Marauder’s Mischief

© Akeru.net

All rights reserved

Written by: Nadia Vin.

Disclaimer:

Harry Potter fully (characters, places, things, plot) belongs to J. K. Rowling as well as her Steak-and-Kidney Pie. Nyx Bauer belongs to Caitlin, and Lena Karkaroff belongs to Elena. Nadia Irvin belongs to me, ha! So do most of the other Durmstrang students, except Ana Pendareva, whom belongs to Chelsea.  So, please try to withhold from suing or flaming—it does get me so annoyed.




Summary:

Set in Harry Potter PoA.  A small group of students transfers from Durmstrang to Hogwarts, in preparation for the Triwizard Tournament. Would they follow in the footsteps of the Marauders and cause mayhem? Of course! ^^ And what strange revelations and connections will they uncover?  What would become of the famous Harry Potter; Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew? There are some things that time (or self insertion fiction at that!) cannot change…

A/N:

Nad: But one thing is for certain, there’ll be loads of pranks, jokes, and chaos! Now, on with Marauder’s Mischief!

Lena: I wanted to say that… -_- Well, keep reading people, this isn’t the actual fic you know!




Introduction:


The steam of the Hogwarts Express filled the air, billowing into clouds of white-grey smoke, and fogging the platform; nine and three quarters. Children jumped with joy, for they were coming back to another year at Hogwarts. Toads croaked, parents yelled good-bye’s, and last minute warnings were given out to the Weasley twins, who had “forgotten” to get rid of the last of their “Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.” Harry Potter and his fellow students were going to their third year; at Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Another, strange group of teenagers, also stood on the same platform, but they were huddled together, unsure of themselves as of yet, and of where to go. They spoke quietly and quickly in different languages, European sounding. There were about ten students—two eleven-year-old first years, two twelve-year-old second years, two thirteen-year-old third years; two fourteen-year-old fourth years, and, two fifteen-year-old fifth years—all dressed in the same blood red cloaks, fastened at the throat with a diamond  that had a ‘D’ written upon it. Under these, they wore normal Muggle cloathing. Most also had outlandish looks—and carried different-looking trunks. A few of these odd students had cats, and only a third-year had an owl. Most of these students hadn’t had time to get Hogwarts uniforms, after flooing all of the way from Bulgaria—for these were exchange students—of Durmstrang institute.




Chapter 1—Dementors and Sorting Hats


The warning whistle of the train’s departure sounded, and the group of foreigners in the corner took their signal. Or, at least, one of them did, and the others followed. The third year with long, black hair, tied back in a ponytail (though a few bangs, dangling free of her scrunchy, framed her face), led the way up toward the train, and the whole group of awkward looking students followed. The other third year, who had an owl and a black cat with her trunk, looking slightly overloaded, did her best to keep up with the group, her shoulder length, light brown hair getting in her face from a slight breeze. A first year stumbled along, and her other fellow eleven-year-old, who was a girl with startling green eyes, helped her along. The second year boys lagged behind, pointing and sneering at wizards and witches whom had Muggle parents seeing them off of the platform—Muggle-borns were not allowed in Durmstrang. A fourth year of the group walked importantly forward, almost pompously, and his ‘partner,’ a tanned blond girl of fourteen, looked at him with distaste. The fifth years had looks of authority plastered on their faces, or at least one did—the other’s eyes kept glazing over, as if he’d fall in a dead faint before he managed to make it to the train. Every member of the small huddle of exchange students looked nervous, from the black haired girl’s fingers running through her bangs, to the stumbling first year, to the chestnut haired girl, who was biting her lip, each and every student was anxious about their upcoming stay at the Witchcraft and Wizardry school of Britain—Hogwarts.

The group split up when they made it to the crimson coloured train, into partners—each with her or her own year, looking around the train—some with faces of frank curiosity, some, with looks of fear, and a few shy expressions. The Hogwarts Express was very crowded, like the platform, with frantic students bent on finding their friends no matter how much shoving they would have to do in the process. Some students shied along the walls, and others pressured their way through the oncoming sea of students, peeking into the plain side doors of the compartments, looking for their own seat among their friends.

The two second years—one with brownish-red hair, and the other, blond, chose to sit with several Slytherin Quidditch players in a front compartment, arguing their views on Muggle-borns, and saying some no-quite-so-appropriate words that wouldn’t have even caused their previous Headmaster to twirl his goatee, but had an alarming effect on the Slytherins.

Shrinking into the walls, the first years made their way to a half-full compartment of chattering Ravenclaws, and with much effort, they both managed to hoist their trunks into their baggage racks above the compartment door. Then, joining the Ravenclaws, they sat together, watching the country scenery run by through the window, and scarcely speaking to any other students.

The fourth years boldly took a front compartment—squeezing in with several Hufflepuffs, and regretting it almost immediately, for there seemed no end to their compartment-mates’ babbling. The blond fourth year only put an end to their rambling after a few scathing comments—more than a usual glare, and her fellow fourteen-year-old looked on with his nose in the air. The fifth years joined them shortly, having found that the seventh year Slytherins had not desired their company, and in a rather worse mood.

The black haired girl—followed by the slightly overloaded brunette, made their way to the very end of the train, seeking an empty compartment. After several minutes of futile searching, the third years settled for a compromise—a compartment with a man sleeping in the corner window seat, his hood was draped over his face.  Loading their trunks and (in the brunette’s case) pets over their seats, they sat down opposite the mysterious stranger—gazing at him curiously from time to time. As the train started to move, horn blowing shrilly, more steam issuing from its’ pipe, students leaned out of the windows, waving their last good-bye’s to their departing parents—many of who had already disappeared in the blink of an eye—though some had yet to Apparate away.

Turning their looks back to the sleeping man, the brunette finally voiced her thoughts on him—though very quietly, so as not to awaken him.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Hogwarts…” her tone showed her wonder at going to the Witchcraft and Wizardry school of Britain, though the effect was ruined slightly because of her sudden change of topic; “I wonder who he is,” she indicated the man opposite her by rolling her caramel brown eyes in his direction, “Looks like a very shabby teacher—do you think he could be a-”

But at that precise moment, the compartment door slid open to reveal four students, who looked quite crowded in the doorway. The brunette paused abruptly, taken completely by surprise, and the black-haired girl sharply turned her head—swishing her long, black ponytail around in the process. The smallest of the four newly arrived, un-called guests, barged in front of the others—she had flaming red hair, and looked to be in second year.

“Can we sit here?” she asked rather bluntly, and then, noticing the man in the corner, lowered her voice, “Everywhere else is rather full.”

The black-haired girl was the first to recover from the shock of having four others barge into their compartment. Replying quickly, she said, in a rather sarcastic tone, “Why of course—if you tried everywhere before coming here, you must be desperate—come in and sit down!”
  
The red-haired girl blushed, her skin matching her flaming hair even more through her freckles and blush, but an older (third year, by the look of him) boy stepped in front of her. He also had the same hair and freckles—though he was taller, and had a slight gangly look about him. He looked to be the girl’s older brother.

“We WILL,” he said forcefully, “sit here, thank you very much.” Finishing in a snappy manner. The black haired girl didn’t let that tone escape her.

“Who are you, anyway?” asked the brunette suddenly, trying to stop the on-coming argument.

The other girl, standing behind the red-haired siblings, with bushy brown hair, answered first.

“I’m Hermione Granger—and—” she left the rest to the others.

“Ron Weasley,” said the red haired boy grudgingly.

“Ginny Weasley…” said Ron’s sister—rather meekly.

Everyone looked expectantly at the last member of the group, who was standing far back. Stepping closer to the compartment, his raven black hair and emerald eyes behind circular glasses were cast into a brighter light. Nervously flattening his fringe, he answered shortly.

“Harry.”

The black haired girl arched an eyebrow in a very familiar way to Harry, though he couldn’t quite place it, and mimicking his movements, pulled on her bangs, and mocking seriousness, replied.

“Bob.”

Everyone stared at her for a few seconds, before the brunette started snickering in an amused sort of way. “Very funny,” she said, keeping a straight face, “Nice to meet you, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Bob. Care to elaborate?”

With this not-so-obvious invitation, the group finally made themselves comfortable in the compartment, keeping their voices low enough so as not to disturb the sleeping man in the corner. Once seated, the brunette proposed introducing themselves again. And Hermione rose up to the challenge—again.

“Alright!” she said brightly, “As you should know by now, I’m Hermione Granger, in third year. Gryffindor is my house, and I enjoy Transfiguration.”

She looked like she would have very well liked to continue, but at that moment Ron started speaking, so she turned to him—quite attentively as though he were her Transfiguration teacher.

“Ron Weasley,” he stated irritably, “Third year, Gryffindor… Oh yeah, our favorite class, right? Flying! Or… Quidditch practice when I get to ride Harry’s broom.” He grinned at the bespectacled boy—who smiled slightly in return.

Next, Ginny caught everyone’s attention, speaking about her second year and Gryffindor house. The black haired girl didn’t think much of the House of  ‘Gryffindor’—In Durmstrang they had all been told against that house, and against its ‘arrogant airheads.’

The brunette, however, was very interested in this particular house—and in the boy who was speaking about himself.

“I’m Harry, Harry Potter,” he said casually, “I’m in third year, also, and in Gryffindor—and I enjoy Defense Against the Dark Arts when there’s a competent teacher.” The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, and the brunette had a feeling that the Hogwarts previous Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor hadn’t been up to standards.

The black haired girl realized that it was her turn, and said, rather softly, “Name’s Nadia—Irvin. I’ve yet to be sorted—and I certainly hope to remain in third year, by both Hogwarts and Durmstrang standards.”

The boy called Ron furrowed his brow, “Durm-what, excuse me?” he asked, rather puzzled.

“Durmstrang is another wizarding school!” said Hermione, with a gasp of recognition, “I’ve read about it in ‘Hogwarts, A History: Other Wizarding Developments.’  We didn’t know we’d get exchange students! Do you know why you’re here?”

The Brunette smiled slightly, and said, “Nadia here doesn’t, but I certainly do—being the Headmaster’s daughter.

“I’m Lena Karkaroff, of the same year as Nadia—hopefully third—and my favorite subject is Defense Against the Dark Arts—well, in Durmstrang that is…”

“Then why are you here?” interrupted Ron, rather rudely.

Lena smiled rather mysteriously, and left it at that. Nadia gave Ron a look that said plainly that he wouldn’t get anymore out of Lena. They sat in silence. Rain began to pound on the windows, and it grew darker and foggier outside. The train continued to speed forward however—emitting loud whistles every once in a while.

Ginny and Ron looked rather puzzled, but Hermione firmly took out a book, and started reading—knowing quite plainly that the conversation was finished. Harry however, wasn’t through—and noticing the man in the corner, he pointed him out.

“Do any of you know who that is?” he asked curiously.

“It says on his case, look.” Nadia suddenly pointed out, getting everyone’s attention—even Hermione looked up from her book.

Squinting, she read the small writing on the small, old case that was neatly and skillfully tied together with a large amount of plain white string, “Professor R. J. Lupin… He must be a teacher then—most likely Defense Against the Dark Arts!” said Hermione brightly.

Harry took a closer look at the man—he seemed to be in his mid-thirties, but he looked exceptionally shabby and tired. He shrugged—the dark, rainy weather outside of the window was really wearing on his mood.

The witch with the food cart stopped by their compartment, asking them kindly if they’d like anything to eat. After finding out that there weren’t any Bulgarian sweets, both Nadia and Lena looked a bit disappointed—but ordered some Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, and Chocolate Frogs never the less. The wizard currency was universal, so they didn’t have to worry about anything except swapping sweets and cards for the next half hour.

The day wore on—and the so did the rain. Nothing interesting proceeded to happen—other than Hermione’s ginger cat, and Ron’s old rat playing a game of ‘cat and mouse’ around the compartment; though soon they settled down. The six students, however, had a pleasant conversation on Quidditch—or at least five of them did—Hermione had, once again, opened her book. The man in the corner shifted in his sleep. Just as Nadia (who had become much more friendly—though still on the sarcastic side) and Lena were arguing about the world cup with Ron and Harry—Durmstrang was for Bulgaria—the train started slowing down.

“You can’t possible know Viktor Krum—can you? I doubt he really goes to Durmstrang!” Ron argued, a bit uncertainly, “Hey—are we slowing down? We can’t be there yet…”

That’s when the others started noticing it too.  The train was definitely stopping. And the more and more it slowed, the colder it became—as if the wind were piercing the charmed windows—and slightly freezing them over. A small breeze picked up, ruffling everyone’s hair—inside the train! The lamps flickered several times—before finally dying out—and the silence was complete.

It was silence until everything suddenly unfroze—into a panicky scenario of stricken students not knowing what to do.

Nadia’s would-be-calm, sharp voice rose in the compartment—she didn’t trouble to keep it down this time, “I’ll peek out of the compartment door—everyone, let me get to the door, alright?” Her confident footsteps were heard going to the door—and then she opened the door—and gasped. Breathing deeply—she said suddenly, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, Kat Ishtar!”

It seemed as if a girl entered the compartment—sitting down next to Ron—who could just make out her well tanned skin and long blond hair—falling to her mid-back from the light the window gave—which wasn’t much. As Nadia tried the exit again, she poked her head out of the door, and looked up the corridor.

“There are dark shapes, moving toward us—” she reported, “Oh, it’s freezing out there!”

The brunette, Lena, suddenly felt the sweeping cold sensation—she remembered reading about this before! It was a dark creature she couldn’t recall… Before she had time to remember—she was swept away—into a flashback of her own home…

Lena heard someone talking urgently—something about a meeting—in quiet and fast voices. Then her father emerged from a door to her right—a fancy looking door—pulling down his sleeve. Igor Karkaroff looked sullen—his blue eyes icy, his goatee twitching unpleasantly. Upon seeing his daughter however, he relaxed more thoroughly, even managing to smile slightly. And that was when Lena saw it—on her father’s arm—left forearm to be exact—a black skull, with a serpent leering out of its mouth—she shuddered and snapped up her head.

The brunette was back in the train compartment—back from her worst memory. She saw clearly now that everyone was experiencing something from the Dementor—for she had recalled its name—not that this was of any help. She saw Ginny, who was shaking in a corner, her hands clutched together, her teeth chattering slightly. Hermione was sitting next to Ron with her eyes shut tightly, biting her lip.  Ron himself was very twitchy, looking around blankly. The girl that had come in recently, Kat Ishtar, as Nadia had called her, had her head in her hands, and her blond hair fell over her shoulders. Then Lena realized that two people had come in—not only one. Another girl—with black hair in two short pigtails and bright blue eyes had seated herself next to Harry, she was only a first year by the look of her—and she had curled up into a protective ball in her seat. And Nadia had paled considerably, through her already light skin. Lena seemed the first to unfreeze though, when she saw that Harry had slipped out of his seat.

The cold silence that had settled over the compartment pressed in on them harder, as the tall, black figure in the door way drew another cold, shattering breath.

“Professor!”

The desperate voice echoed around the small compartment, but it had the desired effect. Though the dementor had glided forward—the man in the corner had finally awoken. Springing up when he saw what was going on—his eyes passing over Harry, the Dementor, and Lena, who had woken him up, he strode quickly to the black figure, wand at the ready.  

Then he said, in a slightly hoarse voice, “We are not hiding anything beneath our cloaks, rest assured Azkaban Guard.”

But the Dementor suddenly breathed in again—as if to tell the man that he didn’t believe his story. Professor Lupin looked slightly troubled now.

“Go!” he told it again, more plainly—but again, the dementor stayed. The Professor looked back at the students thoughtfully, his gaze resting on Harry for a moment longer—who was completely out—when suddenly Nadia caught his glance.

Should I ward it off?

She nodded confidently, and a bit cautiously.

Lupin took this strange cue and, raising his wand, said an incantation of two words—almost at once, his wand issued a silver shield between the Dementor and him and the students. Then something burst from his wand—a form of a silver creature—that reared at the Dementor; who, finally, took its leave.

All at once, the air seemed to get lighter, and slightly warming—though the feeling of dread, hopelessness, and an un-peaceful silence lingered.

The Silver Light disappeared, and so did the strange animal-like shape—leaving Professor Lupin—holding his battered wand. Lighting his wand again, he then turned around swiftly, and examined Harry. Making sure the boy was all right, he pulled him up onto a seat, just as the lights flickered on. The Professor sat down thoughtfully, but no one asked anything until the train started moving again—speeding through the heavy rain—which was still coming down in icy sheets outside. Taking out something from his briefcase, he unwrapped it—and everyone was surprised to see that it was chocolate. Just then Harry stirred.

Ron and Hermione quickly went over to him—it was obvious that they were his closest friends—they had a quick and quiet conversation with him, while Lupin handed out chocolate to Kat, Lena, Ginny, Nadia, and the new girl.

“Hang on a second!” said Nadia suddenly to the first year blue eyed girl, “You’re from Durmstrang too, aren’t you?” she asked.

The girl looked just slightly startled at being addressed, but came over this quickly, “Nyx Bauer, yes, I am also from Durmstrang. Irvin, wasn’t it?” she asked a bit dryly—not nearly as shy as a first year would be expected to be.

“Yeah, Nadia Irvin. Do you know Lena?”

“Who doesn’t know the Headmaster’s pet?” came the sarcastic reply.

Lena shot the girl a dark look—and Nadia decided that she liked this first year.

After Lupin had handed everyone chocolate, he excused himself for a few minutes. Upon coming back, he urged them to eat the chocolate. “It’ll help with the after-effects.” He stated.

Nyx took a wary bite. It did help. She felt as if she had drunk a mug of hot cocoa—instead of a small piece of Honeydukes milk flavoured chocolate. Harry, who had gotten a particularly large piece, after watching Nyx bite into hers, nibbled off of the end of his, and then started taking larger bites. Ron, shoving the chocolate into his mouth, grinned as the air seemed lighter after the sweet. Then the rest of the compartment joined in, some more greedily than others.

Professor Lupin returned, looking rather pleased at the students for they had started to talk again—Lena was telling everyone about Dementors, with the occasional assistance of Hermione, who sounded, as Ron expressed it, like their ghost History teacher—Professor Binns.

Soon, for the compartment was talking animatedly, the train slowed down to a stop, again, and the corridor became crowded. The students then got ready to leave—lowering their trunks from the luggage racks and pulling on their robes. Harry noticed that Nyx, Nadia, and Lena’s robes were also black, but of a slightly different style than the Hogwarts uniform, thicker, and slightly looser—the Durmstrang students would blend in, but not completely.

“Your robes are different.” Ron seemed to have made the same observation.

“Yeah, well—we’ll get the right ones in the village—Hoardsmeade, wasn’t it?” Lena replied distractedly.

“Hogsmeade.” Hermione corrected automatically, “Yes, that’d be a good idea.”

No further word was spoken between the six as they filed out into the train corridor, dragging their trunks behind them. Lena also had to deal with her black cat, and barn owl—and Hermione and Ron—with their scuffling animals. Harry’s snowy owl cooperated wonderfully compared to Crookshanks and Scabbers.

Once they’d gotten out of the train—and thoroughly soaked in a matter of seconds, the sign that read ‘Hogsmeade Station’ could be seen, along with the schedule for the Hogwarts Express. It was more than easy to get lost in the sea of students, and the group quickly did just that—everyone except the Gryffindor trio being separated by an oncoming wave of Hufflepuffs.  

The smallest of the group, Nyx, managed to stick by Kat—who also happened to be one of the Durmstrang exchange students, only in fourth year. Plowing their way through the crowd, the two slowly dragged their trunks through the heavy downpour, towards the sound of a voice that way yelling;

“Firs’ Years! Firs’ Yers! ‘schange Studince! Foler me!”

{(A/N) Yeah, it’s supposed to be misspelled.}

Approaching the huge figure that was shouting, Nyx and Kat couldn’t help but stare—there was no such figure in Durmstrang—that was for sure. They decided to wait by the immense man, after all, what choice did they have?

Harry, Ron, and Hermione meanwhile, were making their way up to the horseless carriages, along with Ginny. Slipping and sliding on the wet platform, they scurried across to the muddy ground by the carriages that would take them to the castle.

The line of first years and transfer students was thickening, and Lena had no problem spotting it. As she made her uncertain way toward it however, another third year got in her way.

“Excuse me,” she said, rather loudly over the chatter of other students.

The boy that had gotten in her way however, didn’t budge. “Don’t you even remember me?” he asked incredulously.

Lena squinted in the rain. “Draco?!” she asked suddenly, “Oh, I forgot you went here!”

They had known each other through their parents—Lucius Malfoy and Igor Karkaroff had often met and brought their children along together—it was difficult to forget someone like a Malfoy—they usually left a lasting impression.

Draco smirked slightly at Lena, “Well, why don’t you just go join the first years—and try to be sorted into Slytherin, will you?” he asked casually, “They will be sorting you, right?”

“Yes,” Lena replied, before walking around the blond boy, and toward the line of first years. Draco stayed behind, to chat with Nadia, whom he had seen coming after Lena.

“Irvin, hey!” he yelled to get her attention.

That certainly worked. “Malfoy.” She said in greeting—Nadia knew Draco, for she lived with Lena’s father while not in school—her mother had divorced with her father, and married Karkaroff when Nadia was only six. “How are you? I’d best be going myself.”

Draco was always a bit more formal with Nadia than Lena, but this was too much. “Lighten up—Lena’s up there ahead. You’d better be sorted into the right house.”  

Nad took this as a good-bye and kept walking, catching up to the line of first years, and exchange students. Once the huge man—who’d introduced himself as Hagrid—started walking, the whole line followed. Many of the students were stunned by their guide’s size, walking close behind him in awe. Nyx, her Mail Falcon on her shoulder, waited halfheartedly with Kat, who was whistling something under her breath, for Nadia and Lena. Then, making their way across the platform, they left their trunks in a pile to be carried up by the House Elves, and followed the Caretaker of the Grounds down a steep, winding, narrow path.

Down several twists and turns they went—the earthy, muddy path getting dangerously slippery. Kat almost fell face down into the mud several times, and Nadia, who barely ever stumbled, managed to slip off of the path and grab hold of an old tree close by, swinging around its trunk to get back onto the track.

“Yer firs’ view wi’ be grea’! Jus’ round a corner now…” Hagrid told them in his booming voice—though his black eyes shone kindly from behind his wild tangle of brown hair and beard.

He was right. Lena gaped at the view that was before her, after they’d turned round a corner. The ground sloped down a bit longer, and there in front of them was a lake—with a dozen boats harbored by the nearest bank. Over that stood a huge castle—with many turrets, towers, and glowing windows. The view was truly splendid—the reflection of the castle in the lake seemed almost unreal—shattered by the falling rain.

“Four to’ a boa’!” Hagrid yelled, startling everyone out of his or her daze. The students then slowly made their way over the wet grass toward the small flock of boats. Seating themselves into the small boats, Kat sat with Lena, Nyx, and Nadia—as most of the transfer students didn’t know anyone yet.

The boats—once everyone had gotten in—where pushed off by Hagrid’s massive arms, before he got into one himself and roared “GO!” which seemed to be a sort of activation spell—for the boats started to quickly skim across the lake of their own accord—the castle of Hogwarts looming ever nearer. Nyx kept her eyes on the water—and could have sworn that through the rain she’d seen something in the water swaying this way and that... Shaking her head, and splashing everyone even, if possible, more, the blue-eyed girl looked up to the castle. They had almost made it across the whole lake.

The boats then seemed to run right into a wall right under the castle—which was really a stone arch with ivy hanging low onto the water. Through the wet, cold ivy, the boats sailed into a small, underground tunnel harbor. There they stopped, allowing the completely soaked students to get out.

Ahead were doors—carved wooden, old, yet strong-looking—the Hogwarts crest upon them—a Lion, Serpent, Raven, and Badger around a large letter H.

“Wow…” Lena whispered—this was grand.

No one had time to reply, for Hagrid had strode into the front of the mass of wet students—and knocked on the gates. Soon, he was answered with the gates creaking open—behind them stood a woman in dark green robes.

Minerva McGonagall was a tall woman—who wore square spectacles, and her graying hair in a tight bun on the top of her head. Her face was stern, and her mouth—the thinnest of lines. She had been a teacher for over thirty years now, and knew exactly how to deal with students—any students. Teaching advanced Transfiguration, a dangerous class if not properly handled, experience was advantage. Especially on the first day of the first term.

The severe looking woman overtook the line of both first years and foreigners from Hagrid, leading them further into the castle—up a flight of broad stone steps, and through another pair of inner doors. These were much newer looking, as if they had a Sustaining Spell on them—made of polished dark wood. Through those, McGonagall walked forward quickly, at an even, sharp pace—right into the Entrance Hall.

Nadia looked around, slightly overwhelmed at the size of the magnificent Hall—with a marble floor, it looked to be (at the least) as large as several big houses combined; and its ceiling seemed to go several stories up. At the end of the hall was a vast, marble staircase, leading up to the second floor and into a dark landing. Its rails curved outward, and there were many glittering marble steps—the Grand Staircase looked just that, grand indeed; leaving everyone without doubt that the rest of the castle would be just as medieval looking.

There was also a pair of double doors leading off to the right of the Entrance Hall, from which the chatter of a thousand students was coming. On their left, there was a door that looked like a broom closet, and farther down their left, was a small, plain door, with a carved handle. It was to this door that the Transfiguration Professor led the students, telling the first years to wait behind it, in what was obviously going to be a crowded waiting room, full of anxious eleven-year-old children, feeling almost the same as the exchange students.

Lena, Nyx, Kat, Nadia, and the rest of their group were waiting in the Entrance Hall while McGonagall filed the students into their waiting area and explained the sorting procedure. Then, turning sharply towards the exchange students (who were looking quite small themselves), she said;

“Welcome to Hogwarts. You are standing in the Entrance Hall, as you might have guessed,” her stern gaze took in the group, “And in the Great Hall, to your right, you will find the whole school assembled, ready for the Welcoming Feast. Before this, however, you must be sorted into your Houses—by a very special procedure. You were already told about the houses, I presume, and know that you are representing your school and classmates. If you know any Drying Spells, use them now—though magic in the corridors is usually forbidden. Once you get sorted, you will go to your house table—you will know which house table you belong to after your sorting. Your head of house will then assist you with any questions that your classmates, or Prefects cannot answer.” The group exchanged nervous glances, “You will follow me into the Great Hall shortly, where I will call your names to be sorted; when your name is called, please come up to me. You shall be sorted before the first years.”

Professor McGonagall straightened her spectacles, which were slipping slightly down her nose, and in a formal manner, walked up to the doors, listening for when to bring the students in.

“What d’you reckon?” asked Kat, forging the British accent as much as she could, though her English still sounded a bit off.

“Drying Spells, that’s what!” snapped a very wet and anxious Nadia, and waved her wand in a complicated sort of motion, getting hot air to stream out of the tip, and starting to dry off her hair. Kat looked ready to utter a retort, but held back. Lena however, looked at Nadia oddly.

“What kind of spell is that?” she asked suddenly.

“A Drying Spell, what do you think?”

Lena looked darkly at Nyx, “I wasn’t asking you. And I only know Drying Spells with incantations. Like: ‘Exaresco!’” The brunette twirled her wand, and touched down on her hair, which started to dry.

Nyx didn’t look too pleased with that comment, saying, “There are many types of drying spells you know! Just because you don’t know they exist doesn’t mean that they don’t.” With that, took out her new wand, and copied Nadia’s odd motion, getting a light, but nevertheless stream of air coming out of her wand’s tip.

“That’s really good for a first,” Nadia observed, “Though I can’t say I’m the expert—Lena does know many useful charms, even if I prefer incantation-less magic.”

“Lena’s is my personal favorite,” Kat informed the group, “Though I’ve never tried Nadia’s way of doing it—you learn in third year, at Durmstrang that is—I don’t know about here…” she paused uncertainly. At that exact moment, Professor McGonagall called them forth. Nervously, the exchange students followed her into the Great Hall.

It was immense, almost as large as the Entrance Hall, with four long tables, standing next to each other, every one occupied to the last seat—going the length of the entire Hall. And that’s when Lena noticed them—candles, floating in midair. Burning brightly, probably spelled, above the house tables and heads of students. Looking up past the candles was something much more interesting however, for the high ceiling was enchanted, and richly so. The rainy weather had not subsided, and the ceiling took on the look of the sky above it, grey and cloudy, with rain pouring down by the gallon—and disappearing a few feet above the candles—where the charm was placed.

McGonagall led them, in a line, between the tables of silent and staring students, and their footsteps seemed to echo around the huge Hall. As they walked past the tables, they could see that golden plates, goblets, and silverware, all with the Hogwarts crest, stood glittering on the table—but there wasn’t a crumb of food to be seen. They were making their way to the fifth table in the Great Hall, which stood before all of the others, on a slightly raised platform—behind it sat the Professors.

In the center of the table, in a winged armchair, sat a man who was obviously the Headmaster. Albus Dumbledore looked his part splendidly—his white hair and beard reached the sleeves of his robes (Dark violet with embroidered silver stars), and large brown boots could be seen under the table. Gazing kindly at the students before him, through half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes twinkled lightly, as if expressing their joy and laughing that they were all there.

To the right of the Headmaster was the empty seat of Minerva McGonagall, and next to her sat a very plain, squat teacher. Several seats along; the right side of the table ended, with a tall, out-of-place looking Professor. On the Headmaster’s left, there sat a teacher who was shooting the Gryffindor table a murderous glare. His black, slightly greasy hair fell down to his shoulders, and his skin was pale. Sneering at the exchange students, he looked particularly menacing—all in black, taking turns glaring at the Gryffindors, and at the man next to him. The ones who sat in the compartment with Professor Lupin recognized him immediately—though they never had a proper look at him before then. His brown hair was dotted with gray, and though he wore a mild expression, it was clear that the black haired Professor’s looks were making him uncomfortable. But the exchange students weren’t feeling very comfortable themselves, so to speak.

As Professor McGonagall made it to the front, the students formed a neater line, and waited for their names to be called, with bated breath, for the ‘procedure.’ They yet had a while to wait. McGonagall summoned an old stool from the corner, with a wave of her wand, and set it down before the Hall, in front of the Headmaster. Then she took from the table, a bundle of black material that had been lying there, unnoticed. Unfolding it, she revealed a large, black wizard’s hat.

The hat had several large stains on it, and looked to be falling apart—the threads stuck out and it had a few holes, and what looked like burns. However, when Professor McGonagall set it onto the stool, the hall remained respectively silent. The new students exchanged nervous glances. Looking back, they saw that the first years had come up to form another line behind them—looking very small indeed. Just as Nadia was about to burst from impatience and expectation, the hat moved. A fold near the brim opened wide like a mouth of a person who is about to shout, and the hat started to sing—and sing very well for a hat, at that.


A distant time so long ago
When Hogwarts was yet new
And magic schools were scarcely heard
Four wizards were there—fierce and true

Brave Gryffindor, of Courage
Wise Ravenclaw, of Mind
Fair Hufflepuff, of Loyalty and
Cunning Slytherin, of Pride

They worked together, hard and long
Creating Hogwarts school
And we remember them in song,
In learning, and in rule

So welcome students, to the place
Where learning conquers all
Whether you are cunning Serpent
Or Raven, wise but small

So put me on around your ears,
and let me choose your fate
Sorting through your thoughts and fears
I’ll find a House for all your traits

For never yet have I been wrong
And I place students where
Their destiny be bright and strong
For every new Sorting year


As the Hat finished, the House tables burst into applause, and the two lines before the Hat breathed out in relief.

“So we just have to try on a Hat! That doesn’t sound too bad—I thought they’d test us in front of the whole school…” Kat breathed out in relief.

“Yes, but if we make it into the wrong House, I don’t think my Father would be pleased. We are representing Durmstrang.” Lena commented.

“Very optimistic.” Nyx snapped, obviously anxious. They had been told that their names would be called in alphabetical order.

“Quiet!” Nadia suddenly put an end to their conversation, “McGonagall’s starting!”

Indeed, they were—although their Transfiguration Professor wasn’t yet clearing her throat, her sharp movements demanded everyone’s attention, even when she was just unrolling a long piece of parchment, on which the student’s names were written.

“I will now call up the exchange students of Durmstrang Institute to be Sorted.” She said shortly, before finally, beginning to read off their names.

“Bauer, Nyx.”  

Nyx strode forth, unusually unsure of herself in front of the whole school. It seemed to take her ages to reach the stool on which the hat was placed—but finally—a few steps later that is—she seated herself, straightening her robes and breathing deeply. Then Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head.

Nyx got a glimpse of the Great Hall, candles alight, enchanted ceiling portraying the rain, before the hat dropped in over her eyes, and her sight turned black. She sat still for a couple of moments, not hearing a sound.

“Hmm…” said a small voice in her ear. Nyx nearly jumped out of the stool. The hat was speaking to her! “Well, what do we have here?” or rather, Nyx re-decided, to itself. “Quite the interesting mix—intelligent, yes, but confident also… And impatient to prove yourself? Well, there’s the perfect House.”

From the other student’s point of view, Nyx was simply sitting on an old stool, with a tattered hat on her head—until it yelled out her House name that is—a few minutes later.

“RAVENCLAW!”

Nyx sighed in relief—Ravenclaw had sounded the best to her in the Hat’s song. As McGonagall pulled the Hat off of her head, she saw that one of the four House tables was applauding shrilly, whistling, clapping, and making overall appreciative noise. Getting off the stool, she walked over to this table—and the Ravenclaws welcomed her well. Shaking her hand and sitting her near the center, they immediately started asking her about Durmstrang, though quietly, for there were others yet to be sorted.

Professor McGonagall spared one glance at the Ravenclaws, silencing them immediately. Then she looked back to her scroll of parchment, and called forth one of the second year boys, that had discussed pure/muggle blood in the train before.

“Eberhard, Adolf.”

The rusty haired second year came forth, his square frames glittering in the candlelight. Sitting down on the stool, hat on head, his hands were shaking hard. However, the hat had barely gotten on his head when it made its decision. “Hmm.. Cunning, proud, pureblooded—what could be more obvious?”

The table closest to the exit gave a loud, carrying cheer, applauding for all their hands were worth, and Adolf, handing the Hat back to McGonagall, made his triumphant way to the Slytherin table—that was the House that their previous Headmaster had told them to make—and Adolf was more than willing.

“Hannes, Gregor.”

The pompous looking fourth year strode forth, nose in the air, his blue eyes full of ice. As McGonagall lowered the Hat on his head, he sat up straighter on the stool.

“Let’s see, let’s see…” the Hat spoke into his ear, “Hufflepuff would suit you, though I don’t see much Loyalty to any good causes. However, what’s there is there…I suppose I will put you in— HUFFLEPUFF!” the last word was yelled for the whole Hall to hear.

The fourth year walked over to the cheering Hufflepuff table, and sat down, looking very smug indeed.

Professor McGonagall took in the whole Hall with one of her ‘silencing glares’ again, before proceeding down the list.

“Irvin, Nadia.”

Nadia finally strode forth, in long awaited anticipation. The Transfiguration Professor placed the Hat on her head, slightly loosening her black ponytail in the process. Nadia had one second before the Sorting Hat slipped over her face, and during that time, her dark silver eyes swept over the Great Hall, landing on Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy—Harry and Hermione weren’t there. Then her vision went dark.  

(A/N) No, she didn’t faint, the Hat just blocked out her eyesight… O_o

“Curious, very interesting…” Nadia withheld from jerking her head, though only barely, when a voice that she suspected someone’s conscience might have, spoke into her head. “Brave, yes, and quite clever, but with such a mischievous nature…” the Hat continued mysteriously. “Slytherin would be a hasty choice indeed, but it would work—though the more I consider it—yes, it has to be— ”

And to everyone’s amazement, the Sorting Hat cried out, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor table burst into cheers and clapping, through their evident shock: no one had expected a Durmstrang student to be in Gryffindor! The staff exchanged looks, and for some reason, Albus Dumbledore smiled slightly—though the Professor on his left looked nothing short of furious. However, this was only the beginning of their surprises.

Nadia settled down at the Gryffindor table, Malfoy glaring at her from across the Hall, and sat between an empty seat and Ron, from the train compartment. Grinning, the Gryffindors brought their attention back to the sorting.

“Ishtar, Kat!”

The fourth year came forth, putting the Hat on her head nervously. Her long blond hair could be seen beneath the Sorting Hat, reaching her mid-back, and her brown eyes took a long look at the Hall before the Hat was in place.

“Quite cunning, and you’ve got that trickster history—and you’re, quite plainly, more than you seem…” The Hat considered thoroughly, before making a quick choice, and yelling out, “SLYTHERIN!”

More clapping as Kat sat down at the Slytherin table, and then McGonagall called,

“Karkaroff, Lena.”

The Hall went silent—most of them knew that Karkaroff was the Headmaster of Durmstrang, and they figured that his daughter would (most certainly) get Sorted into Slytherin—after all, Durmstrang was for pureblood students with a knack for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and only a Slytherin would open such a school. The brunette slowly walked up to McGonagall and sat on the stool—letting the Professor slip the Hat over her head, biting her lip worriedly, and wondering how angry her father would be, was she not sorted into Slytherin—probably fuming, she thought—which wasn’t much encouragement.

“Clever, quite so—and very willful—Ravenclaw would be a good choice, but a better one yet— ” The Hat spoke into Lena’s ear hurriedly, and finally shouted out to the Great Hall;

“GRYFFINDOR!”

This time, the shock was much greater—not only because Lena was Karkaroff’s daughter, but also because two Gryffindor students from Durmstrang was more than anyone had reckoned—especially only out of ten. The silence was complete until a Gryffindor started clapping—and the rest of the table followed their lead—though still rather awed by their strange gaining of two new members. McGonagall recovered quickly after Lena had walked back to her seat—taking the empty one by Nadia—and called out a second year’s name;

“Orehov, Dimitri.”

A pause, and then,

“SLYTHERIN!”

“Pendareva, Anna.”

The fifth year girl with scarlet hair and clear, turquoise eyes stepped up, and carefully making her way around the other students to the front of the line, and then the Sorting Hat. She placed it cautiously on her own head, and a few moments later, it called,

“GRYFFINDOR!”

But by that time, not many students were paying attention, though this turn of events shocked brought out quite a few amazed glances. Over at the Ravenclaw table however, Nyx was having a conversation with a second year, whose cousin went to Durmstrang—Nyx looked to be enjoying herself, though in reality, she was still edgy. The Slytherins also, were talking, and the Durmstrang students in this House looked very much at home—the two second years laughing loudly enough to interrupt the Sorting. Lena gave them a very sharp look at this—earning a thorough teasing of ‘Headmaster’s pet no-more’ from Nadia.

When ‘Zabinski, Boris,’ the last of the exchange students, was sorted into Slytherin, the traditional first year sorting began. By that time, everyone had gotten very hungry—not many students having eaten anything after the Hogwarts Express Food Cart had come by.

“Auburn, Autumn.”

The first of the first years was called—a girl with a long braid of auburn hair and green eyes, going up to the Sorting Hat, was trembling slightly—however, soon the Hat called “GRYFFINDOR!” and Autumn settled down enough and stopped shaking.

“Chestner, Tyler.”

“RAVENCLAW!”  

Time seemed to whiz by while the Exchange students talked and joked, and soon, the line of first years shortened.

“Wilber, Allison.”

A shaking First Year girl with short black hair came up to be sorted, and after a few moments, the Hat cried out;

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Lena and Nadia clapped with the rest, as Allison sat down at their table. She looked as small and nervous as they felt. Next came a few Ravenclaws, with Nyx welcoming them with a cool smile, and Hufflepuffs, Gregor Hannes, the pompous fourth year, looking them over with distaste.

“Wimblebe, Joaquin.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

The sorting dragged on, though it was drawing to a close.

“Yerkinson, Emile.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

Finally, after ‘Zeller, Michael’ was sorted into Slytherin, the Headmaster stood up.

Albus Dumbledore was old indeed, but standing in the Great Hall, looking around at all of the students, his blue eyes twinkled merrily, as he swept the Hall with a long glance—seeming to want to be there more than any other place in the world. Just as he cleared his throat to begin, he noticed Harry and Hermione slip in the doors of the Great Hall—and make their silent way, bending down from sight, to the Gryffindor table to find Ron. Behind them, short and ancient, Professor Flitwick entered the Great Hall, and headed for the Staff table, seating himself quietly on Dumbledore’s right side. The Headmaster himself had asked the Charms teacher, Filius Flitwick, to speak to Harry and Hermione, about the Dementor on the Hogwarts Express, and Hermione’s schedule. Now, Dumbledore welcomed the students,  looking truly pleased to see them all there.

“Welcome to our new students—and welcome back to our old!” he started, “I would like to announce several thing today—but you are probably not in the mood for speech making before you quench your hunger, so they will have to wait until after our excellent Feast, as for now; Dig in!”

The Weasley twins laughed appreciatively, and Nadia grinned at Lena—Karkaroff was quite a different Headmaster indeed—never had he said anything so lightly, nor so kindly—not to many students but his daughter that is.

The Hogwarts students all looked at their empty golden plates expectantly, and the Durmstrang students, as well as the first years, were mystified by this—until that is, the plates and goblets magically filled with food and drink of all kind.

There were fried potatoes, mashed potatoes, ribs, turkey, all sorts of salads, and fish and chips galore. Their goblets filled with pumpkin juice, and the students quickly loaded their plates—piling up their food in mountains before proceeding to ‘dig in.’ At the Ravenclaw table, Nyx looked reprovingly at a second year who was stuffing his face with chicken legs, before taking a few herself, and relaxing slightly—the Headmaster seemed favorable enough to her.  

The Slytherins however, were complaining about the school to the exchange students in loud voices—about how Hogwarts let in ‘Mudbloods’ and ‘filth.’ The Gryffindors ignored them, though Nadia did give them a glare to rival their Head of House’s. At their table, the Gryffindors were discussing their favorite classes.
“There’s a Muggle Studies class here?” Lena asked, startled, “There wasn’t one in Durmstrang! Father hates Muggles, but I think they’re so interesting!”

“Yeah,” Ron replied, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, “My Dad works in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts in the Ministry. But he only corrects hexed books that find their way into Muggle houses—and stuff like that… He had to charm a spitting teapot once.” He added thoughtfully.

“You’ll have to arrange your schedule after the Feast, if you don’t want randomly inserted classes,” Hermione warned Lena seriously, “You have to take Transfiguration, Herbology, History of Magic, Charms, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts—but you can drop Astronomy if you’ve earned enough points in it—though really you shouldn’t if you want to pass your O.W.L. in your fifth year.”

“What optional classes are you taking?” asked Harry suddenly.

“Well,” Hermione started, “There’s Divination, Ancient Runes, Arithmacy, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and a Flying class—from what I’ve heard—though last year we had a Dueling Club—there’s all sorts of those also—even a Gobstones one, I’ve heard. Oh, and Quidditch teams of course…” The last she added rather carelessly. “I’m in all of them, except Flying and Quidditch.”

“You’re taking all of those classes?” asked and astonished Ron, “But Hermione, that’s impossible, isn’t it? I mean—you can’t be in all of those classes at once!”

“Of course you can’t.” said Hermione tartly.

“So how are you taking them all?” asked Harry.

“I’ve arranged it with Professor McGonagall. What classes are you lot going to take then?”

“Vination,” said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potatoes, then, swallowing, he added, “Divination, I mean, and Care of Magical Creatures. Harry’s taking the same, but he’s in Quidditch too.”

Harry nodded in confirmation.

“I’m taking Divination,” Lena chipped in, “Muggle Studies, and Ancient Runes.

Nadia tore her gaze away from the Enchanted Ceiling, and said, “Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, and Arithmacy are the courses I want to take.”

“Do either of you play Quidditch?” Harry asked, and their discussion continued. Hermione just sighed exasperatedly, and took a piece of Steak-and-Kidney Pie.

“I’m stuffed!” the words had hardly escaped Ron’s mouth when the golden plates cleared their remaining contents, and the leftovers vanished. The plates were left shining clean, and the goblets refilled with pumpkin juice. But the Feast wasn’t over. “Excellent, desserts!


The Durmstrang students didn’t look as confused this time, watching their plates carefully—and soon the desserts appeared. Every flavour of pudding imaginable, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs, strawberry cream, pies, sweet breads, and candy. Honeydukes chocolate in blocks, yogurts, rice puddings, and even ice-cream—and all was scooped up into plates in a matter of seconds, students grabbing desserts by the second.

Munching on a treacle tart, Harry looked pleased—while Ron took a bite out of his Fizzing Whizbe. Hermione carefully took a Toothflossing StringMint, and Lena ladled her plate with strawberry cream—Nadia preferring the éclairs.  

Students became more content with the delicious feast in their stomachs, and desserts piled high on their plates, and talked of resuming classes with new vigor.

“The only class I’m not looking forward to is Potions…” Ron complained somewhat lazily.

“Yeah—I heard we’re doing poisons and antidotes—do you think that Snape is going to poison us this year?” Harry asked lightly.

“Wouldn’t put it past him…” Ron grinned slightly at his friend, just as the plates cleared for a second time.

Albus Dumbledore stood up again, this time for the real announcing. Clearing his throat lightly, he got everyone’s attention.

“Now that we are all content with our stomach filled, I will bore you for a couple of minutes with several important announcements, and I ask you please, to pay close attention to the several first.

“As most of you noticed, due to the escape of Sirius Black, we have several guards at the entrances of Hogwarts, for your safety. The Dementors are there to protect you, but since they don’t have their own human feelings, beware of them—you cannot trick a Dementor by invisibility or any other disguises, as they sense humans rather than see them. I warn each of you not to cause any injuries, or give them chances and reasons to harm you. They will remain at their posts until Sirius Black is caught.

“On a better note, I would like to welcome two new teachers this year—for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lupin!”

The applause was rather faint, and only the Gryffindors clapped loudly—Professor Lupin was looking rather poor compared to the other staff members.

“And unfortunately, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Kettleburn, gave up his post in retirement last year, and his place shall be filled by our own Rubeus Hagrid—who’s agreed to teach and continue being our Keeper of the Keys and Grounds Caretaker.”

The Gryffindors and a few others cheered at this again, but most of the Slytherins didn’t bother looking up. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged excited glances at this announcement however.

“Also, as you have noticed,” he gestured around the Hall to the Durmstrang students, “We have gained several new students whom will continue to be with us for the remainder of the year, in preparation for the next. These are exchange students from Durmstrang Institute, and they are here to prepare you and themselves for an event coming up next year, that will not be divulged until then. I ask for your patience, and welcome to these students, whom you just saw sorted, as well as the regular first years.”

Dumbledore sat down, eyes twinkling kindly, and that was the signal of the end of the Feast. The Slytherin table—which was closest to the doors, got up first, and when they had filed through, headed towards the dungeons, to their Common Room. The other tables followed, and soon, the Great Hall was left to the staff. The last three Gryffindors scurried out, after congratulating Hagrid on his job.

The Hufflepuffs went toward the kitchens to their Common Room, and the Ravenclaws made their way to the West Tower. Only the Red and Gold House was left standing under the Grand Staircase—which they quickly filed up—and made their way to the seventh floor—turning into a narrower spiral staircase then, and heading through a tapestry into a hidden corridor. Through and up several trapdoors and moving stairs later, they came to a portrait of a Fat Lady, in an old fashioned, pink dress that reached her ankles. She was surveying them with interest.

“New Gryffindors?” she asked suddenly, “Good to see so many this year. Password?”

A prefect with red hair—which Lena had already learned to associate with the word ‘Weasley,’ answered, “The Password is: Billywig. If you want to enter the tower, I suggest you remember it.” He said rather sharply, unlike Ron.

“That’s my brother, Percy—he’s a prat alright…” Ron complained slightly to Nadia, “Just because he’s a prefect… Perfect Percy! Uhh…”

Nadia gave him a half grin, half frown sympathetic sort of look, as the Portrait opened, revealing a round hole in the wall, through which they all climbed through—entering the Gryffindor Common Room.

Just as medieval as the rest of the castle, it was obviously in a tower, for the round room had windows looking high above the Grounds. The Gryffindor colors, gold and red, were very prominent among the decorations. A crimson rug with a roaring lion was on the floor—the golden beast bared its teeth dangerously when anyone passed too close to it. Around this carpet, several large, red, comfortable looking armchairs and sofas stood, facing the large fireplace that took up most of the left wall. There was a long table in front of the sofa, and a few small round ones for homework or chess stood around the Common Room. A notice board by the hole through which they’d climbed read the Announcements made by Dumbledore, and there were a few notices concerning lost and found items, and a note that read,

‘Gryffindors are to receive their schedules at breakfast tomorrow—do not be late—breakfast begins at eight o’ clock sharp.

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress’

Below was the plain, firm signature of Professor McGonagall.

As the Gryffindors streamed into the Common Room, some going to their Dormitories on their right—there were two spiral staircases leading up to the Dormitories, one boys’ and one girls’—turning in for an early night; while others stayed up in the armchairs, playing a late game of chess, or reading cozily. Hermione went straight to bed, and Ron and Harry decided to postpone their game of chess for tomorrow.

Lena looked around—this was fantastic! Durmstrang Common Rooms weren’t nearly as luxurious, though their grounds were much larger—the castle itself wasn’t interesting at all. She went over and sat in an armchair, and Nadia followed her.

“What do you think?” Nadia asked softly.

“This place is wonderful! But what about our schedules…”

Just as Lena finished speaking, the Portrait Hole entrance to the Common Room opened, and Professor McGonagall came in—looking just as stern as she did at the Feast. Striding briskly toward them, she said,

“Welcome to Gryffindor. If you have any questions, feel free to ask your House mates. Now, I would like a word about your schedules—both of you need to choose at least two extra classes—would you like me to list them?”

“No, that’s alright—we’ve decided already.” Lena said hurriedly, “Other than the necessary classes; could I take Divination, Ancient Runes, and Muggle Studies?”

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly, and wrote something down in a small notebook, then turned pointedly to Nadia. “And Miss Irvin?”

“I’d like to take Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, and Arithmacy.”

“Very well, you will receive your schedules tomorrow morning with the rest of the Gryffindors. Also, if you do not know, I am the Gryffindor Head of House, and am in charge of the Gryffindor Quidditch team—tryouts are on Friday if either of you are interested—we will be needing a reserve Chaser, and Seeker.” She turned to leave, but suddenly someone else walked into the Common Room.

“Yes, and Miss Pendareva, I was just looking for you—what classes would you like to take for your O.W.L.’s?”

The girl, Anna, looked slightly startled, before recovering and saying, “Oh, well, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble… I’d take Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes—Arithmacy would also be good…”

“Very well—you will receive your schedule tomorrow at breakfast—and since Arithmacy has a similar schedule to Ancient Runes, we’ll have to arrange a better schedule for you, if you can deal with some make up work.”

Anna nodded understandingly, before walking away toward the Girls’ Dormitories, before McGonagall strode out.

“Will you try out for Quidditch? I’ll help you practice if you want!” said Nadia immediately. She knew that Lena played Chaser—and they played much Quidditch in Durmstrang—though Nadia herself didn’t enjoy playing Quidditch as much—Flying was much more enjoyable in itself than the competitive sport.

“Definitely.” Lena said, smiling happily. “Well, shall we turn in? It has been a rather exciting day…”

With that the two made their way up the spiral staircase to the Third Year, girls’ Dormitory.

This was in the very tip of a the same tower, it was round with the ceiling narrowing as it went up—and had S