The Journey Begins
Leah Andrews gazed up at the large green steam engine, thick waves of airy smoke curling out from the top. All around her the station was packed with screaming, crying, excited children, all saying their final goodbyes to their moms and dads before they boarded, just like Leah would be; just like she was. She gazed around her in wonder: when had her life become this? More like a fairy tale than reality; so impossible it was unbelievable. If she had known that there was a world like this one, and that she was going to become a part of it, would she have ever been content with the life she'd lived for the last eleven years? Had she been content? She didn't know; she'd had her own share of ups and downs throughout the years.
Standing beside her, her dad looked lonely and lost. Leah didn’t blame him at all; according to Professor McGonagall this was the closest that he would ever come to knowing his daughter’s world. Sure, he would hear all about it from her during holidays and through letters, but he would never experience it first hand, would only ever understand half of what Leah would soon know. Leah only hoped that he would not be too lonely without her for the next ten months in which she’d be gone; that he would not recluse into himself like he’d come so close to doing before.
Tears formed in her eyes, both happy and sad. “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered to him.
He knelt down to her level and wiped her eyes dry. “And I you, Sweetie. You’re all I have in the world. Just promise me now that you won’t lose sight of your old man while your busy pulling rabbits out of hats, or whatever it is you’ll learn.”
“Never.” She laughed weakly at his lame joke.
“Your mother would be so proud,” he sighed. “I’m so proud of you. You make sure you learn lots though, ‘kay Leah? Make new friends, and bring home lots of fun stories to tell me during Christmas.”
“Of course.”
“I love you.” He stood up again and stared determinedly in the direction of the train, fighting against his own tears. “You’ve got Soot? All your clothes, books, wand?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, well, I suppose that’s it then.” He lifted her heavy trunk into an empty compartment on the train and put it on a rack over her head. Leah carried Soot in his cat basket and set him on one of the bench seats, where he lifted his tiny head out of it to peer at her with his amber eyes. Her dad stroked the kitten’s head once, kissed Leah goodbye, and then left, disappearing between the crowded bodies filling the platform and the thick grey steam coming from the train.
Leah sat back on the bench beside Soot, sighing wearily, and closed her eyes as the train gave its last warning whistle and pulled out of the station. She was ashamed to admit to it, but she was relieved that her dad had left so quickly. The last thing she wanted was a big deal over her leaving, travelling across the country to attend a school that they’d never seen and had no proof even existed except for an old lady’s word and this green engine. Her and her dad could do with a little space, she knew; the last few months at home had been tense what with her impending departure hanging over them, too reminiscent of the atmosphere of the house five short years ago.
She remembered when she had first found out that she was a witch, that she could do magic. She remembered feeling as if certain incidents in her life suddenly made startling sense in her mind. She remembered how she had been helping her dad clean cages in the veterinary practice that he ran out of their small home in Toronto when they got the news.
“Leah, go get some clean rags from the laundry, will you? These ones are filthy.”
“I’m already on it, Dad.”
Leah entered the house through the adjoining room that separated their living quarters from the clinic quarters. She went to the laundry room, opened the dryer door, and shuffled through the freshly laundered garments until she found the three white cleaning rags her dad had wanted. Then she went to the kitchen tap and poured herself a drink of water to quench her dry throat.
She was about to return to her dad when a sharp knock sounded at the front door. Quickly finishing her water and setting the rags down on the table, she opened the door, revealing a tall, thin woman with a pinched expression, her full head of grey hair set into a tight bun on the back of her neck and her eyes framed by a thin set of black square eyeglasses.
Before Leah could open her mouth to speak, the woman said, “Are you Miss Leah Andrews?”
“I am,” said Leah warily. The woman’s face didn’t change expressions at Leah’s answer. Her whole demeanour was tense and uncomfortable, and yet Leah got the impression that this was not a woman to be easily pushed around; Leah admired that.
“Is your mother or father here, Miss Andrews? It is imperative that I speak to one or both of them, as well as with you.” She glanced over each of her shoulders in an anxious gesture so swift that if Leah hadn’t already been watching her, she would have missed it entirely.
“My dad’s in his vet clinic. It’s joined to the house; I can go get him now.” She nodded and Leah turned away to get him, but then she looked back to the woman and asked, because it would seem rude not to, “Would you like to step in? It’ll only take a moment.”
When Leah returned with her dad in tow, the pinched-face woman was sitting stiffly in the plush armchair in the living room. She stood up when they entered and shook her dad’s hand. “Mr Andrews, thank you for joining me. My name is Minerva McGonagall, I am the Headmistress of a small boarding school in British Columbia, and I’m here to talk to you about your daughter, Leah.”
“Neil, please, Ms McGonagall.” He took a seat on the loveseat across from her and Leah sat down next to him.
“I have something for you, Miss Andrews.” McGonagall held out a thick envelope made out of some type of parchment and written on with a bright green ink. On the front it was addressed: Miss L. Andrews, The Attic Bedroom, 153 Spruce Hill Road, Toronto, Ontario.
Leah ripped it open curiously and read the letter inside. She skimmed through talk of some Kootenay Academy of Magic, wands, cauldrons, spell books, and her eyes narrowed in confusion and doubt with each new word she read.
She looked up at the woman before her. “This is a joke, right?”
McGonagall did not smile, or show any other expression besides her unusual stillness. “I assure you Miss Andrews, that it is not. You are indeed a witch.”
She didn’t notice at first when Soot decided to jump out of his basket and curl up on her lap, but he meowed softly and she petted him, allowing him to offer what little comfort he could. The tiny black and white kitten had been a going away present from her dad “ a stray that had found its way to the clinic a couple of weeks back and to whom Leah had grown an instant liking to. He didn’t seem nervous at all about what they were going into, but then again, he was so brave for so small a thing and Leah had never been.
“Um, hi. Is anyone sitting here? Only, everywhere else is full.”
Leah looked up, surprised. Leaning against the doorframe, looking at her expectantly, was a girl of about her own age with long golden hair and light blue eyes that anybody, Leah included, would be insanely jealous for.
“No, go ahead.” The girl smiled slightly and took a seat across from her. “I’m Leah.”
“Gwen.”
“Is that short for Gwendolyn?”
Leah had only meant it as an innocent question; she had honestly been curious. But she saw Gwen’s blue eyes flare in irritation, a frown replace the small smile that had been on her face only seconds before, and she drew back in shock. “I’m sorry, I “ I just wondered, is all.”
Gwen calmed down, although it looked as if it took much effort, and leaned back in her seat. Outside the window, trees and houses flew by at a dizzying speed, their details becoming a blur, each separate thing’s colours blending into each other. “It’s okay. Yes, Gwendolyn is my full name, but I hate it; I don’t know what my mother was thinking when she named me. I go by Gwen, and Gwen only.”
“I think Gwendolyn’s a lovely name.”
Gwen rolled her eyes, but she didn’t look mad anymore. “Merlin, you and the rest of the world! Ah well, what can you do about it, right? My parents won’t let me get a name change, so I’ll just have to live with it. I’ve accepted that by now.” She propped her feet up on the seat cushions opposite and relaxed.
“It’s really not so bad.”
“Yeah it is, but thanks.”
Not long later the food trolley came down the train, carrying sweets and refreshments for the passengers. At the sound of the wheels squeaking along the tread, Gwen jumped up and flung open the compartment door, vanishing into the hall. When she returned, her arms were laden with unfamiliar packages and she dumped them onto an empty seat in an unceremonious pile.
“I’m starving,” she declared when Leah stared at the heap of sweets with wide eyes. Gwen started to open a small dark blue package and took out the chocolate frog that was inside. As if it sensed a chance at freedom, and as if it was a real frog instead of just a candy one, it hopped off her palm, landing on the glass of the open window before getting caught by the wind and blown away.
Flabbergasted, Leah asked, “What was that?”
Gwen looked at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted wings and declared herself a flying horse. “A chocolate frog of course … and it flew out the window too! Just my luck.” She slumped back in her seat in defeat.
“I know it was a chocolate frog, but why was it hopping?”
Comprehension dawned on Gwen’s thin face. Her eyes were wide and pitying. “You’re Muggle-born.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Man, that sucks.”
Leah shifted in her seat, having grown suddenly very self-conscious. There was so much she didn’t know about being a witch “ what if this was one of those things that she should have? “Is it a bad thing, being a Muggle-born?” asked Leah. “If it is, I had no idea.”
The corners of Gwen’s mouth turned down into a frown again but this time it was more in a frustrated way. “No, it’s not; and don’t let anybody tell you that it is,” she said in a direct contradiction to her earlier statement. “There are lots of people who think that magic should be kept in only the old pureblood families, but they’re just a load of stuck up pigs. You shouldn’t need to worry about that though, hardly anyone thinks that at Kootenay, it’s not allowed; if they did, they’d most likely be going to Durmstrang or,” she shuddered, “Hogwarts. Don’t let it fool you though, because in the real world, there are a lot of people who’ll hate you on principle based on your blood status.”
“Are Durmstrang and Hogwarts other magic schools?” asked Leah excitedly, eager to hear more. For the moment she disregarded Gwen’s slight shiver, mistaking it as a sign of coldness. “Where are they?”
“Yeah, but you don’t want to go there, trust me. Really into the dark arts, they are. Durmstrang’s in the far north somewhere, nobody’s really sure where, and they’ve always been a bit of a fishy lot. And Hogwarts is in Scotland. It wasn’t always so bad, or so I’ve heard; my dad went there and in his time, it was one of the best schools for learning about magic that there was. But it’s been a strange place for like, over a decade now “ Death Eater children going there and all. People don’t like talking about it much. There’s even a rumour that You-Know-Who runs the place.”
“Who?”
She growled. “Sometimes I forget how little people like you know at first. There should be like, an intro course or something before you enter the Wizarding world. You-Know-Who is not his real name, of course, but nobody dares to say his true one, out of fear. But he’s a wizard, an evil one, as bad as you can get they say, and Death Eaters are his followers. About twelve years ago he was trying to take over the Wizarding world, wanting to bring Muggles and Muggle-borns into submission. He started in England, took over Hogwarts, and then branched out into France, Germany and Spain soon after. I don’t know much about it, but like I said, my dad attended Hogwarts and remembers that time; says the world was a different place in England: you couldn’t trust anyone, and those you did turned under suspicion; people were dying every other day. That’s why he moved to Canada. McGonagall used to teach at Hogwarts “ Transfiguration, I think “ and after the school had fallen, she came out here to give students like us with less-than-desirable blood status an education. She’s a worldwide hero for it.
“Oh, look! Here’s her card.” Gwen held out a pentagonal shaped card with a picture of the same stern-looking woman who had visited Leah nearly a month ago. She was sleeping, her small chest rising slowly as she breathed. “Every chocolate frog comes with a Famous Witch or Wizard’s card,” she explained. “You can keep that one if you want.”
“Thanks,” Leah murmured. Her head was still spinning in circles from all the information Gwen had just relinquished. Evil dark lords; Death Eaters; taking over the world? What kind of place was this that she was joining? Wanting to move on to a lighter topic, Leah asked, “Before, when the frog was hopping, was that magic? Some spell or enchantment put upon it?”
“Sure was.” And just like that, Gwen was smiling again. It wasn’t mocking or angry towards Leah; Gwen didn’t care whether she had magical parents or not; and despite all of the dire threats against who she was, Leah couldn’t help but feel that with her new friend by her side, her going to Kootenay Academy of Magic would be something that she would never regret.
Smiling herself, Leah flipped over the card in her hand and read the back.
Meanwhile, Gwen was searching through her pile of sweets and a moment later she pulled out a small red bag with the logo Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans printed on it. She picked out what looked like a jelly bean, dark yellow with tiny black pinpricks dotting it, and put it in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully and then said, “Hmm, mustard flavour. Here, try one; be careful though, when they say every flavour, they mean every flavour.”
They were having fun with the Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, trying to guess each flavour that they got. Leah got some normal ones like chocolate, strawberry, grapefruit, and coconut; and also some stranger ones such as pork chop, grass and hummus. Gwen was nibbling the end of a funny green one cautiously when the compartment door opened and a tall, skinny boy with shockingly bright red hair looked in on them.
“Ergh, sprouts!” said Gwen, her face puckered in distaste. “Yuck!” And she threw the unfinished candy out of the window. Still grimacing, she looked up at the boy. “Who’re you?”
The boy stood there stoically. “Cory Weasley,” he grunted in annoyance. “Look, do you two have the time? We should be getting close, I imagine.”
Leah shook her head, but Gwen continued to stare at him. Her eyes were wide and popping and Leah was afraid they’d fall out if Gwen didn’t gain control over herself. “Weasley!” she gaped. “Like, The Weasleys?”
Cory Weasley rolled his eyes as if this were just the reaction he’d expected and snapped, “It’s a more common name than you think.”
“So, you’re not related to, like, the most famous Wizarding family in the world? The ones who invented Weasley Wizarding Wheezes? The family who knew the bloody Chosen One?” If Gwen kept up like this, Leah was sure she’d go into shock. She’d never met anyone else who’s moods had the ability to do such a drastic flip.
He refused to meet their eyes as he said, “No, I’m not from England. I was born in Romania for Merlin’s sake.”
“Oh.” Gwen sat back and started eating another Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean from her bag, no longer interested in the irritated boy before them.
“Well, I’ll just be going then, I only came to ask for the time.” And he turned around and walked away, the sliding compartment door slamming behind him.
Leah turned to face Gwen. “That was rude, harping on to him about who he’s related to.”
She sighed. “Maybe. But, Leah, you don’t understand, if he were one of the famous Weasleys, we could all be in danger. You-Know-Who hates them; they’re number one on his hit list. Not to mention that it would be seriously cool if he were. I just wanted to make sure.”
“Still …”
“Come on, lets get our school robes on. He was right, we should be almost there.”
They took their newly purchased black robes out of their trunks and slipped them on over their Muggle clothes. The sky had grown dark outside and a chilly wind came in the window. Gwen walked over and clasped it closed. A starry sky surrounded a bright crescent moon, intercepted at regular intervals by the mountain peaks they were travelling through. The train was climbing higher and higher, chugging up the hills at a speed that should be impossible: they had, after all, been on the opposite side of the country only that morning. Gwen and Leah looked out the window, their breaths catching in amazement at the view. A clear indigo lake shimmered before them and behind it, nearly shielded completely from view by even more mountains, a small castle rose majestically against the black sky.
“There it is,” breathed Leah. She had never seen a more beautiful sight. Gwen nodded beside her, too stunned to speak. They continued to watch as the castle grew closer and the train slowed to a gradual stop at the station. They got off the train with the rest of the students, milling around the platform. A loud, deep voice resounded against the walls, echoing and impossible to miss.
“First years! First years, follow me please! Over here!” A man with a dark complexion, brown eyes, and a gentle countenance was waving his hands in the air, drawing the first years to him. All of the older students were getting into the long line of carriages parked on the side of the road and being drawn away in the direction of the castle.
Gwen and Leah found themselves crowded amongst the rest of the first years, the man waiting until the noise died down before addressing the group at large.
“Welcome, first years,” he smiled, “to Kootenay Academy of Magic. I am Professor Thomas and I will be your Charms professor this year. I know I speak for all of the staff and students when I say that we are overjoyed to have you here with us and we hope that the next seven years will be pleasant ones for all of you. Now, everyone, line up behind me in pairs and we will begin our traditional walk up to the castle where it will be decided what house you shall be in and where a magnificent feast is calling our names!”
They started up the winding path to the front doors of Kootenay Castle. Gwen and Leah walked side by side; ahead of them, two rows from the front and walking with a short boy with sandy blonde hair, was Cory Weasley, the redhead from the train. He was talking animatedly with his companion and was acting not at all like the serious, grumpy boy they had met only minutes ago. As they strolled under the moonlit trail, Professor Thomas explained to them about the qualities of each of the three school houses.
“While you are at Kootenay,” he said, “your house will be like your home: you will sleep in your house dormitories, attend classes and eat with others from your house, and spend free time in your house common room. There are three houses, each representing different valued qualities in its students, and you will be sorted according to these. The three houses are Athos, meaning strength and endurance; Talos, standing for courage and friendship; and Chiron, signifying intelligence and kindness.
“While you are here, your accomplishments will earn you house points, while any rule breaking will lose points. The house with the highest number of points at the end of the year will win the House Cup, a great honour. Each house is wonderful in its own way and you should all be proud of wherever you go.”
Now Professor Thomas was quiet and he held the great double doors to the castle wide open for them. Far away, the first years could hear the excited low hum of hundreds of students awaiting them. “At the sorting ceremony,” said Thomas, “there will be a stone and once your name is called you shall sit before your fellow classmates with it in your palm. Once the stone decides which house you will be in, it will shoot a light up into the air of that house’s colour, and you will join the rest of your housemates at your respective table. A yellow light means Athos, red means Talos, and blue means Chiron. Any questions?” At the terrified shaking of heads and small whispered no’s, the Charms professor let them into the room with the rest of the students and towards their future.
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