Walking in from the cool London air and onto the train, Saphia waves to Olivia as she finds a carriage. “Good morning, Ms. Baxtor,” she whispers happily as she finds her seat, setting down Mina’s cage on the floor next to her and heaving her many bags (no doubt full of books) onto the roof racks above.

Getting herself settled into her seat, Olivia glances at Saphia with a faint smile. “How was your summer?” she asks the girl with whom she has spent all summer corresponding and trading books. As redundant as this question may be, it seems the most relevant to the Hufflepuff while she gets her own owl situated on the seat next to her, keeping her a small distance from the window, though it is clear that she has claimed this seat. “This is Gaia,” she tells Saphia. “I got her for my birthday. I couldn’t send her because she’s not big enough to carry the books, though.”

Looking inside, a woman far too old to be a student at Hogwarts is joined by a boy far too young to be a student. The two look to be a mother and son. Phoebe smiles looking around in the compartment. “Do you dears mind if Edward and I have a seat in here with you?” She asks with a friendly smile. Behind her on the floor sits several trunks presumably filled with there possessions.

Fern Featherstone steps inside the compartment and looks over the area from beneath the curtain of her dark lashes. She seems rather shy and her cheeks flush with a pinkish hue.

Riley Markham throws open the hatch to the cabin with a dark sounding of hiss — finding, to his great discomfort, that he actually has to duck somewhat under the edge upper lip of the door in order to step inside. Already donned in his wrinkled, half-open Hogwarts robes, as tossed and uncared for as they often seem to be, Riley uncerimoniously steps beside Phoebe Helit almost as if he’d not seen her, tosses his case up in to the racks carelessly, and flops down beside Saphia with his arms crossed over his now surprisingly broad chest. Almost as if in after thought to his momentary anger (which seems to flare as he looks out the window and sees his Gran waving at him from the platform), he looks to Saphia, nods in greeting, then looks to the woman — presumably a professor, since he would guess her to old to be a studen — and mutters a meager, “‘cuse me, eh?”

Saphia Bona smiles as Riley sits down next to her, running her hand over his (good) shoulder and arm as he does so, smiling and replying to Olivia, “Oh, my summer was alright, I suppose. My mother forced me out into the sun now and then, which I suppose was proper, but there was ever so much reading to do!” She remarks, looking distinctly crestfallen about such things. As the professor enters, Saphia smiles shyly and whispers, “We’d be honored to have you, Professor.”

Dolly Faeden is a nice shade of brown that clashes horribly with her red hair and tells of a lot of outdoors time in the summer. Nevermind that she lives in a forest. With her accent thicker than ever from being around similarly-worded people for three months, Dee asks, “Is it alrigh’ if I sit here?” No, really, it’s thick like mollasses. With a twisty smile, she sort of stumps in no matter the answer and gives her trunk a push toward one of the chairs. It’s heavy! Or, as she sits in front of it, opens it, and starts to dig something out, she’s just in need of something. She looks up at some noise, still digging through her trunk, and realizes there are people she knows in the compartment after all. “Riley-sir! Saphia!” Her habit of calling the Ravenclaw Quidditchers ‘sir’ seems not to have died, though at least in Riley’s case it’s vaguely appropriate. “Have a good summer, then? Did ye get bigger some how? Not that I didn’t get a little taller myself but aren’t boys supposed to grow more when they’re–oh but you are thirteen, aren’t you? I noticed with some of the muggle boys in the village where me mum’s parents live, that’s really when they start to get taller although nobody’ll explain why except that they do and really it’s the girls who start to grow a lot first but I’m only a year from that so I’ve been researching charms to make robes a bit longer ’cause Da’ won’t be able to pay for new ones in the middle of the year just because I’ve taken to getting taller too fast, you know?” She doesn’t say any of this particularly fast, although her rural Scottish accent muddles it up rather nicely.

Staring a bit mutely at the littler girl blathers on in an accent that Olivia can only partially understand, the Hufflepuff scoots her owl’s cage over a bit farther and makes plenty of room on the bench next to her. After all, she wouldn’t want to take up too much room and keep others out. “I’ve enjoyed most of the books so far. Some of the muggle history books were a little odd, but I liked reading them anyway.” She smiles a bit and looks down at her lap, seeming ponderous. It is but a moment before she reaches down into her bag and pulls out a book. “Here, this is the last one you sent. I got some new books this year to read. Dad agreed to buy me a couple while we were out shopping.” Olivia seems oddly comfortable for one who prefers solitude to strangers.

Fern Featherstone takes a few more tentative steps into the compartment and she carefully sits down upon a leather seat, perching upon its edge and pressing her small feet against the ground. She rests her slender hands against the soft fabric of her wool skirt, even as she lifts the curtain of her wispy dark lashes and looks upon those gathered her with a pensive and sheepish kind of interest.

Smiling down upon Saphia, Phoebe pats her son upon the shoulder “Go take a seat dear,” She instructs him kindly as she takes her luggage and begins stowing it in the overhead. She turns again before taking a seat by her son. “Oh! Im sorry.” She says suddenly remembering. “I’ve forgotten to introduce us, I am Professor Helit and this is my son Edward.” She looks down at the boy who is trying to hid behind her arm. “Say Hi Eddy.” she tells him gently and the boy waves silently. “He’s just a little shy.” Phoebe pats her boy on the head and gets comfterble.

“Oh, thank you, Olivia. I’ve been reading as much as I can, but wi– Wait,” Saphia double-takes, “Professor, I know Professor Helit. I’ve… well, I’ve not had class with him, but I’ve conversed. And I always thought he was distinctly more tall, male, and green booted then you were.”

Riley Markham glances briefly to the hand that Saphia places on his (good) shoulder, before looking toward the door with a hint of mild embaressment. Ultimately, his gaze falls on the young boy with the new Professor — whom he had rather curtly stepped around before. And quite despite his annoyance with the whole thing, he can’t help but offer the little lad a smile. “Makin’ ‘em smaller and smaller all the time, aren’t they?” He mutters, to no one other than himself, before being somewhat distracted by Dolly. A faintly rueful expression touching his lips. “Hey,” he mutters. Being called ‘sir’ made his teeth ache. “God, I wish this bucket of junk would get us there already.”

Dolly Faeden looks sideways at the professor. “But Professor Helit, weren’t you a man last term?” Her eyes are wide, standing up and rather rudely tilting her head and squinching her eyes and finally shaking her head, “No, you were certainly a man. I know, people said Professor Rathe caught you aflame!” She looks at Edward, and says, “Your mother used to a man.” as if this were a fact and not hideously rude of her. At least her accent might obscure some of the nonsese. She flumps back into her seat, now, and sort of peers at Fern, her shoes, and her open trunk. “Oh!” She resumes digging.

“Oh yes.” Phoebe grins and chuckles just a bit before jokingly saying to Saphia “Well Im afraid I’ve been through a lot of changes over the summer you know.” She chuckles softly and doesn’t bother yet to give them a correct statement instead she turns her attention on Riley “Oh, Eddy will not be attending the sorting, He’s my personal assistant.” She says with a smile to her son who smiles back proudly at the title. Both Phoebe and Edward have a chuckle ad Dolly’s statement but neither move to correct her yet.

Olivia watches as the other students ask the man about possibly being the illustrious Professor Helit about whom she has heard so much. It seems clear, though, that if this is the same person, she is now considerably nicer than the one who was there the year previous. Running her fingers over the cage that her owl is sleeping peacefully in, Olivia only nods briefly at Saphia before the girl’s attention is distracted. Turning her own gaze out the window, it seems her mind is beginning to wander, though the thoughts travelling through her head can’t be too poor, given the half smile on her face.

Fern Featherstone studies Phoebe suspiciously from beneath the curtain of her wispy dark lashes, clearly finding it rather strange that she once was a man. Her naturally pale cheeks are still colored with a faint blush as she continues to sit on the leather seat.

Saphia Bona looks confused, before finally whispering, “Wait, are you ANOTHER Professor Helit?” She grins wide, stunned. “How many of there are you? Oh my. What will you be teaching?” She asks, excited. “Do you use many books?”

It’s hard work being a prefect! So Evan would tell you, anyway, after having spent the first part of the train ride patrolling the corridors instead of relaxing in a compartment with his friends. That part of his duty seems to be over now, though, as he seems in no hurry to move on his way, pausing to glance into each compartment he passes. This one wins a bit more attention, and Evan sticks his head in the door, smiling as he spots Olivia, giving a cheerful nod to the others present.

“Oh yes, I was only joking.” Phoebe chuckles softly at the very idea of being Quintus. “Your other Professor Helit is my Uncle actually.” She says this as if wishing that it weren’t true. “I am your new Muggle Studies Professor, and if you have taken my class you should have already bought the books for your year.” She comments to Saphia. She looks around the compartment and spies Evan peaking in and notices his smile to Olivia. A grin plays on her own face but she says nothing of it.

Dolly Faeden is satisfied that Professor Helit has just undergone some changes over the summer and so momentarily pauses in her (apparently aimless) digging through stuff when Saphia has another conclusion. “What? Y’mean there’s ta be two?” She looks at Phoebe again and murmurs, “Well am I sorry! I thought you’d just gone by way of a bad potion, someone slipping poorly made Polyjuice inta your drink or something.” She gives Edward another glance, her cheeks bright red, and then ducks her head back into her trunk, scattering things like a change of robes and a pair of underpants in her haste to both find whatever it is she wants and not look at the others, given she made a wrong conclusion. Unthinkable. Or at least really embarassing.

Turning her head as the compartment opens yet again, Olivia appears to glance around to see whether there is, indeed any spot for another person in the area. “Oh, Evan!” she greets her friend cheerfully, beaming with pride at the badge on his chest. She doesn’t say anything more, but does smile rather cheerfully at him. Could Olivia‘s demeanor be perhaps a little brighter, and even prouder, or is it just the fact that she hasn’t said or done much of anything as yet?

Fern Featherstone continues to sit silently upon the leather seat. She glances toward Evan as he arrive and smiles faintly in his direction. She then looks toward Phoebe, seemingly relieved by something she says. She then smiles shyly, while starting to restlessly toy with the wool of her pleated gray skirt.

Looking to Fern Phoebe smiles and gently asks “Is this your first year dear?” In a kind voice of understanding. Her son leans over as well to smile at Fern and offers her a quiet wave. “It’s a little exciting isn’t it? Not to worry, it’s Eddy’s and my first year at Hogwarts too.” A Professor that never attended Hogwarts? What’s going on?

“Hello, Olivia,” Evan replies warmly. Pulling the door farther, he offers a shallow bow to the.. adult and giving a curious yet friendly look to the child with her, pausing to speak again in an effort not to interrupt conversation. Finally, “Have we got room for one more in here?”

Fern Featherstone looks toward Phoebe and nods in response to her words. A few lank locks brush up against her narrow shoulders. She then glances toward Edward and smiles warmly toward the child. “Yes, its a little exciting. Oh, you never seen the school before?”

Keelan Walsh is standing on the platform, covered in robes that seem impervious to the rain that falls thickly from the sky. “First year students, please, this way!” She swings about a lantern, held high over her already considerably tall head, to emphasize her location. “Everyone else, the carriages are–over there!” Indeed, the carriages are lit rather warmly, as though they’ve been fitted with heating for the particularly blustery weather this Sorting day. “Come on, first years! We’ve got a lovely trip planned for you.” If being drowned from above while floating across an icy lake in the dark could possibly be considered fun.

Kara Raine hopes off the train, turning back to wave towards Rhyne. “Good luck! See you at the feast.” Glancing around, the second year tries to stay up with her fellow Ravenclaws, trying to see where they need to go next. No boat for her this year.

Alden Wexler hardly seems to notice the rain as Keelan calls out for the first years — quite despite the fact that in a little under a few moments, the poor boy in new school robes is throughly soaked, head to foot. Without a word, he does as instructed, following Keelan along the way.

Ugh, rain. Olivia sighs and pulls her hood up carefully, tucking her hair back into the hood as best she can, though the water has not done nice things to it. “I’m glad we’re finally here,” she comments to Evan, making her way to the carriage and stepping into one several down.

Riley Markham throws a somewhat cold look up at the Faculty table as he enters the Great Hall — wine red hair soaking wet despite his brief exposure to the rain. His expression is nothing short of rageful as it falls upon the Headmistress, before he flops down at the Ravenclaw table with a dark, dark hiss.

(Hufflepuff) Looking somewhat bored, Orion shifts his gaze across the hall — briefly allowing it to linger on the Gryffindor table, and two girls who sit there, and also one boy who piqued his curiousity today, before allowing his eyes to settle on the Slytherin table and the statuesque Tahiri Sol. His expression somewhat coy, much like a cat staring down a mouse.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce shivers quietly in his chair, hair only damp now, rather than dripping wet. Aside from his cloak, which is now bundled in a sloppy mess under the table, the rest of him seemed to miss the rain. “Maybe it rained so hard, the boats capsized,” he muses darkly, eyes focused on the table where, we can hope, all sorts of warm food and drink will soon appear.

Entering later than the other faculty, Astra wipes her hands nervously on her robes. Hurrying up to the table, she doesn’t greet anyone or even Arriving at the faculty table; she walks around behind it and takes her seat.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce sits up a bit more as the first years file in. He even goes so far as to half stand from his chair before spotting one of the straggly-haired blondes. “That’s my sister,” he murmurs to the boy beside him before taking a seat again. At least he’s not staring at the table anymore.

Keelan Walsh leads the firt years out of the Waiting Room, most of them still soaking wet, Keelan herself strangely dry as she removes a ridiculously large cloak. Up she goes toward the head of the room, darting a glance at the other faculty with a ‘And why do I have to do this?’ look on her face. Then there’s a brief smile as she disappears off to the side. Returning, she carries with her the age-old stool (although it’s sturdy) with an ages-older rumbled bit of hat. This is set down in front of the Faculty table and she steps aside, clasping her hands silently in front of herself.

Fern Featherstone follows after Keelan. Her upper teeth press gently against her thin lower lip as she attempts to control her nerves, while looking over the room from beneath the curtain of her sparse lashes. She then tilts her narrow chin and looks up toward the ceiling. A gasp is heard, but Fern stubbornly and with much pride tries to control her vocal and trembling reaction. When the hat begins to sing, she looks upon it with a nervous kind of suspicion. She then looks toward the other first years, waiting to see what how they respond before stepping into a line.

Alden Wexler widens his eyes at that last line — no matter how composed a young boy appears about the process of Sorting — the notion of possibly being bitten by a old, dirty hat raises a hint of alarm as regards the patched bit of leather on the stool from the end of the line of first years. Still, he remains quiet, hands clasped in front of him, regaining his composure with a small shake of his head that sends droplets raining in a meager arch around him.

Keelan Walsh unclasps her hands and produces from a pocket a thick role of parchment. Unfurling it a bit, she repeats the instructions, “When I call your name, step up and place the hat upon your head, please. Peering through her spectacles at the first name, her voice comes, a bit unsteady, truth be told. “Castle, Rhyne!”

“I’m going to be in Slytherin, I know it,” Satinka tells Seker in a quiet whisper as she crosses her arms. Her voice is stronger and more certain than the look on her face would have one believe, but the girl appears rather focussed on the old-looking hat that sits nearby and then glances to Keelan. “Oh, I wonder where he’ll be sorted,” she comments and watches with interest as the first name is called.

Rhyne Castle makes his way to the Sorting Hat and settles it firmly on his head, doing his best to project more confidence than he actually feels. He waits in silent anticipation for the hat’s verdict.

Rhyne Castle blinks, owlishly, as he removes the hat, looking just a little bit bewildered. Although the bemused expression doesn’t fade entirely, it is joined by something at least resembles pleasure, and he puts on a more-or-less convincing smile as he goes to join his new housemates.

Falling into line behind Satinka, Seker only nods and watches nervously as Rhyne is sorted. “I met him in Hogsmeade,” comments Seker after a moment, clapping as the boy is declared a Ravenclaw. “Well, it looks easy,” Seker notes, sighing.

Fern Featherstone shifts her slight weight from one narrow foot to another as she stands in the line. She watches as Rhyne is sorted, seemingly slightly less nervous now. Her thin lips curve into the ghost of a smile. She then glances between Satinka and Seeker, clearly listening to their words.

“It didn’t hurt him, it looks like. Looks kind of easy. All you have to do is wear it. I wonder what it does. Do you suppose it just randomly picks, or if it really does decide based on, well, how you are?” Satinka whispers back, watching for the next name to be called while Rhyne makes his way to Ravenclaw table.

Keelan Walsh calls out, “Cowper, Jason,” who takes approximately four seconds before the hat calls, “Gryffindor!” and then Keelan calls another Ravenclaw, then a Slytherin and “Featherstone, Fern!”

Alden Wexler applaudes politely as Rhyne Castle is sorted in to Ravenclaw, squinting a little as the newly sorted student removes the hat as if he might actually be able to see if the leathery bit of rag actually had teeth or not to carry out the threatened biting.

Fern Featherstone approaches the hat with tentative steps, suggesting that the slender girl is rather shy. Still she throws back her narrow shoulders and lifts her dainty chin, as if trying to display a bit of pride. She reaches for the hat, while frowning with distaste in response to its ragged appearance. She then places it upon her head, leaving her lank ragged dark locks to cascade against her shoulders. Her breath quivers in the hollow of her pale slender throat, as she awaits the sorting and her small form is tense, as she sits still, silent and statue like.

Keelan Walsh claps a bit awkwardly and briefly and then continues on with two Hufflepuffs, another Gryffindor, “Linwood, Patricia!” who goes to Gryffindor as well, a Ravenclaw followed by a Slytherin and two Gryffindors and then, with a smirk, Keelan announces, “Rathe, Satinka!”

“There’s no way it’s random, are you joking me?” Seker whispers in an incredulous tone to his sister. “Haven’t you heard of the families who all get into one house, no fail?” Seker questions, crossing his arms. “No, it’s got to read your mind or something,” he says with determination, though clapping idly. “We’ll be joining her in a few minutes, hopefully,” Seker says, watching the girl go to sit down. “Go!” Seker says suddenly.

Looking startled, Satinka lets out a gasp as her name is called, and glances back at her brother, walking to the stool with unusual caution. Hesitating a moment, she looks at the hat, and then picks it up, simultaneously plopping it on her head while sitting quickly onto the stool. She bites her lip and closes her eyes up tight, seeming to be in deep conversation, or else in deep pain while she wears the illustrious hat.

With very little pause, Keelan announces, “Rathe, Seker!” as if she really needed to emphasize that he was next in line.

Still taking deep breaths, Seker does smile as his sister is sorted, nodding in her direction. One down! Now the other Rathe needed to be placed rightfully as a son of Slytherin. Hearing his name called, Seker feels like choking and fainting (life is so hard), but instead nods and steps up to the hat, sitting down and putting it on.

“It isn’t random,” Alden assures them, finally, as Satinka’s name is called. Though he chooses not to elaborate on anything else he might have gleaned from his summer reading. He draws a deep breath the closer it gets to his name being called, idly wondering if it were better that his last name was poised at the end of the alphabet, or if it might have been more simple to be at the beginning and get it over with. Indeed, despite all appearances, he is nervous. Though largely, it’s more rooted in the fact that his mother is watching from the faculty table, and seemingly a half dozen relatives are all scattered in the audience, eagerly awaiting another Wexler in their house, and sure to give him guff should he fail to share it.

Stunned, it is a few seconds before Seker comprehends the word emitted from the hat. “What?” he asks, standing up and turning around to look at his mother, his face a mask of surprise and horror. He can’t bring himself to try and look at Satinka, not after she made it and he didn’t. What is this. What it this? Seker is in a stunned reverie as he stumbles to the Hufflepuff table, not thinking, yet, to look for Rafe or any of the other Hufflepuffs he’s acquainted with. It was probably a prank or something. Well, Seker would play along for now. “Hello!” Seker greets his ‘housemates’ with a put-on genial demeanor. “What are we having?” he asks, pointing to his empty plate with a perked brow.

Keelan Walsh chokes a bit on the next name, though Sheldon, Galen sorts to Slytherin all the same. Three Ravenclaws, a Gryffindor, and yet another Hufflepuff later, she calls, “Wexler, Alden!” who is second to last in the world of Sorting unless someone has been missing from the list or Keelan‘s recitation of names.

Alden Wexler swallow a breath, Alden steps forward, moving toward the stool and the old, patched hat with an even stride. He pauses briefly to glance up at the faculty table toward Sibyl, then to the Gryffindor table toward Briony and Felicity, before exhaling a long sigh and lifting up the Sorting Hat. With a grave expression, he climbs on to the stool and places the hat on his head.

(Hufflepuff) At least Seker isn’t alone in this misery. “Still think it’s not random?” Seker asks, having dropped his false cheeriness as reality has sunk in. His mother would have chimed in by now if this really was a joke. How could this have happened? “I can’t believe this,” Seker mutters, looking down at his lap and sighing. “How could she make it but not me?”

His eyes somewhat wide, caught a little off guard by the insight of the hat, Alden quietly removes the cap after it’s shout and slides off the old, solid stool. “Thank you,” he says, politely, to the ragged bit of leather, before turning toward the cheering table to take his seat. He was certain he could feel Briony gaping at him from behind.

Keelan Walsh calls out, “Wexler, Kyler!” who takes a seat and sits there for so long Keelan is actually startled to hear, “Slytherin!” call forth from the hat. With one last look over the assembled students, she rolls up the parchment, claps briefly, and takes the stool and hat away. When she returns, it is to her seat at the faculty table, where she relaxes, duties done.

(Hufflepuff) At least Seker isn’t alone in this misery. “Still think it’s not random?” Seker asks, having dropped his false cheeriness as reality has sunk in. His mother would have chimed in by now if this really was a joke. How could this have happened? “I can’t believe this,” Seker mutters, looking down at his lap and sighing. “How could she make it but not me?”

Melvina Prichard rises from the faculty table purposefully once the ritual of Sorting has concluded, lifting her nimble, long-fingered hands in a suggestive way as she beckons the student audience for silence. “Excuse me, quiet please — yes, that includes you, Mister Alcot.” Her voice is thick and strong, but laced with an ever-present hint of amusement. An almost coy half-grin touches her lips, looks over the heart of her school.

“Greetings, everyone,” Melvina calls, her voice dancing across the Great Hall at a comfortable volume. “Welcome to your school year nineteen hundred and twenty seven! I trust that all of you enjoyed your summer vacations! As I’m sure most you of you are now aware, my name is Melvina Prichard and I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts school. Last year, all of you helped give this blustering, frugal old woman a home and a purpose. This year, I hope to reward and repay each of you for that wonderful gift. Now, pressing on, I’ve some beginning of term announcements to make.” Clearing her throat, the Headmistress pulls a pair of spectacles from her emerald robe pocket and resting them on the bridge of her nose, before gathering up a tightly-bound scroll sitting next to her empty plate.

“All the usual suspects, 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, Whimple’s Pimple Powder..” Demonstratively, she allows the end of the scroll to slip from her fingers, clatter to the table, spill over the edge, and roll across the floor Great Hall until it exhausts itself somewhere near the door of the waiting room across the entrance hall. A somewhat playful glint sparkling in her eyes, Melvina sets her end of the very long list down and vanishes it with a flick of a wand which she withdraws from the sleeve of her robes. “As you can see, the list goes on. Be sure to check it.”

After a small bubble of laughter, Melvina takes up a blessedly smaller sheet of parchment. “Hogwarts tradition demands that I remind you the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds for all students. As seems to happen every year since antiquity, some of you will most certainly forget that pesky little rule. It just slips out, squeezed away from the building pressure of knowledge our fine professor work so hard to fill your head with over the year.” 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 beside you, and that such acts will usually will result in a substantial loss of house points as well.” With a small, meaningful glance around and a pause to clear her throat and savor a sip of pumpkin juice, 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, Andrew Larson and Margaret Cresterton. Mister Larson and Miss Cresterton, please stand.” She applauds once the two have risen, leading those who care to join her in a modest round of congratulations, before continuing on.

“Well done, Head Boy, Head Girl,” the Headmistress says, sincerely. “On to faculty. There are many exciting changes in Hogwarts staff this year, so to begin I hope you all with help me in welcoming Professor Phoebe Helit whom will be heading up our Muggle Studies department, and Professor Addison Williamson whom will helm our History of Magic class.” Melvina holds for a pleasant-enough round of applause before plowing on. “Also, though she has been with us a great while, I hope you’ll all help congratulate and welcome Professor Rathe in to her new role as Deputy Headmistress. Naturally, she’ll continue to provide you all with excellent lessons in your Defense Against the Dark Arts courses as well.” Another pause for applause, and quietly surprised murmurs — it was hardly a secret that last year Professor Rathe could hardly stand Professor Prichard. Now she was Deputy Headmistress? “Sadly, I must inform you that Professors Calwern and Ashcroft have chosen to step down. Professor Fallon will properly replace Professor Calwern as Gryffindor head of house.”

Following a deep, relieved breath and Melvina finally sets down the parchment and removes her glasses. “That said, I have only one more announcement to mention before we start in on the delicious feast I know you’re all patiently waiting to savor. This is my second year as Headmistress of Hogwarts school — last year was a daring step on to the path of the uncertainty for all of us. A maiden voyage, where bold choices were made, some rising to shimmering brilliance, others not so much. But in this second year, the fright of the unknown fades as well all walk in a comfortable security. Each sure we know, or at suspect, of what to expect It is in this peaceful repetition that we as a family forge traditions. Thus, I announce to you all our first of many traditions, the second annual Barefoot Social.” A sly, almost devillish grin dances over the lips of the Headmistress. “A celebration of the new term, greeting those whom are just joining us, and welcoming home those of us returning for another year. This dance will semi-formal, open to all years, and include an… outdoor feast.” The too-clever look on her face almost seems to gloat, briefly, as she looks out at her young crowd. Obviously, she is terribly proud of herself. “As this is the mother of tradition, we shall follow the precident set by last year’s grandmother event — the ladies will need ask the gentlemen for the honor of an afternoon’s courtship.” She waits, eagerly, for the reaction to that before at last finishing up. “I will be resuming the Student Events Committee, made up of students from all years to help me prepare for the Barefoot Social, Governor’s Ball, and a handful of other special events I have planned through out the school year; 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. Let’s eat.” And with small nod and a sly, lingering grin, she slips casually back in to her seat.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood inexplicably turns about ten shades of red and decides that yes, his hands are fascinating.

(Hufflepuff) Puffing up as his new house might suggest (what kind of name was Hufflepuff anyway?) Seker looks to his housemates, pausing on Alden and Charlie to note, “Did you hear that? My mum’s the Deputy Headmistress! What a title, don’t you think?” Seker is a flurry of emotion– part of him proud for his mother, part of him still wanting to die. Hufflepuff? Seriously.

(Hufflepuff) A glance is gifted to Olivia from the direction of the Slytherin table, and the girl seems to blush rather hard as she looks down at the spread in front of her, ladelling herself a rather full bowl of some hearty looking stew, then pausing to take a sip of her pumpkin juice. “That’s really great,” Olivia tells the boy, smiling, though her cheeks are still a bit pink. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it here,” she assures him, and not another thought is given to whatever uncertainness or disappointment the first years might feel as she begins eating and perhaps glancing a bit long at the Slytherin table.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood immediately makes sure his mouth is full at all times, finally eating like a real boy and getting all the food slopped together on the place and shoved into his mouth at far too quick a rate of exchange. As opposed to his normal behavior, which is to arrange everything neatly and segregated and eat slowly and with a semblance of manners. His cheecks are still a brilliant shade of pink, though Seker gets a bit of a nod and a muffled, “Congrdlatins” which is, thankfully, not accompanied by a spray from his stuffed mouth.

(Hufflepuff) Alden Wexler blinks, almost startled — a lady-ask-bloke social? How.. “Disturbing.” His voice only emits in a sort whisper, which she squelches by shaking his head somewhat. If Professor Walsh appeared down to earth, Headmistress Prichard seemed at least mildly insane. But it were tradition. Exhaling a soft sight, and taking a turkey leg with a serious expression, Alden ponders.

(Hufflepuff) “Yeah, thanks,” Seker says to Olivia before looking to Charlie. “You’re looking a bit warm,” Seker notices. “Do you have a fever or something?” he asks, starting to dig into his piled-up plate. “Yeah, disturbing,” Seker echoes Alden, though not knowing just what the boy thought was disturbing. “How can a hat be so wrong?”

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood swallows and protests much too loudly, looking wildly about the table for Rafe, “I’m just fine! My sister went to Gryffindor, that’s all. I was hoping she’d um… be a Hufflepuff. So I could keep an eye on here. If she asks any of you to the thing, tell her you’ve got the pox. And then get the pox. I can’t have you going or making her feel bad.” He can’t have her going because she’ll report to their mother. “Anyway, the hat wasn’t wrong, you just don’t–”and the rest is obscured as he catches a glimpse of something cross the room and stuffs his mouth again.

(Hufflepuff) “Just don’t what?” Seker demands, voracious for any information, any explanation of why he was placed here. “What’s your name? Or, more importantly, what’s your sister’s name?” Seker crosses his arms after taking a drink of juice. “I’ll be sure to inform her that I’d love to go with her, should she want to,” Seker says, though joking. He might ask Morgana, though, depending on when this social was. Morgana was really one of the only girls he knew here so far.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood is forced into coherency again, oh no. “It’s just you don’t know how good a fit you’ll be, obviously.” A swig of–well, whatever liquid substance is in his goblet later, and there’s a, “Honestly? You don’t…” an expression mixed between crestfallen and relieved crosses Charlie‘s face. “I’m Charlie Linwood.” Pause. “You know, Beater for the Hufflepuff team?” Another pause, “Captain, actually.” See? See the shiny pin on his robes? Okay, maybe it’s not that shiny. “And uh… you can’t go with my sister because she’s… allergic to black hair. She’d be sneezing all over you.” He fails to mention her name, howevever. Not that his sister isn’t the spitting image of him (to his woe, not hers), though.

(Hufflepuff) Seker lets this alleged ‘black hair allergy’ slide, but not without a roll of his eyes. “Right, right, Charlie,” Seker says, noting the pin on the young man’s robe. “Well, good luck in Quidditch this year,” Seker says with half-hearted intensity. “I’ll be cheering in the stands,” he says, a little sarcastically as he goes back to his dinner.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of children of assorted ages and uniform colours, Gabriel Goden shoves his way through the masses in the Express’ corridor, Briony in tow. “Mooove,” Gabriel mutters under his breath, eventually spotting an empty section. “In here, Bri,” Gabe advises, turning his neck to make eye contact as he points. He opens the door with no intention of closing it himself and slumps onto a seat. The summer, against his will, had gone so fast, and now it was back to school. How could anyone be cheerful? “Well, another year,” Gabe says to Briony with a sigh.

With a bit of a flourish, the door opens again and Carrie Mary Jane Whittier enters the door. She’s carrying a smell pet carrier in which a siamese cat lays sleeping, a suitcase of clothes, and a small golden harp. But that’s not what draws attention from anyone who knew her before. When she left Hogwarts last year, Carrie had beautiful long red hair that used to fly behind her during quidditch matches. Now, it’s cut off into a jet black, bob-style haircut. Her face is powdered, and her lips painted into a petite blood red circle. “Terribly sorry to intrude,” She grins as she enters, “But all the other carriages are full.”

“Isn’t it exciting, Gabe-y?” Briony answers cheerfully, bounding in with a rather harried looking cat in her arms. “It’s okay, Whimsy. We’re going soon. Come on, Alden! Don’t straggle!” Briony sounds like quite the all-knowing older sister as she plops down as close to the window as she can, on the seat facing Gabriel. “I can’t wait for Quidditch this year, can you? I’m sure we’ll do better. I’ve been practicing all summer, of course. I want us to get the cup this year! And we’re going to do good with the Good Deed Club. Alden, you can be with us if you’re sorted into Gryffindor. Well, of course you’ll be Gryffindor. You should be, anyway. I’ll be terribly disappointed if you’re not. And, and, oh, I get to start the electives this year! I’m so excited to see the Divination teacher. Nearly everybody likes her!”

Alden Wexler follows Briony in to the cabin with a small sigh, his expression grave. “Don’t shout, Briony. It’s unbecoming, especially when I’m just behind you.” He lingers in the doorway for a moment, waiting for his older sister to find her seat and clear the way, before placing his suitcase neatly up in the rack and taking a seat near the door and opposite from Briony. His arms folding over his chest in a thoughtful way. He had vague feeling that this would be a long trip — much longer than the floo power ride still dusted his cheeks annoyingly with soot that delivered him to Diagon Alley.

Gabriel truly doesn’t recognize Carrie as he replies to her with, “Yeah, it’s no problem,” and turns to glare somewhat at Briony. “Exciting?” he echoes before he remains silent for a few seconds, not hearing much of what Briony says (though, this lack of attention can partly be defended by the notion that Gabe thinks she is mainly talking to Alden anyways. Though, it was hard to tell for Gabe sometimes). Despite the figurative cloud looming over him, he almost can’t help getting caught up in Briony’s excitement somewhat. Maybe this year would be better. Shrugging to Alden, Gabriel Goden sighs as he looks back to Briony. “This year will be great,” he says with the naive, hopeful tone so common of him in his younger years.

“I didn’t shout,” Briony comments, taking this in stride as she continues on. “Hi! You’re on Hufflepuff team, aren’t you?” she tells Carrie, but doesn’t linger. “Anyway, buck up, Gabe. We’re going back to Hogwarts! Your mum is still our House Head isn’t she? I like her being our House Head. Professor Calwern scared me a little bit. She had all those rules and I was afraid I was going to break some.” Briony shakes her head a bit and then shrugs, grinning cheerfully at her brother and her friend. “Why are you so glum? You’ve been this way all summer. It’s no fun. We didn’t even get to go on any adventures because of it.” A pout crosses Briony‘s face as she says this, but it doesn’t last long. “Maybe we can find some while we’re running through the Good Deed Club and solve them! We didn’t find many last year. It was really sad. I wish we had.”

Felicity Wexler lingers for as long as she is allowed on Platform 9 3/4 — standing beside next to a short, silver-haired woman in her early seventies, who leans heavily on a cane. With one arm linked with the elderly woman, helping support her, Felicity talks in near tears to her until the whistle blows it’s last warning and the ushers begin making final shouts. And it’s with deep, obvious reluctance that Felicity parts with her (not for the least of the matter that the lack of support almost causes the old woman to fall over, until two men on the platform come to help), make it on to the train. Tears in her eyes that she fights to hold back, Felicity makes her way quickly to the nearest cabin with a window looking out on her Grandmother Larsen — and without worrying about it being Briony who she has to press close to in order to look out the window and wave, she abandons her suitcase at the door and cuts straight to her objective, watching sadly as the two men help the old muggle woman toward a hearthstone so she can return home.

Sitting down to the lukewarm reaction from Gabe, Carrie actually bursts out in a tiny laugh, “You really don’t recognise me, do you? I’m offended, Mr. Gabriel Goden. I stole the quaffle enough times from you last year to think you’d have noticed me.” She winks, and plucks at her harp, noting, “Briony here has a sharper mindski, I see.” She also smiles to Felicity as she comes in, and quips, “Oh, my! I’ve boarded the Wexler compartment, I see!” Her smile doesn’t dip, though, and she even begins to play a quiet tune on the harp.

“What?” questions Gabriel, confused at Carrie and showing it with a perked eyebrow and ignoring Briony for the time being. “Oh,” he says, realization dawning on him finally. “Right, I guess I recognize you, K… C… uhh…” he stutters with her name, though he probably did know it at one point. “Yeah, I recognize you,” he says quickly and looks away, a little flushed. As luck would have it, he turns immediately to the teary Felicity. Even worse! Girls and their emotions…! In a last effort, he turns to Briony, safe and always cheerful Briony. “Yeah, I… I…” he starts before crossing his arms and smiling, maybe a little falsely. “I’ll tell you later… this summer was kind of… a failed mission.” He shrugs. “But yeah, my mum’s the head of Gryffindor again this year.”

Alden Wexler arches a brow as Felicity comes bolting in to the compartment, leaving her suitcase at what is, essentially, his feet. Exhaling a long sigh as the Felicity leans over Briony to get to the window, knowing at least in part the nature of the girl’s apprehension and tears, Alden (much like Gabe) looks away. Though his motion is bore more out of modesty than any embaressement. Without a word, he rises, takes Felicity’s trunk, and stretches himself once more to place it in to the racks.

As Felicity continues to cry, Carrie finally breaks her carefully constructed image to shuffle next to her and ask, “Hey, hey. You alright, Jane?” She rubs a hand over Felicity’s shoulder. “It’s alright… shush. It’s alright. I’ll play you a song, OK? Make everyone happy here?”

“Hey, I was here first,” Briony comments and frowns a bit. Felicity isn’t her favorite cousin, after all. Does Briony have a favorite cousin. “Get your own window seat if you want one.” Briony doesn’t say this with as much sourness as usual, because having seen Felicity’s grandmother, even Briony can’t help but feel a little bit sad for the girl. “Oh, a failed mission?” Briony responds to GAbriel, looking almost concerned at it. “Why did it fail? You should have let me help! We would have succeeded together. After all, I’m thirteen now. I’m every bit as good at stuff as you.” So Briony thinks anyway. The train has begun moving, and Briony shoots a beaming look of pride to Alden. “Look, isn’t it nifty? The train ride is so fun.”

Wiping a few tears from her cheeks that manage to escape despite her best efforts, Felicity looks briefly to Carrie — smiling a little, in a brave sort of way, before rising and pulling away somewhat from Briony and the window. “No, thank you, I’m alright –” Briony’s words, strangely, are somewhat comforting to her. The mild harshness in her tone is familiar, and so it’s in the nature of that solid rock that she pushes Briony on the arm (though decidedly more gentle than she would most other times, matching Briony’s understated kindness with some of her own) before flopping down next to her Gryffindor cousin. She passes a small smile of thanks back to Alden, for his putting her suitcase away, and decidedly keeps her gaze from the window as the trainstation fades well from view. Otherwise, she remains quiet.

“I said I’ll tell you later,” Gabriel re-states with much emphasis, eyeing the others in the compartment furtively. Really, it wasn’t the type of ‘mission’ one discussed openly while among others. “And…” though it pains Gabriel to say it, “I… don’t know if you’ll be able to help. Or anyone.” He blinks quickly a couple times before forcing a smile again and trying to change the subject. “It’s okay, Felicity, it’ll be summer again soon. Just think about how fast last year went,” he lies, trying to make her feel better about leaving.

Felicity Wexler nodding slightly to Gabe, in response to his comforting words — words she knows to be false, but words that are comforting never the less, she puts on her best smile, in an attempt to convince herself that she might believe them. Her hands fold in her lap, and she finally turns her gaze to Alden — somewhat curious what it is that Gabe is whispering about, but feeling a little to down to pry. “Are you excited?”

Alden Wexler shifts his gaze back to Felicity once she has regained control of herself, his expression mute — excitement, it would seem, wasn’t a part of his typical profile. “About Sorting, you mean?” Alden murmurs, thoughtfully. His voice mildly high pitched, and somewhat effeminate despite the clarity and certainty he pours in to his words. It only adds to the general air of “delicacy” that radiates from the child. “Not especially, no.”

Keelan Walsh is standing on the platform, covered in robes that seem impervious to the rain that falls thickly from the sky. “First year students, please, this way!” She swings about a lantern, held high over her already considerably tall head, to emphasize her location. “Everyone else, the carriages are–over there!” Indeed, the carriages are lit rather warmly, as though they’ve been fitted with heating for the particularly blustery weather this Sorting day. “Come on, first years! We’ve got a lovely trip planned for you.” If being drowned from above while floating across an icy lake in the dark could possibly be considered fun.

Kara Raine hopes off the train, turning back to wave towards Rhyne. “Good luck! See you at the feast.” Glancing around, the second year tries to stay up with her fellow Ravenclaws, trying to see where they need to go next. No boat for her this year.

Alden Wexler hardly seems to notice the rain as Keelan calls out for the first years — quite despite the fact that in a little under a few moments, the poor boy in new school robes is throughly soaked, head to foot. Without a word, he does as instructed, following Keelan along the way. Ugh, rain. Olivia sighs and pulls her hood up carefully, tucking her hair back into the hood as best she can, though the water has not done nice things to it. “I’m glad we’re finally here,” she comments to Evan, making her way to the carriage and stepping into one several down.

Exiting the train, Evan pauses after a few steps to hear Keelan’s familiar voice and watch the first years begin to separate. He looks in particular for one first year boy; upon spotting the child confidently walking off toward Keelan with a few others, he hurries to follow Olivia into the carriage.

Riley Markham throws a somewhat cold look up at the Faculty table as he enters the Great Hall — wine red hair soaking wet despite his brief exposure to the rain. His expression is nothing short of rageful as it falls upon the Headmistress, before he flops down at the Ravenclaw table with a dark, dark hiss.

(Gryffindor) Being seemingly confused due to the events in the train compartment, Andy sits down at the Gryffindor table, keeping an eye on Orion. As Felicity comes in, he wishes he could be invisible or vanish in the ground. Still unsure how to handle the experience he looks down to the table, glancing up only from time to time, checking Orion and the Faculty table.

(Gryffindor) Forcing himself into something resembling a cheerful mood, Gabe glances up to the faculty table, too, as he seats himself at Gryffindor’s table. After he is unable to catch his mother’s eye (she seems busy talking to a child at the table, go figure), Gabriel shrugs, acting like he didn’t try to make eye contact in the first place. “These feasts are always the same, have you noticed?” he asks Briony with a perked brow. “Not that it’s a bad thing,” he adds, catching himself in what could be interpreted as a negative comment.

(Gryffindor) “Well, I suppose so,” Briony answer quickly, shrugging a bit. “I like watching people get sorted. And my brother’s going to be sorted, so I’ve got to pay attention. I do hope he’s in Gryffindor like me and mum and dad. I’ll be so disappointed if he isn’t.” She pauses. “Though, I’ll still like him no matter what house he’s in.” She sounds very rehearsed as she states this and then leans down with her chin in her palm. “I dunno if I’d like him to be in Slytherin, though. I don’t know many Slytherins that I like. I think they’re too mean.” Clearly, the girl hasn’t had many run-ins with Slytherins.

(Gryffindor) Felicity Wexler sinks down in to a seat next to Andy, looking preoccupied and tired. Her gaze lowers toward her empty plate, and almost idly, she reaches up and takes a curly lock of hair between her fingers before absently moving it toward her lips.

(Gryffindor) “Like my sister you mean?” Gabe asks with a grin. “If she’s a model Slytherin, I’m glad that we don’t have much to do with them,” he says. “If my mum would have had another kid, I bet it would have been in Ravenclaw. Then mum would have a full set,” muses Gabriel , idly scratching an eyebrow. “It’s strange how we all ended up in different houses I think,” he continues with, picking up a fork and standing it on its tines, though not letting go. “Don’t you think?” he asks Briony, looking down afterwards.

(Gryffindor) “I guess it kind of is,” she answers cheerfully. “But my dad was in Gryffindor, and then Uncle Logan was in Slytherin — dad still doesn’t like that; I think he wishes Uncle Logan had been Gryffindor, too — and then Uncle Jared was a Ravenclaw and Uncle Gilbert was Hufflepuff, and then Uncle Freddie was Gryffindor, too, and Auntie Eva was Ravenclaw. So I guess they have all the houses, too. Maybe it’s not that uncommon. I wonder if any families have only people who go to one house. That would be neat, don’t you think?” Briony giggles as she says this, thinking more about it. “Imagine, a whole family of Ravenclaws. I bet they’d all own libraries!”

(Gryffindor) “No, no,” Gabriel says, being caught up in his excitement of times past. “One, a sister, would own a library. The parents would own a dusty museum and the brother would be the manager of Flourish and Blotts,” he says, ticking the entities off on his fingers. “The youngest sister would be an editor for the romance novels of the oldest sister, and the oldest brother would be a guide on the tours of his parents’ museum,” he says, grinning as he pictures the family, all with inch-thick glasses and disheveled hair.

(Gryffindor) “My mum was in Slytherin,” Felicity says, quietly, turning her gaze toward Gabriel and Briony. Her tone is somewhat shy, almost as if she isn’t certain she should be joining thier conversation. But all told, she needs to talk, to get the image of the receeding train station out her mind. “Dad, too, I think. I’ve never asked him. Not sure about my sisters, either, though I’d bet Maura was in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.” Felicity didn’t have much oppertunity to speak to her family often, socially, considering how busy they all were.

(Gryffindor) Sensing the pathetic tone in Felicity’s voice, without really understanding what she, Briony and Gabriel were talking about, Andy is torn between staying quiet and involve in the conversation and maybe find out what was her cause of concern. He finally lifts his gaze and turns to his housemates. “Hey, I…ahm…unfortunately didn’t find you in the train.” he attempts with a tiny voice.

(Gryffindor) “You don’t even know what houses they were in? How could you not know?” Gabe asks Felicity, obviously surprised at learning these things. Just how someone could never have heard what houses their family members were in is completely lost on Gabriel. The boy shrugs as he lets the subject drop, sensing somewhat that Felicity is still a bit depressed about leaving that woman he saw her waving to.

(Gryffindor) Felicity Wexler cringes a little with subtle voracity of Gabriel’s question. Any other time, and she might have bristled, lashed back with a stressed few words of her own which, likely, would met and exceeded anything Gabe’s slightly exasperated question might have delivered with a hint of sack full of righteous anger. However, the simple fact that she has had a lingering, mild crush on Gabe ever since they were first years, combined with the nature of her current, delicate state, instead only lowers her voice and makes her retreat a little. “I.. mum and dad.. are just busy, I don’t see them.. much, and Maura and Ariena are so much older than me.. and they’re gone, living on their own.. and really, it’s just me and Grandmother Larsen.. and she’s a muggle..” Her voice sort of drifts away, accepting Gabe’s willingness to shrug and let it go, before turning to look to Andy. “What cabin were you in? Who did you sit with?”

Entering later than the other faculty, Astra wipes her hands nervously on her robes. Hurrying up to the table, she doesn’t greet anyone or even Arriving at the faculty table; she walks around behind it and takes her seat.

(Gryffindor) Andy shudders a bit at Felicity’s question, but answers right away. “Uhm…It was the…third, yes. And there was this Hufflepuff with me. Orion. I suppose you know him?” Andy tries to look into her eyes for the first time this evening. He can’t hide a hint of reproach in his glance.

(Gryffindor) Felicity Wexler blinks, twice, before looking at Andy wide-eyed. “You sat with Orion Kari?” A small, quiet hint of excitement fills her voice as she turns in her seat and reaches out to take both of Andy’s hands in both of her own. “What was he like? What happened? Did he say anything?”

(Gryffindor) Another world collapsing for Andy, every crumb of hope has just been blown away. Shutting his eyes for a split second, Andy gathers some power to be able to speak again. “He has been drawing, just sitting around, not talking much or let’s say hardly anything. Just not my type of person to be with, I think.” he replies, rolling his eyes a bit.

Keelan Walsh leads the firt years out of the Waiting Room, most of them still soaking wet, Keelan herself strangely dry as she removes a ridiculously large cloak. Up she goes toward the head of the room, darting a glance at the other faculty with a ‘And why do I have to do this?’ look on her face. Then there’s a brief smile as she disappears off to the side. Returning, she carries with her the age-old stool (although it’s sturdy) with an ages-older rumbled bit of hat. This is set down in front of the Faculty table and she steps aside, clasping her hands silently in front of herself.

Fern Featherstone follows after Keelan. Her upper teeth press gently against her thin lower lip as she attempts to control her nerves, while looking over the room from beneath the curtain of her sparse lashes. She then tilts her narrow chin and looks up toward the ceiling. A gasp is heard, but Fern stubbornly and with much pride tries to control her vocal and trembling reaction. When the hat begins to sing, she looks upon it with a nervous kind of suspicion. She then looks toward the other first years, waiting to see what how they respond before stepping into a line.

Alden Wexler widens his eyes at that last line — no matter how composed a young boy appears about the process of Sorting — the notion of possibly being bitten by a old, dirty hat raises a hint of alarm as regards the patched bit of leather on the stool from the end of the line of first years. Still, he remains quiet, hands clasped in front of him, regaining his composure with a small shake of his head that sends droplets raining in a meager arch around him.

Keelan Walsh unclasps her hands and produces from a pocket a thick role of parchment. Unfurling it a bit, she repeats the instructions, “When I call your name, step up and place the hat upon your head, please. Peering through her spectacles at the first name, her voice comes, a bit unsteady, truth be told. “Castle, Rhyne!”

“I’m going to be in Slytherin, I know it,” Satinka tells Seker in a quiet whisper as she crosses her arms. Her voice is stronger and more certain than the look on her face would have one believe, but the girl appears rather focussed on the old-looking hat that sits nearby and then glances to Keelan. “Oh, I wonder where he’ll be sorted,” she comments and watches with interest as the first name is called.

Rhyne Castle makes his way to the Sorting Hat and settles it firmly on his head, doing his best to project more confidence than he actually feels. He waits in silent anticipation for the hat’s verdict.

Rhyne Castle blinks, owlishly, as he removes the hat, looking just a little bit bewildered. Although the bemused expression doesn’t fade entirely, it is joined by something at least resembles pleasure, and he puts on a more-or-less convincing smile as he goes to join his new housemates.

Falling into line behind Satinka, Seker only nods and watches nervously as Rhyne is sorted. “I met him in Hogsmeade,” comments Seker after a moment, clapping as the boy is declared a Ravenclaw. “Well, it looks easy,” Seker notes, sighing.

Fern Featherstone shifts her slight weight from one narrow foot to another as she stands in the line. She watches as Rhyne is sorted, seemingly slightly less nervous now. Her thin lips curve into the ghost of a smile. She then glances between Satinka and Seeker, clearly listening to their words.

“It didn’t hurt him, it looks like. Looks kind of easy. All you have to do is wear it. I wonder what it does. Do you suppose it just randomly picks, or if it really does decide based on, well, how you are?” Satinka whispers back, watching for the next name to be called while Rhyne makes his way to Ravenclaw table.

Keelan Walsh calls out, “Cowper, Jason,” who takes approximately four seconds before the hat calls, “Gryffindor!” and then Keelan calls another Ravenclaw, then a Slytherin and “Featherstone, Fern!”

Alden Wexler applaudes politely as Rhyne Castle is sorted in to Ravenclaw, squinting a little as the newly sorted student removes the hat as if he might actually be able to see if the leathery bit of rag actually had teeth or not to carry out the threatened biting.

Fern Featherstone approaches the hat with tentative steps, suggesting that the slender girl is rather shy. Still she throws back her narrow shoulders and lifts her dainty chin, as if trying to display a bit of pride. She reaches for the hat, while frowning with distaste in response to its ragged appearance. She then places it upon her head, leaving her lank ragged dark locks to cascade against her shoulders. Her breath quivers in the hollow of her pale slender throat, as she awaits the sorting and her small form is tense, as she sits still, silent and statue like.

Keelan Walsh claps a bit awkwardly and briefly and then continues on with two Hufflepuffs, another Gryffindor, “Linwood, Patricia!” who goes to Gryffindor as well, a Ravenclaw followed by a Slytherin and two Gryffindors and then, with a smirk, Keelan announces, “Rathe, Satinka!”

“There’s no way it’s random, are you joking me?” Seker whispers in an incredulous tone to his sister. “Haven’t you heard of the families who all get into one house, no fail?” Seker questions, crossing his arms. “No, it’s got to read your mind or something,” he says with determination, though clapping idly. “We’ll be joining her in a few minutes, hopefully,” Seker says, watching the girl go to sit down. “Go!” Seker says suddenly.

Looking startled, Satinka lets out a gasp as her name is called, and glances back at her brother, walking to the stool with unusual caution. Hesitating a moment, she looks at the hat, and then picks it up, simultaneously plopping it on her head while sitting quickly onto the stool. She bites her lip and closes her eyes up tight, seeming to be in deep conversation, or else in deep pain while she wears the illustrious hat.

With very little pause, Keelan announces, “Rathe, Seker!” as if she really needed to emphasize that he was next in line.

Still taking deep breaths, Seker does smile as his sister is sorted, nodding in her direction. One down! Now the other Rathe needed to be placed rightfully as a son of Slytherin. Hearing his name called, Seker feels like choking and fainting (life is so hard), but instead nods and steps up to the hat, sitting down and putting it on.

“It isn’t random,” Alden assures them, finally, as Satinka’s name is called. Though he chooses not to elaborate on anything else he might have gleaned from his summer reading. He draws a deep breath the closer it gets to his name being called, idly wondering if it were better that his last name was poised at the end of the alphabet, or if it might have been more simple to be at the beginning and get it over with. Indeed, despite all appearances, he is nervous. Though largely, it’s more rooted in the fact that his mother is watching from the faculty table, and seemingly a half dozen relatives are all scattered in the audience, eagerly awaiting another Wexler in their house, and sure to give him guff should he fail to share it.

Stunned, it is a few seconds before Seker comprehends the word emitted from the hat. “What?” he asks, standing up and turning around to look at his mother, his face a mask of surprise and horror. He can’t bring himself to try and look at Satinka, not after she made it and he didn’t. What is this. What it this? Seker is in a stunned reverie as he stumbles to the Hufflepuff table, not thinking, yet, to look for Rafe or any of the other Hufflepuffs he’s acquainted with. It was probably a prank or something. Well, Seker would play along for now. “Hello!” Seker greets his ‘housemates’ with a put-on genial demeanor. “What are we having?” he asks, pointing to his empty plate with a perked brow.

Keelan Walsh chokes a bit on the next name, though Sheldon, Galen sorts to Slytherin all the same. Three Ravenclaws, a Gryffindor, and yet another Hufflepuff later, she calls, “Wexler, Alden!” who is second to last in the world of Sorting unless someone has been missing from the list or Keelan‘s recitation of names.

Alden Wexler swallow a breath, Alden steps forward, moving toward the stool and the old, patched hat with an even stride. He pauses briefly to glance up at the faculty table toward Sibyl, then to the Gryffindor table toward Briony and Felicity, before exhaling a long sigh and lifting up the Sorting Hat. With a grave expression, he climbs on to the stool and places the hat on his head.

(Gryffindor) Gasping, Briony‘s face falls ever so slightly as her brother is sorted into Hufflepuff. Brothers apparently are to go to different places than their sisters this year, and it is clear that Briony was hoping rather hard for him to come to Gryffindor. “He would have made such a dandy Gryffindor,” she comments. “It’s sad, now he’s a Hufflepuff.”

His eyes somewhat wide, caught a little off guard by the insight of the hat, Alden quietly removes the cap after it’s shout and slides off the old, solid stool. “Thank you,” he says, politely, to the ragged bit of leather, before turning toward the cheering table to take his seat. He was certain he could feel Briony gaping at him from behind.

Keelan Walsh calls out, “Wexler, Kyler!” who takes a seat and sits there for so long Keelan is actually startled to hear, “Slytherin!” call forth from the hat. With one last look over the assembled students, she rolls up the parchment, claps briefly, and takes the stool and hat away. When she returns, it is to her seat at the faculty table, where she relaxes, duties done.

Melvina Prichard rises from the faculty table purposefully once the ritual of Sorting has concluded, lifting her nimble, long-fingered hands in a suggestive way as she beckons the student audience for silence. “Excuse me, quiet please — yes, that includes you, Mister Alcot.” Her voice is thick and strong, but laced with an ever-present hint of amusement. An almost coy half-grin touches her lips, looks over the heart of her school.

“Greetings, everyone,” Melvina calls, her voice dancing across the Great Hall at a comfortable volume. “Welcome to your school year nineteen hundred and twenty seven! I trust that all of you enjoyed your summer vacations! As I’m sure most you of you are now aware, my name is Melvina Prichard and I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts school. Last year, all of you helped give this blustering, frugal old woman a home and a purpose. This year, I hope to reward and repay each of you for that wonderful gift. Now, pressing on, I’ve some beginning of term announcements to make.” Clearing her throat, the Headmistress pulls a pair of spectacles from her emerald robe pocket and resting them on the bridge of her nose, before gathering up a tightly-bound scroll sitting next to her empty plate.

“All the usual suspects, 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, Whimple’s Pimple Powder..” Demonstratively, she allows the end of the scroll to slip from her fingers, clatter to the table, spill over the edge, and roll across the floor Great Hall until it exhausts itself somewhere near the door of the waiting room across the entrance hall. A somewhat playful glint sparkling in her eyes, Melvina sets her end of the very long list down and vanishes it with a flick of a wand which she withdraws from the sleeve of her robes. “As you can see, the list goes on. Be sure to check it.”

After a small bubble of laughter, Melvina takes up a blessedly smaller sheet of parchment. “Hogwarts tradition demands that I remind you the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds for all students. As seems to happen every year since antiquity, some of you will most certainly forget that pesky little rule. It just slips out, squeezed away from the building pressure of knowledge our fine professor work so hard to fill your head with over the year.” 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 beside you, and that such acts will usually will result in a substantial loss of house points as well.” With a small, meaningful glance around and a pause to clear her throat and savor a sip of pumpkin juice, 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, Andrew Larson and Margaret Cresterton. Mister Larson and Miss Cresterton, please stand.” She applauds once the two have risen, leading those who care to join her in a modest round of congratulations, before continuing on.

“Well done, Head Boy, Head Girl,” the Headmistress says, sincerely. “On to faculty. There are many exciting changes in Hogwarts staff this year, so to begin I hope you all with help me in welcoming Professor Phoebe Helit whom will be heading up our Muggle Studies department, and Professor Addison Williamson whom will helm our History of Magic class.” Melvina holds for a pleasant-enough round of applause before plowing on. “Also, though she has been with us a great while, I hope you’ll all help congratulate and welcome Professor Rathe in to her new role as Deputy Headmistress. Naturally, she’ll continue to provide you all with excellent lessons in your Defense Against the Dark Arts courses as well.” Another pause for applause, and quietly surprised murmurs — it was hardly a secret that last year Professor Rathe could hardly stand Professor Prichard. Now she was Deputy Headmistress? “Sadly, I must inform you that Professors Calwern and Ashcroft have chosen to step down. Professor Fallon will properly replace Professor Calwern as Gryffindor head of house.”

Following a deep, relieved breath and Melvina finally sets down the parchment and removes her glasses. “That said, I have only one more announcement to mention before we start in on the delicious feast I know you’re all patiently waiting to savor. This is my second year as Headmistress of Hogwarts school — last year was a daring step on to the path of the uncertainty for all of us. A maiden voyage, where bold choices were made, some rising to shimmering brilliance, others not so much. But in this second year, the fright of the unknown fades as well all walk in a comfortable security. Each sure we know, or at suspect, of what to expect It is in this peaceful repetition that we as a family forge traditions. Thus, I announce to you all our first of many traditions, the second annual Barefoot Social.” A sly, almost devillish grin dances over the lips of the Headmistress. “A celebration of the new term, greeting those whom are just joining us, and welcoming home those of us returning for another year. This dance will semi-formal, open to all years, and include an… outdoor feast.” The too-clever look on her face almost seems to gloat, briefly, as she looks out at her young crowd. Obviously, she is terribly proud of herself. “As this is the mother of tradition, we shall follow the precident set by last year’s grandmother event — the ladies will need ask the gentlemen for the honor of an afternoon’s courtship.” She waits, eagerly, for the reaction to that before at last finishing up. “I will be resuming the Student Events Committee, made up of students from all years to help me prepare for the Barefoot Social, Governor’s Ball, and a handful of other special events I have planned through out the school year; 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. Let’s eat.” And with small nod and a sly, lingering grin, she slips casually back in to her seat.

As the firsties to be arrive with the Professor, Astra hovers near two other children. Smiling at them both, she doesn’t hug them in front of the others but she does lift a hand to her mouth to stifle something from escaping her lips. When she’s gathered herself together, she clears her throat. “I’ll see you both shortly. Remember what I’ve said. Behave for Professor Walsh and mind your manners.” Then more softly, “I’m proud of both of you.” Barely smiling, she nods to Keelan and only passes one curious and sweeping glance over the new group of firsties. “I’ll be on my way then.” Turning on her heel, she leaves the room the way the unsorted children entered.

Keelan Walsh nods to Astra as the woman leaves her twins–whom Keelan gives a brief smile–, and directs the rest of the first years with, “That was Professor Rathe, Head of Slytherin House and your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Don’t be mistaken by her size,” given that Astra is, well, short, “She’s a very formiddable teacher, and you’re all lucky to be learning from her. One of the best, I’d say.” Of course, Keelan has no small amount of bias in the matter, since Astra was her first ever Quidditch Captain. Right. “So! This is Hogwarts. I’ll take you in a moment into the Great Hall and you’ll be Sorted. Remember, first impressions are vital so please don’t stand there drooling on yourselfs. Do take a moment to view the cieling, take a gander around, you only get one first glance and all too soon it will just be another room. Anyway, I’ll call your names and when I do step up and you’ll undergo the… trial.” A smirk,” that will determine your House.” She’s unkind. Besides, so many of them have older siblings who probably blabbed about the Hat anyway. She pauses, gives them a moment to let it sink in.

Though calmed by his mother’s departing words, Seker is still quite nervous despite his circumstances. Seker has lived at the castle for two years! Seker knows all the faculty! Really, all that Seker is concerned with is making Slytherin in the ceremony to come. Although his mother says she will be proud of both him and Satinka either way, Seker has always wanted Slytherin anyways. As he looks up to Keelan with a skeptical expression, Seker takes a deep breath and tries not to look at Satinka– she’d be able to see the apprehension in his eyes instantly.

Eying the group that walks in carefully, Satinka turns her attention to Keelan, almost seeming to defer to the woman already, though she does so with a certain familiarity. “Of course she’s good. She’s our mum,” Satinka respons quietly and grins. Though the girl has been confident in waiting so far, as she sees the others and their varying amounts of nervousness, Satinka herself cannot help but feel a little anxious as she looks at the door before her biting her lip carefully, but being careful not to look at Seker. Can’t be letting her brother think she’s nervous, after all!

Fern Featherstone tilts her narrow chin and looks up toward Keelan as she starts to speak. She seems concerned as the woman speaks of the trial, but then Fern has had not heard any stories of Hogwarts being from a muggle family. She tries to conceal her nervous concern, as she lifts her chin and draws back her shoulders. She then looks toward Satinka and Seker, studying them thoughtfully with her dark plum colored eyes, before quickly looking away.

Alden Wexler stands patiently near Keelan, waiting. Having already read deep in to ‘Hogwarts, A History’, and having heard about it from both Briony and Felicity, the ‘trial’ hardly frightens him. In fact, he may be the least nervous out of all of the children standing there, hands clasped before him, looking foward with a quiet expression.

Rhyne Castle takes in the room silently, eyes lighting briefly on Seker as he recognizes the boy from a chance meeting earlier in the year. He offers the boy a lop-sided smirk before turning his attentions back to Professor Walsh and the.. “trial” ahead.

Keelan Walsh leads the firt years out of the Waiting Room, most of them still soaking wet, Keelan herself strangely dry as she removes a ridiculously large cloak. Up she goes toward the head of the room, darting a glance at the other faculty with a ‘And why do I have to do this?’ look on her face. Then there’s a brief smile as she disappears off to the side. Returning, she carries with her the age-old stool (although it’s sturdy) with an ages-older rumbled bit of hat. This is set down in front of the Faculty table and she steps aside, clasping her hands silently in front of herself.

Fern Featherstone follows after Keelan. Her upper teeth press gently against her thin lower lip as she attempts to control her nerves, while looking over the room from beneath the curtain of her sparse lashes. She then tilts her narrow chin and looks up toward the ceiling. A gasp is heard, but Fern stubbornly and with much pride tries to control her vocal and trembling reaction. When the hat begins to sing, she looks upon it with a nervous kind of suspicion. She then looks toward the other first years, waiting to see what how they respond before stepping into a line.

Alden Wexler widens his eyes at that last line — no matter how composed a young boy appears about the process of Sorting — the notion of possibly being bitten by a old, dirty hat raises a hint of alarm as regards the patched bit of leather on the stool from the end of the line of first years. Still, he remains quiet, hands clasped in front of him, regaining his composure with a small shake of his head that sends droplets raining in a meager arch around him.

Keelan Walsh unclasps her hands and produces from a pocket a thick role of parchment. Unfurling it a bit, she repeats the instructions, “When I call your name, step up and place the hat upon your head, please. Peering through her spectacles at the first name, her voice comes, a bit unsteady, truth be told. “Castle, Rhyne!”

“I’m going to be in Slytherin, I know it,” Satinka tells Seker in a quiet whisper as she crosses her arms. Her voice is stronger and more certain than the look on her face would have one believe, but the girl appears rather focussed on the old-looking hat that sits nearby and then glances to Keelan. “Oh, I wonder where he’ll be sorted,” she comments and watches with interest as the first name is called.

Rhyne Castle makes his way to the Sorting Hat and settles it firmly on his head, doing his best to project more confidence than he actually feels. He waits in silent anticipation for the hat’s verdict.

Rhyne Castle blinks, owlishly, as he removes the hat, looking just a little bit bewildered. Although the bemused expression doesn’t fade entirely, it is joined by something at least resembles pleasure, and he puts on a more-or-less convincing smile as he goes to join his new housemates.

Falling into line behind Satinka, Seker only nods and watches nervously as Rhyne is sorted. “I met him in Hogsmeade,” comments Seker after a moment, clapping as the boy is declared a Ravenclaw. “Well, it looks easy,” Seker notes, sighing.

Fern Featherstone shifts her slight weight from one narrow foot to another as she stands in the line. She watches as Rhyne is sorted, seemingly slightly less nervous now. Her thin lips curve into the ghost of a smile. She then glances between Satinka and Seeker, clearly listening to their words.

“It didn’t hurt him, it looks like. Looks kind of easy. All you have to do is wear it. I wonder what it does. Do you suppose it just randomly picks, or if it really does decide based on, well, how you are?” Satinka whispers back, watching for the next name to be called while Rhyne makes his way to Ravenclaw table.

Keelan Walsh calls out, “Cowper, Jason,” who takes approximately four seconds before the hat calls, “Gryffindor!” and then Keelan calls another Ravenclaw, then a Slytherin and “Featherstone, Fern!”

Alden Wexler applaudes politely as Rhyne Castle is sorted in to Ravenclaw, squinting a little as the newly sorted student removes the hat as if he might actually be able to see if the leathery bit of rag actually had teeth or not to carry out the threatened biting.

Fern Featherstone approaches the hat with tentative steps, suggesting that the slender girl is rather shy. Still she throws back her narrow shoulders and lifts her dainty chin, as if trying to display a bit of pride. She reaches for the hat, while frowning with distaste in response to its ragged appearance. She then places it upon her head, leaving her lank ragged dark locks to cascade against her shoulders. Her breath quivers in the hollow of her pale slender throat, as she awaits the sorting and her small form is tense, as she sits still, silent and statue like.

Keelan Walsh claps a bit awkwardly and briefly and then continues on with two Hufflepuffs, another Gryffindor, “Linwood, Patricia!” who goes to Gryffindor as well, a Ravenclaw followed by a Slytherin and two Gryffindors and then, with a smirk, Keelan announces, “Rathe, Satinka!”

“There’s no way it’s random, are you joking me?” Seker whispers in an incredulous tone to his sister. “Haven’t you heard of the families who all get into one house, no fail?” Seker questions, crossing his arms. “No, it’s got to read your mind or something,” he says with determination, though clapping idly. “We’ll be joining her in a few minutes, hopefully,” Seker says, watching the girl go to sit down. “Go!” Seker says suddenly.

Looking startled, Satinka lets out a gasp as her name is called, and glances back at her brother, walking to the stool with unusual caution. Hesitating a moment, she looks at the hat, and then picks it up, simultaneously plopping it on her head while sitting quickly onto the stool. She bites her lip and closes her eyes up tight, seeming to be in deep conversation, or else in deep pain while she wears the illustrious hat.

As you place the hat on your head, it snuggles down around your ears. A presence pokes at your brain, stealing through your memories before a dry and dusty voice whispers at the corners of your consciousness. ) ‘Now what have we here.’ ‘Hmm’ ‘Oh my, we are just rattling off old families this year, aren’t we? A Rathe? Now there’s a name I haven’t seen in eighteen years. I didn’t think I’d see any more of you. Well now, let’s get on with this shall we?’ ‘Yes, yes, I see how you are. Quite the certain little thing aren’t you? Bold and fearless, you could mark yourself as a leader in the Gryffindor like Cedric. Would you like that?’ ‘Oh, but there is more to you than that isn’t there?’ ‘Hmm. You do have ambitions and goals, you don’t like to be swayed from where you’re going and you’ll do whatever is in your power to excel. Yet, you don’t have the thirst of a Ravenclaw for knowledge or the hard-working tendencies of the Hufflepuff. That could only mean one other house.’ ‘What do you say on this?’

Satinka thinks, in response to the hat.oO Oh, that’s so peculiar. I don’t like that. Will you stop? I want to be in Slytherin. Not Gryffindor, if you please. Slytherin’s the only house worth being in.

‘Ah there it is – the legendary Rathe arrogance. You are just like the rest of them after all. Not Gryffindor then? Shame really, they could benefit from one such as you, but I do realize you wouldn’t be the best fit. Slytherin you say? Are you quite positive? They aren’t everything you might think they are. Best be careful what you wish for, sometimes you just might get it in ways you don’t expect. Off with you then and join your new family in…’

With very little pause, Keelan announces, “Rathe, Seker!” as if she really needed to emphasize that he was next in line.

(Slytherin) Beaming happily as she is granted her wish, Satinka hops up from the stool, grinning almost smugly as she puts the hat back down and skips over to Slytherin table, plopping into an open seat cheerfully without much more than a glance to her brother.

Still taking deep breaths, Seker does smile as his sister is sorted, nodding in her direction. One down! Now the other Rathe needed to be placed rightfully as a son of Slytherin. Hearing his name called, Seker feels like choking and fainting (life is so hard), but instead nods and steps up to the hat, sitting down and putting it on.

(Slytherin) Evan Geroff also gives a quick nod of greeting, along with a smile, in welcome to Fern and the other various first years that show up at their table. He keeps his eyes on Satinka while nodding his agreement to Louis however, then chuckles. “Well, there you go.” “Welcome, Satinka!” is called over across the table.

“It isn’t random,” Alden assures them, finally, as Satinka’s name is called. Though he chooses not to elaborate on anything else he might have gleaned from his summer reading. He draws a deep breath the closer it gets to his name being called, idly wondering if it were better that his last name was poised at the end of the alphabet, or if it might have been more simple to be at the beginning and get it over with. Indeed, despite all appearances, he is nervous. Though largely, it’s more rooted in the fact that his mother is watching from the faculty table, and seemingly a half dozen relatives are all scattered in the audience, eagerly awaiting another Wexler in their house, and sure to give him guff should he fail to share it.

(Slytherin) “Bravo Satinka! I knew you’d make it into the best house.” Cheers Louis as he claps loudly now turning his attention to her brother now awaitng the announcment.

(Slytherin) “I told you so!” Satinka tells the familiar boy as she looks around at those with whom she will share her house and colors for the next seven years, give or take. “I knew I would be Slytherin all along. The house said I should be in Gryffindor, but I gave him what-for. Who wants to be a stinking Gryffindor, anyway?”

Stunned, it is a few seconds before Seker comprehends the word emitted from the hat. “What?” he asks, standing up and turning around to look at his mother, his face a mask of surprise and horror. He can’t bring himself to try and look at Satinka, not after she made it and he didn’t. What is this. What it this?? Seker is in a stunned reverie as he stumbles to the Hufflepuff table, not thinking, yet, to look for Rafe or any of the other Hufflepuffs he’s acquainted with. It was probably a prank or something. Well, Seker would play along for now. “Hello!” Seker greets his ‘housemates’ with a put-on genial demeanor. “What are we having?” he asks, pointing to his empty plate with a perked brow.

(Slytherin) “Hufflepuff?!” Shouts Louis in surprise. “Well… I guess that’s not so bad. Hufflepuff is the second best house you know.” He says to Fern and Satinka clapping for Seker. His smile doesn’t fade as he looks over at the Hufflepuff table presumably at Alexandra.

(Slytherin) Fern joins the Slytherin table and she smiles shyly toward Louis and Evan. She then glances toward Satinka, looking her over thoughtfully and then curving her thin pink lips into another smile. She then giggles as Louis speaks to her. “No, I didn’t know that. I only heard that Ravenclaws are arrogant.”

(Slytherin) Gaping, Satinka gasps loudly as her brother is sorted into Hufflepuff. “No!” she calls rather loudly and then claps a hand over her mouth. “How on earth — the hat must be daffy to put him there!” Satinka is obviously flustered and shocked at this and she can’t believe it. Though, Louis’s shock does settle her a little bit. “Oh, no, how could he? He obviously didn’t tell the hat what he wanted like he should have. Oh, I should have told him to be firm with that hat. After all, it’s just a hat.”

Keelan Walsh chokes a bit on the next name, though Sheldon, Galen sorts to Slytherin all the same. Three Ravenclaws, a Gryffindor, and yet another Hufflepuff later, she calls, “Wexler, Alden!” who is second to last in the world of Sorting unless someone has been missing from the list or Keelan‘s recitation of names.

(Slytherin) Fern looks toward Satinka and she giggles in response to her words. “Maybe he wanted to go there. I mean maybe he didn’t want to always hang about with his sister or something.”

(Slytherin) “Looks like you’re a better arguer than he is, then,” Evan notes, after a pause, as Seker gets Hufflepuff. Though he’d rather though they might both end up together. A small chuckle to Louis accompanies his next words, “There are some fine people in Hufflepuff. He’ll be fine..” Of course, his attention is captured by Galen’s sorting, as he gives a cheerful wave of welcome to the boy as he walks over.

Alden Wexler swallow a breath, Alden steps forward, moving toward the stool and the old, patched hat with an even stride. He pauses briefly to glance up at the faculty table toward Sibyl, then to the Gryffindor table toward Briony and Felicity, before exhaling a long sigh and lifting up the Sorting Hat. With a grave expression, he climbs on to the stool and places the hat on his head.

(Slytherin) “Well, that’s got to be a load of nonsense. Hasn’t he been talking about being in Slytherin ever since we got here? The hat must have sorted him wrong. I’m going to see if I can get it overturned. Bollocks.” Satinka looks decidedly bristled and she shoots a glare in Fern’s direction, though it comes out as more of a pout than a glare. “Just so wrong, so wrong.” “Supposed to be Slytherin.” “Rathe family way.” “Some brother.” Clearly her shock has now morphed.

(Slytherin) A grin comes over Louis‘ face. “No the Hat will always put you where you ask it to go I think. It told me I belonged in Hufflepuff.” He chuckles a little and moves his hair from his eyes. “But I told it Slytherin and here I am.”

(Slytherin) “Always? I’m sure there are some people that simply belong in a different house, whatever they say..” Evan trails off, giving Satinka another glance. “Try it if you like. Galen here managed to join his sisters’ house.” Galen, however, seems reluctant to say anything to that and chance the other first year’s wrath.

(Slytherin) Fern looks toward Satinka and sticks out her small pink tongue in response to her words. She then looks toward Louis and giggles. “See, he said he wanted to be in a different house and you were sorted first, so…”

His eyes somewhat wide, caught a little off guard by the insight of the hat, Alden quietly removes the cap after it’s shout and slides off the old, solid stool. “Thank you,” he says, politely, to the ragged bit of leather, before turning toward the cheering table to take his seat. He was certain he could feel Briony gaping at him from behind.

Keelan Walsh calls out, “Wexler, Kyler!” who takes a seat and sits there for so long Keelan is actually startled to hear, “Slytherin!” call forth from the hat. With one last look over the assembled students, she rolls up the parchment, claps briefly, and takes the stool and hat away. When she returns, it is to her seat at the faculty table, where she relaxes, duties done.

Melvina Prichard rises from the faculty table purposefully once the ritual of Sorting has concluded, lifting her nimble, long-fingered hands in a suggestive way as she beckons the student audience for silence. “Excuse me, quiet please — yes, that includes you, Mister Alcot.” Her voice is thick and strong, but laced with an ever-present hint of amusement. An almost coy half-grin touches her lips, looks over the heart of her school.

“Greetings, everyone,” Melvina calls, her voice dancing across the Great Hall at a comfortable volume. “Welcome to your school year nineteen hundred and twenty seven! I trust that all of you enjoyed your summer vacations! As I’m sure most you of you are now aware, my name is Melvina Prichard and I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts school. Last year, all of you helped give this blustering, frugal old woman a home and a purpose. This year, I hope to reward and repay each of you for that wonderful gift. Now, pressing on, I’ve some beginning of term announcements to make.” Clearing her throat, the Headmistress pulls a pair of spectacles from her emerald robe pocket and resting them on the bridge of her nose, before gathering up a tightly-bound scroll sitting next to her empty plate.

(Slytherin) “Well … as far as I know always.” Louis looks over to Evan and shrugs, he quickly becomes quiet to focus his attention on the Head Mistress signaling for a few Slytherin Second and First years to be quiet.

(Slytherin) Fern falls silent upon noticing Louis’ signal and now she looks toward Melvina.

“All the usual suspects, 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, Whimple’s Pimple Powder..” Demonstratively, she allows the end of the scroll to slip from her fingers, clatter to the table, spill over the edge, and roll across the floor Great Hall until it exhausts itself somewhere near the door of the waiting room across the entrance hall. A somewhat playful glint sparkling in her eyes, Melvina sets her end of the very long list down and vanishes it with a flick of a wand which she withdraws from the sleeve of her robes. “As you can see, the list goes on. Be sure to check it.”

After a small bubble of laughter, Melvina takes up a blessedly smaller sheet of parchment. “Hogwarts tradition demands that I remind you the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds for all students. As seems to happen every year since antiquity, some of you will most certainly forget that pesky little rule. It just slips out, squeezed away from the building pressure of knowledge our fine professor work so hard to fill your head with over the year.” 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 beside you, and that such acts will usually will result in a substantial loss of house points as well.” With a small, meaningful glance around and a pause to clear her throat and savor a sip of pumpkin juice, 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, Andrew Larson and Margaret Cresterton. Mister Larson and Miss Cresterton, please stand.” She applauds once the two have risen, leading those who care to join her in a modest round of congratulations, before continuing on.

“Well done, Head Boy, Head Girl,” the Headmistress says, sincerely. “On to faculty. There are many exciting changes in Hogwarts staff this year, so to begin I hope you all with help me in welcoming Professor Phoebe Helit whom will be heading up our Muggle Studies department, and Professor Addison Williamson whom will helm our History of Magic class.” Melvina holds for a pleasant-enough round of applause before plowing on. “Also, though she has been with us a great while, I hope you’ll all help congratulate and welcome Professor Rathe in to her new role as Deputy Headmistress. Naturally, she’ll continue to provide you all with excellent lessons in your Defense Against the Dark Arts courses as well.” Another pause for applause, and quietly surprised murmurs — it was hardly a secret that last year Professor Rathe could hardly stand Professor Prichard. Now she was Deputy Headmistress? “Sadly, I must inform you that Professors Calwern and Ashcroft have chosen to step down. Professor Fallon will properly replace Professor Calwern as Gryffindor head of house.”

Following a deep, relieved breath and Melvina finally sets down the parchment and removes her glasses. “That said, I have only one more announcement to mention before we start in on the delicious feast I know you’re all patiently waiting to savor. This is my second year as Headmistress of Hogwarts school — last year was a daring step on to the path of the uncertainty for all of us. A maiden voyage, where bold choices were made, some rising to shimmering brilliance, others not so much. But in this second year, the fright of the unknown fades as well all walk in a comfortable security. Each sure we know, or at suspect, of what to expect It is in this peaceful repetition that we as a family forge traditions. Thus, I announce to you all our first of many traditions, the second annual Barefoot Social.” A sly, almost devillish grin dances over the lips of the Headmistress. “A celebration of the new term, greeting those whom are just joining us, and welcoming home those of us returning for another year. This dance will semi-formal, open to all years, and include an… outdoor feast.” The too-clever look on her face almost seems to gloat, briefly, as she looks out at her young crowd. Obviously, she is terribly proud of herself. “As this is the mother of tradition, we shall follow the precident set by last year’s grandmother event — the ladies will need ask the gentlemen for the honor of an afternoon’s courtship.” She waits, eagerly, for the reaction to that before at last finishing up. “I will be resuming the Student Events Committee, made up of students from all years to help me prepare for the Barefoot Social, Governor’s Ball, and a handful of other special events I have planned through out the school year; 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. Let’s eat.” And with small nod and a sly, lingering grin, she slips casually back in to her seat.

(Slytherin) When the Head Mistress sits and the food appears Louis sighs a breath of relief “Finally, I though she’d never stop talking.” Either a sign of disrespect for the Head Mistress or a sign of absolute hunger Louis begins spooning up potatoes and grabbing large pieces of chicken. Divvying them up on his plate.

(Slytherin) Looking quite gleeful as the headmistress stops talking, Satinka sighs happily. “I’m starved,” she comments, more for effect than anything else. After all, she’d had a late lunch in preparation. She’d heard the stories and seen the looks on everyone’s faces. Nevertheless, she starts to pull some things onto her plate, some sweet potatoes, some chicken, a bit of ham, and various other fruits and things, looking quite calm and not the least bit surprised at the spread.

(Slytherin) Fern listens carefully to the Head Mistress’ words, but when Louis speaks she looks in his direction. “Yeah, she talked a whole bunch. I couldn’t pay attention to it all. I hope I didn’t miss anything important.” She says and then reaches for a drumstick. As Satinka reaches for some fruit, Fern copies her, taking some of the same sweet food.

(Slytherin) Listening quietly to the long list of announcements, Professor Rathe’s appointment as Deputy Headmistress earns a bit of applause. The next announcement to draw any notable reaction from Evan comes at the end; this year, instead of surprise, the announcement of the ball is accompanied by a glance and smile toward the Hufflepuff table. As the food appears, though, he brings himself to look back at his own table. “You’re in a hurry. Roll?” he offers, holding a dish to Louis and then others around him.

(Slytherin) “Oh nothing too important, Just don’t go into the woods and watch out for the Reeks.” The last part is obviously a joke that Louis directs to Fern. He turns to look at Evan, “So Evan… coming to tryouts? I erm… I probably forgot to mention that I was made captain this year.” It came out very awkward, and why wouldn’t it? Louis had been made captain over Evan who is older. Bound to make any meal awkward.

(Slytherin) Fern looks toward Louis and blinks in response to his words. “What is a reek?” She questions softly. Seh then pauses and takes a bite of her chicken.

(Slytherin) “Did you hear that?” Satinka comments cheerfully, butting into whatever conversations might be being held. “MY mum is Deputy Headmistress. MY mum us.” Satinka seems puffed up with pride and she pauses only a moment with a wide grin before looking to her plate. “I want to join the team,” she informs Louis frankly. “I think I’d be a brilliant seeker, though perhaps I could play chaser as well. Mum won’t get me a broom, though, so I’ll have to use a school broom for it.” She grins as she says this and begins eating some more of what’s on her plate.

(Slytherin) “Mister Harper,” Tahiri says, finally, her voice lifting from the silence as she looks up from her plate to Louis. A statuesque beauty, chisled from olive-hued marble. “Do you expect that Miss Leong will ask you to the Social?”

(Slytherin) Evan Geroff shakes his head at Louis, a slight smile given in appreciation of his joke, and the boy says nothing to correct it right away. He begins to nod in response to Louis’ question, but stops as he hears what else Louis has to say, and his smile falters. “She’ll be great,” Evan pointedly comments to Satinka about her mother, only after – when he’s had all of those few seconds to think about it – turning back to Louis. “No, I.. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it,” he says stiffly, carefully taking a bite from his plate without bothering to look at what he’s got.

(Slytherin) Fern looks toward Satinka as she speaks. “Um, I don’t know about riding on brooms, sounds kind of..” She then trails off leaving something unsaid.

(Slytherin) “Well you’ll learn about Reeks in your second year Fern till then just watch out for them.” Louis chuckles a bit more at his further joke between bites, no he doesn’t intend to tell her what a Reek is. He nods to Satinka “Oh well you should try out next year when you are allowed to have a broo….” He pauses and turns to Tahiri “Maybe she will… maybe… um…” And then Evan speaks up giving him an excuse to talk about something else. “What? Why not? Don’t you want to take the cup back from Ravenclaw?” Louis looks absolutely shocked at Evan’s announcement.

(Slytherin) “Oh, it’s ever so exciting!” The girl tells the other first year. “You go so fast, and it’s perfectly safe.” This is perhaps an exaggeration. “Anyway, I wouldn’t be afraid of the forest. I’ve heard it’s just a bunch of nonsense that the teachers drum up to keep students from playing in there. There are unicorns in there, after all! What’s so bad about a unicorn? It’s only really bad, then, if you get caught doing it. And, of course, if you’re smart, you just won’t bother getting caught.” The girl says this like it’s the simplest thing in the world to avoid being caught. “No, not next year. I’m going to be on the team this year. I’m sure I can get some help with one of the school brooms in the meantime. Or maybe mum would buy me a broom then, if I make the team. I’ll show you what I’ve got at tryouts, after all.” Satinka grins as she says this and polishes off her pumpkin juice completely before working on a bit of chicken.

(Slytherin) “That had indeed been my plan,” Evan notes to Louis, voice still stiff, sounding rather.. extremely controlled. “But clearly I’m not needed.” Satinka gives him a bit of needed relief, as he motions to her, “Let her be chaser; I’m sure she’ll make a fit replacement.”

(Slytherin) “If it does, do you imagine it will effect your performance on the pitch? The offer I made last you stands.” Tahiri murmurs, flatly. Her tone simple and precise. Of course, refering to the time that she assured Louis that if he couldn’t floor Leong with a bludger, that she would.

(Slytherin) Fern looks toward Louis, seemingly overwhelmed by curiousity over what a Reek is. “Um, okay.” She murmers in response to his words. She then reaches for a roll and takes a quick bite of such.

(Slytherin) Completely dumbstruck by Satinka telling him to put her on the team and Evan’s apparent disapproval of his being made captain Louis sits quietly staring between the two. “Im sorry Satinka, first years aren’t allowed to play. Those are just the rules.” He tries to phrase it as gently as possible and then turns to Evan with a bit of an insulted look on his face. “Well I do need you, what are you on about anyway? Don’t like that I was made captain and not you Mister Prefect?” It was said much sharper than it needed to be that’s for sure. He looks at Tahiri for a moment and has no idea what to say other than “No, don’t kill Leong with a bludger… she’s my friend.”

(Slytherin) Evan Geroff bristles at Louis’ sharper tone, sitting up, if possible, straighter than he already was, and completely disregarding his food. “I’d speak to me with more respect if I were you.” “If a fourth year was made captain, clearly the skills of anyone older are completely worthless. So no, Mister Harper, you obviously don’t need me. I’m sure Miss Rathe would be preferable to my apparently worthless talent.”

(Slytherin) Tahiri Sol lofts a brow, looking to Evan with a curious look, though she says nothing.

(Slytherin) Fern looks toward Evan, seemingly concerned and she gasps softly.

(Slytherin) “Oh, come now, you guys should just get over it. You don’t see me fussing over the sorting hat being wrong about my brother’s house, after all. Anyway, that’s not true. You can be on the team as a first year, you just can’t have a broom. I’m good enough, you’ll see.” She grins broadly and watches as Evan and Louis continue to interact. Clearly one or the other or both are rather upset by something, though Satinka can’t see any reason why this would be. It’s a feast! A happy day! Ah, to be eleven.

(Slytherin) Disregarding his food as well… albeit with a disappointed look on his face (Louis really wanted that food you know) Louis shakes his head. “So that’s it then? Two years playing together and your just going to quit over something trivial? You don’t see Miss Sol handing in her beater’s bat do you?” He asks the Prefect aware that his tone is still slightly sharp. Louis looks to Tahiri pleadingly now half expecting her to literally hand in her bat. Louis turns again to Satinka and he looks all ready to get a bit mean with her before remembering that she is A, a first year and B, Astra’s own daughter. “Fine fine…. show up for tryouts if you can get a broom lent to you. Just know that it’s very unlikely… unless you show a great deal of maturity.” He turns to Evan though still speaking to Satinka “Unlike certain others.”

(Slytherin) Fern takes another bite of her chicken. She then looks toward Satinka with a thoughtful expression. “Um, can I watch you try out?” She questions. Next Fern looks toward Louis, seemingly rather confused.

(Slytherin) “I haven’t it with me,” Tahiri reassure Louis in a placid voice as he looks almost pleadingly at her. Not exactly the greatest words of confidence ever, though obviously Tahiri finds them satisfactory, as she turns back to her plate. The further arguement losing her interest.

(Slytherin) “Watch it, Louis.” Evan‘s voice has, for this warning, taken on an equally sharper tone. “Before I give you detention for that disrespect.” Though still upset, the warning level of his tone now fades again somewhat, to his stiffly-matter-of-fact previous manner of speaking. “It’s hardly trivial. You know Captainship goes to whoever would be best, and also oldest, as a large part of that is experience. If I have been passed up, that means that both Martin and Professor Rathe believe I am useless to the team. It has nothing to do with you nor do I have anything against you.” Nothing. Even as he nearly spits the word ‘you.’

(Slytherin) Turning bright red in the face at Tahiri’s usual unreadable attitude and Evan’s spitefull sound denouncement of spite Louis bites his lower lip. “I have no idea why you were skipped over Ev…” But Louis pauses and instead says “Mister Prefect. But not to worry, I’ll find you a replacement and we will win the Quidditch cup this year and it’ll be no thanks to you.” Okay that was pretty much the idea had in mind Louis. With that he pushes both his food and drink away and crosses his arms over his chest well put off.

(Slytherin) Evan Geroff gives a brief nod. “See that you do. I still intend to take both cups this year.” Glancing down the table, not necessarily calmed, but also not really mad at Louis, he only adds one final comment. “Because I can give the whole team detention for not trying hard enough, you know.” Whether he actually would is a different issue, and subsiding, he turns his attention to his food, not exactly hungry yet stubbornly taking bite after bite.

(Slytherin) Finally giving up on his dinner, Evan has had a chance to calm down and make sure he’s taking nothing out on the first years. He glances around once to make sure the feast seems to be ending, then calls down the table, “First years..” Once he thinks he has their attention he adds, “I’ll show you to the common room now. Come with me.” And stands.

(Slytherin) Upon hearing Evan’s words, Fern rises to her feet and takes a step toward the perfect, seemingly ready to follow after him. “Oh, okay, thanks.” She murmers softly.

(Slytherin) “Alright! I can’t wait to see it. I heard it flooded once. That is, before the school rearranged. My mum wouldn’t let me see it. She told me I had to wait until I was sorted, but I knew I would be sorted into Slytherin. Though, the hat got Seker wrong, obviously, so I suppose it could have gotten me wrong, too.” It is but a brief moment that Satinka pauses while she hops up cheerfully from the table. “But that’s alright, I knew it all along that I’d be Slytherin. Oh, Ophiuchus should be in the commonroom waiting for me, right?” Satinka does not bother explaining just who Ophiuchus might be.

“I’m glad it didn’t,” Evan comments to Satinka, not bothering to argue about whether it was really ‘wrong.’ As they and the other first years assemble, Galen walking up toward his side where a few of the firsties seem afraid to go at the moment, he waves a hand toward one of the doorways and starts walking. “This way…”

Rising from her place at the faculty table and clearing her throat loudly in a meaningful manner, Melvina lifts her hands motions for the room to quiet. The hall is lavishly decorated in blue and silver, as seems the tradition for the current house points holder. “Hello, dear students of Hogwarts term 1926 to 1927. Or, more aptly, I should say, goodbye. What a year it has been! Yes, indeed. But, before we travel much further done this ceremonial road designed to fill our bellies, hearts, and minds until our next fine year of learning, it is my great honor of announcing to you all we have with us a special guest, joining us for a good-will mission of sorts. If you will please direct your attention, and warmly welcome…” withdrawing her long wand from the sleeve of her emerald green robes, Melvina gives the length of cherry wood a dramatic flick. The huge double doors at the rear of the hall swings open slowly, their loud creak filling the room.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle Gravely turns curiously to look at the doors with wide eyes. Surely this isn’t normal procedure. He looks around to see if any other students have a clue as to what she’s doing.

(Ravenclaw) The prefect has been until now sitting quietly with Joseph Wexler at her side, looking as if the two of them have been sharing a bit of a secret until the Headmistress has begun speaking. Without another word, Noémie leans out to see who’s joining the lot of them at the feast, biting her lip a bit. Is it someone important? “Who do you think it could be this late in the year?” she asks those close to her and continues leaning out so as to better see the doors at the end of the room.

As the doors swing open to allow a view into the entrance hall, it is Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic, who is revealed standing behind them. Her eyes flit over the tables of students quickly, head not turning, before she takes her first steps into the room. From there it is a straight walk up the middle aisle, somewhat formal dark robes swishing slightly as they hang around her, until she has joined Melvina at the front of the hall. When she reaches it she gives a brief nod of greating to Melvina. “Thank you, Headmistress.”

(Ravenclaw) Riley Markham lofts a brow, shifting his gaze in the direction of the pointed wand — sitting far enough away from Noémie and Joseph that he didn’t feel the need to glare daggers at them, yet near enough to stay in earshot. “Knowing Gran, God only knows,” he murmurs in response to Noémie’s query, though as Sylvie Winters-Geroff strides in, Riley‘s eyes do appreciably widen.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle says, “Hey, that’s the minister isn’t it? But why would she be here?” he looks down at Riley as if he would know. “What did you do this year?” he asks with a grin on his face. “That was a Joke Riley.. I promise.”"

(Ravenclaw) “Well, point taken,” Noémie responds to Riley with a chuckle, grinning at her cousin with a shrug. As the Minister walks in, however, Noémie sits up and uncrosses her legs, trying to look as responsible as one might be able to on a mere glance. She watches with interest as the woman walks up to the front of the room, and the prefect straightens her pointed hat carefully, trying not to stare too gape-mouthed. She’s seen the Minister twice this year now!

Melvina Prichard returns the nod with one of her own, her lips painted with a quiet, half-amused grin that is pertepually a part of her character. Perhaps more so now than on average. She did so enjoy the dramatics. “Naturally, Minister,” she replies, before finishing her introduction to the crowd. “Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic.” She offers some time for the stunned silence and whatever applauses might creep up out of the shock, before pushing on. “The Minister’s time is short, and she has a very special purpose for visiting us today, so I will turn the floor, and my pedistal, over to her. Minister?” Stepping away from the podium from which Melvina usually stands behind, she motions for Sylvie to take it, before returning to her seat.

(Ravenclaw) Kassandra Verkooyen stretches to be able to observe the opening door and immediately straightens as she catches a first glimpse of the Minister. “Oh, Mrs. Winters-Geroff…” she whispers somewhat to herself and smiles as she had never been able to meet her before.

“Thank you, again.” As Melvina takes her seat, Sylvie turns to fully face the students, pausing a moment as she looks over them again before she starts speaking. It’s been a few years since she’s been in this exact position, after all, though many of the older students are still familiar. “I am here today to honor two of your peers, two of the wizarding world’s finest citizens, for their great efforts put forth this past year on behalf of one of your professors.” A very quick glance is directed back at Karina. “Miss Eliza Marlowe, Mister Martin Foster, would you please join me?”

With a startled gasp, Eliza Marlowe springs to her feet, unfolding gracefully to her full height despite the fact that her mouth is still hanging open in surprise. It stays open as she exchanges a glance across the room with Martin over the heads of the other students – then looks back to the Minister, and then to Karina, and then to the Minister again. Slowly at first, and then faster as the initial shock wears away, Eliza strides down the aisle towards the head table, a slow, incredulous smile beginning to spread across her face.

Sylvie Winters-Geroff offers a brief smile to the Head Boy and Girl as they walk forward, waiting until both have reached the front of the room before she speaks again. “Mister Foster and Miss Marlowe played a crucial role in researching and apprehending Immanual Irving, a man who was working illegally to create and test dangerous potions.” She leave the explanation at that; the news of the trial likely spread even to here. “In doing so, they also cleared the name of Professor Sedgewick, for which I know we are all very grateful.” “For their skill, determination, and bravery in assisting the Ministry in this way, each will be awarded the Order of Merlin First Class.”

“What?” Eliza‘s exclamation carries to every corner of the Great Hall, and her mouth hangs open again for a moment after it is done. She looks swiftly over at Martin, as if to check whether he’s heard the same thing that she has. “Order of – First class?” Eliza repeats, her powerful voice barely a whisper now. And then she looks back at Sylvie, gulps, and straightens up, unfurling her shoulders to stand at attention before the Minister. Another smile starts to edge up the corners of Eliza‘s mouth, smaller, wondering, and proud.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle Gravely blinks, “That’s the youngest anyone’s ever been given an order I believe. Amazing!”

(Ravenclaw) Kassandra Verkooyen nods at Clavicle, still in disbelief, but delighted of the fact that the Headgirl and Boy already have achieved what others not even can dream about. “Yes, amazing is the right word, I think.” Kassandra smiles.

(Ravenclaw) “I don’t know, I think I’ve heard of them being given to really young people who happened to be in the right place at the right time,” Noémie comments off-hand to those around her before leaning up again to watch the Minister continue on, and see whether the woman will stay around. “My, an Order of Merlin. I don’t know that I’d ever do anything worth getting something like that,” The girl comments to her companion and bites her lip as she continues to watch.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle says, “Keep going undefeated in seeking and you’ll get a good pro sport though.” Clavicle comments to Noémie. “You’re a killer on a broom.”"

Slight smile back as she watches Eliza and Martin’s reactions, Sylvie waits until the large amounts of cheering have died down again before continuing. When it finally does, she turns to face the Head Boy and Girl, taking a single step toward them to present each with the award and offer a handshake. Alongside this she adds, “Thank you, both, for your services. I’m glad to know there are people such as you, and am sure you will both do well once you leave these walls.” She offers another, larger smile to the two, before turning back to the student body at large. “It has been a pleasure to be here with you today. With no further ado, I turn you back to your Headmistress.”

With a steady hand, Eliza reaches out to accept the award, shaking the Minister’s hand firmly with the other. She stands even taller, if that were possible, and her smile shines forth into a full-force grin as she closes her hand around her Order of Merlin. But Eliza‘s eyes are shining with more than pride – as she withdraws from the handshake, she hastily reaches up to scrub at her eyes with the heel of her hand, swallowing hard even amid her smiles.

Rising from the Faculty table after Eliza and Martin have accepted the rewards, Melvina applauds loudly, after after a few moments, motions for everyone to rise and applaud as well. And with some satisfaction, she notes that the applause is both loud and very sincere. “Thank you, Minister, and congratulations to the Head Boy and Head Girl! Let us praise our fine student leaders by honoring the with the school song!” Giving a great, wordless, hooting cheer, the Headmistress breaks in to a very loud, very happy round of largely off-key song, in hopes that the room follows her lead in good cheer. “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something, please! Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees! Our heads could do with filling, with some interesting stuff! For now they’re bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff! So teach us things worth knowing, bring back what we’ve forgot! Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot!” And only once the Headmistress-invited standing ovation and song has progressed for several minutes, the Headmistress makes motion for everyone to quiet again. Turning to Sylvie, Martin, and Eliza, Melvina grins, warmly. Obviously quite jovile, even if there is a small mark of seriousness in her eyes. “Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster, please remain there for a moment. Thank you, Minister. I know you have pressing a pressing agenda, but if you could see fit to stay, I’m sure my staff would make room for you at our table. The meals are as lovely still as I’m sure you remember.” The offer made, she looks back to the crowd of students, her rich brown eyes twinkling, “Now, moving right along..”

“Indeed, indeed. Well done, Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster. You have both performed an act and bravery and cunning that speaks well of yourselves and this school. It is with a genuine heart that I, the faculty of Hogwarts School, and your fellow students congratulate you. However,” Melvina notes, the mirth leaving her expression at the note of that last word. The Headmistress’ tone becoming gravely serious. “As prefects, and certainly Head Boy and Head Girl, you of all pairs should know that rules are rules, and are not to be broken lightly, even in the wake of such good tidings or favorable results. Thus, I fear I must make some last moment addendums to our house rankings.”

Stepping back to allow the Headmistress the spotlight along with the two students, Sylvie joins in with the last round of clapping as the room stands up. As the clapping.. and, later, song.. fade off and Melvina resumes her speech, Sylvie apparently accepts the invitation to stay. After all, who would refuse the Hogwarts feast? And the beginning of Melvina’s speech finds her at the Faculty table.

Basking in the glow of applause and praise, Eliza stands at the front of the room, pushing back the tears of joy and pride that threaten to spill out of her shining eyes. She tosses her head back, and lifts her chin higher in a show of strength, struggling to keep her smile from wavering. And then the Headmistress’s next announcement comes – and Eliza‘s expressive face melts into a look of sudden apprehension. She exchanges an entirely different kind of look with Martin now, worried and uncertain.

(Ravenclaw) Kassandra‘s expression fades as the Hufflepuff’s and the Slytherin’s award would automatically mean more points for their houses. “Oh no, we’ll lose our lead in the house points.” she whispers, still admiring, but not really loving the two Headstudents anymore.

“For leaving the school grounds without express permission or escort of myself or one of the school faculity, I find that I must penalize both the Head Boy and Head Girl by twenty points each.” Knowing what an unpopular announcement that will be, especially after such a jolly congratulations, Melvina similar waits and allows that to sink in. Noting those who boo with the same quiet, grave expression.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle Gravely That’s outrageous.” he frowns. “I mean sure I want us to win, but really, doesn’t that undermine the minister? Your grandmother is one tough woman Riley. Er.. how about YOU come visit ME over holiday. I can train tigers, whip lions, but she scares me.”

(Ravenclaw) Noémie can’t help but look exceptionally pleased as the other houses lose points. “That secures our win,” she comments. “The Quidditch cup and the house cup.” The girl beams at her companion and watches witha bit of a smug expression.

Eliza lifts her chin higher still – not in defiance, but in acceptance. She stands just as straight and tall as ever, even with the burden of losing her House points as one of her last acts as a Hufflepuff – but Eliza still can’t quite bring herself to meet the eyes of her housemates, or Martin.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle Gravely hmmms and shrugs. “I don’t know, Last year they hit us negative then positive. I think we’d better wait and see.”

Once Melvina has let that reality sink in, that Ravenclaw’s lead had become absolute, the Headmistress continues. Her expression equally as serious and tone just as grave. “However, I would be remiss in following Hogwarts policy if I didn’t then, in turn, reward your fine accomplishments as well.” It’s only then than the tell-tale twinkle in her eyes glimmers as she shifts her gaze toward Martin and Eliza. “With dedication and cunning that exemplifies the core traits of both your houses, Miss Marlowe and Mister Foster, you two alone subdued and helped bring to justice a singularly Dark Wizard, and cleared our dear Professor Sedgewick’s name. For that, I have the great pleasure of awarding you fifty points, each.”

(Ravenclaw) Dolly Faeden briefly looks up, having been tinkering with a clock under the table after the chorus of the school song faded out, “Wha’? Oh, well, smatter with losin’ twenty points when they’ve just got the… firs’ class bits? Right? Not like it’ll change their exams or anythin’ important.” A pause in her chatter as Melvina speaks, “See? No matter, they’ve won, then, so it’s all to rights.” She doesn’t wait for a response but resumes her tinkering, eyebrows coming down in concentration. Who cares about feasts and points when there’s a clock she’s supposed to have fixed to show off to grandfather tomorrow?

(Ravenclaw) “FIFTY?” Noémie respons, gawking open-mouthed. “How completely unfair! They shouldn’t get more points than they lost for that! They broke the rules!” The girl says this rather loudly, and her disappointment is apparent. “{Rotten, no good, awful,}” Noémie mutters in French and concludes with some words that would make a french Sailor blush, looking quite annoyed. “Completely unfair,” is all she can end with in English.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle Gravely shrugs a bit. “That’s what Riley got last year, and Saphia if I remember right. It fits right with their policy I think. But it ties us Noémie. so we still got a chance for a tie.”

Continuing on, as if not to lose her momentum, Melvina adds in a grand voice, “Further, I award Martin Foster another fifty points efforts that saved the lives of third year Louis Harper and our Professor Rathe while putting himself under great personal risk.” Drawing a deep breath, Melvina grins, quite suddenly, and opens another round of applause, before looking down to Martin and Eliza, nodding that after they have soaked up enough praise, they may return to their tables.

And Eliza‘s grin bursts forth again, spilling over into a laugh of relief and triumph. She reaches over to shake Martin’s hand, and then changes it to an enthusiastic thump on his shoulder. With the momentary anxiety entirely dispelled, Eliza is free to let her joy emerge again, and she strides – no, runs back to the Hufflepuff table to rejoin her housemates for one last time.

(Ravenclaw) Kassandra corrects Clavicle. “No, Slytherin is in front of us…” and as another fifty points are awarded to Martin she sinks in a bit “way in front of us…” her voice fades.

(Ravenclaw) “Nobody asked you,” Noémie responds irritably and it is clear that she is rather inconsolable at the moment. The girl says nothing else, muttering the occasional swear in French as she crosses her arms and her posture fails a bit, hunching over and leaning on the table. “No good Slytherin.” The girl looks quite displeased.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle says, “Well that certainly killed it then.” he shrugs. “But still Noémie. We beat their quidditch team, and we’ll do so again.” he nods stoically. He looks a touch worried at the captain, “We’ve still the best team.”"

(Ravenclaw) Kara Raine‘s shoulders slump at the latest addition to the points. “Fifty? Each!” Pushing her auburn locks from her face she turns to her fellow first years near by, “That will put Slytherin in the lead…” Sighing deeply, she frowns, her next words quite soft. “Would have been nice to have both cups, ah well.”

(Ravenclaw) Shooting a glare to those who address her directly, Noémie continues to brood at her spot on the table, not looking forward or even applauding, despite the fact that someone’s life has been saved. “Might ‘s well go home now,” she comments and sighs, looking around only once more, mostly to glare at those around her before staring hard at the table in front o fher.

“Our Hogwarts family has endured much this term, and by sheer pluck of our students and faculty, we have emerged from the struggle stronger and shining brighter than we ever have. It is on that note, that I also wish to praise Professor Sedgewick and Professor Rathe,” Melvina continues, after the applauses have died down again. “Professor Sedgewick, of course, endured a grueling assault on her character and soul and perserved as best as one could expect. Professor Rathe showed great strength of character and soul in during the trial of Paul Clairwill, and such fortitude and bravery should be rewarded. Thought it would be unfair for me to award house points, or implore upon our dear visiting Minister to grant medals as were just recieved by our esteemed Head Boy and Head Girl, I believe they are each equally deserving of said regards, and we should all be proud of them, and of there connections to us and this school.” Again, leading a round of applause, Melvina then turns to Astra with a grin brimming with genuine pride, and motions to the blue and bronze decorations lining the room. “I believe we have a new House Champion, do we not? If you would do the honors?”

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle says, “Noémie, we beat their best teams, you did actually, you beat them with your training of our team. You should see this differently. Look at their points?! YOU beat that. You lead our team against theirs and we flattened them. So Noémie.. you can do as much if not more then they can too, because you’ve faced both of them on the field, and beaten them both, you lead us, and you are the best captain Ravenclaw has had in I don’t know how long.” he grins. “So they got these points. Great, Next year we’ll get it, and we know we can cause you’ve beat them once already, we just gotta work harder to get more points is all.” he hmms. “A little luck wouldn’t hurt either.” but he looks at Noémie, “But still, There’s the rub of it, they got lucky and were in some situation, that’s all, next year we’ll get them…but good.”"

Standing up, there is a pause as the small woman reaches into her cloak to retrieve her wand. Looking rather perplexed as her name was mentioned, Astra tries to cover up her discomfort with a tight smile and a muttered, ‘my pleasure.’ Following that there she moves swiftly with a snapping motion of her wrist and wand, the banners flip from Blue and Bronze to Green and Silver changing to display from Ravenclaw to Slytherin colors. Astra‘s smile faded during the loss of points, but now she bestows a very pleased expression upon the Slytherin table as she tucks the wand away and retakes her seat without a word.

(Ravenclaw) “Bugger off!” Noémie says rather loudly. “I know we won the cup.” She glares at him again. “Stop being so… smug,” she tells him and turns away, her arms still crossed as she frowns hard. It is clear she is disappointed and not the least bit resigned to the outcome. “Don’t touch me, Joseph,” the girl snaps as her companion tries to comfort her. “Can’t anyone just let me be unhappy for a little while. Why are you all so happy and smug? We just lost the cup because of that heroic… nonsense!” She hmphs and stares hard at her plate, obviously indignant of anyone who is not as put out as she is.

(Ravenclaw) “Well we prolly beat them all on exams, dinnit we?” pipes up Dolly without looking from her clock, not really paying attention to the proceedings except with her ears. “An’ if you think about it, it’ll be scores on exams that show who’s the best at their subjects and the ‘portant exams show what ye get to do outside of Hogwarts. Unless ye were wantin’ ta play Quid’ for a professional team.” Pause, “Even so ye wouldnae had to win House Cup or faught Dark Wizards or anythin’ ridiculous like that. Just good at flyin’ and passin’ and suchlike.” Tinker, tinker, blather.

“Congratulatuions, Slytherin house! Now, only one more thing to say, before we enjoy –” With her still withdrawn wand, Melvina negligantly flicks it at the direction of the tables, summoning the End of Year Feast for everyone to enjoy. “– the fine food which has been prepared for us. This has been my first year at Hogwarts School, but it has been a fine one. Thank you all for that. When I arived, this was an imposing castle, something I remembered from my youth. A daunting job. But thanks to you all, staff and students alike, I felt welcomed, and now, I can’t help but see this place as my home. For those of you students who will return next year, remember that magic use over the summer is strictly prohibitted, and that next year I hope we can grow together as much as we have this one. For those of you graduating and going out in to the world, we have only had the oppertunity to touch each other’s lives briefly, but I hope you will remember me and this place fondly, as I will remember you. My first graduating class as the luckiest woman in the world, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Eat well.” And with that, Melvina sits, smiling quietly.

(Ravenclaw) Kara Raine Fiddling with the hem on her robe, Kara glances upward, still quite dejected looking as the Ravenclaw colors are replaced with green and silver. “Quite right Dolly, I am sure that we did. ‘Sides, we still have Noémie, and next year our quidditch team will be better than ever with her leading it. We won the one cup this year, next year will will have both. I’m sure of it.” A smile lifts her face as the food appears, eyes glancing around excitedly, “Now, what to eat first.”

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle Gravely frowns. “I wasn’t being smug. i was trying to raise your spirits. I apologize.” he states formally and turns to watch the proceedings. ”

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle Gravely looks at Riley. He just shrugs and pushes his plate away, not eating at all. “Why would she think I am being smug when all I am doing is trying to make her feel better?” he shakes his head and just waits to be allowed to go, turning away from Noémie for sure and just staring off to the faculty table.

(Ravenclaw) Dolly Faeden looks up as the speech ends and the food arrives and with an audible, “Oh thank ‘eavens,” she stuffs the clock in her bag, finds a plate of something that looks difficult to chew and passes it toward Clavicle while taking a few rolls from another basket herself. “Nonesense not ta eat this feast, unless yer Da’s a good deal better’n mine at cookin’.” Some more food is taken and passed this way and that, and she sets to stuffing her mouth and muddying her brain rather than dealing with the perplexing emotions of older people.

(Ravenclaw) Riley Markham makes a loud hissing sound, somewhat muffled and mollified by Melvina’s genuine words. “Because she’s pissed, Clavy, ’cause we lost, an’ so am I,” Riley responds, curtly. Not so much at his housemate, but largely at the situation. “Bloody rank, is what it is. Holding the lead all year to lose it now. What say you we give Mister Order of Merlin, Dumb Class a good jinxing after this is done?” The shaggy-headed second year says to Noémie, rather quite meaning it.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle says, “Because no one jinxed you last year when YOU got 50 points did they Markham. So it’s all fine and good for you to break the rules and go off and be a hero, but if someone else does it they deserve a good jinxing eh?” he shakes his head. “Surely you can see there’s a similarity, i would expect you of all people to see that Markham.”"

(Ravenclaw) “{Raising my spirits after we just} lost to stinking Slytherin…” the girl comments, half in French, half in English and sighs, but now tehre is food before her. “Oh, food,” she comments blandly and reaches out to start spooning things onto her plate. The girl’s plate ends up quite full, almost defying that it might all be eaten, but without another comment she begins to eat. “Oh, stuff it, you two,” she tells the boys. “Just eat the food. We’ll just have to work harder next year to get it.” Noémie is clearly in a sour mood as she begins to eat some potatoes rather quickly.

(Ravenclaw) “Honesly! Shut up an’ eat, you lot, ya’r killin’ me appetite,” intones Dolly a bit crossly, though from the heap of food on her plate (and the fact that she’s talking with her mouth partially fully) her appetite is a long way from the grave. She does sit up a little straighter at Noémie saying it, adding, “She’s a Prefect, ye know!” Sassy little firstie today, isn’t she?

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle Gravely just shakes his head. He doesn’t fill up his plate or anything. He begins polishing his flute.

(Ravenclaw) Riley Markham simply shrugs, passing off Noémie’s anger and Clavicle’s reasonableness with the singular act. “Haven’t you heard, Clavy? All’s fair in love and war.” He does reach out to help himself to the same bowl of potatoes that Noémie took copious amounts from, and mutters something about a Boogie-Foot Jinx being just the thing.

(Ravenclaw) Clavicle Gravely just shrugs silently.

Rising from her place at the faculty table and clearing her throat loudly in a meaningful manner, Melvina lifts her hands motions for the room to quiet. The hall is lavishly decorated in blue and silver, as seems the tradition for the current house points holder. “Hello, dear students of Hogwarts term 1926 to 1927. Or, more aptly, I should say, goodbye. What a year it has been! Yes, indeed. But, before we travel much further done this ceremonial road designed to fill our bellies, hearts, and minds until our next fine year of learning, it is my great honor of announcing to you all we have with us a special guest, joining us for a good-will mission of sorts. If you will please direct your attention, and warmly welcome…” withdrawing her long wand from the sleeve of her emerald green robes, Melvina gives the length of cherry wood a dramatic flick. The huge double doors at the rear of the hall swings open slowly, their loud creak filling the room.

(Hufflepuff) Olivia, who has been seated at the table quietly, her eyes perhaps lingering a bit longer on the Slytherin table than they previously did, just turns her attention to the front of the room as Melvina begins her announcement of the feast. A last minute visitor? Who could it be? As many others’ heads do, Olivia‘s turns to look at the doors in the back and she waits to see who it is who is joining them.

(Hufflepuff) Near the head of the Hufflepuff table, Eliza Marlowe looks up from where she is comforting one of her fellow seventh-years. The feast is a bittersweet moment for them, marking the end of their time at Hogwarts, and while the Head Girl herself is managing to maintain an almost cheerful version of her usual broad, crooked grin, one of her housemates has already started sniffling. Eliza pats the other Hufflepuff girl awkwardly on the shoulder, her own smile growing slightly more wobbly as the minutes wear on – until the Headmistress makes her announcement, and Eliza looks quickly towards the door, her eyes sparking with curious interest.

As the doors swing open to allow a view into the entrance hall, it is Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic, who is revealed standing behind them. Her eyes flit over the tables of students quickly, head not turning, before she takes her first steps into the room. From there it is a straight walk up the middle aisle, somewhat formal dark robes swishing slightly as they hang around her, until she has joined Melvina at the front of the hall. When she reaches it she gives a brief nod of greating to Melvina. “Thank you, Headmistress.”

Melvina Prichard returns the nod with one of her own, her lips painted with a quiet, half-amused grin that is pertepually a part of her character. Perhaps more so now than on average. She did so enjoy the dramatics. “Naturally, Minister,” she replies, before finishing her introduction to the crowd. “Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic.” She offers some time for the stunned silence and whatever applauses might creep up out of the shock, before pushing on. “The Minister’s time is short, and she has a very special purpose for visiting us today, so I will turn the floor, and my pedistal, over to her. Minister?” Stepping away from the podium from which Melvina usually stands behind, she motions for Sylvie to take it, before returning to her seat.

(Hufflepuff) “It’s Evan’s mum!” Olivia exclaims quietly to those around her, looking surprised but not quite as in-awe as the other students seem to be doing. She claps quietly for the woman and leans back to watch what the occasion is. “I wonder why she’s here,” the girl murmurs and then quiets down, glancing only momentarily at the Slytherin table again, as if trying to catch Evan’s eye to ask him if he’d known his mother would be coming.

“Thank you, again.” As Melvina takes her seat, Sylvie turns to fully face the students, pausing a moment as she looks over them again before she starts speaking. It’s been a few years since she’s been in this exact position, after all, though many of the older students are still familiar. “I am here today to honor two of your peers, two of the wizarding world’s finest citizens, for their great efforts put forth this past year on behalf of one of your professors.” A very quick glance is directed back at Karina. “Miss Eliza Marlowe, Mister Martin Foster, would you please join me?”

With a startled gasp, Eliza Marlowe springs to her feet, unfolding gracefully to her full height despite the fact that her mouth is still hanging open in surprise. It stays open as she exchanges a glance across the room with Martin over the heads of the other students – then looks back to the Minister, and then to Karina, and then to the Minister again. Slowly at first, and then faster as the initial shock wears away, Eliza strides down the aisle towards the head table, a slow, incredulous smile beginning to spread across her face.

(Hufflepuff) Orion Kari is completely non-plussed by the events of happening about him. In his right hand, he idly twirls a stick of graphite, while staring somewhat idly toward the Gryffindor table with an amused sort of look. Two younger students holding his attention in a way that the Minister for Magic or the Headmistress of Hogwarts School can neighter seem to manage. As a small fuss about a napkin and some hissing whispers pass between the two younger students muffled by distance, Orion almost grins, slyly. Oh, yes. A deceptively coy grin. Oh, his final year at Hogwarts would be ripe, indeed.

(Hufflepuff) Glancing around the table momentarily, trying not to gasp too loudly before she takes notice of Orion. “Oh, do– d’you draw? Oh, my…” she comments quietly, looking in awe as she glances to see the older boy’s drawing. Her face twinges pink as she realizes she’s taken a look without asking and she turns her attention to the front of the room again. “Sorry,” she whispers before asking a bit louder, “I wonder what it is that they’ll get awarded with.” Olivia does a good job at appearing more interested in the events at teh front rather than the drawings of the nearby sixth year, though it is clear that she would like to examine it in awe.

Sylvie Winters-Geroff offers a brief smile to the Head Boy and Girl as they walk forward, waiting until both have reached the front of the room before she speaks again. “Mister Foster and Miss Marlowe played a crucial role in researching and apprehending Immanual Irving, a man who was working illegally to create and test dangerous potions.” She leave the explanation at that; the news of the trial likely spread even to here. “In doing so, they also cleared the name of Professor Sedgewick, for which I know we are all very grateful.” “For their skill, determination, and bravery in assisting the Ministry in this way, each will be awarded the Order of Merlin First Class.”

“What?” Eliza‘s exclamation carries to every corner of the Great Hall, and her mouth hangs open again for a moment after it is done. She looks swiftly over at Martin, as if to check whether he’s heard the same thing that she has. “Order of – First class?” Eliza repeats, her powerful voice barely a whisper now. And then she looks back at Sylvie, gulps, and straightens up, unfurling her shoulders to stand at attention before the Minister. Another smile starts to edge up the corners of Eliza‘s mouth, smaller, wondering, and proud.

Slight smile back as she watches Eliza and Martin’s reactions, Sylvie waits until the large amounts of cheering have died down again before continuing. When it finally does, she turns to face the Head Boy and Girl, taking a single step toward them to present each with the award and offer a handshake. Alongside this she adds, “Thank you, both, for your services. I’m glad to know there are people such as you, and am sure you will both do well once you leave these walls.” She offers another, larger smile to the two, before turning back to the student body at large. “It has been a pleasure to be here with you today. With no further ado, I turn you back to your Headmistress.”

With a steady hand, Eliza reaches out to accept the award, shaking the Minister’s hand firmly with the other. She stands even taller, if that were possible, and her smile shines forth into a full-force grin as she closes her hand around her Order of Merlin. But Eliza‘s eyes are shining with more than pride – as she withdraws from the handshake, she hastily reaches up to scrub at her eyes with the heel of her hand, swallowing hard even amid her smiles.

Rising from the Faculty table after Eliza and Martin have accepted the rewards, Melvina applauds loudly, after after a few moments, motions for everyone to rise and applaud as well. And with some satisfaction, she notes that the applause is both loud and very sincere. “Thank you, Minister, and congratulations to the Head Boy and Head Girl! Let us praise our fine student leaders by honoring the with the school song!” Giving a great, wordless, hooting cheer, the Headmistress breaks in to a very loud, very happy round of largely off-key song, in hopes that the room follows her lead in good cheer. “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something, please! Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees! Our heads could do with filling, with some interesting stuff! For now they’re bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff! So teach us things worth knowing, bring back what we’ve forgot! Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot!” And only once the Headmistress-invited standing ovation and song has progressed for several minutes, the Headmistress makes motion for everyone to quiet again. Turning to Sylvie, Martin, and Eliza, Melvina grins, warmly. Obviously quite jovile, even if there is a small mark of seriousness in her eyes. “Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster, please remain there for a moment. Thank you, Minister. I know you have pressing a pressing agenda, but if you could see fit to stay, I’m sure my staff would make room for you at our table. The meals are as lovely still as I’m sure you remember.” The offer made, she looks back to the crowd of students, her rich brown eyes twinkling, “Now, moving right along..”

“Indeed, indeed. Well done, Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster. You have both performed an act and bravery and cunning that speaks well of yourselves and this school. It is with a genuine heart that I, the faculty of Hogwarts School, and your fellow students congratulate you. However,” Melvina notes, the mirth leaving her expression at the note of that last word. The Headmistress’ tone becoming gravely serious. “As prefects, and certainly Head Boy and Head Girl, you of all pairs should know that rules are rules, and are not to be broken lightly, even in the wake of such good tidings or favorable results. Thus, I fear I must make some last moment addendums to our house rankings.”

Stepping back to allow the Headmistress the spotlight along with the two students, Sylvie joins in with the last round of clapping as the room stands up. As the clapping.. and, later, song.. fade off and Melvina resumes her speech, Sylvie apparently accepts the invitation to stay. After all, who would refuse the Hogwarts feast? And the beginning of Melvina’s speech finds her at the Faculty table.

(Hufflepuff) Applauding loudly, Olivia watches with pride as it is someone from her house who gets this award and she, for the moment, ignores Orion’s drawings and watches as the Headmistress now stands. “Oh, no…” she comments at the statement about points and slumps a little in her seat, having ignored rather strognly the invitation into the house song.

Basking in the glow of applause and praise, Eliza stands at the front of the room, pushing back the tears of joy and pride that threaten to spill out of her shining eyes. She tosses her head back, and lifts her chin higher in a show of strength, struggling to keep her smile from wavering. And then the Headmistress’s next announcement comes – and Eliza‘s expressive face melts into a look of sudden apprehension. She exchanges an entirely different kind of look with Martin now, worried and uncertain.

“For leaving the school grounds without express permission or escort of myself or one of the school faculity, I find that I must penalize both the Head Boy and Head Girl by twenty points each.” Knowing what an unpopular announcement that will be, especially after such a jolly congratulations, Melvina similar waits and allows that to sink in. Noting those who boo with the same quiet, grave expression.

Eliza lifts her chin higher still – not in defiance, but in acceptance. She stands just as straight and tall as ever, even with the burden of losing her House points as one of her last acts as a Hufflepuff – but Eliza still can’t quite bring herself to meet the eyes of her housemates, or Martin.

Once Melvina has let that reality sink in, that Ravenclaw’s lead had become absolute, the Headmistress continues. Her expression equally as serious and tone just as grave. “However, I would be remiss in following Hogwarts policy if I didn’t then, in turn, reward your fine accomplishments as well.” It’s only then than the tell-tale twinkle in her eyes glimmers as she shifts her gaze toward Martin and Eliza. “With dedication and cunning that exemplifies the core traits of both your houses, Miss Marlowe and Mister Foster, you two alone subdued and helped bring to justice a singularly Dark Wizard, and cleared our dear Professor Sedgewick’s name. For that, I have the great pleasure of awarding you fifty points, each.”

Continuing on, as if not to lose her momentum, Melvina adds in a grand voice, “Further, I award Martin Foster another fifty points efforts that saved the lives of third year Louis Harper and our Professor Rathe while putting himself under great personal risk.” Drawing a deep breath, Melvina grins, quite suddenly, and opens another round of applause, before looking down to Martin and Eliza, nodding that after they have soaked up enough praise, they may return to their tables.

And Eliza‘s grin bursts forth again, spilling over into a laugh of relief and triumph. She reaches over to shake Martin’s hand, and then changes it to an enthusiastic thump on his shoulder. With the momentary anxiety entirely dispelled, Eliza is free to let her joy emerge again, and she strides – no, runs back to the Hufflepuff table to rejoin her housemates for one last time.

(Hufflepuff) “Oh!” Olivia responds, clapping happily! “Fifty points! We’re…” she pauses for a long moment, doing the math in her head. “We’re tied with Ravenclaw now! For second place! Maybe we could win it!” Nobody seems to be paying attention to the girl’s quiet speech, though, and she quiets down, looking forward again and watching, looking a bit disappointed as Slytherin gets more points, putting them securely in first. “Well, tied for second isn’t too bad,” she comments with a shrug.

“Our Hogwarts family has endured much this term, and by sheer pluck of our students and faculty, we have emerged from the struggle stronger and shining brighter than we ever have. It is on that note, that I also wish to praise Professor Sedgewick and Professor Rathe,” Melvina continues, after the applauses have died down again. “Professor Sedgewick, of course, endured a grueling assault on her character and soul and perserved as best as one could expect. Professor Rathe showed great strength of character and soul in during the trial of Paul Clairwill, and such fortitude and bravery should be rewarded. Thought it would be unfair for me to award house points, or implore upon our dear visiting Minister to grant medals as were just recieved by our esteemed Head Boy and Head Girl, I believe they are each equally deserving of said regards, and we should all be proud of them, and of there connections to us and this school.” Again, leading a round of applause, Melvina then turns to Astra with a grin brimming with genuine pride, and motions to the blue and bronze decorations lining the room. “I believe we have a new House Champion, do we not? If you would do the honors?”

Standing up, there is a pause as the small woman reaches into her cloak to retrieve her wand. Looking rather perplexed as her name was mentioned, Astra tries to cover up her discomfort with a tight smile and a muttered, ‘my pleasure.’ Following that there she moves swiftly with a snapping motion of her wrist and wand, the banners flip from Blue and Bronze to Green and Silver changing to display from Ravenclaw to Slytherin colors. Astra‘s smile faded during the loss of points, but now she bestows a very pleased expression upon the Slytherin table as she tucks the wand away and retakes her seat without a word.

“Congratulatuions, Slytherin house! Now, only one more thing to say, before we enjoy –” With her still withdrawn wand, Melvina negligantly flicks it at the direction of the tables, summoning the End of Year Feast for everyone to enjoy. “– the fine food which has been prepared for us. This has been my first year at Hogwarts School, but it has been a fine one. Thank you all for that. When I arived, this was an imposing castle, something I remembered from my youth. A daunting job. But thanks to you all, staff and students alike, I felt welcomed, and now, I can’t help but see this place as my home. For those of you students who will return next year, remember that magic use over the summer is strictly prohibitted, and that next year I hope we can grow together as much as we have this one. For those of you graduating and going out in to the world, we have only had the oppertunity to touch each other’s lives briefly, but I hope you will remember me and this place fondly, as I will remember you. My first graduating class as the luckiest woman in the world, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Eat well.” And with that, Melvina sits, smiling quietly.

Rising from her place at the faculty table and clearing her throat loudly in a meaningful manner, Melvina lifts her hands motions for the room to quiet. The hall is lavishly decorated in blue and silver, as seems the tradition for the current house points holder. “Hello, dear students of Hogwarts term 1926 to 1927. Or, more aptly, I should say, goodbye. What a year it has been! Yes, indeed. But, before we travel much further done this ceremonial road designed to fill our bellies, hearts, and minds until our next fine year of learning, it is my great honor of announcing to you all we have with us a special guest, joining us for a good-will mission of sorts. If you will please direct your attention, and warmly welcome…” withdrawing her long wand from the sleeve of her emerald green robes, Melvina gives the length of cherry wood a dramatic flick. The huge double doors at the rear of the hall swings open slowly, their loud creak filling the room.

(Gryffindor) Though the gryffindor has been chattering almost incessantly to her friends, when Melvina begins to speak, Briony clams up quickly, staring up at the front of the room. Now is not the time to lose more points for Gryffindor, of course. It wouldn’t be the right way to end the year. “Who do you reckon is coming?” she asks those around her as the doors open and she cranes her head to see what’s going on at the back of the room.

(Gryffindor) Not one to be outdone by the likes of Briony, Rawnie was chatting it up quite feverently herslef and had to be nudged several times by her neighbor before she was stifled sufficiently. “Maybe it’sa troll.” Whispers Rawnie to Briony, it’s no secret she had been wanting to see one since the begining of the year.

As the doors swing open to allow a view into the entrance hall, it is Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic, who is revealed standing behind them. Her eyes flit over the tables of students quickly, head not turning, before she takes her first steps into the room. From there it is a straight walk up the middle aisle, somewhat formal dark robes swishing slightly as they hang around her, until she has joined Melvina at the front of the hall. When she reaches it she gives a brief nod of greating to Melvina. “Thank you, Headmistress.”

(Gryffindor) Leaning back, away from the fainting chatter, Andy Carver pays attention to what the Headmistress has to tell them. Brisky turning around to the opening entrance door he almost falls over and saves himself by taking a hold of the table. “Hm, who’s that?” he asks, feeling sort of uninformed.

(Gryffindor) “It’s the Minister for Magic,” Briony hisses to Andy with a wide-eyed expression. “I got to meet her at the Ball! Oh, she’s so important!” Briony seems not to know what other adjective to apply to the woman as she stares with interest, almost rising in her seat to see better over the tall person nearby.

Melvina Prichard returns the nod with one of her own, her lips painted with a quiet, half-amused grin that is pertepually a part of her character. Perhaps more so now than on average. She did so enjoy the dramatics. “Naturally, Minister,” she replies, before finishing her introduction to the crowd. “Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic.” She offers some time for the stunned silence and whatever applauses might creep up out of the shock, before pushing on. “The Minister’s time is short, and she has a very special purpose for visiting us today, so I will turn the floor, and my pedistal, over to her. Minister?” Stepping away from the podium from which Melvina usually stands behind, she motions for Sylvie to take it, before returning to her seat.

(Gryffindor) A sigh of dissapointment from Rawnie, “I wish it was a troll. Witha big club’n everthin.” She mutters pokeing at her empty plate before turning attention to the Head Mistress again curiously…. but still pouty.

(Gryffindor) Felicity Wexler actually drops her pumpkin juice as the Minister for Magic enters, and lets out a fairly loud squee as it stains her skirt, immediately grabbing up as many napkins — her own, and her neighbors, to try to contain the mess as best she can while turning a fairly brilliant shade of red.

(Gryffindor) “A troll? Well, that would be exciting, I admit,” the girl tells her housemate with a bit of a giggle until she notice that her napkin has been stolen up. “Hey, that’s mine, FeLICity,” Briony tells her cousin with a scowl. “You shouldn’t take things without asking. It’s just a bit of pumpkin juice.”

“Thank you, again.” As Melvina takes her seat, Sylvie turns to fully face the students, pausing a moment as she looks over them again before she starts speaking. It’s been a few years since she’s been in this exact position, after all, though many of the older students are still familiar. “I am here today to honor two of your peers, two of the wizarding world’s finest citizens, for their great efforts put forth this past year on behalf of one of your professors.” A very quick glance is directed back at Karina. “Miss Eliza Marlowe, Mister Martin Foster, would you please join me?”

(Gryffindor) “Just a bit of pumpkin juice?” Felicity says, her voice becoming a bit shrill, even as she tries to whisper. Sylvie’s words, however, give her pause, as she looks up front while maddly dabbing at her skirt as if it would help the orange liquid from settling in.

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver really feels dumb now, but does not try to find and excuse. “Oh, politicians…” he rolls his eyes and sends a commiserating smile to Felicity as she tries to recover her skirt. As a quarrel seems to be about to begin between the cousins she hisses back, adressing both of them with a blink. “Psst, the Minister.”

(Gryffindor) “She’s the one making noise, don’t psst at me,” Briony retorts irritably and scoffs at Felicity. “You should just learn a charm for that,” the girl tells her cousin and turns her face to Sylvie as the Minister begins to talk. “Oooooh, I wonder what they’re being honored for! I want to be honored!”

With a startled gasp, Eliza Marlowe springs to her feet, unfolding gracefully to her full height despite the fact that her mouth is still hanging open in surprise. It stays open as she exchanges a glance across the room with Martin over the heads of the other students – then looks back to the Minister, and then to Karina, and then to the Minister again. Slowly at first, and then faster as the initial shock wears away, Eliza strides down the aisle towards the head table, a slow, incredulous smile beginning to spread across her face.

(Gryffindor) “Quiet ya ninnys!” Whispers Rawnie to her table suddenly and uncharacteristicly as Martin and Eliza are called. “I bet there gunner get a reward er somthin.” She says with a bright smile tossing Felicity one of her own napkins.

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver smiles and applauds as the headgirl’s and headboy’s names are announced. “Maybe we’ll be seeing you walking up there in a few years.” Andy grins to Briony. “I wonder what she’ll tell them…or give them…” he considers.

(Gryffindor) Felicity Wexler makes a vague clucking noise with her tongue at the notion of Briony being honored, though she sagely keeps any further commentary to herself, actually to curious about what it is that the Minister for Magic has come all this way to do.

Sylvie Winters-Geroff offers a brief smile to the Head Boy and Girl as they walk forward, waiting until both have reached the front of the room before she speaks again. “Mister Foster and Miss Marlowe played a crucial role in researching and apprehending Immanual Irving, a man who was working illegally to create and test dangerous potions.” She leave the explanation at that; the news of the trial likely spread even to here. “In doing so, they also cleared the name of Professor Sedgewick, for which I know we are all very grateful.” “For their skill, determination, and bravery in assisting the Ministry in this way, each will be awarded the Order of Merlin First Class.”

(Gryffindor) “I will be honored someday,” Briony comments quietly, then clapping cheerfully as the Minister announces the Head Boy and Girl’s work in apprehending a criminal. Her applause is loud, though she does not deign to whistle as she might otherwise. After all, Briony has some sense of decorum when she needs to.

(Gryffindor) “Woo! Way ter go!” Yelps Rawnie as she cheers with the rest of the school as the two students are awarded, in the middle of her excitement she pauses and leans over the table asking “Wot’s this order-o-Merlin thing?” Yes utterly clueless as usual but being raised Muggle gives her ignorance an exscuse at least.

“What?” Eliza‘s exclamation carries to every corner of the Great Hall, and her mouth hangs open again for a moment after it is done. She looks swiftly over at Martin, as if to check whether he’s heard the same thing that she has. “Order of – First class?” Eliza repeats, her powerful voice barely a whisper now. And then she looks back at Sylvie, gulps, and straightens up, unfurling her shoulders to stand at attention before the Minister. Another smile starts to edge up the corners of Eliza‘s mouth, smaller, wondering, and proud.

(Gryffindor) Andy Carver‘s jaw drops. “An Order of Merlin First Class?” A warm feeling of joy emerges from deep inside of him and he applauds loudly. Amazed he settles again. “Unbelievable, it must be like a dream comes true for them.” he says, still beaming.

(Gryffindor) “First class!” the girl gasps loudly. “It’s the top award they can get!” Briony tells Rawnie and stands up a bit, clapping loudly again. “Oh, my… can you imagine? We should be so lucky.”

Slight smile back as she watches Eliza and Martin’s reactions, Sylvie waits until the large amounts of cheering have died down again before continuing. When it finally does, she turns to face the Head Boy and Girl, taking a single step toward them to present each with the award and offer a handshake. Alongside this she adds, “Thank you, both, for your services. I’m glad to know there are people such as you, and am sure you will both do well once you leave these walls.” She offers another, larger smile to the two, before turning back to the student body at large. “It has been a pleasure to be here with you today. With no further ado, I turn you back to your Headmistress.”

With a steady hand, Eliza reaches out to accept the award, shaking the Minister’s hand firmly with the other. She stands even taller, if that were possible, and her smile shines forth into a full-force grin as she closes her hand around her Order of Merlin. But Eliza‘s eyes are shining with more than pride – as she withdraws from the handshake, she hastily reaches up to scrub at her eyes with the heel of her hand, swallowing hard even amid her smiles.

Rising from the Faculty table after Eliza and Martin have accepted the rewards, Melvina applauds loudly, after after a few moments, motions for everyone to rise and applaud as well. And with some satisfaction, she notes that the applause is both loud and very sincere. “Thank you, Minister, and congratulations to the Head Boy and Head Girl! Let us praise our fine student leaders by honoring the with the school song!” Giving a great, wordless, hooting cheer, the Headmistress breaks in to a very loud, very happy round of largely off-key song, in hopes that the room follows her lead in good cheer. “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something, please! Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees! Our heads could do with filling, with some interesting stuff! For now they’re bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff! So teach us things worth knowing, bring back what we’ve forgot! Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot!” And only once the Headmistress-invited standing ovation and song has progressed for several minutes, the Headmistress makes motion for everyone to quiet again. Turning to Sylvie, Martin, and Eliza, Melvina grins, warmly. Obviously quite jovile, even if there is a small mark of seriousness in her eyes. “Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster, please remain there for a moment. Thank you, Minister. I know you have pressing a pressing agenda, but if you could see fit to stay, I’m sure my staff would make room for you at our table. The meals are as lovely still as I’m sure you remember.” The offer made, she looks back to the crowd of students, her rich brown eyes twinkling, “Now, moving right along..”

“Indeed, indeed. Well done, Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster. You have both performed an act and bravery and cunning that speaks well of yourselves and this school. It is with a genuine heart that I, the faculty of Hogwarts School, and your fellow students congratulate you. However,” Melvina notes, the mirth leaving her expression at the note of that last word. The Headmistress’ tone becoming gravely serious. “As prefects, and certainly Head Boy and Head Girl, you of all pairs should know that rules are rules, and are not to be broken lightly, even in the wake of such good tidings or favorable results. Thus, I fear I must make some last moment addendums to our house rankings.”

Stepping back to allow the Headmistress the spotlight along with the two students, Sylvie joins in with the last round of clapping as the room stands up. As the clapping.. and, later, song.. fade off and Melvina resumes her speech, Sylvie apparently accepts the invitation to stay. After all, who would refuse the Hogwarts feast? And the beginning of Melvina’s speech finds her at the Faculty table.

Basking in the glow of applause and praise, Eliza stands at the front of the room, pushing back the tears of joy and pride that threaten to spill out of her shining eyes. She tosses her head back, and lifts her chin higher in a show of strength, struggling to keep her smile from wavering. And then the Headmistress’s next announcement comes – and Eliza‘s expressive face melts into a look of sudden apprehension. She exchanges an entirely different kind of look with Martin now, worried and uncertain.

“For leaving the school grounds without express permission or escort of myself or one of the school faculity, I find that I must penalize both the Head Boy and Head Girl by twenty points each.” Knowing what an unpopular announcement that will be, especially after such a jolly congratulations, Melvina similar waits and allows that to sink in. Noting those who boo with the same quiet, grave expression.

(Gryffindor) Joining in cheerfully, Briony sings the school song loudly, and perhaps a bit out of tune, sacrificing her tone for her volume. “Oh!” she comments as both Hufflepuff and Slytherin lose twenty points each. “Maybe we’ll catch up!” she comments, though this is rather wishful thinking, even given the wake of point losses.

(Gryffindor) Andy‘s eyes suddenly widen. “Hey, they just got the Order of Merlin, why do they still have to be penalized?” Andy shakes his head. “Hm, maybe you are right, Briony. But don’t you think they will be awarded even more points for what they really intended to do? They just broke the rules for other good purposes, you know…” Andy is quite uncertain.

(Gryffindor) “Maybe!” Yelps Rawnie excitedly. “I wouldn’ta traded points fer some order thingy.” She says sniggering softly. Truth be known Rawnie only recently came to understand the points system. “But that erm… Ravenclaw house should lose some too… erm for reasons I don’t care ter discuss…” Meaning ‘I just want us to win.’

Eliza lifts her chin higher still – not in defiance, but in acceptance. She stands just as straight and tall as ever, even with the burden of losing her House points as one of her last acts as a Hufflepuff – but Eliza still can’t quite bring herself to meet the eyes of her housemates, or Martin.

Once Melvina has let that reality sink in, that Ravenclaw’s lead had become absolute, the Headmistress continues. Her expression equally as serious and tone just as grave. “However, I would be remiss in following Hogwarts policy if I didn’t then, in turn, reward your fine accomplishments as well.” It’s only then than the tell-tale twinkle in her eyes glimmers as she shifts her gaze toward Martin and Eliza. “With dedication and cunning that exemplifies the core traits of both your houses, Miss Marlowe and Mister Foster, you two alone subdued and helped bring to justice a singularly Dark Wizard, and cleared our dear Professor Sedgewick’s name. For that, I have the great pleasure of awarding you fifty points, each.”

Continuing on, as if not to lose her momentum, Melvina adds in a grand voice, “Further, I award Martin Foster another fifty points efforts that saved the lives of third year Louis Harper and our Professor Rathe while putting himself under great personal risk.” Drawing a deep breath, Melvina grins, quite suddenly, and opens another round of applause, before looking down to Martin and Eliza, nodding that after they have soaked up enough praise, they may return to their tables.

And Eliza‘s grin bursts forth again, spilling over into a laugh of relief and triumph. She reaches over to shake Martin’s hand, and then changes it to an enthusiastic thump on his shoulder. With the momentary anxiety entirely dispelled, Eliza is free to let her joy emerge again, and she strides – no, runs back to the Hufflepuff table to rejoin her housemates for one last time.

“Our Hogwarts family has endured much this term, and by sheer pluck of our students and faculty, we have emerged from the struggle stronger and shining brighter than we ever have. It is on that note, that I also wish to praise Professor Sedgewick and Professor Rathe,” Melvina continues, after the applauses have died down again. “Professor Sedgewick, of course, endured a grueling assault on her character and soul and perserved as best as one could expect. Professor Rathe showed great strength of character and soul in during the trial of Paul Clairwill, and such fortitude and bravery should be rewarded. Thought it would be unfair for me to award house points, or implore upon our dear visiting Minister to grant medals as were just recieved by our esteemed Head Boy and Head Girl, I believe they are each equally deserving of said regards, and we should all be proud of them, and of there connections to us and this school.” Again, leading a round of applause, Melvina then turns to Astra with a grin brimming with genuine pride, and motions to the blue and bronze decorations lining the room. “I believe we have a new House Champion, do we not? If you would do the honors?”

Standing up, there is a pause as the small woman reaches into her cloak to retrieve her wand. Looking rather perplexed as her name was mentioned, Astra tries to cover up her discomfort with a tight smile and a muttered, ‘my pleasure.’ Following that there she moves swiftly with a snapping motion of her wrist and wand, the banners flip from Blue and Bronze to Green and Silver changing to display from Ravenclaw to Slytherin colors. Astra‘s smile faded during the loss of points, but now she bestows a very pleased expression upon the Slytherin table as she tucks the wand away and retakes her seat without a word.

“Congratulatuions, Slytherin house! Now, only one more thing to say, before we enjoy –” With her still withdrawn wand, Melvina negligantly flicks it at the direction of the tables, summoning the End of Year Feast for everyone to enjoy. “– the fine food which has been prepared for us. This has been my first year at Hogwarts School, but it has been a fine one. Thank you all for that. When I arived, this was an imposing castle, something I remembered from my youth. A daunting job. But thanks to you all, staff and students alike, I felt welcomed, and now, I can’t help but see this place as my home. For those of you students who will return next year, remember that magic use over the summer is strictly prohibitted, and that next year I hope we can grow together as much as we have this one. For those of you graduating and going out in to the world, we have only had the oppertunity to touch each other’s lives briefly, but I hope you will remember me and this place fondly, as I will remember you. My first graduating class as the luckiest woman in the world, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Eat well.” And with that, Melvina sits, smiling quietly.

(Gryffindor) “Ooooh, tasty food!” Briony squeals, feeling relatively apathetic about the house cup now. After all, from the start of the term, Gryffindor had been at a disadvantage. “What’re you doin’ ‘fer summer?” she asks those around her, her mouth full of chicken. “My da’ says ‘eeees go’ a project ‘fer us.” Really, Briony. Girls this age should know better than to talk with their mouths full.

(Gryffindor) Has no qualms about talking with a mouth full of food, and she is eating just as ravenously as ever as she answers. “Im gunner try an spend ano’r summer with me mum I think, She said she’s gots me a surprise an Im je diein ter know wot.” Rawnie washes her food down quickly with some pumkin juice. “I’m gunner ask if we kin stay at that Hogsmeade place!”

(Gryffindor) Felicity Wexler only adds a very small amount of food to her plate, and compared to Briony whom she sits next to, her usually slow method of eating appears positively dainty. Still somewhat cross about the pumpkin juice on her skirt, the third-year asks with a somewhat lofted brow, “I imagine I’ll spend the summer with my Grandmother Larsen — she wants to go up to the lake. What sort of project?”

(Gryffindor) “I ‘unno,” Briony answers, surprisingly congenially considering to whom she is speaking. “Dad hasn’t told me yet, he just said we’ve got a project after we get home for summer. He said mum gets to help, too, so maybe it’s something fun and not repapering the house or something.” Briony shudders at the thought of this. “If you come to Hogsmeade, you should owl me! We can go on adventures and such! It’ll be fun! Gabe is probably coming to visit, too. It’s going to be a very exciting summer.” She pauses. “I’m going to be thirteen this July!” Briony looks quite proud at this.

(Gryffindor) “Oh! Blimey, thirteen! I only jes turned twelve a few days ago.” Rawnie says a bit surprised. She seems a little dissapointed being the youngest of the three girls but it still doesn’t curb her appetite. “I’ll do that! I don’t gots many people ter send Figaro too with let’as so ‘ell be happy.”

(Gryffindor) After Andy has shuffled a good amount of food onto his plate he follows the conversation, mainly just listening while eating. “Hm, I’ve got no idea what I’m going to be doing the whole summer with my parents. So you…uhm…won’t be in Hogsmeade or so over the summer, Felicity?” Andy asks with a small voice, quickly looking down to his plate again, trying to let it sound as occasionally as possible.

(Gryffindor) Felicity Wexler seems to consider that, after placing a small forkful of meat pie on her mouth. It’s quite a curious thing, despite being somewhat upset about her skirt, her tone to Briony is more or less cordial as well. There were, it would seem, times that they occasionally put aside (or simply forgot) the fact that they couldn’t stand each other, and got along rather well. “July fourteenth, right?” Felicity murmurs, recalling the date from her calander. “I don’t know that we’re planning to stop in Hogsmeade, though I imagine that Gran probally will have a few more visits with Aunty Sybil, at least until Aunty Sibyl becomes — well, to busy.” Her eyes twinkle, almost a little mischeviously at that, as she glances to Briony. The idea of Briony’s coming little sister excites her, especially since she has no little sisters — just a little brother, who cried all the time. “She doesn’t like me to be around when she sees Auntie Sybil, but I tell her I’m going to play with you, I’m sure she’ll bring me along.” She pauses a little, as Andy speaks, turning her gaze to him as she puts down her fork, and picks up her pumpkin juice — being very careful with it this time. “Some, I’m sure. Will you be?”

(Gryffindor) “Oh, mum should have the baby before my birthday, she said. She told me she’s amazed she lasted this long.” Briony pauses as she thinks of another sibling, though, looking forward some, and then also cringing a bit. Another one to stretch their school supplies and clothes between. Of course, it doesn’t occur to Briony that the little one might not even need to share with them. “Oh, yes, it’s in July,” the girl finally answers, nodding before she puts more food into her mouth. “Iffs gunna be great, too. Gabe iff gunna be there, too. His birfday’s the same.” Briony pauses as she continues to chew. “Are you going to be there for your birthday, too?”

(Gryffindor) Andy quickly gulps down half a potato and almost has to cough it out again, because it still is too hot for being swallowed. Having managed this while blushing to a deep red he replies to Felicity. “Yes, I surely will be there. I’ve nothing planned, you know. So just send me an owl when you know the date and so on.” Eased that there could be a way to meet his friend outside of the school’s boundaries, Andy takes another fork of carrots.

(Gryffindor) “That all depends, I guess,” Felicity murmurs, her voice becoming quiet, and her eyes somewhat subdued at Briony’s question. A thought creeping up on her that she’d rather not consider, a harsh reality. “On Grandmother Larsen.” Those last few words fall from her with a weight that she can’t quite bear, which immediately summons her voice again, with a somewhat forced smile to try to lighten them. “She loves the lake, after all. She might want to stay all summer.” Looking grateful for a switch in direction from her hard thoughts, Felicity smiles warmly to Andy. Her too-cute, shimmery smile. Subtle, cute, and real, unlike her fake-face-everyone-is-looking smiles. “I will. I look forward to it.”

(Gryffindor) Looking from Andy to Felicity and back again, Briony seems to miss entirely the connection between them and the significance of their words. Why the drama about visiting? Shrugging, the girl continues working on cleaning her plate, and it is not long before her plate is, in fact, cleaned. “Should be a great summer,” Briony responds, grinning at Felicity, apparently unaware of the significance, too, of the comment about her grandmother.

(Gryffindor) “Mhn, great,” Felicity murmurs, quietly, in response to Briony’s assessment of the summertime’s potential. Her tone half-genuine, and half-filled with a quiet dread. She’d not expected Briony to cotton on to her verbal slip, and honestly, she was glad. It hurt to much to think about. “Well, I still have some packing to do. I’ve let it go late. And I need to change my skirt. I’ll let you know when I’m going to be in Hogsmeade. See you on the train tomarrow. Excuse me.” And before Andy can make note of it, afraid that he might be more perceptive, she pushes herself up and makes her way from the hall.

(Gryffindor) After a long while, Briony, too, finishes her meal and grins at those around her. “Have a good vacation!” she tells them all. “I’m going to go make sure all my things are together so we can leave sooner!” She giggles as she says this and finishes off her pumpkin juice before standing up from the table quickly and making her way out to her commonroom.

Rising from her place at the faculty table and clearing her throat loudly in a meaningful manner, Melvina lifts her hands motions for the room to quiet. The hall is lavishly decorated in blue and silver, as seems the tradition for the current house points holder. “Hello, dear students of Hogwarts term 1926 to 1927. Or, more aptly, I should say, goodbye. What a year it has been! Yes, indeed. But, before we travel much further done this ceremonial road designed to fill our bellies, hearts, and minds until our next fine year of learning, it is my great honor of announcing to you all we have with us a special guest, joining us for a good-will mission of sorts. If you will please direct your attention, and warmly welcome…” withdrawing her long wand from the sleeve of her emerald green robes, Melvina gives the length of cherry wood a dramatic flick. The huge double doors at the rear of the hall swings open slowly, their loud creak filling the room.

As the doors swing open to allow a view into the entrance hall, it is Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic, who is revealed standing behind them. Her eyes flit over the tables of students quickly, head not turning, before she takes her first steps into the room. From there it is a straight walk up the middle aisle, somewhat formal dark robes swishing slightly as they hang around her, until she has joined Melvina at the front of the hall. When she reaches it she gives a brief nod of greating to Melvina. “Thank you, Headmistress.”

(Faculty) Bonnie, who has been expecting a rather typical — or boring, however one might put it — end of year feast, is startled at this. Assuming that perhaps the events of the school year might have something to do with this, she sits up straighter, watching down the end of the room with perhaps a bit less awe and pure curiosity than the students all seem to have. As the Minister for Magic enters, however, Bonnie‘s mental assumptions seem to have been proved true while she leans back again. Though, of course, what the Minister would have to do with an end of the year sorting, the teacher can only guess.

Melvina Prichard returns the nod with one of her own, her lips painted with a quiet, half-amused grin that is pertepually a part of her character. Perhaps more so now than on average. She did so enjoy the dramatics. “Naturally, Minister,” she replies, before finishing her introduction to the crowd. “Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic.” She offers some time for the stunned silence and whatever applauses might creep up out of the shock, before pushing on. “The Minister’s time is short, and she has a very special purpose for visiting us today, so I will turn the floor, and my pedistal, over to her. Minister?” Stepping away from the podium from which Melvina usually stands behind, she motions for Sylvie to take it, before returning to her seat.

(Faculty) Apparently expecting something of the sort, Astra leans back casually in her chair. Her left hand dangles at her side, but she instinctually reaches for the flask that is ever at easy reach. Fingers settle around the familiar friend, but she does not pull it out. An actual smile lights her features when Sylvie enters the room, but it fades quickly and she begins to eye the ceiling of the hall in a casual manner.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh is sitting unusually stiffly, looking about as comfortable as she normally does when the hall is bedeked in Ravenclaw’s colors. Still, at the announcement, the green-clad Herbology professor quirks her head to the side. With eyebrows raised and expression clearly registering surprise at the notion of a guest, she waits expectantly for the entrance. When she sees who it is however, Keelan actually smiles and briefly applauds. After all, outside of being Minister for Magic, Sylvie Winters(-Geroff!) had been her first Head of House. That alone commands a nostalgic respect. Soon enough, she settles down, stiff-backed again, to wait.

(Faculty) “Oh my…” comes Sibyl Wexler‘s impressed murmur, from her seat at the end of the Faculty table. Her eyes widen as she follows the Minister’s progress down the aisle, and she pulls herself a little straighter in her chair as she applauds. She makes no move to do anything more strenuous, though – this late in her pregnancy, Sibyl has grown large enough that staying seated is a much more comfortable option than anything else. The nurse’s cheerful smile is undimmed, though, and she turns to look at first Melvina and then the Minister with growing interest and raised eyebrows.

“Thank you, again.” As Melvina takes her seat, Sylvie turns to fully face the students, pausing a moment as she looks over them again before she starts speaking. It’s been a few years since she’s been in this exact position, after all, though many of the older students are still familiar. “I am here today to honor two of your peers, two of the wizarding world’s finest citizens, for their great efforts put forth this past year on behalf of one of your professors.” A very quick glance is directed back at Karina. “Miss Eliza Marlowe, Mister Martin Foster, would you please join me?”

With a startled gasp, Eliza Marlowe springs to her feet, unfolding gracefully to her full height despite the fact that her mouth is still hanging open in surprise. It stays open as she exchanges a glance across the room with Martin over the heads of the other students – then looks back to the Minister, and then to Karina, and then to the Minister again. Slowly at first, and then faster as the initial shock wears away, Eliza strides down the aisle towards the head table, a slow, incredulous smile beginning to spread across her face.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard continues to watch the Minister, even after she sits, her half-amused expression lingering on her lips. A handful of the faculity were made aware of the events that were about to take place, but owing to a love of the theatrical, Melvina had naturally left some out. After all, what is a surprise if everyone knows what will happen. That thought proves a bit to much, though, and the Headmistress does find herself having to take a sit of the flagon of water in front her to briefly hide a small chuckle.

(Faculty) Grinning mischievously at the events as they unfold, Astra too has an obvious love for the theatrics, but unlike Melvina she takes few pains to hide the sly smile or the soft chuckle that follows. Glancing sidelong at the Headmistress, the teacher purses her lips and forces herself not to say a word. The grip on her flask relaxes and she withdraws her fingers from the object. Settling both hands in her lap, she sits up straight and returns her gaze to the Minister and the students in question.

Sylvie Winters-Geroff offers a brief smile to the Head Boy and Girl as they walk forward, waiting until both have reached the front of the room before she speaks again. “Mister Foster and Miss Marlowe played a crucial role in researching and apprehending Immanual Irving, a man who was working illegally to create and test dangerous potions.” She leave the explanation at that; the news of the trial likely spread even to here. “In doing so, they also cleared the name of Professor Sedgewick, for which I know we are all very grateful.” “For their skill, determination, and bravery in assisting the Ministry in this way, each will be awarded the Order of Merlin First Class.”

(Faculty) Bonnie‘s eyebrow raises as she turns to see that Astra looks awfully smug several seats down the table. While the Divination professor would like to lean down and ask the woman, it certainly wouldn’t be very good form to do this while the Minister for Magic is speaking and she keeps mum, instead turning her face foward again, taking in the woman’s speech further.

“What?” Eliza‘s exclamation carries to every corner of the Great Hall, and her mouth hangs open again for a moment after it is done. She looks swiftly over at Martin, as if to check whether he’s heard the same thing that she has. “Order of – First class?” Eliza repeats, her powerful voice barely a whisper now. And then she looks back at Sylvie, gulps, and straightens up, unfurling her shoulders to stand at attention before the Minister. Another smile starts to edge up the corners of Eliza‘s mouth, smaller, wondering, and proud.

(Faculty) Continuing to look rather impish than full of herself, Astra grins a touch wider to show teeth. She’s enjoying this scene very much, although it’s a personal sort of pleasure that bursts into full bloom when Sylvie finally makes her announcement. Clapping, she purposefully controls her reaction and bites back a shout of joy for the two young adults so awarded.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh doesn’t look too surprised, though she could just be covering up her expression for once. A soft smile spreads across her features, but in all reality they weren’t her closest students by a wide margin, not having the scores for her particular class. Still, should they look her way for any reason, the smile will widen appreciatively. So they saved the professor of her least favorite subject; At least they had and the Ministry wasn’t ignoring it. Keelan glances briefly down the table toward Karina, and then sets her expresison forward again, hands folding across her lap.

Slight smile back as she watches Eliza and Martin’s reactions, Sylvie waits until the large amounts of cheering have died down again before continuing. When it finally does, she turns to face the Head Boy and Girl, taking a single step toward them to present each with the award and offer a handshake. Alongside this she adds, “Thank you, both, for your services. I’m glad to know there are people such as you, and am sure you will both do well once you leave these walls.” She offers another, larger smile to the two, before turning back to the student body at large. “It has been a pleasure to be here with you today. With no further ado, I turn you back to your Headmistress.”

With a steady hand, Eliza reaches out to accept the award, shaking the Minister’s hand firmly with the other. She stands even taller, if that were possible, and her smile shines forth into a full-force grin as she closes her hand around her Order of Merlin. But Eliza‘s eyes are shining with more than pride – as she withdraws from the handshake, she hastily reaches up to scrub at her eyes with the heel of her hand, swallowing hard even amid her smiles.

Rising from the Faculty table after Eliza and Martin have accepted the rewards, Melvina applauds loudly, after after a few moments, motions for everyone to rise and applaud as well. And with some satisfaction, she notes that the applause is both loud and very sincere. “Thank you, Minister, and congratulations to the Head Boy and Head Girl! Let us praise our fine student leaders by honoring the with the school song!” Giving a great, wordless, hooting cheer, the Headmistress breaks in to a very loud, very happy round of largely off-key song, in hopes that the room follows her lead in good cheer. “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something, please! Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees! Our heads could do with filling, with some interesting stuff! For now they’re bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff! So teach us things worth knowing, bring back what we’ve forgot! Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot!” And only once the Headmistress-invited standing ovation and song has progressed for several minutes, the Headmistress makes motion for everyone to quiet again. Turning to Sylvie, Martin, and Eliza, Melvina grins, warmly. Obviously quite jovile, even if there is a small mark of seriousness in her eyes. “Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster, please remain there for a moment. Thank you, Minister. I know you have pressing a pressing agenda, but if you could see fit to stay, I’m sure my staff would make room for you at our table. The meals are as lovely still as I’m sure you remember.” The offer made, she looks back to the crowd of students, her rich brown eyes twinkling, “Now, moving right along..”

“Indeed, indeed. Well done, Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster. You have both performed an act and bravery and cunning that speaks well of yourselves and this school. It is with a genuine heart that I, the faculty of Hogwarts School, and your fellow students congratulate you. However,” Melvina notes, the mirth leaving her expression at the note of that last word. The Headmistress’ tone becoming gravely serious. “As prefects, and certainly Head Boy and Head Girl, you of all pairs should know that rules are rules, and are not to be broken lightly, even in the wake of such good tidings or favorable results. Thus, I fear I must make some last moment addendums to our house rankings.”

Stepping back to allow the Headmistress the spotlight along with the two students, Sylvie joins in with the last round of clapping as the room stands up. As the clapping.. and, later, song.. fade off and Melvina resumes her speech, Sylvie apparently accepts the invitation to stay. After all, who would refuse the Hogwarts feast? And the beginning of Melvina’s speech finds her at the Faculty table.

(Faculty) Mumbling the school song with no great enthusiasm, Astra‘s lips move nicely but the words are more spoken than sung and what does manage to be audible is more a whisper of jumbled words. As Melvina begins her own speech, the remaining smile fades away.

Basking in the glow of applause and praise, Eliza stands at the front of the room, pushing back the tears of joy and pride that threaten to spill out of her shining eyes. She tosses her head back, and lifts her chin higher in a show of strength, struggling to keep her smile from wavering. And then the Headmistress’s next announcement comes – and Eliza‘s expressive face melts into a look of sudden apprehension. She exchanges an entirely different kind of look with Martin now, worried and uncertain.

“For leaving the school grounds without express permission or escort of myself or one of the school faculity, I find that I must penalize both the Head Boy and Head Girl by twenty points each.” Knowing what an unpopular announcement that will be, especially after such a jolly congratulations, Melvina similar waits and allows that to sink in. Noting those who boo with the same quiet, grave expression.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh sings the school song with all the enthusiasm of a dead rock–that is, she sort of opens and shuts her mouth once or twice but not sound comes out and her cheeks turn a rosy shade of red. Her nostrils flare at the reduction of points, and it’s in a still inaudible mutter that the professor comments, “As if Ravenclaw needed more of a lead in order to win.” She resumes her unpleasant posture of ‘getting through the feast’. Very mature. No. Honest!

Eliza lifts her chin higher still – not in defiance, but in acceptance. She stands just as straight and tall as ever, even with the burden of losing her House points as one of her last acts as a Hufflepuff – but Eliza still can’t quite bring herself to meet the eyes of her housemates, or Martin.

Once Melvina has let that reality sink in, that Ravenclaw’s lead had become absolute, the Headmistress continues. Her expression equally as serious and tone just as grave. “However, I would be remiss in following Hogwarts policy if I didn’t then, in turn, reward your fine accomplishments as well.” It’s only then than the tell-tale twinkle in her eyes glimmers as she shifts her gaze toward Martin and Eliza. “With dedication and cunning that exemplifies the core traits of both your houses, Miss Marlowe and Mister Foster, you two alone subdued and helped bring to justice a singularly Dark Wizard, and cleared our dear Professor Sedgewick’s name. For that, I have the great pleasure of awarding you fifty points, each.”

Continuing on, as if not to lose her momentum, Melvina adds in a grand voice, “Further, I award Martin Foster another fifty points efforts that saved the lives of third year Louis Harper and our Professor Rathe while putting himself under great personal risk.” Drawing a deep breath, Melvina grins, quite suddenly, and opens another round of applause, before looking down to Martin and Eliza, nodding that after they have soaked up enough praise, they may return to their tables.

And Eliza‘s grin bursts forth again, spilling over into a laugh of relief and triumph. She reaches over to shake Martin’s hand, and then changes it to an enthusiastic thump on his shoulder. With the momentary anxiety entirely dispelled, Eliza is free to let her joy emerge again, and she strides – no, runs back to the Hufflepuff table to rejoin her housemates for one last time.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh is watching the giant hourglasses fill and lets out a rather unprofessional, “Ha!”, turns bright red, and then murmurs, “Rather, congratulations to them. Deserved it, of course. Hard work.” Lower, probably just to whomever is closest to her (in all likelyhood, Julie), “Not being Ravenclaws.” Back to herself, she smiles at Astra and Melvina and the Slytherin in general. At least she resisted the urge to smirk at the Ravenclaws. After all, who knows, maybe some of the first years saved a barrage of house elves while nobody was looking and they’ll win again anyway. She waits.

“Our Hogwarts family has endured much this term, and by sheer pluck of our students and faculty, we have emerged from the struggle stronger and shining brighter than we ever have. It is on that note, that I also wish to praise Professor Sedgewick and Professor Rathe,” Melvina continues, after the applauses have died down again. “Professor Sedgewick, of course, endured a grueling assault on her character and soul and perserved as best as one could expect. Professor Rathe showed great strength of character and soul in during the trial of Paul Clairwill, and such fortitude and bravery should be rewarded. Thought it would be unfair for me to award house points, or implore upon our dear visiting Minister to grant medals as were just recieved by our esteemed Head Boy and Head Girl, I believe they are each equally deserving of said regards, and we should all be proud of them, and of there connections to us and this school.” Again, leading a round of applause, Melvina then turns to Astra with a grin brimming with genuine pride, and motions to the blue and bronze decorations lining the room. “I believe we have a new House Champion, do we not? If you would do the honors?”

Standing up, there is a pause as the small woman reaches into her cloak to retrieve her wand. Looking rather perplexed as her name was mentioned, Astra tries to cover up her discomfort with a tight smile and a muttered, ‘my pleasure.’ Following that there she moves swiftly with a snapping motion of her wrist and wand, the banners flip from Blue and Bronze to Green and Silver changing to display from Ravenclaw to Slytherin colors. Astra‘s smile faded during the loss of points, but now she bestows a very pleased expression upon the Slytherin table as she tucks the wand away and retakes her seat without a word.

“Congratulatuions, Slytherin house! Now, only one more thing to say, before we enjoy –” With her still withdrawn wand, Melvina negligantly flicks it at the direction of the tables, summoning the End of Year Feast for everyone to enjoy. “– the fine food which has been prepared for us. This has been my first year at Hogwarts School, but it has been a fine one. Thank you all for that. When I arived, this was an imposing castle, something I remembered from my youth. A daunting job. But thanks to you all, staff and students alike, I felt welcomed, and now, I can’t help but see this place as my home. For those of you students who will return next year, remember that magic use over the summer is strictly prohibitted, and that next year I hope we can grow together as much as we have this one. For those of you graduating and going out in to the world, we have only had the oppertunity to touch each other’s lives briefly, but I hope you will remember me and this place fondly, as I will remember you. My first graduating class as the luckiest woman in the world, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Eat well.” And with that, Melvina sits, smiling quietly.

(Faculty) Chuckling darkly as the Headmistress resumes her seat, Astra does reach for her flask this time. Opening it, she pours some of the contents into her goblet. Stopping it back up, she puts it away and reaches for the goblet. “Ah yes, a warm welcome from the staff,” grinning sharply her dry humor hasn’t changed in the slightest. “That’s not exactly how I’d phrase such things but then,” raising the glass to Melvina, “You’ve grown on me. I hope we all have a better year next year.” Sweeping her arm to include those down the table away from her, she smiles to all gathered at the table. “To all of us, it’s been interesting this year if not always pleasurable.”

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard chuckles, softly, passing a vague glance to Astra with a coy sort of expression. “Truly? It must be age, then, as I was certain everyone at this table welcomed me with open arms.” Her tone is laced with a similar dry amusement that marks Astra’s, though her expression softens noticably at the gesture made by the Defense Master. Taking up her own tankard, she lifts it as well, in response. “To all of us. Hear, hear.”

(Faculty) “Poor Ravenclaw,” is all Bonnie comments before she begins to fill her plate with some of the delectable cuisine from before her. The smug looks on some faces before her causes the woman to chuckle, however, and she does seem amused at how the various houses are taking the news.

(Faculty) “The Ravenclaw did very well for themselves this year with Quidditch and they managed to get the House Cup last year. I’m sure they’ll continue proving themselves.” Smiling a little fondly, Astra takes a drink from her goblet, but ignores all the food on the table. “I’m proud of the Slytherin. I don’t know when the last time was that the won a House Cup, but even if they don’t win again it’s good to see they’re turning around and actually caring.” “I’m a bit sad for Hufflepuff actually they did very well this year. Maybe next year they’ll surprise us all.” While she’s not the kind to typically make conversation, she is trying and more, she’s actually being polite for once rather than using her usual curt manners.

(Faculty) “Indeed. I had some very talented Hufflepuffs in my class this year,” Bonnie adds after a sip of some stew. “Perhaps next year will surprise us all,” the woman comments as well, smiling down the table to Astra. How congenial! Bonnie does not appear to be so very hungry as all that, though, leaving bits and pieces of the food she has taken on the plate before her and instead sipping her pumpkin juice slowly, interspersing it with the occasional bite of food.

(Faculty) “Good to hear, all I managed to glean was complaints and whines from students about how hard Divination was.” Grinning sharply, it’s a glimmer of her dark humor and Astra directs it at Bonnie. “I’m glad to hear and see that Divination isn’t at all like old Dinsmore taught. I thought it was another easy ‘A’ until I heard things in the hallways. Things are different now, but that’s not such a bad thing. I hope your Hufflepuff continue to do well, they’re a mostly good bunch that House.” “May you continue to get talented students and not ones like,” chuckling, “well to be blunt, like I was.”

(Faculty) Bonnie laughs actually quite loud as Astra says this. “It’s only hard if they don’t apply themselves to it.” Bonnie seems to believe this, too. “And I wish you good students as well. I can only imagine from the stories I’ve heard about the horrors of the old Divination teachers what the rest of the teachers must have been like. I simply can’t imagine. Hiring people like that after the joy that Professor D’Estiny was.” Bonnie‘s eyes almost seem to glaze over in sheer joy as she thinks back to her own Hogwarts days. “Hopefully the students are doing better in Defense than many were doing in Divination?”

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard simply listens, quietly smiling, feeling quite warm from the butterbeer that had found it’s way in to her belly and the steaming turkey legs she had enjoyed. She had meant every word, ultimately. About this place feeling like home, and her staff feeling like family. It was pleasant, that way. And she hoped that feeling would continue. Astra was right. It had been a rocky start, but once things had smoothed over, everything seemed to even out. And now.. she had a family again. ‘Actually,’ Melvina thought, as she looked out at the Ravenclaw table, to one fifth-year prefect and one second-year teenager. ‘Two families, under one roof.’ “What a year,” she whispers, sipping her butterbeer once more.

(Faculty) “I would say they’ll at least survive the world when they leave my class, but I don’t think many really care about the subject.” Shrugging, Astra takes another drink and sets the goblet down. “I can’t really blame them; it’s not my favorite subject either. Who really wants to prepare to face off things that range from pests to outright dangers? Not really a pleasant subject at all.” “Most of them do what they have to in order to get by.”

(Faculty) Sylvie Winters-Geroff has remained mostly silent for the feast so far, though even she looked slightly pleased at Slytherin’s win. It would hardly do for her to say so of course. Now she contributes, “The first Divination professor I had was rather good; of course, Professor Love left while I was still young.” As if she’s terribly old now – but it was her fourth or fifth year. As the conversation moves on however, she quiets again, rather enjoying just being back for one feast.

(Faculty) “Ah, yes, well… that does make sense,” Bonnie answers. After all, it had not been her best subject by any means. “I never could quite cotton on to it, myself, anyway.” Pausing as the Minister speaks up, bonnie nods. “That will have been after I left school, I think, that Professor Love was there.” Stating this, Bonnie almost balks at herself. How is it she comes to be so much older than the Minister after all? “It’s a real pity that there were such poor teachers after.” Bonnie shakes her head again and sips her pumpkin juice, falling quiet.

(Faculty) Glancing at the Headmistress, Astra doesn’t quite scowl. “My own are coming in next year. I don’t know how you manage Melvina, I really don’t. I’m almost afraid of having my children as pupils.” Grabbing up the goblet, she sips again from the contents and grins at Bonnie’s words. “We had a few decent professors, but most of them were terrible really. The ones that were good I would have done anything for, they made me love being here. Then of course there were the terrible ones that I detested and they made school almost as unbearable and the horrible students.” “I think that the demand for quality is improving, rather than the Board just placing their favorites in positions. It’s good to see and it’s good to know that the students who leave us will have a solid education.”

(Faculty) “Oh, I do hope yours will take Divination when the time comes,” Bonnie comments cheerfully, finishing off the last of her food, though she leaves much of the stew in its bowl, mostly untouched. “I had better go set things to rights in my office before I head off for the summer,” the woman comments. “So very nice to meet you,” she addresses to the Minister for Magic and then smiles to the rest of the faculty. “See you soon,” she tells them all, giving a mock salute with a bit of a grin as she stands and makes her way out of the Great Hall.

“Ah ha!” Melvina chirps, after unrolling an insanely large scroll of parchement across the surface of her desk. The wooden scroll spine, roughly the size of automobile axel, clatters to the ground while the edges of the yellowed material hang off the edge of the desk not unlike an ill-cut tablecloth. Numberous former headmasters, captured in painting hung all about the great domed room look with some mild interest at the curious bolt of scrawling scripts. “What have you there, Bert, dear?” Asks on portrait, a pleasantly plump witch by name of Doris Whamsley. Several other potraits hmn, curiously, as if to express interest as well. Melvina, however, simply grins. Oversized parchments and talking portraits are hardly odd, however, at a place like Hogwarts. Nor are they even the oddest thing in the room. Indeed, in shelves and cabinets and on small tables here and there are dozens upon dozens of magical artifacts. Ancient fossils of civilazations long gone by. Small incan statues carved of gold, a curious stone bowl with swirling silver contents neighter liquid nor gas, an anhk from the temples of Egypt, and numberous dark detectors, just to name a few. Items collected on her travels as a curse-breaker. One small table has been set aside toward the back portion of the room, on which sits a wizard’s chess set. One set seems to be composed of clashing Mayan figurines, while the other seems is a classic Scottish highlander set. The Mayan figurines are set off to the side, and two highlander pawns an knight are holding the Mayan king captive, remains of the Scots last victory. The papers have all be thrown from Melvina‘s desk willy-nilly, so that it almost appears that she stands in a seat of half-flung books and scattered parchment.

“Professor Prichard?” the fifth year Ravenclaw calls quietly, a quieter knock on the door echoing after her voice finishes. “You called for me?” Noémie cannot help but look really curiously at the office. No, she had not seen it since Professor Hargrove had been in it, and it certainly was less cluttered than it appeared to be now. The girl watches the Headmistress for approval, stepping only just inside the door, in case Melvina is too busy to see her just now.

“Yes, dear, yes,” Melvina calls somewhat distractedly, not bothering to look up from the oversized parchment as she draws in close to it and runs her forefinger across the page in a roughly zig-zag pattern. “Come in, come in! Have a seat!” The headmistress murmurs excitedly, lifting a hand and flicking her fingers at the air in front of her desk, materializing a ultilitarian, but mildly coushined table-chair infront her desk, perched on top the slightly uneven hill of parchement scattered about her desk. Without benefit of a wand. There was no denying that, all other things aside, Melvina was a tremendously talented witch. “There! Right there!” Says, immediately after conjuring the chair, prodding at a specific point in the parchment with a thrust of triumph.

Noémie does as she’s told and and climbs into the chair, sitting primly, her school robes rather disshevelled from the quidditch practice she has just run from. Her hair is a fright, though she doesn’t notice at this moment. “What did you call me for, if I might ask?” the prefect states evenly, though she does have a bit of a hunch about what this meeting was called. She says nothing else, but she does crane her neck a bit, attempting to see what it is the Headmistress is so excited about.

“This, dear,” Melvina replies, poking at the parchement again — holding her finger carefully over the spot on the parchement as she sinks back in to the chair behind her, which she had abandoned in the attempt to find the obscure and minutely written character son the old, yellowed blanket of parchement in front them. “This right here.” Finally lifting her gaze, Melvina passes the girl am almost playful grin. One that seems almost younger than her silver hair and wrinkles would suggest. Noémie’s rumpled appearance is taken in only as an afterthought, she herself having been the sort to enjoy getting a little windtossed, it seems to amuse rather than offend her. “I thought after the last match and what was said, noting your and Riley’s surprise on the pitch, I would go about clearing up some questions. I’d hoped to show this to you together, buts eeing as that my grandson has been..” She pauses, briefly, her eyes losing a hint of thier vibrance. Riley wasn’t at practice this afternoon, nor had he been for the last couple of days. “..predisposed,” she decides on, ultimately, before forcing herself to grin again. “I thought I might show you.” Drawing a deep breath, she looks down at the parchment. Which is a very large, very elaborate family tree. “This, Miss Ribouet, is the most noble,” scoff, “and ancient,” with a drone and a wink, “house of Bones.”

“Bones?” Noémie responds quietly, standing and coming to the desk to look at what Melvina is showing her. “I’m related to a Bones, then?” Clearly Noémie has not been at all educated about her family, save that they really wanted nothing to do with her. Was Melvina part of this family who considered her an outcast? Noémie says nothing in relation to this, but she cannot help feel concerned about it. “But my mother’s maiden name was Burgess.”

“Indeed you are, dear,” Melvina says with a smile, canting her head slightly to one side as she regards Noémie’s expression. She doesn’t say anything of just yet, though, observing for the moment. Starting with Uriel Nicholas Bones, she traces the path of relation out.

“So, that’s my…” Noémie pauses in thought, counting on her fingers. “Great-great-great grandfather?” she asks, curious, looking down at the part of the family tree that Melvina has begun pointing out to her. “Mum and dad never told me of any of this,” she finally admits aloud, running her fingers gently over the older parts of the family tree. “So, how are we related, exactly? I can’t see it right off, I’m afraid.”

“We, my dear, are first cousins, twice removed,” Melvina says, in a coversational tone, as she allows Noémie to finish finger-tracing the path on her own. Instead, grinning a coy, almost playful sort of smile, the headmistress leans back in her chair and folds her arms lightly under her breast. Her eyes do narrow slightly for a moment as she attempts to mentally work it out, then obviously decides the better of it as she abandons the look with a dismissive cluck of her tongue. “You get the idea, at any rate.”

“So, we’re sort of… distantly related, then?” Noémie pauses as she runs her fingers down. “Why isn’t my family’s line here?” she asks cautiously, noting that Melvina’s line is, very much, still there. “And I suppose this sort of makes Riley and me… cousins? Or, what is it?” She looks perplexed as she thinks over her relation to Melvina, trying to translate it, then, into her relation to Riley. “Oh, this is confusing. We’re related, though?” Noémie leans back in her seat, face pensive while she looks at the tree now from the distance of her chair.

“Indeed so, dear. We’re distantly related, as are you and Riley, though even more distantly. Cousins, if it makes it easier to wrap your mind around. It happens that way in pureblood families, often. There aren’t as many of us as there used to be, and so everyone begins to coil with everyone else after a time –” Leaning forward, Melvina casts a gaze at the chart, noting with a somewhat sad glimmer in her still-youthful eyes that, indeed, Noémie’s line had been erased off the oversized scroll. Unfolding her arms and taking her wand off her desk, and gives it a little flick and briefly, the length of Noémie’s line reappears, only to vanish again after several seconds. “Stupid charm, that, but damned resistant. It’s a Neener Charm. Out of sight, out of mind. Ignorant bigots.” The old wooman’s face becomes momentarily clouded and somewhat dark, before she sighs and shakes away the memories with a sour expression. “That happens, too, in old pure-blood families. Idiocy. Your branch of the family were known blood-traitors, so they put on an Neener Charm over you. Enough to hide your family’s “shame”, but fixable enough that they can still reveal the names for inheiritance. You’ll notice my name is fairly pale as well, mhn? I married a muggle, after all.”

“Oh, I see.” Noémie pauses. “So, it’s because my mum married my dad, isn’t it?” She seems to sink lower in her chair, almost as if the weight of what she’s just been told is weighing down on her physically. “Why would anyone do that?” She frowns rather hard and leans forward again. “So it would be… over here.” A pause permeates and she stands up again, leaning over and looking at it, pushing her hair back out of her face. “How did you figure out that it was my line, then?” Noémie asks quietly, looking up at the woman, her face serious and perhaps a bit morose.

Melvina Prichard seems to consider for a moment both of Noémie’s questions for a long, quiet moment, before leaning forward in her seat. Her elbows plant themselves gingerly on the parchment-shrouded surface of her desk and she steeples her fingers in front of her somewhat hooked, pointed nose in a cogitative manner as her wand dangles limply between the two clasped hands, tip waving lazily over scrawled lines of elderly names and forgotten relations. “It is, yes, in part because of your parents. But not solely the reason. Notice that it isn’t simply yourself and your parents covered, but names above them and around them, as well.” Her fingertips drum against one another briefly, before she clears her throat and lowers her hands. “I and knew they were there because I knew of them, dear. Your parents, I mean. Not personally, but by reputation. Even when I was out of favor with my parents, my sisters and I would still talk. And, sadly to say, they would often have little more of value to contribute to a conversation than gossip. I applaud anyone who follows their heart, especially in the face of adversity. It is our greatest strength as people, Noémie, dear. More powerful than any magic.” Those words, her tone, for that one moment, is quite serious. Her voice, usually mirthful and light, conveys in that space an almost cosmic secret, wisdom beyond time. And it hangs thickly in the air for a moment before she continues, he usual tone of quiet amusement filling her words and expression once more. “So I followed their careers. I never had the oppertunity to meet them personally, at least, not in any great length. But I applauded them, never the less.”

“Oh, so… it’s … a good thing,” Noémie realizes and sits back down on the edge of her seat. “So, you’ve never met my parents then. It’s no wonder they’ve never mentioned you, then.” Noémie pauses and looks down the line where she assumes that her own ancestors might be. “Perhaps you could meet them this summer. And we could all — in France — on holiday,” It is clear that this both excites and confuses Noémie, even as she tries to make plans for her newfound family, before even letting it fully sink in. “I’ve never had family before,” she comments bluntly, turning her attention from the parchment to Melvina’s face.

Rising, slowly, Melvina can’t help but smile. A genuine smile, somehow subtly differant from her usual air of simple amusement. It’s kinder, simpler expression, captured in the softening of a line here, and the increase of a line there. It’s a tired expression, weary from sadness, perhaps. A lifetime of loss, confusion, and misunderstanding hanging in those deep brown eyes for that unguarded moment. The loss of a husband and a parent, the confused relationship with her sisters, and the misunderstandings gulfing she and her daughter that have grown to slowly include her only wizarding grandson, all reflected there, for one brief moment. Hardly longer than a heartbeat. It was genuine empathy — she knew what Noémie meant by those words, that she had never had a family. She had experienced it herself, and worse yet, she was afraid that was to be Riley’s fate as well. And ultimately, perhaps, that was why she had called Noémie to her tower this evening. Because she knew that, and knew that, even if it were just a cousin — even if it faded in to obscurity as well, in the course of time — everyone deserves someone they can come to, someone they can love, someone they can trust. Noémie did, certainly. Riley did. And maybe even she. Reaching out slowly, as she strides quietly around the desk, Melvina touches Noémie’s hand kindly. The depth of her expression hidden again, that unguarded moment passed — her secrets and hurts no longer reflected in her eyes. But there is no mistaking her tone, the genuine tenor of her words, as she replies, “You have one now.” And her fingers squeeze lightly Noémie’s hand, before her normal manner commenses, and she perches herself on a half-sit on the edge of her desk. “And don’t you worry, it’s been a long while since I’ve had one, either, so we’ll be able to practice it all together. That said, I thought I might ask you a small favor.”

“Yes, a family,” Noémie whispers happily, looking around the office with a somewhat still shocked expression. The girl stays quiet for a long moment, almost as if she is waiting for Melvina to just speak, rather than wait for her response. But then, it seems to occur to her that she might need to speak up. “What kind of favor?” she finally asks quietly. “Is it a very … big one?” Despite the fact that Melvina has said a small one, it almost seems as if Noémie wants it to be big, to increase her importance in the matter, perhaps.

Melvina Prichard chuckles softly, folding her arms under her breast with a slight grin. “Naturally you know my grandson, captaining him on the team as you do,” she replies. A faint twinkle touching her eyes. “His grades are slipping — he’s a fair hand at practical work, but he’s fairly dim in the area of book learning. Your marks, as I understand it, have been fairly strong through out. I wondered if you might be willing to tutor him some?” An almost conspiritorial look washes over her as she playfully grins. “Between practices and studying for your coming O.W.L.s and other social obligations, naturally.” A small pause, and then, almost incidentally, “And, of course, it you happen to learn more about your cousin in the process, then so be it.”

“Oh, of course,” Noémie responds and nods quickly. “It won’t be too much, I’m sure. Second year studies aren’t too taxing, either, so it should be no problem.” The girl smiles happily at Melvina as she says this. “And I’m sure he’ll catch on after a fashion. I’ve had times where I wished I had a tutor, too.” She pauses. “Actually, it would be handy for the OWLs.” She shakes her head with a sigh. “I know they’re months away, but I do so want to do well on them, and other Ravenclaws in my year don’t seem as fussed with studying for them so I can’t form a group. I suppose, if I help Riley, he can help me study by quizzing me a bit, though.” Noémie seems to come to her own solution as she says this, breathing in deeply. “Is he doing so poorly as all that, though?”

“Well, no, dear, not entirely,” Melvina murmurs, settling in on her perch at half on the edge of her desk, somewhat displacing a small scroll of parchment that had been resting there, which clatters to the floor. “My Riley is a fairly talented boy in his own right. He’s a mab hand at magic, all told. All his professors have assured me that, outside of potions, when it comes to actual, practical application of magic, he could rival some of the students in your year. Theory, however, seems to completely elude him. He’s capable of being one of the top of his year, if he could master the written and theoretical portion of his workload. That would be, primarily, what I would like you to help him with.” Her smile fades a bit, as the weight of her genuine concern regarding her grandson’s academic troubles weighs upon her. “It’s not unlike what I’ve see with him on the quidditch pitch, actually, and I’m sure you’ve noted as well. He’s a natural flier — if you, naturally, weren’t the team seeker, he’d probally have been a shoe-in for the position. He’s fast and clever and brilliantly reckless. But with he has no control over his bat. Putting himself between the bludger and his teammates isn’t a problem, but where he sends that bludger afterward, is. Count that on to the sheer number of classes he has had to miss because of his illness..” At that, Melvina does pause, and for a moment, the smile is gone entirely. Again, there is a flicker of her unmasked state. And an amount of guilt and concern flickers over her eyes that is almost crushing, before she moves on a moment later, not allowing herself to dwell. “He practices, alone. Magic, I mean. He finds empty classrooms after hours, and devours spellbooks, until he masters them. He thinks no one notices, but he forgets sometimes that every wall in this castle has eyes, and all those eyes reach me eventually. He’s making his way through the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 at the moment. Just mimicking the movements, incantations, but forgoing entirely the theory or understanding of why the spells work. At this rate, he’ll make a mockery of his O.W.L.s, and I can’t stand to see that. So it appears mutually beneficial on a number of angles, the notion of you tutoring him. Improving his understand, him helping quiz you, and your getting to know a relative you never knew you had.” A faint smile returns, finally, as she turns her gaze back to Noémie.

The girl nods and smiles. “He could use some more practice at his Quidditch, too. I’ve offered to help him with some of the younger students, too, if he decides he can spare the time. I don’t see why studies would be out of the question as well.” She smiles broadly and though she does cringe a little as Melvina mentions his illness, the girl says nothing about it. She, for her part, isn’t sure even how to address it. “I’ll do my best to help him understand the theory and practicality behind it,” she promises the headmistress, then proceeding to sit in silence for a moment. That moment seems to elongate and lengthen and then the silence becomes a bit uncomfortable for Noémie. “Was there anything else you wanted, Professor?” she asks the woman and stands a little, her eyes lingering on the family tree for just a moment before looking to Melvina.

Melvina Prichard seems to consider that for a moment, following Noémie’s gaze back to the oversized scroll on which Melvina partially sits, before exhaling a soft sigh. Her quiet, half-smile remains, but as her eyes wonder over that long stretch of parchment naming pure-bloods of the Bones line back to antiquity, there’s a certain coldness as well. To many bitter memories and hard choices reflected in her eyes she was forced to make under the prejudice of those names still visible. “No, dear, unless you have any further questions.”

“Hmmm,” Noémie seems to consider, looking over the parchment for a moment. “Well… I think I need to owl my parents and ask them some questions first. And then I’ll ask you more questions if I’ve still got any,” the girl tells the headmistress, smiling a bit. “I’ll … just go then.” She bites her lip and looks at Melvina one last time before finally deciding to slip out of the office quickly, bound for, likely, the owlery.

Melvina Prichard draws a deep breath and exhales it slowly, still gazing at the parchment for several moments after Noémie leaves, and she hears the gargoyle slide back by to place. “Bastards,” she murmurs, her eyes narrowing on the oversided parchment as she rises. With a negligant flick of her wand, all the scrolls lift up in to the air, roll up tightly, and pile themselves in a neat stack at the side of her desk. A wave of her free hand lifts up all the things she had shoved off her desk when Noémie had first entered and arranges them back on the wooden surface. One of the portraits, a plum amd prim former headmistress by the name of Ivagora Platt makes a disgusting hissing noise, and rather adminantly chides Melvina on her use of language. “Ladies should not speak that way, dear. Oh, no! You should be ashamed!” Melvina doesn’t even bother to look up before murmuring in response in a somewhat cold tone, “Thank you, Ivagora.” She stood by her word. Parents shouldn’t have to raise a child without family, and a child shouldn’t be castigated out on the “supposed” crimes of her parents. Or grandparents. Not Noémie, not Riley.

Sitting at her desk in her office, Bonnie seems to have put off doing work for the day, and instead has her feet quite comfortably propped up on the corner of it. In her hands is a rather large text, the front of which states clearly that it is the most reliable source for tea reading tea types. Bonnie‘s eyebrows are knitted together as she scours the book, already more than half-way through it, with a hefty stack of notes next to her. The woman looks quite blissfully unaware of the real world going on around her, pausing and leaning forward to scribble some more notes onto her parchment.

Like a ship in full sail, Sibyl Wexler sweeps down the hallway at a fast-paced waddle, her rounded face flushed with the warmth of the springtime as well as the exertion of moving about the school’s numerous staircases and corridors so far along in her pregnancy. But the nurse’s usual energy does not seem to have been decreased at all, and she keeps up a steady running commentary as she moves down the corridor towards the Divination office with her eldest daughter at her side. “Now, we’re going to see what Professor Kensington has to say. Remember not to touch anything – the art classroom is one thing, but Professor Kensington will have all sorts of delicate things.” Sibyl breaks off to give a quick, emphatic knock at the door. “Professor? Are you free?”

“I know, mum,” Briony responds quietly, her cheeks reddening. “Do you have to say things like that in front of my friend?” she asks in an irritated whisper, but then they’re at the door of the Divination teacher’s office, and she stops abruptly, standing on tip-toes to try and see what the teacher looks like over her mother’s shoulder. “I hope she’s nice,” Briony whispers to Kalynn, sounding a good degree less irritated than the whisper she addressed her mother with only moments before.

Time for Kalynn to learn about what Briony has described to her as the ‘pretend subject’! Scampering after Briony, Kalynn nods in response to the nurse’s warning and makes a mental note to curb her enthusiasm for touching everything. Grinning, Kalynn nods. “She… she will be!” Kalynn says with some firmness, though her facial expression might suggest this is more of a hopeful statement than one based in experience of any kind. “She looks like a nice person…” she notes, looking from Briony to Sibyl.

“What?” Bonnie asks and sits up abruptly, causing her feet to come to the floor with a loud THUNK. “Oh, hello, Missus Wexler,” Bonnie greets her coworker and peers beyond her to look at the two girls. “I’m perfectly free,” she answers almost sounding gleeful. “Are these both yours?” she asks, looking at the two young girls behind Sibyl. “Prospective students, I assume?” Bonnie‘s voice has a very pleasant lilt to it as she comments on this to Sibyl, looking pleased that someone would even want to find out about it beforehand.

A brief glance over her shoulder is all the reprimand that Sibyl Wexler gives her daughter, and by the time she pushes through the door of the office, her smile has returned. “Oh, thank you, Professor. No, only one of them is mine – this is my eldest, Briony.” Maternal pride warms Sibyl‘s smile and voice as she reaches out to put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “And this is her friend Kalynn. Yes, both prospective students – if you’ve got a minute to spare for us, we’d all appreciate hearing what advice you might have.”

Grinning brightly as she is introduced, Briony steps forward, standing in front of her mother. “That’s my best friend,” she supplies after Kalynn is addressed by name. “Well, my other one.” This is assuming, of course, that Bonnie would even know she had one to begin with. Before she is even bidden to sit down, Briony plops into the nearest chair, her parchment poised and her quill ready to grab and take notes. “We’re thinking of taking Divination. Is it fun?” She wastes no time in asking her most important question, it seems, and she takes the quill from out of her hair, removing the bit of parchment that serves to keep her hair free of ink.

Kalynn gets an odd pang as Sibyl rests her hand on Briony, and looks down momentarily. The girl was at quite a loss as to why Briony so resented having her mother work at the school. Kalynn missed her mum every day! Briony was so lucky! Shaking off the feeling, though, Kalynn knows she should focus on the task at hand! Nodding as she is introduced, Kalynn gives the professor a toothy smile of excitement (likely, also, in response to Briony’s clarification) as she follows her friend into the room and sits down beside her. Kalynn hasn’t thought to bring a quill to take notes with, but surely she can look over Briony’s afterwards? All the same, Kalynn shoots Sibyl a bit of a worried glance before looking to Bonnie, awaiting the answer to the first question.

“Well, aren’t you a forward one?” Bonnie chuckles as the two of them sit in the only chairs available. “Here, Sibyl, have a seat,” Bonnie tells the other woman, bringing out her wand and summoning a chair to slide toward the room. “You must be tired of being on your feet already, trekking up here.” She pauses as she looks from Kalynn to Briony and back again. “Well, I would say it’s exciting, yes. You get to learn how to tell significant future events. Now, it’s not easy, and not everyone has the gift, but if you have the enthusiasm to at least try, then I think you’d do well in the class. For instance, the first semester of your Third Year will be spent drinking tea and then learning to read the dregs at the bottom.” Bonnie smiles warmly at this comment, hoping to easily win these two over as she has managed to do with several other students.

“Thank you!” Sibyl replies, with a little more fervor and relief than she had expected from herself. She glances quickly down at Briony, checking her daughter’s reaction to her own moment of vulnerability, but is soon too caught up in the business of lowering herself down into the chair to watch Briony for much longer. WIth a small sigh, Sibyl stretches her feet out in front of her, and settles down to listen to her colleague’s speech.

“Oh, tea!” Briony responds cheerfully, looking to Kalynn. “It can’t be so bad if you can drink tea in the class.” She pauses. “Do we get cookies with it, too?” Ah, the important things in life! Briony scribbles Tea at the top of her parchment and something else that seems to be entirely unintelligible as she finally remembers to put the header at the top: Divanation.

Nodding to Briony, Kalynn agrees with, “No class is bad with tea,” before putting a finger to her chin and reconsidering slightly. “Except… charms would still be hard, even with tea…” The little girl looks down slightly before glancing back up with a grin. “Even if there wasn’t cookies, it’d still be good. So, what kind of tea is it?” Nevermind the rest of the curriculum, Kalynn needed to know exactly what to be prepared for!

“No, no cookies,” Bonnie tells them with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, the tea is just for practical use, but it is a good part of the class. It’s just plain black tea, is all. Though I’ve been researching different types of tea and their affect on the accuracy of the reading. Until I finish my research, though, we’re staying to the black tea.” Bonnie pats her book as she says this, directing to the book about types of tea. She smiles at Sibyl and quirks her head a bit. “Is there anything you’d like to know about the class itself?” she asks, trying to direect the conversation to more the idea of why she assumes they have come.

A patient, affectionate smile settles over Sibyl‘s face as she listens to the girls’ chattering questions and commentary, and she lets out a soft sigh, shaking her head and rolling her eyes heavenward. “Yes, I’m sure there is plenty that they’d like to know,” she says, agreeing gently but pointedly with the professor’s suggestion. “Such as, what types of books you’ll be reading?” Sibyl gives first Briony and then Kalynn a raised-eyebrow look. “And what sorts of special projects the class has?”

“Oh, right” Briony responds, looking over her shoulder at her mother. “I forgot my list.” With a pause, she turns back to Bonnie, glancing at Kalynn quickly. “What kind of projects do we have to do in the class? Are they really hard?” Briony widens her eyes, an expression which seems to want to look interested, but ends up looking a bit intense and perhaps, at the same time, a bit silly. It is another moment before she shakes her head and relaxes her face to normal, stifling a giggle while she waits for Bonnie’s answer.

Kalynn doesn’t know if she’s ever had plain black tea. Though, this is why one went to school, wasn’t it? To learn! To experience! “Divination books, obviously!” she echoes reasonably to Sybil’s question with a smirk. Kalynn nods excitedly as she tries to curb her thoughts into thinking of a professional-sounding question. Adding to Briony, Kalynn asks, “Yes, because I can sometimes be rather bad at projects. Will you help us if they’re hard?” she questions, looking not quite so intense as Briony, though her brows are furrowed.

Bonnie bites her lips, looking from one girl to the other, obviously trying not to laugh. The other students who had come to see her had not been quite so silly about it. In fact, they had all been rather straightforward. There is a moment of silence while Bonnie formulates how she ought to phrase it for two girls such as this. “Well, the projects will challenge you, but you’ll have everything you need to complete them before I assign them to you, and of course, you can always come to see me. My office hours are posted on that bulletin board in the classroom. I’m not sure if you noticed it, but if you’re going to take this class, you’ll want to acquaint yourselves with it. Of course, you have time.” Bonnie chuckles as she notes this and looks at the two cheerfully. “Any more questions?”

With another sigh of amused despair at the hope of her daughter and her friend ever considering anything practical, Sibyl shakes her head. “Perhaps you’d like to know what sorts of things Divination can be useful for, later on?” she prompts, in one last effort to push the giggling girls into something approaching a focus on the matter at hand. “Jobs, and that sort of thing?”

“Well, of course, mum, telling the future,” Briony answers quickly with a giggle. “Everybody knows that. I heard someone talking about how they pay people at the Ministry to do it, and Dad’s talked about people doing it at the Daily Prophet, too, for their horoscope sections. Isn’t that bully?” Briony seems to be directing this more to Kalynn than to her mother and she giggles. “I forget the rest of my questions. Do you have some, Kalynn?” Briony bounces visibly in her chair as she asks this.

Shrugging, Kalynn asks, “Can we owl you if we think of any more questions, professor Kensington? It’s hard to think of things on the spot, you know?” Kalynn nods as she glances to Sibyl, hoping not to see a look of disappointment. “The class sounds really great,” Kalynn says to the professor. “At least, I’m looking forward to it!”

“Certainly you can,” Bonnie answers quickly, smiling to both of the girls and standing. “And you’re welcome to come see me any time if you think of something. I’m here quite often.” Pausing a moment, Bonnie holds up a hand and slides her drawer open, pulling out a tin and opening it. Inside are cookies of many different assortments. “Have one,” she tells them with a wink to Sibyl, and she holds the tin out to them.

There is neither disappointment nor displeasure on Sibyl‘s face, just the same fond, tolerant smile, and she exchanges a quick look with Bonnie, followed by a slight shrug. What can be done with children like this? Nothing except to say, “It’s all right to have a few cookies, girls. But don’t dawdle too long – we’ve still got to meet with the art professor. Thank you for letting us talk to you, Professor Kensington.”

“Oh, thank you!” Briony responds quickly and takes two cookies — after all, she mustn’t be greedy. Beaming happily at the woman, the girl stands up. “I’m definitely taking Divination, what do you say, Kalynn?” she asks her friend, giving a boisterous wave to the Divination teacher as she practically skips out of the room behind her mother. “Drinking tea and predicting the future sounds like a lot of fun!” The girl giggles loudly as she makes her way out of the office and through the classroom, bound for the hallway.

“Oh yes,” Kalynn confirms, cheerfully taking a cookie, too. “Most definitely!” A bit of a giggle escapes the girl before she remembers her manners: “Oh, thank you!” she says quickly over her shoulder. Waving as well, Kalynn comments, “And you said it was a pretend class!” to Briony with a grin as she leaves the Divination room.

“Well, remember how the librarian had said that if we — well, if I started a club that we might be able to get some more books in for it as long as we let her know ahead of time? Well, what if we actually started it — oh, right, I’m sorry.” Olivia‘s voice trails off quietly as her Slytherin companion states that he has to go to a class, though he does look a bit disappointed at this. “I’ll see you afterward,” she mentions and looks down at her own parchment which has sufficiently dried. Smiling at him a bit as he makes his way off, she looks around for a moment, and then slips into the end of the shelves of books, walking over to a small section and perusing it quietly, well out of the way of the view of most students in the library.

What does Joseph Wexler do when he’s not in class, not snogging Noemie Ribouet, and not asleep? And no, this isn’t a trick question. Why, he goes to the library, of course, possibly to study and possibly to seek out the secret of his success with women (as limited as it is) – muggle literature, preferably of the romantic sort. Poetry, prose, he doesn’t care which, but he could definitely use some new material. He peruses the shelf idly, not really looking for anything in particular, mind wandering. In fact, his mind wanders so far as to pick up on a few words of conversation and, as the Slytherin departs, he saunters over to Olivia, apparently intrigued. “A club?” He asks her – this one’s not afraid of approaching someone directly, not by any means. “What kind of club involves new books?”

The voice behind her startles her and she caps her hand over her mouth quickly. “O–oh, it’s, er, well,” Olivia sputters, ever the eloquent speaker. “It’s — they’re, well, not exactly new, but more copies of older books. It’s an idea for — er –” Olivia colors red as she says this and looks down at the book in her hand, quickly tucking it behind her back. “For reading books… I thought maybe it would be nice to be able to read books and talk about them to people.” Given how red her face is at being caught in the miniscule Muggle Books section, or perhaps at being talked to by a boy who does look older than herself, one might wonder why it is that she, of all people, would want to be in such a club. “And maybe we could read, er, some muggle books. The librarian won’t get anymore because she says I’m the only one who would read them.” If her face can get any redder, it does as she admits this statement, though it stands to wonder where one’s face can go after dark red.

“Well, that just goes to show what she knows.” Joseph replies decisively, gesturing to his bookbag, which seems rather packed to overflowing. Then, to demonstrate his point, he pulls a few out. Textbook, text, Complete Works of William Shakespeare, textbook, Oliver Twist, Dracula, textbook, Frankenstein, textbook, The Mysterious Affair At Styles, textbook. Probably not the sorts of muggle literature Olivia would be interested in, but muggle literature nonetheless. “And, well, that sounds fairly interesting. Who do you think you could get to go for it, though?”

“Er, I don’t know,” Olivia comments, turning her back to the shelves and looking up at Joseph vaguely, her cheeks red as she glances back down at the floor. “I was hoping that maybe someone might like to join, and then we could talk about books and things.” It is clear that Olivia hasn’t thought this idea through very well or very far. “I’ve never been in a club before, so I’m not sure I know how to do it.” A shrug is given and she looks back up at him, determined not to get too flustered, though she does pull on a curl of her blonde hair, wrapping it nervously around her finger.

Shrugging his own shoulders vaguely in return, Joseph seems momentarily far more intent upon packing his books back into his bag. When he does speak, though, it is evident that he has given the matter careful consideration. “Well, that is a very admirable thing for a club to do. Have members, I mean. Mostly, you advertise. Stick up a few signs, tip off a few individuals, tell them to meet somewhere. If you want consistent attendance, take some sort of list of members, and meet up somewhere weekly, or fortnightly, to discuss what you’ve read.” For all that he’s probably never been in a club of any sort either, he does have a vague idea of how things should operate. Then, he smiles at her, almost fondly. “Why is a pretty girl like you so tentative and flustered about the idea of talking to people, anyway? You should be out enjoying yourself, my girl, not worrying so much.”

“Oh, really, does it take that much work just to talk about books?” Olivia asks, perhaps looking a little disappointed as he points this out. “I suppose I’ll have to get help with it, I’ve never done anything like th– what?” As he segues into his comment about her being pretty, her cheeks pinken again. “Oh — er — well, I, uh, I’m not sure what you mean, really,” she tells him, looking at him with wide eyes. Yes, it is clear that Olivia hasn’t the foggiest idea what to do in a situation such as this. “I mean, er,” she looks around her and backs up a bit, bumping gently into the bookshelf behind her. After all, isn’t she the one who most think is odd and perhaps a bit neurotic? “I’m, er…” Olivia has no idea what to say in response to this.

Chuckling to himself, Joseph shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. I didn’t mean to get you so flustered. You don’t look like you’re very good at taking compliments. I should have known better.” He does keep smiling at her, though, and even reaching out to gently brush his fingers against her hair – then, apparently, realising that this is being far too forward with a girl he hardly knows, especially one so flustered by his friendly flirtations, lowering his hand again abruptly. “Well, I could help you out, I suppose. I mean, it doesn’t take all that much effort, and I suppose I’d better spend my time doing something productive. I could chair the meetings, and you – you look like you’re a more behind the scenes person. You could choose the books and give us new ideas for what to say about the books.”

“Oh, well, I guess I’ve just never, well–” she stops abruptly with this train of thought and glances at him. “Oh, you’d do that?” She takes a deep breath, clearly trying to relax herself, though she is a bit nervous at being with someone like him, someone so forward. She closes her eyes as he does touch her hair, but opens them again very quickly, looking up at him, her eyes still large, though not quite as fearful, more with an inkling of excitement. The blue of them seems to even darken a bit as Olivia does so. “Well, I suppose so. I do like to read and things,” she admits with a small smile, only half-showing her now-straight teeth, as if she is still self-conscious about the crookedness of them which is actually no longer there.

“Sure I’d do that.” Joseph replies with a smile, stepping back a little bit to give her back some personal space, though not retreating so far as would usually indicate offense. “I mean, I like to read and things too, you know.” He offers this as if it’s some big secret, and he winks at her. “Of course, being able to spend more time with a pretty girl like you is quite high on the list, too.” This, too, is offered confidentially, as if he is giving away some big personal secret. Indeed, he probably is, given what Noemie would do if she found out he’d been chatting up a fourth year girl. Then, he steps back further, gesturing to a table. “Would you like to go over some organisational plans now, then?”

“Oh, oh, really?” Olivia asks, blushing and looking down at her feet, releasing her curl from her finger in a rather awkward battle between finger and lock of hair. “Let’s plan, yes,” She agrees, turning around quickly and taking two books off of the shelf — clearly ones that she had been eying before — and turns, walking quickly toward her table, making sure to pat her skirt and sweater down, just in case she got dust or something on them when she had leaned against the bookshelf. “My things are over here,” she tells him, sitting down slowly. “I was studying here earlier.” A very neatly written Herbology essay sits before her with painstakingly — though poorly drawn, even still — diagrams. She tucks it carefully into the front cover of the herbology book next to her and slips the book into her bag, leaving only the three novels on the table. “I’m not sure where to start, still,” she admits.

Smiling again at the girl, what Joseph probably considers to be a charming smile, the boy turns a chair around so the back faces the table and straddles it, pulling a fancy Fwooper quill, an ink jar and a roll of parchment out of his bag. “Well,” he begins thoughtfully, “who would you want to be there? Anyone who wants to? Just people you and me know already? That dictates whether or not we put up posters, or if we just tip a few people off. What books would we discuss? Any particular genre? Just muggle literature, or all fiction?” As he asks these questions, he jots down little subheadings related to his queries – ‘People? Genre? Muggle lit?’.

“Well, I don’t really… know people, so I guess just anyone who wanted to join,” Olivia answers thoughtfully. “Will we have to design and copy the posters ourselves?” Clearly the girl has never done this and isn’t quite sure how to go about any of it, though his help does assuage her fear a bit as to how to lead it. “And, I was thinking perhaps just fiction books, since not everyone wants to read muggle books all the time, as I do. And I suppose muggle-borns wouldn’t want to read it as much.” She pauses and thinks more about this. “Yes, just regular literature. Perhaps we could switch off about them and do one muggle book and one regular book.”

“Alright. Posters it is.” Joseph declares, jotting down this point. “Not too many, we don’t want to actually wallpaper the school. One in each common room, maybe one in the library, and one in the Entrance Hall, perhaps.” A pause, and he adds to his list ‘all fiction’. “Well, alright. Do you have any ideas for titles?” Already he adds a couple to the list, in neat, if over-flourished handwriting, easily read from across the desk – ‘Dracula’, ‘Frankenstein’, ‘anything by Agatha Christie’. Another pause, and he sucks on the end of his fancy quill thoughtfully. “Also, we need somewhere to meet. I don’t know if the library would be appropriate, because we’d have to talk a lot… who do you think we could persuade to give up an empty classroom?”

“Well, I thought… we’d do it in the library,” Olivia answers, leaning back in her chair a bit and holding onto the sides of her chair momentarily as she looks at him, biting her lip. Her eyes divert away to her own stack of books, though, as she ponders the question about the first book to begin their club meetings. “Well, what about, er… ‘The Great Gatsby’?” She suggests, pulling said book out from her stack and holding it up for his view. “Or perhaps Tales of the Jazz Age. I’ve meant to read that after I heard someone mention it.” The girl shrugs a bit and looks down again, setting the book back atop the pile. “I don’t know if I’d like Dracula,” she admits. “It sounds… gross.” No better adjective is picked for this, and she does make a face as she states it.

“It’s very good,” Joseph points out, though he obediently strikes it from the list, adding the other two books that she mentions. “And, well, we can meet in the library if you like. But if we’re going to be making conversation, discussing these books, I mean, it seems to me like we’d get in trouble from the librarian if we did that.” He sucks on the tip of his quill again, then, apparently noting his habit, stops abruptly and pulls some licorice out of his pocket to chew upon. As much as group discussions in the library would be a bad thing, obviously the same courtesy does not extend to rules about eating in there.

“Well, er, if you think it would be better somewhere else, I guess we could ask one of the teachers. I haven’t any idea who I’d ask, though.” She pauses and looks down at her lap. “Maybe Professor Sedgewick. She’s my house head.” Olivia seems to have relaxed only a tiny bit in his presence, and it seems she is getting some odd looks besides, for sitting with another boy than Evan, though these looks, she is used to. After all, they all think it’s odd that she’s friends with the latter to begin with. “Or maybe just in … er… Well, I’m really not sure.”

Tapping on the desk with the end of his quill thoughtfully, Joseph is otherwise silent for a moment, sucking up a long strand of licorice which rather ruins his pensive expression. “Do we know of any sort of unused classrooms about the place? Or any Professors, perhaps, who particularly like reading? Or I could ask Professor Morgana, I suppose, she’s my head of house, and her classroom is probably a bit more comfy than the Potions lab. Or, oh, um, you know, I have no idea.” Looking at her again, as if only just noticing her for the first time, the Ravenclaw boy offers her some licorice, affecting a charming smile (more or less, anyway) again. “Sweets for the sweet girl?” He offers.

“Well, there are unused classrooms around the school I’ve noticed. Don’t we have to ask to use them, though?” she asks curiously. She looks at him for a moment, thoughtfully. “I suppose we could ask the headmistress about it.” A pause. “Oh, there’s so much to do. We’ll never get it started before summer vacation.” The disappointment in her voice is clear and she pauses. “Oh, I bet Professor Walsh would help us with it. She… er, she lends me books.” Olivia glances to her bag momentarily, and then back at him. “Oh, er, thank you, but I don’t like licorice,” is all she tells him, her cheeks turning slightly pink as she looks at him. No, Olivia doesn’t know what to make of these type of advances.

“All the more for me.” Joseph remarks in turn, unphased by the younger girl’s dislike of the substance, chewing on a piece thoughtfully. “Well, in that case, we could ask Professor Walsh if she could help us set up in an empty classroom, but I don’t think meeting in a Greenhouse would be all that fun.” Pausing, he considers the point for a long moment, then apparently gets distracted and looks back down at the sheet of paper. “Well, tell you what. You ask Professor Walsh where we can meet up, I’ll make up a couple of signs, and we’ll meet up again, here, oh, in a couple of weeks?” He winks again, leaning forward and whispering, “I’ll be counting the minutes, my pretty lady.” Then, louder again, he adds, “If we can get it all worked out this term, we can start right away next year.” Another flash of a smile, and he starts gathering his things together to leave.

“Alright, I’ll make sure to ask her next time I see her,” Olivia answers quickly and smiles a bit, opening her bag and carefully setting each of the books inside it neatly. She turns to face him as he whispers this and her mouth forms an O shape, jaw dropped and eyes wide. It seems Olivia hasn’t been talked to in this way before, and her cheeks turn a bit red. She stares at him for a moment, nodding mutely as he talks about getitng it set up, and she seems to not realize that she is still staring as he begins to get his things together. She shakes her head as she does finally realize, though, and picks up her bag, standing up and smoothing her skirt out carefully — must not have wrinkles, after all — and begins to move away from the table slowly. “I’ll see you soon, then,” she tells Joseph affirmatively and blushing, looks away, walking rather quickly out of the library, surprisingly without a word to the librarian on her way out.

“I will be wearing a flower on my lapel, so you know it’s me.” Joseph, who is often too lazy to change out of his schoolrobes, which lack lapels, declares, winking at her one last time before pulling his book bag over his shoulder and leaving the library. Alright, so he didn’t acquire any new reading material. What does it matter anyway, when he found a pretty young girl to flirt harmlessly with, and the prospect of a whole club of pretty girls looming up ahead of him, where he can read new books and flirt harmlessly with pretty girls?