Professor Nothing stepped into the Headmaster’s office, summoned by a house elf by his command. Corvus Black was sitting behind his desk, hands clasped firmly, as if to stop them from acting unwisely. He was a man who had been handsome once, but his face did not line in an attractive way over the years. His hair was still luxurious, and only streaked with gray, as was his short cropped beard. Above his head was a fine silver longsword, goblin forged with serpent heads adorning the quillons and pommel. It was mounted vertically on a plaque between two portraits of past headmasters.
Professor Black wore a bottle green tunic, with a black surcoat over top. His belt was a silver chain and he wore a large ring of silver and emerald on his hand.
He gestured at a scroll with a broken seal on his desk, his face a grim mask.
“What is this?”
Ingerith folded her hands neatly one atop the other atop her gown atop her knees. Her shoulders did not sag under the scowl of the headmaster, her eyes barely blinking before her reply.
“These are the names of the new students that I have found this summer. The ones that are not fostered are staying in Hogsmeade.” The woman called in favors for the fosters and saved her silver for a few rooms at the inn. Favors and silver only got the students a few months at most… “You need not worry, I have arranged for their transportation to Hogwarts, they will not be tardy.”
Ingerith knew that the headmaster had reservations about accepting the lost-ones into hogwarts. He was from a proud pure blooded family. As were many of the lost ones, they had just been… Abandoned.
The list in front of the headmaster was the longest of any list yet. Ingerith did not think that there were more lost-ones than ever before, simply that she was getting better at finding them. This was not pleasing news to the headmaster and many others involved at Hogwarts.
She tilted her head to one side. “Are you reconsidering our arrangement?” She did not want to feign ignorance or play politics. If he wanted to scorn the lost ones she wanted him to say it with his black tongue.
He seemed to chew on his tongue for a moment, then finally looked away from her, standing to look out the window at the school grounds. “No. Keep an eye on them, though. Everyone knows this place is… dangerous, for your, what do you call them?” he looked over his shoulder at her, his face innocent, “Lost ones?”
The Next Day.
First Day of Term
The first students, some from nearby villages and some from far away who had stayed the night in Hogsmeade, began arriving around mid morning. Preferred methods of travel were varied. A fair few arrived simply on mundane horses, and a few variations of these included female students riding bareback on unicorns, who wandered into the forest after dropping off their charges.
The headmaster stood at the parapets of the castle, glaring wide eyed with a clenched jaw at the thestral drawn wagon that approached, packed with students. Students that he knew to be of foul blood, with no proper magical background. There was a well armed man with the reins, but Corvus Black knew better; it was that tricksome Transfigurist, there to make sure her hand picked students arrived safely.
It passed the knights at the outer gate(one with sword and shield, the other with a wand) and trundled up the road toward the castle. Professor Black turned with a swirl of his cape and descended the wall.
~~~
Among the arrivals was a handsome flying carriage, pulled by a team of six equally handsome chestnut hippogriffs. It swooped down rather sharply, and landed hard enough to shake the cab on its springs. The inexpert landing was due to the teenage boy behind the reins. Sorin Black was a handsome young man, with curly black hair down to his shoulders and eyes to match. He wore silver and green, for his house, and was as thin as the blade on his hip. He dismounted, with an ill received pat to the rump of one of the beasts, and rapped on the door to let his cousins and sister know they had arrived.
“That is Sorin… We are here!” Avice’s attention was torn away from whatever conversation she and her Isaac had been previously engaged in. She smiled, adjusting her hair and the circlet she wore atop it.
Chandler had just finished reading a Chapter in his book when he felt the Carriage touch down on solid ground once again. He sighed and marked his place before glancing around and saw his Cousin adjusting her appearance like she always did. Chandler just scooted closer to his twin Isaac and looked at him with a look that seemed to say, ‘Well this is it. Are you ready?’
Isaac’s returned glance was brief, but in it he shot back an excited affirmative.
The two had a -very- interesting magical bond and it was almost scary how close they were to each other. Usually Chandler liked to keep physical contact with his twin but he had been trying hard to break that habit, worried it would look weird and awkward to the other Hogwarts students, not that he really cared since if anyone dared to laugh at him Isaac would intimidate the poor fool into submission and Chandler would curse his toes off but still, needless violence only made it harder to make out of House connections and play the political game.
Isaac opened the door, stepping down from the cab and only barely resisting the urge to jokingly “tip” his cousin, as if he were a serving man. Instead, he gave a hearty salute, then returned his hand to the pommel of the longsword at his side. He may not be allowed to carry it most of the year, but he rather thought it made for an impressive entrance, combined with the rich red and gold patterned doublet he wore. He looked up at the castle, his eyes gleaming and his gait confident. Another year, another adventure.
Professor Black wore a bottle green tunic, with a black surcoat over top. His belt was a silver chain and he wore a large ring of silver and emerald on his hand.
He gestured at a scroll with a broken seal on his desk, his face a grim mask.
“What is this?”
Ingerith folded her hands neatly one atop the other atop her gown atop her knees. Her shoulders did not sag under the scowl of the headmaster, her eyes barely blinking before her reply.
“These are the names of the new students that I have found this summer. The ones that are not fostered are staying in Hogsmeade.” The woman called in favors for the fosters and saved her silver for a few rooms at the inn. Favors and silver only got the students a few months at most… “You need not worry, I have arranged for their transportation to Hogwarts, they will not be tardy.”
Ingerith knew that the headmaster had reservations about accepting the lost-ones into hogwarts. He was from a proud pure blooded family. As were many of the lost ones, they had just been… Abandoned.
The list in front of the headmaster was the longest of any list yet. Ingerith did not think that there were more lost-ones than ever before, simply that she was getting better at finding them. This was not pleasing news to the headmaster and many others involved at Hogwarts.
She tilted her head to one side. “Are you reconsidering our arrangement?” She did not want to feign ignorance or play politics. If he wanted to scorn the lost ones she wanted him to say it with his black tongue.
He seemed to chew on his tongue for a moment, then finally looked away from her, standing to look out the window at the school grounds. “No. Keep an eye on them, though. Everyone knows this place is… dangerous, for your, what do you call them?” he looked over his shoulder at her, his face innocent, “Lost ones?”
The Next Day.
First Day of Term
The first students, some from nearby villages and some from far away who had stayed the night in Hogsmeade, began arriving around mid morning. Preferred methods of travel were varied. A fair few arrived simply on mundane horses, and a few variations of these included female students riding bareback on unicorns, who wandered into the forest after dropping off their charges.
The headmaster stood at the parapets of the castle, glaring wide eyed with a clenched jaw at the thestral drawn wagon that approached, packed with students. Students that he knew to be of foul blood, with no proper magical background. There was a well armed man with the reins, but Corvus Black knew better; it was that tricksome Transfigurist, there to make sure her hand picked students arrived safely.
It passed the knights at the outer gate(one with sword and shield, the other with a wand) and trundled up the road toward the castle. Professor Black turned with a swirl of his cape and descended the wall.
~~~
Among the arrivals was a handsome flying carriage, pulled by a team of six equally handsome chestnut hippogriffs. It swooped down rather sharply, and landed hard enough to shake the cab on its springs. The inexpert landing was due to the teenage boy behind the reins. Sorin Black was a handsome young man, with curly black hair down to his shoulders and eyes to match. He wore silver and green, for his house, and was as thin as the blade on his hip. He dismounted, with an ill received pat to the rump of one of the beasts, and rapped on the door to let his cousins and sister know they had arrived.
“That is Sorin… We are here!” Avice’s attention was torn away from whatever conversation she and her Isaac had been previously engaged in. She smiled, adjusting her hair and the circlet she wore atop it.
Chandler had just finished reading a Chapter in his book when he felt the Carriage touch down on solid ground once again. He sighed and marked his place before glancing around and saw his Cousin adjusting her appearance like she always did. Chandler just scooted closer to his twin Isaac and looked at him with a look that seemed to say, ‘Well this is it. Are you ready?’
Isaac’s returned glance was brief, but in it he shot back an excited affirmative.
The two had a -very- interesting magical bond and it was almost scary how close they were to each other. Usually Chandler liked to keep physical contact with his twin but he had been trying hard to break that habit, worried it would look weird and awkward to the other Hogwarts students, not that he really cared since if anyone dared to laugh at him Isaac would intimidate the poor fool into submission and Chandler would curse his toes off but still, needless violence only made it harder to make out of House connections and play the political game.
Isaac opened the door, stepping down from the cab and only barely resisting the urge to jokingly “tip” his cousin, as if he were a serving man. Instead, he gave a hearty salute, then returned his hand to the pommel of the longsword at his side. He may not be allowed to carry it most of the year, but he rather thought it made for an impressive entrance, combined with the rich red and gold patterned doublet he wore. He looked up at the castle, his eyes gleaming and his gait confident. Another year, another adventure.
