The Husher Chronicles: A Hogwarts Story

by QuidditchCaptain17

Wizarding prodigy, Raven Husher, finds himself too talented for his own good. With undeniable genius, a certain spunk and a rather unattractive lack of humility, Raven must traverse the halls of Hogwarts without getting into too much trouble - something he finds difficult - and while his talents gain him much notoriety, it also gets him attention, and not always the good kind.

13. Full Year One Story (Chapters 1 - 29)

The Adventure of the Hogwarts Express

I would describe my first trip on the Hogwarts Express as dizzying. I was nine—two years away from wizarding school— stuffed in the terrible muggle schooling my mother forced me into, and a voracious daydreamer. Hogwarts had become my obsession—the moving staircase, the floating candles, the recent scandal of house elf pay - all of it tantalized my brain.

Being a nine-year-old—and fully immersed in the muggle world, because my muggle mother thought we needed to learn math —I had a small obsession with motor vehicles too. The two obsessions, mixed together, led to fixation on that scarlet train, the Hogwarts Express. Most wizards don't understand the complexity of the train. It runs at the same pace as any other train does—much to the chagrin of students who must take it at least twice a year for a whopping nine-hour ride.1 But the Express must leave from a magically concealed platform and weave through the terrain of England and Scotland without being noticed by muggles. It also must hold these thousand students, while still being a small train, meaning the train has an extensive undetectable extension charm on it. Since the—what is referred to now as—Potter years—the train has also been equipped with security spells so that anything from a random flying car to a rogue Death Eater couldn't stop the train from making it to the station.

It is not as if the conductor is pooling coal in order to keep the train moving. No, the train runs on what else? Magic. The train also runs every week, sometimes twice a week—not just at the beginning and end of each year, plus school breaks. And it seems like locals often take the train—though no book covers why exactly. Some people in Hogsmeade just hate apparition, floo powder, port keys, the Knight Bus, and muggle travel.2

That also means a lot of maintenance. All the spells wear off, and for the mass the train needs to be to accommodate students, the length of the trip, the weather, etc. the concentration needed to keep those spells working on an indefinite status is astronomical. So, unless the conductor is secretly Albus Dumbledore—and there are rumors he is3—the conductor would need to be constantly repairing fading spells.

Though boring information to most people, I consumed as much information on the Express as I possibly could. I read my father's old copies of The Train of the Century by Miriam Hoodlin, and The Scarlet Engine: The Controversy that Rocked the Decade by Bobington Roadsbath. I used my father's library clearance at the Ministry of Magic to read old articles from the Daily Prophet about the Hogwarts Express, and even ran my eyes over the idiotic children's book The Hogwarts Express that Could, a poor copy of one of my favorite muggle children's book. When I discovered the Hogwarts Library had more primary resources on the Hogwarts Express I wrote and asked if I could borrow them or make copies. I received a polite note from the librarian that as I was not a Hogwarts student yet, I was not eligible to borrow from the library. I would have asked my mum, but being a muggle, she was not a Hogwarts alum and couldn't ask either. And my father was still in Australia studying a—well, he hates it when we use this word but a—pack of werewolves for his book and did not return my letter asking if he would write Hogwarts for me.

As I said, I was a daydreamer as a nine-year-old, and, naturally, my daydreams at the time were about being the conductor of the Hogwarts Express. I would sit in my muggle school while the teacher lectured on, or while we wrote in our notepads, or learned how to type—what have you—and I would see myself at the front of the train waving my wand, putting my head out the window and feeling that rush of air on my face. I wanted nothing more than to be on that train.

The day I finally made it on the train, I was at school in Crail—a small coastal town where I grew up, about an hour and half drive from Edinburgh. The classroom was in an ancient school building, which was freezing as it was January, close after the Christmas holidays, and the headmaster was too afraid of large heating bills to keep his students comfortable. I wore cotton gloves and a large gray pea coat my mom loved on me, in addition to these black slacks that did not warm me at all. Like most boys my hair was cut very short, and so I had my crocheted cap from grandmamma as far down as it would go over my ears.

My twin sister Alice—a brunette like me, with blue eyes, unlike me—sat next to me, and had refused the teacher's numerous requests to put on her coat. Rebellious as she was, she still sat and read the poorly written textbook on Britain's first Prime Minister. I had no attention for it, and when the bell clanged for lunch, I had only managed two pages of reading.

I had not been daydreaming this time—I had been thinking. Today was the day Hogwarts students would be returning to school after the Holidays. The train had already left the station and they would only be three hours into their journey.

I had spent the whole night planning for what I was about to do, and instead of reading about muggle history, I was reviewing all the facts I knew, and all the actions I needed to take.

I lagged behind as my fellow classmates got up from their desks to go feed on poor excuses for meals. When most everyone was gone, I rose from my own desk and pretended to trip. I spun, threw out my arms, concentrated and apparated.

Before dismissing the notion that a nine-year-old apparated at all—much less apparated into the—carefully chosen—final compartment on the train, without splinching—consider this: I had, and still am, labeled as somewhat of a wizarding prodigy. Three years prior to apparating into the Express, I built my own wand out of a niffler hair I'd collected. I enchanted my mother's broom to fly—an experience that caused an investigation into my father's research to see if he'd created the unauthorized wand. Technically, I'm still grounded for that.

I had read A Practical Guide to Apparition and Apparition Do's and Don'ts as well as Magical Theory: How Apparition is Possible. I was well versed on the matter, theoretically. But I also knew my stuff on a practical level. I had practiced with three successful attempts in my yard at home and had not splinched once—or I would have never made it on that train.

But I did make it on the train. I made it into the last compartment, as I planned. The wood walls, the terrible patterned cushions on the seats, the sliding glass doors, scratched and dirty—evidently repaired by magic hundreds of time—it was all there as I'd pictured.

What I had not pictured was the heap of some dolt under a black cloak, sleeping in the last compartment. I hadn't thought anyone would be there at all. But here he was—absolutely a man, due to his beard—and it did not take him long to wake up. When a wizard apparates they make a noise, sometimes small pops if you're truly skilled, and sometimes excruciating loud cracks. I was a beginner so naturally I incurred the latter. The man was up at once, and I couldn't think if he was a young teacher or a young auror. He stood in black slacks, white shirt with a black sweater on and a black tie loosed around his neck. He was of Indian decent.

I mentioned the Potter years before, and new train security measures because of those events. Well, I ran in to those new security measures. Something akin to a muggle alarm bell sounded and the lights in the train switched from white to red, blinding me. This, of course, was in addition to the young man jumping up at the sound of my apparition fart.

"What are you doing?" He had a posh London accent, and a silver Hogwarts crest on his robes—a teacher then.

It was sensory overload—especially for a nine-year-old. I was out of the compartment in half a heartbeat. The corridor floors were wooden, the ceiling was wooden, the doors were wooden though each had a large window in it—and there were dozens of students pressing their face against the glass to catch a glance at the troublemaker—me.

I noticed several students had some sort of green and silver robes, sweaters or necklaces. I saw a black-haired girl with silver and green snake earrings. So many Slytherins in the back of the train. I wondered why.

A door opened at the end of the corridor and a wizard in black robes came whirling out. A wand pointed at me, I read the little gold M on the chest. Auror—got it—and crack, I was in the steam room. No aurors were there.

"Whats it?"

I swiveled to see the conductor in his chair-or its chair. A house-elf sat in a seat too large for it, its feet unable to reach the ground, its head several feet below top. The house-elf used magic to push and whirl the numerous levers and buttons at the front.

A house-elf? I was grateful it was not looking at me, for I do not think my face contained my disappointment. I had imagined a heavyset man, with mustache and a blue and white striped hat. He was supposed to have burly forearms, thick arm hair, eyebrows that covered his face, and red cheeks. He was supposed to be smoking a cigar and puffing smoke outside the window.

Instead the conductor wore a burlap sack that had "Cotswold's Finest Flour" embroidered in burgundy lettering. Its ears were smaller than normal for a house-elf, as was its nose.

I looked back towards the house-elf. It did not look back. "You're not supposed to be up here. You're not supposed to be up here at all."

"I just want to look around. Then I'll leave."

To my right a shovel—of its own accord—shoveled coal into the furnace. But the amount of coal was considerably less than what the train really needed.

But of course! The train ran on magic, so the coal? The coal, was it just there for aesthetic? It must have been—purely for having black clouds billowing from the train.

"C'mere." A long and pointy finger ushered me beside the house-elf.

"Are you the conductor?"

"Course not. Master Morrigan is, but he's sick today. I'm just the assistant." The house-elf thrust a thumb behind him. "You haven't got much time 'till the trolley woman gets here. What do yyou want to know?"

"Everything," I said. "Who is the conductor?"

The house-elf snapped his fingers and a picture of a man formed. He was not fat, but very thin, and wore too-big-for-him overalls, a white shirt and a black hat. "Master Earl Morrigan, conductor of the train, and squib. Former Headmaster Albus Dumbledore gave 'em the job when Master Morrigan graduated from a muggle college in engineering about fifty-two years ago."

"If he's a squib then who powers the train?"

"I do."

"House-elf magic runs the Hogwarts Express?" I could hear the rudeness of my question, but I couldn't stop it from coming out.

"Yessir."

"What does what?"

"Speed, anti-muggle, anti-detection, invisibility, size adjustment, sneakascope, train whistle, uhhh train alarm—which is still on thanks to you. Lets see—no, no, you're outta time sir."

The door behind us opened and a dumpy but kind-faced woman wearing a gray apron and matching pointed hat opened the door. "Stowaway!" She bellowed and she marched toward me.

But I was off with a crack, back in my classroom, which was empty save for my sister. She gave me a wide smile and tossed me an apple from the cafeteria. "You'll be in lots of trouble when we get home."

Minerva McGonagall

I finished an apple and tossed it into the bin on the street in front of my home. A wind blew in and I clutched my coat closer to me. Snow seeped through a hole in my boot and my foot felt cold.

A two-story house stood before me and Alice; our childhood home. Gray and made of stone, big blocks formed the walls. Green trim peeled away from the windows. The front door was the same color, but thankfully not peeling. The doorknob was bronze, blackened by time, and always cold no matter the weather.

Three big steps lead up to the front door. Inside the walls were stone in the center of the house—where the fireplace was. The rest were plaster, painted cream—except for the living room which had floral wall paper, a rose and vine themed design. The bottom floor had four rooms plus a bathroom—kitchen; two offices, one for my dad who was never home to use it, and on for my mom; and a living room that also had the dining room table in it.

Alice and I walked up the steps and opened the door. I could feel the cold on the nob through my glove. The mudroom—the small space where we could hang our coats and take off our shoes, was dark as normal. Mother never had that light on. The sun had just set—being early January—but the living room lights were on.

A woman sat in one of the two upholstered chairs by the fire. She wore green robes, with black lace on the bodice, and black leather boots—very clean for having walked through the winter weather. Too clean. Cleaned by magic. And she wore a large black hat—with a wide brim and craggily sort of point; glasses—half mooned—; and a large ring with four stones set in a diamond shape.

The woman had wrinkles on almost every part of her face except her cheeks, which looked smooth except for one little line that ran through the top of her cheek when she smiled. Her lips were pursed—a formation that her wrinkles seemed accustomed too—as her eyes focused on a piece of parchment that floated in front of her.

A small cup lifted from the table next to her and rose to her lips. She took hold and sipped, then let go. The cup returned to the coaster unassisted. The golden liquid never wavered. The cup was made of porcelain and had a small handle. It was white, with small green stems with roses circling round the outside. This was the good china—the one my mother brought out for special guests.

"Sit."

The woman did not look up from the parchment. She indicated the couch across from her—upholstered in the same cream, green, and pink upholstery as the chair she sat in. I did not move. Neither did Alice—who stood a step behind me, the door to our house still open letting all the cold air in.

We were still in boots, snow and sleet clinging to the bottoms. There was snow on my shoulder I had yet to brush off. My bookbag lay on my shoulders. My winter cap still in my hands.

"Christine," the woman called, "the children are home." I did not see her produce her wand, but there it was in her hand. She swished it and both my and Alice's scarves pulled us through the entryway into the living room and in front of the couch. The front door shut. "Sit."

Alice did. I did not. I looked at this woman's wand instead. It was two toned in color. The handle—which had several round knots in the wood—was a lighter reddish wood, while the real meat of the wand—polished and smooth—was a dark wood, almost black. She swished it again and I heard Alice gasp as the couch tilted down and bucked me onto it.

"Stay there."

It registered only then that her accent seemed normal, local, and I wondered if she lived in town, though I'd never seen her. Her wand was gone, and she took the parchment from midair. I saw a second ring, on the pinky. It was silver and had a silver and black crest in the center of a magpie.

She must be a local.

"Do you support the Magpies?"

Her lip twitched upwards—I'm not sure if she kept herself from smiling or if her muscles couldn't handle the shape due to lack of practice. "I do Mr. Husher."

"Did you see the last match? I heard Wood was the hero of the game. Is he good? I thought it was odd we picked him up mid-season. But Coach McCartney was never keen on old Howard for keeper. Can you believe we're leading the league, I just—"

But my mother entered the room and motioned with a finger at her throat. My mother had blonde hair at one point, but after her pregnancy with us her hair turned to brown, and she's never been one to dye it. She was very thin still—which even at that age, I'd noticed seemed to be an accomplishment for human beings. My mother had her hair up that day, in a bun that pulled from three different angles into a tight circle atop her head. She wore an apron—the same pattern of roses on the fabric as on the tea cup—and had a tray of scones, steam rising from them.

My mother commanded me to make a fire and I sprung to my feet. But the woman insisted she do it. Her wand was out again, and six logs zoomed into our home from the shed outside—bringing a cold draft with it. They piled themselves on the grate and erupted into flames.

My mother then told Alice and I to take off our jackets and boots then return to the living room. I basically ran to the mudroom and sneaked a glance up the stairs to where my room was. I then turned back to the living room, took a breath and walked in.

My mother sat in the other chair by the fire. She leaned on one hip, closer to the woman, her legs crossed, her eyes following me. They must've known.

"Children"—not a good sign, children, too formal, and too distant—"this is Headmistress McGonagall."

"Of Hogwarts!" Alice practically squealed. I winced.

"Of course you dolt," I said. "Where else—"

"Raven." A verbal slap from mother.

"I mean, obviously she—"

"Raven."

"Sorry mother, I just mean that she doesn't sound French or American, she's Scottish, she must be from Hogwarts."

"You could be nicer about it," Alice snapped.

And you could be less of a dolt, I thought.

My mother fidgeted with her skirt. "Yes, this is the Headmistress and she um, they, well I'll just let you explain it Professor—Headmistress."

McGonagall looked at Alice first. She looked at her for a long time. Alice sat looking between our mother and the Headmistress. But McGonagall's gaze turned to me without a comment. Her eyes—encapsulated by wrinkles—were surrounded by thick eyelashes, long and dark. The eyes themselves were blue, a sharp blue—not a faded blue I'd come to expect by old timers.

"Mr. Husher," she addressed me first, then added in Alice, "Ms. Husher, are either of you aware that at twelve forty-two this afternoon there was a break in on the Hogwarts Express?"

Alice quickly said no, but I could feel her eyes wanting to bore into my skull. I could hear her thoughts too—or at least what I thought they'd be. Told you so! Told you so! I told you you'd be in trouble.

I looked to my mother—her I could fool, I could lie, say I was in class, and if Alice remained quiet, I'd get away with it. I looked back to the blue eyes, but I knew she already knew.

I nodded.

Headmistress McGonagall nodded back.

"Raven Alexander H—"

But the Headmistress's words cut through hers. "Who brought you?"

I don't think Alice, or my mother understood the question, but I did. "No one. I did it myself."

The Headmistress pursed her lips again. "Show me."

She did not have to ask again. With a large crack I apparated from the couch to kitchen doorway. Both my mother and the Headmistress swiveled in their seats to look at me. The smell of the scones was strong by the kitchen and my stomach rumbled. I think my mother put extra butter in them that day—it smelled as such. I took a good whiff of it before I walked back to the couch and sat again.

My mother's mouth remained opened the whole stretch from doorway to couch. Alice's arms went from beside her to crossed, as she glowered at me. I searched the Headmistresses face for a sign that she was impressed—from my reading, I was the youngest to apparate ever—at least in recorded history. I found none. I only saw her eyes follow me to the couch—and watched her hands fold in her lap.

"You ought to be glad, Mr. Husher, that you are not in more trouble," she said.

I didn't look at Alice, but I could feel her smile encroach upon me.

"Underage apparition is illegal, and the penalty for it is one most families cannot afford. As is the penalty for breaking onto the Hogwarts Express." She leaned forward towards me. "I've caught two students apparating underage, and each have lost their respective houses fifty points. And if any student ever tried to break in or out of the train, I'd expel them. Let this be a warning to you Mr. Husher. Another attempt at apparating, and you will not be invited to attend Hogwarts."

I felt very empty in my chest at that moment. And my lip started to tremble.

"Do you understand?"

I couldn't stop myself from bawling. It was an ugly cry—lots of liquid spewing from my nose and mouth and eyes. The Headmistress leaned back and her eyes softened. I hopped off the couch, and to the protests of my mother, ran up the stairs, into my room, and jumped on my bed. My door slammed shut and locked as I cried into the scratchy tan blanket sprawled on my bed.

Diagon Alley

At this point I think I should address some matters as to my life.

Context: I was born three years before the Battle of Hogwarts. By the time I was eleven—eight years after the battle—the school had been repaired, classes had resumed, and normalcy returned.

Another matter is my parents.

My Mum is a muggle—we'll leave it at that for now. She is a school teacher, and both Alice and I studied under her during stage one. She took good care of us before we shipped off to Hogwarts. She made us food and gave us gifts—she also made us clean every day, and study for two hours before dinner, and three after.

My father, Charles Husher, is a wizard—a very talented one. He attended Hogwarts a few decades before I was born. He was in Slytherin, got twelve OWLs and ten NEWTs, and moved straight into a Ministry of Magic career, working as an aid for the werewolf registry. He moved up rapidly and at age twenty-six he became an unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries, which is where he was stationed during the Potter years, and when Voldemort came to power for the second time. He was among the Wizards and Witches who arrived with Minister Fudge after the duel between Dumbledor and Voldemort.

Soon after Voldemort's death my father transferred to the Department of Magical Creatures—this time as one of their head researchers. It was a big deal, he apparently had run several research programs for the Department of Mysteries and left them for a "quieter life." There was a whole article about it in the Daily Prophet. For the last eight years he's been traveling the globe researching half-human magical creatures—half-giants, werewolves, vampires, centaurs, anything that is remotely human. When I started attending Hogwarts he'd already published somewhere around five score articles and had books on both vampires and half-giants.

Oh, and my father is in a constant blood feud with the reporter Rita Skeeter.4

Onto Diagon Alley.

Seeing as my father's work required him to be in the field, and that his work took him all over the world, we didn't see much of him. My first trip to Diagon Alley, he was absent—just as he was on my fifth, sixth, eighth, ninth, tenth and eleventh birthdays. I guess technically he missed Alice's birthday as well. He's missed a lot of events in our family, including Alice accidently setting her bed on fire when Mum yelled at her one morning, and my award ceremony for saving a box of kittens from being crushed by a dustcart.

That's actually an interesting story, so I'll quickly go on another tangent.

It was the only other time I ever apparated after Headmistress McGonagall told me never to again. It was a few weeks before my first trip to Diagon Alley. Muggle school had just ended, and I was walking through an uncommonly late winter storm. We get horrible winters in Crail, but I think we set record lows for the month of June—and the first snow during that month intwo-hundred and forty years.

So, there was this dustcart, and it had just picked up a skip, but it got caught on some ice. It had to back up to get unstuck, and it went over the curb, and crashed into the building—a little pub that hadn't opened yet. Outside the pub door was the box of kittens, which was being manned by some bloke who smoked a huge cigar and ran for it the minute he saw the dustcart coming towards him. I saw the box, and the kittens, and I apparated, grabbed it, and apparated to safety just a few feet away. I was in the local Crail paper, and they threw the ceremony. Mum even let us keep one of the cats, a brown tabby my sister named Mochi, after her favorite Japanese dessert.5

I thought for sure McGonagall would turn up at my doorstep and ban me from school—or at least take away a thousand points from whatever my future house was. Instead, after the ceremony, a letter was on my desk with green ink on the envelope. The contents of the letter were written by Deputy Headmaster Filius Flitwick congratulating me on my acceptance to 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' There was a small note inside that said Well done.-MM.

Back to Diagon Alley—in actuality this time.

It's much the same as it was during the Potter years, with several notable differences. The destroyed wand maker shop, Ollivanders, had been rebuilt. It's the same stone building, sandwiched between the new shop—Rowan's Robes, a posh store with fancy work and dress robes—and Potage's Cauldron Shop. The trim is still painted black, and the gold letters still spell 'Ollivanders Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC'. The only change is that by the door there is a small plaque that reads, In much gratitude to the Weasley Twins, who provided the means to rebuild this ancient mainstay of the wizarding community.

The other change that Diagon Alley has seen is that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes bought out the two stores next to it and have become something like an American mall superstore. It's just, so massive. Wickedly massive. This is in addition to their second location in Hogsmeade.

The alley itself consists of a long row of shops, and stalls, and advertisements. Most buildings are stone or brick, or wooden buildings all smushed together—with many of the stores having house-like entrances. There are multiple apartments above the stores, and three legitimate houses in all. One of them is owned by disgraced former Minister, Cornelius Fudge, whose life as a Daily Prophet editorial writer also consists of people yelling "Wanker" at his bedroom window. He must like it, else he probably would've moved by now.

We'd left the day before on the train down to London and stayed the night at the Leaky Cauldron, though we didn't see much of the pub as Mum put us straight to sleep. I did get to see some magic as we'd arrived late enough to witness Tom, the barkeep, wave his wand. All the tables and chairs cleaned themselves and put themselves away. We got up the morning after, ate breakfast in the pub and then went behind to the brick wall where Mum tapped one of the bricks.

My favorite thing about the look of Diagon Alley is the multi-colored buildings on the ground floor. Lavender, puce, lemon, scarlet— painted on the storefronts, doors, signs. It's lovely, and with surge in spending since Voldemort's fall the shops put a lot of effort to keep up in style and splendor.

This coloration was the first thing to hit me when we first arrived in mid-July, a month and a half before attending Hogwarts. I'd never been before because my Mum had no reason to go to London and buy wizarding equipment, and my father never took us.

As we stepped through the moving bricks, my Mum consulted the list. I watched Alice's mouth drop as she took in the sight of the alley. I then looked myself. Gold sparks were shooting out of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, some twelve shops away from us. The sign for Montague's Moranic Cat Company was a wooden orange cat magicked to chase after a wooden rat—complete with squeals and growls and all. Atop Englishman's Eatery, a humungous cutout of a giant belched, green smoke pouring out from his mouth. I wondered how my father would feel about that.

A witch waved her wand at two small children on toy broomsticks and they instantly stopped moving. One started crying as the witch, presumably their mother, started to reprimand them. There was a great deal of hooting coming from Eyelops Owl Emporium—I wondered if that was normal, or if something extra troubling had occurred. In the middle of the alley, splitting the path into a fork, was the tall and poorly structured edaphic of Gringots Bank. It was made of white marble, with small black windows, and it towered above everything in the area except the top of the Weasley's constantly moving statue of the two twins. In front of the bank a wizard blew flame dragons, thestrals, and hippogriff's around a circle of wizards and witches—mostly parents with small children.

It was beautiful.

Mum only glanced at it before pulling out the shopping list from a coat pocket. She wore her favorite tweed burgundy coat, a white buttoned blouse beneath, with blue jeans and tall leather boots. Atop her head she wore a brown trilby hat that matched the brown and burgundy scarf around her neck. She looked vastly different from the witches and wizards surrounding us. She got a few glances from those nearest us. "Lets, see, first is."

"Robes," I answered. I had memorized the list

First years will require:

Uniform

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain Pointed hat (black)

One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags at all times.

Books

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

An Introduction to the Dark Arts by Hermione Granger

A beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phylida Spore

The Unpublished Notes on Beginner Potions by Severus Snape

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

Understanding our Muggle Brethren by Justin Finch-Fletchley

Necessary Equipment

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an Owl, IN ADDITION TO, a cat, a toad, or a pigmy puff (must be purchased from Eyelops or Weasley's Wizard Wheezes). Other pets may be negotiated. Parents be vigilant!

My mother likes to do things in order of what the list says. So it didn't matter that Madam Malkin's was next to Flourish and Blotts, we had to go from Madam Mulkins for robes first, then to Potage's for dragon hide gloves, then we'd be allowed to go to Flourish and Blotts.

It would be my first pair of robes. Alice and I only had muggle clothing, though by the looks of it most wizarding children wore muggle clothing. That morning we'd been forced to wear matching blue button-down denim shirts—Alice's was too long for her—but thankfully we hadn't been asked to wear the exact same thing. Alice had some black leggings on and similar boots to Mum, while I wore khakis and blue shoes.

Mum had brought gold from home, so we skipped what I'm sure would have been a riveting trip to Gringotts. Instead we arrived at Madam Malkins at nine in the morning, just in time for it to open. Yet we had to wait for two people to finish—siblings by the look of it. One was a young girl with her hair in a long blonde ponytail. She was as pale as she was thin, and she glanced over at the three of us before looking away and not making eye contact. I noticed long scars poking out of her collar, descending the right side of her neck. Her sibling was a scraggly boy, thin and taller than my Mum—though not that old looking. He had dark hair, and dark eyelashes to match them. While the girl was being fitted for black robes—the sign of a first year—the boy's robe had green trim at the collar and a green lining.

Obviously, the boy was in Slytherin—which unfortunately, in my opinion, has a bad rap. Though the founder of the House was evidently evil, as was the second most famous Slytherin, Voldemort,6 the house itself puts out a lot of normal and diligent witches and wizards. It's not as if Salazar Slytherin wanted his house to be the evil house. No, the house is for those who are ambitious, cunning and resourceful. Dumbledore was ambitious, Newt Scamander was resourceful, and like I said my Father was a Slytherin—doesn't mean they're bad people. But since Voldemort's second rise to power, and the amount of Death Eaters that ended up being Slytherin, there's something of a "Everyone hates Slytherins", which has translated into a "Slytherins vs. Everybody" mentality on the other side. I'll tell you this, I'd rather be a Slytherin than a bashful and brainless Gryffindor.

I flashed a quick smile to the boy, but he averted his eyes.

Madam Malkins walked in the room, and gave a small shriek of surprise, dropping the fabric in her hands. She apologized, citing she didn't know we were there, and went about measuring the girl and boy. I couldn't see their parents anywhere.

The shop was full of cloth, robes, measuring tape, elevated round platforms to stand on, and huge lamps. There are great big windows on the front and right side of the shop, and a lot of light gives the shop feel of being much bigger than it actually is—especially while the interior is usually so busy.

The room was incredibly dusty, and my sister sneezed and sneezed throughout the entire wait. Mum removed herself from the shop because of the dust. When the two siblings were done, Madam Malkins ushered them off the platforms and whispered, "Back upstairs my dears." She caught my eye as I watched the children take off the robes and leave without saying a word. "My nephew and niece. Little Shelby is starting Hogwarts this year."

"Us too!" Alice said trying to catch Shelby's eye.

"I know," Madam Malkins said, giving us a knowing smile. "Haven't seen you yet. Come up here." She gestured to two other platforms with a wave of her want. Instantly the dust vanished, Madam Malkins apologizing about the state of the shop. She hadn't realized how close it had been to opening.

She was quick about her work, though had to excuse herself when we heard a bang and some shouting above the shop. Mum came in then, asking if we were done and where Madam Malkins was. But soon enough we were out of the shop, having bought our robes at a discount.

Buying potions supplies at Potage's was not an enjoyable experience. Many families and their students had arrived, and we waited for an hour in line before we could request gloves. Mum tried to talk down the price on pewter cauldron's we had to get, but the shop owner—a very old welsh bloke with an enormous bald spot on his head—said he hadn't change the price in seventy-two years. His assistant gave my sister and I our dragon hide gloves, but I had to ask for a bigger pair. By the time he came back with them, Mum had given up trying to talk down the price of the cauldron and said we couldn't afford dragon hide, so we ended up getting the elastic horned-toad hide—a cheap knockoff from a little-known magical toad that can levitate for a bit when catching prey or escaping from a predator. Not exciting. The shop keep told Mum they wouldn't protect against heavier potions, but she wasn't having it. Alice and I left with our heads down.

Flourish and Blotts was also filled with families, but this store seemed prepared for the mass amounts of people. An assistant, a Frenchman with a pencil thin mustache and flamboyant black and pink dress robes came to Mum's aid at once. I believe he could sense the shoppers rage inside Mum and he acted instantly upon it. He waved his wand with such panache and all our books floated into a neat stack. Mum's annoyance ebbed and vanished completely when he conjured a small tote bag that fit all the books and was weightless.

It was nearly two in the afternoon and Mum didn't make us eat the sandwiches she'd brought. We ate hamburgers at the leaky cauldron and Alice and I split some bottomless chips. We just kept reaching farther into their container and pulling more chips. Alice giggled a lot when it first happened.

Close to when we finished our food, Mum got very quiet. Alice didn't notice, she was elbow deep in the chips, but I did. The last time it had been when she'd had to tell me Father had left the night before our birthday. She gets this look where she looks into the corner of a room and her eyes glaze and the smallest crease forms between her eyes.

I asked her what the matter was. She bent her arm into the cup and took out a chip, nibbling on the end of it.

Alice's eyes were wide and she asked, "Is it Mochi? Do we have to give her up now?"

Mum smiled and pinched Alice's arm. "No silly. It's just" she sighed and then looked at me, "We can't afford wands this year."

It was my turn for a crease to grow between my eyes. "But we won't be able to do magic." I was much louder than I meant to be.

"Your father has his father's and grandfather's old wands for you," Mum said quickly. "And I set up a time with Mr. Ollivander so you could go in and pick them up proper." She nudged my arm, but I didn't look up. "Oh Rave, we'll get you your own wand soon."

My own wand. For weeks, it had been all I could think about. Length, wood, core—would it be dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, or maybe something rarer like Veela hair or a Manticore Stinger. Merlin's pants, I'd built my own wand years ago! Wasn't it obvious this was the thing I wanted most? Mum let me think for years, or at least months, that I'd be getting my own wand today. Why hadn't she told us sooner? Why'd she let this go on?

We left the pub, and I too became quiet in Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. Quiet in line as we got our scales and telescope. Quiet as we approached Mr. Ollivanders around four in the afternoon. And still as we stood outside the door, my Mum holding it open for me.

"Rave?" she asked.

"I'm not going in." I stood there, resolute, still looking at the cobbled street.

"Don't be stupid, you need a wand," she said. Her feet pointed inside the shop. Her boots had some mud on them, probably from the train station in Crail.

"Just give me whichever one doesn't work as well for Alice," I said. I wheeled around and made a beeline for the benches in the middle of the alley. My Mum didn't call for me to come back. I heard the doors to the shop close.

Minutes later the door opened, and I could hear Alice talking rapidly about the way she'd blown wands right off the shelf with her new wand—our grandfathers—meaning I'd have our great-grandfathers, a chewed on Applewood wand with Dragon Heartstring, short and firm, "like the man" my father used to say.

"Young man." I knew promptly I was being addressed and it startled me. I jumped in my seat and looked up. The voice was gruff and crackly, and the owner of the voice seemed as such too. A very old man—even older than the cauldron shopkeep—stood in the open doorway of Ollivanders, holding the door open with one hand and checking a watch with the other. He had a full head of gray and white hair which stood up everywhere. His eyebrows were thick and stood up just the same. His eyes were gray, and his face lined, and he wore a three-piece muggle suit, black and white pinstriped. "Would you like to come in the shop to get your wand?"

I shook my head.

"Perhaps you'd like a tour of it then."

I shook my head.

Mr. Ollivander produced his own wand and twirled it. A long burgundy box I recognized flowed out of the tip—the one containing my great-grandfather's—no, my wand—along with another smaller black box. Taking the boxes from midair, Mr. Ollivander walked to me and—with a flexibility surprising for such an elder statesman—crouched in front of me.

"Your mother went out of her way to set up a private session for you and your sister," Mr. Ollivander said. His eyes didn't seem to end, much like the bottomless chips. "Seems rude to refuse her efforts to make this a little more special."

"I don't want to come in until I can get my own." I was back to looking at the ground.

A little "ah" escaped Mr. Ollivander's mouth. I saw his fingers reach across my vision and I followed them. He opened the burgundy box and I saw my great-grandfather's wand. There were the chew marks all along the wand. The handle was short, just like the shaft, and it barely fit in my hand as it were. Mr. Ollivander pulled the gold watch I saw earlier and showed it to me.

"Your great-grandfather was a friend of mine. Your father's maternal grandfather if I'm not mistaken." I nodded. "Name of Ernest Babshot. Used to own the shop next to me. Finest watchmaker in the wizarding world. Gave me this on my thirty-second birthday. A well-liked man. I used to watch him, wand in mouth, as he used his hands to fine tune some of the watches. It drove me mad seeing that improper use." He handed me the wand and asked me to give it a wave. I did so and several cobblestones cracked from the bench I sat on to the doorway of his shop.

Mr. Ollivander made a long "mmm" noise and took the wand from my hand. He took the small black box beside him and said, "You know I read a peculiar story in the Prophet several years ago." He opened the box and poked his wand at the protective wrappings which shimmered. "A small story about a little boy who collected niffler hair and encase it in some pieces of oak he'd glued together. Imagine my surprise when I read that the wand had produced sparks, fire, and exploded a very old planter in the yard of the house. Not to mention make a broom fly."

I knew that story well. Mr. Ollivander was describing the wand I'd created, and he had my complete attention.

"The wand was confiscated of course, but I wrote to the Department of the Misuse of Wizarding Artifacts and asked to study the wand." He produced the small wand, which lay in several pieces, evidently dissected by the wandmaker. "This was impressive work—though the glue wouldn't have stood any more magical work, and niffler hair is extremely weak. How did you manage to encase it in the wood?"

"Very carefully," I answered. Mr. Ollivander laughed.

"Wit beyond your age young Master Husher."

He waved his wand three times and the pieces of my wand were wrapped, the box closed, and an assortment of boxes floated from Mr. Ollivander's shop. The boxes stopped next to Mr. Ollivander and piled themselves beside him. Atop the pile was a very old box, black and gold with a little O on the top.

"I have a small collection of wands I lend out, Mr. Husher," Mr. Ollivander explained. "On the off chance that a Wizard, such as yourself, cannot afford his first wand, and his family cannot produce one worth using." He bent low and studied the boxes for a moment before choosing the black and gold one on top. "There are a few people I've met in my life who have donated wands to me for this very use. He pointed to a red box second from the bottom. A Mr. Gregorian Scamander gave me that—yes" he said at my look of surprise "a relative of Mr. Newt Scamander, though distant I would say. And this one" he pointed to a purple box with green lining on the edge "Came from Nymphadora Tonks, one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. She herself had to borrow one of my wands for her first five years at Hogwarts. Died, tragically in the Battle of Hogwarts. She put it in her will that her wand become one of my borrowing wands. But I think," he opened the black and gold box. "This one will do."

I couldn't see inside the box and I craned my neck to no avail. Mr. Ollivander pulled it away for a moment.

"I wasn't able to have my own wand until I was twelve—did you know that?"

I shook my head, wondering how a wandmaker from a wand-making family didn't have his own wand.

"It was a lesson my father wanted to teach me: how it feels to use a chosen for you, rather than a wand that chose you. So, I used the wand of my great-great grandfather—an exceptional wizard who before he settled into wandmaking, was an Auror during a time of great trouble." He produced the wand, which was reddish in color, with a braided handle and long gouges in the shaft. "Cherry, Dragon Heartstring, twelve-and-a-half inches, and I think a better wand for you Mr. Husher."

"You can call me Raven," I said. Mr. Husher sounded too much for me.

He smiled and said, "Raven." He slightly rolled the R. It sounded nice.

I took the wand and waved it. The door to the wand shop closed, a little abruptly, but nothing broke. Mr. Ollivander gave me another smile and touched my hand. "I'm going to let you borrow this wand Raven. But I expect to get it back from you the day you set foot in my store and purchase your own wand. Do you hear me?"

I nodded.

He gave a nod back and stood. "I think we're all set here," he said to my Mum. "See you sooner than you think Raven. Mrs. Husher, Ms. Husher," and he walked back into his shop, closely followed by a family with eight small children. He held the door for them and gave me a wide-eyed look before closing the door.

Eyelops and Owls

I thought we'd be done for sure, that after getting our robes, supplies, books, etc., we'd be off, catching the six o'clock to Edinburg. What I did not expect was mother sitting down beside me as I looked at my new wand7, two parcels in each hand. I could tell immediately that books were concealed beneath the brown wrapping paper and twine. My eyes drifted to the tags attached at the top. Each tag read: To Alice and Raven. I sighed.

Mum looked down at me. She had adjusted her hair—pulled even tighter in to a bun inside her hat. Where'd she'd gotten the books I didn't know, though I eyed her purse, wondering if Father had put an undetectable extension charm on it.

She split the two parcels between me and Alice. I held what felt like the larger of the two books. "These are gifts from Dad." She looked at Alice and continued, "And I don't know what they are so no whining about who gets to open what." She looked back to me. "Got it?" I nodded fervently. "They are to share."

Alice took that as a que to rip open her package. But Mum intervened quickly.

"No. Alice stop." She put her hand on Alice's arm. Alice shot her a look of disgust, but rescinded back to a look of innocence as Mum seemed ready to snatch the present back. "There's a card first." From her purse mother produced a folded piece of parchment and handed it—as she always did—to Alice to read.

"Bet I can guess the first five words," I said, rotating the new wand in my hand. "Sorry I'm not with you."

Mum slapped my knee, her eyes growing ever sharper. "Don't be cheeky."

Alice cleared her throat. "Dear Raven and Alice, Sorry I can't be with you—you were wrong Raven!"

"Knock it off children."

Alice suppressed her giggles. I had more trouble hiding my smirk, so I bent my head low.

Alice continued to read, "May you find entertainment, and knowledge in history; discovering that which sport and school cannot convey. Love, Dad." She looked at Mum for an explanation.

"History books," I whispered to Alice, though Mum heard.

Mum leaned back and looked down her nose at me. "Do you have to ruin all presents? Alright open up."

Alice continued to tare hers open, but I waited for her to finish before touching mine. Under the wrappings was a large green leather-bound book. Embossed on the front cover were the words Quidditch Through the Ages: The Extended Addition and the authors name Kennilworthy Whisp, along with A special forward from Ginevra Potter.

Alice's blue eyes opened to the widest they could get and she let out a happy gasp. Throwing her arms up in the air she hugged mother. As she thanked Mum profusely the book slid out of her lap and fell towards the street. I snapped my wand towards it and the book zoomed towards me. It hit me rather hard in the chest.

There was a pause where both Alice and Mum looked at me. Mum struggled to find her words for a moment but soon a strong rebuke followed with Mum reminding me not to use magic outside of school. I didn't bother trying to explain I hadn't meant to, and that even if I had, a non-verbal spell would be exceptionally difficult for a first-time wand-er. I just apologized, thumbed through the book for a moment, then handed it back to Alice.

I pried each sealed section of the wrapping open and carefully slid out the book before Mum tutted and crumpled the paper up. "Honestly Raven, be quick. We have to travel all the way up to Crail."

Underneath the wrapping was a brown leather book, cracked and musty smelling. In the middle of the book was a crest with a Lion, a Serpent, a Badger, and an Eagle. The letter H sat in the middle of them. Hogwart's crest, which meant this was the book Hogwarts: A History—a book I'd searched for multiple times in my Father's study and never found.

"There's an inscription," Mum said, leaning to see.

I opened the book, which cracked. On the immediate page behind the cover were three inscriptions. Two were in black ink and both addressed to Charles, and signed Charles as well. They were the inscriptions of my great-grandfather, Charles the Ninth, giving the book to my grandfather, Charles the Tenth, and that same grandfather giving the book to my father, Charles the Eleventh. My father's inscription was beneath those and written in in Silver ink.

"To Raven and Alice," I read, "This copy of Hogwarts: A History, has been passed down from generation to generation since my Paternal Grandfather, Charles IX, purchased it from Flourish and Blotts on their opening day, just before he started Hogwarts. It's a book I read so often, I've brought it with me on all my travels—though now, having memorized most of it, I gladly pass it on to you both to celebrate your start at this most beloved school."

This was a much better send off than his little riddle note. I smiled at it. "Love, Charles, parenthesis, Dad."

My mother pointed beneath his signature. "There's a post-script."

I read it aloud. "P.S. Plus I can get myself a new copy now." Very funny Father. And another post-script beneath that read, "P.P.S. You'll need to check out another copy from the Library if you want to know anything past Eighteen eighty-two." Thanks. At least I had the book though.

I gave Mum the obligatory hug, and tried to hand Alice the book, but she was already looking through Quidditch Through the Ages and only looked up when mother said, "One more thing before we go."

How many surprises could she have planned? But my heart leapt. Was she going to allow us to go into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?8

"Now your Father tells me that there are school Owls that you can send letters with and such. And since you already have a pet in Mochi, we needn't bother buying you one." Alice looked crestfallen, but I already knew as much. Money was tight. "However," my eyelids felt glued open, "we don't own an owl either, now that your Dad sends emails. And I don't rely on Muggle mail to somehow poof into Hogwarts. Plus, I hear personal Owls can figure out when loved ones want to send their owners letters and such. So," she said it with such ferocity, "I will be purchasing you two an owl." She looked between us once more. "To—"

"Share," Alice and I both said.

"If you're going to act like that," Mother said, "I won't bother—"

A barrage of no's flew out of Alice's mouth. "We'll behave!"

And off Alice went, skipping towards the nearest shop Owl shop, her book tucked under her armpit. Mother picked up the rest of the gift wrap and tossed it into a bin as I waited for her. She took my book from me and slid it into her shopping bag, taking my hand. Tempted as I was to throw it off, I kept hold of it—she was, after all, buying us an owl.

By the time we had followed Alice into the shop, she'd already found an owl. I spotted her, down to the left, behind the storefront window, oohing and ahhing over a little puff of gray feathers. I should've raced Alice into the shop. There would be no input from me if Alice had already fallen in love.

"Mom! Mom!" Alice called over. She practically danced as Mother strolled over to her. "This one. It's a baby snowy owl. We'll call her Athena and she'll be just beautiful. Ask the…her—"Alice pointed to an older woman with short gray hair and half-moon spectacles "she said this bird is amazing."

I expected my mother to show the same disinterest in a baby owl I felt. We'd need an adult, ready to carry mail for Hogwarts. Instead I saw this sickening expression of adoration for the owl.

"It's true," the woman said. "This bird has already shown signs of being very smart, and her light coloration this early means she'll be almost completely white—"

I stopped paying attention. Though convinced that was the owl we would be purchasing, I started to walk around the shop looking at each owl. There was racket in the back of the shop, near the register. A small black owl with a round head, and round facial discs, screamed. It jutted back and forth, swinging its cage. I covered my ears before the owner pointed her wand at the bird and shouted "Silencio," and the bird became mute, though its beak continued to open.

"Been doing that ever since I got it. A menace that bird," the owner said, peering over her glasses at it. "Couldn't get rid of it fast enough. Worst part is, it's become immune to my charm, starts bellowing every couple minutes."

"You're sure that she'll be read to fly by the time school starts?" my mother asked, returning to the topic of the baby snowy owl.

"Absolutely, and she'll carry big packages in a month or two."

I walked over to the black owl. It shut its beak and looked down at me, tilting its head almost upside down. I reached for the tag hanging down from the side of the cage—had to go on my tiptoes to get it—and read, "Ural Owl, Nine Months Old, Male." I wondered what made the Owl so discontent. I looked up into his eyes and blinked. He blinked back and reached his head even lower, pressing it into the bars of the cage. He gave out a small squeak—I could hear it. Then he straightened up, puffed up, and pooped.

I was ushered away from the bird by the shop owner as she brought the baby snowy owl to the counter and rung up my Mum. They had decided to buy the owl, and I was sure the name "Athena" would stick.

While I waited on a stool by the counter, I kept watching the black Ural, and he did the same. His eyes never left me, and it only ever blinked when I blinked. I enjoyed watching him lean when I leaned and straighten when I straightened. I tilted my head and he tilted his. I giggled when he lost balance and fell over. He did not. He ruffled his feathers, squinting at me. I stopped laughing.

But mother had paid for our new Athena, and it was time to go. I stood to leave with them and the Ural went berserk. It attempted to fly in its cage and crashed into the bars. It shrieked, and the owner pointed her wand at it again. But the charm only lasted seconds before we heard it yell again. Before I knew what I was doing, my wand pointed at the cage. The door burst open and the Ural flew straight for me. The owner yelled to duck, which my mother and sister did. But I stood straight. The owl flew to me, then turned in the air, and landed on my shoulder, it's little talons sinking into my skin. The owl began to chew on my shoulder-length hair.

Mum tried to shoo the bird off me, but it snapped at her fingers. The owner didn't dare try a summoning charm while he clung to me, but she did attempt to physically remove him. He did not budge.

"Excuse the pun, but he's certainly attached to you," the owner said, once again peering over her glasses. She looked to mother. "You mind taking him off my hands? I'll give him to you for a knut." And in moments I was carrying out my own owl, "Newt" perfectly silent, and rubbing his head against the hand wrapped around his bars.

Alice skipped alongside me, holding Athena's cage likewise—one arm underneath, one around the cage—while Athena slept. "You've had a pretty good day," she said. "New wand, and a new owl."

"Same as you," I responded.

Mum was behind us, looking at her phone for how to get back to Kings Cross. "Train leaves in a half hour, we better hurry. I'll order a taxi," she called.

"Yeah but yours are different," she said. She might as well have said better.

I shrugged. "At least I finally got to name a pet." She stopped skipping, or walking, and stayed still as I continued through the bricks. I brushed Newt's beak away from a clear button on my chest pocket, and stepped through the archway towards the Leaky Cauldron.

The Slytherin Ostracism

Father was supposed to be back by August Fifteenth, then by the Twenty-First, then "Just a couple days", but by the time September First shined through my window, Father hadn't arrived.

I had spent the previous night curled in my bed, waiting to hear the slight pop of him aparating. It never came, and I drifted off to sleep. I woke at first light.

My childhood bedroom was triangular in shape. The roof stood tall above me, and the walls slanted in. Across from my bed was a large skylight. It took up most of the wall. My father installed it—by magic, of course—when he and Mother first moved into the house. It was to brighten the house, to add natural light—something my mother often complains about not having enough of. That was before they had to build this room for me. The house had come with three bedrooms—one for my parents, one as my father's study, and one for their child.

They had not expected twins. A pediatric healer at St. Mungo's told them a baby girl was along the way, not a baby girl and boy. They decorated the third room for that baby girl. My Mother tells me that as soon as they got home from the hospital—the local one, not St. Mungo's—that Father raised his wand and worked for several hours until this room—my room—was complete.

This large window is special in two ways. It is always clean—bird poo, rainfall, leaves; they all disappear moments after landing on it. And though I can see the sky, and neighboring buildings, and a little park a block over; from the outside, it only looks like roof shingles. The window is kept together by thin iron bars, creating fifty neat squares—I know, I've counted.

My room is not as clean as the window. Though I keep it quite clean compared to Alice's. My bed is almost never made, and there are few books strewn around, along with various coats. The walls are cream, and the paint is peeling. There are black wood support beams coming up from the bottom floor. And the floor is a hard wood, also stained black.

Other than the window, I'm fond of the bed. The chimney runs up next to my bed—creating a great gray stone wall that warms when Mum lights a fire. Out of the same stone my Father created a bedframe, which warms just the same. Of course, Alice complained when she realized I had that. And she got her own warming bed soon as Father was home. Though I don't see why. Her room is far larger, far prettier—they could have let me have something of my own.

Other than that, I have a solitary dresser, a small closet, a large bookcase in the corner, and an old black leather reading chair, plus a lamp. When I rose on September First, I stretched and rubbed my eyes. I walked to the window for a moment and looked at the pink sky. The sun was just beneath the rolling clouds, and it lit them up with those pink rays.

I crossed the room to the cage sitting atop my bedside table. Newt sat in his cage, the sunlight illuminating his black feathers. He had been such a quiet bird since bringing him home. He woke and looked at me with his tilted head. I tilted mine, he moved to match. I moved again, he copied again. I fed him some pellets and he ate. I watched him eat for a bit before crossing the room again.

I sat down in the reading chair and scooched it up to the window. I looked up at the moon—full and just above the line of houses. I reached behind me to retrieve a brown leather book and cracked it open. I was a little bit more than half way through Hogwarts a History. I was reading about the history of why chimeras are no longer allowed in Hogwarts. It was due to a rather terrible prank a Gryffindor student had unleashed on the school. The boy had let out two chimeras, and labeled one with the number one, and the other as the number three. It did not fool the teachers, who caught the two chimeras in a matter of minutes, but only after twelve students were mobbed by the beasts. The student was expelled immediately, and chimeras haven't been allowed to the school since. Though for years there were whispers that a third chimera roamed the grounds.

A very stupid prank indeed.

But I couldn't read the book for much longer. Mum said breakfast would be at six thirty, and my alarm clock now read six eighteen. There was to be no waiting around. We had to make our floo network open-gate at eight o'clock, and mother wanted us bathed, dressed, fed, triple checked for packing, and down by the fireplace at seven fifty.

I closed Hogwarts a History and went to my trunk. I reached for mother's long roll of parchment and started to check off items once more.

I should explain about the floo network open-gate. If you've been to Kings Cross recently, you'll know that it is more difficult to get to the barrier between platform nine and ten than it was for the entire history of the Hogwarts Express. Whereas it used to be possible to travel around the platforms at your leisure, now there is extra security between the station and the central unpaid area. To deal with this, the Ministry of Magic has been sending families with Hogwarts students magical tickets to get them through these barriers. The unfortunate part of this, is that they sent them to father, due to Mum being a muggle and not being in their system. He was supposed to be back by now with them. Consequently, we have to pick them up in London, and so our fireplace is being linked to the Ministry's floo network for ten minutes starting at eight.

I finished with the second check of all my possessions and looked at the clock. Five minutes till breakfast. I headed out of my bedroom, and down the stairs to breakfast. I heard an alarm go off in Alice's room, but no movement. I wheeled around and walked into Alice's room without knocking.

Alice rolled over in the bed at the sound of her door opening. Her eyes bulged, and she asked, "What time is it?"

"Breakfast in a minute," I said.

She tore back the sheets and jumped straight into her slippers. The slippers had once been white, but now resembled a flattened gray mush of sheep's wool. I'm sure they were still warm, but stains from spilled milk, and some strawberry jelly, created a discolored effect that made them look horrendous. Alice—in a white and blue nightgown—pulled a blue robe on and raced past me downstairs, the fastening ties dragging behind her.

We made it to the table on time. Mum checked the clock but had no reason to reprimand us. She was already dressed, wearing a brown tweed coat, with a blue sweater and white shirt beneath. Her pants were white, and she wore blue and silver sneakers. "Big day," she said. She mustered a smile, which Alice returned. I did not. I watched her lip quiver and her eyes fill with moisture. "Eat up. I want those trunks triple checked."

I was amazed to see how normal breakfast was. Fried tomato, scones, a grapefruit, and water. No big celebration. No off to school decorations. Just the same old food, same old dishes, same old mother. "Wash up" was the command after breakfast.

I checked my trunk two more times and brought down my trunk and Newt-plus-cage to the edge of the fireplace. Alice still showered so Mum asked me to track down Mochi and put her in the crate. Alice was supposed to make sure she was in the house the night before, but I found the ball of brown fir on the garden wall, a headless rat by her paws. Mochi gave me a small nod before returning to grooming herself. I could see a bit of blood still on her left paw, where white fur grew. She did not take kindly to being picked up away from her breakfast. And I got a scratch or two on my hand before I wrestled her into the crate. Soon she was yowling next to Newt, who stared at her and made soft hooting noises, trying to match the sound and length of her yowls. Eventually Mochi stopped only after Newt managed to mimic her perfectly.

Alice finally stopped showering. I bathed, dress, and got downstairs just before seven fifty. Alice only managed to check her trunk once over, and mother wasn't pleased. I could hear her berating Alice as they came down the stairs and to the fireplace. Mum took a silver scarf and wrapped it around her head, then put on her sunglasses. "Get your things."

We did. Alice held both Mochi and her trunk, while I took hold of Newt and my trunk. Mum held onto Athena's cage as she took a handful of powder from an urn above the mantel. She threw it into the fireplace and at eight oh six we stepped into the green flames. Mother shouted, "The Ministry of Magic Guest Reception," and off we went.

I tried to take everything in, being my first time using floo powder. But all we did was spin, and pitch, and there were tons of fireplaces zooming by us, and then it all slowed, and Mum stepped out onto a great big fire pit.

A man in a gold round desk swiveled in his chair to look down at us. He stood and walked through the desk. He was a young man, in excellent form, and wearing navy blue robes with a gold M on the front. He also wore a navy-blue necktie, fitting perfectly in the collar of his robes.

"Ah Mrs. Husher, right as expected." He bore a wide smile that did not fool me. "You may leave your pets and trunks here children.9 I'll make sure they make it on the train." No sooner had I given Newt a treat from my pocket and set him down, did the receptionist wave his wand and it all vanished. "Right this way Hushers." We followed him to a lift. "We're on level eight, you'll want level six for the Department of Magical Transportation. Speak with Derek Baker and you'll be all sorted out." He opened the lift for us and pushed me in the back. I wriggled out of his grip. "Have a good day."

The elevator doors closed behind us and I caught a glimpse of the fire pit erupting into green flames again before we headed up. We exited on basement six.

I'd read that the Ministry was underground of course, and that the space between basement three and two is extra wide for a muggle underground railway, but I imagined it would still be grand. Instead, the hallways were carpeted and old; the pictures on the walls moved, which Alice liked; and little paper airplanes soared around the place. They had added magical windows with every available space, but everything smelt small and squished and, well, boring.

There was a bit of excitement when we heard shouting in one of the offices, but it was all very quick and Mum got our tickets—having to fill out a couple forms first—and we were out of the office. Back into the lifts. We got out on basement eight again, but this time in a different area. Around us were twenty or so lifts in a large hallway. Mother turned—she seemed to know where she was going—to the right, and the whole area opened right up into the atrium. Witches and wizards were bustling about, but at a different speed and urgency than Diagon Alley. All of them funneled around a huge gold statue in the middle of the room.

I stepped behind Mother and noticed the floor was marble, a white marble—vastly different than the photos of the ministry from just ten years ago: all green marble everywhere. The walls were blue and gold and white as well. The statues in the middle had changed too.10 A wizard and a witch, clad in robes dating back to the dark ages, pointed their wands toward the center of the statue, where a real fire roared. A house elf stood beside the witch and wizard, holding wood for the fire. A goblin, on the other side of the fire worked some type of weapon crafting machinery. Near it, two centaurs stood, one hunting with a bow, it's front hooves high in the air, the other looking up to the magical sky at the top basement level.

I'd read that the new statue of magical brethren had been heralded as a progressive stance towards sentient magical creatures and wizards, but I couldn't help noticing how poorly maintained the house elf looked, and I kept thinking "for who" regarding the weapon the goblin crafted. From what my father has told me, though Centaurs do star gaze and hunt—the most common things people know about Centaurs—they also have a complex society and are often conversing together, rather than out on a combo hunting-star gazing trip.

Mum told us to take a look; we'd be here only a moment. Alice went to go look closer at the witch, but I'd seen enough of the statue. I went to look for a plaque. Between the wizard and goblin there stood three plaques. One detailed the first five renditions of Statue of Magical Brethren. The next discussed the Voldemort era statue. The third discussed the current one and how "Constantly defining new relationships with magical creatures should be a goal, and not a burden." I didn't read much of that. I got lectures on that subject whenever Father was home. I did read the second plaque.

After the death of Prime Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, Lord Voldemort used Death Eaters within the Ministry, and the use of the imperious curse, to overthrow the Ministry. Turning from a symbiotic relationship with muggles to an authoritative one, Lord Voldemort used this space as a propaganda outlet, showing muggles to be subservient to wizards—a thought which had long been decreed as an out-of-favor opinion. Cornelius Fudge 1999.

I read somewhere that when that plaque was first placed, Fudge had accidently called it the imperious charm. While reading it aloud during the inauguration ceremony of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the crowd erupted into both fits of laughter and heckling. Even Shacklebolt was seen shaking his head disapprovingly.

Mum swept us out of the atrium soon. It was barely eight thirty, and the train didn't leave until eleven. Mum asked us what we wanted to do. Immediately, Alice asked to see Big Ben.11. I had barely had time to think of anything to request before we were off in a cab towards the Thames.

We'd seen London before, Alice and I, on a field trip two years ago. We did all the requisite tours and sightseeing. It was supposed to be an educational trip, but I only remember getting to know strange facts about English history, i.e. Anne Boleyn's mouth and eyes still moving after being decapitated. Wizarding history at the time of King Henry VIII was much more interesting. An obscurus was tearing up Normandy, and fled to the southern shores of England, attempting to find refuge at Hogwarts, only to destroy itself in a ship yard.

I had no interest in seeing London, but since our luggage had been batted off to the train, I had nothing to do but stand alongside American muggles taking photographs with their flip phones. It seemed a waste of time to me. But soon enough we were back in a cab and streaking off towards Kings Cross. The atrium has this large white contraption. I'm not sure what it's supposed to be—maybe a giant fan, or shell—but it seems to have nothing to do with Kings or Crosses.

I could spot Wizard families already, even an hour out from eleven. Large trollies with owls, cats, I thought I spotted a niffler in a shiny silver cage before some men blocked my view. Trunks: orange, white, gray, green, brown, red, yellow—any shade imaginable really—were stuffed in. Children ran, laughed, whined, cried, kept silent, etc. With how loud wizarding families talked about muggles, Hogwarts, dragons, the Ministry, etc., it was amazing to me how muggles didn't discover the wizarding world on every September the First.

Mum gave us our magical tickets and we passed through any security precaution that presented itself unscathed. Next, we were walking between platforms nine and ten, and I saw a boy about my height run through the barrier. I looked up at Mum, then back to the barrier. I cracked my neck. Alice made a face. Mum tried to say something about how to do it properly, but I didn't stop to listen. I strolled right on up to the barrier, then through it, and stopped on the other side. I looked at what felt like a familiar sight12. The Hogwarts Express; its scarlet color popped out from the beige bricks around us.

Steam pouring from the Express I approached the edge of the platform before Mum and Alice came through. I could hear Mum calling for me, but I didn't respond. I walked up to the train and put a hand on its side, feeling the cool metal. The train whistle blew, and more steam poured out. I looked at the safety valve atop the engineer's cabin.

Mother found me and scolded me for not staying with the group. The train didn't leave for another half hour, but Mother ushered us onto it, holding her scarf around her face. She didn't weep, but her face did get red as she said goodbye. I'd forgotten to give her a kiss, so halfway up the little stairs I turned around. She nearly crushed my lungs she held me so tight.

"Oh and don't forget to exercise daily," Mother said. "I don't want you to add to the obese wizard problems of today. Oh, but don't tell people your mum said that okay?"

No sooner Alice and I were on the train, and Mum was out of sight.

"Should we find a compartment?" Alice asked.

That was a stupid question. What else was there to do? But just then the sound of heavy boots stopped behind us. We turned. In the doorway between two cars was a tall man in overlarge overalls. He was clean shaven and carried a bit more weight than the photograph I'd seen of him. The conductor stood, his hands on his hips, looking down at me.

"This him?" asked the conductor. I thought he was talking to Alice before I saw a head poking out from behind his knee. The house-elf I'd met in the conductor's chair years before nodded. He rubbed his hands and kept glancing around. "Right. Come with me. You too," he added to Alice. We followed.

"If I get in trouble because of you…" Alice started. But she trailed off, her threat emptying into silence.

We walked through six cars. Students in muggle clothing jumped and shouted and swore and then sobered up as they saw the conductor walk through. The conductor said nothing to the students about behaving, didn't even open his mouth, just nodded and smiled. Some eyes lingered on the house-elf in front of me.

We walked to the front of the train, where the conductor sat in his chair—much better fitting for him than the house-elf and said, "You've already met Kricket, but my name's Earl." He held out a hand to shake. Alice reached around and beat me to it. She shook first. He commented on the strength of her grip. He did not on mine.

"Notice anything different?"

I pointed to a silver knob, just above a long handle.

"To right," he said. "It's an invisibility mechanism—provided by some Ministry bloke named Aldridge Weasley—I least I think it's Aldridge. Supposed to use it when we're in muggle towns." He looked at Alice, "And what about you darling?"

I could feel Alice bristle without looking at her. But I interjected. "It was only me, sir. She didn't come."

"Right," he said, and he turned in his chair looking out the window. "And call me Earl. Now Kricket filled me in on what he told you, so…" This was the second time he'd said Kricket, and I still didn't understand. But as Earl discussed what I learned my last time on the Express I realized Kricket must be the house-elf's name. How had I not remembered that?

Alice yawned and silently pouted as Earl showed me an in-depth analysis of the train's mechanics. Kricket asked her about what she liked and Alice happily went on about the Magpies. It was hard to listen to Earl while Alice was spewing on and on about Quidditch. It was too bad I couldn't be a part of both discussions.

A half hour later and the conductor had to kick us out. Alice and I both thanked him profusely. And Alice waved bye to Kricket, who bowed, and we watched the door to the cabin close as the train started off. I looked out a window. A thousand arms were out the window waving to parents, and dogs, and children even littler than Alice and I.

"Shall we—"

"Yes, let's find a compartment."

All the compartments were full. Of course, they were. The train always had exactly the amount of seats needed for the journey. In the case of March 19th 1917, the Hogwarts Express was no bigger than a pickup truck, having only one passenger, a miss Robin Percival.

Alice and I sheepishly walked through nine cars now, peaking into compartments only to be told there was no room. Though intimidating looking seventh-year men were perfectly nice, we did come across some rudeness towards the back of the train.

"These compartments are for Slytherin only" said a 5th year boy with a prefect's badge and green scarf. "You'll have to find some seats up there." He pointed behind us.

A compartment door behind us opened and black-haired girl with emerald earrings. She didn't look much older than us, though she wore heavy eye makeup. "I think there's a free compartment at the very back she said.

We gave out thanks and Alice and I meandered in that direction. "I wonder why these are for Slytherin's only?" Alice said. She was trying to pull something out of her hair. She jumped. "Spider!" She batted it off and tried to squash it. I kicked her foot over and bent low. A small spider, legs pressed close to its body had fallen to the ground. It jumped, but my wand was out and I used the impediment jinx to stop it. I flicked my wand and banished it—hopefully onto the far corner of the platform where a pile of wood crates had sat.

Alice didn't bother asking how I did that. I don't know if she genuinely wasn't impressed with my wand work or was purposefully ignoring it. We opened the compartment door. "Don't know why you bothered to stop me," Alice said. "There's billions of those things."

"There's billions of people, but you wouldn't want to be squished," I retorted.

A bark of a voice interrupted our discussion. "Slytherin's only. Fuck off."

There were only two people in the compartment, and we had seen them before. The pale dark-haired boy and his younger blonde sister from Madam Malkins sat by the window. The boy was leaning towards us. He was much bigger than Alice and me, long and lanky and very thin. His hair was longer than it had been a month ago, and it fell in front of his face in curls. He wore green canvas trainers, khaki trousers, a gray and white argyle sweater, and a green tie on a white shirt.

The girl—well she was dressed just as nice—white shorts, along with a white blouse, but she was wrapped in a large purple and black blanket with a large black knit cap on her head. The cap pronounced the heart shaped jawline. She sweat. Her eyes appeared sunken, and she shivered. She turned to us and sniffed. Her brother put a hand on her chest as she leaned towards us.

"This is the only place with any room," I said. "So, we'll be sitting here." I sat on the girl's side, but a little way from her. I gave her a smile, she returned it. Her canine teeth were still a little pointed. I didn't know if her bite was still active. I kept my wand out. I didn't think she'd be allowed on the train if it were—but all the same

Alice sat across from me. She looked at the girl. It was unlike Alice to be so quiet in front of new people, but I guess the girl made her uncomfortable. A copy of the Daily Prophet sat next to the boy. It looked untouched. "May I," I said indicating the paper.

"Sure," the boy said. "Bores the hell out of me."

"Oh, why?" Alice asked. She looked over to the boy. "Our mum never gets the wizard's paper."

"Muggle parents?" the boy asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Half," I spat, opening the paper. There was a major story on Potter crashing a Death Eater rally—not a real Death Eater rally, just a wannabe one, young people being stupid. He'd made twelve arrests. "Aren't we not allowed to discuss parentage? Or is that a rumor?"

"Aren't you a first year?" the boy said.

I nodded.

"How do you…"but he didn't seem to care enough to finish the question. "It's a Ministry rule, but the Headmistress doesn't enforce it."

"You'll be of wizarding blood then," I said. "Madam Malkins," I said in response to his questioning face. "We were in the shop when you were fitted for your robes. Said she was your aunt."

Alice butt in. "Are you okay?" she asked the girl.

"She's a werewolf," I answered, reading a much more interesting piece on the international wizard chess championship, where a Mr. William Weasley had brought home the gold to England. "Bound to still be feeling the effects of her transformation. I mean the moon was out for a long while this mor—"

The boy was up, wand out, and bellowing at me. "You shut it. That's private. You can't just—you mustn't tell—no one's allowed to—" The boy brandished his wand. Before he spewed any spell I flicked my wand. His own soared into the air. I caught it and uttered "Silencio." The boy became quite.

Alice looked petrified. The blonde girl had hid her face in the blanket. "We're not going to say anything you prat," I said. I handed him back his wand and unsilenced him.

The boy had found his voice. "Are you Picardians?" he asked.

"What?" Alice asked, obviously thinking of our family favorite muggle show, Star Trek.

"Professor Emmerett Picardy," I answered. I couldn't keep the annoyance out of my voice. Alice scowled. "Author of Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live. Heargued that werewolves suffer from a permanent loss of moral sense." I turned back to the boy. "And no, we're the children of Charles Dunbar Husher, you know, CD Husher, author of Lupine Lawfulness: And Why Picardy is a Giant Git."13

"Are you really?"

It was the girl who had spoken. Her vocal chords were still messed up and she sounded scraggily.

Alice answered, "Yeah, course we are. I'm Alice. Alice Husher, and this is my brother Raven. And course we won't tell."

"Shelby," the girl managed. She smiled again, showing those pointed teeth, but quickly shut them. Alice put a hand forward to shake, but I held her forearm.

"Is your bite still active?" I asked.14

The boy answered. "No, the wolfsbane potion—while it can't stop the transformation—cleans out the venom making her sane and—"

"Totally harmless, yeah I get it," I said. I looked at Shelby. "We'll get you some chocolate frogs to eat when the trolly comes, eh? Dad says magical ailments are always helped by chocolate due to the coco bean having some magical traces."15

Shelby smiled with her lips pressed tight.

The boy thrust his hand out. He didn't smile, but any anger in his eye left. "Edric Westwater." We shook. He shook with Alice too. I went back to reading the paper.

"What year are you?" Alice asked.

"Second," Edric said.

"Can you tell me why all the Slytherins are sitting in the back of the train?" she asked.

I peered over the paper. Edric had a wearier smile on. "Been rough for Slytherin house since Voldemort was killed," he answered. "Lots of folks think we're all going to be the next Voldemort, or Grindelwald, or Morgan Le Fay."

"Or the Wicked Witch of the West," I muttered, turning the page. Shelby laughed. Edric smiled. They'd seen the Wizard of Oz. Good, they weren't completely devoid of culture.16

"Apparently, it's been like this since the Battle of Hogwarts," Edric explained. "Slytherins are shunted to the side nowadays. Sometimes it feels like it's us against the other three. We've been ostracized." He pointed his thumb at his chest, proud of the statement. But I bet anything he was just regurgitating that sentence from an older student. He probably didn't even know what ostracized meant.

"Well your founder did put a Basilisk in the school to kill muggle-borns," Alice said.

"Sounds like something coming from a Gryffindor," Edric said, putting his arms behind his head and his feet on Shelby's lap. "What house you gunning for?"

"Don't care," Alice said. "Dad was a Slytherin." This brightened Edric up. "Grandma was a Gryffindor and Grandad was in Hufflepuff."

"You'll be in Ravenclaw," Edric said to me. "Brains like yours—disarming even before you've been to Hogwarts."

I smiled. Being in Ravenclaw would be agreeable indeed. I turned another page. A story about an undiscovered harras of Hippogriffs in northwestern Canada and Alaska had made Magizoologists reconsidered everything they knew about the species. Studies were underway.

"Don't encourage him," Alice said dryly. "He was the git who made his own wand when he was five." I ignored this. Both Shelby and Edric remarked in admiration. I hid behind the paper. "And he apparated a couple years ago onto the train. Headmistress McGonagall came to our house and everything."

"I thought that was just a joke!" Edric cried. "Some prefect told me about that last year. Said you caused all sort of commotion on the train. They had to stop for two hours looking for you. Got to Hogwarts late."

I did not come out from behind the paper.

Alice moved off the subject of my personal accomplishments and started asking Edric all sorts of questions—much to my pleasure. She got very little from him though. He kept saying things like, "I don't know, you'll probably like it better if you just experience it." We talked merrily until lunch time, when the lunch trolley came down to our compartment.

"Anything off the trolley—" but the plump woman with short gray hair stopped talking. "I'm not sure if I want to give you anything." She pointed at me. "Stowaways aren't to be rewarded."

"Come off it," Alice said. "He can't starve all the way to Hogwarts!"

"What's your favorite type of candy?" I asked the trolley lady.

She peered at me. The lines on her forehead deepened. "I'm rather fond of the sugar mice," she responded.

"May I gift you one as an apology?" I asked, putting down my paper.

"No, I'm on duty," she said, and she did not sound pleased. "But you may purchase from the trolley."17

Mum's warning of obese wizards reached my mind as Alice and I approached the cart. There seemed to be more sweets on it than we'd ever eaten in our life. We exchanged glances that told me Alice was thinking the same thing. We bought two of everything, and as many chocolate frogs for Shelby that we could afford.

Having never had wizarding candy—except for one chocolate frog that came with a Ron Weasley card I chucked—I tried each slowly, savoring the taste. The Bertie Botts were fun, though I had to stop for a while when I had a fire one that scorched my throat and tongue.18 I did not like the Cockroach Cluster or the Fizzing Whizzbees—the Whizzbees made my tongue feel tender after the fire Bertie. But I really did enjoy the frogs, the cauldron cakes, and something called a Dragon Claw, which was a filled pastry that looked exactly like a Dragon Claw—mine was chocolate and raspberry.

The Westwater siblings ate some snacks too, and they shared in some of the candy that Alice and I couldn't finish. It turned out that Shelby—who's voice was much better after she ate the chocolate frogs that we'd bought for her—was a big English Quidditch League fan. She supported the Holyhead Harpies and was one of the few child supporters who didn't list Ginny Weasley as her favorite player. Instead she said the aging Gwenog Jones topped her list of favorites.19

As it darkened outside Edric suggested we all change into our Hogwarts Robes. I summoned mine, and Edric shook his head disbelievingly. "Are you always gonna show off?" he asked.

"Just practice," I said. I seethed inside. I did not want to be a showoff.

"Do you always wear your house color on the first day of school?" Alice asked, pointing at his shoes.

"Just the Slytherins," Edric said. "It's a sort of solidarity sign. Professor Slughorn started it after kids started crying when they were put in Slytherin. Each first year gets an item of clothing now, bewitched to always fit. Mine were the shoes. I wore the tie on my own." He looked at both me and Alice. "I hope we get both of you. We'd have a chance at winning the house cup this year."

"Who won last year?" I asked.

Of all things at Hogwarts, the inter-house championship was the most interesting to me. Points for good deeds, for right answers, for helping, for discipline, for bravery and friendship—what a way to inspire good behavior and studiousness from children. More than Quidditch, more than Chess tournaments, more than my classes even, I wanted to be a key contributor to my house—whatever house that would be.

"Hufflepuff," Edric said. "They've won six out of the last eight."

"Who—" but Edric was already answering.

"Ravenclaw won the year before last, than Hufflepuff all the way back to when Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley won it for Gryffindor after the Battle of Hogwarts." He smirked. "Course no one but Gryffindor had a chance then—McGonagall gave everyone who fought in the Battle a hundred points to their house. Gryffindor went up over a thousand points on Ravenclaw right after that sentence. But then Hermione Granger was sitting there, wasn't she, and McGonagall looked right down at her—" I suppose Edric had heard all this, since he'd only been at Hogwarts for a year—"and said, and for Ms. Hermione Granger, for help to Harry Potter in defeating Lord Voldemort, I award you two thousand points. It was over right from then."

"Slytherin hasn't won since then?" Alice asked. She had finished putting on her robes and was now sitting in the black fabric, her feet hanging above the floor. I could hear the disappointment in her voice. She of course would not want to be on a losing team.

"Well we won the two years before that, but most people don't count the year under Umbridge—"

"Who—"Alice started.

"Doloras Umbridge, come off it Alice," I snapped. "Senior Under Secretary, Hogwarts Inquisitor, then Headmistress, sitting in Azkaban for heading up the Muggle-Born Registry Commission."

Edric nodded, leaning forward to slip back into his shoes. Shelby pushed his sleeve out of her face to look out the window. "I think we're arriving." She sat up a bit more in her seat. "We definitely are. Those lights are coming really close."

"Do we get our stuff? Our owls?" Alice asked.

"Don't be stupid," I said. "They get taken up to the castle."

Edric looked to Alice and shrugged. "I didn't know that last year."

Alice looked at me and stuck her tongue out. Shelby giggled.

The train slowed, and soon it was a stop. We all piled out into the hallway with the rest of the Slytherins. I couldn't tell if all the swearing was exclusive to just Slytherins, or school children in general. I spotted the girl with the black hair and emerald earrings. She smiled at me and waved. I notice just how blue her eyes were now. They seemed to sparkle.

But she was not wearing any robes of green, but of black. She too was a first year. But then—

I stepped forward, not hearing Shelby trying to ask me a question, and said, "But you're a first year." I pointed at the earrings.

She smiled at me. "But I'm hoping for Slytherin. My big brother is in it." She pointed up to a boy who looked enormous. With short black hair, a sharp jawline and a barrel chest he towered above me. He wasn't thick or fat, but his robes were tight around him. He wore a green jumper underneath his Hogwarts robes.

A with a short bob-haircut—presumably a friend of the older brother—slapped a party hat on the girl I was talking too. "You can't stop wearing this Courtney," she said. "Oh sorry!"

She had slapped me in the nose, though not hard. I waved away her apology. She was not wearing any green at all, and her robes were yellow in the trim. A Hufflepuff. "Claudia Nighy, I'm this one's"—she pointed to Courtney—"older sis. It's her birthday today. Lucky twat. First day at Hogwarts and birthday, my God." She extended a hand. "You are?"

"Raven Husher," I said. I shook the hand.

"And a Scot!" she exclaimed. I blushed. I didn't think my accent was that bad. She looked over my shoulder. "Oh, I do hope your friend is alright."

I turned to see Shelby leaning against the compartment door, a hand on her forehead. She was being pressed too tightly by several older students. Edric hadn't seen, he was talking to Alice about something. "Happy Birthday," I said to Courtney and turned back to Shelby.

"You alright?" I asked.

Shelby nodded. "Do you know if there is any water?"

I looked back inside our compartment, but all our trash had been vanished. I did not yet know how to conjure dishware. "Open your mouth," I said. She did so. I pointed my wand and muttered, "Aquamenti." Water shot from the tip of the wand to her mouth. I maintained the spell until Shelby gave me a thumbs up.

I heard a few laughs. A boy with untidy blonde hair and green eyes laughed at me. He was a first year too, with his only black robes. His friends—one rather large boy with green trimmed robes; one smaller boy with short hair and black robes; and one girl with the same untidy, but long, blonde hair all laughed with him. I heard the boy say something nasty about my wand and the water going into Shelby's mouth.

Soon the boy was out of my gaze, and Alice pushed me along with everyone else, trying to shuffle out of the train. It was dark out and I heard more than one-person trip while getting onto the landing. I watched Edric help down Shelby onto the lit platform, and let Alice go in front of me. I was the last out from our car.

A noise to my left made me turn. A girl in black robes with vibrant red hair was attempting to put her caged owl back inside the train. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't know. We're supposed to leave them. Could someone just—" a hand took the cage from her and placed it back inside. She stepped down off the step and looked my way.

Her hair swooshed all about as her head turned. Her eyes locked on mine, and she smiled. She waved. I waved back, slowly realizing I was staring far too long. In fact, I'd been staring so long I didn't see two boys to my right pull their wands out. I didn't hear the shouts of "Expelliarmus," the disarming spell, and "Stercus Oculus," the conjunctivitis curse. I didn't see the two spells collide with each other. I did see the pink flash before me, and felt an invisible force push me off my feet. I hit the train and crumbled onto the platform.

The Blinding and Sorting

I was blind. That was the first thing I realized. The second thing I realized was that my eyeballs were trying to force themselves from their socket. But a mixture of my hands and the conjunctivitis kept them in place. My eyes vibrated, feeling as if they were at war with my skull.

There were cries of help mixed with a gruff voice calling for first years. I couldn't see, and I couldn't get up. All my efforts were focused onto maintaining control of my eyes.

"Hagrid! Hagrid! Someone's hurt over here," a boy shouted over the crowd.

"What's that? Who's hurt?" It was the same gruff voice calling for first years. I felt footsteps vibrate the ground as they trudged up to me. "You alright? Take your hands away." But I couldn't. Giant fingers peeled away my fingers. "Oh!" said the gruff voice. "Don't take your hands away."

Alice was beside me now. "What is it Raven? What happened."

"Didn't you see it?" I'm pretty sure that voice belonged to Shelby. "He got hit by those boys dueling."

"Rowan!" The gruff voice called.

A small pop sounded. "What is it Hagrid?"

"Take this boy to the Hospital Wing now," Hagrid—the gruff voiced man—said. "Been jinxed in the eyes, and summits gone wrong."

I felt a smooth hand take my wrist, and then I felt as though I was being pushed through an incredibly tight tube. I was apparating, well side-along apparating. What a wonderful feeling.

We landed, and I heard whipping of a wand through the air. Simultaneously I was raised into the air, floating alongside 'Rowan', whoever that was, and what sounded like giant gates opened.

"Minerva," said a female voice, presumably belonging to Rowan. I felt something brush past me.

Another pop and the Scottish accent of the Headmistress could be heard next to me. "What is Rowan? I'm preparing—oh! Oh no." She muttered a spell and my eyes relaxed. Then a pause. I could feel myself moving quickly in midair, as the two women walked beside me. "Is that you, Mr. Husher?"

"You know this boy, Headmistress?"

"Call me Minerva, Rowan. I am no longer your teacher. And yes, we've met. Oh come now, let me do it, it'll be quicker and you are needed to supervise the children getting from the carriages to the school."

"Right you are Head—Minerva," Rowan said. I could hear her footsteps turning backwards. There was a rush of air around me, a bony hand grasping my shoulder, and I could hear the echoing footsteps of another person around me. We were inside then. But how? No one can apparate inside the school grounds.

"Poppy!" the command issued from McGonagall's mouth.

A small shriek. "Minerva you—is that a student? Already?"

I felt myself lowered onto a bed.

"He's been hit in the eyes with some type of hex. It looks like the conjunctivitis curse mingled with something else. His eyes were jumping under all that goop."

I could feel that goop. It at first had been soft and soggy, but soon hardened under the heat of the magic. It was now as solid as wood and had glued my eyes shut.

"I can clear all that away," said Poppy. "But his eyes—"

"I have stabilized them, though, I don't know what they look like—"

I felt a sense of lightening as the goop vanished from my eyes. I dared not take my hands away. What if they tried to fly out again?

"Mr. Husher," said a different female voice—it must have been Poppy's—"kindly remove your hands. You'll be alright."

I slid my hands down towards my cheeks, keeping them close in case I needed to catch an eyeball.

"Open your eyes," said Poppy.

I took several quick breaths and then opened my eyes. I closed them just as quick for the pain of opening them had been enormous. Streaks of a warm white light ran across my vision in all directions, and at all depths. My head immediately began to throb, and the only escape was by the closing of my lids, where—unlike sunlight—the light completely vanished.

"Oh my," said the Headmistress. "Can you—"

"Not immediately, I'll need to keep him overnight Minerva," Poppy said.

"Is there anything I can do? If not Poppy, I'll need to head down to the sorting, they really can't—"

"Hang on!" I said. "I'm not missing the sorting." I sat up, my hands back over my eyes.

"I'm afraid Mr. Husher—" A hand pushed on my chest, but I pushed it away.

"I can't miss my own sorting," I said. "Plus my sister is being sorted. I can't miss that."

"I assure you Mr. Husher, the Headmistress will see to it that you are sorted. You can't even see—"

"I don't have to see to put on a hat," I retorted. "My sister will help me walk. I'll be fine, just don't let me miss my sorting."

"Mr. Husher—"

"Poppy, is there any more damage be done?" said McGonagall.

"I don't think so, but all the same I'd like to keep—"

"I will send him up immediately to you after the feast." There was no retort to this, but I imagined some eye contact was being made that I couldn't see. "Can we at least bandage him before we go?" No sooner did I feel a soft strap tighten around the back of my head, and a plush padded eye mask settle on the bridge of my nose. "Thank you, Poppy. Mr. Husher, please take my hand. I will lead you down to the Great Hall."

I hopped off the bed, hand outstretched. Headmistress McGonagall took hold and whisked me—to what I assumed was—out the door. We turned left, then right, then left, then two more lefts, but I couldn't keep track long enough. Soon I could hear the echoes of voices, which turned to murmurs, which turned to shouts.

"Raven!" I heard over the noise. There was no mistaking it, that was Alice's voice.

"Ms. Husher come here," McGonagall ordered. I heard Alice's footsteps approach us. "Your brother has been injured but is alright. You are to escort him during the sorting ceremony, bring him up when you are to be sorted. And do not allow anyone to look underneath his mask. Do you hear me."

"Yes Headmistresses," Alice responded.

I could picture the way she looked when taking orders from McGonagall. Standing straight, tall, neck up, hands by her side, eyes big.

McGonagall's hand lifted from my arm, while Alice's took my other hand. I heard large doors open with a crack, and then close again. Alice walked me back to—at least I assume back to—the gaggle of first-years waiting to go into the Great Hall.

After the doors closed, with McGonagall on the other side I heard the drawl of a boy, London accent. The boy was whispering, but it carried through the room, which had become much quieter with the Headmistress—and my—arrival. "Look how stupid that kid looks in that mask. Wonder what happened?"

I turned my face in the direction of the voice.

"He heard me." There was much laughter.

"Ignore him," said a girl's voice. It wasn't Alice's. "You don't look stupid."

"Is that his girlfriend? She could use a pick-me up, eh?" More laughter.

It must have been Shelby who had spoken then. Who else looked sick? "You know," I said, "I often pity those who can't master how to whisper properly. Isn't the whole idea so that other people don't hear you?"

I don't know if it was a good insult, or if the boy just didn't feel like making a comeback, but he fell silent after it.

A high-pitched male voice came from where the great doors were. The man talking couldn't have been very tall, for the voice seemed to come from eye level. Being just eleven at the time, this meant the man would probably be no taller than four and a half feet tall.

"Right, first years welcome to Hogwarts." His voice was squeaky, as if his vocal chords needed oiling. Yet it was pleasant to listen to, like the high notes of a piano. "I am Deputy Headmaster Filius Flitwick, and your Charms teacher. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly. However, before this we will be sorting each of you into your houses. The sorting is a simple matter—you won't have to battle trolls, or enchant cutlery—you'll be putting on the sorting hat. The hat is sentient, so don't be surprised when you hear it talking to you.

"There are four houses of Hogwarts, for those who don't know. They are named for the schools founders, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. No booing now!" For some of the students had started to boo at the mention of Slytherin. "Slytherin house has produced some of the greatest wizards we know, and the most Ministers of Magic. And you never know. Those booing might end up in that mighty house.

"Each house has produced great wizards and witches. While at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family and your team. Victories in the classroom, or the quidditch pitch and in between will gain your house points. Rule-breaking, misbehavior, detentions will lose points for your house. We tally all these points at the end of the year, and whichever house has the most, wins the house cup. Happy Hufflepuffs will be proud to tell you they won last years. The house cup is the highest honor we can bestow at the school, and I daresay I hope each of you will be a great credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"Each house has its own common room, dormitories; all your lessons will take place with those in your house and year. I hope to see you in some of my house, Ravenclaw. Now, the sorting ceremony will take place in just a minute, so smarten yourselves up, and let's go.

There were only seconds after Professor Flitwick finished before the great doors opened again. Alice held my hand tight and walked me slowly forward. I could hear other moving around us. I had not imagined my first hour of Hogwarts being blind. I wanted to see the ceiling, enchanted to the night sky—the floating candles—the house tables, decorated in house colors.

Alice stopped me walking. The Great Hall was silent. I knew somewhere in front of me—hopefully Alice had not placed me looking the wrong direction—was an old hat on stool. I'd seen drawings of the hat, but now I longed to see it in person.

The hat began to sing.

"I'm a hat that can think

And you'd better know

That all other hats

While pretty, are slow

Created by the Hogwarts Four

I find myself at ease

When children put me on

For I find all their thoughts, indeed

My sole purpose is to sort

To find where you belong

Which house is best for you

I will know quicker than this song

Will it be brave Gryffindor?

A house for those filled with daring

Bravery, Courage, and Nerve

Are what make Gryffindor's so caring

Or perhaps you'll be in Hufflepuff

Not for those who are dolts or dumb

Loyalty, dedication, and patience

Those aren't qualities of the ho-hum!

But then there is lovely Ravenclaw

Whose wisdom knows no bounds

Intelligence, Wit, and Creativity

Are this house's playground

And then there is great Slytherin

Unfairly treated and hated

For those Cunning and resourceful

A touch of ambition, greatness is awaited.

Do not fear the house I pick

For there you will gain true insight

You'll find that education both social and bookish

Will be bountiful by the common room firelight

Do not forget your classes though

While friends and fun await

Your common room is for more than games

Study hard with your classmates

For you see, perched atop great Gryffindor

I was just a lowly hat

But now I'm filled with brains

And there's nothing greater than that.

The song was rather more preachy than I thought it would be. Not so subtle reminders that Slytheins are fine people, that common rooms are for study, and not to get distracted. This was not the type of songs I had hoped for. Quite a disappointment.

Quick enough Professor Flitwick was calling out the first name. "Jacob Abney." He became a Ravenclaw. There was much clapping, and someone magicked a loud screeching noise to come out of their wand.

"Why is it an Eagle, instead of a Raven?" asked a girl not far from me and Alice.

I recalled the image in Hogwarts: A History of the Ravenclaw crest. That question had not occurred to me. Perhaps I was too close to the situation Rowena Ravenclaw had been in. If put in charge of creating a new Hogwarts House, I certainly wouldn't make the animal a Raven just because that was my name.

Too soon we were already to the E's—just four letters away from H. A girl named Delia Ember was sorted into Ravenclaw. Only Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws so far. Indeed, the next person sorted, a girl named Valora Faulkner, was sorted into Hufflepuff. Then a boy named Dexter Fredericks—Hufflepuff too. But then came the first Slytherin, Sebastian Gerard—and there was much booing. I gave a shake of my head and a tut at the noise.

A couple more students went by before the first Gryffindor was selected. Professor Flitwick called the name, "Zephyr Gruger."

"Boy or girl?" I asked Alice in a whisper. I'd never heard the name Zephyr.

"Boy." She gave no other details. I imagined a sort of wispy fellow with large feet walking hunched over to the sorting hat. What I would give to see.

"Gryffindor!" the hat shouted soon after Zephyr's footsteps stopped.

This was the loudest cheer yet. How annoying. I wondered if Slytherin House had been so rambunctious after Merlin had come to fame. But I mean really, Potter was great—no doubt—but how long after Voldemort's defeat would it take before their unearned pride settled down?

Niles Griffin, Hufflepuff;20 Arthur Gully, Gryffindor—"He's so tiny," Alice remarked to me—and Wendy Hambledon, Hufflepuff were all sorted before my head started to feel fuzzy. Was it nerves? Or was it my eyes? Or both? I didn't know. But before I knew it Linn Hamilton, Ravenclaw; Bronte Hendrix; Slytherin; and Felicity Honeycutt, also Slytherin, had all been sorted. And then…

"Alice Husher." I walked alongside Alice. I kept bumping shoulders with students, or teachers—I couldn't see who—as we walked. "Step," Alice said twice, and then she let go of me, and I stood somewhere around the sorting hat, perfectly aware that many eyes were on me and my eye mask. I would have guessed that out of the thousand years of Hogwarts, I was one of the select few who stood next to their sibling being sorted.21

The hat was quick with Alice, even quicker than it had been with Zephyr—though the result was the same. "Gryffindor." My involuntary groan was drowned out by the cheers of the Gryffindors.

Alice did not return to escort me to the hat. Instead I felt Professor Flitwick's tiny hand wrap around my wrist and guide me, saying, "Here now. Sit here." A stool whirled around my ankles—I felt the wind from it—and nudged me in the back of the legs. I sat and then felt an enormous hat fall over my head, my face, and my eyes.

"What a nasty injury that is," the hat said. It had a low voice, a sort of grumble in the back of the throat. Not scratchy, but certainly a rough voice. "Most likely permanent in some regards, eh?"

I didn't answer. I had not imagined the hat to be so big. I thought I might have had a chance of fitting in it due to having a large head for my age, but Godric Gryffindor must have been a massive human being.22 That fitted the sort of big-headedness his house partook in.

"Not a fan of the Gryffindors, I see. And very compassionate to the Slytherin's plight. But oh-hooo, look at the brains you've got. The love of knowledge, and reading, and practice, and magic—a certain disregard for classes, but my, some dedication to your own education. Hmm. You are difficult."

The hat became quiet for a minute. At first, I awaited its decision, but then my mind wandered to Alice. She would be sitting at the Gryffindor table now, surrounded by other people and I longed to sit next to her.

"Loyalty to family," the hat remarked. "Or at least to your sister and mother. And a hard-working attitude to what you find interesting to learn. But such a want to be the best at everything you grasp. My, my..."

Another minute went by. I could hear muttering from the students. And was it in my head, or was the clock in the Great Hall getting much louder?

"I would have put you in Ravenclaw straight away if it hadn't been for your reluctance to be sorted too quickly, or to be automatically associated with that house because of your name."

The hat seemed more conversational now, and less likely to pick a house. What was wrong with me?

"Nothing," the hat said. "You're just a bit more complicated than most at your age.

I felt my back straighten.

"Though not as humble as you should be."

I slouched once more.

"Your intelligence and aptitude for magic seem your greatest strength, but what say you?" the hat asked. "Where would you have me put you?"

A roar of cheering erupted. And rhythmic pounding started on the tables. "Don't take me off," the hat warned. "Ignore them. What say you?"

I did my best to ignore the growing noise, the clattering of silverware on wood—I thought of three houses, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. I'd be fine with any, perhaps leaning a bit more to Ravenclaw's house, but wherever was best for me I wanted to be. I thought fleetingly of Alice, and again felt the longing to be near her. But Gryffindor was out of the question.

"So I see," the hat said. "How would you define the house that is best for you?"

I had an immediate answer for that. "Whichever makes me grow the most."

"Hmmm," said the hat. "And that is more important to you? More important than your preferences?

"Yes," I said, without a hesitation.

A great cheer exploded out in the Great Hall.

"Better be," the house said—and it had to shout over the noise—"Gryffindor!"

Lions

The table farthest to my right practically exploded. Several roars like a lion sounded off. The screams of students echoed off the walls, and I could hear people yelling something like "batrawl"—which befuddled me. I clapped my hands over my ears as the hat was pulled off me. That would be the Gryffindors, though I couldn't understand why their cheering was so much louder than it had been for anyone else.

I heard Professor Flitwick yell over the crowd—"Ms. Husher would you please escort Mr. Husher to Gryffindor table, thank you."

I stood and felt Alice's hand slip into mine. She clutched it tight and walked me to the right, toward the noise. "They're saying you're a hat stall," Alice said. "Do you know—"

"No." A hat stall? Presumably I'd taken an extra-long time with the sorting hat. I heard students shuffling in front of us, and Alice placed me on the edge of a long bench so that I didn't have to hoist my legs over the wood.

"Well done mate."

"Excellent!"

"Hasn't been a hat stall in years!" called another student.

I heard Alice asking questions, but no answers came as Professor McGonagall's voice rang throughout the Hall. "Quiet please, we are in the midst of the Sorting."

The Gryffindor's quieted and the sorting continued with a boy named Carl Ivers, who was sorted in Slytherin. The sorting went on without much fanfare. At one-point Alice squeezed my hand and leaned in to say, "The blond boy who laughed at you is up next.23

"Lucas Morgan." There was much muttering. I thought his father might be Laurence Morgan, head of Magical Law Enforcement, who'd just survived an attempt on his life by his own brother. Probably. Lucas was put in Slytherin.

Next was, "Courtney Nighy."24 There were giggles from student as I heard her approach the stool was enough to tell me she was still wearing her birthday hat.

"Kindly remove your celebratory décor," said Professor Flitwick.25

"She's not allowed!" I recognized her sisters voice from the next table over, the Hufflepuff table.

There was a great deal of laughter, but Courtney must have removed the hat—either that or Flitwick thrust the sorting hat on top of hers. But the hat took a long time—and again the clock in the great hall increased in volume. But just as the students started to pound on the table the sorting hat declared, "Gryffindor." I felt the bench beneath me kick out and just managed to hold on as students stood to cheer.

The very last person to be sorted was Shelby.26 No other Gryffindors had been selected, and I wondered if only five in a House was low. There were over thirty Hufflepuffs alone.

Professor Flitwick called her up. I put my thumbs up in, what I hoped was, the direction of Shelby and the Sorting Hat.

"Ravenclaw," was the hat's call. There was a good deal of noise from two table down but quiet quickly consumed the hall. I heard the footsteps of someone in heels and then Professor McGonagall spoke.

"Welcome," she said, "and eat up."

"Here, here," said a gruff voice across the table. "So, you're a hat stall, eh?"

"What is that?" I asked.

"Well it's when the Sorting Hat takes longer than five minutes to sort you, isn't it? Hasn't happened for ages. There are rumors Potter was a Hat Stall, but McGonagall said he only took a minute or two. Flitwick was almost one, and McGonagall was one herself—fact, she might be the last one who did it. I think you get awarded house points for being a hat stall." The gruff voice stopped, then said, "Cygnus LeStrange—oh now, don't murder me. I'm only distantly related to Bellatrix. Besides, my father hates that whole side of family." Cygnus stopped talking, and it took me a moment to figure out why.

"Alice would you shake Cygnus's hand for me, I can't see it."

"But he's a LeStrange," she whispered. I'm sure Cygnus heard it.

"The Malfoy's are Dad's fourth cousins, but you don't see anyone not shaking your hand," I said back.

"I promise I don't bite," said Cygnus. I believe they shook hands then.

I asked Alice to fill my plate, but that I could eat from there. The sounds of the Gryffindor student eating were repulsive. Slurps and belches and coughing, the slamming of fork and goblets—all of it was very poor manners indeed. I managed to correct my thought—it may have been that all the other houses ate like this.27

From what I could make, Alice had given me some sort of meat—I thought it was beef, but I realized now how I relied on my eyes to tell me what I was eating. I could make out the peas by their size and taste, and the Yorkshire pudding by its smell. I ate but stopped myself short of being stuffed.

As Alice piled my plate with food a voice ushered from across the table. "Are you alright, Raven?"

I assumed the first-year mandated name tag gave away my name. I nodded, chewing on the pudding.

"He got hit with two curses that mixed together, right in the eyes," said Cygnus "I saw it from the platform. Nasty bit of work. Looked like his skull was filled with fireworks for a mo."

"Did you see who did it?" I asked Cygnus.

"Yeah I did. Some Slytherin bloke—scumbag, and Oakley Woodhouse—he's actually not bad. He, well here he comes actually."

I felt a large hand on my shoulder. It pushed on me, turning me slightly. I think he'd squatted down to be on eye level with me. That's the general direction I heard his voice come from anyway. "I'm sorry you got hit by my spell. Are you alright?"

He had a smooth voice. It was on the deeper side, like Cygnus, but without the harsh pronunciations, or the loud level of volume. I did the same as before and nodded.

"Will you be okay?"

I nodded once more.

"Professor McGonagall says there will be no more damage," Alice said. "So that's good."

"That is good," Oakley said. "What's your name?"

"Raven." Wasn't I wearing my name tag?

"I owe you one Raven. Come find me at the Hufflepuff table if you need anything." I heard his feet move. "Thanks for taking care of him…"

"Alice, I'm his sister," she sounded cheerful and I wondered if this boy, Oakley, was cute.

I heard a small, "oh" from the girl across the table.

"Well thanks again." His voice now came from higher up—he stood, I think. "Bye Raven—Alice, Cygnus."

"See ya, Oak," Cygnus said. A bit of time went by and he said, "Like I said, not a bad person."

The girl from across the table jutted in. "I'm Courtney by the way, Courtney Nighy. Your Raven's sister?"

"Yep. Do you two know each other?"

My head snapped up in Courtney's direction. I felt for my nametag. It was no longer there. "Met on the train," I said quickly. "Are you alright, Courtney? You didn't get birthday present you wanted from the Sorting Hat."

"Why"—started Alice.

"Fine. I mean my brother said he'd skin me alive if I got in Gryffindor, but—"

"He'll be a Slytherin then," said Cygnus. "Nighy you said? Your brother is Christopher?"

Courtney must have motioned yes, because she did not say anything.

"That's the other bloke who hit Raven here. Saw him try and hex Oakley while he wasn't looking. He was All-House Champion runner-up last year. Lost to Oakley in the final duel."28

I didn't know if Courtney shook or nodded her head, and I didn't really care. My curiosity was peaked. "All-House Champion? Do you mean they brought back the Championship? I thought Headmaster Black banned it from Hogwarts? Something to do with school not being for entertainment."

Cygnus laughed. "McGonagall brought it back, right when she became Headmistress. She's quiet keen on games for students. She's doubled the amount of Quidditch games too. Each House plays the other twice now. She's organized tournaments for Chess and Gobstones, and Potions competitions, and all sorts. They're all optional of course, but the All-Championship is not. Every student has to compete.

"Every student?" Alice asked. "Even first years?"

"Of course. But you'll only have to start out facing other Gryffindor first years."

"What type of challenges?" I asked.

"Random each time, isn' it?" Cygnus said. "Some are one-on-one challenges. Some are group challenges, except for the last round. The Final is always a one-on-one duel between the last two players. They're almost always a sixth and seventh year."

"How do they determine who wins when you're playing your house?" Alice asked.

"It's a point system. You gain points for how well you do. Each task is worth a different amount of points. Sometimes its winner takes all, sometimes you get points for small things like spell work or creativity."

"So, I have to compete against my fellow first year Gryffindors then what?" I asked.

I noticed Courtney asked no questions—no doubt her brother had told her everything about the tournament. I wondered if her brother had left out the detail that he'd been beaten in half a minute.

"In your case you'd play against the other first year champions from the other three houses. And it's the same thing. Group or one-on-one challenges until just one of you is left. Then you go and play against the representatives from each year. First years to seventh years all mixed in together. A final seven. And there's no guarantee that each house will be represented in the final seven. Three years ago there were no Gryffindors for the first time in half a millennia.

"Have you ever made it to the final seven?" Courtney asked.

"Two years ago," said Cygnus. "I made it to the semi-finals but lost to Oakley in a Bogart challenge." He sighed. "We were supposed to stay in the room with our Bogart for as long as we could without showing any emotion; no screaming, crying, or doing any protective wand work. But I think Oak had an advantage. His bogart was seeing his siblings being killed one at a time by Death Eaters. Not that that's not awful, but it's pretty easy when you know it isn't real."

"What was yours?" Alice asked.29

"A swarm of Acromantulas," Cygnus said. "One of them came right down in front of my face, eyes inches from mine, it's pincers right at my throat. I had to fight. What if Bogarts could simulate being swallowed whole?"

"Can Bogarts simulate being eaten by a giant spider?" I asked—cutting off Alice's question about what an Acromantula was.

"I asked Professor Silsbury—sorry she's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—that same question. She told me she didn't know, that there weren't any reports, but that it was possible. So, I guess we'll never know."

Dessert appeared—I could smell it. Cygnus stopped talking as he gathered what he wanted. Alice leaned over and asked if it was okay to eat dessert again. Mother's warning about obese wizards rang through my mind once more. But it was the start of term feast, and we might as well enjoy ourselves. I told Alice as much. She gave me a slice of apple treacle tart with vanilla ice cream, which just about melted me.

"Has a first year ever won?" Courtney asked.

"Rowena Ravenclaw's great-great-great grandson, Tristan Orcutt. He went on to be one of the first Aurors in England before he was murdered by Iker Pique—an infamous Spanish Wizard who relished in killing English Wizarding families," I answered. "Iker was rumored to be a holder of the Elder wand—what nonsense."

Cygnus made a sound of approval. "We had a first year who was one of the last four people left when I was in my second year. A Ravenclaw named Ignatius Embers. He's over there, reddish-brown hair. He was in the Finals three years ago but lost to Gwenog Scrimgor. It was a hell of a duel."

Cygnus went on to explain a little more of tournament, including that each point you earn on your score is a point towards your house. "Yeah it's great. If you get a score of ten, your house gets ten points too." He then told us some of his favorite memories from the tournament. Alice asked a lot of questions—of course she'd want to win the whole thing this year. I wished I could've seen if Courtney was interested in the conversation or not. She became very quiet, but I couldn't tell if it was just because she was listening intently, or bored.

My spoon scraped the last bits of tart out of my bowl as the Hall quieted once more.

Professor McGonagalls voice overtook any clattering of dishes.

"Now that you have all eaten, I have a few announcements before the start of term. Since tomorrow is Friday we will not be starting classes until the following Monday." There was great applause at this. "However, let us take that chance to get all our scheduled activities out of the way. Quidditch tryouts will be this weekend. Gryffindors and Ravenclaws tomorrow, Slytherins on Saturday and Hufflepuffs on Sunday. Orientation for new students will start tomorrow evening as per usual for the first weekend of school. New students, your heads of houses will give you both your classes schedule and your orientation schedule tomorrow morning in your house common room. Please follow your prefects back to your common room to understand how to enter your house. Professor Sprout—" the Headmistress paused, I think to let Professor Sprout stand or wave—is Hufflepuff head of house. Professor Flitwick is Ravenclaw head of house. Professor Slughorn is Slytherin head of house, and Professor Silsbury is Gryffindor Head of House."

Professor Silsbury, head of Gryffindor and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—got it.

"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that any product from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is banned, along with the other five-hundred and twenty-six products from various businesses. The full list can be found on his office door. I will also note to any student who is found to have been ill in class and neglected go to Madam Pomfrey will cost their house points."

"How do students get away with skiving snack boxes?" Alice asked.

"You'd be surprised how many teachers don't check with Madam Pomfrey," Cygnus whispered back.

"We have no change in staff this year, which I must say is a relief. Both Professor Firenze and Trelawney will continue to split Divination. Third years will start with Trelawney, fourth years with Firenze, and so on.

"I will remind you all that the forest at the edge of the grounds is forbidden, as is the use of magic in the halls. Dueling is strictly forbidden, and if I have to remind any of you it will be with fairly large consequences. The first detention handed out will lose that person's house twenty-five points. Hogsmeade weekend visits are for third years and up only—the first one being three weeks from Saturday. And don't forget, the All-House Championship will begin just after that Hogsmeade visit on the Monday.

"Lastly, I hope each of you will study hard this year and do your best. Don't forget to be respectful of your teachers, and do not be out of bed after hours." There was a large pause, and I longed to see why. "I believe we had a hat stall this year," she said. I could feel eyes on me. "What was the exact time Filius?"

"Five minutes and forty-two seconds Minerva," Professor Flitwick said.

"Then to begin our term I award Gryffindor fifty-four points." More cheering. I felt a big hand—probably Cygnus's—clap me on the back. "To bed with you all."

But there were protests from the students and one large voice from the staff table shouted, "Song!"

"Very well," McGonagall said, though she said it rather dismissively—"chose your own tune and start whenever you wish."

The whole school broke out into various melodies. Cygnus started singing a tune I'd only heard in an Irish pub. Courtney sang from something I recognized from Aerosmith. But both Alice and I remained silent. The school song wasn't in Hogwarts: A History and our dad had never taught us it.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

It was a silly song, beyond all measure. I wondered when it had been created and why all the students clamored to sing it. But I didn't have long to wonder. The benches scraped against the floor as students stood and started to leave. I rose with them, Alice's arm around my forearm. I could hear a man shouting out Courtney's name.

"Gryffindor? Gryffindor? Really? Come on Courtney? Is the Sorting Hat pulling a prank on me?"

"Sorry Chrissy" Courtney said. "I asked to be in Slytherin, but he said Slytherin would only encourage bad behavior in me."

I couldn't hear Christopher's response. The voice of Madam Pomfrey was behind me saying, "I'll take him dear. Come on Mr. Husher, back to the Hospital wing." Alice let go, and I was being guided by the smooth hands of Madam Pomfrey.

"I've been brewing something upstairs I think will help. We'll try it out when we get up there." She sighed. "You won't have to be like this much longer."

Bright Lights

Madam Pomfrey proved to be both right and wrong. She concocted a potion that she applied to my eyes over three fifteen-minute periods. There wasn't an immediate reaction, though I swiftly fell asleep.

I woke in the middle of the day. The whole Hospital Wing was filled with a bright looking—well there was nothing else to call it—air, as if the particles themselves were made of light. To my right, I could see the dark shapes of three people, silhouetted against this bright air. There was a giant man, and Madam Pomfrey who tending to a student, the blonde Slytherin boy who'd laughed at me on the train, Lucas Morgan. He whimpered in the arms of the giant.

"Tried to break into me house," said the giant man. "Witherwings didn't like that."

"I expect the Slytherin put him up to it. You know, with their stupid initiations," Madam Pomfrey said.

She raised her wand and something odd happened. I could see a bright yellow light circulating around her wand. It was too bright. I couldn't look directly at it. As she brought her wand down and pointed at a bed, a piece of the light broke off and shot out faster than I could follow, at the bed. Blanket were surrounded by this light, manipulated by it as they untucked and prepared themselves for the boy. Her wand started to glow again, and she pointed it at the boy, whose arm was covered in the light. His cuts bound together and the blood on his arm cleared. Another light burst shot from her wand, and Lucas was momentarily covered in it, and made to sleep.

"I'll keep him here tonight," Madam Pomfrey said. "He'll be fine in no-time, but I dislike the idea of sending him back down to his common room. Will he be receiving a detention?"

"I reckon enough damage has been done," said the Giant. "He won't forget about breaking in, not after a Hippogriff got 'em."

"Very well Hagrid, you may go. I'll tend to him before going back to bed." It was only now that I realized Madam Pomfrey was in a nightgown. But it was the middle of the day? Wasn't it?

"Right ye are Poppy."

The giant called Hagrid left the room. His dark shape stomped past me and he thrust open the doors. They slammed behind him. I fought with myself—deciding between telling Madam Pomfrey about my condition, or letting it go and hoping it'd be gone in the morning. She had enough to deal with without me.

I waited and after two more spurts of pure sunlight from her wand, she went back to her quarters. And again, I wondered why? It was day, wasn't it? I hopped up from bed—sure Madam Pomfrey was not going to come out. I tip-toed to the window and peered outside. The castle looked as if it was bathed in sunlight, but the sky was dark, and there was only the tiniest sliver of a moon.

It took a moment to realize that it wasn't light I was seeing, but magic.

But how?

That was easy enough. The mixture of the two spells had altered my vision somehow—maybe Madam Pomfrey's potion had compounded the issue—but physiologically my eyes were different than anyone else's. I rushed to a mirror atop a long desk at the back of the room. I wanted to see my eyes, see if there wasn't a noticeable difference.

There was. And it was instantly noticeable. My eyes were a reddish-pink color in the irises. A strange smoke of the same color rose from them—would they always be like that? Or did they smoke just because of how fresh the injury was?

But I began to think about the symptoms. Able to see magic. I was already getting a headache from the light around me. My eyes could see it, but they couldn't take it. I needed water. I reached into my pajamas—a blue and white striped set—but my wand lay on the bedside table. I thrust out my hand for it. It didn't move. I made a mental note to look up if Wizards could summon their wands without their wands in hand. I'd read somewhere about indigenous American tribes that used magic long before being introduced to wands, but I couldn't remember if they could summon things.

I could see magic.

That thought kept coming back to me. I wondered if it would stay. Or would it all become smoke and blow away. That wouldn't be bad—if my eyes hurt now, I couldn't imagine what it would be like in the morning with a thousand students hurling magic around. Classrooms would be unbearable. And there was the problem of having pink eyes. Not only would people ridicule me, but the evilest wizard of the age had, well not pink, but a red hue. Would people fear that I was already becoming a dark wizard?

But seeing magic. I couldn't remember reading about it. Father would be fascinated, and I could imagine the practical uses if I ever dueled anyone—able to see nonverbal spells before—

But my head seemed to split in two as the room became especially bright. I covered my eyes and bent down. Madam Pomfrey had come into the room and lit all the torches with her wand. "Mr. Husher you really should—Mr. Husher?"

I was sobbing. How embarrassing—my first night in Hogwarts and I was crying like every other first year, sad their mommy wasn't around.

"Mr. Husher, what is it? Let me see." She knelt beside me and peeled away my hands.

"Extinguish the torches, please," I said.

She did so. It helped, but it felt like my brain was going to push right out of my skull. I opened my eyes and Madam Pomfrey gasped. I saw her grasp at the pink smoke. "But—oh my." She had her nails of one hand on her teeth. "You should have woken me immediately. Can you see, Mr. Husher?"

I nodded. Should I tell her? Of course, she's my caretaker—if this was dangerous, she ought to know. If it was not—but the pain in my head increased momentarily and I blurted it out. "I can see the magic, all of it, your wand, the spells—it's all bright and gold and—"I cut myself off. I was blathering, complaining like a child my age.

"You can see…see magic?"

A bright white light made me shut my eyes as it sped past me. It seemed only seconds later that Professor McGonagall. She wore a dark blue nightgown and pointed cap. "Yes, Poppy?"

Madam Pomfrey stood and turned me by the shoulders to face the Headmistress. "There is heavy magical scarring, I think we should send him to St. Mungos for immediate removal."

Professor McGonagall stared at the smoke rising from my eyes and looked on the verge of agreeing before Madam Pomfrey added, "He's saying he can see magic."

Professor McGonagall's nod switched to a shake. "No."

"No?"

"No, Poppy."

"It hurts," I said.

"Fetch Filius for me, would you Poppy?" McGonagall said. She peered at Madam Pomfrey, who hesitated then left the hospital wing. McGonagall turned towards me and sat on the edge of my bed. Each line in her face was deepened in the light of all the magic around me. She looked old, especially around the eyes. I could see veins and lines going every which way. "You can see magic?" she asked.

I nodded. From her wand, a light shot out and hit a bed post three down from me.

"Which bed did I attempt to repair just now?" she asked. I pointed to the correct bed. She nodded, peering at me. Her glasses glowed—she had enchanted them. Behind the glasses I could see her eyes, surrounded by what seemed like millions of wrinkles. They were creased in the same way they were when she sat in my living room, scolding me for apparating. Was she going to scold me again.

In a minute Professor Flitwick—the small man, with a graying mustache, dressed in a white night shirt and long white nightcap—came bustling into the room with Madam Pomfrey. Professor McGonagall did not let him speak, but immediately said. "Filius, thank you. This boy's vision is being altered by magic. It's scarred, possibly permanent. Is there a way to filter it out? Or do you think he can—"

"Oh certainly Minerva!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "Met a man in Greece who had something similar happen. Got bit by a Keket right in the eye while traveling in Egypt." Professor Flitwick walked over to my bed and stood where McGonagall had just sat on the bed, looking down into my eyes. "He survived but the venom infected the one eye, and after that he could see the location of whatever snake or snakes were near him. Said it was useful for a bit, but when he was traveling in the amazon, it got to be a bit much. Said he preferred not to know." He opened a lid with one hand. "Yes, I think a shield charm should work, imposed on—" he flicked his wand a pair of black square spectacles popped out of nowhere—"these."

I closed my eyes at the sight of all the magic.

"Forgive me, Mr. Husher." Then came the spell, "Protego. Here try this."

I felt the spectacles slide onto my face, and I opened my eyes. All was normal through the—I slid a finger onto glass. It was not perfect. On the other side of frames, the air was filled with bright lights—though it was not enough to hurt. It was incredible the difference between the dark hospital wing, where I could barely make out the face of Flitwick or McGonagall, and the magic light—bright as day—in my peripheral vision.

"Bring these to me every couple of days," Professor Flitwick instructed. "The charm will wear off. And—"he waved his wand again, but I saw no bright light—"you'll be wanting this too." He conjured a plump sleeping mask and charmed it as well.

"Thank you Filius," McGonagall said again. "Poppy will that suffice?"

"Yes, Headmistress."

"And the Morgan boy, he is well?"

"Yes Headmistress."

"Very well, I think we may all go to bed," said Professor McGonagall. She sounded relieved. "Mr. Husher do you require anything?"

I shook my head.

"Goodnight then."

"I will accompany you back to your office if you'd like Minerva," said Professor Flitwick. The two set off together—the very stout man next to the tall-thin woman. I watched as Flitwick took three steps for every one of McGonagall's.

"It works quiet well then?" Madam Pomfrey asked me.

I nodded again. "Can you—"I felt stupid asking the question, "can you see my eyes through the glass?"

"You mean, does the coloration show?" Madam Pomfrey's jaw relaxed and her cheeks sagged a bit as she looked at me. "Yes, Mr. Husher. I'm afraid that may be permanent." She conjured a glass of water beside me. "Goodnight."

She turned and walked back into her quarters. I waited for several minutes before placing my bare feet on the cold stone floor of the Hospital Wing. I walked over to the mirror again. The glasses were the perfect shape and size on my face, and I wondered if Flitwick had made them to grow as I grew. Madam Pomfrey was right, even through the shield charm the pink irises were notable. Yet, at the moment, that was not my main concern. I was thin, gangly, black haired, bespectacled and—what was that? I brushed at my forehead, removing a hair that was jaggedly shaped and pointing down my face. No scar on my forehead—good. Still I wondered how many people would tell me tomorrow that I looked like Potter.

No doubt the comparison would be even more accurate now that I was a—dare I even think it?

In Gryffindor.

Bleg.

Day One

I woke in the morning to Professor McGonagall's voice calling my name. I made the foolish mistake of opening my eyes before putting on my glasses, and it was instant agony. My cry of pain made the headmistress flinch and ask if I was alright. I bounded up, eyes closed shut and reached for my glasses. I found them after a moment of grabbing at thin air on the bedside table. I opened my eyes. The sun was barely up.

The hospital wing was a long room, much longer than I'd noticed. It was a sand colored brick, with large windows with decorative iron bars making diamond shapes. There big iron chandeliers on long chains, and very few beds. The wing looked rather sparse and I wondered if Madam Pomfrey would just conjure beds when she needed them.

Professor McGonagall was to my right. She wore an emerald green robe, with a gold brooch at her throat. The brooch bore the shape of the Hogwarts coat of arms, but with an H instead of the four house animals. Her hair was neatly pulled back, and she stared down at me through her spectacles.

Just to her right I could see the boy, Lucas Morigan, being helped to his feet by a lavishly dressed older fat man. The old man wore green robes, trimmed with gold, a chain for a pocket watch was stretched across his enormous mid-section. "Come me boy," he said. His voice was boisterous and good-natured.

"I'm to take you to your new common room Mr. Husher," said Professor McGonagall.

"Shouldn't Professor Silsbury do that?" I asked. "She's head of Gryffindor, isn't she?"30

"Professor Silsbury has enough on her plate with orientation commencing. You are to follow me." She swept her robes up began to walk towards the great gray double doors of the Hospital Wing. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "You are feeling well enough for the day's activities, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Change then, and quickly."

The teal dressing curtains pulled themselves around my bed. I noticed a pair of school robes on the desk. They were my robes from Madam Mulkins, but they had been altered slightly. Where the inside of the robes had been black, they were now scarlet, and a Lion patch with the Gryffindor colors behind it was on the chest. I didn't dare groan with the former Head of Gryffindor just outside my curtains. Next to my robes were a fresh pair of underpants, a pressed white collared shirt, a black leather belt, a V-neck gray jumper, and a gold and scarlet tie. On the floor was a pair of shiny black shoes.

I pulled off my pajamas and pulled on my new school uniform. I hesitated before tying the scarlet and gold tie around my neck. Still, I was dressed fairly quickly. I felt my wand—well, not my wand, the wand I was borrowing—in an inside pocket of my robes. Someone had placed it there. My clothes from yesterday were nowhere in sight, and my pajamas vanished.

I followed behind the headmistress, thanking Madam Pomfrey as we left.

I could already start to feel a headache, with all the light pouring into my vision from the peripheries. I pushed the glasses hard up against my nose, so there was as little room as possible for the magical light to seep into my sight. I made a mental note to ask Professor Flitwick to extend the shield charm when I next took my glasses to him.

We exited through the double doors into hallway. The trip to, what I soon learned was called, 'Gryffindor Tower' was rather quick for crossing, what felt like, half the castle.31 My impressions about the castle; it would be very difficult to insulate, and the founding four could not choose which stone to build the castle out of. Whole sections of the castle were built from sandstone, while others were made from granite or limestone. Being made entirely of stone, the winters would be exceptionally cold.32

We must have passed thousands of portraits. Most were awake, while a few still slept. We passed by a rather rude knight who chased the headmistress and me up a few flights of stairs before a portrait involving six trolls and a goblin taskmaster throttled him for entering.

Professor McGonagall stopped in front of a portrait that was double my height and four times my width. A morbidly obese woman, who looked to be in her late forties, sat on a white bench. Grape vines surrounded her and she held in her hand a glass of red wine. She wore a long white toga and had a sort of thrifty tiara of grape vines and red roses in her hair. In the background sat an ancient Greek temple on a high cliffside.

"Oh Headmistress!" The obese lady said. She threw her whole glass of red wine out of sight. It could be heard shattering in the background. "Password?"

"Rasberry Marmalade," said Professor McGonagall.

The portrait swung. Behind it was a round hole about the size of the portrait guarding it. Professor McGonagall stepped aside and gave me a curt nod.

"Professor Silsbury will be here shortly, I believe. Please wait for her in the common room. Your fellow first years should be down from their dormitories soon." She turned to leave but paused. "And your belongings have been delivered to your dormitory."

I meant to thank the Headmistress, but instead I said, "How?"

"Hogwarts has a fairly large staff of House Elves that-"

"I know that, I mean, do they carry it themselves or-"

Professor McGonagall had no objection to interrupting me the same way I had her. "No Husher, they use a banishing charm."

"Sorry Headmistress," I responded.

"Anything else Mr. Husher?"

Did she want me to ask questions? Was she not annoyed by them? "Why do the staircases move?"

"The founding four did so when they built the school, as you probably already know."

"Yes but 'Hogwarts a History' doesn't cover why."

"Then I'd recommend reading Elfrid Bludger's biography of Godric Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall responded. "There should be some illumination as to why several choices were made when the school was built that is not covered in 'Hogwarts a History'. You'll find several copies in your common room library."

She remained standing. It was inviting.

"My owl-"

"Has already been given food and a perch in the owlery. Our caretaker Argus Filch tends to all the school owls, but it would do well for you to visit and feed your own pet frequently. Filch needs all the help he can get. And your owl needs a personal care as well."

"Do you have any advice for new students?"

Professor McGonagall peered down her glasses, surveying me. "I believe my normal advice may not be of interest for you Mr. Husher."

"Please Headmistress, you may call me Raven."

Her lip twitched. "Thank you, Raven." She looked out the window and drew in a breath. "It has been ages since a student thought to say that."

"What is your normal advice?"

"To pay close attention to your teachers and ask them for help and resources to give you a deeper knowledge of each subject. And to take Magical Theory as soon as they can, because I believe with a knowledge of how it all works, one can grasp the needed level of mental effort to produce magic, easier." She gave me a real smile, "But for you Raven, I'd recommend that you not forget to explore Hogwarts and to explore magic. Dumbledore always thought an education was wasted on students who never explored or experimented while under these many roofs."

I nodded, and the Headmistress left without saying goodbye.

"Come on," said the obese lady. "I haven't got all day."

The entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room was large circle two feet off the ground, which required a bit of clambering to get into. The stone was warm to the touch, and the hole was not very long. I had to stoop to walk through it. Another three inches of height and I would have to start crawling through. I shut the portrait behind me.

No one was in the Common Room yet. Pale gray light flittered in through the windows. There were six windows in all. Four normal size rectangles, and two very large windows. One was a circular window in a small hallway behind the two staircases that, I assumed went up to the boys' and girls' dormitories. The other large window was to my left. It was a large rectangle, from ceiling to about three feet above the ground.

The room itself was round. A roaring fire was to my immediate right. Above the dark wooden mantel was a portrait of a lion. It slept momentarily, but a small breeze blew through its mane. In front of the fire were several squashy chairs, covered with pillows and blankets. There was a large couch, several tables—one specifically designed for chess, and a large study table in front of me. To my left were nine floor-to-ceiling bookcases, filled with ancient looking books.

The whole room looked as if a giant had dipped it in red. The chairs were red, the blankets were red, the wood had a reddish hue to it. The bulletin board to the left of the stairs had a red and gold spiraled outline to it. There were red and gold banners hung along the room—one particular one said 'Welcome First Years.'

I stood for a moment, then walked to the bookcase. Upon further inspection it seemed there were many more recent books than I'd thought there were. All of Gildaroy Lockhart's collection were in the bookcase, including the post memory-loss biography on Lockhart. My father's books were in the shelf as well. I brushed past these, having already read them. All the books were in alphabetical order, and I had no problem locating the biography by Elfrid Bludger. It was a burgundy leather book, with gold lettering that simply read, "Godric Gryffindor."

Two whole shelves were devoted to shelving copies. I went to take the first one and noticed that one book had already been removed. Not the first of the two rows, but one in the middle of the second shelf. Seeing how the bookcase was stocked full, I doubted it was just a missing copy. Someone had already borrowed from the bookshelf, wanting to know more about this house's founder.

I took the copy I wanted down and cracked it open. I walked to the large couch and plopped myself upon it, skimming past the introduction written by Albus Dumbledore. I put my feet up on a wooden lopsided coffee table. The opening pages read:

If anything impresses upon the reader the difficulty of acquiring information on the Founding Four of Hogwarts, it is this; Historians are at a loss for when any of the founders were born, how old they were when Hogwarts was founded, or indeed, when they died.

In Godric Gryffindor's case, we are lucky in knowing where he was born. The little West Country village, Godric's Hollow, is indeed the place Gryffindor was born, a fact vetted by numerous sources, including Gryffindor's grandson's letter to his sister, informing her that (in a more modern English)"Grandfather's birth town has hence been re-named for him."

The first mention of Gryffindor comes around 950 AD when a local priest spoke of a man named 'Grifindu who cleared away the beasts'—an event believed to be when Gryffindor cleared a small colony of Acromantula from the forest near Godric's Hollow.

The last mention of Gryffindor is of course when he and co-founder Salazar Slytherin dueled in 1052 AD, where Slytherin is believed either to have died or escaped out of the country to the south. Knowing that Hogwarts was founded in 990 AD, and that Gryffindor retired from the school in 1047 AD, it is hard to predict exactly when he was born.

950 AD to 1052 is 100 plus years already, and it is hard to believe that even a 17-year-old should be able to drive away a single Acromantula, not to mention a whole colony. Yet this is greatest wizard of his age you're reading about, so, it's quite possible that Gryffindor was, at the very earliest, in his adolescents.

As commonly known, Gryffindor was the best dueler in all of Britain, if not the world and—

Footsteps echoed their way to me. I looked up. A girl, shorter than me, walked down the stairs, her face buried in a book. She wore the same school uniform, with the Gryffindor trim. White light from outside bounced off the top of her black hair, and I noticed she wore emerald earrings.

"Courtney?"

She jumped and dropped the book. Her head swiveled looking for the speaker. She spotted me on the couch and smiled. "You're out of the hospital wing," she said. She bent and retrieved the book. I stood and walked towards her. My wand was out, but she picked up the book before I could levitate it to her. I slid my wand back into my robes.

I stopped a couple steps in front of her, as she straightened out her robes, but then she came towards me a hugged me. My arms were late to react, and I sort of pulled her in as she pulled away. She took a step back, holding the book to her chest. Her eyes lingered on mine for a second too long.

"Madam Pomfrey—sorry the school healer," I said.

"Oh, I know who she is. I've got four older siblings who went to Hogwarts" Courtney said.

"I thought it was just Christopher and Claudia."

"No, my oldest brother, Crispin, has been out of Hogwarts a couple years. He's watching ink dry at the Ministry. And my oldest sister, Cristen, she's in Paris working for the English Ambassador."

I nodded, then noticed the book in Courtney's arms. It was the other borrowed copy of Gryffindor's biography. "You too huh?" I showed her the book in my left hand.

Her eyes widened. They were so blue. "Christopher banned me from learning anything about Gryffindor growing up. Thought it would help to make sure the hat didn't sort me there." She wrinkled her nose. "Lot of good that did. He's going to kill me." She glanced over to the portrait of the lion. "Ah well, trying to catch up now. You know he told me Gryffindor's common room was in a hut by the Forbidden Forest."

I laughed. "That's the gamekeeper's cottage I think." She smiled and brushed her hair behind her ear. "Are any of your family in Gryffindor?"

Courtney sighed. "Yeah, my dad and Crispin. But Christopher doesn't get on with them. No, Christopher's the only Slytherin, actually. My mom and Cristen were both in Ravenclaw, and course, as you know, Claudia's in Hufflepuff."

She was so polite. She hadn't even mentioned the color of my eyes.

"Do you know what we'll be doing today?" she asked.

"No," I answered. "I don't think much though, right? If they're doing both Gryffindor and Hufflpuff tryouts, they won't want us to miss that."

"Are first years allowed to try out for the house team?"

"Course. Just not allowed brooms." She looked out the giant window. "Are you thinking of trying out?"

"You know I've never been flying," she answered, looking back at me. "But I love Quidditch. Do you follow it?"

I could not shake my head more enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I follow the British Quidditch League religiously. What's your team?"

Courtney' eyes shifted, as her weight did from one foot to another. "Well, I was born in Wimborne, so the Wasps. You?"

"Magpies, my family lives quite near Montrose. Where do you live now if not in Wimborne?"

"London. Mum and Dad both work at the Ministry and prefer the city life. We've got a flat in Chelsea."

I smiled and leaned in. "Are you a Chelsea fan? A soccer fan?"

"Oh yes, my mom is muggleborn and loves the EPL."

"My mom is a muggle, and she grew up in London, rooting for Chelsea as well."

The portrait hole opened, cutting our conversation to a halt. In walked a young woman. She had black hair that, though up in a lose bun, fell below her waist. It was naturally wavy. She wore a more modern set of purple robes, cut in a pant suit like fashion, with yellow button on the coat portion. She held her wand, a white wand, before her, using it to scribble notes on a clipboard that hovered in front of her. She wore black heeled boots with yellow splashes of paint on them. She was very slender, looked no more than twenty, and wore heavy eye makeup.

"Where are the rest of you?" she spoke with a scouse accent. She flicked her wand and the clipboard disappeared. She flicked it again and two gunshots went off above us. She marched past Courtney and me, ascending the stairs to the girl's side. "Oy! Peebrains, up we go," she called.

Soon after Alice, her hair all tangled, her school uniform disheveled, came racing down the stairs. The woman was not far behind her. She pointed her wand at Courtney and I, sparks flying off the end, and said, "Sit on the couch, I'll be right there."

"Raven!" Alice cried. She gave me a giant squeeze and held me at arms length. I was reminded powerfully of mom. "Your eyes, they're—"

"Pink, I know," I said dryly. I turned my back on her and went to the couch. Alice continue talking.

"We have so much room up there," Alice said. "It's just Courtney and me. Have you been to the dormitories yet?"

"No." I sat on the couch and sagged into the leather. Alice sat next to me, and Courtney on her other side. Courtney leaned forward so she could see me. She still held the Gryffindor bio to her chest.

"Oh, they're wonderful. You get a great view of the quidditch pitch, and the forest. You can even see this little hut down there. I think it's Professor Hagrid's, you know the man who took us on the boats last night?"

"The man who took you on the what?" I asked.

Alice curled her legs beneath her and bounced on the couch. Courtney had to lean farther forward. "That's right, you missed that! Professor Hagrid, he's this giant man with a massive graying beard. He led us to the castle last night on boats. We crossed the lake and everything."

She picked at her ear for a second, then flicked away some earwax. I saw it fall on the coffee table. Courtney scowled at it. I muttered a vanishing spell while Alice talked, and the earwax disappeared. Courtney looked confused, then spotted me putting my wand away.

"Anyway," Alice continued, "he was outside the hut working in a vegetable patch. And he's got a hippogriff."

"You know someone spooked the hippogriff last night?" I said.

"What?" Courtney and Alice both asked.

"Lucas Morgan; sorted into Slytherin," I said. "He got taken to the hospital wing last night. Saw him in Professor Hagrid's arms. He's okay though. Some rather rotund professor picked him up this morning."

"That'll be Professor Slughorn," Courtney said. "Head of Slytherin. My brother loves him."

"Why would he do that?" Alice said. "It could have killed them."

"It'll be part of the Slytherin initiation," Courtney answered. "My brother told me about it. All the Slytherins must do something to prove their worth. That boy probably had to get a feather off the hippogriff or something."

"Getting sorted into Slytherin sounds much more fun," I said. "You get enchanted objects and an initiation."

"That only started a couple years ago," Courtney said. "And all the houses do it now. We were supposed to have an initiation last night, but they didn't want to do it without you."

Alice started to bounce again. "I can't wait for that. I wonder what we'll have to do."

Footsteps made all three of us turn our heads. Two boys preceded the woman. One was a very short, and slightly plump, white boy, with sandy colored hair. He had rather big lips, a shade of pink that gave the impression he was wearing lipstick. The other was a skinny boy with dark colored skin. He had grayish blue eyes, a prominent brow, curly black hair, and hollowed cheeks. This other boy stood with poor posture, leaning a bit forward, his shoulders hunched.

"Good lord," the young woman said. She did not elaborate. She pointed at the two boys to sit down. The round boy sat beside Courtney, who shuffled closer to Alice. The skinny boy sat next to me, leaning against the arm, plenty of space between us. He said nothing to me, or anyone else, while the round boy said good morning and adjusted his clothes.

The young woman whipped out her wand, and the clipboard appeared. She looked down at it. "Right. Five of you this year. Merlin's beard, that's not a lot." She looked up at us, looking slightly shocked to see us there. "Sorry. Well no—you're late, I swear—we're even." She took a big breath and waved the clipboard into nothingness.

She gave a flash of a smile. "I'm Professor Silsbury, your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and head of Gryffindor House. And before you ask, this is my second-year teaching. And God help you, if you think that means you can be cheeky with me. Oh, and, I've only been out of Hogwarts for two years, which I'm sure some idiot is bound to tell you. But I'll have you know I got twelve outstanding NEWTs and I beat out some serious competition for this job. So, I'm well worth the teaching post."

She flushed a bit, "Thought that doesn't stop the Headmistress from thinking it inappropriate for me to teach the sixth and seventh years. But mind you that's only for a couple more years. I'll have you lot no doubt, so don't test me."

She produced her clipboard again and squinted at it. "Right, so you haven't had your" she drew airquotes with her fingers, "'initiation' that I'm not supposed to know about." She paused and looked back at us again. "Okay who is who. Raise your hand. Arthur Gully." The round boy raised his hand. "Zephyr Gruger." The dark colored boy next to me raised his hand. He had perfect posture as he did so, looking straight at Professor Silsbury, while his hand went straight into the air. She nodded and he withdrew his hand back to his side, as smooth as could be. "Alice and Raven Husher." We both raised our hands, followed by "Courtney Nighy." Professor Silsbury nodded to Courtney who put her hand down.

With a wave of her wand Professor Silsbury sent two rolls of parchment into our laps. The first was a schedule for our orientation weekend. And it was full.

After this introductory meeting with our head of house, we were to get a tour of the castle, then breakfast, followed by Gryffindor Quidditch team tryouts, then lunch. During the Hufflepuff team tryouts, the Gryffindors were to tour the grounds before dinner. When I first looked at the schedule it said we had a free evening tonight, but as I read it, words appeared on the schedule saying, "Gryffindor Initiation."

"Don't lose these," Professor Silsbury said. "I've charmed them to update with each day, and include the homework you have, and when it is due. I won't take any excuses from my Gryffindors that you forgot."

I skimmed over the activities for Saturday and Sunday. There was a scheduled meet and greet for all first years, an introduction to teams and clubs after the Ravenclaw tryouts, and a lecture for the first years by the Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, and Caretaker Argus Filch.

I flipped over to the second piece of parchment, while Professor Silsbury went on about what it means to be a Gryffindor and gave an explanation about house points and the inter-house championship.

The second piece of parchment was my class schedule, which, I assume, was the same as all those around me. All first year Gryffindors had the same class schedule.

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

Saturday

Sunday

Breakfast 6:00 to 9:00

Breakfast 6:00 to 9:00

Breakfast 6:00 to 9:00

Breakfast 6:00 to 9:00

Breakfast 6:00 to 9:00

Breakfast 6:00 to 10

Breakfast 6:00 to 10

9:00 – 10:30

Potions

w/Slytherins

9:00 – 10:30

Charms w/Ravenclaws

9:00-10:30

9:00–10:30

Charms

w/Ravenclaws

9:00–10:30

10:30 – 12:00

Potions

w/Slytherins

10:30—12:00

10:30-10:00

10:30—12:00

10:30—12:00

Lunch 12:30 – 1:20

Lunch 12:30 – 1:20

Lunch 12:30 – 1:20

Lunch 12:30 – 1:20

Lunch 12:30 – 1:20

Lunch 11 to 2

Lunch 11 to 2

1:30 to 2:50

History of Magic

w/Ravenclaws

1:30 to 2:50

Transfiguration

1:30 to 2:50

History of Magic

w/Ravenclaw

1:30 to 2:50

Transfiguration

1:30 to 2:50

Defense Against the Dark Arts

3:00 – 4:20

Herbology/ Hufflepuffs

3:00 – 4:20

3:00 – 4:20

Herbology/ Hufflepuffs

3:00—4:20

Flying

3:00 – 4:20

Defense Against the Dark Arts

4:30 – 6:00

Study Hall

4:30 – 6:00

4:30 – 6:00

Study Hall

4:30 – 6:00

4:30 – 6:00

Dinner: 6 to 8

Evening:

Free

Dinner: 6 to 8

Evening: Free

Dinner: 6 to 8

Midnight to 1:30: Astrology w/all First years

Dinner: 6 to 8

Evening: Free

Dinner: 6 to 8

Evening: Free

Dinner: 6 to 8

Dinner: 6 to 8

Even as I read the schedule, writing appeared on Saturday and Sunday, labeling the times for our orientation schedule. It was a cool bit of magic.

"Any questions?" Professor Silsbury asked.

My hand shot up at once. "Professor, I've only ever heard of orientation at muggle schools." It wasn't a question, but Silsbury got the point.

"It's quite new to Hogwarts, Headmistress McGonagall implemented it in her second year as Headmistress. She thought it would help new students adjust easier."

"Why had no one else done that?" Alice asked. She didn't raise her hand at all; she just blurted it out.

"I know that Professor Dumbledore thought the students ought to find out things for themselves," Silsbury answered.

I internally nodded. Much better to just let us all have at it.

"Any other questions?" No one moved. "Right then, off we go."

We hadn't taken two steps before Alice started squealing. "No Mochi! No, you're supposed to stay in the dormitory."

I looked to the dormitory stairs. There she was, the slender brown tabby, her eyes big as she took in her surroundings. She spotted me and made a small meow.

"She can come with us," Professor Silsbury said. "Either way, but let's be off."

Alice ran to the stairs and picked up Mochi in both arms. Mochi rubbed her mouth on Alice's hand, and attempted to headbutt Alice's chin, but couldn't reach. Courtney started to pet Mochi

The round boy, Arthur Gully, started to pet Mochi too. "She's so sweet," he said. "It even sounds like she's saying Mochi."

I made every attempt to not roll my eyes. It did not sound like that at all. But now that someone other than mother had said so, I expected to never hear the end of that stupid comment. Alice would proclaim it for an eternity.

"She's so small," Arthur said. "Is she still a kitten?"

"No," Alice said, positively beaming at all the attention her and her cat were getting. "She's past two now. I think she's going to be this small forever."

"Come on you lot." Professor Silsbury had one leg out the portrait hole. By her stood Zephyr, silent and still, looking down at the ground.

I followed, leading the pack of cat droolers to and out of the portrait hole.

The tour of the castle took two hours, and we didn't even see most of it. I don't know if any of us go anything out of the tour either. Professor Silsbury told us the history behind some things, but for the most part was more concerned with showing us the location of classrooms we'd be attending. It wasn't much help though. I couldn't remember how to get to any of them, except for the Defense Against the Darks Arts Classroom, which was a floor beneath Gryffindor tower.

We passed both the Ravenclaw and Slytherin first years, also getting a tour of the castle. I very clearly heard Lucas Morgan say, "Are his eyes pink? That's queer." All the Gryffindors fell quiet. Professor Silsbury did not hear. She was consulting her clipboard about what to show us next.

We arrived in the Great Hall with a half hour to spare for breakfast. Professor Silsbury finally departed our company and headed up to the staff table. I stopped at the entrance, flanked by two massive dark wooden doors. Both Arthur and Zephyr continued, but Alice, still holding Mochi, and Courtney stayed back with me.

The Great Hall was much larger than I had thought. A thousand students fit in it easy. Long brown tables ran from the entrance to the staff table at the other end of the hall. The floor and walls were made of the same sandstone, though the floor looked like it was polished regularly, and the walls had a sort of worn hue to them. In the air were hundreds of candles, suspended by magic. Along with them were purple and black banners with the Hogwarts crest on them. Above each house table was an even larger house banner. I spotted the Gryffindor Lion, made with gold thread on a scarlet background.

The most impressive part about the Great Hall, was the ceiling. It was bewitched to look like the sky outside. Today was overcast, but just barely and a bright light poured into the hall from the ceiling. Yet there were small bricks of the ceiling that did not look like the sky, but like normal sections of a ceiling. Was the spell wearing off?

I couldn't look long at the ceiling though. The glare of magical light coming into my eyes from the edges of my glasses, was just too bright. I had to look down, but

"My brother, Crispin, that is, said it's never been the same since the Battle of Hogwarts," Courtney said, noticing what I was staring at.

Now that I had spotted the initial damage, I could see cracks in the walls, and floor. A whole chunk behind the staff table looked as if it had been glued back in.

"Can they do nothing?" Alice asked.

Courtney shrugged, absentmindedly petting Mochi, who purred.

I adjusted my glasses. "It must have to do with the amount and type of dark magic used here. It probably left a mark."

"A mark?" Courtney asked. I could see any interested fading in Alice's face. Why did she always tune out when I talked?

"Magic always leaves some type of mark—though usually invisible. Dark magic often has the effect of some type of scaring. I suppose that's what happened here."

"Very good," said a voice behind us.

I turned. The lavishly dressed wizard, in green and gold robes, from earlier in the hospital wing bent down towards me. He squinted a bit, neglecting to use the spectacles on a chain around his neck. His mid section seemed even more massive than before, and there were a great deal of fat folds in his neck. "Such knowledge for an eleven-year-old. Such knowledge. What is your name?"

"Raven Husher, sir."

"Professor Slughorn." He straightened up and shook my hand. His grip was firm, but his whole body shook as our arms pumped. "What house are you in? Ah but of course," he noted trim of my robes, tapping it with a finger. "You're in Gryffindor. Five points to it then." He laughed. "I'll look forward to seeing you in potions my dear boy." He shuffled off to the staff table without a word to Alice or Courtney.

Sitting down to breakfast, Alice had difficulty holding onto Mochi, who both wanted to stay in human contact, and eat all the meat on the table. I poured myself pumpkin juice, and porridge. Alice spilled bacon on the floor, and I took pity on her. I grabbed Mochi by both legs and stretched her over the back of my neck. She started to purr, and I fed her pieces of the bacon that Alice had let fall to the ground and ate my breakfast.

Quidditch Tryouts

The whole of Gryffindor left the breakfast table at nine, heading down to the quidditch pitch. I continued to hear whispers about the color of my eyes. But for the most part it was students wondering what had happened.33 Through the crowd I kept Mochi wrapped around my neck. Longer-legged, the older students passed by us first years, including a rather humungous individual, with waist length hair and broad shoulders. He carried his own broom and a club on one shoulder.

"Cygnus! Hey Cygnus!" Alice shouted. She jumped up and down, waving.

The broad-shouldered man turned. Cygnus did not look sixteen. He was taller than everyone in the crowd. He had a full beard, and bushy eyebrows. Tanned with thick arm muscles. He wore scarlet and gold quidditch robes. A large pair of goggles sat atop his head. He walked with several friends, one, a girl of Arabic descent, who too wore her quidditch robes.

"Watcha Alice, Raven, Courtney," he said, turning and walking at the same time. He smiled. His smile was massive. "Glad to see you're alright Raven. The glasses helping?"

I nodded. "Helps with the ma—the light intake. Flitwick charmed them."

"He does that. Is the coloration permanent?" He gestured my eyes.

"Afraid so," I said. "A lot of people seem to think they're stupid looking."

"Fuck 'em" Cygnus said.34

"Are you trying out for beater?" Alice asked Cygnus.

"Yup. I've been one of the beaters since my second year, along with Marie here." He indicated the other girl in quidditch robes. I noticed now that she bore a beaters club; she lifted it with one hand and winked. I looked away. I'd never had a girl wink at me before.

"Do you have to tryout?" Alice asked

"Yup each year. No freebies."

Alice was relentless with the questions "Do all old players wear team robes to tryouts."

A sly smile crossed Cygnus's lips. He glanced over to Marie, who smirked. "Well…no, Marie and I like to...like to remind people that we're the beaters here. Get in there heads a bit."35

"How many on the team last year are returning?" Alice asked.

"Five," Cygnus answered. "We'll be needing a new seeker and a new chaser, if everyone returns that is. Why are you thinking to trying out?"

Alice nodded vigorously.

"And what about you too?"

I thought back the last time I'd flown and shook my head. "I'm not one for flying much," I said.

Cygnus paused then shrugged.

"But you love quidditch," Courtney protested. "You're really not going to try out?"

I shook my head. "Are you?"

Courtney's eyes lit up, but she gave a tiny nod.

Cygnus interjected. "Tell you what. When you two tryout, you can use my broom. Don't use one of the school's; they're terrible." He adjusted the broom on his shoulder. Made of completely black wood there were small gold numbers that had faded. "It's nothing fancy, just a Nimbus 2001, but she'll get the job done."

We continued to chat about quidditch all the way down the pitch. It turned out Cygnus was also a Montrose Magpies fan, and so he, Alice and I discussed their chances of winning the league, with several thoughts from both Courtney and Marie. When we reached the pitch, I swung off to the left with the rest of the Gryffindors, as the would-be-teammates marched forward.

The quidditch pitch was about a mile away from the school. One had to follow an old dirt path down several rolls of a hill to a flat meadow. In the middle of the meadow stood the oval structure. It was a small stadium, compared with the professional ones, which sat fifty thousand. The Hogwarts pitch sat a thousand, though it was enchanted to accommodate more if they arrived. Unlike most quidditch stadiums, which had levels on levels of stadium seating, the Hogwarts pitch had four towers, as well as the normal stadium seating. Each tower was decorated in a house color, along with a large house banner. The towers were reserved for staff, guests, parents, and prefects. Us normal students were required to sit in the stadium seating.

The Gryffindor's section sat between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tower. The seats were all red. Most of the seats were empty. More than half the house was on the pitch, ready to tryout. It seemed that Courtney and Alice were the only first years interested in trying out. I spotted Zephyr walking silently along a couple of third years, with Arthur bouncing along behind him, as climbed up to their seats.

I thought of joining them, as I passed the entrance to Gryffidor's tower. The entrance was roped off. I twisted my neck to look up. It didn't seem anyone was up there. I looked around. No one paid me any attention. I bent low and went under the rope.

The stairs were caked with mud, and some straw that looked as if it had sat there for ages. I went up three flights of stairs before coming to the first row of seats. I clambered up and peered over the edge of the tower. I spotted Alice and Courtney. They stood next to Cygnus.

The pitch was a beautiful deep green, a stark contrast to the cloudy sky. The six hoops—standing fifty feet tall—were a metallic gold. Around the edge of the pitch was a sand boundary, followed by several wooden stanchions connecting the pitch to the stadium walls.

A short girl with a lot of curly red hair was shouting out instructions down on the pitch. I thought she managed to create a disproportionate amount of volume from her vocal chords compared with her size.

"Raven." The voice was female, and Scottish.

I turned. Professor McGonagall sat at the top row, looking down those spectacles at me.

"Professor," I responded. Was I in trouble?

"Did you not see the sign stating whom the tower boxes were for?" she asked. She was rather rigid in both facial expression and posture.

"I figured that rule was only in place during actual games?"

"The fact that the rest of your house are all sitting below didn't tip you off?"

"No, Professor."

"And I suppose you thought the rope was just for decoration."

"Yes, Professor." I couldn't stop myself, nor could I stop a grin poking out from my lips.

A small grin flashed across McGonagall's face too. "Very well Raven, you may sit up here, but know for the future that, in general, ropes are not merely for decoration."

I couldn't believe my luck. I climbed the stairs and joined Professor McGonagall, sitting next to her. Today she wore swirling robes of deep crimson. I let a squirming Mochi off my neck, allowing her to explore the surroundings. She immediately went to the headmistress who outstretched her fingers to let Mochi rub against them.

"Your sister, she's on the pitch?" McGonagall asked.

I nodded.

"I would have thought you would have wanted to try out. As I recall, you follow the league quite closely," she remarked.

"The last time I flew, I didn't enjoy it," I said.

"I wasn't aware you had brooms at your home," McGonagall said.

I was in awe that she remembered such a small detail. "We don't. But a couple years ago I bewitched a stick to fly and got too high up. I fell."

McGonagall smiled. "I remember your mother telling me so."

I looked over at McGonagall. When had my mother told her that? "She did?"

"Yes, when I visited your home."

I hadn't realized she had been at the home that long.

My attention was drawn back to pitch as half a dozen brooms rose into the air. I spotted Courtney among them. Alice, it seemed, was still on the ground. The red-haired girl who shouted instructions zoomed up to the circle, a large red ball in one arm.

"Chaser tryouts," McGonagall said, mostly to herself.

"Is that the captain?" I asked, pointing to the red-haired girl.

"Yes, that is Amelia Horford, chaser. She was captain last year too, though we—that is to say, Gryffindor—finished last. So, we'll see if she was good choice for a second year in a row."

Rushed footsteps were followed by an image of Professor Silsbury running up the stairs. "Headmistress I—oh hello Husher—Headmistress I—"she started to hand over her clipboard to McGonagall.

McGonagall waved her hand. "Not this year Rowan. You are on your own."

Professor Silsbury let the clipboard droop in her hand. "But Headmistress—"

"I told you this summer, you are on your own. Now please, Rowan, sit and watch the tryouts."

Professor Silsbury snapped the clipboard back at her side, then sat two rows in front of us, pouring over it, not watching the tryouts.

Courtney did okay during warmups. I was amazed to see how much control she had of the broom. Even Professor McGonagall noted how well she flew. While she did fine on the short passing drills, she couldn't manage to throw the long passes. She did even worse on the scoring drills, scoring only one of the five allotted penalties. And she didn't manage to tackle Amelia or get the quaffle away from her in the timed trial.

She was cut, along with four others. Though she immediately joined the group of beaters. I watched as Cygnus lent her his club. She had difficulty holding it up.

Including Courtney's group, there were five clusters of six people trying out for chaser. Alice was in the last group. Of the second group, four were cut; the third group, all were cut. The fourth group, the one before Alice, started their passing drills. During this, I asked Professor McGonagall, "Is it normal for there to only be five new inductees in a house. I mean, Hufflepuff got a lot more."

Professor McGonagall gave me a small smile. "Its not unheard of, but it is quite rare. Over my time in Hogwarts, I've seen three occasions when classes become rather small."

She put up three fingers, indicating each instance. "Eleven or so years after Grindewald came to power, and the same timeframe for both times when Voldemort came to power. This year should be the start of a small decline in student population."

"But why—"

"People don't want to bring children into a world filled with fear and murder. They want to bring their children into a world where they know it is safe for them."

"But why so few in Gryffindor?"

"After Grindelwald came to power, we had a surge in Hufflepuffs as well. My theory is, that when such evil becomes such a threat, there is a large swing, on a social scale, to people wanting to be good—not brave, or smart, or ambitious—just good, to build a better world, and have better people in it.

"So many children in the wizarding community today are growing up with everyone telling them to be good, to be nice, to be loving, and not hateful. And that seems to influence what type of people they are by the time they reach Hogwarts."

I thought this over, silently. What did that say about me? Was I not good? I was smart, evidently, and ambitious, and I guess brave—else the sorting hat wouldn't have placed me in Gryffindor—but was I good enough to be in Hufflepuff?

"Ah, this is Zelda Weatherbee, she was a chaser last year. Fourth year student, and just a spectacular goal scorer."

The girl the headmistress pointed out was a black girl with a short flat-top fro. I thought she had looked unremarkable in the passing drills. But McGonagall was right. She scored all five of her goals—all of them from a great distance away. It took her all of three seconds to tackle Amelia and take the quaffle from her. Amelia had to take a break for a bit. It seemed Zelda had winded her when the two made contact. From my perspective, Zelda was the favorite to be one of the three chasers.

Alice's group started. She rode Cygnus' nimbus and shot off with great speed. She caught all her short passes and threw perfect short passes back. They all landed squarely in the chest of whomever she passed to.

Both Professor McGonagall and I stayed silent throughout Alice's tryout. And I didn't realize it until halfway through, but we both leaned forward with our chins on our fists, in the same way.

Alice struggled during the long toss, but only missed two throws, and she caught an overthrown pass by letting go of her broom and leaning all the way back. She stayed herself before rolling over, which drew some cheers from the crowd below.

"I think she's become a little of a fan favorite." It was Professor Silsbury who said this. I hadn't realized she was watching. Her clipboard had vanished again, and she looked out onto the pitch.

"First year tryouts with talent always do," Professor McGonagall said.

Alice elected to go last on the scoring drill. By the time she was up, it seemed like no one out of this group was going to make it to next tier. Only one person had managed to score more than once.

Amelia threw the quaffle to Alice, then streaked back to the three hoops, where she was acting as keeper. Alice took a moment, she tucked the quaffle under her left arm, and then rocketed towards the right goal. The closer Alice got, the more Amelia shaded the right goal. Just as Alice was five feet from the goal, she untucked the quaffle from her arm, with her left hand, and threw it, at an incredibly sharp angle, to the very left goal post. Amelia had no chance to save it. The quaffle bounced off the inside edge of the ring and went through the goal post. All the Gryffindors cheered.

I straightened up and pumped my fist.

Alice flew back to the starting position and was thrown the quaffle again. She did the same thing. She tucked the ball under her armpit, and flew towards the right goal. Amelia had to shade the right again, but she stayed a little more center. Alice took out the ball about ten feet from the hoops, put on a burst of speed and kept going towards the right goal. Amelia met her there. Alice faked a shot with her right hand, Amelia dove that direction, and Alice instead held onto the ball, and did a sort of basketball looping shot up towards the middle goal.

The cheers were even louder from the crowd.

Alice was back at the staring position with the quaffle. She wasn't smiling, she was stone faced. She shot off towards the middle of all three goals. Amelia stayed in position, dead center. Alice, twenty-five feet out, threw the quaffle at the left post, but it was a weak shot. It didn't even make it to the goals before it started to fall. Amelia called back for a second quaffle, but she hadn't noticed that Alice had flown as fast as she could underneath the ball and caught the quaffle three feet from the left hoop. Amelia raced down, but Alice wasn't aiming for the left goal post, instead she shot past and put the quaffle into the center ring with an easy shot.

I could see Amelia shaking her head, but there was a hint of smile on her face.

When Alice got the quaffle next she didn't take her time. She tucked the quaffle under her left armpit and flew towards the center. She didn't take the ball out when she was near the goals, instead she pelted towards Amelia, then turned swiftly towards the left goal. She collided with Amelia, who held on tight to her broom, and knocked Alice back, trying to get her to drop the quaffle. She didn't see Alice use her left hand to untuck the ball. Alice kept it in her grasp by her hip and as they passed the left goal, she threw it behind her head, straight in for a goal.

Professor Silsbury gave a little whoop. The cheers from the Gryffindors were raucous.

Alice flew back to the starting position.

From the where the beaters stood a cheer emerged. "Al-ice, Al-ice, Al-ice."

I could see Cygnus and Courtney leading the cheer. Soon all those on the ground were cheering. But then Amelia threw the quaffle to Alice and the stadium became quiet.

As soon as Alice started flying, I knew she was unsure of what to do. She started off a meandering pace and listed back and forth. At this point, Amelia had taken to the strategy of circling the goals, rather than staying in the middle.

Then feet from the goals, Alice still held the quaffle in her right hand. She climbed up over to the right goal and tried the same trick she had before—throwing the quaffle behind her head. But Amelia was ready, and she used the back of her broom to hit the quaffle away.

But Alice didn't let that stop her. In an act of, what I am sure was, desperation, she jumped off her broom, grabbed the quaffle as it fell, and sort of dunked it through the hoop. Alice just managed to hold onto the bottom of the hoop. She pulled herself up, and sat in the hoop, on leg dangling off as she waited for Amelia to bring her Cygnus's broom.

The Gryffindor crowd had gone nuts. And cheers of "Al-ice" rang throughout the stadium again. I watched as Alice was handed the broom and was given a pat on the back from Amelia. My excitement ebbed away as the cheers grew even louder when she landed on the pitch, and the beater, seeker and keeper hopefuls swarmed her.

Not only was I going to be the pink-eyed boy. I was going to be "'that pink-eyed kid, you know, Alice's brother."

Alice still had to fly against four more people, including Zelda, for the two open chaser spots. Amelia—as captain—would be occupying the third slot. But it was in the bag after Alice dunked in that fifth goal. And after watching Alice and Zelda play together as a pair, there was a tangible excitement in the air. And indeed, Alice and Zelda were both selected for the two chaser spots.

"Your sister hasn't flown much, has she?" Professor Silsbury asked.

"Just a couple times. My dad took her to the Magpies stadium for her birthday present, twice. You know how they have days where kids can come and fly."

The next tryouts were for the beaters. Amelia, with the help of a couple other seventh and sixth years created two scores of round wooden targets that flew around the stadium.

Marie, the girl who wore her old quidditch robes along with Cygnus, elected to start.

"I think," Professor McGonagall said, "you'll find these tryouts to be short. Ms Abdule is one of the best beaters I've ever seen. And alongside Mr. LeStrange, I don't know if I've ever seen a better duo of beaters play for Gryffindor."36

The forty wooden targets around the stadium all had red circles painted in the middle. The would-be beaters were required to take out all forty of the targets, and they were timed. Marie hit every single target in the circle, and she did so in two minutes. They were all clean shots too, straight in and out of the target.

As Amelia repaired all the targets, I watched Cygnus crouching next to Courtney, who had found a smaller club. He was showing her the correct way to hit a bludger.

Two third year boys tried out and did poorly. And then Courtney attempted to go. On her first swing she hit a bludger, but it went backwards and out of the stadium. She tore after it, and tried another swing, but threw the club. Laughing she flew back to the ground, waving to Amelia that she was done. Cygnus and Marie both gave her a big hug before Courtney darted off to the keeper section.

Cygnus went after Courtney, and it took him a minute and a half to hit all the targets. He didn't hit the center of the all the targets like Marie did, but his blow was so powerful, a dozen of the targets exploded on impact. After he finished, the rest of the beater hopefuls left, and beater tryouts concluded.

During keeper tryouts Professor McGonagall asked me a question I knew was coming. "How are your eyes?"

"Fine," I answered. "I can still see it here—"I indicated the edge of my glasses."

"Ask for Professor Flitwick to extend the charm a bit," she said.

"That was my thought too," I said.

"Tell me, can you see the magic coming off the brooms?" Professor Silsbury asked. She turned to look at me.

I guess the teachers had been briefed on what happened to me, and why my eyes were colored so. I took off my glasses, shutting my eyes first, and opened them slowly. It was excellent to see that, though I could see signs of magic around me, they weren't blinding like being in the castle. The stadium itself had a faint gold glow to it. The brooms glowed bright as well, and off the tails of the broom, a gold light streaked out like air.

I nodded. "It looks like fire off a jet engine."

Instantly a notebook was out and Professor Silsbury was writing on it.

I turned to McGonagall. "Was the stadium built by magic?"

McGonagall looked away from a particularly poor keeper tryout by Courtney, who managed to save just one shot, a shot from Amelia, that Courtney leapt to catch, and ended up head butting.

"Yes, and it was rebuilt after the Battle. Why?'

"I can see the residual magic keeping it together. It's not like looking at the castle where it's all blinding, but it's a faint glow."

"The castle is guarded by a great deal of spells," Professor McGonagall explained.

I nodded. The castle was behind where we sat. I didn't dare look at it. I thought it would probably be like looking at the sun. I put my glasses back on.

"You know to go straight to the hospital wing if it starts to hurt again?" Professor McGonagall asked. I nodded, and the conversation ended.

Gryffindor ended up with a keeper named McKinney Hart, a tall and thick fourth year, who Professor McGonagall told me played last year at that position. He was a white boy with dirty blonde hair.

The seeker tryouts had the most people waiting, including Courtney. But it was also the fastest tryout. The goal was simple. Catch the snitch as fast as possible, and if the it took longer than three minutes the tryout was over. Special consideration was given to spectacular flying.

I watched Amelia release the snitch and followed its progress for a bit before looking down at Courtney. She was near the back of the line, and her head kept moving. I slid my glasses down my nose and spotted the trail of gold light that was the snitch. Courtney was following it, not letting it out of her sight. I thought that was a great strategy and wondered for a moment if I should have tried out, given that my eyesight gave me an advantage to seeing the snitch. Then I imagined falling off the broom. I shuddered.

Amelia shot giant red sparks at the end of her wand, which morphed into a large timer. When Amelia said go, the clock ticked down from three minutes. I imagine a great deal of people did not like this.

At times, during the tryout, it seemed Courtney had lost sight of the snitch when it was too high up, or at the other end of the pitch. But she was remarkably quick in picking it back up.

The first fifteen people didn't catch the snitch by the end of three minutes. The sixteenth person, a seventh year named Carl Abernathy, caught the snitch in forty-five seconds, which became the new time. Amelia switched the timer from saying "3:00" to "0:45." No one was able to catch the snitch in forty-five seconds by the time Courtney's turn came.

She flew up into the air, her head still swiveling. I slid my glasses down again. The snitch was on the other short side of the pitch but was moving quickly upwards. Ameila gave the okay, and Courtney shot off towards the snitch. She pulled up with it, but the snitch went into a dive. Courtney leaned forward on her broom, and nearly overcorrected, but managed to hold the dive. She stretched out, caught it in one hand, pulled out of the dive, and looked up at the timer.

She'd done it in twenty-four seconds.

An argument broke out between Carl and Amelia. I could hear ever word clearly.

"She was watching the snitch the whole time. She already knew where it was."

"That's what you're supposed to do. That's the point of the game."

"It's cheating."

"It's smart, Carl, now shove off."

"I flew better than her, we should at least have another go."

"That's not true, and no. You're out Carl. I'm sorry."

Carl stormed away from Amelia, who gave the next seeker hopeful the good to go sign.

"I think they're dating," Professor Silsbury mentioned to Professor McGonagall.

"Good for Amelia," Professor McGonagall responded. "Looks as if we might have two first years on the house team—I mean, you might have two first years. I hope—for your sake Rowan—they are as good as they look. I will have to award special privileges to both of them, so they can own their own brooms." She paused. "Goodness, this seems to be happening more and more often. Maybe we should just disband the rule." She stood. "I should be off Rowan. Would you please inform Ms. Husher and Ms. Nighy about their privileges? See you at dinner." She gave me another smile and nod, "Raven." And she disapparated.37

"Come on Raven," Professor Silsbury said. "We'll be taking a tour of the grounds soon."

"The tryouts aren't over yet," I said.

"They're over," Professor Silsbury remarked.

She was right. By the time we had gotten onto the pitch, the seeker tryouts were done, with Courtney having bested everyone.

Zephyr and Arthur spotted Professor Silsbury and I walking onto the pitch and followed. The rest of Gryffindor house left the stadium, some dejected, but most excited. I heard Alice's name a lot, and many people saying, "that small girl" when talking about Courtney.

Amelia was addressing her new team on the field. She called over to Professor Silsbury and said, "We'll be right back Professor, just got to get these youngin's into their new robes."

Alice waved at me through the legs of her new teammates. I waved back. I don't know if I'd even seen her that pleased. She practically jumped with each step. Cygnus and put Courtney up on his shoulders. I heard her talking animatedly about how terrible she was as a beater. Cygnus and Marie just laughed. I watched as they marched towards the locker rooms.

Initiation

Arthur could not stop gabbing on about how impressed he was by Alice and Courtney's quidditch tryouts. Zephyr even spoke for the first time, saying simply, "You both flew very well." His voice was very deep for an eleven-year-old and I had a suspicion that he'd have girls swooning over him much sooner than any of the other first year boys.

I took a quick look at Alice's schedule when she got back to group. Outside the table of timeslots, in the bottom right corner of the parchment the word 'Quiddich' followed by a question mark appeared. It was very clever magic. The schedule knew already that Alice would be having quidditch practice every week, but as it hadn't been assigned yet the paper couldn't mark down a time. I wondered how Professor Silsbury did it.

The tour of grounds was nothing short of magnificent. As we walked, the mist of the morning cleared, as did the thick cloud cover. What remained was a rather sunny day, a sky with fluffy white clouds, and a bright green grass stretching for miles around us. I couldn't stop swiveling my head, unlike Rainy who mainly stared at her feet and complained in a quiet whisper about wanting to get back to the castle to write mother.

Mochi trailed behind us, beside us, and all around us. She chased birds, sniffed the ground, climbed a tree, but always stayed within twenty feet or so.

The grounds were both larger and smaller than I expected. Hogwarts a History never really conveyed how much free green space there was, nor did it give a good sense of just how big the lake was. The book didn't cover where Hogwarts was either. It gave no description that the castle sat atop a mountain, or that trees held up part of the Great Hall. The forest was mentioned, of course, but it was never mentioned that students were forbidden to go into it. Professor Silsbury was clear. No entering the forest, never ever. Although she amended that statement quickly, adding that with teacher supervision we might be allowed. That made me think students went in the forbidden forest far often than "never ever."

I spotted the giant man, Professor Hagrid, who had brought Lucas Morgan to the Hospital Wing. He stood by an equally large barrel filled with water. He cupped his hands, which were the size of dustbin lids—and splashed water over his face. It dribbled down his the graying beard and onto his massive chest.

Set right on the edge of the wood, this cabin looked as if it belonged in a long-forgotten meadow, deep in the forest, not next to this grand castle. Stone made up the walls and roof of the cabin, which was octagonal in shape. Large slabs of rock lead up to a wooden doorway. Small windows were set into the side with iron bars. To the left of the cabin were several large flowerbeds, which, at the moment, had giant sunflowers all throughout.

We continued to walk by and a small extension to the cabin could be seen. Against this section of the building lay a hoe, a rake, a pink umbrella, and a rack with several dead ferrets hanging off it. Immediately off that extension was a patch of the largest pumpkins I had ever seen.

Dozens of orange squashes, all of different shapes, sat in the dirt. Professor Silsbury began to talk about the pumpkin patch and waved to Professor Hagrid as he bumbled over. I believe she started to introduce him, but I stopped paying attention. A large eagle head popped up from between the pumpkins. Gold eyes locked onto the group of students, including me. It cawed, a noise that echoed around the mountainside, and stood.

Alice screamed. I gave her a dead look. Arthur backed up.

"Not to worry," Professor Hagrid said, laughing. "He won' hurt you. Too old to want to."

The hippogriff shook itself and trotted around the pumpkins. It was a silvery gray that shimmered in the sunlight. Its hooves left deep impression in the fresh earth around the pumpkins, and its tail swished all around. In the front it had great talons, black and more than a foot in length.

Professor Silsbury did not stop. She continued to read aloud from her clipboard. I did stop, letting the group carry on without me. The hippogriff had paused. It would not look away from me. I wondered if it was my pink eyes that drew its attention.

"Get going there," Professor Hagrid said to me. "You'll be behind soon." I looked up at him. "I don't believe we've met." He extended one of his enormous hands. "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds." I shook his hand. "Professor of Care of Magical Creatures too. You'll be Raven Husher."

"Yes."

"How you feeling?"

"Well enough." I pointed at the Hippogriff. "Will we get to study him in class?"

"Blimey, you won't have my class for a couple years." Professor Hagrid scratched at his beard. Large chunks of gray dandruff floated down. "Tell you what though, come round anytime for tea, and I'll let you meet him. Alright?"

I smiled. "Professor Hagrid—

"Call me Hagrid, everyone does."

"Hagrid, is that your wand?" I pointed to the pink umbrella, too small to cover most of Hagrid's head. He nodded. "I like it," I said.

Much like the castle tour, it was difficult to retain everything we'd seen of the grounds—even for me. There were the bridges between towers, and over deep canyons. There were the long stairs down boat-house, and the steep climb up to the greenhouses. It seemed the village could only be spotted on a clear day; we could see the points of the tallest buildings in Hogsmeade from the gates of the grounds.

Returning to the Great Hall for dinner, I wanted to eat as quickly as possible and leave. There were so many people at Hogwarts. It outnumbered my old muggle school ten to one. I looked forward to a solitary reading of Gryffindor's biography in the common room. According to the schedule, we had four hours from dinner until this "initiation."

But, of course, my first-year counterparts insisted on talking, and including me in their conversations. Alice went on, for what felt like hours, about how beautiful the school was. Arthur expressed concern about finding all his classes. Even Courtney gushed about the expansive grounds. And, predictably, they talked about Quidditch and the tryouts, and how Courtney and Alice were both on the team. I raced through my blood pudding and spent most of my time trying to bewitch a spare piece of parchment I found into a map of Hogwarts. I didn't make any progress. Any time I managed map out the Great Hall the ink disappeared off the parchment.

As the never-ending conversation continued, I answered questions when asked, and could not find a polite time to excuse myself from the table. Zephyr was equally silent, and equally polite. I couldn't identify if he wanted to stay at the table or wanted to leave. Was he always this quiet, or was it just first day of school nerves?

When we left the Great Hall and started the assent to Gryffindor Tower, we realized too late that we'd chosen the wrong flight of stairs. We made the same mistake twice more, went three stories too high because the staircases bloody move, and got to portrait of the Fat Lady. There were only fifteen minutes to do anything before our schedules said initiation would commence. After I uttered the password and climbed in after the other four, any hope of a solitary reading of Gryffindor's biography vanished. The common room was packed with people. Small people, tall people, people that resembled a ball, people that resembled pencils. None, except for a brown-haired boy with freckles and a large prefect's badge, wore his school robes. All others were dressed in muggle clothing.

"Oy, there they are!" A rather short-for-his-age teenaged boy pointed at the five of us. "Got lost, did you?"

"I told you someone should have walked them up here," said the prefect.

"No matter," said an older black girl with a short afro. "Someone get Cygnus."

Get Cygnus? Get Cygnus for what? Initiation didn't start for…I pulled out my schedule and watched as the time stated for initiation wiped away and was replaced by "now." I stuffed my schedule into my pocket. So, the schedule was an approximate for occasions, not an actual fixed time. I should have figured that. No object can tell the future.38

Cygnus was at the back of the common room, behind the dormitory staircase by the window talking with some girl. People parted to make room for him to walk to the front of the room. He had his hair up in a rough ponytail, still wore his Gryffindor quidditch sweater and a cream-colored pair of khakis. "You all alright?"

Now it seemed everyone, but Zephyr and I had lost their voice. The two of us answered yes in the same monotone. The other three merely nodded.

He clapped his hands together. One clap. The whole room fell silent. "Right, we've got five new Gryffindors this year."

My mind wandered as Cygnus preformed a little speech that was definitely prepared. Was he a sort of Gryffindor captain or leader? Was he that popular? I had gotten the feeling that if he was talking with first years in the Great Hall that he must not be that popular. Was I wrong? Or was the Gryffindor hierarchy letting him do this because he knew us?

My attention snapped back to Cygnus as he said, "Every house does initiation differently. It's a rather recent thing, initiation. It was banned for a while because in 1546 a Gryffindor died swimming in a lake at night during it, but McGonagall has turned a blind eye as long as no gets hurt. Though the Slytherins yesterday were stupid and one of theirs got hurt. Thankfully he didn't get hurt bad enough to ruin it for everyone.

"The Slytherins do the same thing every year, the stupid bastards—oops sorry. They ask their new first-years to do the most daring thing, which is really weird since that's kind of our corner. But because their all ambitious they try and one-up each person, and it gets out of hand every year. They also get an enchanted item, given to them by the seventh years.

"The Hufflepuffs just have a big love fest, sit in a circle, eat stolen food from the kitchens, and get to know their first years. They do stuff like trust falls and it's all very touchy feely. And I still can't get a single Ravenclaw to tell me what they do. It's all very fight night."

I smiled at Alice who returned it. That was one of Mum's favorite movies.

"We Gryffindors," I looked back at Cygnus, "do one thing each year that is the same, and one thing different each year."

The lights went out, Alice gave a small scream, Arthur tripped and fell over. The fireplace roared to life—the only light in the Common Room. All Gryffindors around us were in thick hooded scarlet cloaks. Their faces could barely be seen.

I yawned.

"First," said Cygnus, still standing straight ahead of us. "We swear loyalty to our house."

Cygnus, and all the Gryffindors raised their right hands, gripping their wands. A spell was murmured throughout the Common Room. A gold fire erupted out of the wands. It looked much like each student held a tiki torch. The four other first years raised their wands, though no one uttered the spell. Cygnus' hood pointed in my direction. I raised my wand too.

He had us repeat an oath: "I swear fealty to the ideals of Godric Gryffindor, to be brave, courageous, chivalrous, daring and bold. To honor the great Gryffindor house. To support our fellow Gryffindors, and to help all those who need help, in school and out of school."

We all repeated it. I flushed at the amount of excitement in Alice's voice.

When we finished Cygnus thrust his wand up and a Lion, formed by those same gold flames, rose in the air and a roar ripped through the Common Room. Arthur squealed in fright. I spotted Courtney. Her eyes were bright in the lion's firelight. Her mouth opened in a smile.

"Okay, enough with that nonsense." I recognized the voice. It sounded like Amelia Horford's voice, the quidditch captain. "On with phase two."

Someone lit the rest of the candles, making the room much brighter. People started folding those hooded crimson cloaks, stashing them under chairs and tables, or just holding them. Everyone in the Common Room moved back towards the wall, and two red-haired boys rushed forward a large contraption.

The contraption was a large wheel suspended in the air by magic. The surface of the wheel was made of wood and painted lines divided up the circle like pie. The wheel was colored gold, with red paint for the lines and lettering. There seemed to be a multitude of categories. They weren't all divided like a pie either, some were in circles, other's in oblong slivers. Some of the categories repeated, others did not. There were more than a dozen arrows pointing in all manner of directions. Some arrows were straight, some zigzagged, while a few looked like corkscrews. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure how all those arrows worked.

I tried to read as many of the categories as I could. "Play a massive game of wizard chess." "Wrestle each other." "Fly around North Tower." Those seemed rather tame. But then there was "Eat as many vomit flavored bertie botts as you can." And "Swim across the lake to Hogsmeade." "Three-legged race to the Forrest." Break into the Headmistress office."

My eyes kept flicking back to that one. I did not fancy getting caught by McGonagall on my first real night at school.

Cygnus stood by the wheel addressing all of Gryffindor tower. "This is the Gryffindor Rudimentary Initiation Machine," Cygnus proclaimed.

I leaned over to Alice and said, "Grim for short, eh?" She stifled a laugh.

Cygnus continued talking. "George Weasley, a Gryffindor and brilliant inventor, gifted it to us after the Battle of Hogwarts, starting this entire initiation tradition over again. For the last three years we've had to a footrace to the library and back. McGonagall told me today that if we get a fourth year in a row, she'll be putting all of us in detention for a month."

Some people laughed, most of the tower did not.

Cygnus looked over at all the first years, including me. "We woke her up last year. She was quite cross." He continued to the crowd. "And I will forever hate the time where we all swam to Hogsmeade. I don't know why George Weasley thought that was a fun idea. It was brutally cold. So here is hoping to—"

"Do you all do it with us then?" asked Arthur.

Cygnus cracked a grin. "Course. We're your family now."

There was much murmuring in agreement, and then Cygnus spun the wheel. The experience watching the wheel spin was like watching fireworks too close. Letters, arrows, lines, they all flashed different colors, and made noises. It was hard to see how the arrows moved and twisted around, and even harder to see which category was where.

When the wheel stopped moving one tiny arrow in the top left side lit up. It shimmered in a gold light and it pointed to "House-wide duel."

I thought there would be some explanation to this, maybe a pairing off. Instead, Cygnus leaned closer, muttered words out loud, grimaced, widened his eyes, turned and shouted "House-wide Duel," then fired a stunning spell right at poor Arthur Gully, who was blasted against the wall, and hit the floor out cold.

I caught a fleeting glance of Cygnus looking a bit regretful, before the Common Room erupted. My wand was out before the stunning spell hit Arthur. Alice pulled hers out as well, looking for what to do. I saw Courtney duck through people, racing towards the dormitories. Zephyr had also taken his wand out and he pointed it weakly at another student before succumbing to a jelly-leg jinx.

Alice was stunned from behind shortly after. A dark-haired boy, second year student by the look, turned on me and fired some purple light at me. I conjured a shield charm, which caught the boy off guard. He didn't react in time before I disarmed him and forced ropes to bind his hands and feet. He tottered over into a much bigger girl who fell. I stunned her, stunned the student she was dueling, and shot off several hexes randomly into the crowd.

A girl—I knew this girl, Marie Abdule, the beater for Gryffindor's Quidditch team—she nearly got me with a binding curse, but I heard her shout it and blocked it. I dove behind a squashy arm chair, which was quickly blasted to pieces. I ran sideways towards the dormitory stairs. Cygnus was there, hexing anyone that tried to escape towards the safety of their beds and laughing. I dodged a spell from Marie, then another from Cygnus, and ducked out of the way of Quidditch Captain, Amelia Horford, who engaged Cygnus in a very short duel, where Cygnus used such a powerful shield charm that Amelia's curse rebounded on her, knocking her to the ground where her eyebrows grew so quickly that they blinded her.

I ran past Zephyr, recovered from the jelly leg jinx, who aimed his wand at me. I waved mine at him, sending his wand flying. His shoulders fell forward, and he walked into the middle of the room to retrieve it. He seemed almost resigned to be hit by a spell and didn't have to wait long. Marie hit him with something, and he keeled over, with a large cactus attached to the top of his head.

That gave me time to hit Marie with a jinx which caused her hands to straighten out and her fingers to glue shut. She dropped her wand, and got stunned by some fourth-year student. I stunned two other students, dodged a burst of flame, heard a hurried "Sorry didn't mean to, ow!" before I met my end of the duel. Cygnus stood before me, a handful of students still fighting. I threw up a shield charm preemptively, but his disarming spell broke through. I managed to hold onto my wand, but my glasses flew off. Instantly blinded, I shut my eyes and heard Cygnus roar "Stupify."

A Lesson with Slughorn (and some notes)

I sat in a dungeon made of a gray stone. Small windows at the top of the wall lined the front of the classroom. Pale light, illuminating dust particles, landed on the stone where the student tables ended and the teacher's platform, made of wood, began. The room was damp, and cold. Students still wore their robes. I had discarded mine, slinging them over the back of my chair, content with the warmth provided by my sweater.

On the teacher's platform stood four cauldrons, each with fires lit underneath. The four cauldrons were also made of four different materials. One gold, one silver, one pewter and one looked as if made of iron. I identified three of the four when I entered the room, silently, of course, I did not want to give away what they were incase the Potion's Master asked questions of us. A golden liquid in the gold cauldron jumped in and out of the cauldron, yet did not spill, evidently Felix Felicis. A gurgling white liquid in the cast iron cauldron was Pepperup Potion; a medicinal potion for colds and fevers. A colorless and clear potion remained perfectly still in the silver cauldron; my best guess was veritisirum, the truth potion. The fourth potion, in the standard pewter cauldron, looked a plain brown. It bubbled in the heat. And, as I said, I had no idea what the potion did, or its name.

The teacher's platform also contained a variety of objects. A long table to the side held jars of ingredients. From what I could see, we'd be making a basic Cooldown Potion. Used for athletes, joints, and all manner of things. It contained only three ingredients, including snow, which had been contained in a jar without melting. A large blackboard had been stuck to the wall. In ornate writing the words "Welcome to Potions" could be read from the very back of the class.

Of course, the platform also held our teacher. My first impression of him? His belly protruded past the tips of his feet. I wondered if he used the Cooldown Potion on his back often to ease the enormous amount of strain that weight must be putting on it. I felt this man must love extravagances and creature comforts. He wore a red and silver velvet set of robes, cut much like a muggle suit, with a scarf like bowtie of the same pattern and color. He wore a white silk shirt underneath his robes, and a pair of silver velvet pants. His face, round; his head, bald; his cheeks, red; and his eyes looked bright and almost youthful, though surrounded by some wrinkles. He had a preposterously small mustache, fitting perfectly from the center of his nose to the edges of his lips. The mustache was blonde in color, but I assume the man must have dyed it.

When Alice, Courtney, and I had entered the class—we were the first to arrive, ten minutes prior to the lesson—he had given us a boisterous welcome and invited us to sit down. We did so, at my lead, in the seats on the left at the very front. I noticed the fire place to the left of us had dwindled to embers. The man continued to set up his little platform, barely paying us any attention. He continued to bustle about, only opening his mouth to welcome more students as they arrived. I noticed Lucas Morgan ignored the professor's welcome, concerned only with the placement of two of his own blonde hairs. He sat with two other Slytherin's at the back of the classroom, Devon Ogden, who looked as if she might freeze, and Carl Ivers, whose glasses, upon further inspection, looked a bit too big for him.

Right on the stroke of nine, our Professor turned and gave a wide smile, ushering a panting Arthur Gully to sit down. He chose the seat next to Courtney. I glanced over at him and breathed slowly out of my nostrils. I could see sweat running down by his temples.

"Good morning," were the first words of the lessons.

I did not join the class in repeating this. I had yet to decide if the morning was good.

A piece of chalk rose behind our professor and wrote on the board, "Professor Horace Slughorn." I'd read about Horace Slughorn. A long-time potions master, a friend of Albus Dumbledore, and somehow, though only vaguely covered in several books, intricate in the downfall of Lord Voldemort. I imagined he must have had information, as it seemed no potion would have done much damage to a wizard as powerful as Voldemort.

"You will find Potions to be a most illuminating and an inexorably important staple of your curriculum," Professor Slughorn started. "Potions can and will affect every aspect of your life. From meddlesome cleaning, to deadly concoctions, we will learn, over the course of five, and hopefully seven years, of study to brew, identify, and understand the theory behind the wondrous works of potions. Now, who can tell me what makes potions unique to other forms of magic." Slughorn looked around the room, expectant, and hands rose, including my sister's. He pointed to her and said, "Yes, my dear?"

"We'll be using all sorts of ingredients and tools, like cauldrons. We won't be working with just our wands and spells," she answered.

I kept from rolling my eyes. Any five-year-old could have told the class as much. But Professor Slughorn looked absolutely astounded.

"Very good indeed, uh, Ms..."

"Ms. Husher, professor. I'm Alice Husher."

"A sister?" He asked, looking at me.

I nodded. "A twin."

Professor Slughorn nodded. "Very good Ms. Husher, five points to Gryffindor."

Other students murmured across the class. I heard Arthur whisper to Courtney, "How did he know she was in Gryffindor?"

"Because she's wearing robes with scarlet in them, isn't she, you dolt?" I'd been thinking it, but Lucas Morgan was the one who said it. I turned to look at him, unsure if I should smile at or rebuke him. He scowled at me and said, "What are you looking at? Pay attention." He pointed back to Slughorn, who was listening to Zephyr explain other unique properties about potions.

After half a dozen students had answered, Slughorn seemed satisfied. "Very bright you all are, this class. I'm very happy. Anything else to a—yes, Mr. Husher?"

"I find the most unique thing about potions is, that, for the most part, squibs can produce a majority of the field, whereas that's nearly impossibly with any other subject. For example, I think just over sixty-percent of our textbook can be produced by squibs with no need for a substitute in the recipe to account for spells."

"Well said," Professor Slughorn boomed. "Absolutely correct my boy. Twenty points to Gryffindor. Yes, for the most part Squibs can produce potions. The only branch of creation magic—that is to say magic that produces magical outcomes—that does so. Squibs can also be masters of the fields of muggle studies, as well as some aspects of care of magical creatures, ancient runes, and astrology.

"If there is nothing else to be added, I'd like to see if anyone can identify the four potions that sit before you."

I raised my hand, as did Morgan, Zephyr and Courtney. Slughorn took a long look at me before his eyes darted to Morgan who incorrectly identified Felix Felicis as a Dragon Pox curative. Zephyr got wrong the Pepperup Potion. Courtney however correctly identified the plain brown potion.

"It's Wolfsbane," she said.

I kept from scoffing. Wolfsbane was a shiny white potion that gave off a slight blue smoke. But Slughorn nodded in agreement and awarded Gryffindor ten points. "My, my, this class seems smarter than the whole rest of the castle. Yes, this is the Wolfsbane potion, in its second to last phase. What tipped you off Ms. Nighy?"

I kept looking between the potion and Courtney as she answered. "You left out some wolfsbane next to the cauldron." She pointed her tiny index finger at a small bunch of blue flowers to the right of the cauldron. As she did so a small bell, much like that of a timer, went off. From where, I could not see. Had he magicked that sound to go off when someone pointed to the flowers? Or had the timing just been coincidental?

"Right you are. Take another five points for Gryffindor." Professor Slughorn took up the flowers and started to shred them. He collected the minuscule pieces in his hand and held them up to the small bit of sunlight coming through the tiny rectangular windows on the left side of the classroom. He waited with them there for thirty seconds, it may have been a minute, then tapped them with his wand. He must have said a nonverbal spell, because the flowers glowed white for a moment before he dumped them in brown potion. The flowers melted away and the potion instantly became a brilliant off-white color. Slughorn tapped the cauldron with his wand and the potion began to stir itself. A blue steam started to rise from the potion.

It was brilliant magic.

Slughorn pointed his wand at me. "Not a potion a squib or muggle could do." I nodded. "Now can anyone—yes Mr. Husher?"

I had promptly raised my hand before he could ask the question and proceeded to list the names of the three potions left. Slughorn smiled, a wide smile, his eyes boring into mine. "Correct you are. My, my, I've never had a first-year class identify all my potions. A full fifty points to Gryffindor for your intelligence." He chuckled. "You should all be in Ravenclaw. I wonder if the sorting hat might have been confunded." He gave a little chuckle that I hardly believed was genuine.

Slughorn didn't have us take notes or read theory. Instead he wanted our first lesson to be practical and instructed us to make some silly potion that cured hiccups. Courtney, myself and Zephyr all received five points for a perfect potion, as did, to my surprise, Morgan. Alice did not pay attention and let most of her potion evaporate under too strong of heat.

The bell rang at the end of the lesson, which also surprised me. I hadn't the foggiest that someone could, or more accurately, would charm a bell to go off in a great castle. Slughorn did not give us a single assignment, which was pleasant but a bit surprising until I realized that most of my classmates were going to school for the first time.

As we left Professor Slughorn gave me a pat on the shoulder. I flashed him a smile before hurrying over to Courtney as she left the classroom. "What did you do before Hogwarts?"

She tilted her head a bit. "I don't know what you mean."

"You can read and speak and stuff," Alice said behind me. "He wants to know if you went to muggle school or something."

I could've explained myself, but no matter. I looked Courtney in the face. He hair seemed even darker in the early morning light.

"Oh, um, well I learned at home how to read and do math and stuff," she said, stumbling through her words. "Did you go to a muggle school?"

Though Courtney's gaze fell to me Alice answered. "Mum's a school teacher so we had to." Alice finished stuffing her side bag full of books. "Shall we?"

She didn't wait for an answer, but pushed forward, walking between Courtney and me. I stared at Alice's left ear, deciding whether to say something. I decided against it, thinking of what my mother would say if I did snap a retort.

History of Magic

Even to this day, I still feel as though Mondays were a bit full for first years.

In the afternoon we met Professor Bins in History of Magic. I thought it would be nice to sit in a class with Ravenclaws and bounce intelligent questions about the Goblin Rebellions, or Giant Uprisings, or the Werewolf trials in Rome. However, History of Magic is the dullest of dull. I spent both classes sitting next to Shelby Westwater, who seemed to be the only person impervious to the boredom emanating from Professor Bins. She actually took notes. I spent the whole time reading ahead.

All anyone needs to know about Professor Bins is that the man died and chose to leave an imprint of himself on this world so that he could continue to teach this course.

How dreadfully boring. Instead of continuing on to whatever comes when we die, he chose to stay behind and teach! Why would anyone want to teach for all eternity? I found out rather quickly that his major talent in life and death is the ability to make battles, political corruption, torture and kidnapping be as soothing as a bedtime story.

All-in-all. I hate History of Magic.39

Herbology

Professor Sprout is, well—I think the whole school lovers her. Sprout is a portly woman, with curly gray hair. In Greenhouse One she wore brown robes of some strong rubbery material. The sleeves of the robes did not flare out, but tightened at the wrists, and she wore a thin pair of leather gloves, rather than a pair of dragon-hide.

She started us out by lining us up around a multitude of potted plants and instructed us to put on some of the garden gloves laid around the rim of the table. We did so.

"This is Devil Snare," she informed us. "Can anyone tell me what Devil Snare is?"

I earned twenty points for Gryffindor in this class and found Sprout to be one of my favorite teachers. Kind, firm, and willing to answer questions, she was remarkably quick to spot issues and help students.

The most useless thing ever invented

The last bit of Monday was just as bad as History of Magic. I found out that when, on the schedule, it says "Study Hall" that meant studying in a hall all together. As Cygnus explained to me that night, it's something McGonagall enacted early in her headmistress career. They shove only the first years into the Great Hall before dinner twice a week to help them with their study habits. Teachers off duty—in my case, Professors Slughorn and Flitwick— and the Head Boy and Girl, watch to make sure we are all working hard, not goofing off. They also aid those who ask.40

I spent the first hour of this "Study Hall" discussing the merits of it with Professor Flitwick, who, looking back, was extremely patient with me. I informed him I preferred to study on my own, and that I'm sure there were other students who did as well. That a generic treatment of students would not inspire everyone, and that this idea may damage some students in their pursuit of academic perfection.

In the end he said, "Mr. Husher, I appreciate your enthusiasm in dissecting the direction our Headmistress has taken, but I'm afraid that, for the time being, you will be required to attend Study Hall."

I translated that to: "Mr. Husher, please go back to your seat and be quiet."

"Thank you, sir." And I did go back to my seat, and I finished my homework before Study Hall finished.

A couple weeks later, when McGonagall oversaw Study Hall, as both Slughorn and Flitwick were absent, she called me up to the staff table and said. "Mr. Husher, I have been informed that you do not wish to participate in this." She gestured to all the first years in the Great Hall.

"Yes Headmistresses."

"Tell me why."

"I prefer to study on my own, whether in my common room or the library. I dislike being around so many students."

"Then I have an assignment for you Mr. Husher," Professor McGonagall said, her eyes unblinking, staring at me through her square spectacles. "I wish for you to write an essay on how you would mold first-year students into having better study habits. If you hand it in to me before the end of term and if I give you an Outstanding, you will have earned Gryffindor twenty-five points."

I stood, slightly dumbfounded at the request. This was not a reprimand, but I didn't really understand what it was.

"Just a bit of extra credit."41

Astrology

I'll just note this, so we can get on with our lives. Astrology never enlightened me. It became mildly interesting in my seventh year when we were taught how different types of magic, like elemental transfiguration, or potion ingredients, changed due to the planetary and astrological movements, but all-in-all it is a blasé subject. Nothing important ever happened during Astrology, so if I don't mention it ever again, that's why.

Charms

Tuesday morning, I discovered that Charms would be an easy Outstanding. Flitwick was brilliant, and a kind teacher who was also an easy grader. While we were supposed to be charming a stick to stand up straight, he pulled me aside, and re-charmed my glasses to repel the awful light. I closed my eyes as he took them off my face. My eyelids only dulled the gold light.

"How are your eyes?" He asked. He slid the glasses back onto my ears.

"Fine professor, though I find it hard to sleep even with the sleep mask you gave me."

He nodded. "I thought that might happen. Can you produce a shield charm? I'm told you are quite a talented wand worker."

"Don't tell my mother," I said before I could stop myself. Professor Flitwick looked as if he couldn't decide to tell me off or laugh. "Sorry professor. I forget myself. But yes, I can. Though I've redone my glasses and sleep mask several times and found it isn't as effective as your work."

"With practice it will, young Husher," he said. "Try casting the charm on your bedframe and curtains. That should help."

"Professor, why is it that the shield charm helps rather than hinders? I would've thought more magic would've intensified the light," I asked.

"Sharp you are," Professor Flitwick responded. "The shield charm doesn't just block magic from hitting a person or object. It produces a vacuum where magic cannot reside for a temporary time. When cast on an object, that object exists in a vacuum, and so your eyes see no magic, because there is none. You may have noticed a bit of color around your glasses. That is the charm, encircling the glasses and producing this vacuum."

"Is there a way to extend the charm around my glasses?" I asked.

He said yes and showed me after class how to do so.

Transfiguration:

Later that day I met Professor Arjun Bhatti in Transfiguration.

Even as an elven year old I realized that this man was attractive. Fashionable hair, trimmed beard, sharp jawline, and eyes that conveyed every emotion available to humans, Professor Bhatti wore a muggle suit instead of wizard robes. On my first day in his class, he wore a sparkling gold set suit.

Transfiguration was the first class with just the Gryffindors, and it felt incredibly intimate. There being only of five of us, Professor Bhatti banished all the desks at the back of the room, forcing us to sit up with him.

Speaking with a London accent, Bhatti explained that while he went to Hogwarts for his education, his family taught him some of the magic Indian families knew of a performed, including different magical herbs, potions, and some different ways of transfiguring and charming objects. He demonstrated this by waving his hand over an apple, which turned into an orange.42 The effect of using a hand, instead of a wand, to do magic, made most of the students perk up. But I slid back in my seat and knew what was going to be said next.

"Now, you're all years away from learning that type of magic. Please, get out your wands. We're going to practice turning a matchstick into a needle."

I transfigured my matchstick into a hypodermic needle on the first attempt. And I got detention for it, to be served the coming Friday night.

"I will not accept showboating and blatant disrespect for my instructions," Professor Bhatti said, holding the needle up to my eyes. The whole class stared at me. I could see Alice gripping her wand too hard. Droplets of water spilled from the end.

"It is technically a needle," I said.

Everyone but Zephyr laughed. He kept a straight face and looked at the chalkboard.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Professor Bahtti said, "for sheer cheek."

I nodded. Took back my hypodermic needle and transfigured it into a small silver needle.

Friday

Friday rolled along with little fanfare. Alice, Courtney and I worked on our homework together in the library everyday right after lunch. Thursday included flying lessons.43

That same evening, I watched Alice and Courtney's first quidditch practice. Well, I attended it. I conjured a chess board and played Arthur, who had come along too, and beat him eight times in a row before helping him on a six-inch essay Professor Bhatti had assigned. We walked up with Alice, Courtney, and the whole Gryffindor team, who all listened as I told them why my eyes had turned pink.

Friday morning, Professor Silsbury met me at the Gryffindor table, her arms crossed. "You're to do your detention with Professor Slughorn tonight. He needs help cleaning out jars that went bad over the summer. Be in the potion's dungeon around eight tonight." She pursed her lips. "You cost us twenty-five points Mr. Husher. You were the first student to get detention."

"That leaves my total earnings at sixty-five points for the week then," I said gesturing to the hourglass filled with rubies. Gryffindor had twice as many points as any other house, and I'd earned most of them. "I'll try and make it up next week, Professor."

"Ten points for your attitude, Husher," she said. She turned and returned to the staff table.

I swallowed any retort.

"That'll be alright," Alice said, leaning over to let Mochi climb on my shoulder. The cat put her paws on my head and started to knead. "Professor Slughorn loves you. Bring Mochi, she'll be fascinated with all the jars."

Right then the morning Owl Post arrived. Hundreds of owls soared into the Great Hall, and for the first time I spotted the black head of Newt soaring down towards me. Close behind my owl was Alice's owl, Athena, who had grown into all-white feathers, and carried a package. Newt spat a letter out towards me and grabbed two sausages in one talon, ripped off pieces of meat and swallowed. He looked over at Cygnus who stared at the bird, on the verge of laughing.

"Is that your owl?" Cygnus asked me. He pointed a long finger at Newt, who clicked his beak at Cygnus. "Cheeky, isn't he?"

Newt put down the sausages on my plate, walked over to Cygnus and kicked his goblet of orange juice over. The bench across the table screeched as Cygnus stood to avoid the liquid. Cracking up, he pulled out his wand with a muscled arm, vanished the juice, and fed Newt another sausage. Petting Newt's head he said, "This might be the best owl I've ever met."

Athena, who puffed out her chest, waiting for Alice to take the parcel, looked over her shoulder and cooed. Cygnus paid no attention and continued to stroke Newt. Athena turned her head around and shook her leg at Alice, who took the package. Alice started to tear open the brown paper before I snatched the card atop it and read it aloud.

"Alice and Raven, don't get used to treats from me, but since this is your first week, I thought you deserved something special. I packed extras, so you could share with friends. Make sure to give at least one to someone from a different house. No, "Just Gryffindors" nonsense. Love, Mum."

Alice looked over at me and together we said, "Caramel apples." I helped Alice rip off the paper and opened the box to find a baker's dozen caramel apples, decorated with lions, eagles, snakes and badgers, each with an H frosted on top.

"How did she know we were Gryffindors?" Alice asked.

"Because I wrote to tell her," I said. "Don't you remember. I had you sign it, so it seemed like it was from both of us." Alice shrugged.

"What are those?" Arthur Gully asked?

" You've never had caramel apples?" I said. "Best things in the world." I handed him one.

"Me mum's a dentist, we're barred from eating sugar," Arthur said. He bit into his immediately. I stared at Arthur, wondering how a boy got chubby if he didn't eat sugar.

Alice gave another to Courtney and Zephyr. Soon the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team had one, in addition to Professor Silsbury who came to see what was causing the commotion. I asked her to bring one to the Headmistress as well. It was only after Professor Sislbury left that I read the letter Newt brought me.

Dear Raven,

I thought you might like to come around for tea today. I know you have a free period this afternoon. I'll let you meet Witherwings and show you around the pumpkin patch. Let me know as soon as you can. Bring anyone along that you'd like, the more the merrier.

Cheers,

Hagrid

I sent a response back that I would love to come, and to expect me around four-thirty, with the possibility of a couple other people coming. I invited Alice and Courtney to come along, and they agreed, but I did not extend the invitation to Zephyr and Arthur. I couldn't pin-point why exactly, but I simply did not want to.

As students left the Great Hall and headed towards their lessons, Alice and I made sure to track down Edric and Shelby Westwater to give them the last two caramel apples. They were delighted. I invited both to come down to Hagrid's as well. Shelby accepted. Eric declined, as he would be in Transfiguration at the time.

Alice, Courtney, Arthur, Zephyr and I spent the morning in the Library. I helped Alice and Courtney with their transfiguration essays, and then the four of us finished a dull report on the Statute Convention, which created the Statute of Secrecy, for History of Magic. Zephyr did not speak and worked alone. I noticed his Transfiguration essay rivaled my own in length, a full foot longer than it needed to be. I made a mental note to revise mine during the weekend.

Madame Pince, the librarian, proved to be a foul old witch. She is not a tall witch, but she wears an exceptionally long pointed gray hat that matches her gray robes—an outfit she wears daily. I saw her remove her hat once, which revealed a bun tighter than Professor McGonagall's. She is getting on, and her face shows it, especially around the eyes, where it looked like a sculptor went mad while chiseling the details of her aged face.

The five of us sat in a secluded part of the library and we kept our voices down, yet she made a point to come and shush us repeatedly even though none of us laughed and I made it clear several times that we were working. That did not seem to suffice.

That Friday's lunch was my favorite meal of the whole term. We were treated to a Yorkshire Pudding accompanied with the best cut of beef I'd ever had. With mash, peas, and a mug of earl gray tea, I found myself rather satisfied and full.

The only class on Friday was, of course, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I cannot stress how excited I was for this. I could not stop fantasizing about reading up on werewolves, acromentula, the dangers of dragons, as well as learning counter measures to jinxes, curses, and—well you get the point.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom is the best classroom in the entire school, with the possible exception of an unused classroom on the 7th floor44, which will transform into any setting when you ask it to. At first, I didn't understand why teachers didn't fight over that classroom, but I guess the idea of students whispering to the room and having it change into an American burger joint at any given second might be daunting.

But back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I don't know if this class just happened to have the best room, or if all the teachers at Hogwarts just understood that the best class had to have the best room.

The room is made of stone. Rows of dark wooden desks line the room, which has tall ceilings with great stone beams. Descending from the ceiling is a giant iron chandelier, accompanied by a white skeleton of a dragon. A hard wood floor runs from the entrance to the back of the room where a stone staircase wraps around to a pulpit. Behind the pulpit is a door that leads into the office of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

It's rumored that this room was once Dumbledore's classroom, but he only ever taught Transfiguration and I can't see the room being used for anything else.

In our first lesson with Professor Silsbury, Alice and I noted that she seemed to be a witch that owned this room. Wearing fitted robes that exposed her shoulders—looking much more like a dress—of black and gold—she whipped out her hand and set her desk aflame with black fire. She asked all us all to try and extinguish the fire. Only Zephyr and I attempted to. Zephyr tried to conjure water but did a poor job. I conjured water perfectly, which did not extinguish the flame. I attempted to them smother the fire with a compressing charm usually used to pressure cook food with magic. Neither worked.

Professor Silsbury waved her wand and vanished all but a small flicker of a flame, which she scooped in her hand and placed in a jar. She told the class whoever could extinguish the flame by the end of year would receive a prize and a bump in their grading for the final exam.45

Our first lesson of Defense Against the Dark Arts was part history, going over the recent Wizarding Wars with Lord Voldemort; part theory, reading about the merits of preparing yourself against the Dark Arts; and part practical, where we learned the basics about the three proper stances of defensive magic. The three hours flew by.

My only complaint: I answered six questions correctly, was the first to master all three stances, and failed to earn Gryffindor any points. I thought at first it might be that Professor Silsbury didn't want to show favoritism towards her house, but she gave everyone a point for something mundane during the class, even Arthur.

A bit flummoxed, I left Defense Against the Dark Arts still writing the assignment, "Read up on defensive stances and their variations and write a foot-long essay due in two Fridays," and started to head towards Gryffindor Tower before Alice called for me.

"Oy, Raven. Aren't we going to Professor Hagrid's?"

I looked up, watching Arthur and Zephyr walk up the staircase in silence. I turned around and saw Alice and Courtney both waiting for me a couple steps below. Courtney clutched her textbooks to her chest, a small smile on her face.

"It'll be weird if we show up without you," Alice said. I walked down the steps to join them, but the staircase moved, sending the three of us off towards the left and down flight. I tripped, and Alice caught me by the arm. "Sometimes I really hate these stairs," Alice said.

"Oh, I think they're lovely," Courtney said, tucking her hair behind her left ear.

"Do you hate anything?" Alice asked and they both laughed.

Our staircase settled next to door which opened the moment the staircase became still. An old man, bent over, wearing what amounted to brown and gray rags, snarled at us. Long gray hair, coming out of the back of his balding head dripped with water, and he pushed me aside with a sopping wet glove.

"No dawdling on the stairs." He continued in the direction we wanted to go, so all of us remained still. He could be heard saying, "Damn poltergeist. Making a mess. Turning all the faucets on. And in a girl's bathroom, mind you. Merlin's-postulated-left-ass-cheek, if another girl complains about me being in there, the headmistress will have my head, she will."

"Who is—" Alice asked the question. I would have too if she hadn't.

"Filtch," Courtney said, her eyes following the back of his head.

"God bless you," Alice said.

"No, Filtch, Argus Filtch, the caretaker, that's him," Courtney said.

I'd seen him only a few times before. He seemed to be always in a foul mood. "He's a bit rude to be a caretaker," Alice said.

"Cygnus said his dream is shackle up the entire student body," I said, a smirk stretching across my face. "I wonder…"

I trailed off as a smattering of Ravenclaws popped out a hallway and ran into Filtch, who yelled at them to move aside. They did so, half cowering, half laughing. I aimed my wand and gave it a small flick. Fifty yards away, Filtch's right leg hoisted up in the air and he fell flat on his back. A roar of laughter sounded from the Ravenclaws as well as Alice. Courtney merely looked horrified.

The lanky old man attempted to get up. "Ruddy hell. Who did that? Who did that?" I took hold of both Alice and Courtney and dashed through the door Filtch had just come out of. Alice and I kept laughing. Begrudgingly, a smile crept up on Courtney's face.

"You really shouldn't have," she said.

"I'm sure he'll be alright," I said.

"Postulated left ass cheek," Alice said. "I don't think I've ever heard that one."46

The grounds were beautiful that afternoon. It had been overcast the last two days and threatening to rain. But this day the sun came out, the clouds broke, the weather was warm for September. The grass was still remarkably green. It had not yet descended into the brown muck of autumn.

Hagrid's hut took a bit of time to get to. I'd seen him walk to his cabin the day before and thought it wouldn't take more than five minutes. But I hadn't accounted for the fact that A: Hagrid was probably half giant47 and around twelve feet. Being eleven with much shorter legs,48 it took us almost a quarter of an hour to get to the stone building.

Along the way, we met Mochi, who slept in a giant tree that I recognized as a Whomping Willow. We heard her, "Moch!" call and turned to see her head pop up. She stood up, stretched and waited as the tree lowered its branches and let her onto the grounds gently.

Alice and Courtney both gaped at the tree. I didn't bother explaining what it was to them. I held out my arm and let Mochi climb my robes and sling herself around my neck, purring.

When we finally made it to Hagrid's house, we saw him standing outside in the pumpkin patch with the hippogriff. He fed it dead ferrets, which drew Mochi's attention. She perked up and hopped off my neck, running ahead.

Hagrid spotted the cat and barely had time to say, "What are you doing here?" Before Mochi rushed past him, dodged a protective bite from the hippogriff, and climbed Withering's legs and side. She stood atop the beast in between the shoulders where she kneaded, curled up and fell asleep.

Witherwings watched Mochi completely still, and when the cat fell asleep, he nodded and let her stay there. Hagrid was still roaring as we approached.

"There you lot are. Shelby arrived five minutes ago," Hagrid said, pointing behind Buckbeak.

Shelby sat on a pumpkin, her blonde hair covered with a large gray knit hat, the end of her ponytail sticking out. She was out of her school robes, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a gray sweater. She waved and tried to smile at us. Her face turned to one of deep concentration. Chocolate smeared her cheeks and face, and it looked as if she was attempting to unglue her teeth. I spotted a tray of treacle fudge nearby and reminded myself not to have any.49

"You must Claudia Nighy's little sister," Hagrid said, shaking Courtney's hand and consequently sending her tumbling into a scarecrow. "Oops, sorry. She's a good kid your sis. And Crispin too, loved Crispin, he was great with bowtruckles. Don't know why he's in the ministry. Ought to be a wandmaker."

"That's why my mum keeps saying," Courtney said, picking straw out of her hair. "But Dad says there's better paying in the Ministry."

"If money made people happy, Goblins would be the nicest beings in the world," Hagrid said. "Mind you they're ruddy distrustful, and nasty tempered." He extended his hand to Alice. "You're Raven's twin sister I take it." Alice was able to shake his hand without falling over.

"His older sister," Alice said. "By about seven minutes."

Hagrid chuckled. "You've made an impression this week," Hagrid said, looking at me. "Got yourself a detention and everything. Not a great start to term, eh?"

I frowned. "I also managed to—"

"I'm only teasing," Hagrid said, putting his hands up. They were huge hands, bigger than trash bin lids. I had this fleeting image of him snapping me in half just because I bothered him. I banished the thought though and looked over to Witherwings.

"Name of Buckbeak," Hagrid said.

"You called him Witherwings before," I said.

Hagrid blushed. "Yeah well, Witherwings is his codename see. Buckbeak escaped a death sentence a while back. So, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention anything."

All of us were happy to keep the secret.

The hippogriff stared at me, and I did not break eye contact. But Hagrid walked in front of me, severing the eye contact and Buckbeak cried out. Hagrid had to spend a minute calming the hippogriff before he allowed us to come near.

"Alright, alright." He threw a ferret into the air and Buckbeak caught it. Mochi almost fell off and clutched onto the beast by sinking her claws into the back muscles. Buckbeak didn't like that much and he shook Mochi off. Mochi fell in the dirt, sprang up, bristled, climbed Buckbeak, swatted his beak, and then nestled herself back where she'd been laying.

After that Hagrid taught us how to approach hippogriffs, and Buckbeak bowed to each of us. A wind took up and we moved inside Hagrid's hut, round his extremely large table. Buckbeak lay behind me and Alice. We chatted about various topics, but soon everyone but me and Hagrid had their teeth stuck together due to the fudge as we stroked Buckbeak's coat.

Hagrid's hut sang of adventure. A crossbow lay on the table, which Hagrid cleared, mounting it on the wall beside the door. Giant muddy boots lay beside the door. A huge tan overcoat with too many pockets to count was hung above them. Unicorn hair had been braided into several ropes of various lengths. They hung from one of eight wooden beams supporting the ceiling. I spotted loose unicorn hair in one of many baskets by Hagrid's bed. A metal cannister of flesh-eating slug repellent sat much to close to Hagrid's cooking supplies. I spotted acromantula fangs, miniaturized manticore wings, Murtlap tentacles, Demiguise hair, a dozen billywigs in a jar, and—

"Are those heartstrings?" I asked, pointing to large fleshy strings, strung between two hooks. Each had its own color, and they gleamed in the daylight, shimmering in a way that reminded me of candlelight.

"Yup. Charlie Weasley—an old Hogwarts student—sent 'em to me," Hagrid said, beaming. "He said they weren't up to snuff for ole Olivander. So, I got 'em to study. Did you know, that Dragons don't produce fire from their stomach."

"What?" I asked. Shelby and Claudia tried to say 'what' as well, but their saliva was still attempting to break down the treacle fudge.

"Yeh, it's something new they learned. It's all to do with the heart first. The heart acts as a sort of spell creator, an igniter, before the stomach acid comes up. Then the spell and the fire work together to produce the flame we see. Isn't that amazing?"

It absolutely was. Previously it had been thought Dragons just produced fire with a nonverbal spell, the same as wizards, but dragonologists realized in the 16th century that dragon's stomach contents would be down a few kilograms after each burst of flame. But the heart igniting flame, that was a very knew discovery.

"How did they figure that out?" Shelby asked. She had difficulty getting the words out. I could see fudge in thick columns from one row of teeth to the other.

"I don't know," Hagrid said, his face falling. "Charlie wouldn't tell me."50

"Do you like dragons?" I asked Hagrid.

He thumbed the table. "Do I? I keep forgetting you're all first years. I'd have liked a dragon to keep for myself, but…well anyway, how have your classes been?"

Shelby launched into how much she liked Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Silsbury. Courtney and Alice jumped in on that praise once their mouths started to work again.

"Yeah, Rowan's a bright kid—Professor Silsbury to you lot—and she's not a kid no more, so I shouldn't have said that," Hagrid said. "She got an Outstanding on her Care of Magical Creatures NEWT. Best Care of Magical Creatures student I've had in years, she was."

Everyone at the table seemed to enjoy Professor Slughorn as well. In fact, all the teachers we'd been introduced too, except for Binns,51 had a glowing repour from my fellow classmates. I was the only one to complain about any of the teachers.

"Professor Bhatti and I didn't get along," I said.

"What's that about?" Hagrid inquired.

"Raven was being a showoff, weren't you Raven?" Alice said. She looked smug, so I shot a stinging jinx at her under the table. Hagrid didn't notice.

I explained about the hypodermic needle.

"Yeah well, Professor Bhatti doesn't like anyone making a fuss in his classes," Hagrid said. I noticed Hagrid's black eyes didn't quite meet mine when he said this. "He can be strict with students, but if you pay attention and do what you're told, you'll be fine. He's a good bloke. One of the best Transfiguration students under McGonagall. I expect that's why McGonagall gave 'em the job."

Hagrid changed the subject to Mochi, who had curled up in a large dog bed. "Smart cat you've got there. She's been round the hut a couple times, but never came to say hello."

I interrupted Alice as she attempted to praise our cat. "Do you have a pet Hagrid? Other than Buckbeak I mean."

"Buckbeak's no pet," Hagrid corrected, a smile broadening behind the beard. "Mind you remember that. Hippogriffs have a mind of their own, and the ability to kill any one of you. But yeah, I did have a pet, big ole hound named Fang, but he died a couple years ago. More than a couple years ago." He looked over to Mochi. "Been meaning to get rid of that." Mochi stretched out, stood and walked a couple steps then sat back down in cat-bread-loaf formation. "It's getting good use though."

Our conversation with Hagrid went on through dinner. Shelby seemed the most excited to talk with Hagrid and had the most questions about magical beasts. Courtney, as usual, chimed in here and there, and Alice at times focused, and at other times walked around the hut looking into all sorts of things.

By the time we'd finished talking with the Game Keeper, Shelby and he had gotten into a long and detailed discussion about how Hippogriff and Gryphon behavior differ, which I'd listened too intently. But as it got dark Hagrid told us we'd better get up to the castle and escorted us past the greenhouses and through the doors.

He left us with a wave and said, "Come down anytime, no need to send an owl. And I'm glad you all had a good first week."

Points

By the time my first month at the school dwindled away, I had earned Gryffindor a total of two-hundred and forty points. I'd also landed twice more in detention—which I spent with Slughorn sorting potion ingredients—and lost eighty points. Professor Silsbury docked me twenty-five points for my third detention, and Professor Bhatti docked the other fifty-five points for random moments in Transfiguration.52

I had collected the most points in the school. To put this in perspective the next highest grossing student, Oakley Woodhouse, had earned Hufflepuff a total of ninety-five points. Slytherin, as a whole, had only earned forty points total for the entire year. I'd lost twice as many points as they'd earned.

This put Gryffindor in first place with a total of three hundred and sixty-five points. A two-hundred and ten points above Hufflepuff. A two-hundred and seventy points above Ravenclaw; And a three-hundred and twenty-five points above Slytherin.

I must admit that I did not enjoy receiving or carrying out my detentions. Professor Slughorn was a gracious host and the work wasn't hard, but the act of being required to be in the dungeons to do work I'd otherwise enjoy, repulsed me. I'd much rather have sat there and learned about the effects of potion ingredients of my own free will, or been reading in the library, or practicing spells on or around Arthur in our dormitory,53 or out at the Quidditch pitch watching Courtney and Alice practice.54

If you put a wand to my head, I'd say my favorite class at the end of my first month was Charms. Professor Flitwick allotted time at the end of each lesson to get a head start on our homework. During that time he always allowed me to come up and ask for special insight on a charm, spell, curse, etc., that I was working on—provided no student needed to ask him a question. As we studied Charms with the Ravenclaws, Shelby started to join me, jotting down notes about what spell Flitwick and I discussed and even started attempting some advanced magic. Soon Courtney and, eventually, Alice would come up too, until we had a small Charms club—well, more a Flitwick club actually—within Charms itself.

The last full weekend of September included a Hogsmede visit on Saturday,55 and the first Quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. This sporting event is what really introduced me to the rivalry between houses, and gave me a better context why Courtney's brother, Christopher, said he'd 'Skin her alive' if she became a Gryffindor.

I received my third detention from Professor Bhatti, not in Transfiguration, but in the hallway on a fourth-floor corridor. Some Slytherin dolt,56 one of the beaters for the team, attempted to curse Courtney57 so that her hands would shrink down in miniature two days before the match. Arthur jumped in front of the curse, and my own protective shield, and saw his hands become no larger than a single tooth. The beater did not end up playing in the game on Sunday. I vanished the bones from both his hands, and one foot to boot. He had to take skelegrow three times, a process which lasted until Monday evening.

Professor Bhatti witnessed the entire fight. He'd come out of a classroom on the fourth floor where he'd been tutoring a fifth-year girl in turning tea cups into tea cup pigs. The tea cup pigs ran all over the hallway58 as Bhatti pulled his wand out and forced me and the beater to separate.

He did not dock Gryffindor points. I think that he at least understood I'd been acting as a proxy to self-defense. But he thought my reaction was over the top, so I got my third detention. Slughorn made it an extra long one that Friday night. He was not pleased about what I'd done to sabotage his Quidditch team's chances.

Breakfast the day of the match could not have been more unpleasant. Though that was to be expected. On the day of a football match59 back in Crail, Alice would be in one of three moods: angry, silent, or gushing with joy. That September Sunday she awoke angry.

I'm not sure Courtney knew what hit her. I had been reading the Godric Gryffindor biography, waiting for Alice and Courtney to come down while Arthur and Zephyr played chess.60

I came across a most interesting sentence about a young Gryffindor.

One of Gryffindor's early letters, a letter to young lady named Moran McGonagall, said that puffins happened to be his favorite bird.

I made a mental note to ask the Headmistress if this was a relation of hers.

Alice came down first. She wore her full Quidditch robes. Her face was red, her eyes puffy. Courtney was only a step behind her. She whispered to Alice, trying to console her. I could not resist what I said.

"Do you they not have locker rooms? Or are you too scared to dress in front of Cygnus?"

Alice fumbled in her robes searching for her wand. I didn't bother whipping mine out. She'd cool herself off before she finally got it. I went back to reading the book. Where was I?

..favorite bird. He explained how—

I heard the portrait hole swing open. Alice had stormed past, leaving me behind. Courtney followed. Zephyr and Arthur stood. It wasn't much of a transition for Arthur, who was barely taller standing than he was sitting. They both looked to me. I shut my book, stood and swept past them out the open entryway.

I knew Alice would not eat during breakfast. I mean to say I knew she would not eat a single breakfast item provided by the kitchens. I told Courtney not to bother her breath on Alice's refusal. She did not listen to me but kept offering Alice any bit of food there was.

I waited, looking up towards the sky.

Cygnus arrived, along with most of the team. Team captain Amelia Horford remained absent.

"She's already eaten," Cygnus said. "Saw her out in the Entrance Hall before I came in. She wants to set up her tactic boards before we get down there." He sat next to Courtney, who looked miniscule next to him. Cygnus looked over at Alice and frowned. "You alright, Alice?"

Alice looked blankly at her plate, which Courtney had filled with food. Drool ran out from her bottom lip. Her eyes were bloodshot from a lack of blinking.

I returned my gaze to the ceiling. The black ball of feathers constituting Newt flew in among the first owls of that day's post. I studied the square package. Red and gold colored string tied the cardboard box up. I smiled.

Newt did not dart down to the table and haphazardly throw the box down, as he did with much of my mail. Instead, he inverted his dive and slowly descended, gently placing the box down with one foot. Alice didn't pay much attention at first, but eventually she noticed the ink stamp on top of the box. She reached for it, but I pulled the card off the top of the box and handed it to her first. There was no need for me to open the card or the box. Both were for Alice.61

After finishing the card she threw the note and paper on the table, hitting Newt. He crumpled both with his talon and threw it back at her in succession. She didn't respond. She was half done tearing the box open. In the box were six crumpets, about six inches in diameter. They were from a local shop near our home, and they were the only thing my mother could get Alice to eat on a game day. They were paired with a honey butter mixture my mother made, which I dipped my finger into before Alice slapped my hand.

As Alice ate I opened the second note:

Dear Raven,

I was ever so pleased to see you write and ask that I send this special treat for Alice. It's nice to see you looking out for your sister. However, if you didn't think I wasn't already planning on it, you don't know me very well. You're not the only one who can think or remember. Don't forget that.

Mum

P.S. You don't get any. It's Alice's day.

I vocalized my emotions through a half-laugh, half-scoff, and reread the letter.

I only looked up when Cygnus spoke, "What's it your owl's doing, Raven?" Raising my eyes above the paper in hand I saw Newt butting his head against Cygnus' arm and hand. Newt turned and pressed his back into Cygnus hand, his eyes bulging.

"He wants you to pet him," I said. My lip twitched at the sight of Newt, straining himself for attention. Cygnus obliged. I returned to the letter, but before I knew it, it seemed as though all the students had collectively decided to go down to the pitch.

When Cygnus, Alice, Courtney and the Gryffindor team parted ways half way down to the pitch I rushed ahead, Zephyr and Arthur in tow. I wanted to get the best seats possible. However, I could hardly move when we got to the Gryffindor section. It seemed the whole house had beaten us to the pitch. When we got up to the benches the only great seats left were in the way back62, next to a mammoth of a man.

"Hagrid," I said. "Can we join you?"

"Of course, don't mind at all. Sit, sit." He patted the bench beside him, which shook, sending a second-year girl at the other end flying off. "Whoops. Sorry!"

"Where is Alice? And Courtney?" Hagrid asked.

"On the team," Zephyr said, shaking Hagrid's hand as he passed him. "I am Zephyr Gruger."

"Hagrid. McGonagall's getting reckless. She likes first years on the team," Hagrid scorned, though he beamed as he said so.

Hagrid introduced himself to Arthur as well, who may have been smaller than Hagrid's whole beard. All settled down, I looked out at the flags above each middle goalpost at the end of the field. The wind was lazy, pushing around the fabric of both flags in various directions.

A small tap hit my shoulder. I looked over and saw Shelby, wrapping her robes tightly around her, her Ravenclaw scarf held loosely in one hand.

She didn't appear visibly upset. She didn't look at anyone else. She simply looked at me and asked, "Can I sit with you all."

Without thinking I immediately tried to shift to my right and hit Hagrid. I winded myself and felt a bit dizzy. Zephyr ushered Arthur to budge up and create a space for Shelby. She sat next to me, thanking Zephyr, but looking at the ground.

Shelby did not stop looking at the ground. To my utter horror she started to cry. A tearless, silent cry, no one else noticed.63 I put my arm around Shelby's back and brought my face down and close to hers.

"What is it? Are you ill?" She shook her head. "Are you stressed, I know school can be—" She shook her head. "Is it your time of the month?64 Wait no that's stupid, it's not full moon till—hang on." I tried to catch Shelby's eye. "Have people figured out you're a werewolf?"

Shelby nodded. "Flitwick told my dormmates last Saturday. He forbids anyone from saying anything, but I'm sure it will get out. Now everyone in my dormitory is terrified of me."

"I'm sure that's not true," I said.65

"They'll hardly talk to me."

I attempted humor. "Hardly is a step up from not at all." Shelby did not laugh. "You're not in the dorm with them when you take your potion, or transform though?

"No, of course not. Madam Pomfrey and Flitwick tend to me in a room somewhere in the Castle. It's lovely really, high up in a tower. I get lovely views."

"People will come around. You're not dangerous," I said.

She looked at me. I could see tears in her eyes. "But I am. Even with a clear head, if I bite someone, they become like me."

"You'd never do that," I said."

Shelby turned away, looking at the floor again. I could see she was done discussing this with me.

I attempted humor. "If you're going to sit here, you need the proper garb." I placed my own Gryffindor scarf around her neck and took the Ravenclaw one from her hand. She did not protest. I banished the scarf to my dormitory under my breath. "You, Miss Ravenclaw will just have to support us Gryffindors."

No sooner had I said it, a giant pointed hat, with a large lion atop it popped out of thin air and landed on top of Shelby's head. Shelby started and brushed off the hat, which fell behind her. I picked it up and examined it. The lion's eyes shifted to me. It chewed on what looked like the end of a serpent's tail. Shelby widened her eyes.

I attempted to put on the hat, but the Lion swallowed the serpent and growled at me. "I think this is for you," I said to her. Who on earth had sent this?66

Shelby's eyes widened, and she began to laugh. She put it on without a fuss. I pulled out my wand and tapped it. It let out a vicious roar. The entire stadium quieted for a moment and looked our way. Shelby beamed.

Not much later both the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams came out to thunderous applause and boos. Shelby tapped the lion hat and it roared. Cygnus looked around to our section and saluted the hat. Shelby, Hagrid, Arthur and I all laughed. Zephyr merely smiled.

The game took two and a quarter hour. It wasn't particularly exciting.

What I came away with in that first quidditch match:

Alice had a long way to go.

Courtney's natural talent was undeniable.

Cygnus and Marie Abdule could probably win an entire World Cup for England even if the rest of the squad was total crap.

Amelia didn't seem to be a great leader. She spent the whole match screaming and losing her head about small details. She never said one positive word.

Zelda was the best chaser.

Slytherin really didn't have a competitive squad. The captain, unfortunately named Roger Rogers, was a fifth year of not much talent. The other two chasers, Zach Jones and Derrick Scott, were even less talented. The beaters David MacDonald and Allen Waiters67 were okay. The keeper, a muggle girl named Abigale Lathrop was actually quite good and blocked fourteen of Alice's sixteen total shots. Overall, Lathrop saved thirty-four shots out of seventy-six shots on target.

Alice's worst part of the game included when missed the quaffle and it hit her eyebrow, making it bleed, and attempting a kick pass that looped lazily down to the floor of the pitch instead of towards Zelda.

The best part of Alice's game was her first goal, some hour and forty minutes into the match68, when she leapt from her broom, boosted herself by stepping on a passing bludger and throwing the quaffle through the right most hoop. That caused the stadium to erupt, and then scream as Alice fell forty-eight-and-a-half feet before Cygnus caught her.

Alice's first goal ranked up there with the best moment. My personal favorites though were the six combined goals scored by Cygnus and Marie. Marie did it first when she aimed a bludger that hit the quaffle straight into one of the unguarded hoops. In all Marie scored four times, and Cygnus scored twice, with Marie's last bludger scoring goal coming at an incredibly tough upwards angle.

The real story of the match though was the game between William Stonewall and Courtney. Stonewall was the Slytherin seeker, a seventh-year student who, by the end of the game, did not like me.69 I believe Stonewall really missed out on an opportunity to be a really cool keeper. He has the build for it, the reflexes for it and his name is just begging to be on the back of the silver Slytherin keeper's robes. He does not have the subtle reflexes that allow a person to so carefully pluck the golden ball from the sky.

It was clear Courtney outmatched him in every facet of the game. All except for size and strength. Right at the beginning of the game Courtney sped, her eyes on the snitch. Unfortunately for her, she had to fly past Stonewall, who blocked her and threw an elbow, nearly knocking Courtney from her broom. Madam Hooch did not see the foul by Stonewall but did see the two bludgers Marie and Cygnus clobbered into Stonewalls head seconds later. She deemed this excessive and gave Slytherin a penalty.70 Our Gryffindor keeper, McKinney Hart—in truly dazzling robes of gold—blocked the penalty and game continued.71

Stonewall's tactics for the rest of the game echoed this early non-foul. He blocked, hit, shoved, kicked, and generally beat on Courtney any moment he got. Having never been to a game, or known much about the various traditions of Hogwarts quidditch teams, I did not know that thuggery was a common tactic by Slytherin72, but I soon learned by the general outrage, and recalls to previous uncalled for fouls of past players that Slytherin indeed was rather unrelenting in physical punishment.73

Stonewall's main gift was his ability to foul Courtney when Madam Hooch wasn't looking. By my calculations, Courtney was fouled thirty-six times when Madam Hooch was occupied with something else, and only four times that got called.

It was the thirty-sixth time though that really got the attention of the crowd. Courtney had dived at a sixty-degree angle. Stonewall had been marking her but was late to react. He soared above her, a hand's length away from her. Feet above the ground he extended his feet and clamped Courtney's head in between his boots lifting her off her broom and sending her into the grass.

Loud boos rang from Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindor's alike. David MacDonald had sent a bludger right at Madam Hooch during the dive, obviously with the intent of distracting her, and was arguing with her, keeping her attention away from the seekers battle.

Courtney crumpled when she hit the ground. The snitch changed direction and soared upwards. Stonewall soared after it. Inches from the snitch he flew off his broom sideways, as if hit by a bus. Madam Hooch caught him before he reached the ground, and she called a timeout.

All of Gryffindor looked up the stands to the backrow where I stood, my wand out, pointing right at Stonewall. I hastily stowed my wand and sat back down next to Hagrid, who was still howling at Stonewall, completely unaware of my actions.

Madam Hooch is not an idiot. She flew over to the Gryffindor stands and demanded to know who had sent the curse.74 Though the entirety of Gryffindor House had seen that I was the culprit, not a single person ratted me out. While this certainly made me admire my housemates, it put Madam Hooch into a fury. She took a hundred and fifty points from Gryffindor and gave Slytherin fifteen penalties.

It didn't matter much though. Within five minutes of the incident three things happened to raise Gryffindor morale.

Hart saved nine of the fifteen penalties.

When the game resumed after the penalties at Madam Hooch's whistle, Courtney flew straight at Stonewall and kicked him right where the hex had hit him.

Belabored by the early stages of a magical bee sting reaction75 Stonewall did not foul Courtney again, and was too slow to catch her as she caught the snitch by clamping it between both feet and hoisting it into her outstretched hand.

I'd been to several Magpie games, but I don't know if I'd ever seen a more triumphant snitch catch than that. Gryffindor won Five Hundred and Seventy to an even One Hundred points.

The aftermath of the match zoomed by. One minute we all sat there, listening to one last triumphant roar of Shelby's lion hat as Madam Hooch's whistle rang out. We all cheered as Courtney raised a fist. Then we all cheered as Stonewall blearily zigzagged down to the pitch, where Madam Pomfrey ran out to meet him. The Gryffindor team zoomed to celebrate with Courtney, but soon Courtney too flew to meet Madam Pomfrey.

Courtney had dislocated her right shoulder when Stonewall threw her off her broom, but Madam Pomfrey healed her with a quick jab of her wand.

Then it seemed like we apparated right into Gryffindor Common Room where a raucous party was already raging. Music was being played by a trio of Gryffindors with electric guitars and drum set. Food had been nicked from the kitchen, "nicked" being how it was phrased to me by Marie Abdule, though I spotted two house elves leaving the common room soon after I entered. Each member of the quidditch team was singled out by some popular seventh-year named McLagan who gave a speech with a magical microphone, while Cygnus hoisted Courtney up on his shoulders.

Marie took to mic from McLagan and pointed to me and said, "And let's not forget the fan of the match, the boy who saved Courtney, Raven Husher!" She said my name like an announcer giving sports players an introduction. There was much applause, and I saw a Cygnus give me two thumbs up with Courtney still on his shoulders. "Even from the pitch we could see you were the one who hexed that idiot." Someone pushed me towards Marie and she took my hand hoisting it into the air. The applause sounded again, and I looked out at bright and smiling faces. "Tell us Raven, what motivated you to hex him."

She held the microphone to my mouth, "Uhhh," I started.76 "I guess I was just tired of seeing the abhorrent abuse adding up on Courtney and decided if Hooch wasn't going to do anything, I would."

This caused a whole lot more whooping and clapping. "I'm sorry I lost us a bunch of points though."

Marie shook her head smiling. "I think we all know you're the reason we're in first place to begin with.

"It don't matter anyway," Cygnus shouted over everyone. "We won the points back for winning the match." People cheered in ascent.

Marie passed me a mug of butterbeer from out of nowhere and took one up herself. She raised it. "To Raven."

"To Raven," the house said.

We all drank.

Much louder Marie shouted, "To the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."

"Toe the Gryffindor Quidditch Team," everyone repeated.

We all drank again.

I peered over to where Alice stood between Cygnus and Amelia. She glared at me before giving a small begrudging smile. Then she drank. She tried to leave, to get to her dormitory, but Courtney caught her leaving, and Cygnus pulled her back down from the stairs. I watched them give her a pep talk, which was followed by the whole team bringing her spirits up. In no time she was just as happy as everyone else.

The party went on for hours; I took a nap after the first.

All-House Championship

The Monday after Gryffindor's domination of Slytherin, I woke early. The sun had barely risen. I tried to peak around the window by my bed, to see it rise above the mountain peaks, but the view from the window wouldn't allow it. My window faced due West, which was lovely for sunsets, if I was ever in my dormitory for those.

I made a mental note to get outside that day. It probably would be some of the last bit of sunshine this year. I thought about asking Alice to go for a jog with me in the afternoon. I descended the stairs, past the sleeping Arthur and the exceptionally loud snores of Zephyr.

The common room was packed with people all lining up to see the bulletin board. I was not the only early riser. I shoved my way through to the front where I saw Courtney. I sidled up next to her.

"Can you read it?" I asked, craning my head.

"Yes," she responded. "First year Gryffindors are to report to the kitchens at four in the afternoon tomorrow."

"The kitchens? But why?" I asked.

Courtney didn't have an answer. We both ducked as a loud bang went off in the common room. Cygnus' laugh flooded the room. He went over and reinstated a fellow sixth-year back to consciousness, having just stunned her.

"Sorry Evans, but you were my kill," he said.

At breakfast that morning I sat by Cygnus who was gracious enough to explain to me what had happened.

"Every year a whole year of students gets assigned a sort of magical tag game. You must stun each other until only one person is left. Sixth years got it this year. We also did it in my second year. Last four people standing get to compete to be in the final seven. Evans was my first target, now I've got a new one."

Alice and Arthur both asked who, but Cygnus wasn't having it.

"Like I'm going to tell you," Cygnus said. A Hufflepuff girl, who was passing put her hand on Cygnus' shoulder. In an instant she was blasted backwards, and Cygnus was standing up, his wand out.

"Was she your target?" I asked. I noticed Professor Silsbury and Sprout running down from the head table.

"Erm, she was not," Cygnus said. "She's my girlfriend. I thought she was going to curse me."77

Four o'clock on Tuesday came too quickly. I enjoyed charms immensely. Shelby and I finished our homework so early that Flitwick gave us a dueling technique lesson. He focused mainly on our footwork, explaining that a proper placed foot could do much for the intention of our spell work.78

I attempted to practice the new footwork during Transfiguration under my desk until Professor Bhatti caught a glimpse and took five points for "excessive twitching."79

All us first year Gryffindors got to the kitchens ten minutes late, since none of us knew where the kitchens were. I believe Professor Silsbury skipped that in her tour of the castle.80 We originally made it down to the dungeons and found a labyrinth of stone corridors that smelled of mold where the ceiling was covered with moss. Water dripped down on us. We followed it for a minute before Alice realized I just wanted to explore the corridors rather than go to the kitchens immediately. She had as all turned around, so I tried to remember where we'd found the entrance of the corridors.81

Eventually we found a Hufflepuff prefect who guided us to the kitchens. She left us there with four witches, Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Silsbury, and two witches I didn't know. One witch had short but neatly kept blonde hair. She wore a pink blouse with a giant black bow tied around the collar, and a flower-patterned scarf hanging off both shoulders.

The other witch was a bit taller than the former. She had even shorter hair, black, and a pair thick framed glasses perched upon her nose. She wore more of a suit than robes, black fabric, with a white shirt and a Hufflepuff tie neatly folded into an elegant not.

Upon first inspection Professor McGonagall seemed to be smiling as we approached. Professor Silsbury certainly was guffawing. But the headmistress became stern as soon as she saw us. She inquired as to our lateness, and I explained that we did not know where the kitchens were. She did not seem pleased.82

We were ushered into the kitchens. I tried to look as Professor Sislbury touched a painting of fruit, but McGonagall and the two other witches blocked my view. The painting swung out and we entered the room.

I say room, but that doesn't do the kitchens justice. The room is the exact shape and size of the Great Hall above it. Counters, tables, stoves were strewn around the edges. Great shelves of fruit and vegetables were mounted onto stone walls. Herbs were being grown in small pots near an artificial window. Glittering brass pots and pans hung from the ceiling and walls. At the other end of the room a great brick fireplace had been built. A fire roared in it.

In the middle of the kitchen stood five long wooden tables. Each had a sink, and stove in the table, along with all manner of baking utensils. Jars of flour, sugar and other ingredients stood on the table next to a sheet of paper. I walked to fifth table at the back without being instructed to. Alice and the others followed my example.

"Right," Professor Silsbury started. "So for you challenge today—"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and Silsbury stopped. Silsbury waited for McGonagall to speak, evidently unaware of what the headmistress wanted.

"Gryffindors," the Headmistress said, "these two fine ladies are Millicent and Primrose Giedroyc. They were top students here and come from a family of actors."83

Millicent, the blonde, waved to us. Primrose smiled wide and murmured something to Silsbury that caused her to break out in laughter again. I saw McGonagall's lip twitch, but she did not smile.

"Right, again, so for your challenge today—"Professor Sislbury stopped again. "Perhaps you should explain it."

Primrose took over without any hesitation. With a certain mischievous gleam in her eye she said, "Young Gryffindors we'd like you all to bake a pie for for us. It can be sweet or savory-"

"But no baked Gryphon please," Millicent said.

"And make sure your oven doors shut properly," Primrose added.

"Basic steps for baking a pie will materialize on the parchment once you've decided on the type of pie."

"You have two hours."

"On your mark."

"Get set."

"Bake," they both said.84

I froze for a moment. Courtney, Alice and Zephyr had all moved towards their baking ingredients. Arthur stood reading his paper over. I picked up my paper, which was totally blank. I thought this competition was going to involve magic. But no, this was a baking challenge.85

I thought about what pie I wanted to make. It took me around three minutes before I decided on a chocolate cherry pie that my mother made the last time my father was in town. I was allowed several sliced of pie, the first and only time that happened.

The recipe appeared on my sheet of parchment. The extra ingredients appeared on my table. It would take a total of seventy minutes, giving me plenty of time to go slow.

It turned out that going slow didn't help. I found that baking was rather like potion making, except that there was nothing deadly going to happen if I put in the wrong ingredient—the dessert just might be gross. However, I did not know about the gluten reaction in flour or how time sensitive the actual bake would be of this pie, or that blind baking meant weighing the pie dough down with something, so it didn't puff up.

I worked tirelessly. I got flour all down my front when I knocked it over stirring up the cherry juice. I set the oven correctly, and mixed everything properly, but without the fine knowledge of bakers, my pie looked lopsided and wonky, and the pie crust was not crisp, but heavy and soggy. I was going to lose the competition.

Courtney had finished first. Her pie looked perfectly good, and smelled of cinnamon. Arthur had mucked up his pie and it looked much the same as mine, a pile of absolute rubbish. Alice was still working on her pie. I think she'd baked a couple times with Mum before, so I wasn't totally surprised to see her attempting fancy cutouts on the pie crust. Zephyr's pie looked the best. He was still working on it too, using his wand to curl dough into lovely little flowers.

His wand.

His wand?

Zephyr was using his wand. We could use magic! "Merlin's fat bottom," I said.

Millicent, who was walking near me looking at my pie said, "Excuse me?"

I ignored her and stood from my stool and vanished my pie.86 I'd never transfigured ingredients or charmed food before, so I was grateful for the allotted half hour I had left. By the time the Primrose told us time was up, I was sweating as if I really had been sitting next to a hot oven. Though I'd turned off my oven more than forty minutes prior. My pie looked good though, not as good as Zephyrs, but a right side better than my previous one had. I had even crafted some small woodland creatures out of chocolate and had them running around the whipped cream of my cherry-chocolate pie.

Professor McGonagall conjured a table with five seats and sat on the right hand side of the middle table. Professor Silsbury sat next to her, and Primrose and Millicent too the two seats to the left, leaving the middle seat open.

A small skinny creature popped into existence standing right on top of the middle chair. With large bat-like ears, and huge purple eyes, a House-elf with a whisp of a beard looked over to Professor McGonagall and said, "You asked for me?"

Primrose spoke, "Gryffindors if you'd all lineup in front of the table please, we are all going to judge your pies."

"This is Merlsberd87," McGonagall explained. "He's the longest tenured house elf at Hogwarts, and the head Chief of our kitchens. We'll be, unless I'm mistaken, judging your pie out of ten, with a total if fifty points available for each of you. We'll start with yours Arthur."

It looked like Arthur might do okay except Merlsberd kept spitting out the food, then attempting to swallow it. He gagged so much that Professor McGonagall took pity and told him he didn't have to eat any. Merlsberd was so mortified at humiliating Arthur like that, that the house elf started weeping.

The judges looked at my pie next, which cheered up Merlsberd considerably. He giggled as the woodland creatures ran around playing in what I had called the "Black Forest Pie." It was a slight disaster when Millicent ate her first piece of pie, biting half way through a horse. The horse made realistic sounds of dying, which sent the rest of the woodland creatures into a frenzy. I had to wave my wand and disenchant them.

"I'm a bit traumatized, I must admit," Primrose said to a shocked Millicent.

They all ate my pie without complaint, however.

Next was Alice's pie, then Courtney's, and finally Zephyr's. If I had any false hope about winning88 it was squashed when Merlsberd ate a piece of Zephyr's Lemon Mirange Pie and walked over to Zephyr to shake his hand.

To no one's surprise, Zephyr won with a full fifty points. He thanked them.

To my surprise and Alice's evident annoyance, I received second with forty-two points.

"The bake was perfect, the recipe was good," Merlsberd said.

"But we took some points off for the death of a beloved chocolate horse," Primrose said as Millicent tried not to laugh. "And some of us weren't sure if you should lose lots of points for creating a disaster at first, or if you should receive full marks for the brilliant spell work you displayed in your recovery during that last half hour. We compromised."

Courtney and Alice tied for third with thirty-eight points. Both pies had various issues, but I was glad to see Alice was not upset by the draw.

Arthur was a good sport about getting last. He adjusted his glasses, smiled and admitted he'd never baked before. When it looked as if Merlsberd would cry again I enchanted one of copper pots. The pot broke off into several little woodland creatures, including the horse he'd eaten. Merlsberd smiled and laughed and played with all the creatures.

When we arrived in the Great Hall for dinner, Edric and Shleby waved us down. They stood next to the Slytherin table where a great blackboard had stuck itself to the stone wall. The rankings from the tournament were displayed there. Gryffindor first years were located at the bottom left corner of the blackboard, close to where the Slytherin table started. Zephyr's name was placed just above mine. I pursed my lips.

"Zephyr congrats, you had a great day," Edric said, shaking Zephyr's hand.

I watched the sixth-year names shifted as people continued to be eliminated.89

"Yes, I am grateful. My parents would have been most displeased if I had not won, as they are both bakers."

I turned to Zephyr my heart lifting. "They're both bakers?"

"Yes, they run the bakery, Billywig Bakes," Zephyr said.

"Isn't that in Hogsmede," Edric asked.

Zephyr nodded. "That is where I grew up."

I think it proper to say the entire mood was a bit lighter. No one had a chance against Zephyr.

"They make the best honey cakes," Edric said.

Zephyr scowled. "I have had too many of those."

Edric pulled a dark curl away from his right eye and laughed. "I bet. Do you—"

A large and grumpy looking boy stood at the Slytherin table and barked over to us. "Oy, Edric, no talking to Gryffindors."

I recognized the boy, it was Darrell MacDonald, the beater I'd vanished the bones from. "Sit down, you gargoyle," Edric said.

"At least no talking to that Gryffindor." It was the seeker, Stonewall, who said this, pointing to me. He still had a bandage wrapped around where the hex had hit him.

"No, it's that one you want to ignore," said a third Slytherin. This boy—he looked more like a man—had black hair. He wore a ring on his right index finger, a ring with an emerald set in it. He pointed straight at Courtney. Of course, this was Courtney's older brother, Christopher. He had taken off his robes, and wore a white dress shirt, which he'd unbuttoned twice at the top, a Slytherin tie, loosened, and a pair of black slacks.

I looked to Courtney who's face drained of color. Her whole body seemed to become smaller, and sadder. She stared at Christopher's pointer finger.

My wand was out in a second, but Courtney's hand pushed it back down. "Don't," she murmured.

"Yeah," Christopher leered, shifting his eyes to my wand, "keep that away. I like your new eye color. It'd be a shame if I changed it again.90"

Before I could clear Courtney's hand off, or raise my wand, Professor Slughorn appeared, his rotund gut cutting off a clear pathway to Christopher's face.91

"Not fighting are we boys?" Slughorn asked. His jovial smile was no where to be seen, only a cold stare sat on his face.

"Of course not, sir," Christopher said, a mock politeness emanating from his throat. "I would never fight with a first year, it wouldn't be fair."

If I thought Professor Slughorn slightly airheaded92 that thought disappeared, then and there.

"Five points from my own house Nighy," Slughorn spat. "You'd be so lucky to win a duel with Mr. Husher. Now please, return to your table's gentlemen, ladies."

We departed, Shelby returning to the Ravenclaw table, Edric moving farther towards the staff table to sit with a friend. I watched Christopher over my shoulder, who spoke in whispers to his friends and likewise watched me over his shoulder. He was eating split pea soup for dinner and I itched to enchant it to fly up into his face. However, Professor Slughorn still had an eye on me, so I didn't dare while under such a watchful gaze.93

An Evening Stroll

Wizarding school compared favorably to muggle school. I certainly paid attention more in classes. Especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms. I must stress how accommodating Professor Flitwick was with me, Shelby, Courtney and Alice. In mid-October I asked to see Professor Flitwick after class. The three girls stayed back with me. I demonstrated to Professor Flitwick that I could cast all the spells named for that year's coursework.94 I showed how Shelby, Courtney and Alice could nearly produce everything as well. We asked if Professor Flitwick if he might create an advanced course for us. Beaming he said he would, and we started that next week, with the stipulation that we still completed our essays on theory, form, and suchness.

Professor Silsbury kept me on my feet. I'd wager that sixty percent of her class consisted of practical lessons in dealing with dark creatures, new spells, or technique with spell work. She proved a strict educator when it came to technique. I'm a little embarrassed to write that I did not pay attention, much, to spell technique and it showed. She constantly reprimanded me for laziness in my footwork, and constant slouch in my shoulders. She docked me five points when I said in our fourth lesson that I didn't care how I looked if the spell worked.95

My issues persisted in Transfiguration with Professor Bhatti. He gave me detention twice more in October. The first I probably deserved. We were supposed to be doing something stupid, like straw into thread and I'd had it. I transfigured my desk into a Great Dane which created an uproar in the class. I received a weekend's worth of detention, which I had to do with Professor Silsbury. I was required to feed all the dark creatures with her every night for two hours. It was fascinating, though I tried not to show it. The last night of detention Professor Silsbury gave me a long lecture about respect and such. I listened, I nodded along, I did not talk; she seemed satisfied.

The second time though. I did not deserve detention, and everyone knew it. I almost literally mean everyone knew it. In the Great Hall, just before the first Gryffindor-Hufflepuff matchup of the year, when everyone was eating breakfast, both the Slytherin beaters, the MacDonald brothers, cursed Marie Abdule and the keeper McKinney Hart so badly that neither could play.

I leapt to their defense, but not quick enough. You see, the MacDonald brothers had tried to switch Marie's arms where McKinney's legs were, and McKinney's legs where Marie's arms should have been. They both are incredibly bad at switching spells and it failed miserably. The result being that Marie's arms planted themselves fully in McKinney's abdomen, and McKinney's legs just vanished.

Knowing I couldn't perform human based switching spells yet, I contemplated turning their entire bodies, minus their heads, to wood, but couldn't remember the spell.96 Instead I disarmed the MacDonald brothers, hoisted both of them up by their ankles, and glued their lips together.

Professor Bhatti ran down from the staff table first; Professor McGonagall second. The first words out of Professor Bhatti were, "Detention Husher."

Professor McGonagall stabilized both Marie and McKinney in two slashes of her wand, conjured stretchers, and levitated the wounded students onto them. The stretchers zoomed off. Professor Silsbury arrived and obeyed when McGonagall ordered her to, "inform Poppy what has happened."

Professor McGonagall had then turned to me and rescinded that detention.

"But Headmistress, Husher has been dueling in the Great Hall, surely he should face the same punishment—"

"You know very well that Husher has just defended his classmates from a disgusting and unprovoked attack on two of the Gryffindor Quidditch players," Professor McGonagall had shouted. "And I'm extremely disappointed that Husher's detention is more important to you, Arjun,97 than helping wounded students or interrogating the perpetrators."

"Is this about the attack, or is this about Quidditch Headmistress?" Professor Bhatti asked.

The entire Great Hall had quieted at this accusation.

Through tightly pursed lips Professor McGonagall hissed, "Please go and seat yourself in my office Arjun. While I attend to these two boys and their victims, perhaps you can think about how you've failed to show the type respect you've been demanding from Mr. Husher these last two months."

Professor Bhatti shot me a look of absolute loathing, his lips curled in a sinister manner. He swept his robes of blue and gold up and stormed out of the Great Hall. Professor Flitwick and Sprout worked to calm everyone down. Professor Slughorn shouted at both MacDonald brothers in a manner of public humiliation, telling his students that they were "lower than an impotent flobberworm," and "more disgusting than a unicorn killer."

Professor McGonagall awarded me ten points to Gryffindor, which I felt was shorthanded, and asked to hear what I and the other Gryffindor's had witnessed.

The two MacDonald brothers were given detention for the rest of term.98 I found out much later why they had attempted such a vicious attack. Darrell—no David—had dated Marie the entire year previous. They apparently had a rather serious relationship, but Marie cheated on David with McKinney and then dumped David. The MacDonald brothers had been planning revenge all summer.

Gryffindor lost that game to Hufflepuff, two-hundred and forty to fifty. Hufflepuff was extremely good. The game lasted forty-five minutes. Alice scored a goal and missed two. Courtney was hit by a bludger that Marie would definitely have never let near her and failed to catch the snitch consequently.

I spent the afternoon trying to cheer Courtney and Alice up, but all they wanted to do was finish their homework. We did. Before going down to the Great Hall, Newt showed up and tapped at the window just as I was thinking about writing Hagrid to see if we could come down. I scribbled the note and gave it to Newt who dove straight down along the tower before opening his wings and soaring to Hagrid's hut. He was back in moments with an affirmative from Hagrid.

We grabbed dinner to go and invited several people to come along. Zephyr, Shelby and Edric99 agreed to come. Arthur declined, as he was off to join a chess tournament. He won that tournament which I thought was pretty cool.100 We spent an evening at Hagrid's refusing food, drinking tea, and learning how to tie several knots with unicorn hair. I absolutely stole a hundred and twenty-one unicorn hairs when Hagrid and the others weren't looking or paying me attention, of which I still have sixteen.101

The next evening—I shouldn't lie—the next night, well past midnight, I strolled around the castle. The best learning experience about Hogwarts is learning about the castle. I failed to realize that in my first month of school, but lately, I'd found myself waking early in the morning, or unable to fall asleep, wondering what was around me, what secrets the castle held.

That particular night was the night before my and Alice's birthday, October 31st. The eve of Halloween. I found myself in a tower I'd not yet been. A marble staircase took me several stories down to the second floor without the option of a landing. Mochi lay strewn about my neck, purring and needing my shirt.

Mochi, who spent most of her time in the Gryffindor Common Room, cuddling with any who wished to be cuddled with, joined me every time I came down for these excursions. She also proved vital in detecting when Mrs. Norris came about. She'd stand up on my shoulders and become deadly still. I would follow Mochi's eyes and spot the yellow gleam of Mrs. Norris.

I was still having difficulty producing a perfect disillusionment charm and thought it would be inappropriate to ask Professor Flitwick for pointers on a way to break school rules. My charm mostly worked. I doubt anyone would see me in the dark, but parts of me remained visible, whether a hand, or a shoulder. Plus, I didn't dare try and disillusion Mochi. I didn't yet know the consequences of what would happen if I improperly cast a spell on her. The mix of these things lead to me casting a magical bubble around Mrs. Norris ever time we crossed her path.

The bubble looked translucent, though it had a blueish-purple glow about it and acted as its own light source, so anyone could clearly see Mrs. Norris was inside. After the fifth time I cast this on Mrs. Norris she started yowling and I had to start casting a muffling charm. But she got the hang of it soon and would roll around the castle.

This bubble proved effective and less harmful. The long-term effects of constantly stunning a human are not good. It can lead to complications in producing magic, apparating, and make you more likely to contract magical diseases.102 Hexing or cursing someone routinely has different affects. For instance, if I cast the full body-bind curse on Mrs. Norris it would lead to long term muscle rigidity, and the cat, however evil, did deserve full use of all her faculties. The bubble also let Mrs. Norris move around, but it seemed to cut off the strange connection between her and Filch, because after using it Filch would not turn up where Mrs. Norris had found me, or Mochi.

The tower I walked in bore the same decorations as most of Hogwarts. Suits of armor, portraits that slept, high ceilings, etc. As I walked this long hallway, I started to notice different gargoyles situated on the walls or ceiling. All manner of gargoyle sat around. A large man with bat-like wings sat up above looking down at me. A huge cat-like woman looked to be pouncing out from the wall. A rather horrifying small goblin-like gargoyle peered from behind a torch.

I came upon a huge gargoyle which sat behind a large archway. The gargoyle was made of stone, was humanoid, but with large horns coming out of his head, giant feathered wings folded behind his back, and a beak for a mouth. Chunks of the stone shaping his face, torso and limbs were missing—no doubt scarring from the Battle of Hogwarts.

I would have bet my life there and then that this gargoyle guarded some type of room. I found out shortly thereafter I was not wrong. With a noise that made my heart try and escape my chest the gargoyle twisted his head and looked at me saying, "She won't be too happy with you, will she?" and he stepped aside.

A spiral staircase showed itself behind the staircase and too my horror Professor McGonagall walked down, wand lit. She wore a white and green dressing gown, and had her hair hidden underneath a matching cap. She wore fuzzy white slippers that looked luscious.

Mochi hopped down from my neck and walked to her, rubbing against her legs. Professor McGonagall sat on the lowest step and pet Mochi. She then looked straight at me and said, "It's good to know there is a spell that you can't do Raven. I was beginning to wonder if education you would make any impact at all." She patted the seat beside her. "Please won't you sit with me for a moment."

I obeyed. I undid the disillusionment charm as I walked and lit my own wand non-verbally. I sat beside her, an elbow's length away. Why had she not taken points away, or given me a detention? I was, after all, breaking school rules.

"Do you know why we forbid students to roam the halls after hours?" Professor McGonagall asked. She gazed at me and I felt as if we had sat down for a private tutoring session.

"To make sure students are safe, especially as you cannot ask the whole staff to be on duty every night." I paused. "And also, perhaps, to curtail as much sex between students as possible."

Professor McGonagall's head tilted ever so slightly, and I believe I saw the smallest of small smiles flash across her lips. "Very good Raven. It is indeed about you, and your classmate's safety. And also, as you say, about intercourse between students, though that is always a losing battle it seems. Now I will eat my cap if there is a single student that never, in the history of my teaching here, been out of bed after hours, but you must understand that roaming the castle, especially at three o'clock in the morning is dangerous and exhausting for us teachers.

"In fact, Raven, that may be the real reason as to why we teachers despise those who roam as you do. Because we know. We might not know who all the time, but we have a general idea and we see signs of it. And because of that we must spend nights walking around tracking students down, losing sleep and time and all because students can't stay in bed. Poor Rowan, Professor Silsbury to you, must have rescued Mrs. Norris from that ridiculous ball you've trapped her in three times alone this week while looking for you—"

"How did she know it was me?"

"Do you really think anyone else would have thought to do anything other than stunning the poor cat? I've never seen a student think that creatively about how to get rid Mrs. Norris. Not even Fred and George Weasley. They'd just lock her in a broom cupboard for the night if they ever came across her.

"Now, I daresay Raven that this conversation will not be stopping you from exploring the castle uninhibited at nighttime, or sneaking off to the kitchens for food, or going out to the lake for a romantic evening with name-a-girl, but I hope that I can get you to consider the staff who must, at the very least, try and track you down. I hope you may be kind to us in keeping to a somewhat better hour. Because this is too late and too exhausting. I believe Rowan is as of this moment cursing her pants off at you students while she finds where Mrs. Norris has rolled off to this time."

I nodded. "Yes Headmistress."

"Good." She stood. I followed suit. She waved her wand and two hot steaming mugs of herbal tea appeared. She offered one to me, then her eyes became cold and her normal stern manner overtook her body. "Let me be clear Raven. If we do catch you out of bed again you will lose Gryffindor a severe amount of points and you'll land yourself in detention. I will personally see that Professor Bhatti oversees that detention, do you understand me?"

"Yes Headmistress."

She gave a curt nod and made to walk up the stone staircase. She stopped and turned to me. "Oh, a happy birthday to you Raven. I suppose you can count not losing Gryffindor points tonight a birthday present. You will be tempted upon returning to your dormitory to open the gifts now being lain at the foot of your bed. I instruct you to go to bed first and wait until morning. Now goodnight, and head straight to Gryffindor tower. Through that portrait of Willow Wilder eating bananas would be quickest."

I nodded a third time and McGonagall gave Mochi one last scratch between the ears and left. Mochi climbed back onto my shoulders and I left. The gargoyle stepped back to block the staircase. I stepped onto the canvas of the portrait of Willow Wilder and found that there was no canvas but a dark stairway leading up straight to the seventh floor, and not far from the Fat Lady. The Fat Lady slept as Mochi and I approached, but it didn't matter. A house elf exited the entrance hole and opened the portrait for us.

The house-elf in question had a tomato-sized nose and huge brown eyes. Her bat-like ears are what I spotted first, and I paused for a moment. This house-elf wore a skirt, a white blouse that reflected the moonlight from a tall window in the tower, a matching hat, and two mismatched socks, one with snitches on them, the other with lions. I stared at her. This was a free elf, not an enslaved one. My father would want to stop her, to talk to her, to ask her how she felt wearing clothes, who had freed her, how she felt being freed, what she got paid.

I didn't get the chance to ask any of those questions for she spotted me and looked at me with those big brown eyes and froze. With the unmistakable noise of house elf apparition, she vanished, and the Fat Lady woke, screaming about being wide open. I quickly entered the common room and ran up to my dormitory with Mochi still clinging to me. I passed a modest pile of presents and flung myself into bed. Mochi snuggled down at my feet and we both quickly feel asleep.

Birthday Treats

October 31st being Alice and my birthday is perhaps the greatest gift the universe has ever given either of us.103

I awoke around seven-thirty in the morning, having only received four hours of sleep. Alice woke me, dressed already for the holiday. We had decided, it being our first year at Hogwarts, to dress as two of the four founders.104 We had also decided, before our sorting, that no matter what, we couldn't be the founder of the house we were sorted into. As I wanted to dress as a man, that left Salazar Slytherin for me. Alice chose Rowena Ravenclaw.

Alice chose to base her Ravenclaw costume off a portrait of the founder done near the end of her life. Tall but portly, with massive arms and dainty hands, elderly Ravenclaw proved difficult to pull off and Alice did not yet look the part. She awaited my spell work to truly transform her. She had done an exemplary job on dressing herself in a long floor-length blue dress with white trimmings and a bronze colored lace neckline. The shoulders of the dress were immensely puffy, and the skirt shot out from the hips.

Mum had made the dress and sent it a couple days ago. Alice looked pretty, but did not look like the wise Rowena, yet.

Alice sat on my stomach to wake me, which proved effective in both waking me and jolting me into full consciousness. I blindly reached for my glasses, tapped them with my wand to protect them with the shield charm and put them on my face. I saw Alice's eyes first, outlined with makeup to make them look wrinkled.

"Presents!" She plopped down my meager pile of presents on my chest. They tumbled down to either side of me. She started to rip off the wrappings of a box of hers.

Zephyr and Arthur had already woken and already dressed. They called a happy birthday to the pair of us and descended to the common room. Neither of them wore costumes.

"Happy Birthday, Raven." The voice made me jump for I didn't know anyone else stood in the dormitory. I realize Courtney had been obscured by Alice and a bedpost. But now she'd come over to the other side of Alice and handed me a rectangular package—no doubt a book. She too had not dressed in a costume.

"Cheers Courtney." I stretched to reach the package and realized that my pajama top was unbuttoned several buttons down. They rebuttoned without me having to wave my wand, and I felt content. "You didn't have to. I didn't get you a birthday present."

"You didn't know me!" Courtney said, laughing. "Though I expect two next year, from both of you."

"Agreed," I said. Alice hadn't heard a word.

I opened Courtney's card first, which simply read:

I am so grateful to have met you and to be your friend Raven. You're a really special person. I hope you know that.

Happy Birthday,

Courtney

I placed the card on my bedside table and thanked her. The book turned out to be a smash hit. 101 Things Every Lion Needs to Know About Being a Gryffindor, by Robert M. Hare. I glanced at the first page which read.

No. 1 Godric Gryffindor beat Salazar Slytherin in a duel, not once, but six times.

I shut it and gave Courtney an awkward half-risen-up-hug with Alice still sitting on me. Alice finished opening her presents and moved onto the cards. Mum had given her a nice pair of chaser gloves that would help with her grip on the quaffle. An aunt had sent some earrings. But I didn't notice anything from our father there. I did see, to my surprise, a gift from Hagrid. It was a guide to Bowtruckles, which Alice had tucked under her arm, ready to pursue when she got the chance.

I reached for an untidily wrapped gift myself and saw a note from Hagrid with birthday wishes. He'd sent me a book detailing the history of Hippogriffs, including a section by Newt Scamander on domesticating105 the great beasts and proper methods of caretaking.

The aunt that sent Alice the earrings had given me a necklace that she'd obviously bought. It had a shark tooth on it. I put it on. This aunt had not sent a note. Mum's present was the best by far. She'd sent a secondhand copy of Advanced Potion Making. Her card read:

Dear Raven,

I know you'll use this as a textbook eventually, but I thought you'd be interested in reading your dad's old copy. Do not show your friends this book. There's some gruesome stuff that I know you can cope with, but I do not want letters from Mrs. Nighy or Mrs. Westwater saying how terrible I am for exposing their children to drastic potions. Also, please please please check with a teacher before you attempt to brew these. I don't know Slughorn well, but it seems like he'll let you attempt advanced potions if you ask.

Happy birthday my darling. I'm glad you're in my life.

Mum

I reread the letter, a bit surprised mum hadn't mentioned a lack of fatherly affection or contact. I began to wonder if my dad was okay. Alice poked me in the side and took the book out of my hand.

"A textbook?" she asked. "Why would mum give you—" Alice flipped to a random page, "—oh gross." She pulled the book away from me as I attempted to snatch it back. I felt a twinge of annoyance and the book flew out of her hands and into my outstretched one. Alice threw me an angry look.

She'd been reading about a potion brewed with the specific purpose to make the drinker's skin melt off. I gave it a cursory glance. The potion wasn't hard. The book explained how this potion was concocted by a wizard-king of the 13th century in northern Belgium who enjoyed this particular torture method.

I bucked Alice off me and tucked the book underneath my pillow for later reading. I wore an overlarge tank-top that once belonged to my dad. It was bright pink with big block letters spelling out 'ZONKO.' I guess that was a joke shop before the Weasleys became popular. And I wore pajama bottoms.

"Okay, get out you two," I said. I tore the burgundy comforter and white sheets off me. Alice threw up her hands and Courtney quickly turned around and walked out the door with a quick a pace as she could manage.

It took me six minutes and thirty-five seconds to transform myself. I based my costume for Slytherin off a portrait painted of Salazar and Helga Hufflepuff waltzing together at the schools inaugural ball. This was a rather young Slytherin, still a well-liked man, and—not attractive per se—but a trim and rather short man.

This version of Slytherin bore a full head of black hair that ran down to his chest. He was clean shaven, with skinny black eyebrows. He wore a black cloak with a green lining and sliver intricate trimmings. He wore his gold locket with green serpentine S on it.

I didn't bother asking mum to make it for me. I just asked her to send me some of my father's old clothes. I transformed an old cloak, shirt, and pants of my fathers into the outfit and tailored it to fit me. With a wave of my wand I cleaned myself off, disrobed and climbed into my costume. I went to the large mirror mounted on a wall. I grew out my hair and straightened it, turning it jet black with my wand.

The eyebrows took the longest. They went all wonky the first time. The second time I thinned them so much they disappeared. The third attempt ended up fine.

I transfigured a pair of dirty socks into black leather boots with a thick heel. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was much thinner than Salazar had been, and still possessed too much baby fat, but I found myself hesitant to transfigure my actual flesh. I didn't have much practice with that type of magic yet. My shoulders were too broad and my neck too long, but I was the correct height for Slytherin. Even tall majestic Gryffindor only stood at five foot six inches during his day.

I exited the dormitory.

"How did you do that?" Alice said as I came down the stairs. "I thought someone else had dressed as Slytherin at first."

I didn't answer. I watched Courtney look me over, her mouth slightly open.

"Oops," I said. "I forgot the locket." I pointed to a scrap of paper on the floor with my wand and it transformed into the gold locket. I watched Courtney's lips form into a smile.

Alice slapped me on the shoulder. "Stop showing off. We all know how brilliant you are."

I did not respond. Instead I said, "Stand still."

It didn't take me long to turn Alice's hair into that of Ravenclaw's. Instead of magicking her arms and belly to have more fat I charmed the dress into creating a bulge in all the areas that needed the extra fat. I must admit, I did a far better job with Alice than I did with myself. She looked like a wise-old woman by the time I finished.

People gawked at us as we entered the as we left the Common Room, as we descended the stairs, and as we entered the Great Hall. Students shouted to us from other staircases, from across rooms, and on the opposite end of the Hall. They complemented us and laughed at us. Courtney was practically invisible to everyone. Alice kept waving and saying thank you. Her smile could not get bigger. Several Gryffindors told me, with grins on their faces, that I had betrayed our house that day.

The strange part about this was not what people said or did, but that hardly anyone else wore a costume. None of the staff at the head table did. Most of the student had donned their school robes. There were a couple of exceptions. One Hufflepuff wore a muggle version costume of a vampire, which I was told was rather offensive to vampires. Another Gryffindor wore a muggle costume of Death with a large harvesting reaper. Two brothers in Hufflepuff wore Mario and Luigi costumes.106 A seventh-year girl wore a rather skimpy outfit of a Japanese anime character she liked. I saw Professor Bhatti berating her for it and demanding she change into school appropriate garb.

Course, I put it together by the end of the day. Those raised by muggles or in muggle societies wore costumes, but for the most part Wizard families did not dress for the holiday. This all started when Halloween became an actual holiday after the International Statute of Secrecy. Witches and warlocks found it to be the one day where they could go outside and mingle without needing to disguise themselves.

I found myself plotting how I could change this culture of Halloween non-participation. Throughout the day I started asking everyone I saw and knew why they hadn't dressed up. I started suggesting costumes they could dress in, and I managed to talk three people, Cygnus, who dressed as an American President; Zephyr who dressed as the bass player of the Weird Sisters; and Professor Flitwick; who dressed incredibly accurately as a mini-Voldemort.107

Alice and I had already found two other people to dress as the two other founding figures of Hogwarts. The Westwater siblings dressed as Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Their costumes were not as thoughtfully taken care of, but it didn't matter. I transfigured both of them into nearly perfect108 renditions of the founders with a little help from Courtney and Alice before we sat down to breakfast.

Professor Slughorn, entering the Great Hall as I completed Shelby and Edric's transformations, found the work astonishing. He hadn't donned a costume either.

"Oh-ho, my dear boy," Slughorn said, clapping me on the back. "This top of the line transfiguration. I'm sure Professor Bhatti would commend you for it."

"I doubt it, sir," I said.

Professor Slughorn eyed me, but I thought I caught a slight smile. "I'll see the two of you at my little party tonight?" He inclined his head at Shelby and I, completely ignoring both Alice and Edric. Alice scowled, while Edric just smiled at his sister. I must introduce both of you to Charlie Weasley tonight. The dragonologist, you know? Coming back here as a special favor to me."

I, and Shelby, must have heard this news a dozen times over the last week. I felt Shelby's eyes shift to me, but I thought it improper to snicker in front of Slughorn.

Hoisting the belt up on his massive gut, Professor Slughorn added, "I'll be in costume this evening too. Nothing as wonderful as your own, but it should be a laugh. See you soon Raven, Alice. Nice to see you both Edric and Shelby. Don't be late."

As Slughorn walked to the head table, looking much like a ball with two fat legs, Alice voiced her distaste, "I wouldn't mind you two getting exclusive invites if he didn't talk about it in front of me."

"Don't mind him, Alice," Edric said. "He's often wrong about the people he deems talented. "I heard Cormac McLaggen was a favorite of his during the Potter years and look where he ended up.

We all laughed.109

Required to part in order to eat breakfast, Shelby and I confirmed that we would meet up at the bottom of the grand staircase before heading to Slughorn's office for the Halloween party. We would not be missing the feast, however. Cygnus and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team couldn't shut up about how good the Halloween feast was. Carmel apples, candy galore, exploding cauldron cakes, chocolate bats instead of frogs, floating black candles with black flames. An orchestra was booked for this year, playing spooky music. This meant we'd be late to Slughorn's party, but neither of us cared much.

As Shelby walked to the Ravenclaw table I noticed her heading straight for the end of the table, where no one sat. I looked down the table. I saw almost the entire squad of first year Ravenclaws slumped together. As far as I knew, only Edric, Alice and I, along with Shelby's dormmates, were the only students who knew Shelby was a werewolf. The dormmates had been sworn to secrecy naturally, and Alice and I weren't stupid enough to tell anyone, but I felt the news was bound to get out, and, quite frankly, was a bit surprised everyone in the school didn't already know.

Shelby sat by herself, though an older Ravenclaw did talk to her, complimenting her costume. I felt some sort of pull at my body to go and talk to Shelby, to hug her, when she rose from the table and left for her first lesson of the day. I did not, but left the Great Hall shortly after, descending the cold stone steps to the dungeon.

Professor Slughorn's jovial attitude continued in Potions. Instead of organizing potion ingredients, learning to cut shrivel figs correctly, or reading up on magical reactions, he set forth a small competition.

Upon entering the Potions dungeon, I noticed a cauldron full of Felix Felicis up on Slughorn's desk. The molten gold droplets hopped out of the potion, dancing about in the light. I also noticed the tables in the class had been pushed together around the entire room, set up for today to be a practical lesson. I'd read the description of Felix Felicis in Advanced Potion Making that morning and could not believe for a moment that Slughorn would have us attempt such a complicated potion.

Slughorn ushered people in, dressed in a tweed set of robes. He beamed at me when I came in. "I have assigned seats today to lessen the chances of distractions. Please find your nametag."

Made of silver, the nametags—not large—sat on the table beside our cauldrons. Normally we got out our own supplies and our own cauldrons. I wondered if Slughorn had a house-elf assist with prep today.

Slughorn paced about the classroom as he waited for all the students to arrive. He pulled a matching tweed handkerchief from his front pocket and dabbed at beads of sweat on his forehead. His smile never left his face.

My nametag sat on a table with four other students. Predictably, Alice was seated nowhere near me. Her seat lay across the room next to Zephyr. I sat with only Slytherins. I walked around the table to see who I had the pleasure of working with. To my right sat Devon Ogden, whom I had not spoken too yet. To her right sat Carl Ivers, a skinny and tiny boy110; then a girl named Felicity Honeycutt, who seemed perfectly nice; followed by Lucas Morgan, sitting to my immediate left.

If Slughorn truly wanted to minimize distractions, having me and Lucas seated within earshot of each other was an oversight. Lucas and my relationship hadn't progressed much. He seemed to thrive in the role of class bully. I don't understand how he ended up in this role. He was not big, smart, rich111, powerful or particularly gifted. His only talent seemed to be in his ability to determine what gets under a person's skin most, and a totall lack of manners, enabling him to utter rather clever verbal takedowns.

I believe, though of course, I am rather biased, that because of my own obvious verbal talent and prodigious magical skills that Lucas found me threatening. As such, he seemed to make it his personal mission to bother me as much as possible in order to usurp my position as top first year student.

Up until this day, his attempts had been rather weak. He made fun of my eyes as much as possible. This got many laughs, especially from Slytherin students –who had by this point figured out I'd been the one who hexed their beater during the first quidditch match. Recently Lucas had dropped the attempted digs at my pink eyes, which included the tactless "gay-face" insult. This was due to, Oakley Woodhouse, Mr. Hansome Hufflepuff, walking by Lucas in the Great Hall, when Lucas said he "couldn't take anyone as a serious wizard if their eyes were pink."

Oakley's chastisement included phrases like, "Who the hell are you anyway?" and "I'd put my money on Raven in a duel against anyone in your year." I thought about this moment far too often and found myself dwelling on it for far too long during my classes over the last two weeks.

The Slytherins arrived in a group. I couldn't really pick any of them out of the crowd, but a light slap to the back of my head let me know Lucas had arrived.

"You're not winning today, Husher," he said.

I looked up from my copy of Advanced Potion Making and looked in his direction, my face set in an expressionless expression. "Win what Lucas?"

"How do you not know?" he smiled and looked to Carl who sniggered. "You must be like the last person in the school—"

I looked away and blocked out his voice. I'd find out anyway. Devon leaned over to me and whispered quite audibly. "Just ignore him, he's such an idiot."

Lucas glared at her but did not say anything.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

I looked up across the table. Felicity Honecutt had asked the question. Her voice felt smooth on the ears, almost lyrical, like mermaid song. She wore no makeup, but her lips were naturally of a more reddish hue. Her eyes a grayish-blue, they shone in the warm light of the classroom's torches. Her hair looked incredibly long, almost as if charmed to be so, and it glinted, much like her eyes.112

"Salazar Slytherin you moron," Lucas said. "He's obviously professing undying love for our house and—"

I talked over Lucas. "My sister and the Westwaters—do you know Shleby and Edric—all of us are the four founders. We had a rule though that you couldn't be your founders house so naturally I—"

"Quiet down, quiet down," Professor Slughorn said. "It's time to begin our lesson. And what a lesson it is today. For today," he looked at me and raised his eyebrows, "we're having a little competition." He looked away from me, his whole face wobbled as he turned it towards Alice's table. "You'll all be competing against one another, and I must tell you this will count towards your All-House Championship point totals."

I held my breath, as did the rest of her class.

"In addition to full marks, I'll be handing out twenty-five points to your house and you'll get to take home a flask of," he pointed theatrically to the cauldron of Felix Felicis, but dropped his arm dramatically. "Oh no, I seemed to have brought out the wrong potion.113 With a swish of his wand the cauldron of Felix vanished, replaced by a small stone cauldron which smelled absolutely incredible. Dark brown bubbles, solid as the stone of the cauldron, rose from the potion and burst into chunks of chocolate which splashed back into the potion.

"This is my chocolate cheering potion," Slughorn said. "It is my own invention, something I developed to raise the spirits after the Battle of Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey uses it to help students who have been particularly traumatized in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and George Weasley bought my patent on it. I still receive a bi-annual cut from his profits. It is a very popular potion."

Slughorn waved his wand again, his cheeks red with a certain glow from beaming for far too long. A five-hundred milliliter crystal vial appeared full of this chocolate cheering potion, and the potion in the cauldron depleted accordingly. The crystal vial was etched with muggle depictions of ghosts, witches on brooms, spiders, webs and skulls. Around the top of the vial it read, "Happy Halloween."

"The rules for the competition are only thus, that you make any potion you wish in the allotted time for our class. It does not have to be a potion that we've made in class," he gave a little wink to me, "but that is an advisable course of action. You may begin immediately."

I summoned my Advanced Potion Making without really meaning to. I didn't use my wand either, it just zoomed into my hand.114 I noticed Slughorn's gaze lingered on me after it happened and didn't really understand why.115 I chose a potion I knew I could make. It only took an hour to prepare, giving me plenty of time to read, double check the ingredients, and go through each step methodically. It also gave time for a second attempt, which I needed.

I chose the Draught of Living Death because it seemed appropriate for a Halloween competition, and something that Salazar Slytherin would make for fun. I didn't bother getting up like the rest of the students to gather my ingredients. I summed them with accio. Infusion of Wormwood, powdered root of asphodel, a sloth brain, and Sopophorous beans flew towards me. To my satisfaction the sloth brain hit Lucas in the forehead as he elbowed Arthur out of the way to collecting scarab beetles. I did clean the sloth brain, and I did have to sift out the powdered root with some dirt before putting it into the potion.

I failed on my first attempt of the potion. Lucas kept talking on and on about different stupid gossip topics, which Devon and Carl responded to excitedly. Devon attempted to make Amortentia, and she nearly succeeded116 and so I was constantly smelling Mum's morning buns, a burning smell I couldn't identify, and the musty pages of an old book. This distracted me quite a bit.

When I first smelled the potion I turned and asked Devon if she was making a love potion.

"Yeah," she said, "why?"

"Is it for me?" I winked.117

To my utter thrill she tipped the potion my way. "Yeah, do you want a sip?"118

Another distraction appeared in the form of conversation during my second attempt. Lucas got back around to the subject of my Salazar Slytherin costume. He made fun of it for a while but when both Felicity and Devon said they thought it was brilliant he shut up.

"I suppose you did your sister's costume too?" Lucas said. I think he meant this as an insult to Alice, mocking the fact that she couldn't have put it together without me. I didn't answer. "I saw you help Shelby and Edric in the Great Hall. They all had to rely on you, eh?"

His eyes wouldn't leave my face. My eyes didn't leave my cauldron.

I saw out of my peripheries Lucas look over at Carl. "There's something off about that Shelby girl. She's ill every month. I'd say she's a werewolf—"

Internally I kept telling myself to breath normally, to act normally, not to give Lucas a hint at how correct he was just because I glanced up at him or got a flush in my cheeks. Shelby had every right to keep her illness a secret. I could not and would not give that way.

"But there's no way they'd ever let a werewolf on the school grounds. Can you imagine how dangerous that would be? What if it bit someone?"

"I'm sure it'd be perfectly safe now that they've got the Wolfsbane potion," Felicity said.

I couldn't stop myself from looking up and nodding. "That's true," I said.

"Oh, I'm sure you'd be all for having a werewolf," Lucas said to me. "It'd be a fun practical lesson for you. You could study the effects if you got bit."

"Don't joke about that," Devon snapped. "No one deserves that."

Lucas shrunk at the stare Devon gave him and shut up for a while.

Having found it ridiculously difficult to produce enough juice from the Sopophorous bean, I attempted to extract the juice magically, and when that didn't work—the juice vanished every time I tried—I got more beans than necessary and squeezed out the juice beforehand. That worked very well and by the time I finished I'd produced a pale pink potion. The only problem was that I thought I wouldn't finish in the time allotted. In fact I didn't, but Slughorn didn't notice. My potion turned a pale pink color as he was testing the first table of students. I wonder if he started at the other side of the room to give me enough time to finish.

When Slughorn coughed up a spoonful of Arthur's Pepper-Up Potion I heard a small crack and looked down. A tiny sliver had opened at the bottom of my cauldron and the potion drained out of it onto the fire below, dousing it. It made very little noise and Slughorn did not notice.

Everyone at the table noticed though. Devon clapped a hand to her mouth. Carl backed away. Felicity was quicker than I was and muttered, "Repario," but too late. The potion had spilled completely, leaving nothing in my cauldron.

I watched Lucas put his wand away. He smirked at me. "I told you Husher, you're not winning today."

Both Devon and Felicity started on him.

"You cheat—"

"I can't believe you'd—"

But I only smiled at Lucas. I held up my hand to hush the two girls as Slughorn came around to our table. He started with Felicity and was a little disappointed with her attempt at a basic healing potion. He found Carl's attempt at the same exact healing potion just as bad and docked him points from Slytherin for copying. He then moved to Lucas.

"Did you make anything Mr. Morgan," he asked, peering inside Lucas's cauldron.

Lucas looked down and his mouth fell open. He hadn't noticed my wand flicking in and out of my robes as Slughorn berated Carl. Devon and Felicity both had, but they'd only smiled at me, and Devon had to stifle a giggle. I'd performed a switching spell, switching Lucas's cauldron for mine. So now he sat with an empty and broken cauldron, and I was left with his half-baked Garroting Gas disaster. It was better than nothing.

"Your cauldron seems to have leaked."

Lucas spluttered some excuse about having done it, but he couldn't well protest what had happened. He'd have to admit he'd broken my cauldron. After a moment of word vomit, he fell silent. Professor Slughorn produced a tiny baster from his chest pocket and sucked up a small drop of pink liquid.

"My, my," he said, squinting at the little liquid, "a perfect Draft of the Living Dead. Almost perfect, I should say. You won't mind if I don't take a sip of this. You'll be without your Potions Master for a week!" He stood straight and pocketed the potion. "Is this your work Mr. Morgan."

Lucas sat up straight. "Yes sir. It is sir."

Slughorn gave a small grimace and said, "Very well. What have you got for me Raven?"

I moved back a bit on my seat to let him see Lucas's potion. Slughorn bent low and sniffed it. He stood upright again. "Is this your work, Raven?" He rolled the R in my name.

I knew. I knew when he asked Lucas that Slughorn had deduced what was going on at our troubled table. I thought to lie, but that was now out of the question. "No, sir. It's Lucas's sir." I said simply. I did not try and explain why I had Lucas's potion, or why he had mine.

"Right," he said looking stern. "A little too much competition between the two of you, I think. Time for an intervention." He whipped out his wand and switched the two cauldrons back to their rightful place. My cauldron sat full of the potion I'd just made, as if it had never drained. "I'll have to give you both detention for this. Joint detention I think. And ten points from Slytherin Mr. Morgan for cheating." The sternness left the wrinkles of his fat face. He told Devon from afar that her love potion had expired under too much heat and checked the last table of class.

"Well, I must say I thought this class would do a bit better. Some good potions were brewed, but you might want to all brush up on your techniques before exams in December. As to our winner, Mr. Husher will be taking home the prize for an amazing display of talent in brewing a difficult potion." Slughorn clapped.

Devon, Felicity and Arthur from the next table over were the only ones to join him in this applause. I think the class felt much like Alice did when she said, "Only you can manage to get detention and still win a competition in the same class."

I collected my vial with the chocolate cheering potion from Slughorn as the bell rang and students shuffled out of the dungeons. "Happy Birthday m'boy," Slughorn said. "And see you tonight."

"Right," I said. The potion was much denser than I expected. "Thank you." On my way out of the dungeon I took a swig before concealing the potion in my bag.119 I don't think my smile could have gone any wider.

Slug Life

Slughorn could certainly throw a party. His office had been enlarged since the last Slug Club gathering. He'd added stone support columns throughout, breaking up any potential clumping. The stone of these columns, and the walls, and floor had all been turned black. Small orange pieces of glitter were embedded in the stone. Jack-o'-lanterns floated above our heads, lighting the room with an orange glow. Torches on the columns produced a black flame.

To my excitement, everyone who came were required to dress in costume. Slughorn had grown fond of the muggle tradition and confided in me that he was on a mission to get wizards to adopt dressing up into their Halloween traditions. Slughorn even provided incentive to wear a great costume, as all those who attended entered themselves into a costume competition.

Shelby and I went down together. We brought Edric and Alice along too as plus ones, though I don't think plus ones were allowed. At the last-minute Shelby told me she'd invited Edric to come. I brought Alice more to fill out our costume theme. It would have been stupid if just three of the Hogwarts' Founders had come.120

I thought we had a fair shot at winning the competition before we went down. However, upon entering I could see we had about as much chance of winning as Dolores Umbridge did of becoming Minister of Magic. One wizard had come dressed as a Jedi Knight, though most people didn't understand who he was and kept asking what country he was from and if those types of robes were popular there. An elderly couple came dressed as a pair, one a soldier in muggle British World War One uniform, and his wife as a nurse in an old American nurses uniform.121 The eventual winner of the competition was a man name Digglebirth Duckins122 who dressed as an American Female Muggle in the 90s wearing a baggy pair of overalls, completely white trainers, and a baggy long sleeved shirt. He'd grown out his hair, twisted it into a loose ponytail, wore makeup and pretended to smoke one of those small orange tipped cigarettes the whole time.

I did not vote for him, as I thought the costume was rather simplistic. Both Alice and I voted for a woman who dressed as a character from one of our favorite films, Howl from Howl's Moving Castle.123 The woman had cut her hair to be shoulder length blonde, wore a white blouse, a tight pair of black dragonhide pants, and she told us she had the black and pink diamond patterned jacket custom made for her at Madam Malkins. Alice and I didn't realize we'd been talking to the great Ginny Weasley Potter until Shelby mentioned it to us when she said, "I can't believe you just went up to her like that."

Not wanting to miss anything Halloween related, the four of us had dipped into the Great Hall before coming down. Flitwick was still dressed as a mini Voldemort. McGonagall had even joined in, wearing a muggle football kit. Evidently, she supported the Scottish club, Celtic. It was very strange to see her wearing pants, as she wore the long warmups that the club sported.

The Great Hall didn't change that much, other than the candles being of black wax and made to look like bats. The food wasn't much better than normal, it was just displayed in a fun manner, floating above the table, suspended in interesting formations. I helped myself to a couple eclairs before Alice glared at me and reminded me of all there was to eat down at Slughorns. I could hear mum's voice reminding me of the Wizard's Obesity Epidemic.

I shouldn't have touched any food in the Great Hall. Slughorn's party had everything. Cheesecake brownies swirled with orange food coloring. Pretzel witches' fingers. Butterbeer coming out of a pumpkin. Chocolate cauldrons with Slughorn's chocolate cheering potion bubbling over the edge. The Chocolate Frog company sent over a special design of chocolate slugs complete with a for-this-event-only Chocolate Frog card detailing Slughorn's career.

Also, the eclairs at the party were made by Honeydukes and contained the most blissful orange zest in the dough. I ate about nine more than I should have.124

Other than meeting Mrs. Ginny Potter, I should say I thoroughly enjoyed meeting Kinglsey Shacklebolt, the current Minister of Magic, who said he'd heard great things about me from McGonagall, and reminded me to stay out of detention; Lee Jordan, the famous Quidditch announcer and Wizarding Wireless host; Pearle McKinnon, editor of the Daily Prophet, and Eden Kompany, a real Vampire who was being escorted around by his friend Professor Bhatti.

My favorite person to meet, though I'm not entirely sure he was invited125, was George Weasley. He dressed as the Phantom from Phantom of the Opera, which no one understood except for a few muggle-born people, and Alice and me. I thought it was quite funny he'd put the mask on the side where he had no ear, people seemed to think it was just part of his costume.

We literally bumped into each other getting jelly slugs126 at one of the many treat tables. George took the last raspberry slug out of my hand and popped it into a cauldron cake.

"Sorry mate, but I've been waiting to do this all night." The jelly slug attempted to crawl out of the bubbling potion in the cauldron, but George pushed it back in. "Excellent costume if I do say so. Though did Slytherin have pink eyes?"

If I knew at that point who I was speaking to, I would have been a bit politer. "You know he didn't," I said. I went to turn away.

George took ahold my shoulder. "Is it contacts you're wearing?"

I dipped out of his grip. "No, I got hit with hybrid jinx and it changed my eye color." I tried to leave, but George stepped in my way.

"What jinx?" he asked. "Sorry," he said, and removed his mask. "I'm George Weasley. I run a joke shop."

Freckled with short red hair, I found George's nose a bit long, and eyebrows a bit thin for his face. I wondered if George's face was naturally asymmetrical or if his lack of an ear made it seem so. A bit shorter than most of the men in the room, he seemed taller than he was, probably due to his impeccable way of dressing himself to show off how thin he kept his body.

Of course, I knew he ran a joke shop. It turned out his interest in my eyes was purely business related.

"I'm trying to develop contacts, you know what muggles use sometimes to improve vision—I'm trying to make ones that change eye color so that your eyes look like galaxies or mountain passes and such."

I told him he wouldn't have much luck perusing what happened to me, that my eye color transformation had a terrible side effect.

"You can see strands of magic?" George said. His chocolate cauldron melted in his hand.

"Well yes, but I wouldn't recommend it," I said. I explained how I needed to cast the shield charm on my glasses to protect my vision.

"Fascinating," George said. "I had no idea Protego produced a magical vacuum. Well I probably did and threw that bit of information out." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Tell you what Raven," he lengthened the vowel sounds in my name. "I'm going to send you some different stuff over the next couple months, if you like. See if we can't find you some solution." He eyed me. "You do want that?"127

"Yeah, of course," I said.

We chatted for a bit longer before Slughorn came around to introduce George to an Albanian Wizard named Agon Skende, who invented miniature locomotive brooms.

Left alone I went to find Alice. I'd seen her not two minutes before as she squealed over getting a joint autograph from Ginny Potter and Gwenog Jones, but I couldn't locate her anymore. I weaved in and out of much taller witches and wizards before running into Shelby, who held a goblet of ice-blue liquid with fog pouring out of the top.

"What on Merlin's Great Bookcase is that?"

"Iced Vanilla-Milk," Shelby said. "I got a bit hot and this was on the cold-drinks table. It's quite good."

She offered me some and I had to hold the goblet with both hands. I took a sip and immediately felt the sensation of being out in crisp cold air. I took another sip.

"What have you been up to?" I asked. "Meet anyone interesting?"

"Not anyone as cool as Ginny Weasley," Shelby said. "But I did meet an American werewolf named Dustin Proctor. Slughorn introduced us. We had a lengthy chat about, well, you know, being a werewolf in the real world."

I nodded. "When did it happen to you?"

Shelby's head twisted quickly, and she looked right at me. She tumbled over her words. "A-a couple weeks ago, I mean y-years ago." She hid her eyes in her hands. "I don't really talk about it."

I found my hand had reached out and patted her on the shoulder, which I found a strange thing for my hand to do, seeing as I hadn't consciously told it to do so. "Sorry" I said.

I think Shelby thought I apologized for asking, rather than touching her. She said, "No it's alright. I imagine everyone will want to know when they find out."

I looked around. Shelby and I were surrounded by much taller witches and wizards all of whom did not seem particularly interested in our conversation. I pulled Shelby over to a window outlined with black and orange curtains.

Shelby seemed reluctant to be pulled, and sort of dragged her foot on the first step. She glanced around just as I had, but I wasn't afraid of being overhead. Slughorn had invited a popular wizarding punk rock band called The Walking Witches. They had just struck up a song called, "The Lion and the Witch in my Wardrobe."

The lead singer, Athena Atherton began singing:

I got a Lion in my sheets,

I always put him to bed,

And when I get up in the morning

I hang him up in my shed.

I say, 'wait for me darling'

And he gives me a roar,

I just wink and walk away

Cause I'm a bit of a whore.128

I looked out the window. Slughorn's office looked out on the lake. I could see the twinkling lights of the edge of Hogsmeade. I let go of Shelby's hand, feeling I had held it for too long. I looked down at my own hand and then up at her. I smiled, trying to give off a sense that this was light conversation. It did not make Shelby look any less weary.

"What is the arrangement with you being at Hogwarts?" I asked. It was something I'd noted in the first week or so of arriving at the school. "Obviously McGonagall and Flitwick know being as the Headmistress and your Head of House, and Madam Pomfrey probably does too. But does the staff know?"

Shelby nodded.

"And your dormmates know?"

She nodded again.

"Does anyone else?"

"Just you and Alice and Edric. I don't even think Filtch knows." She paused for a moment, thinking. "And of course people at the Ministry cause I have to Register as a werewolf."

"But why aren't you allowed to tell anyone else? Or I guess my real question is, why don't other people know. It's not like you're dangerous except for around twelve hours once a month, and even then, there's the wolfsbane potion—"

Shelby smiled. "I think you're the only person that thinks like that Raven." She stopped talking as a House Elf appeared with a tray of meatballs. She declined to take one. I did too. "Professor McGonagall seems to think the less people know the better it will be for me. Though she felt it necessary to tell my dormmates because, you know…" but she didn't finish the sentence. She took a breath and continued on, "I know McGonagall has already received protests from most of my dormmates parents. I don't know if you noticed but she received a Howler a week ago."

"I would've heard that though," I said. "Are you sure—"

Shelby's hand kept petting the curtain nearest her. She wouldn't look at me anymore either. Her attention seemed fixed on the little lights of homes across the lake. "Oh yes. Big red envelope and everything. She banished it away. I know because it came at the same time I got one. Flitwick banished mine for me." I could see tears starting to form in Shelby's eyes. She formed a fist and slid it across both cheeks.

I kept trying to think of which Ravenclaw girls would be in Shelby's dorm. "Who is—"

"Do you know Delia?"

I shook my head.

"She goes by Ruby, Ruby Embers."

I knew of her as we had two classes together. I did not know her real name was Delia or that she could be so hateful.

"Her mum thinks it's a problem for us to sleep in the same room," Shelby said. "She was nice about it at first, and Delia's told me she thinks werewolves are alright, but recently she's started sending some letters saying, 'If you had any decency you'd move out of the dorm room,' and 'If you bite my daughter, God help me.'

"What does Ruby think?"

"She's okay. She doesn't ignore me like the other girls." Shelby's eyes flicked over to me. "But she doesn't really talk to me either. No one does."

"You should just move in with Courtney and Alice. They'd love to have you," I said.

Shelby placed both hands on the curtain. "They'd never let me."

I found my hand reaching up towards Shelby again, but stopped, staring at my fingertips.

"Raven, my boy," said a boisterous voice. Slughron clapped a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. He stood next to tall wizard of Arab descent dressed in green and bronze robes. "You must meet Faru here. He was in school with your dad."

I wanted to return to Shelby. I could see her wiping her face on the curtain hurriedly before she dashed off. Slughorn's voice cut through. "Raven won my little potion making competition this morning. He's by far the most talented of his year."

I couldn't help but smiling.

"He's an even better potion maker than Pearl McGonagall," Slughorn said.

"High praise," Faru said, looking at me. As Slughorn neglected to explain Faru did the honors. "Pearl was in your dad and my year. She was a potions natural. Got an outstanding in both her OWL and her NEWT. I believe you presided over both exams?"

"No, no," Slughorn said with a shake of his head. His second and third chin wobbled as he did so. "I left after your fifth year, not before. But you're quite right, Pearl's NEWT practical potion making was outstanding. The best I had the pleasure of seeing."

"Did you say Pearl McGonagall?" I asked. "Any relations?"

"Professor McGonagall's great niece if I'm not mistaken," Faru said looking at Slughorn. Slughorn concurred. Faru cracked a smile, "The Headmistress always took the mickey out of Pearl for being in Ravenclaw."

"I didn't know the Headmistress had any family," I said.129 "What does she do now?"

Both Faru's and Slughorn's faces changed. Slughorn looked a bit waylaid, exhausted. Faru's face darkened.

Slughorn answered. "Oh, she died very shortly after leaving the school. I don't know what happened. Minerva's always been very private about it. There were rumors of course that rogue Death Eaters killed her in retribution for Minerva assisting Dumbledore, but I doubt it was that dramatic." Slughorn took a glass of fire-whiskey from passing floating tray. "But let's not talk of such things. This is a party."

Slughorn explained just how brilliant Faru was, and it seemed like Slughorn was telling the truth. Faru was in the business of magical currency and was one of the leading thinkers at Gringotts, as well as on the board of several other financial business, and an advisor to the Magical International Moneys Organization, which regulated all sorts of international nonsense.

We talked for a bit before Faru excused himself to use the restroom and Slughorn raced off to welcome a latecomer who I'd never heard of. To be honest. I could not keep my mind off of Shelby or the poor Pearl girl. I found Alice chatting it up with Edric and Shelby eventually and though I had a bit of fun playing Exploding Snap, I was most excited to go to bed and read. The end of the party had been rather depressing, and I couldn't shake that melancholy feeling until I fell asleep.

Letters

Part One

Professor Slughorn presided over my joint detention with Lucas Morgan. It started at eight in the evening the day after he cracked my cauldron. The detention did not last long, merely an hour for me. Though I had planned on up to four hours, which cost me an outing with the rest of my Gryffindor first years, plus Shelby, who went to the lake to try levitating rocks to skip on the surface.

Slughorn required us to come to his office. It being my first time in his office outside Slug Club events, I noticed several changes. First his office looked much smaller. He enlarged it for his parties it seemed, though the office managed to be quite bigger than either Professor Bhatti's or Silsbury's. Second, his whole office seemed to be built around his fireplace, allowing the heat to warm every nick and cranny. Thirdly, he had no potions ingredients in his office, but instead books, chocolates, drinks, and several comfortable looking leather chairs and one large sofa.

Slughorn's desk consisted of dark wood, ornately carved with grapes and dragons. It matched his high-backed wooden chair, and a stool with little arms on the sides. The window I'd looked out of the previous night was behind Slughorn's desk, and thick reddish-brown curtains were drawn, blocking out the light.

I found the most peculiar thing about the office was the lack of Slytherin pride. Professor Silsbury had a golden lion for her desk, and crimson blankets on her couch, along with an exact copy of the Gryffindor hour glass behind her desk embedded in the wall so she always knew when points were gained and dropped. And that was just the start of all things Lions.

I did spot that Slughorn's quill on his desk was shaped like a snake with emerald eyes, but I would've thought he'd have more. Perhaps he found that all a bit out of fashion.

I arrived almost a quarter of an hour before Lucas did. Professor Slughorn invited me to sit on his sofa and drink some his left over butterbeer, which I found delightful. We talked a bit about the uses of bee versus wasp stingers in potions130 until Lucas arrived, ten minutes late. Slughorn did not invite Lucas to sit with us, instead he conjured two small wooden desks with matching chairs.

Slughorn asked us to pull out our quills and some parchment. Lucas hadn't brought any so I let him borrow mine.131 Slughorn then described our detention, well, more like our assignment.

"This isn't the first time I've had to discipline you two," he said, sitting at his desk. He picked up the snake quill and pointed it at both of us in turn. "You don't like each other, and why not? It seems to me this is only an immature squabble of two boys who see each other as competitors."

I bristled at the term competitor. Lucas was not my competitor. He was no where near my level of talent at any of our classes.

"So, I would like each of you to write five hundred words on what you admire or like about each other," Professor Slughorn said. "Be earnest, or else I'll give you a much worse detention, something like polishing trophies with Filch, or cleaning up mud with Filch, or something with Filch. You may go as soon as you are done."

I found the first ten minutes agonizing, but as usual, as soon as I got started writing I found my thoughts flowed.

My letter read:

Dear Lucas,

I think the talent I have witnessed most, is your disposition for witty remarks and comebacks. I remember when Linn Hamilton called you a "toe-rag," you responded, "I'd rather wash the toes of a troll than wipe the asses of half the teachers here like you. I don't know if Linn's face could have turned any deeper shade of red.

Having been at the end of many of your insults—most rather poor or lazy, but some that are rather good—I find myself wishing I had the ability to verbally spar the way you do. I've found I let my wand to do most of my talking, which is why this is my—oh what is it—sixth detention? Perhaps if I could just verbally tear someone down instead of humiliating them with a spell I'd avoid wasting my evenings with teachers doing their detentions.

I have found too that I quite admire how you care for your appearance. Some of our peers may see it as a sort of sissy nanny thing, or a vain attitude, and I'm sure there is a bit of vanity to it for you, but I believe there is also something to be said for looking your best. It gives off the impression that you care, which is why I think the teachers like you. You're quite good at cultivating their favor. You talk when they cannot hear, you jinx when no one is looking, you cheat when no one is the wiser. You are truly talented at being a despicable yet respected student. I'm sure you take pride in it. Though I wonder how long it will help you. I imagine you'll be able to get away with it for years, all seven if you keep up at it. But what happens when we're all peers, or say if someone like Cygnus LeStrange or Oakley Woodhouse become your boss and they know you've fooled authority all your life?

Lucas, you've got to understand one thing, you're fighting a losing battle with me. I'm not going to be intimidated by you. Do you know why? Because I'm better than you at nearly everything, and if it comes to a fight you know I'll win, even with my wand arm tied behind my back.

I hope you've understood everything I've said in this letter. I've been told I have a rather large vocabulary for an eleven-year-old. If you need help understanding this letter you can ask me, and only me. You see, I've enchanted this parchment so that only you can read this message. Slughorn and others can only see a nice and bland message about how your nice to your friends and respectful of the staff. They can't see this letter.

Your better,

R. H.

I found myself overjoyed internally, though I kept my head bowed as I handed in my letter to Slughorn. He dismissed me, and I left, scurrying out to the lake to find everyone had already gone back to their Common Rooms.

I received Lucas' letter the next Monday at the end of Potions. He and I were not seated next to each other. I watched the back of his head for a bit and could have sworn his ears turned a slight pink. Lucas letter was not long.

Dear Raven,

I've already written two words, which is good because I find this rather difficult to write. But you've already handed in your letter and Slughorn says there must be something I admire about you and he won't let me go, and this is the last thing I want to do.

Something I admire, obviously is your talent with magic. You can be a right prick about it though. You might try and not show off every moment you get. That might make me like you more. Probably not.

Lucas

Alice read it over my shoulder and said, "That's rude."

I folded the letter and put it in my bag. I couldn't stop smirking. "Mine was worse."

Alice scoffed. "Can't have been, Lucas got a second detention for his. I heard he had to wash all Madam Pomfrey's bedpans in Filch's office last night. Imagine a whole Sunday evening spent doing that."

I imagined Lucas doing it and my smirk widened. Outside the dungeon Courtney, Zephyr and Arthur waited for us. I glanced back in the classroom as Alice relayed what Lucas had written verbatim. I could see only part of Lucas face. He stared at the paper. As if he sensed me watching, he turned and looked at me. His eyes were wet. I felt my chest inflate with pride. He turned away quickly and stuffed the note in his robes, clutching up his bag. We left before he came out the classroom.

Christmas

My first term at Hogwarts concluded without much fanfare. I didn't get any more detentions. I helped Gryffindor into the lead for the house cup. I got top grades, and I watched Alice and the Gryffindor Quidditch team lose a close game to an absolute power-house of a Ravenclaw team.132 I narrowly beat out Zephyr and Courtney as top Gryffindor First Year for the All-House Championship.133 I was already pouring over my father's old spellbooks to gather as much knowledge for the upcoming competition against the best First Years from each house: Felicity Honeycutt for Slytherin, Delia Embers for Ravenclaw134, and a boy named Dexter Fredericks for Hufflpuff.

The return home on the Hogwarts Expressed proved excellent. Alice, Zephyr, Courtney, Arthur, Shelby, Edric and I sat together. It was a wee bit cramped until Edric left half way through to chum it up with some pals in Slytherin. Mum sent Alice and me pocket money for sweets, and I collected a few new chocolate cards. In addition, Shelby ate a Bertie Bott flavored Kuala Fur. Zephyr taught us a card game he grew up learning called 'Hand and Foot' which is too complicated to describe here, but an excellent game.135 We must have played for nearly three-quarters of the trip.

Mum picked us up from Kings Cross and Courtney came over to introduce herself. Afterwards Mum kept glancing at me and smiling, a truly humiliating experience. I was not interested in dating, and I was certainly not interested in Courtney.

On the train ride to Crail136 Mum had to explain that our Father would not be home for Christmas.

"Is he still with the Greek Centaur clan?" I asked.

Mum nodded but didn't give me any eye contact giving me the feeling that she withheld information.

"Won't they want a break from him over Christmas?" Alice asked?

Mum made, what I considered to be, a disgusting face, as if she though Alice's question was cute. I thought she sounded stupid.

"I doubt they're Christian," I said, fully aware that my family had never set foot in a church. "They tend to worship star movements."

I should have realized Alice's hopes of having father home for Christmas had just been crushed. I should have been gentler. My words cut through Alice and the waterworks poured out. I got a rather serious reprimand.137

Mum went out of her mind with the cooking during the holiday. I got the feeling that, due to her being the only one in the house, she'd not cooked much. When we got home every meal was glorious. She made a dessert every day. She made my favorite scones, apple and walnut, twice in one week for breakfast. Course, with all the good food she also took us out on brisk walks in the cold and forced us to exercise in the house twice a day.

Christmas Eve we spent walking the downtown of Crail, listening to a choir sing Christmas carols around a large Christmas tree. It just being the three of us138 we made cookies when we got home and drank tea around a fire. I continued to read my father's old spellbooks, laying on the sofa, while Mum and Alice watched a Christmas movie with a green fellow that I didn't much like.

I half wondered if I'd prefer the holidays at Hogwarts, though none of the Gryffindors stayed behind. Spending time with Mum was about the only thing different. Certainly, it was worth it just for that, but I ached to get back to the castle at points. I wanted more time to myself in the halls, in forgotten rooms, reading untouched books.139

Christmas morning, I awoke on the couch. I'd fallen asleep there while reading. Mum had taken my book and put it on the side table. She'd put one of the heavier blankets, a black and white one she'd woven by hand, on me, and placed a pillow under my head. The sunlight coming through the windows was weak, and white. I wiped at my bleary eyes.

A mug of hot coco, steam lifting in spirals from the surface, sat beside my head. I sat up and looked around for Mum. I couldn't see or hear her. I took the mug and sipped the coco. It was the perfect temperature, the perfect consistency. It had to be magic. When I took a sip I saw an envelope on the table laying flat. My name, not my whole name, was scrawled on the envelope in black ink. "Raven" it read. I lifted it up. It felt empty.

I turned the envelope over. A plain black seal, not embossed in any way, kept the envelope shut. I tore it open. The envelope was empty. I felt around inside it. I could feel nothing, but a peculiar feeling overcame the two fingers searching inside the envelope, as if every line of my fingerprints vibrated individually. It was not a strong sensation. I doubted I would have even noticed had I been properly awake. But in my sleepy stupor I felt jostled.

Without thinking I muttered, "Revelio." At the edge of my fingertips I felt the corner of a piece of parchment. I plucked it out with my two fingers. The message on the parchment was short and unsigned. It read:

Raven,

A lifetime ago I inherited my grandfather's duffel bag. I thought it handsome and of good quality, as hopefully you do too, as it is made of Hungarian Horntail Dragon Hide. I did not, however know of its contents for some time, or how useful they would be. Now I have little need of it and have sought out someone to pass it on to for some time. Having watched your progress from afar over the past few years, especially the last few months, I have no doubt you will greatly benefit and appreciate this duffel bag. It is yours. Please take care of it.

I encourage you to keep this gift a secret from those who have the power to confiscate such an item, or from those who might divulge the secrete to such, unwittingly or purposefully. Keep this secret and keep it safe.

When I finished the note, I saw a black duffel bag with large silver zippers, rough and unpolished, sitting by my feet. It had not been there before. I made to fold the letter and put it in my pajama pocket, but realized the note, the envelope and the mug of hot coco had disappeared.140

I got my wand out now and listened for movements both upstairs and from inside the duffel bag. The dragon hide, much the look of leather, had kept well for having been around for—what I guessed—at least forty years—though dragon hide normally lasts a millennium if kept properly. I bent down and with my left hand unzipped the main compartment.

What I saw made gasp. The compartment was unusually dark since stairs, craggily wooden stairs, led down into an unseen depth. I had read about bags, trunks and other luggage of this nature. Newt Scamander had famously used a brief case to smuggle magical creatures back to their homes, or nurse them back to health. Ythier Yatteau hid his whole family141 during the Wizarding Huguenot Purge of the 17th Century in a jacket pocket.

Though undetectable extension charms are easy enough to produce, placing stairs, walls, even whole rooms in a much smaller space is extremely difficult. It has to do with mass of the bag, or trunk, versus the mass of the materials you are placing inside. I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say, there is a reason why every warlock or witch doesn't carry their house with them wherever they go.

I ran to get the big torch from inside the coat closet before I heard footstep above from my Mum's room. I ran, as quietly as I could, back to the duffel bag and, hurried up the stairs without making much noise, and placed the bag in my room. I heard my mom's door open and without stopping to realize what I was doing, I cast a disillusionment spell on the bag.

"Raven!" Mum shouted. "What have I told you about having your wand out in the house?"

"I'm just practicing footwork," I retorted.

"No. Put it away."

I thrust my wand into my pants pocket. The wand stuck out halfway and dangled.

Mum thrust her finger at it and said. "In your room. Not out in the house."

I exhaled. I walked into my bedroom. Out the enormous window I could see icicles melting off the iron bars. The sun stood just above the house next to ours. On my bedside table lay the wand box Ollivander had given me to accompany his ancestor's wand.142 I pulled out said wand and placed it carefully in its box

Christmas breakfast started with just me and Mum. Mum made Dutch baby pancakes with roasted plums, smoked salmon, and poached eggs. Alice overslept.143 Mum wore a set of completely white silk pajamas with a white cable-knit sweater. She wore earrings, for what reason I don't know, that looked much like baby dragons.

Into my second helping Alice appeared with fluffy kitten slippers, and a plush white and red bathrobe with Christmas trees on the lapels. Mum and I wished her a Happy Christmas, which she only half-heartedly returned. I noticed she looked at the empty seat next to me.

We ate in relative silence, though Mochi kept trying to jump on the table, and Newt hooted uninterrupted for a minute and a half before Mum let me throw some salmon at him to eat. No one spoke of father's absence.

Alice got six presents and I got five. One was a joint present from Edric and Shelby. They'd given us a mystery box from Weasley Wizard Wheezes, which included a mini Skiving Snackbox, one Decoy Detonator, and three Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs. Mum was not so happy with this present and she confiscated the Skiving Snackbox.144 Alice's extra present was from Courtney who'd sent her a pair of earrings shaped like quaffles. Father sent us both our customary books. Alice got a biography about Zuuko Kobayashi, one of the best chasers in the history of quidditch. I got a book about the life and death of Albus Dumbledore, which he'd already given me, and I'd already read.

Mum, "And your dad," as she reminded us, got Alice and I new Montrose Magpie shirts and wand polishing kits. I will admit I did enjoy these presents. But the last gifts, the one that only Mum got us, was the best.

We ripped gold snowflake wrappings off to find a big scratchy sweater for each of us. Knitted by our Mum and made of wool the sweaters looked as if they were a nod to our Hogwarts house. Though they weren't a scarlet color, but a burgundy, and the gold was faded and as opposite from metallic as you could get. Mum had made them each a little different. My collar was gold, Alice's gray. The striped patterns were different, and Alice's was a bell sleeve cut, while mine was a turtleneck.

"I had a bully of a time getting your father to send these back before Christmas," Mum said. "He's charmed them to fit you, so you can always have them."

I gave Mum a big hug. I looked at my pile of presents. I was quite happy of course, but I was rather disappointed I hadn't received a present from Courtney either. Alice and I had sent her a present from the two of us, an old CD player our family didn't use with several CDs of music we thought she'd like. I'd written out instructions on how to use the player and everything.

The rest of Christmas was a bit quiet. The weather outside became dreadful mid-morning. A snowstorm hit that knocked the power out for a couple hours. During this period Mum built a fire in the fireplace and boiled water for hot coco. Alice doodle and wrote in her diary. I re-read the part about Dumbledore's early years with Grindelwald to amuse myself, as this part of Dumbledore's life always entertained me.145

Christmas dinner was exceptionally good—roast pork, cherry chutney sauce, mash, roasted carrots and asparagus, with blackberry trifle and pistachio sponge for dessert. When the power came back on we watched two Christmas movies in a row—a movie just a couple years old called Love Actually146, which Mum quite enjoyed—and we finally watched A Nightmare Before Christmas, which Alice and I had been begging Mum to watch for ages.147 We all loved the movie until the final act, and were kind of floored that Oogie-Boogie's song was so bad.

The entire day thoughts of the duffel bag distracted me. Throughout Oogie-Boogie's jingle until he finally fell to pieces, I could only think of where the stairs in the duffel bag led. I also wondered who sent the bag. I wondered at first if my father had sent it, a sort of father to son gift passed down during your first year of Hogwarts, but I figured my father wouldn't have been able to remember to do that in my first year. He'd probably have given it to me in my sixth. I thought about all sorts of scenarios about why someone would send me this bag, including a rather gruesome one where the person was displeased about an article my father had published in the Prophet recently about how Werewolves should be allowed at Hogwarts and so sent me this bag with a disguised Lethifold in it. As soon as I would enter the bag the Lethifold would surround me, suffocate me, and consume me. It took a while for me to shake that idea.

When we'd all had a sixth cup of hot coco Mum ordered us to bed. "We've got a long day of skiing out back tomorrow. I looked at Alice who looked just as thrilled as I did—which is to say she was not thrilled at all. The weather tomorrow was supposed to be just as bad as the storm today had been. But after such a calorie rich day nothing would stop our mother from getting us outside and exercising.

I went up to the second story landing, brushed my teeth, kissed Mum and Alice goodnight, entered my bedroom and immediately tripped over the invisible duffel bag. Newt's cage fell out of my grasp and he hooted indignantly as he crashed to the floor. I caught myself on my bedpost with a loud thud and had to call out that I was fine. That'd I just tripped on something Mochi had knocked over.

At the sound of her name Mochi came running into the room and stopped. She sniffed around the duffel bag for a minute then stepped on top of it, laying down in cat-loaf formation. This gave the appearance that she hovered a foot off the ground and I had to stifle a minute long set of giggles.

It took a while to calm Newt down. Only when I let him out of his cage—something Mum disapproved of during bedtime—did he become silent. He stood on his perch and pooped on the ground.

I took up my wand from the bedside table. I pushed at Mochi until she leapt off, the top of her tail twitching. She paced back and forth as I felt for the edges of the duffel bag. I found the zipper of the main pouch and opened. It was a strange sight seeing something invisible open, like watching creation happen. As the zipper went around the bag, I could see the darkness inside. It was as if I'd opened a crack in the fabric of the universe that I could transport myself anywhere to.

My ears felt sore from how hard I listened for any noise. But it seemed Alice had fallen asleep quickly, and Mum was probably in bed reading. Once I opened the bag fully, I took my wand from my mouth and held it, wondering if I dared do magic again.148 As I weighed the consequences Mochi slipped past me and marched right down the wooden steps and into the depth of the darkness. I grabbed at her tail swishing by me but missed. I called after her. She did not come back.

I stood and made to put my foot on the first step but stopped. I looked at my door. Newt hooted. I looked over at him. He looked at me, then at the stairs, then back to me. I raised my foot to place it in the bag. Newt hooted again.

"Stop it," I hissed.

He hooted louder.

"Raven get that owl to quiet, will you?" Mum shouted from her room.

I looked at Newt. He looked back at the case then at me again.

"What? You want to come along?"

Uninvited he swooped low to the ground and up onto my arm. I conjured a protective glove for my left hand just before Newt landed on it. I pointed my wand at my lamp and muttered a spell, turning it off. I waved my wand again and a faint light lit at the tip. I looked back at my doorway. I stepped onto the first step.

What immediately happened spooked both me and Newt. I felt Newt's talons grip hard on the glove. I too had lashed out in a way. Both my hands shot out for a hand hold as I swayed on the step. As soon as I'd contacted the wood with my foot, I found myself no longer walking down stairs but up them. All the gravity shifted, and the top of the duffel bag lay beneath me, my other foot still firmly on the floor of my bedroom. I pulled that other foot up and onto the first step of the stairs. I breathed deeply for several minutes.

I looked down and pointed my wand. I could see the large window of my bedroom reflecting the light of my wand. I lowered a foot back through the opening of the bag and found myself standing upright in my bedroom, my other foot still in the bag. I quickly took that foot out. A certain feeling had started to press itself on my legs if one was in the bag, and the other outside of it—like a slow jelly-leg curse.

I jumped onto the first step this time and the same thing happened. Gravity reversed, and I had to look up the stairs towards…a door. I pointed my wand. A wooden door, the same heavy grizzly wood as the stairs waited at the top. Mochi waited for me there on the top step, strewn about. She blinked and turned away from the light of my wand.

I reached out, this time on purpose and found walls rather close beside me. Only one person could fit up these stairs at once. On my left was a long wooden railing. I gripped it, afraid that the next step would cause another gravitational pull. It did not. I climbed up the stairs, holding Newt as I went.

Mochi rubbed against my legs and mewed softly when I reached the top. The door was locked. I knocked. I heard nothing. "Alohamora," I said. Nothing happened. I jiggled the handle. Nothing happened. More out of frustration I pointed my wand and said, "Revelio."

Across the door in bright white writing a message revealed itself. The letters faded almost as fast they appeared and I nearly didn't catch what it said: State your name and title, along with the name of your guests please.

"Raven Husher, student, if you like," I said.

The door did not open. I turned the handle again, but it wouldn't move. Mochi mewed again. I looked down at her.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I said. "Raven Husher, student; with Mochi the Cat, and Newton Scamander the Owl as guests."

The door swung open to more darkness. Mochi trotted in. I pointed my wand at the opening. I could see a small hallway with gray stone flooring and another door, a bit smaller than the one I currently looked through. Newt took off and flew to the left of the new door into some unknown space. The step I stood on tilted up, of its own will, and pushed me forward through the door. I stumbled. The door to the stairs slammed behind me and a thousand different locks clicked into place, though I could see no evidence of them.

I opened the new smaller door. A pole with a solitary metal hangar hanging from it stretched across the top of what amounted to a fairly sized closet. Two articles of clothing were in this closet: a huge brown winter coat with some type of fur around the collar—hanging on the hangar—and an ancient pair of cracked black old wellington boots. A lightbulb at the top of closet was attached to a small chain. I pulled this chain and light flooded into the hallway.

I spotted a light switch on the wall near me and flipped it. Ceiling lights in the hallway turned on. I backed up from the closet and looked down to my left and right. To the left, where Newt had flown, looked to be a large kitchen, accompanied with a breakfast nook. To my right was a spacious room with a huge brown leather couch, piano, and—though it was difficult to see as that room was dark—I thought I spotted the makings of floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled to the brim.

I walked into this library first. I flipped another light switch and as the lights turned on, I registered just how strange it was to be in a wizard house with electricity. Usually magical dwellings made electrical appliances go haywire. Indeed, when I created a fire in the fireplace magically all the lights in the room burst, showering me with sparks. I repaired the damage and but let the magical fire burn.

I took in the library surrounding me. A wooden floor, the same wood as the door and stairs—it seemed the whole place had been built with one single tree—lay beneath my feet. The walls were covered in a white wallpaper. The trim of the ceilings was painted white. The bookcases I'd spotted were wooden. The piano was a grand piano, long, black, and covered in dust. Likewise, with the couch. Small square windows looked out on a pitch-black night with stars—stars. Stars? What were stars doing in a bag? People couldn't create their own sky, or mini planet or—

Ah. But wizards could artificially create scenery. I strolled over to one of the little windows, popped the latch and lifted the pane. A strong smell of ocean salt hit my nostrils, as the roar of the ocean rushed into the room. So real were these sensations that I put a hand up to the window and tried to put it outside to see if it was indeed real. But a force kept my hand from leaving the room. Whoever created the artificial surroundings was a top-notch charmer.

I closed the window and latched the lock, though I found the lock pointless. I turned around and looked to my right. That way lead to another set of stairs and a door. A big door. A front door by the look of it. It seemed the architect of this duffel bag get-a-way had designed it to be like a house. I took hold of the railing of the stars—much larger stairs than the one I'd come up—when I heard it. An engine. A car engine. I twisted around and looked out the window beside the front door. Headlights zoomed around a bend off to the right coming towards the house. I could hear the faint melody of Christmas carols. I unlocked the front door and threw it open. Cold air rushed into the house, whipping my face. I watched the car. A light went on inside it. A whole family of five sat inside, singing, by the looks of it. I could hear their voices as they neared the property. The light in the car went out. Some fifty feet away their car flew past me; down the road; off to some place.

I attempted to walk outside. But that same invisible force kept me from leaving the house. I closed the door. No wizard could make all that happen. But if this were a real house, why couldn't I leave it? I'd heard of wizard houses you couldn't enter, but ones you couldn't leave? I glanced up at the stairs and wondered if I was alone.

A quick search of the rest of the house told me I was alone. There were five rooms and two bathrooms in total, and the place was somewhat small, making it more of a cottage than a house. Upstairs lay two bedrooms, all with white walls, wood flooring, and each furnished. One bathroom was upstairs between the two bedrooms. The second floor also sported a large loft, with an enormous porthole window looking out towards the black mass that I assumed was the ocean. Furnished with a rocking chair; a long, upholstered sofa; and a writing desk, the loft also had a tall owl perch. Newt did not occupy it currently.

Downstairs were the library I'd just explored and the kitchen. The kitchen had all the muggle appliances you could ask for: microwave, refrigerator, gas stove, oven, etc. It was also equipped with a wood oven which I found somewhat pretentious. In the kitchen stood a large island with a matching wood countertop. The kitchen was the only room in the house without the same wooden floor. Instead gray tiles covered the floor, and they were freezing on my bare feet. On the other side of the island stood a round table tucked into a corner booth with a nice periwinkle cushion. A long window covered both walls the booth nestled into.

A second perch for an owl stood beside the booth. Newt stood there sleeping. He peaked through an eye when I came through, but shut it quickly and went back to sleep.

I turned on a chandelier made of antlers149 and sat at this table on the edge of the booth, not because I was tired, but because an envelope sat on the table. Mochi hopped on my lap when I sat. I took the card in hand. I tore it open. It read:

Dear Raven,

I hope by now you understand this is an actual house, in an actual place. Don't worry, you're still in Scotland, and you're in a very safe location. I believe you and I are the only ones who know or remember this place exists. Anti-muggle charms have been placed on the exterior. Muggles can see the house, but never go near it, and all believe it abandoned.

I know you must be asking a thousand questions, and theorizing all the possibilities of why, what, and where. The property I've gifted to you sits on the Isle of Skye, and is about thirty-five acres of field. But I must insist that you do not leave the house. Not until you've come of age. I can't allow an under-aged wizard to roam free. I am sure you have noticed you cannot leave. That spell will lift when you turn seventeen, not before. I urge you not to undo it, or I may ask for my gift back.

I also urge you to keep this place a secret. You will see the benefit, I think, of a private temple. A place to study, to think. No one may visit uninvited. Not even I can set foot here anymore. You may bring whom you like, when you like, and you may tell everyone you know, but I think it best, if you wish to keep this place, to keep it to yourself.

To me it has been my non-magic house. A place to get away from the magical world. To think on matters, to relax, enjoy comforts, and let my hair down. But I have found lately that I've neglected this place for nearly a decade. I believe it better suited for a someone with a whole life in front of them. May this place be the sanctuary it was to me, to you.

Again, the card remained unsigned.

I pet Mochi and she purred continuously. I read and re-read the card maybe fifteen times. Two things struck me. One, I had absolutely no idea whose house this had been. It seemed my Father was way out of the running. Two, I felt extremely comforted by the line, Not even I can set foot here anymore. I had no way of knowing if it was true, but the security of the door I entered seemed to indicate the possibility of it being true.

When I'd finished with the letter. I took off my glasses and was pleased to see the author had been honest when they'd said this house was a place of non-magic. No golden light existed, except from the tip of my wand, and the fire I'd ignited in the library. The house hadn't been built by magic. Everything ran on electricity. The plumbing was all muggle made. It was thoroughly non-magical.

What surprised me though, was the fact that the door, the one I'd entered by giving my name and title, didn't glow gold at all. And it should have. Magic should have emanated from that door. I poked and prodded the door with my wand, but I couldn't discover what kind of magic disguised the magical nature of such an entrance.

I returned to the table. But I didn't stay there long. As I sat, I heard a thudding, faint and distant. The thudding was rhythmic, and, in a moment, I realized it was footsteps, but it couldn't be from the house. I leapt to my feet, jammed my glasses back on my face and scurried to the door.

I touched the doorknob and heard the thousand locks unlock. I opened the door and all light, except for that of my wand, went out. I felt Mochi rush past my ankles and descend the steps and heard Newt fly past my head into the stairway. I shut the door behind me and jumped down the stairs into the opening.

I landed on my feet just outside the duffel bag. I pushed the bag underneath my bed and hurled myself on top of the mattress, fully clothed, and wrapped myself in the sheets. As I took off my glasses and put my wand back on the bedside table my bedroom door opened.

Newt squawked loudly and rose from his perch, raising his talons and flapping at my Mum.

"Blasted bird, get down, I'm not going to hurt anybody."

Immediately Newt did as he was told. He'd given me just enough time to put everything back.

I looked up at my Mum, opening my eyes slowly and yawning. "What is it Mum?"

"I was just checking to see if you were really sleeping," she said. I could see her arms crossed by her silhouette. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I waited a good five minutes before I got up and walked over to my dresser to put on proper PJs. While I changed a soft hoot came from the window. At first I thought it was Newt and I shushed him. But after he persisted on, I turned to see a small gray owl flew outside my window. I opened one of the panes and let her in. The little owl looked windswept and exhausted. Newt made room on his perch to let her sleep, which she did right after presenting the letter on her leg to me. I took it. Drenched in snowflakes, she sat dripping on the perch. Newt reached out a massive wing and wrapped it around her, blotting at her feathers.

Sure this was from my mysterious gift-giver, I was a little disappointed to see Courtney's writing.

Dearest Raven,

I hope this reaches you before Christmas is over! I hated sending Maria into the storm, but I wanted to make sure you got your gift. See, I've been trying forever to figure out what to get you. Alice was so easy, but you've already read every book, and you know all the spells, and what thing would you need that you couldn't just conjure. But I found something! At least I think it's something. My dad has bad vision, but he hates wearing glasses so he wears contacts, you know, like muggles do. At least I think muggles wear contacts. But he doesn't actually wear contacts—my dad, I mean—he magicks them. You know? Like he corrects his vision with a spell every morning. He says charming your eyes long term has bad effects so he does it every morning and undoes it every night. I didn't think about this until today when I was thinking about how I hadn't gotten you a gift, and how you must be hating me for giving one to Alice and not to you. I asked my dad what the spell was and he told me. I asked him to spell it for me, Oper Aspectu. I don't know if this will help, and if it doesn't than I owe you something from Honeydukes for the rest of the year for not getting you a proper Christmas present, and I know it might just make things worse by putting more magic on your eyes, but I thought if anyone could make this work, it'd be you.

Merry Christmas Raven,

Courtney

I smiled. I was already thinking about ways I could alter the spell, or physically create contacts, or something. I flopped in bed holding her note to my chest. Sleep was quickly overtaking me. But I thought to myself, just before I fell asleep, that this really had been the best Christmas ever.

Dueling

"I am so glad it worked."

I sat in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Back to school. Back to witches and wizards, and Buckbeak and Hagrid. Back to class, and friends, and the library. Back to exploration. And back to a more vigorous exercise program.150

In the compartment sat Alice, Shelby, Courtney, Zephyr, and Arthur. Edric had decided to sit with some friends from Slytherin at the back of the train. We'd invited Cygnus to sit with us as well, but he politely declined and sat with people who weren't five years his junior.151

Courtney leaned forward, her face an inch from mine. She looked into my eyes—well not into them so much but at them. I'd perfected her father's Oper Aspectu charm and created what amount to pigment changing contacts that protected my eyes from seeing magic. It took me until the previous night to figure out how to do it. I didn't use the contact lens spell, as I didn't need to correct my vision; instead, what I did was conjure two contacts that neither helped nor hindered my vision, I cast a color changing spell on them, tapped them with protego each and slipped them on.152

Now I didn't need to wear glasses and my eyes weren't pink. They were returned to their wonderful brown.

Zephyr also studied my eyes, though he didn't say anything.153 Alice and Arthur were on their third game of chess. Arthur was giddy with excitement about taking Alice's rook. Alice, who had never played chess in her life, was acting bored. She kept twirling her hair and looking out the window at the dark sky.

Courtney and Zephyr soon stopped studying me and joined in a compartment wide conversation about Hogwarts's use of house elves. Alice and I, due to the influence of our parents, were staunchly on the side of paying the house elves. Arthur had never heard of such an idea, but instead of steamrolling over it, he asked a bunch of questions. Zephyr only asked a single question, which Alice answered at length: "If House Elves want to work for free, shouldn't we allow them to?"

Alice's answer was well thought out and succinct. It was also completely ripped off from our father's explanations. I had nothing to add. I watched Shelby listen to the conversation with mild interest. But as Alice ranted for a minute, Shelby turned her gaze out the window and at a nearly full moon. She'd most likely miss classes for the next few days.

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade well into the night. We first years did not take boats,154 but joined the rest of the student body sitting in carriages pulled by an invisible force. All six of us managed to squeeze into a carriage and when I told them, everyone was shocked to hear that Thestrals pulled the carriages.

Well, not everyone. Shelby and Arthur didn't know what they were. I had to explain them. Zephyr seemed the most affected. He visible cringed and kept looking behind him as if he could see the Thestrals through the carriage walls.

Getting into the Great Hall for dinner proved difficult. What amounted to a traffic jam took place in the Entrance Hall as Peeves shot around throwing ink bottles at students.155 A second-year girl with red pigtails tried to run for it and got soaked with green ink. A couple tried likewise and found their white dress shirts soaked in a deep purple. This continued until Oakley Woodhouse156 entered the entrance hall and immobilized a thrown bottle of ink, sending it zooming into Peeves' face. Peeves dropped all the bottles of ink and flew off, but Oakley immobilized them too, to great applause.

I was a fool to think that we'd be having another welcoming feast. Dinner proved normal, with some type of delicious dinner.157 The six of us walked to the table farthest from the double doors and sat with the other Gryffindors. I didn't register how improper that was until Zephyr said, "Shelby are you allowed to sit here?"

I looked up. Shelby, in her blue trimmed robes, flushed and put down her goblet down. She wouldn't look at Zephyr or me or anyone. Her eyes fixed on the curled iron cutlery, she muttered, "I forgot." She stood.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "I'm sure no one will mind."

Zephyr turned his attention to me, putting his soup spoon down in his bowl. "She is supposed to sit with the Ravenclaws."

"She can spend one meal here," I said.

Zephyr straightened himself—a feat I thought impossible as he sat with perfect posture. "Her house is Ravenclaw. She is to sit with the—"

He said these words incredibly slowly. I could not help but interrupt him. "I know what she's supposed to do. I'm saying she can break the rules for one meal at least."

Zephyr opened his mouth, but Shelby cut him off. She stood from the bench. "It's fine Raven. I'll go." She climbed over the bench and straightened her robes. Each movement was precise. Too precise. And her focus pointed away from Zephyr, away from me, away from all Gryffindors. It reminded me of all the times Mochi chose to ignore all humans. And yet the way her nose moved, the way it pointed slightly up and away from the table, I saw the canine in her. Her nostrils flared a tiny amount. Her eyes looked up and her entire being seemed to focus on a tall 5th year boy in blue trimmed robes walking down the table.

"Shelby, there you are." The boy had red hair, pimples galore, and I think was called Puberty Blather, "Puberty" being his nickname.158 "We thought you hadn't come back on the train."

"Hoped more like," Shelby said.

I think only Alice, Zephyr and I caught what she said. I saw Zephyr's eyes narrow slightly and Alice's mouth purse. Puberty surely didn't hear because a 5th year Gryffindor stood to shake his hand and say hello. He turned to Shelby and said, "Sorry, what?"

"Nothing," Shelby said.

"Come on then, your dormmates will be wanting to hear what you did on holiday," Puberty said, gesturing her to the Ravenclaw table.

"I'm sure they will," Shelby replied, and off they went.

I watched Shelby sit down next to Ingrid Mordecai and across from Riya Laghari, who were talking to each other animatedly. They became silent when she sat, tending to their food. I turned on Zephyr.

"Does it really matter if she sits here?" I asked him.

He finished sipping from his pumpkin juice. "The rules are—"

"Shut up about the rules," Alice interjected. "She hasn't got any friends over there."

I smirked at Zephyr who looked taken aback at Alice's argumentativeness. He recovered quite quickly. "I'm not the one who makes the rules. Her house is Ravenclaw. She sits with them."

"And what if no one there likes her?" I asked.

Zephyr looked away from me. I don't' think he could take my unblinking stare. I was wrong. He put down his fork and knife on his plate gently and met my gaze. I hadn't realized his eyes were almost an icy blue with tiny dark brown veins in a few places. For a moment I forgot our argument. I hadn't realized, not properly at least, that his eyes were blue. Yet his skin was dark. Was that possible? What a stupid question. Of course it was possible. He was sitting in front of me with blue eyes. I wondered if he too got annoying questions about his eyes? I wondered if he too wanted to change his eyes to a normal color?

"Why shouldn't they?" Zephyr said.

Totally distracted by his eyes I sputtered for a moment before remembering my rage. Yet I caught my retort. He didn't know. Hardly anyone did. Though, if I'm honest, I thought everyone a bit dull for not realizing that Shelby spent every full moon in a private room in the Hospital Wing.159

"She is shy," I said. There was no conviction to my words.

"I don't see an evidence of that," Zephyr said.

"You dolt," said Alice. "She's different around us, isn't she?"

Courtney entered the conversation. I noticed her hand clenched around her knife rather tightly. "Stop it guys."

"Is she?" Zephyr said, talking over Alice.160

I think both Alice and I were ready to bite Zephyr's head off, and Alice was probably ready to kick it right over to the Ravenclaw table, so he could observe the dynamic. However, Arthur, slouched over his soup came to our rescue and muttered, "Sislbury."

"Hello Gryffindors," Professor Sislbury said. She addressed the small group of first years in front of her, but half the table responded, mostly the boys. "Raven," she said. My throat immediately constricted, and I started coughing, sure a reprimand was coming for my argument with Zephyr. "I need you to accompany me after dinner to the transfiguration room.

Still coughing I nodded. Professor Silsbury smiled and left. I looked over to Professor Bhatti who conversed with the centaur Firenze. I wondered if an intervention to my handful of detentions awaited me in the Transfiguration room.

Arthur and Courtney took advantage of the interruption and started a conversation about the All-House Championship, wondering what type of challenges I and other three first years would be put up to. Zephyr, Arthur, Courtney and, somewhat to my surprise, Alice, all professed universal confidence I would be the first-year representative.

"I expect you'll know soon," Zephyr said to me. His hands lay still by his plate. He had chosen not to partake in dessert.

"Why?" I asked.

"That's why you're going to the transfiguration room," he said. He looked confused that I was confused. "At least, that's what I think."

"That's what I thought too," Courtney said.

Alice patted my back. "I didn't think that at all. I thought Professor Bhatti wanted to give you detention again." Everyone laughed but me.

The entire student body filed out of the Great Hall. I accompanied my fellow first years out of the Great Hall. I waved goodbye as they ascended the Grand Staircase with the Ravenclaws. I tried to find Shelby in the crowd just to say goodnight or try and cheer her up, but I didn't see her at all.

A tap on my elbow made me turn to my left. A boy of Indian ancestry, who was skinny, with short black hair and an incredibly symmetrical face stood beside me. This boy's name was Dexter Fredericks. He wore the gold trimmed robes of Hufflepuff, was my equal in height, and had a brilliantly bright smile that made me smile.161

I extended my hand. "Dexter, right?"

"Course," he said. He shook my hand. "Congrats on beating the four other people in your house."

His smile continued, and I found, though his words stung a bit, I did not want to argue with him. Dexter had beaten way more students than I had. He could tease me.

"I hear you'll be tough competition," he said. "You're what, Albus Dumbledore reincarnated?"

I shook my head. "Merlin."

"Oh, that's good," he said. "Cause Niniane had a sex change and then got reincarnated as me."162

We both laughed.163 Hoards of students walked past us as we waited for the others.

"Who are the other competitors?" Dexter asked. "I forget."

"Felicity Honeycutt," I said. "For Slytherin."

"She's quite cute," Dexter said. "And a brilliant charmer."

I agreed with both but didn't relay that information.

"And Delia Embers for Ravenclaw."

"Who?" Dexter asked. A look of comprehension dawned. "Oh Ruby. I don't think anyone calls her Delia other than the teachers. Ruby is great. She's so nice. And so attractive."

I said nothing.

"Not quite there huh?" Dexter said. "Still in your girls are gross phase? Are you even eleven yet?"

His smile could no longer sustain my own. "I'm twelve already," I said. "And no, I don't think girls are gross."

"You going to make out with one then?" Dexter asked. "Going to start dating soon?"

"No," I said, perfectly aware I had taken a step backwards which indicated that I was in everyway uncomfortable with that thought.

"It's alright, you'll get there," Dexter said. "You'll start masturbating any time now."

"I masturbate!"164 I said this far to proudly and far too loudly; for in a nearly empty Great Hall, Delia "Ruby" Embers and Felicity Honeycutt had spotted us, walked our way, and heard every word of the ejaculatory statement.

Both Dexter and Felicity burst out laughing. Ruby's eyes grew wide and she sort of hid behind Felicity as they walked over. She would not look at me.

"Good timing mate," Dexter said.

I was saved further teasing from the appearance of all four heads of houses. We were told to follow them, and we did, entering the Transfiguration Room not long after. I determinately did not look at Dexter or the girls for the entirety of the walk. No one spoke, though Felicity and Dexter kept stifling laughter.

The great stone room no longer had any desks, except for Professor Bhatti's up at the front. Instead six chairs sat in front of his desk. Professor McGonagall already occupied one, a rather comfy looking recliner. Professor Bhatti sat beside her. The other four chairs were soon filled with the bottoms of each head of house. Professor Slughorn's chair groaned when he sat on it. Professor Bhatti had a coughing fit, that I'm pretty sure was an attempt to cover a laugh. He received a furious look from Slughorn.

Without being asked, we first years formed a line, shoulder to shoulder, in front of the teachers. Ruby and I stood on opposite ends. Felicity stood next to me. She flicked my hand with her middle finger, which hurt more than it should have. I rubbed my hand, she smirked without looking at me.

"Hello first years," Professor McGonagall said. "Congratulations on making it this far. You should be proud." I did not feel it, especially as McGonagall sounded as if she'd rehearsed this speech. "Winning the All-House competition is incredibly difficult as a first year, so each year we give a little help to the first-year finalists. To weed out which of you will be up to competing with OWL and NEWT students we find it's best to give you private dueling lessons over the next several weeks. This is because you will be dueling each other in two months' time as your only competition before advancing to the Final Seven."

Felicity shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Dexter said, "Ah." Ruby did nothing. I fiddled with my wand.

"Every Tuesday and Thursday evening you will take dueling lessons here with Professor Bhatti," McGonagall explained.

Professor Flitwick, McGonagall, and Bhatti's focus landed on me. I realized I was shaking my head. I stopped and looked away.

"And all six of us will be scoring your duel," Professor McGonagall said. I swore I saw her flick a smile in my direction. Her lips twitched anyway.

I cannot express to you how much I hated the sentence McGonagall had just uttered. I imagined Professor Bhatti would do everything in his power to sink my chances of advancing to the next round.

"We have strict rules for student dueling competitions," Professor McGonagall said. "So you best learn them. Spell work outside the confines we place will result in instant disqualification."165

Professor McGonagall looked to Professor Bhatti who took up the baton. "We'll be focusing on footwork, stances, appropriate means of defense and attack, along with learning the rules. So, it won't be completely boring. We'll also have practice duels where you'll take on each other as well as me and any of the teachers who wish to help. We may even get Flitwick to come out of retirement if you prove as good as we think you all can be."

Flitwick laughed appreciatively and added, "We are all happy to answer questions and be of assistance. It's a bit daunting as a first year."

"Use us to your advantage," Professor Slughorn said. "You won't get this type of help again. Second years are on their own. Just like everyone else."

Everyone looked at Professor Silsbury who shrugged and said, "I don't know how much help I'll be."

Professor McGonagall nodded and looked at us first years. "Goodnight."

Dismissed, I left with Felicity and Dexter who were too busy to talk about dueling than to make fun of my previous mistake. Ruby stayed behind to talk with Professor Flitwick. I parted with Felicity and Dexter in the entrance hall. I found I watched Felicity's walked away for longer than I ever had before. Her hair, down to her knees, shined in the torchlight. I paused on a step before I came to my senses and hurried up to Gryffindor Tower.166

Advice

The morning before our first dueling lesson with Professor Bhatti, Newt dove down from the swarm of owls bringing post. He tossed a rolled piece of parchment at me, strutted over to my goblet and drank most of its contents. He speared a piece of ham off Alice's plate, ignored her protests, and began to chew while glaring at her.

"You're the worst," Alice said to Newt. Newt tore more ham off and swallowed.

I unrolled the parchment and found I did not recognize the writing. The letters were thick and, the writing joined up but messy and I had difficulty deciphering it. Only when I looked down at the signature that I realized our father had sent it. Alice, thankfully, sat across from me and did not know father had sent just me a letter.

Not a moment after I'd thought this, Athena landed between Alice and Courtney. Both began petting the white beast as she stuck out her leg offering a similar parchment for Alice. Holding in a scoff I tossed Newt a big piece of egg white and started to read.

Dear Raven,

My how the time has flown. I could hardly believe it when your mother told me that you and Alice had been sorted six months ago! And my how Christmas just seemed to walk pass without so much as a wave. I was sorry I couldn't come. Work is as busy as ever, the Centaur society I'm studying suddenly shifted to their nomadic season. Come winter they must leave their normal forested protection to avoid Chimera hunting grounds. Greek wizards assist in this migratory pattern to keep the Centaurs from being seen. I think you'd find it fascinating. I hope to have you and your sister out this summer to see it all in action if I can convince your mother. I know she's keen on you attending some muggle schooling to keep up, but we'll see.

I have so many thoughts, and such little time to write. One, I must admit I found myself entirely surprised you ended up in Gryffindor. I had my money on Slytherin or Ravenclaw. But the hat usually knows best. Usually. Two, I don't know how much you've interacted with Hagrid. He's the Game Keeper, and, knowing you, he might come across as less intelligent, but please get to know him. He's a dear friend of mine, and incredibly knowledgeable. Three, your mother wrote me just a day ago. I hear you've advanced quite far in some school championship, congratulations (you must write me with the details of this competition).

I wish to give you two pieces of advice. One, don't let it overtake your studies. I expect top grades from you. Two, ask your teachers for their advice if given the opportunity. The teachers there are your greatest resource. They are all experience warlocks and witches. Even for a boy like you, they'll have perspectives and experiences that change your approach for the better.

Must run.

Love,

Your Dad

I pocketed the letter and returned to my food. I gave Newt an appreciative pat on the head. He took off after grabbing a clawful of ham again and clipped Alice on her head as he flew off.

"God Raven, why can't you control that bird," Alice said, slamming down her own letter.

"Perhaps you shouldn't call him, 'The Worst,' Alice." I stood picked up my bag and walked away before Alice could reply.

I formulated responses to my father's letter. I've met and very much like Professor Hagrid. Mum will never let us come to Greece. Did you know this is the first letter I've had from you in eight months? None seemed quite appropriate.

Charms that day felt empty due to Shelby's absence. She remained in the Hospital Wing due to her illness. I heard Ingrid Mordecai talking at length with Ruby Embers, detailing every reason why she loved having Shelby out of the dormitory. "She sulks all the time," and "She's so quiet" were listed multiple times.

Ruby, to her credit, did not engage in the is conversation. She merely nodded along.

I shifted on my seat, completely ignoring the flower peddles I was supposed to be charming to spin, as Ingrid mentioned, "She always smells, you know, this time of month. She stinks up the place every time she comes back. I wish they'd keep her until she smelled better." Ruby nodded. "Do you think she smells bad because wolfs don't shower, or because—"

"Girls," Professor Flitwick said, "isn't that enough chatter?"167

Ruby flushed. Ingrid very evidently rolled her eyes.

I went up to Professor Flitwick early than I normally would have in class. As per usual I conjured my own chair, wooden and unremarkable.

"Professor Flitwick?"

Professor Flitwick as usual asked to see me produce that day's work. My flower peddles did a thirty second Charleston before breaking into The Robot. Sitting in a high-backed wooden chair,168 Professor Flitwick smiled. "You don't know how to do either of these dances do you Raven?"

"No sir."

"Amazing. See, usually the peddle takes on the personality of the person, so if the person just sways to music, the peddle will do so. If the caster is a Paris-trained ballerina, then the peddle will perform the most exquisite ballet performance. Yet yours did not take on the personality of your dance style. Instead it took on another aspect of your personality."

"What would that be Professor?" I asked.

"Talent," Professor Flitwick said simply. "So, Raven, what can I do for you today?"

"I'm hoping to get your advice on the upcoming duel sir," I said. This question did not surprise Flitwick. He stretched his tiny arms and put them behind his head.

"Actually sir," said a voice behind me. "I was hoping to ask that as well."

Ruby walked up to Flitwick's desk, peddle in hand, looking for a chair to sit in. I drew her one with my wand. The cushion I tried to produce was thin and translucent. I frowned at it. She thanked me and sat.

"Please demonstrate the lesson Ms. Embers."

As Ruby caused her flower to run in place and step side to side, I studied her. Her long red hair fell past her waist; it was tied behind her with a blue ribbon. Yet she didn't have the pasty skin of many gingers. It was a bit darker, tanned. I wondered if she dyed her hair red. She wore heavy mascara, one of a large minority of first year girls allowed to wear makeup. She wore no lipstick or blush. Her lips were thin, her mouth small, her nose small, her jaw defined. She stood a couple inches taller than me.

She'd never once joined me or Shelby, or any of the others for a mini Charms Club sit down. But now she came, as soon as it related to her success in a duel; as soon as it fit her interests. Alice came up to listen all the time, but it wasn't because she was always interested. I had half a mind to tell Ruby to go back, that she couldn't sit up here because she wasn't in the club.

I didn't though. Flitwick would have never allowed such rude behavior.

Flitwick was pleased enough with Ruby's charm work. "Let me see. Let me see," Flitwick said, tapping his fingers together. "My main piece of advice would be this: Be varied, flexible, and imaginative. The rules of dueling, even the strict duels we're placing on you lot, still allow for a plethora of spell work. You don't just have to hex, or curse, you can transfigure, charm, you can use potions, objects; use them all."

I wrote this down.

I spent much of the day tracking down Professors, and a couple students, to ask advice about the duel. I jotted down several quotes of advice.

Professor Slughorn: For this duel Raven, I'd recommend you research basic potions to brew that aid the dueler. Mind you look up potions that are allowed during duels. Oh, and that you keep your feet moving my boy.169

Professor Hagrid: I don't know much about all the spells, but I'll tell you this. I've been thanked Merlin's left buttocks more than once that I naturally repel most spells. The less you have to do to protect yourself the easier it is to duel.170

Professor Sprout: Don't duel. Though if you must, it's handy if you can summon some Devil's Snare. It tends to disarm the dueler without trying.

Professor Sinistra: Mind your surroundings. Change the field to fit your strengths.

Professor Trelawny171: Come to me beforehand my dear. A good crystal ball gaze will tell me if the fates favor you.172

Professor Silsbury: The very beginning of a duel is where the tone is set. You want to be the tone setter. In that, I mean you want to be aggressive or defensive, not both, and you want to surprise your opponent. Don't wait around. Immediately decide your strategy and catch your opponent off guard.

I had wanted to ask Professor Vector and Babbling too, but I ran out of time before I and the other first-year duelers had to report to Professor Bhatti in the Transfiguration room.

The room was once again cleared of desks. It was clear of everything. Only a large raised up platform, much like a fencing platform, stood in the middle of the room. The platform was purple with a design of large cream-colored moons transforming from New to Full on top.

Professor Bhatti stood on the platform wearing robes of teal. He disrobed to reveal teal pants, suspenders and a white dress shirt. He took out his wand and tapped it in the air. Five metal stools appeared. I sat uninvited and waited in silence as the others arrived.

Professor Bhatti folded his sleeves back and sat on one of the stools, his legs wide. He nodded at me and looked out towards the hallway waiting. A few minutes passed.

Ruby, Dexter, and Felicity entered in quick succession. Professor Bhatti nodded and welcomed each of them. Once they sat he began to talk.

"Dueling is an ancient tradition in the wizarding world."

Here I tuned out as Professor Bhatti launched into a long monologue about the history, rules, different variations, and expectations of dueling. He mentioned things I already knew about dueling, such as:

"Dueling as sport is legal, however a duel to harm or kill is not."

"Unforgivable Curses, transfiguration of your opponent, or spells designed to draw blood are not allowed.

"Dueling is scored by at least three wizards."

"Hogwarts follows the British Technique of Dueling."

"However, a Hogwarts duel ends as soon as one dueler is disarmed or steps off the dueling platform."173

While Dexter, Ruby, and Felicity all took notes, sitting straight, eyes bright, I slouched in my seat looking out a window into the night. I tried to picture where each pillar of the transfiguration courtyard stood, what the intricacies of the wood carvings looked like, where the fountain was in relation to where I sat.

"Mr. Husher, would you like to participate?" Professor Bhatti asked.

I sat up and looked over to him. He had his wand out, so did the others. Everyone looked at me. I took my wand out immediately. I wondered why Professor Bhatti did not take any house points from Gryffindor. He'd done so for not paying attention before.

"I was just saying Husher, that we'll be learning the most important dueling spell in a dueler's arsenal," Professor said. "The shield charm."

"Professor," I said without raising my hand. "Why is it that Professor Flitwick isn't teaching us a charm?"

It took several seconds longer for Bhatti to respond than I expected. It looked like he was chewing gum. "I was selected by the Headmistress to be your dueling teacher. While not a dueling champion like Flitwick, I did quite well in my post-Hogwarts days."

I stayed quiet.

The lesson could not have been more boring. Having been able to cast Protego since my first week of school, I failed to stay focused. I did produce a perfect shield charm when asked to and watched as Ruby produced a nearly perfect one too.

Bhatti divided us into pairs. Felicity and me, and Frederick and Ruby. Both Felicity and Frederick had difficulty with the spell.

"Let's use a simple hex, yeah?" Professor Bhatti instructed. "Hexers only use the nose-twitch hex.174 Ms. Honeycutt, Mr. Fredericks, please hex first. Try and see the concentration and stance of your partners."

After several minutes Professor Bhatti stopped the demonstration. He tapped his left foot. He held his wand loose down at his arm. At first, he looked at my hand, my left hand, which held my wand. But soon he turned his head away, looking out a window.

"Mr. Husher, I think you may have more success using your wand arm," he said. I watched Dexter's face light up as he struggled to keep from laughing.

"I agree sir," I said.

His eyes snapped onto mine. "Then pray, tell me Mr. Husher, why aren't you using your wand arm?"

"Well, you said more success sir," I replied. "I'm still having success even with my left hand."

Professor Bhatti gripped his wand so hard it looked in danger of snapping in two. "Let me give you some advice Mr. Husher. Life is easier when you are not an arse."

"I thought it would be good to practice both hands sir," I said.175

Dexter couldn't hold in his laugh. It echoed around the room.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff Fredericks," Bhatti spat. "You wish to show up your fellow students Husher, fine. You think you can beat them with your wand arm tied behind your back fine."

"I didn't say that sir—" I spluttered, but it didn't matter. Professor Bhatti conjured ropes that did tie my right hand behind my back.

"Shall we test the limits of your cockiness Husher?" Professor Bhatti asked. He climbed onto the dueling platform. "Come, lets see if I can manage to break your unbreakable charm."176

I clambered onto the platform, stomach first, without a word. I vanished the ropes tying my hand but kept my hand behind my back. We bowed to each other and as I straightened, I barely had enough time to shout, "Protego."

Bhatti's nonverbal curse ricocheted off and both Ruby and Dexter had to duck.177 As I managed to block a few more spells I noticed a few things about Bhatti's dueling technique:

His footwork could not be more perfect.

His eyes gave away every direction of his spell.

His wand movements, while flawless, were also miniscule.

Bhatti's tiny flicks and swishes made for two problems. As these were nonverbal spells, I relied on the motion to inform the timing of my shield charm. Likewise, though this was less important in the moment, one can identify the type of spell—if not the specific spell—by the movement of the wand.178 I wanted to know what spells I was up against, and though I did see both the jelly-leg curse and the full-body-bind bounce away from me, I couldn't identify anything else.

For half a second, I thought I had a chance to block everything Bhatti threw at me. But I should have realized that this grown man was going to use his full arsenal until I broke. After a minute of light hexes and curses he broke through my defenses with a verbal spell, "Diffindo."

I think if Bhatti could, he would have gone back and changed which spell broke through. Diffindo is the severing charm. Wizards use it to tear fabric, or metal, or paper, or whatever. The unfortunate bit is that when diffindo is used on a person it tears the skin. Teachers are usually prohibited from using magic on their students; using magic to harm a student is definitely off the table. But Bhatti's spell broke through my charm and cut me right along my chin and neck. I felt the shield charm break. A vibration started at the tip of my wand and shot backwards to my hand and wrist. I felt that more than I did the five-inch long cut.

To Bhatti's credit he ran over immediately. I sort of half fell, half sat—more out of surprise than anything else. Bhatti's healing work was done before I'd really lost any blood, and he did apologize. But when I saw a droplet of blood on the white of my collar I lost a bit of control. With my right hand I made a poking motion with my wand which blasted Bahtti backwards. He skidded on his rear for a few feet.

I started apologizing. He kept apologizing. Ruby, Dexter, and Felicity watched in complete silence. Ruby hardly blinked.

"Right, I think we're done for the day," Professor Bhatti said. "We'll pick up next time with disarming. But keep—uh—keep practicing. Goodnight."

Ruby took off without a word. Both Dexter and Felicity hung behind for me. Professor Bhatti went and collected his things, making a fuss with the clasp of his bag. I pushed myself off the platform and walked to Felicity and Dexter, feeling the spot where he'd cut me.

Neither of them said anything as we left. I walked quickly. They had to keep up. As soon as we were in the hallway Felicity said, "Are you going to report that?"

I shook my head. "How does it look?"

"Fine," she said hurriedly.

Dexter nodded, "Shouldn't scar or anything mate. Listen, that was weird."

"He hates me," I said. "It's nothing really. He just hates me."

"But still—" Felicity protested.

"It's fine," I said. I grunted those two words out and it shut up both of my comrades.

"Will you help me practice?" Felicity asked. "I can't do it nearly as well. I mean, you did a couple nonverbal shield charms. That's NEWT level."

"No, I didn't," I scoffed. I could only do a handful of nonverbal spells, simple ones. I couldn't produce a shield charm nonverbally.

"Yeah you did Raven," Dexter said. "At the end there, before he hit you. You weren't saying anything, just blocking everything that came at you."

I kept my walking pace up. It must have been due to adrenalin. "Well, I couldn't do that again," I surmised. "But yes, I can help."

Dexter asked if he could join and before we parted in the Entrance Hall, we found a common time for us to practice the next day. I ascended the stairs rapidly and cursed heavily when one of the stairs shifted me over to the forth floor, causing me an extra ten minutes of walking before I finally got to the Fat Lady and climbed through the portrait hole.

Unfair

The upcoming duels between me, Dexter, Ruby, and Felicity caused much talk. According to Cygnus I was the heavy favorite. Bets were being collected by Norma Winderbag, a much maligned Hufflepuff who made a slew of sickles gambling on all student events.179 After being told I wasn't allowed to bet on myself, Winderbag accepted a whole galleon that Alice bet on me to sweep all three of my duels.180

The duels generated so much talk about me that I started to become somewhat of a myth. I overheard a fifth-year boy telling his fourth-year girlfriend that I'd trapped and ridden a Chimera the previous summer.181 A second year Gryffindor asked me if I really did own a pet Phoenix. Too my horror an incredibly pretty seventh year Ravenclaw asked me if I'd fought off a Lethifold as a baby.182

This certainly embarrassed me. I spent a whole potions lesson being teased by Felicity and Devon about a rumor spreading that I was dating a Beauxbaton student four years older than me.183 At the end of the lesson, Alice, who by this point was so annoyed with the ridiculous attention I was getting, poured an entire bottle porcupine quills into my potion. This caused a massive reaction, firing boiling hot droplets of yellow liquid around the room.184

I found all the chatter about these duels a bit surprising. They were, after all, featuring only first years, which would normally mean short, and rather pathetic duels, with copious amounts of tickling charms and bogey hexes. However, Cygnus informed me that duels are normally rare during the All-House Championship—outside the final duel—and that they always draw a lot of attention.

"Not to mention, you're like some type of protégé," Cygnus had said, ruffling my hair. "Don't get too bigheaded though," he added.

I expected Slytherin attacks in the hallways. However, I need not have worried. The only sign of Slytherin dislike were the faces of older Slytherins scowling at me—particularly Courtney's older brother Christopher. When speaking with Edric he said, with a broad grin, that Slytherins were too afraid to come after me since I'd vanished the bones of their beaters.

The weeks before the duel Alice and Courtney resumed quidditch practice, which was, to be honest, quite a relief. Alice had started lashing out at everything I said, usually in nonsensical spats of an argumentative nature. But a little less time with me, a little more time on the pitch, even in the horrid winds and chills of winter, and she became much warmer towards me.

Professor Bhatti's dueling lessons were much more boring than the first one. He barely spoke to me, did not ask me to demonstrate much, and went about focusing on the rest of the group. Though I liked Dexter very much and had started to chat with him outside of dueling class, I thought him the poorest dueler. He knew it too and kept telling people not to bet on him.

The day of the duel I could eat nothing but jam tarts. I sat down to breakfast, wearing earmuffs, as the castle seemed incapable of warming itself, and looked at the table filled with eggs, fruit, cereal, toast, and a small plate of jam tarts. I stuffed as many down my throat as possible, ignoring Alice's reminders about our dietary restrictions. I took the whole plate and stored the rest of the tarts in my bag. When lunch came, I ate some tarts. When dinner came, I finished them up. I ate nothing else.

I ducked back up to Gryffindor Tower before the duel in the Great Hall. Professor Bhatti had instructed us to be there at eight o'clock in the evening. I didn't want to be late, but I needed to get away from Alice, from my fellow students, and from all the teachers. It seemed, today more than most days, that people couldn't take their eyes off me.

Mochi sat on my bed, almost as if she expected me. When I came in, she poked her head up from atop her paws. I knelt beside the frame and reached underneath, my hand searching blindly. I finally felt the invisible dragonhide of my duffle bag and unzipped it. Mochi jumped down from my bed and meowed. I slid my hand into the bag and took hold of the stair banister. I pulled and found my feet firmly on the steps.

I could hear Arthur's voice as he walked up towards our dormitory, and quickly ran up the stairs and shut the door. Mochi ran past and into the kitchen where I'd placed a cat bed on the counter, next to her food bowl. I went right into the living room and turned on the lights. I picked one of eight books on the book case, a copy of Bludger's Godric Gryffindor I'd lifted from the Common Room. I flipped open to the bookmark and sat on the couch, leaning against the side.

A touching letter about a young Gryffindor survived on a stonewall in Brighton, a permanent sticking charm applied to it. It reads in common English:

"A most charming young man entered our village late last week. He said he'd been walking the country, learning as much as he could from locals. Philomena did not talk to him, but that is no surprise. The young lad, Godric, is no threat. He must be nearly fourteen and he cannot even grow a beard. Though, that hasn't stopped him from pursuing Juliana.

What amazes me is that Godric can do nearly anything he puts his mind too. We ran short on ham and he transfigured a boulder into a pig for us to eat. A muggle from a nearby village broke his arm and Godric mended it in about half-a-second. He even manages to charm some of the men. He repaired Thorin's forge the same day he got here."

It seems Gryffindor was a natural in forming new relationships. This differs drastically from two of his fellow Hogwarts Founders. Ravenclaw, a noted introvert, shied away from people, while Slytherin often irked those around him for believing himself smarter than his fellow men and women—though for the most part this proved true. It was mostly due to the outreach efforts of the popular and strapping Godric Gryffindor, and the kind and happy Helga HufflePuff that the first generation of Hogwarts parents allowed their children to attend the school.

Mochi hopped on my lap, blocking my vision of the book. I put it down. I felt hot. Was it hot? I cracked open the window to my right. Cold air bolted in. Mochi's fur bristled out. Goosepimples rose on my arms. I shut the window. I closed the book.

Why was I nervous? Certainly, I would win. Wouldn't I? Dexter had no chance. He had no feel for a duel. Felicity was quick on her feet and with her wand, but she knew very little magic. Ruby. Ruby, Ruby, Ruby. She was brilliant of course. She knew more magic than any other first year, me excluded. She had a great improvisational mind. But she was no more than a talented first year. I… I was protégé. I knew that before Cygnus said so. I could beat almost anyone in a duel, even the teachers. Probably. I was probably the most gifted student since Tom Riddle.185

I stood, put the biography back on the book shelf. It fell on its side and made a thud that echoed through the house. I went to the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator. Nothing. I opened the cabinets. Nothing, not even dishes. I made a mental note to figure out how to break into the kitchens to steal food for this abode.

I sat at the counter for a while, scratching Mochi behind the ears. Getting back up from my seat, Mochi leapt off the counter and waited outside the door to the stairs. I sighed, walked over, and descended the steps, listening at the door for people. No one was in the dorm. I exited.

The stairs were empty, as was the Entrance Hall. It seemed I was the last person to come down to the duel. Two minutes before eight, I entered the Great Hall and sat next to Felicity on the end of four chairs placed on the long dueling stage. The stage had been placed against one side of the Hall, a couple feet separated the wall from the table. The rest of the Great Hall had been filled with wooden bleachers, stretching all the way to where the Head Table would have normally sat.

The bleachers were packed. Alice sat with Courtney, Cygnus and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team in the front row. Mochi left my side and climbed onto Cygnus shoulder as Alice pet her absentmindedly. I saw Lucas Morgan sitting with Devin Ogden, who couldn't keep her eyes off Oakley Woodhouse who sat a row in front of her. Professor McGonagall sat next to Professor Silsbury, who wrote on a clipboard, amidst the staff off to the left.

Professor Bhatti walked onto the dueling table and magnified his voice with his wand. He gave a longwinded introduction of the tradition of dueling, this particular duel, the rules of the duel, and us duelers—though my introduction was limited to, "Raven Husher of Gryffindor."186

The opening duel was Felicity against Dexter.187 Dexter tried his best right at the beginning. He shot three spells off in quick succession. Two missed, one Felicity blocked, though barely. Dexter's rapidity threw her off. But within four minutes Dexter's wand flew up and into the audience. He sat, to some applause from the gold and black, while Felicity blew a kiss to the Slytherins cheering for her. I saw Lucas's eyes bulge in delight when Felicity blew a kiss directly at him. I slumped in my chair.

The second duel, mine and Ruby's was the most exciting, and the quickest. We bowed to each other. Before I had lifted my head, Ruby had cast her first spell. She'd conjured a flock of birds—pigeons, but still birds. The birds flew between her and me as if contained to finite space. Ruby fired disarming spells off between them and I immediately was on the defensive, conjuring a large metal shield. Ruby's spells bounced off them, ricocheting into the crowd,188 denting my shield.

I didn't break Ruby's pigeon shield all by myself. I really had no idea how to. I tried to vanish them, but whatever magic kept constricted their fly zone blocked that technique. I thought about incinerating them, but the idea of how many detentions I'd get for setting some dozen or so birds on fire prevented me from that course.

No, it was Newt that helped me. He sailed in, unsummoned,189 through the opening the ceiling where the owl post entered and made a B-line for the pigeons. Claws out he burst through the invisible bubble and murdered two birds in one stroke. They fell to the floor. The pigeons, happy enough to fly around in their bubble, panicked and raced around, trying to escape. Newt didn't hesitate; he killed every one of them, ripping off the head of the last one.

I'm pretty sure no one expected this amount of blood and carnage in the first-year duel. Students whooped and cheered and laughed. I laughed. It became a sort of frenzied raucous. Cygnus started a cheer of "Newt, Newt, Newt." Looking out from my shield I saw Alice cheering with the rest of them, but Courtney looked at Ruby. I looked at Ruby and saw she'd fallen to her knees and sobbed, uncontrollable sobs. Hardly anyone noticed. Ruby wasn't even holding onto her wand anymore. I vanished my shield, and flicked my wand, sending hers rolling off the dueling table. I vanished the dead pigeons, though blood stains remained, and was unable to get rid of carcass Newt held.

The Great Hall grew quiet. Professor Flitwick hurried up to Ruby. All anyone could hear were her sobs. "It's alright Ms. Embers."

"I didn't think he'd do that. I didn't think they'd die."

"They're from nothingness, Ms. Embers," Flitwick said. "They're back in nothingness."

"No, no they're dead. That owl—his owl."

I held my wand loosely at my side. My ears burned.

Flitwick took Ruby out to the Entrance Hall to calm her down. Madam Pomfrey followed, conjuring a bottle of some potion. As they left, I told Newt to shove off. He glowered at me, pigeon still in his beak, and took off.

Since Ruby was indisposed for a bit of time, I proceeded with my two other duels. I faced Dexter first. He told me to go easy on him, but I decided to show off. He attempted the same quick succession technique, but I was quicker. I hoisted him into the air, levitated him, bound him with ropes, walked up to him, and pulled his wand out of his hand.190

I was much kinder to Felicity. She did something quite clever. She cast an engorgement charm on the dueling table intending, I think, to extend the playing field. It kind of worked, but instead of just making the table wider, it knocked us both off balance as it rose higher. She shot a spell off from the floor that I blocked. I rose to my feet and disarmed her from the ground. I thought her wand might land within reach, and so I summoned it to me to ensure she didn't catch it.

After that, there was no real reason for Ruby to duel. But she came in, still wiping her face with her sleeve. She held her head high and beat Dexter in a couple minutes. She and Felicity had a longer duel; probably the best one. There were several moments where the audience gasped collectively, including when Ruby conjured a pigeon, and everyone looked up to see if my owl would reappear.191 Felicity set her robes on fire by accident. Ruby almost danced off the table because of a hex. In the end Ruby won, but by an eighth of a second. She and Felicity disarmed each other at the same time, and Felicity's wand hit the floor first, according to Professor Bhatti.

Students filed out of the Great Hall, talking animatedly. I received several congratulations, a cold shoulder from almost every Ravenclaw save Shelby, and a punch on the arm from Alice.

I sought out Ruby after giving both Dexter and Felicity a hug.192 She gathered her belongings from near the dueling table.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She would not look at me. "I was stupid."

"I didn't summon him. He just showed up."

"Your bird is evil."

"He's loyal. Not evil."

"Then you're evil."

"I'm not."

"What did those pigeons do to you?"

"I told you, I didn't summon him."

"Yeah right."

"It was a good bit of magic."

"I don't care." She pushed past me, knocking my shoulder, and I could hear her crying. Her head bent low, she sped past Professor Bhatti who came for me. Professor Silsbury caught sight of him walking towards me and practically ran to intervene.

"You have some nerve pulling that," Professor Bhatti shouted at me. Spit hit my face.

"Professor, he—"

"I don't want to hear it Rowan. Mr. Husher has behaved poorly throughout all our dueling classes."

"I didn't summon my owl."

"Horseshit."

"He didn't Arjun."

Professor Bhatti rounded on Silsbury. "Stop defending him. You only encourage his incorrigible behavior. He reduced that poor girl to tears."

"I didn't mean to," I shouted. Bhatti turned back to me. "It is a duel though, after all. If she wasn't prepared to lose those birds, she shouldn't have brought them into the duel."

"And if she'd killed your owl would you have—"

"That's enough Arjun." Professor McGonagall had arrived. "Do not talk about student's pets as if they are the same as conjured beasts. Please Raven, you won, congratulations, now off to Gryffindor Tower. I am sure a party has already been organized."193

Bhatti reached out and held me by the shoulder. "If you continue this type of behavior, you'll be hearing from me. Understood?"

I farted. I got detention. However, I made Professor Silsbury smile, making it entirely worth it.

Some very quick Chats

At the top of West Tower—a tower that looks separate from the rest of the castle upon first glance—is a circular stone room. The entire tower is this one room, complete with a stone spiral staircase ascending to the ceiling There are many, many windows, none covered by glass, and all different sizes. Carved out of the stone walls are little coves with wooden perches and straw at the bottom. These are where the owls live. Consequently, droppings cover the floor, the steps, the window ledges, your hair, and robes if you're not careful.

Newt, my Newt194, fancied the tip-top perch in the Owlery, making every trip to see him rather irksome. Because there are no windows, and because wizards apparently cannot comprehend the concept of climate control, thermostats, or casting a basic heating charm, it is freezing in there.195 Ice forms on the top third of the steps, making it a perilous trip for first years, or anyone that can't levitate themselves or materialize a cushion beneath them. I brought a jar of fire with me, and found myself, not comfortable, but placated.

The Saturday after the duel with Ruby,196 I visited Newt atop the West Tower. Up until this point in our brief history, Newt had shown up whenever I wanted to send a letter, package, or just wanted a word. But I hadn't seen him in a couple days, and Mum's weekly letter to me had been delivered jointly on Athena's leg. I imagined Newt was sulking in the Owlery, and I can't say I blamed him. He came to my aid, helped me win, and I sent him off flying without a thank you. I probably would've acted similarly.

I had ditched any wizarding-wear for my muggle winter clothing—much more practical. Long-johns, huge winter coat, hat, mitten, boots—much better than my heavy robes which allowed gusts of wind to shoot straight to my bone. I thought I might run the stairs to Newt to get some exercise in, but with the howling wind I stopped after a dozen steps.

After a five-minute walk up the steps I, a bit winded, took out a dead rat out of my bag and held it in front of Newt—just a foot out of my reach—and called for him. He woke, glanced at me, and turned his head around, starring at the back of his cove. His cove was the biggest in the whole place. Made for Eagle Owls, or oversized beasts of birds, it probably should have been the refuge for half a dozen birds much bigger than Newt. I had no idea how he'd fought them all off. I called Newt again. He did not respond. I'd expected this. I threw the rat on the straw below his wooden perch.

"I'm sorry Newt," I said. "I wanted to say that. And I'm grateful you came when you did."

I ducked out of the way as Newt unfurled his wings and jolted towards me at top speed. I needn't have worried. He landed on my shoulder, his claws gently piercing my coat. He rubbed his head against my knitted hat.

"That was easy," I said, trying to look him in the eye. "You sure you're okay?"

Newt hooted.

A giant eagle owl soared up and landed on the perch in Newt's cove. Newt hopped on my shoulder, shrieking at the bird, flapping his wings into my head. The eagle owl started then took off back to where he'd come from.

"Blimey Newt, are you always like that?"

Newt did not answer.

"Cheers. Hey, listen, next time come to help only if I'm in serious trouble. None of this school dueling. And maybe try and do something to cheer that Embers girl up if you can think of something. It would be nice if she didn't hate you."

Newt fluffed himself out and shuffled his feet. He looked far below us at an owl arriving.

"Newt?"

He gave me a sharp and quick hoot and flapped back to his perch.

"Thank you."

I only slipped on ice once on my way down.197 Though my hands and chest felt warm from the jar of fire's heat, my nose and my feet protested. I wanted to go back to Gryffindor Tower, warm up, and complete an essay on counter-jinxes,198 but I ran into Professor Flitwick at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, Mr. Husher," he said, almost knocking into me. "My it's a bit early for you youngsters, isn't it?"

"I wanted to avoid foot traffic," I answered.

"I see, well don't mind me," he said walking around me to get to the steps. "I need to send this letter." He brandished an envelope in his gloved hand.

I turned to leave before I stopped and asked, "Professor Flitwick?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Mr. Husher, but please be quick. I will lose my toes if I stay out here much longer.

He did look to have a case of the shivers.

"A couple days ago you said to Ms. Embers that her pigeons were from nothingness and they went back to nothingness. What did you mean by that?"

"Well the answer is a bit complex Raven. When you reach NEWT standards, we will dive into it a bit more. But suffice to say one can summon objects and animals from nothing and vanish them into nothing."

"I thought you vanished objects into non-being, not nothingness," I said.

"It's called many things," Professor Flitwick said through chattering teeth.

"Here," I said, handing Flitwick my jar of fire. He took it, hugging it to his chest. "Isn't non-being everything?"

"That is correct."

"But what does that mean?"

"That non-being is what makes up the status of the magic which we produce. We are beings of magic, sustained and maintained by non-being, our inverse, our symbiote, and our substance—magically speaking that is."199

"So those pigeons came from non-being, therefore everything? And non-being is all magic, including us, but is also a source of our magic, like water and food and air all wrapped into one?"

"Sort of."

"And this source is limitless?" I asked.

"What do you mean, Raven?"

"Well, water isn't limitless, but non-being magic is? We can just pull as many pigeons out of the air as we want?"

"I see," Professor Flitwick said. "You're thinking of it too literally. Non-being isn't some sort of invisible magical pool, it is what you walk in, it is the state of everything."

I opened my mouth.

"I really must insist that we both get out of the cold Raven," Professor Flitwick interjected. "I will be happy to cover this over the next six and half years of your schooling."

Dismissed. Got it. I bid Flitwick farewell. I ran into Hagrid in a secret passage behind a statue of Dumbledore, and we had a lovely chat about why owls act so differently around wizards than they do muggles before I finally returned to Gryffindor Tower.200

A Note

Your next All-House Championship Task will take place this evening at midnight. You will compete against Christopher Nighy. Please come to the Entrance Hall, and please bring two friends from your own house.

Professor Bhatti

I read the note aloud again at Alice's request. My watch read six minutes after midnight. I couldn't see anyone except for me, Alice, and Courtney. We stood in the Entrance Hall. It lay in total darkness. I could hear staircases moving above us, portraits snoring, and Alice breathing.

"But no one is here," Courtney pointed out.

I didn't respond. That was evident. Indeed, there wasn't a single soul, dead or otherwise, around us. No floating ghost, no swearing Filch, no Mrs. Norris. No Professor Bhatti. I looked back at the note. Bhatti did not give me this note in person. Devon Ogden did, telling me, with a glance over at Lucas Morgan, that Professor Bhatti instructed her to give this to me.

I read the note once more. So far, all the championship tasks had taken place during regular hours. This task would be the first task after hours.

I reread the note. From what Cygnus had told me, the Sixth-Year Champion had not yet been selected. Cygnus and Christopher were neck-and-neck after a merpeople vocabulary pop quiz that Cygnus won.201 But it may have been that Cygnus had not told me he'd lost, and Christopher won. I hadn't spoken to him all day.

I folded the note. I'd come at midnight, I'd brought my two friends. But no one was here. Perhaps we had to look for clues? Perhaps we had to find Christopher and, presumably, his two friends.

"Homenum revelio," I muttered in several different directions, but nothing happened. "Do lumos. We might have to solve something here."

"But what if we're not supposed to be here?" Courtney asked. "Filch would see us."

"Is that possible?" Alice said, rounding on me. "Is there a chance we shouldn't be here?"

All of me wanted to say no, that Alice was stupid, that I was sure we were in the right place. Course, all of that was a lie, and I managed to restrain myself. "Maybe."

Alice kept a towering temper tantrum locked inside her vocal chords. Neither Courtney or Alice ignited their wands. I cast a wide light around the Entrance Hall for ten minutes before I heard a hinge squeak.

I snuffed my wand light with the counter-charm. That sound, the squeak, it sent chills down my spine. In that moment I knew we weren't supposed to be here. That I'd been pranked, or tricked, or something. I stood still, and I didn't say anything. Thankfully, both Courtney and Alice followed my lead and stayed silent too.

It took half a minute before I heard, "See, I told you he'd bring them both."

I knew that voice. The blonde git. This had all been a plan of Lucas Morgan. But who had he brought with him? It couldn't have been Filtch, could it? Filtch would have punished Lucas for being out of bed. Wouldn't he?

I didn't really want to wait around to see who, so I shot off two stunning spells in the direction of the voices.

Several people swore, one yelled, many shushed, and one body thumped to the ground. Without a warning red light flashed from a different location, hit me, and made my wand fly out of my hand and into the darkness. It clattered somewhere behind me, but the sound echoed, and I couldn't map its exact location in my head.

Several things went through my mind, thoughts of calling for a teacher, swearwords, a random thought about how Mochi would probably enjoy chasing after colored spells in the dark, and the words, "I told you he'd bring them both." Them both meant Alice and Courtney. Them both, meant that Lucas had told someone I'd bring Alice and Courtney. That meant someone wanted Alice and Courtney here. Why specifically these two? What was special about them? What linked—

"Idiot," I whispered. This was about quidditch. Gryffindor was up on points against Slytherin, and the second game of March, quickly approaching, was Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. Slytherins didn't want to chance a Gryffindor win; they used me to get to the two players incapable of defending themselves.

"Alice, Courtney, go back to the Common Room."

"Why? What's going—"Alice started.

"I don't have my wand."

"Let's find—stop pulling Courtney—Lumos!" Alice lit her wand, displaying their location, practically inviting enemy spells to them.

"Incarcerous!" a girl shrieked. Ropes flew out and bound Alice and Courtney together. Alice dropped her wand, and the light extinguished.

The next thing I knew ropes bound my arms and legs. I fell on my butt, which hurt quite a lot, but managed to keep myself sitting upright—avoiding the look of a total buffoon.

The Slytherins started laughing.

Alice tried to call for help but someone shouted, "Silencio."

I thought it ludicrous Filtch hadn't heard any of this. The man turned up when you had dirt under your fingernails but not when you were being attacked.202

Half a dozen wands lit. I saw a pale hand pluck my wand off the ground. Lucas surveyed it in his hand, then looked up and smiled at Christopher Nighy. Christopher's hair wasn't in its usual pristine condition. Whatever product he used had been washed out; it fell around his face, proving long and lopsided. As dark as Courtney's, it looked more like thick shadows on his skin, giving him a certain sinister look. He and Lucas made their way towards me.

I recognized three of the other students as well. Devon Ogden, looking somewhat horrified at Christopher, did not advance my way. She hung back by the door to the dungeons. The two Slytherin beaters, David and Darrell MacDonald flanked Christopher as if they were his security guards.203 The last student was a tall sixth year girl with bright red hair. I think she was dating Christopher, else they spent a lot of time together.

Christopher crouched in front of me. Lucas copied him. Christopher pressed his wand on my thigh. Lucas kept his raised. "Not that tough without a wand, are you?" Christopher said. I felt a hot sensation on my thigh. Not a burning sensation, just a hot wand. "You want your mom?"

I very purposely rolled my eyes. I hadn't indicated any fear. I wasn't breathing hard, whimpering, crying, or protesting. If anything, I was trying too hard to act unafraid. "What do you want?"

"That's an excellent question, isn't it, Lucas?" Christopher said, brushing his hair out of his face.

"It is Chris."

"Shut up Lucas," I said.

Christopher hit me with a pinching hex. I winced. He laughed.

"We Slytherins want a couple things," Christopher said. "We want you to stop interfering with our Quidditch games. We want you to stop cursing members of our house. We want you to be a bit nicer to Lucas. We want you to lay off winning house points for a bit."

"Bit of a threat, am I?" I asked.

Christopher pointed his wand at my forehead and cast the knockback jinx. I hit my head hard on the stone floor but jolted back up into a sitting position as quick I could. I tried to shake off the ringing in my head. It took half a minute.

"Do you know what we'll do if you don't acquiesce to our requests?"

I laughed. "You stole that from Pirates.204 If you want to scare me don't use movie quotes."

"What's a movie?" Lucas asked.

Christopher didn't answer.

"You know, at some point Christopher I'm going to get my wand back. I'll have to. Teachers will wonder why I don't have one anymore, and at that point you and your friends won't be able to touch me." I forced up a fake laugh and kept laughing.

Christopher grimaced. "You said his eyes, right?" Lucas nodded.

I stopped laughing.

Christopher hit me in my head again with another knockback jinx. He'd aimed right at my eyes. The protective charm around them held, and the jinx broke. The sensation felt strange. It was as if the jinx crashed against the charm and oozed out in all directions. Weakened by the protection, I still felt the pressure of the spell's knockback nature, but not enough to fall over.

Christopher repeated his actions. The protection held again, but tiny cracks of gold light lit up my vision. No matter where I looked those gold cracks appeared.

"Chris stop, this isn't funny." That was Devon's voice.

Once more Christopher jinxed me. I had to shut my eyes. The cracks grew bigger, letting in more gold light. One more hit and I'd be completely blind with the light of all the magic around me.

"Please stop." Devon again.

"Shut up Devon," said several people.

I tried to blink against the light. In a sort of strobe effect, I watched Christopher bring his arm down. His jinx filled my vision with gold light before my protective charm shattered. I screamed and fell to my right.

I heard Christopher get to his feet.

The girl, not Devon, but the other girl said, "Holy shit. Did you see that. What is that? Why is pink mist coming from his eyes?"

Before this moment, I'd say I felt stupid, annoyed, and rather humiliated. I mean, Christopher, Lucas, the other Slytherins, they'd had fooled me; they'd done so in front of Courtney and Alice. I'd never hear the end of it from Alice. But after Christopher caused my vision to break, my whole being seemed to fill with rage, as if someone had opened up my skull and poured the bottled emotion into me.

"You might get your wand back," Christopher said. "But I know your weakness."

"Of course, you do," I shouted. "You caused it—"

"Silencio." One of the beaters cast this on me. I thumped my body on the floor, trying to make a racket, but the ropes around me prevented much movement.

"I won't hesitate to exploit it," Christopher said. "Nor will Lucas, or any of the Slytherins."

"Edric would never hurt Raven." Courtney spoke for the first time. The only one of us that hadn't been magically silenced.

Christopher, under his breath said, "Well, he's not a real Slytherin anyway."

I found, without anyone having lifted the spell off me, that I could speak. "You're no Slytherin. You're just a bully."

Another spell hit me; my nose bled.

"I'm as Slytherin as it gets," Christopher replied.

"Chris," the older girl said. "You said you wouldn't actually hurt him."

Christopher exhaled, evidently frustrated with the reveal of this information. I smiled, but kept my eyes shut.

"Lot of bark, not much bite," I said.

Another curse to the face. My nose bled faster.

"Chris!" More than two voices said his name.

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry." He stood. He started to walk away. I heard Lucas following him. "I never said I wouldn't hurt his friends though."

There was no response to this, which made me think that either the other Slytherins were fine with Courtney and Alice being harmed, or that he'd silently indicated that he wouldn't do any harm. I felt inclined to think no harm would come, but only inclined.

"Here's the deal Raven," Christopher said. "You stop harming all Slytherins, and start hindering Gryffindor and we'll be fine. If you don't agree, or if you don't keep your word, we'll start sending your friends to the Hospital Wing."

"This is so stupid," I said. "All I have to do is tell one teacher and you'll be in detention until you graduate."

"You have no shame, do you? You're just going to straight to the teachers?" He laughed. "You aren't much of a man, are you?"

I felt something brush by my feet. A tiny head pressed against my spine. I heard purring by my ear. I whispered at the lowest level I possibly could. "Moch. Get McGonagall. Or Silsbury, or anyone."

The purring disappeared. Christopher was still talking. "You can't win a battle against all of Slytherin House."

"There are only six of you," I said.

"Just tonight, sure."

"You think you're pretty important, don't you?" I asked. "You're tall. Bit of a man-whore. Somewhat talented. A tad charming. You think you've got this school wrapped around your finger. But you're just a small fish in a small—"

I got hit with another silencing charm. "You say another word and I'll curse Courtney."

"Chris, she's your sister." The older girl said this.

"She's not."

"I am." Courtney sounded on the verge of tears.

Another "Silencio;" cast by Christopher on Courtney. I could hear Courtney crying now. Again, I found I could speak without undoing the charm.

"Your pathetic. You really think houses matter? She's your fam—"

But an audible curse and Courtney's whimpering successfully shut me up. I heard hinges squeak as Chris's girlfriend protested. Alice was crying now. I knew her sobs. I could only hope Mochi would be able to find, wake, and communicate with McGonagall, or some teacher, and bring them here.

"What do you say Raven?" Christopher asked. "You agree to my terms, or should I get David to start vanishing your sister's legbones?"

"Look, I'm sorry I did that," I said. "I shouldn't have. Growing bones back is painful. I know that. It was a reaction. Just don't attempt that. It's so hard to do it correctly. You could vanish an artery, or an organ, and you could—"

"You're just a first year and you did it," said one of the beaters.

"Obviously I'm more than a first year, or you wouldn't be doing all this."

"So, do you agree?" Christopher said.

"If it means you won't start vanishing body parts, yes!" I said.

"That's all I want," Christopher said. I heard him walk away. "Just know if you try and get revenge—"

"Consequences unimaginable or something like it, yeah?" I said. "I get it."

"Leave them here," Christopher ordered. "Teachers can find them, and hopefully dock them for being out after hours."

I felt muscles all throughout my body relax.

"Chris," Lucas said. "What about my thing?"

"Oh yeah, sorry I forgot." Christopher stopped walking. "Raven, Lucas wants to know what you know about that Westwater girl in Ravenclaw."

Fear gripped me by the throat. "Nothing," I said immediately. I knew I'd convinced no one.

"Come on Raven." Christopher sounded bored. "Do we need to hash this out?"

"Fine I know something, but there is no way I'm saying anything, okay?"

"Okay, but Darrell will just start vanishing bones."

"Come off it," I said, my voice cracking. I started to sob. "You already used that threat. You can't. You can't use it again."

I could hear the smirk in Christopher's voice. "Course I can. And I am. Just tell Lucas what he wants to know or one of these girls loses a pinky toe."

Salt. I tasted salt. Tears fell into my mouth. I couldn't tell anyone that Shelby was a werewolf. They'd hate her. They'd do this to her, trap her, bully her, bewitch her. But what if they really vanished a body part and messed up? What if Courtney or Alice died. Didn't they understand what they were doing?

But I'd taken too long. "Go ahead Darrell."

"She's a werewolf!" I shouted.

Several people gasped.

"No!" Lucas said.

"Are you serious?" Christopher asked. There was no malice, no smirk, in his voice. "A werewolf? Here at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, yes. Don't tell anyone, and don't hurt her. Please." I was sobbing harder now, an ugly cry, and my words were barely audible.

"You're lying," Christopher said. "They wouldn't have a werewolf at Hogwarts."

"Stoggy Flapburner, Michael Cornet, Stan Grunkle, Remus Lupin—all werewolves at Hogwarts. Course they can have one."

"Be serious Raven, or Da—"

"I am being serious," I cried. My sobs were starting to become too loud. One of the beaters cast silencio on me for the third time.

Christopher didn't believe me. I couldn't think of anything else to say. I couldn't say anything anyway. "Go ahead," Christopher said."

One of the girls, either Alice or Courtney screamed.

My eyes opened; they writhed in pain. I could barely make out anything. The walls loomed large above me as shiny gold structures. The floor gleamed. The stairs glowed. But I could see figures, also surrounded by gold light, but darker. Seven figures all huddled together. I couldn't distinguish who was who. All looked at me.

I stood. The ropes had fallen off. My legs and arms were free. I could feel rage coursing through my veins, along with something else—magic, perhaps? I didn't bother trying to summon my wand. I extended my hand and—"

"Stop!" a booming voice echoed through the Entrance Hall. To my left I saw four figures come through a door from the dungeons. The fattest I knew instantly. Professor Slughorn had arrived. He waved his wand and lit the lanterns around us, increasing the brightness of gold light.

I lowered my arm and covered one eye, searching for something on the floor. I spotted the sliver of gold light, almost indistinguishable from the floor. I walked to it and picked it up, feeling the familiar grip of my wand. I cast my protective charms on both eyes but didn't waste time with the color change procedure.

"What is going on here?" Professor Slughorn demanded. "MacDonald, Nighy, release those two, now."

Slughorn had never barked orders like this. His face turned a shade of purple. His thin mustache bristled. The other figures three who'd arrived with him were three Slytherin students. Devon who, presumably, had altered everyone to what Christopher and company were up to; a tall Slytherin prefect, whose badge was pinned upside down; and Edric Westwater, whose face I'd never seen contorted in such a way, so full of anger. Had he heard? Did he know I'd just revealed what had been such a carefully guarded secret?

"This is ludicrous," Slughorn shouted. "Never in all my years—"

"We were just having a laugh," Christopher spat, standing up from beside his sister. "We didn't actually hurt anyone."

"Look at Raven's nose," Courtney shouted. Freed from her ropes. She kicked Christopher in the back of the calf.

Courtney looked fine, then it must have been Alice they hurt.

Christopher stumbled and walked away. "Alright I might have gotten a bit overzealous, but we didn't do any lasting harm."

"But Alice," I shouted. "You vanished one of her—"

"No we didn't." Darrel spoke this time. He had the same air of teenage angst that Christopher did—a very specific attitude that comes when those in power break up adolescent fun.

"But she screamed."

"No mate," said Chris's girlfriend. "I screamed. We were just fooling with you."

"Quiet, everyone," Slughorn roared. "I don't care what jokes you were playing. This was cruel. You scared Ms. Ogden half to death, not to mention these young Gryffindors—"

I stopped listening to Slughorn. The feeling of humiliation returned. I'd thought this whole thing serious. I'd put Christopher on the pedestal of evil mastermind, found their threats serious, but now they were saying this was just a prank? Just a way to scare us? To scare me?

"All of you to bed now. You five," Slughorn growled pointing to the pranksters, "report to my office first thing tomorrow morning."

"No Horace, I wish for them to come to my office now," said a voice. "Along with Raven, Ms. Husher, Ms. Nighy, and Ms. Ogden."

I turned around. Holding Mochi in her arms, Professor McGonagall stood on the Grand Staircase, dressed in a purple velvet nightgown, her hair flowing down past her waist. "Please escort Mr. Westwater, and Mr. Banner back to their dormitory and then come to my office." She surveyed all of us, the lantern light flashing off her glasses. "Students, please follow me."

I watched Lucas look to Christopher, who made eye contact with his girlfriend. Courtney helped Alice up and waited for me. It took me a moment to move my feet. I passed the group of Slytherins walked between Courtney and Alice, who both put an arm around my shoulder. Together we followed close behind Professor McGonagall towards, what I imagined, would be the Headmistress's office.

The Headmistress

The best office in all of Hogwarts is, naturally, the Headmistress's office. An ugly205 stone gargoyle guards the entrance on the third floor, just off the Grand Staircase. The gargoyle, much like the Fat Lady, requires a password to enter. In this case, McGonagall uttered, "June 2nd, 1927." When the gargoyle steps aside it reveals a stone spiral staircase, which ascends several floors until a tall oak door materializes.

The office itself is large and circular. White alabaster makes up the walls and ceiling, which extends some thirty or forty feet into the air. Long thin windows look out onto the lake, the mountains, the forest, almost every bit of the Hogwarts grounds. There are two levels to the office. A large flat surface where the Headmistress or Headmaster's desk sits, and a landing behind the desk, where a large circular window sits, accompanied with a huge bronze telescope that's been there for a century and a half. Two wooden staircases extend up to the second level, on either side of the Headmistress's desk. Off on either side the second-floor landing are wooden doors, much the same thin shape as the windows.

I imagine each Headmistress or Headmaster had their own configuration of the office, for McGonagall's version certain suited her personality. The Headmistresses desk, I came to learn, once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw and had been in the office since the inception of the school. McGonagall left much of the office bare. Only the desk and a chair by the fire occupied the floor of the office. She did not hang any artwork of her own. Only the portraits of Headmistresses and Headmasters past hung on the walls, all asleep. Columns filled the office, bare, painted the same color as the walls. A simple metal chandelier filled with candles hung of its own accord above the desk.

When the nine of us trailed in after Professor McGonagall, Mochi leapt from her arms and onto her desk, where a cushioned cat bed appeared. Mochi kneaded the bed for a half minute then curled up in it, her eyes looking at each student in turn. McGonagall did not sit at her desk immediately but took her wand out and tapped her desk. A drawer slid open and a quill, ink, and parchment floated up and onto the desk. The quill dipped itself and wrote a hurried message. The parchment folded itself and zoomed out the door in the shape of a paper airplane.

"Sit please," Professor McGonagall instructed. Four chairs appeared, one for Alice, Courtney, me, and Devon. I sat between Alice and Courtney, and watched as Courtney, who sat next to Devon, took Devon's hand and squeezed it. The chairs, wooden, high backed, and sturdy, were uncomfortable. McGonagall looked at the five other Slytherin students, her lips a thin white line. "Someone enlighten me as to what has happened this night."

Silence met her words.

Alice spoke. "They tricked us to coming down to the Entrance Hall, and—" Alice, with the help of Courtney explained all they could about what had transpired. I added only a few details.

When the tale was finished McGonagall asked, somewhat exasperated, "But why did you go down to the Entrance Hall after hours in the first place?"

In a pocket of my robes I produced the fake note, stood and handed it to her. Professor McGonagall took it, pushed her long hair behind her, and read the note. "I see," she said, reading it again. "I see." McGonagall sat at her desk. She held it up. "Which of you wrote this."

Devon piped up, her voice sounding like a mouse's squeak. "I did Headmistress."

"And did you do this on your own Ms. Ogden, or did another student tell you to?" McGonagall looked as though she was rethinking Devon's chair privileges.

"I volunteered Headmistress," Devon said. Devon shifted in her seat, bringing her feet up and holding her knees to her chest. "I overheard Lucas and Chris talking about pranking Raven and I thought it would be funny. They were going to give Raven a note from a teacher and I thought I could write like Professor Bhatti."

"And why Professor Bhatti?" McGonagall asked.

Lucas answered in a mumble, his head pointed at the floor.

"Speak up Mr. Morgan," McGonagall said.

"I said because Raven wouldn't check with Professor Bhatti. They don't like each other."

"I see." Professor McGonagall. "And why did you want to bully Raven in such a manner? To bind him and his friends, to fake torture, to hurt him?"

Christopher finally spoke. "It was just a laugh. He's hexed so many Slytherins we just wanted to put the fear of God in him, so he'd stop."

"Hardly sounds like a laugh," Professor McGonagall said, crushing the fake note in her hand. "You thought it funny to scare your sister half-to-death?"

"She's not my sister."

"You are an imbecile Nighy," McGonagall spat. "Your house is like your family, not your actual family. Your house is supposed to inspire friendship and comradery, not loyalty to the point of stupidity. Claudia is still your sister whether she was a Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Puckwudgie!"

Christopher did not answer. "All this for what? House points? Quidditch matches? House loyalty?" Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared. "What foolhardy nonsense. These are the actions of a Death Eater, not a Hogwarts student."

Christopher's head snapped up, his eyes locked onto McGonagall. The MacDonald brothers roared out in protest. Christopher's girlfriend gasped and held a hand to her mouth. Lucas remained still, his head still pointed at the ground.

"Professor that's uncalled for—" started Christopher.

"Is it Mr. Nighy?" Professor McGonagall said. She rose, her height equaled his. She placed two fists on the desk and leaned forward. "From my recollections the actions of binding, threatening, and harming a person for the gain of a select group of people, in this case Slytherin House, is right in the wheelhouse of the Death Eater movement."

Christopher met her gaze, but it seemed to me that he'd lost much of the defiance he'd been showing until then.

"Alright," Professor McGonagall said, sitting at her desk again, "your punishments." The Slytherin students stiffened, even Devon. "The five of you are banned from all school competitions. And the five of you lose Slytherin one-hundred points each." There was much protest from Christopher and the MacDonald brothers. "And it will be another hundred if you question my decision again."

"Ms. Ogden." I heard a sharp intake of breath from Devon. "Five points to Slytherin for alerting the staff. Mr. Lucas you are on probation, as are you both MacDonalds, and Ms. Caird." Christopher's red-haired girlfriend nodded. "In addition, your prefect badge is revoked Ms. Caird." Caird now began to cry but nodded all the same. "As for you Mr. Nighy. You are suspended for orchestrating tonight's events. You will need to redo your entire sixth year should you choose to return to the school next year. Pack your things. Professor Slughorn will show you to the train in the morning. Slytherins you are dismissed."

"Come with me." I started. Professor Slughorn stood behind us. Professor Silsbury stood with him. How long they'd been there I couldn't say.

"One more thing," Professor McGonagall said. All students stopped moving. "There will be further consequences if a single individual is told about Ms. Westwater's lycanthropy. She is here to learn, not to be hassled. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," said everyone in unison.

"Gryffindors with me please," Professor Silsbury said. The difference between Slughorn's bark and Slisbury almost whisper of plea was drastic. I found the strong desire to write my Mum overcame me.

"Hold on Rowan. I want a word with them." I sat back down in my chair. McGonagall peered at me. "What did you learn from this you three?"

"Not to be in bed after hours," I responded.

McGonagall saw right through such a glib answer and said, "Five points for sheer idiocy, Raven."

I glowered at her. Hadn't I been through enough? "Professor—"

Alice talked over me. "We should check with a Professor if we get notes about activities."

"Good Ms. Husher," McGonagall said. "And keep in mind that talent, as you each have, usually spawns jealousy. Now the three of you to the hospital wing. Those rope burns need treatment, as does your nose Raven."

Alice, Courtney and I rose as one. We followed Professor Silsbury down the spiral stairs and out to the third floor, working our way to the Hospital Wing. No one spoke, except for Professor Silsbury who stunned Peeves when he burst through a wall, a cauldron full of water raised above his head. I couldn't be sure, as she walked feet in front of us, but I thought I could hear Courtney crying softly as we walked.

A Howl of a Howler

It took a tad bit more than a week after the events of the fake note before the news spread that Shelby Westwater equated to the most terrifying monster in the whole school. I thought Christopher and his posse would have told half the school by next morning, which is why I awoke early, after a handful of hours of sleep, dressed silently, and descended the staircases to wait in the Great Hall.

Edric arrived before Shelby. He walked straight towards me, hugged me and refused to hear an apology. He understood. Shelby arrived not long after and acted much the same206, but she didn't look all that calm. I observed her all through breakfast, sitting by herself, her eyes darting over to the Slytherin table. Her lips seemed extra red due to how pale her skin became. Yet no one treated her any different throughout the day. Or the next, or through the weekend.

On Sunday she again wore the ludicrous and wonderful Lion Hat that appeared the minute she sat beside me for the second and final Ravenclaw-Gryffindor Quidditch Match. This match was probably the worst for both Courtney and Alice. Alice scored her first, third, and eighth attempt on target, but fumbled the quaffle more times than she caught it and would often slow down unnecessarily allowing Ravenclaw players to tackle her. Courtney too slowed down in the same manner, and, at times, sat still in the sky looking thoroughly distracted. Both got a shouting from Amelia after the match. Alice sulked in the Common Room, and Courtney stuffed herself in her room for the rest of the day.

I was sure when the new week started that Shelby would report harassment or avoidances or anything unusual. She did not. It seemed—I would guess due to humiliation—that the Slytherins had kept their mouths shut about Shelby. The same was not true about their "prank" on me. Perhaps warry of boasting of their triumph over me, lest McGonagall hear, it took until the day before the quidditch match before the whole school knew I'd been disarmed, bound, and beaten. Slytherin house became divided on whether losing four-hundred and ninety-five points was worth mortifying a first year. Just as many Slytherins came to me to apologize and say I didn't deserve what happened as did Slytherins who guffawed at the hundred-and-seventh retelling of how Christopher broke my nose.

After Christopher had been escorted off the grounds, I had a few of his close friends and would-be admirers come face-to-face with me, telling me how awful I was and that I should watch my back.207 On the flip-side Courtney's older sister, Claudia, nearly cried telling me how sorry she was, and how much she hated Chris for doing what he did. I spent quite a long time consoling her in the hallway before running off to Transfiguration twenty-minutes late.208

On Thursday morning however, many eyes followed a scarlet envelope that plopped down in front of Courtney. Shocked beyond belief, she stood up from her seat and made a strange movement between picking up the letter and attempting to run for it. She did neither. I taped the envelope with my wand in an attempt to seal it shut and give her time to find a private place. I learned in that instant that one cannot seal a howler. It results in an explosion so powerful that the people in its immediate radius get blasted off their bench. As the entire hall had quieted at the sight of the howler, Courtney's mother's shouts echoed off the stone walls uninhibited by exterior noise.

"The absolute one thing I asked you to do Courtney, was to keep your brother in check. He doesn't listen to me, or your father, or your sister. He listens to you. I thought you'd be able to make him see past this whole Gryffindor-Slytherin debacle, but apparently your powers of persuasion are fallible. And now Christopher's entire future is at stake. How embarrassing is it to have an 18-year-old at Hogwarts? It's unheard of! I mean sure, if you go off and fight You-Know-Who it's admirable. But to be suspended? Oh, Courtney, how could you let this happen? Your brother's been a mess all weekend. He just stays up in his room, listening to music, shouting for food. This is on you Courtney. I should be at peace in my own home, but no, you couldn't keep up your end of the bargain and now I have to be a pleasant supportive mummy while trying to manage eighty-seven different accounts. It's a nightmare.209

"And you—"

The Howler rose up from the Gryffindor table and shot up to the Head Table where it stopped in front of the Headmistress. McGonagall put her spoon back in her bowl and placed both hands on her laps.

"My son shouldn't have to resort to sneaking around and squeezing information out of students. You should have been honest and forthright with all us parents, shouldn't you? I mean, having a werewolf as a student, isn't that something you'd think all the parents would want to know? I've got nothing against them, but it's possible she could have bit my children, isn't it? And students were going to figure it out anyways, wouldn't they? Sick every full moon. People would notice, obviously, that's why my son tried to track down the information. How stupid of you to punish him for that. He was doing his fellow students a service trying to get to the truth.210 I've talked to several other parents and we think it's wicked211 of you to keep this hidden Minerva. Dumbledore certainly would have never thrust a werewolf on an unsuspecting student population.212"

The howler then turned around said. "Hogwarts students, you have a right to know, Ms. Shelby West—"

The howler never finished. Standing up from the table I'd pulled my wand and hit the letter with a bomb jinx so powerful it smashed the protective enchantment all howlers hold and destroyed the letter. Smoke, fire, and paper shot out at all directions.

I was, of course, too late. Shelby West could only be one person.213 The jig was up.

Muttering filled the Great Hall. Heavy footstep could be heard leaving. I caught a glance of Courtney sprinting out of the hall, turning left towards the entrance, heading for the grounds. I stepped over the bench, and saw Claudia rise from the Hufflepuff table and run after her sister. Alice held my elbow and said, "Let her talk to her. This is her family."

I spent as much time throughout the day acting as Shelby's personal body guard. I sat next to her all throughout Charms. I stood next to her in the hallways, brought her to the Gryffindor table for lunch—ignoring Zephyr's grunt of a protest. She didn't speak at all. She refused to eat. She refused to go to the Hospital Wing after vomiting in the middle of the hallway. She also refused to look up at anyone. She buried her face even further into her chest when Flitwick tried to talk to her.

No one would talk to her other than myself, her brother, Alice, and Arthur.214 People clearly avoided her, walking around her, turning the other direction, ignoring her existence. I would have thought there more people who would've supported her. There was plenty of research to support that werewolves aren't dangerous, especially given the wolfsbane potion.215

Alice and I brought Shelby to Gryffindor Tower after before dinner was over. Only one seventh year girl was there, studying for her NEWTs and completely unaware what was going on. This did not stop Alice from adorning Shelby with a Gryffindor scarf to hide the blue lining of her robes. We sat in the furthest corner of the room and put Shelby in chair facing Alice, I, and the window.

It was three hours after that when we finally saw Courtney. The three of us had finished our homework, and Shelby still refused to talk, instead she looked out a window at a heavy snowstorm. Professor Silsbury entered through the portrait hole dragging Courtney behind her. Courtney looked a mess. Her face was red and puffy. Her clothes were spattered with mud and melting snow. Her hands and nose looked blue from the cold. Her ears were nearly purple. Her hair had leaves and a twig in it.

"Stop being so silly, and get in here," Professor Silsbury said. She looked very different from Courtney. Her Suit-robes were impeccable, a shiny gold, with intricate red patterns tracing through. Her hair was straight and luminous. Her nails were done with a gold glitter polish. "You're lucky Professor Hagrid found you and your sister, or you would've slept the night out there."

The Common Room had fallen silent upon their arrival.

"There's nothing to interest you here," Professor Silsbury said to the room at large. "I'm sure you all have plenty of studying. Now where is—ah."

Professor Silsbury caught my lingering gaze and pushed Courtney over to our little table. "Good Ms. Westwater is here to. Flitwick said you'd gone House-swapping. Alright let's have a chat. Ms. Westwater, your attention please. Ms. Nighy has something she'd like to say."

Shelby looked over for the first time in hours. Courtney looked at Professor Silsbury. "I do?" she asked.

"You do," Silsbury said.

Courtney looked back at Shelby, her mouth agape. She blinked several times. Shelby did not blink at all. "Sorry," Courtney spluttered.

"It's okay," Shelby said quickly. "You didn't say all those things."

"But my mom did. And she's the reason everyone knows."

Shelby looked locked in a perpetual nod. "I know that. But you don't feel the way your mom does. Do you?"

I laughed, and Alice smacked my head. It went unnoticed by everyone.

"Of course not. I've known you were a, you know, for ages and were still mates right?"

"Course."

"I just hate my mom."

"I sort of hate her too." A sheepish grin appeared on Shelby's lips. "Is that alright?"

"By all means!" Courtney said.

"Good," Professor Silsbury said. I think she missed the last part of the conversation. "That's settled. Shelby, the Headmistress wishes me to relay to you that you should be extra careful in opening mail over the next several weeks. I'd recommend wearing your dragon-hide gloves should you receive any. She, and I, and all the staff, demand that you wish you to remain at Hogwarts, that you report any hazing by fellow students, and hope you hold your head high." Professor Silsbury gave Shelby a warm smile. "You are not what disease makes you." Shelby fell back into her perpetual nod. "Now I'm supposed—"

"Professor, can she stay the night here?" Alice asked interrupting. "We've got so much space in our dormitory; Courtney and I do. Is that allowed?"

Professor Silsbury stopped adjusting her sleeve. "We do at times, under unique circumstances, allow members of one house to bunk in another. I believe this qualifies. But I need to converse with the Gryffindor prefects first. Do you wish to stay here Ms. Westwater?" Shelby said yes immediately. Silsbury looked around the common room. "Abdule and Hart are both absent, probably in the library. Gunners is in the Hospital Wing, and…" she trailed off. "Well LeStrange is probably better to ask anyway." She summoned him over.216

"Ms. Westwater wishes to stay the night. Do you believe you can handle that?"

"Absolutely, Professor. You're welcome anytime," Cygnus said, winking at Shelby. He scratched his beard. "Anything we need to do in preparation?"

"No. The dormitory will have already supplied the necessary furniture, along with her trunk." Silsbury put a hand on Shelby's shoulder. "Please talk to Cygnus, or Ms. Abdule if you need anything, or contact me or Professor Flitwick." With that she headed out.

Cygnus cleared his throat as soon as she was gone and raised his voice so that everyone could hear him. "Right. Shelby Westwater, our resident wolf, is going to be spending the night here instead of Ravenclaw tower. If you don't like that, shove it. She is to be welcomed by all Gryffindors, who would do well to remember that Godric Gryffindor never killed a werewolf in his entire life and befriended many. If I hear anyone has mistreated her, I will personally hex you, and I doubt anyone wants to walk around with two giant bogies hanging from their cheeks." Some laughter met these words. "I want a big Gryffindor welcome for Shelby, she's had a long day. On three, welcome Shelby we're happy to have you. One, two, three."

Almost the entire room rang out with, "Welcome Shelby, we're happy to have you."

Shelby burst into tears.

Flight

If I am honest, I've avoided writing about one aspect of my first year at Hogwarts: Flying Lessons. As one might recall, I built my own wand out of niffler hair as a six-year-old and enchanted my mother's broom to fly. What I did not mention was that I flew my broom out into the street and up into the air as high as I could go.217

The issue with a six-year-old enchanting a broom is that a six-year-old, no matter how talented, probably cannot produce a broom that can pass all the Ministry's stringent protective laws. My broom died mid climb and I fell the equivalent of about fifteen stories. I didn't scream, I muttered all the different spells I'd memorized and watched as my wand failed me. I did slow my momentum a bit, but only for a second or two.

When I hit the pavement, in a poorly lit street, it felt like falling into an extra spongey cake. My mother's broom fell not far from me and splintered into a hundred pieces. It took me until morning to find my house.218

From that incident up until the start of term in my first year, I hadn't touched a broom. When first years began taking Flying Lessons from Madam Hooch, I was the exemplary student as normal. I knew all the parts of the broom, the correct grip, even advanced analytical data on different models. I did, however, refuse to mount a broom and fly. I must have cost Gryffindor a hundred and twenty points over the whole year due to my poor attitude. It is also my shame to admit that I failed my flying lessons. I was required by Madam Hooch to retake the class in my second year.

I mention all this, not because I want to fill out my character more, but because this information is vitally important to the events that unfolded in mid-May.

A month plus after Mrs. Nighy sent the howler outing Shelby as a werewolf, on a dreary Saturday morning, I clasped Alice's broom handle tight floating some twenty feet above the ground. Cygnus sat on his broom next to me, dressed in his quidditch robes, stretching with both arms, relaxed, shouting something over to his new girlfriend.219

On the other side of Cygnus sat Oakley Woodhouse, wearing gold and black quidditch robes with large letters spelling "Puff Puff Represent!" on the back. He sat hunched over his handle waiting for the start of the whistle.

Mere moments away from the start of All-House Championship trial, I could feel the solitary egg I'd eaten slowly digest in a stomach that seemed diametrically opposed to working in any way. I blew a lot of air from my lungs outward and looked to the stands. As Oakley and Cygnus were both favorites to win the whole Championship, they'd drawn a large crowd.

At this point in the tournament, all seven students—one from each year—had been finalized. Cygnus and I were the only Gryffindors left. Oakley and two Hufflpuffs, including Claudia Nighy, had been selected. Ravenclaw sported two girls as well. Slytherin had no representatives.

Since I'd been the catalyst in Christopher's removal from the school, as well as the loss of nearly five-hundred points lost overnight, I'd become something of Public Enemy Number One to Slytherin House. Though, somewhat to my surprise, nothing had come of this newly found status. Edric still hung with me. Slughorn still invited me to all the Slug Club events.220 No Slytherins tried to hex me in the halls.

I'd chalk this up to several possibilities. One, Slughorn had addressed Slytherin House telling them the next student to try harm me, even with the smallest prank, would be sent packing. Two, McGonagall's' wrath was so feared that the idea of getting caught trying to hurt me or Alice or Courtney further would lead to sever punishment. Three, the Slytherins needed more time to plan out the most heinous way of getting me back.

Another surprise: Not much changed with Shelby's life. She received a string of hate mail for a fortnight, got jinxed a couple times, and was barred from Ravenclaw tower three times in the first week.

Consequently, the hate mail was burned, each student who jinxed her got a months' worth of detention,221 and Flitwick had a long chat with all of Ravenclaw House that first weekend. The only lasting consequence of Shelby's outing was that she received the occasional insult shouted at her by nameless students in the halls. She said she didn't mind though. She much preferred the insults to the secrets.

I'm distracting myself with these expositional paragraphs.

Back to the flying task.

Oakley, Cygnus, and I had been paired together for the final event of the round of seven. The four girls had already been paired off and already completed their tasks. Two competed in a magical talent show, which a fourth-year Ravenclaw won after a surprising pyrotechnic show, and Claudia Nighy won a boxing match between her and the third-year Ravenclaw girl, who was much smaller, but sprightly and springy. Claudia and the Ravneclaw girl had been given a month to train for the boxing match.222

This of course meant that being a boy had a wonderful bonus. With two spots open, and only three of us competing, we each had a much larger chance to advancing than the girls had. I was quite excited about the possibility of advancing to the Final Four. But that excitement had abated when Alice had burst into my dormitory and gleefully told me that I'd be flying for my task.

"Flying" doesn't really paint the picture. Oakley, Cygnus and I were required to fly through an obstacle course. The obstacle course was set high above the Quidditch Pitch. We had to fly to the top of the course, some fifty feet higher than the astronomy tower, and be one of the first two to touch back down to the center of the pitch. The obstacles included spinning hoops of fire or sharp metal, fire crabs incased in bubbles, Professor Flitwick and Sprout casting all sorts of spells at us, and three bludgers, each being manned by one beater from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw.223

The last and most important detail of this obstacle course is that we could cast any spell to aid our flight or against our opponents. It was a complete free-for-all.

When Madam Hooch blew her whistle to start, all sensation left my body. Well, not all sensation. I couldn't hear the crowd, I couldn't feel my broom. I couldn't see anything but the objects above me. I do remember smelling something horrid that I could practically taste.224

I remember turning and seeing a jet of blue light fly towards me. I remember ducking the blast and watching as both Cygnus and Oakley took off, zooming through a giant log, wands flying.

What I did next is not legal in any broom-oriented competition. It's also terrible for brooms.225 I tapped the back of my broom and muttered an incantation. I don't think anyone was ready for what happened next, myself included. The spell I used is a dragon-fire spell that, when applied to select Comet broom models, results in the fastest speed brooms have ever recorded.

There are many things I would have done differently if I could. First and foremost, I would have worn a diaper, for I wet myself within a few milliseconds of taking off. Second, I would have worn goggles, or a mask, or perhaps a full astronaut's suit. Third, I would have cast a bubble protection charm around me.

The broom took off at such a speed I nearly blacked out. I rocketed past Oakley and Cygnus, who had been locked in a fierce mid-air duel. They in turn stopped casting anything at each other, and instead focused everything on me. I didn't dare pull my hands away from my broom handle. It took all my strength to hold onto the skinny wooden shaft.

I had no way to control the broom, it zoomed and staggered and swayed and spun round and round and round. I barely managed to go straight through the log, I didn't have a chance to block a fire blast from a fire crab when I popped its bubble, and I could not avoid a floating mass of thorny thistles.

I never made it to the flaming hoop. Professor Flitwick, showing an extreme talent for aim, hit me with what's commonly called the "Sucker Punch Hex." The spell produces just enough force to hurt. At the speed I was traveling the hex knocked me clean off my broom. For a moment I still rose in the air. I watched as my broom continued to streak off towards the sky, and felt gravity take hold of my shoulders.

All my senses rushed back. I could hear the crowd gasp and scream. I didn't have much time to panic. Marie Abdule, true to her word, struck a bludger square into skull and this time I did black out.

As Alice loves to tell, the crowd let out a united "Oooph." My body shot off to the side with the force of the bludger, then I fell limp and people started screaming before the three beaters caught me. Madam Pomfrey caused much hilarity when she opened one of the Hospital Wing windows and with a magically magnified voice shouted for them to just bring me straight there.

I was flown to the Hospital Wing, healed in about half a second, and still made to stay overnight for observation.

Kindly, both Cygnus and Oakley came to visit, with each insisting it was the absolute coolest way to lose. It didn't make much difference. I was in the sourest of the sour moods for several days. And lost ten points when Professor Silsbury caught me cursing a Hufflepuff student who made fun of me losing control of my broom.

It was a story that got retold many times around the whole school for several weeks. And while I tried to curse as many people as possible for lavishing in my embarrassment, the one person who told it the most was the one person I couldn't curse: Alice.

Unfortunately, I have had to endure Alice's retelling of that story for most of my life.

End of Term

It is with some embarrassment that I write that my first year ended rather quietly. Unlike the Potter Years, Voldemort did not wait until the end of the year to spring some trap, nor did Lucas Morgan, Professor Bhatti, or any Slytherin would-be revenge seekers. I spent the entire month of May detention free, earned Gryffindor enough points that we had a comfortable lead for the House Cup,226 which we won, and received an Outstanding in all my classes.227

Alice, Courtney, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team won their final game against Slytherin, which finished winless for the first time in two-hundred and eighty-eight years. Alice played exceptionally well, scoring the most points out of all the seekers with twenty-two goals.228 Courtney caught the snitch rather easily while her opposing Seeker, William Stonewall229 searched the other end of the pitch. Unfortunately, as Gryffindor had only managed to beat Slytherin, we finished with a record of two and four, which put us into third place.

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff's match to decide the Quidditch Cup, some two weeks previous, was much more exciting, and much quicker. Ravenclaw had already lost to Hufflepuff once, and Hufflepuff hadn't lost all year, so if Ravenclaw won by more than ninety points they'd win the house cup. But Madam Hooch's whistle had hardly blown before both Seekers climbed up and up, racing after the Golden Snitch. The game lasted four-minutes and eighteen seconds. Four goals were scored, all by Ravenclaw, but Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain, Oakley Woodhouse,230 practically punched through the opposing Seeker's jaw to clasp the snitch between two fingers and win just about everything.

Speaking of Oakley, he and Gryffindor extraordinaire, Cygnus LeStrange, made it to the Finals of the All-House Championship. Cygnus had to beat Courtney's older sister Claudia at a magical231 architecture competition, judged by Professor Bhatti232 and Flitwick. I heard from Courtney later that Claudia was miffed at the selection of competition as her worst subject had always been transfiguration, while Cygnus was studying the NEWT level.

I do not write at length on the duel between Cygnus and Oakley mainly because it was not very interesting—a disappointment to me and every other student in Hogwarts. Where the duel between Oakley and Christopher the year previous had included creative wandwork, sheer cheek, and real sense of rivalry, this year's clash between Cygnus and Oakley was only a brutal show of curses, protection charms, and the disarming spell.

Oakley won, because of course Oakley won. The man is made of pure gold, with ivory teeth, chocolate hair, a jawline to cut steel, and a knob sucked on so much it remains in a state of semi-erectness in preparation for coming enjoyment.233 He won because he happened to catch Cygnus, in between a round of firing off some of the more destructive spells allowed at a Hogwarts duel, with expelliarmus. Until then Cygnus had done a great job of destroying most of Oakley's surroundings, forcing him to stay in a smaller and smaller area.234

I'm happy to report that Alice and I met the fitness goals set by Mum, though I barely crossed the finish line thanks to the weather improving at the end of term. Alice and I decided which muggle educational summer camps we were to go to—Mum forced us to pick two each for the summer. I signed up for two back to back weeks of computer programming, while Alice picked horseback riding and tennis. We also both signed up for a month-long football235 intensive.

My favorite memory of the last day with all my Hogwarts comrades was on the train back to London. I sat in a compartment near the front of the train rereading a note from Mum she sent that morning informing Alice and I that our father would not be back in time to welcome us home. I looked up as Shelby, Courtney, Alice, and Edric burst out laughing at something Cygnus and Marie did as they passed through the hallway. Zephyr even cracked a smile.236

Mochi hopped up on my lap. Meowed at me, drawing several "Awes" from Shelby and Courtney. She fell asleep purring while Newt cooed softly in his covered-cage.

I smiled at their small noises and tucked the note away. I found I could not stop looking round at everyone in the group as they went back to eating sweets, playing games, and conversing with one another. I would really miss Hogwarts. I would miss the mountains. But most of all I'd miss my friends.237

1 Not the most ideal situation for a thousand students from ages eleven to seventeen to be crammed in with zero supervision.

2 Apparently.

3 He's sort of the Wizarding Elvis.

4 Stick with me. We'll get to that eventually.

5 I still don't know how she ended up being allowed to name it. I rescued the damn thing.

6 The most famous Slytherin is Merlin, if you didn't know.

7 Well, not my wand. But my interim wand.

8 She'd been adamant that we were not allowed in that shop, or to buy anything ever from them.

9 Bleh, children.

10 I mean, of course they had. The ministry wasn't going to leave up a wizard sitting upon a throne crushing muggles.

11 Of course, she meant the Elizabethan, the tower, and not the bell, Big Ben. Because she's an idiot.

12 A strange feeling due to the fact that I'd only seen the train in person once before. And stranger still when you consider I only saw the train from the inside.

13 That is the actual name of my father's twenty-two-page article scientifically proving how werewolves do not suffer from permanent morality loss.

14 Werewolves were fine beings, but still, if you could avoid being one, it'd be best.

15 I made up the last part, but placebo effects area real thing, so there's that.

16 This is rare for pure-bred children. They only know round fifteen stories from the wizarding world, and half of them are basically the same story.

17 She kind of appreciated the offer then.

18 It did no real damage.

19 Excellent taste from Ms. Westwater.

20 The Gryffindors groaned at this selection.

21 This is one of those facts that, when it happens, you're mortified about. But the more I think about it the cooler it is. Hogwarts has been around for more than a millennia, but only a handful of people ever stood next to their sibling when they got sorted.

22 Considering people were much smaller then, I was flabbergasted to learn he stood at six foot five inches.

23 Of course, she meant the boy on the train, laughing at when I gave Shelby water.

24 The birthday girl from the train.

25 I must admit Flitwick's politeness during the sorting ceremony immediately made me regret becoming a Gryffindor and losing out on having him as my head of house.

26 What a peculiar name, Westwater.

27 I soon found that indeed all the house tables did have poor manners. Much to my dismay I also found that most people everywhere have such poor manners.

28 There was no apology from Cygnus to Courtney for having referred to her brother as a scumbag earlier.

29 Again showing tactlessness.

30 I do not believe the headmistress liked that question, and looking back, I must admit it was rather ungrateful of me.

31 We climbed seven stories worth of stairs.

32 As I soon learned.

33 As opposed to nasty comments. Such as the one Courtney's brother Christopher uttered as he went by. "They look like anuses on his face." Classy. What a classy dude. I don't think Courtney heard him.

34 This I feel was an appropriate comment.

35 I found this slightly brilliant.

36 I told George Weasley about this statement years later. "That old bat," was his response.

37 Mind you, the reason I wasn't flabbergasted by McGonagall's apparating on school grounds is that I already assumed the Headmistress would be the only person in the world who could do so.

38 Turns out this was an incorrect thought. Orbs that hold prophecies can tell the future if the prophecies do come true, but it's sort of a post-mortem future, no one knows the future has been told until it happens, so I stand by this assessment.

39 I feel like it will take an extraordinary amount of charisma and persuasion to convince the future Headmasters and Headmistresses to sack Bins and replace him with a new teacher. First of all, Bins needs no compensation. He works for free. What does a ghost need with money or food, or even lodgings? Secondly, no one else has as much experience as Professor Bins. Rumor has it he's been teaching since 1890. There's probably no better circumstance from an administrative point of view, but I hoped McGonagall understood that Bins is not the best educator.

40 Which I suppose is a nice thing, and may be helpful for some students.

41 I returned a persuasive essay to her some three weeks later. My basic premise was that students should be allowed to formulate their own habits without constant oversight, as constant oversight fosters inorganic and unsustainable habits that would fall apart the minute they left Study Hall. I received the Outstanding, the twenty-five points, and was still required to partake in Study Hall.

42 A rather cliché decision.

43 That's all I'll write about that.

44 Eighteen times in my student career I walked in on students having sex in that classroom, the room having been turned into different romantic or sensual settings. Teachers must have also run into this because in my seventh year the room was locked with a powerful spell.

I also may have used that room for that purpose a handful of times. I just was never caught.

45 I researched the black flame, found it's counter measure, Evanesco, the vanishing spell, and extinguished it next lesson. The prize? A five-pack of chocolate frog that I shared with my fellow classmates. The cards produced: Three Harry Potter cards, one Merlin and one Rowena Ravenclaw. I didn't have a Ravenclaw yet, so I swapped with Courtney who kept the Potter card.

46 She had, but we were five at the time, so I don't blame her for not remembering. Unknown to my parents, I had transfigured a stapler into some sort of sentient being and it started stapling everything in sight: papers, pillows, children's ears, lightblubs, etc. My father uttered the choice phrase, which I assume he must have heard from Filtch during his Hogwarts days.

47 A fact I learned about later that year when Lucas Morgan tried to undermine Hagrid's intelligence by bringing up his heritage. Luckily Professor Flitwick heard and took Morgan to task, reminding Morgan that he had goblin blood in him and yet became dueling champion, a Hogwarts Professor and managed to survive two wizarding wars. Morgan lost Slytherin ten points.

48 I stood about four foot ten.

49 I've been told that Hagrid's cooking has improved over the years. But I think that's codswallop. I found a pig's snout in a stew he made once.

50 I later learned that Charlie Weasley had transfigured an adolescent dragon so that it's skin was transparent. They witnessed a sort of rough incendio coincide with the acid. Charlie Weasley got in all sorts of trouble for this after Rita Skeeter wrote a column about animal abuse by magizoologists.

51 God I hate Binns.

52 This includes the precious moment when he instructed us to take out our textbooks and I attempted to blow some hair out of my eyes. He interpreted this as an action of insubordination. I lost Gryffindor five points.

53 This had become an evening tradition. Arthur and Zephyr were greatly amused by my wandwork and Arthur was a willing volunteer for me to try all manner of spells on. Zephyr remained quiet, smiled, laughed, and took notes.

54 This may sound boring, but I most enjoy my sister's company when she is taking out her frustration on someone other than me. And, as a giant Quidditch head, I became quite invested in the team when I witnessed Courtney dodge two bludgers, leap off her broom, and catch the snitch.

55 Which naturally as a first year, I did not attend.

56 Found out later he was named Darrell MacDonald, twin of David MacDonald the other beater.

57 There were five of us, Courtney, me, Shelby, Arthur and Alice. I think Alice was a bit miffed that the Beater had gone for Courtney and not her. I reminded her later that the Seeker is a way more important position, and it wasn't anything personal. She took my consolatory comment very personally.

58 They managed to find all but one tea cup pig and transfigured them back into tea cups. Shelby nicked the last pig kept it as a pet. She named it Boink.

59 Quick side note: our mother required we do all sorts of exercise. Alice and I both chose football, which helped with cardio requirements she gave us.

60 I refuse to call it Wizard Chess. It's just Chess. It's the same bloody game.

61 I never actually read that card. I assume my mother said something along the lines of, "I know you're nervous…you'll be grand…here's a treat."

62 I neglected to ignore the warded off 'For Staff' stairwell.

63 Looking back, I imagine Hagrid probably noticed, but was an excellent teacher and realized he didn't need to fix everything he saw.

64 At the moment I did not realize that with Shelby, time of the month had a double meaning, and interestingly, female werewolves menstrual cycle sync with their werewolf transformation. That had been known for ages, but my father made the discovery a year before I was born that werewolf menstrual cycles act as a dominant cycle. If women live with a werewolf for long enough, their cycle will sync up with the werewolf. Strangely enough, this has become one way to try and cure pregnancy issues for women with irregular cycles. For those of an open mind and a daring heart, it's a method that has produced some positive results. Bizarre though.

65 I was trying to be nice, but I think I ended up sounding stern.

66 I found out later a student by the name of Luna Lovegood created this hat during the Potter years, specifically the Potter year of Umbridge. She enchanted it so that any Ravenclaw who publicly supported Gryffindor and sat with the them could use it. Ingenious.

67 Allen being the replacement of bones-vanished-Darrell

68 Before she scored, every time she held the quaffle the Slytherins broke out into a traditional anti-Gryffindor song cause "Blank" is our King. They chose Alice for this game. It certainly affected her play for the most part. I mean I don't blame her. Hearing "Alice was born in a bin, she cannot catch a single thing," when you first touch the quaffle cannot be good for nerves.

69 Still doesn't like me much.

70 Hagrid complained about this with every subsequent foul on Gryffindor.

71 Hart blocked forty of Slytherin's forty-four shots on target.

72 Not an uncommon tactic for Gryffindor either, but seldom used by Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw teams

73 In the middle of this game I conjured a notebook and started writing down all my observations about the quidditch teams, the game, what I heard, etc.

74 Many assumed that I'd hit Stonewall with a knockback jinx, but they later found out that I hit Stonewall with a bee sting hex. You see, Stonewall is allergic to bees, which I did not know, and the hex produces a sort of magical reaction. It wasn't deadly though, Madam Pomfrey fixed him in about thirty seconds.

75 And perhaps a little warry of being cursed again while flying.

76 This uhhh was the first and last time I sounded an uhh on a live mic. In that very moment I heard how incredibly stupid I sounded and resolved never to do so again.

77 Cygnus got detention, and a broken heart. His girlfriend didn't enjoy the competitive spirit. Alice was quite happy to console Cygnus for an evening. Though I think Marie Abdule and Amelia Horford both did a better job of actually making Cygnus happy that evening.

78 Shelby said she immediately felt a difference. I was doubtful and honestly, did not feel much of anything for a couple weeks. But it's true. Proper footwork equates to better spells. Teach your children this.

79 This is where I stopped thinking Professor Bhatti didn't like me and started believing it. Arthur Gully was a fidgety stump of a child, and he never got told off.

80 I don't blame her. I don't think even I've been everywhere in the castle since I first set foot in it.

81 I wouldn't find them for another two years.

82 That evening I restarted my attempt in making a map of Hogwarts.

83 The Giedroyc circus is one of the best magical forms of theater out there. Just splendid. These two sisters were of the same ilk.

84 This of course was the early stages of what became the famed TV show, The Great British Bake Off, with the Giedroyc sisters taking on the pseudonyms of Mel and Sue. It was a great TV show when they were on it.

85 I found out years later that this was Primrose's idea to test their show idea out on some students. I think McGonagall got a cut of their proceeds because of this. I'm not sure how I feel about that, ethically speaking.

86 This drew the attention of all four adults who, to my knowledge had never seen a first year vanish anything.

87 This poor house-elf was never given a name by his original owner. He learned appear at his master's side whenever "Merlin's Beard" was uttered. When Headmaster Dippet asked him for a name, he just said "Merlsberd," and has since been called that.

88 Which I did. I had tons of false hope.

89 In case you are confused. The elimination game usually lasts the entire first term. Things get exponentially slower from the first day on. The record for shortest elimination game happened two years previous to when Alice and I arrived. It lasted sixteen days total. The seventh-year class was decimated by a boy named Roarkin Woodhouse who won the elimination round, and the entire tournament.

90 At the time, this insult infuriated me to no end. But looking back on it, it's a little overworked and complicated. What is he really saying?

91 I had planned to cause Christopher's nose to grow so big he wouldn't be able to lift his head up.

92 I certainly had entertained that notion.

93 I waited until the next time Christopher had Split Pea Soup, sometime that January. I failed on the first attempt. Lucas Morgan saw what I was doing as he entered the Great Hall and hit me with a tripping hex. I didn't retaliate as Professor Vector saw what happened and gave Lucas a weeks' worth of detention. Ten minutes later Christopher's face was covered in soup and he was docked ten points for screaming his head off in the Great Hall.

94 I also knew all of year 2 charms, and most of year 3, but I decided showing off in front of the girls would be rather insensitive and big-headed.

95 I must add, lest I give a false impression: my form was still better than anyone but Courtney's.

96 This proved a gift, as Professor McGonagall told me a couple years later that turning any person's limbs, head, or torso, etc. to a different material, leads often to some sort of blood pressure related issue, and can lead to death if not dealt with by a professional.

97 Professor Bhatti's first name.

98 The next breakfast owls kept arriving with howlers. Their parents, aunts, uncles, older sister, grandparents and a longtime family friend had coordinated times for their howlers to arrive so that they didn't go off all at once. We heard every word.

99 That's Shelby's older brother in case you've forgotten.

100 Perhaps we ought to have gone and supported him.

101 One of my proudest accomplishments was building several of my own wands with those hairs, though that's a story for later.

102 A Wizard in the fourteenth century named Agarbag Bladrag found that the resting heart rate of a stunned victim to be around thirty to forty beats per minute. He calculated that wizards and witches could elongate their lives by stunning themselves to sleep nightly and invented a device that would magically awaken any stun victim, granted they set it the night before. This lead to several wizards dying of prolonged stuns—fifteen weeks for Laurence Vestibule, who set the record. Bladrag died of food poisoning when eating a Ukranian Ironbelly liver at the feast recognizing his discovery, so he didn't have to pay for his sins.

103 This is remarkably and irrevocably true. Alice and I got so much enjoyment out of Halloween and our birthday coinciding.

104 Alice and I deliberated about our costumes with an insane amount of intensity. We had started planning the day after the previous Halloween. We used to plan years in advanced. But found, when we were eight, we realized we'd planned up to age 102. We stopped planning years in advance. Previous costumes include: baby nifflers, Magpie (quidditch team) players, actual magpies, 15th century scots, Peruvian Vipertooths,

105 As much as you can.

106 Excellent. Excellent costume choice.

107 Other than getting presents, this was probably the highlight of the day. At lunch, when McGonagall first witnessed the tiny Voldemort, she burst out in shrieking laughter that brought nearly the entire staff table to tears with their own laughter.

108 We gave Edric a much, much longer beard than Gryffindor actually had in the portrait.

109 Cormac McLaggen launched a sort of sexy undergarments clothing line. There's an incredible market for sex related material in the wizarding world. Self-vibrating you-know-whats, lubricated unmentionables, and the ever-popular enchanted protective wear for floo-powder involved coitus. However, McLaggen made the incredibly stupid mistake of creating his lingerie line for men only. He modeled for his own ads, wrote his own advertisements, and tried to market his material as a must for men who were "really serious" about wooing witches. He grossly overestimated the interest by British wizards in dressing up for their wives. Within six months of the first ads in the Daily Prophet he filed for bankruptcy. He bought a whole page in the Prophet and wrote an essay detailing the lack or proper romance in the wizarding world, calling British wizards "lazy, entitled, and sexually stunted." He took out a loan from Gringots to pay his debt, fell behind on his payments, fled the country and was arrested in Sicily by Gringotts employees. The same day his arrest was announced the Prophet published lewd and embarrassing photos of McLaggen that an ex-girlfriend had taken. He spent twenty-two months in Azkaban. He runs a small lingerie shop for wizards in Paris now that apparently is quite popular.

110 At this point Ivers was even smaller than Arthur.

111 I found at some point during my first few weeks at Hogwarts that Morgan's parents ran an artifact shop on the corner of Knockturn and Diagon Alley. Before you flip out about potential dark activity from Morgan's parents, I should explain that they run a shop that all sorts of wizards and witches buy from. Ministry workers to sleezy criminals peruse there. Their wares run from the wonderful instrument to the uncomfortably stalkerish tool. They just happen to be on Knockturn Alley.

112 Much too young to find her attractive, sexy, or seductive; I did understand she had a certain beauty and appreciated it in the form of an instantaneous crush.

113 I am certain to this very moment he brought out Felix Felicis to get my hopes up.

114 This was the first instance of subconscious magic I produced. And I didn't understand what this meant for me or my powers.

115 Slughorn mentioned to me years later that he'd only witnessed Tom Riddle Jr, aka Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore, pre-Azkaban Sirius Black, a witch named Merry Albright, and Severus Snape perform this sort of magic before.

116 Nearly as in everything was done precisely except, she left it to simmer too long and it turned bitter and therefore useless.

117 I felt a bit inspired by the wink Slughorn had given me thirty minutes before. I'm not sure it actually looked like a wink, but more of a twitch, or perhaps more like murder-by-eyelash, but Devon got the point. I find it safe to stay that I now have the best wink since Gildaroy Lockhart.

118 Oh if only I could spell out FORSHADOWING for you. Oh look, I just did.

119 To this day I maintain the assertion that the chocolate cheering potion is the only way to have chocolate.

120 I also may have brought Alice because it was her birthday too, and she sulked every time I mentioned that I was going to this party.

121 They did not win, and some people thought their costumes were in bad taste.

122 One of my all-time favorite best worst names.

123 It's a Japanese animated movie about a wizard and such. Its excellent go watch it.

124 I'd given myself a cap at two.

125 In fact, I found out he did indeed crash the party.

126 I wasn't a huge fan of the multiple slug desserts.

127 He never did send me any stuff.

128 I'm sure my mother would not have approved of the music.

129 What a tactless thing to say.

130 For those who are curious. Bee and Wasp stingers are similar, if you are discussing northern hemisphere bees and wasps. Once you get south of the equator it gets a bit mucky. In my opinion it is most unfortunate if you have to take a bee stinger, since the bee dies. The wasp dies too, but wasps aren't really that useful, and since bees pollinate, and in general, lest you've recently been stung by one, are much cuter, I prefer to use wasp stingers. Unfortunately, Wasp stingers are much less substantial unless you've enchanted them, or freshly produced them.

131 I never got that quill back.

132 Alice actually did quite well. She scored nine times, more than either of the two chasers combined, and performed a highlight goal when she dived headfirst through the goal with the quaffle in order to avoid the Ravenclaw keeper and a bludger. Courtney did catch the snitch. She tried not to, but the Ravenclaw seeker was bearing down on it and in her attempt to block the snitch, she caught it in her robes ending the game 240 to 230. Gryffindors did not blame her, however, we would have lost the game anyway.

133 Zephyr beat me in a chess match, which set me in an awful mood for about a week. Courtney produced the best jelly-leg hex in a pop-up competition Professor Silsbury set us in a courtyard. I rather smashed all those present in a footrace, and in a charms competition Professor Flitwick set us during the class before term ended.

134 I was bitterly disappointed for Shelby, who got bottom in a Defense Against the Dark Arts impromptu challenge and failed to solve a fake mystery where Ravenclaw students needed to identify which creature had killed villagers in Hogsmeade. The creature was a basilisk. Shelby guessed a werewolf.

135 It is to this day, my favorite card game.

136 Let me interject here to say it is incredibly inconvenient to live in Scotland a few hours drive away from the Mountains of Hogwarts and still have to drive to, and back from London, just to go to school. Admittedly, I would never want to miss a trip on the Hogwarts Express.

137 I will add here that I found it rather humorous when the train's baggage handlers in Edinburg had to take out two caged owls and a cat in a crate. I doubt if they've ever seen owls before.

138 Both my parents were only children, and all four grand parents had passed on long ago.

139 I asked Madam Pince if I could take library books home. I was shouted at. I took a couple home anyway.

140 Honestly I was most upset by the disappearance of the coco.

141 Ninety-one people in total

142 I will say here that while I had no frame of reference, I felt as if each spell conjured with this wand had to be pushed through the end. They didn't flow out.

143 Alice was completely aware that Mum would start without her. Breakfast was at Seven. Plain and simple.

144 I smuggled it back to Hogwarts in my duffel bag. I got a howler from Mum. Turns out you cannot cast Silencio on a Howler. It only magnifies the yelling.

145 As an aside, I can't help but feel that everyone goes through a phase like the one Dumbledore did regarding his infatuation with Wizards ruling Muggles. Not to say that everyone becomes part of some ethnic cleansing movement, but that at some point people adopt bad ideas—ideas that don't reflect their true selves—due to a new and enthralling person in their life. I like to re-read Dumbledore's and Grindelwald's intertwining because I feel the need to avoid such a stupid mistake in life. It was this Christmas that I vowed not to be swindled by someone else's ideas just because I admire them.

146 This was my first experience watching a rated R movie. It's one of the better R rated movies out there.

147 She didn't like the idea of skeletons and Christmas mixing.

148 It wasn't as if the Ministry would catch me, not while the house belonged to a Wizard. Since the Ministry had no way of knowing if father was home or not I could do as much as I'd like. I was more worried about Mum finding out. She'd be livid.

149 Probably my least favorite feature about the house.

150 Mum hadn't chastised us too much, but she had noticed both Alice and I looked a bit thicker than we should have come the end of term. We could enjoy ourselves during the holiday season but after New Year she punished us through vigorous runs in the blistering cold of Crail. Also, she gave us a schedule of exercises to be done until the end of term. She planned out what days we were to do what exercises, she'd planned around Alice's quidditch training and games. Later I realized Professor Silsbury's magical schedule updated to include all these plans.

151 I thought this rather normal of him. I'd begun to worry there was something wrong with him after all the times he sat with us at the Gryffindor table.

152 Which took 45 minutes the first time. Putting on contacts is hard. I would eventually get pretty good at this.

153 Big surprise.

154 I was severely disappointed, as I'd missed that due to being cursed in the face.

155 He'd already pulled this prank twice. It made me wonder how many times he'd circle through the same material.

156 The second coming, and Hufflepuff poster boy (that makes it sound like I don't like him. I like him quite a lot).

157 I think this night's dinner was slightly controversial due to French food being served in the form of baguettes. Wizards got a lot going for them, but muggles, at least, aren't nearly as prejudiced.

158 I searched through all seven journals I wrote during my time in Hogwarts. "Puberty" was the only name I ever called this boy. I've asked several fellow students of the time and all anyone can remember was people called him Puberty. No one remembers why people called him this. It seems he came to school pre-packaged as "Puberty." I even tracked down an ex-girlfriend of his, and she said she can't remember. She only ever called him Puberty. "I think his first name might have been Cornelius or Cornwallis. But yeah, I only called him Puberty." Consequentially, no one knows where Puberty is or what he is doing with his life.

159 I have to say here that, though I love McGonagall and Flitwick, they were incredibly thick about their handling of Shelby's werewolf status. People were always going to figure it out.

160 I believe those two words amounted to the most I'd ever heard Zephyr speak in a single conversation up to that point.

161 To give you an excellent idea who Dexter Fredericks is: In our sixth year he would captain the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. He had an all-Hufflepuff rock band magically magnify their instruments and play Woman by Wolfmother as Hufflepuff took the pitch for each game. It was a total break of quidditch tradition, and yet the whole school loved him so much no one cared.

162 For the muggles out there, or the Wizard idiots who don't know their history. Niniane, also known as Vivien or Nimue, was a witch who studied under Merlin, hated Merlin, seduced Merlin, and either trapped him in a tree or in a rock, or just murdered him in an avalanche. That or she was a student who Merlin courted, a gross abuse of power, possibly sexually assaulted, and got his due when she killed him or whatever happened. The former story is what is most often told. The latter is most likely fact, in my opinion.

163 This is when laughing about sex changes was still allowed and still funny. I've changed since then.

164 This was an absolute lie. I had not yet.

165 I am sure that this entire statement was directed at me.

166 I spent an hour outside with the Fat Lady before Alice came to find me as no one had told me what the new password was.

167 As Flitwick rarely told students off for talking during practical lessons, I'm certain he heard "wolf" and wanted to stop things before someone realized why Shelby was in the Hospital Wing.

168 I think it possible this desk chair had a normal back, and that Flitwick made it look high-backed.

169 I was so upset with this advice I almost didn't thank Slughorn, which would have had dire consequences on my career trajectory. However, while the first part of his advice was ridiculously stupid, as I'd already done it, the second part about keep your feet moving has proved to be most effective.

170 I had an unsettling dream a few nights later that I skinned a giant alive and wore his skin to protect myself during the duel.

171 She overheard me asking Professor Silsbury, so I felt obligated to ask her

172 I neglected to do this.

173 This different from the conventional rules where a dueler must yield or be knocked unconscious.

174 Whoever named this a hex was incredibly stupid. It's more of a prank than a hex.

175 I was sincere when I said this, no matter how Professor Bhatti took it. I'd seen Felicity hex before and thought she'd have more of a chance at breaking through my shield charm if I used my other hand. And if someday I lost the use of my right hand, practicing with my left would have counted for something.

176 In hindsight I should have declined, dismissed myself from the classroom and gone straight to Professor Silsbury to report this misuse of power. But, as I'm sure you've guessed, I accepted the challenge.

177 This is an absolute dick move. Using a nonverbal spell against an 11-year-old, no matter his talent, when you are in your thirties is cowardice.

178 For example, if you find yourself in a duel with a foe, dark wizard, or serial killer who is using nonverbal spells, you may want to look out for the signature jab of the Killing Curse. That way you don't waste precious milliseconds trying to block a jet of green light that you have no chance of blocking. Instead you just jump out of the way, apparate, or summon an object to block the curse. Of course, the signature jab is also used to various spells, hexes, curses, and household charms. Still, best to be cautions when confronting the killing curse.

179 Norman Winderbag was expelled a few weeks later when he was discovered selling powdered dragon claw to OWL students. Usually students selling powdered dragon claw only got detention—but usually the dragon claw ended up being powdered pillow fibers or such nonsense. Winderbag had to go to the ministry and divulge where he bought actual Chinese Fireball dragon claw from. Funnily enough, today he runs an exotic animal emporium in Diagon Alley. He is well respected and still uses the same wand he had at Hogwarts. He also imports tons of illegal animals, and I will figure out a way to finally get the Ministry to act on it.

180 This was very kind of Alice. It also gave us a lot of pocket money for the next couple years. I had long odds to sweep those three duels.

181 Perhaps this boy was on Winderbag's dragon claw at the time.

182 This was about the time when the rumor of my being Albus Dumbledore's descendent started.

183 Dexter started this rumor, wondering how fast and far gossip could travel.

184 We passed this off as an accident, which Professor Slughorn, as he loved me so much, accepted without a question.

185 That's Voldemort in case you're a complete dolt.

186 There was a lot of cheering when he introduced me. He didn't show any type of emotion at this, but I hope to Merlin's taint that he was seething.

187 An extremely poor choice of opener. It was incredibly boring.

188 I was told by Courtney and Alice that this proved entertaining. One student, holding a mug, was doused in hot tea. One student, doing homework instead of watching, shrieked as her parchment, book, quill and ink flew up into the air. One girl, braiding the hair of her friend in front of her, suddenly found her friend hoisted into the air. Unfortunately, this student broke her wrists when she landed, but Madam Pomfrey was there and mended it before Ruby and I were through. Cygnus also got hit with expelliarmus, but Mochi sunk her claws into Cygnus's hair and shoulder, managing to hang on. Cygnus was not too happy.

189 I have absolutely no idea how he knew to show up, or why he did, but it was not the last time he'd enter the battlefield on my side.

190 This earned me a lot of applause. Though I think I ruffled Dexter's feathers a bit.

191 He did not.

192 My hug with Felicity was a little longer.

193 She was not wrong. A whole party raged for an hour until an exasperated sixth year prefect yelled himself hoarse for us to all go to bed.

194 Newt the Black as students started referring to him after the duel, due to his rare black coloration.

195 This befuddles me. During my entire time at Hogwarts, though I mentioned it to every teacher, student, ghost, Filch, animal, and house-elf, I never got any traction on the idea of heating the castle with magic.

196 The one where Newt butchered a bunch of pigeons.

197 Mainly because I started melting all the ice off each step after scaring myself senseless with that one slip. It's a long way down if you fall.

198 I'd already written fourteen inches past the required length

199 I'm certain Professor Flitwick gave this complicated answer in order to shut me up.

200 I spent the rest of the weekend contemplating my conversation with Flitwick.

201 He knew one word, that sounded much like screaming to me. But he took all the points as no one else knew anything.

202 I found out later that one of the Slytherin girls had left an old and half-used box of heart-shaped Valentine's chocolates outside his office just after dinner with a note of undying love. The chocolates contained a powerful sleeping potion. I found out a little later after that, that this sort of tactic is very popular to subdue Filch, and he is easily susceptible to it.

203 This was rather cliché. There was not reason for them to move like that, but I guess it must have made them feel cool.

204 A muggle movie that is AMAZING.

205 When I say ugly, I mean as ugly as you can envision. Pustules? Check. Jowls? Check. Flabby arm fat? Check. Pendulous breasts? Absolutely. The strangest choice, in my opinion, is the rather large loincloth around the crotch which doesn't quite cover the chicken skin of one testicle.

206 Professor Flitwick had told her early that morning what had happened between me, Christopher and the other dungheads.

207 The last person to do this, some nameless fourth-year Slytherin, I hexed so his face resembled the exact texture, look, and smell as apple pie.

208 I got docked twenty-points, which I thought was fair.

209 If you're wondering, throughout this debacle Courtney kept her face hidden, sitting on the floor. She looked as if she wanted to sink into it.

210 What a way to spin why he got suspended. I'll give Christopher credit, his own version of events convinced his mom of his innocence, and a bit of the school too.

211 This is word worse than any swear word. It is meant to offend a witch or wizard. After centuries of being the "wicked ones" or "wicked" or up to "wickedness" it's sort of the N-word for wizardkind.

212 This is totally untrue, and Mrs. Nighy should have known that. A book about the Order of the Phoenix, though filled with inaccuracies, had already been published, and knowledge about Dumbledore letting Remus Lupin become a student while keeping his werewolf transformations a secret, had become public knowledge.

213 It would have been great if we'd had a Shelby West, Shelby Westerly, Shelby Western, Shelby Westeros, and a Shelby Westaby in addition to Shelby Westwater.

214 Zephyr didn't speak to her, but Zephyr hardly ever spoke so this may have been coincidence.

215 Though a lot of that research is researching my father did, so I may have been extremely biased. Plus, most people got their information about werewolves from Gilderoy Lockhart, who is not a reliable resource.

216 That is to say she beckoned and he came, she did not summon him with her wand willy nilly.

217 Before you get all high and mighty, consider that I performed this spell in the middle of the night and watched the street for empty cars and sidewalks before flying out into the darkness.

218 I was only six. I wasn't paying attention to street names or addresses.

219 I forget the name of this girlfriend, they didn't last very long, but she caused Alice and Courtney quite a lot of consternation.

220 I met Cornelius Fudge at one of these. I didn't get a chance to say anything more than "Hi, Raven Husher," as several adult witches and wizards broke out into "Satan take the Minister"—a tune written by George Weasley and Lee Jordan about Fudge set to God Save the Queen. It's not a great tune. But it's funny.

221 I respected Professor Bhatti much more after he caught some Hufflepuff fifth-year boy hanging Shelby from her ankle, shouted him down, and gave him the sentence of a months' worth of detention.

222 It was to everyone's utter astonishment, McGonagall had been the one to train the two girls.

223 I had hoped Marie Abdule would go easy on her fellow Gryffindors. But as Cygnus and I walked out to the pitch that morning, she clapped us both on the shoulder and said, "I'll be gunning for you both."

224 I have absolutely no idea what caused this smell.

225 I specifically did not borrow anyone's broom for this task, though a few people offered theirs. I used a school broom.

226 The annoying aspect of this was that once Gryffindor was sure to win the House Cup teachers stopped giving me house points.

227 With the exception of Flying, but let's not talk about that.

228 This included a rather spectacular catch of an errant pass with her foot that she then hooked around (still with her foot) across the body of the Slytherin Keeper Abigale Lathrop, and in through the farthest hoop.

229 Still immensely unfortunate that he didn't become a keeper.

230 I mean really, what can't this man do?

231 I add the word magical here for muggles. In the wizarding world it's just called architecture.

232 I could not believe that Professor Bhatti had been an architect before he taught at Hogwarts.

233 Can you tell I've grown a bit tired of the golden boy?

234 Cygnus did not come back to Gryffindor tower after his defeat. The whole school heard him swearing a storm out on the grounds. Funnily enough his girlfriend was seen accompanying him too. I heard some older student mention an "angry smush" which I only understood some three years later. They were both put in detention until the end of term for unspoken reasons and broke up soon after.

235 Sock-ah to you Americans.

236 Arthur decided to sit with some Hufflepuff friends, I think.

237 I could take or leave Alice.