Freetown Generation

Hey Person, welcome to Freetown Generation. I'm Aronpuma, the coauthor of this story. Myself and Deathblade hope you enjoy our little (DbM: Little? HA!) crossover and that you'll enjoy our OC protagonist. Rest assured, there are PLENTY of canon characters both Harry Potter and Hetalia, and yeah, we know Mary Sues exist. We don't (DbM: try not to, it is subjective, and yes, she is a little shit) write them.

Triggers: Drugs, Yaoi pairings, Yuri pairings, OCs', Crude Language, References, Bull Penis (referenced) and 420 Blaze It.

Also, we don't own Harry Potter, we don't own Hetalia, and we don't own any Danish Flag Pyjamas.

Chapter One: Danish Flag Pyjamas

Dear Miss Christina Kohler,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all the necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours Sincerly,

Filius Flitwick

Deputy Headmaster

Miss Christina Kohler, resident of 420 Freetown Park, Whitechapel, examined the letter that had hit her on the head when she'd gone to collect the post that morning. Normally the ex-tree based communications network only brought bills, pizza leaflets, bills, free cash for gold adverts, bills- and now a letter in the face. It was addressed to her, not her dad, which was weird, and it used her full name- the only other use of which was on her birth certificate.

Stina, as she preferred, would normally beat the shit out of anyone who used the so-called 'correct' variant of her birth name. Hoping to at least land a solid scream and an internet-worthy photo, she opened the door to give the offending postman a good beating with a bull penis cane (ordered before she closed down her dad's eBay account) but there was no-one present. Just a very suspicious hooting.

She turned the piece of parchment over in her hands. Fuck knows if she knew what 'Hogwarts' was. She yelled down the small hallway to her father- an almost certainly futile avenue of inquiry. If Stina was average, her dad was just kind of a moron.

"Hey dad, what's a Hogwarts?" called Stina.

"A what?" yelled back her father.

"A Hog. Warts," volleyed back Stina, rereading the word on the unexpected letter. Really, any letter was unexpected these days, and not because there was no one who would really write her a letter- mostly. No, mostly because it was the twenty-first century and who wrote letters? Certainly not her friends, who were, by no means, a multitude. Well, Erica might send her letters, but Erica was as far from normal as any sane human could be.

"Is this some kind of riddle?" asked her father as his footsteps echoed through the apartment to her room.

"No, it's a school apparently," she said, as she saw her father open the door to her room.

Matthias Kohler was a young man- almost too young to be the father of an eleven-year old. He'd just gotten out of bed, and it was evident- his hair was more disheveled than usual- and he was still in his kind of patriotically pathetic red pyjamas with the little Danish flags on them.

He quickly spotted the letter. "Can I see?" he asked, reaching his hand out, going to take the letter anyway. Stina was familiar enough with this behavior as she let go of the leathery paper and gave a mumbled 'whatever' accompanied by a shrug.

As customary, he ignored the rude gesture as he sat down on her bed and scanned the letter, scowling the further he got. His hand quickly flipped to the next two pages of the required materials before he slammed down the letter in a huff. "Stina, don't get too attached to the idea of this school."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because you aren't going to go," he said flatly. "I don't know how they found you but you aren't going."

"But I'm magic," Stina said, frowning. "And like… you've never said magic is a bad thing."

"It isn't," her father said. "And there's nothing bad about you being magic, but you aren't going, simple as that."

"Why not?" Stina asked, taking a distinct dislike to being told what she could not do.

"Look at this," he said, turning to her and flailing the paper. "There's nothing on here! No return address, no phone number, no website, no tuition price listed."

"Maybe there isn't any," said Stina. "Maybe it's free."

"Stina, we're in England. They want money for everything," returned her father bitterly.

"We only moved because the beer was more expensive in Denmark." muttered Stina, rolling her eyes.

"We are not talking about this now!" replied her father, raising his voice. "And you are not going to a school I know nothing about!"

"What if it had free tuition?" said Stina. "What then?"

"I don't know that, and quite frankly I don't want to deal with some English shitheads that expect us to know everything about it," said Matthias. "Especially if it's magic. If they want you then they better give me more than three pieces of paper telling me what I have to buy with my own money."

He then took the letter and walked to his office, pulling out a ballpoint pen to scribble out his reply in the illegible font that was for some reason called handwriting. Stina ran in after him.

"Come on dad, I wanna go," she whined, trying to grab the letter from his desk.

He held her back, his palm open on her forehead, leading to a vain attempt at an aimless walk. "I am sorry, but my decision is final," he said, writing out his no, then folding up the paper and putting it in an envelope.

"Fuck you!" shouted Stina. "This is just like the joints all over again!"

"Hey, watch your fucking language young lady!" he shouted back, walking out to the door and to their mailbox. "If they're so magic, then they can find this, copy it with their fancy-ass wands, and each stick it so far up their asses they can puke it out next Tuesday!" He nearly smashed the damned thing by how hard he closed it, and then walked back inside.

Professor Flitwick sipped his tea pleasantly on the sofa of the living room of the small apartment, as the two-person family sat awkwardly. One would think that if anyone would have an awkward seat it would be Flitwick, due to his short stature. Most places had slightly awkward furniture compared to the size of the teacher, but with the Dane's, it was almost comedic.

"I hope all that clarifies things," he said in a jovial tone to the two of them. "I'd like to apologize on behalf of the school that we didn't inform the two of you sooner. There is another matter however, and if I may request a private conversation with your father, Miss Stina."

"Why alone?" she asked, glancing between her father and the stranger. Surely it was nothing she couldn't handle, she was eleven for fucks sake.

"Stina, go to your room," said her father. "Us adults need to speak alone."

"N-"

"Stina?" he said slightly louder, but softer, and certainly sadder. "Please."

"Fine," she grumbled, standing and walking to her room moodily. Her father sighed, running a hand through his perpetually spiky hair.

Once she had shut the door to her room, she knelt down at the keyhole, eavesdropping. Flitwick spoke in a more hushed tone. "Mr. Kohler, we understand your concerns about your daughter going to our school-"

"She's still there, isn't she?" interrupted the Dane.

The elder professor nodded, "She is, Mr. Kohler. We had assumed she would have informed you about the letter before it was sent."

"We don't talk," said Matthias. "I've not seen her in nine years. And I don't want to see her again."

Flitwick nodded. "No one is going to make you talk to her if you do not want to, but I can tell you that she cares about Stina dearly, as much as you do."

The Dane did not speak in response.

"She is going to protect her just as much as you would. Stina is going to be quite safe. I cannot think of a place where she'll be safer." Flitwick continued.

"She's safer here." said Mr. Kohler.

"Perhaps," said Flitwick. "However, my concern with her well being does also involve the matter of her magic."

There was a brief pause, with an awkward silence between the two men. "Go on," frowned Matthias.

"No matter what you choose, her magic is going to blossom. And if not channeled, often... it will become much more erratic," said Flitwick. "Magic can be one of the most marvelous gifts, but it can prove ill if not developed. I know she must have experienced some rather unexpected developments from magic already. That would be natural."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Matthias, who of course was not thinking about the time every pig in the market gained an unshakable scent of weed or when Siri and Stina swapped voices for a day or the time After Earth was successfully routed as a terrible movie before he was going to pre-order tickets for it.

Flitwick gave him a knowing smile. "Well, if it hasn't happened yet it will happen soon. Magic and puberty… it can be turbulent."

"You've given this speech before," said Matthias.

"I've been teaching for over fifty years Mr. Kohler, I've seen many many young witches and wizards. I have also seen the effects from muggle parents who did not send their children to Hogwarts."

"There are surely other options for a magical education." said Matthias.

"None on the British Isles." said Flitwick.

"In Denmark..." started Kohler.

"There is no large school," finished Flitwick. "Young Scandinavian wizards and witches attend Stor Stor Slottet, which is somewhere on the Norwegian-Swedish border. And their Headmaster is not always the most accepting of anything associated with the English."

The Danish muggle nodded, "So where do students like Stina go?"

"Hogwarts, it's the best option," said the charms master.

"What are the other options?"

"France."

"Point taken," sighed the Dane.

"And then the next closest academy is the Munchausen Krankenhaus in Austria, and it's tuition is both overpriced and lacklustre. Most of those end up at Durmstrang, in Bulgaria." continued the professor.

"What about private instruction?" Matthias asked.

"It can prove to be very expensive, but tuition at Hogwarts is subsidized, practically free, depending on certain circumstances. Especially with her on staff." said Flitwick.

"Books and equipment?" The Dane frowned.

"She offered to pay for them all," said the professor.

Matthias sighed, leaning forward in his chair and rubbing his temples. He swallowed, then finally spoke. "She will go then, on one condition."

"Yes?" asked Flitwick.

"My daughter will only know her as the other students do, I don't want her to know of any other relation." said Matthias.

"She doesn't already?" asked Flitwick.

"No," said Matthias. "And it's going to stay that way until she's older."

Flitwick gave a nod, "I shall inform her Mr. Kohler. It was a pleasure talking to you. Should we call Stina back in?"

"I suppose," said Mr. Kohler, standing up and walking to her room. He looked down at his daughter, who was lying in bed. Fortunately her father only noticed the phone she appeared to be putting away, rather than the sweat beading on her forehead. "We're done, come back in, we have to say goodbye to Mr… Felicis," he said.

"I thought his name was Filch," said Stina.

"Now now Stina, it would be rude not to call him by his proper name, now let's get back to Professor Felix," scolded Matthias.

Stina sighed, but stood up and followed her father back to Flitwick. The old professor smiled. "Is there anything else either of you wish to discuss?" asked Flitwick to the two of them.

"Not really," murmured Stina, her mind running much too fast on more important conversations to focus on any more information.

Matthias reached down to shake his head. "We thank you for your time Mr.." he hesitated.

"Flitwick," finished the professor, taking his hand.

"Flitwick," repeated the Dane, shaking his hand.

Flitwick then turned to to the girl. "I'll see you in September," he nodded. "Feel free to get a head start before charms class, I find the book quite lively myself."

Stina nodded and muttered a "see ya", too distracted to remember that she was supposed to be excited that she got to go to Hogwarts, or to snort in disgust at the idea of unnecessary summer homework; fortunately, her father did make a bit of a face.

Flitwick chuckled to himself and headed for the door. "Take care," he said with a wave, before disappearing behind the door.

"That was rude, even for you," said Matthias, turning to his daughter.

"Huh?" she said, looking up at him with a blank expression.

"Whatever," he sighed, exhausted by his conversation. "At some point we need to go shopping at um… Diagon Alley, that's what he said. I can't believe they sell everything wizard in just an alley."

"Maybe there's a wizard Amazon."

Mathias chuckled. "I doubt it."

Walking through a wall to a secret platform felt humbling, like an immersion into a secret place, where most people can be fine living without but now that you'd discovered it, you could never let it escape you.

Oh, wow. Poetic thinking. Need to stop sniffing Sharpies.

Boarding the train just minutes before it set off, after waving a short embarrassed goodbye to her father that was entering another world entirely. And that world was decidedly describable by one word:

Antique.

When she approached, she could have sworn she was boarding the Polar Express if it weren't September, and nobody was wearing pyjamas. Which was a shame, pyjamas were boss. The interior with its seats, lighting, wallpaper looked practically Victorian or whatever era was this ornate. The people also seemed to fit the era, at least style-wise.

She walked though a few of the carriages, immediately passing over the first couple, which looked as if they hadn't had any repairs in the last twenty years. She couldn't see many t-shirts or hoodies among the crowd except hers; hell, she wasn't sure if she saw any. There was the odd sweater and jeans, which was fairly normal, but most were already in the hideous robes she'd had to buy for school or in suits- suits, for fucks sake. It was almost thirty degrees Celsius outside, and these skoer were wearing suits.

And pretty much all of those skoer seemed to know each other. The casually dressed, incredibly out-of-place millennial finally saw a car with two people who looked her own age inside and opened the door. "Hey?" she asked, attempting to sound casual around the wizard people.

Both looked up, prepared for a verbal confrontation. It was a boy and girl, her already in her uniform, the boy nervously pressed against the window, twiddling his thumbs. The bright ginger girl spoke first. "Hello."

"Hey," Stina addressed again with a small wave "can I like..." she paused, hesitating on the words, "sit here for the ride?"

The two looked at each other: The boy seemed apprehensive, but the girl was perceptive, and she seemed to notice the distinctly unmagical nervous tone of Stina's voice. She turned back to her. "Sure."

"Thanks," she said, getting in and slipping down in a seat. She ran a hand through her short hair and settled back. It was doubtful she would remotely know them. She was distinctly muggle-looking anyway, with Danish band logos printed across her chest.

"I'm Rose, Rose Weasley," the girl then said, by way of introducing herself, "And this is my cousin, Albus." The young witch started to search Stina's face suspiciously for any sign of recognition.

"Oh um... I'm Stina, Kohler" she greeted. Her tone had significantly calmed, but it decidedly was devoid of any form of recognition; however, she was examining her eyes. The green eyed Dane was looking at Rose's eyes, trying to see why they were looking at her with suspicion.

The boy then spoke up. "Kohler?" he asked, swiftly followed by a sharp crack as Rose slapped Albus on the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Is that a problem?" Stina gaze shifted to him, darkening.

Rose desperately tried to cover her cousin's' insensitivity. "Ignore him. He's an idiot. He has no idea how to talk to anyone- he doesn't get out much," Rose sighed and lowered her voice and revealed, "Girls make him nervous." Albus looked indignant, but denied nothing in his ensuing silence.

Stina looked to Rose, her face relaxed slightly. She then turned back to Albus and spoke bluntly. "Step one to conversation: don't do shit that kinda sounds racist out of context."

"Step two to conversation: don't assume every remark the other party says is a personal attack," Rose cut in with a smirk.

"Well, it was worth it for the look on his face when you slapped him," Stina said, returning the smirk.

Rose laughed, throwing her head back and making her bright red curls bounce around her shoulders. "I think we're going to be good friends, Miss Kohler." She leant back casually. "I didn't know anyone else our age read 'Conversations with Morons' by Luka Bondevik."

Stina raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? What's that?"

Rose looks surprised, and a little disappointed. "Oh, sorry. I assumed you were quoting 'Conversations with Morons.' I love that book." She indicated to Albus. "It takes a lot dealing with his side of the family." Albus remained sulking, and had proceeded to stare out of the window at the miles of empty fields.

"No, never heard of that book... I'd think I'd have something like that, weird," she said, glancing at Albus. "I dunno, my dad said my snark was hereditary, whatever that means."

Rose shrugged. "Are your parents Muggles?"

"Are they what?" she asked. Stina'd heard that word before- the man in the potions shop had said it when her dad had asked if the essence of cyanide was edible.

Mathias said it apparently smelled like almonds, but needless to say, it was not, in fact, suitable for human consumption. Healer Alcide had explained that to them later after two hours in the new Diagon Alley Accident and Emergency clinic.

"Non- magical people," Rose clarified. "I'd take that as a yes, then?"

"Well, my dad is."

Albus's curiosity had been piqued. "What about your mum?"

"Don't know her." Stina said. "Apparently she was magic, though."

Albus shrunk back in his train corner, "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to say anything." Rose shot Albus an evil look, burning him with her blue-eyed gaze.

"It's whatever," said Stina. "Dad hates her, and she doesn't have custody, and I don't have time to care about it."

"Mmm.. okay." Albus remained in his corner while Rose is sat awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

All three shared a moment of deafening silence; then suddenly, a great cheer and scream shot down the train, with a loud thundering of feet charging behind. Albus groaned, and Rose rolled her eyes. A taller, around third-year boy in a loose red-and-gold tie ran into the train car; two mixed-race twins ran even further past them.

The boy grinned with his astonishing bright-white teeth standing out against the jet-black hair he shared with Albus, and eyes like limpid tears . "Guys you gotta come see this- me and Fred and Roxanne threw a crate of dungbombs in the Slytherin car and Vargas is going mental!"

"Dungbombs!? Are those as awesome as they sound!?" Stina exclaimed.

He noticed Stina for the first time, grinned even wider, and nodded. "I think one of them was eating Elizaveta Hedevary's hair when we left."

Suddenly a vicious scream rang out, and James hit the floor swiftly as a frying pan flew down the train car corridor. He pulled himself off the floor with a pleased; no, sadistic grin. "Okay, I'm gonna run now." He flicked an, 'I'm watching you' sign at Albus, then added: "Don't be a Slytherin, lil' bro." He then ran off, followed by a girl in a patched uniform with fire in her eyes.

Stina looked back and grinned at the both of them,. "Alright, now I have an ideal weapon, and the people I'll probably end up fucking with, I just need to know where to get that shit."

Rose rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Please don't. My cousins are all idiots, with the notable exception of the French ones, which probably says a lot." She indicated to the door. "That's James, and two of my other cousins, Fred the second and Roxanne- they're the worst of all of us."

"Well, whether or not they're idiots, I need to know where I can get that kinda magic prank shit. Might have to one up them just cause," she said, getting out her phone. "Oh, you guys know the wifi password?"

Albus groaned, and Rose giggled.

"Huh?" Stina blinked.

"Not this shit again," sighed Albus, and at the same time, a "There isn't one." came from a smirking Rose.

"What?" Stina asked, looking up at them both, her smile fallen.

Rose shrugged apologetically. "Wizards don't get wifi. Magic interferes with it. We used to have a box at home, but my grandpa broke it trying to figure out how it worked. It was pretty crappy anyway- my dad wouldn't let mum upgrade from dial-up."

Albus just looked incredibly blank. "I don't even pretend to understand what she just said. My dad doesn't like technology too much." He glanced down at her phone. "Is that a new thing Muggles use?"

Stina's jaw did a comedic drop, just sans the sound effect, and add the silent scream of pure, uncensored terror.

"It's not... that... how do you not recognize a phone!? Or wifi? That's, like, universal."

Rose explained. "Wizards talk face-to-face or use a spell called the Patronus Charm. And Al doesn't recognise a phone because his family never leaves his stupid giant mansion."

After a horrified pause, "Is there internet at least?" Stina tried to implore.

Rose shook her head. "Nope. Potter Manor is devoid of any technology beyond 1989. Al's dad won't even let them have a computer- he says it does evil things to children's minds."

Stina shook her head, "That's... that's fucked up." she said

Rose sighed nonchalantly. "That's wizards. You know you're fucked up when your grandparents are more progressive than your parents." She shook her head, and changed the subject. "Do you know about the houses yet?"

"Those are like... dorms right?" asked Stina.

Albus, finally finding his voice, expanded. "No... not really. I mean, you do sleep in the same quarters and stuff, but it's more like a family."

Rose had her own, lighthearted take. "Warring families. That all hate each other."

"That's a nice way to run a school," Stina returned with ample sarcasm. "Divide them so they won't fight together."

Albus shrugged."It's just always been that way. Don't change the system when it's not broken."

"Well, why are you assuming it isn't broken?" Stina asked.

"Parental indoctrination combined with a great multitude of unfortunate evidence that Sorting does in fact almost certainly guarantee career paths." Rose said, grimly.

"So systemic bias." Stina crossed her arms. "It needs to be fixed, that and wifi."

Rose smiled again: "All in good time. So where do you think you'll go?"

"To a house," Stina shrugged. "I don't know shit about this place."

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Green."

Albus balked. "Umm... I gotta go to the bathroom. Get changed, you know?" He left, and Rose sighed. "Ignore him, he's being stupid." She opened her purse. "Want to get a pumpkin pasty?"

"Pumpkin?" asked Stina.

"It's better than it sounds, trust me."

Stina uncrossed her arms then and flashed a small smirk. "I won't trust you, but I'll try it anyway. You pay."

"Firs' years, this way." said a large, burly voice from a large, burly man. Stina saw that adults in the wizarding world came from all sizes- this enormous mass of greying beard was reaching almost seven feet in height.

She wondered why the first years would be separated and glanced back at the upper school, but she was soon herded along with the rest of her age, near the tail end of the line.

They carried on walking, and Rose and Albus pushed through to the front of the line, to talk with the giant man. As the rounded a corner from the forest, they approached a large lake, which Hogwarts was presumably across from.

Looking ahead, she saw all the people being shipped into small row boats, drifting across the water to a large castle. She gaped in an astounded awe at the sheer scope of her school- she'd seen castles before, but holy mother of fuck, no wonder this was considered magic. She was paused enough that she hardly moved until the giant tapped her on the shoulder, which felt more like a punch to be totally honest.

"This way," he said "there's only two boats lef'."

"Yes sir." she said, quickly hopping into the boat she was directed towards. The boat seemed to also be carrying people who were in awe of the castle, but she thought she heard the low mutter of 'muggleborns' from another boat. That boat was the last to leave, a ramshackle old boat that seemed to have some not nearly as astounded young wizards.

Their boat was much more haphazard, and seemed to flow not quite as well as the others, but Stina noticed on their trip that the paint was the same, and the boat had the same year written on the side- 1997. It just didn't have the same care or something.

Stina then turned her gaze to the occupants of the vessel. It was harder to make out in the twilight, but she counted seven. The general mood of them seemed to be misery, as if on a march to the scaffold. She squinted a bit, trying to make out the two in the front- the ones behind them were obscured by the late-night shadows.

The one to the left stood out from the normal British dull, with slightly darker skin and what looked like lanky, black hair. His robes were shabby, and patched, like the girl who had thrown the frying pan at James earlier in the day. The figure next to him was more well to do- he had blond hair, but also seemed to have hand-me-down robes. However, his had been well cleaned, as if trying to retain the vestige of a dignity his forbearers had long ago let slip.

Stina turned back and could see the turrets of the Scottish fortress reach toward the sky, windows glinting yellow by candlelight. They had reached the other side. The students disembarked, one boy almost tripping back into the lake.

They all ascended the staircase up to the grand wooden doors that towered over twice the giant man's height, and inside the enormous entrance hall were greeted by a short man in his mid-thirties. He had black hair, and was quite robust, but not enough to be called fat, and very prominent ears. The giant presented his children.

"The firs' years, Professor Longbottom." he announced.

Small, scattered giggles echoed from a few of the students in Stina's boat. They were soon muted by the silence and the shushes from the others, who looked scared, shocked or scandalized. The professor cleared his throat.

"Thank you Hagrid. You can leave them with me now."

Hagrid nodded, then left off for another door it would seem, on a route the giant had for a long time tread. The professor addressed the students.

"Hello and welcome to your very first year at Hogwarts. I am Professor Longbottom, Head of Gryffindor House here. Hogwarts is a proud school, and we trust you all to uphold that pride when you are Sorted into your new Houses- Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw-" he paused, seemingly hesitant- "and Slytherin.

"We trust all our students to work together within their House in harmony, and to show the other Houses the utmost, due respect. Hopefully you, and those that come after you, can band together to make a happier, more peaceful, Wizarding World. Please wait here quietly as we ready the Great Hall."

Longbottom left, barely ten seconds passed, and then immediately everyone started talking.

Stina leant over and hissed at Rose. "What kind of hippie bullshit was that?"

Rose looked around nervously. "It's just House stuff. I'll explain it later."

"Alright." Stina said, still inquisitive, as she followed the adolescent mass to the Great Hall.

She almost stopped when she entered the room- if it could be called a room, you could fit her entire apartment in here- and her eyes gravitated to the ceiling, with all the other muggle- raised fist years, at first wondering if the school had run out funding at the last minute and never built the ceiling. She was pushed forward rudely by a white- haired girl wearing a white hair ribbon behind her, and a few of the older students laughed.

It seemed the upper years at the tables used this method to identify muggle-raised first-years, more out of sport than anything, except for the table on the far left. They didn't bother to pay attention to them. They all locked eyes with people who they seemed to already know were bound to them. Stina noticed the girl from earlier with the frying pan, sitting with the fifth-years.

Too focused on the odd behavior, Stina bumped again into the back of the girl in front of her. The first years had stopped. Peering just above the head of the girl in front, Stina noticed a grotty, ugly, slightly charred hat on a stool in front of them.

She considered what the hat was for- wizards, from what she'd seen, did some pretty… well, fucked up things with inanimate made food come alive, for fuck's sake. She was never buying another Chocolate Frog. It was the same reason she wasn't a fan of farms; she didn't want to form any sort of emotional attachment with her food. But the hat- what was the point of the hat?

A giant rip just above the brim of the hat suddenly opened, and began to sing heartily in a deep and gravelly voice-

"A thousand years or more ago,

When I was newly sewn,

There lived four wizards of renown,

Whose names are still well-known:

"Bold Gryffindor from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff from valley broad,

Shrewd Slytherin from fen.

"They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,

They hatched a daring plan,

To educate young sorcerers,

Thus Hogwarts school began.

"Now each of these four founders

Formed their own house, for each

Did value different virtues,

In the ones they had to teach.

"By Gryffindor, the bravest were

Prized far beyond the rest;

"For Ravenclaw, the cleverest

Would always be the best;

"For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;

"And power-hungry Slytherin

Loved those of great ambition.

"While still alive they did divide

Their favourites from the throng,

Yet how to pick the worthy ones

When they were dead and gone?

"'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,

He whipped me off his head

The founders put some brains in me

So I could choose instead!

"Now slip me snug around your ears,

I've never yet been wrong,

I'll have a look inside your mind

And tell where you belong!"

The hall broke out in a quick roll of polite but unenthusiastic applause, which quieted in barely a minute, before Professor Longbottom brought out a ridiculously long roll of parchment, and began to shout out the first few names on the scroll.

"Arlovskaya, Natalya!"

Stina silently watched the proceedings go on, hearing the hat yell out houses and the various cheers and it all seemed to blend. She didn't know any of these names. Rose... when would she be up, she listened to Rose for a few names before she remembered her name was Wease... weasel, something like that. It was a W, that was the point.

'Jackson, Sonia' was just Sorted into Gryffindor before she heard her name be called.

"Kohler, Christina!"

Stina jumped at the voice, and started to walk to the front, getting a bit more nervous with each step, all eyes on her. Three of the four tables' eyes anyway. It seemed the fourth, the green-and-grey one, was totally apathetic to which house she was Sorted into.

She slid in her seat up at the front, gulping as the talking hat was put on her head.

"Hmmm..." the Hat's voice suddenly appeared in her head.

"Deeply muggle life... not particularly brave, but a bit too self-servient for Hufflepuff... hmm... ambition, ambition runs through you, it's becoming clear who you are. No bias, either- unusual for these times..."

"Holy fuck a mind-reading hat."

"...You know, you're only the second person to do that ever."

"The fuck? Seriously?"

"The other was also today, coincidentally."

The hat was silent a moment, as if in debate with itself. Stina shuffled nervously on the splintered stool, anxious as to what it was considering. The sudden voice made her jump-

"Miss Kohler, are you truly as confounded by this world as you seem?"

She thought a second: No wifi, No phones, Parchment, Candles. How was she supposed to contact the outside world? How was she supposed to show her magic to her muggle friends, keep caught up on her abundance of ironically shitty cartoons, for fucks sake-

The hat gave a deep, chuckle. "And you wish to change that?"

No thought needed. A curt "Yes."

"Then I expect great things from you."

She tried to think another question for the hat, but then was cut off when the hat's voice sounded loud, outside her head:

"Slytherin!"

Stina waited in an awkward silence for a few moments, but when the hat was not lifted, felt the need to lift it away herself. The student body was staring at her, eyes scrutinously unpicking her movements, seemingly unable to believe her Sorting.

She turned around to see matching expressions of shock and disbelief on the faces of the staff- especially the red-headed Headmaster, who was glaring furiously at both her and the hat, alternating between the two. She shuddered, finding the gaze of a thousand shocked eyes to be much, much less terrifying than his.

Professor Longbottom then reached and tensely took the hat from her and put it back on its' wooden pedestal. He then pointed to the Slytherin table on her far-right side, where Stina walked, taking her seat next to 'Cooper, Jennifer', still being watched intensely.

This silence carried on, and she tensed as the tension grew and grew- surely her Sorting wasn't that unusual? She self-consciously turned her face down at the brass plate in front of her, irrationally checking that she hadn't gone all Wicked Witch of the West or some shit. Even still, she jumped when she heard the first voice after the hat's exclamation.

"May we please continue before we starve, Professor Longbottom?"

The stoic, deadpan tone came from one of the staff members- a pale blonde woman sat adjacently to the Slytherin table. Whilst her colleagues still seemed shocked, her expression was decidedly neutral. Her dark blue eyes pierced through the professor, almost attackingly, but from her side view Stina looked close, and sensed that her eyes held both fear and… something else. She couldn't be sure.

The dark haired man stammered. "O-of course." He cleared his throat, and croaked "Laurentalis, Toris!"

As the next nervous- looking boy was sorted into Hufflepuff, Stina was still acutely aware of the room's fixation on her mere existence. Her attention was now also divided to the sorting, desperate to hear who else would be called to Slytherin, and if they'd receive the same eyes she had.

Not so. There were only four more Slytherins- the two threadbare boys she'd seen in the boat, and two other girls- 'Peterson, Ruth', and 'Wilcock, Lauren'. Both received lukewarm applause from the green-bedecked table, and the blond boy- Scorpius Malfoy, if she heard correctly- was actually hissed at by the yellow, blue and especially the red tables as he descended. Stina had made no move to show adulation or discontent with any of them. She would have rather disappeared.

Albus and Rose- Potter and Weasley, damn it, her memory was crap- however, were met with humongous cheers from the other end of the room as the were both Sorted into Gryffindor almost before the hat touched their heads. Albus looked so relieved to be welcomed with open arms by a cheering crowd, but Rose contrasted against him, looking somewhat disappointed amongst the roars of the lions.

When the last person was sorted- 'Woods, James', into Ravenclaw- and the disappointing applause died down, there was a short moment with silence so thick that it was almost tangible- dripping with anticipation- before the fiery-headed man who had glared at her so fiercely arose from the gilded seat at the centre of the staff table.

The headmaster- at she presumed he was- was not an intimidating man at first glance. As a rough estimate, he was in his forties, lean and lanky, with a ragtag mop of receding ginger hair that was growing grey at the temples. But his face held something quite different- a determination as sharp as a sheer cliff face, and a coldness to rival the Scandinavian winters. Grey eyes glared from beneath an unkempt fringe, portraying a passive indifference towards those in front of him- as if he had another purpose.

He smiled as he began. "Welcome to another great year at Hogwarts, students, and a extra special welcome to our newest firsties-" he quickly surveyed the tables with a nod of the head. "I would like to remind all of our houses to uphold to rules within reason-" he sent a incredibly unsubtle wink to the rightmost table, to be met with a loud "Whoop!" from James Potter "and that Hogwarts is really all about living life to the fullest, and learning from past mistakes."

Stina heard a small scoff of outrage from her left. The blond boy- Scorpius, had to remember that- she was sat next to was was stiff as a board in suppressed rage, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned even whiter. Looking around, most of the Slytherin table was in various shades of misery, from guilt, to anger, to a glare of outright hatred from an albino boy at the far end with the seventh years.

He carried on. "And as a great man, one of my predecessors, said before his unfortunate, unjustified end-" more quiet but indignant squeals of outrage, and a regal, dark-haired third year gripped his glass so hard it almost shattered- "'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!'"

The headmaster waved his hand a few times across his throat. "That's all from me. Weasley out."

Suddenly, with an exaggerated flourish of his hands, plates and plates of food appeared on all four tables, fit for a great feast. Stina then looked at the food, and down leveled it to good. She then took a load on her plate and took a bite. She nearly gagged and saw that her tablemates had gone about eating the food with much, much more reluctance.

Scorpius reluctantly poked a fork into a lumpy pile of mashed potato, twisted his face and gives up, grabbing an apple instead. He took a bite, grateful they didn't wash it in the pond water before they served him, then cleared his throat. He glanced around and inadvertently locked eyes with Stina, then diverted his gaze slightly and spoke, addressing both her and the boy next to her.

"Ummm.. hi."

Stina put down the fork that held the sorry excuse for a pork chop- somehow even worse-tasting than ordinary English food. "Hi…," she said, letting the words hang.

The dark haired boy- Nikolas Raev, if she remembered correctly- nodded towards him. "Malfoy." Scorpius sighed, resignedly, as if defeated, and then met Stina's eyes with his own tired grey ones. "You're name's Christina, isn't it?"

"Stina," she said. "Christina is just the thing on my birth certificate that pretends to be my name."

He gave a slight chuckle- as if the very idea of laughing was unnatural to him. "Scorp's fine for me too, if you like... heh, I don't even know what my dad was thinking." he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Nikolas interjected with his deadpan voice. "Stay with the naming traditions of the family with at least one Light member."

"Light member?" asked Stina, to whom it seemed the term was straight out of World of Warcraft.

Nikolas scoffed- "You don't know?" and explained in an exceedingly condescending manner. "The ones who fought on the winning Side in the War. Gryffindors." The girl gave him a blank stare, to which he raised his eyebrows. "Surely you know? Your parents were on the losing side, after all."

Stina furrowed her brows. "Uh no," she said. "My dad's not magic so I'm guessing he wasn't part of that war thing? At least he's never mentioned it?" she shrugged.

Nikolas rolled his eyes in what must have been a trademark sarcasm. "Sure. My paternal family hasn't spent the last two decades in Azkaban. Cohen's' grandfather didn't finance the entire coup d'etat. Peterson's' mother didn't change her name from Parkinson. Malfoy's father didn't kill Albus Dumbledore." Silence fell over the first years. The two girls mentioned stared downwards guilty at their feet, and Scorp seemed ready to jump his dorm-mate in sheer anger."So really. What did you do?"

Stina only blinked, once again no recognition in her face. Though this time it might have been a liability, or so it seemed. "I literally didn't understand anything you just said."

"You're New Magic?" asked Scorpius.

Stina turned her head, "If that means like... a parent doesn't have magic then yes, I guess." she said indifferently.

The first years glanced around in shock, and though there were less eyes, they were starting to feel like those earlier thousand.

"So, your family hasn't even been involved in any of the purist uprisings?" asked Scorpius, whose eyes were the most curious, the most shocked, and therefore the worst.

Stina began to tire of the incessant questioning. It was getting all up Spanish Inquisition in this bitch; she definitely hadn't been expecting this."Sorry, but I'm not even sure what those uprisings are," she said decidedly defensively.

Nikolas showed a quick glimpse of expression- amusement- for the first time. "Well, shit. If you're not connected to any of the Magical wars, you've gotta be dark as fuck for the Hat to put you here."

"Excuse me?" Stina said, turning back to him, agitated.

Scorpius concurred. "There hasn't been anyone from outside the Dark families in Slytherin in twenty years." The four other girls nodded, all the food seems to have been forgotten.

"Wait, the fuck? I was told there were other people in this school who like... didn't grow up around magic." Stina exclaimed, loud enough to draw a few straying ears from the neighboring tables. It seemed eyes were also caught, especially from a sleepy-looking boy who began watching fascinatedly from upward on the Ravenclaw table.

"Not in Slytherin, look around. Not even a Mixed-Magic since his defeat." One of the girls- she thought it was Lauren Wilcock, but didn't really care- gave Nikolas a small slap.

"Then... I'm in the wrong dorm or something?" said Stina, volume decreasing, but enough attention had been drawn that someone else from the boats, a bright ginger boy with pointed canines, was also staring.

Nikolas rubbed the upper part of his arm, where a stinging bruise would probably have formed in the morning. "Probably. That or you're in exactly the right House and you'll grow up to decimate everyone and our entire way of life."

Stina turned again, "Decimate everyone? Are you implying I'm some sort of fucking serial killer?" Volume was back to prior levels, even attracting the attention of a few of the younger Hufflepuffs.

"That's the only reason anyone from outside gets in," Nikolas said.

"I'm not," Stina scowled. "Well, I'm from outside, but that's beside the point- I'm only here because a fucking hat told me to go here. A fucking hat, why is there a fucking hat to do this!?"

"Don't insult the hat. It's a war veteran."

"Yeah, and I'm sure some fucking... rainbow knitted scarf that like... tells you your sexual preference did D-Day." Stina said, mistaking the dark- skinned boy's monotone sincerity for more sarcasm.

"No. That would be asinine." said Nikolas. "What would be the purpose? And at eleven years old? It would just call out the most inappropriate and personal things just at the cusp of puberty, causing further confusion. And it would certainly not have lead the war against Gellert Grindelwald."

"...You mean Hitler?" asked Stina, praying that if they didn't know about the good non-magic shit, then at least they'd know something about mass genocide. Everyone knows about at least one mass genocide.

"Who?"

"Holy fuck." She slammed her face into the table, narrowly missing the mediocre food. "You guys haven't even heard of Hitler. Fucking Hitler."

Scorp furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait- isn't that the guy that Ludwig and Gilbert's grandpa worked for? You know, Deutsch Warlock Rudolf Heiss?"

"...Wizards worked for Hitler."

Scorpius just shrugged and took another bite of his apple. "Apparently. Like I say, we could be talking about two totally different people here. What did he do?"

"I don't even...forget it," sighed Stina. "Do you know anything non-magic or am I going from nothing?"

Scorpius smiled sympathetically. "You're at a bit of a dead end, really."

Stina groaned, and brought her face back down to the table again, forgetting about her uneaten meal. Though thankfully, before she could successfully cover her face in substandardly bland British fare, it vanished right off her plate, denying the very basics of the conservation of mass, and was replaced by a soft cake-like substance filled with raisins in copper-plated bowls on the centre of the tables.

She poked it suspiciously with a spoon. "What is this?"

Scorpius suppressed another giggle as she dug her spoon in and took a bite.

"Spotted Dick."

She spat out the food, which landed on a third year's robe. Nope, she was not going to eat it, thank you very much.

"Entschuldigen Sie mich, Fraulein!?" said the third year in a thick German accent. "You ruined my new robes!"

"But Roderich-san, did you not also spit out the dick when you first tried it?" asked a Japanese boy who sat next to him.

"But look what she did to my robes, that muggleborn can't even be trusted with food!" pouted Roderich.

Suddenly, a spontaneous stiletto materialised out of nowhere and almost poked one of his eyes out, which would have been highly amusing in a vengeful sort of way if Stina had been concentrating, and not glaring intently at the other tables. Fuck Gryffindor and their chocolate cake; fuck Hufflepuff's apple pie; and especially fuck Ravenclaw and their fucking strawberry pavlova. She was here eating metaphorical diseased penis, wizard god dammit!

Hearing a clank of metal on metal beside her, she turned and saw Scorpius still happily eating. Noticing her stare, he looked up and shrugged. "What?"

She glanced at his dessert. "Why are you still eating that?"

He looked confusedly at her. "Hey, I'm paying for this; I'm gonna eat it." Then he smirked evilly. "After all, I don't mind a bit of dick once in a while."

Stina burst out laughing as the asshole who she'd spat food on almost choked on his tea. She kept laughing, eyes streaming, until she and her tablemates noticed that Roderich was turning purple. Needless to say, he had to be taken to the hospital wing.

Stina was relatively familiar with soft drugs for someone of her age. That was not to say she'd tried them all, but she found she had the power to generally tell what someone was on.

But she wasn't sure what the fuck the architect of this school was on, and what the site managers must have been on to approve this.

The halls winded with pretty much no order to them, and well… the moving stairs were kinda cool she had to admit, but it was when she met the red house- Gryffindor, she thought it was- near a landing and both were waiting on Hufflepuff to go down the stairs that she realized just how shitty this could be.

She noticed Rose at the tail end of the first years watching while Albus was swamped by a larger crowd. The other girl was looking rather lost- Stina doubted she'd ever been forced to interact with either a large crowd or anyone outside of her immediate family.

There was a large groan from the Slytherins- the staircase had moved, leading in totally the opposite direction as to where they actually needed to go, so she guessed they'd be stuck for a while. Not entirely keen on starting up a new conversation with Scorpius or that Bulgarian dickhead, Stina opted to walk over to the other side of the landing and talk to Rose again.

She tapped the new Gryffindor on the shoulder, who was leaning over the bannister, staring downward."Hi, again," Rose said, almost silently, as Stina began glancing down to the bottom floors as well. "Why are you over here?"

Stina indicated over her shoulder with her thumb. "Stupid staircase moved again, so I guess we're stuck."

"No, I mean, why are you over here." Rose made no effort to lift her head to look at Stina, nor move over from staring straight down. "Gryffindor and Slytherin don't mix."

Stina looked at her with a mix of surprise and disgust. "Um… I'm pretty sure that the color of robe doesn't decide who I want to interact with…"

"No, you don't understand. We can't mix. It's not safe for either of us, especially you." She sighed, still not looking up. "This is that House stuff I said I'd explain. Something happened to the school, nearly twenty years ago, the whole world nearly went mad, and Slytherin-"

"HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

Stina jumped at the boisterous American voice- well, more boisterous than the average American voice- and saw an older, blond haired, glasses wearing Gryffindor coming right at her. And he was fuming. All eyes, both houses, plus a few remaining Hufflepuffs, turned to those three.

Stina took a slight step back. "Talking, just talking" she said, a bit too surprised to throw in something more sassy.

He was surprised too, just… not taking it the same way. "YOU CAN'T TALK TO HER!" he said, and pointed to the Slytherin line.

Stina huffed. Sure he was bigger, stronger, looked like he was ready to tear her apart, but dammit she was done with assholes today, so she stood her ground, glared, and prepared to return all the sass she could muster.

A canister of salt hit her in the face, right between her eyes, as one of the other first-year Gryffindors pulled out a crucifix. "Like, begone demon!"

Stina just stared in amazement as the blond boy began chanting in Latin as even the older boy just looked confused, and a few of the Hufflepuffs started laughing. Had he just tried to exorcise her?

"...Is this a thing here?" muttered Stina lowly to Rose.

"No, but the Lukasiewicz family has always been odd since the Grindelwald war. Everyone says there's something specially weird with Feliks."

"Right," muttered Stina, still staring at the boy before she felt another figure behind her. She turned and jumped, at first thinking she saw the American again, but the face was much calmer, softer- as was his voice. "I think you should go back to your house before Alfred-"

"MATTIE! What are you doing!?" shouted the American, head swinging around back to Stina.

"There are two of them!?" exclaimed the crucifix wielding Gryffindor.

"No no no," started Matthew, "I'm…"

"WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE!?" Alfred shouted at Stina, burying Matthew's voice. He stepped forward and grabbed her robe. "Are you going to move? Or do I have to move you?"

Suddenly a hand knocked away Alfred's and grabbed Stina's shoulder. "Let's go," said the fry-pan wielding lady, starting to move her to the rest of the green. She then looked up at Alfred. "She's going. Stay off of my first years."

There was a shout from up at the front line of Gryffindors- one of Rose's cousins who'd bombed the Slytherins on the train. "Look after your own, don't you Szalasi?"

She sent the ginger third-year a vicious glare. "My name is Hedevary, not Szalasi. That was my great-grandfather's name." She turned the pair of them away, and led Stina away, faux-smiling. "I'm Elizaveta, fifth-year Slytherin prefect. Ignore them, and try not to get mixed up again."

Stina nodded automatically, trying to process what had just happened. Slytherin didn't talk to Gryffindor, or they got attacked. It was perfectly acceptable to exorcise your peers, no adult supervision required. No doubt, this was fucked up.

She turned back to try and wave goodbye to Rose before they descended down the staircase to the dungeons, but they had already gone upwards to the lion's tower.

"Hello, first years, and welcome to Slytherin House." said Elizaveta, when they had eventually managed to reach the common room through the labyrinth of corridors under the school. "I'm Elizaveta, and this is Feliciano, your fifth-year prefects." A short boy with an equally shabby uniform waved sadly to them.

She continued. "Now we need you to remember this if you want to succeed for the next seven years of schooling-" she put massive emphasis on this- "do what they say. You're Slytherin, and according to the rest of them, you're evil. They'll do their best to ridicule you, taunt you, and drive you out, but you can't let them. One incident will have Professor Weasley expel you before you can say Puffskein."

"It's been seventeen years, and we're still rebuilding, but no matter how long it takes us, just remember that we are not our parents."

There was a small round of applause from the older years that were listening in, so Elizaveta decided to round off the speech. "Feli and I are always here for you, but we can only do so much. You've already seen what drawing attention to yourself can do tonight, so please, for the love of Merlin, keep your head down and stay safe. That's what Slytherin does."

She smiled, informed them that the common room curfew was at nine, and left to sit with the other fifth-years- a boy with slicked-back blond hair and another one who looked like he could be Thai, leaving the first years to their own devices.

Stina bit her lip and sighed a bit. She looked around the incredibly depressing common room for a plug outlet. There was none that she could see, perhaps for practicality? Looking through the mildew-encrusted windows, she thought they were under the lake, but she couldn't be certain.

She shivered, and rubbed her arms- the common room was freezing, even with a green fire burning at the hearth and tiny candles lighting the room pitifully. She wondered how the others survived, especially in winter- most of the other Slytherins she could see had hand-me-down uniforms or had patches sewn all over them. At least hers were brand new.

She frowned and decided once again to look for an outlet, walking over to the wall, maybe it had escaped her sight.

"Um… Stina?" said Scorpius from behind her.

She jumped, "Hi, Scorp," she said, turning around and leaning against the wall.

"Hi, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to figure out why wizards haven't discovered the lightbulb," said Stina.

"Probably because it was invented by muggles."

She shrugged. "True that." Looking around and still seeing no sockets, she decided to inquire. "There's no chance of a plug outlet anywhere around, is there?"

He blanked. "I have literally no idea what you just said."

Stina sighed, gave up, and resolved to ask her dad to send her a battery-powered charger in the near future. She sat down on one of the black leather sofas with the ripped cushions next to him. "So what's actually with all the Houses and shit?"

Scorpius was incredulous, but still had to ask. "You really don't know, do you? You are New Magic?"

"Fuck," she sighed. "For the last time, yes. I did not know this school existed until I got a letter, a fucking letter, about a school that's named after a heavily infectious bacterial growth on an ugly ass pig."

He snorted in laughter, but then suddenly grew solemn. "Well, seventeen years ago there was this war, with Slytherin on one side and the other three houses on the other, but it was led by Gryffindors."

"A war? Within a school? The fuck, why would the fucking students in a fucking school go to war within their own school. You're supposed to do that with other schools in several levels of violent and nonviolent ways."

"Can I finish?"

She sighed. "Sure. Sorry."

"It wasn't just in the school, but the outside Wizarding World as well. Loads of people ended up dying, especially on the Light- that's Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, by the way- side."

"Everyone thought Slytherin was going to win, because back then we had all the money, all the power, and a lot of political influence. But the Slytherin leader, Tom Riddle, was killed in a massive battle right here, at Hogwarts, in a lucky accident. The Slytherins gave up, and were later captured and punished for the war crimes, and since then only the children of Dark wizards have been in Slytherin."

He pointed around. "That boy, the one with the really blond hair- that's Tino Vainamoinen, and his aunt blew up the Thames bridge. You remember the Japanese boy at the feast? His grandfather was responsible for the death of three hundred people during raids on Muggle homes. And Feli's uncle Romulus is a leader of a feral dark tribe of werewolves in Italy."

"Wait, werewolves!?" cut in Stina. "Like, that's actually a thing that actually exists?"

"Yeah, and vampires too."

Stina gasped. "Holy shit, Twilight could be real!"

"What?"

She sighed. "Muggle reference. Carry on."

"Okay...so now Light families go to the other three houses, as well as all the New Magic witches and wizards- the students who don't have magical parents."

"Until me," Stina cut in.

He shrugged. "Yeah, until you."

Stina sighed. "Well damn. I wondered what was so weird about it earlier- this explains a lot. Except like… how I ended up here."

"Well, I think it's quite obvious."

Both blonde heads spun round to face the new addition to the conversation; Stina groaned. "The fuck do you want?"

Nikolas grinned, enjoying the awkwardness. "Clearly you're more dark than anyone in this room combined. How else would you explain New Magic in here, when there hasn't been anyone more than Mixed Magic even before 1998?"

He leant on the back of the sofa and pressed his face incredibly close to Stina's until their noses were also touching.

"We await your rise, my Odne Heks."

Dark witch. Evil witch. Burning witch.

"My name is fucking Stina, asshole," she fumed, pushing him away from her, and slapping his face, hard enough to make it sting red. "I am not your evil queen."

He ceased rubbing his face and smirked, rejoicing in his dastardly success as an asshole. "Don't worry, it took the last Dark Lord seven years to makes his first deliberate kill. You've plenty of time to catch up, Heks."

"Why are you being such a cockhead? What the fuck have I done already to you to deserve this!?" she yelled, then stood up. "Whatever, I'm going to bed, I can't fucking deal with this shit. See you tomorrow, Scorp."

She ran up the stairs, concealing her face with her enormous sleeves on her robes. As she reached the top, she thought she heard a thud at the bottom and an "Oof!" come from Scorp, but slammed the door shut and ignored it. Glancing through dewy eyes, she spotted the camp bed with the trunk emblazoned with Danish flags at the bottom and flung herself upon it.

All she wanted to do was fucking cry, but she didn't fucking cry, that wasn't her. But with the fucking asshole headmaster who already looked like he was going to kill her and that fucking asshole Alfred guy who tried to stop her from talking to fucking Rose and the fucking shittyass food and the fucking lack of any fucking technology and the fucking Bulgarian… she couldn't fucking take this fucking prison.

Her dad had homeschooled her because he said that school was a prison, and he knew that she couldn't be trapped in one. Now she had voluntarily decided to go to fucking prison, and now she was stuck two centuries away from her friends and her dad.

That's the thing about crying, even if you don't think you cry, there are times when there is nothing else, when all is cut off.

And you cry because there's nothing else you can do.

She was texting her dad first thing and getting the fuck out of Hogwarts.

Seven thirty am.

Stina shook herself awake through an eyeful of sleep in an empty dormitory. The other four girls had already gone. She groaned, remembering the night before, and climbed over to the other end of the bed, pulling off her blankets to grab her phone and call her dad.

There was a note tucked into the seam of her case on more of that stupid parchment. She frowned unfolded it and read as she yawned and slowly dragged herself back to the waking world.

Stina-

Take as long as you need. We'll grab you some toast before Charms with Hufflepuff at eight- but if you're still not there, we'll tell them you're at the Hospital Wing, okay?

Nikolas has felt the wrath of the Slytherin girls.

EC, LH, RP & LW (Your roommates)

She smiled softly, and leant back on the barred headboard. If things got better, maybe she'd stay another day.

DeathbladeMeister: You know how long this is? Twenty-eight pages. You know how long it took to write? THREE DAYS. (aronz: Over about a month) Fuck you, Aron, stop invading my notes! Updates will not be regular, I'm afraid, as he's near Boston and I'm usually in Britain, and it all depends on timing, fandom rotation, and how much tea I am able to consume in one sitting.

Please leave follows, favourites and reviews, and if you don't like the fic, constructive criticism please!

Next time: Moony's Secret Stash!