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Location Unknown
Author: Ethan Somerset
Date: 11-14-11 18:52
In the middle of woods rarely visited by Muggle or wizard alike stood an old, stone house. It had been forgotten long ago. Its roof had once been thatched with thick layers of straw, which had rotted and disintegrated over time. The beveled glass that had once been fitted into the windows had been broken, its shards found on the rush flooring inside and outside amongst the untamed foliage.
A month ago, a small group of witches and wizards moved into the home. It still possessed the appearance of an old cottage in great disrepair, but they had worked to make it more comfortable for the duration of their stay. Spells were cast to protect themselves from the elements: an umbrella spell kept the rain out, and insulating spells plugged a multitude of holes in the walls and windows.
Other spells had also been cast over the home: protective spells to alert against intruders and spells to make the home and its occupants very difficult to find.
"I want out of this body!"
Meadow O'Guinn shot Penn Ellison, who was really Hattie Harsnip, an annoyed look. "For the last time, I can't help you with that. I don't have the book anymore."
The witch trapped in the body of a twelve year old boy growled and clenched his hands together into fists. "Why did I ever think you would be of any use to me?"
Meadow, who had been stoking the fire roaring in the fireplace, dropped the cast iron poker into its holder and raised herself to tower over Hattie. "You're making me regret ever coming to your rescue. And need I remind you that I'm the one who got you out of that loser's body and put you into one that helped you get even with that bothersome Somerset?"
Hattie looked smug. "Your nephew had to die for me to get his body."
"He was dying anyway!" Meadow shouted. She had loved her nephew, very much, and she had been sad to know that he would never survive into adulthood. The real Penn would have never even made it to Hogwarts.
She loved her sister too and hadn't liked seeing her suffer whilst Penn had been on his death bed at St. Mungo's. Putting Hattie into his body had meant that Penn could live on, at least to the eyes of those who didn't know any better.
Meadow was sorry that it had all gone to pieces and that the Ellisons didn't even have the false Penn to keep them company anymore.
Hattie's moment of self-satisfaction faded quickly and she sank down onto the old sofa in a solid heap. "I grow tired of being here."
"So do I," Meadow said, "but we have no where else to go right now."
"We also have no one else we can trust," said Yannick Cole, a friend of Meadow's who had helped Hattie escape en route to Azkaban Fortress. He was a tall, well-built wizard with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. "Kastor should be back from scouting by now. I hope he hasn't gotten into trouble."
As if on cue, the door burst open and another wizard stepped inside, carrying a bundle of supplies in one hand and his wand in the other. He looked a bit harried but otherwise unscathed.
"Kastor?" Meadow asked, stepping around the sofa to take the bundle from his hand.
"I thought for a moment that I'd been followed but I think it was only my shadow that spooked me," Kastor Jorgenson replied. Whereas Yannick was dark, Kastor was fair. He had green eyes and was slightly lanky. He stowed his wand and helped Meadow with the supplies. It consisted mostly of food, but there were a few toiletries and a couple of newspapers.
Meadow immediately took the latest Daily Prophet to Hattie, who leafed through it looking for stories about her escape and anything else of interest.
When Meadow couldn't bear it any longer, she asked, "Well?"
Hattie closed the paper and folded it in half before handing it over. "Nothing."
"No news is good news," Yannick said.
"But I want news," Hattie stubbornly replied. She looked over at Kastor. "What did you hear while you were out?"
"Not much," Kastor said, seating himself on the arm of the sofa. He told her everything, even if it wasn't useful. In the short time he'd known Hattie, he'd discovered that just rambling on about anything from the outside world appeased her. He couldn't blame her for being a trifle stir-crazy, though. He and Yannick weren't known fugitives and could come and go as they pleased. Meadow and Hattie did not possess the same luxury.
Hattie may have escaped Azkaban, but she was still a prisoner. At least for now.
Hogwarts School for Criminal Americans
Author: Errol
Date: 11-14-11 22:21
"Gates of Hogwarts," the Knight Bus conductor announces.
Errol braces himself for another sharp, jolting stop, convinced that by this time tomorrow he won't be able to move from the whiplash incurred on the Knight Bus journey from London to Hogwarts.
After helping Errol get his belongings off the bus the conductor points to the school gate flanked by statues of winged boars. "Just up that way. Can't miss the castle."
Mutely nodding Errol wonders if he should offer the conductor a tip but the man is on the bus and the bus is gone before he's even finished the thought. Belatedly, it occurs to Errol that he should have at least verbally thanked the conductor. He stands a moment longer staring at the spot recently occupied by the Knight Bus, wishing he call it back, reboard, return to London and get lost in the chaotic busyness that goes with any large urban center. Calling it back would take a wand, an item Errol will not have again until he's reported in at Hogwarts and then only when someone there sees fit to give it to him; or so Errol's been led to believe and only if Uncle Ross sent it as he said.
Turning to once more face the school gates Errol continues standing, unmoving. Errol had heard of Hogwarts before Uncle Ross informed him that's where he was headed. From what he knows it has an excellent reputation but also has a history spotted with notoriety. Under other circumstance Errol would think attending such a school would be cool; under other circumstance he wouldn't standing here having this thought.
Stacking his luggage so that he can tilt it all as one unit to make wheeling it easier, Errol knows he cannot put off the inevitable much longer. Each trudging step forward is no easier than the last. Preconceived notions about him await through those gates though he has no idea how many will hold them. Will all the staff? Only some? Is the reason of his coming to Hogwarts after school has started considered confidential and only one or two know? He'll know soon enough. Too soon but if he walked any slower he'd be standing still.
If his teachers are told, what exactly would they be told? Everything? Should he bother trying to explain all over again? He supposes not. Why bother when no one believes him about about what really happened. If Errol had been believed he would not now be leadenly walking a well worn path to a school that agreed to take on someone expelled from another educational institution.
Just beyond the gates Errol is met by a man whose sour face is at odds with arms and hands gently cradling and stroking a cat. "Should have been here ten minutes ago." The man somehow snaps and grumbles at the same time.
Not deigning to wait for a response the man turns and walks away. Errol follows, one wheel on the large suitcase starting to emit a loud squeak. The squeak earns Errol a single over the shoulder glare but no other words.
The silence isn't broken until the man has led Errol across a portion of the grounds to a large castle. Just inside the massive doors the man points to a section of wall. "Leave your things there."
The walk from the entrance hall to the office where he's told, "Wait here. Don't touch anything," is long and more than a little confusing.
Having no idea if he's waiting on the principal or an assistant or some sort of guidance counselor Errol takes a seat, ready to get his class schedule, be given whatever lecture he'll most likely get about the school's rules, and get to his room so he can sprawl on his new bed while wishing he'd run away when he'd had the chance.
Errol doesn't have long to dwell on thoughts of running away. A woman arrives, walks briskly across the room while speaking. "Mr. Anderson, I am Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Let's get you Sorted."
"Sorted?"
She reaches for a somewhat battered looking hat and explains, "Hogwarts is divided into the four houses of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. A student's house is determined by the Sorting Hat."
With that, she places the hat upon Errol's head. The hat becomes slightly animated, startling him. As someone accustomed to apparently inanimate objects moving and some occassionally speaking as well if he was momentarily startled by the hat Errol can well imagine what a Muggle born student's reaction might be.
Another voice speaks though whether the hat has a mouth with a voice eminating from it or whether it's merely a projection into his head, Errol can't tell with the hat on top of his head. As it speaks he can feel it fidgeting making him think that perhaps it does have some sort of charm on it allowing for a mouth.
"Where to place you? Intelligent. Loyal. Friendly by nature."
The hat makes noises as if it's having an internal debate. After several, overly long in Errol's opinion, seconds have passed the hate proclaims, "Ravenclaw!"
Holding some sheefs of parchment paper that Errol hadn't noticed her having before Ms. McGonagall plucks one of them out and extends it to him. "Your course schedule."
Errol gets a brief glimpse of the top paper she still holds and sees it also looks like a list of classes with times. He decides she must have had a schedule prepared for each house, which in turn leads him to conclude the houses don't have the same schedules. He doesn't know exactly what classes Hogwarts offers other than the short list of electives he was sent to choose from. Uncle Ross had all that information and took care of getting textbooks and supplies.
"Your wand."
Ms. McGonagall is now holding out a box he'd noticed on a large desk. Errol is about to nod, mutely nod at that, when he stops himself. With great effort he gets the words, "Thank you," from his nervously parched vocal cords.
Ms. McGonagall motions for him to get up and follow her then fills him in on important information about such things as not straying into the Forbidden Forest and that the Ravenclaw head of house is Professor Kent, who also teaches Care of Magical Creatures, one of Errol's electives.
Errol files away another tidbit from it al, Professor not Mr. or Miss or Mrs. Does that mean he should stop thinking of her as Ms. McGonagall and call her professor? Or are things extremely formal here and she is addressed as Deputy Headmistresses McGonagall?
She does most of the talking, pointing out a few things along the walk downward. At the top of one stair landing, when a girl comes from the direction he's just been told the library is located, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall says, "Miss Flynn."
The girl stops midstep and turns to look back up at them. "Yes, Professor?"
That answers that question.
"Mr. Anderson is new and has just been Sorted into Ravenclaw. Would you please make sure he gets to your one o'clock class?"
"Yes, professor, of course."
"Mr. Anderson, this is Megara Flynn, who is in your year and house. Thank you, Megara."
"Nice to meet you, ?"
"Errol. Yeah, nice to meet you too."
On the walk down several more flights of stairs Megara fills Errol in on what class they have at one and the class after that, seemingly not noticing how little he says or that Professor McGonagall isn't saying much either. The woman has a stern countenance but he doesn't know if she's always like that or if it's because of knowing the circumstance that led Errol to be a late enrollee at Hogwarts. When she bids them goodbye at the bottom of one set of stairs Errol is relieved to be out from under that steely gaze of hers.
Megara leads Errol to a place she calls the Great Hall, stopping just short of the doors. "Have you eaten lunch? I had to go to the library first; that's why I'm running late to eat."
"No, I haven't eaten but my stuff's just over there. I should see about getting it where it goes."
Megara follows Errol the short distance to where that dour man had him leave his luggage only it's not there. Megara shrugs it off. "Already taken care of. Come on, let's eat. We don't have much time left."
"What about things for class?"
"You have supplies, right?"
"Yes, but everything was with my luggage."
"You can borrow what parchment, quills and ink you need today. With just getting here the professors will be understanding about you not having your books with you. If we had Potions this afternoon I wouldn't be able to say that but it's Defense Against the Dark Arts and then History of Magic. I'd say we could go to Ravenclaw House so you could get what you'd need but our house is in one of the towers with the stairs going to the entrance located on the fifth floor. As I'd like at least half a sandwich to eat, lunch wins out for me unless someone else wants to take you."
Errol is not about to tell someone who's going to make sure he gets to his first Hogwarts class that no, she can't eat even half a sandwich and then insist on being taken to get his things. The only people he would deliberately be an ass to are the ones who who caused the situation that led to him ending up at Hogwarts.
For perhaps the twentieth time today Errol goes with mutely nodding a response and follows Megara back to the Great Hall.
Riding the Winds of Change
Author: Lawrence Masterson
Date: 11-15-11 13:06
Lawrence only had one class today, and as the month was nearly half over he wouldn't implement the ideas he had bouncing around in his head. He knew his sixth and seventh years weren't happy with the course work, so he was pondering reworking the syllabus for the remainder of the school year to give them something that will challenge them. Especially the seventh years because they were getting ready to take their NEWTs and they were getting ready to leave Hogwarts at the end of the school year and go on to bigger and better things.
His only class had been his fifth year OWL level class at two and they'd been done by about quarter to three and he'd released them early with the intention of getting a few things done while he had the time since his office hours today were by appointment only.
At the moment his desk was littered with parchments and books opened up to different things. He was scribbling like mad upon parchments, feeling already like he was taking notes for his own coursework (which wouldn't be different from what he would actually be doing during his course work at St. Emry's on October 10th). He hated to be known as the boring, dull teacher and give his students a reason not to take the coursework, so having heard the muttered complaints when passing students in the hall and in the Great Hall he decided that changes were needed and things would hopefully get better because he would not entirely know what to do with himself if he was the reason that he turned someone off the study of Herbology.
There were changes coming for the course work in October, and he would be handing out the new syllabus to his sixth years and seventh years by Tuesday, 20 September so that they have an idea of what will be expected of them in the coming months. The syllabus he has working this year will work well for his fifth years each year, and hopefully the work that he has set up for his sixth and seventh years will translate well for future years and not be too boring or a repeat of what has been learned the year before. This was trial and error for him, it had worked well the year before, and now there were bumps in the road, so now he'd attempt to smooth things out and make the year less painful for all involved.
Once he was done in the greenhouse, a note would posted on the corkboard that held announcements for assignments that were extra credit or addendums to the syllabus.
ATTENTION SIXTH AND SEVENTH YEAR STUDENTS EXPECT A CHANGE IN YOUR COURSEWORK FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE SCHOOL YEAR BEGINNING IN OCTOBER. COURSEWORK FOR SEPTEMBER WILL REMAIN THE SAME. -THANK YOU
With that he headed out of the greenhouse and toward the Castle, hoping that his upper year students would be pleased with the changes that would occur and less likely to be miserable in his class for the remainder of the school year.
Not So Great News
Author: Charisma Stone
Date: 11-15-11 14:57
Checkered blanket spread out beneath her gave her adequate space to spread out on the chilly Wednesday evening. She hadn't bothered going to the Great Hall for dinner despite the urging of Eric to come to dinner with him since Blake was still in the Hospital wing until sometime tomorrow. She shook her head and said she needed to be alone for a little while and she'd see him later at Astronomy. Reluctantly he let her go, knowing better than to push his friend when she said she needed time alone.
She hadn't heard if they would be having practice tonight from seven to nine, but she had her gear just in case she saw the team heading to the pitch around seven. At the moment she was reading through her history of magic assignment, trying to get it right, and avoiding the folded letter that rested just inside her bag. It was from her parents, she'd briefly read through the letter earlier, but hadn't touched it again as her day had been full of classes and the desperate need for distraction.
Legs curled beneath her as she pushed herself into a seated position rather than laying down as she had been. Notes added to her parchment, corrections that needed to be made as well as any grammatical errors that could get her marked down a few points. She finished the editing needed on her assignment for Professor Davyd and pulled to her the letter she'd been so avoiding for the duration of the day. Along with the letter she pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich and a bag of crisps and a bag of carrot and celery sticks with a small container of ranch dressing for dipping. She also had a bottle of pumpkin juice that she settled in her lap while she opened the letter.
Darling Daughter,
How is the term going this far darling? I miss you greatly and can not wait until you are home for Christmas holidays. However, I have sad news to share with you. There has been an accident, and your father is currently at St. Mungo's being treated for an accident. He should be released soon, but it will take some time for him to heal fully. I cannot disclose what exactly happened as it is being investigated by the Ministry. I will give him your best and I know you are busy between schoolwork and Quidditch, I will not ask you to come home as he will not be in hospital too much longer.
Love,
Mum
Sighing, she shoved a hand through her hair and crumpled up the parchment, shoving it down at the bottom of her bag. Her dad was in the hospital, her mum didn't want her to come home, and that meant whatever it was it was serious especially considering it involved an investigation by someone from the Ministry. Her attention shifted to the landscape and she looked over toward the pitch, wondering if she could just use the pitch to burn off some frustration but she didn't want to risk getting in trouble.
She checked her watch and sighed, it was seven thirty and she hadn't seen anyone heading toward the pitch, nevermind she'd been horribly, horribly distracted while she'd been out here, but even looking toward the pitch she didn't see the lights or anything that showed signs of life within it. So, gathering her things, putting everything into easy to manage piles and carrying it back to the Castle, the sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, and she wanted to get in and look over her astronomy homework before class at midnight, and maybe grab a quick nap or go see Blake in the Hospital wing until curfew.
Second Chances
Author: Minerva McGonagall
Date: 11-15-11 18:53
"Enter, Minerva."
Professor McGonagall lowered the hand she'd almost used to knock on Dumbledore's office door. She entered and took several paces into the room before pausing near a table full of brass instruments.
"Am I interrupting something?" she asked.
Minerva had long gotten used to the fact that Dumbledore seemed to have a sixth sense about his visitors, knowing that they were there and who they were before they could even announce their presence.
She glanced between the headmaster and his guest, Ethan, who sat in a chair on the other side of Dumbledore's desk. The two wizards were drinking schnapps.
"Ethan and I were just catching up with each other," Dumbledore explained, while Ethan said, "You're not interrupting us, Minerva. I can give you privacy, if you need it," he added, beginning to rise from his seat.
"That won't be necessary," she said to Ethan.
She looked at Dumbledore. "I only wanted to update you regarding Mr. Anderson's arrival. He is our newest Ravenclaw student. I asked Miss Flynn to show him around the castle and have informed Professor Kent of his new charge."
"Thank you, Minerva. I trust Mr. Anderson will settle in nicely at Hogwarts. It will be a fresh start, which all of us need every now and again." With these last words, he set his twinkling eyes upon Ethan again.
Ethan raised his glass in silent acknowledgement and took a sip.
"Yes, well, I will most certainly keep you informed if––" Minerva paused, when the office door opened, this time admitting Severus into the room.
"Care to join us, Severus?" Dumbledore offered.
Snape shook his head and stopped next to McGonagall. "No. I thought you ought to know that Peeves has clogged all the toilets on the fourth floor. Mr. Filch is already hard at work remedying the situation."
"Ah, Peeves. We can be thankful we only have one poltergeist living in the castle!" Dumbledore merrily exclaimed. "Thank you, Severus, for your report."
Severus bent his head slightly and prepared to go, but then his eyes cut over to where Ethan sat. If Dumbledore noticed the odd look on the potion master's face, he didn't comment on it. Ethan hadn't noticed, either.
Professor McGonagall murmured a good night to all and turned to go. A moment later, Severus followed.
"Are you all right, Severus?" she questioned him at the bottom of the revolving staircase.
Snape appeared deep in thought. "I probed Somerset's mind," he said after a long pause.
"You what?!" Minerva exclaimed. "What reason do you have to invade his privacy? He's not the wizard he once was."
"How do you know, Minerva?" Snape countered. He gazed at her as he would one of his students, but then he relaxed. "However, I believe you are correct. Somerset is not a dark wizard."
"Yes, and why read his mind if there's no reason for it?" she asked crossly.
Snape didn't bother explaining himself. Instead he said, "He was thinking about Fairchild."
"Severus, that's inappro––"
"She asked him about Voldemort."
Minerva let her sentence hang in the air unfinished. "Why is that bothersome?" she asked after a long pause. "He's dead."
"You do recall our concerns when Dumbledore accepted Fairchild to her post, do you not?" Severus queried.
"Of course I do!" Minerva replied. "But you heard what Dumbledore said. Everybody deserves a second chance, a fresh start. He doesn't seem concerned that Adriana's past will become a future problem."
"Perhaps," Severus said.
"It may be nothing," Minerva stated. "It probably is nothing."
"Perhaps," Severus repeated.
"If it is of such concern to you, then I suggest you inform Dumbledore straight away. Better yet, question Ethan about his private memory! I'm sure he would be happy to enlighten you!"
Severus had the good grace to look embarrassed. It was a very rare look for him.
"I will discuss this with Dumbledore another time," he finally said.
"Wonderful!"
He gave her an odd look and then went off in another direction. Minerva headed for her quarters and shook her head the entire time.
One Present Left To Give
Author: Ron Weasley
Date: 11-15-11 19:10
Making a noise that sounds much like a piratical argh Ron slumps with head hanging, one hand whacking his forehead. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."
"Ron?"
Jerking up and swiveling his chair around all in one motion Ron feels his a burn flash across his cheeks. "Dad!"
Arthur's brow is creased with concern. "What's wrong?"
Ron waves a hand. "Nothing. I mean it's nothing. Something on a case. Here, sit down."
He gets up offering his chair to his father, but Arthur shakes his head. "I'm on my way to a meeting. I stopped by to see if you were here because your mother wanted me to remind you about the family dinner this weekend in honor of Hermione."
It's on the tip of Ron's tongue to retort, "I wasn't going to forget," but he stops himself. His father is just the messenger and it's not Arthur's fault that Molly still acts as though Ron is a small child. "Thanks, but you didn't have to make a trip out of your way. You could have sent a memo or Mum could have owled."
"You aren't out of the way and I was wanting to find out how Hermione liked the big surprise."
"Haven't given it to her yet. At the restaurant before dinner Monday night I gave her some French soaps and a hat then we went dancing where I gave her a card about ballroom dancing lessons we are now signed up to take."
"Ballroom dancing lessons?" Arthur asks with amusement.
"We took a single lesson before and Hermione really enjoyed it and has been wanting to do more but I've been resisting. Anyway, at home I gave her a gift that went with the lessons cards, a ballroom dancing gown and shoes for when we've completed the lessons."
"And still the big gift to give? Sounds as though you went all out."
"Maybe a little but I couldn't be sure the big surprise would be ready. Better to do a little more than not enough or to really screw up and having nothing at all. If all goes as planned, the big reveal will be tonight and if I handle it right, I'll be able to get a photo of Hermione's reaction."
"Whether you do or not, let me know how it goes. I'd best be off or I'll be late for that meeting."
After his father has left Ron his attention to the file he'd been reading through, occassionally making notes on a pad of parchment. He doesn't stick with it for much longer though as he needs to get home and finish preparations for Hermione's slightly belated birthday surprise. The house he'd bought from Dierna ni Ciaran has a room with one built in bookshelf that because of its ground floor location just off the family room has been deemed the library. Hermione has mentioned more than once that she wishes it had more bookshelves and more of a cozy, home library feel. Ron's had more bookshelves made for it, with the measuring for them and consultations being done when Hermione was at work and not due home for hours. They are even now being installed, some being fitted into the walls and some freestanding.
When he gets home, Ron will look over the work, make sure the wood staining is done the way he and the builder had discussed, and make sure the installation mess is fully cleaned up. He also wants to get a bunch of Hermione's boxed up books placed on the shelves though he has no doubt she'll rearrange things more to her liking. As he's just wanting to create an ambiance, knowing she'll organize the books using whatever her favorite method of classification is doesn't bother him in the slightest. For Christmas, Ron will do more to make the room cozy with comfortable chairs and whatever other decor Hermione wants. That will give his lovely wife a few weeks to shop around for ideas of what exactly she'd like.
Smile on his face, Ron steps into one of the Ministry's outgoing Floos, excited about finally revealing one more birthday gift to Hermione.