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It was a Tuesday morning when Stiles got his acceptance letter. He'd been almost afraid he wouldn't, because his mom just died, and they might have forgotten about him. But he'd been doing magic since he was two and accidentally set his bath on fire because the water had gotten cold and he’d wanted to heat it up. He’d succeeded. He and his dad sat together at the kitchen table and opened the letter, Stiles’ legs dangling off the end of the chair, his father looking over his shoulder at the emerald green font, both feeling the empty space where Stiles' mom would have been just a few months before. The envelope was sealed with purple wax with the Hogwarts emblem, and it even contained his full name (which his mom had insisted was a very popular name in the wizarding world.) 

 HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Jeff Davis

(Member, Wizengmont, Member, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Stilinski,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

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

Yours sincerely, 

Chris Argent

Deputy Headmaster

 

Stiles looked up at his dad, and begged, “Can we go get my supplies? Right now? Please, I promise I’ll clean up my room and feed Striggy!” Stiles said, nearly bouncing in his chair. 

Detective Inspector Stilinski sighed, and shook his head. Their dishes from breakfast- cereal and eggs, nearly the only thing Stiles’ father could make- were littered around the table from before Stiles had gone to get the mail, and had come running back yelling that there was mail for him. He stood up, and started collecting dishes to put in their apartment’s sink, and said, “I’m sorry, kiddo, I wish we could. I have to get to work, but I promise we can go tomorrow.”

Stiles slouched back into his chair, but then perked up, “Does this mean I get a wand? And my own potions set? And-” Stiles rattled on. Stilinski shook his head, chuckling. Claudia would have been so proud of him. 

After putting the dishes in the sink, Stilinski said, “Whoa, whoa, slow down, Stiles, we still have to write them back.” 

Stiles shot up, “I can do that!” he ran into the study. Striggy, Claudia’s owl, let out a little hoot, and nestled back into the cage where he’d been, looking mournful. He hadn’t seen much action since Claudia’s funeral, where nearly a hundred crying, robed wizards came to mourn with DI Stilinski’s family. Most of the wizards had sent them letters of sympathy or little bits of food to ‘tide them over’ in the wake of her death, and Stilinski and Stiles had written them all back.

All of Claudia’s wizarding supplies- potions ingredients, her more dangerous books, and now, her wand, among other things- were in the the study, which Claudia had claimed when they first bought their apartment when Stiles was a baby. In the corner, Striggy’s cage sat, next to the desk where Stiles was scribbling something down in bright blue ink with one of Claudia's quills. His lips were pressed together in determination  as he wrote. After a moment, he stopped and read the letter over, and then stuffed it in an envelope, and let Striggy out. The grey owl clamped the letter in his beak, and then pecked on the window, which Stiles opened, after he said sternly, “Deliver this to Hogwarts.”

“I’m leaving for work, Stiles, make sure the doors are locked!” his father called out from the kitchen.

“The house is enchanted!” Stiles yelled back.

---

Stiles woke up early the next morning, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, and tried to burrow back down under his pillow before remembering what the day was. He and his dad were going school supply shopping. Normally, yeah, that was cool and fun because new stuff, but this year- this year he was gonna get a wand and his own robes (other than the formal robes his mom had bought him for her friend’s wedding, which he was outgrowing) and cauldrons and- Stiles shot up, knocking his pillow onto the floor, and scrambled out of bed.

“Dad!” he yelled, and ran down the hall into the kitchen, where his dad was reading the paper. He slid to a stop in front of his dad, and said, “Can we go school supply shopping now?”

He smiled into his cup of coffee, and said, “Nice to see you awake before noon. Eat breakfast first.”

Stiles grabbed a plate from the cabinet and poured the rest of the eggs from the pan onto it. He sat down at the table and started to shovel them into his mouth. He looked up at his dad, and at the coffee he was drinking, and asked, mouth full, “Can I have some?” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Daaaaaad,” Stiles whined, and then took another bite, “If it isn’t good for me, then it isn’t good for you!”

“Yeah well, who’s the adult here?”

Stiles pouted, and then finished up his eggs. “Can we go now?”

“Put the dishes in the sink. Have you taken your Adderall yet?” Stiles shook his head, “Go get dressed,” Stilinski said, and then rubbed the back of his head, “I think I remember how to get to Diagon Alley.”

Stiles shot up, “I’ll be ready in two minutes!” and ran into his room, grabbing the first shirt and pair of pants he could find and quickly brushing his teeth, doing all his regular morning things- just more quickly. He ran back into the kitchen where his dad was putting his own dishes into the sink.  

“Ready?” Stilinski asked, and Stiles nodded. They entered Claudia’s study, and Stilinski moved towards the barely-used fireplace, removing the screen, and taking down the vase sitting on the mantle. The fireplace had been one of Claudia’s conditions in getting an apartment- she said she’d need a way to travel other than apparition (which she’d admitted she was never very good at), especially if she ever wanted to take both of her boys somewhere. Stilinski had only traveled by the Floo Network twice- once to Diagon Alley when Stiles was four, because she’d wanted to show him how to get places, in case he ever needed it, and once to her school friend’s wedding. He’d never thought he would need to use it- he figured Claudia would always be there, taking Stiles to get his school supplies the day he got his letter, and having them both come running in that night, laden with packages, ready to tell him about all the magical- literally- adventures they’d had. 

But then she’d gotten sick with a wizarding disease he’d been unable to pronounce, wasting away at St. Mungo’s for months. He hadn’t been there when she’d died- he’d been on duty, helping a young woman who’d told him to go if he wanted to see her one last time. He’d thought it was ludicrous. She was a delirious, dying young woman, but now that he looked back on it, she had likely been a dying young witch. 

Stiles was nearly bouncing on his heels in excitement. He had hardly been connected to the wizarding world since his mom died, and it was always one of the coolest places he’d ever been- he’d been through the Floo Network more times than he could count, going on shopping trips, or to the bank, or once, to bring-your-child-to-work day. He’d gotten a tour of the Ministry that day, and didn’t stop talking about it for weeks.

“Now, make sure you say Diagon Alley clearly, okay, Stiles? I have no idea where you’ll end up if you don’t, and since we can only go one at a time, I’m going first. I’d rather you be alone in the apartment then there.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “I know.” His dad took a handful of powder from the vase- painted by Stiles when he was seven- and then handed it to Stiles as he watched his dad. 

Stilinski threw the power into the fireplace, and suddenly it erupted into bright green flames. Stilinski held his breath- he was only human, this wasn’t the kind of thing that you ever really got used to, even after having a witch for a wife, and a wizard for a son- and stepped into the cold flames, yelled, “Diagon Alley!” and disappeared. 

Stiles was about to grab his own handful of power when he remembered something he wanted to take with him and stepped over to the desk to grab it, lifting up the bottom of his pants leg and sticking it into his shoe. He grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the flames, stepping in and trying to remember what his mother had always told him as the cool flames licked higher and higher. Elbows tucked in, speak clearly, and don’t try to get off before your stop, it’ll just make you sick. With that in mind, he took a deep breath, and yelled, “Diagon Alley!”

Suddenly he was sucked into the network, and for all it was terrifying, it was also thrilling. He felt the rush of the wind- or whatever this is- around him, he saw the other fireplaces and hearths wiz past him, and felt the rush of magic. And then as suddenly as it began, he was in one of the community fireplaces at Diagon Alley, sucking in ash and coughing as he was helped out by his dad. “You okay, Stiles?” he asked.

Stiles nodded, and croaked, “Yeah.” 

Stiles looked around, a grew a million times more excited. The street was quite narrow, the shops squished together, and leaning forward it almost seemed like they would topple over. The high windows advertized cauldrons, robes, spellbooks and pets. Wizards and witches in long black, or bright blue- or even one bright orange- robes passed each other, chatting merrily. He saw a few other young wizards and witches his age, probably school shopping like he and his dad. Stiles clutched his school supply list, and started, “Where are we gonna go first? To get my wand or-” but then stopped when he saw her, and promptly fell in love. 

She was perfect, standing between two obviously muggle parents, but standing tall, as if she knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be. She had long red hair that curled at the tips, and as quickly as he’d seen her, she vanished into the bustling crowd. 

“-Stiles, Stiles!” his dad said, with an exasperated sigh, and Stiles got the feeling his dad had been calling his name for some time. 

He shut his gaping mouth, and said, “Sorry, what?” 

“We’ve got to go to the bank first, kiddo, muggle money won’t pay for this kind of stuff.” 

“Right!” Stiles said, and tugged at his dad’s wrist, bouncing as he started to talk about how his mother used to bring him there all the time, and kept getting distracted by the eels eyes in the window of the apothecary, and then Eeylops Owl Emporium- he was taking Striggy to school with him, since his dad didn’t need him- and his father shook his head, chuckling, as he watched Stiles race ahead of him, and go from window to window. 

A woman outside of her shop paused her sweeping to lean on her broom, and stare off after Stiles, “Yer a muggle, hmm?” she said, her voice crooning. 

He nodded, “My wife was a witch.” 

She chuckled, “A bit to take in, isn’t it?”

“As always." 

And then Stiles was done staring up at everything in wonder- because, that stuff was cool- and tugged his dad after him. “Can we go the Ice Cream Parlour? Please? Mom used to take me there when I’d come with her on shopping trips!” and then his face fell, because he knew she was gone, and he missed her every single second of every day, but sometimes it would just hit harder. 

“Yes- but when we’re finished,” his father said, and Stiles perked up.

“Bank now?” he said, and Stilinski nodded, and they headed into the large marble building.

Gringotts stood towering over all of the other shops, white marble columns and bronze doors. Two goblins in maroon uniforms opened the doors as Stiles followed his father into the buildings, and he looked around. Stiles much preferred muggle banks, the tellers were much nicer, and even sometimes gave him candy, rather than looking at him like he was going to steal something like the goblins did. His father stepped up to a free goblin and cleared his throat, and said, “Excuse me- I’d like to withdraw from my wife’s bank account. Claudia Stilinski.”

The goblin looked up, and Stiles saw he looked rather young, for a goblin at least. He still had an almost grouchy, wrinkled face, but he wasn’t wearing glasses and squinting like he couldn’t see, and had dark hair. He sized them up, and then said, “Do you have the key?” Stilinski nodded, and took out his key ring, taking off a little key, and handing it to the goblin. He looked at the key for a moment, and then said, “All is in order. Follow me, I am Dordrik, and I will take you to your vault.”

He hopped down, and bade them follow. They followed him down the hall to a door that opened and revealed a narrow stone corridor, with a set of railroad tracks along the floor. Dordrik whistled and Stiles heard a whirring noise, and something like wheels on a track, and then a cart whizzed over to them. Dordrik climbed in and Stiles quickly followed, his father stepping in after him. As soon as they were both inside, it started down the track at an incredible speed, making so many turns Stiles couldn’t keep up, but he tried to anyway. Finally they stopped in front of a small door in the wall.

“Never done that before,” Stilinski said, trying to steady himself. 

“Neither have I!” Stiles said excitedly, “Mom would always make me wait with the goblins!”

“For good reason,” he said, and then looked at Stiles sternly, “Now why didn’t you say anything?”

“... you never would have let me come?” Stiles said, and Stilinski sighed and shook his head.

“You’re right. But I suppose since you’re all grown up and going to that fancy wizarding school of your’s, I suppose it’s high time we start letting you ride on the magic goblin roller coaster thing.”

Dordrik shot them both a look and ushered them into the vault, after unlocking the door. “Take what you will.” The vault was medium sized, standard for a middle-class wizarding family. Inside was a decent pile of gold- both his mother’s fortune, and what she inherited from her parents when they died when Stiles was eight. 

Stepping into the vault, Stiles dad scooped up a few Galleons, Sickles and Knuts into a small bag he’d brought with him, and said, “You remember the exchange rate, don’t you?” 

“Yes dad,” Stiles said, remembering what his mom told him, “Five pounds to a Galleon, seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, twenty nine pence to a Sickle, twenty nine Knuts to a Sickle, one penny to a Knut.”

Stilinski nodded, and then looked at the bag in his hand, “This should be enough to get through school shopping, and then a little more for you to take with you to school in case you need anything.” He turned to Dordrik, and said, “I think we’re done here for now.” 

He nodded and locked the vault, the three of them climbing back into the cart, and started off towards the upper part of Gringotts. Once they were back up top, Stilinski thanked the goblin and they exited the bank. “Where do you want to do first?” he asked Stiles, who looked down at his list.

“Wands!” he said, and they started towards Ollivander’s, where his own mother had purchased her own wand. As they reached the shop, Stiles noticed that the wand on the purple cushion, the one that had been sitting in the window for as long as Stiles could remember, was missing. Someone must have finally purchased it, he thought.  

Stepping inside the shop, a pair of twins were exiting, and Ollivander turned to them and said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Stilinski said, “My son, Stiles, is starting at Hogwarts this year, and needs to purchase a wand.”

“Stiles, hmm, interesting name, however not quite so as Fennekin, Leeloo, or Four- I once met a particularly ruffled Hag whose mother had given up after child number two.” He shook his head, and then looked up at Stiles, fixating on his face. “But a wand- yes?” Stiles nodded. He turned to Stiles’ father, and regarded him sharply, then said, “What was your wife’s name?”

“Claudia Stilinski- er, Claudia Hughes.”

“I remember- twelve and a half inches, beech, dragon heartstring,” he said, humming. He stared at Stiles for a moment, as though he knew what he’d brought with him, and the wand seemed to grow heavy in his pant leg. Stiles had tried get it to work for him, he’d tried it a million times- but the wand chose it’s owner, not the other way around, and it had chosen his mother over twenty years before. Olivander sized him up, and then finally said, tapping his lip, "I... think I know the perfect wand." He turned and ran off to a distant corner of the shop and then to a pile of wands, pulling out one six from the bottom- a deep purple box. 

Ollivander handed the box to Stiles, who pulled open the box and... it looked just like his mom's. There were a couple noticeable differences, yeah, but... it looked just like hers- twelve and a half inches, beech, and as far as he could tell, dragon heartstring. He lifted it out of the box, and gave it a wave. It grew warm in his hand, but nothing unpleasant, and emitted an aura, and he turned to see his dad smiling. 

Ollivander clapped his hands, “I see I was correct! Beech is best suited to those young, but wise beyond their years, or when older, rich in understanding and experience. Do not disappoint my wand, Mr. Stilinski,” Ollivander said, fixing his pale stare on him, and Stiles nearly shivered. 

“No sir,” Stiles said, and paid the man, hurrying out of the shop where he broke into a grin and turned to his dad, “Did you see that? I did magic! I did real magic!” Stiles said waving his wand around. 

“You sure did, Stiles- now, where to next?” 

Stiles looked down at the list, “Hmm, robes?”

“Lead the way!” Stilinski said, and followed his son ahead to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions where Stiles was fitted for his school robes, then to Flourish and Blotts where he got all of his school books and an additional two he thought were interesting, and then quills and ink, and finally his things for potions. By the time they were finished, all thoughts of visiting the ice cream parlour were abandoned, and Stiles had six books piled in his arms. His dad was struggling with the pewter cauldron in his arms, full of potion’s supplies, the other four books, and the brass scales and telescope required for first years. Stiles’ robes were draped over his father’s arm, and his wand was in his other shoe. When they waddled over to the community fireplaces, the few people in line chuckled and let them pass, even throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fire place for them, where they only had to step in and say their address.

---

The drive to King’s Cross on September first was almost tense- Stiles was incredibly excited, but he was also going to really miss his dad. He stared out the window the entire trip, opening his mouth nearly half a dozen times in the short time it took them to get to the train station. His father parked the car, and soon, they were pushing Stiles’ cart, loaded with his trunk and Striggy’s cage, towards Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Once they arrived between platforms, they waited as an older boy ran through the barrier. Stiles stood on the left, his father on the right, as they ran and pushed the cart through the barrier, appearing on the other side.  

A scarlet steam engine loomed over the crowd of people wishing off their children and groups of friends talking on the platform. Stiles turned to his dad. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t. He was just going away till winter, then he’d see his dad again. “Make sure you eat vegetables, not that fried stuff you like, it’s not good for your heart, and don’t drink too much- and remember that Striggy’s gonna wait around till you write me back and he’s probably gonna want a treat so I left you some in the desk drawer and-”

His dad chuckled, but he looked like he might start tearing up too, so Stiles didn’t feel so bad. “Who’s the parent here, huh?” and then hugged Stiles, who hugged him back tightly. “Don’t get in trouble, don’t sneak out to go to any crime scenes- I don’t even know how you managed that the first time- and just- be good Stiles.”

Stiles was about to scoff and say he was always good, but then he said, “Okay. I think I have to go now, I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Stiles,” he said, and hugged him again, and waved Stiles off as Stiles boarded the train.  

“I’ll write you!” Stiles called as he dragged his trunk to one of the train doors. He turned behind him to look at the steps and then looked back at his trunk. He put Striggy’s cage inside, and tried to lift the trunk up, with his scrawny eleven year old arms. Striggy hooted, and Stiles shot him a glare, and grumbled, “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Need help with that?” someone asked, making Stiles look up. An older boy was standing in front of him- Stiles suspected he was either a sixth or seventh year- with his arms crossed. He had dark hair and green eyes, and hadn’t changed into his robes yet, like Stiles. He was going to change on the train because his dad reminded him that they were supposed to keep magic a secret, and robes weren’t exactly inconspicuous.

“Yeah, thanks!” he said, and took one side of the trunk, while the older boy took the other end, and they lifted it into the compartment.  

“No problem,” he huffed, and pushed the trunk in a little farther. He nodded to Stiles, who was climbing in after the trunk, then turned and headed down the train to a different door. 

Stiles pulled his cart down the hall till he saw a mostly empty compartment, where another boy his age was sitting and staring out the window. The door was open, so Stiles stepped in, and said, “Hey, is this compartment free?”

The boy turned towards him, and his face lit up with a grin, “Yeah, yeah sure!”

Stiles groaned and pulled the trunk inside, and moved it to the corner of the compartment, towards the other boy’s. Stiles turned his head to read the name written on the top of the trunk. It was in neat, almost pretty handwriting, so his mom probably wrote it. “Scott McCall,” he read. 

“Hi,” he said, still grinning. 

“I’m Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles said, plopping down across from him, both of them sitting near the window. 

Scott peered out the window, “Can you believe we’re actually going to Hogwarts? We have magic wands and we’re going to get to do spells, and I mean, I don’t really like being away from my mom but I’m sure she’ll be fine, right?”

Stiles nodded, peering out the window. His dad was chatting with a woman in a long sweater and jeans, her long curly hair pulled back. She looked like she was laughing, and he was grinning. He looked up, and saw Stiles and Scott watching, and he waved. “Yeah, I know the feeling. I don’t really wanna be away from my dad either,” he said, sitting back, “but I can’t wait! My mom was always pretty good at Herbology and Charms and I hope I am too.” 

Scott was nodding along, when his stomach growled, and he looked up, “Sorry. I didn’t eat this morning, I was too excited. 

“I think my dad packed me a snack,” Stiles said, “I’m kinda hungry too. I ate pretty early.” Stiles rifled around in his bag for a snack, and pulled out a little red and white striped box, "Oh my god I have the best dad ever!" Stiles said, scooting up to the edge of the seat, "My mom used to bring them home!"

"So... your mom's a witch?" Scott said, looking interested.

Stiles' face fell. "She was. She, um, got some wizarding disease a year ago, and passed away a couple of months ago."

"Oh," Scott said, "I’m sorry. I had no idea I was a wizard. My mom isn't, but she thinks my dad might have been."

"Might have been?"

"Yeah he left us when I was two," he shrugged. Stiles offered the bag out to him, and Scott took a few, popping one into his mouth, and scrunching up his nose. “What kind of jelly beans are these?”

Stiles laughed, "Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. What flavor did you get?"

"Toenail. They really come in every flavor, don’t they?"

Stiles nodded, and pulled one out of the bag that was a light purple, "Ooh how much you wanna bet this is aubergine?"

"Aubergine?"

Stiles started chewing on it, and then spit it out into his hand, "Gross, it's wolfsbane!"

Scott scrunched up his nose, "How do you know what wolfsbane tastes like?"

"They're enchanted so you know what they are once you've tasted them. That's what my mom said, anyway. She worked in the Ministry of Magic," Stiles said proudly, Scott nodded along.

"My mom's a nurse," he said.

Stiles scooted to the edge of his seat, "A regular nurse? Or one at St. Mungo's?"

Scott looked at him, "What's St. Mungo's?" 

Stiles opened his mouth to answer Scott, but the door slid open, hitting the frame with a loud shutter, and both of them turned their heads to the door. A blonde girl who looked about their age was standing in the doorway, a fluffy cat in her arms, with a bigger black boy behind her, who looked like he was carrying both of their luggages. She said, her accent Scottish, “I’m Erica. This is Boyd,” she thumbed behind her, releasing one of her arms, and then put it back around her cat. She marched in, and said, “This’ll do. Move over,” she ordered Stiles, who reluctantly did, squishing into the side of the compartment as Erica spread out over the seat. 

Boyd followed in after her, the door shutting behind him. He put his owl’s cage on the ground at Erica’s feet, and started to put their bags in the rack above the seats. He sat down next to Erica, and he crossed his arms, making Stiles wish he had more room to scoot over. Scott, though, sat up, and grinned brightly at them, “Hi, I’m Scott,” he said. 

“I’m Stiles,” Stiles said, and Erica turned to them and flashed them a grin. Neither of them had changed into their uniforms yet, like both he and Scott.  

“Hi,” Boyd said, speaking for the first time. Okay, he didn’t actually sound as scary as he looked, his accent was the same as Erica’s, Stiles figured they probably met before the train. Stiles looked out the window at the clock on the station’s wall, and saw that it was a quarter to eleven. All of the late arrivals, and the people who had been lingering on the platform were starting to board. 

“Did you two know each other before meeting on the platform?” Scott asked.

Boyd nodded, “We met yesterday. Apparently we’ve been neighbors for years. Erica’s mom was having trouble stuffing her trunk in the back of their car, and Erica was parading around with her cat,” she flashed them a grin, and stroked her cat’s head.

“And Boyd offered to help and asked if I was going to Hogwarts too, and here we are,” she finished for him. 

A moment later, there was a light knocking on the door, instead of the door simply being opened. The boy on the other side of the door didn’t seem like he was planning on entering until someone said something, so Scott looked around, and then called out tentatively, “Come in?” 

The door was pushed open, and a skinny boy with wild curly hair stepped in, carrying the scraggliest, oldest owl Stiles had ever seen. He didn’t even know owls could live that long. Either it had been in his family for years, or he’d bought it extremely second handedly. Judging by the state of his robes, it was probably the latter. He wasn’t judging, he promised, he was just observing. His brain just kinda went wild sometimes. The boy rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and asked, “Is there a seat open?”  

His expression was wided eyed and blown open and he looked like he was about to be told no, go somewhere else, even though there was clearly an empty seat and Scott’s bleeding heart made him scoot over and say, “Yes, of course.”  

As soon as Boyd and Scott helped the boy move his things over to the quickly growing mound in the corner, and the boy introduced himself as Isaac, a girl was knocking on the frame, the door still open. Her cheeks were flushed pink, because she’d been recognized as the deputy headmaster’s daughter in all the other compartments she’d passed and had to travel through the entire train to find one where she wasn’t. Standing there in the doorway, feeling slightly awkward, she asked, “Is that seat-” she said, pointing to the space between Isaac and Scott. 

Scott, who’d been gaping up at her, quickly nodded, “Yeah- yeah,” he said, and scooted over to the corner, so she could sit next to him. 

She flashed him a smile, and pushed her long wavy hair behind her ear, and said, “I’m Allison.”

“Scott,” Scott said, grinning at her shyly.

“Isaac,” Isaac nodded. 

“I’m Stiles.”

“I’m Boyd, that’s Erica,” Boyd said, and she smiled.

The door to the compartment was pushed open again, and a blond boy, followed by a brunet, stepped into the compartment, “I want my own seat,” he demanded. “Or at least most of one, move over. All of the other compartments were completely full. I told my mother to leave earlier,” he said, as if he expected everyone to be sympathetic of him. 

The other boy sighed, and shook his head, "Sit down asshole,” sitting down next to Stiles. He held out his hand as they all stared at him, because he cursed, and said, "I’m Danny. That’s Jackson."  

"I’m Stiles," he said, shaking Danny’s hand. He’d never really shaken the hand of someone his own age before, that was rather grown up. Well, he was going off to Hogwarts. Jackson huffed, and pushed his trunk next to the others, and sat down next to Isaac, Allison giving him a sympathetic smile.

“I’m Scott,” Scott said, “That’s Allison,” he pointed, and she gave a little wave, “Erica,” she only half looked up, unimpressed, “Boyd, and Isaac.”

“I’m really getting tired of introducing myself,” Stiles sighed, “Maybe I should get ‘Stiles’ tattoed on my forehead.” 

“Maybe!” Scott said, “I think I want to get a tattoo when I’m older.” 

There was another knock on the door, a redhead girl this time, and Stiles recognized her as the girl from Diagon Alley. It was fate! 

Erica called cheerfully, “Come in!"

Jackson hissed, “There’s already eight people in here.” 

She shot him a grin, and said, “She can sit with you.”

The girl said, with a thick Irish accent and her head held high, "Is there any room?"  

Allison smiled and said, "Sure!"  

Scott hurried to squish into the wall because Allison, and so the girl sat down, making it five people to a row, and it was nearly uncomfortable, but they were skinny, eleven, and fit. 

Stiles was practically falling all over himself to introduce himself to her, “I’m- I’m Stiles-” he said.

“I’m Lydia Martin,” she said, setting her owl’s cage at her feet, “Stay still, Prada, you know how you get when you travel.”

“Jackson,” Jackson said turning to her, his scowl turning into a sly grin, she being the first person he’d seemed interest in the slightest in the compartment, other than Danny.  

The rest of the group introduced themselves, and the train started up, parents waving their goodbyes, kids hanging out the window. Stiles yelled goodbye to his dad, and Erica and Boyd got the window for a moment, yelling goodbye to their parents and Boyd’s little sister, and then Allison peeked out the window, and waved at her mom. Lydia stayed poised in her seat, looking at her nails, and Isaac had slouched back.  

Jackson had crossed his arms, and sighed, “I can’t believe I’m stuck with all of you. This is going to be a long trip.”

---

Contrary to Jackson’s belief, the group ended up having a good time. A few people in the compartment expressed their worries that they were going to be behind, because they hadn’t practiced anything before starting school. But once they all said they were a bit worried- except for Jackson, who only expressed his superiority, and Lydia, who said she’d read all of the school books already- everyone seemed to realize that no one knew anything hardly at all, and they weren’t alone. Erica’s cat, Seline, got loose at one point, jumping from lap to lap, until she finally ended up on an upper rack and fell asleep, and then at about twelve thirty, the trolley stopped by. 

A smiling woman opened the door to their compartment, and said, “Anything off the cart?” 

Boyd, Allison, Jackson and Danny stood up immediately, and formed a little line, Jackson getting both pumpkin juice and Cauldron Cakes, Danny just getting a couple of Chocolate Frogs, and Allison getting a whole pile of Licorice Wands. When it was Boyd’s turn, Erica called, “Get me some Pumpkin Pasties- and Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum!” He got a few things, paid the woman, and sat back down, after shutting the door. 

“No, Todd!” Scott suddenly said, reaching forward as something leaped out of his pocket, and in Stiles’ direction. Stiles nearly jumped, but looked down and saw that a toad had jumped into his lap.

Stiles picked it up, and said, “Uh, hi, Todd,” handing it back to Scott. Allison smiled as Scott put it back in his pocket, and offered him a Licorice Wand. He took it, and smiled at her.

“Thanks, Stiles,” Scott said, breathing a sigh of relief. “My mom’s not a witch and she wanted me to have a pet, and so I got Todd,” he explained.

“So,” Danny said, “what about all of you guys?”

“What about us?” Erica said, leaning on Boyd’s shoulder, stealing his pumpkin pasties from his lap. He just let her. 

“Are your parents wizards? Where are you from?” Jackson shot out. Erica stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Boyd and I are from Hawick, Scotland,” she said, as if her accent wasn’t obvious enough. “We lived in the same neighborhood our entire lives, and we didn’t know it. And then suddenly I’m about to leave, and he comes right up and introduces himself!” she said, stuffing another pasty in her mouth. “My mom’s a squib,” she said, swallowing, “She was really proud when I started showing signs of magic. She even cried on the platform,” she said, shrugging. 

“My parents are muggles,” Boyd said, taking a pastie for himself.

“My mom was a wizard,” Stiles said, “My dad is a DI in Scotland Yard.”

Isaac said, “Neither of my parents were magic, I don’t think. My dad certainly isn’t. It’s just another reason for him to think I’m a freak,” he said, shrugging. Allison patted his leg, and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“My parents are both magic, we come from pretty far down the line,” she said, a small, sheepish smile on her face. A nice way to say her family was pureblood, Stiles noticed. “We live in Yorkshire, most of the time. Although we moved there a couple of years ago, from Wales, and before that, Edinburgh,” she said.

“Well, my family is pureblood,” Jackson said proudly. “I live in Falmouth- you know, home of the Falmouth Falcons. My father was on the team till I was nine. Now he manages them.”

“He was adopted,” Danny scoffed, and rolled his eyes when Jackson glared. “His birth parents were both wizards, though. Mine were too, but they were both born from muggle parents. I live over in Falmouth with Jackson.”

“What about you Lydia?” Danny prompted.

“My parents are muggles. Mostly. I’m from Kildare, Ireland.”

“Mostly?” But Lydia didn’t say another word on it.

Danny started opening the chocolate frogs he bought, and the first one managed to escape him as he looked down at his card- Circe, Stiles had two at home- jumping over to the window. “Oh no you don’t!” he said, grabbing it. 

Scott scrunched up his nose, “Is that alive?” 

Allison shook her head, “No, they’re just magic, don’t worry.”

He shook his head, “I don’t think I’ll be eating any of those.”

She laughed, and offered him another Licorice Wand, and then one to Isaac and Lydia, the latter turning it down. 

A few minutes later, with a few of them holding conversations between themselves or looking out the window, Danny took out his rat and let it run up and down his arm, "What's his name?" Scott asked. He’d always really liked animals, and maybe wanted to work as a vet or something one day, before he’d found out that all those weird things he’d done as a child, like turning the padlock on the neighbor’s fence into a frog, really meant he was a wizard.

"I haven't named him yet," Danny said, watching him scurry down his arm to his hand. He glanced up at Jackson, "I think I might name him Jackson." 

Jackson blanched, "Keep that thing away from me if you want to keep it." Danny snickered, putting Jackson the rat back in his pocket. 

“Jackson it is.”

---

Eventually, they decided, that since they were nearly at the school they’d better change. The girls left to change in a different compartment, while the boys changed in theirs. After about twenty minutes, the girls came back, and sat back down.  

“How long do you think it’s going to be till we get there?” Stiles asked, looking out the window. It was already getting dark, but it was still light enough to see the shapes of things outside. The lights in the train had come on almost an hour ago.

“Probably not too long, right? It’s only in Scotland,” Danny said.  

A moment later, the door slid open, and a seventh year girl stuck her head in, her long dark hair sweeping down. She flashed them a wolfish grin- Stiles didn’t know why, but when she smiled, he really did get the impression that a wolf was staring right at him- and looked around the compartment. “Hi, I’m Laura Hale,” she said, “And I’m this year’s Head Girl! I’m also a Gryffindor Prefect, and if your head is spinning and you don’t know what any of that means, don’t worry, someone will explain it to you when you arrive!” She smiled again, still wolfish, and asked, “Are you guys doing alright?”

Most of them nodded, and Stiles said, “Yep!”

She flashed him a grin, and said, “We’re nearly there, so I’m glad to see you’ve all changed into your uniforms.”

She disappeared for a moment, and then called out to somebody, “Oh we are?” and then stuck her head back inside. “It looks like we’re here! I’ll see you all at Hogwarts!”

--- 

A voice came over the entire train, “We have reached Hogwarts. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

Stiles looked around. He was okay with leaving his trunk- it was just a trunk, he could always get a new one if something happened, not that he expected anything to, really, this was Hogwarts- but he was rather hesitant to leave Striggy. Danny still had Jackson the rat in his pocket, and Scott’s pocket was looking rather bouncy, but Striggy was kinda big to fit in his pocket, so he reluctantly left him on the seat, and shuffled out into the hallway with Scott by his side.

They managed to get out onto the tiny platform, where a black, bald man with a torch was saying, “First years, first years this way!” he yelled, and once it seemed everyone was there, he yelled, “This way, first years! Mind your step!” and lead them down a path, where he said, “Right about- ah, yes, here’s your first view of Hogwarts.” 

Stiles heard the first years collectively gasp- himself included. The castle- and it really was a castle, not a modern palace- with high towers and lit windows, illuminated the black lake, where about fifteen little boats were docked. The man said, “Everyone into a boat, no more than four to a boat,” and climbed in one himself. Stiles and Scott, who were following him closely, stepped into his. There wasn’t any more room, since the man was a full-grown adult, and was probably the size of two first years, so the other kids piled into the other ones. Stiles didn’t see where the other kids he’d met on the train were sitting, but soon enough, the man said, “Everyone ready? Forward!” he commanded, and the boats started on across the black lake. 

Stiles and Scott stared up in wonder, as they passed under a curtain of ivy. “Um, Mister-” Scott started. 

“Professor Deaton,” the man supplied.

“-Professor Deaton,” Scott said, in wonder, “Do we get to do this every year?” 

Professor Deaton chuckled, and said, “No, just this once.” They’d reached the bank underneath the school, and he stepped out of the boat, the trail of students following behind him, up the steps and to giant oak doors, where he knocked loudly. 

They were opened seconds later, by a man in his late thirties, with sandy hair and blue eyes. He was smiling proudly at them, and Deaton said, “The first years, Chris.”

Chris nodded, and said, “Thank you, Alan, I’ll take it from here. I’ll see you at the feast,” and Deaton stepped past him, and disappeared into the building. “Follow me,” he said, leading them into a hall, where he stopped, and faced them, looking over them, and meeting the eyes of all of the students. At one point, he lingered on one person behind Stiles, and widened his grin, looking particularly proud. Of who, or what, he didn’t know.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Chris said, raising his arms in flourish, then bringing them back down. “I’m Professor Argent, professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Deputy Headmaster to the school. Momentarily,” he said, “the start-of-term feast will begin, but preceding that is the Sorting Ceremony. There are four houses here at Hogwarts- Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Each house produces great wizards, set to different standards, but no more great or less than another. 

“While attending here, these houses will be your home, where you sleep, with whom you eat, and the places you spend your free time. When you succeed, you will earn house points, when you commit wrongs, you will lose them. They go towards winning the house cup at the end of the year,” he smiled one final time, and said, “Good luck. I’ll come back when we’re ready for you.” He turned around, his black robes swishing, their red lining peeking out.

Stiles turned to Scott, just as everyone else started up a low murmur, “Do you think it’ll be hard?” 

“What’ll be hard?” Scott said, looking down from where he was peering at the castle. 

“The Sorting Ceremony!”

“Oh I don’t know,” Scott said, “I think he’s coming back-” he said, and nudged Stiles shoulder, as Professor Argent stepped back into the hall.

“Follow me,” he said, leading them up a set of stairs, then to a pair of great doors, and into the Great Hall. Everyone was watching them, but Stiles was looking everywhere else but at them- how could they look away from everything in the room? The ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky, and candles bobbed freely in the air above the four tables laden with glittering silverware and dishes. Argent lead the fifty new students to a place in front of the teachers- thirteen sitting with the headmaster, and facing the other students. 

Professor Argent placed a small, four-legged stool in front of them, and then placed a dirty, worn hat on top of it. Stiles peered at it from where he stood, nearly at the end of the line. For a few moments, the entire room was silent, and then the hat perked up. The hat perked up. He turned as though it were looking at all of the tables, and then a tear opened near the brim, like a mouth, and started to sing.

“A cap of silver,

A bonnet of gold, 

Could never beat,

This hat so old.

For I have seen the men,

Who’s names adorn these walls,

The women who stood tall,

And let out the first calls.

Brave, brave Gryffindor,

Who may stand behind you,

Bold and strong,

Even when all others are through;

Mighty Slytherin,

With ambition like water in a pond,

Sees only the great, 

And will never be conned;

Oh wise Ravenclaw,

Let not words flow from your maw,

When you speak only in riddles and rhymes,

Without thinking of others in time;

Loyalist Hufflepuffs,

Will stand with you till the end,

Needless of askance,

Or assurance of wins.

Don’t be afraid,

Step only nearer,

I won’t bite,

I can’t be any clearer!”

The crowd burst into applause, and it bowed to all four tables, but Stiles was still staring at the hat like it was crazy. That was an awful song, but, he guessed, they didn’t want to disappoint it?

Professor Argent stepped forward, holding a rolled up parchment, and said, “When I call your name, please step forward, sit on the stool, and place the hat on your head to get started.” He smiled reassuringly, and then started calling out names. Stiles was almost bouncing- he really hoped for Gryffindor, he’d heard they were best and the bravest, and his mother had been one herself. But Ravenclaw didn’t sound too bad either, he supposed, disregarding the song. 

“Anderson, Heather!” he called out, and a blonde girl stepped forward, sitting on the stool, hat placed on her head. Stiles recognized her- they’d been childhood playmates, their mothers old school friends. He hadn’t seen her since the funeral. The hat took nearly twenty seconds to decide.

“HUFFLEPUFF,” the hat shouted, and she hopped off to her new table, which welcomed her with open arms.

Professor Argent was positively beaming when he called the next name, “Argent, Allison.” She was looking down, nearly blushing as she took her seat. The Deputy Headmaster’s daughter, Stiles thought. 

As soon at the hat was placed on her head, maybe ten seconds later, it yelled out, “GRYFFINDOR!” and she was beaming, stepping towards a cheering table, where people were patting her on the back and cheering, saying they would expect anything else from their head of house’s daughter. 

“Boyd, Vernon,” was called next, and he looked murderous all the way up there.

“GRYFFINDOR!” was shouted nearly immediately, going to sit across from Allison. 

“Brimble, Arthur.”

“GRYFFINDOR!” 

“Callahan, Braeden.” 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Daehler, Matt.”

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat shouted, and having been the first Slytherin of the night, the Slytherin table exploded with cheers, welcoming him.

“Faure, Danielle.” 

“HUFFLEPUFF!” She went to go sit next to her friend, Heather.

“Hale, Cora,” was called, her long brown hair loose on her shoulders, and Stiles wondered if she was the younger sister of the Laura Hale they’d met on the train.

“GRYFFINDOR!” she flashed them a grin, and went to sit next to two people at the end of the table, almost isolated from the rest of the table. One of the people was the girl from the train, hugging her sister, and the other- was the boy who’d helped him with his trunk. Another Hale? Stiles wondered. And why were they so far apart from the others? 

It wasn’t so much of a physical separation, even though there was a slight one of those, as though the people sitting on that end of the table purposely move their plates away to the point where they wouldn’t feel too close to them, without ostracizing them completely. And then there was the way everyone was acting at the end of the table- as though the three didn’t exist, after Cora was sorted, and others continued on being sorted, like they were at a table of their own.

“Jones, Caitlin,” he said, and Stiles wasn’t sure how long he’d zoned out for. The line was thinner than it had been before. 

“RAVENCLAW!”

A few more were sorted until someone Stiles recognized was being called, “Lahey, Isaac.” Isaac glanced nervously at the chair, like he expected to be told it was all a mistake, and then stepped over, taking a seat. He placed the hat on his head, and after a few seconds, was sorted.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” He looked relieved as he stepped towards the Hufflepuff table, hands in his pockets, trying to appear smaller, but a smile on his face. 

“Mahealani, Daniel,” was next and sat for a few moments. He was very nearly sorted into Slytherin, with consideration to Gryffindor too, but then the sorting hat decided against it. 

“RAVENCLAW!”

Then next up- “Martin, Lydia.” She stepped forward, and sat on the stool, and had the hat placed upon her head. She was very nearly a hatstall, sitting there for nearly three minutes, the hat deciding between her heart and her brain, eventually letting her choose.

“RAVENCLAW!” she hopped off the stool, and walked towards her new table with a smile on her face, and her head held high. She sat next to Danny, and the two of them watched the rest of the sortings. 

“McCall, Scott,” was called, and he took a deep breath.

“Good luck, buddy,” Stiles whispered, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said, and stepped over to the hat, sitting down. For a moment, the hat briefly considered sorting him into Gryffindor, but then the hat announced otherwise.

“HUFFLEPUFF.”

A few more people were sorted, then another face Stiles recognized, “Reyes, Erica.” She flashed the tables a grin, as if she already knew where she was going to be sorted, and then sat down with her legs crossed. 

“SLYTHERIN!” it called, and she smirked, like it was exactly what she was expecting, and slid over to her table, where she was welcomed like the parting of seas.

One or two more were called, then- “Stilinski, Stiles.” He let out a sigh of relief that they got his letter asking them to refer to him as Stiles while at school. His head was buzzing with excitement, and he couldn’t remember if he’d remembered to take his adderall that morning, but at that point he didn’t care. He practically bounded over to the Sorting Hat, and put it on. 

After a moment, it said in his ear, “Hmmm, difficult. You possess outstanding loyalty, worthy of a Hufflepuff, but- bravery and acceptance of Gryffindor himself. Ah, yes, I think you would make a much better GRYFFINDOR!” it shouted, and Stiles grinned as the Gryffindor table started cheering, not deterred the slightest in their cheering by the fact they’d already received several new students. His gaze briefly flicked to the end of the table where the trio were sitting, but then Allison was calling his name, and he moved to sit by the familiar face smiling up at him. 

After Stiles, there were only a few more first years left to be sorted. “Swern, James,” was called next, and was sorted into Gryffindor, coming to sit a few people down from Stiles, then, “West, Emily,” joined Heather and Danielle at Hufflepuff.

Finally it was the last of the familiar faces, “Whittemore, Jackson,” he smirked as he sat, eyeing the Slytherin table. The hat hadn’t nearly touched his head when it called out.

“SLYTHERIN!”

And that was the end of the sorting, Professor Argent rolled up the scroll again, and whisked both the chair and the Sorting Hat away. Then, the headmaster stood up. It was the first time Stiles had really gotten a good look at the head table. Most of the teachers were, surprisingly, rather young. There were a few older ones, such as a plump, redhead woman, who was probably in her fifties, and a thin, tall man, with salt and pepper hair. The headmaster, who was in a bright blue robe, waited for a moment, and said, “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Now, let the feast begin!” 

And with that, food magically appeared on the table. Every kind of chicken, and beef, steaks, potatoes, fries, puddings, vegetables like carrots and beans, meat pies, sausages, and farther down the tables, there were salads and rolls. It didn’t just look delicious, it looked magical, and Stiles- like the rest of the table- couldn’t wait to start. Stiles piled his plate high; much higher than he could ever hope to eat, because there was plenty for everyone, so he didn’t mind taking as much as he wanted to be able to eat. 

Everyone was talking at the table- a few people were talking about their parents, lessons, and asking what their friends did over the summer. Boyd still looked furious at his name being used, so Stiles joked, “Hey, your name isn’t nearly as bad as my name!”

Boyd looked at him, “Your name is Stiles.”

“Actually, it’s not, and no, I will not tell you what it really is. I just asked the headmaster to call me by my nickname.”

Allison looked up from her corn, wiping her hands on the napkin in her lap, “It’s really not that bad, Boyd, I promise." 

He shook his head, and muttered, “You should hear my full name.” She smiled at him, and a moment later, as everyone was nearly finished eating, the dishes transformed into sweets. Cakes, eclairs, puddings, pies- there were bowls of ice cream, bars of chocolates. Stiles had never seen so many sweets on a single table in his entire life. There was probably more than in the candy shop in Diagon Alley. 

Piling things on his plate- a slice of cake, a dollop of pudding, a scoop of ice cream- Stiles turned to Allison, “So, your dad is the deputy headmaster?” Stiles asked, taking a bite out of a piece of shortcake.

Allison nodded, but then quickly said, “He’s not going to give me special treatment or anything!” shaking her head.  

After a few minutes, Stiles feeling incredibly full, the sweets disappeared too, and the headmaster stood up again. He cleared his throat, and said, “Now, the start-of-term notices: the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students, all years. And secondly, quidditch trials will be held the second week of the term. Speak with Coach Finstock if you wish to try for your team. Now, off to bed.” 

“First years this way!” a sixth year said, standing up. He had a little silver P pinned to his shirt.  

“Must be a prefect,” Allison whispered, standing up. Stiles and Boyd followed after her. They followed the prefect, who introduced himself as Rupert Birtwistle. Following him up to Gryffindor tower was certainly interesting. All the paintings moved, which Stiles was only a little used to. His mother had a picture of her parents, but they were too conspicuous to display out in the open when his dad had muggle friends stopping by.  

When they’d neared the entrance, a stream of ghosts came swooping by, making several students scream, and Stiles felt queasy when one ran right through him. At the entrance, the password Rupert told the fat lady was ‘hedwig’. 

Stepping into the common room, Rupert said, “This will be the place where you spend your free time, study, and this,” he pointed to the staircases, “is where you’re going to sleep. Boys on this side, girls on the other. Good night.”

Stiles and Boyd, along with three other boys, went up one side, while Allison went up the other, with a few others following. They found their trunks had already arrived, and it being late, and such a tiring day, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. He was wondering about his other friends- Scott and Lydia especially. What were their common rooms like? Did they look like this, just in yellow or blue? Stiles fell asleep thinking about them, and what the possibility of tomorrow was going to bring. 

---

The first day of classes started with Defense Against the Dark Arts, with Hufflepuff, being taught by Allison’s dad. She’d sat at the back of the class, trying to avoid being called on. Then, along with another two times a week, they had Herbology with the Ravenclaws, which was taught by Harry Dippet, the older man Stiles had seen at the Head Table. 

They also had Transfiguration, which was taught by the Slytherin head of house, Emma Vanity. She looked every bit of the Slytherin she was, long black hair and sharp green eyes, and a cat perched on her desk. She smiled at them, and then turned her cat, Stark, into a chair, that she had one of the students sit in. Apparently, it was very chair-like. Solid. Wicker-y. (The kid was from a muggle family. He was still amazed magic exists.) 

She then said, “I am the Slytherin head of house. I may, at times, show favoritism towards my own students, as all of your head of houses will, but I will not tolerate bigotry, narrow mindedness, or mistreatment of your fellow students, especially from my own students,” she said, her sharp gaze meeting with various students, including Stiles and Jackson, the latter of whom rolled his eyes. “Ah, Mr. Whittemore, thank you for volunteering.” She then proceeded to have him demonstrate the spell to turn a match into a needle. It didn’t do anything, and he returned to his seat, red-faced. 

Erica leaned over and whispered, “I like her.” By the end of the class, no one had even made the matches look slightly pointed.  

The same day, they had History of Magic, again with the Slytherins, and Stiles nearly fell asleep in the class it was so boring. It was being taught by a ghost, which was cool at first, but then everyone realized that he was just as boring as the subject he taught. 

Stiles had Charms with the Ravenclaws, which was taught by Professor Meredith Kettlewig, the plump redheaded woman from the Head Table, and Hufflepuff head of house. As she was instructing them, Stiles noticed Lydia’s wand for the first time. He said, recognizing it, “Hey, Lydia, is that the wand from Ollivander’s window?” 

She flicked it in his face, and said, proudly, “Yes it is,” and then proceeded to complete the charm she was attempting with flourish. Kettlewig actually clapped. She was possibly the only one in their entire year who knew anything. Stiles was pretty sure he loved her. 

Stiles’ last class on Tuesday was Flying Lessons, taught by Coach Finstock, who, by the end of the lesson, Stiles was sure was actually insane. Halfway through teaching the lesson about how to call their broomsticks, he started yelling, “No, Greenberg, no questions. Just pick up your broom! Say up!” and ran off to the side, waving his wand.

A few people looked around and Stiles whispered to Scott, "I don't remember there being a Greenberg at the sorting." 

Scott, who’d been looking around too, said, “There wasn’t. Maybe he failed before?” 

Stiles shrugged, and then held his hand over his broom, yelling, “Up!” It didn’t move.

Scott tried it, yelling, “Up!” It didn’t work for him either. Stiles was staring it down, hoping to intimidate it into submission, while he commanded it. After a while, Stiles got it, then Scott, as well as most of the other students. By the end of the lesson, they were flying- even if it was just a few feet in the air- and it was amazing- Stiles was pretty sure he never wanted to walk again. Scott thought it was fun, and couldn’t wait to be allowed to have a broom of his own. 

Stiles did not like potions. It was taught by Professor Harris, who had been a Ravenclaw when he went to Hogwarts, but he and Scott figured something must have gone horribly wrong, because if Stiles had been the Sorting Hat, he certainly would have sorted him into Slytherin. He started the class by separating them all into partners- Scott and Stiles, Allison and Isaac, and then Boyd and Cora. Allison seemed to be decent at potion making, but she was the only one. Isaac stared around, lost, as Allison crushed snake fangs, and Scott attempted to figure out how to light the fire. 

Stiles was weighing dried nettles when Professor Harris came up behind him, and said, with a sigh, “Mr. Stilinski,” making Stiles jump and spill the nettles all over the floor. Stiles scrambled after them, and Harris said, with another sigh, “I was hoping that this year you would all be competent, at least. I am disappointed I was wrong.” 

Midnight on Wednesday, all first years met atop the Astronomy Tower, for Astronomy. When Scott and Stiles arrived, the teacher, Professor Cassiopeia Grinspun, who was wearing long, flowy robes, was already there, looking up at the stars. She spent the entire first class pointing out the different constellations, and telling the history of each. Her class was okay, Stiles supposed, but Allison and Lydia left the class disliking it. 

---

Once the initial excitement wore off, Stiles started noticing a little more about the school- for one, there was a poltergeist, two, Stiles had never actually seen a Greenberg, and none of his friends ever had either, and three, there was something about those three Stiles saw at the end of the Gryffindor table. Something that no one really seemed to talk about, but everyone apparently seemed to know. From what he’d seen, the older girl- Laura- only had a few friends, and maybe a boyfriend, he wasn’t really sure, and the younger girl, Cora, didn’t seem to have any friends, but she seemed to be warding them off with a glare any time anyone got close to her. The only person she didn’t really seem to mind was Boyd, and Stiles was pretty sure they had become friends. So she had one friend, at least.

But the boy- Stiles didn’t even know his name. He hadn’t seen him in the common room once, even though he knew he was a Gryffindor like his siblings, and he was sure they were siblings, they all looked incredibly alike. But he was determined to figure out what was up with them. 

So at dinner that night, Stiles leaned over to Rupert and asked, “Who are those three at the end of the table? Why don’t they ever sit closer?”

Rupert looked up from his chicken, and quickly swallowed, looking around before leaning in, “Those are the Hales- they’re werewolves.”

“Werewolves!” Stiles yelled out, causing a few people to glance in their direction, before resuming their meal. Rupert shushed him.

“Yes, werewolves, the whole lot of them,” he said, “Everyone knows it. The Hale family has been a family of werewolves for generations. It shouldn’t pass down through the bloodline like that, but for some reason it does with them. The older one is Laura, she’s okay for a werewolf, I guess,” he said, “her brother is Derek, he’s a sixth year like me, but he didn’t want to be friends with us, even before we knew what he was. I think Paige may like him, but he doesn’t even act like he wants to be friends,” he shrugged, “and the younger girl is Cora. I don’t know much about her, she’s in your year. Most people are scared of them. I get why- if they bite you during a full moon, you turn. And even when it isn’t a full moon, they can get really violent. You should see Laura on the pitch.”

Watching them from his end of the table, Stiles felt drawn to the mysterious Derek, who’d seemed nice enough when helping him get his luggage on the train, but now looked like Broody McBrooderson. After dinner, he went straight to the library, and checked out at least ten books that had any sort of information on werewolves. 

---

He struggled back to the room later that night, mumbling to himself how he really wished wizards knew how to use internet. He stayed up all night reading about werewolves, and the next morning, his roommates- Boyd, Arthur Brimble, Clive Kerr, and James Swern- all woke up to paper littered around his bed, books piled everywhere, and a mostly-awake Stiles. 

Boyd looked at everything, and asked, “What happened here?”

Stiles looked him in the eye, and said, “Werewolves. Werewolves happened here.” 

Boyd shook his head, and said, “You’re really weird,” and headed down to breakfast. The group headed down after Boyd, shaking their heads, and eventually Stiles followed them. 

Stiles sat with Allison and Boyd at breakfast, as usual, but watched the Hales out of the corner of his eye, and as soon as Derek stood up, Stiles got up and followed him. He chased after him and out of the hall, finally catching up with him. 

“Hey, Derek!” he said, making Derek stop and turn to face him. 

He was frowning, and said, “Uh- Stiles?”

Stiles grinned, “Hey, you know my name!”

“Professor Argent called it out in front of the entire school,” he said, and then, “What do you want?”

“I wanna say thanks for helping me with my trunk on the train-” 

“You’re welcome,” he said, and tried to turn, but Stiles grabbed his arm. Derek jerked back, like he’d been burned- or maybe like he was going to burn Stiles. Wow, he was pretty muscular. Stiles would have thought he would have been like, really thin or something, with all that frowning and brooding he did. Stiles wasn’t jealous or anything, no way, he was big for an eleven year old!

“No that’s not everything!” he said quickly, in case Derek might try to leave again. “I want us to be friends! Werewolves are cool, I read up on them last night and-”

Derek narrowed his eyes, “It’s not going to happen, Stiles,” and then ran off before Stiles could catch up, disappearing out of his sight.  

Stiles sighed, and stood there for another few minutes till Scott caught up with him, and they headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts together.

---

“Why are we here, Stiles?” Scott asked

“Shh, he’ll hear you!” Stiles said, shushing his friend. 

Scott shook his head, “Wouldn’t want him to know you’re stalking him.” 

“If you ever want help stalking someone, don’t ask me then.”

“Why do you wanna be friends with this guy so bad?” Scott asked, as he looked over his Transfiguration homework. Stiles was watching Derek from behind his propped open book, stealing glances from behind it. Derek had a few books open on the table around him, and apparently he was permanently grumpy, because he’d been glaring down at an essay for half an hour. 

“He just looks so alone,” Stiles said. 

“I think he looks murderous, but whatever you say, Stiles. Maybe he’ll be there for Quidditch practice,” Scott supplied, “Isn’t his sister the team captain?” 

“Oh yeah!” Stiles said, and then frowned at his homework. “How do I even pronounce that?” Scott looked over and shrugged. Stiles looked up, and Derek visibly sighed, flipping the page. Stiles pulled out his telescope from astronomy, and started watching him through it. 

Derek sighed again, and Scott said, not looking up, “He knows you’re watching him.”

“Fine, maybe I’ll go get a new best friend. Like Derek. I’m sure he knows lots of stuff a lame first year like you doesn’t.” Stiles stood up, and swept all the books he’d brought with him into his arms.

“Okay, you go do that, Stiles,” Scott said, laughing, and then called out- quietly, because the librarian wasn’t too far away- “I’ll be here when he turns you down.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out at him, and then turned around, and headed towards Derek’s table.

Derek looked like he wasn’t in a very good mood, but with the amount of homework he looked like he had already, Stiles wouldn’t have been either. He stood looking over the table for a moment, before going with a more direct approach. He dropped his books on the table, and said, “Hi, Derek.”

Derek sighed, not even looking up. He seemed content to ignore Stiles, and Stiles was okay with that. It meant he was making progress. At least Derek wasn’t demanding he leave. Stiles sat down, and then flipped open his History of Magic book, and started to read it, but after half an hour, all the battles started to blur into each other, and Stiles wasn’t sure if Harry Potter had fought in the Goblin Wars, or if the Order of the Phoenix was a mass hallucination by the Salem witches in America. And he was hardly past the introduction.

He groaned, and dropped face-first onto the book, saying, “Kill me now.” He heard Derek sigh, and shift positions- probably more away from Stiles. Stiles poked his head up, and asked, “What are you studying? Are you already writing an essay? Wow.”

Derek sighed, and through gritted teeth, said, “Charms, and yes. Now be quiet so I can finish it.” 

“Sorry!” Stiles said, and then tried on his own Charms reading. It wasn’t hardly any better than History. But soon he was fidgeting again, and tapping his fingers against the table. He glanced over at Derek again, and at A Guide to Medieval Sorcery that was opened next to him. “I didn’t know that was required reading- wait, are you still taking History? I’m going to drop that class as I can. I didn’t know anyone was even taking it at the NEWT levels,” Stiles said, sitting up. 

“I like history,” he said. 

Stiles sat up excitedly, “Then can you help me with it? I keep getting all the goblin rebellions mixed up, and I’m supposed to be reading about the Emeric the Evil, and it would probably be interesting, but Professor Binns just drones on and on and my ADHD doesn’t help-” Stiles said, rambling on.  

“Wait, what’s AHDD?” Derek asked, interrupting him. 

“ADHD? Oh, right, you guys are all wizards and stuff, umm, it’s like, a muggle disorder thing, which I guess wizards can get too.”

“Is it serious?” Derek asked, looking concerned, suddenly. See, he does have a heart, Stiles thought. 

Stiles shook his head frantically, “Nope, it just means I’m- just, um, me? Hyper. And stuff,” he finished lamely.

“Maybe some other time,” Derek said, “I actually have an essay to do.”

“Right,” Stiles nodded. 

--- 

Stiles tried again the next week after classes on Wednesday, which was when Gryffindor had Quidditch practice, because there was no way one grumpy werewolf was going to deter him from friendship with said grumpy werewolf. He had it on good faith that Derek was on the pitch. (He’d asked the ghosts. They were actually really helpful when they liked you.) So he trudged out to the Quidditch pitch. He was really surprised when he only got lost once, going down the wrong staircase, one of the ones that went somewhere different in the afternoons. 

When Stiles got to the pitch, they had already started practicing, and he could tell it was Laura Hale speeding ahead of everyone on her Firebolt. It was still the fastest broomstick in the world, and still really expensive, so he guessed the Hales were probably really wealthy. She was probably speeding after a snitch, but he couldn’t tell, and the chasers were up in the air, as well as the Keeper, but Stiles couldn’t tell where the Beaters were. They might not have been there for practice, but as it was the first practice of the year after the trials where Mary Willows, a fourth year, replaced the old Chaser, he doubted it. Apparently Laura was pretty ruthless. He was pretty sure they were skirmishing, because it looked as though one of the Chasers had taken a post at the opposite team’s goal as acting Keeper. 

He started up the long climb up to the top of the Gryffindor tower, eventually making it up there after a long trek. He was out of breath, so Derek heard him coming as he panted. 

“Stiles?” Derek said, surprised, Unfogging the Future looking untouched beside him. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to watch Quidditch practice. I haven’t really seen any real games before.” 

“Oh,” Derek said, turning back to the practice. 

“Do you come here to watch Quidditch because you like it, or because she’s your sister?” Stiles asked, stepping over the bench to sit down next to him. 

“A little of both,” Derek said, keeping his eyes on Laura. “My family is a really big fan of Quidditch- we usually support England National, but my dad also really likes Bulgaria, since he spent a couple of years there when he was younger.”

Stiles nodded, following Laura as she dove, and then the Bludgers reappeared, she diving under one, and the swerving past the second, as they headed towards the Chasers, one of which was attempting to get the quaffle past the real Keeper. Soon after the Bludgers came the Beaters, who were apparently higher than Stiles had been looking. “Why don’t you play?”

Derek shrugged, “I’ve just never really wanted to play professionally- or as professionally as Hogwarts gets anyway. We used to play a lot as kids, Laura, Cora, and I, as well as my Uncle Peter, and sometimes my cousins. It used to scare my muggle grandma,” Derek chuckled, “when we’d swoop so low it would knock the wig from her head.”

Stiles grinned, and said, “I never really played as a kid, since we lived in an apartment in London, and we never really had anywhere to play. I think I wanna try out for Beater next year, maybe.”

Derek glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and hesitated before saying, “I think I can probably get Finstock to let me teach you sometime, in guise of tutoring.”

Stiles gaped at him, “Really? That would be awesome!” 

But then Laura, who’d perched high above the pitch, and was looking around, spotted a glint down below her. She watched it for a moment, with her sharp eyes, and then she took a nose dive, skidding to a halt, and then holding the Snitch high in the air for them all to see and praise her. She even took a little bow. Stiles and Derek jumped up and started cheering, and she bowed towards them before flying off to talk with her teammates. 

---

Stiles was running late for lunch, but he’d forgotten his book for Charms, and the last time he did that, Professor Kettlewig had tutted at him and had taken five points from Gryffindor. They had to win the House Cup, he couldn’t be the reason they lost this year. Last year, Ravenclaw had won, and Lydia was wonderful and perfect and all, but he had house pride, and they were going to win. Even if it meant crawling around on his hands and knees because he accidentally dropped his wand between the wall and his bed. 

He was mumbling to himself about spiders and possible wads of gum as he groped beneath the bed, Stiles felt a piece of parchment under his hand. He didn’t think he’d lost any homework, and he was pretty sure they cleaned up every year, with cleaning harpies or something, so he didn’t know what it was. He pulled it out with a little difficulty, as it seemed to be stuck in the floorboards, but he managed to dislodge his wand while he was at it.

At first the paper seemed to be entirely blank, only a little strange because it had dozens of flaps and folds, but then as he opened a particular fold, there was something strange. There was a post-it note attached to it- which probably was the weirdest thing of all, because wizards don’t use post-it notes- with a few words written on it.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he read, and then suddenly, it was as though ink bled into the paper, creating various shapes and designs, until it read, ‘The Marauder’s Map.’ Stiles nearly dropped it. But then, he looked a little closer, and he realized it was actually a map of the school- or part of it, at least- as he started to unfold the paper. There were little footsteps passing across the page in various places, but mostly the Great Hall, where everyone was having lunch.

Under the feet was a name, and Stiles realized that not only was it a map, but it tracked everyone in the entire school. Even him. As he turned another flap, the note peeled off, and fell on top of his bed. Stiles picked it up, and then noticed there were more words on the back. He read them aloud with his wand and map in one hand, the note in the other, “Mischief managed.” 

And then the map went blank. Stiles was about to try out the first command, when he remembered what he was doing there in the first place. “Oh s-” he said, and stuffed the map under his pillow, scrambling out of Gryffindor tower, making it to the Great Hall in what he was sure was record time.

When Stiles arrived to his usual seat, Scott was already sitting there. “Hey, Scott, what are you- it doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head, sitting down next to him, “I’ve got to show you something later. Come by after class, you know the password." 

Boyd frowned, braced on his arms, “He’s not supposed to know the password.”

“Oh like Erica doesn’t know the password,” Stiles said, and turned back to Scott. 

---

After Charms with Lydia- well, the Ravenclaws, but Lydia was really the only Ravenclaw he cared about, and he sat next to her anyway- Stiles practically ran back to the Gryffindor common room. Scott didn’t have a class so it would probably take him a few minutes to get up from the Hufflepuff common room- which was down near the kitchens. When Stiles got back to his room, he found he was the first to arrive, so it was safe to pull out the map. He’d been looking at it for a few moments when he head footsteps. He looked up, ready to stuff the map back underneath his pillow, when Scott stumbled in.

“Why are there so many stairs?” he asked, frowning, “I thought my mom’s house had a lot of stairs.”

Stiles shook his head, “Stop complaining and come check this out,” he said, and Scott stepped over, and looked down at the map. “This is the coolest map ever!” 

“What? Where’d you get it?” Scott asked, and turned it over. Just before Scott had arrived, Stiles had mumbled, ‘Mischief managed,’ just in case it had been a teacher or something, and well, seeing the map change was cool.

“I found it! It was under my bed- finders keepers,” Stiles said, “I figure no one’s going to miss it, since the people who slept in here last year graduated, and what are they going to do with a map of Hogwarts, anyway?” 

Scott shrugged, “I guess it’s okay then. What does it do?”

Stiles held it in one hand, and then grinned, “Watch,” he pointed his wand at it, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good!” he said. Then, just like the first time, the ink started to bleed into the paper until the entire map was covered. Scott’s mouth was hanging open, and Stiles grinned again, opening the map further. He spread it out onto the bed, and he and Scott poured over it.

“There’s us!” Scott pointed, “Boyd is in the Gryffindor common room- and there’s Emily-”

“Yeah and there’s Headmaster Davis in his office, and there’s the Slytherin team practicing on the quidditch pitch, and-” Stiles said, and having looked over the map a little bit before, pointed, “I think this is a secret passageway!”

“This is so cool- I can’t wait to tell Allison about this!” Scott said, turning it over. 

Stiles threw up his hands, “No! You can’t tell anybody!”

“... Isaac?”

“Nobody, Scott.”

“Okay,” he said, “I promise.”

--- 

“What are you going to do with it, Stiles?” Scott asked, as the two of them headed down to dinner, their heads bowed together as they walked. 

“I don’t know yet. But there were some secret passages I really wanna check out,” he said.

“Greenberg! Greenberg get back here this instant! You’ll lose twenty house points! GREENBERG!” Coach Finstock yelled, running past Stiles and Scott, making them jerk their heads up, and Stiles looked around quickly to see if anyone had overheard them. 

“Do you think we should turn it in?” Scott asked, “What if someone bad finds it?”

Stiles shot him an incredulous look, “Who’s going to find it, the Dark Lord?”

Scott shook his head, “No, I just mean-” 

He rolled his eyes, “Come on, Scott, I’m hungry!”

Scott’s stomach growled, and he looked down, “Yeah me too.”

--- 

At breakfast a few days later, when the mail owls came swooping in, Striggy dropped a letter into Stiles’ lap. It was the first letter he’d gotten from his dad since school started, and with a piece of toast stuck in his mouth, he ripped it open and read it. His dad asked how school was going, and if he’d made any friends, and that kind of thing that Stiles figured was basic your-child-went-off-to-wizarding-school-for-the-first-time kind of questions. He ended the letter with an, “I miss you, Stiles,” and Stiles made a note to remember to write him back later. 

Along with Stiles’ letter, Allison received something from her mother, dropped by Colly, her snowy owl, and Boyd’s owl Gubbins had also flown by. 

When Stiles looked up to fork a sausage off the tray in the middle of the table, Boyd was laughing, having gotten a letter himself, although not dropped off by Gubbins. Allison looked up from the letter her mother had written, and said, “What’re you laughing about?” 

Boyd chuckled, and said, “Erica’s mom took a bunch of pictures before she left, and she sent me one,” he showed them from across the table. It must have been taken directly after she and her mom had gone school shopping, because the bags were out of focus in the corner of the photo. She was wearing her new robes, and she had her wand in hand, and was smiling exhaustively like people do when they’ve been forced to smile for their parents for long periods of time. But she looked genuinely happy.

“Aww,” Allison said, and laughed. 

It was nearing the end of September, and Stiles knew that the night before had been a full moon, he’d been able to see it from his window. The Hales all looked exhausted, and had looked increasingly more so the week leading up to the transformation. That had been part of what he’d read, the transformation took a lot out of you, and you had to take the Wolfsbane potion every day leading up to every full moon. Apparently it tasted awful, and Stiles wondered where they got it. Apparently it was really hard to make, so even Laura probably couldn’t make it successfully. He wondered who they were getting it from- Harris, maybe? But he wasn’t that nice. He’d probably poison it for them. 

There was Madam Morrell, the head nurse. She actually was a Slytherin, but apparently loves defying stereotypes, and inflicting (unnecessary) pain on deserving kids who did something stupid and got hurt. Stiles was fortunate enough not to have seen her himself, even though Isaac managed to fracture his collarbone while practicing flying. She might be nicer to students who couldn’t help it, but Stiles doubted it. 

Stiles hadn’t been paying attention to them earlier, but when he glanced over, the Hales had gotten little packages each. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Allison asked, “You’re not supposed to go to a different table, even to sit with friends!” she called out.

“I’m not, I’m just going down a little farther. I’ll see you in Defence later!” he waved, and Allison nodded, turning back to her orange juice. Stiles headed down to the end of the table, and stood over Derek’s shoulder. “Hi Derek!” he said, moving to sit beside him. “What’d you guys get?" 

Derek looked like he was ready to tell him to leave again, but Stiles was pretty sure it was all an act. He was warming up to him, Stiles was sure. He instead picked up a small bag of lemon cookies in clear plastic. They looked homemade. “My mom sent them,” he explained. 

From across the table, Laura looked delighted that Stiles had chosen to sit with Derek, “Oh my gods, Derek, I didn’t know you had friends!”

“I don’t,” he said gruffly, but Stiles was absolutely positive that was an act. He was so Derek’s friend. 

“Yes you do!” she squealed, and said, “I’m so writing to mom about this.”

Derek sighed, and looked to Cora, and said, “You too?” she nodded unapologetically. “Everyone in this school is out to get me.” 

“I’m not!” 

“You don’t count, Stiles.”

“Why not?” he protested. 

“Because I’m not even sure what you are yet. You’re weird,” Derek said. 

“I know,” he said, and then confiscated one of Derek’s cookies before he could protest, taking a big bite out of it. 

---

October passed relatively quickly, with lessons getting more interesting- in Potions, which, admittedly, was not Stiles’ best class, they were learning how to brew a Forgetfulness Potion. Stiles and Scott were paired up again, and Scott was waving his wand over the cauldron- Scott’s, since Stiles’ new one hadn’t come in yet from the time Isaac had accidentally added ingredients to their cauldron instead of his and Allison’s, and it burned a hole through the bottom.  

Stiles was setting the timer for the appropriate amount of time for the potion to brew, and leafing through Magical Drafts and Potions. When Scott was finished, he looked up at the board, and groaned. “Twenty questions?”  

Stiles groaned too, “Not again.” 

Scott sighed, “Well we don’t have anything else to do for the next half hour, Stiles,” and flipped open his book. Forty minutes later, the timer went off, and the two of them were back to scrambling for the right ingredients to drop into the cauldron.  

“Two measures of standard ingredient-” Stiles read.

“Okay, got it,” Scott said, and then read the next ingredient, “add four mistletoe berries to the cauldron- wait,” he said, but Stiles had already dropped something in the cauldron.  

Stiles jerked his head up, “What?”

“You weren’t supposed to add those yet! We were supposed to crush them!” Scott said, and grabbed the wooden spoon, “Quick, maybe we can fish them out?”

Stiles took the spoon from him, and stuck it in the cauldron, moving it around, tried to feel for the berries, but after a few moments, he said, “I think they've already been dissolved.”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be that color,” Scott said, the two of them peering over the top of the cauldron. 

“It should be fine right?” Stiles said. 

Scott looked nervously at the potion, “Right.”

“Um. Now we stir it, five times, clockwise- wait! Anti-clockwise!” Stiles said, after Scott started to stir clockwise. They looked at each other, and then started frantically stirring the other way. When finished, Stiles waved his wand, and they looked into the potion. 

Harris mostly been sitting at his desk the entire class, only walking around once to sigh down at people’s cauldrons, but apparently sometime during Stiles and Scott’s mishap, had stood up, and stepped over to their seats, and stood over them.

Harris closed his eyes, and took in a breath, and sighed, opening them again, and said, “Mr. Stilinski, I ask you to brew a simple Forgetfulness Potion, and instead, you create enough sludge for me to drown myself in when I decide I have had enough with you and Mr. McCall, and even you, Mr. Lahey.” 

Allison, who was Isaac’s partner and was sitting next to them, was hiding behind her hand, trying not to laugh.   

---

It was the week before Halloween, and everyone had gone to study hall after class, before dinner, to catch up on homework. After two hours, Danny stood up, and said, “I’ve finished with everything, I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

“What? How are you finished already? Professor Dippet gave us that essay on dittany, it’s supposed to be twelve inches of parchment, and I haven’t even started it yet!” Stiles said, groaning. 

“Oh, I did that two days ago,” Danny said, stacking his books. “And we don’t have any Astronomy homework,” he said, and then looked around, “She’s not usually this lenient. It’s kinda weird.”

Allison looked up from her History of Magic homework, and said, “Oh- my dad said he wasn’t going to be around the night before Halloween because it was Professor Vanity’s birthday- Professor Grinspun’s probably planning her party. Apparently all the teachers are going." 

“Well I don’t care why we’re not having homework, as long as we don’t have it,” Scott said, and Erica nodded.

“The last thing I need is another star chart to fill in,” she said, and looked down at her books, making a face, “I only finished the last one because I stole Jackson’s.” 

Jackson looked up from the Slytherin table, and looked around like he had heard her, even though he was a table away. The group was all sitting at the Gryffindor table, since they usually sat down with whoever was already in study hall, and it happened to be Allison and Lydia this time. They invited Jackson to join them, but he’d made a face at the table before moving to sit with his Slytherin friends- he only ever sat with them at the Ravenclaw table, since they weren’t quite so bitter enemies. 

---

Soon enough, it was two days before the full moon again, and Stiles was following Derek around the castle, pestering him to come with him and see the wolf, “Come on, Derek, pleaaaaase? I know you won’t hurt me!”

“No, Stiles, and that’s final,” Derek said, and he looked like he might burst a blood vessel. He hadn’t hit Stiles yet, or cursed him, but Stiles was pretty sure he might start soon. 

“C’mon! Please? I won’t bother you, I promise!”

Derek said, through gritted teeth, “No." 

“At least tell me why!” Stiles whined.

Something in Stiles’ tone of voice made Derek whirl around and snap, “Because I can’t control it!” 

Stiles stepped back, and Derek was in his face, and he looked almost like a wolf. For all it was terrifying, it was also kinda cool. Stiles had a terrible survival instinct. He was probably going to be killed someday. Or eaten. Maybe Derek would finally get fed up with him and kill him. Cora might help. They’d probably dine on his bones. He should really stop thinking. 

“Um, okay,” Stiles said.

Derek stepped back, and sighed, “Promise me you won’t try to follow me.”

“Okay!” Stiles said.

“Promise me, Stiles,” Derek said, looking him in the eye. 

“I promise I won’t try to follow you when you wolf out,” Stiles sighed reluctantly.

---

Stiles was also really bad at keeping promises that involve not doing something he really wanted to do. See his dad for more information on that subject. He had his own file at the station, and the officers knew him by name. And not because his mom would take him down there to visit. He had nearly gone to go get Scott to join him in stalking Derek, but then he remembered that he didn’t actually know the full Hufflepuff password, and didn’t really want to get vinegar dumped on him. Once was enough. 

So Stiles had sat up that friday night, with the map tucked under his pillow, pulling it out to check Derek’s footsteps every few minutes. He hadn’t moved from his room yet, and Stiles didn’t think Cora or Laura had yet either, but around eleven- when everyone else was in bed- the three started down the stairs to the commons room, where Madame Morrel, the nurse, had entered the common room. They stopped there together for a moment, but then followed her out and down the hallway. Stiles lept out of bed- still in his uniform, of course, he was a master at these things- and hurried downstairs. 

They had a good head start, but Stiles had the map, so soon enough he was catching up with the four. Heading down a dark hall, with only wand light lighting the way, Stiles was looking down at the map and spotted the name Greenberg near the great hall. He narrowed his eyes, and mumbled in almost astonishment, “He does exist,” and then suddenly he heard giggling, and Professors Vanity and Grinspun, who were leaning on each other and giggling, came around the corner and narrowly missed Stiles, who ducked out of the way just in time. 

After they passed, Stiles picked up his pace and followed the Hales out to- wherever the hell they were going. He trekked through the rest of the school, and then outside- thankfully the door wasn’t locked, they hadn’t learned how to unlock stuff yet. Madame Morrel, along with the Hales, were standing near the Whomping Willow. Stiles ran after them as quickly as he could and crouched behind a few bushes near the tree, when Madame Morrel said a spell and the tree froze. The three Hales headed into the roots, and the tree unfroze as she headed back towards the school. Stiles didn’t know any spell that would do that kind of thing, so he just watched the tree for a few moments till he had an opportunity to run past, and took it. He dove into the roots just in time, and saw that there was a narrow passageway, and followed it up into the- house?

It appeared that the passageway led into the shrieking shack- Stiles was guessing, anyway. He’d never been inside before, but if he had to guess what the inside looked like, it was this. The walls were falling apart, and so were the floors, and maybe this hadn’t been a good idea, because there were two other wolves in the house at the same time.

Stiles glanced into the doorways of the three downstairs rooms- with the last being locked, but there was a large hole in the center of the door, as if someone had tried to take an axe to it. Inside the room, as far as Stiles could see, from peering through the hole, there were two wolves in there, sleeping in a literal ‘dog pile.’ Stiles couldn’t be sure, but they seemed a little bit smaller, one certainly more so than the other, and so he was pretty sure they were female. Laura and Cora, most likely. Derek wasn’t exactly the type to cuddle, he guessed. They were sleeping, light pouring in from the cracks between the window boards. 

He headed upstairs, where Derek probably was, and started to look around- he’d leave right after he saw Derek, he promised. The first room was empty, but the next one’s door was shut, so Stiles turned the knob slowly. It groaned loudly, and he almost wanted to stop and go back, but the door was already open and- it was Derek, he was sure of it. The werewolf looked like a normal shaggy black wolf- except with more human eyes.

“Oh shit,” Stiles said. He could see the wolf’s eyes. The wolf was awake. 

The wolf seemed to see him, baring his teeth at Stiles, as it stood up, and advanced towards him. Stiles scrambled backwards, and tripped. He fell, terrified, as the wolf approached. But it didn’t attack him, it just barred it’s teeth, and Stiles pulled himself up, and ran out of the house.

---

The next morning, Stiles groaned as he pulled himself out of bed, not even trying to pretend the previous night had been a really terrible dream. Yeah, he was never ever gonna beg Derek to see the wolf ever again. Actually, it was probably better if Derek didn’t even remember the previous night. He pulled himself out of bed, and made it downstairs to eat breakfast with Allison and Boyd.  

The mail came, as usual, but Stiles didn’t get anything- Allison got another letter, this time from her grandfather. As Allison read her letter, Stiles looked down towards the end of the table- the Hales’ usual seats were empty, and Stiles hoped nothing bad had happened, but a few minutes later, the three of them came tumbling into the hall, looking exhausted, huge bags under their eyes, but fresh clothing and properly showered. Stiles would shower too, if he spend the night as an overgrown dog.  

The siblings were eating heartily, stuffing sausage and eggs into their mouths, so he figured he shouldn’t disturb them, and would approach them afterwards. Stiles poured a few fried tomatoes onto his own plate, and watched Boyd dip toast in his porridge. Stiles made a face at that, “That can’t be good.”

Boyd looked up from his food, “You clearly have never tried this stuff,” and went back to dipping.

A while later, people started leaving breakfast to head to either after school activities- as it was a Saturday- or to Hogsmeade, since it was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year. Before he knew it, Stiles looked up, and saw Derek wasn’t sitting at the table anymore- neither was Laura. 

Stiles stood up, and ran out of the hall, where he spotted his friend, "Derek, Derek!" he called.

Derek and Laura stopped ahead of him, the latter giving them a glance before saying, “I’m going to head to the pitch. I’ll see you there?”

Derek nodded as Laura left, and then looked at Stiles, frowning, "Why are you still here?"

"... Because we're friends? I thought that was pretty obvious at this point?" Stiles said. 

"Don't I freak you out? I remember- you were there! I attacked you!" Derek said, almost at a yell. 

Stiles shrugged, and said, "Yeah, of course it freaks me out a little, but that's not just who you are, ya know? You're not a monster, you're Derek."  

Derek just looked at him, and said, "You're weird."  

"I know. I come to a school full of other weird kids like me, and I'm still weird. Now c'mon, stop being a sourwolf, I wanna watch quidditch practice."  

Derek just looked at him for another moment before following Stiles out to the Quidditch pitch, books tucked under one arm. They climbed up to the top of Gryffindor’s tower just in time to see Laura getting on her broom, where she exhaustively beat the shit out of the other, fictional team.  

After practice, which was held in the morning so that the older members would have time to go to Hogsmeade, Stiles asked, as they were heading down the stairs, "Are you going to hogsmeade this weekend?"  

Derek shook his head, shrugging, "Nothing for me to do there," and then, "I got permission from Finstock to teach you how to play Quidditch," Derek said. "Lunch isn't for another couple of hours, want to go now?"

"Yes!" 

---

They still had classes on Halloween, and Stiles would have found it to really hard to concentrate, since the feast was supposed to be spectacular, except that they were learning how to make things fly in Charms. Okay, it was levitation, Lydia corrected him- and it was actually a lot harder than Stiles thought. He’d been running late, so Allison had already claimed the seat next to Lydia, and Boyd and Cora were sitting next to each other, so he had to sit next to Danny. 

After the demonstration, everyone started on it- Danny and Lydia got it after a moment, and Stiles failed spectacularly. 

“It’s-” Danny sighed, you have to pronounce it Leviosa,” he said, “and make sure you swish your wand- you’re mostly doing a kind of stab thing.”  

“Like this?” Stiles tried again, mumbling to himself, “swish and flick,” and then louder, “Wingardium Leviosa!” and swished and flicked. It lifted off the desk slowly, and Stiles said, “Yes!”

“You’re welcome,” Danny said, and went back to lazily floating the feather across the classroom.  

Boyd nearly poked it, until Cora caught his hand lighting fast, and said, "Don't do that, it might light on fire!" 

---

That night, the feast was spectacular- except for the part where Peeves swooped in and dropped rotten eggs on people’s heads, Stiles only narrowly missing being egged because Allison screamed, “Duck!” as Peeves pelted the egg in his direction, cackling. Mostly everyone who was egged laughed it off, except for one girl who broke into tears at the Hufflepuff table, until one of the seventh year boys vanished it and made her laugh. 

They’d woken up to pumpkin tarts, and pumpkin muffins, and all sorts of other pumpkin-flavored dishes, and even a few kinds of sweets- but it wasn’t anything like the feast- which Stiles thought was way better than the start-of-term banquet. There were hundreds of pumpkins, some carved and full of candles that flickered as the live bats swooped in huge clouds, and the ghosts were having a grand time popping out of the jack-o-lanterns, peering in windows, and gliding through the room. 

The whole room seemed to glow orange, and Stiles was loving it. “This is so cool!” 

“It’s too bad the full moon didn’t match up with Halloween this year!” Stiles said, leaning over to the Hales as he passed. Laura smiled at him, but Derek just scowled. 

Scott didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy gaping up at the bats, “Are those real?” he said, but before anyone had a chance to answer, several swooped down lowly, and into Scott’s hair. He yelped, and tried to swat it out of his hair, but it freed itself and fled. The two parted, Scott heading to Hufflepuff, as Stiles as down at his usual spot next to Allison. 

The table was laden with foods like baked potatoes and candied ham, but what Stiles was mostly interested in were the pumpkins overflowing with candy, black cauldrons of lollipops, and the other treats. As they ate the other students were discussing what the entertainment at the end of the night would be- some people talked about skeleton bands, or talking pumpkins, or maybe even banshees.  

When the time came around, Headmaster Davis stood up and clapped once, and then the ghosts popped out of the walls and did formation gliding. It was spectacular- even the Bloody Baron participated, and everyone hooted and clapped loudly as the ghosts took their bows. 

---

The next weekend, the first in November, marked the start of the Quidditch tournaments. The first Quidditch match was between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and loyalties were divided. Erica and Boyd were shouting from opposite booths, Lydia joined the Gryffindors, to sit with Allison, even though Jackson wanted her to sit with him, as he loudly shouted at the teams, even though she, nor Allison, cared about the game much at all. Scott joined the Gryffindors to sit with Stiles, and Isaac tagged along- they’d much rather have Gryffindor win, and it may have had to do with the fact they didn’t like Jackson, who’d been bragging about their team all month. 

During the game- which started off with a Gryffindor goal as Laura faked out the other Seeker and tricked him into pushing one of his own Chasers out of the way- Stiles spotted several teachers rooting for different teams- Grinspun had apparently joined the Slytherin team, a green scarf around her neck, yelling out at them. Harris had looked impassive at first, but then getting more excited as the game went on, cheering for Slytherin as they scored their third goal to Gryffindor’s sixth. Professor Blake joined the Gryffindors, yelling loudly in a way he didn’t think she was capable of. Evan Deaton was there, shouting fouls at the Slytherins. 

Chris Argent yelled out, half his face painted red, “Come on, Laura, you can catch it!” as she really spotted the snitch this time and dove for it, ramming into the other Seeker and nearly knocking him off his broom as she reached out for it.

Meanwhile, Matt was running up and down the Slytherin booth, taking pictures as Gryffindor scored another goal- ninety points to forty. It looked like the Slytherins weren’t doing so well this time, but they had high spirits. They could still win if their Seeker caught the Snitch. The Slytherins erupted as they managed to knock a Gryffindor Chaser off her broom with a Bludger, taking her out of the game. 

A few Gryffindors were yelling at the ref- Coach Finstock- saying it was a foul, but he just shrugged, and yelled, “It’s all fair!” 

Then- the crowd erupted into wild cheers as Laura zoomed around the pitch, showing off her captured Snitch. Gryffindor won! Stiles turned to Derek, who’d moved over to stand next to Stiles sometime during the game, and they screamed and cheered till their voices were hoarse. Afterwards, the Gryffindors piled into the common room and carried Laura around on their shoulders, temporarily forgetting- or more likely, not caring- about her wolfy-ness in the face of their massive victory, with their rivals Slytherin suffering a humiliating defeat. 

Laura, on their shoulders, proclaimed she wanted to go out with a bang, shooting them all a grin. The win put Gryffindor in head for the house cup. 

---

The air was getting colder, and some mornings even started out with frost on the windows and bushes outside, the sky getting more grey. Classes were progressing as normal, but in the third week of November, they didn’t have homework for a class again, although this time was was for Transfiguration. As they were leaving class, Professor Vanity said, “No homework tonight! And try not to leave any tails on your matchboxes if you so choose to practice outside of class, thank you!”

“No homework?” Stiles mumbled, “I feel like I should be worried.”

“It’s probably someone else’s birthday, Grinspun’s, maybe,” Erica said and shrugged.

---

But they were glad to be free of the homework, because the second game of the year- the match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw- took place that weekend. 

Allison sat with Lydia, who still didn’t care, in the Ravenclaw box. Stiles saw that Derek was over there too, for some unexplained reason. Jackson was too, but he was still pouting about how Lydia didn’t sit with him, and sitting next to a cheering Danny. 

Isaac, who didn’t know much about Quidditch, cheered anyway, sitting with Scott and Stiles in the Hufflepuff booth. Erica and Boyd were sitting together at the neutral location of Gryffindor. The teachers were still going all out- Vanity was wearing a Ravenclaw scarf this time, and her face was painted blue, Kettlewig was getting unusually flustered, her face a bright red as she shouted at them, Deaton joining her in cheerful shouting, Blake and Harris teamed up in blue robes and waving flags frantically. 

Ravenclaw won with a total of 240 points, Hufflepuff, who had been winning prior to the catch of the Snitch, with 110, Ravenclaw tying with Gryffindor for first, Hufflepuff with Slytherin for last. 

---

By mid-December, snow had started to fall. Stiles was woken up by his roommate James as he ran to the window and pressed his face to the glass. Snow was falling! Stiles threw off the covers- which was admittedly not that great of an idea- and ran to one of the windows. The sight was breathtaking. The castle had gotten several inches of snow overnight, and it was still gently falling. Everyone piled downstairs, all bundled up in the drafty hallways.

Classes were torture, since they didn’t usually have fireplaces- some teachers, like Kettlewig, were nice enough to preform heating charms in their classrooms, but some, like Harris, thought they should be grateful they even had a roof over their heads, and Stiles’ hand was shaking as he poured Horklump juice into the cauldron, and next to him, Scott’s teeth were chattering as he stuck his arm under his armpits. For Astronomy, everyone wore their cloak, a hat or two, and a scarf, at the least. Professor Grinspun, though, seemed to be flourishing in the snow, only wearing a cloak and scarf, her cheeks pink as they all suffered.

A few days later, Professor Argent came around collecting names of anyone who wanted to stay over the break. Stiles was going home to see his dad, but a few others approached him, and it got Stiles thinking. Everyone had started to talk of going home for the break, and Stiles realized he had started to feel that Hogwarts was home- he had a best friend- Scott, and a bunch of other friends, even if some of them didn't quite admit it yet- like Lydia. Stiles was sure she would come around. But he did miss his dad, and there weren’t going to be any classes at home, so he wasn’t going to mind going home at all. 

The next morning, Allison got a letter from her aunt, and her face lit up as she tore it open. She said, her eyes quickly passing over the page, “My aunt Kate is coming for Christmas!”

Stiles looked up from the sausage he was currently stabbing, “So you heading home for Christmas?”

She nodded, “I can’t wait to see her, and my mom!”

“Me too- just the heading home part, I’m gonna see my dad, and maybe hang out with Scott,” he said. “What about you, Boyd?”

He said, shaking his head, “Erica and I are staying. It’s really far for our parents to drive for just a two week holiday.”

Stiles nodded, “I get that.”

---

He asked Lydia about her holiday plans in Charms later that day, and she said, as the class performed the Softening Spell, Spongify, on one of their textbooks. “I’m going home to Ireland,” she said, and then poked her textbook with her wand. Stiles was proud to say he’d actually done better than Lydia at this one particular spell. 

Danny, softening his desk, provided, “I’m going home too. Me and Jackson are going to spend the holiday watching the Falcons practice, and we’ll probably go see them at one of their tournaments.”

---

Two days before break, Stiles said excitedly, “Have you ever seen this much snow?” kicking it with his boot, then dodging a snowball ment for a fight a few meters away, as the two of them trudged across the snow-covered grounds, heading to the quidditch pitch to watch one of the last practices before the holiday. 

“I’m from Oxford, we get about eight days of snow,” Derek said, “It’s nothing like this, though. That’s why I stayed over Christmas my first year- my mom was heartbroken, but I couldn’t resist, it was just so-”

“Beautiful, right?” Stiles said, “I’m from London, we get about the same. It never really sticks, though.”

Derek nodded, “The Christmas Feast- which is usually about twelve students, two teachers, and the headmaster- is actually really fun, too. There are Wizard Crackers- if you’ve never tried them, you really should. It’s a lot funnier when Headmaster Davis or one of the teachers isn’t expecting it to go off. The year I stayed, Professor Kettlewig’s husband was away on business, so she stayed, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher jump so high in my life. You should stay one year if your parents don’t mind.”

“My dad probably wouldn’t if I kept begging him,” Stiles laughed.

“What about your mom?”

“She, uh, passed away last spring.”

They were quiet for a moment, only hearing the sound of snow crunching under their feet, and their heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Derek said.

“It’s okay,” Stiles said. “So are you going home this year, too?”

Derek nodded, “Laura and Cora too. Although I think Laura’s going to spend the latter half with her boyfriend in Ireland. Cora’s homesick.”

Stiles laughed, “Never would have guessed. I’m going home to my dad, too. I really missed him.”

As they neared the Quidditch Pitch, Derek said, “Hey, look,” and pointed towards the forest. Several teachers, including Deaton, the groundskeeper, were pulling pine trees up towards the school, “Looks like they’ve started decorating the great hall for Christmas. We should go see it after practice- I think they should be done by then.”

---

The day the Christmas Holiday started, everyone piled onto the train, Scott, Stiles, Allison, Lydia, Danny, and Jackson all piled into one compartment with their luggage and animals. It wasn’t as crowded as last time, but it was still quite a few people to fit into one compartment. Isaac had stayed over break too, but nobody blamed him- the school looked really amazing at the moment. 

“I can’t wait to get back home to my mom’s!” Allison said, around two in the afternoon, when everyone was finished eating and staring out the window at the snow-covered hills. “We have a house in Yorkshire- we just moved there a year and a half ago, but I miss it.”

Scott said, “I didn’t know your parents were divorced.”

She shook her head, and said, “Oh they aren’t. My mom says that a woman shouldn’t ever sacrifice her wants or independence for any man, and this arrangement suits them just fine. She can come visit anytime she wants, and my dad goes back to see her at the Christmas Holidays and summer, and weekends sometimes.”

“Oh!” Scott said. “It’s just me and my mom.”

---

Once they reached the platform, kids poured out of the train, and Stiles was one of the first ones off, and he ran into his dad’s hug, “Dad!” he yelled.

“Hey, Stiles,” he said, and looked him over, “I think you’ve grown. It’s a good thing we got those self-repairing robes, huh?”

“Have I really? Awesome!” Stiles said, as his dad started leading them off the platform. Stiles turned, and yelled back, “Bye, Scott! I’ll write you later!”

---

The rest of the Christmas holiday, Stiles spent with his dad for the most part, catching up. He did spend a couple of afternoons at the department, telling the other detectives highly-edited tales of school, and all about his new friends. He kinda left out the part where one of his new friends was a werewolf, because he figured his dad probably wouldn’t like it any more than the time he accidentally appeared in the fireplace of a murder investigation. That one had been difficult to explain. 

On Christmas, he woke up to several presents from Father Christmas, because, his dad explained, that since magic was real, Father Christmas was too. Stiles was just happy to get stuff. He got a few muggle things- like cool muggle books, a sweater, a few new games for his playstation, and apparently his dad made a stop in Diagon Alley, because there were magical things in there too, like color-changing ink, a remembrall- to remember to write his father- and several other things. In addition to those, he’d apparently gotten things from his friends too- except for Scott, who he’d be seeing in a few days, so they’d agreed to exchange presents then.

He got his dad a book on magical law enforcement, Lydia a never-wilting flower crown, Scott a box of chocolates (but not chocolate frogs), Jackson a pair of muggle socks, and various other trinkets for his friends. He’d gotten Derek a trick crystal ball, one that only told highly improbable and ridiculous fortunes, because he remembered that he really liked all that Divination stuff, but couldn’t take it because they didn’t have a qualified teacher, and the previous headmaster thought it was a ridiculous subject. 

One of the last gifts under the tree was from Derek, and Stiles smirked as he opened it because he did care! It was Quidditch Through the Ages which Stiles had been meaning to buy, but never got around to it. There was a note attached, that said, “Laura made me get you a present. She said you’d probably get me one but I thought that was stupid, but here. You said you wanted to read this at practice once.”

A few days later, Scott’s mom drove him up to Stiles’, and the two of them hung out for a few hours while their parents good-naturedly groused over having magical children. They exchanged gifts, and said goodbye, promising to call each other because they had these magical devices called telephones in the muggle world.

---

When the holiday was over, everyone met back up at the train station, Stiles lugging his things and a few Christmas presents he’d received. Jackson was dressed impeccably, but it only made him look out of place with people like Scott wrapped in house scarves and long robes. When Lydia boarded, she was carrying a whole mound of things with her, at least twice what she left with, Allison following shortly behind. 

The train ride back was half spent sleeping, everyone laying on top of each other, exhausted from their activities during the break, and the other half telling the tales. Apparently Jackson and Danny got to not only see the Falmouth Falcons, but they even had a chance to practice with them! Danny, apparently, had been really good, as the Falcons’ Keeper told him- he was even thinking about trying out next year. Jackson was a little quieter on the subject, Stiles even might have said he was pouting, because he hadn’t received any outstanding praise from any member of the team. 

Lydia had apparently done quite a bit of shopping, and Allison had gone on a tour of the countryside with her parents and aunt the last half of the holiday, and Stiles and Scott swapped chocolate frog cards with Danny- Stiles had four Circe cards, and Danny had two Edgar Strougler cards, and Scott just really wanted to get rid of Herpo the Foul. 

They didn’t get any sweets on the train, since most of them still had pockets loaded with candy from Christmas, and by the time they arrived back at the school for dinner, they were so exhausted they fell right into bed.

---

The term started up again early into January, when snow still caked the ground, and the hallways remained icy. With the start of term came the start of Quidditch practice again- Stiles and Derek trudged up the tower, huffing in the cold morning air, their cheeks flushed pink. They’d taken to doing homework up there, so they were carrying several school books. By the time they reached the top of the tower, Stiles was almost warm enough to unwrap his scarf and take off his hat and gloves, but he figured he’d probably be too chilly later.

After practice, they had the pitch to themselves for two hours, after which time, the Hufflepuffs had the fields. It was only the fifth or sixth time they’d ever practiced together, but Stiles was pretty sure he was a decent grasp of how to play the game- but that didn’t mean he was good at it. He had a lot of bruises. A lot of them. Stiles was- or rather, was trying to be- a Beater, so Derek yelled a lot about things, like not to be afraid of the ball- “I’m not! I’m just trying to avoid being hit in the face! Ow!” Stiles yelled as the Bludger rammed into his chest.

And then later- “Make sure you’re actually trying to knock me off my broom! Come on, Stiles, ram right into me!” 

“That’s really hard to do when you’re two hundred pounds of muscle, and I’m like four eleven! Tops!” 

“Stiles,” Derek growled. “Come at me. Now.” 

“Fine!” he said, and then as the Bludger- they were only practicing with one- came back around. Stiles managed to hit it towards Derek, who dodged it easily on his own broom, and then lunged for Derek. Derek quickly sped off, the Quaffle under one arm, and headed for the goal. Stiles was defense, so his job was to keep Derek away from the goal, which meant knocking him off course, and making it look like an accident. Taking in a deep breath, Stiles went after him, and rammed into his side, but it barely jolted him. 

“Harder!” Derek yelled, “More aggressive! Come on, Stiles, you’ve faced down a werewolf but you can’t ram into a human?” Stiles let off for a moment, but then looped back around, and rammed into his side, and knocking the Quaffle out of his arms. The ball started to fall slowly, and Derek dived for it. “Good job,” he said, “but you can’t touch the Quaffle.” As he glanced up at the Bludger hurdling towards them, Derek said, “Why don’t we work on the Dopplebeater Defense?”

---

It seemed that the next time Stiles looked up it was already the middle of February. They were learning how to treat werewolf bites in Defence Against the Dark Arts- which, ironic- and they were moving on to the moons of Jupiter in Astronomy when suddenly it was Valentines Day. The halls were buzzing with whispers about who was going to ask whom out, pink paper airplanes that unfolded into Valentines swooped by, and Stiles was pretty sure he saw love potions being passed hands even before breakfast. When he entered the Great Hall he saw it was just as decorated as every other Holiday- pink heart chains were draped across the walls, the room seemed to glow a rosy shade, and actual rose petals dropped from the ceiling where they appeared, falling in a slow shower to cover the tables. 

By the time Stiles arrived, most everyone was already there. Nearly everyone had at least one Valentine card, or box of chocolates, or a little pile of sweets from friends. Stiles was carrying a small-ish box of chocolates that he’d bugged Derek to get until he’d agreed to take some time out of his last Hogsmeade trip to go by Honeydukes and get a box of chocolates for him. They were for Lydia, of course. When he passed the Hales, he waved, and Laura waved back, as her boyfriend kissed her cheek and she leaned into it. Cora had a card of her own, but it looked like more of a card from a friend, and Derek had only one- but his was in the shape of a heart. He’d pushed it to the side of his plate. 

A few seats away, Paige- that one girl who Rupert had said liked Derek- was shooting glances in his direction. She was pretty, Stiles didn’t know why he didn’t just go out with her. He was just fine being Stiles’ friend, dating her couldn’t be that different. 

At his usual seat, Allison already had a few cards- from what he was able to see, one from Lydia and another from Scott. Across from them, Boyd had one too- probably from Erica. He waved to them, and took a breath, before hurrying over to the Ravenclaw table to give Lydia her Valentine. He stopped a few feet away. She had a small mountain of gifts- cards, more than one box of chocolate, and what appeared to be enchanted flowers. She was looking at the pile smugly, and Danny was sitting next to her shaking his head. 

Stiles approached tentatively and said, “Uh, Lydia.” 

She didn’t even look up when she said, “Put it on the pile.”

He was about to open his mouth again when Danny shook his head and said, “Better men have tried.”

Stiles shot him a glare but put the chocolates on the pile- the very top, of course- and said, “Happy Valentines’ Day, Lydia.”

She hummed non-committedly, and he trudged back to his table, where he arrived just in time to see the owls swoop in with the mail. Several more valentines were dropped in, along with a couple packages and normal mail. With the last sweep of owls, Stiles heard a sharp gasp from the Ravenclaw table. Everyone turned to them as that part of room quieted, and someone said, “Blimey, he’s got a Howler!”

Boyd frowned, and said, “A Howler?”

After a moment, the Howler started to smoke in the corners, and the recipient looked quite pale. He reached over and opened it. It screamed, and then a girl’s voice yelled out, a hundred times louder than usual, making the plates and glasses shake. “I WANT TO TOUCH YOUR SWEET BUTT,” the girl’s voice screamed, and then it dropped, and caught flame, turning to ash. For a moment, everyone looked at it in a stunned silence, before the group of friends dissolved into rowdy laughter, patting their pale friend on the back, a pretty girl looking smug a couple feet away.

---

Two days later it was the third Quidditch match of the year. The match- between Ravenclaw and Slytherin- had loyalties divided again, with the group of friends spanning across the houses. Since no one really liked Slytherin, if just on principle, almost everyone was supporting Ravenclaw with the exception of the actual Slytherins and Boyd, who’d joined Erica, and Isaac, who’d decided he had more friends than just Scott.

Stiles, on the other had, was all into it, because they couldn’t let the Slytherins win. It didn’t have everything to do with Lydia, after all. But on the other hand- if Ravenclaw won, they would be in first for the Quidditch cup.

The game started off well for the Slytherins, but only lasted about ten minutes in their favor. One of the Ravenclaw Chasers managed three goals in a row before being called out for fouls, but they were allowed to keep the points, and then the Beaters managed Bludger control and knocked out one of the Slytherin Chasers, Hannah . Playing with one less Chaser, the team only dragged down further, until at 160-40, the Ravenclaws caught the snitch. It wasn’t a very exciting game, honestly. The Ravenclaws cheered anyway, and they were placed first in the ranking for the Quidditch Cup, Gryffindor only slightly behind them.

---

In the weeks that followed, Stiles was busier than he’d ever been. Exams were only in a few weeks, and all of Easter Holiday was spent studying. A few people Stiles knew went home, like James Swern, one of his roommates, and Emily West, one of Scott’s friends, but Stiles spent most of his time in the library trying to complete all the extra work piled on him by his teachers. It seemed Lydia and Danny were absolutely not to be disturbed, because when Stiles tried to ask her about the practical uses of the fire charm they’d learned in Herbology, she’d snapped at him and stuck her nose back in the book. Danny just ignored him. 

Scott and Isaac had been color-coding all their notes at Allison’s suggestion, and they’d borrowed her notes, but were taking a break from studying at the moment, so Stiles was left alone. He’d found Derek in the library- which was a miracle, because there was no way he was going to pass history without him- and they’d been doing work together for the past few hours.

“Uric the Oddball, Dittany, Alohomora,” Stiles muttered into the book, “when am I ever going to use any of this?”

“You won’t,” Derek said, flipping a page.

“Then why do I have to learn it?” Stiles said, propping his head up on his hand, and staring down at the text books.

“Because you have to pass your exams.”

Stiles stared wistfully out the window, “Can’t we go outside and study out there?” The snow had cleared up ages ago, and it was finally starting to look decent outside, the sky clear and at a reasonable temperature. 

“No,” Derek said, and flipped another page before writing something down.

“Dereeeeee-”

“Later.”

---

The next weekend was the fourth Quidditch match, and a nice reprieve from studying, even though he knew Laura had the team practicing three times a week in addition to their studying and homework. However, the practice paid off, because the Gryffindors won the match against Hufflepuff, putting them once again tied with Ravenclaw for first. It was a close match, and Hufflepuff nearly won, only because Laura was knocked off her broom by one of her own Beaters. He was firmly given a talking to. He came out looking like he was going to pee his pants, and she stormed off. 

---

The next few weeks dragged by slowly, and it was May before there was any more excitement- the final two quidditch matches. The first was between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, leading to a Slytherin victory, and Stiles scowled at them for nearly a week, even though there was no way they were going to win the Quidditch Cup- it was between Ravenclaw- the previous winners- and Gryffindor. Laura had been giving the entire team speeches for weeks, which were supposed to be motivational, and most of them were, but sometimes she just got threatening. She was going to win the Quidditch Cup this year, she had to, it was her last year. Stiles and Derek were privy to them all, of course, and Derek, being a little brother, would occasionally cheer at the wrong moments just to piss her off.

It was funny until Derek found eyes of newt in his bed one night, and then slipped down the stairs trying to get her back as boys weren’t allowed in the female dorms. She smirked at him for the next two practices, and told him he was lucky she didn’t think it was a good idea to turn his hair blue again. He refused to tell Stiles the story. 

The final Quidditch match was the decider, between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Just like the first game- and really every game since, just less intensely- people painted their faces and Matt ran around snapping pictures before the game even began. Lydia had been persuaded of the merits of the game somewhat, so she had joined up with Allison to charm a few posters to flash different colors to support their teams. 

Even the teachers who didn’t normally come out to games showed up- like the Arithmancy teacher, Sachrima Kapur, who was draped in her own house colors, red and gold- along with all the regulars like Allison’s dad, Professors Vanity and Grinspun, both dressed to support Ravenclaw, along with Kettlewig and Deaton who were supporting Gryffindor. Headmaster Davis even showed up- he didn’t appear to have taken sides, cheering equally for both teams. 

As soon as Coach Finstock blew the whistle, the Ravenclaws took off towards the Gryffindor goal, Chasers with the Quaffle tucked under one arm- they managed to score, and it only looked like it was going downhill from there. By the middle of the game, fourteen fouls had been committed- including Cobbing, Blatching, Blagging, and Snitchnip- although the latter was completely on accident when the Golden Snitch flew down the pants of the Ravenclaw Keeper, allowing the Gryffindors to score and Laura and the Ravenclaw’s seeker to chase the Keeper around the pitch for a few confusing minutes while Finstock tried to figure out why they were trying to reach down the Keeper’s pants. 

The Snitch escaped- but it was just fine with the Gryffindors, who were losing. It wasn’t too bad, they were only sixty points behind, they’d win if Laura caught the snitch, but they’d definitely lose if she didn’t. Another goal by Ravenclaw saw Laura sitting on her broom surveying the pitch. A few meters away, but much lower, the Ravenclaw Seeker was doing the same. The sun was barely out, clouds covering it, so the Snitch would be hard to spot. 

There was a faint whooshing sound that Laura would have missed if she hadn’t been paying attention, and had as many years of playing Quidditch as she had. She dropped down into a Sloth Grip Roll, hanging upside down on her broom to avoid a Bludger as it whizzed over her head, and turned back around to head back to her. A moment later, before it had a chance to speed up, one of the Beaters flashed by, yelling an apology for not seeing her, and hit it away. 

But Laura wasn’t paying attention- she’d seen the Snitch. Down seventy points, there was never going to be a better chance to catch it- if she waited too long, she might catch the Snitch but Ravenclaw would win. She swung back round and dove- it was right above the Ravenclaw hoops. As she dove, the Ravenclaw Seeker seemed to realize what she was doing, and followed after her. Laura, however, was a much better Seeker, with sharper eyes and a faster broom, catching the Snitch and stopping just an inch over the Keeper’s head. She waved her fist triumphantly over her head, as the crowed roared. 

The after game was all a blur to Stiles, everyone carrying Laura on their shoulders back to the common room where they all celebrated their victory- they’d taken the Quidditch cup from Ravenclaw! Professor Grinspun reluctantly handed it over to Professor Argent, and it sat in the common room for an entire week before being moved into Argent’s office. 

---

The rest of the school year passed far too quickly for Stiles’ liking. It was insufferably hot, and everytime he and Scott walked outside, they came back in sweating. They even briefly considered taking a swim in the black lake, but weren’t sure how the giant squid, who seemed to pop up every other day to bask in the sun, would feel about that, so they refrained. 

When it came time for exams- the only week that passed slowly- Stiles was pretty sure he never wanted to see another quill again. There was a written exam for every class, and they’d all been given anti-cheating quills to write with. The practical exams followed them- turning quills into flowers for Transfiguration, having glasses spin like tops for Charms, brewing Forgetfulness Potions for Potions- and Stiles was pretty sure he did fine until Lydia came out talking about how challenging everything was, and mentioning things that Stiles hadn’t even thought of in months.

Scott was pretty sure he failed everything too, and that made Stiles feel better, since if he were held back, at least he’d have company. 

---

With exams over, the school year was coming to an end, and even though Stiles was excited about not having to worry about class all summer and seeing his dad, he didn’t exactly want to leave Hogwarts either. He had a lot of friends he would miss, like Derek and Lydia and Scott, even though the latter he’d definitely see a lot during the summer if he had anything to say about it.

“Are you and your mom doing anything this summer?” Stiles asked Scott, the two of them feeding Crups down by the gamekeeper’s hut where Deaton kept all the animals for his Care of Magical Creatures class. While Stiles had been hanging out with Derek, Scott usually came down to the hut to check out the animals, and after awhile, Deaton had started to teach him how to care for some of the animals- even though he wasn’t a third year yet- and let him feed them sometimes. Stiles occasionally joined him. 

Scott shrugged, “My mom wrote and said we might have to go up to visit my Nan.”

A moment later, there was the sound of leaves rustling, and Deaton stepped out from the woods, “I see you boys are finished- thank you, Scott, and Stiles.” 

They nodded, and Scott said, “No problem!”

Deaton looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, “For all your help this year, Scott, ten points to Hufflepuff,” Scott grinned, and then Deaton said, “And for your occasional help, five points to Gryffindor, Stiles.”

“Awesome!” Stiles said.

---

On the last night of the term, everyone had set their affairs in order, packed, and were all ready to pile on the train the next morning. Everyone was making their way down to the Great Hall for the end-of-term feast, and the halls were buzzing with excitement, even though everyone already knew who had won the house cup this year, with the hall being decked out in red and gold, Gryffindor banners hanging down from the ceiling.

Stiles sat down at his usual place at the table, Boyd already there, but Allison hadn’t arrived yet. Someone sat down next to Stiles, and he turned, expecting it to be Allison, but instead he said, “Derek!”

Derek smiled, “Mind if I sit here?”

Stiles shook his head frantically as Allison sat down on his other side, glancing at Derek, and the feast started. The room quieted as Professor Davis walked up to the podium and cleared his throat.

“This year has been just as magical and exciting as the last- with a reprieve in the continuity of Ravenclaw winning the Quidditch cup, and even the house cup,” he gestured to the banners, and the Ravenclaws groaned. “And before we start the feast, and the summer, lets award the house cup- the points are as followed: in fourth place, Hufflepuff with three hundred and forty-six points; in third, Slytherin with three hundred and seventy; in second place, Ravenclaw with four hundred and twenty-one points; and finally, in first place, Gryffindor, with four hundred and ninety points!” he announced, and the Gryffindor table went wild.

Not only had they won the Quidditch cup, but they’d also won the house cup! Everyone had jumped up and cheered as the other tables clapped politely, albeit with sour looks on their faces. Everyone was jumping and screaming, Allison yelling as her father beamed proudly, Boyd stomping his feet, and Derek right beside Stiles, clapping and howling. Cheering, Stiles turned to Derek, and they grinned at each other briefly before Derek suddenly enveloped Stiles in a quick hug before letting him go, and turning to his sister, who’d been buried under a mound of people.

They’d won the house cup, it was going to be summer tomorrow, everything was great and they were all looking forward to next year...

---

Their exam grades came the next morning, and Stiles and Scott found they’d passed with decent grades- although they were rather lacking in Potions, and apparently no one did very well in History, either. Lydia had spectacular grades, Danny and Allison only a little behind her, having studied with her. Everyone else did alright too, but by the time they were done celebrating passing, Professor Deaton was leading them down to the boats that took them to the train, where they were all passed notes warning them not to use magic over the holidays. Everyone climbed into their compartment, their stuff already there.

“I can’t believe it’s already been a year!” Lydia said, and Allison laughed.

“It seemed to pass so quickly!” she said, “Soon enough we’ll be back.”

---

Once they arrived onto the platform, people were pouring out of the train. Some parents had been let onto the platform, but most were in the larger part of the station. An old guard was letting people off the platform in twos and threes so it wouldn’t startle the muggles, and so Scott and Stiles were pushed through together. He spotted his dad, who yelled, “Stiles! This way!” 

Stiles ran up and hugged him, as Scott yelled out, “Mom!” and ran to his mother, who was standing next to DI Stilinski. He let go and looked around briefly, spotting the rest of his friends as Scott talked to his mom.

Erica’s mom, it looked like, came to pick Erica and Boyd up, her blonde hair matching Erica’s, as she looked the two of them over and cooed about how much they’d grown. Isaac’s dad ordered him to get in the goddamn car, and Isaac flinched; Danny went with Jackson’s family a few feet away. 

Derek, Stiles spotted, was with his sisters, and pushing their carts towards a smiling woman. Thalia- Derek’s mother- kissed them all- Laura just kissed back, Derek squirmed and Cora hugged her, burying her face in her mom’s scent. She put her arms around their shoulders and lead them away, as another one of his friends passed his line of sight. 

Lydia and her parents had met on the platform, Allison and her father having dropped them off and gone away with a woman with short red hair. Lydia’s mother was beautiful, with long black hair, but there was something about her face that looks almost gaunt, in certain light, and something about it bothered Stiles, but it was soon lost in the back of his mind as he turned to his dad, who said, “Ready to go home?” Stiles nodded, “How was your year, son?” Stilinski asked, putting his arm around Stiles’ shoulder and pushing the cart with his other. Stiles grinned. 

“It was awesome."