George fumbled over a jug of the thick, orange liquid they’d all become accustomed to and carefully poured its condense into the metal goblet he suspected to be silver. He was nervous but he knew he’d be sharing his lessons with his friends at least. So long as they were there, he would feel even the slightest bit more comfortable and that’s what mattered most, surely. His hands tucked the pitcher back down on the table before searching for his cup. Yet the cup barely left the table before his toes curled under his shoes, his stomach wrapping around itself over and over again. He chanced a glance at his two friends, noting Sadie’s interested face and Seine’s now rather regretful and uncomfortable. George gave a short stammer at first. It was all he could manage. She didn’t need to know everything.. Slowly, the blonde twisted in his seat to face his friend, his brain trying to make sense of the story he’d been told by his parents numerous times. “Way before any of us were born, there was a wizard. He was pretty bad and he had an army. He lost the first war and everyone thought he’d died.” He paused and flicked his eyes about the duo. “Turns out he didn’t die. There was this other wizard too, and he was the only one who could kill this bad wizard. When he was at this school, the second war happened and his army arrived at this school. A lot of the students stood and fought him, some died. The Ministry came to fight too and other witches and wizards. The bad wizard was killed here and his army scattered. Some of them were never found and some were caught years later..” George quickly turned back in his seat and held his cup in both hands. He skipped over far too many details. Why were his palms sweaty? It felt incredibly hot. He glanced up between the two of them again and tried so hard to work out what they were thinking. There was no way Sadie would link anything together, but that wasn’t his worry. He turned his eyes to Seine, studying him hard for a moment. He couldn’t tell, how on earth did he expect himself to… “It’s a pretty famous story. Apparently people were celebrating for weeks afterwards. Ask your parents, they may have seen some weird things around that time.” George forced himself to change his tone, desperately trying to make it sound like he wasn’t affected at all by what had been said.

Sadie listened to George intently. She didn’t miss the look the two boys shared, deeply uncomfortable and knowing, as if she was going to regret asking. How could knowing be bad? She tried to keep up with George’s stories, but the lack of details and names made it a bit tricky. The idea of dying, but not really, caught her interest. There were ghosts, but she had thought that death was still a forever thing. The curiosity gnawed at her brain. “Okay, but why?” She pressed. She felt a little guilty; George looked really uncomfortable. But she got the sense that she was missing an important detail and she couldn’t help herself. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” Seine said quietly, “he didn’t like muggleborns. A lot of the older families agreed, said that muggleborns were stealing magic and destroying wizarding kind. They rounded up muggleborns as criminals. The lucky ones got sent to Azkaban.” She’d heard of that—her textbook had talked about the prison, about things called Dementors. The photograph had made her feel physically ill. It was a desolate place. “The lucky ones?” She asked cautiously, her heart fluttering. No one had ever said… it made sense, in an awful way. People were people, magic or not. She’d always been an avid lover of history, but it seemed that every corner of the planet was marked by genocide and scapegoats. “Yeah,” Seine didn’t elaborate further. He smiled at her tightly, clapping her shoulder. “Things are getting better, though. There’s been a lot of reform. You’re fine. We’ve got your back.” He looked at George, and Sadie caught the faintest nod, the glimmer of something like understanding. He’s a Nott, came to mind suddenly, and Sadie filled in the blanks. Had George’s family been a part of that, then? She glanced to the pale haired boy, before a little smile crossed her face. Her left hand squeezed the dark palm on her shoulder, her right found George’s palm and squeezed it tightly. “Thanks,” she said quietly, releasing the boys before they could complain. She tucked back into her breakfast, “So, I don’t know about you two, but I’m super stoked slash terrified about flying on Thursday. On one hand, flying, on the other; I’m already super clumsy on the ground. I’m pretty sure I’ll find a way to screw it all up.”

It was a strange place to linger in. A child could love a parent more than then themselves, cling to them with everything they had. No matter what they did, some parents were ever 'bad'. George may have wished his father a better life, one he didn't have to spend on the run, but he was still his only Dad. It may have been embarrassing and uncomfortable to know a man so close had ended more than one wizard or witch's life, even worse to know their descendants may have been in the room. He knew his cousin, Njall had it worse. Descending directly from the werewolf every Wizard had feared couldn't have been great. George watched his two friends, a smile rising on the corners of his lips when the two of them seemed so easy to stand by him. Sadie would have stood by anyone in his situation. She was a good friend. Seine, well no doubt he'd be around for years. There was nothing stopping him. George turned back to Sadie and nodded his head. "Thanks." He muttered, feeling a heavy weight slowly ease itself from his shoulders, gently allowing his mind to relax. As anyone would have been, the blonde was thankful for the change in conversation. Sadie was talented that way. "You'll love Quidditch." He commented, choosing to feed himself a round of toast. "It's pretty damn amazing. I'll try and get my Mum to get us a extra couple of tickets and you guys could come to the World Cup with us in the summer? Sadie you'd love it." George could only remember swirling colours and screaming fans from his previous World Cup. Argentina against Japan. It had been insane. The game didn't last two hours. His brother had told him how three Argentinian players went out, leaving a single chasers and a single beater. George could just remember the noise. "It would be amazing to see the final, but those tickets go quickly." He just hoped the rest of the day would be this easy. "Either of you two looking forward to Herbology?" He asked, turning his attention back to his food. "Personally, I'm not big on plants. My brother says I'd be better at Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts." He added, nervously rambling a little.

Quidditch again. Sadie perked up. Brennan hadn’t explained it much, mostly because mum tended to fuss over the stories of his injuries, but she had gathered that it was deeply important to him. He’d mentioned broomsticks and that it made football look positively glacial in pace. “That’d be brilliant,” Seine lit up, a toothy grin crossing his face. Sadie smiled, tucking her hair behind an ear. The World Cup… that sounded like fun, even if the sport was still a mystery to her. Maybe there was a book on it in the library? She’d have to investigate. First thing after class today, she was going to find this magical place and devour its secrets. “Wow,” she beamed, nodding enthusiastically. “That would be incredible. Thanks!” George asked about Herbology. Seine shrugged, draining his pumpkin juice. “Sort of. My mum says it starts slow, but that it’s dead useful.” “It’ll be interesting to see how it’s different,” Sadie nodded, clearing her plate of the remnants of breakfast. “But I do like gardening. My dad has a green thumb, and he always said that nurturing a plant from seeds to the dinner plate was important. People forget how much work it takes.” She paused, swinging her legs as she looked around. Large hourglasses filled with beautiful gems caught her eye, glittering in the morning light. “House points,” Seine explained. “The more in the bottom, the more the house has. At the end of the year, the winning house gets honored at the feast.” He grinned suddenly. “My dad says he and his best friends nearly set a record for losing the most points in a single go.” Sadie quirked a brow, watching the rubies shimmer curiously. The display of wealth was just… incredible. “That doesn’t exactly sound like a good thing,” she remarked, but looked to her wrist watch. “Ooh! I think we need to get to class.” “We have half an hour,” Seine remarked and Sadie boggled “We can leave in twenty minutes and still be on time.” “On time is late.”

George was surprised he understand the phrase 'green thumb' although he'd only heard it when his mum had spoken about the elderly lady in the tiny shop down Diagon Alley. He assumed the term probably wasn't so derogatory in the Muggle world. For a moment, he tried to imagine exactly what plants muggles did grow, but eventually drew the line at simply vegetables and possibly a few cooking herbs. Maybe that was why they'd be forced to take muggle studies for the next three years. He couldn't imagine what the next few years would even be like. No doubt he'd look back on himself in years to come to simply think about this day, to remember his friends when they were young, to recall how wonderful their first real day at school was. He'd look back and laugh at the homework, the spells and even regret not trying harder; George had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, so trying hard didn't exactly matter. George turned his eyes towards the huge hourglasses, all remaining solidly at the top, waiting for when slowly students would start earning points. The more attention the eyes gave, the more the castle seemed to sparkle and reveal a secret. "Oh gosh, how many?" George asked, trying to imagine what a new record in lost house points was. One hundred points? One thousand points? How many points did students even get? It couldn't be one, that was too little. It wasn't going to one hundred either, that was too much. "You're dad sounds he caused a lot of trouble whilst he was here." George added, sharing a laugh with Seine before Sadie chimed in. "It's not the end of the world if we're not the first there." He looked back over as Sadie expressed her desire to be early. "Suppose we should go then." He commented, sliding out of his seat and back onto his feet. He didn't exactly know where Herbology was.. And the map they'd been given was less than helpful. However, he remained quiet, walking towards the great doors once again. He passed glances over at his two friends, unsure if they were sharing the same lost feelings. By the looks of things, George thought as he twisted the small parchment in his hands, the green houses were outside.. Problem was, there were three ways to leave the castle. The blonde turned towards a row of stairs, looking down towards a door that a few students were passing through. "This way?" George asked, looking between the map and his friends. He gave himself a determined push and headed down the stone stairs. They'd get the hang of it before too long. Maybe having so long to travel was a good idea. Travelling out into a courtyard filled with students playing games and shouting loudly just to hear over the voices of those around them. A group of five students seemed intent in rolling glass balls across the ground. Each one varied in size and colour. Some rolled further than others, and a few exploded just to knock others from the middle. "Gobstones." Seine pointed out, as they walked past. "Not the most interesting game in the world but it's funny to watch some times." They headed out towards a bridge and the same stairs they'd climbed from the docks the night before. They looked so different in day light. The lost expressions on their faces had already attracted the attention of a particular prefect dressed in royal blue. "You three look lost." He chimed, a huge grin on his face and an accent that screamed Oxford. "Can I help?" He asked, leaning on the stone wall beside him. "Let me guess-" He spoke first, butting in before any of them could speak. "Herbology." Another boy added. His accent was different, similar but with an older and more 'BBC' tone: London. "Max, this is my brother." He added, pointing out George and his two friends. "Herbology is directly across the bridge. Then through a few coridors before some huge doors. You can't miss them." Theodore spoke, pointing them across the bridge. His stopped with his eyes on Sadie for a moment, his nose flaring a little. "Max can walk you if you need it." The prefect smiled again, pointing to himself. It was strange to know he was a catch with a lot of Ravenclaw girls. "Come on then, follow on. I'll lead." He headed out, his sandy blonde hair bouncing a little as he walked. He certainly was strange, but the confidence worked. "So names." Max smiled, starting with George. "I know you, you have your brother's nose but I don't know you two." He began to walk backwards, pointing over at Seine. The first year replied with his name, leaving only Max to jump his attention to Sadie.

The castle was infinitely better in the daylight. Now that she could finally see everything, Sadie’s head kept whipping back and forth, wonder painted across her face. A castle. She lived in a castle. How was this even her life right now? How had she been so fantastically lucky to be a witch and live in a castle in such a mythical landscape? She felt like she was in a movie, clicking across the courtyard. The crisp air was so real, stinging her cheeks. How would seven years ever be enough to marvel over this wonder? She hitched her bag more securely on her shoulder, quickening her pace to catch back up after the distraction of gobstones and the light glittering off the most beautiful clock she had ever seen. Sadie had opened her mouth to ask for the map when they were joined by a pair of older boys. She recognized George’s brother—whom her own had looked ready to murder, she remembered with a wince. He hadn’t seemed to have forgotten that. Sadie was grateful for the distraction of the other upperclassmen, who seemed several million times friendlier. With a glance to her companions, she obediently followed. He—Max—was… chipper. She felt a little more at ease, even with her nerves coiling in her stomach. Class. Her first class. She’d waited so long for this, hoped for so much… she had to be the best. She was going to learn everything. Because magic. “Seine Jordan,” her taller companion offered, a heavy brow quirked. Sadie waved a little, bouncing as she walked. “Sadie Ethans. It’s—ooh!” The bridge! She hadn’t meant to get distracted, but the view! She darted on ahead, red hair flouncing, undoubtedly mussing up the braid Asenath had woven so expertly that morning. She bounced, leaning out across the railing as far as she could, utterly enamored. The misty valley was beyond beautiful—Sadie laughed in delight, dropping back to her feet to bounce. She heard Seine’s snort of amusement, but she couldn’t muster any embarrassment. “That,” she informed them brightly, “Is officially The Best View in the History of Views. Full stop.”

Max chuckled soon after. "Wait until you see the Astronomy Tower. It's fantastic in the day, but amazing at night. However not a good enough reason to take the subject for your O.W.Ls but you've got plenty of time before you have to think about them." The boy smiled. George had determined the boy wasn't a threat and relaxed a little. He turned himself and glanced back at where his brother had been standing. Theodore was still watching them, thick brown hair resting neatly on his shoulders. Despite the two being brothers, George found it hard to tell what his brother was thinking sometimes, although he often found himself wishing it was possible. "So, let me think- what did I do in first year Herbology..." Max wondered outloud, occasionally turning back to look at them both. He slowed down and stopped beside Sadie. "Up there." He added, now pointing to the tallest tower in the entire castle. "If you look carefully enough, you'll see the telescope." He leaned down get his arm level with Sadie's eyes. "See?" Max pulled himself upright and waited a few moments before continuing his small tour. It took him only a second before he began to talk once again. "First year Herbology is nothing special, neither is your second or third year. It all gets going in your fourth year. You learn real defensive and interesting magic. Like summoning spells and much more useful transfiguration spells." He just kept going. George and Seine walked behind him, listening to the none-stop words falling from the boys mouth. "I suppose one of the most interesting things about your first year is Quidditch, which starts next month I believe. You should come see your brother practice, George. He's incredibly fast. I have no idea how he does it. Bit weird really, you don't normally see someone as book-smart as him being so into sports. Guess he's just lucky. The rest of us just have to try and keep up. I like chess personally but that's not a sport and it's kind of dull. Ravenclaw always win the cup though, guess we're just better than most." They finally reached the inside of the castle again and were, thankfully, only a small number of steps away from the green houses. As they turned the corner, a small congregation of students had formed outside the greenhouses. Max seemed to burst with glee at the thought of being able to help a few more students out during his first morning back. He picked up his pace before chiming out: "Greenhouse One is this way." George passed a laugh to his friends as the man walked too far ahead for earshot. "He was certainly something." Seine laughed. They could all agree on that at least. George felt his stomach tighten up again at the sight of the others students in their house. He wasn't sure his aprehension was noticeable but he certainly felt like his entire face had lost all colour.

Sadie wasn’t quite sure what to make of Astronomy. It had been the first textbook she had devoured after the trip to Diagon Alley. She had found herself immensely disappointed. Astronomy, apparently, was more like astrology in the wizarding world. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but Jupiter in the twelfth house of Capricorn’s horns or whatever had not been it. Magic was incredible, but she still found the whole ‘the stars have bearing on human affairs’ argument a little suspect.

It struck Sadie once again just how little she knew about the wizarding world. Magic was its own beast, played by its own rules. There were so many possibilities. She felt the familiar excitement bubbling in her chest again as she considered that thought. How far could you push magic? Where could it take you?

She followed Max’s direction to peer at the tower. Something glittered in the morning sunshine, filtering in through grey clouds. Her eyes lit up. That telescope looked enormous. Maybe magic could rival Hubble. That would be insane and she might actually die of delight.

Sadie hung on Max’s every word, committing them to memory, even as she disapproved. Fourth year? That was forever away. He had to be wrong. How could the fundamentals of magic be anything but incredible? MAGIC. Did he just not get how mind bogglingly awesome that was?

He’d said something about Quidditch. Beyond her brother’s tight-lipped involvement, it didn’t really sound interesting. Flying sounded incredible, sure, but who had time for sport or whatever it was? She wanted to get to the meat of everything, get her teeth into her coursework. But maybe her brother was simply bitter over not winning everything? That sounded right. Sadie admonished herself internally; she really needed to stop judging things. Open mind. You don’t have any frame of reference for any of this.

“I quite liked him,” Sadie laughed as they shuffled into the Greenhouse. Sadie took the lead, aiming for a table right towards the front, claiming three of the four seats for themselves. The table was loaded with several trowels and pots, and Sadie felt a little at ease. This was somewhat familiar. Undoubtedly it would turn strange and alien soon enough, but she’d been in the garden her whole life. She felt a little less like she’d been thrown into the deep end here.

Undoubtedly having scoured A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi cover to cover had helped a little.

“Mind if I join you?” Sadie looked up to see a tall, dark haired girl with a loosely knotted bronze and black tie nodding at the empty seat. Evidently, most other students had had the same idea to arrive early, and tables were filling up rapidly.

“Sure thing,” Sadie chirruped, scooting over to make room. “I’m Sadie. That’s Seine and George.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Freyja,” the girl nodded, considering the greenhouse a little skeptically. Sadie suspected she knew what that expression meant. She was pretty sure it was simply a (significantly calmer) variant of her own mystified look. Freyja dropped her bag on the ground next to the table, seating herself. "So this is all... weird."

George and Seine filed in behind Sadie, both bearing smiles of delight; Sadie's enthusiasm was a little too funny at times. They were all excited, each and every first year bubbled with the same excitement for learning their first spell and their first snippet of the real Wizarding World. George felt more drawn towards Potions than anything else. It wasn't something he'd seen before. Neither of his parents had even chose to brew a potion at home, not that he'd ever seen. He knew his mum had bought her own, whether this was due to bad potion skills, he didn't know. He'd seen talented wizards fire spells at each other, fly dangerously in front of a roaring crowd and transform others into objects of all shapes and sizes, but he'd never experienced the potion-making process before. It was hard to imagine..

Adjusting his cloak, the boy found himself a seat at the bench. He let Seine take the middle seat, perching himself between Sadie and George, wearing the same grin he'd had on his face all morning. Immediately the two looked up as another joined their table. The boys seated themselves quickly and passed polite, and hesitant smiles towards Freyja. Seine passed a hand up as Sadie mentioned his name, waving towards the Hufflepuff.

"I'm guessing this is new to you too." He smiled. Two brown eyes of his own were wondering around the room as he spoke, taking in the thick ivy vines that twisted through the ceiling and through the windows, wrapping around the entire green house yet not shading out the light. "You'll-" Seine stopped when a sharp jab reached his side, his attention turning towards George and the door. "Ouch! That hurt." He yelled, his voice lowering volume as a tall man entered the room, wrapped in a thick caridgen.

His appearance seemed less imposing than his entrance had been, his sleeves bore stains of mud and dirt on the cuffs, the distinctive mark of dirt-covered hands on his trousers. The entire room stopped to watch him, at least until he turned towards the door. The attention of the room shifted again as the jolly lady from the night previous appeared in the room, smiling and laughing her way into the morning. She reminded George of his Aunt 'Liza when ever she got drunk at Christmas; he'd always hated the entire family Christmas they seemed to be forced to do.

"Good morning, everybody!" The women said, her voice ringing as if in song. "As you all know, I'm Professor Sprout. But none of you know who this is." She pointed to the much younger gentlemen by her side. "This is Professor Longbottom, he'll be teaching you from time to time. Now play nice." Neville gave a short wave to everyone in the room, his hands straying back to his pockets once he'd said his hello. Professor Sprout smiled once more and moved about the room, carrying a small selection of potted plants in her hands. "Herbology may seem like a strange subject to some-" She added, placing the heavy pots on various tables about the room. Some looked like regular herbs or flowers, others seemed to wriggle and move. One in particular seemed to be edging closer and closer to Professor Longbottom.

"So, can anyone name any of them?" She smiled, taking her place at the front of the room again. "Five points to anyone who can name me a single one." Sprout waited a few moments before a young Hufflepuff boy at the table with a strange looking purple plant rose his hand.

"Aconite?" He muttered, feeling the pressure of being the first to answer on his shoulders. Immediately, however, Professor Sprout clapped her hands.

"Five points to Hufflepuff! Now, does anyone know any of it's other names?" She smiled, looking about the room slowly.

Sadie decided instantly that she rather liked Professor Sprout. She reminded Sadie of her mum, kind eyes and the little smear of soil on her cheek. Her heart ached for home; as wonderful as Hogwarts was, she missed their little dog and the way her mum hummed around the kitchen. Sadie forced her thoughts to the present, tucking a loose red bang behind an ear.

The Professors were busy placing potted plants on the table, all sorts of strange and familiar flora. Enormous daffodils that trumpeted enthusiastically as they strained towards sunlight, shivering shrubs whose spines looked as sharp as swords, bulbs that hopped enthusiastically in a glass covered tray.

Sadie wanted nothing more than to answer herself, but nerves had kept her hand in her lap. A reedy little Hufflepuff answered, eying the pot of violet flowers in front of him. Professor Sprout’s encouragement bolstered her confidence and her hand rose into the air.

“Wolfsbane; the leaves are toxic and used to be used to hunt wolves?” Sadie ventured, ears turning pink as eyes turned on her. Why had she said it as a question? She knew the answer. She’d studied her textbook exhaustively, since it had been the most familiar subject. Professor Sprout smiled sweetly nonetheless, and Sadie could feel her heart beat easing up.

“Correct! Five points to Gryffindor,” she moved on swiftly, and Sadie breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Freyja was slouching beside her, nails drumming a little rhythm on the table.

The calm was interrupted by a Hufflepuff squeaking terror as a tangle of vines lashed itself around Professor Longbottom’s arm, slithering up to his shoulder and chest with truly remarkable speed. Sadie gaped, the expression shifting rapidly to a grin of delight. No. Way. That was awesome! It occurred to her suddenly that, perhaps, she ought to be less thrilled by this development. But Professor Longbottom looked perfectly at ease, withdrawing a long wand from his pocket.

“Incendio,” he offered calmly, a little tendril of flames curling from his wands, chasing away the plant. Sadie’s grin widened further, eyes alight at proper magic. She felt Freyja perk up beside her, and she glanced to the Hufflepuff, her eyes glittering with interest. Okay, yes, that was the reaction people were supposed to have! Even Seine looked impressed, although he seemed less amazed by the magic itself. She glanced over to George, eyes dancing. Incendio, hm? She’d be practicing that tonight, she mused.

“Devil’s Snare. It fears fire. You’ll be working extensively with it in your third year,” he gently slid the plant further away from shrinking students, “We’ll start smaller.”

Sadie’s grin twisted to a frown of disappointment. Smaller sounded far less exciting than this Devil’s Snare.

George felt a little taken back by the entire situation. He knew very little about the plants of his world. Neither of his parents had taken an interest in Herbology. He knew his father had N.E.W.Ts in Potions and Charms and he knew both his parents had passed with at least an E in Defense Against the Dark Arts. They're opinion of Herbology had been less than enthusiastic. Blue eyes turned to Sadie when her voice perked up beside him. One day he'd grow to disagree with how smart she was; who knew that much as a muggle born? The plant closest to them, exactly two benches to their left, seemed as if to breathe. He watched its dancing leaves and sharp spines, a cautious warning to leave that plant alone echoed a little inside his head.

The shriek brought his attention back to reality however. He followed everyone elses' eyes as they watched a thick vine begin its ascent up Professor Longbottom's arm. Longbottom? The name rang a bell in his head. Somewhere in the back, where the memories from childhood were kept. Strangely the name reminded him of Christmas and he wasn't entirely sure why..
"Incendio." George watched as the familiar flares carried their way along the vine until the plant let go and hurried back into its pot. He could wait for their first real lesson. Things were going to get really interesting. Then again, George couldn't wait until their fourth year, when they already knew so many spells! It was going to be far more exciting than learning about stupid plants; perhaps he'd never share Sadie's excitement for everything. Partly he was jealous!

The room's attention turned back to Professor Sprout who continued about the room, testing the students knowledge on plants. There was sweet looking flowers and one plant that seemed more boring than anything else in the room. Its green stem occasionally produced a thick green branch with rubber looking leaves attached on each end. It looked more like an ornament than an actual plant. Their teacher slowly more her way over to the plant and smiled widely.

"Anybody want to hazard a guess to this brilliant little thing?" She giggled, the sound of pure joy in her voice. She looked over the room, more than one making eye contact with George, who was already squirming in his seat. "Yes." She smiled, turning to one of the other Gryfindors in their year.

"Isn't that Dit-.." The boy paused, looking at his hands for a second. "Dit-something."

"Dittany!" Another girl called out, having picked up on the missing syllables. Professor Sprout immediately clapped with pride. Clearly the girl was correct.

((Skip ahead at any point :) ))

The lesson eventually entered familiar territory as Professor Sprout explained their tools and showed the class around the Greenhouse. This, at least, didn’t require the use of a wand. As much as Sadie had loved buying her wand (and nearly blowing up half of Ollivander’s shop when the dogwood wand had met her hand), there was something… intimidating about that sort of magic. Sadie hadn’t been able to find anything in her textbooks about how to grip it, let alone how it worked. And as much as she yearned to cast magic, a secret terror lingered in her heart. What if she wasn’t actually a witch? What if she didn’t actually belong here?

By the time they were filing out of the greenhouse, Sadie was starting to feel sick. Freyja smiled and flounced off to join a round-faced blonde and an extremely tall boy. Sadie tried not to let her nerves drive her spare. Following the massive crowd out of the Greenhouse, she dug in her bag for the schedule she had already memorized. Transfiguration with Professor Clearwater in Classroom 1B.

“First years!”

Sadie perked up at the familiar voice of their prefect Xia He, crossing the bridge with a wide grin. Sadie glanced to Seine and George before falling in, twitching her fingers in greeting at Gail and Asenath.

“Right, looks like that’s all of you. Let’s get you to Transfiguration,” Xia He was all smiles, and Sadie winced as she spied her brother over her shoulder, surly as ever. Resolving to ignore him, she instead returned her attention to Seine and George.

“Professor Sprout seems nice,” she remarked lightly, clasping her hands behind her.

“Pity we can’t actually do anything yet,” Seine remarked, nose scrunched in distaste. Sadie blinked.

“Well, yet. You have to walk before you can run though, right?” She pointed out with a lopsided grin, brow quirking. “Besides. It’s magic. Even the ‘boring’ bits are freakin’ magic.”

The lesson was interesting none of the less but it wasn't exactly George's cup of tea. Plants weren't what he was interested in. They were more his brother's sort of subjects, although he was sure Theo wasn't taking Herbology for his N.E.W.Ts. Plants weren't anything useful to him. You could just buy what you needed instead of having to grow it. Spells were pretty much everything that mattered. George pulled the crumpled paper from his robe pocket and read through their lessons for today. Knowing Transfiguration was their next subject left George feeling a little more enthusiastic than the gardening lesson he'd just had to sit through.

He'd been lucky enough to seen more than one Dueling World Championship in his life; the talents and strength of those players were insane. The difference in styles between players from all over the globe was mesmerizing. The Scandinavian teams were always harder to beat. The Ström Svärds from Sweden were the strongest team on the planet. Seven wizards with an incredible ability for some of the strangest hexes and curses he'd ever seen. Then there was the teams from South America. They were faster than any other players, spinning charms quicker than any Quidditch player. George longed to be able to perform that kind of magic. Not the useless stuff he wouldn't need, like Herbology. He'd have said the same for Potions if it wasn't something that interested him.

George filled out behind Seine and Sadie, shuffling between other students as the class filed out the door. As soon as the crowd reached the end of the bottleneck, the voice of the girl from the previous night echoed over to them. She seemed chirpy. He joined his two friends and stuffed his timetable back into his pocket.

"Thing is though, you're never going to need any of that stuff. Not unless you plan on having a garden full of them. Spells are the only thing you're really going to need." George added, following the rest of their group towards their next lesson. He wondered who they'd be sharing their next lesson with. It can't have been Hufflepuff again, otherwise they'd be following them now; The excitement of the lesson ahead was enough to push all natural apprehension out of the boy's mind, leaving him to relax quite peacefully. "It may be interesting but it's not exactly useful. Diagon Alley has everything you'd need anyway. You can just go there." He added, turning left along a long corridor filled with paintings again.

The crowd moved quickly, all glancing around at the characters on the wall. One small girl had turned her attention to to the painting long enough for the crowd to move just a little further away from her.

"Boo!" Yelled a creature from the other side of the painting. A wicked laugh danced around the room as a small ghost floated past the girl he'd made jump. He watched as she jogged to catch up with her friends, still shaken from the 'joke' she'd just endured. The ghost passed the group a wave and drifted off down the halls laughing loudly.

Sadie wasn’t sure why she felt so defensive over Herbology. It was just… Well, perhaps she did know. Plants—crops and herbs and flowers alike—had been a huge part of her life. The Ethans raised cows, but they put their own vegetables on their table. And on some other tables, too. She’d always wanted to be more than a farmer, but something about George’s dismissal irritated her. It was too mundane, she supposed, which was ridiculous. Professors Sprout and Longbottom had told them about plants that could cure curses and diseases, that could kill with a scream, that gave power to their cleaning potions and truth telling serums alike. How could anyone see that and not be fascinated?

Maybe that was the thing about growing up with magic. Maybe it only seemed simple because they were used to seeing even more fantastic things. It was a sad thought.

“I like gardens,” Sadie insisted, a little sulky. She wished she had the words to explain herself. Useful felt like such a dirty word, as if the only things that mattered were big and flashy and wondrous. Mundane things—muggle things—didn’t matter.

Sadie’s poor mood didn’t last long. They’d entered the castle and she was enraptured by the portraits. She’d never seen so much art in one place—even museums didn’t seem so full. And the paintings, oh—oh they danced and lived and spoke--! Sadie jumped as something startled the group at large, a wiry, cackling ghost slipping out from a painting and spiraling off. Her heart slammed against her ribs, stomach clenching. Something about ghosts still unsettled her. If magic was real, if ghosts were real… what else was there? Angels? Demons? Were Bible stories just Muggles interacting unknowingly with Wizards? She didn’t know if she was devout, but she wasn’t sure how to reconcile anything she’d been taught with this world.

“There’s a tapestry,” Seine was whispering conspiratorially to them, “On the seventh floor. We need to find it; it’s the best secret in the school. Trust me.”

Sadie arched a brow, privately wondering when she would have time to fit that in with all the other things she needed to do—devour the library, explore the grounds, read every book, talk with every person—but the glimmer of mischief in Seine’s eyes told her that this was properly important. Her lips curved into a delighted grin.

“I’m a sucker for a good mystery,” Sadie bounced slightly, before looking up as the crowd began to slow. It seemed they had arrived at their classroom, shuffling in slowly. Sadie beamed at Xia He and glanced to her brother, hanging off to one side impatiently. Brennan met her eyes, and she could have sworn that his expression had softened-- but then he had scoffed and set off with Xia He.

George passed off Sadie's comment on gardening. Maybe it was a farm thing? Sadie had mentioned that she'd lived on a farm during the train ride so plants must have been pretty common there. A garden would be pretty sweet if only to look at. He didn't have a garden- was that a bad thing? Well it was tiny and they didn't use it. He shrugged his thoughts away after a moment of deciding it really didn't matter, no one in the middle of London had a garden. He carried on walking, eyes darting left and right, taking in the paintings and art. They did remind him of home. The paintings at home weren't as grand as the ones covering every stone wall of the castle but the figures in the paintings were all the same, living, moving and speaking. He had the faintest memory from childhood of one of his uncles telling him there was painting within the castle who's subject had another frame within their home. George for the life of him couldn't remember the name although the letter O kept rolling on his tongue.

Ol-
Olli-
Oth-
Othe-

A loud scream stopped his train of thought as a student came screaming down the hall. Everyone laughed, mostly. George exchanged glances with Seine and smiled at Sadie's expression. George waved a hand in front of her face and smiled.
"Aren't ghosts stories to muggles?" He asked, turning to walk down the hall. "My great-great-aunt Ilza is a ghost." It was quite sad, or so his Dad had always told him. There was nothing noble about a ghost. They weren't brave just cowards. Cowardice was weak, the sign of bad blood and a flawed mind. Everyone got scared though.. He knew his Dad had been scared, they all had been that night. With a quiet smile, George turned his feet and carried on along the path they were walking. He probably should have been paying attention on the path they'd been taking, considering the castle was so huge.

George felt his attention drift from trying to memorize the route to his friend. A tapestry? Secret?
"We should go look for it this evening. After dinner." George added, looking about as excited as the next person. Whatever it was, they'd find it. It was probably a secret passage of some kind. Theo had mentioned one once, although mention was a light term. His memory played a rather hostile image of his brother pacing backwards and forwards in the dining room, ranting and raving about how he'd found Amelia Fuller, his sweetheart from the previous year, making a real fool of herself with a Gryfindor boy behind a tapestry the previous Christmas.

George followed to stream and headed in a classroom with little decoration inside, aside from a large globe and a few wardrobes. He felt the excitment drain from him. Transfiguration was probably going to be way less interesting than he'd hoped. Searching for a seat, George grabbed them a bench to the side, placing his bag on the middle desk. Judging by the space, the tables only really left space for two people, so instantly he regretted the decision and made an effort to save the desk next to him for his friends. The more people starting filing in, the more people started to take notice of the feline sitting on the floor by the desk. Girls cooed and smiled, offering a hand to stroke it. The whole room seemed to assume that it was a pet, at least until the cat lurched forwards and shifted into the face of their headmaster.

Sadie started when George waved his hand in front of her face, snapping back to focus with a cheery smile. If she didn’t look in the ghost’s direction again, well, who was going to call her on it? The dead were meant to stay dead, weren’t they? There were hundreds of books and movies all about how badly things went wrong when the dead came back to life. Zombies outnumbered saviors a thousand to one.

“All of this is stories,” she said lightly, grateful for the distraction of intrigue and secrets. After dinner sounded like a lifetime away. A lifetime filled with magic and wonder; Sadie could deal with that, she decided.

They filed into the classroom, chattering brightly. It seemed that after the successful Herbology lesson, most students were in a good mood. Sadie was very nearly elbowed as she made her way towards a table George was holding. Finally, she managed to drop her bag on the table and claim a seat of her own. Seine dropped in beside her, leaning forward on his elbows.

Watching a cat transform into a woman would never get old, Sadie decided. Her eyes lit up as Headmistress McGonagall strode across the front of the classroom. The woman’s severity was a thing of wonder—the whole classroom went quiet, sitting up straight in their seats, hands stilling.

“Good morning,” Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice reminded Sadie of Sister Marguerite’s no-nonsense attitude. Sadie decided she rather liked the woman in tartan at the head of the classroom. “Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Sadie felt Seine shift a little uncomfortably beside her. The whole classroom seemed hesitant—and then Professor McGonagall transfigured her desk into a large, prowling lion. Gasps and delighted laughs filled the classroom, and Sadie swore that the severe woman looked rather pleased with herself when she transfigured it back with a complicated dance of her wand.

“We will not be starting with object to animal transfiguration. We will begin with the fundamentals. Now…”

By the end of the lesson, Sadie had filled nearly five pages of lined paper with her neat cursive, and she was nearly bursting with excitement. Herbology didn’t come anywhere close to transfiguration, she decided—this was incredible! Professor McGonagall had spoken of laws and rules and, despite the impossibility of magic, the fact that it had rules it had to follow was a pure joy. She could make sense of this. She would. She refused to let herself just mindlessly recite words and wave her wand. She would learn everything about this world.

Seine was glassy eyed as she chattered all this at him, and seemed entirely too relieved when they were joined again by George, as if he’d found an escape in the blonde haired boy.

“Looks like it’s time for lunch, yeah?” Seine enthused, “And, look, we have the afternoon period free. We can go find that tapestry.”

“But…” Sadie started to interject, already thinking of working on the problem set they’d been assigned. She thought better of it. Surely this adventure wouldn’t take the whole evening, right?

It did kill George as much as it did any other student. When were they going to actually learn magic!? His brother was speaking and reading foreign languages, turning water into wine and creating the most insane of potions. Here, he was, writing notes on parchment like some idiot. Of course, everyone had to start somewhere and they all knew that this was every first year's first lesson but George couldn't help but pine for that first moment of magic. That first spell he would learn, not matter what it was. George would master every single one of them regardless of how difficult the rest of the year found it. He'd the best; join the London Longswords and professionally duel like there was no tomorrow. He just had to get through school first. He was sure they'd be learning magic by the end of the week. They had to.

By the time the lesson was over, George's hand was cramp. Was it normal to write this much? Did every student write as much as this. He shook his left hand and tried to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling in his wrist. He looked across to his friends and quickly concluded it was a wizarding thing. Seine seemed to be much slower and occasionally shook his hand himself.. Then there was Sadie, the unstoppable force. He was surprised she could handle a quill so well- did they have those in the muggle world? London hadn't ever sold any that he'd seen.. Surely none of this was useful stuff. George pondered the thought, reading over his notes whilst their headmaster babbled on about how a transfigured wizard wouldn't know he was a cup at least until another wizard turned him back. George's thoughts drifted off and wondered how many inanimate objects were just trapped wizards. That could have been how they'd found his dad.. 'The house is secret.' It was a phrase he'd heard a hundred times before as a child but it didn't make sense. He'd have to ask Theo later.

George bubbled just as quickly as Seine did and stuffed his parchment into his bag. Anything was better than homework! He waited for the bottleneck to disappear from the door once again and watched as the horde of students all began to walk in one direction. Hungry or not that was clearly the way to the Great Hall. He waited against a wall for his two friends and stood on Sadie's left. He wasn't overly hungry but the sheer wonder of their previous night's meal was all too tempting. Breakfast had been just as wonderful and there couldn't be any denying just how spectacular lunch was going to be. Although he couldn't work out what food they'd serve. Sandwiches? Soups? Cakes? Pastries? The hum of the student crowd around them gave them enough cover to speak happily without prying ears.

"My brother told me the first lunch time back, the Quidditch team has a race around the castle. Apparently someone set a record once and they're all trying to break it." He smiled, looking towards the two. "Apparently it's just over two minutes to get round the entire castle. It's tradition to try and set a new record." He was a little excited to show Sadie their world's sport. He'd seen muggle fans cheering for their own sports and seen the 'Football' newspapers all over the place. There was no end of fans in London. His memory reminded him an evening one summer. Two muggles, he assumed both drunk, began fighting on the road outside their house. They smashed a few cars before someone called the police. He assumed they were rival teams, one was wearing red and the other blue. Quidditch was only the same.

"I think you'll enjoy watching it." He added, feet following the group in front as they stepped between halls and finally onto the staircases and down towards the Great Hall. The more he looked, the more amazing the school seemed to be. Bright colours and history all over the place. He couldn't work out which part was more amazing. "We should grab lunch and head into the grounds. Then once we're done, we should go find that tapestry." George stopped a second later. "Do you have any idea what it looks like?" His eyes turned up towards the long and towering inside of the castle, his excitement dwindling at the thought of how many tapestry's there were in the castle.

George was enthusing about a race. Sadie perked up, and while lunch sounded fabulous, her curiosity demanded she agree. Quidditch meant broomsticks, and though Sadie wasn’t particularly fond of heights, she wanted desperately to see people in flight. Broomsticks were such a staple in the muggle view of witches and wizards. It amused her that actual witches and wizards did use them. How much of her storybooks were true?

“Alright then,” she agreed, quickening her pace so as not to be left behind by the boys. Seine grinned as George asked about the tapestry, bringing a finger to his dark temple.

“Yeah, it’s Barnabas the Barmy and his trolls,” he commented lightly, as if that sentence made any sense. Sadie didn’t question it. Inevitably she’d figure it out, and she was anxious to get to this race. If it was the Quidditch teams participating, she realized suddenly, Brennan would be there. He wouldn’t want her there, she mused a little sadly, but as a professional Younger Sister, she felt it was her duty to cheer for him.

They stopped in the Great Hall, wrapping up sandwiches in scarlet napkins. Even the sandwiches seemed extravagantly made, and Sadie wondered who had time to make so much food for so many students. Seine chattered away, and she forced herself back into the moment, bantering brightly as they followed a crowd down to the grounds.

The grounds were lush and marvelous, rolling hills and the black lake glittering in the distance. The Forbidden Forrest loomed, its trees still and shadowed, and she wondered why a forrest needed to be off limits.

“There’s loads of dangerous creatures in there,” Seine remarked when she posed the question. “Acromantula and thestrals, for one. My dad says there’s a giant in there, and the centaurs of course.”

“Centaurs,” Sadie repeated a little skeptically. She caught herself with a faint laugh, “Of course.”

The throng of students seemed to be settling in on the grass. The three first years found a spot (Sadie waved to Gail and Tasia, who returned the greeting) in among the other students. Standing with vaguely familiar faces, Sadie caught sight of her brother. He looked surprisingly happy, chatting with a tall girl with a massive French braid. Ooh, that was suspicious. Sadie filed the information away for later, lips curving into a mischievous grin.

George happily stuffed a small sausage pastry into his mouth as they made their way out towards the grounds, carrying a beautifully made cheese and cucumber sandwich. Whoever made this food was far better than his mum and far better than his Aunt Lysa's cooking. He hated Christmas for that reason, he knew Theo hated her cooking too but was just to polite to say. The Great Hall was fairly full although there seemed to a small majority of the students missing.

"Unicorns too." George added as soon as the conversation came up. "My brother says you can start to study all the creatures in the forest when we're in Third Year." The boy had found an insane fascination with the magical creatures of his world, all after an incident in Norfolk one winter. His Aunt Lysa lived in an ancient house on top of a small hill. She was an odd women, 'touched' was the word his father had used on occasion when their mum had been out of earshot. Her garden stood before a bog, far stretching along an old barely used road. His attention had been caught by a drifting light that looked far too unlike a car headlight. It bounced around for a second, dancing happily in the late evening moonlight. It seemed peaceful against the shallow snow, drifting to and fro across the bog. George shared the moment with his brother, both staring at the light as they sat on their Aunt's porch, not two winters ago. Hinkypunk was the word Theo had used as he explained all he'd been taught earlier that year.

The blonde's attention drifted over the crowd as they walked out off the bridge and into the grounds beyond. He could see groups huddled together, brooms in hand, chatting and pointing up at the castle as a lone figure twisted about the turrets. The whole prospect was exciting. He already longed to see his first Hogwarts Quidditch match although it wouldn't start until at least November. He followed behind his friends, trying to locate his brother among the collection of students. He wasn't hard to find though, standing among a strong bunch of Ravenclaw students, again, standing alone from the rest of the congregation. The crowd quickly perked up as a student clad in vivid yellow raced along the bridge at such a high speed it felt like a gale, rippling through robes and hair. There was no doubt that the new models of broom were getting faster and faster. The student crossed through a hovering red line and joined a group of cheering Hufflepuffs.

A slender women with thick black hair blew a whistle and shook her head, causing both outrage and joy. The Hufflepuff students spent a moment expressing their anger before patting their friend on the back and stepping back to let someone else try. George watched a Slytherin girl with long brown hair pull her hair into a ponytail and step up to the line, feet on the either side of her broom. She shuffled her feet and pushed off the ground as soon as the whistle hit, her silver broom disappearing into a blur as she shot through the line at the simple sound of the whistle. George found a small spot of free grass and sat, Seine joining him soon after, eyes glued to the girl as she turned around the first tower.

"When do we get to do this?" Seine laughed, making room for Sadie on the ground which was thankfully dry.

Unicorns. They had captured her imagination as a little girl, curled up on the sofa with her mum watching The Last Unicorn. She’d spent months wishing she could actually be a unicorn, much to her mum’s amusement (and Brennan’s chagrin). She’d been heartbroken when none of the unicorn hair wands Ollivander had her try seemed to fit. In the end, she’d bonded with a dogwood and phoenix feather wand. She’d gotten over her upset quickly enough—her wand was so happy! It always seemed to warm when she touched it, as if it were pleased to see her.

But—unicorns. For real unicorns, in the forrest! Sadie looked longingly at the trees, which looked far more inviting than they had five minutes ago.

“Wow,” she murmured, lost in her wonderings for a moment. Seine elbowed her in the ribs. Sadie jumped and laughed bashfully, forcing herself to look away. She wasn’t sure if she could wait until third year to see a living unicorn. For now, there was a ruckus erupting on the grounds.
They seated themselves near a group of fellow first years. The redhead—Ellis, she thought—was chattering enthusiastically to a black haired girl (Kelly? No, the bird, Kestrel!) and a bunch of boys whose names Sadie couldn’t remember. The dark haired Ravenclaw had the same look of skepticism that Sadie had seen in Freyja, and she made careful note. Sadie got the feeling that banding together with her fellow muggleborns would make this whole experience much better.

Seine asked when it would be their turn. Sadie went a little pale, but grinned weakly. She wasn’t exactly…keen on heights, but she knew she at least had to try. They were flying! Maybe she could just push her way through it and everything would be fine.

“Second year,” an older boy informed them, having evidently heard Seine’s comment. Sadie looked over and tried not to swoon. The Hufflepuff leaned back on his elbows, with the sort of face that looked more like it belonged on a magazine than in a school. “It’s been nearly twenty years since a first year played.”

“Oh, that was Harry Potter, right?” Seine asked, with all the ease of someone who was not stunned by chiseled jawlines. The older student offered a lopsided grin.

“Yeah. You lot are Gryffindors, yeah? My little brother, Graham, just got sorted into your house. Try not to let him cause you too much trouble, he’s kind of a little shit.”

“Language, Adam,” A leggy Ravenclaw girl chided, punching his leg. “And look, it’s Pepper’s turn. Pay attention.”

A tall blonde with messy hair had perched on a sleek broom, crimson robes stark against the grey morning. She was laughing about something, leaning sharply into the starting line before she was off with the whistle. Someone had hung something like a screen from a window, and it wasn’t unlike a movie being played, following the girl as she sprinted through the sky, the school more blur than building on the rather strange monitor. It couldn’t be electronic—the picture wasn’t quite right, and she’d discovered that electronics simply didn’t work in the castle—but it was essentially the same thing. Someone was chattering a blow by blow, and the crowd—namely the Gryffindors—were cheering enthusiastically.

The race didn’t last long. Soon, the blonde had crossed the finished line, her hair tousled and face flush. She laughed sheepishly as the dark haired girl shook her head, and several of the Gryffindors let out a groan.

“Better luck next time, Spicy!” The amplified voice of the announcer echoed. “Next up!”