Looking a bit leery of coming into the Hospital wing, Briony glances around a moment at the doorway before striding in. “Before you say anything, mum, I swear I didn’t do anything! Professor Prichard just told me I should come see you. I’m not in trouble or anything, I swear I didn’t do anything.” The girl’s face looks very earnest as she preempts any conversation with this disclaimer, knowing what trouble she has already been.

Potion bottles and ceramic jars clink merrily away as Sibyl Wexler sorts through them, rearranging them neatly on the shelves of the spacious cabinet in her office. One bottle of sparkling blue potion sits on her desk, apart from the others, with its cork out and its contents nearly drained. Sibyl uncorks another jar, peering experimentally into it – and quickly stops it up again as her ruddy face pales at the smell. Hastily, she thrusts the jar back onto its shelf and grabs for the blue potion, taking a long gulp – and it is just then that her daughter bursts in. “Briony!” Sibyl quickly replaces the bottle on the desk and hurries out to greet her daughter, her smile still a little sickly-looking, but warm and reassuring all the same. “Oh, love, I didn’t call you here because I was angry at you! Truly, I didn’t.” She reaches out to fold Briony in a warm embrace. “Detention is something for another time.”

“Oh,” Briony answers, stopping blankly. “Then why was I sent here?” The girl looks puzzled as she stops and drops her bag to the floor next to her. “Do have to serve another detention?” Her face fills with consternation as she thinks of this and looks to her mother, pulling at the ends of her hair a bit, almost nervously.

“No, love, it’s nothing bad,” Sibyl persists, giving the little girl a fond squeeze, then releasing her. “Here, don’t do that, love,” she adds automatically, reaching out to guide her daughter’s hand gently away from the hair-tugging. “It’s good news,” Sibyl continues, and her smile returns, warmer and stronger than before. “I just wanted to tell you as soon as I could.”

“Then what is it, Mum?” The girl looks at her mother pointedly, obviously questioning whether this news will be the kind of good news that she wants to hear. Could it be that her mother has gotten her those dress robes that she had been looking at before? The likelihood was slim, but Briony could not help hoping. “Does dad already know?

“Yes,” Sibyl replies, and her smile quirks up, apologetic and knowing – her eldest will not like being the second on the list. “I had to tell him first,” she explains. “You see.. . ” She pauses just long enough to look down and meet her daughter’s eyes directly, to give her next statement the important emphasis it deserves. “I’m going to have a baby. Come June, you’ll have another little brother or sister.” Sibyl‘s grin beams brightly forth again.

“Wh-what?” Briony seems generally shocked at this announcement. “What do you mean? How can you have more babies?” The girl’s insensitive comment seems to imply that her mother must be too old to have children any longer. “I thought you only wanted me and Alice and Alden.” The girl is not crestfallen or disappointed, really, but she is surprised at this news. What on earth would she do with another sibling?

“Oh, Briony-love, of course I want you and Alden and Alice, still!” A startled laugh bursts out of Sibyl – her amusement isn’t patronizing, just the next step in her joyful reaction to her own news, and she reaches out to hug her daughter again. “Having this one doesn’t mean that I want the rest of you any less! And it’s a surprise to me, too. But just think – you probably don’t remember much about when Alden and Alice were babies, but you’ll be old enough to watch the whole time that this one is growing up. You’ll get to see everything.”

“Why would I want to see babies?” Briony may be old enough for crushes, but she does not appear to be old enough quite yet to appreciate babies. “Well, I guess it’s okay.” Briony is a good kid after all, and she doesn’t completely hate the idea of having another sibling. “I hope it’s a girl. I don’t want another brother.” She nods solemnly as she sits there. “What does daddy want?”

“Good,” Sibyl pronounces, and gives her daughter a kiss on the forehead before releasing her from the hug. She retreats to the potions cabinet, where she selects another bottle of the same sparkling blue solution, but doesn’t uncork it yet; instead, she just settles into her chair, sweeping her voluminous robes around her. “He hasn’t said. I think he was still too surprised to even consider it,” Sibyl adds, with a soft, affectionate laugh. “And I’ll be happy with either a boy or a girl. Either one would be wonderful.”

“But girls are better,” Briony says decisively, believing the words that she says. After all, her aunt has more girls than boys at this point, and the girl decides that this how she wants to be someday. Well, perhaps. “Is daddy coming to live here so he can be with the baby? Where is Alice going to live, then?”

“We haven’t decided that yet, love. And we’ll have a while before we have to. For the summer, at least, we’ll all be home together,” Sibyl declares, settling comfortably back in her chair. Her smile widens at the very thought, even though her eyes betray a hint of strain around the edges, and her fingers are working busily away at the cork of the potion bottle. “And then we can figure it all out. But won’t it be lovely to all be together again, all summer? And I might be coming home a little early, even, depending on when the baby arrives.”

“Well, I guess. We were together this summer, too, though. I don’t see how it’s going to be any different.” Briony shrugs and just sits there a moment, the news having still not sunk in fully. The girl sits silently for several minutes, thinking about what her aunt’s babies have been like, and how hard it was to babysit them. This brings some very serious thoughts to her mind. Soon these are pushed out, though, as she realizes something very quickly. “I won’t have to share my room with this baby, too, will I?”

“Oh, of course not!” Sibyl exclaims at once. “We’ll make up a separate room as the nursery, until the baby’s old enough to share with one or another of you. And that won’t be for quite a few years yet,” Sibyl adds, reaching across to give her daughter a reassuring pat on the hand. The sudden motion of straightening up brings a queasy wince to Sibyl‘s face, though, and she quickly takes a sip from the potion bottle.

“What’s that, mum?” the girl asks, reaching out as if to take the potion from her mother to examine it. “It’s such a queer colour.” Briony‘s face looks a bit serious as she looks up at her mother’s face. “What is it? It isn’t a bad thing, is it?” The twelve-year-old looks concerned as she looks from her mother to the potio and back again.

“Nothing bad,” Sibyl hastens to reassure her daughter. “Nothing bad at all.” She holds out the bottle towards Briony, saying, “See? You can look at it if you like. It’s for upset stomachs. And. . . when women are expecting babies, they often get upset stomachs, at the beginning,” Sibyl explains. Only the briefest of delicate pauses halts her explanation; for the most part, her tone is as straightforward as it always is when she is discussing medical matters. “It doesn’t mean I’m ill – it’s entirely normal.”

“Oh. Why do you have babies if it makes you sick, then?” The girl has not yet had The Talk, and is chock full of questions as toddlers often are. “And if it’s a good thing, why does it make you sick?” Briony‘s posture does not change, though her facial expression changes with each new thought she has on the subject.

“It just does. And not for very long – a couple months, at most.” Gently, Sibyl reclaims the bottle from Briony’s hand, and leans back. “It’s just the way things are, love. And it’s not very bad. Really, it isn’t. And the potion helps a lot.” Sibyl‘s face does seem to be regaining its usual ruddy glow, and her smile is much broader and easier. “One of my old teachers at St. Mungo’s came up with it – he taught Professor Sedgewick, too, so now she knows how to make it, too.”

“Maybe I should learn how to make it, if it makes you feel better when you’re ill.” Briony looks thoughtful as she considers this. “I suppose I ought to study potions better so that I can learn that.” Pensively, the girl puts her hand to her cheek, glancing around. Perhaps she would follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a Healer. Obviously her mind has strayed from the topic at hand and she stands up. “Maybe … I think I need to go ask Professor Sedgewick something.” Her gaze falters, and her normal demeanor floods back into her as she picks up her bag. “I’ll see you later, mum! I’m going to take care of something.” With that, the girl runs to the exit and towards the stairs.

“Oh, you’re sweet… ” Sibyl sighs, her smile softening affectionately as she looks at her daughter. “But really, you – oh.” Briony is already gone by the time that Sibyl gets up to chase her – and the sudden motion makes the nurse close her eyes tightly for a moment, swallowing hard against a wave of illness. Quickly, she takes another sip of the potion, then lets out a long, heavy sigh, and lets her daughter go.

The school year has just started, and the Hogwarts infirmary is still almost empty. The usual fall colds and sniffles haven’t set in yet; and the first Quidditch practices, with their attendant bruises and broken bones, are still several weeks away. In fact, the only indication that the Hospital Wing is not entirely deserted is the faint sound of whistling, floating down the hallway from Sibyl Wexler‘s office. The nurse’s usually cheerful tune is a little weaker than usual, though, and broken up by the clink of potion bottles – and at one point, it stops entirely. Then it resumes again, stronger than before, growing and diminishing as Sibyl moves about her office. From time to time, she pokes her head out of the door, peering anxiously into the hallway, and then disappearing back inside.

Looking quite perplexed, Basil strides down the hall ways, peering into doors and trying to remember where exactly the nurse’s office was. The whole castle seemed topsy turvy from where it had been the previous year. Finally managing to find his destination. “What the hell happened to Hogwarts, Sibyl? It took me nigh on half an hour to find the office!” Basil is looking perplexed at this, and this is compounded by the urgency which he felt from her letters. “Now what is it? What’s wrong? Did Briony get hurt? Are you sick? Is she sick?” Basil‘s eyes are nearly wild with concern.

“Basil, love, it’s all right!” Sibyl rushes out into the hallway, meeting her husband before he can reach the end of her corridor. “It’s all right – I’m sorry, I should have given you directions to my new office.” Her arms reach up to circle him, holding back his frantically waving arms in a tight, comforting embrace, and she rises up on tiptoes to give him a light kiss on the cheek. Sibyl‘s usually ruddy complexion is a little paler than usual, and there is an unhealthy greenish tinge to it – but she still sounds completely sincere when she says, “I’m not sick, love, and Briony is fine, too. I said that in my first owl.” She tightens her arms around her husband, repeating, “It’s all right. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. I just needed to talk to you in person. It’s happy news, dearest.”

“Well, if it’s happy news, why do you look ill, Sibyl? Will you tell me what’s going on before I fall apart?” Basil‘s eyes are fixed on Sibyl, as he glances around at the Hospital wing behind him. What /has/ gone on with the school? Everything appears to be the same as it was, except that it has all moved around. Even as a Wizard, this perplexes Basil. He turns his attention back to Sibyl, looking down at her again, unable to wipe the concern from his face. “What’s this news? Why do you look as if you’re ill?” He reiterates, unable to keep his mind on anything except what the news is.

“It’s all right,” Sibyl persists, tightening her comforting arms around her husband. He will not be appeased, though, and Sibyl knows better than to push. She stops, takes a deep breath, and lets it out again in a long sigh that relaxes her anxiously soothing embrace, and allows her expression to settle into a smile. “It’s good news.” Now the color does start to come back to her face, but it is an odd, shy blush that does not quite manage to offset the sickly pallor beneath it. Still, her smile only broadens as she says, “I think I’m going to have another baby” – and then bursts forth into a full, bright grin.

“You’re — what?” Basil does a double-take. “A baby? But how… I thought…” Nine years since they last had a baby, and Basil‘s eyes are only wide. “Well — that’s — well — fantastic –” he fumbles for the right words. “A baby, wow,” he quickly shakes his head as if trying to dislodge the other thoughts distracting his mind. “A baby.” He glances around at the room and breathes in deeply. “I think I need to sit down.” He is looking down at Sibyl, obviously shocked at the news. “What are we going to do, with you here?” He certainly knows he can’t care for a baby on his own. What would he do without Sibyl?

“Yes, love, sit down,” Sibyl agrees, and begins to steer her husband backwards towards a chair. “Shall I make some tea?” Her smile widens even more, and breaks into a bright laugh. “Oh, dearest, I know it’s a surprise – it’s a surprise to me, too!” Now that the secret is out, Sibyl can let her joy emerge in all its exuberance, and for the moment, at least, that joy overrides any misgivings that she or Basil might have. “We’ll figure it all out, love, I know we will. We’ve got time – the baby won’t be here till the end of May at the earliest, if I’m counting right. And I’ll be able to keep working for most of it – I did with Briony, remember?”

“That’s true, but home is so much farther away from here than it was when Briony was a baby.” Basil pauses, looking at his wife and drawing her closer to him. “A baby. Hoo.” He looks up at his wife, a smile finally spreading onto his face. “If you say we’ll figure it out, then we will.” The man takes his wife’s hand in his own and sighs a bit. “Does Briony know?”

“We will, Basil dearest,” Sibyl replies, bending down to brush her husband’s lips gently with her own smiling ones. “We always do.” Slowly, reluctantly, she withdraws her arms from the embrace, and turns away towards her desk, where she busies herself for a moment with the teapot and teacups. “No – I haven’t told Briony or the other children yet,” she continues, glancing over her shoulder with another smile. “I wanted to tell you first.” The smile fades for a moment, as she adds, “And I need to tell Professor Prichard, too. She deserves to know that her nurse is going to be. . . in a bit of an unusual position, this year.”

“Oh, right. You’ll take next year off, of course. I’m sure she’ll need to know that, too.” Basil nods affirmative, feeling quite certain that this is the decision that will be made. “How can we celebrate Sibyl.” A pause. “Though the trip may have been celebratory enough…” He laughs a bit and puts his hand on Sibyl’s stomach. As if he could feel anything there yet. “I want to take you home right now,” he adds quietly, obviously still not accustomed to having his wife be away from him so often.

“We’ll see,” Sibyl replies, giving the suggestion a quick, pursed-lipped frown. “We’ve got quite a while to think about that, too.” But the smile returns as she feels her husband’s touch, and she lifts her own hand to cover his, twining her fingers through his, and slipping through to brush across her still-flat stomach. “We’ll find some way to celebrate, love,” Sibyl says, her voice softening affectionately. “As long as it doesn’t involve eating too much,” she adds, with a rueful twist of her mouth, “we’ll be fine.” She turns to face Basil again, and gives him another light kiss. “I can get away for a little while this afternoon, I think. And I’ll be home for a bit this evening, so that I can tell Alden and Alice…”

“Wonderful!” This idea excites Basil, as he loves having his wife at home. “I’m sure Briony wil be thrilled to get another sibling.” Of course, he isn’t sure, and has no idea how his daughter will react, but this doesn’t cross his mind at this time. “When will you get there?” he asks, his mind calculating quickly how much time he’ll have to put in at work before he’d get to see his wife again.

“Oh, let me see. .. ” Sibyl turns back to the teapot, pouring two cups while she considers. One of the cups she hands to her husband; the other, she spikes with a few drops of a sparkling blue potion and holds in her hands, breathing in the fragrant steam for a few moments. “I’ll need to wait until Briony gets out of class – she’d never stand for it if the younger ones found out before she did. And I’ll need to set up a meeting with the Headmistress, and I doubt she’ll be free before the end of classes either. So. . . perhaps around dinnertime?”

“Dinnertime…” Basil pauses in thought and quickly takes a sip of the tea. “Alright, alright, dinnertime.” The man is almost as distracted now as when he entered. He sets the teacup and saucer down on the dress and leans up to kiss his wife. “I’ve got to take care of some things, but I’m counting the minutes until tonight.” He smiles rapturously at his wife and gives her a squeeze. “Tonight. Just come straight to the house. We’ll have a good night at home.” He smiles down at her and kisses her cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, darling.” With that he exits her office and his shoes clunk, clunk, clunk their way out of the hospital wing. The last that is heard of him while he tries to find his way out of the school is, “That is, if I can figure out how to get out of here…”

Sitting at a table near a window, Bonnie is studying a length of parchment in front of her. A well of red ink rests near her. After several moments, she takes up her quill and begins scribbling over the document, scratching out lines, and making comments in the margins. Once could assume that she is either writing a best-selling novel, or grading essays. Given her profession, the latter is more likely than the former. Rubbing her forehead gently, Bonnie readjusts herself in the seat, rather trying to stifle a sigh, so that the others present in the room will not think ill of her.

Avoiding the staff faculty room and thus her co-workers for as much as she possibly could since the start of the new term, Astra finds herself with little choice in socializing with her fellow adults. Escaping from her office and her personal suite, she enters the room with an armful of books and a heavy backpack dangling off her shoulder that contains even more work. Smiling tightly at those in the room, she gives a small nod before finding a place to seat herself.

Keelan Walsh is not unlike Astra in her avoidance of the staff room, although hardly for the same reasons. She just prefers to keep to the greenhouses, really. She is, however, perched on one of the main chairs around the meeting table in the back of the room, carefully studying a series of papers written on very old parchment. She occasionally, eyes scanning over them, rearranges a few pages and frowns.

“Are Divination students always this abysmal at essays?” The former Ravenclaw’s voice sounds almost haggard, and a bit frustrated as she drags her quill across an entire paragraph. Bonnie sets the quill down and glances up at those who have joined her in the room. She appears to almost be regretful of her decision to teach, though she loves it already. “This is truly tragic.” A tsk is heard and she pushes the stack of parchment away from her.

“Can’t you just divine what grade they’d get and just mark the paper appropriately?” The answer is traditionally flippant and Astra stifles a yawn as she lowers herself into one of the couches. Crouching forward she sets the books down and then removes her bookbag, swinging it onto the floor by her feet. “I wouldn’t know how good Divination students are, I only took the class to get an easy grade.”

Keelan Walsh has to literally bite her tongue to keep from answering Bonnie’s question with the first thing that comes to mind (which is: There’s a reason they took Divination rather than a serious subject). Astra does good work of being sarcastic so Keelan continues working what it is she’s doing, occasionally half-standing to reach farther away pages. After she’s rearranged about six(of the many), she remarks, “Perhaps you should attach a flyer about my remedial classes to them, Ms. Kensington.” Soft, but at least she spoke. Without looking away from her work, mind.

“Cute,” Bonnie responds to Astra’s comment, a cold glance directed her way. “Why the sarcasm about Divination? This is not an easy subject to master, and those who do not put in the effort and have the ability as well will not be passing it.” The woman looks rather annoyed at her coworkers. Quietly, she sighs and rolls her eyes, looking back to her work. “What on earth has education come to,” she adds, also quietly, setting aside the parchment on top of her work as she marks a grade upon it.

“Oh yes! I’ve forgotten do forgive me, oh seeing wonderous one who can pierce the very shadow of death!” Astra steals a page from her mentor and pulls out the mockery she bandies about without even considering the consequences when it comes to those she lives or works with. Pushing her middle and forefingers of her left hand against her forehead, she closes her eyes. “I see your pain and I do so heartily apologize for not understanding.” Snorting a laughs she drops her hand away from her head and covers her mouth.

Keelan Walsh presses her lips together and keeps her attention focused on what she’s doing, moving a few more pages until, with a satsifed grin, she murmurs, “There. In order at last.” Too slowly for the task at hand, she pulls out a quill and begins to neatly number the pages. This will keep her occupied for at least the next five minutes, and longer if she plays her cards properly. Not that Keelan is a gossip, of course.

“In making a mockery of my subject you mock my very career, my work,” Bonnie responds, her voice becoming rather heated as she sits at the table, ferociously scribbling onto the essay before her. “Divination is not a ‘mamsy-pamsy’ subject, any more than Defense Against the Dark Arts is, Miss Rathe.” She turns and faces the younger woman, still in her seat. “And I would appreciate it if you refrained from comments as such in the future.” A pointed glare goes out to Astra, and Bonnie turns back towards her essays.

“Oh that’s right, you send your students out to the front line to *die* at the hands of Dark Wizards upon graduation.” Retorting, any good nature that might have resurrected itself is now dead and Astra stares pointedly back at the new professor. “I hate to tell you but your so called art is touched by very few of your students. They take it for the same reason I did, an easy grade.” “Tell you what, miss,” for despite their age difference, she doesn’t feel or she doesn’t recognize their age gap, “when I see that you aren’t just *another* sham come here to waste the school’s resources, I’ll give you consideration.” “Until such time, don’t even bother wasting a breath on me.”

Keelan Walsh raises both her eyebrows and forgets for a full minute what she’s doing. Her cheeks burn crimson when she notices she has paused with her hand hovering in the air, halfway to the ink bottle for more. Immediately the woman dips her quill and continues numbering her pages. She feels a small twinge for Bonnie’s sake, but admires Astra a touch too highly to make any comment. Instead, her slow, deliberate not-at-all-eavesdropping-really numbering continues.

“Well, I never,” Bonnie huffs a bit and turns so that her back is quite facing Astra. Bonnie has no more words for the precious Slytherin House Head. “Wrong, wrong, wrong,” she sighs and makes several large marks over the topmost essay. She quietly whispers what she writes as she puts it down to paper. Her cheeks are red and her face still fixed with anger, but she says nothing more to the woman nearby, nor the other sitting in, for Bonnie has nothing to say to someone whose opinion belittles her subject.

Crackling with anger that is only now subsiding, Astra sniffs in derision her sneer twisting her features as looks away from Bonnie. There is nothing more to say and the bad temper has gotten the better of her. Muttering to herself, she reaches down and grabs the backpack, swinging it back over her shoulder. Reaching for her books and supplies, she gives a half-shrug to Keelan. “Sorry you had to sit through that Keelan.”

“A bit more refined than what I encountered in the Gryffindor common room on Sorting, but endlessly more dignified. And with that brisk exchange of viewpoints, and a pleasant, silent acceptance toward agreeing to disagree, I think that will about down that.” Melvina says, from the door of the staff room. A brow is quirked as she leans against the door frame, arms folded across her chest. There is a note of humor to her voice, but also a note of subtle authority. It wouldn’t do to have students over hearing about waves in the faculty, and seeing that everyone in the castle had to live in fairly close quarters to one another, she’d felt she needed to step this in the bud right here and now.

Keelan Walsh looks up and tries her hardest to look suprised, which is difficult as her cheeks are bright red. “Hm? Was there something… I’ve been quite busy, I found these pages in the Caaartography section of the library. Strange, isn’t it?” She gives laughs, short and hollow, and then silences except to say, in a high, relieved tone, “Hello Professor Prichard.” Keelan again forgets to continuing her numbering.

“O-oh, hello, Headmistress,” Bonnie responds, glancing over her shoulder at the woman in the doorway. Oh, dear. “I assure you Professor Prichard that we will have no more words on this subject.” She looks back down at her papers, and does not glance back towards Astra at all, nor does she even adjust her positioning to view the woman’s reaction at all. After all, it is Bonnie who is in the right in this argument, is it not? Well, of course.

“Oh yes, this *just* what I need.” Heatedly rising, her temper flares again but this time Astra manages, although not so graciously, to choke her desire to lash out. “Whatever you say *Headmistress*,” spitting out the title, there is less love for the sudden appearance of her superior than there is for Bonnie. “Thank you for setting me straight. Forgive me, I think I’ll go and finish my work in more congenial location.” Of course, that means having to pass by Melvina once she’s near the door.

Melvina Prichard shifts her gaze toward Keelan with a small nod, offering the woman an genuinely warm smile, before shrugging herself off the door frame and uncrossing her arms. She’d been aware that the anger had been abating, which is why she spoke with a hint of congenial humor. But quite beyond that, she also felt it important that they knew where she stood, and how she felt about spats between her staff. Especially on the matter of the subjects to which her respective peers have dedicated their lives to teach. “Thank you, Bonnie, dear. I trust that there won’t be,” Melvina says, warmly, to the diviner as her gaze flickers that way. A note of fondness touching her words; she’d clearly come to respect Bonnie some, after having sat in her class. Her gaze shift then toward Astra as she approaches, however, her previously quirked brow rising again. “Of course, Astra,” she says, without moving out the way. “Wherever you need to be to complete your tasks is, of course, where you need to be. But I do need to ask a moment of your time first, hmn?” And seeing as that she didn’t seem to terribly concerned about walking in to the room, she was pretty confident about getting it. “I’d like to say, simply, that I do not believe there to be any soft subjects taught in this school. Not a one. Be it Defense, Divination, or what have you. We are all professionals, trained in out expertly trained in our fields of study, and so, in order to better understand one another, and our peers. To understand how we can best help one another as teachers influence and guide out students, maybe we’d need to better understand our fellow faculty, as well?” The sly grin that touched her lips at that is a little playful. I know that I learned a great deal from sitting in on Professor Kensignton’s divination class. And I think you, would, too, Professor Rathe. Both of you,” she says, finally, turning her gaze toward Bonnie as well. “I’d like for you to exchange times that you can sit one of the other’s classes. If it requires you to miss a class of your own, I’ll sit a study hall in that classes place.. Simply owl me the information once the choices have been made.”

Keelan Walsh is happy her claims of where the papers came from went unchallenged, and quietly finishes numbering. Then, from her bag she pulls a leather cover. There’s a quicker stacking of the pages, although she takes care to get them neatly piled. With a flick of her wand, from wherever it is she keeps it (and back it goes right away, too), the leather cover swings up and, apparently, binds the stack. A soft chuckle barely escapes her lips at the lecture Astra and Bonnie recieve, before her lips are clamped tight, and seat more comfortably settled into. Smartly, she keeps any opinions to herself.

Donovan Harrison comes into the Lounge with a stretch and sigh, done for the day, fairly early which he is grateful for having once a week. He doesn’t pause once seeing other Professor there and gives a smile to all of them. “Good afternoon all. On break from your classes? Except for you Headmistress. How is everyone doing?” He smiled and sat down in one of the chairs to be comfortable.

“Yes, headmistress,” the woman answers quietly, turning a bit to glance at Astra, her anger still etched a bit on her face. Bonnie sets her quill down and turns out towards the center of the room, facing the others in the room. “Good afternoon, Professor Harrison,” Bonnie greets him and glances to Melvina. Good going, Bonnie. Good way to lose respect on your first year. “I’m certain we will be able to work something out. Professor Rathe is always welcome in my classroom,” she finally adds, looking at Melvina and not at all at Astra as she says this, sounding but not seeming entirely sincere.

If only the Defense professor was a little less stubborn and prideful, she might actual agree. As it turns out her response is quite different. “I’ve wasted enough of my years on things that do not matter. I will *never* comprehend Divination and I don’t intend to try now.” Astra is far from amused and her hard expression is not pleased by this turn of events. “I don’t care to know anyone who doesn’t have a remote sense of humor. Miss Kensington has duly informed me how she feels and I’ve done the same with her. As a *professional* I will leave her be.” The sneer edges on the corners of her lips, “Consider this, *Headmistress*, the last faculty to sit in on classes was David Porter, the Headmaster while I was a student. I hated him with an intense passion. In other words, you are behaving like him. If this does not stop, you can look for my resignation from the Board.” “I don’t havetime *to waste* with my classes on such a foolish endeavor. I came here to teach, not sit around in another’s class.”

Melvina Prichard regards Bonnie with a slightly nod; privately thinking, at least from what she’d heard of the conversation, that the diviner had the right of it. But that’s where she came to head over the whole thing, because (quite despite whatever the woman might feel about her) Melvina quite respected Astra. And beyond it all, she rather disliked this void that had grown between them since she’d accepted the position of Headmistress. Astra’s words, however, dig deep at the Headmistress, and her brow furrows. And all sense of humor, sly, subtle or otherwise fades from her slightly hooked features. Indeed, her expression becomes entirely businesslike, confident, and authoritive. Melvina is clearly a woman used to making things happen and getting things done. “Don’t mistake my words, Professor Rathe. This is hardly a request,” her form straightens and her poise steels. She will not be cowwed, even by someone as strong-willed as Astra. “I’m not suggesting you understand the subject–I’m suggesting you understand the professor, and the subject through her eyes. And you may think of me as you will, my dear, but that will not prevent me from doing my damnedest to keep this school peaceful and functional. That is my function. Now, I believe you were about to go?” And with that, she steps away from the door, allowing in Donovan to whom she greets with a nod and kind sort of smile. “Just discussing some issues, Professor Harrison. And how does this fine afternoon find you?”

“Yes, actually I was and you know my answer still.” “I will leave alone, but I won’t bend on this matter. If you want to take it up, speak to me in private. I’m done here.” Without even nodding to the Tranfiguration teacher, Astra sweeps out of the room.

Keelan Walsh frowns at Astra’s mention of Porter, and Keelan shifts uncomfortably. Donovan gets a tight lipped smile, but Keelan is now keeping her eyes on Melvina and Astra. Her expression is not unlike one you might see on someone who is watching two dogs that are growling at each other, ready to jump in should one attack. Her shoulders are hunched, and remain so after Astra leaves, the woman quite ill at ease. Her frown deepens and for a moment it looks like she might decide to follow Astra out.

Donovan Harrison blinks at this ‘discussion’ that he’s stumbled upon. “Things are doing rather well Headmistress… apparently better than what was going on here… Astra…” he calls, but failed as she is already out of sight. “Do I even dare ask what that was about? I’ve been so busy getting my menagerie settled from moving back into the castle I feel quite lost I’m afraid.” He has never seen Astra that upset, especially at an authority figure such as a Headmistress. She never did that with Amelia that’s for sure.

“Oh, my,” Bonnie breathes as she watches Astra stride out of the room. “Had anyone behaved in such a manner when I was at school, he would have been caned for his behavior.” The woman shakes her head and scribbles a grade onto the essay atop her pile, moving it to sit with the other well-inked and graded essays. Bonnie‘s posture remains very straight and she lifts her head as she puts down her quill. “I must admit, I did not expect such a situation so soon after coming back to Hogwarts, leastwise with a fellow teacher.”

Melvina Prichard turns her gaze toward the door with a soft expression — her anger having already begun to fade, and the prepercussions weighing on her. Though her expression is still firm, there’s a tell-tale softening around the eyes, that hints at a quiet regret over what just happened there. “Oh my, indeed,” Melvina murmurs, exhaling a soft breath before turning toward Donovan, Bonnie, and Keelan. “I wish I knew, dear Professor,” she replies to the Transifiguration Master before moving to take a seat. “She’s had some troubled months, Bonnie. Don’t think to harshly of her.” Her tone seems somewhat final on that, too, though her it is more gentle than her proclamation before.

Well that about does it. Keelan stands up with a bang–having pushed up off the table with great force. “How dare you. Astra in no way deserves to be spoken about in such a manner. Ms. Kensington! If you do not wish to have such situations,” there’s a bit of venom, although the young woman keeps her tone carefully level, “then you would do well to not… to not expect Astra Rathe to be bossed about.” She deflats, somewhat, though her eybrows have come down harshly. “Forgive me, Headmistress, but in front of the rest of us,” or, you know, just Keelan, “was no place to belittle Astra or Ms. Kensington with such a… a ridiculous punishment. I thought as a Headmistress you would understand that first and foremost is teaching the children… to suggest a study hall in place of a class just to…to… smooth out a disagreement. I cannot approve.” Keelan stands rather resolute, her cheeks flushed. Why on earth is she lecturing a superior?

Donovan Harrison still looks very confused about what is going. “Would someone give me a chance to understand what in the world is going on?” Headmistress insulting and punishing Professors. What the bloddy hell is going on here? “Astra goes barging out, Keelan yelling at Melvina, something about upsetting Bonnie…. Have we all just suddenly turned into our students who quarrel in their Common Rooms? I would hopefully think not. We are grown adults charged with the care of a few hundred children and their education in magic. I would think that we could handle ourselves in a civilized and adult manner instead of going shouting at each other, insulting each other and causing others to come to tears.”

“Excuse me? Ms Walsh?” Bonnie looks in astonishment at Keelan, unsure of even what she’s being yelled at for. “What on earth?” Bonnie can manage no more, for she has been rendered entirely speechless. The audacity of this entire day has flabbergasted her. Bonnie merely sits there, staring at Keelan while she raves. She can simply say nothing.

Melvina Prichard turns her gaze toward Keelan with a surprisingly even expression, considering how quickly her temper flared a moment ago. She seems quite placid now, however. Her tone is genuinely reserved, and the inflection in her voice, while not kind (a superior one tends not enjoy being besieged by a lesser), is quite earnest. “Your opinion is noted, Professor Walsh, and your defense of your friend and colleagues is admirable,” her hands fold in her lap for a moment, and her eyes lock confidently upon Keelan’s, unabashed and equally resolute. “But from where I sit, this is equally about teaching our students. If we expect our students to learn from us, to be encouraged by us, guided by us, then we have to be willing to be guided by each other, as well. As individuals, we’re each prone to being a differant way. To acting a differant way. And, naturally, to teaching a differant way. We are who we are, we can’t change that. But it seems like backward logic that we should expect our students to adapt to us, to each of us, and each of our ways of thinking. My “punishment”, if you choose think it that, wasn’t meant as an insult. It’s meant as an idea. If we don’t understand each other, and how one another thinks and performs our duties, how can we expect at all our students to succeed. How can we expect ourselves to succeed. It’s hardly an insult or a punishment to direct someone else toward understanding their peers, and the enviorment they share, better.” Her gaze shifts toward Donovan then. “Funny that, I made more or less the same comparison when I arrived.”

Keelan Walshdoesnotrollhereyes. It’s a bit of a struggle, but she manages not to after all. “Regardless, Professor Prichard, I sincerely doubt the students will benefit from missing a class. A tea together may be more beneficial. However… that’s all I’m going to say, ” she seems to have regained a bit of her sense, “as you are the Headmistress.” Donovan earns himself nothing beyond a snort and a quick, alltogether too dry, “Shouting, Donovan, you have not yet seen.” As she is standing (and without even a look at Bonnie to clarify), Keelan scoops up her book and her bag and says, “If I may be excused, I should really be returning this book to the library.” Nevermind that she means her personal(and somewhat hidden, at that) library and not the school one.

Donovan Harrison sighs as he stands up and looks to Melvina. “Though I find that even you, Headmistress, are behaving like one of our students, more of a bully than a Headmistress, unfortunately we cannot ‘call you out’ in order to set things right like we could to our students. Yes, we each individually have our own way of teaching, depending on where we come from, but each subject is unique in it’s own right. What can a Professor of Magical History learn from Defense Against the Dark Arts? One is merely facts while another is practical. We cannot work the same way, what fun, what challenge is that for our students? Co-workers and employeers work differently than one another out in the real world, I recall it from my work for the Ministry. It teaches our students how to quickly adapt and learn to deal with different people. That is the point of this school, for the students to learn and us to teach, in our own unique way.”

“It isn’t about working the same way, Donovan,” Melvina replies, in more or less the same tone of voice. “It’s about understanding how we work, to bring about the best in all of us. And a Professor of Magical History can learn a lot from a Professor of Defense, in my way of thinking. Not the least of which being the motivations and passions help by her fellow professors. And that, Professor Walsh, is why a tea isn’t acceptable,” Melvina stands, brushing off her robe and smoothing out the wrinkles. “Discussing something over tea isn’t the same as seeing someone interact with thier passion on a personal level. And that’s what this is about, from my perspective. Helping us each understand the passion we hold for our subjects, and how we share that passion with out students. And note, I said if no times could be found. I’m confident that it can be arranged so that no classes need be missed, but I wanted to leave that as a solid option. And seeing as there were no implications from anyone else that I heard that someone else’s subject was soft, I won’t demand you follow suit, but I would highly recommend spending a free period here and there visiting your other professors and sitting on their classes. You might be surprised at what you discover. I have done for Bonnie, and I feel like I’ve come to understand her better for it. And I will do for each of you in time. Again, think of me as you will, bully or not. But from where I sit, there your classrooms aren’t just rooms private to your own domains. We don’t teach our subjects in a bubble, we don’t teach our students only one idea and let them drift. We share a roof, we share a purpose; if not for blood, we’d be family. And I think it’s time we share an idea of one another. We’re all Professors of Hogwarts, and I think it’s time we started acting like it.”

“Well…” is all Bonnie can manage, even still. She glances to each of the members in the room and shakes her head for a moment. “I suppose I’ll just head up to my office now. I will see you all at supper.” Bonnie nods and starts stacking up her work and standing up. A nod goes to each of the remaining adults in the room, and Bonnie strides towards the door quickly, exiting without another word.

Donovan Harrison just stands there and doesn’t look upset, but does nod to Keelan as she leaves, then looks back at Melvina. “I agree, Headmistress, that we do not work in a bubble, by far. In fact, I have been arranging with Professor Sedgewick with my 7th year students and her’s. We work together when we need to. In fact I will eventually be speaking with Professor Rathe and Professor Walsh on another matter, though it will be of another ‘passion’ of their’s if they so wish to share, and help teach my Transfiguration students. Now if that is what you want, you didn’t have to make us observe each other to know how we enjoy our personal passions.”

Keelan Walsh nods mutely before striding through the room and exiting. Simple as that.

Melvina Prichard draws a deep breath, sharing a small nod with Donovan. “But it isn’t personal passions we’re solely talking about, here, now is it? It’s professional passion, and those effect all of us. I’m harding suggesting we change the way you each teach your students; I’m suggesting that we learn how we each teach out students we know how better to do so as one school, with one focus and one purpose; education. And I’m pleased to hear that you’re collaborating with your fellow teachers, I am. And by doing so, you should understand what I mean.”

“One is the number of the solitary, unified entity,” Isolde announces from the doorway as she blithely breezes in, picking up nothing from the other professors leaving at the same time. “Hello, everyone. Good day, I hope?” the arithmancy professor asks, smiling as she starts to go about brewing herself some fresh tea.

Donovan Harrison shakes his head. “No, I do not. We collaborate yes, but that did not require me to observe their teaching so that we could do so. I am sorry if you do not like how we have been doing things lately Headmistress, but they have worked for the past thousand years as far as I know. Why go changing it now all of a sudden? Besides, I know Transfiguration, Charms, Defense and several other classes move quickly, we have a lot to learn. It is difficult for us to even make time for our students outside of class…” He looks over to Isolde as she enters. “Afternoon Isolde… and that depends on one’s opinion of ‘good day’.”

“And where exactly did I suggest changing anything?” Melvina asks, quietly. Her tone still surprisingly even, despite the grilling she’s been put to. “I’m not wanting to change anything, except how we understand each other. Why is my wanting us to see how we each teach such a terrible thing? Why do assume it means that I’m changing how things are done? Where did I say anything about wanting the professors of Hogwarts to change how they govern thier classrooms. I didn’t. This is a school, and just because we’re adults doesn’t mean we don’t have anything left to learn. And learning about the people who help us shape the young lives around us in a professional sense hardly seems like the blasphemy I feel like I’m being taken to task for.”

Isolde Morgan pauses in her tea-brewing to give first Donovan a curious look, then the rest of the room a curious frown. Deciding she’s come in at the wrong time, she goes back to her tea, sitting down a few minutes later to sip at it slowly.

“Then I do not seem to understand,” Donovan answers her, “why we must observe one another teaching. I can learn just as much talking with the other Professors about it all and to understand them that way. We already talk about our students quite often, our opinions of them and suc. What you are after, I do not understand. All I see, like the other professors most likely, is you are forcing us to do something we do not like, force us to take time away from making sure we can teach our students the best way possible, or get behind in our classes.”

Melvina Prichard shakes her head sadly, reaching up to rub the bridge of her nose in a frustrated way; not angry, so much as tired. “That’s like saying by listening to be a bird sing, without ever seeing it in the air, you can know how it flies. And if it’s classes you worry about, with a proper lesson plan, I, or another subsitute can sit a period. However, Professor Harrison, the only one’s I am “forcing” to do anything, are Professors Rathe and Kensington as they displayed a distinct lack of each other’s professional value earlier, which you didn’t have the luxury of seeing.” A deep breath fills her, and though her tone is strained, her voice never rises. This is something she’s genuinely passionate about, it means something to her. “What I’m getting at, and what I hope is, that by watching each other work your subjects, you’ll learn something about your colleagues that you can’t learn not from simple conversations. That you learn who they are. It’s what we do that defines us. And I don’t see how it could hurt to know one another better.” Finally lowering her hand from her nose and drawing another deep breath, she meets Donovan’s eyes. “This resistance surprises me. It’s enough to make me question why? Why don’t you want to see how your fellow teacher’s teach? The real reason. I’m not critiquing how anyone teaches. I’m not suggesting anyone emulate anyone else. I know your lesson loads are heavy, but there have been times we we’ve all needed an ill holiday and left lesson plans for others. What I suggest isn’t even a whole day, just a period here and there. It could be as simple even as a day a test is administered, where all the substitute in question needs know to do is pass out and collect the papers. So I have to question why. Is it need to hold one’s own domain sacred? Or is it fear? I respect you, Donovan. My grandson respects you, a very great deal. But I think in this, you’re choosing not to understand before you attempt it.”

Donovan Harrison patiently listens to her though. “Why I personally object? Because I do not want to nor have the time to do such a thing. And I feel that we get to know one another best outside the classroom. The students see us in class and in the office, that is all they normally see. Here,” he gestures to indicate the staff room, “we get to know the real person, not the teacher. I feel that I do not need to see the teacher to understand my fellow professors. It may be a side we do not see, but for me and I am sure others, the teacher is a face we put on for the students, is not the true self. You have not spend much time with me to see what I am really like. You may see me in the classroom, but be assured, that is not the real me. Be sure to speak to Amalia Amithest, owner of Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, she has seen a side that none here have, be assured of that. The class is one side of me, but like a diamond, there are many facets to the stone. You cannot judge it from just one facet.”

Melvina Prichard does seem, for what it’s work, brilliantly appreciative of his patient listening and earnest answer that follows. “I can appreciate that viewpoint, Donovan. I can. And I won’t force you to sit other classes, even though I will continue to encourage it. But in a way, I think you made my own point for me. A facet of a diamond is still a part of the diamond. To say that facet isn’t the real you is to say that none of them are. And I think it could beneficial for all of us to learn those facets of each other, where they pertain to our chosen careers. Beyond which, I’m pleasantly inclinded to agree to disagree. Although, I hope it won’t offend you if I take time from my own schedule, to see the you the students see?” She smiles a bit, for the first time in several minutes. It’s wry, but she felt like they had approached something of an impass — she felt, or hoped, at least — he comprehened where she came from, and she had heard his points of view. Not much else was going to be served tossing things about, and her grandson did think rather highly of him, so she was predisposed toward not wanting to completely alienate Donovan.

Donovan Harrison folded his arms over his chest and seemed to slightly sigh. “I know I cannot stop you from coming to my class Headmistress, but the doors to my classroom are open to you and my fellow Professors as much as to all the students who need anything. Well, I will try to see your side of things. So far the students have been working hard, grumbling as they always are, but they are learning. In any case, I do have to feed some of the animals in my classroom. If you will excuse me Headmistress?

“You’re wrong, there, actually.” Melvina says, in a genuine tone. “You can stop me, if you like. All you have to do is say so. If you’d me not sit your class, the ask me not to, and I won’t. I may be a silly, stubborn, and foolish old woman who defends her point of view far to adminamntly to make much sense of it,” she grins a little, always one ready for a joke at her own expense. “But I’m not that old, that stubborn, or that foolish yet. …what I want, my goal and my only goal, is to learn. To learn how to become the best Headmistress this school has ever known, to help educate the finest young witches and wizards, and to aid my extremely comptent staff in all things, professional and otherwise. I may stumble a few times before I find that path, the one the works best for me, and everyone else as well. But I’ll get there. I appreciate your listening, and considering my point of view. And certainly, there’s somewhere I must go as well. Good afternoon, Professor Harrison. And to you, Professor Morgan, Professor Kensignton. Tea, perhaps, sometime else.”

Donovan Harrison gives a nod and escapes while he can. “Good afternoon Headmistress,” he gives and slips away from the Staff Room.

Melvina Prichard turns to leave as well, though moving down the hallway in the opposite direction as Harrison.

Muggle Studies is over, and toting her bag full of books and a cloak, Olivia stands akwardly outside the classroom door as everyone floods out, on their way to other, more interesting ventures than class and studies. It is clear that the fourteen-year-old is having some second thoughts about her note to her friend. She fiddles with the sleeves of her school robes as she scans the hallway, half waiting for Evan, half hoping that he’ll forget to come.

Alas, Olivia’s half-wish is not granted, or even allowed much time to hope. Evan Geroff does not even do the favor of being very late, much less forgetting. Walking against the crowd streaming out of the room and down the hall, his figure can soon be seen approaching the door to the Muggle Studies classroom. Bookbag is slung over his shoulder by one strap as usual, though is doesn’t hang quite as far down his side as it did the previous year. He offers a slight bow as he reaches Olivia, then looks at her with a smile. “Miss Baxtor, I come at your summons.”

A nervous giggle emits from Olivia‘s mouth, though she is not usually one to giggle. “Hi, Evan,” she speaks, rather nervously. “I — I wanted to ask you something, and…” She trails off, as if not asking the question will somehow get the question asked. She glances around, still looking rather excessively nervous. “Well, I, um, I … I, hm. I wanted to know if you would go with me to the social?” Her voice sounds a bit strained as she finally manages the question. Her eyes fix on Evan suddenly, now focusing on him as the one person in all the world (well, in the hallway) who matters.

Evan Geroff might be the only other person in the hallway, for all he’s aware of any others at the moment. With all the talk of the dance coming up, he can surely guess what’s coming, yet he can’t jump her words to say it himself. He stands, watching her, smile still there and waiting, and lets her ask. “I would…” her eyes fix on him, and two words later he pauses, gaze dropping down once quickly before rising to meet her eyes again. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Ohgood,” Olivia breathes, her hand, almost as if it is a social habit, comes to her chest as she leans against the wall. She smiles a bit at him, and looks quite relieved. “I don’t know what I’d have one if you said no. I don’t know who else I would even ask.” Well, at least she’s honest. “I suppose I’ll be wearing the yellow dress thing Mum forced into my trunk before I left. I really think it appalling.” She sighs happily. “Now I suppose I can stop thinking about the wretched social. Fancy a stroll outside? Someone mentioned that it ought to rain a lot next week.” She pauses. “Though I think that may have been a project for Divination.”

Evan Geroff reaches up to adjust the strap of his bag, though it doesn’t seem to have slipped from his shoulder at all. “Olivia, I wouldn’t say no to you.” Still, he doesn’t linger over the topic. “A stroll sounds like a brilliant idea,” he agrees, turning. “I don’t know about next week, but it seemed quite nice out earlier today. And if it was a Divination project, it probably means we’ll have nothing but sunshine for seven days.”

Olivia Baxtor laughs rather boistrously at Evan’s comment about Divination. “That’s exactly why I stopped taking the course and picked up Runes instead. The teacher told me in the first week that she “saw” that I didn’t have the “gift”.” The girl shrugs and secures her bag on her shoulder. “I love the sunshine, let’s go.” She strides towards the staircases, and trots down rather quickly, anxious to exit the most akward scene of her life, to date.

Evan Geroff chuckles quietly. “I suppose it’s all right for those who do… but imagine if the whole school could see the future.” He hurries after Olivia down the stairs and toward the door, adding as they reach the bottom, “I’m not sure I would want to see the future. It takes all the surprise out of things. And even if I could, I don’t know that I’d constantly stare at Pluto to figure it out.”

“It isn’t even just that. Crystal balls, smoke pictures, trying to read signs in tea leaves?” Olivia shakes her head quickly and steps outside. “It was wretched.” She sighs and readjusts her bag again. “I find that Runes is really difficult. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make my OWLs in it.” The girl is already preoccupied with her OWLs, though they are a year away? “I don’t even like Astronomy all that well, so I should have known Divination would be a bore.”

Evan Geroff shrugs, pausing as he steps out to look up at the sky. “Sunshine.” .. “I don’t mind astronomy so much, on it’s own. I do prefer Runes though.. if you’re very worried about it, we’ll study together. I’m sure I could use the extra work as well, I must do well on the tests, though,” he turns back to look at her, “we do have a bit of time before they start.”

“You’re right; I just get so nervous thinking of them.” Olivia sighs, glancing around. “Perhaps we had better start studying them. I’m really abysmal at all of that. Muggle Studies is right up my alley, though. I really enjoy that. Muggles live so oddly. I don’t know if I could manage it.” She shrugs and laughs a little bit. “What do you want to do after school? Are you going to do what your mum did. I imagine one must be very smart to do that.”

Evan Geroff shakes his head quickly, laughing. “What didn’t Mother do? It’s not quite fair, after all, children should be able to outdo their parents, and she’s Minister.” Still, there’s pride not-very-hidden behind the complaining. Along with a certain confidence – he’s already sure he’ll do quite well. “I don’t know. I suppose she’s smart enough.” Then again, he is a typical fourteen year old boy. “If you’re very interested in muggle life, you should talk to her sometime.. I can help you with Runes though. Even if you want to start now instead of next year. After school, though.. curse-breaker sounds interesting, perhaps that. And I do like DADA.” .. “What are you thinking of?”

“Oh, speak with the Minister for Magic? I certainly couldn’t!” Olivia looks appalled at the mere idea of it. “I would be so nervous, and whatever would I say to her?” Perhaps the girl overreacts a bit, but she has been taught to respect authority figures. “Well, ehm. I honestly don’t know. I rather enjoy Potions, and Muggle Studies. I’m not all that good at anything, though.” The girl shrugs a bit, unsure of how she would manage to be employed after school. “I guess I’ll figure it out later. Is curse-breaking terribly hard? It sounds interesting.”

“How am I ever going to bring you to my house if you won’t speak to her?” Lowering his bag to the ground as he remains standing, Evan give Olivia an amused look to accompany his question. “You could try.. ‘Hi, I’m Olivia, and your son dragged me home to talk about umbrellas.’” Her latter questions earns a thoughtful pause. “You have to be good at Defense spells, and charms, but every profession has something one must be good at. I imagine most time would be spend wandering around and taking unwanted curses off of things, but perhaps sometimes they can accompany aurors and such on their jobs; taking curses off of people ought to be very important.”

“Well, I certainly don’t know. Your mum is terribly important, and I’m sure she’d think me just ridiculous for not knowing about umb-er-ellies.” The girl still has trouble pronouncing the word, apparently. “I suppose I couldn’t be a curse-breaker, then. Defense isn’t one of my best subjects. I guess I could do something with Muggle Studies if I studied very hard. I still find Muggles very odd, though their way of life is interesting. It would be so inconvenient not to have magic, I imagine.” Olivia pauses in thought for a moment, then steps a bit more quickly to catch up to Evan. “I wonder, does your house have a bearing on what profession you can be? For instance, do only Slytherins make it in the Ministry?”

“I don’t know for certain,” is Evan‘s answer to this newest question. “I only know what house’s my own parents were in, no one else in any profession. But I do think they would have told us if so, so that we wouldn’t waste our time trying things our houses couldn’t do. What house were your parents?”

“My mum was a Ravenclaw and my dad was a Slytherin. I have a brother in Gryffindor, too, and my younger sisters — they’re twins, you know — are in Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I suppose we’re all rounded out that way.” Olivia shrugs a bit. “I guess there must be some other houses in Ministry, for all how many people there are in there. I should query what the requirements are for Muggle Artifacts. Perhaps I could handle that.” Olivia stops with a pause. “You know, perhaps we could go ask Professor Hayward now, so I don’t forget. I’m sure he must still be in class.” The girl looks to her companion, a quizzical look on her face.

Evan Geroff nods his agreement. “I know every Slytherin doesn’t go in; and there are a lot of Ministry members.” Reaching for his bag again, Evan turns back toward the door. “You’re probably right; lead on, then, we’ll catch him.”

The divination classroom appears to be rather neat and tidy, as classrooms often are at the start of a school year. The room seems to have been aired out from the smoky atmosphere that it previously embodied. Above the entryway into the main classroom a sign is posted that states, “PLEASE HANG UP YOUR BAGS AND WEATHER GEAR. SUPPLIES ONLY IN THE CLASSROOM.” Bonnie is seated at the desk in the classroom, a stack of parchment to her left and a quill in said hand. She stands to stride over to the board on the side of the classroom and posts two lists, one of books, the other of rules. There is space remaining, and one might wonder what the space is exactly for. The woman appears to be quite calm and ready to begin her first year as a Hogwarts Professor.

Entering the Divitnation classroom with a bit of a flourish and a bit of redness to his cheeks Vincent seems to be in a rush to get his bag hung and his supplies ready. “Blimey I thought for sure I’d be late. Who went and changed the castle around like that?” He asks another Slytherin close by. Vincent quickly takes a seat and smiles to Professor Kensington.

The approach of Kelly Pantall is, as usual, determinable from a distance of several metres at least, with the sound of her excessively loud voice and the clunking of her heavy boots echoing through the castle and giving warning of her boisterous approach far before she comes into sight. This is quite a change from her melancholy these last few days, certainly, but the content of her chattering does not give it away at all. “– reading a muggle ‘paper over the summer, right, and it had this really great article about the history of Jack the Ripper and all the theories so now I have it all in one nice succinct report, and it has this picture of a guy skulking in the darkness, but it’s a bit dodgy in my opinion because you can hardly tell he’s skulking because he’s not even moving –”

Rudy Foster manages to crawl through the hole in the floor and slouches the rest of the way in, dutifully hanging his things before taking a seat near Bonnie. The boy is clutching his copies of the Guide to Everything in Divination and Unfogging the Future like they were life preservers. Probably just nervous. “Professor Calwern, I think,” he offers quietly to Vincent as he finally sets down his things.

Puffing with exertion as she reaches the top of the ladder, Katherine Nichols steps into the Divination room, looking around with wide, wondering eyes at her new surroundings. A crisp new bookbag – already overflowing with crumpled parchments and Chocolate Frogs both wrapped and unwrapped – is slung over the plump little Hufflepuff girl’s shoulder. She calls out a cheerful greeting to a few of her housemates as she enters…but shoots a wary glance towards Kelly, and pointedly takes a seat on the opposite side of the room from the Gryffindor girl.

Felicity Wexler steps slowly, quietly in to the classroom at the top of the divination tower; a slightly abashed, fearful look dancing across her tired, puffy features. Her cheeks and eyes were still red from after her last cry after being told off by another group of upperclassmen from her house about the points she had helped lose. After a small cry in the privy, she’d collected herself and hauled on to class; after all, she’d been looking forward to this all summer! Who wouldn’t be? Fortune telling, knowing the future.. It would be brilliant, just like those love readings she’d seen done in the common room last year by the same girls who had just told her off.. It would be brilliant. But she wished she’d had more time to clean up.. Hanging up her bad and cloak, as instructed, she looks for a seat, taking the nearest one to her.

Sit all the way across the room from Kelly? Why ever would one do that? Clementine enters not long after her fellow Hufflepuff in the last phase of braiding her own second pigtail sloppily. She slips in to sit by Kelly once she’s shed her cloak outside of the classroom, crossing her legs and tossing a furtive little glare towards Brandie while finishing with her messy hair.

Melvina Prichard strides in to the room a few moments after the last student has entered and hung his things, moving to unobtrusively a seat at the back of the classroom as though it were an entirely usual, normal, everyday occurance that the Headmistress would show up for third year divination. Smoothing out her emerald green robes and politely removing her wide-brimmed, pointed hat, the Melvina leans back in her chair and crosses one knee over the other in a comfortable sort of way, hands clasped together in her lap. She doesn’t say a word to anyone unless spoken to, though she does offer a few smiles and nods as she shifts her gaze toward one of the windows, humming an amused noise to herself as she watches the a light, but steady rain fall just beyond the glass.

“Alright, alright, settle in everyone,” Bonnie says, returning to the center of the room. If the woman is nervous at all, it doesn’t show. “Welcome to Divination! My name is Professor Bonnie Kensington. As you all know, this is my first year at Hogwarts as a teacher. I hail from Ravenclaw in class –” she stops herself. “Well now, that isn’t important, now is it?” She chuckles for a moment and sets her quill down, and picks her wand up, swish-and-flick, forcing a piece of chalk to write her name onto the Blackboard. “This term, you will be introduced to Divination,” the chalk follows, itemizing things as she speaks, “And all of its facets. We’ll have brief overviews of all the subjects, and then after the winter Holidays we will begin our in-depth study of the reading of tea leaves. Now, this is all posted on the board behind you, so if you are unsure, I encourage you to check on that board for confirmation. You are also welcome to come ot me with questions at any time. Now, if I could have you all introduce yourselves aloud, starting from my right,” she finishes, gesturing to the student at the table to her direct right, smiling around at all the students.

Vincent Molbie stands up and clears his throat. A gentle almost timid voice comes from the Slytherin. “My name is Vincent Molbie, Professor. And its a pleasure to meet you. Im sure this will be my favoright new class.” At this a few of the other students snicker as it sounds like hes sucking up a bit. “Errm thank you…” He says unsure of himself and retakes his seat.

Rudy Foster blinks once at Vincent, then slowly follows suit, standing and staring at his classmates. “Um. Rudy Foster.” Easy enough. He quickly sits and starts fidgeting with a quill.

Standing seems to be the thing to do, so Katherine bounces up to her feet, scattering a Chocolate Frog wrapper on the ground as she does – the frog itself is nowhere to be seen, but a few telltale smudges of chocolate cling to the edges of the girl’s mouth. “I’m Katherine Nichols,” she says, offering a bright, hopeful smile, and slips quickly back into her chair again.

Felicity Wexler blinks as it comes to her, and with a slightly sudden expression–trying to wipe the red from her cheeks with an all-to-obvious inconspicuous brush of her shirt sleeve, she rises and tries to find her most confident voice but failing. Think of something to say! THINK! “I-I’m Felicity Wexler, and.. and..” She swallows, stammers, and blurts out the first thing that hits her lips. “..and I want to learn how to do love readings!” She gives a little, embaressed squeak, opens her eyes wide, and sits down quickly, for once in her life glad that her wildy, golden locks are so curly and bushy, as it gives her something to hide her blush behind behind.

Clementine stands up quickly, calling out in a squeak of a voice, “Clementine Duncan…but everybody jus’ calls me Clem.” She lets out an obnoxious nervous little giggle. In a moment, her tiny peep of a voice is gone and she’s back in her seat, slouching over slightly and throwing an alarmed glance towards Kelly as if to comment on how incredibly stressful and difficult this class is already. Standing… and talking… Ugh.

Kelly Pantall looks up at Clementine as she sits down, smiling to her broadly. “Hello, Clementine!” A pause, and she looks up at Bonnie, leaping to her feet with a broad smile. “I’m Kelly Pantall,” she begins slowly and thoughtfully. “I want to do this class so I can find out all about, um, like, who murderers are and stuff! Like, if I can see the crime occurring and can see who they are, so they can be caught!” Crime fighter! She then sits back down and offers, in much lower tones, akin to a hoarse whisper, to Clementine, “Hey, guess what!” Then, before she can guess, the Gryffindor explains. “I have a date to the barefoot social.”

Melvina Prichard glances around the room with a bit of amusement as it comes to her, but without missing a bit she uncrosses her legs, smoothes her robe, and stands for all the class to see. Grinning softly to one in particular. “My name is Bertha Melvina Prichard, and I think also will be my new favorite class and would like to learn how to do love readings. I enjoy spiced tea.” Her gaze shifts toward Kelly, and she arches a brow toward the girl with a slightly amused look. “Congratulations on your date, dear.” That said, she slips back in to her seat and resumes the same pose she had a moment before. She does pass Professor Kensington an amused expression, though. Clearly, she’s having fun.

“Alright, fantastic,” the teacher exclaims and turns for a moment to wipe the board clean of everything except where the chalk has written each student’s name in a line, though spellings may be botched here and there in the list. “If you would all open your books to the first chapter of The Unabridged Guide, I would be much obliged. And please retrieve that bit of litter, Miss Nichols. And girls, I know the social is exciting, but please save the chatter for after class. Thank you.” The thanks are expressed in such an upbeat tone of voice that one might expect that Bonnie hadn’t just given a direct order to a student. The woman gives a single smile to the Headmistress, but pays no particular attention to the woman. After all, it is the students she is to be teaching.”Now, let us start by talking about Divination. Everyone has got their preconceived ideas of what Divination is and what it strives to achieve. Can someone give me some examples?” Her eyes scan the room for raised hands.

Kelly Pantall turns faintly pink at this sudden attention from the Headmistress, though she doesn’t sink down in her chair or anything of the sort – no, no, she must face these things headon. “Er.. thank you, Headmistress.” She does, however, stop whispering and sit up all the straighter, eyes focused completely on Professor Kensington.

Vincent Molbie hurrys and opens his book the the aformentioned chapter only glanceing at the Headmistress through the corner of his eye. Whispering to a friends next to him Vincent asks “Is she taking a class? How odd is that?” Perking up and raising his hand high in the air Vincent is sure he can give a fair example.

“Yes, ma’am,” Katherine gulps. A quick blush pinkens her plump cheeks, and she hastily bends down to retrieve the candy wrapper, and tucks it away in her pocket. Then down she goes again, tugging ‘The Unabridged Guide’ out of her satchel, and she flips hurriedly through it, bending down the corners of a few pages in her rush. But her hopeful smile remains, and she puts her hand in the air, brightening with the pleasure of knowing an answer to _this_ question, at least.

Barely a moment passes before her exhuberance returns and Kelly waves her left hand in the air, surrounded by a sudden silent aura of ‘ooh, ooh, pick me, pick me!’. Her right hand, however, scrawls a message on a piece of paper, and pushes it over towards Clementine – ‘you’ll never guess who’, followed by a little happy smiley face with big eyebrows. The book is opened in front of her, too. What a good student.

“How about Miss Nichols first, and then we’ll hear from Mister Molbie,” Bonnie states, directing her hands to each of them in turn. “And we can hear from Miss Pantall following them. Be sure to let the others finish first.” A glint is in Professor Kensington’s eye, as if she is playfully winking at the students who raise their hands, directing them in what order to answer.

Somehow ‘please save the chatter for after class’ translated into ‘chatter more quietly’ in Clem’s mind. She smiles to the Headmistress – deciding, for the moment, that the woman is nice. She whispers softly, leaning in close to Kelly, “I know I was with Rafe when he got your note!” Clementine holds down excited giggles, biting down on her bottom lip hard. She follows directions swiftly while she whispers, finding the time to jot down on the paper ‘He was so excited!’. She looks up, worried, when Kelly’s name is mentioned. Oh crap, what are they doing?

Rudy Foster does open the book as bidden, but raising his hand? Not happening. He’ll just… wait to see what happens next.

Felicity Wexler just sits quietly, her hands folded in her lap, red up to the ears.

Eagerly, Katherine wriggles a little farther forward in her seat – almost as far as the edge of her desk, except that the corner of her book pokes her first, bringing her to an abrupt and uncomfortable stop. “Er. Yes, ma’am,” she replies, bringing her hand down again. She glances around the room – but there are no cues to take; she must make the decision herself, and after another moment’s hesitation, Katherine wriggles out of her seat and stands up to answer the question. “It’s, well, it’s telling the future,” she begins, with the same hopeful smile. “With stars, and tea, and cards and things. And…if you know when someone is born, you can figure out where the stars were, and you can tell about their future.” Katherine is starting to falter – there is much more hope than confidence in her smile now – but she still pushes ahead valiantly. “And…if you look at the bottom of a teacup, you can see what’s going to happen. Although not if you use a teabag. But Mum says that doesn’t taste as good anyway. Er.” She hovers for a moment in the aisle, and then plunks back down into her seat, looking uncertainly up at the professor.

Vincent Molbie smiles a little hearing the Hufflepuff’s explanation and waits poligihtly untill she is finished before speaking in his own very quiet voice. “Divination is the ability to predict the past, present and future be deciphering the different patterns all around us. Be it tea dregs in the bottom of a glass or even dice or dominos or even in some places a coin flip. Some tools are more effective than others and some seers do not have to use tools at all and have an ability to sense the future.” Vincent blushes just a bit and looks around before sitting down and saying nothing more.

Melvina Prichard agreed, the students were the most important part, and she was very content to simply sit quietly and watch for the rest of the lesson. To know someone, is to see how someone fulfills their passion; that is the measure to knowing peeking in to another heart and another soul. If it’s true that one’s passion were teaching, her little sit in would tell Melvina more about Professor Kensington than a hundred staff room conversations filled with idle small talk.. And it was an equally valuable chance to learn about her students, as well. To see what motivated them, to understand them. Bonnie’s polite acknowledgment, but heedless regard about Melvina presence spoke very highly over the divination professor, the headmistress thought. Melvina‘s usually sly, amused grin warmed in to something of a small smile of businesslike respect, ready to see and learn about the denizens of her school.

For a moment, Kelly looks slightly annoyed – how can people go around spoiling her fun by being present when it happened? Some people are just so inconsiderate. The note seems to puzzle her, however, to say the least and her eyes widen considerably as she scrawls in big letters, underlined several times, ‘EXCITED???’. Now, that doesn’t tally with her knowledge of the situation – which is limited to say the least, but still. She lowers her hand as she is called on, however, and offers, “And crystal-gazing, Professor, you can see what’s happening. That’s how you can use Divination for crime-fighting, Professor, because if you’re good you can see things happening as they happen, or before they happen, or after they happen…” She trails off a bit at the end, apparently realising she makes no sense, and diverts her attention back to Clementine, adding to the note on the paper, ‘how did you know what the note was about?’. The word ‘you’ is underlined.

Clementine Duncan smiles a little, though she does seem to develop a little more tact as far as their ‘chatter’ goes. She at least tries to pay more attention… She scribbles on the paper, ‘Well… surprised. It was in the middle of the commons – everybody was there! He said I put you up to it or something but it seems like he wanted to go I suppose.’ She also adds, ‘I don’t have a date.’ And ‘I don’t like your sister very much.’ Ehem.

Nodding slowly, Bonnie listens to the ideas that the students present. “Myself, I wouldn’t include dominoes and coin-flipping as intricate parts of Divination. They are much less consistent than the other methods you all have mentioned. I do think you’ve all got it about right, though. Divination is an art, and while all of you might have a passion for the art, I cannot guarantee that you will all have the gift. I will do everything in my power to help you find this gift within you, though. Let’s see, what else do we know about Divination?” The teacher pauses and glances around the room, seeing many very attentive students and one who, perhaps, is not paying full attention. “How about we hear from Miss Duncan next?”

After a moment of peering at this written correspondence, Kelly reaches over and offers a quick written response. ‘Everybody? Oh dear. He should know you didn’t put me up to it. But I guess he must have wanted to go, because he ended up saying yes.’ As Clementine is called on, however, she drops the quill in an effort to resume looking completely, one hundred per cent attentive. Good student. Yay.

Melvina Prichard shifts her gaze toward Clemintine with a slightly raised brows, her look of appreciation for the woman heading the class grows. It was a small thing, note-passing in class. But the world was made up of small things, and the how we handled the small things dictated how we would handle the large ones. Clasping her hands in her lap, and tapping her tangling toe against the air the headmistress watches.

“Ah, finding knut, pick it up, if it’s face up, all the day you’ll have good luck?” Felicity asks, her voice regraining some of it’s vigor, though still fairly soft. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she’d been heard at all. She turns her gaze toward Clementine as the hufflepuff’s singled out, widenning her eyes a little. After the headmistress greeting, she felt a little better; it was easier to laugh at yourself with someone else, though she still didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the woman so close by. Not after what happened in the common room with Kelly, Briony, Rawnie, and she. It was pretty clear what was going on, though. Passing notes with one teacher in a room was somewhat silly, with two.. it seemed kind of, well, dumb.

Vincent Molbie begins absently reading the chapter to himself as his young mind has a tendancey to whander. Though when Felicity speaks up about finding a knut and picking it up for luck he cannot help but have a bit of a laugh and the sillyness of it.

As her housemate is singled out, Katherine‘s smile fades away entirely, leaving only a worried frown. Clem might be sitting next to Kelly, but she _is_ still a Hufflepuff, and Katherine looks across the room towards her housemate with a mixture of concern and encouragement.

Clementine gulps as she’s called on, immediately feeling as though all time has slowed down. It’s no secret how absolutely horrified Professor Kensington has made her. BUSTED. “Um…” She tilts her head, twirling a braid between her fingers, pushing the note under Kelly’s book and breathing out a nervous giggle, “I-I don’t know much about Divination, but I read somewhere about people who can really see… wi’out anythin’. I-I ferget wha’ they’re called but they…” She moves a shaky hand in the direction of her now pale-white face, “Not many people can do it but there are a few in hist’ry that could… but they can… predict… the future… and stuff… without any help.” Her voice moves faster and faster as she goes off into a random rant of absolutely anything she remembers, growing higher and higher in pitch. When she finally does give up, she just cowers in her seat, covering her mouth and averting her eyes. Ugh. Kelly is a bad influence on her. If the Hufflepuff could simply stop her heart from beating… Now… Yes… Now would be a terrific time to figure that out. Not that she’s not dieing anyway.

“Thank you for your contribution, Miss Duncan,” Bonnie responds with a smile. “Good save.” Bonnie raises her eyebrows at the girl and turns to face the blackboard for a moment. “Now, you’re all aware of the most common types of Divination.” She flicks her wand and the chalk poises itself at the chalkboard once again. “We have crystal balls, tea leaves, astrology, and cards, which are easily the most popular of methods.” She pauses. “Well, take this down; you’ll need it later. You’ll find that taking notes is important in this class.” A pointed look goes to Kelly and Clementine. “Notes relating to the subject matter, that is.” She nods a moment and then continues. “Does anyone know the methods that are just as effective, but less popular?”

In response to the professor’s instructions, Katherine springs into action – she grabs her quill and hurriedly starts scribbling in her notebook. Eccentric diagrams accompany her enthusiastic notes – an oval crystal ball, a lopsided teacup, and a sketch of a tarot card spread that starts too far over on the page to fit all the way, so it starts to curve around. But Katherine‘s hand stays down this time – she has reached the end of her knowledge, it seems.

Vincent Molbie begins copying down what Professor Kensington is giving them. His scrawl is quick and quite tidey using up very little of his parchment and ink.

Kelly Pantall takes out a fresh piece of paper, one that is free of notes about the social, and writes some very detailed notes on the matter. *Balls, *Tea, *Stars, *Cards. See, brilliantly detailed notes. Then, her hand flies up in the air again, to answer this next question, though her expression indicates that it is entirely possible that she has absolutely no idea.

Clementine Duncan huffs out a long sigh of relief, smiling a little to herself and pulling out a new bit of paper. She jots down messy little notes about Divination, spelling it miraculously wrong even though the word seems to be just about everywhere she looks. She peaks over at Kelly’s notes, which are better then hers, and steals a few tidbits from them to put in her own.

Bonnie‘s eyebrows raise slightly as Kelly raises her hand, but the woman keeps all other traces of surprise from her face as she glances around the classroom. Nobody else? “Alright, what else is there, Miss Pantall?” Bonnie glances back as the chalk has continued writing, and is in fact not writing susinct notes, but every spoken word. She flicks her wand in its direction and the chalk falls to the floor. Waiting for Kelly’s answer, the woman stoops and picks up the chalk, examining it, then setting it back to the chalkboard, set to copy down the additional forms of Divination.

“Er… it’s a funny word I can’t pronounce. Um. Fren-oh-log-ee?” Kelly hesitates a moment, waving her hands vaguely. “Like, feeling the bumps on someone’s head so you know stuff about them. Like if they have a bumpy head here, they’re creative or something.” This really is more of a personality detector than divination, but you never know. “Oh! And, like, palm reading!” She looks quite proud of herself for knowing and being able to put words around this.

Katherine‘s quill has strayed to the margins, doodling little animals on the backs of her squashed tarot cards. And then something sparks in her mind – and her hand goes up. Her hand doesn’t waver, but the little Hufflepuff girl’s confidence is not complete – her irrepressible smile is, well, repressed, and she chews on her lower lip as she turns some heavy and difficult thought over in her mind.

Clementine Duncan raises her hand as well – obviously hesitant about offering another answer but rather set on at least making it up a little to the Professor. She didn’t even take points off or anything…

“Unfortunately, no Phrenology is not a form of Divination. While Muggles still seem to take it as a legitimate form of fortune telling, they are often entirely mistaken. Muggles are rarely gifted in this way, and even when they are do not know how to harness it properly.” The woman smiles. “However, palmistry is another form of Divination that is also rather popular in certain areas. Anyone else?” The woman glances around the classroom, as if to see if anyone has further input. “Miss Nichols, what have you to say on the subject? Miss Duncan, you can follow her answer.” The chalk at the board seems poised and ready to continue its list. “And before you keep looking, Mister Smits, you won’t find it in the first chapters of the guide.” Bonnie smiles at the boy and returns her attention to Katherine.

Vincent Molbie hurrys to copy down the facts as they come. Who would have guessed that the lumps on your head hold absoloutly no meaning at all? Vincent grins drawing a picture beside his notes of a Muggle franticley rubbing his head while looking at what seems to be a stock portfolio.

“Well…” Katherine begins, wriggling uncomfortably in her chair, “didn’t people – a long time ago, I mean? Didn’t they, well, kill animals?” She swallows hard, as her unhappy frown deepens. “And look at their insides and things? And tell the future from that? But I don’t think they do anymore – and I can’t see how killing animals would _help_ anything, even telling the future!” On the verge of saying more, Katherine suddenly catches herself, and closes her mouth abruptly, covering it with one chubby hand as if to hold back any more outbursts of words.

“Maybe that’s what Jack the Ripper was trying to do?” Kelly offers by way of explanation, though it is a quiet comment, as though it is said more to amuse herself than the rest of the room. She does, however, jot this addition down on her notes, taking not of the fact that ‘not phrenology’ and ‘palms’ and ‘organs’.

Clementine Duncan smiles, giggling and blushing, “Oh…” She sighs, motioning towards Katherine, “I was gonna say tha’ too! Entrails er somethin’ like tha’ it’s called?” She makes a disgusted face, “We’re not going to be doing that are we?” She pauses, staring at the Professor worriedly for a long moment before shaking her head, “Oh! If we were my da’ is a butcher… He could probably give us animal guts for free.” She smiles sweetly, writing some things down on her notes before hearing the professor’s reply. There are some eerily mixed messages in the girl’s reaction to cutting open animals to see the future…

“You’re both right on that one. A point each to Hufflepuff for coming up with such a method and sharing it with the class.” Bonnie turns to see that the chalk is still writing correctly, then turns back to face the class.”Other forms include the reading of bird entrails, as well as fire omens. Bird entrails reading is not a favorite with many, and we will not be spending much time on that. These methods are all ones that we will learn through the course of your years in Divination, be they three or be they five.” Bonnie swishes her wand again at the chalk and it stops writing and falls to the lip on the blackboard. “You’ll all likely enjoy fire omens far more than you wil enjoy bird entrails, but in order to have a well-rounded education of Divination, it is necessary to study.” Bonnie pauses, offering a generous smile to the occupants of the room. “Now, I’ll take questions from whoever has any. One at a time, please.”

Kelly Pantall looks rather obviously annoyed that though she has volunteered two answers to questions, she has not received any house points, so she too starts drawing little pictures. It’s a stick figure woman, with squiggly lines on top of her ‘torso’. What a beautiful artist’s impression of entrails. Then, she nudges Clementine again and writes another note. ‘You know him better than me, right?’

Under most circumstances, Katherine would be beaming, under a professor’s approval and friendly smile. But she looks no happier than she had before – if anything, she looks less comfortable and more apprehensive about the prospect of Divination class. “Do we really have to kill birds?” she blurts, before she can stop herself, and before she can raise her hand. She claps her hand over her mouth, and her round cheeks begin to redden with embarrassment.

Clementine Duncan beams, even going as far as pretending to pay attention for a few more minutes, ignoring Kelly’s note for about an entire second. She jots down a quick reply as if taking notes, ‘No! He just sits there all alone all the time!’ Not that she has room to talk, being the girl who throughout her first and second year had a tendency to run through the commons and up to her bed crying. She looks over to Katherine, frowning a little and adding to the note, ‘I don’t think Katherine is Jack the Ripper in case there were any doubts.’

Vincent Molbie makes a bit of a face at the very thought of using entrails of any sort. He whispers to a friend beside him. “Isn’t that kind of thing more for potions work? Gutting stuff I mean…” With a shiver Vincent adds the new information to his notes.

“No, dear, we won’t be. It’s a liability, and besides that, it’s rather messy and disgusting. We will be doing extensive research on the subject, however, and in order to complete that unit you will be expected to hand in several essays about the topic. That isn’t for several years, however, and you needn’t worry about it just yet, Miss Nichols.” Professor Kensington glances to Vincent as he speaks up. “I also view it as work for another subject of study, Mister Molbie. No one present need worry about having to interpret actual bird entrails while I am Professor of Divination here.” Bonnie looks around the room again. “More questions?”

Relief floods back into Katherine‘s face, and her cheerful smile beams forth again. She lets out a deep sigh, and relaxes back into her seat. “Thank you, Professor.”

‘Doubt it.’ Kelly scrawls in turn, glancing over at Katherine with a confused sort of expression. Then, after a moment, she adds, ‘Really? That’s sort of weird, isn’t it?’ She’s not in much of a position to pass judgement on whether or not people sit alone all the time, especially as she’s currently sitting next to probably the only person she knows who would come and sit next to her voluntarily.

‘I guess. I’m kindof used to it though. It’d be more weird if he came up and started talking to everyone. Do you like him?’ Clementine underlines the world like many many times before she raises her hand, waiting to be call on patiently. She’s actually fairly confident now. She’s already been humiliated. She’s sitting next to Kelly. And she got one point.

Vincent Molbie blushes just slightly as the Professor overheard his question. “Right… sorry.” He says quickly and pretends to read the chapter again not wanting to embaress himself any further than he has allready.

‘No, Clementine.’ Kelly writes in response, looking at the other girl and rolling her eyes pointedly. ‘I asked him to the social to prove exactly how little I like him.’ The word little is also underlined several times, and just to prove her point, she draws another little face on the piece of paper, but this one has narrowed eyebrows and a frown.

“Well, if there are no more questions, then I think we’ve had a good introduction for the class. As homework, I would like you all to read the first two chapters of The Guide as well as the first chapter of Unfogging the Future. Please write me fifteen inches in summary of these three chapters to be turned in next class.” Bonnie sets her wand down on the table. “If you have any questions, you are more than welcome to stay after and ask them. I will stay here for the express purpose of clearing up any confusion. Otherwise, I will see you on Thursday, and please be careful descending the ladder.” A nod and a smile is given to everyone before she adds, “Class dismissed.”

Clementine Duncan jots down her little reply, ‘Oh good. Because I’m pretty sure he just said yes to spite you I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.’ She pouts as she’s not called on, moving back down her raised hand with a sigh and turning to Kelly. “Did you pick out what you’re wearing ye’ an’ all tha’?” She asks this idly while she collects herself, stuffing the notes taken today into her book and thinking about how frizzing her hair is going to be when it dries.

Vincent Molbie smiles and puts his parchments in his book after writing out the homework assignment. “Peice of cake.” He comments to a friend as he walks toward a hanger to retreive his bag. “Up for a game of exploding snap after we finish?” With that the Slytherin decends the ladder to hurry off to his next class before this maze of a castle gets him lost.

Kelly Pantall looks down at the paper with a slightly hurt expression, then back up at Clementine, locking away the sudden hurt and offering a bright smile in response. “Well, I dunno. I don’t actually have any dress robes, but I wrote mother to send me some. I don’t know if she will, though, I’ll probably have to just brush up my normal school robes.” She hesitates for a moment, almost as if she’s on the verge of asking something, a hint of her despondency returning, then shakes her head as if to shake water from her ears, and grabs at the personal notes, tearing them up in her hands. “I don’t want anyone else reading it.” She explains.

Clementine Duncan sighs, looking as Kelly turns away, easily catching the little turn away expression. “But I think he was lieing. I think he loves you and wants to marry you and have lots of babies. Otherwise he wouldn’t have said yes at all.” She half teases, walk-skipping away to climb down the ladder.

If nothing else, Kelly seems to feel that remark deserves a good thump in the head, and forgets all about the notes she was tearing up, shoving the tattered remains in her pocket and hightailing it after Clementine. “Clementine! DON’T say things like that! People will hear you and then everyone will know and that… that would be bad.” I mean, never mind all the people she’ll tell straight-up and the fact that half of Hufflepuff already knows.

Clementine Duncan just offers her same old infectious cackle and continues on.

With that bizarre little comment, Kelly follows Clementine down the ladder, muttering all sorts of mild threats about it.

It takes a while for Katherine to assemble all of her books and parchments and quills and candy wrappers, and toss them into her satchel – most of the other students are gone by the time she finishes. But there are still a few – _not_ Kelly, and by extension, not Clementine – with whom Katherine can dawdle and chat as they wait to descend the ladder, back to the rest of the castle.

Felicity Wexler is the last to gather up her things, having stayed quiet most of the class. She did, however take rather good notes, for personal reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with love readings. Well, maybe some, anyway. Working her way from the class, she passes a glance back to Professor Kensington and Professor Prichard, before exhaling a small sigh an climbing out with the bag and cloak she had hung up before.

Melvina Prichard waits for all the students to depart before slipping from the chair she’d taken, smoothing out her robes, and replacing the wide-brimmed hat she’d respectfully removed earlier back on to her head. After adjusting herself properly, so that she feels properly garbed again, she starts toward Bonnie with a pleased, but decidedly more businesslike expression. More serious, perhaps, that the face she enjoys putting on for students. Both honest aspects of her personality, but each for it’s specific time and place. “Very nice lesson, professor. Thank you for allowing me to sit in on it.”

“The pleasure was mine, Professor Prichard,” Bonnie assures the headmistress, stepping behind her desk to reorganize things. She opens a drawer and files papers into it, taking another stack out. “The lessons will get more interesting in the future, I’m sure. This was merely an introduction, as I’m sure many of these students think rather poorly of Divination as a subject.” The woman’s laugh rings out and she looks up, now organized for her next class. “It went rather well for the first class, I think.” Bonnie smiles up at her ‘boss’ and closes the drawer.

“Indeed,” Melvina concurs, giving a wry sort of grin as she cants her head slightly. “And if I may say, you handled the note situation with Miss Duncan beautifully. I’ve looking very much forward to working with you.” If nothing else (and that was hardly a problem, as she had plenty of positive things to say about Bonnie after one simple course), Melvina was certain that her Professor of Divination was passionate and serious about her work. Naturally, her work history pointed toward that; Bonnie clearly had many years not only mastering her trade, but studying the theory and the practical implications, but she seemed determined to approach the course from the concept of “imperfect, but useful science”. At least compared to the divination master Melvina herself had when she was in school (an old coot who told riddles and three tarot cards at people), Bonnie seemed to have a solid head on her shoulders. Yes, Melvina liked her. Melvina liked her very much. “Is there anything I can do to help you get settled in? Any supplies or requests?”

“You know, I think I’m fairly well settled. I’m so glad I thought to purchase all of these decorations, though. The past professor of Divination seems to have had rather poor taste in decor.” She pauses as she looks about the classroom. “This is much more cozy, in my opinion.” Bonnie, glancing at a pocketwatch she has stowed in her pocket looks the Headmistress in the eye. “You really ought to join us when Professor Fallon and I collaborate during the Astrology unit for Fifth years. That should prove a fascinating class.” The woman steps towards the door slightly. “Fancy some tea?” Bonnie suggests, her arm pointing towards the door, as if she’s suggesting a trip to the staff room.

Melvina Prichard laughs softly, before politely declining the tea. “I’d not made it up here before you redcorated, I’m afraid, but if it was anything like I remember from being a student, than I would say terrible taste was a small understatement. And no, thank you, dear, but I really must decline. To late in the day for me, afraid. If I have a sip now, I’ll not be able to sleep.” Her genuine, thankful smile does show that offer is appreciated it, though. “And if neighter Professor Fallon or yourself mind, I would love to attend.” Her arms clasp behind her in the way they tend to do, and she grins a little. “I really must be going, but I do have to say, thank you again for the lesson. Introduction or not, I believe that I learned more about divination today thay I ever did before I graduated. And the nostalgia was a pleasant gift, as well. Professor.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you at supper then,” the woman tells the Headmistress with a smile. “I hope your other sit-ins go as well as this one appears to have gone. This looks to be a promising year.” Bonnie sighs happily, her own nostalgia seeming to back up on her again. How many hours the woman had spent in this room during her stay at the school… “I shall see you again soon, and go to get myself a cup of tea. You’ll be alright descending the ladder, won’t you?” Bonnie does not look entirely concerned about this, given that Melvina is not exactly decrepit, but asks out of consideration nevertheless.

“My dear woman,” Melvina gasps in clearly mock astonishment. “Whatever are you suggesting?” Her great grin following, though, seems gentle enough. “I’ll be fine, dear. Thank you, though. At dinner then.” And with that, Melvina makes her way from the tower, feeling that it had been a pretty good day.

“At dinner,” Bonnie answers with a laugh and follows the woman as she descends from the tower, for her own part heading to the staff room for a spot of tea that she feels is necessary. First class: Successful. Bonnie goes to the staff room with high hopes for the year ahead.

Marie-Anna Greyton is hiding, indeed, first day of school and she’s already hiding in the shadows of Gryffindor commons, and, if you look close enough, you’ll see that she’s also a pleasent shade of Gryffindor scarlet. She matches teh chair she’s seated in in the shadows.

Kelly Pantall all but skips into the Common room, though exactly what it is that has her in such a good mood is entirely uncertain. After all, she hasn’t had enough time to have done anything exciting yet. Then again, perhaps it is merely being back at school – that’s not entirely impossible, after all. “Miss Marie-Anna! Miss Marie-Anna!” Regardless of whether the prefect wants privacy, she’s not going to adhere to that – her conversation is far too interesting.

Marie-Anna Greyton looks up as she hears Kelly’s voice. “Yes, Kelly?” she questions, doing her best to school her appearance so that she’s not a violent shade of red. “Have you alredy gotten into trouble, on the first day?” not that she actually expects this.

Kelly Pantall shakes her head firmly, her limp curls flying, and puts her hands on her hips – her expression is still cheerful, though, and she doesn’t seem remotely annoyed. “Of course I haven’t gotten into trouble! Why would I get into trouble? I just wanted to talk to you and, and, I heard about you and Mister Prefect Sir.” Even after having screamed it out last term at the Date Auction, she’s not comfortable calling him by his first name.

Marie-Anna Greyton quirks. “What about Martin and I? Huh?” wait for it, wait for it… and the light finally turns on and… indeed… she does turn a rather scarlet hue of red, blushing.

Kelly Pantall claps her hands at this, as though there is no greater joy than seeing the prefect blush and, without invitation, perches herself on a seat close to Marie-Anna. “Well, it was pretty hard to miss,” she opines knowingly, nodding slowly. “So, are you two officially sweethearts, now? Or is it just for the sake of the dance? You did hug him.” And, suddenly, hugging is a horrific crime, one which she treats with due suspicion. “I’m thinking about who I will ask to the dance. You know,” now it is her turn to blush faintly, “Rafe DeWitt wrote to me over the summer.”

Marie-Anna Greyton shakes her head. “No, we’re going strictly as friends. I figured that, seeing as Angelina was no longer here, well,” she shrugs her shoulders a little. “And yes, I hugged him, as a friend, in congratulations, of course.”

“Ah, well, in congratulations…” Whatever Kelly is thinking is hidden behind a veil of her trying to look wise, though quite utterly failing. “So, it’s just for the sake of the dance, well. Why are you blushing so much, then?” Because blushing fiercely is suspicious in other people, but there’s nothing wrong with the fact that her own cheeks are still faintly pink.

Marie-Anna Greyton blinks. “Yes, just for the sake of the dance. Truth is is I wouldn’t have anyone else to ask, though I’m sure plenty of others would have asked him, and, I figured if I was going to go, best go with a friend, right, so…” she shrugs. “And I’m not blushing…”

Kelly Pantall seems entirely unconvinced of this fact, peering unflatteringly at Marie-Anna’s face. “You’re either blushing or someone accidentally changed the colour of your face.” This, however, is entirely possible, and she nods slowly. “You should go to the hospital wing and get someone to reverse that. It makes it look like you’re blushing, very ferociously.”

Marie-Anna Greyton blinks. “Neither, Kelly, I swear, I’m not blushing, I’m just…. naturally this shade,” she’s lying through her teeth, it’s not like it’s an unknown fact that Marie has a HUGE crush on the Head Boy.

“No, you’re not.” Kelly replies bluntly, inspecting Marie-Anna carefully. “You’re not usually that colour, you’re a lot paler and less red.” Her own blush has since faded, so at least she’s not looking quite so hypocritical anymore. Especially because of course she would never do something like that which she is accusing Marie-Anna of.

Rawnie Weller comes back up from the girl’s dorms looking a little panicked. “Where is he? Ohhh where is Figaro?” Rawnie runs around the common room looking under couches and cushions…. into bags and boxes. “They said they would bring our pets up to our rooms but I can’t find Figaro!” The little girl squeals.

Marie-Anna Greyton grumbles. “I’ll have you know, I got a tan over the summer,” she states. And, indeed, her appearance has changed since her fifth year. At this point, however, she see’s Rawnie. “They did, if it’s not in your dorm it’s probably gotten into the house.”

Kelly Pantall still doesn’t seem convinced of Marie-Anna’s logic, shaking her head slowly and peering at her all the while. “But tan is sort of brown, not bright red… and you’re not so red now, but you were very red before.” Then, she pauses, and changes the subject completely. “Who should I ask? Hey, you – newly sorted! Who are you going to ask?”

Rawnie Weller frowns and looks around the common room some more. “I don’t see him no place! Where is he? The small girl takes a deep breath and lets out an ear splitting “FIGAROOOOOO!!!! COME OUT!!” But to no avail. “Where is my owl?” She sniffle softly apparently no knowing the Owls stay in the Owlery.

Marie-Anna Greyton chuckles. “You’re owl. He’ll be in the owlery, toads and cats are brought to the commons, owls to the owlery,” she states, nodding, before she ducks her head. She is not blushing, honestly.

Kelly Pantall seems to be getting rather impatient that no one is answering her question, but it seems that a perfectly logical way to do this is to repeat her question, but louder. “Miss Marie-Anna, who should I ask, now you’re going with Mister Prefect Sir?” Because, obviously, asking the Head Boy is the appropriate course of action.

Rawnie Weller sighs hearing that bit of information. The girl plops down onto the nearest couch not bothering to fix the now disheavled mess she has made. She props her mismatched socked feet up on the coffee table. “Oh well thats good. Because Owls should’nt be in the dorms anyway. They make a mess. Figaro dosn’t though hes a clean bird but every other bird would make a mess.”

Marie-Anna Greyton blinks. “Have you considered Rafe? I know you two are good friends, and I’d say go with a friend, that’s what I’m doing, after all,” she points out with a smile. “Indeed, Miss Weller, when you need to go see him you can just go to the owlery, they’re far more comfortable there anyway.”

Kelly Pantall shrugs vaguely, being entirely unable to see fault in this logic, then looks down at her lap with slightly pinked cheeks. “He wrote me a letter.” Yes, she has already said this, and she is going to say it again. “So I suppose I should ask him. It was a very nice letter.”

Rawnie Weller perks up a little guessing the girls must be talking about the dance. “Am I allowed to ask any boy I want? Can I ask a boy to not come to the dance?” Immediatly her mind focuses on Andy. “People who don’t eat meat are likely untrustworthy……” Where she got this idea is anyone’s guess.

Marie-Anna Greyton smiles at Kelly. “I think I should go… uh…. find my formal robes… I do need to figure out what to wear to this event, after all…” Oh, dear, Marie is worrying about clothes?! this can’t be good. “They’re not untrustworthy, Miss Weller, it’s just personal choice, really.” And with that the still furiously blushing prefect heads to her dorm.

Kelly Pantall watches Marie-Anna as she makes her exit, shrugging her shoulders lightly and looking at Rawnie. “I suppose. I’ve never heard stories about not eating meat, but they might be untrustworthy. I’d be more likely not to trust them if they were murderers.” Because that’s a logical progression. She nods firmly, then peers at Rawnie for a moment, and queries, “Should I ask Rafe DeWitt to the dance? He wrote me a letter.”

“Well I bet not eating meat will drive him to become a murderer!” Her eyes shift back and forth. The little redhead has quite an imagionation in her head. “He threatened to feed me to a Giant too! Everyone heard him!” Rawnie blinks a little realizing Kelly asked a question. “Who’s Rafe? Is that your boyfriend or somthin?”

Kelly Pantall gasps, having apparently not considered this before, and nods her fervent agreement. “I’ve never heard of it happening before, but it could happen! You know, I bet you’re right.” Then, a pause, and though she blushes very brightly pink, she shakes her head. “No, he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend.” She pulls a piece of folded parchment out of her pocket and hands it over. It’s probably the most impersonal letter in the history of teenage boy-girl summer correspondence, but it’s a letter.

Rawnie Weller looks over the letter skimming it quickly because of how…. impersonal and boreing it is. “Wow…. he sounds kind of boreing don’t he?” Handing the letter back to Kelly she scoots up on the couch so that her feet hand off the side not touching the floor anymore. “You better ask somone else. He’d probably fall asleep or somthin.”

Kelly Pantall snatches the letter back with renewed annoyance, shoving it back in her pocket while glaring at Rawnie icily. “He is not boring, and would not fall asleep.” Her voice is waspish, edged with an unprecedented annoyance. “He’s just not a very good letter-writer. This a very above-average letter.”

Rawnie Weller giggles a little and kicks her feet back and forth. “If that’s his above average then I bet his normal letters are about three words long huh? Maybe he dosn’t like ya? I know sometimes boys say they like girls but then they don’t because they just wanna tease ya. Boys are like that and all and well most girls are just dumb enough to fall for it and I think he would fall asleep because if you can’t stay awake long enough to wright a proper letter how can you stay awake long enough ta dance?” Rawnie has to take a deep breath at the end of her statement as usuall because her mouth ran away with her.

Kelly Pantall blushes even brighter pink, fingering the parchment in her pocket with a distinct rustling sound as she glares at Rawnie. “He doesn’t usually write letters. That’s why this letter is so above average. And he’s never actually said he likes me, so therefore he can’t be teasing me!” She sticks her tongue out, ever so maturely, having officially won this argument by her terms. Because, obviously, that’s appropriate logic.

“Yeah but did he say he didn’t like ya?” Rawnie flashes a huge smile at Kelly. “I think ifa boy wrights ter ya during the summer it means he must wan’t ya to think he likes ya. See wot I mean?” Does Rawnie even know what she means? “And you must like him back cause your blushin ya big ninny.”

Briony Wexler comes running down the stairs from the second year girls’ dormitories looking rather dissheveled. “Whimsy! C’mere, kitty, kitty, kitty…” the second year sighs a bit as she looks around the room, scratching her head. Deciding that cats can be tricky (and doesn’t she know it), Briony gets down onto her hands and knees, glancing around underneath various couches and chairs, trying to find the little cat somewhere within her commonroom.

Kelly Pantall bites down on her lower lip, folding her arms across her chest (the letter now in hand rather than her pocket) and trying with all her might not to leap on Rawnie and beat her into the ground. “I asked him to write to me, so he’s not trying to persuade me that he likes me. I think he might like me, but if he does, it’s not some evil ploy. And I’m not a ninny.” This seems to be the worst of Rawnie’s words, and the poor girl is so very near beating on her.

Rawnie Weller scoots a little closer to Kelly giggleing. either she has no idea Kelly is annoyed and is innocent or she knows exactly what she is doing and is egging her on. “Well if hes writing you cause you asked him he obviously wants ya ter think he likes you. Or he really does like you an hes your boreing narca….narca….sleepy boyfriend.”

Felicity Wexler sits quietly on the floor in front of the fire, her knees hugged against her chest as a soft breath escapes her. A hairbrush rests on the soft carpet next to her, apparently forgotten, as she quietly watches the small, flickering flames. Something weighing on her mind more heavily, for once, than her wildly unmanagable bush of golden curls.

“He’s not my boring narca-sleepy boyfriend!” Kelly almost explodes with this news, putting her hands firmly on her hips and crushing the letter in her fist. “You’re – you’re just obsessed with sweetheartness! Not everyone who writes to each other over the summer is sweethearty! I got a letter from a prefect, too, and a girl, and you’re not saying they’re my boyfriends. You’re just jealous because you couldn’t attract any boys to you, because you talk stupid and can’t even pronounce the word narcoleptic!” See, Kelly can pronounce it, and is hence superior.

Crawling backwards, Briony keeps looking for Whimsy, though she is having no luck. How could a grown cat hide so well? Still crawling, the girl isn’t paying attention to who or what she might be bumping into as she is on the quest for her treasured pet. It isn’t long before she’s headed straight for the fire, looking upon seats and underneath tables and couches. Soon the girl comes to a stop as her leg runs into something that strangely isn’t moving. She pushes against it a few times before looking to see what — or who — it could be. “Ugh, Felicity!” Briony groans. “You are in my way.” The girl frowns a bit and sits back on her knees, her arms crossed. “How am I suposed to find Whimsy when you’re in the way?”

Rawnie Weller rolls her eyes with a small smile on her face. “If hes not your boyfriend why are you carrying his letter around in yer pocket? Why are ya gettin all worked up and sweethearty defendin him?” Rawnie obviosly has a point. Obviously….. “And so what I couldn’t pronounce it? Its just a dumb word that means sleepy.”

Kelly Pantall takes a deep breath – as a deep a breath as one possibly can – and closes her eyes for the count of ten. Once calm, she shoots another deathly glare at Rawnie. “It is not. Narcoleptic means he falls asleep all the time for no reason, and sleepy means… sleepy. So you really are stupider than I thought. I bet you were raised by farmer muggles in the middle of nowhere and don’t know anyhing about anything.” She very carefully avoids explaining why she’s carrying his letter around in her pocket. Very carefully.

Felicity Wexler had begun to turn her eyes toward Pantail and the first-year, especially after Kelly’s voice began to lift; but the sudden shock of Briony’s feet in to her back and bum surprises her enough that she gives a smart little squeal and a brilliant little jump. Shift back, her eyes fall on her cousin with a neutral expression at first, if for only just a moment. Even, perhaps, a little sad. But, naturally, that was before Briony went and openned her big, dumb mouth. In a heart beat, a whole day’s worth of quiet hurt and stored up energy burst on to her features all at once. “What? Lost your dumb ol’ cat?” Felicity says, spitefully. Even quite nastily, all things considered. “Good! Probally couldn’t stand you anymore and ran away.”

“My cat is not dumb!” Briony becomes indignant at this comment and frowns hard at her cousin. “You’re so mean. Besides, at least I’m doing something perductive, rather than fussing with my stupid ol’ hair. It’s still bushy anyway. Maybe you should have your precious Gran just chop it all off.” Briony hmphs and scoots past Felicity rather rudely, bumping her intentionally this time as she continues to look for her cat. “Heeeere kitty, kitty, kitty…”

Rawnie Weller glares back at Kelly now rather hard. Its one thing to call her stupider but its entirely another thing to call her hometown nowhere… which it is…. but still. “My pop is not a Muggle farmer hes a Muggler animal Docter! And so what if where I live is small! I get to play in the woods and go fishin any time I wan’t while your swoonin over some lazy bloke what writes poorly!” Thats telling her Rawnie!

“I bet you can’t even read!” Kelly declares in response, screwing up the letter even more in her rage. “That’s – that’s why you think his letter was so poor! You can’t even actually read, so you don’t know what he said.” She will defend this letter to the death. It was such a good letter, she can’t bear for it to be mocked. More importantly… “And besides, I’m not swooning!”

Felicity Wexler doesn’t take that intentional bumping well, as flash of anger blossoms in inside her brilliant enough to demand she retaliates. Turning herself just so that she make the best of an attempt to get her hands on Briony’s hip and side, she gives her least favorite cousin hearty shove. Of course, being the scrawny bean-pole she is, that may or may not mean a lot, but there it is. “You started it! And don’t talk about my gran!”

“I did not start it! You called my cat dumb, so I can talk about your precious Gran!” Briony heaves herself back in Felicity’s direction, shoving the girl back with equal force, if not greater, given the fact that she is a bit pudgy. “You had no right to be calling my cat dumb! What did he ever do to you?” Briony frowns at Felicity and starts crawling away again, under the idea that she is still looking for the creature, though she is now so angry as to be distracted from her actual task.

Rawnie Weller shouts loudly at Kelly “I can read you big stupi…..” but stops mid sentence watching Briony and Felicity start shoving each other. “Hey hey! Stop that yer sisters aren’t ya? I’ll help you find your cat! Don’t fight!” When poor innocent little cat is lost there is no time for fighting!

Kelly Pantall bites on her lower lip a little harder, trying to resist the urge to beat on her when she’s not looking. But of course, she wouldn’t do something like that. Of course. When Rawnie’s not paying attention, the older Gryffindor girl steps forward and kicks her in the leg. “I’m not stupid! And don’t talk bad about Rafe! He’s a good kid!”

Felicity Wexler does practically tumble back as Briony pushes her; it doesn’t take much to knock the tiny wisp of a girl over. Especially when she’d already been sitting in such an awkward position. “I did not start it!” She hisses, her tone a bit warbly; a bit more emotional, and far more angry than one would expect for a few shoves. “YOU bumped in to ME!” Crawling over on her knees as fas as they will carry her, she gives Briony another hard shove. This time; as earnest and might as she can make it, in emphisis to her words. “And YOU didn’t say SORRY, so I CAN call your cat DUMB! DUMBCATDUMBCATDUMBCATDUMBCAT!” It’s almost as if she had just bottled up a whole day’s worth of fight to make sure she could have one spectacularly mad at the end of the day.

“My cat IS NOT DUMB!” The voice escalates as she says this. “Your GRAN is dumb! Did you hear that? DUMB!” Such mature arguments! Briony reaches out and gives Felicity’s hair a good yank, not hearing at all Rawnie’s pleas. “And your hair is dumb, too! And your hairbrush! And your dumb ol’ watch!” Briony yanks her hair again and sticks her tongue out at her cousin. “I can’t believe I’m related to you!” Briony UGHS rather loudly and starts trying to stand up, to go back upstairs. Perhaps Whimsy was in her quarters after all.

“OW!!! You kicked me, Smelly!” Maybe Rawnie meant Kelly or maybe she really did mean Smelly. Whichever it may be the small red head jumps at Kelly flinging her arms and trying to bite whatever part of Kelly she can get in her teeth.

Kelly Pantall grabs Rawnie by the arms and tries to wrestle her down, evading the teeth as best she can, kicking her legs wildly. “Teeth isn’t allowed! Whenever I fight with my brother, teeth isn’t allowed!” This is said at more of a yelp than normal speech, and she reaches up to yank at Rawnie’s hair, pulling her head down at an awkward angle. “Now take back what you said about Rafe!”

Felicity Wexler gives a mighty great squeal as her hair is tugged, her eyes widening in that universal ‘you are so dead’ sort of way. Moving as quickly and deftly as her clumbsy form will allow, she reaches out to snag a fistful Briony’s hair and yanks down on it. It’s almost artful, as if she had practiced just the right moment to use Briony’s upward movement and her own downward thrust for maximum effectiveness.. Kelly and Rawnie are completely lost to Felicity as she unleashes her voice on Briony, accompanied by another hard tug with each and every emphisized word. “Well, your CAT is DUMB, and your MUM is DUMB, and your BOOK is DUMB! And I wouldn’t be related to YOU if I didn’t HAVE to be!” Her hands are actually shaking at this point.

This act causes Briony to literally fall backwards, right atop Felicity, her size being rather formidable in the fall. “YOUR mum is dumb, and my mum isn’t! I have the best mum in the WORLD!” Briony scrambles a bit, trying to get out of the pile of Brilicity that the two girls currently are. She manages to throw a punch at Felicity, as well as a slap to her face. “You have a dumb family! And your mum and dad are OLD, and your Gran is even OLDER! She’s practically dead!” Briony‘s eyes start to fill with tears of anger as she slaps at Felicity again, trying to get a good handful of the blonde’s hair. “Don’t pull my hair, neither! It’s prettier than yours, anyway!”

Rawnie Weller yells as her hair is pull and her legs are kicked. Kelly may be bigger but Rawnie has been in a lot of fights with boys Kelly’s size and Rawnie has short hair making it pretty easy for her to pull herself free with minimle damage. Next she grabs the older girl’s wrist and sinks her teeth in as hard as she may.

Kelly Pantall has had a lot of experience fighting with boys, but most of them quite substantially bigger than Rawnie and so, hence, she is finding the fight rather difficult, and she cries out in pain as her wrist is bitten. Then, as a sort of way to get back at her, she punches Rawnie in the eye.

Felicity Wexler works her best in to the struggle, Briony’s bulk comparitive to her own sufficent enough to knock some of the wind from her, and to leave her more or less an sitting (well, squirming) target for both the punch and the slap. Her breath catches, though, as Briony words reach her. She’d been fighting earnestly up until this point, but even so; somewhere inside, she was restraining. Somewhere inside, no matter how much they fought, Briony was family and she never really wanted to hurt her. But for a moment; one single moment, that changes. Because of one word. When Briony uses the word ‘dead’, something snaps inside of Felicity. And turning under Briony with purpose, borrowing from strength she never knew she had, she brings her hand back and issues a slap aimed at her cousin’s cheek. A real slap. A ‘I’m not playing anymore’ slap. “I HATE YOU!” She screams, tears rolling down her cheeks.. “I HATE YOU, BRIONY!”

“I HATE YOU, TOO, FELICITY!” Briony hollers back, tears starting to stream down her own face. That slap is going to leave a mark. Briony hauls out and slaps Felicity back in the face, grabbing her hair with one hand, tight, and her wrist with the other. “You’re SO MEAN! I can’t believe we’re RELATED!” Briony‘s yells come out more as sobs as the girl is almost crying too hard to feel mean anymore. “I can’t believe you’re so mean.” The twelve-year-old is full-out sobing now, but her grips on Felicity’s wrist and hair do not lighten in any way.

Rawnie Weller reels back from the punch to her little eye making her let go of Kelly’s wrist in a hurry. With her hands over her eyeball she snarles angrily “You stupid ninny! No whonder your boyfriend only wrote you a small letter!” With that Rawnie runs head first into Kelly headbutting her in the stomach full on.

“HE’S NOT MY BOYF – OOF!” As Kelly gets a head to the stomach, her indignancy fades and she all but snarls, scratching at Rawnie with her nails, not taking a moment to recover from being winded. “Stop saying that he is.” When she does speak again, her voice is more of a wheeze.

Melvina Prichard emerges from the portrait hole with a decided look of equal surprise and disgust.. “What on earth is going on in–well, I never!” A deep breath fills the Headmistress as she assumes her most serious, authoritive mask; the same one she mysteriously gifted with the day she gave birth to her daughter, a mother’s white-hot, righteous anger. “LADIES!” She calls, her voice somehow hardly seeming to rise, yet literally booming across the common room. “Control yourselves!” Her tone, unlike the pleasant, somewhat sly amusement she spoke with at the Sorting, is firm, confident, and clearly unhappy. “Now!”

Kelly Pantall scrambles to her feet at once, blushing ferociously, the tattered and wrinkled piece of parchment that once was a letter falling to the ground by her side. “I’m s-sorry, Headmistress. She said my friend wrote bad letters and I shouldn’t go to the dance with him because he’d fall asleep, and I was defending him. Then she bit my wrist.” She profers her hand, bitemark on the wrist included, for inspection.

Felicity Wexler is sobbing as well, her heaving gasps of breath and torrent of tears preventing her from saying or doing much else by try to somehow kick at Briony with her knees and rake up what she can reach of her cousin’s arms with her fingernails. The shocking, authorative boom from Melvina does catch her somewhat off guard, though, and she relents at least partially with her savagery.. but she doesn’t dare forgo the battle until Briony does.

Rawnie Weller rubs her sore eye and whimpers feeling the scratches. is she going to stop just because the HeadMistress is there? Yes…. her father would have kittens if she got kicked out on her first day. Instead she plops onto the floor rubbing her quickly swelling eye and muttering. “Well she called my pop a Muggle Farmer….. and she said I come from nowhere and I can’t read….”

The headmistress’s sudden entrance shocks Briony, but the sobbing girl can do nthing aside from letting go of Felicity’s hair and wrist. She does not endeavor to releas the girl who is still trapped beneath her. “She started it, ma’am,” Briony answers, tears streaming down her face, and a rather red cheek to boot. “Honestly, we didn’t mean–” Hic! “I just wanted–” Hic! “I can’t–” Hic! “My kitty is missing!” The girl wipes her eyes with her sleeve, which doesn’t seem to do much to help, save to smear the tears across her face better.

“She–” Felicity sniffs, choking on a gasp.. Trying to match Briony, not to let her cousin pin the full blame on her shoulders. “My dog died!” She can’t help but feel the impact of the words as she shouts them, though, and all that anger just crumples inside of her as the tears start pouring and gushing. “An.. my gran is–” Choke, hic! “–sick, an’ she said–” Snuffle, wheeze.. “–she was gonna die, too!” Felicity just goes completely limp under Briony, the will to fight gone. Like a pierced balloon.

Melvina Prichard flicks her gaze between Kelly and Rawnie, before rolling her eyes with a great sigh. “Fine, fine, you, dear, sit,” Melvina says, sharply, motioning at Kelly and then pointing at the couch. “And you, dear, over there,” similarly motioning Rawnie to a near, but quite seperate chair. Her gaze shifts them toward the Wexler’s, recognizing thier blood almost immediately, if not thier individual names. “Yes, dear.. We’ll find your kitten, now, please, Miss Wexler, get off of your.. Miss Wexler.” Her eyes soften a bit with Felicity’s story, but not so much that the tightness of her eyes evaporates. Lifting a hand to rub at the bridge of her nose, she moves toward the pair and extends a hand to help Briony up. Not so much offering, but one she expects Briony to take.

Rawnie Weller huffs quite haughtily and moves to sit on the chair like she is told. When the HeadMistress’s attention is on the other girls she sticks her toung out at Kelly and makes a biteing motion to tease her.

Briony Wexler stops short as Felicity says this. Had the girl known that, she might not have said the things she said. Then again, how is Briony to know what she might or might not have done, given the circumstances. “Yes, ma’am,” Briony scrambles up, her head hanging rather low, and her eyes still streaming with tears. The girl does not sit, but she does stand away so that Felicity might stand up. Briony might dislike her cousin very much, but the girl cannot help but feel sorry about the girl’s dog and grandmother.

Melvina Prichard exhales a soft sigh, helping Briony to her feet and giving the girl a rather sad sort of look. That moment was always the hardest when chiding a child; no matter how long her daughter had been grown, she could remember every look of shame as if it happened yesterday. And having toresist the urge to embrace the both of them as Melvina turns to help Felicity up in turn is heartbreaking. “Any injuries, the two of you?”

Rawnie Weller huffs quite haughtily and moves to sit on the chair like she is told. When the HeadMistress’s attention is on the other girls she sticks her toung out at Kelly and makes a biteing motion to tease her.

Felicity Wexler just seems completely limp now that the fight has been drained from her, and it takes her mustering what appears like a considerable amount of energy just to force herself to her feet even with Melvina’s help. But once she’s there, she stands silently, bruised, and scratched, and staring at the ground.

Rawnie Weller looks over at the two bawling girls and remembers that she was trying to stop a fight just before she got pulled into one herself. “Its all Smelly’s fault! If she hadn’t started our fight I coulda helped Briony look for her cat and no one would be fightin.”

Melvina Prichard passes a quizzical look back to Rawnie after giving both Briony and Felicity a good once over; noting that they both seemed to be physically alright, but for some bruises, scratches, a little drop of blood here or there. Nothing that Madam Wexler couldn’t whip up with a flick of her wand. “There’s that, at least.. Pardon?” The first-year’s choice of words confusing her terribly; here she, the Headmistress, had just broken up a fight and this youngling was calling someone ‘Smelly’? “Who on earth is Smelly–No, no, it doesn’t matter,” Melvina decides, before waiting for an answer. “This sort of behavior is absolutely abhorant. We’ve not even turned in for the night and you’ve all four made a shambles of each other. Absolutely unexceptable behavior. Twenty five points from Gryffindor house,” the Headmaster declares, her voice curiously powerful even when her tone was both softer and gentler than it had been only a moment ago. A curious air of no-nonsense, blended with a maternal tenderness. “Each.” The last work spoken with unarguable finality. “Now, come on, we five are going to take a trip to the hospital wing.”

“I’m fine,” Briony claims, rubbing her cheek gently and then snatching her hand away. The girl can’t make herself look at her cousin, nor at the headmistress. Her gaze is focused squarely on the floor. “I’m sorry, headmistress.” Briony‘s apology comes out as little more than a whisper as she stands there, trying to calm herself down, to slow the swelling of tears.

Rawnie Weller seems a bit unphased by the point loss and most likley because she has no idea about the point system at Hogwarts. “Twenty Five what?” A frown comes over her brused little face guessing from Melvina’s tone that it would not be the best time to press her. Instead the little girl becomes quiet.

Felicity Wexler inhales a small gasp at the severity of the punishment, turning her ocean blue eyes up to Melvina with a small whimper. Her sobs have abated some, coming now in small, gurgling hiccups that seem to preclude her from finding an better words than a small squeak to beg her appology. Finally, her head falls again, and she whimpers another small cry.

At the mention of point loss, Briony gasps and finally looks up at Melvina, the horror on her face very apparent. “Oh no, really?” Yes, Briony will definitely be crying herself to sleep tonight. The girl wipes her face with her other arm, though it doesn’t help much, and her tears continue to flow, even more heavily.

“House points, dear,” Melvina replies, glancing back to Rawnie a firm, but not unkind expression. “I’m sure your housemates, and Professor Calwern will be sure to tell you all about them over the next couple days. Now come on, better have you looked at, too.” And with that, Melvina starts ushering the four girls toward the portrait hole.

Rawnie Weller follows after the Headmistress with her little hand still clenched over her black eye. It had been an eventfull first day at school to say the least.

Felicity was fairly certain that Briony wouldn’t be the only one crying herself to sleep; this was shaping up to be her worst first week of term, ever.

Briony Wexler follows the headmistress obediently to the nurse’s office, knowing that she’s about to get into even more time, as it is her mother who is the nurse. The girl says nothing, though, knowing that the damage done is quite enough. A healthy bruise is already beginning to form on her cheek, and the girl has a rather sore rear end from her fall. This certainly is not a good start of the year for Gryffindor.

Eva Fallon seems run off her feet already. It’s the morning before the sorting, the shop, though now pristine, has been a riot. Her children are now downstairs with her, and other people’s children are still trickling in and out of the shop, purchasing some last-minute sweets. The shop does seem eerily neat for a day like today, though Eva‘s cousin may have had some help at keeping it so. “I’m glad sorting at Hogwarts is only once a year, Maura,” Eva emits with a sigh and plops onto a stool behind the counter, rocking Arnold’s cribby with her foot.

Outside, Diagon Alley is abuzz with shoppers making last-minute purchases – and Sibyl Wexler seems to have enough energy to match them all put together. With one hand firmly wrapped around her husband’s arm and the other clutching her daughter, the Hogwarts nurse bustles through the door of the candy shop at top speed. “Just a few, Briony,” she admonishes. “Enough for the train ride, and no more – you don’t want to spoil your appetite for the feast!” Sibyl‘s face, already naturally ruddy, is even redder than usual with the remnants of a sunburn – the last souvenir of a late-summer holiday. That, and the conspiratorial smile that she shoots at her husband, and the way she keeps affectionately close to his side, even amid the chaos of back-to-school shopping.

“Maybe not even quite that much, Briony. Don’t make your brother and sister jealous.” Basil pauses a moment in thought. “Actually, it’s your job to get some for both of them now.” He smiles down affectionately at Sibyl, a touch of sadness in his eyes. He realized over the summer just how much he had missed his wife, and now she was headed back to Hogwarts for another year. “Can’t we just forget when the train leaves, Sibyl?” he asks slyly, a smile just barely touching his lips.

Andy Carver shuffles into Cordial Confections through the crowd, leaving his parents outside, to get his required stock of sweets for the travel and his first days in Hogwarts. He tries to fight his way to the showcase to ponder what sweets to purchase. As he does not get a glimpse on one single piece of candy he tries to slip between to adults which obviously seem to be Briony’s parents.

A small whirlwind dressed in an emerald robe breezes into the candy store. Kara finally slows some when she realizes just how crowded it was inside. Purse in one hand, purring silver kitten in the other, the new Hogwarts student heads straight for the chocolate frog display. Those collected she meanders around the store, adding iced mice and acid pops to her growing collection.

“Alright, mum,” Briony responds to her mother, hardly hearing her father’s addition. Something about her siblings. Briony‘s off waving frantically at her aunt. “Auntie Eva! I’m a second year now! I’m going to try out for Quidditch, too. Mum and Dad let me get a broom! Isn’t it exciting!” With that, Briony snatches a bag off of the counter where Eva keeps them, and starts gathering the sweets that she wants for the trip.

Feeling like he’ll never be free of his chattering sisters from now on, Gabriel walks, both hands on his head, clasping chunks of hair as the twins trail him. What if they were sorted into his house? He’d have to listen to this for his remaining years at Hogwarts! Although… it would be good to have some family nearby, after what news their mother has recently told him. Gabe’s not been out much since that awful day. “Alright, we’re here. We don’t have a lot of time so try to be quick about it.” Opening the door with a sigh, Gabriel puts on a brave face in case Briony is inside.

It’s been a long final day before Hogwarts for the young Saphia Bona. Yes, her mother had finally given her blessing to Saphia‘s magical education, but had, in response, demanded an ever greater amount of her free time to be spent with family and what she dubbed the ‘real world’. As such, much of the shopping that had been spread out over weeks for her first year had been spent in a day this time — AND she no longer got preferential treatment at Flourish and Blotts anymore now that Ms. Rosemont had quit. While Ms. Rosemont had assured Saphia this was all for the best, and she was happier quitting, Saphia knew in her heart it wasn’t true. How could Ms. Rosemont ever be happier away from books? And so, loaded with new equipment and books (twenty-three new books, to be precise) Saphia had broken away from her father for a final diversion in pursuit of treats for the train, a relaxing pause, and that elusive Roderick Plumpton card!

Yawning and rubbing his eyes Chris walks into the store, the usual site of his small black kitten following closely behind him, looking tired as well. He smiles as the scent of the candy reaches his nose, he looks down at his kitten, “Maybe some sugar will wake us up, Magik.” The kitten gives a small happy mew in response.

Olivia Baxtor strolls in, looking around the busy shop, her face looking rather pensive. “Come now, Olivia, go in,” her mother beckons, and Olivia has little other choice than to make her way all the way into the busy shop. Her brother Christian, a sixth year, follows her, pushing past to get to the sweets, and her sisters Gertrude and Helen, both third years, come after him, sneaking past Olivia to get some sweets for themselves. “Get some things, but quickly, children, we’ve got to go to the train soon!” Olivia starts into the shop and glances at all of the candies, picking a piece here and there. To tell the truth, the girl is not all that fond of sweets.

Kassandra never really was addicted to sweets, but as she did not trust the Hogwarts Express food cart, she decided to get a small amount of energy supply at the sweets shop. Losing her gracious posture for a moment at the sight of another crowded place she crosses the room towards the counter, where the denseness is at its maximum and pushes a small piece of parchment out of her right robe pocket, not to forget a single piece of her shopping’s previously selected composition.

“We most certainly can not just forget what time the train leaves!” Sibyl Wexler retorts to her husband, giving him a reproachful nudge in the side with her elbow. But her tone is softened by a grin, and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Only one bag, Briony-love!” Sibyl calls after her eldest daughter, as Briony skips off to the other side of the shop. “Eva! Good to see you! How are you feeling, dear?” There are too many people between Sibyl and the shopkeeper for her to do much more than wave – and give her husband another nudge, prompting him to do the same. The door jingles open again behind her – spotting Gabriel among the cluster of children entering, Sibyl turns to look over her shoulder, stretching her hand out towards her daughter’s friend. “Gabriel dear, over here!” She switches effortlessly back and forth between each of the people she is addressing, giving each an equal share of her warm, comfortable smile.

“Don’t take too long kids, the train leaves in a while! You don’t want to miss it!” Eva smiles all around as the children all seem to understand this as they rush around gathering sweets. Eva prepares herself for a rush. “Hello, Basil, Sibyl,” Eva calls to her relations, nodding as Briony chatters at her then quickly runs off. “Avery, hello! Hi, Gabriel, girls.” So many people to say hello to! “I’m feeling wonderful, Sibyl, thanks for asking! It seems to me you must be feeling fine. Look at that suntan!” Eva giggles a bit and leans against the counter, surveying the commotion in her shop.

Hearing her friend’s name, Briony‘s head pops up out of the crowd, so to speak, as she tries to find the boy. “Gabriel, where are you? Isn’t it exciting! We’re going back to school! Mum and dad bought me a broom!” Briony giggles gleefully as she pushes her way through the hoardes of children trying to find the one she know. “Hi, Gabriel. Ready for school this year? You get to play Quidditch, right?” Briony smiles widely at him.

Finally Andy reaches the immense sweets counter and sees Briony doing the same. “Hello Briony, did you have nice holidays?” he nearly has to shout because of the distance between them, while he is selecting his sweets and putting them into his already well-filled paperbag, looking to her from time to time.

Saphia Bona smiles as her tiny scops owl, Mina, flutters to her shoulder and nuzzles against Saphia‘s face happily as she wanders the store, picking up a packet of sugar quills, a packet of fizzing whizzbees, five ice mice, and, of course, an entire box of chocolate frogs. Sidling up to the counter, Saphia offers her best smile for Eva and whispers, “Good morning, Ms. Fallon!”

Kara Raine continues wandering around the shop, the ever growning pile of sweets becoming more difficult to manage. A few of the other new students are recognized from the other day, and Kara heads toward Chris with a grin. “Chris! Hi, I met you the other day in here, Kara remember? How are you and Magik? I did end up getting a kitten after all, this here is Silver.” The gray ball of fur opens her eyes at the name and meows happily. “Anyway, just wanted to say hi, grabbing some last minute things for the train you know. Hopefully I’ll see you there?”

The shop is so loud that Olivia almost can’t handle the commotion. She takes a few select types of candy and joins her family at the counter. “This is all I’m having, thank you,” the girl states politely, placing her selections up onto the counter to be bagged. As soon as the sweets are paid for, Olivia‘s mother is hustling the four Baxtor children out the door to get to the train in enough time. It seems as soon as she’s entered the shop, Olivia is pushed back out of it, protesting rather loudly that they’ll wrinkle her new skirt, but the family’s voices fade as they head towards the train station.

Glancing up from her gaze out the window, Olivia offers a half-smile. “Hello.” She pauses a moment, unsure of how to respond. “I’m a fourth year this year,” she finally adds, not thinking to add her name. The girl tucks her ankles underneath her gently, leaning on an armrest in a rather lady-like fashion. Her demeanor is not one of coldness, but more of reserve, as if she isn’t sure just how to behave.

Carrying her things with her Rawnie peeks in to the very last compartment and smiles. “Hello…. this place taken?” She walks in setting her things down before waiting for an answer. “My name is Rawnie. This is my first year and everythin….”

Kassandra swiftly gets inbetween the crowd, which is besieging the sweets counter. She shovels a few Liquorice Wands and Chocoballs into her bag, heads for the cash, pays and leaves the store.

Aisling O‘Cormac stumbles clumsily through the door of the compartment, blushing at the older girl’s demurity. “Um, hello.” She offers back. “My name is Aisling O‘Cormac… This will be my first year at Hogwarts, though my brothers have told me wonderful things about it.” Having, she feels, pretty much made a fool of herself, Aisling tugs on one of her two plaits nervously. “I don’t suppose you’d mind me sharing this compartment with you?”

Rawnie Weller takes a seat near the windo looking out at the spot where her mother had stood. It had been the longest time Rawnie has spent with her mother since she was born. Looking over at the new arival Rawnie waves quietly letting the older girl answer.

Albert Bryce pokes his head in from the corridor. “Room for another?” he asks, smiling broadly, his voice brisk, heavy with the London accent. He’s dragging an animal carrier, a broom and a knapsack, blocking the corridor for a couple older students wishing to go by. “Just a minute,” he says to them, unperturbed.

Kassandra Verkooyen swiftly opens the compartment’s dook and heaves her suitcase into the baggage net above the seats. “Kassandra Verkooyen.” she announces, addressing everyone in the compartment. “Likewise, is going to be my first year in Hogwarts. I’m so excited about it. What about you? I cannot wait until the first lesson begins.” She looks around to estimate the others in the compartment.

“Yeah Im excited…. I can’t wait to cut up some frogs!” Rawnie smiles and takes out her potions book opening it to the infamous frog guts page which has a moving illustration on the proper way to gut a frog. “Innit that disgustin?”

As the compartment fills, Olivia readjusts how she is seated to fit many people. Part of her is slightly disappointed that she is surrounded by first years, but as Albert pokes his head in, she is slightly relieved. Someone she knows, “Hello, Albert,” she says calmly. “Good summer?” The girl’s demeanor seems unchanging, though uncertain, and she doesn’t move from her spot save to keep her feet on the floor.

Angelo Grey takes a peek inside to see who’s in the compartment, but seeing it’s already full of people, he decides to leave. No need to pack everyone, there’s plenty of room in other compartments. “Excuse me.”

Aisling O‘Cormac places her luggage in the convenient overhead racks as she begins to survey her new domain. Though the compartment had few people when she entered, it appears to have quickly filled up. “Am I wrong,” she asks, “or are most of us first years?”

Albert Bryce moves in, to the relief of the upper years, and flashes Olivia another smile, a little crooked this time. “Wicked good. Yours?” he asks, reaching up place everything but the animal carrier in the space above. And for a change this year, he doesn’t have to struggle much to reach it. No standing on the seats. The growth spurt finds its purpose! “Hello, all,” he adds to the others as he falls into seat. “First years?” he adds, glancing at his House mate, though the kids seem to be answering that for themselves. “They might not use frogs this year,” he replies to Rawnie. “You never know.”

Rawnie Weller frowns at the prospect of not getting to cut up a dead frog. “Oh but thats false advertisement! This book implys that were going to use frog guts in potions!” Says the dissapointed redhead. Rawnie stares at the picture a bit longer with a smile.

Kassandra Verkooyen wrinkles her nose at the sight of the opened frog. “Ugh, put that away, I don’t want to become sick before we left even left the train station. But, yes, as I have stated before, I am a first year.” replying to Aisling. “What house do you two belong to, if I may ask?” Kassandra questions the fourth years.

Aisling O‘Cormac shakes her head. “I don’t see,” she says to Rawnie, “why you think cutting up a dead frog would be so exciting. They’re somewhat boring, really, just guts and muck. By the way, what was your name again? I don’t think I got it.” The talkative first year stops briefly for breath, then looks towards the older students. “Are you two in the same house? Or even year?”

How should Olivia answer? Tolerable? Rather irritating? Miserable? Perhaps those are exaggerations. “Good,” she answers simply and gives Albert a half smile. “I’m looking forward to this term.” She thinks she is. “Hopefully I’ll be able to get good marks this year.” This is the extent of Olivia‘s forwardness and she mostly sits back and watches the younger students in the cabin enthuse about what the year will be like. The girl remembers her first year, but not the excitement that came with it.

Rawnie Weller grins watching Kass’s face wrinkle up. “Oie whats wrong? Its just frog guts…” The girl brings the book a bit closer to Kass grinning sadeisticly. “I bet you just can’t wait ter touch some huh? They look a bit like green scrambled eggs don’t they?” One might get the feeling that Rawnie does this sort of thing all the time.

Albert Bryce chuckles softly at Weller’s disappointment, but he just shakes his head slightly and leans back, arms crossing over the top of the carrier, from which a disgruntled ‘mew’ can be heard. “Fourth years, Hufflepuff,” he answers Kassandra and Aisling cheerfully. “Best House in the castle.” Olivia gets a quick glance. “Good is… good.” Uh huh. “And at least we don’t have O.W.L.s to worry about yet.”

Dolly Faeden wiggles her way into the compartment and finds a place to hoist her overlarge trunk. The girl is devoid of any kind of pet, but doesn’t seem to notice. Her wand pokes up from the pocket of the trousers she’s got on under a somewhat more feminine, but decidedly overlarge blouse, and finally looks around for a chair.

“You’re right about OWLs. I hear they’re dreadfully hard.” The girl bites her lip anxiously in remembrance of the future ominous tests. “Have you heard how they are? My brother took them last year, but he always exaggerates things. He tried to say he nearly died.” Olivia sighs a bit and hugs her waist, leaning a bit farther back in her seat. “Do you know how they are?”

Aisling O‘Cormac looks out the window and sighs. “The countryside looks much as it does back home, clean and bright… I don’t know how people can even stand to live in a city like London, so big and grimy..” Turning to the older students, she continues, “Hogwarts isn’t anything like that, is it? I don’t think I could stand it if it was.”

Lyre King finally finds a place to settle. Without his mother roughly shoving him around, and telling him where to sit and who to talk to, he had stood in the corridor until the train left. He pokes his head into the compartment for a moment and blurts out “Can I sit in here? The only other compartment with unsorted students has an Ogre in it.”

“Was he clumsy?” Albert asks Olivia, his hazel eyes glittering as he grins. “I don’t know. Seren came away with nine when she took them, and it’s not like she’s a brilliant Ravenclaw or something. Though… she studies a lot.” Here, Al nearly looks glum. Almost. “Passed her N.E.W.T.s, too. But… I guess if you pay attention and… you know. Read a lot.” He just might turn green soon. Oh, a distraction. “Only parts of Lond… well. Much of it might be grimy,” he says to Aisling, “but it has its charms. Mostly by magic, but the royal family doesn’t need to know that, do they?” He then blinks at Lyre, once, stares, then states, “No ogres in here.”

Dolly Faeden looks up at the sound of Lyre’s voice and her eyebrows raise fairly far. “Oh! Yer’e the boy with the short wand!” She pulls hers out and brandishes it, a long, whippy thing made of holly, smiling in a friendly manner. “See? It’s longer.” There’s a waving of it and an incidental shooting of sparks, which harmlessly dissolve against the cieling. “Works well, too.” A look around and she asks in a general way, “What about everyone else’s? I’m trying to figure out how the length of a wand corrolates-” she pronounces this word slowly and importantly, as if it is new to her,”to the owner. I’m tallish, you see, and he’s kind of short, so…”

Kassandra chuckles. “An Ogre? What has he done to you?” and to Dolly “Well, I do not think that the length of a wizard or witch is actually related to his or her wand length.” Kassandra sits back, reveales a paper bag which contains two kinds of sweets and starts munching on a Licorice wand. “Help yourself, I’m getting quite annoyed of those sweets.” she announces.

Aisling O‘Cormac turns to face Lyre and blinks. “An ogre? What? How? That’s somewhat… not comforting… By the by, my name is Aisling. Aisling O‘Cormac. Yours?” Having, in short order, attacked the points that most interested her, Aisling sets down to twirling one of her plaits with her index finger, mulling things over and observing her companions. Looking at a wall, she comments, “I don’t think that height has anything to do with wand length…”

“An Ogre? You mean a real one? On the train?” Rawnie seems more than a tad skepticle and closes her potions book. “That’d be pretty neat though…. I should like to see one once.”

“I don’t know. He told me that the sorting hat would try to eat my head if I wasn’t careful.” The girl sighs and shrugs. “Obviously I realized that wasn’t the case, but it was rather frightening beforehand. He never tells me how things are for real. He’s so mean.” Olivia looks rather cross at this, raising her eyebrows at the discussion of Ogres. “What a frightening idea,” the Hufflepuff expresses, seeming to think it a generally horrific idea.

Lyre fumes for a bit. “I am not short! I’m taller than all the boys my age in my grandfathers estate in india. And I swear, there is a towering beast in compartment four! It has a crooked nose, and cuts and bruises all over his face, and it’s ears are thick, and it’s dressed all in black!”

Kassandra says, “Oh yes, an get your head split, I suppose.” %n tells Rawnie and then asks the older students. “What will the Sorting be like? I only heard about a Talking hat and vague stories. Can you tell me?”"

“Probably just an old Slytherin,” Albert offers, grinning at Lyre. The rest, he lets fly over his head like so much conversation until he blinks at Kassandra. “Well, the hat doesn’t eat your head, obviously. It just… picks your brain.” Ah heh. “Painless, but sometimes embarrassing.

“I wouldn’t get my head split….. Id use you like a sheild you ninny.” Rawnie spits at Kassandra. Honestly who did she think she was stateing her honest opnion like that. “Anyway Im sure I could hide from an Ogre.”

Aisling O‘Cormac, being a first year, is, of course, also interested in the phenomenon of the sorting ceremony. Turning towards the older students, she asks, “Has anyone ever been, I don’t know, turned away? That is, not sorted?”

Dolly Faeden frowns a little bit, “Well, tha’s all well an’ good except you haven’t shown me yeir wands so how canni tell for sure?” She crosses her arms, somewhat upset that her research oppurtunity is going by the wayside in favor of Ogre stories. A moment later, however, she’s turned to face the others better. “A hat? M’da tol’ me it was a dragon.” She looks rather let down. “How’s a hat s’posed to tell us anything?”

Riley Markham hardly glances at the card before moving to hand it back to Kitty, giving a great, heaving sigh of mixxed worry and disgust. “Aye, fine. S’my Gran. She an’ I.. well,” he sighs, all that worry and fear he’d been holding up raging back to the surface. “She worried me, today.. something she said. Can’t figure it out.. Eh,” Riley looks up, as the train stops.. “We’re ‘ere, eh.” And he rises, non-challantly, to pull down and carry he and Saphia’s things off the train.

“Your gran is on a Wizard Card?” Katherine stares at Riley in a mixture of sympathy and awe

Keelan Walsh is standing on the platform looking, as she is, quite tall and a bit odd, given the shadows cast upon her from the lamp she’s carrying. “First years!” calls the Herbology professor, “If all first years could please come over here, I’ll be taking you to the Castle.” The woman smirks a little, but is really quite busy calling for the students. “First years!!”

Lyre King cowers next to his bags. “There, there he is! The ogre!” He points over at a large boy carrying a rucksack, who is boarding a carriage.

“Wow, Riley, your grandma’s on a card?” David is amazed at the news, too.

Marie-Anna Greyton watches as all the first years move to follow Keelan, meanwhile she moves towards the carriages. The sixth year quietly awaits for the younger students to board the carriages before she too boards one.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce settles in next to Olivia and grins. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks in his overly cheerful sort of way.

“Yeah,” Riley mutters, not bothering to ask if Saphia would like him to carry her luggage, stepping behind her and picking up for her after she’s dragged it a way. Hauling heavy things was something he was actually fairly good at. He seems more than slightly annoyed, though more at his own reaction than the question.. “Yeah, she was a famous curse-breaker, did some ivestment things for Gringotts, helped a lot of rich people get richer. But she said somethin to me today..” He drops the luggage off in the entry wing, following the rest in to the great hall.. “Something odd.. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it worries the stuffing outta me..” And then, as he steps in to the great hall.. he looks up, across the room to the faculty table. “Oh, sweet Jesus.. I’m in hell..”

(Hufflepuff) Eliza Marlowe folds her lanky frame into a spot at the Hufflepuff table, sitting sideways on the bench to let her long legs stretch out into the aisle. She raises a hand to give a cheerful, easy wave to the few housemates she has missed on the train. “Hey, Linwood!” she calls to one of her teammates. “Get in any good practice this summer?”

(Hufflepuff) “Oh, Quidditch…” Olivia laments softly as she thinks of her horrible experiences with everything relating to the sport. Olivia doesn’t like to get messy, anyway. The quiet girl glances around the table as her housemates all gather. Every year it always seemed so different to sit at it, especially with the new point of view of being a year older. She tries to smile in a friendly way at those around her, but finds it difficult, as she barely knows them, even though she’s been at school with many of them for three years already.

(Hufflepuff) Katherine Nichols plunks down at the end of the table, near Alexandra and a few other third-years. As she turns to survey the room, something catches her eye at the head table, and Katherine‘s round, cheerful face suddenly drops into an astonished gasp. She rummages through the pockets of her robe, scattering a few quills – real and sugar – and some foil Chocolate Frog wrappers before she comes up with what she was seeking: a Wizard Card. She stares at it, then at the head table, then back. “Oh my goodness,” she gasps. “The new Headmistress. It’s Riley’s gran!”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce leans against the table and peers at Katherine. “Who is?” he asks, as he hasn’t bothered to even glance at the head table just yet.

(Hufflepuff) “Her!” Katherine nods urgently at Melvina Prichard, her voice hushed to a whisper, as if the new Headmistress could hear her all the way across the room. “That one! Look” She leans over, passing the card across to Albert. “It’s her!”

(Hufflepuff) Alexandra Leong gasps “Really?” she exclaims, twisting herself around to get a better look, as she was listening with dismay to her Quidditch captain. “Wow… that’s. Different. Well, Professors Sedgewick is still here… AND Professor Isolde?”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce rudely reaches across the student between Katherine and him and peers at the card, blinks slowly, then frowns at Melvina. “What on earth is she doing in that chair?” he asks stupidly, as if it hadn’t been announced that the previous Headmistress was stepping down.

(Hufflepuff) “I don’t think she looks quite so nice as the last headmistress we had,” Olivia states quietly, glancing at the woman, almost fearfully. “What’s she like, do you know?” Her gaze scans the table, as she sees all the new appointments, wondering just how different her classes will end up being.

(Hufflepuff) “She’s the new Headmistress!” Katherine whispers urgently. She follows the others’ gaze back up to the faculty table, and now that the first shock of recognition is passing, Katherine regards the new Headmistress with rising apprehension. “No, she doesn’t look very nice at all,” she agrees uneasily. “And from what Riley’s said, I think she’s fairly strict. But…you never know. She might turn out all right.” Hope springs eternal, for Katherine.

(Hufflepuff) “Yeah, Professor Morgan’s parents finally died off while she was gone,” Albert supplies as he sits back once more. “But… well. D’you think the new headmistress will make us take those idiotic seminars on tying shoes?”

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood is sitting at the table, arms up and folded behind his head, waiting rather impatiently for the first years to arrive. He’s not joining in on any conversation yet, however.

(Hufflepuff) “Albert!” Katherine frowns reproachfully at the older boy’s comments, and reaches across to snatch the card back from him. “I’m glad that Professor Morgan is back!” She drops the card on the table in front of her and reaches into her pocket, fishing out a few more Chocolate Frogs.

(Hufflepuff) Albert shrugs at Katherine and grins. “What? It’s true. And I was just wondering.” Then, feeling confident the faculty issue is taken care of for the time being, he turns toward Eliza, staring a moment too long as he screws up some idiotic burst of courage. “So, uh… Eliz, or, that is, Ms. Marlowe?” he calls over, remembering to tack on a smile. “Are you, uh… I was talking to my sister, and… will there be tryouts this year?” he asks her, sounding hopeful as the smile turns more genuine.

(Hufflepuff) Camdin Tulloche finally chimes in from the second year side of Katherine, “Don’t go so hard on Albert. Those seminars were boooring,” he says with only the best exaggeration. “Besides, you really want to take them on top of a slew of electives?”

(Hufflepuff) “No, it’s not Miss Marlowe,” Eliza calls back with a grin. “Just Eliza.” She angles herself towards Albert, leaning one elbow casually on the long table. “And yes, we’ll be having tryouts. Always room for more good players. Seren said that you’d be interested. Looking forward to seeing what you can do.”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce actually blushes for a moment before he remembers to acknowledge the information with a, “Thanks, Eliza!” Whew! He sits up a little straighter and just smiles widely at those nearby, looking like a very large idiot.

(Hufflepuff) “They weren’t that bad,” Olivia contributes. “At least they were useful and informative. After all, I imagine there were less… shoe-related injuries… during the year…” Olivia‘s voice trails off as she stops her train of thought before she gets any glares from her housemates. “Anyway, I imagine this Headmistress will find some way to enrich our educations.” Olivia is spewing nonsense, and she knows it, so instead of continuing, the girl falls silent and just gazes over the tableware.

Keelan Walsh strides in, not even having shucked her cloak, and moves quickly to the faculty table. She’s still, in fact, got the lantern she was using to light the way, though that at least has been put out. Despair, oh haters of Herbology (and members of Ravenclaw), Keelan Walsh has not drowned in the lake.

(Hufflepuff) “Well, at least they didn’t make Calwern Headmistress,” Albert replies. “The board isn’t completely made up of idiots. Always encouraging, yes? Though… Rathe is still here, I see.” A glum note enters his voice, though it is quickly erased by the entrance of Professor Walsh. “Oh, thank heavens. We can eat soon.” The stomach is most important tonight.

With students settled at their respective House tables, the doors to the Great Hall let in one, final person. Head of Gryffindor and Charms Professor Erica Calwern enters the Great Hall with the Sorting Hat lightly held in her grasp. She makes her way gracefully between the tables and up to the dias which hosts the faculty tables and a lone, dark oak stool. Tattered, torn, patched, and frayed, the professor still treats the Hat with the utmost respect as she gently places it upon the stool. Turning, she bows to the table, head lowered and right hand sweeping towards the ground. Standing and directing herself to Melvina in particular, she addresses the new Headmistress, “Good evening, Professor Prichard. I believe we are ready to greet our newest residents.”

(Hufflepuff) “Albert!” The reproach is even stronger in Katherine‘s voice, and she puffs up with indignance at his criticism of Professor Calwern. She hastily falls silent, though, when the other professors enter.

Darius Dwight looks over the Ravenclaw table, noting a loud groan coming from their direction at the appearance of Professor Walsh. Many, including one boy in particular, seem utterly disconsolate.

(Hufflepuff) Alexandra Leong makes a sound surprisingly like a grunt. “I don’t know why people don’t like Professor Rathe,” she asserts. “I think she’s great. Really fair.” Alright, so the DADA Professor stood up for her, once or twice. That sort of thing sticks in a girl’s mind, doesn’t it?

(Hufflepuff) Albert, unfortunately, has very little luck with most of the professors and is therefore biased. “At least Walsh didn’t drown this year. I heard some of the Slytherins were going to try to sabotage the boats.” Total hearsay, of course.

(Hufflepuff) Casper Hadley shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the slytherins that sabotaged her. She likes slytherins. Used to be one.”

Dolly Faeden gasps out loud at the Great Hall and actually stops in her tracks to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve got to learn tae do that!” is her decided proclaimation. She seems not to notice as she’s somewhat left behind by the group that is, of course, still moving.

Angelo Grey enters the great hall and a face of amazement comes from within. He looks up, turns around, several times, as if spinning in the same place, trying to grasp the entirety of this hall. “Wow…” he says, dreamily.

Erica Calwern awaits patiently and with a warm smile next to the Sorting Hat which both stand upon the dias at the front of the room. As many new students filter in from the waiting room, they create a single line upon the dias, forming a living barrier between the faculty and the returning students.

Rawnie Weller stares up at the magical ceiling nearly falling onto her backside made dizzy by the beauty of it. “Blimey!” Is all the little redhead can think to utter before actually taking a small spill forward due to Vertigo, poor girl.

Kara Raine follows the others into the Great Hall, eyes wide. “Oh my, oh my.” Swallowing nerviously, she moves forward falling into line, hands clenching and unclenching the sides of her robes.

Kassandra Verkooyen Kassandra Verkooyen almost floats into the Great Hall, decently looking at the enchanted ceiling, always keeping up with the group of first-years and standing still among the others.

Sara O‘Shay quirks a brow, for all that she may not like Rawnie, she doesn’t want anyone to mess up her sorting. “You alright?” she questions of Miss Weller. “I suppose it can be a little overwhelming.”

Standing on the dais, Aisling can appreciate how many people there are in the hall, and, as such, how many eyes there are upon her. Seeing Rawnie tumble down, she steps over to her and kneels next to her. “Are you alright?” she inquires, hand resting upon her plait like usual.

Chris Jitsunari joins in the awe. He looks up at the enchanted celing and then at all the returning students, not sure how to take it all in. “The books about this place don’t even come close to the actual experience.”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce shrugs slightly, attention mostly on the firsties now. “S’just what I heard,” he maintains, distractedly.

Rawnie Weller stand up and brushes her robes off. A small glare is given to Sara. “Im arright….. I just got a little dizzy from lookin up too fast s’all….” She didn’t need help from a girl who called her a halfling. Whatever that is. She nods to Aisling too. “Im arright.”

Dolly Faeden scuttles up on the dias with a start, eyes still turned upward. “Aye…” is her breathless response to Chris’s comment.

Sara O‘Shay nods a little before stepping back into the queue, not that she’d stepped out any. “Good,” she states, simply.

Heat O‘Leary glances upward momentarily towards the ceiling before he lowers his gaze, a minor shiver rocking his frame. He looked towards the sorting hat and continued the hurried attempts at fixing his hair, brushing longer pieces behind his ears with his fingers.

Aisling O‘Cormac looks down the line and exclaims, looking at the hat, “Rawnie, Kass, Lyre, it’s the hat that boy was talking about! Maybe this won’t be so bad after all… Although, he did say it tests you, or something… I hope I know the right answers.”

With a flick of her wand towards the Waiting Room doors, Erica has them shut behind the final new student entering the hall. As if on silent cue, she also steps away from the hat, giving herself a distance of a few feet from the worn old thing.

(Hufflepuff) Olivia Baxtor gasps a bit, as she hear the hat what it has done three times in her presence already. The hat is singing! This never ceases to shock and fascinate Olivia.

Angelo Grey smiles in awe as the sorting hat sings his song. Letting out a silent chuckle, he seem exhilirating.

Rawnie Weller claps out loud as the Hat’s song comes to a close. “Brilliant! Blood amazing! That shabby ol hat can sing! Thats even better than movin pictuers with frog guts!” She nearly yells almost too loudley.

Kara Raine giggles, dimples appearing as she smiles. “It sings, nice little tune too. Maybe this won’t be as bad as they said, yes?”

Wincing at the loudness of Rawnie’s comment, Aisling stands quietly in the line awaiting further instructions. “I hope so.” she mutters to Kara.

Lyre King shakes his head. “I’m not so sure. A hat that can sing could probably do other things, too!”

Sara O‘Shay listens quietly to the song, and so she remains quiet as she awaits for the sorting to begin.

Kassandra Verkooyen smiles. “I think he cannot be as bad as they said. He sang a splendid song.”

Dolly Faeden watches the hat in awe. “It is a hat, and it can talk.” Her eyes go wider and wider and then turn toward Professor Calwern, not quite taking in the whole row of faculty in their chairs.

Kassandra Verkooyen smoothes out her robe while there still is time to do it. In a few minutes she will be in front of all these more experienced people and she wants to make a good impression, even with that clumsy old hat on her head.

Erica Calwern brushes a gloved hand over her brow before slipping her wand back up her sleeve. Walking back towards the hat, she summons the scroll from her place at the faculty table. Unfurling it, she announces, “It is about time we begin, I believe. Faeden, Dolly!”

Dolly Faeden looks startled when her name is called, as though she had no sense of alphabet. Almost automatically comes, “It’s Fi-jen, actually.” An offhand comment to Professor Calwern that will likely as not fail to sink in until much later. She steps up, picks up the hat and places it gingerly upon her head, trying to sit at the same time. A near miss, but Dee makes it to the stool. And waits.

Rawnie Weller claps for Dolly smileing brightly. She nearly shreiks out “Did it hurt?!?” Well she really wanted to know.

Dolly Faeden turns about four shades of pink and removes the hat unsteadily. She doesn’t meet Professor Calwern’s eye and instead scurries off toward the… wait, which table is she supposed to scurry toward? There’s a pause and she decides the one with cheering people, Merlin willing, will be correct. Eep, Sorted!

Running a finger down her list, the Charms Professor comments on Dolly’s sorting, “Fitting. Let’s see if she corrects me in class.” Erica regards the next name before announcing, “Grey, Angelo!”

Angelo Grey trembles at the mention of his name. He walks towards the dirty old hat, shivering, but making an effort to maintain his pose. As he paces silently, time seems to stretch to him. It’s taking so long… He looks at all the people gazing at him, controling his nerves. He picks up the hat and puts it on his head.

Angelo Grey steps down shivering, but visibly happy. He aproaches the table, looking for a place to sit, making an effort to stay on his legs.

(Hufflepuff) Olivia Baxtor applauds as a student is sorted into Hufflepuff. “Welcome,” Olivia states mildly, her greeting lost in all the cheering that engulfs the table as the hat announces Hufflepuff as the destination.

Angelo Grey steps down shivering, but visibly happy. He aproaches the Hufflepuff table, looking for a place to sit, making an effort to stay on his legs

First Angelo to Hufflepuff then a spat of Gryffindors who all chitter as they make their way to their new House tables. Then, a Slytherin. Each, called and sorted yet Erica‘s voice never tires or wanes as she announces the next name, “Jitsunari, Chris!” She can’t help but glance over at the Ravenclaw table and one Miss Dolly Faedon as another difficult to pronounce name comes up.

(Hufflepuff) “Grey! Welcome!” Eliza Marlowe, a very tall, lanky seventh-year girl, gives the new student an easy wave and a broad smile.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce laughs softly and sits up tall to wave to Angelo. “No eating heads, see?” he calls down the table, winking quickly before he settles down into his chair again.

(Hufflepuff) Angelo Greychuckles as he is welcomed to the hufflepuff table. His nervousnes now fading a little, he watches the rest of eh sorting. “Thanks.” He seems very pleased, indeed!

Erica Calwern doublechecks her scroll and mutters, “I will need glasses if the secretary prints these names any smaller.” Louder, she announces to the room, “King, Lyre!”

Lyre King is the sort that has to be reminded to move. When his name is called, someone has to shove him in the shoulder, as he is staring at the cieling. As soon as he is reminded, he breaks into a jog to make up for any time he lost daydreaming. He picks up the hat, sits down, and places it on his head.

Lyre King hops off the stool, drops the hat on it, and goes to sit with his new housemates.

Erica Calwern watches twins get separate with the slice of the Hat’s opinion. The boy heads off to Slytherin, the girl to Gryffindor. The professor doesn’t miss a beat as she calls out, “Raine, Kara!”

Kara Raine looks up at her name, gray eyes wide in surprise. Taking a deep breath, she steps forward just knowing that all eyes are on her, and in a single graceful motion sits upon the stool while placing the hat upon her head. Wincing slightly, she waits for something to happen.

Kara Raine visibly sighs before grinning broadly, quickly hopping down and rushing over to take her place at the Ravenclaw house table.

A Ravenclaw here, a Slytherin there. The Sorting Hat happily does Erica‘s bidding as she dutifully calls off the name of every new student standing before her. “O’Cormac, Aisling!”

Hearing her name being called aloud startles Aisling O‘Cormac, and she glances around slightly nervously before heading to the provided stool. Picking up the hat, she sits, gingerly placing said hat upon her head.

Gasping from the noise the hat made, Aisling staggers upright and heads, beaming, towards her new house’s table.

Angelo Grey claps loudly as he takes a good look at Aisling. “Hi” he offers the first year.

Hufflepuff, always welcoming to each new student, their numbers swelling. Trailing a glove tip down the scroll, Erica‘s eyes scan name after name. A few Ravenclaws are sorted before she calls out, “O’Leary, Heat!”

Heat O‘Leary finally abandons his vain attempts to completely smooth his hair as he approaches the hat, two stray locks sweeping out from their places behind each of his ears. He had given his all, and for the most part it worked–his hair didn’t look too bad, at least it looked intentional now. The boy glances towards Kassandra and lets a grin pass over his lips–she gets to use it after he does, even if there are a few people in between. He carefully takes the hat and settles on the stool as he places it upon his head. Heat‘s eyes pass between all of the tables while he waits for the sorting announcement.

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac waves to her fellow first year. “Hullo.” she mutters to Angelo, as she settles herself down.

Kassandra Verkooyen leans over to Rawnie, nods to Heat and whispers “The boy with the spittle hair…”

Heat O‘Leary steps down after removing the hat, his face sheet white. He shivers noticeably and wraps his arms about himself before making the trek towards the Slytherin table.

Patsy went to Gryffindor, Orville to Hufflepuff. A nice girl Mary found her way to Gryffindor and an even nicer girl named Sally found her way to Slytherin, following right on Heat’s heels. Erica‘s voice remains strong as she calls out the next name, “O’Shay, Sara!”

Sara O‘Shay quietly steps up to the stool as her name is called. Lifting the hat she sets it on her head, all the while sitting on the stool and crossing her legs all primp and properly. This done Sara casts her gaze out to the crowded, already sorted students, her gaze eventually settling upon her siblings.

Sara O‘Shay offers a bit of a grin as the hat announces her house and stands from the stool and returns the hat to it. That done the young Slytherin girl makes her way towards her house table with little haste. As she sits down Sara offers a bit of a nod towards her siblings. There was, of course, no doubt that shed end up in Slytherin house.

“Imagine that,” the professor muses with a smirk, “an O’Shay in Slytherin. Someday you should surprise us, old hat.” Erica looks back to her list, about half way through from the way she holds the scroll in the middle of its length, “Jitsunari, Chris!”

Chris Jitsunari straightens as he hears his name. The hat obviously couldn’t be that bad, seeing as how none of the other students seemed to be in pain. He looks around and laughs nervously before walking up to the stool and taking a seat and placing the hat on his head.

Chris Jitsunari grins widely at hearing the result, Ravenclaw being his choice house from the moment he first read about Hogwarts. He gets down from the stool and walks to the Ravenclaw table proudly, smiling at the other Ravenclaws .

There is one of those uncomfortable silences as Erica walks up the two steps to her space at the table and takes from it a crystal goblet, filled with a ruby-orange liquor. She takes a sip and her voice seems to come to her with renewed strength as she announces the next student’s name, “Ripple, Rebecca!”

Rebecca Ripple gulps anxiously, and steps up to the hat, wondering how anyone could enchant a hat to think, speak, and even sing. She approaches the stool, sits herself down, and takes a deep breath as she feels the Sorting Hat being lowered onto her head. “What now?” she thinks. She is praying now, that the decision made for her today will be a prudent one.

Rebecca Ripple skips down to the bottom of the steps, giggling with delight. She gleefully sits at the Ravenclaw table…

Erica Calwern strikes quite the pose, liquor in one hand, scroll in the other. Another, longer sip is taken from the goblet as she looks over the list. First the mutter to herself, “How did that name get smudged? Hughe? Hank?” Then realizing that the Hat has shipped off Rebecca to the Ravenclaws, she announces, “Turner, Baldwin!”

Baldwin Turner lowers his head as his name is called, admittedly still quite frightened. Advancing slowly towards the hat, his pace slows as the worried boy gets closer and closer, perhaps without him even realising it. Stopping before Professor Calwern, Baldwin parts his curley hair to look at her directly, “Do I…” Gulp. He surveys the crowd. “Need to… do it… Here?” Biting his tongue, Baldwin seems to accept it is inevitable, sitting down and commenacing visible shakeage.

Baldwin Turner gulps, “I-I-is that a… Is that a good thing?” Hopping from the stool, he lowers his head to avoid eye contact and shuffles hastily towards the table, trying not to make a fool of himself any further.

Erica Calwern is holding the scroll by its very end now and feet upon feet dangle on the floor before her. The line of students near her has shorten considerably while the tables have filled to near bursting with new members, “Verkooyen, Kassandra!” With such precise pronounciation, it is clear she is not allowed to make mistakes when it comes to the children’s names.

A nervous smile rushes across Kassandra Verkooyen‘s face as she approaches the steps, which lead to the stool, with elegant steps. Climbing up the stairs she starts turning the ring on her right hand in excitement. She sits down gently and puts on the vintage hat.

An overwhelming smile gleams on Kassandra Verkooyen‘s face. She stands up gracefully and places the hat back onto the chair. Then she descends towards the Ravenclaw table with blushed cheeks, eased and contented about her destiny, and takes a seat among her housemates.

A quiet boy shuffles his way to Ravenclaw while two louder boys nearly race to Gryffindor upon the Hat’s announcement. Erica can’t help but chuckle at the exuberance before calling out the next name, “Weller, Rawnie!”

When Rawnie is called she runs up to the stool, takes the hat and places it in her head looking a bit comical with the brim covering most of her head. She is simply so excited that she is bounceing on her seat kicking her feet back and forth and twiddling her thumbs. A real “wiggle worm” this one.

Rawnie Weller stands and takes off the hat etting it back onto the stool muttering somthing that sounds a bit like “Starch” to the hat as she runs to take her seat at Gryffindor table.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce randomly adds another short burst of applause before clutching his stomach dramatically. “I’m going to turn inside out soon,” he announces before blowing out his cheeks. ADD spaz.

“Fantastic!” the Charms professor is heard to exclaim softly as hears the Hat’s announcement. Whether it is for Rawnie’s sorting or if her gaze alights upon the final student awaiting their moment of consideration with the Hat. With a certain amount of zeal, Erica calls out, “And finally, Stopps, Warrick!”

Warrick Stopps blinks as his name is called and belatedly stands up a little straighter. Posture, oh, yes, good posture. He clears his throat, and with only another moment of hesitation, he sets his shoulders and marches up the stairs and to the stool. There he takes a sudden seat and puts on the hat like all the others before him.

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner , having been sat down for a few minutes, starts to occupy himself by nervously biting his nails until a point when all this sorting has finished and he can, he assumes, go to sleep.

(Hufflepuff) Frowning, Rafe stares at the sorting hat. Hufflepuff. It had put him in Hufflepuff four years ago. Or was it three? Well this would be the third anniversary. With a sigh he watches as the number of first years at the table increases. “Children,” he mutters.

Erica Calwern looks up from her list and spots Talia still upon the dias. She looks back down at her list, “Stoederman, Smith, Stopps, how could I have?” A long silence and the woman exclaims, “Ah! Caulfield, Talia!”

Primed to the sound of her name, Talia Caulfield hastens forward on short, swift steps with eyes narrowed warily and breath nerve-quickened.

With a flick of her wrist, Erica has the scroll roll itself up and sends it back to her seat at the faculty table. The professor walks to the center of the dias and looks down upon the row after row of children, “So begins another year at our old home and for some of us new. At this time, it is my sincerest pleasure,” and her tone and expression do express that very sentiment, “to introduce all of you to our new Headmistress, Professor Prichard!”

Talia Caulfield raises her head in a sharp jerk, eyes rounding with a brief flash, and removes the hat with nimble fingers, rising and slipping it back on the stool with perfect precision before she moves at a sedate pace to join her new housemates at the Slytherin table.

“Thank you, Erica,” Melvina Prichard notes as she purposefully rises from the faculty table, lifting her cherry-wood wand to her neck and tapping the tip against it deftly. “Sonorus summissus,” she murmurs, giving a certain amount of power to her voice so that she may be heard of the student chattering; happy exchanges and exciting tales of places visited and daring-do over the long separation left by the summer holiday, she was certain. Not to mention the animated greetings of those newly appointed to thier houses.

“Pardon me, everyone,” Melvina calls, her voice filling the hall at a surprisingly comfortable volume. She pauses a moment to allow the hall to calm before tapping her wand again to her throat and restoring her normal speaking voice. One that is quiet pleasant, and fully reflective of the warm smile that graces her lips as she looks out over her young audience. “Welcome, everyone, to Hogwarts term for year nineteen hundred and twenty six! My name is Melvina Prichard and I have had great fortune of being appointed new Headmistress of Hogwarts school. I look forward knowing each of you as time passes. Moving on then, I’ve some beginning of term announcements to make.” Pulling a pair of spectacles from a pocket of her emerald robes and resting them on the bridge of her nose, the Headmistress lifts up a tightly-bound scroll which had she’d not appeared to be holding a moment before.

“The standard boilerplate, of course. Our caretaker has asked me to remind you check the updated list of prohibited items and punishable offenses that have been thoughtfully posted in each of your common rooms–” Drawing in a deep breath, the Headmistress begins to unroll the wound parchment, “Spellwork outside of the classroom, rough play, pranks, hijinxs, dungbombs, Whipple’s Pimple Powder..” Her brow furrows for a moment and the bottom of the scroll slips through her fingers, clattering to the table, spilling over the edge, and rolling across the floor until exhausting itself about half-way across the Great Hall. Her eyes widenning slightly, Melvina sets her end of the very long list down and vanishes it with a flick of her wand. “The list goes on. Be sure to check it.”

After quiet resumes, Melvina takes up a blessedly smaller sheet of parchment. “Hogwarts tradition demands that I remind you the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all students; it’s equally tradition that some of you will choose to ignore this reminder.” A rueful chuckle escapes her as she shares a knowing smile with the hall. “Know then that detention is the minimum punishment for entering the Forbidden Forest without a member of staff or faculty along side you, and that such acts will almost always result in a major loss of house points as well.” With small glance around and a pause to clear her throat, Melvina continues. “Naturally, we ask that you respect and defer to your Prefects. Also, I’d like to congratulate our new Head Boy and Head Girl, Martin Foster and Eliza Marlowe. Mister Foster and Miss Marlowe, please stand.” She claps once the two have risen, leading those who care to join her in a modest round of applause, before continuing on.

“Very good, Head Boy, Head Girl. On to faculty. I have the pleasure of introducing several new faculty members to you, and to announce the return of a few others. Heading up our Wizo-Music classes will be international wizo-musician Darius Dwight. Great honor, there. Filling our other vacancies will be, for Astronomy, Mister Avery Fallon, Care of Magical Creatures, Mister Quintus Helit, and last but hardly least, Divination, a one Miss Bonnie Kensington. Also, returning from hiatus, Professors Isolde Morgan and Dante Hayward shall be resuming their posts as masters of Arithmancy and Muggle Studies, respectively. Ravenclaws will note that along with reclaiming her Arithmancy classroom, Professor Morgan is also be resuming her duties as Ravenclaw Head of House. Similarly, Hufflepuffs will be interested to know that Professor Sedgewick has been officially named your Head of House Hufflepuff for the coming year.” Melvina waits one last time for applause before plowing on.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood claps rather enthusiastically at the announcement of Head Boy and Girl, calling, “Well done, Captain!” in the brief interval of noise between segments of speech.

One large, deep, relieved breath and Melvina finally sets down the parchment and removes her glasses, slipping them back in to the pocket where she found them. “That said, I have only one more thing to mention before we start in on the delicious feast I know you’re all patiently waiting to savor. Seeing that we have so many new faces gracing us this year, in the spirit of celebration and greeting, I’ve decided to hold a small function. A barefoot social. This dance will semi-formal, open to all students of all years, faculty, and staff, and will include music, naturally, and an outdoor feast.” Her smile warms in to something almost sly, however, as she looks out at her young crowd. “But what social would be complete without courtship? So, for fun, I’ve decided to make this dance a bit unusual; our ladies will need ask our gentlemen for the honor of an afternoon’s companionship.” She waits, pleasantly, for the reaction to that before at last finishing up.

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner claps slowly, not entirely sure what most of those announcements mean.

(Hufflepuff) Albert says, “I feel sorry for whomever Kelly ends up asking.”

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac blinks. “She has to be kidding, right? And who’s Kelly?”

“I’d like to form an events council, made up of students from all years, to help me prepare; if you’d like to be on said committee, you may contact me through any of the usual means. Exact details regarding date and time of the barefoot social shall follow shortly. Once your bellies are full and you gossip abated, please follow your Prefects to your respective common rooms, and have a wonderful school year. Let us eat.” And with small nod and a sly, lingering grin, Melvina slips casually back in to her seat.

(Hufflepuff) Olivia Baxtor gasps in horror as the new headmistress makes this announcement about the dance. The girl is shocked to hear this news in the least, but keeps her comments to herself as the woman continues speaking.

(Hufflepuff) Turning to Albert, Aisling once more asks, “Who is this Kelly girl? And what’s wrong with her?”

(Hufflepuff) “Kelly’s an amazing young woman,” Rafe scoffs at Albert. “She’s fascinating, too. Not boring like some. Or stupid like others. She’s neither afraid to speak her mind nor is she too brash to cause continual damage to herself.” He shoots Albert a glare and looks at his food.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce winks at his fellow fourth year, then grins at Aisling. “Don’t let him fool you. She’s not just off her rocker, she’s broken the poor thing.” He reaches over to grab a couple bread rolls and begins slathering butter onto them. “Eliza! Congratulations!” he remembers to add. All in a day’s work.

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac blinks. “Sooooo…. A girl that Rafe likes? She sounds rather extraordinary.”

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner blinks, “Isn’t girls asking boys a bit… bit…” He shudders. “B-b-bit unusual?”

(Hufflepuff) Eyeing Aisling, Rafe just shakes his head, “Don’t amuse yourself by spreading idle gossip. Kelly is fascinating. She’s a muse to me, if you will. A mascot, perhaps.” Just what every girl wants: to be equated to a mascot. “Unusual as it may be, it certainly takes the pressure off. I don’t plan on being asked. Dancing is. . .a complete waste of time.”

(Hufflepuff) Warrick Stopps squints, apperantly thinking. “…A bit,” he eventually agrees with Baldwin, piing up to be heard for the first time. “…A mascot?” Confusion abounds.

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac turns to Baldwin. “I think that was the headmistress’ point, having a Sadie Hawkins’.” she says, and then turns back to Rafe. “How exactly do you plan on avoiding having someone ask you, Rafe? There’s that whole free will thing.”

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood actually lets out a sigh of relief when the mode of asking is announced. “Thanfully I won’t have to go. Good to know–Why, DeWitt,” he latches on to the conversation at long last, “sounds as if you fancy her.” Hopefully certain rumors will not decide to surface. “Although I have to agree. Strange, yes, but Kate is rather interesting and has a good deal more character than some girls.” He blushes, suddenly, and adds, “But she is strange.”

(Hufflepuff) “Well, this is Hogwarts,” Albert answers Baldwin, grinning. Rolls buttered, he adds some potatoes (with butter), roast beef (more butter), and some thick gravy. (Yes, butter.) “And hey, if it means Kelly’s asking you, Rafe, and not one of us, I’m already happier!” Munch.

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner ponders on this, “Why… I mean, uh, why can’t you… or don’t you… Why not just,” His next three words are said very carefully, almost like he could be totally stupid for saying them. “M-magic yourselves better?”

(Hufflepuff) About to begin munching on a buttered roll, Aisling stops, and turns to Charlie. “Did you say Kate? I thought her name was Kelly?”

(Hufflepuff) Casper Hadley disagrees. “I had to go to my cou.. well, I guess I’m barely related to him. I had to go to Ivy Thornwelds brother’s wedding last christmas. The entire event was horrible, but the dancing was the most fun I’d had all year.” The sight of Casper dancing must have been incredibly humorous. “No, you can’t magic yourself better. You have to learn. The best way to do that is to try.”

(Hufflepuff) “Fancy her?” Rafe nearly chokes on his pumpkin juice at the mere notion. “Surely you joke. I fancy no one. You, on the other hand, Charlie, I heard a rather fascinating rumour about you and Kelly. . . although it’s not in my nature to pass news along.” He narrows his eyes and then sideglances Albert, “No one’s asking me. End of story. No, if I avoid all pleasant contact with female students, no one will ask me.”

(Hufflepuff) “Couldn’t have said it better,” Albert agrees with Casper, gesturing emphatically with half a cup of pumpkin juice, which is quickly drained. “That’s easy, Rafe. Just tell the girls you’re going to the dance with Martin Foster.”

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner nods, “Right, right… I’m sorry.”

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac stops a moment. “Isn’t that the name of the Head Boy?” she asks, putting her cutlery to rest on her plate as she looks over the desserts.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood turns a sort of purply hue and says, “She said call her Kate and she is my friend, and only sort of!” Whether this is true or not, Charlie won’t ever let on. He gets progressively crosser and adds, “I couldn’t ever fancy her, anyway. So don’t so much like you do–” Albert’s comment brings up another blush and he says, “He can’t go with Martin, Martin is another boy.” Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much. A mutter of something indistinct and then, “I’m going to eat now.”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce is trying very, very hard not to laugh. At least… not a lot. And very loudly. Finally, the fourth year on the other side of Al elbows him extremely hard in the ribs. “Ow! Hey, what was,” and there’s another jab in the same spot. “Oh. Hey, sorry, Rafe.” And the overly talkative one is silenced with food. And elbow jabs to the ribs.

(Hufflepuff) “Foster?! Believe me, the girls will swoon over Foster. He and Morris went for something like 36 galleons each at the Slytherin Quidditch Auction. . . which I believe Kelly contributed to? Sorry, Charlie. Her heart goes to a much older man. . .” Rafe scowls at Albert and just shakes his head, “You’re walking on thin ice, Albert. THIN ice.”

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac tilts her head to one side. “Maybe that’s why he thinks you should get in first, Rafe. To beat all the swooning girls to Martin. Although, if the girls have to ask the boys, then a boy couldn’t go with a boy. Because who would do the asking? That’s ever so complicated. Hey Rafe?”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce finishes off the majority of his meal in record time, then butters a couple more rolls before wrapping them in a napkin. “I’m going to head up, I think. See you guys there,” he tells the others. “Sorry, Rafe. I’ll drop it. And 36 Galleons? Those girls have more money than brains, I think.” So much for that.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood makes a face into his neatly segregated mashed potatos and then looks up, carefully masking his irritation and outburst with humor. “Well, better have a conversation with her about which of you gets to ask him then, shouldn’t you?” The pink tint doesn’t leave his ears and the comment comes out rather strained, but it’s out and no taking it back.

Marie-Anna Greyton quietly stands from Gryffindor table and makes her way across the hall to Slytherin table. Indeed, nothing to out of the ordinary, until she walks up to stand behind the Head Boy and proceeds to give Martin a big hug, despite the fact that he is sitting. “Congratulations on making Head Boy Martin.”

(Hufflepuff) As Marie stands, Rafe smirks, “See, it’s already begun. I’m glad I’m not Head Boy. Or prefect. Or anything.” He returns to his dinner and silences.

(Hufflepuff) Angelo Grey eats away, minding his own business. However, there’s something that’s nagging his mind, and he breaks silence. “What are the duties of a prefect? And a headboy or girl?”

Eva Fallon seems run off her feet already. It’s the morning before the sorting, the shop, though now pristine, has been a riot. Her children are now downstairs with her, and other people’s children are still trickling in and out of the shop, purchasing some last-minute sweets. The shop does seem eerily neat for a day like today, though Eva‘s cousin may have had some help at keeping it so. “I’m glad sorting at Hogwarts is only once a year, Maura,” Eva emits with a sigh and plops onto a stool behind the counter, rocking Arnold’s cribby with her foot.

Outside, Diagon Alley is abuzz with shoppers making last-minute purchases – and Sibyl Wexler seems to have enough energy to match them all put together. With one hand firmly wrapped around her husband’s arm and the other clutching her daughter, the Hogwarts nurse bustles through the door of the candy shop at top speed. “Just a few, Briony,” she admonishes. “Enough for the train ride, and no more – you don’t want to spoil your appetite for the feast!” Sibyl‘s face, already naturally ruddy, is even redder than usual with the remnants of a sunburn – the last souvenir of a late-summer holiday. That, and the conspiratorial smile that she shoots at her husband, and the way she keeps affectionately close to his side, even amid the chaos of back-to-school shopping.

“Maybe not even quite that much, Briony. Don’t make your brother and sister jealous.” Basil pauses a moment in thought. “Actually, it’s your job to get some for both of them now.” He smiles down affectionately at Sibyl, a touch of sadness in his eyes. He realized over the summer just how much he had missed his wife, and now she was headed back to Hogwarts for another year. “Can’t we just forget when the train leaves, Sibyl?” he asks slyly, a smile just barely touching his lips.

Andy Carver shuffles into Cordial Confections through the crowd, leaving his parents outside, to get his required stock of sweets for the travel and his first days in Hogwarts. He tries to fight his way to the showcase to ponder what sweets to purchase. As he does not get a glimpse on one single piece of candy he tries to slip between to adults which obviously seem to be Briony’s parents.

A small whirlwind dressed in an emerald robe breezes into the candy store. Kara finally slows some when she realizes just how crowded it was inside. Purse in one hand, purring silver kitten in the other, the new Hogwarts student heads straight for the chocolate frog display. Those collected she meanders around the store, adding iced mice and acid pops to her growing collection.

“Alright, mum,” Briony responds to her mother, hardly hearing her father’s addition. Something about her siblings. Briony‘s off waving frantically at her aunt. “Auntie Eva! I’m a second year now! I’m going to try out for Quidditch, too. Mum and Dad let me get a broom! Isn’t it exciting!” With that, Briony snatches a bag off of the counter where Eva keeps them, and starts gathering the sweets that she wants for the trip.

Feeling like he’ll never be free of his chattering sisters from now on, Gabriel walks, both hands on his head, clasping chunks of hair as the twins trail him. What if they were sorted into his house? He’d have to listen to this for his remaining years at Hogwarts! Although… it would be good to have some family nearby, after what news their mother has recently told him. Gabe’s not been out much since that awful day. “Alright, we’re here. We don’t have a lot of time so try to be quick about it.” Opening the door with a sigh, Gabriel puts on a brave face in case Briony is inside.

It’s been a long final day before Hogwarts for the young Saphia Bona. Yes, her mother had finally given her blessing to Saphia‘s magical education, but had, in response, demanded an ever greater amount of her free time to be spent with family and what she dubbed the ‘real world’. As such, much of the shopping that had been spread out over weeks for her first year had been spent in a day this time — AND she no longer got preferential treatment at Flourish and Blotts anymore now that Ms. Rosemont had quit. While Ms. Rosemont had assured Saphia this was all for the best, and she was happier quitting, Saphia knew in her heart it wasn’t true. How could Ms. Rosemont ever be happier away from books? And so, loaded with new equipment and books (twenty-three new books, to be precise) Saphia had broken away from her father for a final diversion in pursuit of treats for the train, a relaxing pause, and that elusive Roderick Plumpton card!

Yawning and rubbing his eyes Chris walks into the store, the usual site of his small black kitten following closely behind him, looking tired as well. He smiles as the scent of the candy reaches his nose, he looks down at his kitten, “Maybe some sugar will wake us up, Magik.” The kitten gives a small happy mew in response.

Olivia Baxtor strolls in, looking around the busy shop, her face looking rather pensive. “Come now, Olivia, go in,” her mother beckons, and Olivia has little other choice than to make her way all the way into the busy shop. Her brother Christian, a sixth year, follows her, pushing past to get to the sweets, and her sisters Gertrude and Helen, both third years, come after him, sneaking past Olivia to get some sweets for themselves. “Get some things, but quickly, children, we’ve got to go to the train soon!” Olivia starts into the shop and glances at all of the candies, picking a piece here and there. To tell the truth, the girl is not all that fond of sweets.

Kassandra never really was addicted to sweets, but as she did not trust the Hogwarts Express food cart, she decided to get a small amount of energy supply at the sweets shop. Losing her gracious posture for a moment at the sight of another crowded place she crosses the room towards the counter, where the denseness is at its maximum and pushes a small piece of parchment out of her right robe pocket, not to forget a single piece of her shopping’s previously selected composition.

“We most certainly can not just forget what time the train leaves!” Sibyl Wexler retorts to her husband, giving him a reproachful nudge in the side with her elbow. But her tone is softened by a grin, and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Only one bag, Briony-love!” Sibyl calls after her eldest daughter, as Briony skips off to the other side of the shop. “Eva! Good to see you! How are you feeling, dear?” There are too many people between Sibyl and the shopkeeper for her to do much more than wave – and give her husband another nudge, prompting him to do the same. The door jingles open again behind her – spotting Gabriel among the cluster of children entering, Sibyl turns to look over her shoulder, stretching her hand out towards her daughter’s friend. “Gabriel dear, over here!” She switches effortlessly back and forth between each of the people she is addressing, giving each an equal share of her warm, comfortable smile.

“Don’t take too long kids, the train leaves in a while! You don’t want to miss it!” Eva smiles all around as the children all seem to understand this as they rush around gathering sweets. Eva prepares herself for a rush. “Hello, Basil, Sibyl,” Eva calls to her relations, nodding as Briony chatters at her then quickly runs off. “Avery, hello! Hi, Gabriel, girls.” So many people to say hello to! “I’m feeling wonderful, Sibyl, thanks for asking! It seems to me you must be feeling fine. Look at that suntan!” Eva giggles a bit and leans against the counter, surveying the commotion in her shop.

Hearing her friend’s name, Briony‘s head pops up out of the crowd, so to speak, as she tries to find the boy. “Gabriel, where are you? Isn’t it exciting! We’re going back to school! Mum and dad bought me a broom!” Briony giggles gleefully as she pushes her way through the hoardes of children trying to find the one she know. “Hi, Gabriel. Ready for school this year? You get to play Quidditch, right?” Briony smiles widely at him.

Finally Andy reaches the immense sweets counter and sees Briony doing the same. “Hello Briony, did you have nice holidays?” he nearly has to shout because of the distance between them, while he is selecting his sweets and putting them into his already well-filled paperbag, looking to her from time to time.

Saphia Bona smiles as her tiny scops owl, Mina, flutters to her shoulder and nuzzles against Saphia‘s face happily as she wanders the store, picking up a packet of sugar quills, a packet of fizzing whizzbees, five ice mice, and, of course, an entire box of chocolate frogs. Sidling up to the counter, Saphia offers her best smile for Eva and whispers, “Good morning, Ms. Fallon!”

Kara Raine continues wandering around the shop, the ever growning pile of sweets becoming more difficult to manage. A few of the other new students are recognized from the other day, and Kara heads toward Chris with a grin. “Chris! Hi, I met you the other day in here, Kara remember? How are you and Magik? I did end up getting a kitten after all, this here is Silver.” The gray ball of fur opens her eyes at the name and meows happily. “Anyway, just wanted to say hi, grabbing some last minute things for the train you know. Hopefully I’ll see you there?”

The shop is so loud that Olivia almost can’t handle the commotion. She takes a few select types of candy and joins her family at the counter. “This is all I’m having, thank you,” the girl states politely, placing her selections up onto the counter to be bagged. As soon as the sweets are paid for, Olivia‘s mother is hustling the four Baxtor children out the door to get to the train in enough time. It seems as soon as she’s entered the shop, Olivia is pushed back out of it, protesting rather loudly that they’ll wrinkle her new skirt, but the family’s voices fade as they head towards the train station.

Kassandra swiftly gets inbetween the crowd, which is besieging the sweets counter. She shovels a few Liquorice Wands and Chocoballs into her bag, heads for the cash, pays and leaves the store.

Ignoring his sisters for the time being (they didn’t need his help choosing candy anymore, that was for sure), Gabriel looks over to Sibyl as she greets him. In his present state of fragile emotions, it somehow feels like anything could set him off again, and he doesn’t like the way he feels when he thinks about his parents’ split. Walking over to Briony’s mum, his first instinct is to hug her around the middle (because surely she knows by now), but he forcefully denies himself of that, responding with a nod and a quick, “Oh, hi.” Then, as Briony calls to him, he follows the sound of her too-familiar voice, finally finding her in the crowd. “Hi Bri. I’m… yeah, I’m ready for the year I guess.” Lies, but now wasn’t the time to tell Briony the bad news, especially with several hours of talking time ahead of them on the train. He hardly wanted to shout news like this. “That’s great, about the broom I mean,” he says with a nod. “Yeah, my mum decided to let me play again. She was probably just shocked when I got hurt or something. You know how mums overreact.” Oh the allowances of a now guilt-ridden mother.

Chris Jitsunari smiles seeing a familiar face. He waves as sees Kara and walks over. ” Hi, just got back from Hogsmeade, me and Magik were exploring wizarding communities before the term starts.” He reaches down and picks up Magik. Magik meows happily, the fear of getting stepped on now fading. He looks at the small silver kitten. “She’s cute.” He grabs a few chocolate frogs, pepper imps and ice mice as he talks.

“Yes, I understand,” Briony nods. “I’m so glad you can play!” Before she can think to stop herself, Briony stretches her arms out to hug her friend happily. “We’ll have our best year yet!” The girl beams at her friend, turning her head only as she hears another voice call to her. “Oh, hello, Andy!” the girl waves and steps back a bit from Gabriel, pausing a moment as she looks at him. Something’s not right, but the girl isn’t sure what. Perhaps he has a cold. “Alright, alright, dad, I’m working on it!” Briony tells her father as he beckons to her to hurry. “We’ve got to go to the train soon. Promise you’ll sit with me, okay, Gabe-y?” Briony flashes a wide smile at him and waves to Andy again. “I’ll see you on the train!” she calls across the shop and takes her selections to her aunt for payment.

The little boy is gone too quickly – Sibyl Wexler only has time to give him a quick, comforting touch on the shoulder as he rushes by. The nurse watches him go, her maternal smile tinged with sadness now, but she nods with approval as she watches Briony’s interaction with Gabriel. “Almost time to go, Briony!” Sibyl calls after her daughter. “And for me too, Basil,” she adds, giving her husband’s arm another affectionate squeeze. “But we’ll be back before you know it.”

The rush of people outside and the talk of the train, prompts Kara to hurry as well, her items quickly paid for at the counter, chatting to Chris the whole time. “I went into Magical Menagarie and got pounced by her. She was so cute I just couldn’t resist and my parents said it was my choice so. Anyway, I here them calling, best get to the station!” With a small wave bye to Eva and a grin for Chris, she practically runs out the door.

Chris Jitsunari he waves as Kara leaves. All the comotion reminding him to hurry as well. He grabs a few more treats before paying. He looks down to Magik, “Well, we better get going if we plan to catch the train.” He pops a piece of fudge into his mouth as he leaves.

“See you there!” Andy calls after Briony. He had expected a longer conversation, but in the hurry to get to the train, he thought this kind would be better. After having filled and payed his load of sweets he goes to the exit and leaves in pleased anticipation.

“I’ll see you all when you’re back on Holiday, of course!” Eva chuckles as she quickly and deftly calculates orders and takes the monies from her best patrons (the children, of course!) “Hurry now, hurry, don’t want to miss the train!” Eva‘s bagging orders faster now than they are headed up to the counter and the woman slips a few extra pieces of candy into many of the bags. “Have a good year, Briony. Write to me about Quidditch. Make sure you do,” with that, Briony is gone back to her parents. “I’ll see you all soon, promise me!” Eva‘s waves are almost constant as students leave as quickly as they entered.

Saphia Bona smiles to Ms. Fallon even as she receives little more than a hasty nod for her response, and gathers the candy into a bag before heading out. The station awaits!

“Alright, come on you two, before I get emotional like those mums on the platform.” He kisses Sibyl’s cheek affectionatey and starts to walk out of the shop, following Briony’s lead. “Slow down, Briony! Wait for us!” He shakes his head as he steps a bit quicker trying to keep up with his over-exhuberant daughter. “Christmas Holiday can’t come soon enough,” Basil laments quietly as they make their way to the train station.

Marie-Anna Greyton pushes her trolly through the barrier and onto Platform 9 and 3 quarters, following behind her is her younger look-alike, Matthew Greyton, behind him appear Mr. and Mrs Greyton. Both Marie and Matthew look around the platform, when the elder Greyton woman turns to the middle daughter. “Now, Marie-Anna, you’ll look after your brother, won’t you?” is questioned, as Marie nods. “Of course, Mother, I do ever year, don’t I?” she questions, rolling her eyes.

Andy Carver stumbles in and puts his case into the luggage net over his seat. “Hey, Briony!” he greets. “Those exploding bonbons are the best I’ve ever tasted! Did you get some either?” Andy face is gleaming as he finally found one of the housemates he knows better in the train and flops into the seat, sinking into it relaxedly, until he remembers to look for his parents outside.

“No, I didn’t get any of those, Andy,” Briony answers as she gets herself situated, with her kitten sleeping peacefully at her side. “Be quiet, though, Whimsy is sleepy.” The girl giggles a bit. “I like the licorice wands best. And the peppermint toads.” She beams at her housemate as she finally settles into the seat closest to the door. “Did you have a good summer, Andy?

Andy does not know what to say as he is told to shut up. But then the knut drops and he chuckles. “Oh yes, wonderful summer. Playing chess with my father, barbecueing with the family… The only good thing was that I saved a horse, but that’s another story…” With the last words he headshakes slightly and then gets a glimpse of his parents. He stands up and waves keenly until they notice him.

“You saved a horse? That’s nifty,” Briony exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve never ridden a horse. Have you? What’s it like?” The girl giggles a bit as she forgets her own orders to stay quiet. Whimsy seems undisturbed, though. “I got to spend a lot of time with my Auntie Eva and her kids, and I even got to babysit! Isn’t that wild? I’ve never been allowed before. Mum and dad went on a vacation, but they went without me. I was disappointed, but Auntie Eva kept us busy, and they brought back souvenirs for us.” The girl chatters on as if she hasn’t talked all summer.

Felicity Wexler pushes her way in to the cabin with a small moan, desperately trying to get out of the path of the crushing sea of students behind her seeking out a compartment to reunite with old aquaintences. Sliding the door a bit more forcefully than is perhaps needed, and ducking in without checking, Felicity exhales a great, thankful sigh as door drifts closed behind her. “Oh, thank goodness! I thought–” As her gaze lifts and falls upon Briony, however, her voice falls short.

The door to the compartment pushes open again, and high up, Eliza Marlowe‘s head pokes around the edge. “Hey there,” she says, with an easy grin. “Looks like you’ve got some room in here – mind if I join?” Yes, the seventh-year girl is asking the consent of students much younger than herself, and there is not the slightest hint of a patronizing or self-conscious note in her voice. One long arm reaches out to push the door the rest of the way open, and Eliza steps in, continuing, “Hardly any room to move in any of the other compartments.” She tosses her head, easily shrugging off the inconvenience.

“Hello Felicity!” Andy greets, blushing a bit. “How was your summer?” and turning to Briony “Well it was more accidentally. I got to know that our neighbour’s horse was to be killed, because its owner needed money. So I wanted to see it in its last night and then when I opened the door it rushed out besides me. It was perfectly dreadful at this moment. But later on I saw it on another feedlot. I talked to the owner and asked about the horse and he said he had a riding school and as I told him my story he now lets me ride it whenever I want to.” Andy seems to have become more elaborate during summer and as he ends his tellings, he is panting a bit.

“That’s brilliant, Andy,” Briony smiles to her friend, deliberately not looking at Felicity. “Hello Miss Marlowe,” the girl greets the Hufflepuff student. “You were brilliant in Quidditch last year. I hope I can fly like you do. I desperately want to play Quidditch this year. I’ve wanted to ever since I was ten. Gabriel Goden told me all about it before he went off to school.” The girl beams and giggles a bit, though sucking up to the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain will do her little good in terms of getting onto Quidditch herself.

“Hey, Carver!” Eliza calls to Andy, as she takes stock of who is in the cabin. “Good to see you again.” She reaches up easily to sling her duffel bag onto the overhead luggage rack, and grins down at Briony’s enthusiastic greeting. “Oh, don’t worry about the Miss Marlowe,” she replies, waving the title away with an easy shrug and a brush of her hand. “It’s just Eliza. But thanks.” Despite her casual attitude, she can’t help but grin a little more broadly in response to the compliment. Eliza folds herself into a seat, stretching her long legs out to rest on the seat across from her. “You’re in Gryffindor, right? They’ve got a few spots open this year – I’m sure you’ll have a chance.”

“And what did you do during the holidays, Felicity?” Andy glances into her eyes, feeling a bit between the frontiers of Briony and her.

Riley Markham hardly glances at the card before moving to hand it back to Kitty, giving a great, heaving sigh of mixxed worry and disgust. “Aye, fine. S’my Gran. She an’ I.. well,” he sighs, all that worry and fear he’d been holding up raging back to the surface. “She worried me, today.. something she said. Can’t figure it out.. Eh,” Riley looks up, as the train stops.. “We’re ‘ere, eh.” And he rises, non-challantly, to pull down and carry he and Saphia’s things off the train.

“Your gran is on a Wizard Card?” Katherine stares at Riley in a mixture of sympathy and awe

Keelan Walsh is standing on the platform looking, as she is, quite tall and a bit odd, given the shadows cast upon her from the lamp she’s carrying. “First years!” calls the Herbology professor, “If all first years could please come over here, I’ll be taking you to the Castle.” The woman smirks a little, but is really quite busy calling for the students. “First years!!”

Lyre King cowers next to his bags. “There, there he is! The ogre!” He points over at a large boy carrying a rucksack, who is boarding a carriage.

“Wow, Riley, your grandma’s on a card?” David is amazed at the news, too.

Marie-Anna Greyton watches as all the first years move to follow Keelan, meanwhile she moves towards the carriages. The sixth year quietly awaits for the younger students to board the carriages before she too boards one.

“Yeah,” Riley mutters, not bothering to ask if Saphia would like him to carry her luggage, stepping behind her and picking up for her after she’s dragged it a way. Hauling heavy things was something he was actually fairly good at. He seems more than slightly annoyed, though more at his own reaction than the question.. “Yeah, she was a famous curse-breaker, did some ivestment things for Gringotts, helped a lot of rich people get richer. But she said somethin to me today..” He drops the luggage off in the entry wing, following the rest in to the great hall.. “Something odd.. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it worries the stuffing outta me..” And then, as he steps in to the great hall.. he looks up, across the room to the faculty table. “Oh, sweet Jesus.. I’m in hell..”

(Gryffindor) Briony Wexler takes her seat at the Gryffindor table, looking around at the room. Well, it seems same enough, despite the rumors she had heard that everything had changed. “Who are all of those people?” Briony was obviously not listening very well at the end of year feast. The girl was far too excited for Summer to pay attention. “New teachers already? Wow, do we get new ones every year?” The girl giggles as she looks at all the new faces one by one, trying to figure out whether she’ll like them or not.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton is already settled at the table, excited to see who the new first years will be. “I don’t know, it appears like it, though,” she states, with a laugh and a smile. “I’m sure they’ll be nice, for the most part…ish,” the prefect laughs a little.

(Gryffindor) Felicity Wexler sits quietly at her place at the Gryffindor table, opposite Andy. Her expression curiously muted, despite the efforts she clearly took to make her hair cooperate for longer than fiveteen minutes or so.

Keelan Walsh strides in, not even having shucked her cloak, and moves quickly to the faculty table. She’s still, in fact, got the lantern she was using to light the way, though that at least has been put out. Despair, oh haters of Herbology (and members of Ravenclaw), Keelan Walsh has not drowned in the lake.

With students settled at their respective House tables, the doors to the Great Hall let in one, final person. Head of Gryffindor and Charms Professor Erica Calwern enters the Great Hall with the Sorting Hat lightly held in her grasp. She makes her way gracefully between the tables and up to the dias which hosts the faculty tables and a lone, dark oak stool. Tattered, torn, patched, and frayed, the professor still treats the Hat with the utmost respect as she gently places it upon the stool. Turning, she bows to the table, head lowered and right hand sweeping towards the ground. Standing and directing herself to Melvina in particular, she addresses the new Headmistress, “Good evening, Professor Prichard. I believe we are ready to greet our newest residents.”

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton grins a little. “Yes! The firs years will be out soon,” is noted as she see’s Professor Calwern enter with the hat.

Darius Dwight looks over the Ravenclaw table, noting a loud groan coming from their direction at the appearance of Professor Walsh. Many, including one boy in particular, seem utterly disconsolate.

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver “Ooh, here they come.” Andy says excitedly.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton grins as she waits, watching all the first years enter. “They’re so cute. Was I that cute when I got here? I know all you guys where,” she laughs a bit.

Dolly Faeden gasps out loud at the Great Hall and actually stops in her tracks to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve got to learn tae do that!” is her decided proclaimation. She seems not to notice as she’s somewhat left behind by the group that is, of course, still moving.

Angelo Grey enters the great hall and a face of amazement comes from within. He looks up, turns around, several times, as if spinning in the same place, trying to grasp the entirety of this hall. “Wow…” he says, dreamily.

Erica Calwern awaits patiently and with a warm smile next to the Sorting Hat which both stand upon the dias at the front of the room. As many new students filter in from the waiting room, they create a single line upon the dias, forming a living barrier between the faculty and the returning students.

Rawnie Weller stares up at the magical ceiling nearly falling onto her backside made dizzy by the beauty of it. “Blimey!” Is all the little redhead can think to utter before actually taking a small spill forward due to Vertigo, poor girl.

Kara Raine follows the others into the Great Hall, eyes wide. “Oh my, oh my.” Swallowing nerviously, she moves forward falling into line, hands clenching and unclenching the sides of her robes.

Kassandra Verkooyen Kassandra Verkooyen almost floats into the Great Hall, decently looking at the enchanted ceiling, always keeping up with the group of first-years and standing still among the others.

Sara O‘Shay quirks a brow, for all that she may not like Rawnie, she doesn’t want anyone to mess up her sorting. “You alright?” she questions of Miss Weller. “I suppose it can be a little overwhelming.”

Standing on the dais, Aisling can appreciate how many people there are in the hall, and, as such, how many eyes there are upon her. Seeing Rawnie tumble down, she steps over to her and kneels next to her. “Are you alright?” she inquires, hand resting upon her plait like usual.

Chris Jitsunari joins in the awe. He looks up at the enchanted celing and then at all the returning students, not sure how to take it all in. “The books about this place don’t even come close to the actual experience.”

Rawnie Weller stand up and brushes her robes off. A small glare is given to Sara. “Im arright….. I just got a little dizzy from lookin up too fast s’all….” She didn’t need help from a girl who called her a halfling. Whatever that is. She nods to Aisling too. “Im arright.”

Dolly Faeden scuttles up on the dias with a start, eyes still turned upward. “Aye…” is her breathless response to Chris’s comment.

Sara O‘Shay nods a little before stepping back into the queue, not that she’d stepped out any. “Good,” she states, simply.

Heat O‘Leary glances upward momentarily towards the ceiling before he lowers his gaze, a minor shiver rocking his frame. He looked towards the sorting hat and continued the hurried attempts at fixing his hair, brushing longer pieces behind his ears with his fingers.

Aisling O‘Cormac looks down the line and exclaims, looking at the hat, “Rawnie, Kass, Lyre, it’s the hat that boy was talking about! Maybe this won’t be so bad after all… Although, he did say it tests you, or something… I hope I know the right answers.”

(Gryffindor) Briony watches as the first years walk in. This is her first year watching the sorting, and the girl is fascinated to see how it takes place from an external perspective.

With a flick of her wand towards the Waiting Room doors, Erica has them shut behind the final new student entering the hall. As if on silent cue, she also steps away from the hat, giving herself a distance of a few feet from the worn old thing.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton chuckles a little, watching. “It’s always fun, watching a sorting, kind of chaotic,” is given, with a laugh before she quiets to listen to teh hat.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton grins and puffs up at Gryffindors part of the Sorting song.

Angelo Grey smiles in awe as the sorting hat sings his song. Letting out a silent chuckle, he seem exhilirating.

Rawnie Weller claps out loud as the Hat’s song comes to a close. “Brilliant! Blood amazing! That shabby ol hat can sing! Thats even better than movin pictuers with frog guts!” She nearly yells almost too loudley.

Kara Raine giggles, dimples appearing as she smiles. “It sings, nice little tune too. Maybe this won’t be as bad as they said, yes?”

Wincing at the loudness of Rawnie’s comment, Aisling stands quietly in the line awaiting further instructions. “I hope so.” she mutters to Kara.

Lyre King shakes his head. “I’m not so sure. A hat that can sing could probably do other things, too!”

Sara O‘Shay listens quietly to the song, and so she remains quiet as she awaits for the sorting to begin.

Kassandra Verkooyen smiles. “I think he cannot be as bad as they said. He sang a splendid song.”

Dolly Faeden watches the hat in awe. “It is a hat, and it can talk.” Her eyes go wider and wider and then turn toward Professor Calwern, not quite taking in the whole row of faculty in their chairs.

Kassandra Verkooyen smoothes out her robe while there still is time to do it. In a few minutes she will be in front of all these more experienced people and she wants to make a good impression, even with that clumsy old hat on her head.

Erica Calwern brushes a gloved hand over her brow before slipping her wand back up her sleeve. Walking back towards the hat, she summons the scroll from her place at the faculty table. Unfurling it, she announces, “It is about time we begin, I believe. Faeden, Dolly!”

Dolly Faeden looks startled when her name is called, as though she had no sense of alphabet. Almost automatically comes, “It’s Fi-jen, actually.” An offhand comment to Professor Calwern that will likely as not fail to sink in until much later. She steps up, picks up the hat and places it gingerly upon her head, trying to sit at the same time. A near miss, but Dee makes it to the stool. And waits.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton quietly applauds for the new Ravenclaw. “I do wonder, who many Gryffindors will we get this year…”

Rawnie Weller claps for Dolly smileing brightly. She nearly shreiks out “Did it hurt?!?” Well she really wanted to know.

(Gryffindor) “I hope they are sorted carefully.” Andy Carver replies with a blink.

Dolly Faeden turns about four shades of pink and removes the hat unsteadily. She doesn’t meet Professor Calwern’s eye and instead scurries off toward the… wait, which table is she supposed to scurry toward? There’s a pause and she decides the one with cheering people, Merlin willing, will be correct. Eep, Sorted!

Running a finger down her list, the Charms Professor comments on Dolly’s sorting, “Fitting. Let’s see if she corrects me in class.” Erica regards the next name before announcing, “Grey, Angelo!”

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton nods towards Andy. “Oh, I whole heartedly agree with you, there, Mister Carver,” she states, chuckling a little.

Angelo Grey trembles at the mention of his name. He walks towards the dirty old hat, shivering, but making an effort to maintain his pose. As he paces silently, time seems to stretch to him. It’s taking so long… He looks at all the people gazing at him, controling his nerves. He picks up the hat and puts it on his head.

(Gryffindor) “I know it’s an important tradition, this whole hat-thing, but I’m dying of hunger. I could not find my sweets in the train, can you imagine?” Andy Carver whispers complaining.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton eeks. “Here, I have some left over,” she states, offering Andy some harmless candy that won’t have any side effects.

(Gryffindor) “Oh, how awful!” Briony laments with him. “I might have some left from my Auntie’s sweet shop if you want some,” the girl offers generously.

Angelo Grey steps down shivering, but visibly happy. He aproaches the table, looking for a place to sit, making an effort to stay on his legs.

Angelo Grey steps down shivering, but visibly happy. He aproaches the Hufflepuff table, looking for a place to sit, making an effort to stay on his legs

(Gryffindor) Taking a piece from each side offered to him Andy ponders which to eat first and decides to gobble down one of Briony’s peppermint toads first. “Hum…fank u.” he says to both of them and cough hard as he breathes in a piece of candy as the hat blasts out Angelo’s house.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton grins. “No problem,” is given by the prefect as she watches the younger boy breath in the candy. “Do be careful though, no need to choke on it,” is given as she quietly applauds for Angelo as well.

First Angelo to Hufflepuff then a spat of Gryffindors who all chitter as they make their way to their new House tables. Then, a Slytherin. Each, called and sorted yet Erica‘s voice never tires or wanes as she announces the next name, “Jitsunari, Chris!” She can’t help but glance over at the Ravenclaw table and one Miss Dolly Faedon as another difficult to pronounce name comes up.

Erica Calwern doublechecks her scroll and mutters, “I will need glasses if the secretary prints these names any smaller.” Louder, she announces to the room, “King, Lyre!”

Lyre King is the sort that has to be reminded to move. When his name is called, someone has to shove him in the shoulder, as he is staring at the cieling. As soon as he is reminded, he breaks into a jog to make up for any time he lost daydreaming. He picks up the hat, sits down, and places it on his head.

Lyre King hops off the stool, drops the hat on it, and goes to sit with his new housemates.

(Gryffindor) “Uh, another another of that sort.” Andy mumbles, unusually dismissive, maybe influenced by his housemates’ points of view. As he hears his own words he gets quite a remorse.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton eyes Andy. “What do you mean, another of that sort?” she questions of the second year. “There’s nothing wrong with Slytherin,” this comes from the Gryffindor known to like Slytherins.

Erica Calwern watches twins get separate with the slice of the Hat’s opinion. The boy heads off to Slytherin, the girl to Gryffindor. The professor doesn’t miss a beat as she calls out, “Raine, Kara!”

Kara Raine looks up at her name, gray eyes wide in surprise. Taking a deep breath, she steps forward just knowing that all eyes are on her, and in a single graceful motion sits upon the stool while placing the hat upon her head. Wincing slightly, she waits for something to happen.

Kara Raine visibly sighs before grinning broadly, quickly hopping down and rushing over to take her place at the Ravenclaw house table.

A Ravenclaw here, a Slytherin there. The Sorting Hat happily does Erica‘s bidding as she dutifully calls off the name of every new student standing before her. “O’Cormac, Aisling!”

Hearing her name being called aloud startles Aisling O‘Cormac, and she glances around slightly nervously before heading to the provided stool. Picking up the hat, she sits, gingerly placing said hat upon her head.

Gasping from the noise the hat made, Aisling staggers upright and heads, beaming, towards her new house’s table.

Angelo Grey claps loudly as he takes a good look at Aisling. “Hi” he offers the first year.

Hufflepuff, always welcoming to each new student, their numbers swelling. Trailing a glove tip down the scroll, Erica‘s eyes scan name after name. A few Ravenclaws are sorted before she calls out, “O’Leary, Heat!”

Heat O‘Leary finally abandons his vain attempts to completely smooth his hair as he approaches the hat, two stray locks sweeping out from their places behind each of his ears. He had given his all, and for the most part it worked–his hair didn’t look too bad, at least it looked intentional now. The boy glances towards Kassandra and lets a grin pass over his lips–she gets to use it after he does, even if there are a few people in between. He carefully takes the hat and settles on the stool as he places it upon his head. Heat‘s eyes pass between all of the tables while he waits for the sorting announcement.

Kassandra Verkooyen leans over to Rawnie, nods to Heat and whispers “The boy with the spittle hair…”

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton applauds quietly as another Slytherin is announced. “Sounds like Slytherin’s year, again….”

Heat O‘Leary steps down after removing the hat, his face sheet white. He shivers noticeably and wraps his arms about himself before making the trek towards the Slytherin table.

Patsy went to Gryffindor, Orville to Hufflepuff. A nice girl Mary found her way to Gryffindor and an even nicer girl named Sally found her way to Slytherin, following right on Heat’s heels. Erica‘s voice remains strong as she calls out the next name, “O’Shay, Sara!”

Sara O‘Shay quietly steps up to the stool as her name is called. Lifting the hat she sets it on her head, all the while sitting on the stool and crossing her legs all primp and properly. This done Sara casts her gaze out to the crowded, already sorted students, her gaze eventually settling upon her siblings.

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver eyes Mary as she sits down next to him, but does not know what to say, since she turned her back to him to keep on watching the Sorting ceremony.

Sara O‘Shay offers a bit of a grin as the hat announces her house and stands from the stool and returns the hat to it. That done the young Slytherin girl makes her way towards her house table with little haste. As she sits down Sara offers a bit of a nod towards her siblings. There was, of course, no doubt that shed end up in Slytherin house.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton chuckles. “Slytherin’s all over the place, quite a delight, really,” she gives with a shake of her head.

“Imagine that,” the professor muses with a smirk, “an O’Shay in Slytherin. Someday you should surprise us, old hat.” Erica looks back to her list, about half way through from the way she holds the scroll in the middle of its length, “Jitsunari, Chris!”

Chris Jitsunari straightens as he hears his name. The hat obviously couldn’t be that bad, seeing as how none of the other students seemed to be in pain. He looks around and laughs nervously before walking up to the stool and taking a seat and placing the hat on his head.

Chris Jitsunari grins widely at hearing the result, Ravenclaw being his choice house from the moment he first read about Hogwarts. He gets down from the stool and walks to the Ravenclaw table proudly, smiling at the other Ravenclaws .

There is one of those uncomfortable silences as Erica walks up the two steps to her space at the table and takes from it a crystal goblet, filled with a ruby-orange liquor. She takes a sip and her voice seems to come to her with renewed strength as she announces the next student’s name, “Ripple, Rebecca!”

Rebecca Ripple gulps anxiously, and steps up to the hat, wondering how anyone could enchant a hat to think, speak, and even sing. She approaches the stool, sits herself down, and takes a deep breath as she feels the Sorting Hat being lowered onto her head. “What now?” she thinks. She is praying now, that the decision made for her today will be a prudent one.

Rebecca Ripple skips down to the bottom of the steps, giggling with delight. She gleefully sits at the Ravenclaw table…

Erica Calwern strikes quite the pose, liquor in one hand, scroll in the other. Another, longer sip is taken from the goblet as she looks over the list. First the mutter to herself, “How did that name get smudged? Hughe? Hank?” Then realizing that the Hat has shipped off Rebecca to the Ravenclaws, she announces, “Turner, Baldwin!”

Baldwin Turner lowers his head as his name is called, admittedly still quite frightened. Advancing slowly towards the hat, his pace slows as the worried boy gets closer and closer, perhaps without him even realising it. Stopping before Professor Calwern, Baldwin parts his curley hair to look at her directly, “Do I…” Gulp. He surveys the crowd. “Need to… do it… Here?” Biting his tongue, Baldwin seems to accept it is inevitable, sitting down and commenacing visible shakeage.

Baldwin Turner gulps, “I-I-is that a… Is that a good thing?” Hopping from the stool, he lowers his head to avoid eye contact and shuffles hastily towards the table, trying not to make a fool of himself any further.

Erica Calwern is holding the scroll by its very end now and feet upon feet dangle on the floor before her. The line of students near her has shorten considerably while the tables have filled to near bursting with new members, “Verkooyen, Kassandra!” With such precise pronounciation, it is clear she is not allowed to make mistakes when it comes to the children’s names.

A nervous smile rushes across Kassandra Verkooyen‘s face as she approaches the steps, which lead to the stool, with elegant steps. Climbing up the stairs she starts turning the ring on her right hand in excitement. She sits down gently and puts on the vintage hat.

An overwhelming smile gleams on Kassandra Verkooyen‘s face. She stands up gracefully and places the hat back onto the chair. Then she descends towards the Ravenclaw table with blushed cheeks, eased and contented about her destiny, and takes a seat among her housemates.

A quiet boy shuffles his way to Ravenclaw while two louder boys nearly race to Gryffindor upon the Hat’s announcement. Erica can’t help but chuckle at the exuberance before calling out the next name, “Weller, Rawnie!”

When Rawnie is called she runs up to the stool, takes the hat and places it in her head looking a bit comical with the brim covering most of her head. She is simply so excited that she is bounceing on her seat kicking her feet back and forth and twiddling her thumbs. A real “wiggle worm” this one.

Rawnie Weller stands and takes off the hat etting it back onto the stool muttering somthing that sounds a bit like “Starch” to the hat as she runs to take her seat at Gryffindor table.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton lets out a loud, very loud, cheer as Rawnie is dubbed to be in Gryffindor. “Whoo! Welcome to Gryffindor, Miss Weller!” is given by the somewhat overly enthusiastic Gryffindor prefect.

“Fantastic!” the Charms professor is heard to exclaim softly as hears the Hat’s announcement. Whether it is for Rawnie’s sorting or if her gaze alights upon the final student awaiting their moment of consideration with the Hat. With a certain amount of zeal, Erica calls out, “And finally, Stopps, Warrick!”

Warrick Stopps blinks as his name is called and belatedly stands up a little straighter. Posture, oh, yes, good posture. He clears his throat, and with only another moment of hesitation, he sets his shoulders and marches up the stairs and to the stool. There he takes a sudden seat and puts on the hat like all the others before him.

(Gryffindor) Rawnie Weller gives a loud enough cheer as she takes her seat at the table. “That hat can read your mind! Did you know it?” She asks Marie-Anna enthusiasticly as if she hadn’t only met her.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton grins at Rawnie and nods. “Impressive, isn’t it,” is given with a laugh. “I’m Marie-Anna Greyton, one of your new housemates, you’ll have to live with me for a couple of years, and this house until you graduate, congratulations.”

(Gryffindor) Rawnie Weller is still bounceing in her seat kicking her legs back and forth excitedly. “This is great! My name is Rawnie but I guess you know that because you heard her say my name, and myabe you said my name but I don’t remember if you said my name so I’ll just assume you don’t know my name is Rawnie Weller.” The little girl has to take a deep breath to recollect all the air she used up on that long statement. “When do we get to eat? Mimi told me all about the great food at Hogwarts that those elves fix. Do you think there the same elves Santa Clause uses? Oh! Do you think Santa is some kind of wizard?” Rawnie‘s mouth is unstopable.

(Gryffindor) Briony Wexler may have met her match. The first year seems to talk even more uncontrollably than the young Wexler girl does. Briony can’t help but gawk a bit, not realizing that she herself has had a history of talking much in the same fashion.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton laughs a little as she listens to Rawnie. “Take a breath, Miss Weller,” she gives, snickering. “We’ll eat after our new Headmistress makes her speech and the rules are announced, as well as the new Head Boy and Head Girl, I’m betting on Martin for Head Boy,” she grins.

Erica Calwern looks up from her list and spots Talia still upon the dias. She looks back down at her list, “Stoederman, Smith, Stopps, how could I have?” A long silence and the woman exclaims, “Ah! Caulfield, Talia!”

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver leans forward to see Rawnie’s face and as he meets her gaze he nearly shouts over to her. “Welcome, Rawnie. I’m Andy Carver, second year. The feast will begin soon, I hope. The Headmistress usually says a few words before it starts.”

Primed to the sound of her name, Talia Caulfield hastens forward on short, swift steps with eyes narrowed warily and breath nerve-quickened.

(Gryffindor) “A speech? Oie! Don’t you hate when people think they have to make themselves heard and then they just end up talking and talking and talking and talking and never shutting it?” Rawnie seems oblivious to the irony of her own statement. “I mean its one thing to jes say a few words and then sit back down but no, when they say itsa speech they go on and on and on.” Rawnie looks around the table to see a lot of students suddenly looking at her in awe. “Um… what?”

(Gryffindor) “It’s usually very informative. The headmistress will tell us all sorts of useful things to know for the year,” Briony adds rather quietly, cowed by the girl’s rate of speech. “Look, there’s only one left,” she comments about the unsorteds, starting to feel rather hungry herself. “I do hope we’ll get to eat soon. I’m famished.”

(Gryffindor) As Rawnie smarted herself out, Andy Carver laughs out and sits back, staring to the enchanted ceiling.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton chuckles a little. “Briony’s right, they’re usually quite informative, the Headmistress will tell you where you can and can’t go. Like the Forbidden Forest.”

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver moans. “Aw.” as Talia heads for the Slytherin table.

With a flick of her wrist, Erica has the scroll roll itself up and sends it back to her seat at the faculty table. The professor walks to the center of the dias and looks down upon the row after row of children, “So begins another year at our old home and for some of us new. At this time, it is my sincerest pleasure,” and her tone and expression do express that very sentiment, “to introduce all of you to our new Headmistress, Professor Prichard!”

Talia Caulfield raises her head in a sharp jerk, eyes rounding with a brief flash, and removes the hat with nimble fingers, rising and slipping it back on the stool with perfect precision before she moves at a sedate pace to join her new housemates at the Slytherin table.

“Thank you, Erica,” Melvina Prichard notes as she purposefully rises from the faculty table, lifting her cherry-wood wand to her neck and tapping the tip against it deftly. “Sonorus summissus,” she murmurs, giving a certain amount of power to her voice so that she may be heard of the student chattering; happy exchanges and exciting tales of places visited and daring-do over the long separation left by the summer holiday, she was certain. Not to mention the animated greetings of those newly appointed to thier houses.

“Pardon me, everyone,” Melvina calls, her voice filling the hall at a surprisingly comfortable volume. She pauses a moment to allow the hall to calm before tapping her wand again to her throat and restoring her normal speaking voice. One that is quiet pleasant, and fully reflective of the warm smile that graces her lips as she looks out over her young audience. “Welcome, everyone, to Hogwarts term for year nineteen hundred and twenty six! My name is Melvina Prichard and I have had great fortune of being appointed new Headmistress of Hogwarts school. I look forward knowing each of you as time passes. Moving on then, I’ve some beginning of term announcements to make.” Pulling a pair of spectacles from a pocket of her emerald robes and resting them on the bridge of her nose, the Headmistress lifts up a tightly-bound scroll which had she’d not appeared to be holding a moment before.

“The standard boilerplate, of course. Our caretaker has asked me to remind you check the updated list of prohibited items and punishable offenses that have been thoughtfully posted in each of your common rooms–” Drawing in a deep breath, the Headmistress begins to unroll the wound parchment, “Spellwork outside of the classroom, rough play, pranks, hijinxs, dungbombs, Whipple’s Pimple Powder..” Her brow furrows for a moment and the bottom of the scroll slips through her fingers, clattering to the table, spilling over the edge, and rolling across the floor until exhausting itself about half-way across the Great Hall. Her eyes widenning slightly, Melvina sets her end of the very long list down and vanishes it with a flick of her wand. “The list goes on. Be sure to check it.”

After quiet resumes, Melvina takes up a blessedly smaller sheet of parchment. “Hogwarts tradition demands that I remind you the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all students; it’s equally tradition that some of you will choose to ignore this reminder.” A rueful chuckle escapes her as she shares a knowing smile with the hall. “Know then that detention is the minimum punishment for entering the Forbidden Forest without a member of staff or faculty along side you, and that such acts will almost always result in a major loss of house points as well.” With small glance around and a pause to clear her throat, Melvina continues. “Naturally, we ask that you respect and defer to your Prefects. Also, I’d like to congratulate our new Head Boy and Head Girl, Martin Foster and Eliza Marlowe. Mister Foster and Miss Marlowe, please stand.” She claps once the two have risen, leading those who care to join her in a modest round of applause, before continuing on.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton listens intently for the HG and HB, and, upon hearing that it is, indeed, Martin, just as she suspected, Marie lets out a rather loud whoop, before blushing. “Oops….”

“Very good, Head Boy, Head Girl. On to faculty. I have the pleasure of introducing several new faculty members to you, and to announce the return of a few others. Heading up our Wizo-Music classes will be international wizo-musician Darius Dwight. Great honor, there. Filling our other vacancies will be, for Astronomy, Mister Avery Fallon, Care of Magical Creatures, Mister Quintus Helit, and last but hardly least, Divination, a one Miss Bonnie Kensington. Also, returning from hiatus, Professors Isolde Morgan and Dante Hayward shall be resuming their posts as masters of Arithmancy and Muggle Studies, respectively. Ravenclaws will note that along with reclaiming her Arithmancy classroom, Professor Morgan is also be resuming her duties as Ravenclaw Head of House. Similarly, Hufflepuffs will be interested to know that Professor Sedgewick has been officially named your Head of House Hufflepuff for the coming year.” Melvina waits one last time for applause before plowing on.

(Gryffindor) As Andy Carver notices that Eliza has been chosen to be the new Head Girl he applauds loudly.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton also applauds for Eliza, of course.

One large, deep, relieved breath and Melvina finally sets down the parchment and removes her glasses, slipping them back in to the pocket where she found them. “That said, I have only one more thing to mention before we start in on the delicious feast I know you’re all patiently waiting to savor. Seeing that we have so many new faces gracing us this year, in the spirit of celebration and greeting, I’ve decided to hold a small function. A barefoot social. This dance will semi-formal, open to all students of all years, faculty, and staff, and will include music, naturally, and an outdoor feast.” Her smile warms in to something almost sly, however, as she looks out at her young crowd. “But what social would be complete without courtship? So, for fun, I’ve decided to make this dance a bit unusual; our ladies will need ask our gentlemen for the honor of an afternoon’s companionship.” She waits, pleasantly, for the reaction to that before at last finishing up.

(Gryffindor) Rawnie Weller cheers as well though she isn’t exactly sure why or for whom. “Whats a Head Boy and Girl anyway? Are they some kind of heads with legs or somthing?”

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton is still a rather ferocious shade of red at the next announcment, which causes her to become an even brighter shade of red.

“I’d like to form an events council, made up of students from all years, to help me prepare; if you’d like to be on said committee, you may contact me through any of the usual means. Exact details regarding date and time of the barefoot social shall follow shortly. Once your bellies are full and you gossip abated, please follow your Prefects to your respective common rooms, and have a wonderful school year. Let us eat.” And with small nod and a sly, lingering grin, Melvina slips casually back in to her seat.

(Gryffindor) “What…? Another dance? And the girls are going to invite the boys? Ugh…” Andy turns pale.

(Gryffindor) Rawnie Weller giggles softly to herself and begins shovling food onto her plate greedily. It dosn’t take long for her to have a sizable mound of food and she begins to very ravimously eat away at it. Her appetite seems as boundless as her talking and for such a small girl!

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton quietly stands so that the first years can see you. “As the Headmistress noted, when you are don eating you may follow, Miss Keegan, Mister Gumphrey,” she grins at the two quidditch players, “Mister Hughes, Miss Harper, Mister Wells or myself,” is given in a tone loud enough for her fellow housemates to hear, though her cheeks are rather crimson. “I would like to officially welcome all of the first years to Gryffindor, congratulations and welcome to Hogwarts and the house. This will be your family for the next seven years,” she smiles, “Now, enjoy the feast!” and with that she sits, and casts a quiet glance towards Slytherin table.

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver applauds and cheers as Marie-Anna finished her short speech hoping that the others are joining in.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton smiles towards Andy. “My speeches are short, what can I say, I’m as famished as you are,” a laugh is given. Actually, chances are she’d rather be hiding her head in a paper bag or something right now.

(Gryffindor) The food appears before Briony, and as she is now ravenous, the second year digs in enthusiastically. “Oh, I love feasts,” she sighs with her mouth half-full, leaning back a bit from the table to enjoy the large bite she has just taken.

(Gryffindor) Rawnie Weller dosn’t even bother to speak untill she has worked her way through half of her mountain of food and then its only to point to a plate of chicken she cannot reach, with a look to Briony she asks. “Could yer pass tha chicken?”

(Gryffindor) Briony has only just finished her bite of food when she hears someone asking for something at her side. Oh, it’s that chatty first year. Without question or comment, Briony passes a platter of chicken over to the younger girl, digging into a rather rich-looking pudding.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton takes a rather furtive bite of the food. Indeed, it’s good, but the look in Marie’s face is evident to the fact that she’s deep in thought.

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver frowns at Rawnie as she mentions the chicken and piles up carrots, beans, salad and potatoes onto his plate. Then he pours some sauce over it and begins to munch. “Are you all going to try out for the quidditch team?”

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton peers at Quidditch comes up. “Oh! Please do, indeed. Everyone second year or above will be quite welcome. Albeit, we haven’t had anyone graduate out, but, we can still see if there’s talent. And we do still have the junior squad, of course!”

(Gryffindor) A mention of Quidditch gets Briony‘s full attention and she glances over to Andy. “I can’t wait! I’ve been waiting to play Quidditch for ever so long!” The girl giggles and swallows another mouthful of pudding. “Mum and dad bought me a brand new broom this year! I’ll show it to you tomorrow if I’m able.” Bri seems to be beaming at this.

(Gryffindor) Rawnie Weller smiles and takes a few peices of chicken and washes her food down with a bit of pumpkin juice. “Oh but this stuff is good! Blimey!” She looks over at Andy a little confused. “Why are ya jes eatin rabbit food? Doncha wan’t any meat? … Whats Quidditch?”

(Gryffindor) “Quidditch is a sport, done on brooms, you know. You’ll see that later.” Andy shortly replies to Rawnie. “And what’s wrong with my food? I don’t like meat, you know. I just like animals a lot more when they are still alive.”

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton smiles at Rawnie. “You’re welcome to come and watch try-outs, of course,” she states. “All Gryffindors are welcome, and, again, you’re welcome to join the junior squad.”

(Gryffindor) “Indeed you should join! The junior squad was such fun!” Briony beams as she thinks of Quidditch. Finally, it’s her chance! Briony takes several spoonfuls of potatoes and corn all at once, and her mouth becomes rather full, impeding her speech, and preventing her from waxing poetic any further over the sport.

(Gryffindor) Rawnie Weller rolls her eyes and shoves a bit of chicken into her mouth tauntingly before saying “I love animals too, me pop is a Veterinarian yer know. But even he eats meat! And guess what…. animals eat each other!” She says this last part in mock shock. A highly opinionated girl this one.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton chuckles. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Briony, it was such a success next year that I’m very happy to have it again this year, and, if the success continues it’ll be next year as well, and hopefully the next captain will keep it going, I’d hate to see it die out,” she sighs a little. “It’s really a good way to help develop good players.”

(Gryffindor) “Maybe, but I am no animal and I don’t eat humans either.” Andy states, trying to put and end to this conversation, bending over his plate again. But then he lifts up his face again. “Would you like it, when a giant would pick you up by the feet, cook you and gulp you down?”

(Gryffindor) “Prolly not…. but Im sure the Giant would like it a lot. Thats a bit of a stupid question inn’t it?” Rawnie pushes more food into her small mouth and finally relents to the topic of Quidditch. “So what do yer do in Quidditch then? Is it one of those games where you hit a ball over a net? Those are bloody boreing. My pop likes to play that game…. dreadfull game tennis. I once tried it and I got so bored I threw that paddle thingy into the woods and…..” Once again she finds much of the table stareing at her.

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton shakes her head. “Nope, there’s seven players on a team, a keeper, a seeker, three chasers and two beaters,” she beams at this. “The chasers are supposed to catch the quaffle and get it into one of the three hoops that teh keeper guards, the beaters have bats and bludgers, and they’re supposed to hit the bludgers and try to stop the chasers from getting goals, and to keep teh seeker from catching teh snitch…”

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver gives it up to discuss a vegetarian’s philosophy with a psyched first year. “See, I never heard of temmis, or how it’s called…” and completing Marie-Anna “A quaffle goal counts 10 points and when the snitch is caught, the seeker’s team get 150 points and usually wins the game. It mainly about having an adept seeker and good beaters to protect him. Once you have the snitch, it’s usually over.”

(Gryffindor) Marie-Anna Greyton quietly looks around at the table. “You’ll have to excuse me for a moment, I have to go catch up with an aquaintance,” is offered before she stands.

Marie-Anna Greyton quietly stands from Gryffindor table and makes her way across the hall to Slytherin table. Indeed, nothing to out of the ordinary, until she walks up to stand behind the Head Boy and proceeds to give Martin a big hug, despite the fact that he is sitting. “Congratulations on making Head Boy Martin.”

(Gryffindor) As Andy Carver finished his meal he peers over to Felicity and asks her. “I’ll go and head for our Common Room.”

(Gryffindor) Felicity Wexler nods, quietly; so very quiet, compared to her usual bundle of energy and shrill. “I’ll come with you.”

It is with great nostalgia that Bonnie Kensington makes her way onto the train. She had decided in the past to take the train to Hogwarts out of sheer curiosity, and she is finding it exactly the same as it was when she took it… well, many years past. The woman takes a seat near the window, facing forward, so as not to become ill. Her large Divination volume sits at her side and she appears to have a makeshift table ready to make more notes on several lengths of parchment. How better to pass a trip than to work, right?

The little boy is gone too quickly – Sibyl Wexler only has time to give him a quick, comforting touch on the shoulder as he rushes by. The nurse watches him go, her maternal smile tinged with sadness now, but she nods with approval as she watches Briony’s interaction with Gabriel. “Almost time to go, Briony!” Sibyl calls after her daughter. “And for me too, Basil,” she adds, giving her husband’s arm another affectionate squeeze. “But we’ll be back before you know it.”

The door to the compartment opens, and Sibyl Wexler bustles in, calling one last, “Behave, Briony-love! I’ll see you at Hogwarts!” behind her as she enters. The nurse has evidently stowed her lugggage somewhere else – all she carries is a tapestry carpetbag, clinking with potion bottles and with knitting needles and yarn sticking out the top. “Oh – good morning! I suppose I have found the professors’ cabin, then,” she says, with a cheerful grin at the compartment’s other occupant. “I heard that we were getting a few new ones this year. I’m Sibyl Wexler, the Hogwarts nurse.” She takes a seat opposite the other woman, facing backwards, and starts rummaging around in her bag to extricate her needles and yarn, a bright tangle of red.

Isolde Morgan quietly enters the compartment after taking a quick peek inside. “Ms. Kensington,” she says with a friendly smile as she invites herself in and begins placing things in the luggage bins above. As the nurse enters, Isolde nods to her in greeting and takes a seat. “Ms. Wexler, this is the new Divination professor, Bonnie Kensington,” Isolde offers by way of introduction. She may as well be useful. “It’s so good to see all these students again.”

Smiling widely, the massive frame of Darius Dwight enters the compartment shortly after Sibyl. “We may need a second one,” he opines cheerfully as the compartment proves, as always, just big enough for as many people as it’s holding. “Good morning, everyone. How are you?”

Karina Sedgewick opens the door to the compartment, to find it filled with her colleagues, and a few people she doesn’t not recognize. “Good morning!” She smiles at the assembled adults. “I see I’m not the only who thought of taking the train. May I?” She is holding an empty looking leather bag, squarish and not too fashionable, more like a sachel than anything.

Clavicle Gravely Oh.. er, My pardon. I didn’t realize this car was full.” he grins politely. “If you would excuse me… ” he smiles, “Unless there is some sort of extra room about?”

“Hello,” Bonnie greets those who join her with a nod of her head. “Nice to see you again, Ms Morgan,” Bonnie smiles in a friendly fashion to the Arithmancy teacher. “And hello, Sibyl. Hopefully I won’t have to see you all that often this year.” Bonnie‘s eyes smile with mischeif, and she pauses a moment. “Say, Wexler, did you say? Have you any relation to the writers for the Daily Prophet?” The woman looks thoughtful as she considers this.

Isolde Morgan waves in greeting to Karina, then laughs softly. “I just didn’t feel like putting up with another Floo trip, or getting twisted around to apparate to Hogsmeade,” she offers as explanation. “Besides… I always loved this train.” Then Clavicle also gets a quick nod. “It might get awfully dull in here, young man,” she tells him, eyes twinkling, obviously not entirely serious.

“Oh! Well, then, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Professor Kensington. Oh, and do come in, Professor Sedgewick! Professor Morgan! It’s good to see you.” Sibyl, in one of the backwards-facing seats across from Bonnie, is busily working away at untangling her knitting, but she greets everyone in turn with equal friendliness and good cheer, not missing a beat even with the ever-increasing number of occupants. “Oh! Why, yes I am,” she says to Bonnie, with another smile. “Basil is my husband, and Frederick is his brother. And – oh my.” Sibyl has just caught sight of Darius, and something has finally stemmed the stream of cheerful chatter. Her ruddy, sunburned cheeks flush a little pinker, and she lets out what might almost be called a girlish giggle. “Darius Dwight? I didn’t think you would be found on this train.”

Clavicle Gravely grew like a sprout over the summer, He’s far too thin. But the skeltal thin which makes his bowing deep an almost comical parody of the action. “I fail to see how so many learned presences could ever bore a man. But I do feel I am putting upon your hospitality, and if I were to leave, you’d be far more able to enjoy your ride.” he grins a bit. “As I would merely bopre you to tears with questions about our summer readings.” He nods, “I’ve so many brimming about in these here bones.” Clavicle is definately taking after his father. The rakishly thin boy smiles. “If you would pardon me? And excuse my rudeness for failing to knock.”

Darius Dwight smiles, and mimes the action of sweeping a hat from his head at Sibyl’s patter, “Guilty as charged, madam.” He winks, and makes some room for the skinny young boy, “And who might you be, young master?” He smiles and offers a wink to Clavicle. “Feel free to stay if you wish, and if my esteemed colleagues offer no complaints… this is, after all, their train we are intruding on, I might argue.” He settles himself next to Sibyl gently and smiles again to her, his body crouched forward so he doesn’t bang his head on the luggage racks.

Hearing the name of the musician, Bonnie‘s eyes flick to the door, “Oh, my. Are you teaching this year, too?” She offers him a smile as she glances through the cabin. With them all being adults, it certainly does fill a bit faster. “This should be an interesting year, if we’re all to start anew.” The woman settles herself, removing her book from the seat next to her to be located on her lap so that there’s more room. “Tell me, is the sorting as fascinating as it always was in the past?”

Isolde Morgan smiles a little crookedly as she notices Darius’s presence. She nod in greeting, a safe enough approach. “It’s what these benches are for, after all,” she adds after the other professor, smiling at Clavicle. “For sitting.”

Karina Sedgewick takes a seat, and puts down her seemingly weightless sachel on her lap. “I would have been at school,” she explains to Isolde, “But… as I had… something to take care of in London, I thought I would take the train back. It has been too many years.” She blushes slightly, as if she had said more than she intended. Quickly, she opens her sachel and takes out a large, leatherbound notebook of cracking parchment and settles down to do some work.

Sibyl‘s cheeks pinken a little more under Darius’s smile – and then the nurse clears her throat loudly, and looks back to the other professors. Karina’s remark draws a quick, concerned glance across the car – Sibyl doesn’t say anything, but her sharp turquoise eyes still note the other woman’s comment. “Well, it’s good to see you here,” she replies, her voice softening a little. The train lurches, and Sibyl‘s ruddy complexion pales a little. “Ugh. Shouldn’t have sat backwards,” she mutters.

Darius Dwight idly pulls out a harmonica from his robes, and asks around the compartment briefly, looking for objections. Finding none, he picks up a quiet bluesy tune, letting its music fill the compartment with a calming, serene air. As he plays, he closes his eyes and enjoys the motion of the train.

“There’s room here Mrs Wexler,” Bonnie beckons. “I never sit backwards for that reason. It always made me ill as a child.” The woman chuckles and packs her things away, as she can tell that she won’t be getting anything done. The woman falls silent as Darius plays his music. “Ah, it’s been so long since I was to a concert. Hopefully there will be one or two at the school?” Bonnie smiles at Darius hopefully.

Isolde Morgan shifts slightly as the train lurches. “I think I’ll go say hello to some of my former students,” she announces, carefully getting to her feet. “I missed too much last year. If you’ll excuse me.” She then slips back out into the corridor.

“Need something for that, Sibyl? I brought some…” Karina digs into her sachel again, and pulls out a vial of shimmering teal potion. In the bright midday light a few flecks for what appears to be gold can be seen. She offers the vial to the nurse with a sympathetic smile. “Try it. It will help. My special recipe.” She gives the nurse a wink.

Stopping playing for a second, Darius answers, “My earnest hope is to have a single large concert at the end of every year. ALL Wizo-Music students will play. Provided I have approval from the new headmaster, or headmistress.” And with that, he keeps playing.

Clavicle Gravely smiles. “My deepest apologies. I am Clavicle G. Gravely, the third.” the Gravely name is known a bit, as the owners and operators of the Gravely Shadow Emporium and Autumnal Carnival. The carnival walks in both worlds, and the wizarding side has all sorts of magicakal things, mirrors and monsters. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he offers a hand to Darius Dwight. The boy is the son of the ‘Illustrated man’, the Major Domo of the carnival. This is pretty obvious as a skeleton Tatto pokes up over his collar and waves.. then politely raises it’s tophat to the female adults. (repose)

“Karina, you’re a treasure!” Sibyl sighs gratefully, reaching out to take the vial. Professional interest takes precedence for a moment – she holds it up to the light, examining the sparkling bits – but then necessity takes over, and Sibyl swiftly uncorks the vial, drinking down the contents swiftly. Almost immediately, the color returns to her cheeks, and she lets out another sigh. “Oh, thank you. Much better. You wouldn’t consider sharing the recipe, I suppose?”

Riley Markham hardly glances at the card before moving to hand it back to Kitty, giving a great, heaving sigh of mixxed worry and disgust. “Aye, fine. S’my Gran. She an’ I.. well,” he sighs, all that worry and fear he’d been holding up raging back to the surface. “She worried me, today.. something she said. Can’t figure it out.. Eh,” Riley looks up, as the train stops.. “We’re ‘ere, eh.” And he rises, non-challantly, to pull down and carry he and Saphia’s things off the train.

(Faculty) Isolde Morgan sighs happily as she settles in at the table. “I feel like I’m home!” she announces to no one in particular as she sets her small satchel to the side of her chair.

(Faculty) “Sorry I’m late,” Darius excuses himself as he sits down. “Got a bit caught up in nostalgia.”

(Faculty) Bonnie Kensington strides in slowly, taking in the scene of the Great Hall. It always looked majestic, but somehow, even more on sorting day. The woman smiles a bit and takes a seat near the end of the table, gancing around at the other faculty. “I can’t blame you, Mr Dwight. I did, too. It’s been so long since I was here.” Bonnie‘s smile seems permanently pasted to her face as she gazes about at the large hall.

“Yeah,” Riley mutters, not bothering to ask if Saphia would like him to carry her luggage, stepping behind her and picking up for her after she’s dragged it a way. Hauling heavy things was something he was actually fairly good at. He seems more than slightly annoyed, though more at his own reaction than the question.. “Yeah, she was a famous curse-breaker, did some ivestment things for Gringotts, helped a lot of rich people get richer. But she said somethin to me today..” He drops the luggage off in the entry wing, following the rest in to the great hall.. “Something odd.. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it worries the stuffing outta me..” And then, as he steps in to the great hall.. he looks up, across the room to the faculty table. “Oh, sweet Jesus.. I’m in hell..”

(Faculty) Silent, morose, and isolated even within the crowd, Astra sits at the faculty table with the hood of her cloak pulled up so that it is just covering her hair. Hands folded in front of her, she sits with her shoulder turned a fraction away from the Headmistress and while she does glance at the new faculty, she seems more mindful of the Slytherin table.

(Faculty) “It is always nice to come back, isn’t it?” Isolde asks pleasantly, turning to Darius and Bonnie. “At least… it would be as long as your time here was good, I suppose.” This makes her pause, but not for long. “Merlin’s beard. How did I end up with the Ravenclaw House?” the professor continues, totally on a different topic, obviously. It happens quite often. Her expression as she studies that House’s table is one of mixed panic and hopelessness, though both are thankfully in mild doses. “The First years will be smarter than I am.”

(Faculty) Darius Dwight shakes his head firmly, and answers, “That is not true. The first years will NOT all be smarter than you.” He smiles pleasantly, deliberately wry.

(Faculty) Karina Sedgewick settles down at the faculty table with a feeling of relief, as if she’s come home after a long journey. She smiles at Isolde, and answers her, “You gave the Hufflepuffs to me, Isolde,” she says, eyes twinkling. “And no, I’m not traiding.” She chuckles to herself, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of long, wavy black hair behind an ear.

(Faculty) “Oh, you’ll do fine,” Sibyl chides Isolde, with a reassuring pat on the professor’s shoulder as she edges past on her way to her seat at the other end of the table. Back on solid, unmoving ground, the nurse’s good cheer and good health seem to have completely returned, and she surveys the room with her usual comfortable smile. “You know, it still doesn’t feel quite right to be on this side of the room,” she muses, looking out over the Great Hall.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard sit quietly, an amused smile brushing her lips as she goes over a few of the finer points of the notes she’d made. First impressions were key, after all. And she certainly wanted to start things off right. Her gaze does lift to offer a warm nod and pleasant smile to each of the arriving faculty.

(Faculty) Isolde Morgan smiles her thanks to the others and sits back, taking a deep breath. “It’s all in the attitude,” she states, either for her own benefit or… otherwise. At this point, she finally notices that the person in the headmistress’s chair is not the headmistress she remembered. “Oh!” she says quickly, blinks at the others, blinks at Prichard, then… blinks at the students. That’s it. Attitude. She is not a surprised owl. And so the eyes grow a little less wide.

(Faculty) Darius Dwight looks intrigued also by the new headmistress. Seated a good distance away from her, he can’t easily talk to her, but whispers to Bonnie, “So, who is that? I assume she’s Headmistress Hargrove’s replacement?”

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard draws a deep breath, looking up from her sheets of parchment with a confident sort of expression, looking out over the crowd of youthful faces with a pleasant expression. She sees Riley enter, and smiles a bit more; a softer, kinder sort of smile, that clearly decribes her as being to far across the nosy room to have heard his outburst.

Keelan Walsh strides in, not even having shucked her cloak, and moves quickly to the faculty table. She’s still, in fact, got the lantern she was using to light the way, though that at least has been put out. Despair, oh haters of Herbology (and members of Ravenclaw), Keelan Walsh has not drowned in the lake.

With students settled at their respective House tables, the doors to the Great Hall let in one, final person. Head of Gryffindor and Charms Professor Erica Calwern enters the Great Hall with the Sorting Hat lightly held in her grasp. She makes her way gracefully between the tables and up to the dias which hosts the faculty tables and a lone, dark oak stool. Tattered, torn, patched, and frayed, the professor still treats the Hat with the utmost respect as she gently places it upon the stool. Turning, she bows to the table, head lowered and right hand sweeping towards the ground. Standing and directing herself to Melvina in particular, she addresses the new Headmistress, “Good evening, Professor Prichard. I believe we are ready to greet our newest residents.”

Darius Dwight looks over the Ravenclaw table, noting a loud groan coming from their direction at the appearance of Professor Walsh. Many, including one boy in particular, seem utterly disconsolate.

Dolly Faeden gasps out loud at the Great Hall and actually stops in her tracks to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve got to learn tae do that!” is her decided proclaimation. She seems not to notice as she’s somewhat left behind by the group that is, of course, still moving.

Angelo Grey enters the great hall and a face of amazement comes from within. He looks up, turns around, several times, as if spinning in the same place, trying to grasp the entirety of this hall. “Wow…” he says, dreamily.

Erica Calwern awaits patiently and with a warm smile next to the Sorting Hat which both stand upon the dias at the front of the room. As many new students filter in from the waiting room, they create a single line upon the dias, forming a living barrier between the faculty and the returning students.

Rawnie Weller stares up at the magical ceiling nearly falling onto her backside made dizzy by the beauty of it. “Blimey!” Is all the little redhead can think to utter before actually taking a small spill forward due to Vertigo, poor girl.

Kara Raine follows the others into the Great Hall, eyes wide. “Oh my, oh my.” Swallowing nerviously, she moves forward falling into line, hands clenching and unclenching the sides of her robes.

Kassandra Verkooyen Kassandra Verkooyen almost floats into the Great Hall, decently looking at the enchanted ceiling, always keeping up with the group of first-years and standing still among the others.

Sara O‘Shay quirks a brow, for all that she may not like Rawnie, she doesn’t want anyone to mess up her sorting. “You alright?” she questions of Miss Weller. “I suppose it can be a little overwhelming.”

Standing on the dais, Aisling can appreciate how many people there are in the hall, and, as such, how many eyes there are upon her. Seeing Rawnie tumble down, she steps over to her and kneels next to her. “Are you alright?” she inquires, hand resting upon her plait like usual.

Chris Jitsunari joins in the awe. He looks up at the enchanted celing and then at all the returning students, not sure how to take it all in. “The books about this place don’t even come close to the actual experience.”

Rawnie Weller stand up and brushes her robes off. A small glare is given to Sara. “Im arright….. I just got a little dizzy from lookin up too fast s’all….” She didn’t need help from a girl who called her a halfling. Whatever that is. She nods to Aisling too. “Im arright.”

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh scuttles up on the dias with a start, eyes still turned upward. “Aye…” is her breathless response to Chris’s comment.

Dolly Faeden scuttles up on the dias with a start, eyes still turned upward. “Aye…” is her breathless response to Chris’s comment.

Sara O‘Shay nods a little before stepping back into the queue, not that she’d stepped out any. “Good,” she states, simply.

Heat O‘Leary glances upward momentarily towards the ceiling before he lowers his gaze, a minor shiver rocking his frame. He looked towards the sorting hat and continued the hurried attempts at fixing his hair, brushing longer pieces behind his ears with his fingers.

Aisling O‘Cormac looks down the line and exclaims, looking at the hat, “Rawnie, Kass, Lyre, it’s the hat that boy was talking about! Maybe this won’t be so bad after all… Although, he did say it tests you, or something… I hope I know the right answers.”

With a flick of her wand towards the Waiting Room doors, Erica has them shut behind the final new student entering the hall. As if on silent cue, she also steps away from the hat, giving herself a distance of a few feet from the worn old thing.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh removes her cloak before