Hogwarts: Year One

Astrea was the first person out to the greenhouses, having said goodbye to her fellow table occupants and drifted out there at her own meandering sort of pace. Still, she appeared to have been lucky in that Hagrid was around to find her before she got lost and point her in the right direction.

There were numerous plants lining the walls of the glass-sided building, and though she knew better than to touch any of them, that did not stop her from exploring a bit, humming a strange little tune as she journeyed down those parts of the building that were accessible to her. She heard a whimpering coming from one corner, and decided that the Mandrakes probably needed to be repotted soon, but that was something for older students, most likely.

Eventually the door could be heard opening and closing several times, and she made her way back to the front, unaware that she'd been watched the entire time by Professor Sprout, who appeared at some point later in front of the desks that occupied the front part of Greenhouse 1.

"Welcome to Herbology class, Gryffindors and Ravenclaws," she greeted, smiling pleasantly at all around, and Astrea decided that she wasn't going to mind this class at all.

John, for his part, only nodded at the strange teacher before heading for his own class. Charms was easy enough to find as it was one of the core classes everyone took and he could see plenty of First-Year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs heading in the same direction.

Soon, he found himself sitting in a desk in the middle of the room, once again wishing he knew more people in his own house and Hufflepuff. Quietly, he pulled out a few pieces of parchment as well as a quill and an inkwell which he set upon his desk while he fingered his wand, which remained in his pocket.

Soon enough, a small-looking man entered the classroom. He was old, but he looked to contain a great amount of spark in his eyes even in his old age. He stood up in front of the class and introduced himself, "Welcome, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. I am Professor Flitwick, your Charms teacher."

As the man gave a brief overview on what charms were and how they could be used and for what in real life, John decided he was going to like this class. Charms sounded like it would contain a lot of practical practices after all.

Ian loved the smell of the greenhouse, but didn't like that he had to slouch under the door. He'd never really been at risk of hitting his head, but doors always seemed just low enough that if he wasn't thinking he could be unconscious and concussed without even knowing it.

As a result, Ian had a certain fear of basic doors, already enjoying the arches and vaulting ceiling of Hogwarts, these, however, were perfectly high enough, so Ian's little chicken head-bob proved unnecessary.

Dispelling his usual stupid look, Ian took a great whiff of a not-yet blossomed flower, which smelled like if Tar were mixed with honey and something citrusy and left in a searing hot sun. It promptly hissed at him.

Ian realized there weren't desks, and no need for wands, which made him fall in love with the class already, standing near the back of the class, he readied himself to plunge into the world of agricultural magic and all it entailed. Another class he would be sure to love.

"Everyone here? Ah, good. Now, don't be shy, everyone, I promise that only some of the plants bite." Professor Sprout smiled, but it was difficult to tell if she was joking or not.

She began with an introductory lecture to botanical method, which apparently really just involved not inhaling, breaking, or overwatering anything, and then waved her wand, at which point two very long tables appeared in the empty space. Another flourish produced a series of neon-blue plant stalks with nauseatingly bright pink flowers. Astrea was instantly enraptured, of course.

"These are called Floridious Zenopathenus," she said, and when several of the students just looked at her blankly, sighed slightly. "Also known as Lightroot." A flick of her rather swishy wand plunged the greenhouse into darkness, and there were several murmurs of appreciation as the flowers were seen to glow, actually producing a colored luminescence that cast a pool of light for a foot or so. "These were used more commonly before the Lumos spell was invented. Today, they have applications for several potions dealing with," she paused for dramatic effect, "enlightenment!" the greenhouse came back into full visibility, and the cheerful Professor chuckled at her own joke.

"Now, I'd like each of you to take a plant, and on a piece of parchment, please draw and label all the parts of the plant. Consult page seven of your textbook if you require help. It may not seem like much fun now, but knowing your plant anatomy will help you later!"

Ian giggled, yes, giggled, at the illumination of the Lightroot. He loved the thing, and was farmiliar with it because of one of the horses his parent's raised "Enigma" was addicted to the thing. She was a gorgeous horse, and her hooves had taken on some of the luminescence. She was the winged sort, and her feathers always were particularly shiny, and her coat was a very rich shade of white, the sort that seemed almost blue.

Unfortunately, she was also a bitch, and Ian had many, many a bruise, scar, and loose rib from attempting to do anything even near her, hence, her lovely characteristics would probably die with her.

Ian, obviously not the artist, scribbled out the plant on his paper, juxtaposing the crummy picture with curly, ornate handwriting.

Page seven proved a little daunting, however, as he realized he only knew a handful of the many, many classified parts.

(wow i should have checked in sooner, things really progressed, hold on, il post something up soon)

The sky was bright on the hillside. A water snake had taken residence in the charming pool, never stagnant, bubbling up from beneath the sweeping foundations of a proud estate. The willows were doubled over with the weight of their leaves, and relaxing against one was a man so perfectly in place, he almost seemed a part of the scenery.

He was casually running his fingers along a slender shaft of wood, humming and sinking lower and lower against his arbor support.

"I see you finally got the house." A voice said, startling the man up from his sleep.
"Qu'est-ce que vous faites?" He broke out, pointing the unfinished wand at the approaching figure.

"Don't act surprised. I have many keys, including one to this place. Did Monet inspire this place? I noticed the waterlilies"
The man supported himself still against the willow, pocketing the coreless wand. "Zis visit is unnecessary. I 'ave no intention of 'elping you. I did my part already."

The figure opposite him, dressed all in a charming sky blue, silver decorating his soft, regal form, gave a crooked smile. "You know that all fell through..."

"Not my problem, monsieur." He withdrew his own wand now, gripping it firmly.
"Don't you feel bad, knowing it isn't yours?" the man in blue mused, gesturing at the Frenchman's harshly gripped wand.
"I will not 'elp you."
"Certainly not, I'm just extending an invitation, L. I'd like to say we've come into the possession of something you'd be highly interested in, and more importantly, we're now only months away from reclaiming it."
"It was never yours!"
"No, not that, L..."
"You don't mean."
"Oh, L, you're so charming with your epiphanies. Again, the waterlilies are simply breathtaking, but I think Monet did it better. Something about art and dreams seem so much more effective than reality, no?" He let out a laugh as sweet and rich as honey.
"Pleased by your own joke?"
"I always am. Bonne journée."

And the man in blue vanished with a crack.

And the bubbling pool gave way to a smooth calm, the water snake flitting down into the calm still waters.

Jessamine Branch, Hufflepuff fifth year and quite fine with that, thank you very much, glanced back over her shoulder at the new recruits. Honestly, Professor C had told her that these were the most promising first years that she could find, but she personally was not so sure. There was that one Slytherin kid... he looked like he might know the right end of a wand from the wrong one, at least, but that was about it.

Whatever. Tossing her blond curls over her shoulder, the older student spoke the password, and a portrait that hadn't always had a door behind it swung open to admit the lot of them. "All right, kids, do file inside please. And remember not to interrupt the president when she's talking. Actually, just don't speak unless asked. That should be safe enough." Rolling her eyes, she stepped aside and let them file in before making sure the portrait closed behind them.

The room was simple enough, with comfortable seating scattered in a rough circle. At the front of the formation stood a statuesque sixth-year Ravenclaw, a prefect, as evidenced by the glistening badge. Sharp features and a tawny complexion gave her a rather exotic look, and the waist-length black hair helped. As the last vestiges of the meeting entered, she looked up from where she'd been standing at a desk, reading something, and smiled. The expression never did reach her eyes, and only seemed to increase the severity of the planes of her face. Clearly, there was no trace of softness left in this young woman at all.

"Greetings," she offered, and her voice was rich and low for a female, "My name is Claudia Zabini, and I am the President of the Hogwarts Society for the Gifted. If you would please take your seats, we can begin..."

John said nothing as he and the others entered through the portrait. After these past few days at Hogwarts, he had become used to portraits being secret entrances. Idly, he wondered if it was a Hogwarts thing or if the Wizarding World was fond of this trend. Nevertheless, he was intrigued with this situation, though the Ravenclaw that them there's attitude annoyed him somewhat. She treated them like stupid little kids and that irritated him to no end.

He looked over at the President's form appraisingly. She indeed didn't look like the sort of person whose bad side he wanted to get on. He had a feeling that she knew more than a few nasty curses which he currently couldn't defend himself against. He was pleased, however, to be included in this group. It was the first step to achieving greatness, to not being nothing. He just wanted to know what exactly this group did. He hadn't heard of the Hogwarts Society for the Gifted and he didn't see notices for recruiting members in the Common Room, though, to be fair, it wouldn't be a Society for the "Gifted" if everyone was just allowed in. It was probable that they didn't advertise themselves too much in order to avoid resentment from the rest of the student body.

Quietly, the Slytherin took a seat near the rig edge of the desk and watched the Ravenclaw with interest. He knew that if he was patient, she'd eventually tell them why they were all here and this society's purpose was.

Claudia's black eyes swept over the assembled students appraisingly, and though her facial expression never really changed, it was clear in her posture that she'd decided something. What it was, exactly, would not be immediately evident. She shot a look back to the corner of the room, where Professor C stood, well... lurked was more like it. For the head of Gryffindor House, the man had a thing for mysterious entrances and shadowy spots.

Not that it bothered her, of course. Claudia was not easily intimidated, and unlike the rest of her family, she would not be changed simply because the world was temporarily different. Oh no, not her. Blaise Zabini's cousin had for more guts than that.

"Congratulations on being invited here. Our faculty adviser, who most of you know as Professor C, has invited you here because he believes you all have merit enough to have earned it. It is my job, then, to deliver the harder news: that merit, whatever it may be, will not be enough." Her tone was soft, silken, and just the slightest bit dangerous as she spoke, and most of them were instantly drawn in.

"Do allow me to elaborate. The Hogwarts Society for the Gifted is designed to better you, to make you stronger. Among other things, your senior members will be taking the initiative to teach you spells of a higher level than your peers will be learning. You will be privy to knowledge and power that does not belong to others of your age, because... you are better than they are. Oh, you might not believe me now, but it will soon become evident, I assure you." She smiled then, a slow, tight, serpent's smile, and her eyes became half-lidded in what appeared to be languid contemplation.

"As most of you will doubtless have guessed, there is indeed a catch. Our society, while known to the administration, is purposely kept from other students, and we expect that it will remain that way. You will also be periodically given tasks to complete by Professor C or myself, and we expect you to carry these out with all due haste and discretion. Do not mistake me: these tasks shall prove beneficial to you as well.

"Above all, however, remember one thing: all Society activities must remain beneath the notice of others. To anyone, anyone who asks, we are merely a supportive group of older students who tutor our younger counterparts in advanced magic. To those of you who are inclined to disregard the rules," and here her eyes met each of the Slytherins and Gryffindors in the room, "do understand that smarter, craftier, more brazen than you have tried, and the consequences are unfailingly dire. Are there any questions?"

-=-

Astrea poked her head over the top of the book she was reading, and she surveyed the library. it looked like all the other students in this section had departed, and she wondered why. The clock on the wall provided her answer.

"Oh," she said softly to herself. "I hadn't thought it was that late." Blinking owlishly, the girl shoved the book- Hogwarts, A History- into her overlarge bag and minimized it. Really, she was coming to love this particular little charm, and the myriad of other ones a person could pick up with enough observation or reading. In all honesty, though, she was so tiny that she would probably never get to class on time if she didn't know how to reduce the weight of the things she carried. One of her Hufflepuff friends liked to say that if someone ever put a featherweight charm on Astrea, she would drift away with the first errant breeze. She herself rather liked the idea.

Adjusting her several layers of brightly-colored shirt to lay smoothly once more, she headed out of the library and back towards Ravenclaw tower. The prefect that was usually about at this time- Claudia, maybe?- was not to be seen, which meant that the fact that she was technically out past hours went unnoticed by any except a blond Hufflepuff girl leaning against the wall next to a portrait of a middle-aged woman with severe features. Both glared at her as she passed, and the portrait made a tut-tutting sound and mentioned something about children nowadays. Astrea thought there must be something on her face, and resolved to check next time she found a mirror.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, and her nearly soundless footsteps nevertheless echoed in the empty halls, along with the small melody she was humming to herself. Really, these past few weeks had been interesting. Fall was only just beginning in earnest, and already so much had happened. The train group had largely drifted apart, though she still greeted everyone in the hallways. The only two she really spent any amount of time with were John, Ian, and whomever she happened to randomly sit with at lunch. She had something of a rotation, and most of them jokingly asked her when their next "Astrea day" was. ti was nice, to think that people liked her company, even if only a bit.

"Pomegranates," she replied to her portrait's riddle, and the thing swung open to admit her. Once inside her room, she expanded her star necklace again and pulled the book up to rest against her pillow, turning onto her stomach and lighting the Lumos spell (another useful one she'd picked up, this from a Gryffindor second year named Ashley) so that she might continue to read.

The book fell open on its own, though, and a folded piece of parchment dropped out. "Hm? What's this?" she whispered to herself, and watched in fascination as words began to resolve on the page.

Erika was in the Owlery, writing a letter home.
"Dear Father," she wrote, her green quill scratching on the parchment, "I'm doing well in my classes, and Hebi is being very well-behaved. I've learned quite a bit. I'm in Slytherin, much like you expected. I haven't completely settled in, I still need to make friends, but I'm sure that will come in time, won't it?" Here she paused, and brushed her dark hair behind her ear. She continued, "The train trip was alright, a bit long. I tried some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and they were nice, until I ate an Earwax one and was almost sick. I had a Chocolate Frog, which Hebi ate before I could catch it, and got Harry Potter on the card. The teachers are all right, except for Professor Binns, who just goes on, and on, and on! I'm spending a good prtion of my free time in the library or the Owlery. I'm getting quite close to a nice barn owl, who alway delivers my letters. Looking forward to hearing from you, Erika." She folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope, and gave it to the owl, which took it and soared out the window. She watched it fly away until it was a dark blur, then turned and walked down the long stone steps back to the Slythrin Common Room.

Ian was cross legged before the clean Ravenclaw fireplace, carefully stirring a crystal clear syrup in a tiny cauldron of what appeared to be some sort of steel-silver combination. Sitting beside him was a rack with twelve vials, each with a small bundle of something tied up inside. Some of them more mystical, like Croation dried cross-toad legs, others quite plain, such as vanilla beans or green peppercorns.

Each was sitting, the rack suspending oversized crystal toppers just above.

Ian had been sort of half-invited to something going on tonight, but by choosing to stay in, he'd proven his unworthiness. This potion had been brewing carefully for a few days now, and he was already worried it had ceased. He didn't want to waste the ingredients Slughorn had lent him out of curiosity. Already Ian wished he were a Slytherin just to have more interaction with his new favorite teacher.

As Astrea came in he gave her a wave, "What did you write? Did we have homework?" Ian's stomach sank. Was it History of Magic? He hadn't remembered an assignment, he took a deep breath. Potions can smell fear, after all, and he kept rhythmically swirling the bubbling syrup.

Quite suddenly it started to bubble furiously and turn bue, and he very rapidly extracted syrup using a soda straw, before depositing it in each of the twelve vials, which, upon being filled, snapped shut, the steam dissipating and the syrup turning clear, except for one, which had what looked like a half-cracked half-cooked egg inside, which turned a murky brown.

"Eleven out of twelve. Not bad" Ian dumped the failed brown potion in the fire and started cleaning the vial as he approached Astrea.

John regarded Claudia with renewed interest. Spells and skills meant for those far above his own age. Yes, that was what he liked to hear. Professor C. was telling the truth when he met with him yesterday after all. As for telling his friends... Well, he wasn't forbidden to pass along what he learned, now, was he? Besides, there were other ways to communicate than conventional speaking and writing.

There was only one, problem, in John's mind. Perhaps he was a bit mistrusting in nature, but he had a feeling that Claudia wasn't telling them the complete truth. Why would Professor C. invest so much effort into bettering these students, far beyond that of any other Professor he had met so far. What did this society or Professor C want? He'd have to make sure to find out as soon as possible. If there was one thing John hated more than being regarded as nothing, it was being regarded as a simple tool.

Erika was in the Slytherin Common Room, reading about famous Parselmouths. She liked to read about people with gifts like hers, and Hebi had pointed out this book to her when they had been in the library. Madame Pince had given her a funny look, but it hadn't been in the Restricted Section, so she was fine. Hebi was currently around her shoulders, looking at the occaisional picture. When they had gotten on the train, Hebi had made Erika promise to teach her to read. Erika had agreed. Another first year walked in, Erika looked up, and Hebi shot down the back of her shirt. The boy had taken one look at the book, and said, quite clearly, "Freak." Erika had thrown the book at him, he had ducked, and ran off. The book fell in the fire, Erika ran over, and grabbed it, but it was already badly damaged. She took out her wand, and said, clearly and smoothly, "Reparo!" The book did a little wiggle, the burn marks faded and the binding repaired itself. Erika breathed a sigh of relief, and mentally thanked the third year that had showed her that spell. She returned to her seat, and continued reading. The boy popped back in, and sneered, "gonna throw your freaky book at me again?" Erika smiled sweetly, and threw Hebi at him, the little grass snake biting him sharply on the nose before returning to Erika. The boy ran off, and Erika laughed.

Astrea, having been too excited at the words on the parchment, had taken it in hand and drifted back down the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room, remembering that she'd passed Ian there just a few minutes. She bounced lightly onto the couch, crossing her now pajama- clad legs underneath her as she examined the paper, turning it this way and that in her hands. The ink seemed to follow her movement, appearing on each new surface.

You're making us dizzy, it read, and she smiled with delight.

"Ian, Ian, come look at this," she called in a stage-whisper, tossing a green-eyed glance over her shoulder to see that he was already approaching. Looking back down at the paper, she noted the shift in the words, and read what was written as a question as a statement. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good... I wonder why it would ask me that?" Opening the parchment for the first time, her eyes widened at the image that was slowly appearing.

"It's... a map! Oh look, here's the common room, and..." she noted a dot reading "Ian Lellsi" was coming up behind one marked "Astrea Delphius."

"What kind of map are you?" she asked the parchment. "It's amazing." More words swum into relief in one corner, in a slightly-different script than had appeared on the face.

Why thank you. We are the Marauders. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. We are here to assist in all manner of mischief-making, as you can see.

Astrea giggled lightly. "I can." She wasn't the most mischievous mind around, but even she could see the potential in having such a unique map of the school.

"absolutely horrific! Behavior like this will NOT be tolerated at Hogwarts!" Professor McGonagall scolded Erika, who hung her head. Hebi was wrapped around one hand, and doing her best to avoid eye contact."Bringing a snake to school! and throwing it at a student! detention, see me in my office first thing tomorrow morning! Go!" Erika turned to leave, and Professor McGonagall Cleare her throat, and looked pointedly at the Hebi. "you will send you snake home, this instant. Call your house elf!" "yes, Professor", Erika said nobediently, and called out, "Edis?" Wth a crack, the Malfoy familt elf appeared, and bowed low. "yes, Mistress?" Erika gave Hebi to the little elf, and said, "take Hebi back home, Edis." the elf bowed again, and Disapparated. Erika left the office, and a tear rolled down her cheek as she walked back to the Slytherin Common Room.

John frowned a little as he walked through the corridors, making sure to keep in the shadows as much as he could. It was after curfew and he had no illusions about what Filch or one of the Professors would do to him if they caught him. Still, it was a necessary risk if he was to find Professor C.'s prize before the others. The said prize sounded rather interesting in of itself, in fact, and John wanted to see it before it was handed over to the Transfiguration Professor.

He stepped into an empty classroom being used for storage, eying the junk with interest before sweeping the room with his gaze for a mirror. The Mirror of Erised, John mused. A mirror that was said to show one his or her heart's desire. The Parseltongue would love to look into it. He didn't quite know what he wanted himself. He knew what he didn't want: to be ignored, to be seen as nothing. It was those thoughts in his head that led to the Sorting Hat deeming him a Slytherin.

He sighed as he opened a cabinet, finding nothing, "I wish Ian and Astrea were here. It's going to be hard finding the mirror alone."

It had been a long few days. Her mother had been shocked that she had received a detention, but her father thought it was absolutely hilarious, her throwing a snake at a boy. Erika was currently walking around the dark corridors, way after curfew, but she couldn't sleep without Hebi. She kept to the shadows, and froze when she heard something coming from a nearby classroom. She stood outside the doorway, and pressed her ear to it. ".....finding the mirror alone..." It was a boy. He was looking for something. Erika put her left hand on the doorknob, and her right hand tensed around her wand. "Lumos" She whispered, and opened the door, pointing her bright wand tip at the surprised face of a boy with dark hair, who was looking in a cabinet. "Who are you!" she whispered frantically, accidentally saying it in Parseltongue. Her eyes widened, and she corrected herself. "I mean, who are you?" She said again, this time in English. Her wand tip was pointed straight at him, her entire arm steady. If he did anything that she thought would be dangerous to her, well, her father had taught her a Bat bogey hex she was dying to try out.