The private family parlor is a large room, divided into several individual areas by arrangements of couches and chairs in smaller clusters. Most are ornately constructed in an older, almost medieval style, although a few have a more modern feel. The decorations are bizarre and eccentric, from the stuffed yearling dragon suspended near the ceiling among the floating will-o-the-wisps for light, to the improbably deep bookshelves that adorn the walls of this room just like every other room in the manor. Everything gives the appearance of great age and is very rich and ornate, but also a bit worn. The small bar with weird twisting angles set against the north wall is only for appearances, and is not stocked; drinks appear when asked for.

Oddly enough Gerald is not present tonight and neither is that “layabout” younger brother of his, Uncle Cedric. It would seem the menfolk are busying themselves elsewhere for Astra is actually present in the estate and further has settled comfortably onto one of the couches with her nose in a book. She rarely visits the home of her childhood, but as she so seldom gets to see her children now that they have left Hogwarts there is no avoiding the place all Rathe call home to some extent or another. Unlike her very businesslike self at the school, here the woman takes certain liberties and she’s dressed in a long silk dressing gown of crimson and gold. Left open, it hangs loosely over her garish clothing that consists of a bright purple shirt with long sleeves that cuff at the wrist and billowing green trousers that cinch close around her ankles. On her feet she wears a pair of highly ornamented Arabian slippers.

Having apparently inherited her mother’s flair for garish clothing combinations, Satinka arrives dressed in a combination of bold green (reminiscent of grass) and pale, silvery blue styled in a pantsuit with a hint of sailor style to it. As she walks in, the young woman carefully removes her hat – appropriately in a matching shade of green – and shakes off a bit of rain as she removes her coat. “Mother!” she calls loudly as she hangs up her things and makes her way into the parlor. “Oh, there you are,” she says blandly as she peeks into the room. “I should have known.” With that, she comes in and takes a seat in a chair facing Astra.

It isn’t the approach that draws her attention so much as the greeting. Forcing herself to glance idly up from whatever has her utmost attention, Astra‘s assessment was originally going to be the lazy and apparently half-attentive glimpse she generally gives everyone. Except that’s not what happens. The arched brow and idle eye that’s about to dip back to the pages of the book freeze and catch. While no words leave her mouth until the younger woman sits down that doesn’t mean she’s not giving Satinka her fullest regard. Lowering the book and openly staring at her daughter’s face, or more precisely the now short blonde hair, the darkling woman’s lips turn into a slight frown. “Satinka.” The name is spoken in an even tone and there’s forced neutrality in the greeting. “How…are you…doing?” Those emerald eyes do not skip to look at her daughter, but rather their gaze remains upon the hair.

“Oh, fine, fine,” Satinka answers dismissively as she leans back into the chair, pretending not to notice her mother’s apparent shock. “Are you alright, Mother?” the young woman asks casually as she crosses one leg over another, motioning for a drink from the bar and sipping it casually. She brings her hand up to pat her hair gently, as if completely oblivious to her mother’s reaction. She peers at the book her mother is reading and rolls her eyes a bit. “Haven’t you read that one before?” she asks, not really knowing whether that’s true or not, but trying not to gloat too much over the successfully elicited reaction.

“I couldn’t be better.” Still staring at the hair it takes Astra a moment longer to finally disengage herself from openly gawking. “I see that you’ve become quite the modern young lady. I remember a muggle-born friend of mine bobbing her hair shortly before we were to graduate, I suppose it was quite the rage.” Gripping the book and then gently shutting it gives her enough time to pause and catch her thoughts. “Is it the latest fashion then in Paris to crop your hair in that way or is it just some way of declaring your independence from your family then?” A very small smirk edges at the corners of her lips but dies before it reaches fruition. This small change is as scandalous to the woman as some major acts of deviancy would be to other, more normal, parents. “Why on earth did you go and chop off all your hair? I can’t see the reason in it at all.” Outing her real feelings on the issue the scowl is directed at the offense rather than directly at Satinka.

Satinka smirks openly at her mother. “Why not cut my hair? It’s just hair,” she states with an air of confidence as she pats her hair once again. “I thought the look would suit me, and you know, there are so many needy people who just can’t grow hair the way that I can. I thought I could help the needy by giving my hair to someone who needs it.” The one disadvantage to her now-bobbed hair is that the toss of her head has much less impact than it had when her hair was long. “I have no need for the trends of fashion, anyway,” she states. “I make my own.”

“It will grow back, granted, but now it will not be as it was.” Oh the horror of it it all! Astra scowls openly and then shakes her head, “I will never understand this desire of some people to wear their hair short.” “I hope your brother doesn’t get it into his head to go chopping off his hair too.” There really isn’t a good and logical reason to her disapproval and she is all too aware of this fact. Instead of focusing on the absolute inanity of her own condemnation against the offending hairstyle she chooses to chase Satinka’s argument. “And just what poor souls couldn’t just use magic to grow out their hair or change the color? Why be so…archaically muggle about the whole thing? Did you sell it to some magical stylist then?”

“Of course I didn’t. Don’t you know how severely over-priced they are? They pay beans, too. It’s hardly worth the time waiting for them to draw up the payment.” She takes a sip from her drink, letting her silence draw a long pause. “I went to Arcane Artifacts. As I’m sure you know, Mr. Darian wears only wigs, and some of them are of just shameful quality. We can’t have an esteemed shop owner in Diagon Alley looking like a slob. Thus, he was needy!” She glances up over her glass as she takes another drink, mischeif playing in her eyes. “You are so dramatic, mother. My hair will be just as it was before, should I let it grow long again. Perhaps I won’t!”

Everything after the mention of “Darian” may as well be white noise to Astra. While the prior reaction was probably delightfully rich to anyone’s perspective other than her own this next bit of news leaves the woman robbed of speech. Probably half a minute goes by where the older woman does nothing, frozen in body as well as mind although she’s gone positively ashen. When at last she does manage to speak her voice is dry and crumbling like leaves in a gutter, her old fears returning. “You. Went. To. Darian’s. Shop.” Each word is clipped, sharp, and more unforgiving than the attitude toward the hair. One slender hand arches over her book in a protective fashion but she grips it until her knuckles are white. “Darian.” Drawing in a sharp breath, green eyes narrow at the corners. “Do not play me a fool girl. Darian is neither a slob nor in need. Mind yourself.” “I’ll not have my children associating with his ilk even if you are adults. Choose wisely the company you seek for it reflects on you. If you have any further dealings with him,” “do not darken this or any door I enter. Do I make myself clear?” There aren’t many times that Astra makes a stand against something, but her utter hatred of Daniel and his name is stripped bare. If there was any question about her fear or dislike of that family before there certainly shouldn’t be now.

“Mother, you are so closed-minded. What is it to you where I sell my hair?” Satinka replies, setting her glass down nearby with a loud “THUNK.” “You tell me to live as I will but only if it fits what you want!” She raises her voice just slightly as she says this and sits forward in her chair. “If you won’t let me do what you say I should do, and hold onto antiquated ideas of beauty and womanhood -” she continues to raise her voice and practically spits the last word to her mother, “- then perhaps I shouldn’t, as you say, ‘darken your door!’” The young woman stands up with a huff and stalks to the entryway, her cheeks red with her anger and disdain. Once in the entryway, she begins to put her coat on and in her haste manages to drop both coat and hat onto the floor. “AUGH!” she shouts as she picks them both up, attempting to shake invisible dirt off of them both before putting them on.

Standing up silently, Astra watches the young woman stalk away with the familiar attitudes that so vex her own parents about her own self. Opening her mouth to say something she instead sits back down and tosses the book aside carelessly, an act she would normally never engage in. “This is not about your hair any longer this is about your associating with that scum-sucking, bottom-dwelling, piece of work known as Daniel Darian. Cut your hair to flout me. Wear it short and mock me, but do not think for one moment that I will tolerate you playing me a fool or an idiot.” But then the anger turns aside and the rage turns to anxious vexation. For years she tried to protect her children against the evils in the world and now her brain seizes with fear on the worst outcome. Standing up, she doesn’t seek to chase down her daughter. Instead she paces, her arms wrapped around her body as she scrambles to put aside her fear. “Darian is filth and though I have no solid proof, I know what he is. I know he is like that father of his. I know he will harm you if he can. There is no love lost between our families after what happened. Do what you want in your life then, but do not associate with an enemy of your family.”

“I’m not sleeping with him, mother,” she tells the woman. “I sold him my hair. You’re making a mountain out of a flobberworm hole. You want me not to treat you as a fool, then stop treating me as if I’m a stupid child.” Satinka has managed to pull her coat on and affix her hat rather sloppily on her head, and after this statement, she crosses her arms across her chest. “I’m not as stupid as you seem to think I am, and I certainly know what I’m getting myself into. Just because I choose to sell my own hair doesn’t mean I’m making some crazy dark wizard friends.” She scoffs and stares hard at Astra for a moment.

Staring openly again, Astra‘s anger is on the edge but she quells it as she observes her daughter’s reaction. “Going near him is danger enough. You never know what he might do or what he might try to slip you. He’s a scoundrel and I would prefer you do not have any more contact with him.” “You do not know his family half as well as you think you do and if you did you wouldn’t be so quick to cast aspersions.” Straightening herself she stands as tall as she can and tilts her head as she thinks. Then, finally, there is that smile however faint. “I have never thought you were stupid. Headstrong, yes, but aren’t all of the Rathe? Stupid is not a word I’d use to describe you.” Brow furrowing, she pulls her arms away from herself and shoves them into the pockets of the dressing gown. “I’m proud of the both of you – probably more than I’ve ever said. I’m not good with “I love yous” like your father, but I do. I worry sick about you too because you’re as proud as I am. I worry about you both because father says I didn’t do a good enough job teaching you.” Years of pent up fears come out and while she tries to stop the flow she cannot. “And now…I can’t protect you anymore. You’ve grown, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry every single day. You’re my children. How could I not worry and fret and get scared when I hear you’re near my second worst enemy in the world?”

Satinka‘s anger seems to quell ever so slightly at Astra’s admission of a fault. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, her stance not changing. “I just wish you would give me a little credit that I know what I’m doing. Just because I walk into a shop and sell my hair to someone doesn’t mean I’m angling to get myself killed or involved with the wrong kind of wizard.” She sighs dramatically. “I’m not going to get myself killed. We had good enough defense teachers, and I don’t exactly have any more hair to sell, so I don’t expect I’ll be visiting the shop again any time soon.” She waves her hand as she says this, then brings it down to rest on her hip, heaving another dramatic sigh.

“That isn’t what grandfather means. It’s another of my many failures and I wonder if he wasn’t right.” Of course she does, but Astra is always afraid of never living up to either of her parents’ rather large demands. Pulling at the robe and sitting herself back down she continues to watch the younger woman with an expression that rests somewhere between anxious, proud, and frustrated. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s him. Just, next time you decide to do business dealings please seek someone else out.” Furrowing her brow and then shaking her hands out of her pockets she raises her fingers to her forehead and massages her temples. “Darian. Ugh.” Shaking her head clear of that thought she glances at her daughter’s hair again with a sigh. “I do like long hair, but it isn’t because of traditionally womanly beauty. I just like it better on everyone.” “After all, your grandfather has long hair and so does Arnauld and Cedric. It isn’t because you’re a woman it’s because well” shrugging, “personal taste.” It isn’t the best of excuses, but now she isn’t trying to make them. “And no, you don’t have to keep it long to please anyone but you should know that doesn’t mean it’ll go without comment. I’m sure grandfather will say something and Arnauld will probably hold a funeral for your hair or something equally ridiculous.” Her good humor has returned, mostly, but she looks drained.

“Has it occurred to you that just because everyone you know has it doesn’t mean it’s the only way?” Satinka states. “I don’t want to look like everyone else. I’m special, and now people can can see it right off.” Satinka smirks at this. “I’m sure grandfather will adore my hair.” Satinka‘s italics don’t decrease as her anger does. “I’m shocked that you’re making such a big deal of this, mother. I thought you were modern.”

Throwing her head back in that familiar laughter that she inherited from Arnauld and her father, Astra‘s mirth doesn’t overflow too long. “No dear, I’m afraid in many ways I’m as traditional as your grandparents. I try, I do try, but there are some things I can’t quite shake. Besides, if you didn’t have something to flout at me however would you manage to rebel?” That flicker of deviance lights in her eyes and the smile she rarely dons in public finally worms its way onto her face. “I don’t approve. I don’t have to approve of everything you do. That doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you and that certainly doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re special. You’re special because you are a Rathe. Rathe are always a cut above,” vaguely gesturing at Satinka’s hair, “and we always have to stand out one way or another.” “Blair will fuss more than I am, but I’m sure you’ll tell him where to get off.” “And then he’ll run to me crying about it as if it were an international wizarding disaster.”

Snickering a bit, Satinka waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll handle Blair.” She smirks. “I’ll just tell him that it’s an emerging fashion and that I wanted to be right on top of it.” A pause. “Or something like that.” Now that she’s quite calm, Satinka takes a moment to set her hat jauntily and neatly atop her head. “Now that you’re past your shock, can’t you admire what a stunning look this is? It is truly chic!” Satinka strikes a model-esque pose, though her attempt at the blank model face is marred by her self-satisfied smirk.

“You were always better at handling him than I was, well, yes, now.” The vague hints of what the man was like prior to the birth of children do crop up from time to time but Astra rarely speaks of her childhood and teen years even now. Raising both brows and then giving a sigh “I’m going to have to take some time to get used to it on you, but that’s because it looks strange to my eyes.” “Regardless of my personal feelings you do pull it off well. Then again you’ve the confidence to put any look in a good way.” Rubbing her thumb alongside her chin a devious smirk tugs at her lips. “You really ought to come visit me at Hogwarts sometime. Let old Quint see you like that and I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say – maybe not to you directly but it’ll be funny all the same.”

“Oh that’s a laugh,” Satinka comments with a derisive snort. “Professor Helit wouldn’t have any good things to say about me anyway because I’m female, let alone now that I’ve bobbed my hair.” She pauses, then giggles a little. “Maybe he’d like me better because I look more like a boy.” Satinka giggles more, as she seems to find this comment quite amusing, though there is no chance of her ever being mistaken for male. “Thank you, nevertheless, for the begrudging comment,” she tells Astra with an impish smile, pushing her hands into her pockets and spinning in her best ballerina twirl.

“Quint isn’t all bad, he’s just mostly bad and very backward but what do you expect? He was raised very strangely.” Astra‘s desire to have her family get along is strong, but she knows better since even her blood relatives can really go at each other’s throats. “My advice is to take him with a grain of salt and tweak his nose in whatever way you can whenever you can. It’s good for him to see that the Rathe women play hard, fast, mean and deadly.” “He’ll learn to behave eventually.” Sighing, the woman picks her book back up and turns it over in her hands. “You’re welcome oh my dearest and most darling daughter.” Laying it on thick, she flashes a fond grin. “You are so much like your father sometimes. I’m glad you’re living your life the way you want. I envy you that freedom, but I’m glad you have the strength to do so.”

“Oh, don’t make me sick,” Satinka responds, making a face at Astra’s extra-sweet response. “Somebody has to keep the Rathe name alive socially,” she comments off-hand. “You’ve got the academics covered, and I dare say Seker is looking to make a name around Diagon Alley, though I’m not positive of that. I pick up the slack.” She says this so sweetly that one might believe that it’s entirely sincere. “And speaking of that, I’d better get back to Abe – he wants to stop by some thing or another tonight and I have to decide what I’m going to wear.” She pulls the tie closed on her coat and smirks at Astra.

Raising both her hands as if in defeat “Because the rest of us are terribly socially backwards I know. We can’t all be like you dear.” Astra is anything but giving in, but the smile doesn’t fade as quickly as it might if she were really offended. “You are our sole defender on that battlefield so go off and don your armor.” Shaking her head as she drops her hand back into her lap she stands up. “Do come round and see me once in a way. The school is dull without you two running around and getting underfoot or pestering me or trying to make me upset over something or another that you’ve planned out.” She wants to hug her daughter and while she does approach she stops short and pins her hands behind her back, unable to carry through with the desire. “Go on before you’re late and have fun.”

“You really are,” Satinka agrees with a very good deadpan. “I’ll do my best to resurrect the Rathe name socially, but I must warn you – it’s a difficult job. You crazies have really done it up good.” She grins and leans down to kiss her mother on the cheek, apparenly not hampered by the same awkwardness regarding physicality as Astra has. “I’ll come by and visit sometime. I’ll let you know.” She grins and strides away. “Tell Grandfather that I said hello!” she calls and wiggles her fingers before apparating away with a loud CRACK.

Sorting day has arrived again, and just like the previous year, Eva Fallon comes to the platform with some of her children. This time, her brother’s oldest son, Parker is starting as well as one of her own, Charlotte. Josie and Essie are the first through the barrier, in that order, followed by Parker – who just couldn’t wait. Charlotte came next, then Freddie Wexler, then his wife. Tom, Eva‘s husband was next, followed finally by Eva. “Please stay close, kids! Let’s make sure everything’s here…” Eva trails off as the four kids flock next to the train, talking excitedly among themselves. She sighs and shakes her head.

“Isn’t the train amazing?” Josie exclaims as she takes Charlotte by the hand, running close to it. “We’ll get on the train and then it will take us to Hogwarts. I think you’ll be in Ravenclaw with me, just like mummy was.” The girl nods enthusiastically to her sister, looking to Essie for affirmation. “Mummy, mummy, Charlotte is going to be in Ravenclaw, right? Right?” the girl shouts to her mother, bouncing slightly in anticipation.

Clinging to her mother closely, Danielle is a picture of mixed emotions. There’s tears in the corners of her eyes and she sniffles from time to time, her arms wrapped tightly around her mother’s waist. Despite this, though, her eyes are widen and focused on the crowd in front of her, drifting from group to group, and her mouth falls open as she notices owls, cats, large trunks and laughing students in varying kinds of flashy garb. Her mother is fussing over her hair and smoothing it into place and looks incredibly anxious; her father stands by, looking stern and wooden.

“Josephine Elizabeth Wexler, come back here now,” Eva calls to the girl. “Estelle Bidelia Wexler, you, too. What did I tell you about running off?” The woman taps her foot for a moment before murmuring something to her husband and shaking her head. The two oldest girls walk dutifully back toward their mother, their cheeks slightly red at being chastised. Parker and Charlotte come slowly back toward their family members, looking around with interest at everything happening on the platform. It is then that Eva notices the family just nearby to them, with the little girl who looks slightly overwhelmed. Grinning sympathetically, Eva leans over to the mother. “First year?” she asks quietly. “My Charlotte here is a first year, too,” she tells the other woman, gesturing vaguely to the girl in question.

“Does the hat really chew on your head if you’re not easy enough to sort?” Parker asks loudly as he returns to his family slowly. “One of the boys at Madame Malkin’s told me that it chews on you. Can I ask it to stop if I don’t like it?” He looks up at his mother, who smooths his unruly hair down. “Can I, mum?” She merely chuckles and smiles to Freddie without answering the boy’s question. Freddie’s eyes twinkle with mischeif as he tousles the boy’s hair, which prompts his mother to smooth it down once more. “What? Can’t I?”

Although the mother seems a little suspicious of Eva and her children, Danielle takes the opportunity to study Charlotte and Parker intently with wide eyes, though she doesn’t move away or even loosen her grip on her mother. Eventually, Juliette reaches out delicately with one hand, the other one still on her child’s head, although now she pulls her protectively closer, and remarks in a low voice, with just a slight French accent, “I don’t know how any of… you people handle it.”

Seraphina Pryor is a sixth year – almost at the top of the hill! She feels fairly proud as she emerges from the barrier, intent on getting onto the train as quickly as possible. Her sister and father follow her through so quickly that Alastriona runs smack into her. “Watch where you’re going,” she mutters at her sister, who then attaches herself to her sister’s arm. “Let’s sit together!” the girl squeals to her older sister. “‘Ona, don’t you have friends you’d rather sit with?” she asks in an exasperated tone. “I’m going to sit with Otto. Look, there’s Flossie – go talk to her.” With that, Alastriona takes off running and laughing as she spots one of her friends and Seraphina breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m going to go get onto the train,” she tells her father. “I’ll owl you once I’m settled into my NEWT classes.” With that, she makes her way toward the train, not in any particular hurry.

Eva Fallon quirks her head in slight confusion. “Handle what? Our children going off to school? It’s difficult to let go at first, but it’s so good for them. Josie and Essie,” she gestures to the two girls who are talking quietly to one another and giggling, “started last year and they’ve become incredibly self-assured and self-reliant in that time. I think it has been very good for them.” Eva smiles, though not quite as genuinely as the first time. “What’s your name?” she asks, directing the question to the girl.

Finally realizing that he will get no answer to his question from his parents, Parker directs his attention to those nearby. He studies Danielle quickly as she seems to be studying him, and interrupting his aunt (without really realizing it), he puts his hand out. “I’m Parker,” he tells her with absolutely no volume control.

“Danielle,” the small girl volunteers, though she still doesn’t pull away from her mother; a moment later, the older woman prompts her, and she lets go with one arm, holding out her hand in a neat, polite greeting to Eva. Her mother studies Eva for a moment uncertainly, though, before shaking her head and clarifying, “Goodness no, Alexis, Cyril and Dominic are already off at their schools… but this is all new, this experience.” She eyes Eva for a moment longer before adding, “But I can see you’re used to that.” Danielle, on the other hand, pokes her tongue out at Parker’s loudness.

Not quite sure what the woman is getting at, Eva just smiles and merely nods. “Well, I’m sure she’ll love it at Hogwarts. I certainly did,” Eva sighs a bit and looks at Tommy, then to the children. “Alright, alright, you all may go to the train now. Find your compartments,” she tells the children, particularly her twins, who take that moment to squeal and skip toward the train. “Parker, you stay with Charlotte. You two need to stick together!” his father directs him.

“What compartment should we sit in?” Josie asks her sister, turning and skipping backwards for a moment as she looks back toward her younger sister and cousin and the stranger girl with whom her family is interacting. “Come on, you lot!” she calls to them, turning around again and stopping near the entrance to the train. “The third compartment!” Essie declares. “Three is a very good number.” The girls giggle as if laughing at an inside joke while they wait for the other children to join them.

Parker Wexler gasps loudly. “Dad, she stuck her tongue out at me!” the boy tattles, frowning at her and crossing his arms. “That’s not very nice, Danielle,” he tells her with a failed attempt at disdain. “I’m going to be a Gryffindor like my dad, so you better not be one, too, if you’re going to be like that. “Parker!” three adults call all at once and the boy flushes deep red, still frowning at Danielle. “You’re not very nice,” he says more quietly, in hopes that the grownups won’t hear him.

As Eva instructs her children to go to the train, Danielle pulls her hand back and wraps her arms all the more tightly around her mother. “Is it time?” She asks softly, tears beginning to well up in her eyes as she grabs at her mother. The only instruction given to her in return is, “You don’t want to be late…” before she’s pulled aside from the group and what seems to be a lecture starts – quiet, so as not to unduly embarass her, but loud enough that someone nearby could certinly catch snippets – ‘no lying’, ‘best behaviour’, ‘pull you out by your braids if necessary’, punctuated by first tears, then sobs, then a messy hug between all three family members before the eleven year old pulls herself together, wipes her nose and eyes on the sleeve of her dress, then stumbles towards the train, sniffing and trying to stop her emotions showing TOO much.

“Oh my goodness gracious me!” Alastriona Pryor bounces away from her sister, and spins in wide circle towards her friend Flossie. “Can you believe it’s another year! Another summer come and gone and sooooo much news!” She presses her lips together and smoothes her static-y red hair. “Come dear Flossie! I will tell you all about it!! It’s extraordinary, really! I’m certain–” she glances around and then stops talking. “I’ll tell you on the train, these things need to remain secrets from wandering ears. . .” Mischieviously she smirks at her friend, and locks arms together.

“Okay, girls, come say goodbye!” the woman calls to her daughters, making her way toward her daughters who are just about to board the train. “I’ll see you at Christmas holiday,” she tells her daughters. “Come on, Charlotte, join your sisters!” Charlotte glances at Danielle with a shy smile before she joins her mother near the door to the train. Parker follows, also glancing at Danielle, but with far more suspicion in his face as he keeps up with his cousins. “Bye Mum! Bye Dad!” he calls to his parents, and in an energetic bound, he’s the first of his cousins to board the train. “Be good, study hard and write often. Send an owl tonight – I want to know what house Charlotte is sorted into.” Eva smiles somewhat wistfully as she steps back to where her husband, brother and sister-in-law are standing. She waves to the small Wexlers as they bound onto the train after Parker.

Parker was the first onto the train, and he’s the first into a compartment. He dashes first into compartment one, but finds a much older student already sitting inside, so he quickly exits it without a word, then dashes into the next compartment down the way – the one marked with a “3″. Finding it empty, the boy quickly plops into the seat nearest to the door, hanging his head out of the compartment as he watches for his cousins. When he spots them, he shouts. “Hey, down here!” he yells to them, waving enthusiastically and nearly hitting a few older students in the process.

A few moments afterwards, Danielle flounces into the carriage and scowls at Parker. Her eyes are red from crying, but she seems to have pushed back all her tears for now, and is more focused on the other people in the room. “You can’t just tell on me for sticking my tongue out, that’s not against the rules.” A pause and then, “I bet it doesn’t say it anywhere in the school rulebook. Be pretty funny if it did.” And then, a moment later, a small curtsey. “I’m Danielle.” She’s very careful to only pronounce it with two syllables.

Pulling Flossie to the third compartment, Alastriona giggles along with her friend at the latest bit of news she’s relayed. “I mean really who would believe that?! Just silly people, that’s who. Or those in institutions. . . or St. Mungos–” she glances around and lowers her voice (but probably not low enough that others in the compartment can’t hear, “–I once overheard some people Daddy was talking to say that some terrible things were done to those that find themselves there. . . at least most of the time. . . they probably still deal with the occasional small issue. . . like . . .” thinking of no other ailments, Alastriona finally scrunches her nose and thinks of the only ailment she can think of off the top of her head, “. . .lice.” Flossie shakes her head in disagreement. Deciding that this would be a wonderful debate for the train ride, Alastriona and her friend finally sit down, and she asks to no one in particular, “Do you think St. Mungo’s Healers could cure lice?”

Josie, Essie and Charlotte follow down the corridor and join Parker in the third compartment. “See, I told you the train was great!” Josie tells her cousins proudly as she sits down by the window. The four Wexlers take up one side of the compartment, and Josie smiles to Danielle. “Isn’t this great?” she asks the girl, not taking notice of the tears. Charlotte, however, is slightly more perceptive than her older sister and furrows her eyebrows. “Are you okay?” the Wexler girl asks before Parker interrupts her. “I told my parents, and you can’t even imagine what they would have done. It’s just that your mum was there and they didn’t want to hurt her feelings,” the boy argues.

“Who has lice?” Parker asks loudly, his eyes growing wide at the older girl opposite. “Who are you? My name’s Parker Wexler. My dad writes for the Daily Prophet!” he boasts proudly. “And my auntie Eva owns a candy shop? Isn’t that so great? Josie and Essie and Charlotte get to go there all the time because my auntie Eva is their mum. Great, right?” Parker beams at the older girls, paying no mind to the fact that he has actually interrupted their conversation.

“Oh no, no one has lice, just hypothetically if someone did, do you think St. Mungo’s healers could fix them up?” Alastriona corrects and then asks. She smoothes her hair again and then frowns a bit at the introduction, “I don’t believe in calling people with first names by names that sound like lastnames. So. . . this presents us with a problem.” She frowns slightly. “What’s your middle name? I can maybe call you that!” She offers a hopeful smile. “Oh! How rude of me! I’m Alastriona Pryor! And this is my friend Flossie. Her real name is Locke. True story.” Flossie nods a bit fleetingly, but before she can say anything, Alastriona continues to talk for both of them, “That must be amazing to have all of that access to the candy! Everyone likes candy . . . I don’t think I’ve met anyone who says ‘I don’t like candy.’ Those are the kinds of people I was talking about earlier, Flossie! The candy haters who go to Azkaban . . .” She nods decidedly, certain that Dark Wizards dislike candy.

Scowling all the more at Parker, Danielle seems not to notice Charlotte’s question for a moment. When she does acknowledge the other girl, it’s with a whiny, sullen, “I’ll be okay.” There’s a moment of silence from her before she sits down and adds, “It’s – all very new for me,” she tells Charlotte, her voice raised slightly so as to speak over Parker, shooting him another nasty look. “I mean…” she stumbles over her words for a moment, before she continues, “because I’m new… in England. Great Britain, actually. I haven’t been here very long.”

“I’ve seen you before,” Josie tells the older girl with a beaming smile. “I’m Josie Wexler. Parker’s my cousin. Don’t mind him, he doesn’t think before he talks.” She giggles a bit. “This is my sister Essie, and that’s Charlotte. She’s my sister, too.” Josie nods and giggles at Ona’s comments regarding candy. “That’s very true. Anyone who doesn’t like candy is not my friend,” The girl states emphatically and smiles broadly. “I’m a Ravenclaw. You must not be a Ravenclaw or I would have seen you in the commonroom.”

Climbing over his cousins to get to the window seat, Parker steps on toes and kicks people accidentally as he tries to get into the miniscule space left by the window. “Move over,” he whines at his cousins who comply without much complaint past the kicks and smashed toes. “Look at how fast we’re going…” the boy starts staring out the window, only looking back when something in the conversation going on around him catches his attention.

Charlotte nods and yelping only briefly as Parker steps full on her foot, she smiles to Danielle. “I’ve never been to Hogwarts yet, either. My sisters say it’s really fun but kind of hard work. I guess magic is harder than it looks. Mum makes it look so simple.” She pauses. “I have some sweets that mum gave me. Do you want to share?” She asks, pulling a purple and blue striped bag out of a deep pocket at her side. Glancing around the compartment, she breathes in quickly, then gets up and moves across the compartment to sit next to Danielle rather than next to Parker.

“Well, Flossie and I are Gryffindors,” Alastriona says with a twinkle in her eye. “We have lots of friends from other houses.” She offers a bright smile. “It’s great to meet you! What year are you in? Flossie and I are in our third year!” Flossie opens her mouth to introduce herself, but Alastriona once again spouts some random information, “Well anyone who doesn’t like candy probably has no friends. I was talking to Flossie about people in Azkaban. I’m convinced that lack of sugar put them there in the first place, so all people must have sugar and those that don’t are to be considered . . . ” she lowers her voice again. “. . . suspicious. . .” she glances left and then right. And then Parker kicks her accidently, and while it doesn’t hurt, being somewhat of a drama queen she says, with much emphasis, “OW.”

Although she seems unimpressed that Parker is still getting more overall attention than she is, Danielle does seem to latch onto Charlotte as she addresses her, though she wrinkles her nose and shakes her head slightly at the offer. “No, I was saying I’m only new to Great Britain… oh, I don’t suppose it matters.” There’s a hesitant pause and then, “I’m sure magic is quite easy really… but, uh, no magic candy for me, thank you.” She laughs, lightly, but it’s a little forced.

“I’m a second year now! Essie’s a Hufflepuff, though, not a Ravenclaw. The hat didn’t sort us together.” Sadness briefly crosses Josie‘s face as she remembers the fact, but she quickly rebounds. “They are kind of susp— OW, Parker, watch it!” the girl exclaims and shakes her head. “What classes are you taking this year? You get to pick new ones, right? I can’t wait to pick out new classes. I want to take music, but I don’t know what else I should take.” She pauses. “Oh, sweets! Mum gave us some for the trip. Do you want some? They’re from mummy’s shop in Diagon Alley.” Josie reaches into her own pocket to draw out the large bag of sweets, offering some of hers to the older girls across from her.

“Oh, where did you live before you came to Great Britain?” Charlotte asks Danielle cheerfully. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I was born in Hogsmeade when mum co-owned Honeydukes – that’s another candy shop, you know. We moved to London when I was very small, though. I like it there. There’s so much going on. Are you sure you won’t have any?” she asks politely, drawing out a peppermint toad and nibbling it slowly. Parker pays attention again as Josie exclaims in pain. “What?” he asks, cluelessly. “What’d I do? Oh, sweets!” he remembers, pulling his own bag of sweets out of his pocket and pops a fizzing whizzbee into his mouth, giggling loudly as the fireworks begin in his mouth, a few escaping into the air in front of him as he laughs, coming out in shining sparks.

Alastriona Pryor arches an eyebrow at Danielle’s refusal of candy, and of course, having little restraint, she narrows her eyes and questions, “Don’t you like candy? Or are you a candy hater? Do you never eat sugar? Or only when on a train with strangers, Dan-ee-elle?” Flossie finally manages to get a word in edgewise, “Ona, be nice. She’s just kid.” Flossie offers Danielle a weak smile. And then Alastriona continues her questioning, “I need to interrogate when necessary. And it seems necessary. Just you wait, watch for people who don’t eat sugar and you’ll see. . .” Her attention is diverted back to Josie, “Yeah, we get to choose. I’m taking Muggle Studies, Wizo-Music, Magical Art, and Divination. I wish I could take more, but honestly, courses like Arithmancy seem. . . icky. I want to take I would love some sweets! Thanks Josie! I seriously love sugar. Daddy doesn’t let me eat it often though.” She tilts her head, “What do you think you’ll take when you’re in third year?”

Danielle Baker flinches back from Parker in shock as he laughs and fireworks exit his mouth, almost automatically, though she tries to right herself quickly enough. She tugs down on her plaits, trying to arrange them a bit more neatly, and addressing Charlotte directly rather than looking again at Parker. “Oh… France, actually. We moved here maybe – perhaps,” she corrects herself, drawing herself up in a somewhat pompous way and affecting a slightly stronger French accent, reminiscent of her mother, “six months ago. That was before we got the letter,” she adds hurriedly. Her eyes turn to Alastriona, and she corrects quietly, “Dan-yell.” There’s a moment of silence, and she bites her lip before adding, “I’m… allergic to her mother’s candy. From the candy store.”

“Allergic?” Parker asks in horror. “How can you be allergic to sweets? Is it just her sweets? Have you even had them before? My cousin Maura makes them and she does very well!” His eyes grow wide as he considers this, but he pops another fizzing whizbee (his favorite – not that that’s any shock) into his mouth and is instantly distracted from the unpleasant girl in front of him. “Oh, alright,” Charlotte replies pleasantly to Danielle, clearly not phased by much that’s going on around her. She continues to nibble her toad. “So, what house do you think you’ll be in?” she asks the girl cordially.

“Muggle studies sounds really interesting, too. I’m not sure about Divination. It seems like it might just be a bunch of fluff and make-believe. I mean, Professor Kensington seems like she’s alright, but I don’t think she’s being totally honest with us that Divination is so hard.” Josie looks pensive as she considers the subject. “I want to take Ancient Runes,” Essie admits. “It looks like it would be really interesting, and I think it would be more challenging than some of the other subjects.” She pauses briefly. “I also want to take that animals class. It looks so interesting. What’s it called again?” She considers thoughtfully. “Care of Magical Creatures!” Josie breaks in again. “How do you think you’ll manage all of those classes? I’m sure that’s more than what I could handle!”

“Okay, if you’re allergic, I’ll let it slide,” Alastriona responds with a suspicious twinkle in her eye. “I suppose that’s possible . . but know that I’m watching you. . .” She redirects her attention to Josie and shuffles in her seat a bit. “Yeah, I think Divination will be an easy course. Well relatively, even if she says its hard. I mean it’s just looking at tea and stuff, right?” She nods at Essie. “Yeah, they all sound good–it’s hard to choose.”

“May – perhaps,” Danielle tells Parker a little defensively, folding her arms across her chest and scowling at him, before affecting a smile again as she turns back to Charlotte. “I… haven’t given it much thought,” she bites at her lip again. “I – you were saying you’d be in… that house, I remember.” She tugs at one of her plaits again, considering Charlotte. “I imagine I’ll be in… well, I suppose I’m particularly hard to place.” She clears her throat, though, and fumbles for her pockets, eventually pulling out what is plainly a small packet of entirely muggle sweets, one of which she pushes into her mouth rapidly, before slipping the package back into her pocket and chewing away at the one in her mouth. Her eyes fall on Alastriona as she chews, and she starts to scowl a little sullenly at the older girl

“Mum says all of the houses are good and that it won’t matter which house I’m in,” Charlotte says placidly. “Mum was a Ravneclaw and Dad was a Gryffindor. I don’t really know where I should go.” The girl looks down into her bag of sweets then shrugs vaguely. She finishes her peppermint toad and then tucks the bag into her deep pocket again and glances to Danielle, not commenting as she spots the bag of sweets. “So is it nice in France? I’d love to go visit there,” she asks, trying to diffuse Danielle’s hostility toward the older girl. Charlotte only glances briefly at the older girl as her attention is drawn to Parker, who has frozen with a bit of candy in his mouth. Apparently Parker has forgotten what ice mice do, and for the time being, the compartment is slightly more still as the effects of the candy keep hold on him.

“Professor Kensington keeps very close tabs on us Ravenclaws,” Josie comments. “She makes sure that our marks are at a certain level, and if they’re not, we have manditory homework time! On weekends too. Have you ever heard of such a thing?” The girl shakes her head in a semblance of shock. “Thankfully, I haven’t had to stay in for it yet, but I can’t believe that she would do that! I bet she can’t be that way with her class, though. Like you said, it’s just looking at tea and crystal balls and all of that.” Essie nods quickly, but says nothing to add to the comments. Josie pulls out a sugar quill and begins to suck on it slowly. “Anyway, I think I’ll take Care of Magical Creatures with Essie instead.”

Alastriona Pryor gives an approving nod to Danielle as she pops the Muggle candy in her mouth. At least it’s sugar! Alastriona either doesn’t notice or ignores the scowl she’s given because she merely smiles at Danielle. “Mandatory homework time?! You better work hard! Professor Fallon isn’t like that. She’s more. . . the mothering type. Honestly, if I didn’t know better I’d think that she had children at the school.” She contemplates a second and then adds, “Discipline isn’t unheard of with her, but it’s not scary punishment at all.” She shrugs.

Danielle Baker looks up at Josie and wrinkles her nose again, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think I want to be in Ravenclaw.” She falls quiet for a moment, before looking up at Charlotte again. “Oh, it’s wonderful in France. There’s all different kinds of people there, and the very tallest building is the tour eiffel, and you can see it from everywhere in France, it’s so big. I lived just near it and would go there all the time.” She smiles faintly at the other first year, and swallows her sweet, casting another significant look towards Alastriona.

“Well, you know she used to!” Josie exclaims, proud that she can provide information that the older girl didn’t appear to know. “My cousin Briony married her oldest kid. His name’s Gabe. He and Briony were Gryffindors. Gabe has two sisters, too, but I don’t know them very well.” Josie beams and glances out the window. “Wow, look how dark it is! We must be nearly there!” The girl hops up and smooths her robes out, rubbing her fingers over her Ravenclaw crest lovingly and grinning at the others. I’m going to go up toward the entrance! Come on, Essie! Let’s get a carriage together!”

“Well that’s interesting! You certainly have a lot of family!” Alastriona exlaims. She quickly stands to her feet, smoothes her robes, and then for good measure, smoothes her hair once more. “Come along, Flossie! We have things to do–carriages to catch, and things to discuss.” That said, the pair begin shuffling to the front of the train.

Parker Wexler unfreezes just in time to hear Josie exclaim about nearly reaching Hogwarts. “Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts! We’re almost there, Lottie!” he calls to her and bounces a bit on the seat, shoving his own bag of sweets haphazardly into his pocket and jumping up. This time, he manages not to trip over anyone or kick anyone, but he’s not exactly moving slowly, and he nearly falls over as he runs out of the compartment. “Wait for me!” he calls to his cousins. “No?” Charlotte replies to Danielle, giving only a brief glance out the window and frowning slightly as she sees that the trip is nearly over. “Want to go to the front?” Charlotte asks the other girls left in the compartment as she stands up and smooths her robes, folding up the top of her bag and tucking it into her pocket.

As the view outside the window starts getting less and less clear due to the cover of darkness – or, at least, as she realises that this is rapidly happening – Danielle becomes quieter and even starts biting on her nails. Eventually, she leans in a little closer to Charlotte, and whispers, “I don’t want to be given weekend homework, I got plenty of that from my last teacher. In France!” She adds, almost as an afterthought. “But… don’t you ever worry that you might pop on the hat and it’ll tell you to go away?” A pause. “Not that I ever do!” She adds, almost hurriedly. “I was just… wondering if other people did. It seems scary. Like other people would find it scary.”

Standing alone at the end of the train platform, Avery Fallon has one arm lifted above her head, waving to capture students’ attention. “First years! First years gather here! Sorted students should take the carriages, but first years please gather here!” The astronomy professor appears to be in fairly good spirits and is smiling welcomingly, vaguely scanning the faces for Charlotte and Parker Wexler.

Bounding off of the train and dodging some of the bigger students, Parker makes his way to the platform, his too-long robes streaming behind him. “Come on,” he calls to Charlotte and Danielle, pausing briefly as he hears a voice calling for first years. “This way!” he shouts and runs down the platform, not even giving the girls a chance to figure out where he’s headed. “Hi, Aunt Avery!” he greets the teacher and bounds into her with an exuberant hug.

Danielle Baker falls silent as she steps off the train and really seems to take in the sheer size of the crowds. She bites at her lower lip, glancing back and forth and reaching out to grab at Charlotte’s arm as she moves over towards the Professor calling out for them. “Is this where we get Sorted?” She hisses at Charlotte. “I don’t think anyone said!”

“Parker!” Avery exclaims, leaning down to hug the boy back and stepping back to ruffle his hair and smile to Charlotte, giving her a little wave. Once a sizeable group of first years has congregated around her, and it appears that all others are on their way towards carriages, Avery looks to her mass of eleven-year-olds and smiles. “Welcome to the Hogwarts grounds! I’m Professor Fallon, and you’ll be seeing me some evenings for Astronomy. No doubt you’re all excited to get to the castle for the sorting, so let us depart. Follow me, please,” she says, turning around and heading for the shore path.

Josie and Essie make their way off of the train, pausing and waving to Avery in hopes that she’ll see them before the two girls bounce into a carriage, greeting some other second years as they do so. In a moment, the carriage has disembarked toward the castle. Charlotte remains with Danielle as the crowd slowly thins and the girls are left with the other first years on the platform. “Oh, no. We have to go to the castle where the rest of the students are going. I think we take boats instead of carriages,” she tells Danielle quietly, glancing at Parker quickly before she waves shyly to Avery, coming to stop in front of her aunt.

With the first years in tow, Avery stops at the edge of the shore and indicates the boats with her hand. “Four to a boat, and there’s no need to steer. They’ll take you right where you should be. And don’t lean over the edge, please! And mind your cloaks are done up! It can be cool over the water and your mothers would be quite distraught if you had to start your days at Hogwarts with a cold. Alright, off you go!” she requests, she herself striding to a boat as well. She steps into it with a practiced ease and turns around, motioning for Parker, Charlotte and Danielle to join her in this vessel.

The fleet pushes off from shore in near unison. As the boats progress silently through the water, they leave no wake behind. Drifting along, the boats travel in an unhurried fashion, moving over the darkened waters in a loose group, but always remaining together. The chilly night’s breeze is more apparent here upon the lake.

As the fleet continues forward, the southern shore recedes into the distance, and is lost in loose tendrils of smoky fog. The northern shore is not yet in view, concealed as it is by a thicker blanket of pale haze. The air is cooler over the lake, and as the boats drift further onto the water, there a more pronounced breeze that nips through robe and sweater alike.

The fleet has begun to move through the steadily increasing fog now, reducing visibility to a scant metre or two. Dim lights from the lanterns on the other boats of the fleet can be seen, flickering softly in the wind. The breeze is gentle, but consistent and quite cold out here upon the nearly still nighttime waters, where is there is no shelter and no warming fire. The only company is the steady rocking of the boats and the dim lights of boat lanterns.

The fleet has finally begun to leave the haze behind, although the mist tries vainly to cling to the boats and it still laps at those lingering in the rear. The Forbidden Forest encroaches upon the eastern shoreline, bordered by grey mist and shadow. The northern shore has come into view with the castle of Hogwarts silhouetted against the hills beyond; the immense towers rise up in stern defiance to the centuries they have weathered. Few windows break the even stone facade of the castle walls, preserving the mysteries within from prying eyes. However, those few windows are merrily lit from within those hallowed halls, revealing the welcoming warmth that can be found within, a homecoming to those who have made a long journey. Ivy and similar plants sprawl across the walls of the castle, their unruly density hinting at the senescence of the walls themselves. The breeze is still cold, nipping at the boats and rustling over the water.

The fleet has begun to pick up speed, accelerating rapidly towards the northern shore. Clear of fog, all that remains of the distant haze is what marks the barriers to the southern and eastern shores, the mist lapping on top of the water but the fleet has now broken free of its grasp. Remarkably, the boats still leave no wake to mark their passage across the water. The speed causes the brisk air to hurtle past, reducing the apparent temperature further and setting the lantern lights to flickering even more, though none of them have gone out.

Rising suddenly as through from beneath the water, the looming bulk of Hogwarts Castle blots out the evening sky and casts a dense shadow over the shoreline, broken only by the steady glow of the lights from within a large section of the building. The boats have begun to decelerate now, but are still moving rapidly as they skim towards the darkness ahead. As it grows steadily darker, the night air takes on a crisper and ever more frigid bite.

The fleet has now passed into the shadow cast by the Castle and descended into absolute darkness, evading the dancing lights that reflected from the windows above. The lantern lights, which have remained so faithful during the journey, have abruptly faded away. Only the steady flow of cold night air moving past indicates that the boats are still moving; there is no other sensation of motion.

The fleet has halted at the lakeshore just below the castle, the transition from movement to rest having occurred smoothly, but without warning. Dim reflected light illuminates a stone stairway, worn smooth with age and use, with steps rising for two metres before disappearing over the cliff top. You can now DISEMBARK.

Having made their way to the castle, Avery Fallon and the group of first years wait in the Great Hall’s antechamber.

Bonnie Kensington stands in the Waiting Room as she waits for the first years to finish their trip across the lake. Everyone in the Great Hall is well settled as the group walks in. She nods to Avery as they make their way into the room. “Hello, and welcome to Hogwarts!” She greets jovially, but without any unnatural smile. “You’re going to be sorted when we walk through that door. You’ll stand at the front of the room as the hat sings its song, then you will come up, one at a time as your name is called to be sorted. Do not fidget, make noise or otherwise be disturbing while the hat sorts the other students.” She pauses and looks over the group. “Once you are sorted, you will proceed to your house table and sit down quietly to wait for the end of the ceremony. Any questions?” She waits only a moment before smiling briefly. “Alright, follow me,” she states and turns to enter the great hall.

Gawking as he enters the Great Hall for the first time, Parker, who has been at the head of the group nearly the whole way, is falling behind and a few of the first years run into him, though he takes no notice of this. “Wow…” he whispers as the first years make their way to the front of the hall. Charlotte, too, is impressed with the grandeur of the hall, and then somewhat intimidated as she spots all of the people sitting at the tables. She sees both of her sisters sitting at different tables, but her demeanor does not seem to change as she continues on to the front of the hall.

Still so shocked and amazed at the sight of Hogwarts that she can’t even bring herself to fake propriety and her worldly manner, Danielle‘s mouth hangs open slightly and her eyes consider the ceiling, then the crowds of people at the tables, and so on. Eventually, she manages a soft, “Ohhh, it’s even better than I could have imagined.

“Let’s begin,” Bonnie states loudly, her voice sounding through the Great Hall as she pulls open a scroll which holds a list of names. “Abbott, Ida” goes first, sorted to Hufflepuff, then “Atwell, Mabel” is sorted to Gryffindor. This takes only a few minutes, then the woman calls out “Baker, Danielle.”

Shocked that she’s so close to the front of the queue, Danielle‘s mouth drops open again and she seems barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Eventually, the person behind her has to prompt her to step forward and she stumbles a few steps, before affecting a rather more dainty and careful step to the stool, placing the Sorting Hat upon her head as primly as she can manage.

Glancing to Danielle, Charlotte squeezes the girl’s hand and watches with a somewhat stressed look on her face. She glances to the tables and sees her own sisters watching with interest as the sorting gets into full swing.

Although now her shock and confusion mingles with irritation, it’s clear that of all things, Danielle wasn’t expecting that. As it shouts out her house, she removes the hat suddenly and stumbles to the Hufflepuff table as carefully as she can manage, though she’s still having trouble putting one foot in front of the other.

Two more B-names are sorted, one to Slytherin and one to Ravenclaw, then it’s “Chaffee, Viviane,” who goes to Ravenclaw. Three girls are next, two of whom are sorted to Ravenclaw and one to Hufflepuff. Then a boy is sorted to Slytherin, another boy to Gryffindor, and a girl to Gryffindor. Next up is “Mycroft, Alistair”, who is sorted to Slytherin. Five or six more students are sorted, and then “Wexler, Charlotte” is called. After a brief moment, she is sorted to Slytherin, and then “Wexler, Parker” is called forward.

Parker Wexler gasps as Charlotte gets sorted to Slytherin, gawking a bit, but before he has much time to react, it’s his own turn. The boy bounds up to the hat and pulls it down hard over his head. His ears bow out and the hat comes down to his ears as he crosses his fingers, waiting to see what the hat would do and thinking very hard that he hoped the hat wouldn’t chew on his head.

To the hat, the boy thinks: Why wouldn’t Slytherin be kind? I mean, Dad was a Gryffindor and so was Uncle Tom and Aunt Avery so that would be okay, but I mean, Slytherin would, too!

Parker Wexler gasps gleefully and runs down to the Gryffindor table, finding an open spot and bouncing into it. He beams at his housemates as he settles in at the table, pleased to know that the hat did not, in fact, chew on him, even though his parents would not tell him one way or the other.

One final student is sorted, headed Hufflepuff way, and then Bonnie nods again. “The sorting is completed,” she tells the room, rolls up the scroll deliberately, then sits down at the faculty table, breathing deeply as if in relief.

As the Sorting itself concludes, Astra rises from her seat at the faculty table and stands to face the vast hall and its many occupants. There’s a beat between her standing up and her actual address of the students, but when she does speak it is clear and calm, using the natural acoustics of the room to make herself heard rather than magical spells. Turning to nod at Avery, she smiles tightly to the woman before shooting a small smile to Bonnie. “Thank you Professor Kensington for your help with the Sorting and my gratitude to Professor Fallon for your assistance with bringing the first years safely to the school, it’s always an exciting task.” Addressing the school again, the headmistress draws herself up and continues. “I’m very glad to see you all back and hope that you’ve had a wonderful summer. For our new students, welcome to your new home. I’m sure that your fellow Housemates will help you get settled in quickly and comfortably.” Pausing to look at the many faces, some new and many familiar, she grins sharply and gives a moment before she launches on.

The mood of her tone sobers but she continues the speech with the same efficient crisp pace. After a short span, she retrieves a piece of paper. Reading off the paper, she then continues. “Prefect picks for the fifth year students are as follows.” “Congratulations to Gryffindor: Arthur Towner and Rachel Stewart. Congratulations to Ravenclaw: Tobias Garner and Geraldine Parr. Congratulations to Slytherin: Francine Rees and George Whittle.” “And congratulations to Hufflepuff: William Sanderson and Bridget Madigan.” Coughing a little, she sets down the paper and takes another drink from her goblet. “I’m sure the seventh years are excited to know who will become the Head Boy and Head Girl for this year.” Taking delight in this news, Astra purposely pauses to retrieve and sip from the goblet in her hand. Glancing over the various tables, she finishes this part of the speech with, “Congratulations are especially in order to Slytherin Prefect, Luther Anderson who is Head Boy this year and no less congratulations are in order to Gryffindor Prefect Vesta Newton who will be serving as Head Girl.” Only now does the woman allow herself a brief respite to grin widely and watch any reactions that might take place.

Once things have settled back down, Astra clears her throat. “Of course, school wouldn’t be school without a list of rules and regulations now would it? Your parents have charged us with the task of taking care of you and so we do our best to imitate them most times.” “I know you’re all thrilled over that!” The dry humor comes slowly to her, but she finally seems to be getting into the good spirits of the Sorting feast. “With that said I’m charged with telling you all that a list of banned items is posted on the Caretaker’s office door and you’d do well to familiarize yourself with it. In addition, there is to be no running in the hallways.” “Use of magic in the hallways or on the outside grounds without supervision or explicit permission by a teacher is strictly prohibited and will be dealt with accordingly.” “As usual, the Forbidden Forest is exactly that – Forbidden and trespassers will be dealt with harshly.” “Third year students and above are reminded to have their permission slips to Hogsmeade signed and ready for the first weekend. Anyone who doesn’t have this will not be allowed off school grounds.” Clearing her throat, she looks around the hall. “Returning students know how I deal with rule breakers, I trust none of you will want to come to my office?” “Don’t worry, you’ll get to eat soon, but I have a few more announcements to make.”

Waiting for about a minute to let students discuss among themselves, Astra finally holds up her hand for attention. “I have just a few more notices and reminders before we get to the pleasant task of eating.” “I am also to inform you that all greenhouses are off limits to students unless you have express permission to be there outside of class.” “Finally, there is to be absolutely no magical toys, candy, trinkets, or anything else of magical nature brought into Muggle Studies. If any of these items are found upon your person, Professor Helit will confiscate and dispose of them.” Then taking one more very brief pause she then ends, “It looks to be an exciting and vibrant new term. I sincerely hope each of you finds as much fun as you do challenges.” “Now let’s eat.”

The sorting extends for quite a while, and Parker interacts enthusiastically with his new housemates while he stuffs himself as full as possible. Eventually, the chatter dies down and the food slowly vanishes. When the prefects get up and direct the first years to follow them, Parker does so dutifully. Sleepiness begins to overpower the boy who has had what could only be called an exciting day. He follows the Gryffindor prefects out of the Great Hall and disappears on his way to his new home for seven years.

Sorting day has arrived again, and just like the previous year, Eva Fallon comes to the platform with some of her children. This time, her brother’s oldest son, Parker is starting as well as one of her own, Charlotte. Josie and Essie are the first through the barrier, in that order, followed by Parker – who just couldn’t wait. Charlotte came next, then Freddie Wexler, then his wife. Tom, Eva‘s husband was next, followed finally by Eva. “Please stay close, kids! Let’s make sure everything’s here…” Eva trails off as the four kids flock next to the train, talking excitedly among themselves. She sighs and shakes her head.

“Isn’t the train amazing?” Josie exclaims as she takes Charlotte by the hand, running close to it. “We’ll get on the train and then it will take us to Hogwarts. I think you’ll be in Ravenclaw with me, just like mummy was.” The girl nods enthusiastically to her sister, looking to Essie for affirmation. “Mummy, mummy, Charlotte is going to be in Ravenclaw, right? Right?” the girl shouts to her mother, bouncing slightly in anticipation.

Clinging to her mother closely, Danielle is a picture of mixed emotions. There’s tears in the corners of her eyes and she sniffles from time to time, her arms wrapped tightly around her mother’s waist. Despite this, though, her eyes are widen and focused on the crowd in front of her, drifting from group to group, and her mouth falls open as she notices owls, cats, large trunks and laughing students in varying kinds of flashy garb. Her mother is fussing over her hair and smoothing it into place and looks incredibly anxious; her father stands by, looking stern and wooden.

“Josephine Elizabeth Wexler, come back here now,” Eva calls to the girl. “Estelle Bidelia Wexler, you, too. What did I tell you about running off?” The woman taps her foot for a moment before murmuring something to her husband and shaking her head. The two oldest girls walk dutifully back toward their mother, their cheeks slightly red at being chastised. Parker and Charlotte come slowly back toward their family members, looking around with interest at everything happening on the platform. It is then that Eva notices the family just nearby to them, with the little girl who looks slightly overwhelmed. Grinning sympathetically, Eva leans over to the mother. “First year?” she asks quietly. “My Charlotte here is a first year, too,” she tells the other woman, gesturing vaguely to the girl in question.

“Does the hat really chew on your head if you’re not easy enough to sort?” Parker asks loudly as he returns to his family slowly. “One of the boys at Madame Malkin’s told me that it chews on you. Can I ask it to stop if I don’t like it?” He looks up at his mother, who smooths his unruly hair down. “Can I, mum?” She merely chuckles and smiles to Freddie without answering the boy’s question. Freddie’s eyes twinkle with mischeif as he tousles the boy’s hair, which prompts his mother to smooth it down once more. “What? Can’t I?”

Although the mother seems a little suspicious of Eva and her children, Danielle takes the opportunity to study Charlotte and Parker intently with wide eyes, though she doesn’t move away or even loosen her grip on her mother. Eventually, Juliette reaches out delicately with one hand, the other one still on her child’s head, although now she pulls her protectively closer, and remarks in a low voice, with just a slight French accent, “I don’t know how any of… you people handle it.”

Seraphina Pryor is a sixth year – almost at the top of the hill! She feels fairly proud as she emerges from the barrier, intent on getting onto the train as quickly as possible. Her sister and father follow her through so quickly that Alastriona runs smack into her. “Watch where you’re going,” she mutters at her sister, who then attaches herself to her sister’s arm. “Let’s sit together!” the girl squeals to her older sister. “‘Ona, don’t you have friends you’d rather sit with?” she asks in an exasperated tone. “I’m going to sit with Otto. Look, there’s Flossie – go talk to her.” With that, Alastriona takes off running and laughing as she spots one of her friends and Seraphina breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m going to go get onto the train,” she tells her father. “I’ll owl you once I’m settled into my NEWT classes.” With that, she makes her way toward the train, not in any particular hurry.

Eva Fallon quirks her head in slight confusion. “Handle what? Our children going off to school? It’s difficult to let go at first, but it’s so good for them. Josie and Essie,” she gestures to the two girls who are talking quietly to one another and giggling, “started last year and they’ve become incredibly self-assured and self-reliant in that time. I think it has been very good for them.” Eva smiles, though not quite as genuinely as the first time. “What’s your name?” she asks, directing the question to the girl.

Finally realizing that he will get no answer to his question from his parents, Parker directs his attention to those nearby. He studies Danielle quickly as she seems to be studying him, and interrupting his aunt (without really realizing it), he puts his hand out. “I’m Parker,” he tells her with absolutely no volume control.

“Danielle,” the small girl volunteers, though she still doesn’t pull away from her mother; a moment later, the older woman prompts her, and she lets go with one arm, holding out her hand in a neat, polite greeting to Eva. Her mother studies Eva for a moment uncertainly, though, before shaking her head and clarifying, “Goodness no, Alexis, Cyril and Dominic are already off at their schools… but this is all new, this experience.” She eyes Eva for a moment longer before adding, “But I can see you’re used to that.” Danielle, on the other hand, pokes her tongue out at Parker’s loudness.

Not quite sure what the woman is getting at, Eva just smiles and merely nods. “Well, I’m sure she’ll love it at Hogwarts. I certainly did,” Eva sighs a bit and looks at Tommy, then to the children. “Alright, alright, you all may go to the train now. Find your compartments,” she tells the children, particularly her twins, who take that moment to squeal and skip toward the train. “Parker, you stay with Charlotte. You two need to stick together!” his father directs him.

“What compartment should we sit in?” Josie asks her sister, turning and skipping backwards for a moment as she looks back toward her younger sister and cousin and the stranger girl with whom her family is interacting. “Come on, you lot!” she calls to them, turning around again and stopping near the entrance to the train. “The third compartment!” Essie declares. “Three is a very good number.” The girls giggle as if laughing at an inside joke while they wait for the other children to join them.

Parker Wexler gasps loudly. “Dad, she stuck her tongue out at me!” the boy tattles, frowning at her and crossing his arms. “That’s not very nice, Danielle,” he tells her with a failed attempt at disdain. “I’m going to be a Gryffindor like my dad, so you better not be one, too, if you’re going to be like that. “Parker!” three adults call all at once and the boy flushes deep red, still frowning at Danielle. “You’re not very nice,” he says more quietly, in hopes that the grownups won’t hear him.

As Eva instructs her children to go to the train, Danielle pulls her hand back and wraps her arms all the more tightly around her mother. “Is it time?” She asks softly, tears beginning to well up in her eyes as she grabs at her mother. The only instruction given to her in return is, “You don’t want to be late…” before she’s pulled aside from the group and what seems to be a lecture starts – quiet, so as not to unduly embarass her, but loud enough that someone nearby could certinly catch snippets – ‘no lying’, ‘best behaviour’, ‘pull you out by your braids if necessary’, punctuated by first tears, then sobs, then a messy hug between all three family members before the eleven year old pulls herself together, wipes her nose and eyes on the sleeve of her dress, then stumbles towards the train, sniffing and trying to stop her emotions showing TOO much.

“Oh my goodness gracious me!” Alastriona Pryor bounces away from her sister, and spins in wide circle towards her friend Flossie. “Can you believe it’s another year! Another summer come and gone and sooooo much news!” She presses her lips together and smoothes her static-y red hair. “Come dear Flossie! I will tell you all about it!! It’s extraordinary, really! I’m certain–” she glances around and then stops talking. “I’ll tell you on the train, these things need to remain secrets from wandering ears. . .” Mischieviously she smirks at her friend, and locks arms together.

“Okay, girls, come say goodbye!” the woman calls to her daughters, making her way toward her daughters who are just about to board the train. “I’ll see you at Christmas holiday,” she tells her daughters. “Come on, Charlotte, join your sisters!” Charlotte glances at Danielle with a shy smile before she joins her mother near the door to the train. Parker follows, also glancing at Danielle, but with far more suspicion in his face as he keeps up with his cousins. “Bye Mum! Bye Dad!” he calls to his parents, and in an energetic bound, he’s the first of his cousins to board the train. “Be good, study hard and write often. Send an owl tonight – I want to know what house Charlotte is sorted into.” Eva smiles somewhat wistfully as she steps back to where her husband, brother and sister-in-law are standing. She waves to the small Wexlers as they bound onto the train after Parker.

Parker was the first onto the train, and he’s the first into a compartment. He dashes first into compartment one, but finds a much older student already sitting inside, so he quickly exits it without a word, then dashes into the next compartment down the way – the one marked with a “3″. Finding it empty, the boy quickly plops into the seat nearest to the door, hanging his head out of the compartment as he watches for his cousins. When he spots them, he shouts. “Hey, down here!” he yells to them, waving enthusiastically and nearly hitting a few older students in the process.

A few moments afterwards, Danielle flounces into the carriage and scowls at Parker. Her eyes are red from crying, but she seems to have pushed back all her tears for now, and is more focused on the other people in the room. “You can’t just tell on me for sticking my tongue out, that’s not against the rules.” A pause and then, “I bet it doesn’t say it anywhere in the school rulebook. Be pretty funny if it did.” And then, a moment later, a small curtsey. “I’m Danielle.” She’s very careful to only pronounce it with two syllables.

Pulling Flossie to the third compartment, Alastriona giggles along with her friend at the latest bit of news she’s relayed. “I mean really who would believe that?! Just silly people, that’s who. Or those in institutions. . . or St. Mungos–” she glances around and lowers her voice (but probably not low enough that others in the compartment can’t hear, “–I once overheard some people Daddy was talking to say that some terrible things were done to those that find themselves there. . . at least most of the time. . . they probably still deal with the occasional small issue. . . like . . .” thinking of no other ailments, Alastriona finally scrunches her nose and thinks of the only ailment she can think of off the top of her head, “. . .lice.” Flossie shakes her head in disagreement. Deciding that this would be a wonderful debate for the train ride, Alastriona and her friend finally sit down, and she asks to no one in particular, “Do you think St. Mungo’s Healers could cure lice?”

Josie, Essie and Charlotte follow down the corridor and join Parker in the third compartment. “See, I told you the train was great!” Josie tells her cousins proudly as she sits down by the window. The four Wexlers take up one side of the compartment, and Josie smiles to Danielle. “Isn’t this great?” she asks the girl, not taking notice of the tears. Charlotte, however, is slightly more perceptive than her older sister and furrows her eyebrows. “Are you okay?” the Wexler girl asks before Parker interrupts her. “I told my parents, and you can’t even imagine what they would have done. It’s just that your mum was there and they didn’t want to hurt her feelings,” the boy argues.

“Who has lice?” Parker asks loudly, his eyes growing wide at the older girl opposite. “Who are you? My name’s Parker Wexler. My dad writes for the Daily Prophet!” he boasts proudly. “And my auntie Eva owns a candy shop? Isn’t that so great? Josie and Essie and Charlotte get to go there all the time because my auntie Eva is their mum. Great, right?” Parker beams at the older girls, paying no mind to the fact that he has actually interrupted their conversation.

“Oh no, no one has lice, just hypothetically if someone did, do you think St. Mungo’s healers could fix them up?” Alastriona corrects and then asks. She smoothes her hair again and then frowns a bit at the introduction, “I don’t believe in calling people with first names by names that sound like lastnames. So. . . this presents us with a problem.” She frowns slightly. “What’s your middle name? I can maybe call you that!” She offers a hopeful smile. “Oh! How rude of me! I’m Alastriona Pryor! And this is my friend Flossie. Her real name is Locke. True story.” Flossie nods a bit fleetingly, but before she can say anything, Alastriona continues to talk for both of them, “That must be amazing to have all of that access to the candy! Everyone likes candy . . . I don’t think I’ve met anyone who says ‘I don’t like candy.’ Those are the kinds of people I was talking about earlier, Flossie! The candy haters who go to Azkaban . . .” She nods decidedly, certain that Dark Wizards dislike candy.

Scowling all the more at Parker, Danielle seems not to notice Charlotte’s question for a moment. When she does acknowledge the other girl, it’s with a whiny, sullen, “I’ll be okay.” There’s a moment of silence from her before she sits down and adds, “It’s – all very new for me,” she tells Charlotte, her voice raised slightly so as to speak over Parker, shooting him another nasty look. “I mean…” she stumbles over her words for a moment, before she continues, “because I’m new… in England. Great Britain, actually. I haven’t been here very long.”

“I’ve seen you before,” Josie tells the older girl with a beaming smile. “I’m Josie Wexler. Parker’s my cousin. Don’t mind him, he doesn’t think before he talks.” She giggles a bit. “This is my sister Essie, and that’s Charlotte. She’s my sister, too.” Josie nods and giggles at Ona’s comments regarding candy. “That’s very true. Anyone who doesn’t like candy is not my friend,” The girl states emphatically and smiles broadly. “I’m a Ravenclaw. You must not be a Ravenclaw or I would have seen you in the commonroom.”

Climbing over his cousins to get to the window seat, Parker steps on toes and kicks people accidentally as he tries to get into the miniscule space left by the window. “Move over,” he whines at his cousins who comply without much complaint past the kicks and smashed toes. “Look at how fast we’re going…” the boy starts staring out the window, only looking back when something in the conversation going on around him catches his attention.

Charlotte nods and yelping only briefly as Parker steps full on her foot, she smiles to Danielle. “I’ve never been to Hogwarts yet, either. My sisters say it’s really fun but kind of hard work. I guess magic is harder than it looks. Mum makes it look so simple.” She pauses. “I have some sweets that mum gave me. Do you want to share?” She asks, pulling a purple and blue striped bag out of a deep pocket at her side. Glancing around the compartment, she breathes in quickly, then gets up and moves across the compartment to sit next to Danielle rather than next to Parker.

“Well, Flossie and I are Gryffindors,” Alastriona says with a twinkle in her eye. “We have lots of friends from other houses.” She offers a bright smile. “It’s great to meet you! What year are you in? Flossie and I are in our third year!” Flossie opens her mouth to introduce herself, but Alastriona once again spouts some random information, “Well anyone who doesn’t like candy probably has no friends. I was talking to Flossie about people in Azkaban. I’m convinced that lack of sugar put them there in the first place, so all people must have sugar and those that don’t are to be considered . . . ” she lowers her voice again. “. . . suspicious. . .” she glances left and then right. And then Parker kicks her accidently, and while it doesn’t hurt, being somewhat of a drama queen she says, with much emphasis, “OW.”

Although she seems unimpressed that Parker is still getting more overall attention than she is, Danielle does seem to latch onto Charlotte as she addresses her, though she wrinkles her nose and shakes her head slightly at the offer. “No, I was saying I’m only new to Great Britain… oh, I don’t suppose it matters.” There’s a hesitant pause and then, “I’m sure magic is quite easy really… but, uh, no magic candy for me, thank you.” She laughs, lightly, but it’s a little forced.

“I’m a second year now! Essie’s a Hufflepuff, though, not a Ravenclaw. The hat didn’t sort us together.” Sadness briefly crosses Josie‘s face as she remembers the fact, but she quickly rebounds. “They are kind of susp— OW, Parker, watch it!” the girl exclaims and shakes her head. “What classes are you taking this year? You get to pick new ones, right? I can’t wait to pick out new classes. I want to take music, but I don’t know what else I should take.” She pauses. “Oh, sweets! Mum gave us some for the trip. Do you want some? They’re from mummy’s shop in Diagon Alley.” Josie reaches into her own pocket to draw out the large bag of sweets, offering some of hers to the older girls across from her.

“Oh, where did you live before you came to Great Britain?” Charlotte asks Danielle cheerfully. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I was born in Hogsmeade when mum co-owned Honeydukes – that’s another candy shop, you know. We moved to London when I was very small, though. I like it there. There’s so much going on. Are you sure you won’t have any?” she asks politely, drawing out a peppermint toad and nibbling it slowly. Parker pays attention again as Josie exclaims in pain. “What?” he asks, cluelessly. “What’d I do? Oh, sweets!” he remembers, pulling his own bag of sweets out of his pocket and pops a fizzing whizzbee into his mouth, giggling loudly as the fireworks begin in his mouth, a few escaping into the air in front of him as he laughs, coming out in shining sparks.

Alastriona Pryor arches an eyebrow at Danielle’s refusal of candy, and of course, having little restraint, she narrows her eyes and questions, “Don’t you like candy? Or are you a candy hater? Do you never eat sugar? Or only when on a train with strangers, Dan-ee-elle?” Flossie finally manages to get a word in edgewise, “Ona, be nice. She’s just kid.” Flossie offers Danielle a weak smile. And then Alastriona continues her questioning, “I need to interrogate when necessary. And it seems necessary. Just you wait, watch for people who don’t eat sugar and you’ll see. . .” Her attention is diverted back to Josie, “Yeah, we get to choose. I’m taking Muggle Studies, Wizo-Music, Magical Art, and Divination. I wish I could take more, but honestly, courses like Arithmancy seem. . . icky. I want to take I would love some sweets! Thanks Josie! I seriously love sugar. Daddy doesn’t let me eat it often though.” She tilts her head, “What do you think you’ll take when you’re in third year?”

Danielle Baker flinches back from Parker in shock as he laughs and fireworks exit his mouth, almost automatically, though she tries to right herself quickly enough. She tugs down on her plaits, trying to arrange them a bit more neatly, and addressing Charlotte directly rather than looking again at Parker. “Oh… France, actually. We moved here maybe – perhaps,” she corrects herself, drawing herself up in a somewhat pompous way and affecting a slightly stronger French accent, reminiscent of her mother, “six months ago. That was before we got the letter,” she adds hurriedly. Her eyes turn to Alastriona, and she corrects quietly, “Dan-yell.” There’s a moment of silence, and she bites her lip before adding, “I’m… allergic to her mother’s candy. From the candy store.”

“Allergic?” Parker asks in horror. “How can you be allergic to sweets? Is it just her sweets? Have you even had them before? My cousin Maura makes them and she does very well!” His eyes grow wide as he considers this, but he pops another fizzing whizbee (his favorite – not that that’s any shock) into his mouth and is instantly distracted from the unpleasant girl in front of him. “Oh, alright,” Charlotte replies pleasantly to Danielle, clearly not phased by much that’s going on around her. She continues to nibble her toad. “So, what house do you think you’ll be in?” she asks the girl cordially.

“Muggle studies sounds really interesting, too. I’m not sure about Divination. It seems like it might just be a bunch of fluff and make-believe. I mean, Professor Kensington seems like she’s alright, but I don’t think she’s being totally honest with us that Divination is so hard.” Josie looks pensive as she considers the subject. “I want to take Ancient Runes,” Essie admits. “It looks like it would be really interesting, and I think it would be more challenging than some of the other subjects.” She pauses briefly. “I also want to take that animals class. It looks so interesting. What’s it called again?” She considers thoughtfully. “Care of Magical Creatures!” Josie breaks in again. “How do you think you’ll manage all of those classes? I’m sure that’s more than what I could handle!”

“Okay, if you’re allergic, I’ll let it slide,” Alastriona responds with a suspicious twinkle in her eye. “I suppose that’s possible . . but know that I’m watching you. . .” She redirects her attention to Josie and shuffles in her seat a bit. “Yeah, I think Divination will be an easy course. Well relatively, even if she says its hard. I mean it’s just looking at tea and stuff, right?” She nods at Essie. “Yeah, they all sound good–it’s hard to choose.”

“May – perhaps,” Danielle tells Parker a little defensively, folding her arms across her chest and scowling at him, before affecting a smile again as she turns back to Charlotte. “I… haven’t given it much thought,” she bites at her lip again. “I – you were saying you’d be in… that house, I remember.” She tugs at one of her plaits again, considering Charlotte. “I imagine I’ll be in… well, I suppose I’m particularly hard to place.” She clears her throat, though, and fumbles for her pockets, eventually pulling out what is plainly a small packet of entirely muggle sweets, one of which she pushes into her mouth rapidly, before slipping the package back into her pocket and chewing away at the one in her mouth. Her eyes fall on Alastriona as she chews, and she starts to scowl a little sullenly at the older girl

“Mum says all of the houses are good and that it won’t matter which house I’m in,” Charlotte says placidly. “Mum was a Ravneclaw and Dad was a Gryffindor. I don’t really know where I should go.” The girl looks down into her bag of sweets then shrugs vaguely. She finishes her peppermint toad and then tucks the bag into her deep pocket again and glances to Danielle, not commenting as she spots the bag of sweets. “So is it nice in France? I’d love to go visit there,” she asks, trying to diffuse Danielle’s hostility toward the older girl. Charlotte only glances briefly at the older girl as her attention is drawn to Parker, who has frozen with a bit of candy in his mouth. Apparently Parker has forgotten what ice mice do, and for the time being, the compartment is slightly more still as the effects of the candy keep hold on him.

“Professor Kensington keeps very close tabs on us Ravenclaws,” Josie comments. “She makes sure that our marks are at a certain level, and if they’re not, we have manditory homework time! On weekends too. Have you ever heard of such a thing?” The girl shakes her head in a semblance of shock. “Thankfully, I haven’t had to stay in for it yet, but I can’t believe that she would do that! I bet she can’t be that way with her class, though. Like you said, it’s just looking at tea and crystal balls and all of that.” Essie nods quickly, but says nothing to add to the comments. Josie pulls out a sugar quill and begins to suck on it slowly. “Anyway, I think I’ll take Care of Magical Creatures with Essie instead.”

Alastriona Pryor gives an approving nod to Danielle as she pops the Muggle candy in her mouth. At least it’s sugar! Alastriona either doesn’t notice or ignores the scowl she’s given because she merely smiles at Danielle. “Mandatory homework time?! You better work hard! Professor Fallon isn’t like that. She’s more. . . the mothering type. Honestly, if I didn’t know better I’d think that she had children at the school.” She contemplates a second and then adds, “Discipline isn’t unheard of with her, but it’s not scary punishment at all.” She shrugs.

Danielle Baker looks up at Josie and wrinkles her nose again, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think I want to be in Ravenclaw.” She falls quiet for a moment, before looking up at Charlotte again. “Oh, it’s wonderful in France. There’s all different kinds of people there, and the very tallest building is the tour eiffel, and you can see it from everywhere in France, it’s so big. I lived just near it and would go there all the time.” She smiles faintly at the other first year, and swallows her sweet, casting another significant look towards Alastriona.

“Well, you know she used to!” Josie exclaims, proud that she can provide information that the older girl didn’t appear to know. “My cousin Briony married her oldest kid. His name’s Gabe. He and Briony were Gryffindors. Gabe has two sisters, too, but I don’t know them very well.” Josie beams and glances out the window. “Wow, look how dark it is! We must be nearly there!” The girl hops up and smooths her robes out, rubbing her fingers over her Ravenclaw crest lovingly and grinning at the others. I’m going to go up toward the entrance! Come on, Essie! Let’s get a carriage together!”

“Well that’s interesting! You certainly have a lot of family!” Alastriona exlaims. She quickly stands to her feet, smoothes her robes, and then for good measure, smoothes her hair once more. “Come along, Flossie! We have things to do–carriages to catch, and things to discuss.” That said, the pair begin shuffling to the front of the train.

Parker Wexler unfreezes just in time to hear Josie exclaim about nearly reaching Hogwarts. “Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts! We’re almost there, Lottie!” he calls to her and bounces a bit on the seat, shoving his own bag of sweets haphazardly into his pocket and jumping up. This time, he manages not to trip over anyone or kick anyone, but he’s not exactly moving slowly, and he nearly falls over as he runs out of the compartment. “Wait for me!” he calls to his cousins. “No?” Charlotte replies to Danielle, giving only a brief glance out the window and frowning slightly as she sees that the trip is nearly over. “Want to go to the front?” Charlotte asks the other girls left in the compartment as she stands up and smooths her robes, folding up the top of her bag and tucking it into her pocket.

As the view outside the window starts getting less and less clear due to the cover of darkness – or, at least, as she realises that this is rapidly happening – Danielle becomes quieter and even starts biting on her nails. Eventually, she leans in a little closer to Charlotte, and whispers, “I don’t want to be given weekend homework, I got plenty of that from my last teacher. In France!” She adds, almost as an afterthought. “But… don’t you ever worry that you might pop on the hat and it’ll tell you to go away?” A pause. “Not that I ever do!” She adds, almost hurriedly. “I was just… wondering if other people did. It seems scary. Like other people would find it scary.”

Standing alone at the end of the train platform, Avery Fallon has one arm lifted above her head, waving to capture students’ attention. “First years! First years gather here! Sorted students should take the carriages, but first years please gather here!” The astronomy professor appears to be in fairly good spirits and is smiling welcomingly, vaguely scanning the faces for Charlotte and Parker Wexler.

Bounding off of the train and dodging some of the bigger students, Parker makes his way to the platform, his too-long robes streaming behind him. “Come on,” he calls to Charlotte and Danielle, pausing briefly as he hears a voice calling for first years. “This way!” he shouts and runs down the platform, not even giving the girls a chance to figure out where he’s headed. “Hi, Aunt Avery!” he greets the teacher and bounds into her with an exuberant hug.

Danielle Baker falls silent as she steps off the train and really seems to take in the sheer size of the crowds. She bites at her lower lip, glancing back and forth and reaching out to grab at Charlotte’s arm as she moves over towards the Professor calling out for them. “Is this where we get Sorted?” She hisses at Charlotte. “I don’t think anyone said!”

“Parker!” Avery exclaims, leaning down to hug the boy back and stepping back to ruffle his hair and smile to Charlotte, giving her a little wave. Once a sizeable group of first years has congregated around her, and it appears that all others are on their way towards carriages, Avery looks to her mass of eleven-year-olds and smiles. “Welcome to the Hogwarts grounds! I’m Professor Fallon, and you’ll be seeing me some evenings for Astronomy. No doubt you’re all excited to get to the castle for the sorting, so let us depart. Follow me, please,” she says, turning around and heading for the shore path.

Josie and Essie make their way off of the train, pausing and waving to Avery in hopes that she’ll see them before the two girls bounce into a carriage, greeting some other second years as they do so. In a moment, the carriage has disembarked toward the castle. Charlotte remains with Danielle as the crowd slowly thins and the girls are left with the other first years on the platform. “Oh, no. We have to go to the castle where the rest of the students are going. I think we take boats instead of carriages,” she tells Danielle quietly, glancing at Parker quickly before she waves shyly to Avery, coming to stop in front of her aunt.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Josie tells her sister as the two oldest Wexlers make their way into the Great Hall. Josie skips down the way to a spot near the front of the table and she plops down quickly. “Hullo, Otto!” She greets the boy, recognizing him from the shop over the summer. “Wasn’t the train ride terrific?”

Sauntering in slowly, Sera separates from her friend as she enters the Great Hall. The girl seems to be more relaxed and slightly more confident than she has been in previous years. The young woman is calmer as she takes a seat down toward the end of the Great Hall, giving a vague smile to the people nearby, but not saying anything to them.

(Ravenclaw) Tapping his finger idly against the table, Otto looks positively bored now that the train ride is over. As Josie says hello, he turns his head and blinks. It isn’t often that people outside of his very small clique actually acknowledge him and it still surprised him, even if it shouldn’t, when it does happen. “Hello Josie.” Smiling easily, he glances over to the Slytherin table and his gaze shifts quickly back upon the younger Ravenclaw. “It was fun, but I’m glad to be here. Now I don’t have to fret over the kid sister or Yamini thinking I’m trying to make my sweet Don Juan moves on Seraphina.” Mocking his social awkwardness, he’s learning to take it in stride rather than be angry or embarrassed by the fact that he is far from being socially astute and lacks the golden charm that some are lucky enough to own.

Gawking as he enters the Great Hall for the first time, Parker, who has been at the head of the group nearly the whole way, is falling behind and a few of the first years run into him, though he takes no notice of this. “Wow…” he whispers as the first years make their way to the front of the hall. Charlotte, too, is impressed with the grandeur of the hall, and then somewhat intimidated as she spots all of the people sitting at the tables. She sees both of her sisters sitting at different tables, but her demeanor does not seem to change as she continues on to the front of the hall.

Still so shocked and amazed at the sight of Hogwarts that she can’t even bring herself to fake propriety and her worldly manner, Danielle‘s mouth hangs open slightly and her eyes consider the ceiling, then the crowds of people at the tables, and so on. Eventually, she manages a soft, “Ohhh, it’s even better than I could have imagined.”

“Let’s begin,” Bonnie states loudly, her voice sounding through the Great Hall as she pulls open a scroll which holds a list of names. “Abbott, Ida” goes first, sorted to Hufflepuff, then “Atwell, Mabel” is sorted to Gryffindor. This takes only a few minutes, then the woman calls out “Baker, Danielle.”

Shocked that she’s so close to the front of the queue, Danielle‘s mouth drops open again and she seems barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Eventually, the person behind her has to prompt her to step forward and she stumbles a few steps, before affecting a rather more dainty and careful step to the stool, placing the Sorting Hat upon her head as primly as she can manage.

Glancing to Danielle, Charlotte squeezes the girl’s hand and watches with a somewhat stressed look on her face. She glances to the tables and sees her own sisters watching with interest as the sorting gets into full swing.

(Ravenclaw) Gasping a bit, Josie leans over. “Really, her? Why would they think you’re making romance to her?” the girl whispers this quietly once the hat is finished singing. She tsks and shakes her head. “My sister is up there, do you see?” she whispers a bit loudly, looking proudly up at the front of the room. “Parker is up there, too. He’s my cousin.” She applauds quietly as another student is sorted.

Although now her shock and confusion mingles with irritation, it’s clear that of all things, Danielle wasn’t expecting that. As it shouts out her house, she removes the hat suddenly and stumbles to the Hufflepuff table as carefully as she can manage, though she’s still having trouble putting one foot in front of the other.

Two more B-names are sorted, one to Slytherin and one to Ravenclaw, then it’s “Chaffee, Viviane,” who goes to Ravenclaw. Three girls are next, two of whom are sorted to Ravenclaw and one to Hufflepuff. Then a boy is sorted to Slytherin, another boy to Gryffindor, and a girl to Gryffindor. Next up is “Mycroft, Alistair”, who is sorted to Slytherin. Five or six more students are sorted, and then “Wexler, Charlotte” is called. After a brief moment, she is sorted to Slytherin, and then “Wexler, Parker” is called forward.

Parker Wexler gasps as Charlotte gets sorted to Slytherin, gawking a bit, but before he has much time to react, it’s his own turn. The boy bounds up to the hat and pulls it down hard over his head. His ears bow out and the hat comes down to his ears as he crosses his fingers, waiting to see what the hat would do and thinking very hard that he hoped the hat wouldn’t chew on his head.

Why wouldn’t Slytherin be kind? I mean, Dad was a Gryffindor and so was Uncle Tom and Aunt Avery so that would be okay, but I mean, Slytherin would, too!

Parker Wexler gasps gleefully and runs down to the Gryffindor table, finding an open spot and bouncing into it. He beams at his housemates as he settles in at the table, pleased to know that the hat did not, in fact, chew on him, even though his parents would not tell him one way or the other.

One final student is sorted, headed Hufflepuff way, and then Bonnie nods again. “The sorting is completed,” she tells the room, rolls up the scroll deliberately, then sits down at the faculty table, breathing deeply as if in relief.

As the Sorting itself concludes, Astra rises from her seat at the faculty table and stands to face the vast hall and its many occupants. There’s a beat between her standing up and her actual address of the students, but when she does speak it is clear and calm, using the natural acoustics of the room to make herself heard rather than magical spells. Turning to nod at Avery, she smiles tightly to the woman before shooting a small smile to Bonnie. “Thank you Professor Kensington for your help with the Sorting and my gratitude to Professor Fallon for your assistance with bringing the first years safely to the school, it’s always an exciting task.” Addressing the school again, the headmistress draws herself up and continues. “I’m very glad to see you all back and hope that you’ve had a wonderful summer. For our new students, welcome to your new home. I’m sure that your fellow Housemates will help you get settled in quickly and comfortably.” Pausing to look at the many faces, some new and many familiar, she grins sharply and gives a moment before she launches on.

The mood of her tone sobers but she continues the speech with the same efficient crisp pace. After a short span, she retrieves a piece of paper. Reading off the paper, she then continues. “Prefect picks for the fifth year students are as follows.” “Congratulations to Gryffindor: Arthur Towner and Rachel Stewart. Congratulations to Ravenclaw: Tobias Garner and Geraldine Parr. Congratulations to Slytherin: Francine Rees and George Whittle.” “And congratulations to Hufflepuff: William Sanderson and Bridget Madigan.” Coughing a little, she sets down the paper and takes another drink from her goblet. “I’m sure the seventh years are excited to know who will become the Head Boy and Head Girl for this year.” Taking delight in this news, Astra purposely pauses to retrieve and sip from the goblet in her hand. Glancing over the various tables, she finishes this part of the speech with, “Congratulations are especially in order to Slytherin Prefect, Luther Anderson who is Head Boy this year and no less congratulations are in order to Gryffindor Prefect Vesta Newton who will be serving as Head Girl.” Only now does the woman allow herself a brief respite to grin widely and watch any reactions that might take place.

Once things have settled back down, Astra clears her throat. “Of course, school wouldn’t be school without a list of rules and regulations now would it? Your parents have charged us with the task of taking care of you and so we do our best to imitate them most times.” “I know you’re all thrilled over that!” The dry humor comes slowly to her, but she finally seems to be getting into the good spirits of the Sorting feast. “With that said I’m charged with telling you all that a list of banned items is posted on the Caretaker’s office door and you’d do well to familiarize yourself with it. In addition, there is to be no running in the hallways.” “Use of magic in the hallways or on the outside grounds without supervision or explicit permission by a teacher is strictly prohibited and will be dealt with accordingly.” “As usual, the Forbidden Forest is exactly that – Forbidden and trespassers will be dealt with harshly.” “Third year students and above are reminded to have their permission slips to Hogsmeade signed and ready for the first weekend. Anyone who doesn’t have this will not be allowed off school grounds.” Clearing her throat, she looks around the hall. “Returning students know how I deal with rule breakers, I trust none of you will want to come to my office?” “Don’t worry, you’ll get to eat soon, but I have a few more announcements to make.”

Waiting for about a minute to let students discuss among themselves, Astra finally holds up her hand for attention. “I have just a few more notices and reminders before we get to the pleasant task of eating.” “I am also to inform you that all greenhouses are off limits to students unless you have express permission to be there outside of class.” “Finally, there is to be absolutely no magical toys, candy, trinkets, or anything else of magical nature brought into Muggle Studies. If any of these items are found upon your person, Professor Helit will confiscate and dispose of them.” Then taking one more very brief pause she then ends, “It looks to be an exciting and vibrant new term. I sincerely hope each of you finds as much fun as you do challenges.” “Now let’s eat.”

The sorting extends for quite a while, and Parker interacts enthusiastically with his new housemates while he stuffs himself as full as possible. Eventually, the chatter dies down and the food slowly vanishes. When the prefects get up and direct the first years to follow them, Parker does so dutifully. Sleepiness begins to overpower the boy who has had what could only be called an exciting day. He follows the Gryffindor prefects out of the Great Hall and disappears on his way to his new home for seven years.

Seraphina Pryor has filled herself with scrumptious Hogwarts food as the sorting day feast draws to a close. The prefects begin to move toward the common room with their first year charges, and Seraphina trails behind them slowly, not in any rush to get settled into the dungeon for another year. She savors the feel of the castle as she makes her way to the common room to settle in for the night.

The sorting day has exhausted Josie quite as much as if she had been sorted today herself. The girl stands up from the table ahead of many of the other students at her table and she wanders away, waving to her sister as she makes her way out of the great hall and toward her common room.

Edern Fallon almost hops into the Great Hall as he comes moves in. He looks up at the Faculty table and smiles as he waves to Keelan, finally making his way to the Slytherin table.

The southern doors to the Great Hall are flung wide open. They fly outward, ready to crash into the wall, only to stop suddenly just before impact. Through this opening strides Professor Gerald Rathe, with an untidy line of first-year students following behind. Although he travels at what is for him a casual saunter, him long legs still eat up the distance rapidly. Arriving at the front of the room, he is forced to pause for a moment to make sure that the first years catch up, and indicates to them that they should stand in a line behind him.

Christopher Hobbs blinks as he enters the large hall, wide eyes greedily taking in all of the details of the room. A broad but nervous grin stretches across his face as he walks in line after Professor Rathe.

Gilroy Hollister trails Professor Rathe into the Hall, grey eyes making a wide sweep of the faces assembled before being pulled in by the ceiling. He speaks a vague syllable before remembering to stay silent, and instead nudges Mariska and points upward at the artificial night sky.

The heat, light and sound almost bowls Adelaide over, thanks to the long train journey and dark boat ride. As the doors open, she shuffles along with her fellow first years, putting on a face of not a care in the world, even though she knows that everyone in the hall is going to be looking at them. It’s not at all what she expected, but her brother had warned her that the sorting is different for everyone, and as undescribable for each.

Silas follows Professor Rathe into the Great Hall and gapes at the sight. He didn’t know what to expect, but he sure hadn’t expected such an extravagant sight! This was even more impressive than the banquet hall at Vicaris Hall! So many people… watching them get sorted. Silas tries to steel his nerves, but finds such a task hard to do here.

Walking into the great hall with the rest of the unsorted students Tommy‘s eyes immediatly look up to the enchanted roof and the first words out of his mouth are “Wow! Look at that.” And then they move to take in the rest of the hall, wide with wonder and a grin scrawled over his face.

Mariska Moore enters the great hall with the other unsorted students. A quick look around reveals the rest of the student body. With a slight gulp she looks to either side, finding Gilroy to one she grins and remains silent. At Gil’s nuding Mariska looks up, and her eyes widen more than they were before, if that’s possible.

(Faculty) Having sat quietly for a very long time, Astra does startle a little as the door flies open. Muttering to herself with an eyeroll “And I’m told that my entrances are dramatic?” Casting a sidelong glance at Darius, she smirks but goes back to her usual silence pre-Sorting.

(Faculty) Darius nods to Astra and immediately quips, low and quiet, “Well, now we know where you get it from.” He studiously avoids her gaze after he says that.

A dark skinned, curly-haired boy of eleven moves along after Gerald with his head held steady and his shoulders squared back. Theodore de Alquimia is nervous, but other than a paleness to his face, it does not show. He moves with the unconcious grace of someone subjected to many ettiquette lessons, and tries to control his urge to look around. Noticing others looking up, however, he chances a peek. And then stands, entranced. A good thing he is already where he needs to be, or he’d be left gawking at the doors while everyone else followed Gerald.

Her eyes widening as she enters the great hall, Seraphina seems to trail a bit momentarily in the entrance. She tugs on the sleeves of her robes, as if doing so will take the nervousness away and she pauses momentarily. Once she realizes that the group is leaving without her up to the front, she trots along, catching up and then stopping at the front once they get there.

Jack Wexler follows the group in, looking at the hall with slightly wide eyes. He’d quite suddenly wished he’d not given his last chocolate frog to Seraphina on the boats, as his hands were fidgeting in his pockets nervously for something to shove in to his mouth.

(Faculty) Isolde gives a soft snicker at Astra’s mutter and resettles herself, also startled at the entrance. She sizes up the first years as they file in, opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. Instead, she smiles serenely, her green eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Following Gerald into the hall beside her cousin, Vashti looks around the room at the already sorted students. She isn’t really nervous per se, but does want desperately to be sorted. It will complete the experience. It will mean she really belongs and her invitation wasn’t sent to her by accident.

Hannah walks into the Great Hall, dazzled by the impressions that are overwhelming her immediately. All those new faces and the magic in the atmosphere. “What a nice place to be.” she thinks for herself. It’s so beautiful. Intimidating, but beautiful.

(Faculty) Looking a bit exhausted from her own little trip Phoebe nearly flops down in her chair. “Sorry Im late everyone. I had to avoid ferry the children and explain how a squid is different than a squib. Phoebe chuckles softly and pours herself something warm to drink. “I do hope the children don’t catch cold from being out on the lake like that.

Gerald Rathe steps off to the back of the Hall briefly, returning with a shabby old hat in one hand, and a stool in the other. He carries the hat gingerly, as if it were very fragile, and places it softly on the stool at the front of the room. This done, he steps back from the hat the front of the first-year students, and watches. The hat sits still on the stool for a moment, and then with a little jerk, a tear across the brim opens wide like a mouth!

(Faculty) Melvina chuckles in regards to Astra’s comment, taking a sip of her tea. She passes a shrewd, quiet gaze across the entering first years, but says nothing as the hat begins to regail the hall with it’s song. “Poetic this year,” she notes, more to herself than for anyone else’s benefit.

Gilroy Hollister watches the Hat intently as it sings, corners of his lips twitching as he takes in each word as if the Hat were a professor in itself. When the words finish, he taps his fingers together in tentative applause, uncertain on whether or not such accolades are meant to follow the Hat’s recitation.

Leaning over to Hannah with her nose wrinkled, Vashti comments in a whisper, “That has to be the oddest thing I’ve ever seen. A singing hat? What’s next?”

“It talked!” Jack yelps in a thick New York accent, his green eyes wide as they dart to the stool where the old, patchy hat was placed. “That hat just talked! Is it supposed to do that?”

Christopher Hobbs blinks, eyes widened yet again with wonder and amusement. He whistles quietly in awe, but says nothing…yet.

Her heart was beating so fast, that Adelaide gripped her cousin’s hand, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh…”

Adrian Skye blinks, and can do nothing but stare apprehensively at the talking Hat for a few seconds. “Ade…” he whispers. “They’re letting… a… hat… sort?”

Hannah‘s eyes widen as the hat begins to sing. Of course it’s only another magic thing she never heard of before, but that exactly is what impresses her so much right now. “That thing is going to decide in which house we’ll be in? Oh lordy…”

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh folds her hands across her lap, eyes flickering from the unsorted students to those already at their House tables, both to spy those who misbehave and to occasionally smile as a favored student catches her eye. So, quite seldom then.

“Don’t your hats talk?” Tommy teases Jack with a grin before looking back over to the hat itself. The little boy looks quite pleased to even be at Hogwarts let alone to have heard the hat’s song.

“This is it, this is it!” Melissa squeezed Adelaide’s hand excitedly.

Gerald Rathe gives the first years a sharp unapproving glance in response to their chatter.

“Sure, why not?” Silas whispers to Jack, “your chocolate frogs jumped, didn’t they? Why shouldn’t enchanted hats talk?” Silas masks his surprise as well as he can, as it’s not every day one encounters a talking hat.

Stepping up, Gerald Rathe produces a long scroll from within his cloak, and unfurls it. Addressing the first years, he says, “After I read your name, you will put on the hat, sit on the stool to be sorted.” Glancing at the list, he absentmindedly cracks his knuckles in his left hand. “Adams, Adelaide!”

After a long, long wait, the big event was finally here, and Adelaide couldn’t have been more petrified if she tried. Not that she showed it. Inside she was sure her stomach was going to shake all the way down to her feet, and she could barely speak for fear of squeaking with excitement and looking ridiculous. Then, her heart shot up to her throat as she heard the unmistakeable call of her name. With a little mental nudge she walked up to the stool, sitting down on it, hat on head, and shooting everyone who was watching her one of the hugest smiles, because for the next seven years, Hogwarts would be her home.

(Faculty) Selene Hathaway leans forward a bit as the line of students parade in. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, a look of excitement as her gaze travels over each student as she slowly turns her cup in her hand. Slowly her lips curl into a grin as she hat begins its song and she settles back in her chair to watch the sorting.

That was fair point, actually, that Silas had made. Jack couldn’t deny it. Still, he’d have felt better about the whole thing if he could chew on something.

“Thank you.” Adelaide murmurs as her house is called, and her small form darts off the stool, all but flying towards them all, with a cheerful little wave, having regained all of her energy and excitement. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.” She quips.

(Faculty) Grinning from her place at the faculty table, Avery nods as her house recieves one more charge. “First of the year!” she says cheerfully.

Gerald Rathe continues to read down the list, as the Sorting continues. Atwell, Otto gets sorted into Ravenclaw, and after that, Barclay, Kieran goes to Hufflepuff. Looking back to the line of students, Professor Rathe calls on “Brooke, Melissa!”

(Faculty) Though it would be unseemly for a supposedly neutral teacher to take pleasure in the same thing Avery did, he likewise has a firm grin at his old house getting the first sorted student of the year.

Upon hearing her name being called, Melissa steps out of the crowd of first years. A huge smile is displayed on her face as she looks around. She is aware of the people watching her, and this makes her slightly nervous. The nervousness is hidden by the excitement she feels. She walks forward to the stool in her usual frolic way, her hair flowing behind her, and she sits down and puts on the hat, excitedly. This is it. The moment.

(Faculty) Though it would be unseemly for a supposedly neutral teacher to take pleasure in the same thing Avery did, Darius likewise has a firm grin at his old house getting the first sorted student of the year.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard grins along with Avery, quite in spite of herself. Even after all these years, old Bert was still a Gryffindor at heart. She applauds politely for Miss Adams before adding some sugar to her tea.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh raises an eyebrow but applauds politely each time the Hat calls out a name. Certainly Slytherin would get some of them. She shifts a bit, suddenly, her eyebrows coming down together. The hands on her lap seem to fidget a bit, somewhat out of character for the woman.

(Faculty) Isolde applauds with each new sorting, and each Hufflepuff addition gets an extra grin. “Moving right along, aren’t they?” she says to no one in particular, cheerful but hushed.

Andrew Cartwright cheers loudly!

The sorting hat shouts her house and Melissa gets up, happily running to her table, nearly tripping as she hurries down the steps. She manages to keep her balance and simply grins as she sits down with her fellow housemates.

Gerald Rathe continues reading down the list of names, as Elladora Burke is sorted into Ravenclaw, and Ryskim Calborn becomes a Slytherin. Professor Rathe frowns and pauses momentarily before calling, “Darian, Tommy!”

When his name is called Tommy hurries to take the hat and sit himself upon the stool his face alight with pride that he’s finally made it to the school. Placing the hat on his head it sinks over his eyes and ears looking quite comical. His hands fold into his lap neatly and his body shakes in anticipation of what will come next as he waits patiently.

(Faculty) “They always do, dear,” Melvina says, quietly, watching the unsorted with a tender expression. “And before you know it, they’ll all be graduating, and soon after will have become our collogues and bosses. It’s a wonderous thing, isn’t it?”

Hopping from the barstool and removing the hat Tommy excitedly runs to join the Slytherin table nearly tripping in the progress. He happily takes his seat amongst them cheering with the other first years he knew who made it there as well.

(Faculty) There’s been no noticeable change on Astra‘s face during the sorting. She’s barely stirred in her seat other than to nod at one child’s placement or another. But the moment Tommy’s name is called she frowns and deeper still when the boy is placed into her House.

Gerald Rathe silently watches Tommy take his seat with the Slytherin, and then looks back to his list. He calls on, “de Alquimia, Teddy!”

Teddy de Alquimia has been paying attention to the names called out, but hearing his own is still a surprise. Practiced grace masks his nervousness as he moves up to the stool, and he places the hat upon his head with a tenative smile to the line of Professors at their table. Though the Sorting Hat does not engulf his head, the brim is wide, and those close enough can only see the boy’s mouth pressing together thoughtfully as his time with the Hat progresses.

(Faculty) Selene Hathaway grins a little more as the hat announces Slytherin members, but she seems to be enjoying the ceremony on the whole. She takes a sip from her cup and glances down her own table briefly before settling back in to watch the rest of the sorting. Her eyes do stray towards the Slytherin table from time to time and in those moments her gaze looks almost calculating.

Jack Wexler watches quietly as first year after first year approaches the stool and the brown, heavily patched felt hat that sits on top it. His initial shock has subsided, replaced by a certain curiousity as he notes that several of his would-be classmates have been subjected to the cap and come away safely.

Teddy de Alquimia looks more nervous than ever as he removes the Hat and returns it to the stool. With a slight bow–yes, really–at Gerald, he moves out of the way of the next person to be Sorted and toward the appropriate table. Well, here’s hoping it’s the appropriate table. What was that order again?

(Faculty) Watching bemusedly as each student is sorted Phoebe could not help nut notice that both the Rathes seemed to twitch just a bit at the mention of the Darian boy’s house. Taking another swig she leans nearer to Astra. “Somthing the matter Professor Rathe?” Being unaware of the history behind Tommy’s name poor Phoebe is completely ignorant as to why they both reacted in such a way.

Shaking his head after Teddy, Gerald Rathe goes back to the task at hand. After the hat sorts Kaiah DeFuenta into Hufflepuff, Gerald continues down the list to call on “Forsyth, Hannah!”

Hannah Forsyth winces, as she gets taken by surprise hearing her name resounding in the vast hall and feeling all the school’s eyes fixed on her. Vashti was in her vicinity all the time during the trip, but now she has to take those last steps alone. What if she ends up alone in one of the four houses, apart from her cousins? “Think positive…” she mutters under her breath, clutching her left arm with her right hand and takes a first step towards the chair. Hesitating for a moment, she looks back to Vashti and Jezebel a last time before marching straight to the front and picking up the Sorting Hat. Hannah turns around, flops onto the stool and puts on the hat harshly, waiting for something to happen.

(Faculty) Scowling in a rather horrid fashion, Astra turns her head away from the Sorting just long enough to take her eyes off the latest child. “Darian is a foul name with foul blood. That’s all I have to say on the matter.” “I’ll be keeping my eye on *that* one.”

(Faculty) Melvina casts a brief glance to Astra after setting down her teacup, but otherwise says nothing. Her features remaining quiet, even serious. After a moment, however, of regarding her Deputy Headmistress, she turns her gaze back to the Sorting.

(Faculty) Bites her lip at Phoebe‘s reaction as it was quite unexpected. “Forgive me, I …. didn’t mean anything Astra.” Instead of saying anything more Phoebe turns her attention back to the sorting slowly nursing on whatever it was she put in her glass. Her eyes do stray though to Tommy and then to her own son sitting at the Hufflepuff table.

Hannah slowly gets up, putting the hat back to its original place on the stool, then leaps towards the Gryffindor table as relief overcomes her. “Hey, I made it!” she greets her new housemates and sits down. Now it’s only about her cousins following her to Gryffindor.

Gerald Rathe reads on, his voice becoming patterned and rhythmic with the repetitious nature of his task. He calls on “Greer, Sophie,” who is sorted into Gryffindor, and then comes to “Hobbs, Christopher!”

Christopher Hobbs jumps nervously as the odd hat ominously calls out his name, and nods reassuringly to himself as he walks slowly forward to the front of the room, his steps upon the slate floor echoing in the ensuing silence. His heart beats so strongly in his chest that he idly wonders if others can hear it themselves. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he gingerly places the old hat upon his head and sits slowly down upon the stool. His eyes rotate to stare directly at the hat itself as if worried he might hurt it–or vice versa.

Next, Gerald Rathe recites “Hollister, Gilroy!”

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh doesn’t turn so much as incline her head toward Astra and can’t help but add in an even tone, “Surely the child can’t be blamed for his parentage, however horrible?” It isn’t a reprimand so much as an observation, as she too, follows Tommy’s progress to the Slytherin table. “In any case,” a tiny smile surfaces, “you’re in an excellent position to keep an eye on him, aren’t you?” She frowns and shifts again, suddenly, attention back on the sorting process.

For all his quivering excitement from the train ride through the current scene in the Great Hall, Gilroy Hollister grows briefly still at the call of his name. He squares his shoulders and stretches his arms out before him. Then, with slow deliberate steps and twitchy anxious fingers, Gilroy treads to the front of everyone’s attention, and after one wide eyed look back at everyone, he carefully sits on the stool, lifts the Hat, and looks inside before placing it on his head.

Christopher Hobbs exhales forcefully, surprising himself; he didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath the whole time. He stands up from the stool after removing the Sorting Hat, a wave of joy passing over him. He offers a wave to his fellow first-year friends with a huge grin spreading rapidly across his face once again. All of the anxiety he had felt is gone, replaced with giddy excitement. Christopher walks over to his new House table, offering a friendly wave to the others already seated there.

(Faculty) Isolde‘s attention wanders down the table to Astra and Phoebe, but she keeps her tongue. Tommy gets a closer look, but her attention is soon diverted to the newly named Hufflepuffs, and soon she’s back to smiling, nodding and applauding. After a while she comment quietly, “They seem to be a fairly happy bunch, these new first years. Always nice to see. Good attitudes to go with that, I hope.”

(Faculty) “I do hope they are as well behaved the whole year as they were on the boat ride.” Phoebe quips gently seemingly having forgot all about the Slytherin boy. “I didn’t have a single problem with any of them. Though I think a few were tempted to get a closer look at the squid.” “I told them in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t be happy if I had to jump in the lake after them.”

Gilroy Hollister visibly jolts as the hat shouts the name of his new house, though for the surprise of volume and decision in his eyes, he cannot help but grin as he removes the hat and makes his way to the Ravenclaw bench. “Guess mum was right about me being too much like dad sometimes,” he murmurs to himself as his eyes skim his new classmates.

The list continues, as Gerald Rathe reads on, and “Kana, Allgermein” goes into Hufflepuff, followed by “Kapoor, Rajindar” who is sorted into Ravenclaw, and then “Kemys, Jezebel” winds up in Gryffindor. Next, Gerald declares: “Kemys, Vashti!”

(Faculty) Melvina exhales a small, puffed, genuinely amused laugh about that as she sets her elbows up on the table and steeples her fringers together in front her lips.

Vashti applauds, almost bored, as her cousin Jezebel is placed into Gryffindor. If she had to be honest, the hat’s song did little to explain exactly what being in Gryffindor really means. She shrugs. Knowing her name was coming, of course, Vashti Kemys stands up and makes her way over to the hat. She practiced this walk earlier this week, back home in her room. It’s a bit shakier now than it was then, but she finally arrives and takes a seat on the stool. As the hat is lowered onto her head, she listens carefully.

Glad inside that she’s with both her cousins in Gryffindor, her quarrel with Jezebel is forgotten as she scampers excitedly to the red-washed table. “See, I can make Gryffindor too!” she says in triumph before sitting down.

Glad inside that she’s with both her cousins in Gryffindor, her quarrel with Jezebel is forgotten as Vashti scampers excitedly to the red-washed table. “See, I can make Gryffindor too!” she says in triumph before sitting down.

Mores names come from the scroll in Gerald‘s hands. Aedan Llewellyn becomes a Hufflepuff, Raurin Macbeth is sorted into Slytherin, the Hat chooses to place Leith MacLeod in Hufflepuff and Brian Maloney is sent to Gryffindor. The next name called is “Moore, Mariska!”

Mariska Moore blinks slightly as her name is called and steps forward. Quietly, and nervously, she makes her way to the stool, wherein she promptly sits and settles the hat atop her head. Due to the size of her head, the hat successfully manages to cover most of it. Mariska, now settled, places her hands in her lap and awaits the hat’s decision.

Mariska Moore removes the Sorting Hat from her head and looks around. Quickly the girl spots her house table and makes her way towards it, promptly taking her seat once she reaches Slytherin table.

Reading on, Gerald Rathe comes to “O’Bannon, Albert,” “Perelli, Phoenix” and “Pheras, Kiyan,” all of whom are sorted, one after the other, into Hufflepuff. With an apprehensive glance at the swelling Hufflepuff table, Gerald calls on “Pryor, Seraphina!”

Seraphina has seen a group of people get sorted now, and it doesn’t seem so frightening to the girl. After all, nobody else appears to have been injured. She pauses, however, before stepping up to the hat, glancing backward at those around her, waiting yet to be sorted. It is moments like these that Sera realizes she’s a lonely child, but given that the hat is waiting for her, she doesn’t have the time to dawdle. Quickly she hops up to the stool and plunks the hat down on her head.

Hopping up quickly, Seraphina breathes in deeply. That wasn’t so painful! She quickly walks over to her designated table, joining her housemates quietly with merely a semblance of a nod toward them.

After the Hat sorts Haley Renalds into Ravenclaw, Gerald Rathe comes to the next name: “Skye, Adrian!”

Adrian Skye takes a last deep breath and mutters to himself, “I can do it.” Glancing one last time to his friends already sitting at their various tables, he starts. As Adrian is walking towards the Hat, his foot catches the edge of his robe, and he trips. Although he is able to regain his balance quickly, there are some sniggers amongst the crowd. Adrian, however, magnificently keeps a straight and stoic face, ignoring everything until he has finally arrived at the stool. With shaking fingers, Adrian removes the hat from the stool, sits, and puts the Hat on, feeling the stares of so many, too many eyes on him.

Adrian‘s face is still stoic, and he is unmoving for a second. Slowly and daintily, he removes the Hat, putting it back on the seat, face still a blank. As he stands up, a slow grin begins to dance across his face. He walks away from the stool silently, but the glowing look on his face tells all of his emotions. When he reaches the table of Gryffindor, his face absolutely explodes with joy as he gives an enormous hug to his best friend Adelaide, his Housemate for the next seven years to come.

The Sorting continues, with more and more of the scroll unfurling as the names are called. “Stufflebeam, Graham” goes into Ravenclaw, while “Torpenhow, Marius” and “Trumble, Aemele” end up in Slytherin. After “Vertigonte, Claude” is sorted into Hufflepuff, Gerald calls on, “Vicaris, Silas!”

At hearing his name called, Silas suddenly tenses up. His nerves start to fail him as he walks forward to the stool, his mind focused hard on not stumbling or tripping on the way there. Once there, he turns around and slowly climbs backwards onto the stool, staring with wide eyes at the population of the Great Hall. The Sorting Hat is placed upon his head, and he glances up at the brim as he waits for something to happen.

Somewhat gratified by the exclamation of the Sorting Hat, Silas pulls it roughly from his head and hops off the stool, depositing it on the vacant seat before walking quickly to his table. The grinning fool takes a seat at a vacant opening and looks at the few left in line to see where they get sorted.

Gerald Rathe intones, “Walker, Abe!” and the named student is sorted into Ravenclaw. Looking at the last name on the scroll, Gerald says, “Wexler, Jack!”

Jack takes a deep breath as his name is called; the curse of his surname and it’s place at the end of the alphabet an occassional boone, as well. He’d plenty of time to steel his resolve and gathering his wits, and now that his name had been called, he was ready… or at least he thought. His first step toward the stool on which sat the brown, talking hat is a wobbly one, and he very nearly loses his balance and collapses. It’s only with a fair amount of arm-flailing and a pinch of luck that he manages to fetch his footing and keep himself upright. His following steps are more careful as he pulls the flat-cap from his head and makes his way to the stool, clambering on to it and placing the Sorting Hat carefully on to his head as if he might hurt it somehow.

Blinking, Jack pulls the hat off slowly – again, careful, as if he might somehow hurt it – and sets it back on the stool before making his way to the Gryffindor table.

Looking a little deflated and relieved, at the same time, Gerald Rathe furls the scroll with the names of the first years on it, and returns it to his cloak. He picks up the hat with same care shown earlier, and the stool, returning them to their original place. Finally, with a somber expression, his takes his seat at the faculty table with a nod to his neighbours there.

(Faculty) Gerald Rathe sits upright, but a slight droop to his shoulders is still evident. “I swear that this gets longer every year.”

Melvina Prichard rises with purpose from the faculty table once the ritual of Sorting has concluded, lifting a nimble, long-fingered hand in a suggestive to beckon silence from the students massed in the hall. “Thank you, Professor Rathe. Excuse me, quiet please — yes, that includes you, Mister Markham,” she says in a strong tone, ever-laced with a hint of amusement. The ghost of a grin touches her lips as she looks over the wealth of her school.

(Faculty) Laughing quietly to herself at her father’s comment, Astra quirks a sharp little grin and turns to him. “Nah, you’re just getting older old man.”

“Greetings and salutations, everyone,” Melvina says, her voice effortlessly floating across the Great Hall at a comfortable volume. “Welcome to your school year nineteen hundred and thirty one! I trust that all of you enjoyed your summer vacation. Some of you will of course remember me, while for others this will be our introduction; my name is Melvina Prichard and I am Headmistress of Hogwarts school. For intensely personal reasons I have spent the last few years on sabbatical away from our majestic island and have only recently been able to return to its fair shores. Toward both staff and students, I pray that my departure has not left a rift between us, nor that you find my return unsettling. I value the friendships I’ve made in this magical place and the opportunity to see each of you grow in to the dreams you have of yourselves. While I can not ask you to forgive me or my previous and hasty departure, I do ask that you believe it was both necessary and carefully thought out; that you accept that I left you in the very best of hands. With that said, I’d like you all to stand and applaud Professor Astra Rathe, who has been performing the role of Headmistress in my absence and has most graciously deigned to resume her previous duties as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, head of Slytherin house and Deputy Headmistress, as well as Professor Keelan Walsh, and all other staff and faculty members of Hogwarts who pulled together to fill the holes and make the changes required by my egress and homecoming.” Melvina turns then to face the rest of the faculty table and leads the school in what she hopes will be a loud, rousing and heartfelt symphony of cheer for her most esteemed colleagues.

After a long few moments of leading the cheer, Melvina turns again to face the assembled student body and lifts her hand once more; beckoning for silence and motioning the students back in to their seats. “Thank you, everyone.”

“Pressing on, I’ve some beginning of term announcements to make.” Clearing her throat, the Headmistress pulls a pair of spectacles the waist pocket of her emerald robe and rests them on the bridge of her hooked nose. She then reaches with her right hand in to the cuff of her left sleeve and withdraws an aged cherry wand which she gives a casual flick and conjures a scroll of parchment which floats unassisted in the air several inches above her head. “All the usual suspects, of course,” she says simply as the scroll unrolls itself horizontally, expanding most of the length of the faculty table. “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–” As she begins to speak, delicately written, calligraphic letters glide across the floating parchment from the left to right like ticker tape – PROHIBITED ITEMS AND ACTIVITIES – and then begins to mirror her words as she continues, “Spellwork outside of the classroom, rough play, pranks, hijinxs, dungbombs, Whimple’s Pimple Powder..” With each item listed the speed on which the words dance across the parchment grows quicker and quicker still until they become little more than a seemingly endless blur of black cursive. “As you can see, the list quite extensive. Be certain to check it.”

Melvina gives another vague flick of her wand and the hovering scroll rolls itself up, tumbles twice and then vanishes in a small puff of mauve-colored smoke. “Of course, 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 certainly forget that pesky rule. It just slips out, squeezed away from the building pressure of all that knowledge our fine professors work so hard to fill your heads with.” 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 result in a substantial loss of house points as well.” Clearing her throat, Melvina pauses to take a sip of pumpkin juice before continuing. “Naturally, we ask that you respect and defer to your prefects. I’d also like to congratulate our new Head Boy and Head Girl, Oliver Cloverwood and Briony Wexler respectively. Mister Cloverwood and Miss Wexler, please stand.” She again leads the school in a round of applause.

Briony Wexler gasps as it’s announced that she is head girl, and she beams, waving enthusiastically to everyone in the room before she plops back down in her seat, beaming quite excitedly. Head Girl!

“Well done, Head Boy, Head Girl,” the Headmistress says, sincerely. “On to faculty. There are many exciting changes in Hogwarts faculty this year; as mentioned before Professor Astra Rathe will be returning to post as Defense Against the Dark Arts lead, head of Slytherin house and Deputy Headmistress. I’d personally like to thank Professor Walsh for heading up Slytherin house during Professor Rathe’s tenure as Headmistress, and Professor Gerald Rathe for stepping up to cover Defense.” She turns briefly to face Keelan and Gerald, offering then a modest but genuine applause before facing the Great Hall once again. “Professor Gerald Rathe will be taking over our Charms department. I’d like to introduce you all to our new Professor of Transfiguration, Selene Hathaway.” With her right hand she motions to Professor Hathaway, then begins another round of brief, polite round of applause. “And I would like to welcome back to the Hogwarts family Professor of Arithmancy, Isolde Morgan, and Potions Master, Professor Adalphous Fallon.” Again she applauds, nodding to each of the returning Professor in turn.

“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. As some you know, I am a firm believer in tradition; both in the keeping of it, and the occasional breaking. Thus, I announce the return of what I hope will become one of many long-standing Hogwarts traditions; the third Barefoot Social.” An almost devilish 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 returning for yet 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 as she looks out at her young crowd. She is clearly terribly proud of herself. “As this is the daughter of tradition, we shall follow the precedent set by events of year’s prior — 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, the Valentine’s Soiree, Career Day, and a handful of other special events the Deputy Headmistress and 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.

(Faculty) “Well, that was fun,” Melvina says simply, taking up her fork and placing some of the turkey that had just materialized in front of her on to her plate.

(Faculty) “Admit it, Melvina. You just took this job to create your own social life,” Darius quips, also happily tucking into the food that has appeared in front of him. “How many school events are you planning on us running, now?”

(Faculty) Melvina can’t help but grin at Darius’ (not-entirely untrue) cheek. “A half-dozen or so, that may change. Not all of them are entirely my fault, I might add. You’ll need to confront my deputy on grounds of a few.”

(Faculty) Gerald Rathe leans forward on one elbow, with furrowed brow. He raises an eyebrow at Astra at Melvina’s comment, but addresses Melvina. “Tell me, Headmistress, does one actually attend this “Barefoot Social” without shoes?”

(Faculty) “No, Gerald. It’s a metaphor for the souless existence that is life in Scotland.” Darius declares, deadpan.

(Faculty) Melvina simply grins her response, a rather mischevious twinkle in her eye.

(Faculty) “I think I might have to be ill if the Social is going to happen underwater again.” “In fact, I may have to be sick on general principle.” Taking up her goblet for the first time during the whole evening, Astra presses it to her lips and takes a drink. “Much as it’s a wonderful concept,” there is no smile, “I’m afraid some of us,” but Gerald’s comment catches her and she snorts in derision at the affair. “Shoeless, yes.” “May as well try to fit in with the peasants.”

(Faculty) Gerald Rathe looks rather abruptly to Darius, staring at him for a beat with a blank expression, then breaks into an open laugh. Shaking his head, he says, “Shoeless or not, it’s an entertaining metaphor.” “Ah, Astra, I can see that you’re still the life of any party.” Here he winks at his daughter, smirking.

(Faculty) “Well, it does offer so many easy conversation starters,” Isolde says as she pours herself a glass of wine. “Such as, ‘My goodness, but you have big feet,’ or perhaps, ‘I suppose you’re still waiting to fill those shoes of yours.’” She sips at the wine, then helps herself to mashed potatoes.

(Faculty) “Got it from you old man.” Not at all masking the bitterness, Astra takes another drink of the pumpkin juice without making so much as a face. “Maybe I can say that I’m trying to fill your footsteps, but I’d be afraid of catching some worm or another if I walked where you did.” Turning her head away from Gerald, she stifles a yawn before playing with the food on her plate. Pushing some beans around with a fork, she shrugs to herself.

(Faculty) Melvina watches Astra with a quiet, fond sort of smile; her smirk having faded in to something more quiet, the mischief in her eyes having eased back in to seriousness. “It isn’t under the lake this year, no. Though that does remind me, in fact. Professor Fallon,” she says, turning her gaze toward Avery. “If you have some time later this evening, I’d like to discuss something with you.”

(Faculty) “Melvina, do I need to start practicing charms to make instruments float this year? Please do cue us in a bit more this time, I’m still drying out my piano from the last one.” Darius raises an eyebrow.

“Well, all, I think I shall retire for the evening. You may all, of course, stay to enjoy the wonderful meal provided for us. First years will need to be escorted to their common rooms by their prefects, but with all the catching up being done I’m sure there will be plenty of time to fill your bellies further. Again, welcome to Hogwarts. Tomorrow, we learn.” Melvina says simply, her voice filling the hall at a comfortable volume despite the need to speak over everyone else. “Sweet dreams, all,” she says, stepping down from the faculty dias. “When they find you.”

It’s late enough that the underclassmen should all be in their dormitories, but it’s still early enough that older students should be getting back to their commons sooner rather than later. Even so, Astra‘s made sure that the hallway was clear before stealing into the storage closet. “This is as a good a place as any, quick get in here.” Ducking inside, she gestures for her companion to follow as she laughs mischievously. There’s really not much room in the closet, so she hops up on one of the boxes as she removes her cloak. “Shhh and close that door tight shut. We don’t want anyone to see.”

Slinking in behind Astra – and looking around carefully, stealing glances left and right to be sure that no one could possibly see them – Quintus seems even more uncomfortable about the idea of sneaking around. While, certainly, he doesn’t seem to mind what could end up going on in the closet, no way does he want anyone else to know about it. Pulling the door tightly shut behind him, testing it to make sure it’s closed properly, only now does he make any move that is at least vaguely more suited to the scenario, removing his own cloak and laying it atop one of the boxes, leaning forward to kiss Astra – only gently, at first.

Eyeing the man up and down with a look that’s more than just her usual casual assessment of a person or situation, Astra leans in to the kiss and pulls back with a toothy grin that leaves little to the imagination of what might be wandering through her head. Scrambling up to another couple of boxes, she shoves one out of her way and over to the side. Cramming her knuckles against her mouth and biting down to stifle a laugh, she’s at least eye-level with Quintus now. When she finally pulls her hand away, she leans back in and laughs some more before returning his earlier kisses with some of her own that aren’t nearly so gentle.

Pressed tightly against the woman, Quintus kisses her back, with approximately equal passion and ferocity. He might have taken awhile to get to that point, but he’s not completely thick about this sort of thing – slow, yes, inexperienced, yes, but not completely thick. Given the current situation with Astra, the inexperience is bound to dissipate eventually. His hands drift a little lower, though he doesn’t push for anything too naughty just now – he seems to be waiting for her to take the lead on that point.

Blissfully unaware of the happenings in the storage closet, Bonnie has traipzed down to the basement in search of something or other from the dungeon. Thinking nothing of the various noises emanating, she figures they’re simply the castle being the castle as she reaches out and pulls the door open to the closet, almost stepping in before she sees, who else, but two of her colleagues engaged in what could not even be misconstrued as innocent conversation. Bonnie seems frozen in her spot as she stands, stunned by what she sees, as if trying to take it all in.

Leading the man’s hands over to her breeches, Astra hasn’t started anything too overtly naughty herself but it’s clear what her intentions are especially when the top clasp to the breeches is undone. Laughing again and stealing some more kisses, she freezes midway as she’s about to do something that would be quite plainly indecent if she went further. Caught red handed as the door opens and Bonnie enters the Headmistress stares past Quintus and at the woman in question. For a moment she just stares dumbly and then falls into a gale of nervous laughter.

This is usually the point where Quintus would leap away from Astra, and declare that she sexually assaulted him while he was merely trying to search for a speck of foreign matter in her eye. Of course, it’s a very small closet for even one person, and now it contains three people – there’s no room for him to leap. He tries it anyway, and hits his head. All this means in terms of actual response is that he takes a moment to rub his head as he thinks up an excuse. “Er.” What a good explanation. Everyone may leave now.

“I — ehm — er,” Bonnie replies eloquently, her face reddening and her eyes widening as the full scope of the situation dawns on her. Her eyes darting from Astra to Quintus and back again, she seems to be at a loss for what to say. “I’ll just be… going… now…” she states slowly, stepping backwards out of the doorway and gingerly half-closing the door. She pauses a moment, however, and doesn’t leave, as she stares straight ahead of her. Of all people, one might expect that Bonnie would have seen this coming.

Clearing her throat and buttoning her trousers back up, even though they aren’t down, Astra turns her head away and coughs. “Well uh,” she’s just as verbose as everyone else involved before pushing her hand to her mouth again and doubling over into a fit of laughter. This is not how she expected anything to go and she’s quite embarrassed. “Maybe we should, uh,” long beat, “go too.” Reaching over and fumbling for her cloak, she misses it completely by overextending and slips clumsily off the box she’s seated upon.

Coughing a little, looking up at the ceiling and not at either Astra or Bonnie directly, Quintus is silent for a moment, carefully considering his response. Finally, he states, in a very firm voice as if he is not just explaining something, but rewriting the universe to make it accurate, “Nothing happened. I was getting,” he scans the area, “some potion for my crups. Professor Rathe was feeling ill so thought to get some medicine for her stomach. Nothing. Happened.”

Looking toward Quintus in the closet momentarily, Bonnie shakes her head quickly, as if to say, ‘Please don’t explain, I do not want to know.’ She takes a deep breath, having decided that whatever it was she previously needed, she no longer requires, and she instead leaves the dungeons, in search of the privacy of her own room, where she might endeavor to forget about this incident.

“We uh, and, uh,” picking herself up off the boxes she tumbled onto and brushing down her shirt, Astra this time does grab her cloak and instead of wearing it she holds it awkwardly in both arms. “That is,” glancing at Quintus even as Bonnie is going, she turns a deep shade of red, “I am so sorry this happened.” “We uh, can uh, meet later. Very later, in uh, my room. I uh,” looking at the door she gulps, “have to leave now.”

Still not meeting her eye – not willing to meet her eye, indeed – Quintus clears his throat and pushes the door open, stepping outside. “I’ll… maybe not tonight. Some other time, though.” Any amorous intentions he had have been somewhat dampened for now by the embarassment; it might take a bit of time to rekindle.

“I feel the same, we can uh, yeah another day.” Feeling much the same way, she’s rather uneager for a tryst anytime soon given the situation. Making sure that the corridor is clear, Astra makes a dash for the stairwell after she makes the last of her awkward goodbye. “Don’t forget your cloak!”

Ion Garnent opened the door to the compartment excitedly, peering around and finding himself only a little disappointed it was empty. Nevertheless he continued in, dragging his heavy trunk and getting it settled with a sigh, before flopping down on the seat closest to the window, staring excitedly out as he waited for the train to start moving.

Filan Naril comes shuffling through the halls, dragging his own truck behind him. He’s passing the doors to the compartments slowly, peering inside each and every one before he continues on his trek to find a seat. Even though the youth seems calm at the moment, there’s an air of excitement hanging about him. He pauses at the door to the second compartment, peering curiously at the person inside, “Hullo.”

Having managed to shrug his brother off of his trail, Chester makes his way down the train corridor, peeking into the second one. “Hi,” he greets dully to Filan before making his way unceremoniously inside and sitting down as close to the window as he can get. “Are you new, too?” he asks quietly, seeming a bit subdued.

Angus Fallon grabs his trunk and hefts it to an overhead bin, then does the same for Venora and Edern. Then he turns and grins at the other two, “Dibs on a window seat,” then tears off down the isle till he finds an empty row and crowds near the window, Venora follows, but takes the time to smile at the other students as she does and squeezes in beside her brother, “Come on Edern. We’ll make room for you too!”

Edern Fallon nods and follows his sister to their seat.

Ion glanced at each of the new occupants and grinned, happy to see that the once empty compartment was quickly filling up. “Hey ‘Lan, don’t dally in the doorway, come sit with us.” He called to the only boy he knew, before turning to the others and answering the shy boy’s question. “Yeah, this is my first year here. The rest of you are new too? I’m Ion Garnent, by the way, nice to meet you all.”

Filan Naril blinks at the sound of his name, before the mild confusement fades and changes into an excited look. “Heya Ion! Didn’t think I’d bump into you here.” And in he strolls, putting up much a fight to get his trunk settled before helping himself to a seat. “I’m so excited, aren’t you? In a few hours we’ll be at hogwarts.” And as more people come in, he gives an excited wiggle of his fingers, “First time too?”

Chester says, “I’m Chester Blake,” said boy speaks up a bit louder now, glancing at the others pouring into the compartment. “Do you know what house you want to be?” Chester asks casually, looking about. “By the way, we shouldn’t let my brother in. I don’t want him in here with us.” The boy scoots back into his seat and slouches a bit as he leans on the window a bit.”

“I’m Chester Blake,” said boy speaks up a bit louder now, glancing at the others pouring into the compartment. “Do you know what house you want to be?” Chester asks casually, looking about. “By the way, we shouldn’t let my brother in. I don’t want him in here with us.” The boy scoots back into his seat and slouches a bit as he leans on the window a bit.

If anyone else had crowded three to a seat, Angus would have unceremoniously shoved them off. But Venora and Edern were always the exceptions. Besides, he couldn’t imagine a first day with Ven on one side, and Ed on the other. “Hey, look! See the smoke from the engine Vennie?” Venora grins as she follows her brother’s finger, “If only we hadn’t got caught climbing up there. Hey!” She stands and calls across the car, narrowing her eyes at Filan. “Haven’t I met you? Outside the sweet shop? I’m Venora Fallon. These are my brothers, Angus and Edern.”

The rather small lad looks up as he’s spoken to, offering a rather enthusiastic nod to Venora’s question, “I think I saw you in the ice cream shop, if I remember right…right? There was that other lad, too…I can’t remember who he was…” He drifts off at a thought, reaching up to scratch at the side of his head, “Oh, anyway, I’m Filan Naril, nice to meet you lot.”

“I know, I can’t wait! But the train ride should be fun; I’m so used to going by floo that I never get to travel like this.” Ion responded to Filan, fingers unconsciously playing with the key around his neck in excitement. “As for which House I want to be in.. My mum’s a Slytherin and my dad’s a Hufflepuff, so either of those would be my choice.” He spares a moment to smile at the new occupants.

“My parents were both Slytherins,” Chester mentions and shrugs. “I don’t know if I’ll be in Slytherin. I guess if the hat thinks I should be. I hear the other houses are nice, too.” Mild Chester seems to be almost apathetic about which house he will be sorted to. “Are you guys related or something?” he asks the triplets bluntly.

Venora Fallon nods, “Right. I had my first ice-cream. We tried one of each, didn’t we?” She grins smugly at her brothers, proud to have tasted this British ice-cream treat before they did. “I don’t know what House I want. I wanted Slytherin, like Auntie Kee. But I guess I don’t care what I get. Father was Ravenclaw, so was our sister. I don’t know what mother was. Edern? Do you remember?”

Edern Fallon nods ‘no’.

Filan Naril perks up from his seat where he squirms a bit at the excitement, “Um…my Da was in Gryffindor, my brother was in Ravenclaw…and my other brother’s on his last year–he’s a Gryffindor, and sis’s a hufflepuff.” He offers a sheepish look, squirming a bit more in his seat. “I wonder how long the ride is.”

“My parents told me that all the Houses are nice, so no matter what you won’t end up somewhere unhappy.” Ion responds encouragingly to Chester; the poor kid didn’t seem like he had much energy in him. “I’m Ion Garnent, by the way.” He introduces himself to the triplets. “You guys know ‘Lan, too? I guess the candy store is a regular hangout.” He teases lightly.

Angus pipes up, turning from the window, “That’s what our sister says. But our neighbor says only ruffians, deadbeats, and rotters go to Slytherin.” He grins at the others, “She’s sure I’ll end up there, Vennie and Eddie too.” Angus seems well pleased with Mrs. Elderberry’s prediction for the ‘Fallon miscreants’. She sighs, “You know she’s not right, Angus. Aunt Kee and Aunt Lizbeth and Aunt Julie were all Slytherins. And Emma was their best friend, even if she was Ravenclaw. I don’t care which House I get, really.”

Filan Naril chews on his bottom lip as he listens to the others talk, perking up to offer his own bit of insight. “My brother Will says that the houses are all okay, he’s got friends in every single on of ‘em, but you’re always gonna bump into someone you don’t like. So I think it’s pointless in worrying about which house you get. I think as long as there’s a nice warm bed waiting for me, I’ll be happy no matter what.”

Venora Fallon nods at Filan, “That’s what our Father says, too. He said so, right in front of our neighbor. Said she was proof that Ravenclaw gets it’s share of rotters, too. Didn’t he Edern?”

Edern Fallon nods again, this time a ‘yes’.

Ion Garnent frowns at Agnus, confused and a little taken aback by his words. “Your neighbor said that? It’s not very nice; my mum’s really smart and kind, so obviously there can’t be anything wrong with that House.” He counters, backing up Venora’s opinion. “I wouldn’t think Hogwarts would accept bad people, anyways.”

Venora Fallon grins at Ion, “Don’t worry. Angus doesn’t really believe Mrs. Elderberry. He knows lots of Slytherins that are delicious. Our Dad used to teach Slytherins. And Gryffindors. He loved them both.” She winks, “Mrs. E is just cross because we accidentally set her lawn on fire.”

Filan Naril pushes himself to his feet and stretches, “Will you watch my stuff? I’m gonna walk a bit before we get going, I wanna stretch a bit.” He offers a wave before he sneaks out of the compartment.

“Don’t worry about it, I got you covered, ‘Lan.” Ion waves as the other boy leaves before returning to his conversation, though he seems a little weary of Venora. What sort of girl describes other people as ‘delicious’? “How’d you set her lawn on fire? I guess I could understand why she’d be upset, but if it was an accident than there’s no reason for her to be a troll about it.”

Venora Fallon leans back against the seat, half standing, half kneeling to be able to see above the heads of other students. “Well. We threw a dung-bomb over there.” Angus interrupts with a grin, “So that part wasn’t an accident. But she was always threatening to hurt Spot and Rover, wasn’t she Ed?” Venora picks up again, “We didn’t think the dung-bomb would start a fire.” Her eyes twinkle a bit as she glances, slyly, at the quiet triplet, “Of course, we let Edern tinker with it a bit, first.”

Venora Fallon giggles as they roll into Hogsmead station. “Look everyone!” She points out the window at an old witch in mustard colored robes hurrying away from the tracks, “There’s our neighbor.”

Ion Garnent dashes to the window, looking out with wide blue eyes. “Wow, I can’t believe we’re here already! Come on, let’s hurry on out.” He quickly starts pulling his luggage out, before pausing for a moment as a problem occurs to him. “Hey guys, ‘Lan isn’t back yet. Think you guys can help me carry his stuff, too?” He asks sheepishly.

“I think we’re just supposed to leave it here,” Chester comments, standing up and looking out the compartment. “Hey, can you help me?” he calls to a prefect who is strutting down the corridor. “How are we supposed to get all of our stuff to the school?” The prefeect sighs. “Just leave it there. It will be brought to the school for you.” Chester nods and turns back in with a shrug, nearly falling over as the train stops with a lurch.

Venora Fallon stands, stretching, “I still think it’s funny, going all the way to London just to take a train back home.” Angus climbs over her, reaching for their trunks, “Yeah, but would you have missed the ride, and just settled for meeting everyone at the station, Ven?” Venora grasps her trunk, shifts a small wicker box deep into her robes, only to drop her trunk with a thud as the prefect tells them to leave everything. “Nice,” she comments, “I hadn’t wanted to lug all that all the way to the Castle.”

Nate Hunter bites his lip as Briony hits her head. Laughing would be bad. He clears his throat instead and follows the girl out of the compartment, continuing to bite his bottom lip.

Venora Fallon steps out onto the platform she knows as well as she knows her own hand. But somehow it all seems different, now that she’s a Hogwarts student, and not just a child of Hogsmeade.

The students begin to pour out of the train, and Bonnie stands at the end of the platform, waving her arms. “First years, gather around me. Other years, straight to the carriages please! In an orderly fashion, if you please!” she yells to a group of boisterous Slytherins passing by. “Alright, first years, join here! We’ll leave for the boats once you have all arrived!” She watches as the students excitedly mill around, a smile fixed on her face.

Disembarking, dragging her copious amounts of baggage behind, Saphia sticks with Briony, continuing to ask worried questions about her head and informing her that she should really see the nurse about it. But she can’t do it too much, given that lugging so much luggage is leaving her short of breath. “It’ll all be … good… once we reach the carriages…”

Ion Garnent stretches as he exits the train, glancing around at the nice scenery. “Wow, it’s beautiful here..” He comments, before Bonnie’s announcement cuts through the air. Excited, he quickly heads over to stand around her, looking to the other first years and trying not to grin too hard.

“Mum will just tell me I’ve bumped my head and that I shouldn’t be worried about it,” Briony tells the Ravenclaw with a roll of her eyes. It seems apparent that Briony is now used to bumping her head on things, though she clearly is not pleased about this fact. She hangs behind for a moment, waiting to see if she can’t find Gabe before boarding a carriage, but as she runs into Kalynn instead, she grins and the two girls get into a carriage.

Kara Raine exits the train, talking quite excitedly with a fellow Ravenclaw. “Didn’t expect it really, knew that they needed a new captain with Noemie graduating and all.” Attention is diverted at the announcement, before with a grin, the fourth year turns toward the carriages.

Orderly is not a fashion to which the Fallon triplets are accustomed. Oh, Edern may be able to manage it, but Venora and Angus are far to excited to do anything but stumble over one another as they race to stand before Bonnie. Halfway there, after nudging by several older students they recalled that particular aspect of the teacher’s orders and did try to slow down. They just didn’t manage quite well and skidded to a stop before the woman, Venora beaming up at her, before turning to Ion. “Tis beautiful here. Our house is just over that rise there. Come, stand by us Ion.”

Olivia is smiling cheerfully as she steps off of the train, waiting for Evan before she makes her way out to the carriages. “Should we wait for Constance?” she asks quietly, her voice getting lost as she makes her way toward the carriages quickly.

Andy Carver hops off the Hogwarts Express, his coat dangling from his arm and his trunk in hand. He takes a deep breath, excited for a new school year and silently follows the crowd towards one of the carriages.

Glad to be done the train ride, Nate hops off the train, glances at the first years and then scuttles towards the carriages, trunk in tow.

Evan Geroff follows Olivia off the train, stepping quickly out of the way of the rest of the departing passengers. He stays quiet for the familiar announcement, then; “It looks like she’s finding some of her friends. Let’s get a carriage.”

As the older students all filter away into the carriages toward the school, Bonnie grins at the first years. “Follow me, and be lively. If you get lost, there’s no telling when we’ll find you again, and then how will you explain to your parents why you missed your own sorting?” Bonnie lets out a little grin and turns. “Quickly, quickly!” she calls, heading down the path toward the shore of the lake.

The fleet pushes off from shore in near unison. As the boats progress silently through the water, they leave no wake behind. Drifting along, the boats travel in an unhurried fashion, moving over the darkened waters in a loose group, but always remaining together. The chilly night’s breeze is more apparent here upon the lake.

As the fleet continues forward, the southern shore recedes into the distance, and is lost in loose tendrils of smoky fog. The northern shore is not yet in view, concealed as it is by a thicker blanket of pale haze. The air is cooler over the lake, and as the boats drift further onto the water, there a more pronounced breeze that nips through robe and sweater alike.

“Please take care not to fall out! There’ll be no helping you if the squid gets you!” Bonnie warns the group ominously, then continuing to chatter on about all the wonderful things about Ravenclaw house.

The fleet has begun to move through the steadily increasing fog now, reducing visibility to a scant metre or two. Dim lights from the lanterns on the other boats of the fleet can be seen, flickering softly in the wind. The breeze is gentle, but consistent and quite cold out here upon the nearly still nighttime waters, where is there is no shelter and no warming fire. The only company is the steady rocking of the boats and the dim lights of boat lanterns.

The fleet has finally begun to leave the haze behind, although the mist tries vainly to cling to the boats and it still laps at those lingering in the rear. The Forbidden Forest encroaches upon the eastern shoreline, bordered by grey mist and shadow. The northern shore has come into view with the castle of Hogwarts silhouetted against the hills beyond; the immense towers rise up in stern defiance to the centuries they have weathered. Few windows break the even stone facade of the castle walls, preserving the mysteries within from prying eyes. However, those few windows are merrily lit from within those hallowed halls, revealing the welcoming warmth that can be found within, a homecoming to those who have made a long journey. Ivy and similar plants sprawl across the walls of the castle, their unruly density hinting at the senescence of the walls themselves. The breeze is still cold, nipping at the boats and rustling over the water.

“The squid?” Ion whispers nervously.

“Told you there was a squid.” Rowan whispers to nobody in particular, apparently regardless of whether he actually told them any such thing. “What do you think it eats, in this kind of lake, huh?”

“There’s a squid in the lake?” Chester replies, his eyes growing wide. He instinctively scoots in from the center.

The fleet has begun to pick up speed, accelerating rapidly towards the northern shore. Clear of fog, all that remains of the distant haze is what marks the barriers to the southern and eastern shores, the mist lapping on top of the water but the fleet has now broken free of its grasp. Remarkably, the boats still leave no wake to mark their passage across the water. The speed causes the brisk air to hurtle past, reducing the apparent temperature further and setting the lantern lights to flickering even more, though none of them have gone out.

The squid! She’d forgotten about the squid! Venora leans over a side of the boat, peering into the murky depths of the lake. “Come on little squiddy!” Venora whispers, “Let’s have a look.” Angus just sighs and grabs hold of Venora‘s cloak to keep her well in the boat, used to his sister’s reactions by now.

Rising suddenly as through from beneath the water, the looming bulk of Hogwarts Castle blots out the evening sky and casts a dense shadow over the shoreline, broken only by the steady glow of the lights from within a large section of the building. The boats have begun to decelerate now, but are still moving rapidly as they skim towards the darkness ahead. As it grows steadily darker, the night air takes on a crisper and ever more frigid bite.

The fleet has now passed into the shadow cast by the Castle and descended into absolute darkness, evading the dancing lights that reflected from the windows above. The lantern lights, which have remained so faithful during the journey, have abruptly faded away. Only the steady flow of cold night air moving past indicates that the boats are still moving; there is no other sensation of motion.

“I have to say, if anyone could take on the squid, it’s you Venora.” Ion laughs, relaxing a little more.

The fleet has halted at the lakeshore just below the castle, the transition from movement to rest having occurred smoothly, but without warning. Dim reflected light illuminates a stone stairway, worn smooth with age and use, with steps rising for two metres before disappearing over the cliff top. You can now DISEMBARK.

“I’m sure it’s a lovely thing. I’ve never heard of a Hogwarts student being eaten by it. Emmaline says they used to play with it’s tentacles. Or something.” She frowns, glancing at Edern, “Do you remember? Anyway…we’re here!”

For a moment, Rowan almost looks insulted. “I could, too!” He protests, almost hurt, adjusting his glasses and peering one last time into the murky depths before springing out of the boat, still glaring at Ion. A pause, and he grabs out for his brother. “Hey, Chesty, we’re almost real students now.”

“Look lively, look lively!” Bonnie calls to the students, waiting for a moment before they’ve all disembarked from the boats. None fell in this time. “Nice to see you’ve all survived!” she calls cheerfully, waving an arm as she begins up the hill toward the school.

“Don’t call me that,” Chester replies out of habit and sighs a bit. “I hope you’re not in my house Rowan. I’m tired of being asked if we’re twins.”

Chesty? Angus looks at the other boy, eyebrows raised. He hadn’t thought Chester would like that nickname. “Is your brother Rowie, then?” Venora glances up at the boys and grins.

“You can go ‘head and call him that,” Chester replies, grinning a bit. “But my name isn’t Chesty. It’s Chester.” The boy nods solemnly.

“I don’t doubt that you could.” Ion placates Rowan, surprised at the outburst before following closer to the triplets. “I wish we could have spent more time on the boats.. it was so cool, how they gliding across the water like that!” He chatters at them wistfully, too caught up in that trip to appreciate the castle.

An incredibly tall tan-skinned woman in jade robes stands before the fire, hands somewhat unconciously smoothing out the front of her robes. At the sound of the first years entering, she turns, already rigid posture improving with the squaring of her shoulders. The light of fire reflects off of her glasses, making her expression somewhat hard to read, but her mouth does turn upward ever so minutely at the corners. “Welcome to Hogwarts, where you will begin your magical education.” Her head tilts just a bit, changing the angle so that her eyes are visable, and considerably softening her countenance. “Shortly we will enter the Great Hall and begin the Sorting Ceremony. I expect you all to be on your very best behavior. This is your chance to make a good first impression.”

“Rowie, is it?” Venora grins at Rowan, “I’m sure you could take on the squid almost as well as me.” Angus snickers, but takes a step away. If his sister is going to start something just before they’re sorted, well she was on her own. Probably. Mostly. Maybe. Anyway, Angus grins as the teacher walks up, Venora forgotten for a moment. “Aunt Kee! I didn’t know you would be the one to take us inside! Brilliant!”

Rowan shrugs his shoulders vaguely, still not quite paying attention to everything – only the relevant portions, where by ‘relevant’, we mean… uh… hey, look, is that an ant on the floor? Would he get in trouble if he did a cartwheel? Finally, something wakes him up, and he looks up at Keelan admiringly, only further offering a hushed, “You shouldn’t have come this year, Chesty. Stealin’ my turn at school.” He doesn’t seem terribly annoyed, though perhaps a little miffed that his mother took so little time getting pregnant. Registering Keelan’s words finally, though, he straightens himself up a bit, adjusts his glasses, and flattens his hair.

“Is this the brother you were talking about, Chester?” Ion asks, looking between the two of them with an air of uncertaintly. They sure didn’t act very brotherly. He doesn’t bother trying to sort out his appearence like some of the others, unconcerned with how he looks. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ion Garnent.”

“Yeah,” Chester replies carefully, glancing over to Rowan. “We’re not twins.” He states this rather forcefully as he looks to Ion. Chester is about to speak more, but the weight of the present situation seems to impress itself on him, and he gulps a bit, looking at the ominous doors with pinkened cheeks.

For a moment, Rowan looks a touch miffed. After a moment, he grabs at Chester’s arm again, whispering, “How come you got all the friends? I don’t want to have to fight you for them.” This might seem perfectly logical to him, even if it seems like something of a leap to everyone else. After a moment, he adds, “I’m older. It’s my birthday soon.” Another pause. “You still owe me a present, Chesty, even if we’re at school now.”

Venora Fallon shakes her head. “Too bad. It’s great being multiple, isn’t it?” She glances for confirmation to Edern and Angus. Angus nods quickly, “Course it is. Pity, really, Chester. You’d like each other more if you were twins.”

Keelan Walsh continues. “I am Professor Keelan Walsh, and I will be teaching you the fine subject of Herbology, as well as acting as Head of House for those of you who are sorted into the prestigious house of Slytherin.” Her hands clasp, and then unclasp, and her expression threatens to dissolve into something of an amused smirk at Angus, but she manages not to look too, well… human about it. “I couldn’t miss the opportunity to introduce such a promising class of first years to the school.” At this the woman’s gaze meets not only the Fallon triplets but that of Batrius Lennox. Goodness, Keelan was getting old. “In any event, once we are in the Hall I’ll call you by name to be Sorted, at which point I expect you’ll all be very respectful of your fellow students and let them be Sorted without trying to call attention to yourselves.” She gestures then. “If you’ll follow me?”

“You never got me one!” Chester asserts loudly, then looking in Keelan’s direction uncertainly. “I’m not giving you any presents. As Keelan beckons, Chester walks forward with her, his eyes widening a bit, perhaps in fear, or likely in anticipation.

“Hey, no need to get upset. Everyone can be friends with each other, you know.” Ion looks at Chester, a concerned expression on his face, before following after the professor.

Venora Fallon holds tightly to her brothers’ hands as they slip into the hall, following their “Aunt” Keelan. For a moment, she’s as wide-eyed and awe-struck as any Firstie. A slow smile spreads across her face and she lets Angus and Edern’s hands fall. This was it. She was finally here. She finally understood all the stories Emmaline had told her about Hogwarts. Another glance at Keelan has the girl hoping, once again, to be sorted Slytherin. But whichever. It was school. It was going to be brilliant….

Keelan Walsh strides into the Great Hall looking very much like she does every year, just standing and moving rather than sitting and occasionally giving The Eye to the Ravenclaws. Oh, and there is a group of short (mostly) and Unsorted students following along behind her. The Professor comes to rest near a stool on which rests an incredibly old and patched hat, looking very much as though someone had simply forgotten to take it with them when they left. She turns to face the first years, clasping her hands in front of her and standing rather quietly. In fact, for a moment it seems as if she’s simply forgotten what to do next, if not for the fact that she looks exactly like she knows what she’s doing.

Ion Garnent lets his gaze roam around the room, suddenly a little intimidated by all the older students and professors, edging in a little close to the other unsorted students. He tries to keep his posture straight and not bounce on his heels like a child, as his mother taught him, but it’s so hard when he’s this close to being sorted and starting his first year at Hogwarts.

For a moment, Rowan looks – intimidated? Concerned? Frightened, perhaps? His eyes fix first on each of the tables in turn, taking in the number of students (and, for that matter, Professors) at each of them. He doesn’t speak this time, not even to jestingly tease his brother again. After a moment, however, in defiance of his pretence of good manners, he does twirl around a little, and seems tempted to try some sort of gymnastic tumble in front of the hall.

For the first time, Chester almost seems to seek out the comfort of being near his brother, stepping just slightly closer as he eyes the hat leerily. The boy does not say anything or even show any affection to Rowan, but he does look very nervous as he stands with the rest of the first years.

Keelan Walsh listens to this year’s song, eyes on the new first years, and pulls a roll of parchment out of presumably a pocket. When the Sorting Hat has finished, she smiles, briefly. Without particular flair, the woman reads off the first name, and a little redheaded girl steps up nervously to become the first “Slytherin!” of the night. The next goes to “Hufflepuff!”.

Next comes the younger “Blake, Chester!” as Keelan continues down the line.

Chester doesn’t expect to be before his older brother, and he looks a bit startled as he steps forward, looking around, sitting down on the seat and pulling the hat low on his head, his curls sticking out from under it, getting in his eyes.

Chester is sorted to Hufflepuff and he seems to breathe a sigh of relief, stepping down and putting the hat up where it belongs before he practically runs over to Hufflepuff table, sitting down as quickly as he can.

Keelan Walsh smiles politely at the newly Sorted student and calls out for his elder brother, “Blake, Rowan!”

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood tries not to look too much like he might find the girls’ conversation ridiculous and that it might make him sick all over, and instead rather sullenly watches the first years. Although, to be honest, Charlie does not have the most stoic face, and an eyeroll or two escape him. Girls. At the appropriate time, Charlie applauds the new arrivals, but he doesn’t really appear to be overly excited, even as he bothers with a “Welcome to Hufflepuff.” Really. Welcome. Honest.

Rowan stares, wide-eyed at the hat. “It spoke.” He whispers, to whoever happens to be closest to him. “I mean, it sang. It sang, and it spoke. Hats aren’t supposed to do that.” A pause. “Oh, yeah, it’s magic, huh?” Good one, Rowan. As his name is called, he seems stunned, though he runs – or at least, walks very quickly and exhuberantly – to the hat, pulling it down onto his head, with more than a little bit of trepidation.

(Hufflepuff) “It might be better with more of an age difference,” Alice comments, head turning for a moment to look as another Hufflepuff is called. But her attention quickly goes back. “When is the wedding? Will you be in it?” That one, at least, must be directed to Constance; anyway, she has lowered her voice now.

(Hufflepuff) Chester looks about, a little uncertainly as he gets acquainted with the faces of his new housemates. “Hullo,” he greets them with a bit of a smile, looking up with interest to see where his brother is sorted.

(Hufflepuff) “Of COURSE I’m going to be in it!” Constance tells her friend with a grin. “I’m related, after all, how could she not put me in it?” Constance seems to be joking with this statement as she looks happy and cheerful, greeting the newcomer. “Your sister was away all summer, wasn’t she, Alice? Working with your Aunt?”

Keelan Walsh calls up three more children as the Hat calls out “Ravenclaw!” twice and then another “Slytherin!” is Sorted. Reading over the next name, a smile that the first years shouldn’t get too used to spreads across Keelan‘s face. “Fallon, Angus!” is thusly summoned, and the child goes to “Hufflepuff!”

“Well… I think you’re broken!” Rowan hisses almost spitefully to the hat, though he looks around uncertainly for what to do next. Is he supposed to remove the hat? Right, right. With that, he hurries off to the Gryffindor table.

Still looking for all intents and purposes warm and inviting, Keelan Walsh proceeds to “Fallon, Edern!”

Edern Fallon walks up to the Sorting Hat, a bit apprehensive, eyeing it wearily – he had heard a lot about it, but to actually meet it and place a thinking cap on his head? He hadn’t even had the chance to inspect it. Still, he takes a deep breath and sits down, pulling the hat down onto his head – though not too far down.

Smiling broadly and with great pride, Edern joins the long table on the side where a cheering House greets him. He is more than pleased to be placed with his Aunt Kee’s House, even if it means he isn’t with his brother.

(Hufflepuff) Alice Wexler nods, glances briefly at another new Hufflepuff, then nods again to Constance. “Yeah, she was. I didn’t see her much.” This thought pleases her briefly; Alice got more attention! “She’s back here now, of course.”

Keelan Walsh straightens a bit and nods at the boy approvingly before calling up “Fallon, Venora!”

Venora Fallon‘s smile morphs into a wide grin as she steps out from the protection of the gaggle of first years, shoulders straight and head high. Glancing to her brothers for a moment, she climbs the stairs and gives a little wave to Keelan Walsh. She sits neatly on the chair and dons the hat, not minding as it falls over her eyes. She sits, unmoving, but for her fingers crossing in her lap.

(Hufflepuff) “Of course. I see her over at Gryffindor table. She got really tall! How odd.” Constance shakes her head and then brushes some hair out of her face. “Maybe mum will let you stay at our house next summer some if she’s at home. There aren’t less people, but it would be so much fun, don’t you think?” The girl beams at the idea, waving down the table at Chester cheerfully.

Ravenclaw! Emmaline would be pleased. Oh, Venora wished her brothers would have been sorted to the same House! It would be ever so much more fun with Edern and Angus at her side. Still…Ravenclaw was very good. And they were going to have fun, no matter what. They’d promised Father. She fumbles the hat off her head, placing it haphazardly back on the stool then turns to face her new housemates with a wide, crooked grin.

If Keelan‘s face falters at the Hat’s pronouncement, it is merely momentary, though perceptive students may note a bit of a twitch going in her left eyebrow even as she smiles at Venora. More parchment is unrolled, and “Garnent, Ion!” is asked to come forth.

Ions fingers reach up to unconsciously play with the key around his neck as his name is called, and boldly he steps up to the hat. His eyes flicker towards the already sorted first years with an overly serious expression on his face, before taking a seat on the stool and placing the hat on his head, waiting anxiously.

(Hufflepuff) “That would be so much fun!” Alice agrees. “You have even more people. Would there be room?” She pauses, but then another thought hits her, and she asks again, “Do you think our parents would let us? We are already living right near each other.”

Ion Garnent blinks in surprise, obviously sorted into a house he wasnt expecting, but still pleased over the choice. In his excitement to get to his table he nearly forgets to take the Hat off, and has to backtrack a few steps in order to return it. Any sense of etiquette is lost as he takes his seat at the table of his new House.

(Hufflepuff) “Of course there would be room! You could share my bed!” Constance seems to see no problem with this arrangement, even if there might be wedding-type festivities making the house more crowded. “Why would our parents have a problem with it? It’s different when you stay at someone else’s house, and wouldn’t your dad be glad at not having to keep track of you as well as all your siblings?” Constance shrugs at this and grins about. “Hey, Charlie, are we going to do better at Quidditch this year? I think we should win.”

Three more nervous eleven year olds take their turn. One spends upwards of five minutes to become a “Slytherin!”, and then in quick succession a pair of coustins is split between “Gryffindor!” and “Hufflepuff!” With no small amount of pride in her voice, Keelan calls “Lennox, Batrius!” A young boy steps up, gives a wide grin to the Professor, and then sits with the Hat. He fidgets after a moment, frowns briefly, but then something of a wicked smile surfaces as the Hat announces, “Ravenclaw!”. Quickly, Batrius Lennox actually tips the hat at Keelan, who looks very much like she just choked on a frog, sets it on the stool, and scampers off to join his new housemates.

With a strained voice, then, Keelan calls up an entire passel of students, three of which join “Slytherin!”, two more go to “Gryffindor!”, and one each for “Hufflepuff!” and “Ravenclaw!” As the amount of scroll Keelan has shrinks and the amount dangling toward the floor lengthens, she announces, “Taber, Nell!”

Nell Taber fairly skips up to the hat, all traces of nervousness hidden as she carefully pats her hair, then waves to the watching crowd before putting it on.

(Hufflepuff) Alice Wexler laughs quietly. “I suppose you’re right. If your parents won’t mind, I’ll ask.. maybe not quite yet, though.” It’s still a bit early in the school year to worry about summer again. As Constance asks about quidditch, Alice‘s attention wanders back to the sorting that seems to be occuring, finding the new first years at least a little more interesting.

Nell looks a bit startled, but she carefully places the hat down, then takes a small curtsy for the watching crowd, before running off to her new table.

Keelan Walsh calls two more students, both of whom end up in “Slytherin!”

(Hufflepuff) Angharad says, “Welcome to Hufflepuff, Nell!”

Keelan Walsh claps, briefly, as the last child is Sorted, but this seems to serve the purpose of re-rolling the scroll rather than as applause. This done, she hoists the stool, hat still perched on it, and sets it off to the side before finally taking her seat with the other faculty members.

(Hufflepuff) “I’m pleased to meet you,” Nell says politely, looking around the table.”Er, Hufflepuffs are really secretly special, aren’t they?”

As the Sorting itself concludes, Astra rises from her seat at the faculty table and stands to face the vast hall and its many occupants. There’s a beat between her standing up and her actual address of the students, but when she does speak it is clear and calm, using the natural acoustics of the room to make herself heard rather than magical spells. Turning to nod at Keelan, she smiles lightly to the other woman before repeating the gesture to Bonnie. “Thank you Professor Walsh for your help with the Sorting and my gratitude to Professor Kensington for your assistance with bringing the first years safely to the school, it’s always an exciting task.” Addressing the school again, the Headmistress draws herself up and continues. “I’m very glad to see you all back and hope that you’ve had a wonderful summer. For our new students, welcome to your new home. I’m sure that your fellow House mates will help you get settled in quickly and comfortably.” Pausing to look at the
many faces, some new and many familiar, she grins sharply and gives a moment before she launches on.

(Hufflepuff) “Of course they are,” Olivia mentions with a bit of dismay at the new girl, shaking her head a bit, quickly quieting down as she looks up toward the headmistress.

(Hufflepuff) “Oh, good!” Nell says, with a relieved smile. “I’m very special. My parents both say so. My brother said the Slytherins were the best, but I’m better then him, so if I’m here this must be better.”

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood is sarcastic because he’s sulky(normally he’s got at least some pride), “Oh, yes, really special. We’ve got a lot of paintings of badgers and everything.” What an excellent Prefect he makes. “Now hush up and listen to Professor Rathe.” He leans back on the bench, crossing his arms and turning his face (which may as well be in a full on pout, honestly), toward the faculty table.

(Hufflepuff) Constance‘s eyebrows raise as she looks toward Alice after Nell’s statement, obviously a little puzzled at this girl. She chooses not to say anything at this moment, however, valuing the good opinion of the prefect who sits so near.

The mood of her tone sobers but she continues the speech with the same efficient crisp pace. “For our returning students who remember Headmistress Prichard, I bring sorry news. It was all of our hopes that she would be returning to us this year, but she will not be returning in the foreseeable future. Rest assured the moment I hear any word, I will share it with the entire school.” Clearing her throat, Astra reaches for a goblet and takes a sip from the liquid before continuing. “There have been only a few minor changes to our staff this year.” “We welcome back Professors Helit, Addison, Fallon, and Walsh as our Heads of Houses. It is our sincere hope that they will continue to fill these roles for many years.” “Professor Calwern will not be returning as Charms Professor and so Professor Austin will continue as our Charms Professor. Professor Rathe stepped down from Potions and has taken over teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, good luck to him.” “Finally, please welcome Professor Orwell Gadds as our newest Potions instructor.” Finishing up with that, she takes no breather yet but picks up with a more pleasant manner and almost playful manner. “I’m sure the seventh years are excited to know who will become the Head Boy and Head Girl for this year.” Taking delight in this news, Astra purposely pauses to sip from the goblet in her hand and glance over the various tables. “Congratulations are in order to Slytherin Prefect, Evan Geroff who is Head Boy this year and no less congratulations are in order to Hufflepuff’s very own Olivia Baxtor.” Only now does the woman allow herself a brief respite to grin widely and watch any reactions that might take place.

(Hufflepuff) Nell starts clapping, pleased to see someone from her table recognized even if she isn’t clear what exactly is going on due to her chatting.

Olivia Baxtor is blatantly shocked as she is announced as the seventh year head girl, her eyes wide as she covers her mouth with her hand, looking around the Great Hall in utter shock. Her shocked expression changes from a shocked expression to a grin as she spots Evan across at the Slytherin table and she giggles a little, giving a bit of a curtsey and a little wave to everyone in the hall before sitting down again quickly, obviously still a little in shock.

(Hufflepuff) Angharad O‘Duibhleargain claps as well, smiling.

Evan Geroff truly was waiting for the announcement as to who would be chosen, for Head Boy at least, but his quick smile at the news is halted as soon as Olivia is named. He stands, looking toward her with a wide grin and a mouthed “Congratulations!”, before nodding to acknowledge the rest of the hall and resuming his seat.

Once things have settled back down, Astra clears her throat. “Of course, school wouldn’t be school without a list of rules and regulations now would it? Your parents have charged us with the task of taking care of you and so we do our best to imitate them.” “I know you’re all *thrilled* over that!” The dry humor comes slowly to her, but she finally seems to be getting into the good spirits of the Sorting feast. “With that said I’m charged with telling you all that a list of banned items is posted on the Caretaker’s office door and you’d do well to familiarize yourself with it. In addition, there is to be no running in the hallways.” “Use of magic in the hallways or on the outside grounds without supervision or explicit permission by a teacher is strictly prohibited and will be dealt with accordingly.” “As usual, the Forbidden Forest is exactly that – Forbidden and trespassers *will* be harshly dealt with.” “Third year students and above are reminded to have their
permission slips to Hogsmeade signed and ready for the first weekend. Anyone who doesn’t have this will not be allowed off school grounds.” Clearing her throat, she looks around the hall. “Returning students know how I deal with rule breakers, I trust none of you will want to come to my office?” “Don’t worry, you’ll get to eat soon, but I have a few more announcements to make.”

(Hufflepuff) Alice Wexler has turned back to look toward Olivia, and claps more enthusiastically than her demeanor usually leads her too, smiling at Olivia as she sits again.

(Hufflepuff) Olivia is still shocked as she drops back into her seat, looking about the table at the contragulatory expressions, and she blushes a deep red, grinning at those around her. “Thanks,” she replies quietly, with a grin still plastered sillily across her face.

(Hufflepuff) Constance Geroff‘s cheers come the loudest of anyone around as both her brother and his fiancee are announced as the head boy and girl positions. She cheers loud enough that it seems to echo back several times over, only stopping when she throws an exhuberant hug around Olivia’s middle as she sits down at the table again. “I just knew Evan would get it! I’m SO glad that you’ve got it, too, Olivia!”

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood claps hardily despite the fact that he’s about as cheerful as a dementor with nobody to soul-suck. Or a boy with nobody to face-suck, which is what he is. “Congratulations” comes his monotone. It isn’t as if he’s ever made especial friends with Olivia. Or anyone off the Quidditch team. Or most of the people on. Or inanimate objects, even.

Waiting for about a minute to let students discuss among themselves, Astra finally holds up her hand for attention. “A few last minute notices.” “I want to again congratulate Slytherin on winning the House Cup last year and congratulations again to Ravenclaw for victory in attaining the Quidditch Cup.” “On the subject of Quidditch, the school will not be holding the traditional Quidditch tournament this year, but we promise Quidditch enthusiasts will not be disappointed.” “I am also to inform you that all greenhouses are off limits to students unless Professor Walsh is present and you have express permission to be there outside of class.” “Finally, there is to be absolutely no magical toys, candy, trinkets, or anything else of magical nature brought into Muggle Studies. If any of these items are found upon your person, Professor Helit will confiscate and dispose of them.” Letting the various warnings sink in, she finishes. “It looks to be an exciting and vibrant new term and I sincerely hope each of you finds as much fun as you do challenges.” “Now let’s eat.”

(Hufflepuff) Angharad O‘Duibhleargain shrugs her shoulders as the announcements end. Another year of being alone for her, probably. She hasn’t anything but casual acquaintances, and only a few of those – but it isn’t too bad.

(Hufflepuff) “No Quidditch?” Constance replies with a bit of a gasp. “Imagine! I wonder what we’ll be doing instead. She did say that enthusiasts wouldn’t be disappointed, and while I don’t count myself as a particular enthusiast, I do enjoy the matches.” The girl starts to help herself to some food, puzzled at this turn of events.

(Hufflepuff) “Badgers are cute!” Nell says happily. She apparently had been holding this in since she was told to listen to the announcements. “What’s the house cup? Why did Slytherin win last year instead of us?”

(Hufflepuff) Alice Wexler shrugs, not particularly concerned about this quidditch thing. Though it is strange that they wouldn’t have it. “I’m sure they’ve got something equally interesting planned, then,” she offers, reaching for plate of rolls nearby.

(Hufflepuff) “Because they must have worked harder last term or something,” Constance comments. “It was a very close cup,” she admits, pausing to take several bites of food, for she honestly is famished.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood‘s jaw fairly drops, shocked right out of his Intent to Sulk. He sits there for a moment even as the feast starts around him, and then finally, slumping a bit, he lets out a sigh that could very well be considered relieved and looks at Nell blankly. “Tell a badger it’s cute when you’re on the business end of its claws and then let us know how that went.” Mrff. He begins piling his plate in that obsessively neat and segregated way he has, leaving the explanation of the Cup to someone else.

(Hufflepuff) “I don’t like claws,” Nell said seriously. “Why did you let them work harder? I like winning things. It’s a lot of fun and people cheer for you.”

(Hufflepuff) Angharad O‘Duibhleargain fills her plate with food, letting the conversation wash over her without really paying attention.

(Hufflepuff) Constance glances at Nell for a moment, looking at her seriously. “Well, we were a bit preoccupied with our schoolwork. If you’d like to suck up to the teachers, though, you’re more than welcome.” This retort is a bit more biting than is usual for Constance, and it is clear that she doesn’t entirely trust the new girl.

(Hufflepuff) “Is that what we’re supposed to be doing?” Nell asked, looking confused.

(Hufflepuff) “Constance,” Olivia admonishes quietly. “No, we work hard to try to earn points, and whichever house earns the most at the end of the year gets the cup,” Olivia explains gently to Nell. “It just happened that Slytherin earned more than we did last year.”

(Hufflepuff) “Oh, all right,” Nell said, filling her plate. “So I have to work hard and earn points and then we can win.”

(Hufflepuff) “Is it hard to earn points?” Chester asks, cautiously. “I don’t want to do anything dangerous or anything to earn points. It wouldn’t be worth it.” Chester, for his own part has filled his plate up quite full, perhaps a bit more full than one his age and size ought. This seems irrelevant to him as he begins to eat messily.

(Hufflepuff) “I’m sure no one would let us get hurt,” Nell says, looking over Chester as if sizing him up.

(Hufflepuff) Angharad O‘Duibhleargain shakes her head and grins. “Dangerous stuff is more likely to get you losing points, I think,” she says.

Time passes and the night grows longer, but eventually Astra stands up from her chair again and holds up her hands. “We have an early and exciting day tomorrow. I hope you’ve all enjoyed yourselves, but now it’s about time to be preparing for our first day of school. Prefects please take charge of the first years and guide them back to the house commons.” “Have a good night to each and every one of you.” Trusting and confident of those left in charge, the Headmistress takes her leave of the feast without another word.

Standing abruptly from her seat, Kelly waves the youngest students from her table towards her. “Okay, first years, follow me!” She smiles a bit at this, if nothing else. She gets to boss people around! Legitimately! “First years, this way, please. Don’t get distracted or lost or I will not help you find your way later.”

Standing up uncertainly, Olivia looks to the other Hufflepuff prefects and then across the room, she spots Evan, and a smile spreads across her face. “You guys can handle it, right?” she asks them, making sure before she sneaks away, walking quickly so that Constance can’t follow and try to see where she’s headed. Quickly she makes her way toward the exit to the room, looking pointedly to Evan before slipping out of the room quickly.

Finishing the last cup of dessert, Andy nods over to Briony and Kelly. “See you in the commons, then.” Seeing that Kelly had drawn the firsties’ attention towards her, Andy thinks it’d be best to keep in the back of the small crowd of new students, not to lose one of them along the way to the Common Room.

Charlie Linwood rises from the table and tries not to look over at Gryffindor… or Slytherin for that matter. Ravenclaw is safe eyeball territory but now he’s got to cart about little people. “First years, if you follow me I’ll take you to our wonderful and glorious Common rooms, so that you can see our Illustrious Paintings and try to stake out a good chair.” Cheerful.

Briony doesn’t have any responsibility with the first years, so as she finishes her supper, she and Kalynn stand and chatting amiably, they make their way out of the great hall and up to the Gryffindor commonroom. Briony will just have to try to chat with Gabe later, after he’s finished with his prefectly duties.

Following Astra’s lead, Donovan gets up himself and heads out of the Great Hall to go crash for the night, knowing that the next day was the start of another busy year for the school.

Eleonora offers a fake smile at the first years. She hopes they will stay out of her hair this year. She starts for the doors, weaving in and out of throng of kids and heads out.

Standing up from his table along with his fellow prefects Louis does his best to not let the Quidditch news get in the way of his prefect duties. “Okay first years, this way behind me. In a neat line if you please and don’t dawdle.” He calls out motionign for a few stragglers to get in line. “That’s it, yes yes we know you can tie your shoe now get in line.” He tells another boy. With that Louis turns and motions for them all to follow him out of the great hall.

Chester Blake climbs through the hole in the wall behind the palm fronds.

“This is pretty!” Nell says, pleased, as she looks around.

Angharad O‘Duibhleargain smiles. “Yes, isn’t it?” she says. “It’s comfy, too.”

“I like it in here. I think the yellow is very cheerful,” Constance replies happily, sinking into a seat near to where Alden has gotten comfortable, grinning at the boy cheerfully, then turning her attention to the nearby girls. “I wonder what the quidditch enthusiasts will get instead of the Quidditch tournament. What do you reckon it is?” she asks the other girls.

Angharad says, “Probably some fancy competition.”

“It is cheerful!” Nell said, bouncing slightly in her chair. “Maybe we’ll do a play! That would be more fun then quidditch.”

Angharad O‘Duibhleargain dismisses the suggestion with a shake of her head. “No, that’s not enough excitement to compensate for no Quidditch,” she says.

“A play would be fun!” Constance agrees happily, seeming to come a bit out of her distrust for Nell. She pauses, considering. “Maybe we’ll get to go see some professional Quidditch matches!” The girl suggests, her eyes getting wide at the speculation.

Angharad O‘Duibhleargain grins. “That would be amazing!” she says excitedly.

Alice Wexler grabs a pillow from somewhere and stretches out on the floor near Constance’s chair, finally warming up a bit to the conversation and the crowd. “Maybe they’ll let us write the play,” she suggests, with a small smile for Nell.

“A play?” Chester considers, looking about as he chews his lip. “Well, maybe. It would be fun to help make the sets, don’t you think?” he suggests amiably. “I don’t know if I’ll care as much for Quidditch. I didn’t become very familiar with it in India, and we just didn’t get much into it when we moved back to England,” he mentions casually.

“Acting is more fun then writing, but that’s still good,” Neil said. “Watching Quidditch isn’t as fun as playing. What do they do in India?”

“Oh, they have Quidditch,” Chester answers quickly. “We just didn’t play it, really. I guess the Ministry folks who we lived around, didn’t really like it, so they didn’t play at all, so Rowan and I didn’t play as much then.” Chester shrugs as he adds this, smiling to the girls surronding him. He’s not used to be surrounded by pleasant girls.

“I’ve never played Quidditch,” Neil said, “But my mother let me practice riding her broom this summer. It was fun! I think I was good at it. I might be on the team when I’m older.”

The day’s activities have started to wear on Olivia as she makes her way toward the Middle Tower slowly, her hand tucked gently inside Evan’s. It’s late, and has been a long day, but her excitement is still apparent on her face, as the two approach the gargoyle. Pulling out the scrap of parchment on which she had written the password, she utters it quietly, and the stone creature turns to reveal a narrow set of stairs. Olivia begins up first, gently letting go of Evan’s hand as she quickly climbs the long stairs knocking as she gets to the top, facing the impressive doors. She glances back to Evan with a bit of a grin. She is excited, if still a bit intimidated over the whole situation.

Evan Geroff follows closely behind Olivia as she climbs, laughing quietly and placing his hand back overtop hers as they come to a stop before the door. He’s not so much excited to be here as he is pleased with Olivia’s excitement, but either way he returns her grin as they wait.

There is no command to enter, no greeting in word but instead the doors open of their own accord after a moment’s pause. The night’s work is not over for the Headmistress and the candles in her office are still burning bright. As for the woman herself, she’s not at the desk but pacing around on the balcony holding a steaming cup of tea. Hanging mid-air from a levitation spell is a rather thick text that turns its pages itself. Muttering a few words, Astra turns in her pacing and heads back to the text to scan the contents of the page. Tired and worn out, the famous temper is drained and leaving only a much frazzled woman in its place. “Ah,” looking over the railing and the entrance she eyes the two young adults. “Well come inside and get yourself some tea. What’s going on? Is the school being attacked, fire broken out, or is there rioting in the halls?” A list of catastrophes, but she lists them in such a way as it’s clear she’s using her dry wit rather than being
remotely serious.

Looking a bit dismayed at this outburst, Olivia glances to Evan, shirking back for just a moment before stepping farther in. “Er, no,” she speaks quietly, clearly missing the humour in the statement. The girl gives Evan’s hand a quick squeeze before stepping forward rather bravely and then sinking into a nearby chair almost nervously. “I don’t know that there’s anything untoward going on, professor,” she tells Astra a little louder now. “We’ve just come to see you about — er, well –” she pauses and looks toward Evan with a blush, as if to ask him to do the querying instead of her.

Not actually laughing again, but with a slight smile, Evan offers a slight bow in greeting. Once Olivia makes her attempt at explaining, Evan directs a look at her that he hopes will be reassuring, and picks up his cue to speak. “The entire student body has turned into six-legged dogs and are out howling at the moon, but we can’t do anything about it until we have our badges to prove our authority.” His voice is light, offering the majority of the words simply in response to Astra.

Seeing the missed humor, the Headmistress lets out a long sigh, but just as she’s about to respond with something she clamps her mouth again. Astra actually manages a grin and then a sharp laugh at Evan’s response. “Excellent Mister Geroff, I see that my cynicism in Slytherin left you well prepared to deal with me now.” Flashing her teeth in a feral sort of grin, Astra sips at the tea and strides away, the book forgotten now that she has real business to attend. Gliding down the steps, she arrives at her desk. Setting the mug down, she retrieves two shiny pins. “Ah these are the spikes of silver that will bring our hounds to rest. Use them carefully,” her eyes take on a mischievous glimmer as she heads over to the two students, “I hear power can corrupt.” The badges are handed over without further ceremony, although whether she meant to give the HB badge to Olivia and the HG badge to Evan or if that was a slip is not something she’d willingly confess.

“Oh…” Olivia states quietly, as she realizes her misinterpretation, and then her cheeks turn a bit more maroon, before she smiles a bit more as Astra continues on. The girl sits a bit more comfortably as Astra approaches her desk and even seems to enjoy being in the office, once she realizes that nothing bad is to come of this visit. They /do/ need their badges, after all! The girl doesn’t even look down at her badge to realize the mistake, instead smiling up at Astra. “Thank you, professor,” she tells the woman and then grins up to Evan cheerfully.

Evan Geroff, on the other hand, isn’t one to take something without looking at it, and examines the badge for just a moment, before looking up to smile at Olivia. “Thank you.” That’s certainly said to Astra, not Olivia, though his next move is to step toward the chair Olivia has selected and kneel in front of her – on both knees – reaching up toward her collar with the pin. “May I?” She can always move it lower later on, if she likes.

Turning sharply away, it is perhaps a small hint toward the intent of the slip. Astra doesn’t cough or make any comment about Evan’s gesture to Olivia, instead retreating to the safety of her desk. Grabbing up the tea, she stands with her back to them as she takes a lingering sip before turning back around. “You’re both quite welcome.” “If there is anything you ever need please feel free to visit. That is, after all, what I’m here for.”

Pausing for a second, Olivia gives permission, looking a bit perplexed before she looks at her own pin and realizes the mixup. Saying nothing, she smiles happily at Evan, waiting until he’s pinned it on before returning the other pin in kind, pinning it gingerly on the breast of his robes. She smooths her tie proudly and seems to beam at Astra. “Thank you so much,” she repeats again and then stands up, looking about awkwardly for a moment, before shrugging. “I suppose we’ll be going then,” she states quietly and turns, walking around the chair toward the door, pausing in the doorway to wait for Evan.

“We will,” Evan replies to Astra’s offer, having stood up once Olivia finished with his badge. Olivia’s move toward the door surprises him for a moment, but he quickly steps over to join her, saying quietly, “Wait another minute?” Louder, turning back to Astra, he has one last inquiry to make before leaving for the night; “Headmistress, has Mother told you our news? Olivia’s agreed to marry me.”

“Congratulations to the good news, I’m afraid I hadn’t heard earlier. I’m sure your parents are both quite happy with the news.” Smiling broadly, Astra walks now to behind her desk and lowers herself into the seat. Still cradling the mug in her hands, she carefully scrutinizes Olivia and then does the same to Evan. “It’s a good match, are you both up for the pressures of the wedding society is going to expect or are you keeping it as quiet as possible?”

Olivia hasn’t expected to tell her this necessarily, and turns back into the room, stepping forward toward Evan to stand next to him. “Well, I — well, I don’t know.” Olivia admits. “I’m working with his mother about it, for I’ve really no idea where to start.” She shrugs a bit and looks to Evan. “What … pressures?”

“I think we’d have a hard time hiding it for long,” is Evan‘s first response, both to Astra and Olivia, before attempting to answer Olivia’s query. “People will expect certain things, for us. You don’t need to worry; we’ll be fine here, together, while we plan, and any questions you have for Mother she’ll be able to answer easily.” He shrugs, then smiles in hopes that he’s managed to sooth any fears. “It will all go well.”

Rubbing her own forehead and stifling a laugh, Astra shakes her head. “Ah the politics of the world, well, we won’t let it come knocking in here too much.” Finishing off her tea, she sets the now empty mug aside. “If that piece of trash paper comes poking its nose around looking for rumors you let me know right away – if I don’t know sooner. I won’t have society come disturbing you two in your final year of freedom from the adult world.”

Nodding fervently, Olivia seems to like this idea very much as she leans a bit on the chair nearby. “I wouldn’t want them asking me all of those questions anyway. What if we were to change our minds? It would be like giving false information.” Stifling a yawn, Olivia smiles up at Evan. “Besides, between my NEWT classes and the planning, I shouldn’t have time to do much else such as that.” She seems appeased at these assertions and smiles toward Astra again, saying nothing of this illustrious adult world, from which she is clearly still sheltered.

Evan Geroff gives another small smile. “We won’t push you into that quite yet.” Of course, there’s no escaping the number of people who will expect to be invited and spoken to then. But that’s later. “I appreciate it, Headmistress.” He pauses, about to say more, but whatever it is turns into a concerned look at Olivia. “Are you tired?”

“Why don’t you two go off, it’s getting late and tomorrow’s going to be a big enough day for everyone.” “If you ever have any questions, my door is open. Even if you only need sanctuary from the possible pressures of the upcoming marriage, feel free to come and hide among the books.” Astra yawns widely, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “As for me, I ought to try to sleep some too.”

Stifling another yawn, Olivia yawns sheepishly. “It /has/ been a long day,” she admits, smiling toward Astra happily again. “I’ll be sure to do that,” she tells the headmistress and then smiles up to Evan. “Thank you again,” she calls toward Astra before turning and walking toward the doorway again, pausing just outside it this time as she waits a moment for Evan to join her before leaving.

With a quick nod, and a shallow bow similar to the one he offered upon entry, Evan acknowledges Astra’s final offer of refuge and offers his goodbyes. “We might do that sometime, if the need arises.” “Have a good night, Headmistress.” Goodbye said, he turns to follow Olivia out the door, joining her as they begin to walk down the steps.

Chilly wind rushes in through the door of Cordial Confections as it opens, setting the bell jingling and rustling the wrappers of a few sweets close to the door. The stiff breeze also ruffles the well-groomed curls of Dara Quincy, nearly blown into the shop by the strong gusts. As soon as the door closes behind her, the little girl pauses, giving her fur-edged coat a dainty tug to straighten it, and pats her hair back into place with a small gloved hand. No adult follows her into the shop – as far as can be seen, Dara is alone, and the little girl draws herself up a little straighter as she arranges herself, her expression serious with the consciousness of the great responsibility of her position. But Dara‘s small nose flickers a little wider for a moment, drawing in the enticing scent of sugar and chocolate, and an extremely un-serious light of excitement comes into her eyes as she looks eagerly around. She is, after all, still a child, on her own in a candy shop.

Looking almost harried, Eva makes her way out of the back as the door jingles the arrival of a patron. “Hello, honey, welcome to Cordial Confections!” she spouts cheerfully, though she is sprinkled with flour, and looking a bit unkempt. Her hair, however, is out of her face for once, secured neatly back, in contrast to the rest of her. She puts a tray of cookies into her display case and closes it gingerly before attempting to dust herself off and coming out from behind the counter. It is a quiet afternoon so far, so it seems that Dara will get some personal service. “Is there anything you’re looking for in particular?” Eva grins as she says this, still attempting to dust the flour off of her skirt.

“Oh, good day!” Dara gives Eva a nod, carefully polite and oddly formal, a gesture probably copied from some adult or other. The eager light is still in her eyes, though, and her small shoes click quickly against the floor as she hurries towards the shopkeeper, almost – but not quite – skipping. “I was just looking around, but – oh, do you have any more of the sugar-flowers that you had last week? The pink and yellow ones?” Dara lifts a hand to point, but hastily pulls back from the impolite gesture, tucking her gloved hand into her pocket instead to restrain it. “They were in the front case, over there,” she continues, looking over towards a display case that is preparing for spring: a garden, with mint bluebirds fluttering over spun-sugar grass and chocolate earth – but no flowers. “And they were so lovely! Do you have any more of them?”

“No, unfortunately we haven’t got any of the sugar flowers, though we do have an array of minicakes that have some chocolate flowers on the top. I think Maura is also working on some new sweets for spring, but they won’t be ready today, I’m afraid. Would you like to try a bit of one of the minicakes? I promise they’re excellent.” Eva winks as she says this and crosses her arms for a moment, then uncrossing them, as if she has decided all in this instant not to wait for an answer. She makes her way behind the counter again and extracts the tray that she had previously placed in, putting it down on the counter in front of her. She does not, however, begin to cut one up into small bits yet. “What flavor do you fancy?”

Disappointment crumples Dara‘s face for a moment at the news that the sugar flowers are all gone, but it cannot remain for long – not when the tray of cakes is so close, and Eva’s invitation is so welcoming. “Oh, may I?” Dara cries. The little girl is already pulling off her neat white gloves as she scampers closer, peering with an eager, open-mouthed smile at the huge tray. “Mmmm. . .” she sighs, breathing in the fragrance of the freshly-baked cakes. Dara rises up on tiptoes, balancing with her hands on the edge of the counter – placed very carefully away from the edge of the tray so that she is in no danger of tipping the cakes over. “Is there strawberry? Or peach?”

“I can do one better. How about strawberry peach,” the woman suggests with a grin. She plucks one of the cakes off the tray carefully and cuts a tiny wedge out of it. Reaching down to retrieve a small bit of paper, Eva picks up the bit of cake and hands it to Dara. “It seems to me that you must have been meant to come in here today for this.” Eva winks again and looks around the shop. One adult has come in and is quietly perusing the bins of sweets, so Eva does not leave her smaller patron and instead waits for a moment. “Were the sugar flowers all you came in for?”

“Both?” Dara‘s eyes and smile both widen as she looks down at the cake, and reaches out to take it daintily between two fingers. “Oh, thank you, it’s lovely!” the little girl exclaims. Dara gives the cake one more eager look, but holds politely back, answering Eva’s question instead. “No, ma’am,” Dara replies, giving her head a small shake. “I was just looking, really. Mummy said that I might get some of the sugar flowers because I liked them, but – well – ” She hesitates, then, and leans in, eyes round and serious as she looks up at Eva. “Mummy’s at the jewelry shop, and I think she’s getting me a present,” Dara confides, lowering her voice. “I don’t think she would have asked me to leave while she was shopping, otherwise.”

Apparating right outside of the sweet shop door, the crack and sudden appearance causes a bit of dismay from one of the pedestrians. A muttered curse greets the woman and in turn smiles widely, not at all dismayed. Not returning the gesture with one of her own, she opts instead for stepping into the shop. Astra tugs open the door easily and the sound of chimes reveals her presence. Looking around, she pushes back her hood and begins to remove her gloves as she casually inspects the shop.

“I’m sure your mum will get you something lovely at the shop,” Eva tells the girl with a grin. “I’m glad you like the cake. Will you have one then?” The woman looks up as the door jingles again. “Hullo,” Eva greets the woman. Her face is familiar, though Eva could not place a name to it at this time.

“I hope so,” Dara agrees, with an eager nod that sets her curls bouncing again. Her smile widens even more at Eva’s offer, and she replies, “Oh, yes, thank you!” Holding the cake delicately in her fingers, Dara starts to reach towards the fur-edged pocket of her coat with her other hand, asking politely, “How much, please?” But just then, a loud crash echoes out from the back room of the shop, causing Dara to jump and Eva to say a hasty, “Oh, no, excuse me!” And then the shopkeeper is off, and Dara is left alone at the counter, with a delicate pink cake held in one hand, and her lips pursed quizzically at the place where the shopkeeper used to be.

There is a considered pause and just as she is about to return the greeting, the crash interrupts her thought. Left alone with the child, Astra arches her eyebrows in a concerned sort of fashion and idly begins to walk toward the counter in order to see if she can get any closer to ‘behind the scenes’. Even so, she doesn’t infringe on the owner’s privacy, but instead settles for a small little sigh. “The one day I think I can actually pull myself away for a little while,” muttering to herself, she casts a quirky grin at the girl. “Well it looks like it’s your lucky day at any rate.”

“Pardon?” Dara blinks up at the newcomer, the look of confusion only deepening on her small features as she puzzles out the cryptic comment. And then comprehension dawns for Dara, with a widening of gray eyes and a startled little cry of “Oh! Pardon, ma’am,” she says again. “You meant being left alone with…everything?” A tiny grin comes over Dara‘s face, eager, and with a bit of surreptitious mischief in it, as she looks down at the cake in her hand, and the neat rows of others like it spread out on the tray in front of her. “But – oh, but I should pay for this one before I take any of the others,” she says conscientiously, and more to herself than to the unfamiliar woman. There is no reticence in Dara‘s manner, though – she seems as much at ease speaking to Astra as she did to Eva, without a hint of awkwardness at dealing with an adult.

Tilting her head as she contemplates the child’s words and actions, there again is that silent nature reasserting itself. Finally, she nods and speaks, breaking any awkward tension that might be forming. “You’re quite right of course, you ought to. Not many children would have that kind of willpower. Not many adults for that matter could exhibit the same.” No smile traces her lips and while she speaks firmly there is a note of gentleness to them. “I’m not sure how much they cost, otherwise I’d tell you just to leave a note with some money and throw it behind the counter.” “So,” making idle conversation as she waits for the shopkeep to return, Astra isn’t entirely sure what to say but she doesn’t speak down to the child, “what happens to be your favorite?”

“I don’t know either,” Dara replies, with a serious, regretful sigh at the tantalizing spread of cakes. “She never got the chance to say.” Dara‘s mouth puckers again, frowning worriedly down at the cake that she still holds in her hand – not daring to put it down, but not daring to eat it either, she hovers uncertainly for a moment before turning back up to Astra. “Oh – thank you, ma’am,” Dara says, then, offering Astra a bright, sweet smile as she realizes the compliment a moment too late. “I liked the sugar-flowers – they were in the front case there, with the garden things.” Dara nods towards the front of the store, where there is a display in anticipation of spring – fluttering mint bluebirds, spun-sugar grass, and other spring-themed sweets. “But that’s something new, and they’re all out, anyway. My favorite regular sweet is the Fizzing Whizbee. I like the strawberry ones.” Dara speaks with the earnest intensity of someone discussing a very important topic – but there is still an eager little smile on her face, lit by her enjoyment of the discussion.

“Sugar flowers? They sound like just the thing my daughter might like, or might have liked not so very long ago.” “I imagine they are very good.” Treating the subject with the same sense of intensity even if her own gestures do not follow, Astra trails her fingers just above one of the glass cases. “I was coming by to pick up some things for my own children.” “Tell you what, go ahead and eat that. I’m sure she won’t mind. If you have to leave before she gets back, I’ll gladly pay whatever the cost is. We can’t have you worrying over something so minor as a cake.”

“Thank you very much,” Dara replies, bobbing her head in a polite nod. “But Mummy’s given me plenty of money.” The topic of money causes Dara no more or less worry than does the topic of candy – her tone is perfectly casual and comfortable. “And I think I’ll be here for quite a while. Until Mummy comes to get me, at least.” Despite her self-composure, though, Dara looks down at the cake in her hand with eagerly tempted eyes, and adds, “But if you’re sure that the shopkeeper won’t mind…” A little sparkle rises into her eyes and she takes a bite, her smile curving around the mouthful as she chews it daintily. Carefully swallowing before she speaks again, Dara offers, “The sugar flowers are lovely, and the shopkeeper said that they should have some more next week, if you’d like some for your daughter.”

“Thank you, I will have to put in an order when she returns.” Craning her neck to try to look around behind the scenes, Astra sighs, “If she returns before I have to run off again.” A smile actually tugs on her lips at the child’s first bite at the cake. “What kind is it?” Glancing around to watch the store, but more to keep an eye on the door it is an old habit that hasn’t yet died. “One moment,” Looking down at the child and blinking several times, there is a light frown. “Let me get this right, your mother left you in a store by yourself while she went about her own business?” “I hope she doesn’t do that often. Storekeepers are not here to tend to other’s children and if something should happen,” “Well, you just be careful. There’s a lot of people in the world who aren’t very nice.”

“Strawberry and peach!” Dara declares happily, and lifts the cake to take another bite – but freezes halfway, as Astra’s disapproval begins to make itself known. She listens throughout the grown-up’s speech, eyes widening into a confused blink. “I – I’m sorry,” Dara says, finally – still without much comprehension, but clearly understanding that something is wrong. “Mummy told me to come here while she was in the jewelry shop,” she continues slowly, struggling to explain what clearly seems to make sense to her. “I think she’s getting me a present. I can’t think of why else she wouldn’t want me there.” For the briefest moment, a shadow passes over Dara‘s clear, open expression – but then it is gone, and she continues, “And I will be careful, ma’am,” with an earnest nod. “I wasn’t going to go anywhere except here.”

Chuckling to herself, Astra smiles sharply again and the gesture dies almost as suddenly, not someone who is given to such niceties very often. “Don’t be sorry, you were doing as you were told and of course coming here isn’t such a bad place. Sometimes there are people who worry far too much.” Adding conspiratorially with a thin grin, “Like me.” Getting back onto the main conversation, she tries to steer it back on track, “Strawberry and peach? That sounds mouth-watering.” “Maybe I should pick some of those up as well for an extra surprise.”

“They’re very nice,” Dara replies. The words still come slowly, hindered by the little girl’s lingering confusion and newfound uncertainty, but she can’t be entirely unhappy when there is a cake in her hand and a tray of them in front of her. “If your daughter would like the sugar-flowers,” Dara offers, her smile edging back as she turns the conversation hopefully back towards a happier topic, “then maybe she’d like these, too?”

“Yes, she probably would. Both my children are terribly fond of sweets and their father does send them on occasion, but I tend to ignore such things. However, I’ve been told rather *pointedly* that *other* children get sweets sent to them, sometimes as often as *every day*.” Chuckling again, Astra looks over to case and sighs, “I had a few minutes, so I thought I could come by and pick a few things up to surprise them. Surprises are fun now and again.”

Coming out of the back room again, Eva seems to be covered in a reddish sticky substance. Pulling a bit out of her hair, she seems to be rather displeased. “Sorry about that, ladies,” she tells those in her shop, and shakes her head. “Now, is there anything I can get either of you since you’ve been waiting so long?” she asks them, stepping out from behind the counter and attempting, however fruitlessly, to undo the mess that has become of her apron.

With an “Oh!” that only grows more startled as she sees the shopkeeper’s disheveled, sticky appearance, Dara turns towards Eva again. “I’m sorry – er – how much is this, ma’am?” Dara holds up the cake, now with several bites taken out of it. Her cheeks pinken a little, but the smile that she gives Eva is more apologetic than embarrassed. “And I’d like a few more, if I might?”

Grimacing at the mess, Astra‘s brows furrow upwards. “I hope no one got hurt?” As the child speaks up, she falls silent and waits her own turn. Looking at the display cases, she takes her own time now to decide upon what she wants to order.

Eva quotes the price to Dara quickly, with a bit of a grin and wipes her hands on her now not-so-white apron. “I’ll get those together for you if you’ll place the payment there on the counter,” the woman tells the girl and makes her way behind, pulling out a small box to put the little cakes in. “There were no casualties this time, thankfully. Apparently our licorice root spoiled, though. That’s what caused the explosion.” She chuckles and puts the box out on the counter, awaiting payment.

Too late, Dara realizes the question she should have asked – now, she does look embarrassed, and adds a murmured, “That’s good,” to Eva’s expression of relief at the lack of injuries. The quoted price produces no such uneasiness, though, and Dara reaches into her pocket with the hand that is not holding the cake to pull out several shiny Sickles and Knuts. “Thank you very much, ma’am.”

“I’m glad to hear it was only a mess.” Wandering over to another section of the shop, Astra eyes the displays with longing eyes and then turns back. As the transaction finishes, she steps up but to the side of the girl, not wanting to get in anyone’s way. “I’m really here to pick up a few things for my children, but I’ve been looking at your wares.” “I’m terribly fond of sweets but I’m afraid sugar makes me rather,” pausing to find just the right word, “unmanageable.” “I don’t suppose you make anything sweet that doesn’t use sugars?” “Not that I think such a thing really exists.”

“Not a problem,” Eva tells Dara and puts the amount given into the register. “Is there anything specific that they enjoy?” Eva directs to Astra before the woman’s last question is directed to her. Pausing a moment, the woman seems stumped. “No, in fact, we don’t have any non-sugar sweets.” This fact has Eva‘s brain ticking, though her face appears completely blank for several moments. “What a wonderful idea. For those avoiding sugars… to have…” Her voice trails off and she is silent again for another moment. “I will have to bring that up to Maura!” The woman grins brightly at her patrons and then directs her face to Dara. “Oh, do come again soon. I’m sure we’ll have more sugar flowers shortly.”

“Thank you,” Dara replies, her own smile brightening at the mention of the sugar flowers. The door jingles open again with a rush of wind, and a tall, auburn-haired woman sweeps through. “Dara!” the woman declares in a voice that is not unkind, but definitely used to being obeyed. “Come along, dear.” And Dara follows, giving Eva one last smile, and one last, “Thank you, ma’am!” as she picks up her little box of cakes and heads back outside.

As the child departs, Astra smiles just a little and then returns to the discussion. “I’m glad you think so. It’d be so good to be able to enjoy a real sweet now and again without fear of becoming horribly exuberant.” Grinning to herself, she shrugs. “Ah, as for my children I heard about the sugar flower cookies and would like to order four in advance. If you could send them to me by owl, I’d appreciate that. As for the rest, I’m not sure what they’d enjoy. I suppose a mix of whatever is most popular, I didn’t eat much of it growing up.”

“I’m sure there are more people who have the same situation with sweets as well,” Eva tells Astra, her excitement rising as she speaks. While she is chattering, she walks about the shop, collecting various types of sweets. “How many children is it? Just two, or more than that?” The woman seems to be thinking aloud as she continues without waiting for an answer. “We could have a whole line of sweets, and I’m sure I could do some of the cakes and cookies as well.” The woman stops, her arms full of various types of sweets. “This probably ought to do it.” Eva doesn’t even know how many children she is collecting sweets for, but that doesn’t seem to matter to her as she heads behind the counter again and deposits it all onto said surface.

Laughing openly at the amount of sweets on the counter, Astra isn’t at all put off by the gathering. “Only two, but I’m sure this will make them thrilled. I’ll just dole it out over time so I can remain in their good graces longer.” Grinning, she dips a hand into her coat and retrieves a purse of coins. “I’m very glad that you think it’s a good idea. Honestly, I hadn’t thought of it before coming here again and watching the little girl eat the cake.” “When you manage to come out with the line, you’ll have to send a letter to Hogwarts and let me know. I’ll be one of your first customers.”

“I will be sure to do so. Also, four sugar flower cookies, correct?” Of course that’s correct, Eva, she only just told you. “I’ll box them up and owl them as soon as they’re made, which should be in the next day or two.” Eva grins widely, and despite being covered in sugar residue. “Might I have your name, just so that I don’t send them to the wrong person?” For shame, Eva, not already knowing! She begins to quickly tuck all the sweets evenly into two separate bags — must be fair, after all — and then begins to tally it up onto her register. She soon is quoting the cost to Astra, feeling rather pleasant. After all, she is getting paid.

“Astra Rathe at Hogwarts School,” chattering pleasantly she digs out the needed sum and hands it over to Eva. “I’ll look forward to the news, it’s always a risk eating sweets and it will be absolutely wonderful having something I can eat without fear.” “And yes, four sugar flower cookies. I’ll have to sneak those to my daughter on the side, but I figure the boy wouldn’t want to have anything to do with something like that.”

Depositing the oddly-shaped coins into her register, Eva beams. “I’m sure she’ll love them. Hopefully more for taste than appearance, of course.” Eva winks as she says this and takes out a small box, depositing the two ornate baggies into it. “Here you are, Ms Rathe. I’ll get those two you soon, and I assure you that you will be the first to know as soon as we have created a non-sugar variety of sweets. Perhaps you would even be able to help us test for taste!”

“Thank you so much. The children are going to love these.” Taking the baggies and depositing them into the over-sized pockets of her coat, Astra grins. “Oh! Taste test? That’d be marvelous really,” and as she’s about to continue with some idle chatter something inside one of her pockets begins to chirp incessantly. “I need to run, classes to teach, but do drop me an owl if you’re interested in having me help. I’d be very happy to lend my assistance.” Ushering herself outside quickly, she departs the way she came.

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.

(Ravenclaw) Interested in every single student, that enters the hall, Kassandra sits down at the Ravenclaw table, greeting her housemates she has not met in the train and waving here and there to her entering acquaintances.

(Ravenclaw) “Hello everyone!” Bubbling with excitement, Kara Raine dances in and takes a seat at her house table, calling out greetings to various friends. She sits down amid a group of second years, immersing herself in tales of trips taken on holidays and the differences between being a first and second year.

(Ravenclaw) With a remarkably sour look on his face, Riley flops down across from Noémie and next to Saphia, immediately pouring himself a pumpkin juice with enough force that cracks his goblet. His waist-length hair clings to his face and cloak, and his wrinkled robes drip with almost casual disdain. Naturally, drying himself would be a simple feat, but he seems to cling to the cold water, almost as if making a point to the Headmistress sitting at the faculty table, who is waggling her fingers at Riley with an amused grin.

(Ravenclaw) Rhian Brecon took care of how wet she was as soon as she entered the school, really quickly. She sits down with the other Ravenclaws and smiles. This is it… her last year here… Last sorting she’ll get to see, among the last feasts she’ll go to, and the start of the last nine months to hang out with her fellow Ravenclaws… Unfortunately, two of her best friends are no longer here, graduated at the start of the summer, among them, her boyfriend. This is going to be a long year.

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.

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.

(Ravenclaw) Kara Raine waves as Dolly joins the table, turning back quickly to listen to the sorting hat. She cheers loudly as the song finishes, quieting quickly as she waits for the sorting, trying to watch for the first year who shared a train compartment with her earlier.

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.

(Ravenclaw) Dolly Faeden gives out a heavily-accented cheer as not one but two Ravenclaws are Sorted early on. “Good job!” calls the redhead down the table at Rhyne and the other new student, just as her stomach gives a bit of a gurgle. Ahem. “Hush,” she tells it, blushing a bit. At least she’s not still throwing her underpants about and accusing people of being transgendered.

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.

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.

(Ravenclaw) “Oh, bloody effin’ ‘ell,” Riley hisses, allowing his head to collide with the table uncerimoniously. “She did it again — that’s what the hell she’s been smirkin’ about all these weeks. Another damned Barefoot Social. Kill me now.”

(Ravenclaw) “Ah, food,” Noémie comments, grinning to the new folks with a bit of a stretch. She grins to a certain other sixth year at her side and then winks, perhaps a bit more playfully than would be her norm otherwise. “Looks like a good little crowd, all of you,” she comments to the new firsties briefly before putting more food into her mouth. It is Riley’s luck that she has done this, too, for she does gift him with a rather stern look while she clears her throat. “Riley, you fuddent say fings ‘ike vat.” Ah, ever the graceful, polite young lady.

(Ravenclaw) Kassandra peers over to Riley. “Be careful, before I ask you out.” she grins and moves nearer to the table to begin loading small portions of various kinds of food onto her plate. She finally sees the variety in front of her and shrugs grinning. “Hm, seems like I can’t decide this year.”

(Ravenclaw) Dolly Faeden is a girl, and last year made a face at dancing with boys. Dangerously, though, she gives a look over the table at the announcement and says to Riley, “It’s not so bad, or are ye afraid ye won’t get asked?” A bit of roast turkey is chewed and swallowed before, “Or are ye afraid ye will?” comes out in her standard arrangement of impossible to understand accents. A giggle is all Noémie affords, as again the boys get eyed before there’s a shrug that seems to say ‘Meh, boys’ and she reapplies herself to the buisness of eating.

(Ravenclaw) Rhian Brecon smiles at Riley. “It wasn’t that bad last year, and it was fun planning it. Just relax Riley, just six more years and you don’t have to deal with her as Headmistress because you will have graduated. Focus on your studies and you’ll totally forget about her.”

(Ravenclaw) “Turf it,” Riley mutters, under his breath. Hopefully soft enough that he isn’t heard, seeing as that he doesn’t genuinely want to irritate Noémie. Still, he meets her stern gaze with one of his own, laced thickly with annoyance that only a summer held hostage with elderly arrogance can inspire. “And you shouldn’t talk with yer mouth full.” Dolly’s trite little questions are answered with a foul expression. “Nice bit o’ double talking there, eh? Right or wrong no matter how I answer.” Rhian’s reassurance is rewarded with the most positive reception — a gruff grunt and nod before he tables his forehead again, not bothering to fill up his plate, which is a white color almost as pasty as his pale skin seems to be at the moment.

(Ravenclaw) “I guess it’ll be nice to have some detention, don’t you think, Riley? I’ll let your grandmother know you’ll be coming Friday night for your first detention of the year.” Noémie doesn’t grin or wink or even blink as she tells him this, her face stony and plain before she turns her face to the boy next to her with a sly look and then beginning to eat. Her elbow darts out into the boy’s side briefly, but she doesn’t say anything further while she continues to work on the mound of food she’s put onto her plate — no small feat for a girl of her build!

(Ravenclaw) Riley Markham lifts his gaze, slowly. His expression — somewhere beteen incredulous and dangerous. “You can’t be serious.” His tone is tenative, however — on the edge of potential laughter he didn’t feel if it proved to be a joke, and torrential rage if it proved not to be. His hands remain at his sides, and his chin brushes against the plate as he stares up at the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain and Prefect. “Noémie..”

(Ravenclaw) “Well, you’re the one who said those things. I’m completely serious.” She shrugs at him. “You know how things go, and that was pretty foul language, and in front of the new students, no less.” Noémie shakes her head and shrugs. “You’ll know better next time, won’t you? I’m sure your grandmother won’t mind, anyway. She likes seeing you.” The girl takes another bite of food, looking rather nonplussed about Riley’s apparent near-emotional-explosion that is on the brink of being set off.

(Ravenclaw) It takes almost every ounce of reserve that Riley has not to do something physically rash. Such as taking one of his suddenly balled fists and shattering the plate his chin had just touched a moment before, or drawing his wand. Sitting up, slowly, his teeth grate together as he struggles to keep from saying anything at all — which proves largely to be a losing battle. “Take it. Back. Now.” His left fist, wrinkled with hideous scars as if his whole had had been soaked in acid, actually trembles. “I had a summer with her. A whole. Damn. Summer. Isn’t that enough?” His voice is only just barely contained in hisses. “Here, her flat, doing her chores. The whole summer. One effin’ afternoon I had away from her.. one. Don’t you dare do this to me. If it were you, you’d be muffed too — besides, isn’t all that snogging and whatever else you did last term punishable — don’t you deserve a detention or two for all the disgusting load you did with that git last year.. or whatever it is you did over the summer?” There’s a moment, after the words fall from Riley, that he realizes he has gone to far. Way to far. And it shows in his eyes. The immediate regret for the stupidness his anger summoned. But being a his grandmother’s grandson, his stubborness holds his fast to his words. And with force of will he didn’t know he had, he stands by them.

(Ravenclaw) Dolly Faeden blinks slowly and calmly with the air of someone observing as if completely unaffected. “Riley-sir, do ye hate your grandma? I love both of mine, and one of them is a muggle, so if ye could explain why ye don’t seem to like her–it is because she’s old? Grandmothers are supposed to be old. An’ they’re supposed to have you help around the house, too.” Her tone is very weird and curious, the exact way someone might ask a question and provide a hypothesis in class. She’s apprently not too observant that she might get smacked for her behavior, though.

(Ravenclaw) Peering at Riley, Noémie looks as if she has not taken this quite as calmly as his previous transgression. “Two detentions then, Riley. And don’t you ever talk to me that way again. Family or no, I’m still older than you and a prefect besides. You can be sure I’ll tell Melvina about that, and whatever your summer was like, that’s not my fault, so don’t you dare take it out on me, Riley Everett Markham. That is not my fault.” Standing and tossing her napkin onto the table before her, Noémie gets out from the table. “Now, first years, feel free to follow me, I’ll take you to the commonroom. The girl does not look at Riley again, though her annoyance is etched into her face. “I’ll see you up at the commonroom, Joseph,” she tells her comrade and waits to see if any of the first years come to follow her.

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.