I ignored the stares all around me. I understood them, of course; who wouldn’t stare at an obvious seventh year wearing first year robes? There was also a moment of brief confusion where I had to decide whether I was going to ride the boats or the carriages. In the end, I went with the carriages; there was no need to draw even more attention to myself.
I sat across from a vaguely familiar boy – the one that had originally pushed Aiden into my compartment. I found myself secretly wishing that I had pushed him back out, but I immediately hated the idea. The boy, whose name I later learned was Jack Lawless, was a Ravenclaw and an obvious relation to Lukas Bider, whom I had ignored the advances of nearly seventy years previous. Jack was probably his great-grandson, but still shared his dark brown hair and hint-of-purple eyes. I found myself ignoring him, unsurprisingly.
The carriage ride was luckily short, and I was whisked off to the Headmaster’s office by an unfamiliar professor in no time at all. I entered warily, observing the shelves of neat, orderly files that had replaced Dumbledore’s odds and ends that Headmistress McGonagall had kept. I hadn’t been at Hogwarts since she had led the school. Now, predictably, the Headmaster was Albus Potter. He wasn’t a particularly bad Headmaster, I had heard, but he was no Everard. My first glimpse of his office implied more of an obvious, organized intelligence rather than the mad genius that so many Headmasters had shared. I could deal with it.
Potter emerged from the deeper parts of his office and looked me over with his squinting green eyes, which looked slightly clouded with age. He had a long, slightly pointed grey beard and grey hair that reached to the bottom of his shoulder-blades. He wore periwinkle robes with a pointed cap at a merry angle, but his face was solemn. I had the urge to shy away from his tight gaze.
“So you are the anomaly,” he said in a tired, dismissive voice. “I am very glad that you have chosen to return to Hogwarts.”
“Oh, don’t be so uptight, old man,” a voice drawled from one of the back corners. I watched in concealed surprise as Scorpius Malfoy walked forward.
His hair was kept in a short, spiky cut, and though it was white, I knew it had once been silver blond. His appearance deeply contrasted with the Headmaster’s. His robes were straight and disciplined and black, and he wore no hat. He had no beard or wrinkles, but his cruel eyes held wisdom. And yet, they were sparkling with laughter.
Potter wearily pointed to Malfoy, as if Scorpius were a small, annoying child. “This is the Deputy Headmaster,” he said, “Professor Malfoy.”
“I’m also a ridiculously talented Charms teacher,” Malfoy winked.
“I find it enthralling that you went to school with my grandfather, my father, me, my son, and now my grandson,” the Headmaster said. Funny, he didn’t sound very ‘enthralled.’ He sounded bored.
“I’m curious, Kherington. What was your name when I was in school?”
I was glad to answer the friendlier man. “I was Rebecca Storms.”
“Ah, the charming blonde that was always hiding.”
“That’s me,” I grinned. The two men had such clashing appearances and personalities. And they had called me the anomaly. Hypocrites, I thought smilingly.
“Scorpius, the feast is starting soon. Don’t you think we should finish here quickly so that we can begin with the festivities?”
“Well, you’re not in a very festive mood. Still, I suppose we can do this quickly.”
In no time at all, I was sitting on a small wooden stool with a ratty hat on my head. I was only slightly uncomfortable at Malfoy’s excited look and Potter’s indifferent one. One call of “I believe the last House you were in was Hufflepuff, so let’s put you in...GRYFFINDOR!” and the Deputy Headmaster’s face fell slightly. Potter’s face couldn’t fall any more.
“Pity,” Malfoy laughed as we were walking to the Great Hall. “You would have made a fantastic Slytherin. You probably already have. Tell me, Kherington, what is your favorite House?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. We had reached the feast, though, and I discreetly slid into Gryffindor table. I saw Aiden sitting on the other side, a few people away. He winked at me and ran over to sit across from me, keeping his head down so he didn’t draw attention.
“Hullo, love!” he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes as he continued, “I told you that I’d see you sitting at the Gryffindor table. Jack owes me a Galleon. Anyways, I never did get your name.”
I remained silent, watching and pretending to listen to the Headmaster’s start-of-the-year speech. Why was this boy still talking to me? Then, I remembered my resolution on the train; I was supposed to be meeting as many people as I could. I figured I’d start tomorrow, when I was in a better mood and when this Aiden Silkwood wasn’t following me around like some demented puppy.
“No? That’s all right. I’ll get it from one of the other girls once you’ve met more people.” And then, he started talking again. He talked to me for the whole feast, in fact, along with Jack. They just…talked, and talked, and kept talking.
I smiled the whole time, even as I fell asleep that night.