals of a pureblood race."

Everyone within earshot of the two tables turned to stare at Melissa. Each holding some level of shock at the number, at the killing, or at Melissa's blasé explanation.

"Eleven?" Corin asked, notably less disturbed as the others. "I thought it was six?"

"No, no. He killed six million Jews, but he also killed two and a half million Poles, plus a bunch of other people: political opponents, feminists, gypsies, atheists, homosexuals, the list goes on." She waved the count off on her fingers.

"That… that really happened?" A now-paled Jacqueline asked.

"Yep. Hitler and his followers were some pretty violent, messed up people. What did your man do?"

The other Slytherins looked at each other, uncomfortable with the question. Corin, once again, took to answering the inquiry. "Anyone who has muggle parents, or supported muggle-wizard relations were killed by him and his followers, the Death Eaters. My dad told me about him. He worked at the ministry when it all happened."

"Wait, how long ago was this?"

"About eight years ago."

"Eight." She paused, wanting to emphasize the point. "You mean to tell me that eight years ago, some wizard would have shot me dead because I've got muggle parents?"

"And me for having a muggle mum." Corin added.

"Well, shit."

"You're muggleborn?" Amy asked.

"I am." She answered simply. The other girls looked at each other, their expressions varied in confusion or some other emotion Melissa didn't bother to catch. "So… should I even bother asking why people think killing other wizards is a good idea?"

Jacinth conceded to answering that one. "My- The Death Eaters believe that they're a threat to the wizarding way of life. The wizarding population keeps going down because of wizards marrying muggles."

"You sure it's not going down because of people inbreeding while simultaneously killing anyone with new magic?"

"What?"

"New magic?"

"Sure. I mean, I don't have any wizarding relatives, yet I have magic. Obviously it's new magic. New blood to increase the wizarding gene pool and all that. Like how countries bring in immigrants to keep up the population."

"Heh. That's stupid." Cassius countered.

Melissa gave a dark chuckle. "Stupid is claiming you can help Wizard Britain grow by killing half of the wizards in it."

Nobody else spoke for or against the idea. The uneasy first years all seemed to be sitting on the idea, trying to make sense of what they were hearing.

Melissa gave another cruel chuckle, taking joy in the seeds of doubt and chaos implanted on her fellow yearmates. As they stewed, she returned to her letter, describing classes and student life as if nothing was amiss. Near its end there came a small pause of contemplation. An opportunity presented itself which would be a shame to miss.

Hey Houdini, one last thing. I have a homework assignment for you. Read some books about World War II. Specifically about why some people liked the Nazi's ideas, why those ideas were stupid, and how they got away with doing what they did for so long. You and I need to have a talk the next time I'm home.

Lots of love,

Melody

After that interesting exchange at breakfast, Melissa strode into Herbology and made her class notes as though it were any ordinary day. Her fellow Slytherins, on the other hand, were oddly quiet and subdued during the lesson. The Gryffindors, too, seemed taken aback by the unusual atmosphere their fellow year-mates were causing. It made for a strange morning, but it was nothing Melissa planned to remedy. If anything, all it did was make her notice one or two inconsistencies in class. Mainly of one tanned-skin Slytherin boy seemingly unaffected by the earlier conversation, who was focused solely on his parchment and the bouncing bulb in front of him.

Intrigued, Melissa moved from her table and walked over to his. She eyed his movements, his hand dancing over the parchment with a piece of charcoal between his fingers. The charcoal gliding over the parchment in measured strokes, replicating the bouncing bulb's likeness with ease.

"Wow!"

"Hmm?" The boy hummed uncaring.

"You make it look like it's moving!"

"Bouncing bulbs are always moving." The boy responded in a matter-of-fact, accented tone. "I draw it to look the same."

Melissa huffed through her nose, yet couldn't help but smile. "Still, it takes a lot of skill to pull that off."

"Yes, skill," He replied sarcastically. "and many hours of practice."

Melissa chuckled at that. Well familiar with that sentiment. "True, but I could spend as many hours on sketching as I do on the piano, and still perform a concerto better than creating a portrait."

The boy paused in his sketching to meet her eyes. Hazel eyes sparked with intrigue. "You're an artist?"

"Musician, specifically, but yes." She reached out her hand. "It's Domon, right?"

"Domonkos." He corrected. "Domonkos Soros."

"Melissa Bennett."

"Yes, the laughing girl." He noted with a teasing smile. "I remember the sorting. You are very good at making trouble."

"Well, I do my best." She grinned back, enjoying the flattery. "Though you seem untroubled by it all." She waved her eyes over the classroom as if to emphasize the point.

Domonkos dismissed their classmates' sullen disposition. "It does little to bother me. Most of my life was with my father's family in Hungary. My mother," he shrugged, "she did not like this 'Dark Lord'. She spoke much of his problems in Daily Prophet. Caused trouble, like you, and left for Hungary."

"Huh," politics is a bitch, "that's too bad."

"Eh, is not so bad." He dismissed with a smile. "If not for that, she would not have met my father, and I would not be born. Now, she is free and back in her home country. It all comes well."

Melissa nodded, satisfied with the happy outlook. "You and your dad didn't mind moving to Britain?"

"No. Father says it is good to expand business to Britain. As for me, it's a new country. I have been enjoying myself. Eh, though the food has been so-so." His hand swayed diagonally on a central pivot, articulating the point.

She giggled at that. "Well you got us there. Though there are plenty of places in London to get a decent meal from anywhere 'round the globe."

"That is true. There is a very nice Armenian restaurant near my father's work we go to when I visit."

They ended up spending the remainder of their class time labelling their bulb anatomy sketches and chatting about places to explore in London. Their own little bouncing bulb of conversation drowned out the dismal atmosphere within the greenhouse. At the toll of the bell, Melissa hopped off her bench and packed away her supplies in preparation for the next class. Domonkos soon followed after her, and the two chatted on their way to the great hall.

As they walked through the corridor, a pair of red shadows came around on either side of Melissa.

"Morning, Bennett." They called in unison. Each stepped forward and turned her way, revealing them to be the Weasley twins.

"Morning, gents." She offered a friendly smile, though it was half-distracted with the interruption of conversation between her and Domonkos. It was a bit rude, but the twins had at least chosen to walk backwards, making it seem less like a halt and more of a casual meet up. "Looking forward to our first flying class?"

"Should be interesting." One replied.

"But there's something else on our mind." The other volleyed.

"Oh?" To be fair, it was the first time they have ever spoken to her, which in itself was a surprise, which made this sudden start of conversation an extra heap of confusion.

"You don't seem like the rest of your house-"

Meaning 'you're not a pompous pureblood', she guessed at the partial truth. Though Domonkos didn't seem to move at that, either, so it was probably not meant to be offensive. Well, maybe. It was hard to say with him since they've only just started getting to know each other.

"-and we didn't know if we could ask you until now-"

"What did the sorting hat do to make you laugh?" They asked together.

"Don't see why you'd be scared to ask." She commented. "But, if you want to know, it congratulated me on having such a clever mind that it offered me the chance to join a secret house called the Chucklebunnies."

At the answer, Domonkos huffed a laugh through his nose and shook his head. The twins themselves looked amused, but weren't quite convinced.

"Chucklebunnies, eh?"

"Never heard of it."

"That's because it's an exclusive house. Only the funniest students get offered the chance to go."

They tsked at that with a pair of smirks, falling for the bait. "If that were the case-"

"-we'd have gotten an invitation."

"Nobody's funnier than us." They argued in unison.

"Seems you're wrong about that, then." She stretched her legs forward and gave them a quick pat on the shoulders before moving past them. "You'll just have to accept the harsh truth that you're just not funny enough to be a Chucklebunny."

She turned to see their reactions, which involved a faltered step on their parts and a moment of silence. Domonkos, still behind, raised a brow between the twins and her. With a quick head motion, she urged him on, leaving the red-haired boys behind in the hall. Which is a shame, really, as leaving the hall meant that she missed the glint in their eyes when the plotting began.