Silver lettering on invitations throughout the castle fades, to be replaced by the tell-tale seven-pointed star. Beneath it, ‘Come, masked adventurers, to the gardens where the tall oak grows, for soon tolls the hour of a feast.’

Bengale Tiger stands just inside the gate, her open-mouthed tiger mask protruding from underneath her tightly wrapped hooded cloak. As people arrive, the mask itself forms a sort of grotesque smile, and the tall woman bows. “Welcome, welcome.” Some of the fairies in their rose bushes giggle and flutter their wings, but otherwise the rose gardens on this winter evening are currently quite silent. Once it appears everyone has assembled, she beckons to the long table, “I do hope a feast will make up for my long silence in matters of the S.E.A.”

Stalking Lioness comes through the southern gate from the School and gives a smile and nod to Bengale as she arrives. “This is absolutely beautiful,” she looks around, her blue eyes darting around to take in everything, though keeps her big heavy cloak kept tightly around her, and her hood over her head, which will help keep the heat in.

Fitzcordia comes quickly towards the Rose Gardens, almost dancing as she makes her way inward. “Hullo, Bengale,” the girl giggles and pauses just inside the entrance, waiting for Gabriel — or, well, Flicker — to catch up with her. Her mask has been remade since the first meeting, and now appears more as a kitten than a mask made of whiskers as it was before. Even still, the mask is heavy on whiskers, with a bright, smiling mouth below its pink nose. “Not many people here yet,” she comments, looking about. “Oh, look at the table Ga–Flicker!”

Nodding to ‘Fitzcordia’ in his dog-like mask, Flicker himself looks to the table with a grin. It was fantastic! Flicker couldn’t wait to find out what this meeting would entail, as he’d been excited for it ever since the last one, so long ago. “I wonder what we’re doing,” muses Gabe as he places a finger to his chin.

Juggle sneaks towards the gate of the garden, of course wearing his hooded black winter cloak and his bizarre monkey’s mask. He is one of the first to arrive, carefully looks for the setting of the feast and gives a faint nod to Bengale and the others. With his hands in his pockets, he keeps quiet and stands still next to his comrades.

Sophocles shyly follows a couple of other masked students, seemingly hesitating a bit before actually passing through the gate. What does he fear? The boy takes a big breath, and with both his hands, readjusts his mask on his face. Sophocles wasn’t there for the first S.E.A. meeting, though he had received the invitation parchment as well. He wasn’t keen on participating in anything suspicious after his adventures in the Library last year, but after he heard the rumours, he decided that it was just a game, and that he would give it a try. Following the instructions, he made a mask out of cardboard –a particularly impressive mask of tragedy, with a face expressing a mix of weeping and anger, something he saw in one of his father’s encyclopedias. And now, here he is. Sophocles walks forward, and nods to the other people already here, without saying a word, and waiting for someone to talk to him first.

The mask Turquoise wears has been altered since the previous meeting, such that he may not even be recognized unless the full name is remembered. For it now looks much, much more like a Sphinx, and a turqoise one at that, different shades of color forming the details around eyes and face. Along with this change, it has also been altered to leave his mouth free, covering his face from nose and up and curving down lower at the sides. From under this face Turqoise looks around the garden in surprise, turning to the masked face next to him to comment, “They’ve done a lot with this!”

Stalking Lioness finds a place to sit down at the table, but doesn’t touch anything yet. She reaches up and readjusts her mask, which covers her her forehead, eyes, most of her nose and comes down to either side of her mouth, leaving her mouth and chin open to eat. Out of the sides come whispers that belong to a lioness. She smiles at everyone who arrives and just takes in the beauty of the gardens, even at this evening hour and the cold of the winter.

Jack Harlequin stands off to the side, his mask still covering his face completely. Although the food looks delicious, he dares not show even an inch of skin, for fear of giving away his identity. This fear isn’t entirely unfounded, because he hasn’t met anyone in the school that fits his description. Besides, having a decent disguise is part of the experience.

“It’s a lot different than when we had tea here,” the girl admits, smiling from behind her yellow feathered mask. Persephone‘s mask has been improved as well, with perhaps a bit of help, and now looks very much like a canary’s mask. The top comes up over her forehead, and the feathers plume up above the hood of her cloak. An orange beak covers her nose, and the feathers fan out over her cheeks. This time, her mask even has room for eyes, though it doesn’t need a mouth hole, given that it stops at her nose, save for the feathers covering her cheeks. “I wonder what we’ll be doing tonight,” she asks, her voice even sounding excited as she makes her way towards the set table, taking a seat across from Stalking Lioness.

“Please, do take a seat, so that we may begin.” Again, the mask itself smiles, although her own lips are visible within that wooden expression. Bengale herself takes a seat not at the end but rather near the middle (but not precisely), and begins to look over the food. “They’ve really outdone themselves, I fear. Poor things, I wonder what they’ve got to eat up at the castle tonight.” A soft chuckle escapes. It isn’t a Feast night, of course, and it’s likely what they have here is a merely a precursor to what those who stay over the holidays will be dining upon. “I believe if you just tell your goblet what you’d like to drink it should fill, but of course the selection isn’t endless. Nothing we wouldn’t normally have, though perhaps–” she lifts hers and speaks to it–and it does, in fact, fill. “Ah, yes. Butterbeer is available.” What, letting children have mildly alcoholic drinks? Her? Possibly. “Well, my follow members of S.E.A, shall we dine?”

Stifling a yawn behind her generic white mask – which is, admittedly, a little less generic than last meeting, now possessed of a few sketches across the cheeks and hand-drawn decorations of that sort, a woman holding a knife featuring prominently across the cheeks and nose – Marie Jeanette makes her way into the garden. She looks about, hands on her hips – not defiantly, merely in apparent confusion – and offers to no one in particular, “Uh, someone changed it since last time I was here. That’s weird. Why would you put a feast in a rose garden?” Of course, she seems to forget about this point entirely as she approaches the table, standing awkwardly alongside it and waiting for someone to direct conversation to her.

As the others are beginning to take place at the table, which has been set up under the oak’s branches, Juggle also steps towards it and sits down. There is a good amount of distance between him and Stalking Lioness, which is sitting on the same side. Juggle looks over the bowls and plates and finally gets stuck at what seems to be a tiny corner of parchment under his plate. But he does not dare to examine it any longer as Bengale starts to speak. As he realises that he should also try to fill his goblet, lifts it and requests under his breath. “Uhm…water?”

“Eating of course!” Fitzcordia responds to Flicker’s comment with a bit of a giggle, bounding over to the table and taking a seat near the top end of it, near to where Bengale has taken her seat. No, Fitzcordia isn’t a suck-up, not at all. “Oh, what should I drink?” Fitzcordia asks her friend, and almost as if she had commanded it, her goblet fills with pumpkin juice. “Pumpkin juice it is,” she agrees happily, sipping from it, looking quite cheerful. “I do hope it’s something exciting. I’m in the mood for an adventure.”

“Yes!” Flicker replies cheerfully to Bengale as he sits down beside Briony and grabs his fork and knife, only to set them down again. He grabs his goblet, tipping it towards him and checking inside. Grinning, he sets the thing right again, instructing, “butterbeer!” to the cup. As it fills up, Gabe looks to Bri– to Fitzcordia and points to the goblet. “She wasn’t lying,” he points out with a laugh.

Turquoise slips into a seat beside Persephone, taking a moment to look not at the decorations but at some of the other objects added to the garden. “There’re games set up, look.” He waves his hand toward an archway, then the brooms, completely ignoring the ladder and tree. “But it looks like dinner first..” Hearing Bengale, he smiles, quickly directing his own glass to fill with butterbeer. Shouldn’t ever pass up a good oportunity after all.

Stalking Lioness takes the goblet at the seat she is at and has it fill with butterbeer as she loves the drink actually. When Bengale allows them all to eat, she does indeed, enjoying the meal that is provided for them by the house elves of the castle. Hearing about games, she smiles as she looks at the table. “Ooo, some of them look like fun. But alas, food!” she begins to eat, basicaly ham with mashed potatoes, rolls and some of the fresh vegetables that is provided.

Persephone does this, too, for, really, who would pass up the opportunity for Butterbeer, especially on a non-Hogsmeade weekend. “I wonder what kinds of games they’ll be,” she muses, taking a slow sip of her butterbeer while glancing around at the filling table. The spread was really lovely, and Persephone was thoroughly enjoying the enchantment that the Rose Gardens now held for her. “I’m so glad I remade my mask,” she comments quietly. “It would have been very out of place now, with all these wonderful new masks. It looks like a lot of people worked hard on them.” She giggles a bit, as she spots Marie Jeannette’s.

Sophocles takes a seat at the table, near another student wearing a monkey mask. He takes some time looking at the people surrounding him, trying to guess who is hiding behind the masks. His attention shifts towards Bengale, who seems to be the person in charge tonight. When she mentions Butterbeer, he lets out a small laugh. “Butterbeer, uh? I must have that.” he says, not wanting to miss that occasion. He laughs quietly at the boy with the monkey mask who ordered “water”, before muttering the name of the drink –and instantly, the glass starts filling itself. “A dinner… it’s better than a tea, isn’t it?” he says to the people surrounding him, before looking at the games pointed out by Stalking Lioness. “Impressive…”

No one’s talking to Marie Jeanette. Is that possible? Well, she can’t have that, now can she? Folding her arms across her chest – and here her defiance comes in, a little – she sits herself down next to someone, anyone. And for the record, it is a very nicely drawn girl with a big knife on her mask, amidst other sketches. At least, in her mind. Sighing a little, she turns to whoever she happens to now be sitting with, offering, “It’s lovely in here, isn’t it? Do you think it’s true that usually people only come to the rose garden to do sweetheartly things? I mean, everyone talks about it, but I know I don’t do things like that.” Of course, last time she was here, she was kicking the tree.

Bengale Tiger takes for herself one of the pot-pies with a little pastry turkey atop it, and then calls down the line, “Juggle, could you pass that squash in front of you, please? I’d love to try some of it.” While she waits, she takes a good swig–yes, a swig– of her drink, careful not to get any of it on her mask. It might start to smell. Bengale seems relatively at ease eating a feast amongst a bunch of, well, children, for all that she’s not the most social of professors. “After dinner there will be games, of course, although I may need to sneak you one by one back into the castle if we’re out here late enough.” She says this casually, looking up and down the table.

Juggle begins to load carrots, potatoes and cabbage onto his plate and takes a sip of water before starting his meal. “Mhm.” is the only comment he would give about the mentioned games with a mouthful of vegetables. Turning his head further than normally to be able to see properly through the eyeholes he faces Sophocles and greets him with a short wave. Having cleared his mouth again, he turns to Marie Jeanette and answers. “Yes, you just have to look at the tree. The brutes have carved their initials into it.” As Bengale asks for the squash in front of him, Juggle instantly grabs it and hands it over. “Sure.” he adds with a smile, feeling a bit more comfortable right now.

Giggling as Bengale says this, Fitzcordia can’t help but choke a bit on her pumpkin juice. “Imagine, being snuck into school so we won’t get into trouble!” The excitement in her voice is ill hidden and she starts piling food onto her plate. Always glad for suppertime, this one. “Look at that, oooh, that looks good,” she comments as the squash is passed past her. She reaches out and takes two croissants, as well as some of the various meats that are on the table. Soon Fitzcordia‘s plate is piled high, and she is starting to eat through it happily. “S’good, innit, Ga– er, Flicker.”

Gaping a little at Bengale, Flicker raises an eyebrow (even if it’s not visible behind his mask) and looks away quickly, unsure as to whether or not she’s kidding. Peering around the table, Gabe wonders who, exactly, else is here. Likely Rafe was behind one of those masks. Were his sisters here? The anonymity was rather fun, but a bit unsettling, too. Well, at least he had Briony. “So good,” Flicker agrees. “Will the games be played in teams?” Flicker asks no one in particular, though he is looking in Bengale’s direction.

Riamh wears a mask that is vageuly human shaped, but also rather covered in clocks. All of them tell something, but time is not it. On her left cheek, there is a clock with a hand pointing to ‘dinner time’, and on her right, one that points to ‘possibility of trouble’. A miniature cuckoo bird hands from somewhere under her hood, and what is visible of the forehead is a rotating image of the sky–including the phase of the moon. The mask parts are a polished maghoney in color, and the bottom (with a border of roman numerals and clock hands) opens up to reveal her mouth. Despite the black cape, much of Riamh‘s hair is visible.

Stalking Lioness smiles at Marie Jeanette at her speaking. “Yes, it is very lovely. I don’t know, I’ve been too busy to contemplate sweetheartly things.” Okay, actually she does, but her love is also busy as much as her, and isn’t here, so it isn’t fair to speak of him there. “But when everything is bloom I would probably come here just to sit and think, and study. It’s beautiful here when everything is in bloom.”

Reaching first for some ham, then scalloped potatoes, and so on through the different types of dishes, Turquoise offers each to Persephone and after that, to the others around him, answering as he does so, “I don’t know.. I’m sure it will be a lot of fun, though.” Pausing as he reaches the vegetables, he leans over to address Marie Jeanette, “I don’t know, miss.. I only come here to teach my owl tricks.” Of course, he glances at Persephone after saying this, though his expression is lost behind the mask except for the less-than-serious smile.

“I kicked that tree once,” Marie Jeanette observes, piling her own plate high with foodstuffs of various sorts, apparently not paying much attention to precisely what she is putting on her plate. “Not because of the initials on it,” she clarifies after a moment. “Just because I was in a bad mood and thought the universe needed a good kicking.” Precisely why that tree in particular needed kicking remains unknown as she concludes that the food on her plate is sufficient and begins to eat – well, sort of begins to eat, apparently only now taking note that the mouth of her mask is too small for any but the tiniest bites, so she is reduced to eating like a bird. What a dilemma. A pause, and she turns to Stalking Lioness. “Really? I have a sweetheart too. I never even thought of that. Not that I’m going to start now!” The last sentence is added at a rush, like almost an afterthought, and then she devotes her attention back to cutting up her food into really small bites.

“Owl tricks, yes, of course,” Persephone echoes, stifling a bit of a giggle, as she gives a toothy smile, despite her crooked teeth. These are rare, and it’s very possible that the mood of the evening has just set her into a very pleasant mood, ignoring her usual hesitations. She takes bits of this, some of that, a role here, a croissant as well, nodding as Stalking Lioness comments about it being in bloom. “There’s this yellow and white one just over the way that I really like, and it’s even more in bloom now than when I was here the other da–” Persephone stops herself short. “Well, it’s more in bloom than it was before, which is unusual. It’s all very lovely.” The blush is hidden by the yellow feathers on her cheeks, but Persephone looks down at her plate taking a bite of food, shaking her head at her own chattery mouth.

Bengale Tiger takes the squash and piles some of it on her plate before passing it along. “Well, I’m sure,” as she ought to know, “that a lot of care is taken to make sure there’s something in bloom year round. Except of course for the roses, which always are. Special variety.” Oh dear. Lucky for the students, Bengale is hungrier than she is eager to divuldge information about the various plants, and begins cutting into her pot pie. “Most of the games are at least for teams, yes.” She’s so chatty, it must be weird for the students to think of her as the same person she is in class… and the halls… and if they accidentally run into her at the Leaky Cauldron over the summer.

Of course, Fitzcordia doesn’t recognize who Bengale is, though she ought to have by now. “Oh, team games. You’ll have to be on my team, Flicker,” Fitzcordia demands. No, she doesn’t ask, but when has she ever actually asked if he wanted to do something? “I’m sure we’ll win,” she comments, before starting to eat her second croissant, still looking very cheerful. The whiskers on her mask seem to twitch constantly as she eats and giggles.

Turning to Persephone with what could be a skeptical expression if her mask wasn’t concealing it so, Marie Jeanette looks her over and then turns back to her plate. “Don’t sound so suspicious,” she instructs the other girl pompously. “You should either say something or say nothing.” And she’s not a hypocrite for her part, either, is she? She takes another few tiny bites of her dinner, spearing potato on the end of her fork and nibbling at it awkwardly. Stupid masks and mouths.

Riamh has taken an awful lot of vegetables, but also several thick slices of what appears to be duck, and is busy munching along on it. She looks down the line at Jack and raises, invisibly, one of her eyebrows, as a clock hand moves from ‘dinner time’ to ‘butting in on other people’s business’ (in very tiny script). “Why didn’t you make a mouth-hole in your mask, Harlequin?” Nosy nosy.

Stalking Lioness nods to Marie. “Yes, well my sweetheart isn’t here, so I won’t really be talking much about it. It isn’t fair really… Why did you kick the tree? that wasn’t very nice to the tree.” She continues to eat a few more bites. “This is all really wonderful. So what are you going to do for the holidays? Going home to see your parents?”

“We’ll win if it involves running,” Flicker notes. “You think I’m fast on my broom, I’m an even faster runner. Like remember when I told you I ended up in Ireland once?” he inquires, tilting his head, “Well one time I ran to Africa and back in order to pick a violet for my mum,” he says with a boyish laugh. “Anyways, yes, we’ll be on the same team,” he agrees, taking another drink of Butterbeer. If only his mother knew!

Grinding her teeth together, Marie Jeanette does not look up at Stalking Lioness for a long moment, distracting herself by cutting her dinner up until really tiny pieces. “I’m trying to avoid it.” She eventually replies. “I was angry because my mother wants me to come home for Winter Break, and I don’t want to go so I need a really good reason not to. I don’t like spending time with her anymore, not since my father left.” And she looks up again, glaring at Stalking Lioness as if daring her to continue the line of questioning. “I’m not hungry anymore, never mind.”

“Hmph,” is all Persephone says in response to Marie Jeanette, taking a bite of potatoes. “Oh, I’m going to visit — er, well — someone very important.” It appears to be more difficult than she had originally thought for Persephone to keep her identity a secret. “It’s going to be a very good holiday for me, I think.” The girl chats to her companion, in his Sphinx-esque mask as she finishes up her supper, looking rather cheerful, despite Marie Jeanette’s comments to her.

Juggle leans back, after he has finished his meal with one of the delicious pies offered for dessert. As he bends forward again, he nudges his plate accidentally and a small piece of parchment pops up. His eyes shoot towards Bengale, not knowing what to do. “Ahm…sorry.” is the only thing he could think of. He remains pondering if he should hide it under the plate again or hold it up and decides to leave it as it is, eyeing the others.

Stalking Lioness is now silent. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open old wounds.” She turns her attention to finishing her meal, not wanting to ask Marie Jeanette any other questions in order to make her more upset. She now her food is the most interesting thing that she can pay attention to, but soon her plate is empty and she doesn’t want to have anything else, minus desert, if there is any.

All lonely and unloved-like, – or, y’know, not – there’s another hooded figure edging towards the food table. Her mask? A disgustingly feminine butterfly-based creation. That’ll trick them all, definitely. “Do rose bushes have feelings?” Psyche pipes up after a moment, catching Lioness’ comment. Her brows furrow behind her mask, thoughtfully, but otherwise just picks at the plate she’s gathered food on. “Holidays are coming, aren’t they? This term has gone on forever.”

“Sure you did, Flicker,” Fitzcordia responds almost absent-mindedly to his claims and finishes off her supper. Ah, time for dessert! Fantastic! “I can run faster than you, and you know it,” the girl retorts to her friend, pushing her plate away from her a bit, as if to say ‘I’m finished here’. She grins at Flicker and glances around at the others at the table, many of whom seem to be finishing up. “Feelings? I never… er, I never thought they would.” Fitzcordia actually looks perplexed at the idea of this.

For once in his life, Flicker doesn’t really even want dessert. He just wants to start the games! “You can’t run faster, B-augh! These names are too hard! Fitz,” he catches himself, with a laugh. “We’ll race one day, I’ll show you,” he continues, grabbing a clean fork and awaiting the final course, planning to bolt it down when it comes.

As the group finishes the main course, the remaining food (what little there is) disappears with a quiet ‘pop’! in much the fashion in tends to in the Great Hall. Then appears the varitey of deserts, as well as the bags, one for each place setting. Bengale smiles down the table at Juggle while selecting a particularly tall slice of really, really chocolate cake. “Don’t mind that, it’s for after the feast.” She doesn’t seem to mind, continuing on-”Some rose bushes do have feelings, but they’re all alive and should be treated as such.” Ahem.

“I’m frankly glad,” Marie Jeanette informs Psyche, pushing her chair back from the table and folding her arms. “I don’t want to go home for Winter Break – or Easter Break – and I intend to find somewhere else to be over the summer, too, if possible. I don’t know what I’m going to do for Break, though. I was going to stay here at Hogwarts, but I’m going to be all alone.” Sulky, grumpy Marie Jeanette.

Stalking Lioness smiles as she sees all the deserts show up. It takes her a moment for her to decide what to take, and so she first decides to take the chocolate mousse wit the strawberries, eyeing the chocolate cake if she still wants it after the mousse. Taking the first bite, she closes her eyes and gives a soft, content sigh at the taste and begins to eat the rest, and the strawberries as well.

“You’re on,” Fitzcordia agrees, looking with bright eyes down at the desserts that adorn the table now. “Ooooh, look at that,” she comments, unsure of where to start. Finally, she decides on the ice cream, piling on almost more toppings than she has gotten ice cream, and begins eating it, quite cheerfully. Indeed, the whiskers seem to twitch even harder as she eats this than they have already, though it could just be from the cold. “Oh, this is so good,” she comments aloud as she finishes her ice cream, rather quickly, and leans back in her seat, looking quite comfortably full, though she eyes the chocolate cake very carefully.

Psyche plucks a piece of fruit from a dish with a contented little smile, at least until Marie mentions going home. “Would your mother really let you do that?” she asks, head tilted to one side, “I’d think mine would go ballistic. Well, gently ballistic, anyway.” The irony is unbearable. As for rose bushes, the girl nodnods in Bengale’s direction. “I think out loud sometimes,” she comments, nibbling at her fruit. “But most of the plants around here are more or less normal, right? No biting or sentient-ish stuff?”

Marie Jeanette offers a small, humourless laugh in response to Psyche, glancing at the younger girl (and apparently entirely not realising that they are talking about the same woman). She doesn’t make any move to eat dessert, her appetite apparently entirely gone. “Of course my mother wouldn’t let me. That’s why I have to make up some good reason. I’ll tell her that, that, that someone invited me to spend Christmas with them ’cause they like me so much. Or that a prefect asked me to stay at Hogwarts over Break so we could have a special party. Or something. I’ll work it out.”

Flicker has already finished his chocolate cake, despite its having been in front of him only one or two minutes. “Yeah, good,” he says, wanting to stand up and get things started. “But we can’t race now, because I’m too full,” he warns. Such a race would need to capture him at his peak, obviously. “When are the games starting?” he asks Bengale. Boy, one-track mind or what?

“I should hope none of the plants around here bite!” Persephone comments, putting her hand over her mouth in a bit of shock at the thought. No, it had not before occurred to her that some of the plants in the rose garden could be dangerous. For her own, Persephone has taken a bit of spice cake, as well as a baked apple and a bit of candy, and is slowly working her way through the cake as she listens to the conversation going on around her. For her part, she had never expected that when she was invited to join the S.E.A that she’d be treated to a feast and some games, rather she assumed that more adventures would be had, dangerous things that she wouldn’t actually want to do.

Bengale Tiger chuckles, and it comes out sort of low and rumbly, which is odd. “No, in these gardens the plants just sit around and grow. With a bit of magical help, of course, or I imagine they would all be dead by now.” She finishes up her cake and her butterbeer, and then leans back. “I imagine that once everyone has had their fill, we can begin the games, Flicker.” Hah. If you had told Bengale when she was a first year dreaming of becoming a teacher that she would address anyone by the name of Flicker, she would have called you a loony. To the general populace, “Those bags are so that you can take some of these treats back with you. After all, there’s a bit much to eat at this moment.”

Stalking Lioness looks over at Bengale when she speaks, having had her mousse and enjoyed greatly. Hearing the bags were to be used to take what she wants away from the feast, she smiles and opens it to take a few items that she will want later on up at her dorms. There are several items she takes, but then closes the bag so she can take it later, hoping she’ll remember.

“Best idea ever,” Psyche informs Bengale, happily beaming behind her mask. “I suppose the Hogwarts staffpeople would all get in trouble if some of the plants out here were dangerous and someone got hurt.” Still, Marie’s words catch her attention again, and she claps softly. “Good for you, as long as it works. I hope it does? Oooh, games.” Attention span… where?

Although apparently in a rather bad mood, Marie Jeanette has enough sense to fill a bag for herself with considerable amounts of transportable desserts, on the assumption that she would rather regret it if she let her annoyance get in the way of eating her fill of lovely sweet things that most people are not permitted. When full, she twists the top of the bag closed and slips it into her robes. Then, she turns her attention back to Psyche, shrugging her shoulders lightly. “I don’t see why it shouldn’t work – I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? I’m not there when she picks up Cass and Lenore from the station, and I get a Howler in the morning?” Oh, good one, kid. Nice anonymity there.

While not particularly looking forward to the games for her part, Persephone knows Evan likes games, and she does start to eat a bit more quickly, tucking the baked apple discreetly into the bag for nibbling on later. She chuckles a bit as she hears the boy nearby wax poetic about how excited he is about the games. The girl says little, though she has finished her bit of spice cake now, and sits back neatly in her chair, not really caring that the hood of her sweater has fallen off and her blonde hair is now visible behind the fanned feathers.

Oh wow the shock! Cas– Psyche‘s eyes widen significantly, and her mouth is open to announce this revelation when something absolutely brilliant occurs to her instead. “You should bribe your sisters into helping you,” she suggests sagely, “get them to cover for you and lend credibility to your story. Well, maybe not Lenore – I’ve met her, I think. The other one, though.” She considers her words for effect and then nods thoughtfully. “You should give them candy, or something. Kids love that.” Evidence to this statement? The way she’s carefully arranging stuff in her bag so as to fit the maximum possible food in.

“I wonder what the games are going to be,” Fitzcordia asks Flicker, chewing quite contentedly on a bit of caramel she has left from her ice cream, and finally finishing her dish of dessert. Hearing Marie Jeanette speak, however, Fitzcordia‘s attention is brought to the person sharply. No, it couldn’t be. But it had to be. Yes, Fitzcordia has a very strong idea who that person must be. The girl, spotting that others are now stuffing their little bags full of goodies, follows in suit and begins to fill the bag with as much sweets as will fit inside it. After all, she’s a growing girl, and she does like her sweets.

Bengale Tiger just lets the students talk for awhile while she mumurs a few preservative spells over some of the deserts to place in her own bag. It’s a bit disturbing how many domestic spells the woman knows. This done, however, she announces, “Alright, as Juggle discovered, there is a bit of parchement underneath your plates. On it are instructions for a scanvenger hunt. You should work in groups.” The mask has a bit of a sinister look, although it still smiles, and Bengale‘s own lips form a mild smirk. “If you don’t wish to participate, there are a few other games to play, although I’m quite willing to stay up until an incredibly improper hour while you all enjoy yourselves. It is, after all, very nearly Christmas.”

“I dunno. Cass’s a bit… eh, I dunno if any amount of bribery would actually make her lie to our mother.” Well, for all that Marie Jeanette has a practically encyclopedic knowledge of things that she wants to know about, she is painfully thick about certain things, up to and including recognising her own sister. Of course, she isn’t actually paying very much attention, her attention flickering back to Bengale’s words, shoving her plate aside and locating the indicated parchment. “Ooh…. who wants to be with me? Huh?!”

Stalking Lioness listens to Bengale when she speaks, and so lifts up her plate in order to see what the parchment said. “Groups?” she looks around to see who might want to be in her group to go find things. Some of them she already has ideas for what these riddles might be talking about.

“Oh, you can be with me and Flicker, if you want,” Fitzcordia volunteers, hearing Marie’s exclaimation. the girl stands and yanks at Flicker to stand with her, giggling a bit. Yes, Fitzcordia appears to be very excited as she picks up her parchment from under the plate and looks it over. “Oh, a scavenger hunt. We’ll win this one!” She holds her copy of it up, standing near to Flicker as she looks around to see if anyone is joining her group.

About to protest Marie’s dismissal of her sister’s ability to lie for fun and candy, Psyche is momentarily distracted by Bengale’s announcement. “I need a team, too,” she offers, then perks up. Must convince Marie. “I’ll go with you?” she offers. “Anyway, I think you should give it a try. If you don’t, and it turns out she would have helped, you could regret it if things fall through somehow.” But looklookparchment! “I’ll go with anyone who wants me tagging along, really.”

“But, look, it says ‘pairs or trios’…” Marie Jeanette points out, gesturing to the piece of parchment. “So if I go with Flicker and Fitzcordia, I can’t go with you as well, kid..” Evidently, her inability to recognise her own sister spreads as far as her own housemates, too, apparently entirely unable to recognise the nice couple that offered to let her in on their group – and perhaps, if she did recognise them, she’d be all the more eager to join Psyche instead. “Um. Um, um, um. Are you any good at riddles? I’m not.”

Riamh‘s bag is somewhat riduclously bulgy, although as she collected the girl murmured things about “Da’ll love that, hope it doesn’t go bad fast.” and such. She pulls the parchement from under the plate and unfolds it carefully, as one of the hands on her mask points toward ‘Insatiably curious’ (which, for this girl, is often the case). Surveying the group, she spies out Psyche, “Hmm, she seems to have a group, how about me?” Since the person with the mouthless mask hadn’t ever replied. “I’m D– I’m Riamh. Means something about time, I think, which I thought was good because I’ve all the clocks. My grandfather, who is a muggle, makes them.” Which, as she sleeps in the same dorms as Psyche and likely has a lot of clock things, sort of gives her a bit away.

At this announcement, Persephone stands, taking her parcment with her and looking it over. Oh, riddles. Persephone isn’t all that good at them. However, she is in exceptionally good spirits, so she seems to set off straight away, poking around at some of the flowers as if trying to find things without even discussing things with her teammate, who, presumably is Evan, though he hasn’t exactly caught up with her yet.

Psyche examines the parchment for a moment, then wrinkles her nose. “Well, I’m going to give it a good try. Just going to have to hope that’s enough.” she replies to Kelly, although perhaps just from sheer lack of familiarity she’s a little lost for most of the answers. Recognising Riamh, though, she flashes the girl a smile. “It’s a pretty name, too. I’m Psyche.” Well, she is for the moment. “It’s a reference to a Muggle goddess, I think. I just chose it because it matched the mask.” She beams, though. “I’ll go with you, though, as long as you don’t mind or anything?”

Riamh smiles, mouth completely visible (smudge round her lips from some mousse and all). “Well I asked you, so of course I don’t mind–how about the first one — ‘all in gold?’ She looks about, “I’d say our plates but they don’t seem very flighty. Do you think we could throw one on the air or use a hovering charm on it?”

“I’m alright at them. I do love them. Let’s see… Flighty item, all in gold.” Fitzcordia puts her hand to her chin in thought. Indeed, this is the same pose which she would often strike while they were on hunts to solve mysteries. “What do you think it is, Marie Jeanette?” Fitzcordia asks, looking down the list. “Silvery circle, scarlet plume, hmmm. This is hard!” The girl looks about. “Maybe the plume is one of the flowers? Do you think it might be its name?”

“Well, a plume is a feather, o’course.” Marie Jeanette replies knowingly, planting her hands on her hips, apparently content to believe that she can lead the adventuring. “Well, uuuusually. Usually, I think it refers to a feather sticking out of someone’s hat. Does anyone we know wear a stupid hat? Maybe they took the stupid feathered hat and put it somewhere to find. Or, I don’t know, maybe not.” A pause, and she looks around. “Well, a circle for telling time has to be like, a silver pocketwatch or something. The problem’ll be finding it – it has to be outside somewhere, right, so it has to be a little pocket watch, not something big…” She kicks at the ground idly, unsure of where to start looking.

Stalking Lioness finds herself a partner and they head off to go find the items that are on the parchment. “Bengale, are all the items here in the garden?” she pauses before the tiger to see if they have to leave the area just to find the items.

Bengale Tiger has taken position on the swing to watch and answer questions. “Well, they should be.” Another rumbly chuckle. “I don’t think they’re liable to have taken off.” Hint, hint. She kicks off a bit, actually making use of the swing. “For some items, you might look around at what we’ve got in order for an idea of how to find them.” Yes, her mask seems frozen in a mischevious, tigery grin.

Psyche beams at Riamh, and apparently just figures that the other girl has x-ray vision and can see the expression. “I dunno. If it’s in the air and it’s gold, even if it’s not the right object it fits the description, right?” She pauses a long moment, then, eying her piece of parchment some more. “So are you Muggleborn, or is it just your grandfather? Only, only, do you have a pence?” Yes, she’s clueless.

Riamh wrinkles her nose, “Oh, no, my parents were both magic, but my mother’s parents… and my Aunt, at that, are Muggles. Didn’t have to explain to them about Hogwarts though, since my mother went. My other grandparents are magical but I think I have some great grandparents or great great ones that were muggles or muggle born… or half bloods… or maybe it was pure.” She frowns a bit. Actually it’s a combination of them all, “Anyway, I’ve known about magic my whole life and I haven’t got a pence, though I know they’re sort of small round coins–different colors and sizes depending on how many pence the piece is worth-fifty or ten or somesuch.” She kneels, rooting about. “Seems a shame to throw it on the ground, though.”

At this announcement, Persephone stands, taking her parcment with her and looking it over. Oh, riddles. Persephone isn’t all that good at them. However, she is in exceptionally good spirits, so starts nosing around, peeking under tablecloth and chair, in hopes of stumbling across something that fits the clues. “Have you found anything?” she asks a person nearby while looking down into a daisy curiously.

“Oh, a feather, that makes sense,” Fitzcordia admits, nodding and glancing around through the garden, where many people are already starting to look for the things listed in the riddles. “Flighty item, all in gold…” Fitzcordia comes back to, resting her hand on the back of her hood, on top of her head. “Could that be — oh, I’m sure I know — that has to be a snitch!” she decides with sudden inspiration. “Help me look for it! Flicker, you go that way! And I’ll go this way, and you, Marie Jeanette, you can go that way.” Fitzcordia sprints off, skirting around a duo to rustle about near the flowers.

For her part, Marie Jeanette dives straight into a rosebush, peering about for something sparkly. What happens, of course, is that her robes get caught on thorns and her skin gets a bit scratched up, and her hood eventually just falls off her head – <3 KP & RD <3, indeed, the things people write on their masks – so her copper hair gets tangled as well, but she’s quite certain that there’s something to find in here, somewhere. Somewhere. Come on, sparkly things…

Psyche nods thoughtfully, then also goes to ground to search for one of these coins. “So we’re looking for money, then. Hmm. Do you think we get to keep them if we find them?” She considers this a moment, then industriously turns to her search. So much for prissy and feminine, which was the impression she was trying to go for with that mask. “In the meantime, I’m not sure about the pearl part but the thorn-kepy beauty absolutely has to be a rose. A white one, maybe? Are Muggle relatives fun to have?” She’s just curious.

Not noticing Marie Jeanette’s adornment on her forehead, Fitzcordia crawls about, looking for a snitch. Where-oh-where could it be hiding? Then — she sees it! Up in the air, hovering just above a plant nearby, she reaches out to grab it, but it is too quick for her. Picking up her hand, she is amused to find a pence on it. “Hey, Marie Jeanette, is this one of the things on the list?” She asks, running back to her groupmate and holding the pense in her extended hand. “Do you think that’s the muggle pence?”

Marie Jeanette extracts herself from the shrubbery, peering at the extended coin. “It’s called a penny, stupid. Two of them bought you an interlude with a prostitute in Whitechapel. Well, not you personally.” Without offering any further explanation, she shrugs her shoulders lightly and gets lost in the greenery again. “Ow! Stupid plant things! It’s eating my hair, I swear.”

Riamh picks up — “…Has someone lost a marble?” She pockets that, on second thought, and crawls underneath one of the chairs set up by a chess table, hopefully with nobody on it, and then back out again. Pulling herself up, she seeks out Psyche, “I didn’t find anything but a marble, and I’m pretty sure that’s not anything.” She wanders a bit, “It’s regular, I guess. I do love to watch my grandfather tinker with clocks, but sometimes my other grandfather comes back with stories about his job where he’s had to undo really amazing spells that went bad, and that’s good too–say, isn’t one of the clues to climb? There’s a ladder against the tree.”

Psyche tilts her head thoughtfully, looking up from her search. “A marble? What colour is it? Is it white? Tell me it’s white. That’d make it pearl-like, and it’s in the rose garden, which has thorns!” It’s worth a try, anyway. “So you get the best of both worlds, right? I dunno – your clocks are nice.” Ooh, and she’s full of ideas right now. “Are any of them silver–ladder? Where? Ooooh. You want to climb and search, or should I?”

Yes, there is no doubting with whom Fitzcordia is trying to work. Fitzcordia doesn’t deign to respond to the comments about hookers or calling her stupid. No, instead, Fitzcordia slips the pence into her pocket and stands up straight. Now, for the snitch! She glances up at the sky, not seeing it to start, but she does recall the brooms. Yes, Flicker had pointed them out in the start! She glances around. No, nobody else at the brooms just now. She quickly runs over to the line of brooms and demands that one of them come UP! Her voice is so forceful that more than one rises, and she gets onto it, bucking a little uncertainly as she flies on an unfamiliar broom.

Stalking Lioness tries searching for a bit, but sighs as she enjoys watching the others hunt through the gardens. She just doesn’t feel like hunting for everything right now. She finds her seat back at the table and watches everyone participate. At one point she gets up to check out the other games set out, but then returns to her seat to continue watching and see who wins.

Bengale Tiger swings so slightly it’s more like rocking back and forth, waiting for people to come forth with their finds. A genuine smile surfaces as Fitzcordia takes to the skies and the partnership of Psyche/Riamh explores the possiblity of climbing. That was more like it, doing things in a trickier way. “Poor Marie, I hope she finds it for her trouble,” murmurs the woman aloud, which like as not sets several more people digging through the thorn-laden busehs. The fairies within them squeal in their high pitched voices, and some seek shelter in the branches of the oak or atop arches.

“AHA!” Marie Jeanette‘s voice can be heard from amidst the shrubbery, and she eventually removes herself from the bushes, a pearl held between her fingers. Admittedly, her hands are all scratched up and her hair looks like a bird’s next, but she has the pearl. “I found it, Fitz!” She cries out, seeking the girl with wide eyes. “Oh, right. Oh, well, what else can I find?” She relocates her parchment, peering at each item in turn. “A silver circle… who would be stupid enough to leave one of those in the garden?” She offers out loud, almost in horror. “What happens if no one finds it? It’d get ruined?! I better find it quick.”

Riamh is halfway up the ladder before Psyche has the full question out, and calls, “I think I will! I’ve practice.” This is said in a very self-assured voice as she clambers out onto the branch. “None of my clocks are silver, no!” she shouts back down, carefully pulling herself up to height–”What does the parchment say is up here? It’s really dark, there’s no lamps or anything.”

Psyche unrolls her sheet, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. “Dark? Hm. It’s ‘one missing Queen’ you’re looking for. Which makes absolutely no sense to me, I’m afraid. Umm… maybe just feel around and see what you touch?” This is called loudly enough, but having caught one of the other people getting on a broom, her sister in some bushes, and such she figures secrecy isn’t worth it. Instead, then, she returns to searching for a penny, though now around the base of the tree. And, eventually… “I found a coin, Riamh! When you get down you’ve gotta tell me if it’s right?”

Fitzcordia is not a seeker, and she isn’t used to being in the air trying to spot the little golden thing, especially on a broom that she isn’t used to flying. The flight is a bit rough and she bucks around a bit, having apparently gotten an ornery broom. “That’s goooood, Marie!” she calls, and holds onto the broom tightly, crossing her ankles, in hopes that it will better keep her on the broom. “C’mon, broom, c’mon,” she says to the bucking broom, trying to steady herself so that she can spot the flying golden orb, which she has only spotted once, and not yet since.

Eyes downturned, Marie Jeanette inspects the ground for some hint of a pocketwatch on the ground, any kind of hint of where it could be, and as a result she doesn’t notice where she’s going and actually walks right into the gate. Oh. Handy. This is the first time she looks up, and she seems entirely surprised for a moment – then, victorious, she grabs at the feather and jumps up eagerly, clapping her hands together joyfully. “I found another one! Aren’t I excellent!”

Riamh fishes about, sticking her hand in a spider web, which she shakes off nonchalantly, a squirrel hole (there’s a bit of angry chittering and shouting as Riamh pulls herself to a different branch), and finally a bird’s nest. It being December, however, the nest is empty–except for a few shells and a white marble queen, who says, “Oh, good show my dear, but shouldn’t you have gotten a Knight to climb this tree for you?” Silly chess pieces and their one-track minds. Knowing better, Riamh still responds, “I’m Knight enough, thank you.” which gets no return response. Down she clambers, holding the little Queen aloft. “Look, Psyche!–oh, that is one. I think it’s a 10.”

“Good show!” Fitzcordia calls, spotting the snitch again as it hovers near an outer branch. She flies gently towards it, coaxing the broom slowly, slowly, until she’s within arm’s reach, and she snatches at it, missing the first time, but throwing her other hand out and grabbing it, closing her fist around it while throwing her chest at the front of her broom, which bucks a little more and flies down to the ground. She jumps off of it, unsteadily landing and sumbling a bit, but managing to stay on her feet. The stubborn broom flies over to where the other brooms are lined up, and Fitzcordia doesn’t let go of her grip on the snitch. “Look, I got it!” she calls to Marie, beaming.

Psyche whoops loudly, applauding Riamh. “That’s two! Three if we can make the plate fly and convince Bengale that it counts.” She bounces a little on the balls of her feet, and in her enthusiasm her hood falls back most of the way. Oh, well. As long as her sister remains oblivious, she doesn’t mind. “We’re a pretty good team, aren’t we?” And then she spots Fitzcordia, and pouts a little. “A snitch – of course. Ahh, well. A plate it is, for us. Unless you’re good at flying and there’s another one somewhere?” It’s worth a try; somehow she doubts it, though.

“Only two more things left to find, I think!” Marie Jeanette calls out in response, peering down at the ground again and inspecting it for any sign of a pocketwatch. Here, watchy watchy watchy… here, watchy watchy watchy… “Hey,” she calls out after a while, peering about. “How come I have to find everything?” Because two items on the list is now ‘everything’, of course. “Can’t Flicker find something, huh?”

Bengale Tiger bites her lip, holding in a laugh as the searches continue, even as snow begins to fall. It isn’t too late as of yet, though dinner time in the castle is surely long since past.

Riamh hops a bit, “Oh, well, we’ll just have to get a plate to fly, I don’t think there would be more than one of those.” One of her clocks now points to ‘Barely Escaped Mortal Danger’ and the other to ‘Nearing Curfew’. The cuckoo bird hangs a bit forlorn. “We got two, though, and maybe there’s another… is that a feather? Somewhere.”

“I’m looking, too, Marie!” Fitzcordia calls, looking around, still gripping the snitch in her hand. She puts her hand to her nose to scratch it, and is reminded very suddenly of the mask as the whiskers start twitching again. “Oops,” she mutters and smoothes them out, glancing around some more. Silver circle, and missing queen. Hmmm. Just as she stoops to look for something shimmery nearby, which turns out to just be another muggle coin, Flicker begins to shout that he’s found it. “Found what? Oh, look, Marie! Flicker’s found the pocketwatch! What do we need? The missing queen?” Fitzcordia pulls out the parchment and looks over it to see all the riddles.

Still beaming at Riamh, Psyche nodnods. “Got to be worth a try. Umm. Getting the plate to just hover for judging might be good enough? What do you think?” Meanwhile, brushing her dirty hands happily on her robe, she returns to the table to steal a plate, placing the penny on top of it and holding it out to her teammate. “I think the others have more than us…ahh, well. Maybe offer that marble you found, too? Just in case we can get points for effort?”

Bengale Tiger is paying remarkably good attention, and stands up as Flicker finds the pocketwatch. “Okay, everyone, that’s every item that there was only one of accounted for–bring your items to me then, and we’ll announce the winner.” This is largely a formality; she’s been paying enough attention that she knows who has won without checking.

Looking up at the sound of Fitzcordia’s words, Marie Jeanette claps her hands and grins widely – not that it can be seen behind her mask, but she is virtually overflowing with glee. “Oh, oh, Flicker, I could kiss you!” Exactly why such exhuberance is being attached to the finding of a pocket watch is uncertain, but can you name any time this girl has been logical? Glancing over at Bengale, she nods, rifling through her pockets for the items she found. “This is the pearl in the thorns or whatever the clue was, and this is the plume…”

Kiss him? Oh no, that doesn’t make Fitzcordia happy. However, she says nothing, and just makes her way over to Bengale. “Here, I’ve got a snitch and a muggle coin right here.” She pauses a moment, digging deep into her pocket before she locates the object, presenting it for observation as Flicker makes his way back over. “And he’s got a pocket watch.” Fitzcordia looks quite pleased that the five of them had managed to find so many of the needed objects for the scavenger hunt. And imagine, five galleons to split between them! What fun.

Psyche, meanwhile, fairly bounds over to Bengale, proffering coin and…plate. “It flies if you throw it. Not quite as good as their snitch,” she admits, but oh look she’s so hopeful, “but it’s gold. And Riamh has the Queen chess piece. So that’s..two, really. Maybe three.” Or four. Maybe she should put a rose or some dirt on the plate, too, just in case it matches a clue somehow?

Riamh frowns now, but pulls the marble out of her pocket (it’s blue) and presents it with the queen. “Well, here’s the missing queen and a marble is sort of like a pearl.” So is a really round rock. She doesn’t look very hopeful at being a winner, though, what with the others having found five of the six items.

There are a lot of people that would not be happy about Marie Jeanette kissing Flicker, and as such she seems to realise this and does not in fact make any attempt to do it, tempted as she may be. “So, do we win? Huh? How are we going to divide up five galleons? Is it two to me an’ Fitzcordia and one to Flicker, ’cause he only found one and we found too? Or…?”

Bengale Tiger nods, “Well done everyone–although I’m afraid that plate and the marble don’t count. So it’s Fitzcordia, Flicker, and Marie who have earned the prize. Given it’s dividing between three, I’ll thrown in an extra knut, and that 1 Galleon, 11 Sickles, and 10 Knuts a pieces.” This amount is fished out of her robes and held out. “Mind you, I can’t do that in my head, so I’d figured what it was for a duo and for a trio earlier.” What? She’s equal here. Or mostly equal, really. “Now, if Riamh and Psyche would return the missing Queen to her chess set–it’s that one,” Bengale indicates, “You may either play or we can return to the safety of the indoors.”

On notes throughout the castle, eight pointed stars suddenly flash and then darken to a dull grey. If watched, a rather intricate script begins to spell out, “The hour is almost at hand for cloaked figures to seek the stars.”

The text on notes everywhere fades out again, the eight pointed star with it. The papers remain blank a moment, and as clocks and pocket watches throughout the castle read eight fifty-five in the evening, words appear again: Come, or be forever lost to SEA.

Deep as night at the nine oh clock hour is this Hall of the Stars. The tapestries provide the only light, and even then many of the stars are dimmer than usual. Although curfew has not yet been called, something is unnaturally silent, footsteps muted against the floor, any voices reduced to a hush. In the darkness, forms are shadowy, the light cast from faux stars not brilliant enough to reveal detailed shapes and faces.

Keelan Walsh is nestled against a corner of the wall, cloak drawn close about her, hood already up. She practically blends directly into the wall, merely more darkness. Watchful, she waits for more figures to arrive, barely moving save to breathe. No, Professor Walsh won’t say a word for now, but will wait. Yes, she shall wait.

Rhian Brecon comes the stairwell. She had every right to be out and about at this hour, even after curfew, as a Prefect. While she didn’t wish to get anyone in trouble, she was still curious about this whole thing. In her regular school robes, her wand hidden in her robe and the darkest cloak she had, a nice midnight blue around her shoulders, and her hood up, but hiding her face, she comes into the Hall of Stars, seeing if there was anyone else that had arrived before her.

The usually boisterous second year Briony Wexler almost tip-toes into the Hall of the Stars, ready to bolt for the Picture Room should this turn out to be a hoax. She doesn’t dare say anything, but seems to be trying to disappear altogether in her robes as she makes her way into the Hall of Stars, lurking far back from any other people already queued up in the hall. After all, she doesn’t want to get into trouble if this ends up being a bad situation.

Clavicle Gravely comes in wearing a brownish grayish cloak, of deep earth tones. He steps in quietly and looks about with a curious gaze. His near skeletal frame is hard to recognize beneath the fabric.

Marie-Anna Greyton quietly walks in, making little sound or, for that, hardly any appearance as her black, hooded cloak is drawn up her. It is with care that this prefect makes her way into the room. Eyes dart about to see if she can disern who else may have been invited to thise most secret meeting.

Yeegads! It is a dementor! -Not. It is just Landon in an extreme large robe with his good up. The excess fabric hangs like curtains off of his thin frame and some drags behind him as he walks. He seems to have magically altered the front, though so he won’t trip. Who knew the tailor genes would come in handy!? Presently, he is leaning against the wall in his usual nonchalant manner. Or, at least, that’s all one can assume. With his hood pulled as it is, he could be smiling from ear to ear and nobody would know. That would never happen, though.

Walking almost on tiptoe, Aisling O‘Cormac endevours to make no sound as she enters the room, her ploy somewhat ruined by the slight rustling her robes and cloak make. Glancing around, she drifts over to one of the walls, trying to make herself even smaller than she already is, and attempting to fade into the wall itself.

Scurrying through the hallway and pushing into the shadows, a small form in school robes and a plain hooded cloak catches its breath. Stealing as silently as possible to the meeting place, Astra is dressed like every other student, her hood pulled over her hair to hide her face. Grinning to herself in a mischievous fashion, she’s out for a bit of fun tonight and hopefully no one will recognize her immediately for who she really is.

A lofty form sheltered in a thick black cloak that is just barely too small for her, Clementine Duncan enters the Hall of Stars. The almost deafening silence of the place and the girl’s incredibly desire not to disturb it forces out a raspy little cough. “Sorry.” She excuses herself in a whisper, moving against the wall as well. The tall third year smiles nervously, but no one can see that ideally.

Cloak on, hood up and hanging over his face, Evan Geroff is in that way a copy of every other person showing up tonight. He says nothing, arriving as silently as possible, curious excitement hidden by the same dark that hides his eyes and the hood under which a grin might just be made out, if the dim light managed to hit it. Upon spotting the collection of shadowed shapes, he turns back partway, one hand spread out toward the group as bobs his head to a second figure with him.

“We’ll get into trouble,” the girl hisses quietly, instantly regretting having said anything, given the silence that is resounding in the area. She instantly silences herself, hanging just outside of the group that is gathering, though not so far as to stand against the wall as some people appear to be doing. While she doesn’t voice this, Olivia finds herself wondering very strongly what it is that she’s been dragged here for.

Lyre King purposefully flows into the room. His raven black robes curl behind him on the barest of breezes, showing how fine the silky material is. He adjusts his hood to hide his dark eyes, which he scans the room with. He takes note that there are two adults in the room. He breathes a sigh of relief, assured that he will not get in trouble for being here.

Cloaked and hooded, Martin Foster pads into the room–each step purposefully silent. He peers about the room in continued silence at the students in attendance–all dressed like himself. He raises his index finger to his lips as if to prevent himself (or somebody else?) from speaking. Curiously, the Head Boy’s eyebrows furrow as he crosses his arms comfortably over his chest.

Keelan Walsh steps forward from her corner, not lowering her hood. Eyes well adjusted to the dim light of the room, but she is no better at discerning hooded faces in nearly complete darkness than most are. “I suppose,” she begins quietly, “I should first explain why you have all been invited.” It’s not really a question, and Keelan pushes her glasses up her nose. “It is to teach, yes, but not a subject commonly taught within the walls of our fine school. Not, in my opinion, studied enough either. No, not lectures or in all liklihood books, although they make have their place. I wish also to learn.” She stops, and her tone changes, “How many of you know of the secret passage ways of our school? How many have been into the Forbidden Forest or dared dream of the secrets concealed within these very walls?” Her voice hushes, though she still sounds very grave, “How many of you are aware of the world outside this school? How many… have even read a novel? Fiction, not facts, dates, figures.” Her tone brightens by a small degree, “I mean to teach the art of adventure, as I myself learned it right here in Hogwarts.”

Rhian Brecon turns as she notices someone moving other than the students who showed up, and starts speaking. She knows that voice… and it’s not the voice of a child either. One of the professors? Teaching them the art of adventure? This will be interesting. She says nothing though, not invited to speak, nor apparently the desire to reveal herself since the purpose of all this was to remain hidden from the others, and professor.

Listening quietly to the Professor, Aisling brightens a bit at the mention of adventure, and at the query regarding books. Having read anything she could get her hands on, she has read a few novels in her time, often wishing that her life could be adventurous as that of those in the novels. Still silent, she turns so that she has a good view of the speaking figure, and also of many of the others in the room. Well – as good as a view as the dim light provides.

Clavicle Gravely tilts his head and listens. His eyes narrow a touch as he tries to place the voice. He’s not sure if it’s a seventh year or a teacher. But he nods. Beneath his hood he had the forethought to wear a mask, a carnival mask of a Coyote. As his head raises, the snout emerges from the shadow.He answers “Laughing Coyote Agrees.”

Evan Geroff shakes his head at Olivia, exaggerated a bit so she has some hope of seeing it. Leaning over, in a whisper to barely reach his own ears, he whispers, “We won’t. We’ll just take a look..” Even the whisper stops as Keelan begins to speak. He has moved no closer to the group than Olivia, staying at her side, but he looks over toward the center once before looking back at her and grinning. “See?” Despite the whisper his voice remains in, the word comes out too quickly to be anything but pleased with the beginnings of the night. Keelan may not completely have to teach him adventure, but that’s no reason not to remain and enjoy some of it. And he hasn’t been in some of those places.

Not daring to speak for fear of blowing her cover, Astra hunkers down in her cloak and makes sure the hood is well pulled up to obscure her features. Standing on tiptoes, she hangs back far enough to scamper off again if she doesn’t feel comfortable, but right now, she’s just grinning from ear to ear. Excited and amused, she raises a hand to her mouth and lowers her head to suppress a laugh, whether from nervousness or something else she does not share.

“Adventure!” Briony hisses, noticably excited at the idea. Somoene who sounds like an adult is telling her that she’s going to learn to embrace adventures. The girl claps her hand over her mouth quickly, though, noticing how quiet the hall still is. Learn to keep your mouth shut, Briony! Looking around finally at the group happily, Briony‘s face, were it more visible to her peers, would be a bright and excited one. She can hardly wait. And she who always loved finding adventures!

Marie-Anna Greyton ponders the questions quietly, but she dares not break the silence. Therefore the prefect stands stationary, hidden by cloak and hood.

Eyebrows still furrowed, Martin Foster shifts slightly as Keelan speaks. The professor’s voice is familiar, but the Head Boy can’t place it. He continues to have his arms crossed. Adventure? A little unconventional, but interesting none the less. Biting his lower lip, he continues to stare at the speaking hooded figure, skeptical about the whole affair.

“Adventures?” Olivia whispers dubiously, trying to see over a particularly tall person in front of her, trying to find out why it is she recognizes that voice. She is certain that it will become clear soon, who it is exactly, and that it will make her feel more at ease. The silence which all of those gathered are employign unnerves her a bit and she takes a step behind Evan, just a bit, not feeling entirely at ease.

Thankfully, her own hood is large enough to keep Clementine‘s large snout concealed. She stays quiet as Keelan begins her introduction and continues through it, unconsciously taking a few nervous steps back towards the wall. She doesn’t pay much attention to whether or not there is anyone there already.

The person speaks and Landon doesn’t move an inch. As those who know him probably know, his eyes moved toward the person but nothing else. If anyone was low enough to see up his hood, they would see his eyebrow arch upwards, but he doesn’t speak. When a few people around him start to close in, Landon pushes off of the wall with the foot he was leaning on, and he slides towards everyone else in one, silent, fluid motion.

Lyre‘s grin looks almost like a sneer, though it isn’t his fault. He is practically shaking with excitement at the idea of knowing all of the secrets of the castle.

Clavicle says, “Laughing Coyote wants these secrets you speak of. What must we do to earn them?” he asks…speaking in a gruff voice in an attempt to disguise himself. “We’re quite interested indeed.”"

Keelan Walsh responds with what is if not delight than a tremor of excitement(a quality which her students are not likely to recognize when not raving about plants), “Laughing Coyote, I see you have chosen a name… you must, however, have patience.” Her lips tug into a smile, “Nothing we will have to do, of course.” She moves her hand a bit and the stars subtly begin to brighten, though they do not cast much light even when they are at full force. Her full height is visible, rare enough in a female, “However, yes, adventure. After all, you were invited to the Society for Exploration and Adventure. It will be, I assure you, more than a simple title. However… to become a true member, you must all swear to secrecy. It would not do for certain individuals to discover what we will be up to.” She pronounces this as though she has people in mind as the enemies of adventure. As the room reaches it’s normal level of light, Keelan observes, at the least, the sizes of the people here. “First we have to decide–do we see each other, or do we not?” Her hood remains up, although it’s unlikely that there are any other five-foot-eleven glasses wearing persons with that particular tone of voice. “There is a certain appeal to some amount of anonymity, but this is a society, not a classroom. Come on, I want to hear opinions–and why!” Another smile, just barely visible.

Aisling O‘Cormac looks towards the voice. “Anonymity ensures that no one can tell on us, because they don’t know who we are.” She offers quietly. “But on the other hand, for a society, especially for adventure, we need to have at least a degree of trust in each other – and would we, not knowing anything about the next person?” Having said this, the young girl looks at her feet, turning over the options in her mind, wondering what the others think.

Rhian Brecon clears her throat a bit then speaks up, but changing her voice slightly so it might not be recongized. “I say we do, so that if messages must be passed, we know who we can give them to, and who we cannot. But what if we each know about two others in the society, then we cannot reveal everyone.”

Clavicle says, “Laughing Coyote says there is truth in anonymity. In that truth, one is allowed freedom behind a mask one is not allowed face to face. It allows one to be free of the consequences of that truth. Laughing Coyote advises secrecy. ” the Coyote snout bobs as it’s wearer speaks in the gruff voice. “Laughing Coyote thinks we should take on names. So we have a life of two faces, one here and one the teachers know. Laughing Coyote sees truth in this, and hopes you do as well.”"

Marie-Anna Greyton nods quietly. “Perhaps we each only know one or two people, no two people knowing the same person. For example Person A knows Person B and C, person B knows A and D, C knows B and E…” she offers in a quiet manner. “Or, perhaps, we stick with the method in which we where invited here… only the host know who the members are…” is given in a quiet tone.

Speaking is not something Astra is willing to do and so she keeps her mouth firmly shut, lifting her head as she listens to the students and their opinions about secrecy. Tugging at her hood, she then drops her hand away and slips back a step to stand off to one side.

“Don’t worry,” Evan whispers back to Olivia, one hand moving in the darkness to fold behind his back instead of hang at his side, though he does no more with it. “It’ll be fun.. and you won’t be forced into anything, I promise.” At the question, he glances back toward the center, calling out quietly yet much above the whisper he’s been using, “See. After swearing the oath. At least,” he picks up on Marie-Anna’s idea, “some other people, for safety.”

Like Astra, Martin says nothing. He’s still not entirely sure what to think of this entire affair, and feels no need to offer an opinion at this time. Shrugging his shoulders, the Head Boy sinks further into his hood. He frowns at Clavicle’s alternative name suggestion, and after clearing his throat, breaks his own silence, “Knowing only a few other people adds to the mystery.”

Clavicle says, “Laughing Coyote Sees the wisdom in that one’s way. She advises what is known as a insurgent cell structure. If captured no one can reveal the entire cell membership. Laughing Coyote thinks that person is wise.” He smiles “An enchanted scroll could be made…that by putting our mark, the maker would be hexed for revealing secrets.” ”

Eyes dart from person to person as they speak. Landon, however says nothing. It isn’t that he’s worried about remaining anonymous, he just doesn’t feel like talking, which is frequently the case. He straightens up, slightly, though, as he peers around at the other occupants of the room. The large robes will conceal his identity, though, standing straight up, or crouched down, he still won’t look like much more than an heap of fabric.

Clavicle Gravely points to the hooded figure who spoke of knowing only one or two names

Clementine Duncan continues to stay quiet, nodding along with those whom she agrees with and not with those she doesn’t. Of course, it isn’t very clear whether or not she is for or against secrecy. She keeps speaking to a minimum, as she would in class, really. The idea of picking names does appeal to her, even a little more then the idea of adventuring. She’s torn, and so, can’t speak out for herself. Secrecy is important. Someone should know who the members are, though. After Marie-Anna’s explanation and Laughing Coyote’s agreement, Clementine points to the hooded figure as well.

Gingerly, Olivia spies Evan’s hand and grasps onto it, feeling a bit of relief as she gives his hand a tight squeeze, perhaps a little harder than necessary. “Shouldn’t we know one another. Aren’t societies for comradery as well as their function?” Olivia speaks up, an unusual demonstration for the Hufflepuff girl. She steps back out from behind Evan and glance around, trying to discern the faces of those around her. All the hoods up make it difficult, as well as her own limited peripheral vision due to her own hood. “But we don’t have to–” she adds slowly, as if stating the desire for a bit less secrecy within would oust her from the group before she even found out just what kinds of things they would be finding out.

“Maybe we should have code names, like what he’s got!” Briony pipes up, perhaps a bit loudly. “And then we only call each other by them when we’re talking about matters here.” The girl beams at the idea and tries to make her way forward a bit, though she can’t make out anybody’s face at all, regardless of how she tries. It is simply too dark in the hall. The quiet atmosphere seems to have subsided just a bit as many of the folks present voice their opinions.

“Excellent points, one and all. Although…” Keelan pauses, musing it over for herself. “There is merit to taking on alter egos, though I would rather, I admit, it be knowing everyone or knowing noone. I… doubt there will be any matter of danger, as far as that is involved.” She looks at the figure in the mask, easier to pick out now than before, “I assure you that I have every intention of keeping this quite seperate from schoolwork.” Another twitchy smile, and she adjusts her glasses again, “Perhaps masks for us all, and code names? Then,” she smiles warmly, if only dimly visible, toward Olivia, “we may have a semblence of the comraderie so vital to a society, and retain our daily identities as well.” It doesn’t sound like a descision, and she looks about the room again. Somewhat accusatory comes, “Not all of you have spoken.”

Rhian Brecon has already spoken her opinion of what could be done, so now remains silent to see what others think of.

Marie-Anna Greyton remains silent, along with Rhian, seeing as she has already had her say.

Martin Foster is quite proud of his speaking now (he would have rather not spoken altogether). His lips curl into a small smirk behind his cloak. Oh the excitement!

Evan Geroff sqeezes back, only gently, as Olivia takes his hand, then holds on gently as well. “If it’s everything or none,” Evan pauses, voice pitched to address the group again, clarifying his opinion though he did speak before, “I’d rather know people. Names will be put to every-day faces eventually anyway, as we get to know each other here.”

Backing up another step, the would-be student looks to her right and then to her left, as if seeking out some sort of support from the few others who have said nothing. Shrugging her shoulders, Astra then chooses someone taller and close by, settling on one of the many hooded students. The person’s she’s randomly chosen is Martin, but she still is not aware of that fact and so tries to slink behind him or at least closer to him.

Clavicle Gravely watches Astra now…as the ‘student’ begins slinking about. “Laughing Coyote thinks some are frightened now. And before anything else is said, those who have had second thoughts should be allowed to leave. After they have left, Laughing Coyote thinks we should move as well, before the head mistress comes.”

Clementine Duncan retracted her pointing hand soon after jutting it out, but takes a hesitant step away from the wall, “I think it’ad be be’er if we all started off on an equal playin’ feild persay. If we were to know who eachother truly were. It might ruin that. Biases ..such ‘s class rankings… prefects and whatnot.” She thinks sadly to herself that she’s going to end up having to have some type of bird-mask, what with her nose. Her long arms cross tightly under her cloak. Behind her hood, she blushes hard, not having really paid enough attention to what she just said.

Stepping even closer, looking about as people begin to pipe up even more. “Doesn’t being here obliterate the biases? We were all of us invited, after all,” Olivia states in response to her classmate, though she doesn’t realise that she knows the female voice speaking. She pays little attention to those inching about, as if trying to get out, more interested in hearing what everyone has to say and how the gathering will form.

Clementine Duncan turns to Olivia, “Not entirely.” She motions to the hooded figure who is obviously the leader of this outfit to them at least, “But there are other biases, then that…” Her voice implies that she’s almost hurt that anyone disagreed with her, “You and I could hate eachother, you know, and right now we have no idea.”

Lyre King speaks up against Olivia’s statement. “Some people are unable to rise above their faults. These people will find something to pick at in their fellows, regardless of what honors have been placed on them. I say anonymity is key. Not knowing who could counter you also makes the misuse of whatever we learn here.. Dangerous.”

Clavicle says, “Hoka-Hey. Laughing Coyote sees truth in Anonymity.”"

“They should learn to overcome that,” Briony retorts, shaking her head. “But can’t we still have secret names? It would be so brilliant. And if we’re going to go on adventures with one another, I would certainly want to know who with so we can talk about it later,” she giggles a bit, then stifles herself. “Well, in private, of course. When you’re sure nobody else can discover the conversation. After all, secrecy.”

Clementine Duncan claps, hissing excitedly, “Oh! Oh, I do want a secret name. And a mask!”

Keelan Walsh waves a hand, “She won’t bother us, I’m sure.” Either by request or distraction, Keelan certainly had to the foresight to secure the area, “Even if she did, I am here. I’m sure you have all realized by now that I am a Professor?” A soft smirk, and then a softer sigh, “If anyone cares to leave, they should do so. Should you wish to return to us at a later date, you need just arrive.” Keelan waits, then, before continuing, “For now, as some of you seem concerned, let us don masks. A bit of a spell ought to do the trick–hmm, though it may be tricky for some of you. Think of something… interesting, and if you can’t make a mask, have someone help. You can all trust each other enough to help with this?” Her wand is flourished and the spell, “Cero personatus!” said. For Keelan, it is a crude wooden thing in the vague shape of a tiger, black paint striping across it. The mask materializes in the air in front of her and she has to catch it before it falls. Putting it on carefully so as to not disturb her hood, she still has to tie it on over the hood. This looks a touch silly, but oh well.

Clavicle Gravely pulls out his wand. And he attempts the spell. But not being an expert yet, His crude wooden thing looks like half spider, half coyote, half raven, and an odd resemblance to Astra Rathe in the chin. Now how did that happen. “Err.. Laughing Coyote…says Oops.”

Marie-Anna Greyton nods a little bit before pulling her wand out from her cloak. The same words used by Keelan are used by her as well, resulting in her own crude wooden mask. This mask is rather simple, in manner, simply that of a lioness.

Rhian Brecon nods as she listens to this and she casts herself a mask on her face. It’s an elegant thing, one that she wore years ago to a Holloween festival that was designed by her boyfriend when they first met. It displays a lioness’s face, but with appropriate eyeholes and doesn’t have a lower job so they could see Rhian‘s jaw move as she speaks. With the mask, she lowers her hood, glad to get that off her head.

“Cero personatus,” Olivia chants with her wand in hand, and a bland, rounded mask appears in her hand, with no eyeholes. “Hmm. That can’t be quite right. What did I do wrong?” she whispers to Evan, releasing her hand from his to examine the mask more closely. “Can we do it again if it doesn’t work quite right?” Olivia asks, disgust becoming more apparent with her failed first attempt at the mask. Charms are not her forte.

Clementine Duncan pulls out her wand, motioing with it but stopping short of attempting the spell. She hesitates before actually going through with it, “Cero personatus.” She squeaks, summoning up a puff of thin yellow feathers that fall right through her fingers, which were expecting a mask to fall into them. A bird mask, preferably. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at things like this…” She admits sheepishly, gulping, “Could someone maybe just make one for me?”

Evan Geroff slips his wand out of his pocket, pausing before raising what would usually be his off hand. Just as if in class, he practices the motion he saw Keelan use once, and the second time through repeats the spell. The mask he catches doesn’t quite resemble any animal in particular. It has ears that stick up, large round eyes, some sort of tuft over the chin, possibly a whisker or two unless those are just freckles, and the color in spots varies from yellow to orange to dark brown and green. “Hmm.” He looks at it for a moment, then over to Olivia. “I’ll be re-doing mine when this is over tonight. But you might want to see still. Don’t worry about the look for now, just concentrate on the eyes…?” It’s a possibility, anyway. And they can sit around together redoing both until they look right. Fun, neh? Olivia having released his hand does allow him to tie his mask on as he whispers to her, which he does.

With a flip of his wand, Landon breathes the spell out almost without speaking at all. IN his hand appears a simple, black mask. Rounded on top, but it covers the nose and cheek bones. Only the chin, mouth, and lower jaw are visible. Landon then proceeds to reach up his hood and fix the mask over his face. Once it is in place he pulls the hood back just enough so he can peer about properly, but not even so much as a blonde hair is visible.

Clavicle Gravely goes to grab the mask…but it scurries off to a corner. “Er… Double oops?”

Hovering behind the student she’s decided to stand behind, the ‘student’ heaves a very soft sigh at not having to speak. Listening quietly, she turns and draws out her wand, casting under her breath as murmurs the words. An additional spell ripples its power within the inner part that would cover her face. Slowly and methodically she works. While not as fast as some of the students, eventually Astra turns around donning her mask. Her chosen form is that of a mongoose.

Lyre King lifts his wand and calls out the spell in a clear voice. “Cero Personatus!” a thin, smooth mask settles in his hand, the barest shape of a face visible, like a half carved statue. In yellow paint, a broad four pointed star is painted on his left eye, while a huge red gash is painted across the mouth area, like an ancient greek comedy mask. Lyre slips the mask easily under his hood, and it hangs there as if by magic.

Keelan Walsh actually laughs slightly, “Yes, you can of course try it again if it is…” here she puts out down a foot to stop Clavicle’s oddly mobile mask. Crunch. “Unsatifactory. Just make sure to tap the old one with your wand to destroy it.” She bends, briefly, to scoop up the mess Clavicle made, and gives it a sharp rap, and it vanishes. “Laughing Coyote, you have a mask already,” she reminds him gently. Surveying the group through her tiger-mask eyes, she says, almost to herself, “We’ll need names.”

Marie-Anna Greyton ponders potential names, looking at the now masked students through the slitted lion eyes. The girl waits for inspiration to strike her as she glances around.

Performing the spell with surprising success — well, it at least resembles a mask shape, eye holes, stopping over the nose, plenty of space for her mouth to move, something very important for Briony. The mask she has conjured is a dark gray, and has whisker-like hairs pointing up all over it and ears rather shaped like a cat’s. Perhaps the mask is a bit heavy on the whiskers and light on any other resemblance for a cat. The odd mask suits Briony just fine, however, and she fixes the mask to her face and stands for a moment, attempting to think of a name for herself.

Clavicle says, “Laughing Coyote’s mask wants a mask too.” he settles back against the wall and grins a touch. The trickster part a role he is adopting far too well.”

Clementine Duncan wrinkles up her nose, trying the spell again deciding that her originaly vision was far too complicated. It’s after her third attempt that she gets her mask. As she slips it over her face, it’s no animal that she slides over her face, but a plant. A long wooden branch stems out for her nose with smaller twigs, knots, and knobs here and there. Clementine is now… a tree. She doesn’t push back her hood all the way, for fear that her wild hair might just really give her away.

Olivia Baxtor taps her first attempts at a mask and it vanishes quickly. She repeats the incantation and this time, the mask more closely resembles an actual mask. It is a half mask in an emerald green color, and this time has eye holes. She smiles a bit and holds it out, “Much better.” It is a decree rather than a statement and she fixes the mask to her face, glancing around as everyone else manages masks. “What name are you going to use?” she asks Evan quietly, being careful not to use his name, lest she give his identity away.

Rhian Brecon thinks to herself and tries to come up with a name. She knows that she is wearing a lioness’s face and so thinks she might use that to start a name. “Stalking Lioness?” she looks to the person next to her to see if that would be an appropriate name.

Clavicle Gravely does a small turn and walks about looking at the different masks. His mask is a rather realistic looking Coyote mask, Bought at a Carnival most likely. “Laughing Coyote is how I am known. ”

Landon thinks. . . He will have to think of something later. Right this very moment, he just stands, looking snazzy in his mask. He’s bad with thinking up things on the spot, and he doesn’t want to have to live with some stupid name because he just up and spit one out without putting any thought into it.

“Preferable to my rainbow colored cat-owl, I’m sure.” Evan smiles at Olivia, then glances down for a moment in thought. “I don’t know; something to do with a sphinx, perhaps. Do you have a name in mind?”

Clavicle says, “Think thank thunk, A coyote in a trunk, he runs around, adventure bound, until his tail is sunk.”"

“I think I’ll be … Fitzcordia,” the girl announces, rather proud at thinking of such a name. Briony beams as others finish their masks and fix them to their faces. “I wonder if we’ll be able to go on any adventures tonight. What happens if we’re late for curfew?” She doesn’t sound overly concerned as she voices these statements, but rather admires the few masks she is able to see. The girl is forced to push back her hood just a bit, to allow the whiskers on her mask to protrude up as they are wont to do.

“I haven’t thought of one yet,” Olivia responds, looking over Evan’s mask curiously and thinking of what names she could pick. “Maybe… maybe I could use…” Her voice trails off and she puts a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “How does Nanaea sound? I think I read it in a History book sometime. It’s kind of pretty, don’t you think?” The girl looks to her friend, pondering on her name suggestion and then voicing another. “No, Persephone. That’s very regal.” She gives a closed-mouth smile, having more or less decided on this name.

Sifting through her memory, Astra latches upon a name from her childhood. Speaking through her mask, her voice is warped and fractured, but still clearly understandable. Either the spell that created her mask is broken in some way or she’s added something to it to do precisely this, hide her voice as well as her face. “Rawhead and Bloody Bones,” scouring the legends and nightmares of childish boogeymen, “Rawhead am I.”

Clavicle Gravely ‘s attention suddenly turns at the Bloody Bones reference. His hand rubs at the snout a bit thoughtfully. A cousin here? Impossible.

Clementine Duncan looks to Rhian, nodding to the other girl’s choice of codename, “I can’t think of anything good…” She peers around through the eye-holes of her mask at the others, “I suppose… Hmm.” She turns back to the other girl, “I’m the Wand Tree.” She giggles a little.

Keelan Walsh ponders for a long moment, seemingly oblivous to the relative chaos as people chose masks and names. “Alright! Does everyone have a mask on, then?” Waiting for the murmur of assent, she presents a simple spell-”Lumos!” However, this seems to be the key to getting a proper amount of lighting, as the light flickers from the end of her wand to an overhead setting of the moon. Odd, that’s not a normal feature of this room. Still, suddenly the shadowy students take a more solid form, and masks are thrown into compartively bright moonlight. “I do believe it’s time to introduce ourselves. I am known as Bengale.” No kidding.

Evan Geroff nods once to her decision. “Persephone. I like it.” He stops, back to his own thoughts, whispering to her off and on as he goes. “I just don’t know what to place with ‘Sphinx..’” “Towering, Mighty.. Orange.. Turquiose?..” His whispering trails off as Keelan draws the group together again, with a final murmur to Olivia, “Perhaps that will be good enough.” He’ll wait to actually introduce himself, give him another minute at least to be sure.

Rhian Brecon nods as she finally sees everyone in full light as much as she can at least witht he masks. Her’s is starting to get annoying, but she’ll live with it. “I am Stalking Lioness, or Lioness for short…” She looks around when it comes to her turn to introducing herself.

Keelan Walsh adds, “If we’re late for curfew, I expect you’ll do your best to avoid detection,” with a smirk.

“What about just Turquoise?” the girl suggests quickly before Keelan speaks. She watches with interest, and before very long, it’s her own turn. “I’m Persephone,” she states rather quietly, then glances around at others as they begin to share their names. Almost as if it’s a reaction, she reaches towards Evan’s hand, still slightly nervous as she hears someone’s voice, which has clearly been altered, and which sounds rather frightening. Or perhaps it is just that Olivia is easily frightened.

Clavicle says, “And that would be a secret passage?” he asks. As he tilts his head out, and aer pokes out to listen toward the woman. “Is that something we see tonight?”

Lyre King thinks quietly for a moment, pondering the image presented by his mask. “I suppose… The Harlequin Jack will do. I am Jack Harlequin.” His mask has an eerie, puppetlike smile, and strangely fits this title.

Landon decides that he doesn’t want just eh plain black mask so he taps the side of it and the sides instantly flair out, becoming leaf-like, and the mask turns a vibrant shade of leaf-green. His forehead, nose, and the upper part of his cheeks are covered, but his mouth is free for speaking. The bright green tones of the mask seem to be reflected in Landon‘s pale skin, though because his chin, lower cheeks, and jaw pick it up, disguising his skin tone. A slight smile graces his features. A slightly mischievous one, too. It is gone as quickly as it appeared, though. He has decided on the name Puck! After the adventurous forest spirit! When it is his turn to speak, he does for the first time, but he doesn’t say much. He points to himself and says “Puck.”

Now that there is enough light to see by, Astra takes in the sight of the students. She too is dressed in the plain black school robes of a student and a hooded cloak of the same shade. Poking out from under the hood, her mongoose mask is quite visible and she turns her head to look over those assembled. “I am Rawhead.” As before, her voice is warped by magic but the words are unmistakable.

Clementine Duncan toys with the rims of her hood, as if torn still on whether or not to remove it. “I’m the Wand Tree.” She introduces herself with a light curtsey. She crosses her arms once more, keeping her hood up over her massive hair.

Marie-Anna Greyton is of the same thought as Landon is about her mask. Before the light comes out she quietly disperses of her current mask before repeating the motion to create a new mask, which turns out to be similar in appearance to that of a mermaid, with feathers for hair floating in water. “I am Aquarius,” she introduces, hood still slightly pulled over her head, covering her hair.

Evan Geroff hesitates, taking one last second to think before announcing his name after Olivia does hers. “I’m Turquiose the Sphinx,” he states, not quite willing to give that up and just be a color, “but will response simply to Turquoise.” And he’s prepared for everyone to just forget the Sphinx part. It’s for his own benefit only. As Olivia reaches he slips his hand back around hers, offering another quick squeeze simply to say “hello again” as any smile at her would be effectively hidden by his rainbow cat-owl mask. He will have to redo it.

“Call me Fitzcordia, please,” Briony announces with a giggle and then stifles herself with a cough, attempting to appear serious as many of the others are. She watches with interest as the others announce their chosen ‘code names’. Briony is having a very difficult time disguising her sheer excitement at the whole thing. Secret names, masks and adventures? It pretty much has made the Gryffindor’s year.

Kelly Pantall seems to be quietly dwelling near the fringes of the group, expression hidden behind her generic mask – her emotions, however, are clearly expressed by her abrupt movements, turning often to peer over her shoulder with an uncharacteristic edginess. Of course, if they’re endeavoring to be anonymous, being uncharacteristic is probably a good start. When she speaks, however, it is with a loud and clear tone. “…I’m Marie Jeanette.” Something seems to be nagging at her for a moment, and she can’t help but offer further explanation. “You know, like that Ripper victim. She was the most interesting.” Because talking about Jack the Ripper is really anonymous. Yay, she wins.

Bengale nods as each of the masked figures speaks, a smile just barely visible through the mouth of her mask. “Tonight we shall not discover any secret passage ways… first I need to know that I can trust you, one and all. In my past,” she gestures with her hands, “a grand secret was lost forever because formarly trustworthy persons let it out to too many people…” It almost seems as if the mask itself grimaces. “A secret is no longer a secret if the world finds out.” She shakes her head, suddenly grim again.

Marie Jeanette widens her eyes noticeably behind the thin slits offered by her generic pale mask before looking down at the ground, slipping back even further, trying to avoid notice. She gently nudges whoever happens to be closest to her, leaning across and whispering quietly, “So, that means we can tell a couple of people, right? I mean, what if someone asks? It doesn’t count as me telling if someone asks, right?”

Aquarius happens to be not too far from Marie Jeanette. “No,” she hisses. “You tell no one, even if someone asks. Not even if you suspect them to be a member,” is stated before she turns to Bengale and nods a little, listening again.

“Should we take an oath?” the girl suggests, looking around with slowly adjusting eyes at all the masks. She has ideas that she might recognize a few of the people present, but lest she break secrecy, she doesn’t mention anything, standing close to Evan, and trying to stay away from the person with the rather sounding voice. “Maybe one of those promises that you can’t break?” Persephone looks to the person in charge, Bengale, hopefully.

Bengale raises her eyebrows behind her mask, “Aquarius is right, Marie, the S.E.A,” Bengale is not about to be saying ‘sea’ all of the time as though they were marine oriented, “is a secret society. If inquiries are made by anyone–even Professors– make up a story about a knitting club, Gobstones club, study group… something everyday.” She looks at Persephone, “Ah… an unbreakable vow is a bit steep–” not to mention rather over Keelan’s head, “However, an oath?” She looks around, and this time her mask does change expression. Can a tiger look inquisitive? It certainly tries, “What does everyone think?” She’s trying very hard not to be in charge.

“Not an Unbreakable Vow!” Marie Jeanette shrieks, eyes widening even further, jumping back from Persephone in whichever direction she can. “What happens if you try real hard to keep it a secret, but you just can’t, and you die? That would be horrible. I don’t want to die.” Her eyes seek out someone who will comfort her, assure her that she’s not going to die, though her panic is considerable and she doesn’t look like she can easily be reassured. “Well… well, I just don’t want to die. That would be awful. And what if it’s someone real important that asks you, not important like a Professor, important like…” she appears to be trying to think of anyone in Hogwarts more important than a professor. “You know, someone real, real important?”

Aquarius eyes Marie, again. “It’s a secret, Marie. Secrets don’t get told, particullarly one of such importance as this,” she notes. “A group is only as strong as it’s weakest link, will you be that link?” she enquires in a challenging voice. Indeed, will Marie Jeanette be the weakest link? No matter the answer to that question her attention is turned to Bengale, again. “I think an oath is a good idea.”

Biting her tongue over what she’s thinking about an oath, Rawhead mulls the situation over until there is the yell from Marie Jeanette. “Oh don’t be silly,” the so-called student speaks. Gathering up her own words, what she really is doing is trying to recall how she spoke as a younger student, “No one is going to make us recite an Unbreakable Vow in a group like this. We aren’t a bunch of dark wizards.”

For the first time all night, Turquoise actually is a bit hesitant. He promised this wouldn’t get them in trouble, coming.. so how strong an oath are they about to take, and what could be the future consequences? He hadn’t even known anything about the group before tonight. “An oath certainly ought to keep it secret,” he replies to Keelan. It is being led by a professor after all – she’d know what was OK. “If what we do is of that importance, then yes.”

“An oath is perfectly fine by me,” spoke the one with the fox mask. Leon Fox peered through the narrow slits in his mask, gazing at the rest of the gathering. “And we can always use…what’re they called? Those memory charms to make those we suspect of being too weak…simply forget about the S.E.A. Couldn’t we?”

Although someone calmed by the words, Marie Jeanette seems to still be rather suspicious. “If I was a Dark Wizard, I’d tell people I wasn’t too.” The logic seems perfectly evident to her, even if no one else can comprehend it, and she folds her arms across her chest grumpily. “Okay, I’ll try to keep it secret, but if someone real, real, REAL important asks me about it, I might accidentally tell. But only if they’re real, real, REAL important. Like, more important than a professor. More important than the Head Boy, even.”

Clavicle says, “I suspect a charm could be made to hex an oathbreaker with a terrible case of the Bat Bogey Hex.” He loves that hex. “I can devise an alteration, if you trust me to try?”"

“I don’t know that I’d like to take one of those anyway. You never know what’s going to happen,” Fitzcordia responds to the suggestion of the unbreakable vow. “Maybe just a really stern promise will do the job.” She hopes so, anyway, and looks around as eveyrone puts in their choices. “I, for one, am willing to keep it entirely secret.” She nods decisively, her whiskers swaying as she does so.

Aquarius nods a little bit. “I’m with Fitz,” she states. “I’ll take whatever oath is asked of me, and I’ll keep it a secret, in it’s entirety…” her tone is low as she speaks, but all the same, she says it.

Bengale snorts, rather tigerishly, “There will be no obliviating of S.E.A members who wish to discontinue their enrollment in the society.” Her head shakes, “No, a spoken oath at the most. Should it be broken… oh for goodness sake.” The woman is getting a bit irritated, and it’s obvious, “When I say that a secret is to remain a secret I am not suggesting hexing, cursing, charming, or otherwise harming someone who can’t keep it. I merely wished to impress upon all of you the importance of not blabbing around the school the location of any secret passage ways or rooms. Lest you wish to suddenly find our adventures turned into necking rooms.” Another shake of her head, “That’s not the spirit at all. Your word is all I require. I’m sure that simply revoking the right to join in our adventures and restricting access to former secrets would suffice.” Goodness.

“We’ll just have to promise really hard to keep it secret.” The girl nods as she looks from person to person, many of whom seem to be voicing the same opinion. “I hope everyone wants to have the same fun. It wouldn’t be as fun if someone told the secret,” she comments, looking up at Evan with a grin. “You’ll have to make sure I keep the secret, E– Turquoise,” she tells him giving his hand a ginger squeeze again. Persephone smiles closed-mouthed at everyone.

Marie Jeanette seems positively mortified at the idea that telling would turn the secret passages into necking rooms, and she puts her hands on her hips and stands up all the straighter as evidence of how affronted she is. “I wouldn’t tell anyone who would do something GROSS in there.” The pitch of her voice as well as the volume is raised considerably at this point. “I said I’d only tell someone REAL, REAL, REAL important. More important than, than the Head Boy.” And the unspoken point here is that there are so few people more important than the Head Boy of a school that it is pretty much impossible that any of them would be asking Marie about the secret places. “And none of them would tell. Or… or do yicky things.”

Turquoise nods slightly at Bengale. It sounds much less worrisome the way she describes it than with all the students jumping to ‘we’ll kill you if you tell’ level conclusions. And the way she described it works for him. “I don’t mind giving my word, I have no intention of telling.” Turning, he grins back at Olivia, and perhaps part of the movement could even be seen through the mouth-hole. “Of course. We’ll watch each other, Persephone.”

Rocking up on her toes again, Rawhead sighs greatly and then drop back onto her heels. “I’m quite happy just giving my word not to purposely reveal the secret. I don’t want to have to worry about hexes and spells and charms.” Smiling behind her mask, she again looks around to those assembled before adding a nod to Bengale.

Clavicle says, “Upon my word I swear this secret shall be safe with me.” he states with a formal bow. ”

Bengale smiles again, and relaxes visibily. “I, too, give my solemn vow,” she can’t help but make it sound flashier that it is, “to hold the secret of S.E.A’s adventures and discoveries in my heart of hearts and not to tell a soul outside the confines of our meetings.” She puts her hand up to her chest and nods her head, but seems content to let everyone make the promise in their own way.

“I’ll keep the secret, I promise,” Persephone ventures, looking as many people seem to be volunteering their word in their own ways. “If we happen to know of someone here, can we chat with them about it at all outside?” she asks, just to make sure how far she must go to keep this secret concealed.

Aquarius speaks up now. “I swear to hold the secret of the S.E.A close and let no one know of our adventures,” she notes in a voice clear enough to be heard by all. With that she looks around at the rest of the gathered masks.

Clavicle says, “I ask for one Caveat to this oath….”

Fitzcordia nods, popping her right hand up and waving it a bit. “The secret is safe with me!” She looks around, crossing her arms and smiles brilliantly at those around her. “I can’t wait to begin adventuring, can you?” she comments to the person to her left, a quiet giggle escaping from her lips as the second year can hardly stand still.

Clavicle says, “In the event our adventures lead to something dangerous, or a life is in danger, I ask permission to bring the appropriate professor in for assistance.”"

Bengale blinks, but sounds slightly amused, “Is that so, Laughing Coyote? After you have made it, you look for a way out?” As he explains, she frowns, “You think I would allow such a situation to arise? You think I would not be able to handle it?” Actually, she sounds rather offended and angry.

“I vow not to share any of the secrets of the S.E.A., or tell a soul of our adventures. Unless they’re real, real, REAL important. The soul, not the secrets. And, you know, if they ask me. I won’t just randomly tell people. Well, not on purpose.” Guess who. Marie Jeanette looks around, seeking approval from someone, spying someone who has a prefectly or professorly vibe to approve of her vow.

Leon ,who from his last speaking had since gone quiet, speaks up again. “I vow to keep the secret of the S.E.A.” The boy then proceeds to visibly bite his tongue and fade back into the group of people–though he did pass a glance towards Clavicle just prior to his receeding.

Turquoise bows slightly as he begins his own vow of secrecy. “I solemnly promise not to break the secret of..” hearing Clavicle, he pauses in the middle with an attempted reassurance. “It isn’t that you are doubted, by anyone, I’m sure. It’s just.. isn’t it better to have it in there, knowing it won’t ever be needed, just for safety?”

Clavicle says, “Adventure sometimes leads to the unexpected My dear Bengale. Especially in the forest. ”

Startled into surprise, Rawhead doesn’t say anything more until Bengale speaks. “I think we’re going to be okay. Adventure is fun, but I don’t think that we’d do anything stupidly dangerous.” Tapping her foot nervously, she looks over her shoulder to look out for anyone who might be coming. “I think Bengale will take measures to make sure we’re okay. Why else have the club?” The mongoose-masked person tries to express her support with her tone alone, not having facial expressions to fall back on.

Bengale is beyond cross, “I am a Professor and I damn well know that adventure leads to the unexpected. Especially in the forest. I listened to a girl’s dying screams in that forest, boy.” The sneer on her face is audible in her tone, “Do not lecture me, any of you, on that prospect. Should it come to the matter of safety, I am sure we are all able to tell the difference between keeping an adventure and saving a life.” She’s a bit venemous, fists clenched. Rather a harsh reaction to a twelve year old’s innocent query.

Persephone gasps, clenching Evan’s hand rather hard as she watches Bengale lays into Coyote boy a bit, looking up at Turquoise in shock. Now she is nearly certain she knows who it is, though she wouldn’t dare to state out loud just who. Secrecy, after all. “Oh, my, I imagine it’s a bad idea to get her angry. I can’t imagine why he chose to speak to a professor that way!” Persephone whispers to Evan, unable to conceal the shock on her face, though part of it is hidden by the mask.

Quivering from head to toe, Rawhead stands there and listens to Bengale’s lecturing words. Struggling at hearing what the woman has seen, she stands there helplessly and decides the better course of action is to keep silent. Shivering under her plain woolen cloak she pulls it tightly around herself.

Clavicle Gravely shrugs and just shuts up.

Leon winces outwardly, his head turning quickly to pass a constricted gaze around the group again before he snuck around people, worming his way behind the people closest Bengale–the tiger mask suited her greatly. Vicious. Ultimately, the boy wound up behind Rawhead, peering out just over her shoulder.

Turquoise takes a careful step back, his hand tightening also, regretting having spoken up in his attempt to smoothe things over. “Does seem that way,” he whispers to Olivia, looking first at her and then back down the hall, away from the group, in the direction the two had originally walked in from. His expression, of course, is completely unreadable due to the mask. “But I..” he pauses, to make sure his voice will NOT carry anywhere beyond his companion, “I think.. especially seeing this.. he may be right. Even though we don’t expect anything to happen here. We’re not a tiny group.. harder to keep track of perhaps.. and I’ve heard stories..” He shrugs, pausing, not daring to say anything louder and mostly just curious as to Olivia’s reaction. Will she she his point, or has he begun to take this far too seriously?

What an anticlimactic end to what could have been an interesting show. Student versus Professor. Fitzcordia had never seen anything like that before, but finding that the confrontation is now over, she returns to the idea of why she is here to begin with — adventures! “So, will we be able to go on an adventure tonight? Or do we have to wait until we get — er, well — the sign?”

Bengale just breathes for a moment, struggling to regain her composure. It isn’t often that she explodes as such, and much more rarely that she does so in the sight of people she does not know very well. So it’s a long moment in which her breathing slows and she shuts her eyes. When she speaks again, her voice is thin, “Suffice to say that I am prepared.” Her expression, what little of it is visible, is closed. “And that before any of us were to take a journey in which there would be a slightest chance of such danger, we would also be prepated. I am not stupid,” her voice is even, hollow, and she addressed the assembled students, “I know some of you are young yet. I assure you I will not be placing you in harms way just for the sake of adventure. If you are to be members, you must trust me to know what I am doing.” A small pause, “I don’t know, Fitzcordia, whether you are ready for adventure tonight.” Or, her tone suggests, whether she is currently up to it.

“What have you heard?” Persephone asks, her voice raising a bit as she leans away from him a small bit, trying to get a good look at his face. “We’ll be alright, of course, with the teacher there.” She says this almost as if to calm herself down, though her grip on his hand could hardly get much harder, signifying that she doesn’t entirely feel at ease. Hasn’t she been told to lighten up a bit, though? Persephone is trying, at the very least.

“Oh, alright,” Fitzcordia answers, the disappointment in her voice very apparent, but she says nothing to question the decision otherwise. After all, Fitzcordia had seen what Bengale was capable of, and she certainly did not want to be subjected to it. “I’m so excited to see what our first adventure will be,” she mentions to the person on her right, though none of the people around her seem very interested in responding to her comments, however excited she may be.

Turquoise shakes his head faintly – that, at least, can be seen, more than just his eyes and part of his mouth. He looks straight at Olivia, so she can see at least that much of his face, though at the same time raising a finger to his lips. “Things happen, that’s all..” he whispers back. “Nothing I’ve seen.. nothing about the professor. Of course she does know what she’s doing. It was just such a harmless request, no reason not to grant it once it had been asked, common sense says we’d better be doing it either way.” He turns his masked face away for just a moment, looking back down the hall one more time, and shrugs. It wasn’t so important yet that he wants to turn and leave, certainly not after getting Olivia here. So he simply turns back and tightens his fingers around her hand quickly. “If I ever think there’s real danger, I’ll let you know, and I’ll take care of you. Until then, let’s enjoy it.”

“Every teacher here is quite capable, otherwise they wouldn’t be teaching here at all!” Rawhead speaks more to herself and her immediate companions, that being Leon Fox and she gives a little shrug. “Don’t worry,” she speaks to Leon, “We’re going to be okay. No one is in any danger and I doubt that we will be. The teachers are here to take care of us, not kill us.”

Clavicle Gravely moves back against the wall and lets the hood come over him again. He doesn’t exactly know what he said this time, but apparently it was bad enough to scare him something fierce. “I apologize.” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to offend or imply any inability on your part. More, I was merely… making an admission that sometimes we don’t know. Something I am sure you are aware, founding this club as you are. Rather, i was attempting to assure you, that pride and hubris would not stay my tongue should others need to be made informed for the safety of the founder and the memebers in the event of an unforseen emergency. Last semester…I witnessed the effects of such an act. It endangered friends of mine. I will follow your lead…of course.” he tries to find a shadowed recess, to slink back into.

“I’m not worried about the adventures at all. I’m gonna be asking Professor Rathe about extra Defense tutoring–so I can get ahead in her class. I plan to do well.” Leon pauses in his whispering, finally moving from babble to his point, “I’m just… …afraid the tiger’ll act like a real one and start biting people’s faces off.” The fox-masked boy dipped more behind his ‘shield’ for a moment, his feet tired of keeping his heels elevated.

Lifting a hand to the mouth of her mask, Rawhead suppresses a laugh as Leon Fox speaks to her. “Oh I doubt that Bengale will do that. She just wants us all to know that she can take care of us and that we won’t get into anything too sticky.” “It seems like it will be a grand time, don’t you think?”

“Well, alright,” Persephone concedes and smiles a bit at Evan and looks up. What time is it? Likely later than curfew, but Persephone finds it hard to be worried with a Professor present. After all, couldn’t she get a hall pass if she truly needed one? The girl says nothing, rather hesitant to ask for such a thing when she’s supposed to be adventurous and let her curiosity be her guide rather than rules.

Bengale sets her shoulders back, suddenly resolute to be cheerful (which is a horrible condition for Keelan). The Professor says in a rather falsely steady voice(but it does the trick), “You know, I have just remembered a semi-secret. Some of you may know.” A forced smile and the mask looks rather.. grimacey still. “However, with our merry attire.” Later, it will occur to Keelan that she has never before said anything remotely as stupid as ‘merry attire’, but for now she just doesn’t want all her precious S.E.A kids to think she’s a monster. “and our new names, we should cavort,” another unKeelanish word, but she’s had her fair share of silly stories where the characters talk as such, “through the halls and down to the cellars where a painting awaits our fair touch.” Gag. A pause, and then, “Besides, being Bengale is hungry work. Follow me, oh secrety society members. And recall the vanishing stair on the third staircase to the left because I’d hate to have to rescue you so soon.” She starts off without much look back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh removes her cloak before sitting and drapes it over the back of her chair. She sits, setting the lantern next to herself, and smirks at the Ravenclaw table. Still here, she is. Her hands fold calmly as she listens to the hat, and then she murmurs, “That was a good one, wasn’t it?” to whoever is sitting next to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Faculty) Isolde Morgan cheers quickly and gives Dolly an encouraging smile.

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

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

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

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

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh wrinkles her nose. The first one just had to be Ravenclaw, didn’t she? Still, there’s clapping and a murmur of, “Well, Slytherin will get some of them.”

(Faculty) Bonnie Kensington finds herself elated as a student gets sorted into her old house, remembering her fond days there. “I’m sure all the houses will get some,” Bonnie responds to Keelan’s comment with a smile and mischeivous glint in her eyes.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard applauds politely as the first student moves her to her grandson’s table, watching the younglings with an amused expression.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard draws a deep breath, midway in to the sorting, before turning her gaze toward Astra. She’d not spoken to the woman since everything had resolved over the course of the summer. She found it somewhat disconcerting to be sitting so close to her now. “Astra, dear?” She offers, quietly.

(Faculty) “If you don’t mind ma’am, I’m watching the Sorting.” The words slide off her tongue, hissing through clenched teeth while Astra does not bother to glance at the Headmistress. “I’m rather concerned with who will be entering my care.” Stifled and forcibly civil at best, there is obviously no loved lost for the older woman.

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

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh raises an eyebrow and looks longways down the table at Astra and Melvina, and bites her bottom lip. Oh dear.

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

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

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

(Faculty) A hint of steel tightens the suddenly intense look that sweeps over Melvina‘s features; an instinctive reaction to what she percieved to be a clearly issued challenge. It took most of her restraint to keep from saying something untoward in reply, but she had become fairly adept at biting her tongue ..some of the time. A deep breath fills her, falling from her lips in a surprisingly even tone of voice, as she turns her gaze back to the sorting. “Of course, Professor Rathe. My appologies. We shall speak later.”

(Faculty) “I’m sure you will speak later, I have little to say.” The retort is quick and sharp, dagger-like and Astra‘s gaze never once flickers backward over her shoulder. Remaining seated very straight, she clamps her mouth shut and her focus remains on the unsorted children and the Slytherin table.

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

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

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

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

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard turns her gaze sharply toward Astra, and her eyes narrow a bit; but ultimately, what comes of her is a subtle sigh. She could, at least on some level, understand. Moving her gaze back to front, she clears her voice and restrains her temper. “As you will, then, dear,” she says, simply. Her expression becoming neutral, but no less confident or authoritive. “I will talk. And you will listen. After the feast.” Leaning forward, she rests her elbows on the table and laces her fingers so that they steeple as she leans forward and rests her lips against them.

(Faculty) Darius Dwight groans. “What a shame!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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