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Mum and Dad will never believe this...
That was the most coherent thought in Jane's head as she huddled with the rest of the first years on the steps of the castle. Ogg swept his hawk-like gaze over them, silencing the last nervous whispers rippling through the crowd. When all was still, he knocked at the heavy door.

It opened to reveal a Wizard dressed in a tall, pointed hat and robes of purple, trimmed in gold. His white hair and beard, still streaked through with a few strands of auburn, shone almost as brightly as the moon, itself, and his clear, blue eyes surveyed them from over the spectacles perched on his crooked nose. As grave and important as he looked, Jane couldn't help thinking that there was a smile hidden somewhere under those silvery whiskers. She felt Irene lean against her shoulder as if she were about to say something, but it was Jane who murmured, as softly as she could, "Professor Dumbledore." How she knew this, she couldn't have said, but she was certain she was right.

Jane flinched when she saw Ogg's eyes flicker in her direction -- Now, he can't possibly have heard THAT!, she thought, amazed -- but the Wizard made no sign of having caught her words, as he began, "Welcome to Hogwarts. I trust you had an interesting journey." Now Jane was certain of the smile, as he watched the first years shuffle and nudge each other. "I am Professor Dumbledore. In a matter of minutes, I will have the pleasure of escorting you into the Great Hall, for the annual start-of-term banquet. You are all, no doubt, hungry after your long day of travel -- that is, those of you who did not fill up on Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Botts Beans on the train." There were a few nervous giggles scattered among the new students in response to this. "Before you take your places at the tables, however," Dumbledore went on, "you must know at which table to take your place, and that is to be resolved by the Sorting Hat. The Sorting Hat will assign you to one of four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. No house is better than the others," he advised, becoming solemn again. "You will be placed in the one where you have the greatest ability to develop your strengths, and discover your potential. Your head of house, and the fellow students within it, will be your Hogwarts family; you will eat, sleep, work and study together, and become very well acquainted in the process. Your best efforts at Hogwarts will earn points to the credit of your house; points which may also be taken away," Dumbledore warned, frowning at them for the first time. "The house with the most points to its credit at the end of the school year will be awarded the House Cup. The competition is stiff," his brow relaxed, and Jane saw the smile creeping back, "as the upper-years will let you know. But, I am certain you will all endeavor to bring honor and credit to your houses."

"Now, if you will come inside..." Professor Dumbledore stepped back and admitted them to the enormous entrance hall. There was a chorus of breathy oohs and aahs from the students. "You will wait here, briefly, until the Great Hall is ready for you. Please stay together, and do not touch anything," he instructed them, and again Jane caught that solemn contraction of his brow. "I shall return for you momentarily."

When he was gone, the students began to mill about like a flock of sheep, and buzz among themselves. "Nervous?" Irene asked Jane, looking white as the proverbial sheet, herself.
"Yes," Jane grinned shakily in response. "How does this Sorting Hat thing work, anyway? I mean, how does it know where you belong? What if it puts you in the wrong house?"
"Oh, it's never wrong; at least that's what they always tell you. I hope we end up together," Irene confided. "I don't think I know anyone else here."
"I know I don't know anyone else here," Jane answered, looking around at the other students. "Well, except for that dolt, Ludo," she reconsidered, as she spotted him some distance away, conversing chummily with a boy and girl she hadn't seen before, "and I don't want to be in a house with him."
She still had her eyes on Ludo and his friends when the bug-eyed girl who was chatting him up suddenly recoiled, gaping at something beyond them, and let out a shriek. Her scream caught like wildfire and a flurry of squeaks and squeals went up as the rest of them noticed what she had seen.
"Oh, look!" Irene said, sounding quite delighted. "Ghosts!"
Jane shivered and put a hand on Irene's back as she peeped over her shoulder. A small swarm of spectres had materialized through the wall and now glided toward the great hall. They were about the color of Dumbledore's beard, and no less luminous, and their semi-transparent nature made them blend together so that it was hard, at first, to make out the individual figures. A few, on the nearest edge of the group, took polite notice of the chattering first years; one particular, tall, lady ghost nodded to them quite pleasantly. Suddenly, Irene grabbed Jane's arm and exclaimed, a bit louder than she'd probably meant to, "Look, Jane, there's Sir Nicholas!"
Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, rather less substantial but otherwise just as he appeared on his trading card, turned toward the students, whom he had, till now, ignored, and said, crisply, "I beg your pardon, but did one of you address me?"
"Yes, sir," Irene spoke up, making a slight curtsy toward him, "that was me."
"One of the new lot, are you?" Sir Nicholas looked her over with a critical eye, as the other students shrank back out of his gaze, giving him a clear view of Irene. "I hope you're sorted into Gryffindor, my girl; your courtesy might set a better example for the others." With a disdainful glance at the huddled masses, Sir Nicholas turned on his ghostly heel and proceeded to the banquet with his fellows.
"What was that about?" wondered a short, stocky boy with glasses, who was standing near them.
One of the last of the ghosts, a stout, smiling monk, floated over and confided, "She called him Sir Nicholas, you know. Hardly any of the students do any more, but it's what he prefers."
"Why?" asked the stocky boy, "What do they call him instead?"
The fat friar shook his head and scratched his nose as if debating whether or not to tell, but just then the doors to the Great Hall opened and he backed away. "Must fly, don't want to miss the sorting! Good luck to all of you."

Professor Dumbledore nodded to the ghosts as they passed him, and called for the attention of the first years. "You will form a line, in single file, and follow me to the head of the hall." They did as he told them; Jane lined up behind Irene, and the stocky boy with the glasses got behind her. Assessing the line, Jane surmised that they were about a quarter of the way from the front. That was fine with her; the sooner she could get this over with, the better. Looking back to count the heads behind her, she spotted Ludo Bagman again, toward the end of the line, his blond head sticking up above most of the others. The bug-eyed screaming girl, and the smirking, whey-faced boy she'd seen him talking to earlier were back there with him. The procession began to move, and, facing forward, Jane followed Irene into the Great Hall.

It was enormous, and beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale. She wanted to grab a pen and paper and write down every detail so she could tell her parents later. There were four tables, surrounded by the rest of the students. Jane spotted Cathy Foster at the head of the first gathering to her right; the Gryffindor table, she deduced from this. Cathy must have been watching for her, because Jane caught the girl beaming at her, and pointing her out to Sir Nicholas, who was sitting beside her and with whom she appeared quite chummy.

At the top of the hall, at another long table, sat a number of Witches and Wizards, the Hogwarts faculty, no doubt. Jane skimmed their faces and wondered who they were, and what they taught. She had little chance to examine them, however, as the first years were lined up with their backs to the teachers' table, facing the ocean made up of their soon-to-be classmates. Professor Dumbledore brought out the Sorting Hat, and a stool, and placed them in front of the new students. The Sorting Hat didn't look especially impressive, Jane thought; it was dingy, and tatty, and she wondered exactly what it was supposed to do. She would have whispered something about it to Irene, but the hall had grown unnaturally silent, and Jane hardly dared to take a breath. All at once, the Sorting Hat moved, as if drawing a breath of its own, and began to sing:

Jane was so taken aback by this, she didn't entirely get the first few lines, except to understand that the Hat, like Hogwarts, was ancient, and had been left behind by the founders of the school to sort the generations of future students into their proper houses. The Hat's rhyming descriptions of the traits revered in each house were exactly as Arthur Weasley had told her on the day they went to Diagon Alley. Bold Gryffindors had courage strong; Hufflepuffs were loyal, kind and true; ambition and cunning would gain Slytherins fame; and love of lore and learning were prized by clever Ravenclaws... Jane liked this last one, she was something of a bookworm, and she liked to think of herself as clever. She certainly didn't feel bold, and she knew kindness was not her strong suit. Despite her mother's words on the train to London, ambition and cunning weren't traits she was overly keen to admit to. All in all, Ravenclaw sounded quite the best house to her. When the Hat had concluded, the students at the tables applauded, and the first years clapped along uncertainly, because it seemed to be the thing to do. Professor Dumbledore stepped forward again, with a roll of parchment in his hand, and addressed the new students. "When your name is called, please have a seat on the stool, and place the Sorting Hat on your head. It will declare your house, then you may take a seat with your new classmates. To avoid any confusion," he made certain they could all see him, then pointed at each table in turn, clockwise from the nearest table on what was now their left, "the tables are, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff." At each table, as its name was called, the students waved, or clapped, or stomped a bit to acknowledge the recognition, and Jane noted that there were a fair number of empty chairs scattered among them. "Very well," Dumbledore took his place beside the line of first years, nearest the Hufflepuff table. "We are ready to begin."

Taking advantage of her height, Jane looked past Irene, on her right, to what had been the front of the line as they trooped in; the first student, standing next to Professor Dumbledore, was a slight, pale, blond boy who still looked a bit seasick from the boat ride across the lake. The Professor raised his scroll and read out the name, "Allbright, Polly."
Odd name for a boy, thought Jane for an instant, until the real Polly Allbright stepped out from somewhere in the middle of the line, six or eight people to Jane's left, and walked to the stool.
"It's alphabetical?" Jane hissed to Irene, and her friend nodded slightly. Lovely, grumbled Jane to herself. Tweedy, Jane, would probably be the last one to be called.
Polly Allbright was pink with excitement as she sat carefully on the stool and put on the Sorting Hat. A hush of anticipation fell over the hall, and hung on... and on... and on... until at last, the Hat cried out, "RAVENCLAW!" Polly, her cheeks full of dimples, got to her feet (a bit shakily), and went to sit at the Ravenclaw table, where she was welcomed with applause. "Applewhite, Gerald," was called next; again, there was an interminable minute of silence before the Hat declared, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Cathy Foster and Friends let out a whoop of approval. This is going to take forever... Jane groaned to herself.

"Bagman, Ludovic," was called fairly early, and he bounded up to the stool, waving at his brother at the Hufflepuff table as he did so. The Hat decided more quickly with some than with others, and it had barely settled on Ludo's head when it shouted out, "SLYTHERIN!" Ludo looked astonished at this turn of events, but smiled gamely as he went to sit down. One particular corner of the Slytherin table erupted into the loudest shouts of glee so far, and a big, fleshy 7th year boy made room for Ludo to sit beside him, pounding his back hard enough to make him cough.
"What's that about?" muttered the boy on Jane's left, voicing her own unasked question, and Irene, hearing him, whispered back one word: "Quidditch."

Professor Dumbledore worked his way down the list; "Grahame, Kevin" prompted the stocky little boy on Jane's left to jump out of the line and trot to the stool. She could see him fidgeting anxiously until the hat said, "RAVENCLAW!" and he ran, beaming, to the table, where he plopped down next to the lady ghost who had nodded to them earlier, and immediately struck up a conversation with her. Jane could feel Irene growing tense as the line slowly grew thinner, and Professor Dumbledore drew closer and closer to the "L"s. "Lovecraft, Cary," was the boy Jane had seen talking with Ludo, and he went to Slytherin, too, but without the same acclaim. Then, at last, it was time for "Lupin, Irene." Irene's hand was moist as she gave Jane's one last squeeze before walking to the stool. Carefully, she adjusted the hat on her head, and closed her eyes. Wondering how long it would take, Jane began to count silently, and had reached twelve when the hat burst out, "RAVENCLAW!" Letting out a deep breath, Irene smiled and set aside the hat as the Ravenclaws applauded her. Jane wiped her own hands on her robe. Now, at least, she knew what to hope for.

The line of students dwindled, and the last ones remaining edged closer together with each fellow they lost. Jane found herself shoulder to shoulder with the slight, blond boy she had thought would be the first one sorted; he turned out to be "Shrike, Wilfred," and was swiftly packed off to Ravenclaw. Too many Ravenclaws! Jane groaned, although she hadn't been keeping count before Irene, and in fact, the students had been distributed fairly evenly. Jane wondered, though, what would happen if there was no more room left at the Ravenclaw table when her name was called. "Tweedy, Jane," turned out to be third from last on the scroll, and her heart was pounding like mad as she stalked to the stool and plopped herself down on it. She got the Hat on her head and waited to see what would happen. She was startled to hear it speak to her.
"Well, well, what have we here?"
Oh, just get on with it! thought Jane, and the Hat laughed in her head.
"Not enough patience to fill a house-elf's thimble, that rules out Hufflepuff," mused the Hat.
Ravenclaw, please put me in Ravenclaw... "Now, now, Miss Tweedy, I'll do the Sorting here, if you don't mind," said the Hat. "You're self-absorbed enough for Slytherin, I see--"
I am not! "But I know exactly what will happen if I put you there--"
What's that supposed to mean? "You already know, yourself, or I wouldn't. It's your mind I'm reading, all I know is what you tell me."
Then put me in— "RAVENCLAW!"
Jane started when she heard the Hat shout it out. Irene let out a yelp of joy and clapped furiously for her as she tottered toward the table. The other Ravenclaws smiled and applauded for her, and a curly-haired upper classman reached out to pat her shoulder as she made her way along the near side of the table to the seat Irene was saving for her.
"I knew it!" Irene hugged her as she sat down. "I knew you'd make it!"
Jane hardly noticed when the next student was sorted, a boy named Ware who went to Hufflepuff, but the very last to go was Ludo's friend the Bug Eyed Girl, whose name turned out to be Olivia Wilde. She was swiftly dispatched to Slytherin, where she was forced to take the last empty seat, next to the house's resident ghost. Jane found this highly amusing, although if she'd been asked, she would not have known why. With the Sorting complete, Professor Dumbledore cleared away the stool and the Sorting Hat. The Witch who sat in the largest chair, in the center of the teachers' table, got to her feet and motioned for silence. She was small, and stout, but she had sharp eyes, and the face and demeanor of a dowager duchess. Her thick, grizzled hair was arranged in a braid neatly coiled behind her head, and she wore robes of royal blue and silver. When she had the attention of the room, she gave them a dignified smile, and spoke, in a strong, even voice.
"It is my honour, and my pleasure, to welcome you to another year at Hogwarts. We have just seen our new first years sorted, and I trust their housemates will make them feel at home here. For those of you who do not know me, I am Professor Peachum, headmistress of Hogwarts, and I look forward to becoming better acquainted with each of you. The only start-of-term notices I have this year are the usual ones: A reminder to all, especially our first years, that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to students. And a reminder to our aspiring athletes that Quidditch trials begin in two weeks. Your head of house will have more information on that, for those who are interested. Now," she placed her stout little hands together and smiled more brightly, "I believe we have waited long enough to eat. Let the banquet begin."
Jane, who had observed nothing but empty plates and goblets on the tables, was about to ask Irene what they were supposed to eat, when to her amazement, platters of food appeared before them as if by magic -- well, of course, Jane reminded herself, it was magic.
"Oh, gosh!" exclaimed Kevin Grahame, who was sitting diagonally opposite Jane, next to Wilfred Shrike, who was directly across from her. The ghostly grey lady, on Kevin's other side, nodded to Jane and Irene and said, "I understand that the lamb is supposed to be especially delicious. It always was in my day, you know."
"Try the radish salad, too," advised a tall fourth-year girl with flowing hair, seated on the far side of the Grey Lady. "It's lovely."
"Thanks," said Kevin, accepting the bowl she handed him and squeezing a scoop of the salad onto his rapidly filling plate, before he passed it on to Wilfred, who politely declined and offered it to Jane. "Oh, hey," Kevin's eyes lit up behind his glasses as he leaned toward Jane and Irene, getting a blot of gravy on his robes in the process, "I found out what they call Sir Nicholas. They call him ‘Nearly-Headless Nick!' Do you know why?"
"Mr. Grahame," the Grey Lady scolded gently, "I didn't tell you that so you could spread it through the school."
"You said everyone else already knows," he reminded her, then turned his attention back to the girls. "They call him that because he was sort of beheaded, but they didn't get his head all the way off. Brrr! Makes my neck hurt just thinking about it! I can see why he wouldn't like it, though; I don't suppose I'd like to be reminded of having my head half lopped off. Anyway, that's why he was so nice to you," he nodded at Irene, "because he doesn't like being called Nearly Headless."
"We knew that already," said Jane, who was starting to think that Kevin talked too much. "I've got a card of him." She still had it tucked away in her robes and fished it out for his inspection.
"Wow!" Kevin gawked at the moving picture of Sir Nicholas, and Jane snatched it back before he could put his greasy fingers on it. "Where'd you get that?"
"On the train, and before you ask, no, I'm not trading it."
"Where on the train?" he pressed. "I didn't see them."
"They come in the Chocolate Frogs," explained Irene. "Famous Witches and Wizards; my brother collects them."
"That'll teach me," Kevin sighed. "That Lovecraft whats-his-name talked me into buying those stupid every-flavor beans. And the flavors were all things like beets, and liver, and coconut, blech."
Wilfred Shrike gave him the once-over at this and asked, "You're a Mud -- Muggle, then? I mean..." Jane could have sworn he'd nearly called Kevin something else before he stopped himself.
"Muggle parents, yeah," said Kevin blithely. "Turns out I had a Wizard granddad no one knew about -- well, Granny knew, of course, but he died when my dad was really young, and their kids were all Muggles, so she never bothered to tell anyone until I got my letter. Mum was relieved, she'd always thought I was just weird."
"Irene! Jane!" Another voice interrupted them, and Jane looked up to see Ludo Bagman standing between them. "Irene, you were right, how did you know?!" he enthused. "You really are good at divination, aren't you? She knew I was going into Slytherin," he explained to the others around them, and his eye lit on Shrike. "Hello, Freddy! How are things? Say, I didn't know your brother'd made Seeker already. He says he can get me on as a Beater. Reserve, of course," Ludo frowned, "they never let the first years really play. Better than nothing, though; get my foot in the door. Is he really in line to be Captain after Fry graduates this year?"
"That's what he thinks," Freddy Shrike answered drily.
"He's a genius at the sport, of course -- at least, that's what he told me," Ludo chuckled. "Can't hurt to have a friend on the team, though, eh? Whoops," Ludo jumped, and Jane looked up at him to see that the Slytherin ghost, looking particularly grim, had glided up behind him and placed a spectral hand on his shoulder. "Better get back to my table," Ludo was still smiling, but Jane could feel him shivering, as well; she didn't blame him, the gaunt spirit was covered in what looked like ghostly blood-stains, and was regarding the Ravenclaws with disdain.
"Wow, who was that?" whispered Kevin Grahame, and by his wide-eyed look, it was clear he meant the ghost.
"The Bloody Baron," replied the Grey Lady in a hushed voice. "He's rather particular about the Slytherins mixing with other houses."
"What's that on him?" asked Kevin. "Is that blood, then? Ghost blood?"
"Not a topic we should discuss at the dinner table," hinted the Grey Lady, and Jane was thankful for her suggestion.
"So," Freddy Shrike addressed Irene and Jane, "you know Bagman? I'm surprised they let him in."
"Why?" asked Jane, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, you know about that business at Eggleston's, of course. He'll tell you he wasn't expelled, but that's only because his Mummy pulled him out of there before he got the boot."
"What's Eggleston's?" mumbled Kevin, around a mouthful of potatoes au gratin. On second thought, Jane was starting to appreciate his eagerness to ask questions; it kept her from looking stupid.
"Eggleston's Academy," it was Irene who explained. "It's a Wizarding prep school in London, very exclusive."
"You say that as if it were a bad thing," Freddy smiled a bit and feigned a hurt look. "At any rate, Bagman got caught pinching test questions from some of the teachers."
"He was cheating?" Kevin let off a shocked whistle.
"Not as you might think," Freddy snickered. "They weren't even his classes. I mean, everyone knows Ludo's a dope, but he's not stupid enough to cheat on a test he wasn't even going to take. And he wasn't selling them, they ruled that out pretty quickly. It took the headmaster some trouble to work out what he was doing." "What?" Irene asked.
Freddy Shrike leaned across the table and, grinning, lowered his voice. "Believe it or not, he was making book on the sixth years' exams."
"Doing what?" Jane puzzled.
"You know, taking wagers, making odds," Freddy explained. "Sixth year is the last year before Hogwarts," he clarified, to head off any more questions from Kevin, "and final exams are a big deal; they always post everyone's scores, give out prizes for the best, all that. Ludo had all the lower forms chipping in their milk money on the results. He was snooping around trying to get some inside information on who had the best shot of coming out on top." Helping himself to another bit of lamb, Freddy smiled blandly at Irene. "I'm sure you're positively brilliant at divination, but even I could have told you that Ludo Bagman would end up in Slytherin."

Jane had never eaten so much in her life. Steak, and lamb, and chicken -- no one had ever told her how good chicken could be; they had almost never had it at home. It surprised her to see Irene taking such tiny portions of things, and picking at her food with such delicacy. Jane hoped she wasn't feeling sick; she couldn't have been unhappy, she'd wanted to go into Ravenclaw, and here they were. Finally, however, it became clear why Irene was eating so little of the meat, and vegetables, and salads, when those platters vanished and were replaced by the desserts. Jane helped herself to strawberries and cream, and a bit of apple pie, and watched, wide-eyed, as Irene filled her plate. A chocolate éclair, a fudge brownie with powdered sugar on top, a fudge brownie with powdered sugar and walnuts, a slice of Viennese torte layered with chocolate crème filling, a wedge of white chocolate cheesecake, and a dollop of chocolate mousse in a cauldron-shaped, dark chocolate shell.
"Phew!" Freddy Shrike gasped, barely containing his snickers. "Did you meet a Dementor on the way in?"
"What's a De--?" Kevin began, then spotted something on her plate. "Is that cheesecake? Where did you find that?"
Irene gaily laughed off their stares. "That's what comes of having parents who study Dangerous Creatures. Chocolate, Nature's Best Medicine. I'm afraid I've become a bit of an addict. Oh, don't worry," she assured them, "I'm not going to eat all of it. The walnut brownie is for my owl."

This made Jane wonder what had become of Eglantine, and she was glad when, at last, the dessert plates were magically cleared from the table, and Professor Peachum rose and asked the house prefects to escort the yawning first years to their dormitories. At the head of the Ravenclaw table, a petite young lady with delicate features and straight, black hair to her shoulders stood up and addressed them. Jane recognized the prefect's badge on her robes, and could tell she was summoning the first years to bed, but there was such a general racket of chair scraping and chattering that she could catch only about half the girl's words. The prefect seemed aware of this, as well, for she stopped in mid-sentence and squawked, in a very loud voice, "EX-CUSE ME!" The first years stopped dead and stared at her in stunned silence. The rest of the table seemed used to her, but grew silent as well. The two boys sitting on either side of her, one of whom was the curly-haired one who had patted Jane's back when she joined the table, were grinning. "Thank you," the prefect smiled sweetly, resuming her demure manner. "As I was trying to say: First years, if you'll come with me..." Still smiling, she beckoned them with both hands. "That's right, all the first years to me." As Jane and Irene worked their way toward her, the rest of the Ravenclaws, who already knew where their beds were, headed in the opposite direction, out of the Great Hall. The petite young lady was conferring with two other older students also wearing badges. One, a tow-headed boy who seemed to be the youngest of the three, exchanged pleasant goodnights with her and went off with the rest of the house, as did the curly-haired boy, who was not a prefect, probably only a fourth year or so, and gave Jane and Irene a friendly smile and goodnight as he passed them. The other prefect who stayed was a tall, alarmingly thin boy, whose brown hair looked as if he'd cut it himself with a blunt knife, but who beamed at the little firsties with the benevolent pride of a new father.
"Is this everyone?" the girl surveyed them. "Are we all here?" Jane looked around and found that there had turned out to be a total of only nine new Ravenclaws, herself included. "My name is Julia Manners," she informed them, in a voice so light and musical, it was difficult to believe she had just shouted them down a moment ago, "and I am your senior house prefect. I am also," she added, "your Quidditch Captain, for those of you who plan on going out for the team." Jane was surprised by this; she realized that she knew practically nothing about Quidditch, but she had assumed that it was played by burly boys like Ludo Bagman, not this dainty fairy of a girl. "In short, I am the highest authority you'll meet this side of Professor Flitwick, so if you have any questions or troubles settling in, I am the one to see. This gentleman," she smiled very sweetly, Jane noticed, at the tall boy with the ragged hair, "is Emrys Mathews, whom you will soon know as the best Seeker at Hogwarts. He is also a prefect, sixth-year, and you may also consult him for any assistance you may need."
"Always glad to be of help," Emrys put in, still beaming at them.
"And now, if you'll follow me, I shall escort you to the Ravenclaw common room."

Jane trooped off with the rest of her classmates as Julia led them out of the Great Hall and into the maze that was Hogwarts, with Emrys bringing up the rear. Jane wondered how they would ever find their way back for breakfast, they were led up and down so many stairs, and through so many passages, half of which seemed to turn back on themselves. At length, Julia brought them to a halt at the end of a narrow corridor, where a large, oval mirror hung in a niche in the wall. As the first years clustered together, looking around at the apparent dead end they had come to, a rather acerbic male voice remarked, "So, these are the first years. You took so long, I thought you'd lost them somewhere." Jane glanced around with the others for the source of the voice, fully expecting to see a ghost pop his head through the wall, but it was Kevin Grahame's exclamation of, "Wow, look!" that directed them to the mirror. The ovoid medallion at the top of the ornate, bronze frame had assumed the features of a man's face, which was looking down at them. "Do they know the password?" the Mirror asked.
"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room," Julia informed them.
"What, through the looking glass?" asked Kevin. "Fantastic!"
"You'll need a password to enter," the prefect went on, unperturbed by the interruption. "The current password is ailurophile. Be certain to remember that. Ailurophile," she enunciated it carefully.
Jane heard another boy she hadn't taken much notice of till now whisper to his fellow, "What's that mean?" and was surprised when Kevin turned around to them and said, "It's someone who likes cats." He looked pleased to be providing answers instead of questions for once.
"That is correct," Julia smiled at him, and he grinned proudly in response. "Since you know the definition, would you like to be the one to let us in? Step up to the Mirror and try it."
Kevin squared himself and said, in a firm voice, "Ailurophile!"
The glass of the mirror began to ripple and shimmer, until it grew transparent and liquid.
"Nicely done," Emrys congratulated him from the back of the group. "Now, step through."
"That's right," said Julia, waving them through the looking glass. "Step through, step through."
Walking through the mirror was a weird, lovely feeling, Jane thought; like breaking the surface of a pool of water, but coming out dry on the other side. The Ravenclaw Common Room had a lofty ceiling, and long, narrow windows overlooking the grounds of the castle. Thick, oriental rugs on the floor, and great tapestries on the walls, gave the room a hushed feeling, although admittedly that might also have been due to the fact that only a few students were still lingering there at this hour. Large chairs, tufted ottomans, and carved tables were spread throughout, and there were tall, narrow bookcases scattered along the walls. Julia took the girls from here, and Emrys took the boys, to staircases at opposite ends of the room, which led up to the dormitories.

The first year girls' dormitory was a square room with more long windows in the wall opposite the door. On either side stood two, large, four-poster beds, hung with blue curtains, and each bed was flanked by a small desk and chair, and a tall, narrow, combination wardrobe and dresser. Jane spotted her trunk at the foot of the first bed to her right. Irene's bed was beside hers, nearest the window, and the other two girls' were across from them. Julia wished them all goodnight, and promised to collect them for breakfast in the morning.

Jane was pleased to see Eglantine, perched on the back of the chair in front of her desk; the owl had apparently been napping, judging by the crossish way she ruffled her feathers and blinked her eyes when Jane spoke to her. Copernicus was sitting on the window ledge, hooting cheerfully, and a black cat poked its head out from between the curtains of the bed across from Irene's and meowed at them. The bed across from Jane's belonged to Polly Allbright, the first girl sorted, who went straight to work unpacking her trunk. She was nearly Jane's height, but of a sturdier figure, and she had pretty blue eyes, and short, golden brown curls. The other girl, when asked by Irene, presented herself as Angharad Jones. She looked exactly as Jane would have expected a young witch to look, a little snip of a thing with a pallid face and dark, wiry hair, and she was already developing what was going to be an impressive hatchet of a nose. She had a thick accent that Jane assumed was Welsh, and made her wonder if her own Yorkshire tongue was as indecipherable to those who weren't accustomed to it. The cat belonged to Angharad, a big, glossy, black feline with a white thumbprint on his chest, and brilliant green eyes. Irene was enthralled.

"Aren't you handsome!" she cooed, crouching and holding out her hand to him. "What's your name?"
"He's called Llwthyr," said Angharad; it sounded more or less like Luther.
"Aren't you sweet," prattled Irene. "Come here, come and see me. Who's a pretty kitty? Come on..."
Llwthyr, keeping his distance, eyed her coolly and paced over to Jane's bed, where he hopped up on the covers and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the neatly folded robes she had just unpacked.
"Scat!" Jane shooed him. "Get off of there!" She could hear Angharad giggling across the room as Jane got her hands under the cat and tried to shove him off the bed. Instead, Llwthyr leapt into her arms, purring, and snuggled his head under her chin. "Stop that!" Jane dropped him back onto the bed, where he nuzzled her hands and tried to rub against her. "Angharad--" she appealed to the other girl.
"Oh, give him a cuddle, make a fuss over him, that's all he's looking for. Once he thinks you want him there, he'll leave you be."
"I'll get him," said Irene. "Come here, Llwthyr, oh, you pretty boy..." As soon as the cat saw her coming, he hopped calmly off the bed and sauntered past her, back to sit in Angharad's trunk and supervise the rest of the unpacking from there. "He doesn't like me," Irene lamented, sounding surprised.
"Of course not," said Angharad, "I told you, he's not interested in being chased; you have to play hard to get. Leave him be, and he'll come to you when he pleases. He is a cat, you know," she remarked, as if she thought Irene must never have met one of these creatures before.

Copernicus had been flapping about for attention, in the meantime, and settled on Irene's shoulder now, hooting softly and nipping at her hair.
"Your owl likes you," Polly pointed out helpfully.
"No, he just wants his brownie," Irene smiled, fishing the sweet out of her robes. "Here you go, Coppy," she broke off a piece and he took it from her fingers, gobbling it blissfully and hooting for more.
"Your owl eats chocolate?" Polly marvelled, just as Ludo had on the train. As Irene began relating all of Copernicus' peculiarities to the new girls, Jane decided this was where she had come in, and, putting on her nightclothes, she excused herself and crept into bed, pulling the drapes closed. Eglantine came in with her, and perched on the footboard. There was a bracket on the headboard that held a pair of squat candles, which were still lit, illuminating the enclosed bed; Jane wondered if this weren't a fire hazard, but then, she reasoned, perhaps they were some sort of magic Safety Flames. She had brought into the bed with her some parchment, a quill, and ink, and her History of Magic book to serve as a lap-desk, and set about now to writing a letter to Mum and Dad. "I am in Ravenclaw," was how she started, since she knew this would be her mother's first question. Writing in as small a hand as she could manage, so as not to use more parchment than Eglantine could carry, she told them all about Irene, and how they had met on the train and were now in the same dormitory -- Dad would be glad to know she was making friends already. She tried to remember all the details of the boat ride to the castle, and the banquet in the Great Hall, and described Professor Dumbledore (Mum would be interested in hearing about him), and Ogg, who could hear their every whisper, and Professor Peachum, the headmistress, and the other Ravenclaws she had met so far. Oh, and there was another boy we met on the train, Jane wrote at last. His name is Ludo Bagman, which is a silly name, isn't it? He hit Eglantine's cage with a ball, playing some Wizard game on the platform at King's Cross, and if you ask me, he's an idiot. Freddy Shrike says he's surprised they even let him into Hogwarts at all. But he's in Slytherin, so I doubt I'll have much to do with him. Which suits me fine.

Wrapping up the letter, she finished it with, And no fair keeping Eglantine, Dad, I want her back! I love you both and really miss you. Write back to me soon. Lots of love, Jane

Poking her nose out of the curtains on the side of the bed nearest the door, Jane opened the desk drawer where she had put her Wizard trading cards, and took out the one of Wendelin the Weird. This, she had decided, was the one that would amuse her father the most, and carefully folded her letter around the card, fastening the parchment with a bit of wax from the candle above her head. Eglantine, knowing her role in the procedure, hopped down onto the covers and extended her leg, so Jane could tie the letter to it. Writing down all her exciting news of the day had taken so long, Jane had heard the other girls saying goodnight and going to bed some time ago, and the room was now dark and quiet, save for some intermittent snoring that could only have been Angharad. Putting out the candles on her headboard, Jane held out her arm for Eglantine, and the two of them got out of bed and padded softly toward the window.

Jane was surprised to see Irene, sitting in front of the double arch of glass in the center of the wall, looking out with her chin resting on her arms, which were folded on the sill. Copernicus was perched beside her, making a very soft, comforting sound in his throat, and looking, for an owl, almost concerned. Irene raised her head and glanced over her shoulder as Jane approached, and gave her an apologetic look. "I didn't wake you, did I?" she whispered. "No," said Jane. "I thought you were asleep."
"Mm. I couldn't get comfortable," Irene sighed, looking out the window again as Jane joined her.
"Are you homesick, too," Jane guessed, feeling suddenly sorry that she was about to let Eglantine go.
"Oh, sort of," murmured Irene.
"I wrote to my parents," Jane told her, unfastening her half of the window. "I told them about you, and the Sorting, and everything. They'll be glad to hear from me; I'll bet poor Dad's worried sick already." Jane gave Eglantine a quick kiss on the head, to which the owl submitted graciously, and held her out the open window. "Don't be gone long," she begged, and with an answering hoot, Eglantine spread her wings and launched herself into the night sky.
Jane watched her go, and closed the window again. "Pretty night," she noted, observing the cloudless sky. "Look at the moon, you could almost touch it."
"Mm," said Irene, very quietly.
Tired as she was, Jane found herself not really wanting to crawl back into bed now that Eglantine was gone, but Irene gave no sign of wanting to talk, so she remarked, "Well, goodnight, then," and backed away.
Irene looked up at her at once and said, "Don't go," and Jane was struck by her melancholy expression. "Sit with me for a bit, will you? Unless you're too tired."
"No, I'm not, I only thought -- you didn't seem to want company."
"I've got some things on my mind, that's all. Please stay," Irene appealed to her.
She really was homesick, thought Jane, as she settled down on the bench beside her and claimed a resting spot on the sill. They were quiet for a while, each absorbed in her own thoughts, until Jane said, "Irene, do you think you are good at divination? Only, you did know about Ludo Bagman going to Slytherin. And that you would be in Ravenclaw."
"That's still not divination," Irene insisted. "You heard what Wilfred Shrike said, even he knew that Ludo belonged in Slytherin."
"But, that's because of that business of him getting in trouble at his old school; you didn't know about that."
"I know how he tried to cheat you out of that trading card on the train," Irene pointed out.
"Oh, you don't think he meant to--" Jane began, but without much conviction. "I mean, he was just being friendly, wasn't he? He didn't really know how rare--"
"He knew exactly how rare that card is," Irene looked Jane in the eye. "And I'll bet he's already got about a dozen Merlins, and three times as many Morganas, those are just about the most common ones there are. My brother could tell you that--" And, just as it had happened on the train, when Irene spoke of her brother, her voice broke, and a pained look flashed across her eyes, and she quickly changed the subject. "Ludo knew," Irene said again, and added, "and I don't think he's quite as thick as he pretends to be. I don't mean to be unfair, Jane," she sounded apologetic, "and I don't mean you can't be friends with him..."
"I'm not friends with him!" Jane wondered where Irene could have gotten that idea.
"But I'd watch my back around him," she concluded, without answering Jane's remark. "You heard what Freddy said."
"Oh, Freddy," Jane sniffed. "I can't decide if I like him or not. He's a bit snobby, to my mind."
"Not really," Irene argued. "I think he's just one of those London ministry pure-bloods who doesn't know any better. Kevin will bring him around." She laughed a bit as she said this.
"Phew, he's a piece of work, isn't he," Jane chuckled. "Oh, wow, what's this, what's that... I'll admit it's nice to have someone else asking all the stupid questions, though." Jane was suddenly reminded of something and asked, "By the way, what did Freddy nearly call him, at the banquet? When he said, oh, you're a Muggle," she mimicked Shrike's voice, "only he didn't start to call him a Muggle. What was that about?"
Irene was quiet for a bit before she answered. "It's not very nice, really. I think he started to say -- well," she dropped her already hushed voice to a whisper. "The word is Mudblood. It means a wizard with Muggle parents, but it's really nasty. I don't think Freddy meant to say it, he's probably just so used to hearing it, he didn't think."
"I suppose I'll hear it sooner or later," Jane muttered.
"Well, not from any of us," Irene assured her. "Really, most people know it doesn't make any difference where you come from. It's just a few of the snobby old pure-blood families that have to put themselves above everyone else."
"Are there any Muggles in your family?" Jane asked her.
"None that I know of," Irene admitted, "but that doesn't mean they aren't there. I mean, look at you, and Kevin, you didn't know you had Wizards in the family until now."
"Mm," said Jane. She was wondering whether Aunt Lucretia Pryce would have considered her a Mudblood. Outside, a snowy owl flapped past, no doubt dispatched from another part of the castle with another letter sent Home. Copernicus was still perched on the sill, and Jane suggested, "Maybe you ought to write to your family. It might make you feel better. I'll bet your brother would like to hear from you," she ventured.
"Not tonight," Irene declined. "In a day or two, maybe."
Jane observed her in silence for a minute, then finally asked, in a quiet voice, "Irene -- is your brother all right?"
Irene looked at her as if she might answer, but didn't.
"It's only," Jane pressed on, "whenever you talk about him -- well, you get this -- look. Sad, and... Well, it's none of my business, I know," she added hastily, "but -- is there something wrong with him?"
"I -- I'm not supposed to talk about it," she shook her head.
"Is he a squib?" Jane asked sympathetically.
"No," said Irene, and this actually got a small smile out of her. "Not by a long shot. And he's as clever as can be, and he's the sweetest thing, when he's not..." She was looking at the sky again, and she let out a deep, ragged sigh before she said, carefully choosing her words. "Remus has a... condition. It's not his fault," her brow contracted in a rare show of anger. "And it's not contagious. But he's not allowed to go to school, and he hasn't any real friends, and they probably won't even let him come to Hogwarts, and it's not fair!" Irene choked with the effort to keep her voice down, and blinked back a frustrated tear. "I really can't say any more," she murmured. "I'm not supposed to. People wouldn't understand."
Jane reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "I would. I'd try, anyway," she insisted, when Irene looked at her.
Irene shook her head, but she gave Jane a thankful smile. "I still can't tell you. Thanks for sitting with me, though. And listening."
Jane patted her back, then suddenly said, "Wait here!" Hopping up, she padded back to her desk, and got something out of the drawer, then returned to Irene, smiling broadly. "You said Remus collects Wizard trading cards? Well, I'll bet he hasn't got a Nearly Headless Nick." She held out the card. "Here."
Irene's grey eyes widened in surprise. "Jane, you shouldn't give me that."
"I'm not giving it to you," Jane beamed, sitting down, "I'm giving it to your brother. Go on, send it to him when you write him. If you think he'd like to have it."
"Are you serious, he'll be thrilled," Irene took the card, glowing with delight. "He's been looking for one for ages."
"Well, now he's got one," Jane was turning pink with pleasure. "I'm not really collecting, anyway, I just wanted some for my Dad. I sent him Wendelin the Weird, I thought he'd like her best. Give Remus that one; tell him it's from a friend of yours."
Irene shook her head and smiled. "I'll tell him it's from my best friend."

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