Two barely dressed barefoot children stood on the dock with their backs toward Marissa.  A vividly colored large bird with long draping tailfeathers rested on one’s shoulder, and furry long animal arms wrapped around the other’s back.  Marissa landed right between the two, toppling each child in an opposite direction onto the faded wooden planks.  The startled bird flew into the air, cawing and fluttering as Marissa tumbled in a somersault and landed splayed on her back with the faded pink backpack beside her.  The swallows glided down to the backpack while the noisy bird, a large scarlet macaw with brilliant red, yellow, green and blue plumage, quieted itself and decided to land right on Marissa’s chest.

Marissa felt the Indian children standing about in speechless surprise.  She lifted her head and met the eyes of the boy she had knocked down.  A fearsome stripe of blood-red paint masked his tan face, and for an instant Marissa just knew he would begin yelling at her or even try to fight her.  Then her face filled with feathers.

“LOOK OUT!  LOOK OUT!” warned the scarlet macaw pacing in a circle around her chest.  Suddenly the fallen boy and girl both broke into laughter and all the watching children followed along.  The boy wasn’t mad at all.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Marissa proclaimed strongly.  “I couldn’t turn.”  It was her fault because she had been looking at the pink dolphins and forgot to hold her backpack tight.

The barefoot, shirtless boy rose to his feet.  Shoulder length hair framed his red-masked face and an orange-red cloth wrapped his waist and draped the front.  He lifted the girl and her animal up as the grey-furred thing buried its face in her half shirt.  The scarlet macaw flapped up into the air and landed back on the boy’s shoulder.

“You’re Marissa,” he stated as he held out his hand to help her up.

“I can get up,” Marissa said, and stood on her own.  She didn’t want to look weak or hurt just from falling down, especially to the very muscular boy who she could tell must be strong.  “How do you know my name?”

“Gran Arating tell us look for wildflower she meet at market,” said the dark-haired girl as she boosted up her clinging animal.  Her face was decorated too, with a pattern of thinner stripes. Her long ponytail was tied with two silver animal charms.

“But she didn’t tell us one would fall on us,” added the boy with a friendly smile.  “I am Tiquinho and this is Potira.”

“Hi,” Marissa replied.  “Sorry I…”

“Marissa!  Marissa!” came a voice calling her from farther away.  Sakura and Anna were running down the path to the dock, followed by Mr. Argiletum pacing briskly behind.  The girls reached her side first.  “Are you okay?  What happened?”

“Um… I didn’t land very good,” Marissa explained with an embarrassed look.

“At least you didn’t fall into the river,” Sakura said with relief.

“No one was injured, I hope,” said Mr. Argiletum as he arrived behind Anna.  His monocled eye cast a severe look down upon Marissa.

“Just him,” said the boy, pointing at the creature around Potira’s chest.  “A coma.  But he should wake up in a month or two.”

Argiletum frowned as Potira and the Japanese girls giggled.  The furry animal did seem to be in a deep sleep.  Marissa was not sure if it had even woken up when they all fell down.

“The other first-years have already assembled without you,” said Mr. Argiletum sternly.  “Since you could not follow instructions, you will be placed at the end of the line.”

“Okay,” Marissa replied. “I’m sorry.”

“You may follow the native children when they are finished dressing,” he told Marissa.  Then Mr. Argiletum turned and hurried Sakura and Anna back up the path.  The lightly clad Indian boys and girls sat on boulders by the path and took sandals and robes from woven basket backpacks.  Tiquinho’s robe was different than hers and the others.  It had thinner cuffs and an unusual shade of glossy blackness, like she could almost reach a hand into its dark surface.  Marissa thought it must be an old hand-down like her few worn shirts.  Potira moved her strange animal’s clinging arm so she could slide her robe on.

“Um…,” Marissa said, “what is he?”

“That Ker,” Potira replied.  “He my sloth.”

She turned to the scarlet macaw, which was the most beautiful bird she had ever seen.  “What’s his name?”

“I gave him a silly name when I was three,” Tiquinho said.  “I might change it.”

“Tell her,” said Potira, and giggled with another girl near them.

“I call him Flap-Flap,” Tiquinho said, sounding slightly embarrassed.

“That’s a good name,” Marissa replied as the colorful bird beat its wings upon the air.  “It’s what he does.”

“Beraba, Iara, you take front,” Tiquinho called out to another boy and girl.  He directed all the native children into line and they began running up to the courtyard.

“Is Tiquinho the leader?”  Marissa asked as he seemed to take charge of all the children.

“Him father chief,” Potira replied.  “One day Tiquinho chief.”

“Shouldn’t he be first then?”

“Sometimes the first shall be last and the last first,” said Tiquinho, who heard Marissa’s question as he came over to sprint with them up the tree-shaded path.  She had heard Sister Angelica say that before and never understood what it meant, but maybe it had something to do with lines.  Maybe it meant she wouldn’t always be at the very end.

Potira held Tiquinho’s hand, Flap-Flap bounced along on his shoulder, and the swallows glided beside Marissa as they reached the flagstone courtyard.  Mr. Argiletum and two blue-suited conductors had lined the children up in orderly rows of four persons wide.  Tiquinho added the native boys and girls to the long column as the hundred or more first-years began marching up a wide stone pathway into the shadowy rainforest.  Marissa thought that Sport Club da Luz army would like to march like that.

In some places the stone pathway became stone stairways as they climbed higher away from the river and deeper into the forest.  The humid air felt almost damp upon her skin.  The sounds of children’s voices and shoe heels tapping stone were muffled by the thick layers of strange and amazing vegetation that surrounded them.

“I never was in a forest before,” Marissa said wondrously to Potira beside her.

“I never go city,” Potira replied.  “Tiquinho say Muggles there scary.”  Marissa noticed that Potira talked in short sentences, like tourists in Sao Paulo trying to speak a language different than their own.  She wondered what the Indian language was and thought maybe it was the Mermish that Sakura’s sister was learning.

Little light reached the understory of the forest, and everything lay in deep shadows. Marissa thought even the darkness here was different.  It wasn’t the dangerous, desperate darkness of littered alleys in Santa Efigenia.  It was magical darkness filled with bird songs and strange animal calls in the distance.  She looked about at the thousands of trees and plants.  Squat fan palms and tall feather palms grew among dense stands of wide branched leafy trees wrapped in trailing vines and thick winding roots. Brazil nut trees and fruit trees rose from clusters of flowery shrubs with enormous leaves as tall as Marissa.  Most stunning of all were the majestic lupuna trees, whose great buttressed roots spread thirty feet wide from massive vine-laced trunks that rose to disappear past the forest canopy high above.  They were like living, growing skyscrapers and twice Marissa had to run to catch up after slowing to view them.  The swallows huddled on her shoulder, cautious of flying into the unfamiliar woodland.

Soon the large group reached another even wider flagstone courtyard and Mr. Argiletum stopped to let all the children gather in the clearing.  Marissa looked around for Sakura and Anna or Rosaria Castilhos, but couldn’t find them in the crowd.  Twenty ash-darkened stone slabs with great masonry doorframes surrounded the stone-paved clearing.  Marissa quickly realized the heavy block structures were Floo fireplaces like the ones in Mercado Trocado.  Only these were plain, without stained glass, and half covered in tangled vines.  Then as buds on vines flowered and closed, flowered and closed in different hues, Marissa decided the Floos were not so plain.  The two train conductors stepped into fireplaces and whooshed away.

“I’ve been here before,” said one boy from the train.  “For Quidditch.”

“Many of you who have come to games will recognize Chasers Courtyard,” Mr. Argiletum stated loudly, “which lies six fireplaces or three portkey jumps east of Sao Paulo.  The Quidditch field above us stands outside school walls so that familes and fans may attend the exciting matches.  Seating can accommodate four thousand spectators.”

“Conda will beat them all this year,” the boy boasted to others near him.  “Conda rules!”

“Presently I rule, young man,” corrected Mr. Argiletum “Back into rows now.”

“What’s ‘Conda’?” Marissa asked Potira as they continued to walk.  The teen boys in snake and rings jerseys on the train had been shouting it too.

“It short name ‘Anaconda’,” she replied. “All House name animals.”

“When Witness Stone became a school, the first Principal organized sections like wizard schools in Europe,” Tiquinho explained.  “They wanted to call the four Houses after wizard leaders, but two sides disagreed on names.”

“City wizards too hard say ‘Morubixaba Tupinambarama’,” giggled Potira. “We no like ‘Cabral House’.”

“So Houses were given animal names,” Tiquinho said. “Anaconda is the giant snake of the river. He is fifty feet long and his fat twisting body crushes the largest animal then swallows it whole.”

“I no like Anaconda name,” said Potira.  “Say be better Pink Dolphin House.”  Tiquinho laughed and continued.

“Jaguar is the great hunter of the rainforest.  He stalks unseen like a spotted ghost and may even be watching us now.”  Tiquinho looked into the branches above them and this made Marissa look too.

“Woolly monkey is the dweller of the treetops.  He hangs from his long tail and plays with clever friends all day,” Tiquinho said.  “And Macaw is the bright-feathered flyer of the skies.”

“Like Flap-Flap,” Marissa said.  “So he has his own House named after him.”

“Yes,” Potira giggled.  “But no them call it ‘Flap-Flap House’.”

They continued the march into the forest until a short time later the stone pathway ended at  a towering vine-covered wall of monstrous multiform rectangular stones.  There was no doorway anywhere along the length of the wall.  A broad staircase stretched along its base and Mr. Argiletum directed everyone onto the steps.  “Rows one through three, top step.  Rows four through six, next step below.  Rows seven through nine…”

Soon all the children were seated from the top to bottom along the staircase.  Marissa sat on the lowest step beside Tiquinho and Potira who held his hand.  Eight steps behind her she saw Anna and Sakura who quickly waved to her.  At the very top step Rosaria sat next to Celestia Bella de Barros and two other dressy girls with jeweled silver hairbands.  Rosaria hadn’t seen her, so Marissa turned around to avoid any contact with the mean blonde girl.  But many of the train children on the steps above whispered to each other as they pointed at Marissa, and some even held their noses.  She knew that Celestia had told everyone that she was a homeless thief  from the ‘mouth of garbage’.

Marissa was glad she had walked wtih Tiquinho and Potira and not at front near Celestia and the mean boys spreading lies.  The natives had come in bare feet and simple clothes, and had just backpacks like her, not giant trunks like Sao Paulo children.  They knew she was a Muggle-born and maybe they wouldn’t look down on her because she was only a street kid.

“At the end of the fifteenth century,” Mr. Argiletum began, “European Muggles found the Americas.  Thousands of them came to settle this vast continent, and European wizards came too.  For in those times we still commonly lived and travelled among Muggles.  The unexplored lands of South America, especially the rainforest regions, were said to teem with magical creatures and plants that European wizards had never seen or learned of.”

“They journeyed into the wild in search of these rumored species, but found nothing.  Often wizards became lost for weeks, enveloped in disorienting mists that no spells could  dissipate.  Bright clear trails became dark trackless jungles before their eyes and lands that their revealing spells showed were uninhabited moved with shadowed figures.”

“There were rare encounters with a mysterious group, when young Indian children of no known tribe were surprised and captured.  Violent battles were fought for their release and  the European wizards became aware of a hidden magic culture with powers to equal their own.  Powers they had never known and that only the rainforest’s secrets held.”

“In 1599, a Portuguese witch who had disappeared thirty years earlier emerged from the rainforest and told of her life among wandless wizard tribes whose ancient magics protected their lands from any intrusion.  These New World wizards were once the shaman and priests of Muggle civilizations, whose powers helped Mayans, Aztecs and Incas raise mighty cities.  Though their own cities and their wandlore had been lost in a terrible war, the wizard tribes held three thousand years of herbology knowledge that made them immeasurably powerful potions masters.”

“The immigrant wizards wished permission to harvest the magical plants of the forests.  The native wizards wished to return wands to the lives of their children. The two groups proposed a truce to talk of sharing their skills and learning.”

“To show their willingness to share the rainforest’s secrets, the wizard tribes invited the others to a hallowed place where their own Wizard Council had met for millennia.  They called it ‘where rock reaches for sky by warring river’.  Four hundred years ago they gathered at Witness Stone, as we will gather today.”

Mr. Argiletum walked up the dozen steps to the wall and students turned to face his new position.  Great irregular stones twice Marissa’s size fit together to form the towering obstacle behind him.  Cinder block walls in Sao Paulo were small and weak compared to this wall.  Mr. Argiletum posed a question.

“So why have we walked this mile of ancient pathway instead of landing at the school’s doorstep with all your fellow students?”

“Well, I could have stayed on the train of course,” answered Celestia Bella de Barros confidently, “but father thought I should experience the arrival as common wizards do.”

“When anyone comes to Witness Stone the first time,” Tiquinho stated clearly, “he must enter here to lift disillusionment and confundus charms that protect and hide our school.”

“Correct, young man,” confirmed Mr. Argiletum.  “Witness Stone would remain as invisible to you, young lady, as it is to a Muggle, if you did not pass through this gate.”

“Common wizards know that,” Tiquinho said with a smile to the golden-blonde girl, who returned a spiteful stare.  Quiet laughter passed among the Indian boys and girls.

“But Mr. Argiletum, there is no gate,” said Sakura Miyashiro.  “How do we open a gate?”

Marissa was sure it must be a magic way.  Maybe they touched different places on the stones like on Miss Julieta’s stained glass window.  But if it opened the same way there would be a huge pile of broken little rocks to climb over.

“We introduce ourselves to the wall,” he said.  “It has only waited two thousand years to meet you.”

In orderly row by row fashion again, Mr. Argiletum had each group walk up to the face of the wall and lay their palms against the time-worn stones.  Soon they stood two to three deep and reached past others so that every child had a hand upon the wall.  Then the beige-robed librarian raised his wand and spoke some of the puzzling words required for magic.  “Ingressus discipulus!”

Marissa’s hand felt warm, and for a moment it seemed to turn the grey color of the stone.  Then a vertical seam opened between stone blocks and the wall divided. Massive rocks slid apart until a twelve foot wide entry lay before them.  But past the four foot depth of the wall was only more rainforest, denser and darker and without any stone walk now.

“Rows of four, children.  Rows of four,” Mr. Argiletum directed.  “Go ahead now.”

“Go where?” said Celestia, not quite as proud now to be first in line.  “There’s no path.”

Rosaria, Celestia and the other two dressy girls, prodded ahead by the librarian, stepped into the thick greenery.  They seemed to change to leaves themselves and disappear.  “Oh, good,” came Rosaria’s voice from somewhere beyond.  “It’s not dark anymore.”

Mr. Argiletum directed everyone through row by row until only she, Tiquinho and Potira remained standing with him.  The stone walls began sliding closed as they all stepped through the magical gate.  Her vision swirled with green leaves and shadow, but then Marissa could see clearly again as she and the two Indian children stepped out of the ‘disillusionment’ to rejoin the hundred others.

The cover of rainforest canopy was gone and the soft light of early evening shone from the open sky, down upon an expansive plaza.  It was a vast walled complex of ancient stone buildings, crumbling upright slabs and rugged statuary. Grassy fields with scattered shade trees filled unpaved areas, and a long rectangular pond stretched away at their feet.  But the object that drew everyone’s gaze stood at the far distant end of the open field.  Rising hundreds of feet from the earth was a mountainous natural monolith, its jagged irregular surfaces suffused in evening sunlight.  Upon its face Marissa could see the sculpted shapes of two immense human figures standing like guardian giants over the entire plaza.

Behind the monolith a massive sloping-walled structure was outlined against the sky. The stacked layers of the pyramid castle were broken by occasional terrace levels and there were long glass windows on those layers.   Endless steep staircases climbed each sloped side of the structure.  The staircase facing the first-years seemed to pass right into the base of the grey monolith.  Whether the object had thrust itself through the pyramid or the pyramid was built around the mountainous rock Marissa couldn’t tell.  She did know it was unlike any building she had ever seen in Sao Paulo.

“Is that giant place the witch school?” she whispered to Tiquinho, who slowly nodded.

“That is completely awesome,” said one impressed girl.  Other children murmured in agreement.

“They looks quite amazing at sunset also,” noted Mr. Argiletum.  “Although we shall be at the banquet by that time.”

Towering lupuna trees were silhouetted on the rainforest horizon beyond the structure, and a glimpse of glistening huge bubbles showed that the train had landed on the far side.  Marissa gazed about at other amazing things across the plaza until Mr. Argiletum spoke.

“Rows of four, rows of four,” he directed again.  “Let us not keep everyone waiting.”

The wall had reformed behind them and the children stood on a wide stone floor at the egde of a far-stretching plant-filled pond.  Thick stone columns rose on either side, leaving no path around the pond.  Hundreds of  eight-foot wide lily pads floated in scattered groups upon its surface.

“Well, where are the boats to takes us across?” said Celestia Bella de Barros impatiently.

“We shall walk,” Mr. Argiletum answered to her incredulous expression.  “Move along.”

Celestia, Rosaria and the other two in her row began hopping cautiously in crooked paths among the plants.  Then the next row and next row were allowed to begin until all the entire column of  first-years stretched out across the pond.  Marissa wanted to jump ahead faster, but all the boys and girls ahead moved too slowly.  One boy tripped, but before he fell into the water a lily pad rushed over and he flopped onto its surface instead.

Marissa ducked as a big dragonfly buzzed past her ear.  Fides flitted after it, flew a zig-zag path and snapped up the incredibly huge insect in his beak.  He returned to her shoulder and gulped it down in four bites.

“Are those magic bugs?” Marissa asked, in case the swallows shouldn’t be catching them.

“No,” Tiquinho assured her.  “The birds can eat all they want.”

“Good,” Marissa smiled.  “They’ll like it here.”

A piercing scream arose from the far end of the pond.  Mr. Argiletum quickly raised his wand, then tucked it away with a smirk.  Rosaria Castilhos stood on a lily pad and waved frantically at something in the air, then cowered down to escape it.  Celestia Bella de Barros and the other girls nearby just stepped away without even helping her.  Marissa knew it must be more big dragonflies scaring Rosaria and pointed them out to the swallows.  “Get ‘em, Fides.”

All three birds swooped off towards the pig-tailed girl, diving and snapping about her until every insect had fled or been eaten.  Rosaria cautiously stood up once she felt out of danger.  “Thank you, Marissa,” called her voice from across the water.  “You saved my life!”

Tiquinho shook his head and Potira rolled her eyes.  Marissa shrugged at them.  “I already told her catching bugs doesn’t count as that.”

The swallows circled Rosaria as she carefully hopped the rest of the way to shore, then swooped up into a small shade tree to wait for Marissa.  In a few more minutes everyone had crossed the long pond and gathered at the beginning of a wide stone-paved avenue that led to the base of the monolith.  Marissa looked for Rosaria or the Japanese girls, but they were lost in the front of the crowd.  The native children all laid their backpacks near some boulders beneath the tree Fides, Spero and Amor rested in.  Potira took Ker from her waist and lifted him to a branch.  His furry limbs wrapped around it as he hung down and continued sleeping.

“Go, Flap-Flap,” commanded Tiquinho to the scarlet macaw.  He tossed him from his arm and the bird fluttered towards the tree but then turned about and landed on Marissa.

“LOOK OUT!  LOOK OUT!” he called, and rubbed his big beak on her nose.

“He might think that’s your name,” Tiquinho said.

“No, Flap-Flap,” she smiled.  “I’m Marissa.  Ma-riss-a.”

“MARISSA,” the macaw replied loudly.  “MARISSA.”

Tiquinho laughed, but Potira frowned at him.  “Flap-Flap like her,” she said.  “He not very like me.”

“I think you have to stay here,” Marissa said as she lifted Flap-Flap off her shoulder and onto a branch above the sleepy sloth.  “Should I leave my backpack too?” she asked Tiquinho.

“No,” he replied.  “Keep it with you until you know which house you’ll be in.  Your birds should come too, but they can’t fly in the school.”

“Spero,” Marissa called out as she unzipped her backpack.  “Naps.”  He glided from the tree and the other two followed.  They barely snuggled into the overfilled pack as she zipped them in.  “Now they won’t go where they shouldn’t,” she said.

“Rows of four, children,” Mr. Argiletum directed, and the column of first-years followed him up the wide avenue towards the monolith. He moved faster now and boys and girls increased their pace to keep up. His magicked loud voice carried to the back of the line as Mr. Argiletum pointed out structures they passed.

“To the east of the lily pond is the library,” he said. “Ancient Runes class is also held there.”  Dark doorways were spaced between heavy stone walls on a first and second floor.  As if the rainforest was reclaiming it, three giant kapok trees grew up through the library’s roof and branched out above.

“To the west of the pond are the groundskeeping buildings and the lost and found vault,” continued Mr. Argiletum.  He pointed to smaller, more regular block-formed structures along the outer wall of the plaza. Thick stone columns flanked narrow entries. Foliage and vines overflowed an overhanging upper level that sat squatly on the short lower sections.

“The largest structures you see on opposite sides of the plaza are Jaguar House and Anaconda House.”  They were half pyramids, with sloped walls five or six stories high ending at thick flat roofs.  Stone stair rails,  columns and horizontal rooflines were richly carved with fierce spotted feline motifs on one and thick twisting serpents on the other.  Rain, wind and time had worn and rounded every grey surface.

“The living quarters of Macaw House and Woolly House are found to the south,” he added.  “The tall capirona that grows near the foundation of our school is the Owlery Tree.  Your birds shall be taken there from the train.”  Marissa could see large owls gliding silently into the branches of the thick-trunked tree that stood almost as tall as the majestic lupuna giants.  Dozens of them slept in little wood houses.

“The stelae we are passing record the history of  tribal wizard families,” the librarian said,  “and are truly beautiful sculpture even to those who cannot read them.”  A score of tall stone slabs rose along each side of the avenue, each chiseled from base to top in intricate symbols and costumed human figures.  Like all the buildings, the timeworn pillars looked to Marissa as if they had stood there forever.

“This is my family,” Tiquinho said proudly, indicating one pillar.  “This is Potira’s,” he said showing Marissa another that rose near it.

Now they had crossed the entire avenue and stood at the base of the pyramid’s stairs.  The stone monolith loomed above them and Marissa craned her neck back to see.  Two figures carved deeply into the dark grey stone faced each other.  One was a long-bearded old man in flowing cloak, tall pointed hat and tall boots, dressed in the style of European wizards.  His left hand lay at his side with a lowered wand, while his right hand gripped the hand of the other figure.  That other figure was a stern tattooed man in a feathered cape that swept back from bare arms and chest.  He wore the tall feathered headdress and sandals of a native wizard chief and held a wooden staff as the two shook hands in friendship.

“Four hundred years ago, as Old World Muggles and New World Muggles clashed in hostility, wizards from the two cultures declared peace here in Amazonia.  They agreed to share their knowledge and to use this ancient place to educate the descendents of both wizarding worlds. And to educate any child that inherited the powers of magic,” Mr. Argiletum stated.  Marissa listened and knew his last sentence meant a child like her.  Even though she was homeless and poor they gave her a chance.  That’s why Professor Merrythought had found her.

“As a lasting symbol of their covenant, these two stone figures were conjured upon the face of the great monolith that watched over their meeting.  Its ancient native name fell into disuse and it came to be known by all wizards simply as… Witness Stone.”

The faces high above nodded down to greet the first-years.  Marissa waved up to them.  Even though some people like Cecelia Bella de Barros didn’t want her here, it was the wizards on the stone who had decided long ago that she could come to witch school.

“Rows of twelve, children.  Rows of twelve,” directed the librarian, reordering the first-years upon the broad staircase.  “We shall now enter Witness Stone School and proceed to the anteroom.”

The formation of children marched upwards through the tunnel at the monolith’s base.  Some twenty feet up the staircase divided.  Two narrower sections continued upwards onto the pyramid’s face, and the wider center steps which they continued on led down to the interior.  Little stone shelves along the hallway held strangely shining blue-green lights that weren’t light bulbs or candle flames.  Marissa asked Potira about them.

“Glowworms,” Potira replied as the light upon walls seemed to wriggle.  “Charm bright.”

Along the hallway, tall recesses in the stone held lifelike statues of witches and wizards.  So lifelike that many shifted and moved to watch as the first-years passed along.  Marissa recognized one as the stern native man who had watched her at  Lost Cities Apothecary.

“That’s Jaguating,” she said.

“The White Jaguar,” replied Tiquinho, who seemed impressed that she knew his name.  “That was his Patronus shape when he battled Dementors and Inferi armies of the dark pajé.”

“What’s a  pajé?” Marissa asked.

“An Indian shaman. Wizards who know the secret magic roots and plants,” said Tiquinho, “and ways to turn them to strong potions or poisons.”

“Some pajé bad,” added Potira.  “Kill all wandmakers and try make all wizard tribes slaves.”

“But great Jaguating defeated the dark pajé and freed his people.”

Maybe the statue looked at every boy and girl as they passed, but to Marissa Jaguating’s eyes seemed to follow only her.  They reached the end of the long hallway and gathered in a large room with a doorless wall.  Mr. Argiletum touched the wall and a very narrow passage opened within it.  Marissa wondered if every place for wizardings had to have a secret door.

“I shall inform the Principal of our arrival,” the librarian said.  “When the wall opens again, you will enter the upper level of the Great Hall and be seated.”  Then he walked through the passage wall and it closed behind him.  The children began talking in little groups as they waited, until a great scraping noise like heavy stone upon stone filled the room.  Some children gasped.  The scraping echoed again, along with a chip, chip, chip sound of breaking rock.

“What was that?” said one girl nervously.

“My uncle says ghosts of men who died while building this place still push their ghostly stones,” Tiquinho told them all.  Children jumped as the heavy scraping came louder.

“They should push them somewhere else,” said Celestia Bella de Barros near the wall.  As if following her wishes, the scraping stopped and three misty silver figures rose from the floor.  Two looked brawny and powerful, one broken and thin as if something had crushed him flat.  The shirtless grass-skirted stonemasons walked through Celestia and into the wall behind her.  Marissa expected Rosaria Castilhos to scream, but somehow the silvery spirits didn’t scare her like bugs did.

“My great-grandpapa’s ghost has much nicer clothes,” Rosaria said matter-of-factly.

Marissa felt a wind ripple the back of her robe and coughed as a cloud of dust passed by.  She turned to see where it was blowing from and jumped with a start at the little boy who had appeared behind her.  He was just her height, with skin as dark as the night, and wore only faded shorts and a bright red cap.  He had just one leg and held a long wooden tobacco pipe.

“Got a light?” the little black boy inquired.  Marissa’s mouth dropped open.

“I know you!” she exclaimed in recognition as more first-years turned to see him.  “You’re Saci Pererê!”

“I know you!” He copied her outcry.  “You’re the lastie firstie!”  Saci covered his face in mock terror then peeked through holes in his palms as the boys and girls all laughed.

“But you’re a real Saci,” she responded, still amazed by his appearance.  The Saci cartoon was the mascot of Nino’s favorite soccer team and Mr. Palito had even found them old comics of the fabled one-legged boy.

“Am not real,” he protested.  “Made of dirt, see?”  Saci spun around and raised a whirlwind of dust and debris as Marissa held a hand up to keep grit from her eyes.  The dirty cloud settled as he stopped.

“Saci must find his own light now,” the black as night boy remarked.  He slipped a familiar looking backpack of faded pink off his shoulder.

“Hey,” Marissa shouted as she grabbed for it ,  “that’s mine!”

Saci spun from her reach and began tossing socks and underwear over his shoulder as he searched the contents of her backpack.  The other children roared at his antics as items dropped on the stone floor.

“Birdies?” said Saci.  “Why is birdies in a…”

The swallows flew from the backpack to protect their napping place.  As Fides’ wings thrashed about his face, Spero’s and Amor’s claws snagged Saci’s red cap and tugged it loose when they fluttered upward.

“Get it!  Get it!” Tiquinho and Potira called to Marissa as Amor came near her.  Marissa snatched the hat from midair and helped the swallows detach their claws.

“Ohhh…hmph!” stomped Saci as he stopped throwing socks.

“Now Saci must do you say,” said Potira.  “Make wish.”

“I wish he wouldn’t steal my backpack or any things from it,” Marissa said with some annoyance as she crawled around to collect the scattered items.  She tucked all the clothes  back, then lifted the backpack onto her arm and motioned the swallows inside it.

The one-legged boy acted sad and remorseful.  Marissa returned Saci’s red cap because the stories said he couldn’t do his whirlwind without it.  Some boys urged her to keep the hat, but that would only show she was a thief like Cecilia Bella de Barros had said.

“Ohhhh…” groaned the one-legged boy sorrowfully, “how will Saci light his pipe now?” Then he half-heartedly began to spin away.

“Saci, wait!” called Marissa. “I do have a match.”  She remembered Pipio had kept some in her pack’s outside pocket to start garbage can fires on cold nights.  In a moment Saci puffed contentedly as Marissa lit his tobacco.  Then white pipe smoke spiralled into the whirlwind and he disappeared.

“Most people wish to catch a thousand fish, or something like that,” advised Tiquinho.  Marissa shrugged.  Food was a good wish idea, if only she could bring it back to Santa Efigenia to share with the boys.  But she didn’t know how to cook a thousand fish, or really even one.

The wall ahead of them opened wide and the hundred or more first-years entered the Great Hall.  Marissa saw another wide stone staircase that led down to a vast main room.  An upper balcony that surrounded the room met a matching wide staircase at the far side.  Glowworm sconces lined the walls, but the blue-green lights hardly glowed.  The room was still brightened by sunlight.  They were deep inside the pyramid, but Marissa looked up to see an open sky where she knew a ceiling should be.

“That’s magic,” she said to Tiquinho as she watched the blue of the sky deepen and a first star appear.  So were the long murals that lined the room, because painted people moved within the scenes.

On a raised level at the Great Hall’s center sat twenty adults at two long wooden tables.  Marissa knew these were the teachers for she saw Professor Merrythought at the second table among other elegantly dressed men and women.  A very wide heavy man in a wide heavy chair sat in gleaming purple robe and cap at the center of the first table.  At his right was an Indian man with dark black hair that greyed at the sides.  He wore a a long feathered cape that many beautiful birds must have died to make.  Marissa did not think she would like him.

Aisles divided the Great Hall into four quarters and above each section a long, flowing banner was suspended from the enchanted sky.  The strong, graceful, yellow-orange feline of Jaguar House hung on the near left.  The twisting, muscular, deep green serpent of Anaconda House hung on the near right.  On the far left and right hung the winged, bright scarlet avian of Macaw House and the long-tailed, playful tan primate of Woolly House.  Rows of tables in each section, lined to face the Professor’s raised level, were filled with possibly a thousand children.

“We have to sit on the floor?” said Celestia Bella de Barros when a teenage boy on the steps motioned the first-years to their places.  “How degrading.”

“Maybe they ran out of extra chairs four hundred years ago,” Tiquinho remarked as Marissa sat cross-legged on the stone floor.  With the hem of her robe she dusted off her shiny shoes.  Pipio wouldn’t want his perfect polishing spoiled.

“WELCOME FIRST-YEARS,” resounded the voice of the wide heavy man in purple, who didn’t stand but simply floated his chair into the air.  He had a shiny bald head with wrinkled forehead and a thick grey moustache trimmed down to his double chin.  “And welcome all to a new year at Witness Stone.  I am Principal Absencia.  Your professors and I wish you success with your magical studies and with an exciting new season of Quidditch!”

This last remark drew a round of applause,  especially from the students beneath the Anaconda banner and most loudly from the group of brawny Quidditch team boys who sat together at one table.  Yells and shouts of “Conda rules” and “Team of destiny” echoed about.

“Calm down children, calm down,” the Principal directed and noise slightly decreased.  “Before house selections, Vice Principal Katupya has a few announcements.”

The broad-chested native man in the feathered cape rose from his seat and walked to the front of the dais where he held up a hand that instantly quieted all chatter and conversations.  “We are all very sad,” he began,  “to note the passing of beloved Transfiguration Professor Rafael Amaral, who died in early December at the age of one hundred and twelve.  His family wishes to thank all who sent condolences and attended services.”

“Please join me in welcoming your new Transfiguration instructor, Professor Grace Merrythought,” Katupya said as he spread out his arm to indicate the young lady in a pastel turquoise cloak who stood from her seat.  Marissa joined the polite applause that filled the room, then heard one loud young voice yelling “Hooray, Gracie!”  Katupya turned his face upward with a reprimanding look for the one-legged black boy who sat on the balcony wall blowing smoke rings.

“House Leaders, please inform new students of fruit crossings promptly, before one is dragged off by an orange,” his deep serious voice directed as a few chuckles were heard.  “Also be advised the re-piranha from last spring have been cleared from the pools and it is safe to swim.”

“Darn,” whispered a boy in front of Marissa. “I wanted to see those.”

“Jaci says they chewed ten pounds onto a boy’s butt one time,” whispered back another.

“The Department of Mysteries is offering a ten galleon prize to any student finding an undocumented hierotapir this year.  See Mr. Argiletum in Ancient Runes class for details.  Lastly, be aware it is migration season for some of our tallest flora and watch for unexpected relocations.  May our minds and hearts be filled with magic this year.”

Marissa knew she would study hard to learn magic to fill her mind, but she didn’t know how getting smart with magic would fill her heart.  It didn’t think, it just pumped blood.

Professor Katupya returned to his place at the table and Principal Absencia’s chair rose back into the air.  It tipped to the side a little as he adjusted his position to speak again.  “House Leaders to the front of the hall,” he exclaimed.  “Choosing will now begin.”

The three pairs of teenagers that had talked to Marissa and the others on the train stepped up to the center area.  Two more, who weren’t on the train but maybe came in canoes like Tiquinho because they were Indian, joined them to stand before the assembly of students.

“Selections will be made by order of finish in last year’s Quidditch tournament,” declared the round heavy Principal.  “With first pick by our champions… Anaconda House!”

The group beneath the fat snake banner erupted in applause and cheer.  “Conda!  Conda!  Conda!” they chanted as Solinho Braganza raised a fist in the air and Cecelia smiled.

Two girls just in front of Marissa were talking together as Principal Absencia tried to quiet the crowd and announce who would be second.  To Marissa they all seemed way too excited about what hotel buildings kids would stay in.  It was just a place to sleep.

“Rico and Gio say that the school that boy went to has a talking hat that decides which house you join,” said one girl.

“Oh my gosh, Eva!” replied the other beside her.  “Do you believe every crazy story your two brothers make up?”