Chapter Two:  Serena's Grand Plan

Moravius had almost forgotten they were to have a feast; the Sorting had seemed to take so long. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. How long was it going to take for them to be served?

To Moravius's astonishment, when Professor Fortescue waved his hands, platters full of food suddenly appeared on the tables. He gasped. He had never seen so much food in one place in his life! There were even dishes on the table he had never seen before, not even at the Leaky Cauldron, to which he'd occasionally gone to collect his father during his staccato stints of employment.

Despite the large amount of sweets he and Horace had eaten on the train, he felt his mouth watering. For the first time in his life, he realized, he wouldn't have to worry about being hungry. In fact, he thought, I could eat myself sick if I wanted to.

"Help yourselves," announced Abraxas, as if he could read Moravius's mind. Many of the older students were already loading their plates with food. "I guarantee you everything is delicious. The Hogwarts house-elves couldn't botch a meal if they tried."

Several of the students laughed. Moravius frowned. He had never eaten anything prepared by a house-elf before, though he supposed what people said about them said must be true.

For his first helping, he took what was nearest, which was bangers and mash, and liberally drenched it with gravy. To his left, he could see Horace digging in to an enormous serving of steak and kidney pie.

Moravius took his first bite and grinned. It was delicious—even better than his mother's cooking, not that he'd tell her that.

"I was going to take this opportunity to warn you lot about the Gryffindors," Abraxas told them in a solemn voice, "but I see some of you have already encountered them." He pursed his lips. "We've never started out a term with negative points before…"

"It weren't my fault," said Moravius as he took a sip of milk. "Potter definitely started it."

"He did," Horace confirmed. He lowered his voice. "He called Moravius a cripple."

Astraea gasped. "I don't know where they learn such manners. And they say we're horrible."

"They do?" Moravius asked, spearing a forkful of green beans.

"Afraid they do," said the girl who he remembered was called Serena Yaxley. She had a large nose, blue eyes, and long black hair, which she wore tied back. She also had a very authoritative way of speaking. "My brother Cliff—that's him," she pointed to a boy on the other end of the table, "is always telling me how bad it is. They say we're all Dark wizards… that we all believe in pure-blood supremacy…"

Astraea nodded. "I mean, our founder, Salazar Slytherin, didn't believe Muggle-borns ought to be taught at Hogwarts, but it was really dangerous for us back then!"

Abraxas nodded. "The teachers seem all right about it but the way Worley favors the Gryffindors is disgusting! He's always taking points from us for no reason. It's ridiculous!" He shook his head. "Professor Black says there's not a thing we can do about it; apparently, Worley's allowed to do whatever he wants." 

Horace shivered. "W-What does he do?"

Abraxas shook his head. "He's just nasty. He takes points, he gives awful detentions, and he sends you up to Pringle if you so much as look at him funny."

"'Oo's Pringle?" Moravius asked.

"The caretaker," Abraxas replied. "Vindictive old git. He hates the students. Don't get on his bad side, mind you. His punishments hurt like hell." He rubbed his backside as if remembering past encounters.

"How can his punishments be allowed to hurt like…" Horace hesitated. "Heck?" He looked extremely nervous. "C-Can't Professor Black help us out?"

Astraea rolled her eyes. "It's all Black can do to give us an even shot…"

"What subject does he teach?" Sep asked suddenly, as if he wanted to change the subject.

"Arithmancy," Astraea said. "You won't be able to take that until third year, but you'll see him often enough. He likes to check in on his Slytherins from time to time." 

"I don't fink 'e likes me very much," said Moravius glumly. He was not extremely optimistic about his prospects at Hogwarts. If Black wasn't willing to defend him from Worley and Pringle… he'd certainly wind up worse off than Abraxas had…

"I'm sure it's not like that," said Abraxas gently. "He took points before you were a Slytherin, but he won't take points from his own house again. Maybe if you tell him what really happened, he'll understand."

"Which did you say was Worley?" asked Serena suddenly. "The one who doesn't treat us fairly?"

"Him," said Abraxas, pointing at a burly man with close-cropped brown hair. He was listening to a slight, fair-haired man prattle on, and was looking as if he'd like nothing more than to stick his fork down the other teacher's throat. "He teaches Potions. The one he's talking to is Schweitzer; he's all right. He teaches Charms and he was a Slytherin when he was in school. He's a little annoying, though—he might be why Worley hates Slytherins…"

"You'll be getting timetables tomorrow morning," said Astraea. "As first-years, you don't get to choose your own classes, but you get to add some in third year and then there's O.W.L. year."

Serena shrugged. "At least after that, you get to drop some classes. My brother's in sixth," she added for the first-years' benefit. "He doesn't have to deal with Worley anymore. He got a T on his Potions O.W.L."

"Oi!" Cliff shouted from the other end of the table. "Who said you could spread that around?"

Serena giggled. "If he's as mean as you say, I wouldn't want to be in his class either..."

"You really don't have to worry much," Astraea assured her. "It's the boys he's really hard on. Usually, he acts like there aren't even any girls in the class." She sighed. "Of course, that means he never calls on the girls—but at least he only punishes the boys."

"That doesn't sound very fair," muttered Horace and Serena at the same time. They looked at each other curiously.

"He ought to at least call on us," Serena muttered.

"Well, if 'e does, 'e'd better be as 'ard as you as 'e is on us," Moravius muttered. "You're the one 'oo wants it fair…"

Serena snorted, but she didn't say anything else.

Moravius could feel himself getting more relaxed, talking amiably and meeting new friends. Before he knew it, he was getting sleepy.

Dessert heralded even more choices than the main meal had. He ate a large wedge of chocolate cake with a scoop of strawberry and a scoop of peppermint ice cream, which he could barely finish. He noticed Horace's eyes drooping as well.

It seemed just in time that Fortescue got to his feet once more. The Hall fell silent.

"I have just a few words before we all go to bed," he said. The announcements barely registered with Moravius; he thought perhaps they weren't allowed in a certain corridor on the fourth floor, but he didn't understand which one. There was also something about a new Transfiguration professor, who would hopefully be showing up tomorrow, after he had attended to some important business in Africa, or perhaps it was Azkaban, Moravius wasn't sure which. Moravius thought he certainly sounded like an interesting bloke, and hoped this teacher wouldn't be as bad as the rest of them looked.

Before he knew it, he and the other first-years were following Abraxas and Astraea to the Slytherin common room.

They left the Great Hall and walked down a set of narrow stairs and through a maze of corridors before they came to a blank stone wall.

"Viridis vita," said Astraea.

Abraxas gave the first-years a knowing look. "Live green. The wall likes its humor."

To Moravius's astonishment, the wall, or rather, the door hidden in it, slid open, revealing the Slytherin common room. The common room was long, with a low ceiling and lots of smart-looking, round, green lamps hanging on chains. Scattered throughout the room were several high-backed chairs with green upholstery and austere-looking couches made of a dark wood. The focus of the room was an enormous, elaborately carved fireplace, depicting what Moravius presumed were scenes from the life of Salazar Slytherin. He would have liked to stay and examine the designs, but the prefects herded the first-years across the common room to the doors leading to the dormitories, showing no signs of stopping.

"We're under the lake," Astraea explained. "But the fireplace and the walls are spelled to keep us from getting too cold and damp. Slytherin chose the dungeons for his house, because they're the safest place in the castle. A tower would be the first thing to go, if the castle ever came under siege."

Moravius bit his lip. Would the castle ever come under siege? Next to him, he could tell Horace was wondering the same thing.

His suspicions were confirmed when the other boy whispered, almost to himself, "If that ever happens, you can be sure I'll be one of the first ones out, thank you very much."

"All right," said Abraxas, waving the stragglers along, "come on, you lot: boys with me, girls with Astraea."

He led Moravius, Horace, Sep and the two boys called Borgin and Burke down a passageway to the right and through a door marked "First-years".

"Here we are," he said. "Your home, sweet home for the next seven years."

The dormitory had the same rough stone walls and low ceiling as the common room, and the five beds, all with green velvet hangings, were arranged neatly around the square room—two on either side, with one opposite the door. The room was brightly lit by several ornate, brass wall lamps. Their trunks had already been placed at the foots of their beds. Moravius wondered whether he would get used to a room without windows, but decided it was bright enough.

"The house-elves," Abraxas explained, when Borgin asked him how the trunks had gotten there. "I'll let you lot go to bed; I'm sure you're tired. You'll want to have an early start in the morning—Professor Black wants to meet you."

"Right," said Moravius sleepily. He was barely aware of changing into his nightshirt and crawling into bed.

"Good night," said Horace from the next bed.

"'Night," Moravius said as he drew shut the green bed hangings. He flopped back down onto the bed. He briefly wondered how he was going to get through the term, but fell asleep before he had put too much thought into it.

***

Moravius woke at dawn the following morning. He lay in bed for several minutes, debating whether he wanted to get up or not. The bed was very comfortable, far more so than his bed at home.

Home. Moravius had not realized until now that he wouldn't be going home again until Christmas. He vaguely wondered if his parents would be all right without him—he had never made much money shining shoes, but it had been some—but then decided that if his mother had truly been concerned about the family's financial situation, he would not have been allowed to come to Hogwarts. After all, his father had agreed, after some convincing. Moravius decided to get up and send his mother a letter to let her know he had arrived all right.

Moravius rolled out of bed, and as soon as his feet touched the floor, the wall lamp between his bed and Horace's lit itself dimly. After dressing and combing his hair as best he could, Moravius removed a quill, ink bottle, and a piece of parchment from his trunk and sat on the edge of his bed to write his letter, leaning on his musty copy of Spells for the First Year Wizard.

Dear Mum,

School is very nice. The food is good and the dormitories are comfortable. I ate a lot of vegetables. I am in Slytherin House. Professor Black is Head of it. I made a friend. His name is Horace. He is nice. He shared his sweets with me on the train. You can tell Susie there are ghosts here. I saw two but I did not meet our House ghost yet. A prefect said he is called the Bloody Baron. (The prefects are nice, too. I do not think I will get lost.) Today is the first day of lessons and I will study hard. Tell Dad and the Shunpikes I say hullo.

Love, Moravius

P.S.: I did get in trouble for fighting. He really deserved it though.

Moravius scribbled out the postscript, hoping his mother would just think it was an inkblot, and then folded and addressed the parchment.

He made it all the way out of the dormitory, across the deserted common room and up from the dungeons before he realized he did not know where he could find a post owl.

He wandered through the Great Hall, into the entrance hall, and up a flight of stairs, poking his head into empty classrooms. Suddenly, he heard a loud noise behind him and jumped.

"Ooh, has the ickle firstie lost his way?"

Moravius whirled around, searching for the sound of the voice. Something hard hit him on the head. It was a walking stick. Moravius whirled around.

"Very confused ickle firstie, are we?"

Moravius was beginning to get very confused. "W-what are you?" he asked nervously. "Wh-where are you?"

The voice laughed again and bounced around the hallway. Moravius kept trying to dodge it, but he found himself walking right into it sometimes.

"'Elp!" he cried, hoping someone would hear him. "Somebody, 'elp!"

The voice cackled again. Suddenly, there was a loud banging sound. Moravius whirled to face the source of the noise. Professor Black was standing at the other end of the corridor, wand outstretched. 

"Peeves!" he bellowed. "Show yourself!"

There was a popping sound, and a cheeky little man appeared in midair.

"Aw, c'mon, Finny. I was just having a bit of fun with him!"

Moravius blinked and straightened up, beginning to feel embarrassed that he had been so afraid of this little man.

"'Oo are you?" he asked pointedly.

"This is Peeves, a poltergeist," said Black. "You don't need to worry about him." He looked at Peeves. "And he knows better than to bother the students, especially Slytherins, or we'll have to fetch the Bloody Baron."

Peeves's face fell. "R-right, Professor Black. Good day to you." He zoomed off up the corridor.

Black turned to Moravius. "Are you all right, Mr. Krubb?"

"Yeah, er, yes, sir." Moravius looked down at his feet, feeling extremely stupid.

"Any special reason you are out of bed so early?"

"Oh," said Moravius nervously, "I wanted to send an owl to me mum. I just dunno know where to find one."

Black sighed. "I was about to go to the Owlery myself. You can come with me."

They walked together in silence and after Moravius had sent his letter, they headed back to the dungeons, as Black had explained he wished to speak to the first-years before breakfast.

"Listen, Mr. Krubb," said Black as they made their way down the narrow, stone staircase that led to the dungeons. "I don't mean for us to get off on the wrong foot. I am your Head of House, and I did not learn until late last evening that you are the Assistance Fund student." He pursed his lips and looked as if he was going to say something else, but didn't.

"Oh," said Moravius, still a little nervous talking to Black. "Abou' that. Is there anyfin' I gotta do?"

Black sighed and shook his head. "Just keep your mind on your studies and everything will be all right. I believe the Headmaster would like to speak to you, though. You may go to see him after your last lesson this afternoon."

Moravius nodded and followed the professor into the common room. He thought that he was beginning to get on Black's better side, though he wasn't sure why Black seemed to think being the "Assistance Fund student" had anything to do with anything.

Moravius crossed the common room to where all the other first-years were awake and seated around the empty fireplace.

"Where were you?" Horace hissed as Moravius sat on the floor in front of him.

"Owlery," Moravius whispered back.

Dolores kicked him in the back and hissed, "Shh!" Moravius scowled at her.

Black waited until the excitedly chattering first-years settled down.

"I wish to give you a proper welcome," he began, pacing in front of the fireplace. "Welcome to Hogwarts, and welcome to Slytherin House. In your time here, you will learn of the noble legacy of Salazar Slytherin, and you will, hopefully, maintain the values he championed. Unfortunately, as those of you with family members who were Slytherins will already know, many people over the years have… misinterpreted his ideals." Black stopped and surveyed the first-years.

No one moved.

"Who can tell me of the feud between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin?"

Dolores Umbridge raised her hand. A few seconds later, the small, mousy-looking boy Moravius remembered was called Caractacus Burke also raised his hand. Then, Horace followed suit, as did Sep and Serena Yaxley. Before long, every first-year's hand was raised, except Moravius's. Moravius lowered his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He wondered if it was too late to switch to Ravenclaw.

"Go ahead, Caractacus," said Black, nodding to the boy who was sitting on the sofa, squashed between Horace and Borgin. "You can tell us."

"Slytherin didn't believe we ought to let M-Mu-Mudbloods into Hogwarts," Caractacus stammered in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "Gryffindor thought we ought to let everyone who could do magic in. They dueled and Slytherin left." He looked up at Black for confirmation.

Black nodded curtly. "I would caution you all not to use the word 'Mudblood' in front of people in other houses. I have found they tend to assume the worst of us when we do."

"Sorry, Grandfather," Caractacus whispered, ducking his head.

So Caractacus was Black's grandson… Moravius decided he could see a resemblance. He made a mental note to stay on Caractacus's good side, too.

Black continued. "It is due to this rift that you may often find students in other houses—particularly Gryffindor—will look down on you for the house you were sorted into. I beseech you not to let this trouble you. Be confidant in the knowledge that you alone among them were deemed worthy."

His eyes briefly flicked to Moravius, before continuing. "You alone of your year—you nine—were deemed worthy of Slytherin House. Remember the qualities for which Slytherin stands—a little cunning can go along way when outwitting brains, brawn, or blind loyalty. And remember—most of all—that you alone have a support network of former Slytherins, all of whom possessing a dedication that would make a Hufflepuff jealous." His eyes swept the gathered first-years; Moravius found he had forgotten to breathe. "You are the newest members of our noble house. Make us proud."

Horace started to clap, but stopped when he realized no one else was.

"Your timetables," said Black suddenly, and then, all the first-years relaxed and everyone was crowding around Black to find out when their lessons would be. Moravius and Horace grabbed theirs, and headed back to the dormitory to get their books.

"Where were you, really?" Horace asked, as he grabbed his brand-new copy of Magical Drafts and Potions and shoved it into his bag.

"Whaddayou mean?" Moravius asked, pulling out his battered, second-hand Transfiguration text. "I really was at the Owlery. I was sendin' an owl to me mum."

"Oh," said Horace, shouldering his bag and leading the way back to the common room. "I just thought you might've been in trouble again."

Moravius frowned. "Why'd joo fink that? Y'know, I en't gonna get in trouble all the bloody—"

"It's all right!" cried Horace suddenly. "I didn't mean it like that…"

Moravius scowled. "It sure sounded like you did…"

"Well, I didn't, all right?" Horace looked quite flustered. "I'm sorry," he added finally. "It's good that you were writing to… to your mother."

Moravius looked at him strangely, but did not say anything, as they were now following their housemates up to breakfast, and Serena Yaxley had joined them.

Serena looked back and forth between the two of them. "Did you know each other before coming to school?" she asked curiously.

Moravius and Horace exchanged glances. "No," they both said at the same time.

"We met on the train," Horace added, as they found seats next to each other at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. "My, this is a good-looking breakfast!" He surveyed the meal before him. "I think I like it here!"

Moravius grabbed himself a large helping of scrambled eggs and kippers. "I know what you mean," he said. "En't never eaten nothin' this good b'fore."

Suddenly, a voice to Moravius's left said, "If you en't never eaten nothing this good, you must've had loads of good things before."

Moravius looked up and groaned inwardly. "Mornin', Dolores."

Dolores smiled and ignored his morning cheer. "Or did you mean, 'I have never eaten anything this good'?"

Moravius shrugged. "'S same, innit?"

"Of course it isn't the same!" cried Dolores indignantly. "One is correct, and one isn't. Plus your sentence didn't have a subject or a verb. You forgot 'I' and 'en't' is not a word."

Moravius speared another kipper. "If en't en't a word, 'ow come me dad an' me mum and everybody I know says it?"

"Because your father and your mother are wrong, too!" she said haughtily. With a theatrical sigh, Dolores pulled a book out of her bag and began to read, sliding down the bench so as to be as far from Moravius as she could get.

"She's really beginning to get on my nerves," Serena muttered to Moravius and Horace.

"You must o' read me mind," said Moravius, grinning. "I'd like to tell 'er where to put that book o' 'ers. I fink she en't never laughed in 'er life. 'Cept I guess I oughta say it right," he added, in his best imitation of Dolores's voice.

Serena giggled. Horace frowned.

"You oughtn't say things like that, Moravius. People will get the wrong idea about you," he said. "I mean, she's sitting right there."

Moravius stuck his tongue out at Horace. "'Ow d'you know it's the wrong idea?"

Horace sighed, but he didn't say anything. Serena giggled again.

"She won't notice," she told the boys. "The Hogwarts Express could have gone through our dormitory last night and she wouldn't have noticed."

Moravius laughed, and Horace smiled faintly.

"She is awfully bossy," he admitted. "I remember we didn't want to be in the same house as her, when we met her on the train."

Serena smirked. "Not so lucky, are we?"

"Guess not," said Moravius. "But I suppose we'll have to make the best of it."

"And she does sort of remind me of a toad," Horace added, and then laughed a little too loudly at his own joke.

Serena grinned. "You know, I think you're right." She started to laugh, too.

Soon, all three of them were laughing so hard they were nearly crying. Years later, Moravius would like to think that the day he, Horace, and Serena had become friends was in some way auspicious. Unfortunately for Moravius, it really wasn't. There are many experiences that three people can go through together (especially in their first year of Hogwarts) which leave them with an unbreakable bond of friendship; however, making fun of someone behind their back isn't really one of them.

***

Their timetables informed them that their first class would be Potions, which took place in the dungeons.

"That's Worley, right?" Serena asked as they trooped back downstairs. "The unfair one."

"I think so," said Horace, nervously running a hand through his hair. "I'm a bit scared, aren't you?"

Serena smirked. "Well, Astraea said he doesn't pick on the girls…"

"That en't fair," said Moravius.

"Well, life en't fair, Krubb," said a voice behind them. It was Potter, and Longbottom was with him.

"What are you doin' down 'ere?" Moravius asked. "It's Slyverins 'oo 'ave Potions first."

Longbottom snorted. "Slyverins? You can't even say the name of your own house."

Moravius glared. "Why in 'ell d'you care?" he growled. "Why d'you keep followin' us around?"

Potter laughed. "We aren't following you. No, Krubb. It's Double Potions. Of course, you'd know that if you could read…"

"I can read!" Moravius snapped.

"Prove it," said Longbottom. Moravius growled and jumped on Longbottom. They fell back onto the ground, and Longbottom hit Moravius hard on the side of the head.

Suddenly, Serena screamed and there was a loud banging sound. Moravius felt himself being yanked backwards and let go, as if on an invisible rope.

"Oh, Moravius, are you all right?" She knelt beside him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He hauled himself to his feet, rubbing his head. "'Oo did that?" He looked up.

The professor Moravius remembered was called Professor Worley was standing in the corridor. He looked furious. Horace was standing a few feet from him, holding all three of the Slytherins' bags, and looking terrified.

"What is the meaning of this?" Worley barked. Horace yelped and jumped back. Potter and Longbottom snickered. "Do you think you have the right to attack your fellow students twice in as many days, boy?"

Moravius scowled. "'E deserved it!"

"No one deserves it," Worley barked. "I can't believe Black. What's he teaching you lot these days? You're beating up my Gryffindors on the first day of classes…"

"Well, Moravius didn't do anything wrong!" cried Serena. "Longbottom was absolutely rotten to him; he said he couldn't read!"

Worley ignored her. He was still breathing heavily. Then he leveled his gaze on Moravius.

"Detention," he said firmly. "Detention for both of you." He turned to Horace, who let out a squeak of fright.

"Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Why me?" Horace stammered. "S-S-Sir?"

"Because you didn't stop him, boy!" Worley barked, thrusting his face close to Horace's. Horace gnawed furiously at his lip, but could not help starting to cry. Worley did not seem to notice, but Potter and Longbottom grinned.

Worley continued. "What in the world possessed you to let the little monster attack another boy? That's twice now; don't think I haven't got my eye on you. Even if you are Edward Slughorn's son, especially because you're Edward Slughorn's son and in Slytherin now to boot. Now get inside, all of you, before I take points!" Worley stormed into the classroom and Potter and Longbottom followed, as did several of the other Gryffindors and Slytherins who had gathered in the corridor during the altercation.

"Come on," said Serena briskly, shoving their bags at Moravius and putting her arm around Horace's shoulders. "Let's go. We'll get the best of him."

"H-How ked we?" Horace sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "He's just so bean. Ed he does't like be because he does't like by father."

"It shouldn't matter whether or not he likes your father," said Serena matter-of-factly. "Now come on, both of you. If we just show him we're not as bad as he thinks, maybe he'll lighten up."

Unfortunately for Moravius, Horace, and Serena, Worley did not lighten up. He stalked around the classroom, nearly broke a bottle, and made Horace cry again when he asked him a question he ought to have known he couldn't have answered. Moravius began hoping for the class to end as soon as it had begun. He hoped they all wouldn't be this bad.

After Potions (in which they had been assigned thirty pages of reading), they had a morning break, which they spent trying to find the Transfiguration classroom.

"At least this class isn't double with the Gryffindors," Serena remarked, pulling her book out of her bag. "Though if this professor assigns as much work as Worley, I'm going home."

"'Oo's teachin' this class, anyway?" Moravius asked, looking around the classroom, which had a dusty, unused feeling. "I don't fink 'e was at the feast las' night."

"Now that you mention, I don't think so either," mused Horace. "I think Professor Fortescue said he was coming today."

Serena laughed. "Maybe he won't come and class will be cancelled. We could get a head start on that Potions reading."

Moravius shrugged. "I en't gonna do it. If 'e's gonna treat us like 'ippogriff sh—"

Horace cut him off. "But, Moravius, we have to do it—he's our teacher."

Serena's face contorted slightly; she looked like she was thinking very hard. "We'll show him," she said with finality. "We'll do it, and we'll do it better than the Gryffindors and we'll show him." She clapped her hands together and looked back and forth between Horace and Moravius. "We're going to do away with Slytherin's bad reputation."

"'Oo's we?" Moravius asked.

"Us," she said matter-of-factly. "The three of us."

Horace and Moravius exchanged glances.

"Well," she said. "What do you think?"

Suddenly, the door to the classroom banged open. All three of them jumped.

The man standing in the doorway was the most unusual man Moravius had ever seen (and Moravius knew Billy Fletcher). He was tall and very thin, with long auburn hair, which hung loose to the middle of his back. He wore Muggle clothes, but his trousers and waistcoat were of a shade of dusky plum that Moravius had never seen on a Muggle.

"Terribly sorry about that," he said, tossing his traveling cloak off to the side (the coat rack in the corner slid forward to catch it and then slid back into place) and striding to the front of the classroom. "Just you three? Those can't be all the Slytherins in first year…" He set a gaudy, flowered carpetbag on the desk, pulled out a scroll and unrolled it.

Then he looked back up at Moravius, Horace, and Serena. Moravius could now see that his eyes, behind half-moon glasses, were a brilliant shade of pale blue.

"There are supposed to be more of you…" he murmured. He looked back down at the list, and Summoned a quill from his bag with a snap of his fingers. He ran his finger down the list, looking back and forth between the three of them and the list several times. Then he pointed at Horace. "You must be Horace Slughorn," he said slowly. When Horace nodded, the professor smiled. "And Edward's your father? I thought so, you look just like him."

Horace blinked in surprise. "You know my father?"

The professor's face fell. "Oh, yes, well… I've had dealings with the Department of Magical Law. Don't worry, I haven't done anything untoward…" He paused and looked at Serena. "Yaxley or Quirrell… I'm leaning toward Yaxley, but I could be wrong…"

"Yaxley," said Serena. "Serena Yaxley."

"Of course, of course." He scribbled something. Then, he looked at Moravius. "I suppose I can get it by process of elimination," he murmured. "Krubb… I've heard that name before, but I can't place it…"

"It's me," said Moravius. "I'm Krubb."

"Well, then!" The professor set his list down. "I suppose we'll have to wait for the rest now." He hopped up onto the desk and sat cross-legged. "I probably ought to introduce myself. My name is Albus Dumbledore and I will be your Transfiguration professor."