The first of September brought a number of strange sights to the southern coast of England. The owls could, perhaps, be explained away, but there was a unusual gathering of people carrying brooms, and they all wore pointy-hats and sweeping robes. Among them was a boy with his entire arm stuck inside the pocket of his cloak, a panicked look sweeping over his face as he buried herself in the throes of fabric.
"Dad! Dad, I've forgotten—"
"Second pocket, Ned."
The boy's arm emerged and then disappeared within the shadows of the cloak once more. He extracted a long, thin stick that was knotted at one end and encased in silver and came to a sharp point at the other end. "Right, knew that." He rubbed his nose, leaning close, "Don't tell, Ells."
The village of Riverberry sat at the edge of the United Kingdom, in Dorset, carved into the cliffsides of the Jurassic Coast. Riverberry was the last outpost before one reached the Isle of Fenn, a hidden island of only witches and wizards.
The village appeared like any other picturesque seaside hamlet, with weathered stone cottages draped in ivy, narrow cobblestone streets, and the soft, constant roar of the sea in the background. But the fog there was alive, born from a thick blanket of wards and spells that sent ships wayward and left most muggles wandering in confusion until they were found days later. Seagulls wheeled overhead; their cries sharp with warning.
The houses were stacked haphazardly along the cliffs, defying gravity with the help of unseen enchantments. Each building was connected to its neighbors by goblin-forged bridges, their black ironwork etched with runes that glowed faintly at night. Crystalline roads, paved with enchanted stones that caught and refracted the faintest light, wound their way between the streets.
The air smelled of salt and lavender, mingled with hints of burnt wood and the tang of potion herbs wafting from hidden apothecaries. Shop signs swung in the breeze, advertising wares like "Thistle & Thorn Apothecary," "Moonlit Oddities," and "Selwyn's Rare Charms," though the latter was always shuttered. There were broom shops and several clothing stores, which displayed the latest trends in wizarding fashion in their windows. Witch Weekly's office was a bright pink townhouse at the very edge of the road where smartly dressed witches and wizards coalesced to catch sight of the latest celebrities
At the bottom of the Riverberry, where the sea met the cliffside, lay the Dock of Veils which ferried witches and wizards to the famed Isle of Fenn. It was a long stone platform carved directly into the cliffside, surrounded by ancient pillars. From there, boats fashioned from enchanted driftwood and helmed by ghostly ferrymen awaited travelers. The price of crossing was a single galleon. The waters held an unnatural stillness that no storm could break.
The Selwyn estate dominated skyline in the distance, a sprawling Gothic castle of dark stone and twisted spires. Its windows were ever-lit with a warm orange glow, casting eerie reflections onto the surrounding forest of black pines and the silver-laced grounds.
It was from the isle that the Selwyn family departed for Hogwarts every year. Edmund Selwyn, who clutched his wand afraid that his elder sister would hear news that he'd lost it, caught the eye of the muggle watching him and raised his arm to wave wildly.
"We're wizards, mate!" he called out. "Don't mind it."
"Your sister had the right idea about flooing into Diagon Alley," said Edward Selwyn looking at his watch. The face didn't have any numbers on it. Rather, it had a series of concentric circles twisting around single point. "We'll be late."
Edward Selwyn was the head of the Most Ancient House of Selwyn and a distinguished wizard on the Wizengamot, known for his fiery temper and sharp tongue. He was married to Odette Rosier, an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries studying the ancient magic of love. The Selwyns had two children. Edmund Selwyn, or Ned, was going into his fifth year at Hogwarts. Ellis Selwyn was in her sixth year.
"Mum's right over there," said Ned, pointing to one of the shops down below. Odette hurried outside carrying a heavy cauldron. At her heels, ushering her away from the other shops and up the winding path toward the top of the cliff where an ancient ley line rested, was Ned's elder sister. Ellis' school uniform and the black cloak resting on her shoulders were accented with green silk. Her prefect's badge shone brightly.
"What happened to your cauldron?" asked Edward, once more.
Ned shrugged vaguely, "Got old, I guess."
Odette was breathing hard by the time they reached them. Ellis barely looked winded, but she did have a sour expression on her face that suggested the next person to speak would get hexed.
"We're late," Ellis snapped, a pinched expression crossing her face. "If I miss the train, I'll kill someone."
Ned laughed, "Really living up to your house values there, sis."
"You shouldn't be laughing right now."
"Dumbledore gives you a badge and all of a sudden the Dark Lord takes—"
"Ned," said her father, a warning lining his tone. "Be nice to your sister."
They hurried over to the stone pillars arranged in a circle in a field of green. The formation was as old as the Selwyn family, back when the Selwyns had been the Silvanus family from Rome and magic had been as free and common as air. The air was thick. The runes carved into each towering stone glowed faintly, responding to the power of the ley line coursing beneath the ground. At the center of the circle lay a pool of water, its surface unnaturally still and impossibly dark, like a mirror reflecting not the sky, but the depths of some unknowable void.
Ellis shoved her brother out of the way and stepped up first, accepting her trunk from her father's hand. She drew her wand around herself with practiced ease and spoke very clearly, "St. Pancras Gardens."
The surface rippled and she fell down into the depths of the pool, to a place with no light or air, with no time or sense. The pool settled, its surface calm and dark once more, waiting for the next traveler.
Before Ellis could take a breath—or even feel the need to—she emerged on the other side. One step brought her out of the pool's twin, identical in size and shape, though surrounded by the quiet, ivy-strewn garden in the center of London. The smell of damp stone, a faint metallic tang, and the putrid smell of burning oil hit her all at once making her wrinkle her nose.
"It's colder than it should be," said Ellis, as Ned joined her and then Odette and Edward.
Edward's hand curled around her shoulder, guiding her forward as they walked down the path towards King's Cross Station. "Dementors," he replied. "Minchum thinks having more will dissuade some of the Dark Lord's followers."
"He should place them in the dungeons," muttered Ned. "Maybe that'll teach Mulciber to shut his mouth."
Ellis' answering frown drew a wince from him. While Ned lived in the warm and cozy dorms assigned to the Gryffindors, Ellis lived below the Black Lake with the rest of House Slytherin. It was her house that was most eager to join the ranks of Lord Voldemort.
"Has that boy not learned his lesson, yet?" asked Odette, eyes falling to Ellis.
She shook her head, "His father threw a fit with the school board, so Professor Dumbledore could only suspend him."
"Shall I throw a fit too?" asked Odette, eyes narrowing.
"Mulciber's father is due to pay me a visit next week," revealed Edward, squeezing Ellis' shoulder as he felt her tense. "I'll deal with it."
King's Cross Station was packed with muggles that morning. They were bustling from platform to platform, paying no mind to the strangely dressed group of wizards and witches disappearing behind a wall between platforms nine and ten. Ellis felt as nervous as she had when she first went to Hogwarts and when they crossed onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, the sight of the scarlet steam engine filled her with fear and worry rather than excitement.
Ned kissed their parents' goodbye and tossed something of a 'See you later' over his shoulder to her as he took his trunk and clambered onto the train to find his friends. Ellis turned to her parents, trying and failing, to hide the fact that she had no desire to return to Hogwarts.
"It'll be alright," whispered Odette, hands framing her face. "Times like these come and go whether we want them to or not."
Her father didn't have any words of wisdom for her. He hugged her tightly, unable to let go until Odette reminded him that the train was getting ready to leave. He pulled away and looked at her for a moment longer. His gaze dropped to his hand, eyeing one of the many rings lining his fingers. He pulled off a gold ring bearing the seal of their House on it and pressed it into her palm. Ellis watched as it shrunk to fit her finger.
"Father, I ca—"
"You'll be seventeen soon and you're my heir." He eyed the train with a dark expression. "Magic is magic, Ellis. Don't forget that."
She nodded and slipped the ring onto her left hand.
The bell clanged overhead, warning them that the train was about to leave. Her father urged her forward and, with a final look over her shoulder, Ellis boarded the train to Hogwarts.
Most of the carriages she passed by were packed with students hanging out the window to shout a final goodbye to their families. Others loitered in the hall's searching for their friends or fighting for a seat. Ellis headed to the very back of the train, which had been unofficially claimed by Slytherin.
Professor Slughorn, who lived in a nice little townhouse in London, had already occupied one of the compartments and was directing some of the third-years to help assemble the space for a quick gathering of theSlug Club. He poked his balding head into the hallway, fixing a smile on his face that was blanketed by the gleaming, sliver mustache on his top lip. His belly took up most of the hall and was clothed in a maroon velvet waistcoat with silver buttons.
"Ms. Selwyn, wonderful to see you! I was just thinking of you, my dear, and must express how disappointing it is that you're always too busy to attend one of my gatherings."
"Is it, Professor?"
His shrewd eyes skimmed over her and landed on the shiny new ring on her finger with a hungry expression. "We're about to start, why don't you give Gibbons your trunk and—"
The third-year boy threw an expression of pure terror her way.
"—and come sit down for a bit. How is your mother? I saw Odette on the platform, but I arrived a bit late and didn't have time to come greet her."
Ellis noted that he had quiet purposefully left her father out of the equation. During his Hogwarts years, Edward Selwyn had been put in detention for dueling no less than 137 times and his nasty temper caused most of his colleagues to duck and cower in fear. It went without saying that her father had more enemies than friends.
Ellis kept a tight grip on her trunk as Gibbons ran forward to take it and carefully pulled away from Slughorn's grubby hands. "I'm feeling a bit ill, Professor. One of my cousins came down with Spattergroit recently—"
Slughorn barely had time to wish her well before he disappeared and slammed the door to his compartment shut. She could hear him ordering Gibbons toScourgifythe hall when she was gone and get him his potions kit.
"Spattergroit, Selwyn?"
The low voice held a hint of an edge to it. Ellis didn't need to turn to see who had emerged from their compartment. Regulus Black had a way of speaking that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand.
"It's highly contagious," she answered and then bravely chanced a look at him. He had yet to change into his uniform. His lean frame was adorned with robes of the deepest black, clasped by buttons of goblin-silver. His hair fell to his shoulders, drawing a harsh line to his sharp face and grey eyes. Eyes kissed by violet shadows. He looked as if he had forgotten what sleep was.
He scoffed a little, twisting the ring on his left hand with his thumb. There were a few spread out across his hand, but the signet ring stood starkest. Aging sliver with an onyx face, it was embossed with the crest of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. An heir's ring. He started wearing it last year after Sirius Black ran away from home…or was thrown out.
Ellis felt the weight of her father's ring bear down on her.
"I won't ask how your summer went, then." He shook his head and repeated, "Spattergroit," as if it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. He eyed her trunk, mouth pressing into a thin line. "Can you even carry that thing?"
"Weightless charm."
He nodded and stepped back to let her pass, watching her all the while. Ellis wished he would go away.
"Selwyn."
She paused, but didn't turn, feeling him step close, close enough that she could smell the faint hint of cologne in the air. Something warm and spiced.
"Stand up straight," he murmured by her ear, pressing his palm against the curve of her spine. "The holiday's over."
The lone compartment she managed to find was not empty for long. Ellis expected a quiet train ride, one where she was left to wallow and somberly stare out the window as every decent English person did. Instead, the moment she sat down, she almost immediately accosted by James Potter, who threw the door to her carriage open with a loud clang.
"Potter," greeted Ellis, pleasantly. As always, James Potter threw her a wary look, expecting at any moment that she would whip her wand out and curse him. She had a couple of times, when he picked on the younger students in her house, but it was never without reason. She eyed the badge on his chest, "You're Head Boy?"
He grinned, running a hand through his hair to ensure that it remained effortlessly tousled. "Dumbledore's gone mad."
Ellis agreed, but she didn't want to curse her own luck. "Are we due for a prefects' meeting?"
"Gather your lot, will you? Lily won't be happy if there's trouble."
Lily Evans was Head Girl, then. This news wasn't as surprising. Lily was the brightest witch in her year and even Ellis, who had very little experience with muggleborns, knew that she must've worked hard to earn her place. She could only hope there'd be some peace between the two, rather than the loud, obnoxious fights they made them all bear witness to.
"I'll try," said Ellis, standing up. "Black likely won't attend. And I'm not sure on Wilkes either."
Regulus Black did not lower himself to attend prefect meetings, and she doubted he would take the news of James Potter's new position very well. Geoffrey Wilkes was always caught in Mulciber's grasp. Ellis was unsure if he could even utter an opinion without asking Mulciber first.
James' face twisted with pain, but he managed to squeeze out, "Thank you," before departing. Ellis blinked in surprise before shaking her head and hunting down the other Slytherin prefects. It was always easier to deal with the other girls—all of them commiserated with dealing with their ineffective and often vile partners.
Regulus' hadn't shown up for a single patrol all last year. Ellis expected the badge to be revoked and given to Bartemius Crouch Jr. who, while equally irresponsible, gave the impression that he might take the role seriously. In truth, she would have preferred that Dumbledore break tradition entirely and give the position to Helena Greengrass.
Rounding up the other girls was rather easy. Lucinda Talkalot lived up to her name and kept up a constant, grating stream of chatter. She had been made Quidditch Captain last year and let the position inflate her already large ego. Luckily, she would be graduating this year and Ellis never had to speak to her again. Madge Farley was of an entirely different temperament and spoke in a soft, hushed voice that Ellis strained to hear. Whenever she was asked to speak up, she'd start to stutter and turn a shade of purple that seemed unhealthy. Alaric Rookwood, whose uncle worked at the Department of Mysteries alongside her mother, was a haughty boy who eagerly asked her what the limit was to deducting points. He was in Ned's year and frequently fought with her brother and his friends.
Regulus, being a lost cause, was not worth the effort of hunting down, so Ellis told the others that she would meet them in the prefect's carriage and went to find Wilkes. He and his friends were a vicious sort, who enjoyed practicing Dark Magic out in the open and finding muggleborns in the other houses to practice on.
"Snape," said Ellis, blankly seeing the greasy-haired boy standing outside of one of the carriages at the very back of the train. "Is Wilkes there? We have a prefect's meeting and—"
"Is that Selwyn?" asked Avery, voice rising in pitch. The compartment door opened all the way revealing that Mulciber, Avery, Evan Rosier, and Bartemius Crouch Jr. were all pressed inside. Ellis' spine stiffened, a cold expression falling over her face.
She eyed his sleeve, noting that the buttons had come undone on his left arm. "It's good to know you haven't lost your hearing, Avery."
"When a bitch barks, it's hard not to hear it."
Ellis laughed, "Very good, Avery. Five points to Slytherin."
Avery frowned, annoyed that she didn't rise to the bait. Ellis purposefully avoided looking at Mulciber and let her gaze fall on Wilkes. Like always, the bumbling fool had been pressed into a corner, given little room to breathe, let alone think. He had the sort of clueless cruelty that would lead him to follow orders and go to war and then settle down years after to raise equally clueless and cruel children.
Evan, who was of some distant relation to her, took pity and dragged Wilkes from his seat, shoving him toward her. "Go ahead and take him."
Mulciber wasn't quiet as ready to let her go, "Is it true that Potter's Head Boy?"
Her gaze skimmed over him. He towered over the others, tall and broad-shouldered with a square, heavy-set face and a slightly crooked nose. His hair was a shade of brown that made a pigsty look inviting and cropped close to his head. There was an unsettling smirk pulling at his mouth that made Ellis' skin crawl and want to reach for her wand, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
"Yes."
"He must've begged Dumbledore to give him a chance with themudblood." Snape tensed behind her. Mulciber shook his head, narrowing his eyes. "I bet your brother would do the same. He's dying to dirty his blood with his own little—"
"I wouldn't be so concerned with my family, Mulciber." She leaned against the threshold of the compartment, getting a little more comfortable. "How is your father doing? Well, I hope?"
Mulciber reached for his wand, rising from his seat, "Ask me that again, Selwyn."
She laughed, feeling a little more reckless than usual. "How is your—"
A red spark hit the carriage door as Ellis ducked down and drew her own wand, answering the curse with one of her one. It hit Mulciber square in the chest and immediately he began to grasp at his own throat, turning red and then purple, as the air thickened around him. Avery made a valiant attempt to stun her, but his tongue began to loll out of his mouth, thickening and growing until it was hanging past his belt. Wilkes let out a surprised shout but had gone white with fright.
"Ellis," warned Evan as Mulciber clawed at his throat, leaving deep gouges in his neck.
"How much longer do you think he'd last?" asked Barty, eyes gleaming with a sick kind of curiosity. "Is that one of yours, Selwyn? You'll teach it to me, won't you?"
"She's going to kill him," snapped Evan.
"End it, Selwyn," warned Snape, pressing his own wand to her ribs. She could likely snap it in two before he even thought of a spell to cast, but the trouble it'd bring wasn't worth the effort.
Ellis flicked her wand again, ending the spell. Mulciber coughed and sputtered as the air returned to his lungs. She grabbed Wilkes and dragged him into the hall, letting the compartment door fall shut. Wilkes trembled like a leaf when she ordered him to go to the prefect's carriage, but he tucked his tail between his legs and listened.
"You shouldn't do that," muttered Wilkes, shaking his head. "He'll get back at you."
"I can't wait," said Ellis, dully. "It'll be so exciting to see him use his wand instead of fumbling with it like a newborn child."
"He hates you."
"I'm rather indifferent to him myself. If he were to drop dead—"
"Who's dying?" asked Stubby Broadman, inserting himself before the two Slytherins. His blond hair had been dyed a nasty shade of jet-black and rather than his robes, the Ravenclaw was wearing a leather jacket with his prefect badge pinned to his chest.
Ravenclaw must've loosened the definition of genius for Stubby Broadman. She heard that he frequently got locked out of the common room because he couldn't answer their riddles, but he did have a wide repertoire of musical talent and aspired to end Celestina Warbeck's radio dominance.
"Me, hopefully," muttered Ellis.
Lily Evans smiled at her when they entered the prefect's carriage. Ellis didn't smile back, feeling a bit disturbed by the acknowledgment. Ned's popularity and charm among the Gryffindors seemed to extend some good will towards her, which she didn't want or need. It also didn't help that Ellis made the error of taking Muggle Studies last year, a mistake which left a black mark on her otherwise perfect O.W.L. record.
Prefect meetings were generally a waste of time, and this one proved no different. James Potter and Lily Evans gave a rehearsed speech about the importance of creating a sense of inter-house unity and looking out for the younger years. Lily stressed, "Discipline should never be used for personal gain."
"Did you hear that, Selwyn?" muttered Rookwood. She had taken twenty points from Slytherin last year after he'd made one of the fourth-years cry.
"No, I didn't."
"You can't take points every time a date goes wrong."
"Ten points from Sl—"
Remus Lupin, Gryffindor's seventh-year prefect, turned in his seat to tell them to shut up. The carriage door slammed open revealing Regulus Black on the other side. He slinked inside, ignoring James' furious expression at the interruption of his moving speech about how this would be the best year in Hogwarts history.
"Nice of you to join us, Black."
"How could I miss your first day as Head Boy?" asked Regulus, snidely. "I bet your parents kissed your arse all the way to King's Cross. Ah, Sirius too. He's got a preference for—"
"Take a seat, Black," said Lily, fixing a pointed glare at Regulus.
Regulus stopped by Ellis' seat, eyeing the Hufflepuff next to her with a dark glare. He frowned and then stood, letting Regulus claim his seat. When James returned to his speech, Regulus' arm stretched across the back of her chair, hand skimming against her sleeve with the ghostly reminder that he was close.
Ellis wasn't sure why he had come.
Regulus shifted, leaning forward. His knee brushed against hers. "Wilkes got a personal escort?"
Ellis frowned, "Wilkes couldn't find his own head if you asked him to. Besides, you hate these meetings."
"I do, but I'm planning to behave this year."
"Shame on you."
Regulus shrugged lazily, but there was a smile rising in his eyes. "You'll have to put up with me."
She frowned, shifting so she was closer to the edge of her chair and further away from him. The Black brothers, for all their differences, were surprisingly alike when it came to putting people on edge. Sirius Black had a wicked tongue and was quick to draw his wand. Regulus was quieter in nature, but it was a kind of discreetness that hid his excessive desires behind a façade of indifference and pride.
Regulus retracted his arm and swept away all traces of emotion from his face.
The meeting ended as James and Lily handed out their patrol schedules and asked them to ensure that everyone was wearing their uniforms prior to arriving at Hogwarts. Ellis was the first to leave.
It was dark by the time the train began to slow. Ellis could see the faint outline of the castle amid the mountains and black, twisting trees that made up the Forbidden Forest. The sky had turned a deep purple, lit with twinkling stars. She had slept at the Leaky Cauldron once when she was younger and had been astounded how the lights in muggle London blocked the stars from view. Hogwarts, like the Selwyn Estate, did not suffer from the same trouble.
A voice sounded throughout the train, warning that, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
The train finally stopped and in a mad rush, students pushed their way to the doors, emerging on a small, dary platform. It was cold, colder even than London and Ellis kept her wand close, wondering if the Minister of Magic had sent his army of dementors to Hogwarts.
Hagrid stood at one end, holding a lamp which cut the darkness and called out, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
Ellis wandered over to him, helping clear the way for the youngest and most frightened of the students. Finally, when the last of them stumbled down the path which led to the lakes, Ellis turned back and approached the horseless carriages. She was alone in her carriage and preferred the brief lull of silence. Perched atop a high mountain in the distances, its windows lit in the warm glow of torchlight, was Hogwarts with its many turrets and towers.
The Great Hall was full of chatter. Ellis walked to the left-most table, searching the students faces, until she found an empty space between Helena Greengrass and Barty. Helena's head rose, a slight wrinkle forming in her brow before she waved her down. Helena was beautiful and though Ellis had lived with her for the last six years, it was still a bit intimidating to be next to a girl with such a flawless face.
"There you are," said Helena, as Ellis slid into the seat next to her. She turned, her hair wafting of a light perfume. "You're surprisingly adept at hiding, Selwyn."
"I doubt you looked."
"Slughorn mentioned that you had Spattergroit, so I wasn't in the mood to die." Helena's eyed shrewdly. "You don't seem ill."
"Because I'm not."
"You're in a mood, a worse mood than usual. Bad summer?"
"No, the opposite. I didn't want it to end. Yours?"
"I'm due to get married."
Ellis inhaled sharply, surprise flitting across her face. It took a moment for her to recover from her shock. "This year?"
"When I turn seventeen. There've been a few names thrown around."
"Anyone worth mentioning?"
"No."
"I have a few cousins in France," said Ellis, not quiet liking the feeling that she was offering her family up on a silver platter, but sympathetic to Helena's plight. There were very few boys in their circles who would make good husbands. "One of them works at the Ministry there. You could write him if you'd like."
"And never be rid of you?"
"He's kind. Funny too."
"Handsome?"
"Do you want a picture?"
"Ideally, I would receive one before I waste my efforts and youth."
"Is it difficult for you to simple say yes?"
"Yes," answered Helena, with the barest hint of a smile. Their conversation fell to an immediate silence as Professor McGonagall opened the doors of the Great Hall and revealed its interior to the first-years. Their eyes wandered over the thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over the four long tables. It was beginning to storm outside and the clouds above them rumbled and roiled.
The Sorting Hat was placed on a stool in front of the head table and opened its wrinkled leather mouth to belt out a song. Ellis tuned it out, gazing curiously over the first years. There were less than last year and even less than the year before that. Wizarding Britain was quietly shrinking as the war outside Hogwarts reached a new climax every day. Soon, the Ministry would be forced to admit that they had no clue how to stop the Dark Lord.
Ellis clapped along with everyone else when the song ended and watched as the first few children were sorted into Hufflepuff. McGonagall called a small boy named Michael Ainsley up to the front. He had very nice robes from Twilfitt and Tattings, even though there was no wizarding family with the name Ainsley. A wealthy muggleborn then.
Without so much as touching his head, the Sorting Hat bellowed, "SLYTHERIN."
Her table broke out, not in cheers, but vicious whispers.
"Ainsley? Can't be a wizarding family, can it?"
"Muggle, surely."
"A mudblood?"
"Bloody hat's broken."
"He won't last long," laughed Mulciber. "Not if I have a say in it."
"It's got to—"
Unwittingly, her eyes sought Severus Snape, as if asking him to do something. He was a halfblood. Wouldn't he know how to best silence the rabble and set them straight? Hadn't he felt the sting of rejection once too? But Snape was watching Lily Evans rather than the Sorting Ceremony.
Ellis looked down the Gryffindor table catching Ned's eye—recalling how he had stormed over to her after his sorting declaring that the hat had lost all it senses and refused to join the Gryffindors until Professor McGonagall forced Ellis to walk him over and sit him down.
Now, even Professor McGonagall didn't seem to know what to do. A muggleborn in Slytherin was not unheard of, but it was rare and, given the state of the world, dangerous. Feeling a bit of courage take root, Ellis swept toward the small boy, gathering him off the stool and walked him to the table.
"You can sit with me," said Ellis, forcefully, making sure that her classmates heard. "My name is Ellis Selwyn. Welcome to Slytherin."
