Leia Delaney's Story

Light ripples across the blue waters of the island’s cove, setting the waves aflame as the swells of water race towards the golden sands of the beach beyond. Half of the beach remains untouched, pristine stretches of sand racing down to meet the lapping salty waters. To the left, however, several small jetties have been constructed, floating on the waves and offering a safe docking space for the collection of magical ships arriving. The dock is only temporary, conjured up by staff for the arrival of the school’s students. Once the last has arrived the beach will be returned to its previous state, the swish of a wand deconstructing the floating pier in the blink of an eye.

For any muggles who catch sight of the yearly migration of ships, they might wonder where the sea faring vessels are going. The island is invisible to muggle eyes and technologies, blanketed by powerful spells that render it unmappable and undetectable. Yet, for those with magical blood running in their veins, they know exactly where the boats go and why. Above the beach, perched on the edge of the overhanging cliff, stands Orion Institute of Magic, a school dedicated to the education of young witches and wizards from around the globe. The castle gleams in the setting sun, appearing to sparkle as if its walls are littered with diamonds and crystals. The school’s flag flies from the Western tower, flapping in the sea breeze and proudly displayed the school’s crest – the Southern Cross constellation enclosed in a silver circle of vines with a pair of crossed wands beneath from which the words “To Learn Is the Highest Power” appear to be produced.

For the new students on the arriving boats, this is their first glimpse at their home for the next year, and an impression that will live on long after they have left the school. Awed gasps can be heard from some of those younger students, while the older students look on with smug expressions, their eyes already leaving the stunning castle above to scan the clear waters below. There, a dark smudge beneath the waves can be seen, flying through the water’s depths. There’s movement to the starboard side, barely caught by any who aren’t paying particular attention – just the flick of a tail and then calm again. A second later a shriek is heard from the front of the boat, small hands of the frightened first years pointing at the water monster emerging from the depths.

Long enough to wrap around the ship multiple times, the beast shares many similarities with dragons. Its skin is covered in glistening, dark multi-coloured scales, which seem to change shades as it swims from patches of sunlight to shadows cast by clouds high above. Above water the light also reveals the beautiful patterns engraved onto the beast’s scales. Sharp claws extend from its fore- and hind-legs, as long as many of the first years gapping in fear and astonishment on board the vessels are tall. Large, intelligent eyes blink up at the boat, its mouth opening to reveal rows of deadly teeth as it belches out a shriek. Spines stand to attention along its back, following the movement of its body as it slides through the water towards the boat. Just before the beast reaches the ship it picks up speed, causing more than a few of the new students to stumble backwards in fear as if it were about to smash into the ship's side. Then, to a series of gasps and startled shouts, it leaps from the waters, arching itself up and above the boat, the length of its body curving over the deck, before splashing back beneath the waves on the other side. From there it disappears down, a series of loud cheers and clapping erupting from the older students for its show.

On board the boats the knees of the first years shake, their eyes wide as they attempt to come to terms with what they’ve just seen.

“It’s a dragon… a- a-… a water dragon.” One mutters in bewilderment, no doubt questioning why a school would keep such a beast so close.

“No, it’s a Taniwha.” Another replies, possibly a resident of the neighbouring Island chain of New Zealand, from where the magical monsters originate.

The returning students grin on, confident in their knowledge that the cove’s Taniwha acts as guardian and protector of the school, and perhaps remembering their own first sighting of the beast. Many believe that the Taniwha’s appearance at the start of every year is his idea of a joke, a playful way to welcome the new students to Orion. For the rest of the year he – fondly nicknamed Moe because his full name is hard for many to pronounce – remains largely out of sight, apart from the odd glimpse of a tail or leg slipping beneath the waters.

Needless to say, once the shock wears off the new students and an older student has explained the situation, there’s no stopping the excited chatter. Yet, there is much more to see, and before long the students have left the boats. Carriages pulled by invisible steeds carry students up the winding path to the castle, while the first years are treated to flying hippogriff pulled carriages which zoom around the golden castle at an astonishing pace.


Just as the sun finally sets, the first years are set down and ushered into the grand hall. There wonder again sets in and necks crane up to inspect the charmed ceiling above. At first glance one might simply assume that the night sky outside has been reflected in the high ceiling of the hall, yet a second glance will show you there’s much, much more to behold, for the ceiling is alive with moving constellations. The crab of cancer scuttles behind the harp constellation of Lyra just as the dragon which gives house Draconis its name glides by. A school of sparkling stars in the shape of fish glimmer in and out of view as they pass swim around the figure of Hercules. Most stars can be seen in the ceiling at at least one time in the year as the ceiling seems to shift hemispheres on a whim. However, of all the constellations, only one is notably absent, both in the ceiling above and in the night sky, Orion the Hunter.

Yet, none of the students can be faulted for not reflecting on the constellation's absence at this moment. For, of equal interest to many is the large array of food spread across the four house tables, waiting to be devoured by the hungry witches and wizards. The feast is always a highlight, and every year the kitchen elves go to great lengths to provide a truly remarkable meal. Everything from roasted vegetables, chicken drumsticks, and mouth-watering burgers to creamy puff pastries, raspberries cakes, and lemon tarts stand ready on the tables. The only thing keeping the students from reaching out and starting their meal is the watchful eye of the school’s headmistress and her accompanying teachers. They sit at the head of the hall, patiently waiting for the first years to file in so that they may be sorted. Only then will a short welcoming speech be given before permission to eat is granted.

The sorting, thankfully, does not take an extraneous amount of time. An old hat is brought out, baring a striking resemblance to the sorting hat used by Hogwarts School. And in fact Orion’s was modelled on Hogwarts’ sorting hat many years ago. However, since its creation the hat has picked up several habits, such as dropping the occasional swear word into its yearly song and insisting on being addressed as ‘Daisy’. No amount of magic or persuading can get it to stop swearing, and the students have come to be fond of this little quirk. Daisy usually receives a raucous applause after any song particularly heavy in unsavoury language. Applause too is given as the new students are sorted into one of the four houses, older students clapping them on the backs and cheering as they move to join their tables. Then, after ‘Robert Zueqo’ is sorted into Draconis, the hat is removed and Headmistress Syborn stands.

A hush descends on the hall as the witch gazes out, her smile warm as she addresses the pupils, “To our newest arrivals, welcome to Orion, and to our returning students, welcome back.” Her voice carries across the hall, while her eyes dance from face to face. “I can see that many of you are already eyeing the lemon tarts, and I will not be the reason to prolong your wait.” A cheer goes up from some of the students, the hungriest no doubt, and Headmistress Sybron waits patiently for the noise to die down before she continues, “However, I would first like to remind all students and inform our new pupils, that unsupervised magic is prohibited, while the forest and beach are out of bounds unless accompanied by a teacher. Professor Savea informs me that the island’s local unicorn herd has several new additions and asks that anyone who happens to come across them, to please be respectful and give the young foals space.” Syborn pauses, her eyes gazing around at individual faces as she lets her message sink in, when she is sure that it had she smiles and raises her hands, “Alright, you may begin.”

That announcement receives a loud cheer, one that becomes progressively quieter as the students pounce on the food. And this is where we start out story, sitting among friends and filling out bellies.

The first full day of school dawns bright and early, sunlight seeping in through stain glass windows and falling on students eager to start the day ahead – or go back to sleep. Many enjoy their final hours of freedom before class begins, knowing that as soon as they sit down to learn, assignments and homework will mar their free time. As eight a.m. rolls around, most students can be found pulling themselves from bed and making their way to breakfast. Some eager – or unlucky – few have been up since the crack of dawn, the Phoenicis Quidditch team under the direction of their captain having woken before the sun in order to get a jump start on the other houses’ teams. Now, however the delicious smells of pancakes, bacon and eggs, porridge, and every other breakfast treat one could imagine seems to permeate the air. Any first year who has already forgotten the path from dorm room to Great Hall need only follow their nose.

The heavy double doors stand at the rear of the hall, directly opposite the teachers’ podium and bracketed by two large carvings – one a likeness of the Taniwha Moe, the other a carved map of the night sky with the cluster of stars known as matariki (the Pleiades) centre stage. On the wall either side of the doors hang the house banners, indicating which long table belongs to which house. To the far right upon entering one finds Centaurus, with Draconis right and centre. Pegasi house stands left and centre, with Phoenicis against the left wall. While the house segregation is strictly maintained during dinners, and in particular feasts such as the welcome back feast of the night before, breakfast and lunch are another story. Students are free to sit at other houses’ tables. One will commonly find most students grouped at their own house table, merely because this is typically where their close friends sit, but for those who wish to diversify their friend group, Orion allows for movement between the benches. It’s not uncommon to see Draconis sitting with Centaurus, or Pegasi beside Phoenicis. Students may roam where they please, though for the first day back it also pays to mind the Head of Houses.

The first day’s breakfast is when timetables are handed out by each house’s head. Most of the heads are able to recognise their house members, and for those who don’t and for the first years, the difference in colouring of their uniform offers a key clue. Centaurus students wear their clothing embossed with the mossy green and warm gold of their house. Draconis have a clear blue and dark bronze as decoration, while Pegasi have a softer lilac and silver combination. Students in Phoenicis house can be found with scarlet and black edgings to their uniform. Professor Dew, Head of Pegasi, can be seen gliding between the tables, stopping to hand out timetables to her students with a smile. She knows all by name and will often pause on her way to enquire after a student’s family or break. Her first years are welcomed with a calm smile and a note that if they have any problems, her door is always open. Centaurus’ head, Professor Favreau, looks as if he’s still half asleep. A piece of toast hangs from his mouth and when he finds a Centaurus student he can often be seen scratching his head as he searches through his collection of timetables. He too knows them all by name – or most of them at least - though he has been known to make up fond nicknames for his favourites. Across the hall Professor Maddox grins as he shares a joke with a Phoenicis student. He seems to view the handing out of class schedules as a competition with victory going to whoever can see all their students sorted the fastest, though he keeps getting distracted as he shares sarcastic banter with the louder members of his house. His attitude is perhaps the complete opposite of Draconis’ dignified head. Professor Jones of Draconis does not hurry, yet she is possibly the most efficient, handing out schedules with a nod of approval or a simple ’See me after breakfast to sort out this issue.’.

For the older students, their schedules are designed around the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T examinations they will be sitting at the end of the year. Some sixth years, having done terribly in one subject or another, are unable to meet requirements for their preferred topic and must pick another, while others sit tall with pride at having received near perfect marks (the majority of these seem to be found in house Centaurus). Other students are eager to look over their timetables and compare classes and schedules with friends, while others lament over a packed day and not enough free periods. Whatever your mood and wherever you find yourself sitting, there is sure to be much to discuss. The first day back is always exciting, and even the stars reflected in the enchanted ceiling above seem to be brimming with energy.

The first class of the year had been slow for most of Orion’s students, with everyone trying to ease their way back into the beat of school. The teachers, of course, had other ideas than to take it slow, and while some students moaned about the homework that was already being set, others looked forward to expanding their mind. Those who were still in holiday mode quickly settled in to the rhythm of class. That first class flowed into the second class, which then became the third, until a whole week had passed and to most students it felt like they had never left. That first week became two, and before anyone knew it almost a month had gone by since school started.

It’s now been three and a half weeks since the ships docked in the bay, and while many people in the northern hemisphere are pulling out the extra blankets, the southern half of the globe is happily in the midst of spring. Orion looks magnificent in any weather, but it practically glows in spring. Wild flowers sprout up around the edges of the forest, and more often than not bright coloured petals can be found decorating the waters of the magical waterfalls that send down buckets of liquid on unsuspecting students. The baby unicorns have been seen wobbling about the school lawn from the windows, while a pod of bottle-nose dolphins spent the last week playing with the taniwha, Moe, in the harbour.

Of course, none of that is quite as exciting as the prospect of the first trip to Mākutu, the magical village which shares the island with Orion. For those old enough to attend this trip was long awaited. Mākutu is always a treat, no matter how many times one has visited. Nestled on the other side of the island and only a short walk through the forest, it consists of a small collection of stores that sell everything from magical and muggle treats to spell books and novels. Most, if not all, of the stores can be found along the main thoroughfare, with the houses of the residents either occupying the upper storeys of the buildings or snuggled behind. In the centre of the town is a quaint square or cobblestones. A statue in the middle of the square depicts a tall, broad shoulder man of Polynesian descent with a wand in one hand and a magical compass in the other. As the plaque beneath his effigy read, the figure is the Mākutu, the wizard who found and settled the island centuries ago. His gaze fixes on some spot in the distance, as if seeking out his next adventure.

For many, their sights are usually fixed on the Honey Pot, an adorable café by day, and quaint bar by night. It’s here you’ll usually find students and islanders alike taking shelter from the rain, or merely stopping by to try their island-famous honey mead. Praised as the nectar of the gods, or the lovers’ drink (usually only by those who have had several more than they should), it will warm your belly and soothe your worries. It should be noted that students are forbidden from consuming alcohol in the village, though light beverages like butterbeer are allowed to the older students. Thankfully, the Honey Pot offers delicious non-alcoholic alternatives for the younger students, and their hot chocolates are divine. Though, if you’re an inquisitive student or know the right people to ask, you might find your way to the outskirts of the village where the Rusty Ship Wreck stands. While it isn’t a ship, the dingy pub is rather rusty, and locals have taken to calling it ‘the Wreck’ for short. Here, if you’re discrete and don’t irk the owner, a student can purchase and enjoy almost any beverage he or she desires.

It is places like these that have the third years buzzing with excitement as they wait by the school’s main doors to be officially allowed out. It’s their first year being able to explore the town, and most have made sure that they’ll have the whole Saturday to do so, their eagerness seeing them rise early for breakfast when for most a Saturday normally calls for a lazy morning. The older students, most of whom find the pull of the town less consuming, are still all likely to indulge in a trip through the woods. Why not? It’s a chance to stretch your legs, stock up on unhealthy, sugared goods, and possibly share a virgin honey mead with your crush (legend has it sharing the drink brings a couple closer). So, though the third years jump in excitement, they aren’t the only ones waiting for Professor Li and Professor Patel to start ticking off names and allowing students to leave.

Permissions have to be checked, particularly for the third years, but eventually the students are allowed out, and in no time Orion’s pupils are streaming into the village. There is no uniform needed to be worn today, so many of the students wear their own clothes, of which vary between the mundane and decidedly muggle, to the odd and hilarious. No ignorant muggle would be able to walk through the village without stopping in their tracks to gawp at one student, at least. Thankfully, no muggle has ever stepped into the village in living record, which is reassuring for the islanders. Of course, had our protagonists known about the series of events that begin to unfold on this inauspicious day, perhaps they too would have wished never to step foot in Mākutu.