Disclaimer: Harry Potter is as JK Rowling as possible, under the circumstances.

Chapter 8: Whatever Happened to Sally-Anne Perks?

Athabasca Academy of Arcana, Alberta, Canada

5 September 1995

Sally-Anne Perks landed with a rush of wind and a thud on the grass with a dozen of her fellow students. Most of them still hadn't mastered Portkey travel, and they dragged the whole group down to fall in a heap. Most schools had moved on to more comfortable methods of transport, but since Athabasca took all of the English- and French-speaking students outside the United States from Yukon to French Guiana, they still used Portkeys.

"Five thirty-five from Toronto. Welcome back," said Professor Kakeesheway as she helped the younger students untangle themselves. Sally-Anne stood up, brushed herself off, and looked around with a smile.

I'm home, she thought.

Sally-Anne didn't have a difficult home life by any stretch. She loved her parents, and her parents loved her. Her father was a professional, and they never wanted for anything important. But she thought of herself as a witch first, even as a muggle-born. The magical world was home to her by now, and especially the school where she spent nine months of the year year.

"Sally-Anne!" her friend, Solange, call from another Portkey point. "Hey, Sally-Anne! Come on!" she motioned for her to catch up. Sally-Anne snapped out of gazing at the castle and hurried to rejoin her friends amid a larger group walking up to the school. She'd been excited to meet people from so many different places when she first came to Athabasca, and she made an effort to befriend many of them. Solange was one of her best friends, despite how they came from practically two different worlds; Sally-Anne came from money while Solange had grown up in what she dispassionately called the slums of Port-au-Prince, but they were alike in so many ways. They were both muggle-borns, for one, and they shared that inquisitiveness that was so common to modern muggle-borns, and they had hit it off at once.

"Hi everybody," Sally-Anne told her circle of friends as they made their way up the hill. "Have a good summer, eh?"

Most of them had, they said, despite the unsettling goings-on around the world. Things were peaceful in Canada, at least. They were well out of the way.

"You heard about Harry Potter?" Solange asked the question everyone was thinking.

Of course, she'd heard about Harry Potter, Sally-Anne thought. Everyone had heard about Harry Potter. But she had actually met Harry Potter.

Sally-Anne had certainly had an unusual life over the past four years. At first, she'd been overwhelmed when she was told that magic existed, that she was a witch, and that she was invited to study at a secret magical school in Scotland. A shy, quiet girl in an unfamiliar environment, it had taken her a while to settle in. She was lucky to have a friendly roommate who also had grown up in the muggle world in Hermione Granger. Hermione had known about magic for years and was happy to show her the ropes, but as she was constantly busy studying and trying to keep her more famous brother alive, they hadn't grown very close.

In a place like Hogwarts, where aristocrats and celebrities like Harry Potter garnered most of the attention, Sally-Anne always felt like she was fading into the background there—the least noticed of her roommates, the least involved in any of the exciting happenings at Hogwarts, the least extraordinary (she was average in her classes, she didn't have extraordinary magical skill, and she was pants on a broom)—and as a muggle-born with no connections, much of the school looked down on her. She suspected most people didn't even notice when she left.

But even so, she enjoyed Hogwarts. She had her small circle of friends (mostly girls from Hufflepuff, as it happened). She had fun learning magic, and it was nearly as fun living in a huge castle with ghosts and talking portraits and moving staircases. Even if the occasional mountain troll or dark wizard broke in, she wouldn't have traded it for anything.

Then, in second year, things got personal. It wasn't just a dark wizard acting on some old feud against one student. Several muggle-born students were attacked over the course of the year, and, just like that, it wasn't so fun anymore. Dad had a standing job offer in Toronto, so her parents had had no reservations about pulling her out over Christmas Holidays and moving the family overseas. It wasn't just her, after all. They had her little brother, Johnny, to worry about, too. He would be going next year.

And so, come January, Sally-Anne had found herself attending Athabasca Academy of Arcana, and, to her own surprise, she'd never looked back. She found at Athabasca what she didn't even know she was looking for at Hogwarts: a home in the magical world. Ironically, it wasn't until she left Hogwarts that she finally realised why she'd been Sorted into Gryffindor. Where she had faded into the background there, at Athabasca, she was an instant (if minor) celebrity, simply because she knew Harry Potter! She happily told them all she knew about him, which wasn't much, but at least she had firsthand experience. It was the first time she had really been at the centre of attention. Almost no one cared that she was muggle-born here (the Americas were generally considered more tolerant than Europe), and even if it wasn't for the best of reasons, it finally broke her out of her shell, and by the time the novelty had worn off, she had gained some lifelong friends.

She learnt that she was a crack shot with a wand if she put her mind to it, and with enough motivation behind her, she'd raised her marks to the top quarter in her year. She found that even though she was pants on a broom, she enjoyed watching Quidditch, and she had a gift for commentating—so much so that Professor Delahaye had made her the starting commentator for this year's matches.

Meanwhile, the news out of Britain kept coming, and it only seemed to get weirder as the years went on. The creature that was terrifying Hogwarts was revealed to be a basilisk and was killed by Harry Potter and his friend, Neville Longbottom. Sally-Anne had always liked Neville. He was very kind and was friendlier with her than the other Gryffindors in her year. She was certainly glad everyone was alright across the pond, but by then, she was so in love with Athabasca that she had no desire to go back.

In her third year, she was very surprised to receive a letter from Harry Potter himself. That was almost a bigger furor than when she'd first arrived. The subject of the letter was equally surprising. Apparently, a little girl in Hogsmeade had been bitten by a werewolf, and Harry was determined to find a school that would take her next year. She'd heard rumours, Harry's reported compassion and commitment to justice, but this was the first direct show of it she had seen. She was touched by his letter, and dutifully asked the Headmaster, but she'd had to report back to him that he'd have better luck with the United States schools. In the end, it turned out to be unnecessary. Werewolf relations in England were changed for the better after the miraculous capture of the most feared werewolf in Europe…with a little help from Harry Potter, naturally.

Last year, it got even weirder. The international headlines crowed that Harry had been selected as a champion in an extremely dangerous interscholastic tournament…for a school that wasn't even participating! Sally-Anne and her friends had followed the Tetrawizard Tournament closely, and they were repeatedly amazed by how well Harry did against his far more advanced competition—even if he was the Boy-Who-Lived. Then, last June, a flurry of headlines catapulted him from interesting overseas news to an international sensation.

Harry Potter had won the Tournament.

Harry Potter was an animagus!

Harry Potter said Voldemort was back from the dead!

Harry Potter said La Pantera was working with Voldemort!

That last one was the most worrying to the North Americans. Sally-Anne had learnt to fear Voldemort's name during her short time in wizarding Britain, but La Pantera was infamous all over the Western Hemisphere. Athabasca's three students from Belize told horror stories about her. And with that news, everyone was thinking the same thing. There was a very good chance that the ICW would get involved, and God only knew where that would end.

The air was thick with rumours at Athabasca this year. It wasn't fear, as was surely gripping Britain right now, but there was a growing apprehension such as must have been felt back in muggle Britain in 1938 or 1939—a sense that war was coming, and the only question was when they would be drawn into it.

"Officially, Lord V. is an internal British matter, according to the ICW," one of the older students, Prefect Lee said. Sally-Anne always thought Lee reminded her of Percy Weasley—ambitious, politically-minded, and a little pompous—but definitely well-informed. It wasn't uncommon for Voldemort to be known as Lord V. in Commonwealth countries as a sort of compromise between the conventions of Britain and the rest of the world. "However, they're claiming La Pantera broke some treaty or other. I'm not sure it even matters much which one. As far as the ICW's concerned, she gave aide to a foreign dark lord, and that puts her within their jurisdiction. That's why they're sending a special law enforcement mission to apprehend her."

"She won't go quietly," one of the other prefects said. Sally-Anne couldn't quite remember his name. "She might do a runner back to Mexico, but she won't let herself get caught."

"The ICW won't slack off either, though," Solange said. "I heard a rumour back home that Old Coyote is joining the task force."

"Old Coyote?" Lee said sceptically, "You think MACUSA will let him take that much time away from making wands?"

"That's just what I heard. Old Coyote fought Grindelwald himself way back when, didn't he?"

"Yes, but you know how MACUSA is, though. I would've thought they'd declare him a national asset or something."

"I don't know. Sally-Anne, have you heard anything from Britain?"

Sally-Anne frowned. "Not a lot," she said. "I wrote a couple of my old friends. They're scared. I know that. Susan Bones—her's aunt's the Director of Magical Law Enforcement—she says the Ministry's mobilising for war over there, but they're having a lot of arguments about what to do about dark creatures like dementors, werewolves, and giants."

"Giants aren't dark!" another boy yelled. "They don't even use magic."

"In Britain, people think they are. They teamed up with Voldemort in the last war—of course, all the giants in Europe have been exiled to Russia, so I don't know how much difference they'll make."

"Did you hear anything about the ICW?" Lee asked.

"All I know for sure is that Edward Grayson is part of the mission. He's really good, though. I read a lot about the East African War over the summer. He and Dumbledore were doing things I'd never heard of before. Oh, and there's a rumour about Dumbledore running some secret intelligence-gathering auxiliary, but that might be completely made up."

"Forget about that," her friend, Stephen, said, "did you find anything out about Harry Potter?"

Sally-Anne rolled her eyes. This was getting a bit old after two and a half years. "Not much more than I've already told you," she said. "I tried writing him, but I only got a polite reply from his sister saying they were very busy, and a lot of what they were doing was secret."

"But that means they're in on it, doesn't it?" Stephen insisted.

"It means they have to be especially careful because Voldemort is still trying to kill them. She did tell me that Harry really is an animagus and has been since he was a little kid because of what they think was a really weird bout of accidental magic. She wouldn't say much else, but I heard rumours from the other girls I wrote that Harry's friends with several werewolves, and he's trying to help negotiate with the packs.

"Do you think it's true?" Solange asked with wide eyes. That wasn't one she'd heard before.

"I don't know for sure, but I'd believe it. Harry always had a really noble streak, and he's been involved in politics since his first year. I told you how he was trying to help werewolves the year before last, remember. And all the stories agree he was there when that other champion—Diggory—was killed, and he was a werewolf, too."

"Will that make them not want to follow Lord V.?" said Solange.

"From what little I know, I'm guessing it won't matter much," Sally-Anne replied. "The ones who don't like the Ministry will probably stay that way."

"How much influence does Harry Potter have at the Ministry, Perks?" Lee asked with interest. "He's on their Wizengamot, isn't he?"

"Something like that. Maybe. It might be through a proxy or something. Sorry, I should know this. I read his book, and he talks all about how he helped the Muggle Protection Act get passed. Susan says it's all about coalitions and quid pro quid and stuff like that on the Wizengamot anyway, but it does sound like he swung a few votes. I know whenever he talked at school, people listened to him. Except that one time when it came out that he's a Parselmouth. Half the school thought he was a dark wizard, then. Of course, all that only matters if the Ministry can stand up to Voldemort. Everyone in Britain talks like he had them on the ropes last time."

"On the ropes?" Stephen asked.

She rolled her eyes. Why couldn't they get muggle idioms? "Almost beat them? Had them on the edge of the duelling wards?"

"Oh, right. But didn't Harry Potter beat Lord V. last time?"

"Didn't you read the book? Harry insists it wasn't him. His mother put some kind of magical protection on him. He can't just do the same thing again."

Everyone around her sank into a subdued silence. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy.

"Well," Lee broke it, "the real trouble is if La Pantera tries to fight to stay in Britain. If she keeps standing with Lord V., the ICW will have to take on Voldemort directly. That would be bad—"

"Excuse me, bad for whom," Sally-Anne cut in. "I've got friends in Britain. If they can stop Voldemort sooner, it's good for them."

"It's not good for anybody else, though," Lee insisted. "You said you read up on the East African War. You know what it did to Zaire and Tanzania and the other countries over there. If Lord V. cuts La Pantera loose, he can try to keep the fighting in Britain. Otherwise, it will spill over to other countries. God, can you imagine? A new international wizarding war, in the West? It would be awful. And even if it's many on one—which it might not be given Scandinavia's leanings—there's no guarantee it'll be faster that way."

"Well, it can't be that bad, can it? I mean, Voldemort doesn't even control the British Ministry." But he might soon, she was forced to remind herself.

"He's kind of right," Solange told her. "Didn't Ngeze take down, like, three different Ministries in East Africa or something? Even if it goes faster, it could be a lot worse."

That gave Sally-Anne pause. It was true: Kinani Ngeze did take down three Ministries of Magic in East Africa with his nundu, and the ICW never even figured out how he did it until he chose to reveal it. Suppose Voldemort or La Pantera had a similar trick up their sleeves. Either way, Britain was in a big pickle already, and if the ICW took action, could Canada be affected? Could the Caribbean?

"Oh, why are we all standing around, moping?" Solange demanded when the silence stretched too long for her. "Bad things are gonna happen, but the first night back is not the time to dwell on them. "For everything there is a season," and all that."

"Amen!" Sally-Anne agreed, clapping her friend on the shoulder.

"Amen! Let's go eat."

They laughed and hurried into the castle. But just before she stepped inside, Sally-Anne paused and turned around to take one last look at the grounds. She'd been in love with Athabasca from the moment she'd first laid eyes on it. It had all the best parts of Hogwarts—a castle in a medieval revival style with a lot of First Nations artwork thrown in, magical creatures of all sorts, a view from the higher towers where you could see for miles over the wilderness, and more—but the scenery was even better than Scotland in other ways. The castle was built on a mountainside rather than a ravine. Instead of a gorge below, a river ran practically through the castle, cascading down waterfall after waterfall in between the towers and walkways. The whole school was built up around the landmark. At night, the charms on the dorms muffled the thunder of the waterfalls just the right amount for it to sooth her to sleep.

Unlike Hogwarts, where the only sport was Quidditch, here they had a Quodpot Club, plus whitewater kayaking, of all things, and a few other small sports and clubs. And that wasn't even counting the quality of the education itself. The classes were definitely more pertinent to the modern witch or wizard. Astronomy was an elective here (which Sally-Anne enjoyed immensely, thank you very much). What Hogwarts called Charms was two classes at Athabasca: one still called Charms, which covered all aspects of wand-work, and the other called Enchantments, which covered magical artifact-making and more diverse forms of magic. Shortcuts to European spells that First Nations wizards had used for millennia were taught in that class, and even low-level rituals weren't shied away from. And best of all, none of the teachers were as bad as Snape or Binns. Her friends had been horrified when she described those two to them.

And then, there were the local fauna, which were just cooler than the ones in Scotland. A colony of Sasquatch—creatures smarter than trolls and probably on par with giants, at a guess—lived in the forest on the grounds. Though skittish around muggles, Sasquatch were more sociable than the Hogwarts centaurs and merpeople, and it wasn't uncommon for them to befriend students, and they also helped the groundskeeper rustle a small herd of real live re'em—quite possibly the world's largest land animal. True, the thunderbirds caused an unholy racket whenever a storm rolled through. And the Magical Creatures teacher, though not on Snape's level, was a mermaid from Trinidad who could be right scary with that trident of hers, but hey, no place was perfect. After two and a half years, Sally-Anne had learnt to roll with the bad along with the good. In her opinion, just living in a place this beautiful was worth it.

"Sally-Anne, come on! You can reminisce all you want tomorrow!" Solange called.

"Coming, Solange!" she replied. I love this place. She followed her friend inside. Whatever the future would bring, for now, at least, all was right with her world.