Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: Always Look Out for Portals When You’re Fighting With Your Ex

[Interior, the Crystal Castle, approximately halfway through Promise]

Catra

Just when she thought this day could not get any worse. Or any more weird.

“What is your problem?” Adora cried. “I was trying to save you!”

Catra resisted the urge to punch her (friend? Former friend? Frenemy?) in the face. “For the last time, I don’t need you to save me. I’ve been doing just fine on my own, no thanks to you.”

“Catra, wait! I’m sorry for leaving. I couldn’t go back to the Fright Zone, not after I saw what the Horde was really doing. But I never wanted to leave you… You could come with me! I know you’re not a bad person, Catra. You don’t belong with the Horde.”

Reality glitched again, and she huffed.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

And then they were children, running into the Black Garnet chamber. Catra braced, knowing what was to come. Shadow Weaver entered, shuddering with the weight of whatever dark spell she had been perfecting, and removed her mask for a moment. Little Adora gasped and Little Catra ran, but the shadows were too fast for her, snaking around her skinny limbs, crackling through her hair, freezing her in place as they whispered about all the dreadful things that they were going to do, and then…

Rain. Cool night air. The smell of smoke and petrichor and rivers in overpopulated areas.

Catra opened her eyes, as much as the stink promised an unappealing sight. Her nose, unlike everyone else in her life, did not lie. They (she knew without looking that Adora was here, too) were in a dirty alley way, the only light some kind of anaemic gas lamp casting slanting shadows from the road ahead. It wasn’t a problem for Catra’s feline senses, but within half a second, there came the inevitable yelp-crash-groan as Adora walked into a wall.

“Catra?” her halfwit companion groaned. “I don’t remember the Black Garnet chamber being this dark.”

“We’re not in the Black Garnet chamber. We’re not even in a simulation anymore.”

“Wait, what?” *sounds of Blonde Idiot getting to her feet* “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know how, but simulations don’t smell, genius. Fake Fright Zone fooled me because it was kinda the same as that techy castle, but this is somewhere else.”

“Oh. Well, maybe it’s somewhere nice?”

“Yeah, sure,” Catra scoffed. “If this is what your fancy Princess cities smell like, I’ll keep the Fright Zone, thanks. Now come on, we need to take a look around.”

“Good thinking.” She could hear the sly smile as Adora continued. “It’s almost like you’ve read the Force Captain Manual…”

“Nope,” Catra lied glibly, “I’m just not a moron. Now give me your hand before you trip over that rat.”

“A rat?! Where?!”

“And it’s so funny when it happens to someone else.”

“That was low, even for you.”

“…”

“Even for you?”

“…”

“Catra? You’re supposed to say…”

“Adora, why is there only one moon?”

***

“Hey, Adora!” Catra called.  “Come look, there’s a massive bird on the roof.  Wait, no, there’s two!”

Adora poked her head out of the hatch, the hair poof arriving a good half a second before anything else.  “Ooh!” she exclaimed, eyes lighting up.  “So pretty!  Look at the white one!”

“Pretty or not, I reckon it’ll make a good dinner.”  

Catra unsheathed her claws and the owl looked at her like Are You Serious?  It was a little unnerving.  Since they had crash-landed (in Adora’s case, anyway) in this horrible city two months ago, everyone they had tried to speak to had treated Catra even worse than the Fright Zone had - worse than Octavia, not far off Shadow Weaver.  It seemed there were no hybrids and no magic in the entire place.  Much as Catra had been the only cat hybrid in the Horde, being surrounded by a menagerie of fish, lizard, cephalopod and bear people tended to dull the novelty a little.  Not here, where apparently she belonged ‘in the circus’, whatever that meant.  Still, the birds had previously treated her - and her claws - with the appropriate respect.

Good thing, too.  If it were left up to Adora, they would have starved within a week.  As it was, they had called a temporary truce and hidden away in an abandoned building with lots of wooden seating that could be broken up for firewood and an appealing tower where Catra could relax and not infrequently pick off some kind of fat bird that flew around in droves and pooped over everything in sight, but didn’t taste too bad once roasted.  Catra wondered if the locals thought the place was cursed.  There were dozens of what appeared to be death markers in the yard and inside, opposite the door, a large, unsettling statue of a guy nailed to a couple of wooden posts.  But, once they had established that he wasn’t an actual murder victim, nothing else particularly eerie had happened.

Until now, of course.

“Hey,” Adora said.  “I think she’s got something in her beak.”  She pulled herself the rest of the way onto the roof and approached slowly, palms forward.  “Is that… a letter?”

“The other one’s got one, too, in its talons.”  Catra frowned at the other bird, a majestic, tufted specimen that somehow gave the impression of a powerful old man.

“Here, birdie,” Adora cooed, “don’t be afraid.  What’s that you’ve got there?  Can I see?”

Of course, Adora was talking to the wildlife now.  On the other hand, the approach did seem to be working.  The snowy-white bird hopped closer on the wall and relinquished the letter into her hand.  Adora gasped.

“What?  What is it?”

“The letter… it’s… it’s addressed to me… sorta.”

“What?!”

Wordlessly, Adora held out the creamy-yellow envelope.  On the front, in an elegant cursive, were the words:

Adora of Eternia

Church of St Otto the Unfortunate

Fellpole Street

Southwark

London

“Who’s sending you post?” Catra demanded.  “And how do they know where we are?  Is this some Princess trick?”

“No!  I didn’t even know this building was called that!  Also, what’s a church?”

“What about the other letter?”  Catra turned her gimlet stare on the Angry Old Man Bird.  “Alright, hand it over, birdbrain.”

Much to her surprise, although not without an offended screech, the bird balanced on one leg and held it out.  She took it gingerly.  The address was written in the same swirly script:

Catra D’riluth

Church of St Otto the Unfortunate

Fellpole Street

Southwark

London

Catra scowled.  “What, where or who is D’riluth?  What in the Horde is this?”

“Maybe we should open them?”

“Yeah, no kidding, Adora.”  

They tore into the letters with equal parts fascination, dread and relief that, after two months of homeless survival, something was finally happening.  

“Dear Miss Of Eternia,”  Adora read aloud.  “I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Term begins on September 1st.  Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and supplies.  You may also bring, if you wish, either an owl, a cat or a toad.”  She looked up, smirking.  “I guess I’ve got that part already.”

“Shut up, Adora.”  Catra scowled.  “So we need to find… a couple of cauldrons… a whole load of books… two spellcrafts - what are those? - and… potion ingredients?  Horklump juice??  What is that and why does the word make me feel like puking?”

“Cats are moderately allergic to horklumps, I’m afraid,” a voice said, from somewhere in the vicinity of the roof hatch.  “Perhaps whatever left you in your current condition also passed that on.”

“My ‘current condition’?  Excuse me?!”

A head appeared above the hatch: an old man, with thick, almost completely white hair pushed back from a widow’s peak and a look of kindly intelligence.

“So sorry, I was hoping to be present when the owls found you, but I’m afraid your hiding place is… er… well-hidden.”  He grabbed hold of the ledge, failed to heave himself up and shook his head.  “No, no, that’s not going to work.  Levioso !”

With a spark of yellow light, the strange man flew up through the hatch and landed easily on the roof beside them.  Adora gave a short scream.  Catra leapt back onto the wall with a hiss.

“Careful!” the old man said in alarm.  “It’s a long drop!”

“I’ve got it, thanks,” she growled.  “What kind of magic was that?”

“Ah!  So you do know about magic?  Better than we hoped.  But I can’t understand how you didn’t appear in the Book of Admittance until now.”

“The what of what?” 

“The Book of Admittance records the moment that a child first shows signs of magical ability.  Mostly, that’s about the age of six or seven - plenty of time for the professors to assess starting Hogwarts.  You two, however…” he looked at them curiously.  “We - the teachers, that is - had quite the debate.  Professor Black wanted to make you start in the first year, but we managed to talk him out of it - just barely.  You’ll be starting as fifth years, which puts you with classmates your own age, but you will have a great deal of catching up to do, I’m afraid.  That’s where I come in.”  He gave a short, elegant bow.  “Professor Eleazar Fig.  I am delighted to meet you both.”

“Hi!”  Adora said brightly.  “I’m Adora!  It’s an honour to meet you Mr Professor Eleazar Fig, sir.”

“Just Professor Fig will be fine, thank you.”  He seemed amused.  “Professor is my title, Adora.  It means I teach students like yourselves.”

“You mean like a training officer?” Catra asked.

He turned to her with a slightly troubled smile.  “You must be Catra.  No, not quite like a training officer.  Hogwarts is not a military academy, Hogwarts is a school, where you will be taught many different kinds of magic, useful for all sorts of applications.  Some students do go on to careers in combat of one sort or another, but most will choose a peaceful occupation - like herbology, or healing.”

“You get to choose?!”

“Yes, of course you get to choose.”  

He looked both puzzled and alarmed by the question.  Catra was dumbfounded, her tail lashing back and forth behind her as she pondered the concept.  This had to be a trick, but she didn’t know enough about this place to know to what end.  With only one moon, and no sign of that sparkly pink menace in two months, she had accepted that they were no longer on Etheria, but that left her adrift, with no knowledge of the rules.  Not that she tended to obey rules, but one had to know what they were to judge how best to break them.

“I have to say,” Fig continued, “I was hoping to find you in better circumstances than this.  How long have you two been living in an abandoned church?”

“About two months,” Adora said.  “Ever since we….”

“Adora!” Catra cut her off.  “He doesn’t need to know.”

The look of pity that he directed at her then would have been unbearable if it were not tempered with something gentler.  “I can see that the two of you have been through a lot together.  I hope that in time you will be able to tell me about it.  For now, however, we need to get you somewhere safe and warm.  I have reserved three rooms at the Leaky Cauldron inn until term starts in two weeks, we can…”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Catra interrupted.  “We’re not going anywhere with you!”

“Catra!” Adora protested.

“What is it with you and taking off with any weirdo that tells you you’re special?” Catra rounded on her.  “Didn’t you get enough of that from Shadow Weaver?  From those new friends you were so obsessed with two months ago?  Is there anyone you won’t dump as soon as something better comes along?”

“Catra,” Adora had tears in her eyes.  “I just meant…”

“You know what?  Fine.  Go ahead.  Go to your shiny magic school.  I don’t care, I’ll be fine on my own.”  

She heard Fig’s horrified gasp as she jumped off the tower, twisting her body midair to land on all fours, fifty feet below.  That hurt look on Adora’s face almost staked her to the ground, but she gathered up her self-loathing and scurried off to find another hiding place.  

It took Adora about an hour to find her, crouched on the roof of an empty factory.  Around her, the sleeping city stretched away on all sides, industrial chimneys puffing out the last of the day’s smoke, watchmen’s lanterns weaving through the darkening streets.  It was sufficiently like the Fright Zone to feel almost homey.

“Catra, are you going to come down?”

“I mean, eventually, sure.  Tonight, not so much.”

Adore huffed as she picked her way towards the edge.  “You know, you were kind of rude.  He was just trying to help.”

“Of course he is.  Everyone always wants to help you, you’re special .”

“And so are you,” Adora said sharply.  Catra blinked in surprise.  “You got a letter, too,” she pointed out.  “He’s offering it to both of us.”

She swung her legs carefully over the edge and balanced next to Catra, looking as cheerful and confident as Catra was coiled and tense.  “Aren’t you tired of being cold?” Adora asked sadly.  “We’ve been here two months.  We’ve tried everything we can think of.  Can’t we at least have a decent meal while we try to get home?”

“You and your damn stomach,” Catra grumbled.

“I won’t go without you.”  If there was magic here, Catra thought, those words might have been it.  They hung in the air like the golden light when Fig had levitated himself onto the roof.  “I won’t leave you behind again.”

She sighed.  “Ok, fine.  I’ll come to this Leaky Cauldron place.  I’m not promising anything about the school.”

“Let’s eat first and then decide.”

They made their way back to the church (still no idea what that was) where Fig was waiting, seated on a mausoleum and warming his hands on a dancing blue flame that he had apparently conjured out of the air.

“Ready to go?” he asked cheerfully.

“Almost,” Adora said, just as chipper.  “Just got to get my sword.”

“Your what ?!”

Chapter Text

Adora

The next two weeks were among the strangest and most fascinating in Adora or Catra’s already-interesting lives.  Magic, it appeared, was a rather different entity here than across Etheria, its practitioners secretive and hidden in a parallel society to the majority of the population.  Discreet(ish) enquiries suggested there were no runestones, no Princesses, and few sentient races other than human.  Hogwarts itself seemed to Adora to be a little reminiscent of Mystacor, but otherwise, the two worlds had very little in common.  

This did not appear to be getting them any closer to going home.  

Still, the Leaky Cauldron was worlds better than sleeping in the derelict murder-temple.  It was warm and comfortable and there was always something happening here, men and women passing through on their way to Diagon Alley (what a revelation that had been!), most of them far friendlier than most residents of the city (London, apparently) had been so far.  Most of them didn’t even react all that strongly to Catra’s unique physiognomy.  Watching her former best friend very slowly thaw as she realised that she was not going to be chased, threatened or pelted with rubbish simply for the way she looked was by far the best thing about their change in circumstance.  Not thaw as in, all the way to room temperature; more like, liquid nitrogen to regular ice.  But still, it was something.

The first two days were spent shopping for necessary school supplies, all paid for with money that Professor Fig provided, apparently from a fund set up to help young witches and wizards in ‘circumstances like theirs’.  Adora was on the verge of asking how many teenagers got routinely yeeted to this school from another dimension when Catra stepped on her foot, hard.

[“He means people without families, dummy,” she hissed.

“Oh.  Yeah.  I guess that makes more sense.”]

Once the books, potion paraphernalia, seeds, spells and stationary were purchased, Professor Fig sat them down and handed them each a stick.  

“What’s this for?” Catra asked.  “Poking Adora when she falls asleep in class?”

“Hey!” the accused protested.  “I’m not the one that takes cat-naps every time Grizzlor starts a simulation brief.”

“Yeah, but I can do that stuff with my eyes closed.  This might actually be fun.”

Catra had done a complete one-eighty on going to Hogwarts.  The night before Adora had woken up to find the room strangely empty and discovered Catra in the deserted bar area, going through their textbooks with a look on her face like the time she found Octavia’s secret stash of moonshine.

“These are magic wands,” Professor Fig explained patiently.  “They are used to channel your magic, to help you focus on your objective.”

“And to aim?” Catra asked.

He sighed.  “Yes, Catra.  When witches or wizards duel, the wand can also be used to aim at the opponent.  But for now, we are going to try something rather more basic…”

And then in no time at all it was time for the start of term.  They loaded up a carriage with all their supplies and prepared to set out just before dawn on September 1st.

“It’s a pity we didn’t have more time to spend on spellcasting,” Professor Fig ruminated.  “I presume you’ve been practising the spells we worked on?”

“I have, Professor!” Adora said.  

Catra was staring at the carriage.  “What’s pulling this thing?  Or does it have an engine?”

Professor Fig just smiled mysteriously.

“I’m quite sure I’ve never seen anyone take so quickly to a second-hand wand,” he continued to Adora.  “You’ll be a force to be reckoned with once you get your own.  And you, Catra.”

“Seriously, where are the horses?!”

“Thank you, Professor Fig,” Adora said.  “I appreciate you working with us before term begins…”

She jumped as, with a crack of thunder, someone appeared out of thin air: a portly, jovial, middle-aged man with small, round glasses.  “Oh, Eleazar!” he said, spotting them.

“George!  Glad my rather cryptic description of our location did not thwart your finding us.”

They shook hands.  Out of the corner of her eye, Adora saw Catra melt back into the shadows.

“I’ve apparated to more vaguely defined destinations than this,” George said, somewhat smugly.  “Although, I did miscalculate slightly on my first try.  Gave quite the fright to some theatre-goers in the West End!”  He chuckled.  Adora made a mental note to find out what a theatre was.

“It’s been quite a while,” Professor Fig said nostalgically.  “When I received your owl, I must say…”

George cut him off.  “Ah, best not speak here, Eleazar.  Hmm?”

Adora’s ears pricked up (figuratively) at the implied mystery.  Catra’s literally swivelled in their direction.

“Of course," Professor Fig deferred.  "Why don’t we speak en route to Hogwarts?  We have a start-of-term feast and a sorting ceremony to get to!”

“Wonderful idea!  As long as your young charge here doesn’t mind me tagging along?”

“Not at all, sir!”  Adora chirped.  “Catra, come out and say hello!”

Catra slouched out from behind the carriage.  “Hey.”

“My word!” George said, clearly taken back for a moment by the cat-girl’s unique appearance.  “Name’s a tad on the nose, isn’t it?”

Catra growled at the back of her throat and Adora grabbed her arm.  “Play nice, remember?” she whispered.

She glared at Adora, but smiled in George’s direction without even baring her teeth.  “I had an awful mother,” she said pleasantly.

“Yes, well, er…”

“Let’s get going, shall we?” Professor Fig said.

They piled into the carriage, Adora sitting beside George and Catra opposite, beside Professor Fig.  Moments later, the cab driver flicked the reins at nothing whatsoever and the carriage started forward - and then up into the sky.  Catra raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, so Adora followed her lead.

Professor Fig properly introduced them once they were well above the clouds and George (“George Osric, Ministry man, old friend of Eleazar here”) was astonished to hear they were starting Hogwarts so late.  The two of them smiled, Catra blandly, Adora awkwardly, and offered no explanation.  Fortunately, though, Mr Osric decided to shelve that mystery for the time being and moved on to the subject that had apparently moved him to seek out his old friend.  

“Have you seen this?”  He presented a newspaper and Adora read the headline upside-down: Ranrok’s Goblin Rebellion: Truth or Gobbledegook?

Goblins? She mouthed to Catra, who shrugged in reply, feigning disinterest and studying the clouds outside the window.  Adora swallowed her annoyance and focussed on the conversation.  

“... It was your wife, Eleazar, who alerted me to his activities months ago,” Mr Osric was saying.

“Miriam?”

“She wrote to me about Ranrok before she died.  Before I could respond, I received this.”  He reached into his bag and brought out a large cylindrical container, beautifully wrought in some kind of silvery material, a symbol like swirling flames on the hinged cover.  “It was the last thing she sent me, before she died.  It came to me via her owl, but with no correspondence.  I can only assume…”

“That she had to get rid of it quickly, to keep it safe,” Professor Fig replied grimly.  

“Presumably from Ranrok.  I cannot open it.  Whatever magic protects this is powerful indeed.”

“It looks like goblin metal.  That symbol…”

“What’s that glow?” Adora wondered out loud.  

Professor Fig and Mr Osric stared at her in surprise.  Even Catra glanced up, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp.

“I don’t see a glow,” Professor Fig said.

“Nor do I,” Mr Osric agreed.

Catra merely frowned, staring off into space behind the carriage.

Professor Fig held out the container and Adora took it carefully.  The moment she touched it, a tingle ran up her fingers and all the way to her spine.  It was a tiny bit like how she felt holding the Sword of Protection for the first time.  And then the container opened, revealing a large, silver key, its handle echoing the symbol on the outside of the box.

“Merlin’s beard!” Mr Osric exclaimed.  “How did you…”

She reached for the key, but Professor Fog stopped her. 

“Wait!”  He lifted the container from her hands.  “We do not know…”

“ADORA!”  Catra’s yell split the tension like an arrow.  She reached forward and yanked Adora out of her seat, sending her sprawling almost into Professor Fig’s lap.  

“Catra!  What the…!”

There was a deafening crunch and Adora felt the sudden rush of cold air at her back.  She twisted awkwardly in Catra’s vice-like grip and yelped with fear and surprise.  The back half of the carriage, with all of their supplies, George Osric, and the seat in which she had been relaxing only seconds before, was gone.  Ripped away in the mouth of…

“Is that a dragon?!” Catra shrieked.

It definitely looked like a dragon: huge and scaly with leathery wings that carved through the air, lazily keeping pace with what remained of the carriage.  A thick metal collar was just visible around its thick neck, glowing with a dull, ominous red light that was also reflected in the beast’s eyes.  It snapped its jaw closed, crushing the carriage seat to fragments.

“Hang on!” Professor Fig shouted.  

Adora reached between them and grabbed hold of the back of the seat to steady herself.  Her feet teetered on the very edge of the splintered floor, heels suspended over a thousand-foot drop.  She glanced towards the driver and her mouth fell open in shock as five skeletally-thin, winged horses materialised in front of the carriage as if previously invisible.  The driver whipped the reins, urging them on.

“Catra!” she yelled over the roar of the open air.  “What’s going on?!”

“The dragon!” Catra screamed.  “It’s coming back!”

She glanced backwards to see the great lizard open its jaws and lunge.

“Jump!” Professor Fig yelled.

Catra erupted like a coiled spring, propelling them both out of the carriage a split-second before the dragon struck.  Adora clung on as they twisted and turned in free fall, the kaleidoscope of sky, ground and falling debris turning her stomach.  She saw the driver disappear with a clap of magic, Professor Fig trying to steady himself in the air, the silver container tumbling, its contents spiralling away.

“The key!” she heard Professor Fig shout.  “Give me your hand!”

Catra twisted in the air, her feline reflexes scooting them closer together, and Adora reached out.  Professor Fig seized her hand with a surprisingly strong grip, his other hand readying his wand midair.

“Accio!” he yelled.

The key seemed to spring towards them.  Adora glanced up to see the dragon diving at them, flames building inside its maw.

And they hit the ground.

For half a second, Adora assumed she was dead.  It wasn’t as painful as she thought, or as cold.  In fact, it was warmer now, without the chill of freefall tearing at her skin.  She felt the softness of Catra’s shirt against her face.  The afterlife was not all that bad.

“Are you alright?” Professor Fig asked.

“Wait…”  Adora opened her eyes.  “I’m not dead?”

She was not dead.  Instead, she was lying on top of a stunned, gasping Catra, on the floor of a damp cave, with Professor Fig’s hand still grasped tightly in her own.  She let go.

“We’re not dead!”

“Nnngggh,” Catra said.  “Get off me, dummy.”  She pushed her friend away and struggled to her feet.

“What happened?” Adora asked.

“Poor George!” Professor Fig said.  “I can’t believe it…”

“Professor?” 

“What the hell got into that damned thing?” he ranted suddenly.  “Attacking a carriage!  A typical dragon…”

“There are typical dragons?!” 

“Where are we?” Catra asked.

Professor Fig seemed to refocus.  “I’m not sure.  But that key was clearly a portkey.”

“A portkey?” 

“An item enchanted to bring whoever touches it to a specific place.”

She looked around.  “Some damp cave?  Why?”

“I guess we should look around?” Adora said.

“Indeed,” Professor Fig agreed, “but stay close.  We don’t know who created the portkey.  Or why.”

Their path was clear; they had landed within an enclosed cave, rock walls on three sides, the fourth a sandy path leading out towards blue sky and the roar of waves.  They came out onto a ledge above a sheer drop, fifty feet or more into the ocean.  A cold wind pulled at their coats and blasted spray up into their faces, but the sun shone over it all, quickly drying the salt on their cheeks.  The path led along a rugged coastline, meandering in the vague direction of a sea stack on which was perched the most precarious-looking ruin Adora had ever seen.  

“Sir, those ruins, do you think that’s where the portkey was leading us?”

“I do.  If you’re sure you’re alright and wouldn’t mind indulging me, I’d like to take a look around.”

There was little even Catra could say to that much politeness.  “Yeah.  Sure.  Whatever.”

“Good.  Let’s see if we can find a path.”

They set off along the cliff, Professor Fig leading, Adora next and Catra slouching behind.  The path was clearly man-made, it was far too even to be natural and the remnants of pillars and railings dotted the way, but so dilapidated that it was clear no one had been this way in a hundred years or more.

“Mr Osric said the portkey came from your wife,” Adora said tentatively, not wanting to bring up a painful subject.  “Where do you suppose she got it?”

Fortunately, Professor Fig did not seem phased by the question.  “I’ve no idea.  But Miriam spent years researching a long-forgotten form of ancient magic.”

“Ancient magic?”

“Yes.  A powerful, rare form of magic that seems to have been lost to time.  It is said that Hogwarts itself was built by such a magic.  I don’t know where she came into possession of the portkey, but I’m certain it has something to do with her research.  This way.”

They entered another cave - more like a tunnel really, supported by beautiful pillars at each end.  

“Miriam wanted to know how such a power disappeared from the world,” he went on, a note of fond reminiscence in his voice.  “She spoke of all the good it could do.  But,” and here he sighed, “magic is really no different from any other power, neither good nor evil in itself.  What matters is the one who wields it.”

Adora and Catra looked at each other uncomfortably.

They reached the end of the cave-tunnel and turned to find the way blocked by a shimmering barrier.

“Is that ice?” Catra frowned.

“No, it’s not cold enough,” Professor Fig said.  “It’s some form of enchantment.”  He turned to them with a smile.  “Let’s see some of that wand work you were practising.  Basic Cast should do it, I think.”

“I’ll do it!” Adora volunteered cheerfully, readying her wand and not noticing Catra’s sour expression.  Three blasts from the wand later, the ice shattered and crumbled away.  It was almost as good as the Sword.

“Excellent!”

They continued, the path twisting and turning until they were directly opposite the sea stack.  At some point there must have been a bridge, but now the path disappeared into steps that led out into nothingness.

“Steady yourself!” Professor Fig cried as the wind picked up again.  “ Reparo! ”

As the two aliens watched in astonishment, the old wizard waved his wand in sweeping, circular movements.  Massive chunks of stone rocketed up from the waves below, swirling, coalescing and clunking into place.  Within seconds, a great stone bridge spanned the gap as if it had always been there.  The wind battered at them, harder and harder as they crossed, but as soon as they entered the ruins it vanished entirely.

“Why would anyone want to build a house here?” Catra wondered, unimpressed.

“I suspect they valued their privacy.  Have a look around.  Let’s see if we can find anything that seems out of place.”

They spread out, Catra wandering over to a statue of a generic old wizard in long robes, Adora to a large mural on the far wall.  It seemed to show the same wizard as the statue, seated in front of a crystal ball, examining some cards, and regarding the stars through a telescope.

“Perhaps our host was a famous seer,” Professor Fig remarked.

“What’s a seer?”

“Someone who can catch glimpses of the future.  It’s a controversial branch of magic; frequently the visions and prophecies of those with ‘the Gift’ are so obscure that they cannot reliably be interpreted until after the events have passed.”

“It doesn’t sound like the most practical subject,” Adora said.  “Is it taught at Hogwarts?”

“It is - and don’t let Professor Onai hear you badmouthing her classes.  Although,” he allowed, “she is a remarkably powerful witch, for a seer.”

Adora smiled.  She was excited to meet the rest of the teachers at Hogwarts.  If Professor Fig was anything to go by, they were a whole lot more pleasant than the Training Officers of the Fright Zone.  

“Hey, Catra!” she called.  “Come and see… Catra?”  She looked around, but the other girl had vanished.  For one horrible moment, Adora thought she might have fallen over the edge - but Catra’s balance was legendary.  And then she heard the shout.

“Hey, Adora!  Professor Fig!  Take a look at this!”

With one glance at each other, they set off towards the sound of Catra’s voice.  She had found a path of some kind, semi-hidden behind the statue, that led along the very edge of the stack toward what must once have been a small antechamber, but was now as open to the elements as the rest of the ruin.  Only one wall remained mostly intact; within it, another barrier of ice-stone.  As they approached, Adora’s eyes widened to see what looked like a palatial - and intact - room beyond.

“How odd,” Professor Fig frowned.  “Why would someone have conjured that enchanted stone here?”

“How is there a room behind it?” Adora said.  “We’re right on the edge of the cliff.”

“What room?  I don’t see anything.”

“And there’s that glowy symbol again!”

Without thinking, Adora put out her hand to touch it.  The glow vanished, the enchanted stone vanished, even the gentle breeze and the sunlight disappeared.  Instead, they were staring at a plain stone wall, gently lit by candle light.

“Adora, can you stop poking every magic symbol you come across?” Catra drawled.  “You’re gonna get us even more lost.”

“Godric’s heart!” Professor Fig said.

They turned, and Adora’s jaw fell open.  They had been transported into the room behind the wall - a circular foyer carved from what appeared to be a natural cave, stalactites adorning the ceiling beyond a row of polished marble columns.  Above, a large chandelier cast a golden-white glow over everything.  One side was bordered with a set of iron tracks and from a raised desk on the far side came the sounds of snoring.

“Dibs I get to wake that guy,” Catra called, already heading that way.

“Catra, that’s not a good…” Professor Fig started.

But it was too late.  Catra poked the sleeping man with her wand and he fell off his seat with a great shout.  It was only when he went to stand up that they realised he was not exactly a man: he was roughly human-shaped, but about four feet tall, with longer arms, sharp ears and teeth and pure black eyes.

“Miss!” he yelled.  “I’m afraid that kind of behaviour is quite inexcusable!”

“What?  Poking you with a stick?”  Catra shrugged.  “Always works on Kyle.”

“With a wand !” Professor Fig broke in, more annoyed than they had ever seen, and turned to the smaller creature.  “I sincerely apologise, sir.  Catra is new to magical society.  I’m certain she didn’t know how rude that was.  And now that she does, she will apologise .”

Adora held her breath.  Expecting Catra to apologise did not usually go well.  For a moment, the other girl’s eyes narrowed and she braced for violence, but then:

“I’m sorry,” she said evenly.  “I didn’t realise.”

“Apology accepted,” the small person said, adjusting his waistcoat with dignity and the air of someone getting back on script.  “But, now that you are here… Welcome to Gringott’s Bank.  Vault Twelve, I presume?”

“Er… precisely,” Professor Fig said.  

He looked at the small person.  The small person looked back at him. 

“The key?” the banker said eventually.

Professor Fig looked confused.

“Your wife’s portkey, I’m guessing,” Catra said.

“Ah, er, yes,” he drew it from a deep pocket and handed it over.  The banker accepted with a tinge of excitement that he tried, and failed, to hide and stepped over to the railway tracks at the side.  At his sharp whistle, a small cart appeared around the corner and stopped right beside them.  At the banker’s signal, they clambered aboard and set off into the darkness of the tunnel.  The banker kept up a steady stream of chatter about the bank, its history and various unconventional security measures, answering Professor Fig’s questions about the strange private entrance in the ruins, but Adora couldn’t concentrate.  

Something was off.  As long as she had known her, Catra had only ever apologised to Shadow Weaver, and then only under threat of severe punishment, up to and including physical torture.  She was sure her friend was not afraid of Professor Fig, but she had apologised easily, evenly, and somehow managed to sound sincere.  She remembered the mad gleam in Catra’s eyes as she read their new textbooks, alone and secretive and late at night, and she shuddered.  She wanted to believe that her former best friend had somehow seen the error of her ways, but it couldn’t really be that easy… could it?

Adora was jolted out of her reverie as the cart slowed to a halt.  A uniformed and very surly-looking guard glowered at them.  Her eyes slid to the armband he wore; it glowed with a red, sinister light, much like the dragon's collar.

“Vault number?” the guard growled.

“Vault Twelve,” the banker trilled.  “What a day!”

The guard merely grunted, but allowed them to pass.  A few minutes later, they reached their destination.

“Vault Twelve!” the banker announced.  He seemed to be making the most of those words.  They followed him to the door, Catra bringing up the rear, at one point slipping away to examine something resting nearby.  The lock was in good condition, to say it hadn’t been opened in hundreds of years, and inside the vault, candles burned that should have been puddles of wax aeons before.  Probably magic, Adora reasoned.

“So what now?” Catra asked as she stepped through the portal.

“A fair question,” Professor Fig said.  “I wonder if…”

“The instructions for Vault Twelve state that I am to grant access to the holder of the key, and then close the door,” the banker announced happily.  And with a wave of his hand, did just that.

“No, wait!” Adora shouted.  “We don’t know what we’re doing!”

Catra cackled.  “I’m just glad you finally admitted that.

“There must be something here,” Professor Fig reasoned.  “This might be a good time to introduce you to Revelio.  Here, copy my wand movement…”

Adora whipped out her wand, eager to prove her abilities.  The spell was easy enough to grasp and once she cast it, a door appeared at the far end of the vault, the now-familiar swirling symbol at its centre.

“Most interesting,” Professor Fig said, studying the door.  “And do you see the same glow as before?”

“I do.”

“Fascinating.  I daresay we are about to discover the secret of this vault.  Lead the way.”

Adora beamed, practically glowing herself with pride, and reached out for the symbol.  For the second time, everything vanished.  Adora found herself in complete darkness.

“Lumos!” Professor Fig’s voice echoed in a large space, and a light appeared at the end of his wand.  Around them, an enormous room faded into the distance, the walls and ceiling apparently too far to see, only great pillars breaking up the space at uneven intervals.

“Stay close,” the Professor advised.  “This is no ordinary vault.  I suspect we will have to earn our way out.”

“You mean it’s a test?” Adora asked.  “I’m great at tests!  Catra, stay close to… Catra?”

She turned around, but Catra had vanished.

Chapter Text

Catra

As soon as the lights went out, and with barely a conscious thought, Catra made her move.  Adora and Fig might be blind in the darkness, but she had considerably better night vision; it was the work of a moment to scramble up the nearest pillar, her claws sinking easily into the sandstone, and find a convenient perch on a ledge.  It wasn’t like she intended to abandon them entirely, but Adora’s unstoppable compulsion to be the hero was getting to be too much and she needed a break.  Had she always been like this?  Adora had always been Shadow Weaver’s pet, but that had always seemed to be an inexplicable partiality on the part of the horrible sorceress.  Now, she was so desperate for Fig’s approval - so desperate to be better than Catra - that she was becoming unbearable.

Anyway, if all they needed to do was follow the mysterious glow, Catra was perfectly capable of doing that by herself.  From this vantage point, she could already see the telltale white light coming from the floor, about a hundred yards ahead.  She measured the distance to the next pillar with her eyes and leapt.

Fig and Adora were far enough behind that she had a few moments to study the glowing phenomenon.  It was like mist, but also a little bit like fire, and it was mesmerising.  She padded around it for a moment, cautious, but Adora had poked it a couple of times now with no ill effect, so why shouldn’t she?  

It wasn’t until the air turned into a maelstrom and half a dozen giant warrior-statues started to attack her that she remembered, oh yes, because she wasn’t Adora.  She was Catra.  And since when had things ever been that easy for her?

Fortunately, however, she was Catra.  And these big dumb statues might be strong, and there might be lots of them, but she was quick and vicious and really, really angry .  The first took a lumbering swing in her direction, mace crashing down on the space she had been occupying up one entire second beforehand.  Wand forgotten, she bounced off another statue to land on the attacker’s shoulders, striking into the gap between helmet and back plate with her claws.  The statue stumbled forward and Catra leapt away just as another swung clumsily, knocking its colleagues head right off. 

For the pure, mad entertainment of it, Catra kept up the same tactic, pinballing from one statue to the next as the dumb things kept smashing each other to pieces.  When they were down to one, she finally relented and pulled out her wand.

“Alright then.  Let’s try this magic thing.”

The thing swung its spear in a wide, clumsy arc that encompassed most of the room.  Seriously, who designed these things?  They made the Horde’s bots look refined.  Catra steeled herself and quashed the urge to jump away.

“ Protego! ”

And by the Horde and all its creepy glory, it actually worked.  A sphere of purple light flared around her, the spear bounced harmlessly away and the statue looked as confused as a statue could.  

“ Stupify! ”

No, wait, that was as confused as a statue could.  Catra let loose with the basic cast, over and over, smashing the last opponent to glowy white smithereens, hooting with joy.  This was more like it!  The princesses could shove their rainbow-coloured, plant-based, eco friendship magic in the same place as Shadow Weaver’s crimson torture lightning.  Catra had her own magic now, and if any one of those tiara-toting twits got in her way…

“Catra?!” 

Ah, damn.

“Hey, Adora.”

***

They made their way through the gigantic vault.  After the first attack, Fig made sure they were each equipped with a couple of defensive and attacking spells, knew how to cast Lumos in case they got separated (no one had thought to install lighting in this place) and gave them each a couple of vials of healing potion, Wiggenweld.  Catra eyed it warily and he turned to her with an apologetic look.

“I’m not sure whether Wiggenweld will be as effective on your… feline physiology,” he said sheepishly.  “But I’m afraid it’s all I have.  You had best reserve it for serious injuries only - I hope it won’t come to that, but I’d rather you have it just in case.”

Catra shifted uncomfortably.  She didn’t like people going on about her cat-ness, but it was more consideration than she had ever got in the Horde.  “Thanks,” she said.  “But I won’t need it.”

After a few more skirmishes with the statues - that seemed to fixate on Adora and Catra, leaving Fig alone unless he directly attacked them - the Wiggenweld had not been required.  Eventually, through a shimmering archway standing unsupported in the middle of nowhere, they reached a large room.  It was elegant, but in a rather over-the-top, excessively decorated sort of way, and there was no furniture except a large basin in the centre.  It was Adora that spotted the teardrop locket suspended over it in mid-air.

“Professor,” she said.  “Why do you suppose this necklace thingy is hanging over this basin thingy?  Is this the test?”

“I think not,” Fig said.  “That’s a pensieve.  Unless I’m very much mistaken, we are about to find out who created this vault, and perhaps why.”  He signalled to both of them.  “Follow my lead .”

Fig opened the locket and poured out some kind of glowing white liquid into the basin.  As it swirled and darkened, he leaned over and stuck his face directly into the shimmering water.  Adora blinked in surprise, and then her expression hardened.  

“Ok, then.”  And she, too, stuck her face into the basin.  

With a sigh, Catra followed suit.

What followed was fairly odd: a sepia-toned vision of two old men, waving their wands around to create the room in which they stood, while having some cryptic discussion about ancient magic, trials and secret knowledge.  It explained how they had got from the disintegrating carriage to the bank, and what the white swirly mist was, but it didn’t really give them the why.  What was clear, however, was that there was some great and dangerous power involved.  And Catra wanted it.

She schooled her expression into mild puzzlement as they returned to reality, her giddy excitement revealed only by the involuntary lashing of her tail.  She was about to grab the offending appendage and stuff it into her pants so Adora wouldn’t see, when the doors burst open.

The diminutive banker - a goblin, Fig had told them - was back, this time accompanied by the security guard and a third, older goblin, this one dressed in spiky armour that glowed in the same way as the dragon collar and the guard’s armband.  He was a little taller than his compatriots - still shorter than her, let alone Fig or Adora, but it was clear this was not someone to mess with.  Adora and Fig turned, so far unarmed, but clearly on the defensive.  Catra, standing furthest from the goblins and so far unseen, saw her opportunity and melted back into the shadows.

“I was beginning to think that no one would ever visit Rackham’s vault,” the armoured goblin growled.  His voice was very deep, gravelly, heavy with unmistakable threat.

“Ranrok,” Fig said grimly.  “What do you want?”

“Seems my reputation precedes me.  There’s no need for that,” he added, as Fig drew his wand.  “Give me whatever it is you found here and we can all be on our way.”

“I’m not giving you anything!”

The goblin smirked, looking at Adora.  “Well, perhaps your young friend here will be more…”

Catra struck from the left.  The bolt of magic that shot from her wand gave only a split-second warning, but it seemed that was enough.  Ranrok seemed to block with his hand, reflecting it harmlessly away, and turned to face Fig’s more sustained attack.  The goblin banker moved to intervene, shouting about zero-tolerance for violence and something about the rightful owner of the key, and Ranrok casually drew a knife with his free hand, stabbing the poor creature in the chest.  Adora cried out in shock and horror.  Ranrok burst free of Fig’s attack with a grunt, sending it back to throw both of them clear across the room.

“Adora!” Catra shouted.

And then the floor started to quake…

***

Five minutes, one short, abortive fight with a kaiju and another encounter with an ice-stone portal later, they were standing in a forest.

“Who was that guy?” Catra demanded.

“That would be Ranrok,” Professor Fig said grimly.  “I’ve never seen so powerful a goblin.  He seemed wholly unaffected by my magic.”

“Bet he’d be at least a little affected by these.”  Catra flexed her claws, bristling at having been dragged out of the fight.  By Adora.  In a headlock.

“Can we please talk about your sudden need to rip everything to pieces?” Adora demanded.

“That guy had it coming!  He literally murdered a guy, right in front of us!  I’d have thought that would get your self-righteousness going, Princess.”

“We couldn’t win that fight!”

“Yes, we could!  You could have She Ra-ed up and taken on the big guy, I could have taken down Runrig, Fig could have mopped the floor with the rest of them.  It’s a simple division of tasks based on strengths and I’d say I’m surprised that I am the one that remembers our training, but did it ever even occur to you that we were a squad, not your back-up?”

Awkward silence followed.

“Much as I am flattered that you think I could have ‘mopped the floor’ with several goblins,” Professor Fig said carefully, “could you explain what ‘She Ra-ed up’ means?”

“Oh… er… it’s… um…”

“Adora, just show him.  It’s not like you haven’t been dying to this entire time.”

“ForthehonourofGreyskull!”

Bright light, a burst of music that probably should have been heavenly but ended up more cheesy, and Adora stood there, a foot and a half taller, literally glowing, with hair for miles and a skirt that really showed off her legs.  Silence reigned.

“That’s She Ra,” Catra said.  “Princess of posing.”

“Princess of power, ” the legendary warrior said, aggrieved.

”...” said Fig.

“It’s a thing,” Adora said modestly, transforming back into herself.  “No big deal, really.  I bet you guys have all kinds of similar stuff.”

“No,” Fig managed.  “Not that I can recall.”

“Well, if you need someone to fight goblins, there’s your girl,” Catra bitched,  “Can we get to the feast now?”

“Er, yes, we should get to the castle,” Fig replied.  “But you two BOTH have a great deal of explaining to do, at some point.”

“Sure.  We’ll get right on that.”

They walked.

“So…” Adora said, after an impressive three minutes of silence, “what happens once we get to the castle?  That is also a school?”

Fig smiled at her indulgently.  “Well, you will need to be sorted into your houses.  There is a sort of test that determines in which House you will best fit.  I won’t explain further now, but it’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Which House?”

“The houses are named after the four founders of Hogwarts and based on the attributes that they most favoured.  To put it simply: bravery, for Gryffindor; ambition, for Slytherin; intelligence, for Ravenclaw; and loyalty, for Hufflepuff.”

“No prizes for guessing which you’re going into,” Catra mumbled.

Adora looked like she wanted to respond, but couldn’t think of anything cutting.

“Aha!  Look!”  Fig interrupted.

Adora and Catra took a break from glaring at each other and followed Fig’s gesture.  The forest through which they had been walking thinned abruptly to wild heath, sloping down towards a lake, across which…

It was the most spectacular thing either of them had ever seen.  A castle, yes, but possessing neither the brutal might of the Fright Zone nor the delicate beauty of Bright Moon, and yet it was… perfect.  The sheer size of it was like a city; a thousand lamps burned in the windows; a dozen round towers poked up into the darkening sky; bridges and walkways elegantly crossed back and forth between several wings.

Neither of them spoke, for several seconds.

“It’s… amazing,” Adora managed eventually.

“It’s Hogwarts,” Fig replied simply.  “I hope that it will be your home.”

Adora looked at him gratefully.  Catra glanced away into the forest.

“Let’s keep going,” she said.

Chapter Text

Adora

The doors of the Great Hall stood before them, stretching up into the dimness above the lamplight.  Adora felt a frisson of excitement and nerves, but when she glanced at Catra there was also a sense of finality.  It shouldn’t have been so significant.  This was only ever supposed to be a step on the way home.  But now that she thought about it, wasn’t that how she felt when she found the sword?  Catra wasn’t looking back at her, engrossed in casing the doors, the height of the ceiling, the shadowed corners, and she breathed a sigh of relief.  Catra being Catra.  It made her feel safer.

Professor Fig moved toward the door, peered through, exchanged a significant nod with someone inside, and moved back to them.

“Phineas Nigellus Black,” he said grimly.  “Prepare yourselves to meet the Headmaster.  Before you go, however - I would advise you not to talk of what we have seen this evening, nor to reveal your unusual abilities to anyone else.  We simply do not know where this path will lead us.”

“Of course, Professor,” Adora said.

“If you say so,” Catra shrugged.

“Good.  Let us proceed.”

And proceed they did.  It was a long walk up the centre of the Great Hall.  Four long tables stretched along, two either side, from which younger children as well as their peers watched, and not one of them looked anything other than boringly human.  As they reached the dais, a tall, middle-aged, red-haired woman in black smiled at the two of them.

“Let’s get you sorted.  Adora Of Eternia, please take a seat.”

Adora swallowed her nervousness and sat down on the stool indicated.  The red haired woman placed a large, scruffy-looking hat on her head, and she had the uncomfortable sensation of someone poking through her mind like a badly-maintained storage bay.

Well then , a voice said inside her head, this is quite the change.  Bit older than the others, and a whole lot more experienced.  Goodness, yes.  You’ve had quite the career already.  

“Erm, yes, Mr Hat Sir,” Adora whispered, not quite sure whether to speak aloud.

So polite, the hat chuckled.  Let’s take a closer look: a natural optimism barely standing up under the weight of your (ahem) destiny; a sense of responsibility for everyone within ten miles; a strong but injured sense of justice…

“I’m trying my best,” Adora said uncertainly.

Quite the hero, aren’t you?  AND a magic sword.  There’s no doubt about it, you belong in Gryffindor!

“Gryffindor!” a voice shouted aloud, and Adora realised it was coming from the hat on top of her head.  Staving off the perfectly-reasonable freak out over that event, she sighed with relief that she had at least been given the house for which she had been hoping.  The same red-haired witch lifted the hat from her head and she realised that the hall had erupted with clapping.  Before her, the table on the centre-left cheered loudly, gesturing her to join them.  Adora started forward, but the witch stopped her.

“One moment.”  She gestured with her wand, and Adora’s (admittedly scruffy and battle-torn) outfit transformed into a black robe over a red-trimmed uniform.  “Wait for your friend to be sorted, then we will talk.”

Adora nodded obediently and took a step to the side, giving the stage to Catra.

Catra

Catra watched in silence as the red head placed the hat on Adora’s head.  The verdict was no surprise, but she hadn’t been expecting the hat to shout it out.  That was weird, even for this place.  When it came to her turn, she took the seat with some trepidation.

The voice inside her head almost made her hiss with surprise.

And I thought the last one was interesting! It proclaimed in a weaselly sort of tone.  Quite frankly the inside of your head is the most astonishing thing I’ve ever seen. 

“What the hell are you doing in there?” Catra thought at it.

Evaluating.  Let’s see… plenty to work with here… a talent for self-destruction, thirst for revenge against pretty much everyone, a sharp mind thoroughly twisted by rage and abandonment issues… I haven’t had this much fun in years!

“Wow.  Could you not do that, please?”

And so much ambition!  You know you’ve been passed over, unfairly so.  But we can still change that.  Slytherin might be the place for you.

“Uh-huh.  And what does that entail?”

The voice was silent for a moment.

Entail?

“Yeah, you know, what do I need to do to be in Slytherin?”

Well, you don’t need to do anything, specifically.  It means you’ll be in a house with like-minded people.  You’ll spend your free time in the common room in the dungeons…

“Dungeons?  No thanks.”  Catra thought about it.  “What have you got that’s high up?”

I… what do you mean, high up?  Are you seriously picking this on the basis of the common room?

“Sure, why not?  I want something in a tower.”

Well, there’s Gryffindor…

“Hard pass.”

… or Ravenclaw…

“Ravenclaw?  They’re the smart ones, right?  I’ll take it.”

I mean, I guess you can do that…

“Then we’re doing that.  Announce it, or whatever.”

“Ravenclaw!” the hat shouted.  Catra swore she heard it grumbling as it was lifted away.

“Did you negotiate with the Sorting Hat?” the officiating witch said, eyes sparkling with amusement behind her glasses.

“I just wanted to make sure I knew what my options were,” Catra said coolly.

“Then I suspect you’ve gone to the right house.”

“If you are all quite finished,” Black cut in, glaring at them.  “I do have some start of year announcements to make.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” the redhead acquiesced.

Black faced the students and started in about something called Quidditch.  Catra wasn’t listening.  She studied the pair in front of her - Adora, now in a red-themed school uniform (she couldn’t deny it, she was cute as hell), and the red-haired witch in black.  The colours were so… Horde.  And yet, when she looked at the older witch, she did not see shadows.  She must be spending too much time with Adora, she thought, militantly ignoring the fact that they had been inseparable for ninety per cent of their lives.  She should not underestimate this woman.

Eventually, Black shut up and the long tables in the hall started to empty.  The witch turned to Adora and Catra.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she greeted them.  “I am Professor Weasley, Deputy Headmistress.  It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.  If you’ll follow me, I will show you to your common rooms, but first, there’s the matter of the sword.”

“Hahaha,” Adora laughed unconvincingly.  “What sword?  Why would I have a sword in a school?"

“Yes, that’s my thought, too,” Weasley said calmly.  “I am sure you will see the impropriety of allowing edged weapons in a dormitory full of teenagers.  We have arranged for it to be stored in the office of Professor Hecat, our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.  She has a storage area with formidable security precautions and you will be able to access the sword whenever you need to.”

“Well… I suppose so,” Adora agreed reluctantly. 

“Excellent.  Follow me.”

The castle was huge.  They left the Great Hall, crossed a courtyard and followed several sets of stairs down to a bridge that crossed a great ravine that fell away into the lake (the Black Lake, Fig had called it - a foreboding title with which Catra was highly pleased).  The bridge brought them to another massive building, to the biggest staircase either of them had ever seen, and through a side door to another bridge, to another building.  They stopped in front of a relatively unassuming door and Weasley held out her hands.

“I’ll take it from here,” she said.

The reluctance was palpable as Adora handed over the object of her transformation and the Deputy Headmistress firmly closed the door behind her as she left them.

“I knew you were going to be in Gryffindor,” Catra said, just to get it over with.

“Thanks!  I was kind of hoping.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.  An entire house full of heroes.  You’ll fit right in.”

Awkward silence

“So…” Adora said awkwardly.  “Ravenclaw, huh?  They’re the smart ones?”

“Yeah.”

Awkward silence.

“It makes sense,” Adora said.

“You think so?”

“Sure.  You’re the smartest person I know.  Maybe even Entrapta…”  Her face fell.  “She was the Princess of Dryll.  But she died when… when we came to get Bow and Glimmer.”

Oh.  Yeah. 

“Actually, about that…”

“All done,” Weasley announced, coming back out to the corridor.  “Let’s get you to your common rooms.  I’m sure after all this excitement you’ll need a good night’s sleep before class tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Adora

In her new bed in Gryffindor tower, Adora listened to the sounds of her roommates’ soft snoring.  It was comforting to hear others around her again, like being back in the cadets’ dormitory, but there was something missing.  Something with triangular ears, a tail and an attitude that had several times nearly got her killed.  

It was frustrating, and hurtful, and confusing.  For two months, sleeping in the drafty, derelict church, they had only had each other and it had been like they were children again.  Perhaps there was more bite to Catra’s snarking, a touch more aggression in her sparring, a little less softness in her quiet moments, but they had been together and friends again… or at least Adora had thought so.  And then the first chance Catra got, she distanced herself.  She could have asked for Gryffindor.  Adora had seen her facing off against the hat even if she couldn’t hear it; she knew she had turned down the first house it suggested.  Had that been Gryffindor or Slytherin?  (Because, realistically, no one was ever putting Catra in Hufflepuff).  Catra was brave, and clever, and ambitious.  Why did she throw herself in with complete strangers instead of the one person who had ever stood up for her?

And what was wrong with wanting to be heroic, anyway?  Why was wanting to do the right thing bad?   She just wanted to be a good person.  She wanted to be someone who protected others.  She just wished that didn’t mean her oldest friend hated her. 

Sleep was a long time coming.

When she opened her eyes, however, golden light was streaming in through the large windows of the dormitory and she was the only one still in bed.  Her heart started to hammer as she wondered what sort of punishment Hogwarts dealt out to those late to class - in the Horde, she would have been put on half rations for a week and Catra would have had a one-to-one meeting with Shadow Weaver.  Adora had never washed and dressed so fast in her life.

Fortunately, however, her new Gryffindor squad-mates were milling around inside the common room.  Adora had not had much energy to appreciate the place the night before, but as she emerged onto the balcony at the top of the stairs, she took a moment to do so now.  The room was large and cosy, with a massive fireplace, lots of squashy armchairs that would not have looked out of place in Bright Moon and little tables supporting trays of hot drinks to which the students were helping themselves.  Her moment of panic over her tardiness felt absurd; this was as far from the Horde as she could have gotten.  Surely once Catra realised that too, she would let her guard down a little and they could work together on getting back home.

Fortified by that thought, she skipped down the stairs into the common room.  It was only mildly disconcerting how everyone seemed to quiet for a moment and dozens of pairs of eyes turned in her direction.  

“There’s that new fifth year!”

“I wonder if it’s true about the dragon?”

“I wonder if she knows any magic at all?”

Adora swallowed heavily at that last comment.  All the magic she knew would be of no help here.  She smiled nervously and went over to the nearest little table, where an elegant pot was pouring out little cups of a dark, steaming drink.  She picked one up and sniffed gingerly.

“You look like you’ve never seen tea before,” a voice said just behind her.

“Wargh!”  And the tea went all over her.  It was scaldingly hot.

“Oh dear!  Sorry about that.”  The owner of the voice stepped forward with an expression somewhere between apologetic and amused.  “I’m Garreth.  Garreth Weasley.  Here, let me get that for you: Scourgify! ”

The tea vanished from her robes.

“Wow!” Adora said.  “That is so useful!”

“Thanks, I think?  My mother makes me learn all the household spells.  With five younger siblings to look after, the place does get messy.”

Adora looked at him more closely.  Curly ginger hair, pale, freckled skin and hazel eyes that couldn’t seem to stop sparkling.  “Weasley?” she said.  “Are you related to Professor Weasley?”

“She’s my aunt,” Garreth admitted.  “Not a bad sort, but she does keep an annoyingly close eye on me.  Still, it must be worse for Natty, with her mother being a teacher.  But what about you?  Where’s your family from?”

“I’m… not sure, actually.  The Ho… an orphanage took me in when I was little.  Catra’s the only family I’ve ever really known.”

“Catra’s the other new girl?”  He smirked.  “Name suits her.  Listen, I’ve got a wager with Leander and Lucan: was it Polyjuice or a Transfiguration gone wrong?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why does she look like an actual cat?”

Adora scowled in spite of herself.  “Nothing went wrong.  She’s always looked like that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Garreth said quickly.  “Honestly, I think she’s cute.  But you have to admit, it’s unusual.”

“Yes, well, that’s just… she’s just always been…”  Garreth thought Catra was cute.  That was accurate, Catra was cute.  So why did that upset her so much?

“Look, forget I said anything.  I’m glad you’re in Gryffindor, we could use some new faces.  Let me know if you need someone to show you around.  Or if you’re interested in earning a few galleons trying out some of my newest potions…”

“Sounds intriguing.  I’ll let you know, Garreth.”

“Hey, new fifth year!”

Adora looked around as someone shouted to her.  It was a girl with black hair and a wide smile, who was currently balanced precariously on the mantelpiece of the massive hearth, a good three metres off the ground.  As they watched, she leapt lightly from her perch and landed neatly on the rug.

“Nellie Oggspire,” she introduced herself, “so excited to meet you.  Is it true you were attacked by a dragon on the way here?”

“I’m Adora,” Adora said.  “Just Adora, no second name.  And well, yes, that did happen.”

“Amazing!  Although not for that poor man from the Ministry, I suppose.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Word gets around,” Nellie shrugged.  “You’d be surprised how difficult it is to keep a secret in Hogwarts.”

“You seem to have a good head for heights,” Adora noted.

“Absolutely!  I once climbed to the top of Gryffindor tower, on the outside, without magic.”

“Yes, but you didn’t get down without magic, did you?” Garreth sniggered.  “Kogawa had to use Arresto Momentum when you fell from the spire.”

Nellie scowled at him.  “I would have been fine if Everett bloody Clopton hadn’t thought it would be hilarious to pop up on a broom and startle me.”

“He did get in a spot of trouble over that,” Garreth agreed.  “Kogawa almost ate him alive.”

“Kogawa?” Adora asked.

“Magame Chiyo Kogawa,” Nellie answered.  “She teaches flying and umpires the Quidditch matches - when we’re allowed to play,” she added glumly.

“Quidditch is a game?”

“You’ve never heard of Quidditch?!”  Nellie and Garreth - and the nearest five others - stared at her open-mouthed.  “Quidditch is the best game ever!  It’s played on broomsticks, and there are four balls, and…”

“Is the new fifth year in here?” someone asked, cutting off Nellie’s enthusiastic rant.  “Professor Weasley’s waiting for her outside.”

“Oh,” Adora said, slightly relieved.  “I better not keep her waiting.  I’ll see you later, ok?  You can tell me about Quidditch over lunch.”

“Of course, we’ll catch you later.”

“Bring Catra!” Garreth added.  “I’d love to meet her.”

Adora scowled to herself as she hurried toward the door, but her head was spinning.  There was clearly a lot more to this new world than they had yet discovered.  What kind of game involved brooms, for goodness sake?  It sounded like something Madame Razz might play.

The door opened and she stepped out into the hall.  Professor Weasley was there, dressed in the same neat, black, slightly frumpy clothes, and Catra, in a blue-and-silver themed Hogwarts uniform - although, being Catra, the tie was fashionably loose and the shirt was untucked.

“Professor,” Adora said politely.  “It’s very kind of you to come and get us.”

“You’re very welcome,” Professor Weasley smiled, casting an amused glance at Catra.  “At least one of you is bright and ready for action this morning.”

Catra yawned, showing pointed fangs.  

“Well then,” Professor Weasley said, “come along, both of you.  You don’t want to be late on your first day.  I’m afraid you’ve already missed breakfast in the Great Hall,” (Adora’s heart - and stomach - sank) “but there will be plenty to keep your mind off your stomach.  You have a lot to learn, especially since you will be expected to sit your O.W.L.s at the end of the year.”

“Owls?” Catra said lazily.  “I thought those were the birds we’re not supposed to eat?”

“O.W.L.s stands for Ordinary Wizarding Levels,” Professor Weasley continued, unperturbed.  “It’s vital that you pass these exams in order to go on to further education or careers.  Seeing as you are starting four years behind your peers, I have asked your professors to give you extra assignments, to help speed your progress.”

“Oh, yay,” Catra drawled.  “More work.”

“Indeed.  But we will come to that in time; for now, follow me.  I’m going to show you how to use the Floo Network to quickly navigate the castle and the surrounding area."

Professor Weasley led them down the stairs and along a corridor, to where a carved relief of a woman decorated a shelf with a green flame dancing atop it.  

“Simply place your hand into the flame - either hand - and state where you wish to go.  For now, I would like you to go to ‘Central Hall’.”

Adora and Catra glanced at each other dubiously.  

“Alright,” Catra said suddenly.  “Here goes nothing.”  And before Adora could stop her, she had stuck her left hand into the flame and muttered, “Central Hall”.  And vanished.

“You see?” Professor Weasley said calmly.  “It’s quite easy.  Go ahead.”

Adora stared at her in horror.  It might be easy, but there was nothing to say that it was safe.  Still, she couldn’t help trusting Professor Weasley.  And on the slim chance that Catra was hurt, well…

“Central Hall,” she squealed, sticking her hand into the fire.

The hallway vanished, there was a whooshing sensation, and she found herself at the top of a familiar-looking staircase.  Catra was sitting safely on the top step, looking down towards an ornate fountain and a large group of students, milling about, gossiping, and snacking on rolls and pastries.  Adora’s stomach complained loudly just as Professor Weasley appeared beside her.

“Oh dear,” the Deputy Headmistress said.  “I’m not sure you’ll be able to concentrate on lessons if you’re that hungry.  Here.”  She summoned a filled roll out of nowhere and Adora caught the scent of something friend and delicious.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said, accepting it gratefully.

“Catra?” Professor Weasley said.  “Would you like something?”

“No thanks, I’m good.  What’s next?”

“You will be expected to attend both Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts classes today.  There are fifth year classes in both sessions this morning, so you can take your pick which to attend first.  After lunch, you will have some free time to explore the castle, and to get to Hogsmeade to replace the supplies you lost on the way here.  Come and see me when you have finished your classes.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Adora said.  

“What’s Hogsmeade?” Catra asked.

“Hogsmeade?”  She seemed surprised by the question.  “It’s the nearest town - the only entirely wizarding village in Britain.  It has a number of shops and pubs, you can get everything that you need for your studies and I’m sure you will enjoy many a butterbeer there with friends, in time.”

“Sounds great.”

“I hope it shall be.  I shall see you this afternoon.”

As Professor Weasley walked away, Catra’s pleasant (if slightly lazy) expression vanished, replaced by the determination Adora had learned to expect - and respect.

“I’m taking Defence Against the Dark Arts,” she said.  “That sounds badass.  You go to Charms.”

“You know, we could take the same classes,” Adora said, aggrieved.

“And face another three years of being your sidekick?  No thanks.”  She looked back at Adora and her expression softened, ever so slightly.  “It’s not forever, okay?  I just… need some space.”

“Some space?  We’re in entirely different houses!”

“Yeah, well, I need some space when I’m awake as well.  Just take Charms class first.  It’s not like you won’t have plenty of time to prove how much better you are than me, and probably everyone else.”

“Catra, I never meant to make you feel like you were second best.”

“Yes, but you still thought it,” she snapped.  “Get to class, Princess.  Don’t want to get a reputation on your first day.”

And with that, Catra walked away.  Again.

Adora sighed.  It seemed that Hogwarts had not yet worked its magic on her friend’s obstinacy.  A part of her wanted to chase after her, insist they talk it out - but that usually didn’t end well.  And, well, she really didn’t want to get a reputation on her first day.  Which only left one problem.  She looked around for a friendly-looking student.

“Excuse me.  Hi!  Do you have any idea how I would find Charms class?”

The student (“Lenora Everleigh, pleasure to meet you!  Have you seen this strange empty painting…”) directed her across a courtyard, to the right, and up the stairs ‘until you hear the sounds of immoderate chuckling’.  Strangely enough, the directions made sense once she got there.

The Charms classroom was a large, bright, airy room with wooden benches and desks arranged in low tiers.  Several other students were taking their seats just as she arrived and she looked around, automatically assessing the exits and the most defensible spots, until…

“Over here!  There’s a free seat here.”

Adora looked around.  The girl waving her over was dark-skinned and clad in Gryffindor colours, with large brown eyes and tightly curled hair pulled back into a sensible knot.  She smiled and headed toward her.

“Hello!” the girl said.  “I am Natty.  You must be the new student?  I was hoping I would meet you soon!”

“Hi!  I’m Adora, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Adora?  What a nice name!  Have you met Professor Ronen yet?  He is a very entertaining teacher.”

Adora shook her head just as a booming voice spoke out from the top of a curved staircase.  She looked up to see a robust-looking wizard in late middle-age, with a short, silver beard and purple robes that stopped just the right side of garish.

“Good morning.  Welcome to year five of Charms!  I trust that you have all been breaking the restrictions for underage magic and practising hard over the holidays.  Now,” (here he jumped the last two steps and landed with his hands on his hips) “can anyone tell me the difference between the wand work of the Banishing and Vanishing charms?”

Banishing?  Vanishing?  They seemed pretty similar to Adora.

“Don’t worry,” Natty muttered under her breath, “he starts every year like this.”

“Now, now, Miss Onai,” Professor Ronen admonished.  “Don’t be giving our newest student a head start!  Miss Of Eternia, isn’t it?”

“Just Adora, actually.  I don’t know where the ‘Of Eternia’ came from.”

“Well, Miss Adora Not-Of-Eternia, I trust you have been studying your textbooks before term started?  Can you show us a Summoning Charm, perhaps?  Don’t be shy!”

“I… think I can give it a try, sir.”

“That’s the spirit!  Let’s all give it a try.  Everyone, get into pairs on opposite sides of the classroom.  We will use your textbooks as the blunt objects you so clearly believe them to be and take turns summoning them from each others’ hands.”

Natty moved to the other side of the classroom and smiled at Adora as she held out the weighty Charms textbook.

Adora closed her eyes and pictured the page on the textbook: chapter 3, page 47, Variations on Summoning and its Uses; a rapid turn of the wrist with a little flourish, the incantation was… achi oh?  Achoo oh?  No, that wasn’t it…

“Accio textbook!”  The Charms textbook ripped out of Natty’s hands and shot across the room, straight at her head.  Adora gave a short scream and ducked, and the textbook hit the wall with a meaty thud.

There was a short, shocked silence.  

“Well,” Professor Ronen said.  “You certainly don’t lack for power.  But for now, maybe try not to decapitate yourself, eh?  In fact, let’s try something a little different.  It is an exceptionally beautiful day and we could all use some fresh air.  After me!”

Adora stared at the dent in the wall for a few seconds before Natty gently got her attention.

“Adora?  Let’s go outside with the others, yes?”

“Oh, er, yes.  Good plan.  What could possibly go wrong?”

Outside, the day was as brilliant as promised.  Professor Ronen led them to a wide lawn just outside the building but within the castle walls and set to work constructing some sort of bowling game with wide sweeps of his wand.  By the time he was finished, a large, striped board stood before them, about fifteen metres long, divided into numbered zones and with six large, heavy looking balls at the far end.

“Now.  How would you like to play a game?”

The game, which Professor Ronen introduced as Summoner’s Court, involved using Accio to draw the heavy balls down the board, aiming to release them at the last possible moment to score as highly as possible but without letting them fall off the end.  Adora had some difficulty with the fine control and Natty beat her easily in the first round, but as the other students took their turns, she headed to one side to practice on the unattended pile of textbooks.

“You’re really getting the hang of this,” Natty approved.

Adora lost her concentration at the unexpected interruption and a textbook hit her in the face.  “Ow!”

“Oh my goodness!  I am so sorry!”  There was, however, an undertone of laughter in Natty’s apology.

“That’s ok.  I get a bit caught up in things.”  Adora rubbed her forehead.  

“Perhaps you are overdoing it a little.  Professor Ronen would tell you that this is supposed to be fun.”

“Fun?” Adora frowned at the concept.  “But we’re here to learn.  There’s so much I don’t know about this world’s magic and with Ranrok’s Loyalists running amok…”

“Ranrok?  The goblin from the Daily Prophet?”  Natty laughed.  “Don’t worry, you are perfectly safe in Hogwarts!”

“Oh, er, yes, of course.  I just meant…” Adora deflated slightly.  It was stressful, being She Ra, but at least she knew she was needed.  Things were different here.  “I just want to prove myself.”

“And you will.”  Natty’s tone was soothing and reassuring.  

Adora smiled; at least she had landed among people just as kind and friendly as Bow and Glimmer.  “Thank you, Natty.”

“Now come on.  It’s time for round two.”

Adora did much better on the second round of Summoner’s Court, being tied with Natty and ahead of the rest of the class by the time the bell rang.  

As they headed back to the Charms classroom to collect their things, Natty told her about her previous school in a place called Uganda.  Adora gathered that that was very far away and a lot hotter than where they were, which she had heard referred to as ‘Scotland’.  In fact, strangely enough, Scotland seemed to be getting cooler by the day, which was weird.  Maybe she should say something.  It could be dark magic, or something.

“We have Defence Against the Dark Arts next,” Natty said as they collected their bags (well, Natty collected her bag.  Adora still didn’t have any possessions).  “A change of pace from Charms, I must say.  I take it your friend must have gone there in first period?”

“Catra?  Yes, she was keen to get started.  I wonder how she’s getting on…”

Catra

Catra was having an even more interesting morning than Adora.  As she walked away from the conversation in Central Hall, the (admittedly mild) disagreement grated on her nerves.  She wasn’t exactly asking for a lot.  And that was the problem.  

Adora was, a lot.  It used to be that that was a lot of comfort, a lot of support, a lot of happy memories sitting on top of the Fright Zone and talking about how bright their future was going to be when they were in charge and no one could mess with them anymore.  And then she left.  Now, she was just, a lot.  And for five minutes, Catra just wanted to be able to breathe and be herself in this new and weird and full-of-possibilities place, where she didn’t have to be Catra the Screwup, Catra the Bad Guy, Catra the Second Best.  She could just be... Catra.

All of that disappeared from her head, however, as she reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.  Admittedly, the whole castle had been low-key blowing her mind, but this place was incredible.  Tall, arched windows lined one wall, with a row of what looked like war trophies beneath, while overhead, an actual dragon skeleton soared above the rows of desks. 

But the cherry on this particularly violent cake was the fight already in full swing between two boys - her classmates, she reminded herself.  On the far side of the classroom, a gangling, ginger-haired boy in Gryffindor red faced off against a dark-haired, swaggering boy in Slytherin green.  They traded what looked like brightly-coloured streams of light, but having seen (and dealt) them in action against the statues in the Gringotts vault, Catra knew the damage they would do if the blow landed.  Fortunately, both appeared to be fairly proficient at shielding, as neither were holding back.

“Slytherin snake!” Gryffindor shouted.  “ Expelliarmus! ” *bolt of red light*

Slytherin parried easily.  “Is that the best you’ve got, you ginger idiot? Depulso! ” *bolt of purple light*

Gryffindor side stepped just in time.  “Don’t start on my hair!  Rictusempra! ” *green light*

“ Protego!   And you don’t even have the decency to be a Weasley.  Flippendo! ”

“At least I still have a family, unlike…”

“ DESCENDO! ” Slytherin roared furiously, pointing above his opponent’s head.  With a deafening crack, the dragon skull detached from the body and started to drop.  Gryffindor looked up in terror, but just before it crushed him to a pulp, another shout rang out:

“ Levioso! ”

The dragon skull was suddenly bathed in yellow light, as Fig had been when he cast the same charm on himself.  The massive cranium stopped abruptly, hovering harmlessly in the air inches from Gryffindor’s ginger locks, and gently floated back into place.

Catra looked around for the magic powerhouse behind the rescue and her jaw fell open; a tiny, wizened old woman in blue and silver robes reminiscent of her own House colours was descending the stairs from her office, wand upraised.  Was that the witch that had just lifted half a ton of dead reptile back into place???

“If you wouldn’t mind murdering each other on your own time,” the badass pensioner said, “I’d be most grateful.  I get new students every year, but my Hebridean Black skull is harder to replace.  I will, however, grant you a reprieve for now, as you have given me an opening to introduce the spell I wished to revise today.”

“Levioso?” Gryffindor sneered, apparently having already forgotten it had saved him from being pulped five seconds ago.  “A levitation charm?”

“Which has saved my life against dark wizards more times than I care to remember,” the old woman said calmly.  “ Levioso! ”

And suddenly Gryffindor shot four feet into the air, dropped his wand and hung there, arms wheeling uselessly.

“Care to defend yourself, Master Prewett?”

The Slytherin boy crossed his arms and smirked at his former opponent.  

“A surprised opponent is a weak opponent,” the teacher concluded.

Catra couldn’t help snorting in agreement and the old woman looked around sharply.

“You must be our new student,” she said.  “Miss D’riluth, is it?  I am Professor Hecat.”

“Just Catra, ma’am.”

“Well, then, Catra, perhaps you would care to demonstrate.  Follow my wand movements.”

Catra gritted her teeth and concentrated.  She would not let herself down in the very first class.  An outward sweep and a slight flick at the end… “ Levioso ”... and a sheet of paper lifted itself from the nearest desk and took flight.

“Good,” Professor Hecat approved, a steely glint in her eye.  “But the best way to practice is by duelling.  Mr Sallow, I believe this is your area of interest.”

“Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,” the Slytherin boy who had been fighting Prewett smirked.

With a wave of Professor Hecat’s wand, the desks shuffled away to either side and a long platform rose up in the centre of the room.  Catra stepped up to her mark, watching the boy at the other end carefully.  He held his wand well: a light grip, not too stiff.  It was the way a competent Horde soldier held their baton.

“I want a clean, fair duel,” Hecat said, in a voice that brooked no argument.  “Levioso, Protego and basic cast only.  In your own time.”

“Levioso!” Sallow barely gave her a moment.  

Catra rolled away instinctively, her fighting reflexes kicking in before she could raise a shield charm.  She came up on one knee and flicked out with her wand, hitting Sallow with two basic casts.  Then she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.

“ Levioso! ”

“ Protego! ” Sallow shouted at the same moment, and her spell bounced away harmlessly.

To her own surprise, Catra grinned instead of snarling.  Her fangs showed either way, so she wasn’t sure if anyone else could tell.  Sallow looked alarmed and she counted that as a win.

She feinted as if to cast and jumped away as he retaliated.

“ Levioso! ”

The second time was far more successful; the Slytherin boy lurched up into the air, unable to catch himself to aim properly.  Catra let loose a barrage of basic casts and he cartwheeled over the end of the platform and fell to the ground.

And just like that, it was over.  The rest of the classroom erupted in applause that sounded strangely more enthusiastic than sarcastic.

“Not bad,” Sallow said, picking himself up from the floor.  “You give as good as you get.”

“... thanks?...”

What was going on here??

“Everyone get into pairs and practice: Levioso, and the other spells on the board,” Professor Hecat commanded.  “Catra, a word, if you please.”

Her blood ran cold with the sensation of the other boot hovering, about to drop.  She was going to be punished.  She had humiliated Hecat’s favourite.  She would be on half rations for a week.  She would be…

“Well done,” Professor Hecat said.  “I put you on the spot and you rose to the challenge.  An excellent start.”

Catra’s brain stalled entirely.  “I… thank you, Professor.  I gave it my all.”

“A quality I encourage in my students.  One must be prepared.  A classroom duel is one thing, but facing dark wizards - or goblins - is another kettle of grindylows entirely.  You have a talent for duelling; perhaps Mr Sallow will have some suggestions for how you might build on that.”

Was this real?  Was she being congratulated on doing well?

“I see you and your friend decided on separate classes for now,” Professor Hecat added shrewdly (aaand there it was.  Five minutes of Catra doing well, Adora had to show up somehow and ruin it) “perhaps that is for the best.” (Or, not?)  “I have a feeling you’ll do well here, Catra, but you must remember that your schooling is about your future, not anyone else.  Now, it looks like Mr Sallow has not yet found a partner.  Why don’t you join him?”

Catra nodded silently, head spinning.  She never usually had much trust in authority figures, but these ones didn’t seem much like the training officers in the Fight Zone. 

“... I heard the other new girl tried to transfigure her pet cat into a person, and it only half worked…”

Catra didn’t break a stride as she caught the whispered voices of the other students, but her blood boiled.  She would show them.  She was no one’s pet , least of all Adora’s.

Sallow the Slytherin smiled as she approached.   “Ignore them,” he said, clearly reading the thunder in her expression.  “Playground whispers.  They’re probably jealous you’ve managed to get on Hecat’s good side already.  She’s not easy to impress.  And neither am I.”  He held out a hand.  “I’m Sebastian.  Sebastian Sallow.”

“Catra,” Catra said briefly.  Why did everyone have two names?  Which one was she supposed to use?

He made no mention of the list of spells on the board.  “It’s not often I meet my match.  You must have duelled before.”

“Not with magic.”

He grinned.  “How mysterious.  You know, you might be a perfect fit for a certain unsanctioned duelling club… If you don’t mind breaking the rules from time to time.”

“Sounds good to me.  Never met a rule that wasn’t more fun to break than keep.”

“I think I’m going to like you, Catra With No Last Name.” He glanced over to the front of the classroom.  “You’ll get the best out of Hogwarts that way - whether it’s sneaking into the Restricted section of the library, joining a duelling club, or finding ways to get out of the castle.  But we should probably start on those spells.  Hecat’s beginning to look stern.”

She was, so they did.  Catra had tried out one or two from the list, some she had seen in the textbooks, but others were completely new.  Still, she got the hang of them quickly; she supposed the Horde’s weapons training had equipped her for wielding a wand.  Also it was way more fun than a stun baton.  Sebastian was good to work with, giving her a few tips without trying to be superior, and never once mentioning her feline features.  Catra hadn’t had a lot of practice at liking people, but she supposed she could get used to him, too.

It was almost a shame when a gong signalled the end of their lesson.  

“Charms next,” Sebastian said.  “Let’s see what you make of Professor Ronen…”

Chapter Text

Adora 

Almost in spite of themselves, Adora and Catra met up at lunchtime outside Professor Weasley’s door.

“How did it go, Princess?” Catra smirked.

“Not bad,” Adora answered modestly.  “You?”

“Well.  It’s better than the Fright Zone.”  

Adora would have raised an eyebrow, but they didn’t move independently.  From what she heard, Catra had made a storming success of everything that she had put her mind to.

“Come on.  Let’s get to this Hogsmeade place.”

They went inside.  Professor Weasley’s classroom was more sober than either Charms or Defence Against the Dark Arts, the displays on either side showcasing the triumphs and pitfalls of Transfiguration with little in the way of frills and drama.  As they entered, Professor Weasley was deep in conversation with a tiny, bat-eared, humanoid creature wearing what appeared to be a tea towel.

“...not sure how that could happen…” The tiny being had a high-pitched but masculine voice.

“But it’s worth considering.  If the Book of Admittance…” Professor Weasley spotted them and cut herself off, rising from her desk with a kind smile.  “Ah, I’ve been expecting you.  Deek, if you would excuse me.”

“Oh!  Of course, Professor.”  

Deek gave a deep, reverential bow in her direction, a much more perfunctory one to the two students, and vanished into thin air.  Adora blinked, several times.

“Welcome, Adora, Catra,” Professor Weasley smiled.  “How did your first classes go?”

“Pretty good,” Catra said.

“They were amazing!” Adora’s intended cool shattered immediately.  “There’s so much to learn!  This place is incredible!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them,” Professor Weasley said, unruffled by either Catra’s chill or Adora’s lack of it.  “I’ve heard good reports from Professors Hecat and Ronen.  Now, you have a free period this afternoon and you will need to visit Hogsmeade to replace the supplies that were lost on the way here - and get your own wands.  You’ve both done well with second-hand wands, but having your own… well.  I look forward to seeing what you can achieve.”

Catra smirked.  She tried to hide it, but she did.  “What’s the difference, though?” she said.  “Isn’t one magic stick much like another?”

“Not at all,” Professor Weasley replied.  “Wands are complicated.  It could be said that they have personalities, and those personalities may align, or not, with a particular witch or wizard.  Much like you sometimes find a friend with whom you immediately ‘click’ and each makes the other better than they could be on their own.”

Adora and Catra very definitely did not look at each other.  It was painful how much they did not look at each other.  

“Since it’s your first visit to Hogsmeade,” Professor Weasley went on smoothly, “I’d like you to go with another student, someone who can help you get your bearings.  I thought perhaps…”

“Sebastian!” Catra said immediately, and at the exact moment that Adora said: “Natty!”

“... I thought perhaps Mr Sallow or Miss Onai,” Professor continued.  “Or why not both?  I shall send them an owl and ask them to meet you at the North Courtyard in an hour.  Here is the list of supplies that you’ll need; I thought those might have been another casualty of the dragon attack.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Adora said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Catra echoed.

The two of them filed out, Adora in a slightly manic march and Catra slouching behind.  It was only once the door closed firmly behind them that Professor Weasley spoke again.

“Keep an eye on them, would you, Deek?  Those two are going to attract trouble like a malaclaw bite.”

***

Catra

They found Natty and Sebastian in the North Hall, after a curly-haired girl called Cressida found them lost outside the library and took pity on them.  The Gryffindor and Slytherin students were making small talk - not stiff, exactly, but not friendly, either.  Passing students gave them odd looks as if it were weird to see them together.

“Natty!” Adora exclaimed, as if she hadn’t just met the girl this morning.  “Thanks for taking us to Hogsmeade!”

“Hallo, Adora,” Natty smiled.  “I was glad to receive Professor Weasley’s owl.  I was planning to extend an invitation to you myself.  I thought you might enjoy exploring the town.”

“Catra,” Sebastian nodded.

“Hey, Sebastian.”

The four of them set out, Natty and Adora walking ahead and talking like they had known each other their whole lives.

“Your friend is… enthusiastic,” Sebastian said.  

“She really is.  About everything.  It’s exhausting.”

He chuckled, but it faded quickly.  “Garreth Weasley told me you two were in an orphanage together,” he said more seriously.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Catra said shortly.  “Can’t miss what you never had.”  So, that was the story Adora was going with.  At least now she could go along with it and it was kinda true.  Also she wondered if she was supposed to know who Garreth Weasley was.

“I lost my parents, too,” Sebastian said.  “Three years ago.”

Catra looked at him sharply.  This was super awkward.  No one ever confided in her.  

“Wow, that’s… really bad.  You must miss them.”

“I do.  But, I’ve got my twin sister, Anne.  I’m not alone.”

“You have a sister?  That’s cool.  Is she in Slytherin, too?”

“Yes.  She was.  She is.  She’s… not well… at the moment, so she’s taking some time off.  But soon she’ll be better and then she’ll come back.”

Catra said nothing.  That sounded like the kind of thing people told themselves so they didn’t give up hope.  “What’s she like?” she said instead.

“She’s great.  She’s kind, and loyal, and brave.  But she causes so much trouble!  I remember one time, in Professor Sharp’s class…”  He launched into a long story involving illicit potion recipes, three owls and a sack full of nixies.  Catra didn’t understand any of it.  Still, it was… nice, to listen.  Sort of like having a friend again - like a more worldly Scorpia.  She realised with a pang that she did sort of miss the big bug.  Unfortunately, she then started wondering if Adora missed Sparkles and Arrow Boy and she changed the subject before Sebastian caught her sour expression.

Hogsmeade was pretty.  A pretty town perched on a hill that looked across the Black Lake to Hogwarts castle.  Clearly whoever had built it did not believe in straight lines or right angles, but somehow that was charming instead of shonky.  The streets were bustling with activity, finely-dressed and self-important witches and wizards striding from one engagement to the next, even though Catra could not for the life of her figure out what they were doing.  And they talked , constantly, about everything.  Half an hour loitering behind a building and she would know all the details of these people’s lives.  Which wasn’t actually a bad idea, now she thought about it.

“Welcome to Hogsmeade,” Sebastian said expansively, striding up to where Adora and Natty were waiting for them.  “I swear, there’s just something about this town.  It’s almost addictive.”

Adora smiled nervously, clearly unsure what to make of him, and Catra smiled inwardly at her discomfort.

“Professor Weasley said you had a list of supplies to get?” Natty Onai said in her broad, pleasant accent.  “Why don’t Sebastian and I meet you in the Town Circle when you are done?  You will have plenty of time to look around.”

“That sounds great.”  Adora looked hopefully at Catra, who suppressed a sigh.  Stuck with this goof again.

“Alright,” she grumbled.  “Let’s go shopping.”

Of course, it wasn’t exactly ‘shopping’.  Neither she nor Adora had any money, so they were actually just picking up things that Professor Weasley had ordered on their behalf, but Catra couldn’t help enjoying herself.  Hogsmeade was just so weird.  They went into every shop, whether or not it was on the list, just to look at all of the things on sale.  In Zonko’s joke shop, Adora had to press all of the buttons to see what they did and got herself covered in soot, bubbles and paper streamers, in that order, while Catra laughed until her sides hurt.  She had to drag Adora out of Honeydukes, and Adora had to drag her out of J Pippin’s Potions after they had collected the recipes they came for.  

“But, Adora, he had a Draught of Living Death!”

“Catra, why do you need poisons?  Who are you planning to poison??!!”

“I don’t know, I just want to be prepared.”

“We’re not in the Horde anymore!  No one’s out to get you.”

“Look at that girl!” someone whisper-shouted on the other side of the street.  “She looks like a kneazle!  Do you think we could sell her to the Poachers?”

Catra turned and growled in the direction of what looked two students a couple of years younger than them, who squeaked like mice and ran away.

“You were saying?  Come on, we still have to get our wands.”

They turned back towards the main street, Adora frowning in confusion.

“Catra,” she said after a moment.  “What’s a poacher?”

“Someone who catches and kills animals.  Usually for their fur or meat."

“Oh.  Oh!”  She looked mortified.  “Then they meant…?”

“Leave it, Adora!” Catra growled.  “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, I just…”

“Leave.  It.  Anyway, we’re here.”

Ollivander’s was a tiny, cramped shop with shelves upon shelves of colourful boxes stretching up to an enormously high ceiling.  There was no obvious way to reach the top-most ones.  There didn’t seem to be anyone manning the store, but when Adora reached for the bell on the counter, it jumped away and rang itself.  An old man stuck his head around a corner at the back of the shop.

“Aha!” he said.  “Our new fifth-years!  I’ve been expecting you.”  He came around the counter and shook them each cordially by the hand.  “Gerboldt Ollivander’s the name.  I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.  I have to say, I assumed my brother Turold in Diagon Alley would have the honour of matching you with a wand, but I am delighted to see you here instead.”

“How did you know we’re the new fifth years?” Adora asked curiously.

“Most people coming in for wands are a few years younger.  And because I heard one of you had run afoul of a bungled Panthera charm.”  He turned to Catra.  “Given that you were named after the result, I take it that happened when you were very young?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Catra growled.

“Ah!  Yes, I also heard that you were raised in an orphanage.  Anyway, let us get on with the business of matching you with your wands.  Adora, what’s your favourite colour?”

“Oh, er… blue?”

“And Catra?”

“Red, I guess.”

He looked at their school uniforms and gave a bewildered smile.  “And your favourite animal?”

“Horse.”

“Owl.”

“Interesting, interesting.”  He looked around and picked a box seemingly at random from the shelf.  “Try this one,” he said, offering the wand inside to Catra.

Catra picked up the wand and swished it about a bit.  Sparks flew from the end and turned into cacophony of fireworks, deafening in the confined space of the shop.  Catra hissed in surprise, her fur standing on end, and leapt up onto the counter.

“Oh, well, probably not that one,” Ollivander remarked, calmly putting it back in the box and summoning another from a high shelf with a wave of his wand.  “Adora, try this one.  Also, do you prefer cake or chocolate?"

The wand matching took a long time.  Gerboldt Ollivander fired odd questions at them that had no obvious association with wands or magic of any kind and shoved boxes into their hands more or less at random.  Catra started to think he wasn’t a wandmaker at all, just a local lunatic that had wandered in when the proprietor left the shop unlocked.  And then, all of a sudden, he got a manic glint in his eyes.

“Oh, I’ve got it!” he yelled and disappeared into the back of the shop, only to reappear moments later with two very dusty and faded wand boxes.

“Adora, this one is for you: teak, fourteen and half inches, with a phoenix feather core.  Go on, give it a try!”

Catra watched in amusement that turned to surprise and then awe, as Adora took the proffered wand.  As she held it out, her friend was suffused with a golden light, something like when she transformed into She Ra but softer and warmer.  Adora seemed suddenly taller and more beautiful than ever, her eyes glowing with a gentle radiance.  From somewhere, Catra could hear swelling music.

“Yes, that will do very well,” Ollivander smiled.  “And now you, Catra: eleven inches, silver vine and dragon heart string - an unusual combination.”

Catra picked up the wand and very nearly dropped it again.  A surge ran up her arm and straight to her brain.  It felt good.  It felt… right.  She lifted the wand and gave it a gentle wave, and ripples of light streamed from the tip.

“Well, well,” Ollivander said, sounding almost awed.  “How very remarkable!”

“Sorry, Mr Ollivander sir, but why is it remarkable?” Adora asked.  Catra was still staring at the stick in her hand like it was made of gold.

“These wands have been in storage for centuries,” Ollivander told them, more sober and serious than he had previously seemed.  “They are both unusual combinations, made by an ancestor of mine known for his brilliant, but somewhat eccentric, wandcraft.  He made bespoke wands for some of the most revered wizards of the sixteenth century.  Family legend has it that he made these wands after a conversation with a great seer, Percival Rackham, who was a teacher at Hogwarts.  He said the witch or wizard chosen by these wands would ‘heal that which was too long sundered’.”

There was a long silence.  Outside, it began to rain.

“What does that mean?” Catra asked.

Ollivander smiled, abruptly back to his more sprightly persona.  “It means I expect that both of you will be quite the force to be reckoned with!  Now, along with you, I have a lot of clearing up to do!”

“Thank you, Mr Ollivander,” Adora said.

“Yeah, thanks.”

They stepped outside.  Just as the door closed, they heard the swishing of Ollivander’s wand and the clatter of a great many wand boxes returning to the shelves.

“Well, that was weird,” Catra said.

“Everything here is a bit weird,” Adora shrugged.  “Maybe we’re just not used to it yet?”

“I know.  I just get the impression… why is it more weird for us?  I mean, the dragon attack, the business with the ruins and the haunted bank vault and the psycho goblin, and why is it you can see traces of ancient magic that no one else can?"

Adora looked at her with a troubled frown.  “What do you mean, no one else can?  What about…”

“Hey, why don’t you meet up with Sebastian and Natty?” Catra cut her off, distracted.  “I want to check something.  I’ll catch up.”

She didn’t wait to hear Adora’s reply, or even notice her hurt expression.  Catra walked casually in the direction of Zonko’s joke shop and headed inside as if that was all she intended.  Inside, she stationed herself near the window and observed the street.  Adora shook her head and started up the street towards the Town Circle; behind her, loitering very suspiciously between two buildings, were a tall, handsome man in a fancy purple coat and a ridiculous top hat, and a rougher looking man, slightly shorter but stockier, in a waistcoat and bowler hat that completely failed to make him look respectable.  They let the oblivious blonde get a short way ahead and then slipped out of the shadows, blatantly following her.  So, Catra let them get a short way ahead, slipped out of the side door of Zonko’s, and pulled herself up onto the rooftops, slightly-less-blatantly following them.

The entire chain of stalking made its way to the Town Circle, where Sebastian and Natty were standing, with no regard whatsoever to maintaining a strategic position.  Sebastian might be good at duelling, but it was clear neither of them had ever been in a proper fight.  Adora joined them, chatting happily with Natty while Sebastian looked around, probably for Catra.  Top Hat and Waistcoat paused in the shadow of the post office.  They were waiting for something, Catra realised, about a quarter of a second before it happened.

With an almighty crash and a deafening roar, a massive creature burst through one of the buildings on the far side of the Circle.  It was roughly humanoid, about twelve feet tall, and the kind of ugly that ought to exist only at the bottom of the sea.  More importantly, it was wearing armour that glowed a dull, sickening red and waving around a club that was bigger than Adora.  And Adora’s sword, Catra realised with horror, was back at Hogwarts.

“Troll!” someone yelled.

The townspeople scattered, screaming, as the thing locked onto the three students and lumbered towards them swinging its gigantic club.  Adora, Sebastian and Natsai reached for their wands and stood their ground as Catra drew her own.  This was going to be difficult; she would have been much more comfortable tackling that thing with claws and speed than magic, with which she was only just starting to get comfortable, but that would mean giving away her position and losing track of the two blackguards that most definitely had something to do with this.  Magic it was.

The troll was already closing on the others.  Adora blasted at it with her wand and, incredibly, the monster faltered.  Clearly she was just as powerful with this world’s magic as Etheria’s; on another day, Catra might have been angered by that, but right now she was just relieved that she wasn’t getting flattened.  Not that she liked her, of course.  It would just be difficult to explain to Weasley.

Sebastian charged in on the troll’s flank, yelling what sounded like every spell he knew, bolts of red and green light flying like fireworks.  Natty closed from the other side, her attack just as fierce.

“Keep moving!” Adora shouted, easily falling into the role of squad leader.  “Don’t let him get a fix on - yaaahhhhh!”

The troll turned suddenly and a wild swing of its club sent her flying back across the square and into a statue that shattered on impact.

“Adora!” Natty cried.

Catra bit down her own shriek.  She had seen Adora get up from worse with little more than a scratch - of course, that was when she had She Ra to fall back on.  Right now, she seemed to be having more difficulty, struggling up onto her knees as the monster approached, club raised…

“Confringo!” Catra whispered the first spell that came into her head (Intermediate Defensive Spells chapter 11, ‘the uses of incendiary magic on and off the battlefield’), cracking her wand at the troll like a whip.  To her own surprise, a great bolt of fire shot across the square and slammed into it, knocking it away from Adora and giving her time to roll away.  Sebastian looked up sharply, squinting against the sun at the rooftop where she was hidden, but a quick glance told her that Top Hat and Waistcoat were too engrossed in the fight to notice.

Sebastian and Natty rallied around Adora quickly but she was back on her feet in a moment, charging back into the fray.  They learned rapidly, spreading out to keep the troll turning, unable to concentrate on any one of them.  Catra kept one eye on the battle and one eye on the men who had clearly orchestrated it, throwing in random spells from the textbook whenever they were distracted - all of which worked, it turned out.  As the tide turned, they started to slip away down another street and Catra moved to follow, so engrossed in stalking her prey that she almost missed the dramatic endgame.

It was the silence that alerted her.  One moment, everyone was shouting; the next, Sebastian and Natsai fell silent and Adora made a strange sound, like an ‘oh!’ of realisation.  As Catra looked up, she held her wand aloft and a ball of white light gathered at the tip.  A moment later, she stabbed the wand towards the troll and the white light shot out like the blast of a Horde tank.  

The troll was vaporised.  

She could think of no other word.  One moment there was a troll, the next, a clap like thunder and a few shards of armour thudding to the ground.  Catra’s jaw fell open.  She Ra was one thing, but magic like that?   It was incredible.  Extraordinary.  It was…

Ah, crap, the conspirators were getting away.

Catra picked her jaw off the rooftop and hurried after them.

At first they headed back in the direction of Ollivander’s and then turned down a tiny alley that led down several flights of steps.  Hogsmeade, Catra had noticed, was resistant to straight lines in any plane.  It made it easier to eavesdrop, since she was able to get very close from the literal eaves.  Having better-than-human hearing helped, too.  Unfortunately, she couldn’t get a good look at them without risking being silhouetted against the skyline, but Waistcoat’s heavy boots were easy to follow; they stopped roughly halfway down the alley.

The deep, growling voice that greeted them sent chills down Catra’s spine.  Ranrok.

“You said you could get to the child when they came to Hogsmeade.  You said that all you needed was a distraction.  I gave you a distraction.”

The dull red glow on the troll’s armour, Catra realised.  The goblin metalwork was infused with some kind of magic.

“I just watched a student take down your distraction,” someone retorted.  The voice was smooth even in anger, cultured.  She guessed Top Hat rather than Waistcoat.  “Who is this child?  What are you not telling me?”

“All you need to know is that if you cannot get to the child, you are of no further use to me,” Ranrok snarled.  

There was the whispery, wooden sound of a wand being drawn.  

“Now, then, Theophilus, let’s not be hasty,” Top Hat said.  “I’m sure Ranrok will think better of his words when he hears just how the child took care of his pet.”

A pause, barely perceptible.

“What do you mean, how?”

“That was no ordinary spell she used.  Somehow, that student has learned something of Percival Rackham’s ancient magic.”

A grunt of anger and frustration, concerned whispers of four or more men and goblins.  How many of them were there down there?  And then the giddy, relieved voices of Adora, Natsai and Sebastian came from the road at the top of the alley as they passed it, Natsai talking about someone called ‘Sirona’ being a person to know.  Maybe she had food.

“Stay here,” Top Hat said.  “We may still have our chance.”

Four sets of footsteps started back in the direction of the road, Catra following by ear from the rooftop.

“What if she uses that magic on us?” Waistcoat grunted.

“I doubt that,” Top Hat replied.  “It didn’t look to me like she knew what she was about to do.  We would do well to contain the girl before she realises what magic she holds.”

Catra bit her lip to keep from growling as the footsteps stopped beside a large wooden building: the Three Broomsticks Inn.

Adora

Adora was on a high.  The magic that she had felt flow through her before she took down the troll (she wasn’t really sure what that was, but someone had shouted it when it attacked them) was different to She Ra, but it felt similar.  There had to be a reason why she had been summoned to this world.  Maybe this was the magic that she needed to bring balance to Etheria, whatever that meant, and Light Hope had sent them here to learn it.  Although, why she couldn’t have warned them was a good question, and how she was supposed to get home and carry out the balancing bit was also not clear.  But the point was, she was learning even more powerful magic!  Neither the Horde nor Ranrok would be able to stop them!  And it was really nice here, with lovely people like Professor Fig and Natty and even Catra was…

Where was Catra?

She had said she was going to check something just before the troll attacked.  Adora realised that she probably hadn’t even seen the fight, or the weird white magic explosion that had finished off the troll.  The thought made her disappointed, and she didn’t know why, and then she was annoyed at herself, and then at Catra for making her feel annoyed, and then…

“Hello?  Adora?  Are you alright?”  Natty looked at her in concern.

“What?  Yes!  Of course!  I was just wondering where Catra got to…”

“Catra?”  Sebastian smirked, for some reason.  “Oh, I expect she’s around here somewhere.  Here we are!  The Three Broomsticks: Hogsmeade’s finest establishment.  After you, ladies.”

He held the door open with an exaggerated bow.  Did he remind her of Sea Hawk?  A little, but she had the uncomfortable feeling he was laughing at her.

The Three Broomsticks was lovely: warm, welcoming, lit with the golden light of dozens of candles now that the daylight was beginning to fade.  Nothing about it was fancy or elaborate, but she liked it even more for that.  Around a dozen patrons were grouped around a few tables, enjoying early drinks and hearty-looking food, a couple more in comfortable chairs near the open fire at the far end.  A tall, dark-haired, strong-jawed witch was behind the bar, carefully cleaning some glasses.

“Evening,” she greeted them, smiling broadly at Natty, slightly less so at Sebastian, and then spotting Adora.  “Ah!  Here’s a face I haven’t seen before.”

“Hi!  I’m Adora.  I’m new at Hogwarts.”

“New at Hogwarts?  That’s lovely.  How are you finding it?”

“It’s great!  And so is Hogsmeade!  Even with the troll attacks.”

“I heard.  It’s all anyone’s talking about this evening.  But I don’t want you getting the wrong impression, we’ve never had such an attack before.”

“Or again, after today,” Natty laughed.  “This one took care of it.  Single handedly took down the troll!”

“Did you now?  Well done!” Sirona looked highly impressed.  Adora preened under the attention.  “Butterbeers all round, then!”

Adora accepted a mug of something foamy and sweet-smelling and, seeing Natty and Sebastian attack theirs with relish, took a cautious sip.  It was delicious: warm and gingery and sweet and soooooooo gooooooooood!  When the door crashed open, she turned automatically to tell Catra about it.  But it wasn’t Catra.

There were two men in the doorway: one dressed expensively but garishly and the other dressed like a thug.  She heard Sirona mutter something under her breath as they entered.  It took two seconds for their gaze to lock in on the three students by the bar and start forward.  Adora put down her butterbeer and prepared for a fight.

Sirona stepped between them.

“Victor.  Theophilus.  I think I remember banning you from my pub, did I imagine that?”

“Sirona,” the taller one sneered.  “That was an overreaction.  We were only being friendly.”

“You’ll keep your hands to yourself and off my staff,” she said shortly.  “Or you can get your firewhisky elsewhere.”

“No need for that.  We’re only here for a quick word with this one.”  

He indicated Adora, who realised with disappointment that she was not going to be able to turn into She Ra and throw him across the room and back out of the door with one hand, so she reached for her wand instead.  So, she noticed, did Natty, Sebastian, Sirona, and half of the other patrons.  But before anyone could move, a familiar, drawling voice spoke up behind them.

“You know, for villains, you’re not very good at watching your back.”

Both men turned quickly.  Catra was leaning on the doorframe, lazily aiming her wand at the pair.

“I left two men outside the door,” the tall one snapped.

“Oh, they’re still there.  But I wanted to try out a new spell: I think it’s called the Elbow Switching Jinx?”

“The Knee Reversal Hex?!”

“That’s the one.  Your men are having difficulty standing up.”

Sebastian laughed openly, Natty’s eyes widened in shock, even Sirona bit her lip to keep from giggling.

“Be careful, little girl,” the tall one, the one Sirona had called Victor, snarled at Catra.  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Catra gave a squeaky laugh.  “Oh, right, you’re the local Big Bad.  But here’s the thing: I’ve been there, and I’ve done that.  You don’t scare me.  There’s a lot worse than you lurking in the shadows.”

“Why you little…”  He reached for his wand, but Sirona was too quick.

“Expelliarmus!”

The man in the waistcoat reached for his wand to defend his boss, only to find himself facing down literally everyone else in the pub and very carefully moved his hand away.

“Pick up your wand - slowly! - and get out of my bar,” Sirona told them.

Catra moved aside and bowed them out as sarcastically as she could.

Chapter Text

Adora

They didn’t talk much on the way back to Hogwarts.  It was late and the adrenaline was starting to wear off, leaving them exhausted.  Adora noticed the side glances she was getting from Natty and Sebastian, possibly wondering how she had done what she had to the troll (she was wondering the same thing) and realised she was directing a similar look at Catra.  Who wasn’t looking at any of them.  Once or twice, Adora thought she felt a familiar gaze, but when she turned, Catra was casually inspecting her claws for damage.  They split up when they reached the castle: Sebastian to the Slytherin dungeon, Natsai to speak to Professor Weasley, Catra to Ravenclaw tower and Adora to Gryffindor.

An hour later, she heard Natty come up to bed.  Not knowing exactly why, she feigned sleep until she heard the sounds of the other girl falling into bed and starting to snore.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk - Adora loved to talk, especially after a mission, breaking down the strengths and weaknesses of the team, noting what went well and what didn’t, what they could expect from their opponents next time - but… it wasn’t Natsai she wanted to talk to.  Eventually, well after midnight, she gave up, tiptoed down to the now-deserted common room and slumped on a squishy couch, idly wondering whether she should relight the smouldering embers with her Horde training or try a spell.  While she was debating whether or not this would set the whole tower on fire, someone thumped down on the next sofa.

“Finally!  I swear to Hordak, if we stayed up this late when we were cadets, Shadow Weaver would have skinned us alive.”

“Catra!”  Adora tried not to jump out of said skin in a graphic demonstration of the text.  “How did you get in?!”

“Eh, I followed you the first night when Weasley gave you the password.  Figured I’d need it sooner or later.  We need to talk.  Incendio,” she added, to the fireplace, which promptly sprang into flame.

“How did you do that?”

“Read the textbooks.  Didn’t you?  These fiery spells seem to work really well for me.  Anyway, feel free to ignore this, ‘cause you’re probably going to, but you should keep She Ra a secret for now.”

“Of course.  I was going to do that anyway.”

Catra snorted.  “Yeah, right.  You’re dying to show that Natty girl.  I can almost see the hearts in her eyes already.”

“I’m not!  I wasn’t!  I…”  Adora collected her thoughts, always a challenge when Catra was around.  “Anyway, why the sudden need for secrecy?”

“I followed Rookwood, he was talking to Ranrok.”

“ What?! ”

“I’m not finished.  They were talking about ‘ancient magic’, something about Rackham - probably the locket you found in the vault.  Point is, they’re already going after some kind of ancient magic, if he finds out you basically are ancient magic, they’ll never let up.”

“Catra.  Are you worried about me?”

“Shut up, this is not because I like you.  I just haven’t figured out the angles yet.”

Adora smiled slightly, but Catra, staring into the flames, didn’t notice.

“Do you trust Professor Fig?” she said suddenly.

“Of course!” Adora replied, startled.  “He’s been so kind to us.  And he’s our teacher!”

Catra just grunted in response.

“How did you like the other teachers?” Adora asked cautiously.

“Hecat’s ok.  You know, for a training officer.”

“She’s not a training officer, Catra.  She’s really impressed with you, you know.  I heard her telling another teacher that she’d never seen a student pick up duelling so fast.”

Catra laughed sardonically.  “It wasn’t exactly my first fight, was it?”  But her ears perked up happily.  It was almost heartbreaking; she couldn’t even allow herself to accept the praise openly.  “Ronen was… well, almost as brain damaged as you.  But Charms was fun.”

“Did you play Summoner’s Court?”

“No, what’s that?  We played Birdcatcher - he made objects fly around the room and we had to summon the one he shouted out.”

Adora laughed delightedly, and then immediately stifled it before anyone woke up and came to investigate.  If Catra was found in the Gryffindor common room, she’d be in a lot of trouble.  And this was nice, like being back in their old spot at the top of the forge.  Like being friends again.

“I should go,” Catra said reluctantly.

“Not yet!  Let’s just hang out for a bit.”

“Later, ok?  There’s something I gotta check.”  She got up and stretched, almost as if she’d been the one in a fight, then headed for the passage out to the hall.  She turned in the doorway.  “Adora?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitated.  “Shadow Weaver was our teacher too.”

She was gone before Adora could reply.

Chapter Text

The enquiring reader may find themselves wondering what the other members of the Best Friend Squad have been doing all this time.  Have they noticed the absence of their newest and most powerful bestie?  Has Glimmer stopped glitching?  Has Angella stopped freaking out?  And what about the Super Pal Trio?  Has Entrapta, in the absence of the tech from the Crystal Castle, managed to hack the planet?

The answers, briefly, are: yes, no, more or less, they’re sad about it, and no.

But if you wanted a better explanation, it goes something like this:

“It’s been four days, Bow!  Four days!”

“I know, Glimmer, but this isn’t a great plan.  You’re still glitching, and the last time we went in there it tried to collapse on us.”

“But it’s where Adora is.  So we’re going in.”

Bow sighed.  Trying to restrain Glimmer was like trying to talk to his Dads about something that wasn’t History: it was technically possible but it was so much hard work he couldn’t usually face it.  He was about to appeal to their other travelling companion when he remembered that was a talking revolutionary horse whose whole idea this was.  So maybe not.

Glimmer hammered on the door of the Crystal Castle.

“Adora!  Are you in there?  It’s Bow and Glimmer - and Swift Wind, who’s looking for a job as your steed.”

“We have a mystical bond !” the horse in question declared.

“Are you ok?” Bow hollered.

The door didn’t answer.  

“Adora?”

Still no answer.

“Ok,” Glimmer said.  “We’re going in.”

“How are we going to - oh.  Like that.”

Glimmer teleported them inside, then collapsed, glitching again.

“Glimmer!” Bow cried.

“I’m ok.  I’m ok.”  She struggled to her feet.  “I didn’t bring Swift Wind, though.  I wasn’t sure I could teleport a horse.”

“It’s ok.  Really, really ok.”

“Right.  Let’s find Adora.”

Glimmer managed a… er… glimmer of light and they set off through the strangely well-preserved corridor, calling for Adora as loud as they dared.  Eventually, they came to the large, central room, but it looked subtly different from the last time; better-lit, somehow cleaner.  There was no sign of the hologram that had greeted them last time.

“Maybe she’s found another part of the Castle?” Glimmer said hopefully.  “The healing training room part?” 

“Hang on!  Someone’s coming.”

The sound of voices reached them, distorted by echoes but coming closer.  It was with sensible caution and definitely not blind panic that they dived behind the nearest strange, crystal console thingy.

“Oh wow!  This is nice!  I don’t know what it is, but it’s great.  The colour scheme?  Wow.”

“It’s a First Ones ruin!” another voice answered.  It was strangely familiar.  “The best-preserved I’ve ever seen!  I bet there’s loads of tech!”

Bow’s eyes widened.  “Is that…?” he whispered.

“Do you think Catra’s still here?” the first voice said, clearer now as the two of them entered the room.

“My tracker indicates not,” the second voice, the one that sounded exactly like but could not be Entrapta, said.  “But it is the last place her vital signature was picked up, so we should start with…”

“Entrapta!” Glimmer shrieked, teleporting directly into a hug.

“Oh, hello,” Is That Really Entrapta? said, gently disentangling Glimmer’s arms with her pigtails and depositing her safely four feet away.  “Hey, Bow.  What are you doing here?”

“We’re looking for Adora,” he answered.  “Entrapta, we thought you died!”

“Why did you think that?”

“Because you were in a sealed room and it was on fire!”

“Oh, that.  I hid inside Emily.”

“Oh, erm, Entrapta?” the other newcomer said.  “Aren’t these guys… you know… Princesses?”

“Of course!  Where are my manners?  Bow, Glimmer, this is Scorpia.  My background data indicates that she is the Princess of the Scorpioni but has never bonded with her Runestone.  Scorpia, Bow and Glimmer.”

Bow stepped back, reaching for an arrow.  “I know you!  You knocked me out and kidnapped me!”

“Erm, yeah, I did do that.”  The massive Scorpioni woman looked slightly sheepish.  “In my defence, you are with the Princess Alliance and they’re, like, the bad guys, so…”

“We are not!” Glimmer shouted.  “The Horde are the bad guys!  And we found this ruin first!”

“Glimmer, I don’t think that’s helping!” Bow warbled.

“The data does indicate that, by commonly accepted moral standards, the Horde are in the wrong ninety-six point eight per cent of the time…”

“Really?  Oh, gosh, that is quite a lot…”

“And we found the ruin first!  And we need to find Adora!”

“Well, she’s not here.  My tracker indicates there’s only the four of us plus a partial heat signature that I think might be a hologram and…”

“What do you mean, she’s not here?!” Bow and Glimmer said together.

“What’s a hologram?” Scorpia asked.

“That is,” Entrapta said, pointing to the far side of the room and not looking up from her tracker pad.

Glimmer, Bow and Scorpia turned.  If a hologram could look frazzled, this one was frazzled.  “Administrator not detected,” she snapped.  “Initiating lockdown…”

“Wait!” Glimmer cried.  “What happened to Adora?  What happened to She Ra?!”

The hologram hesitated.  “She Ra is not here.  She and the angry feline are… gone.”

“Gone out of the Crystal castle?  Out of the Whispering Woods?”

“Out of Etheria.  Administrator not detected.  Initiating lockdown…”

“What do you mean, out of Etheria?!”

“Portal capabilities are… should be offline.  Administrator…”

“Portal?!” Entrapta cried.  “You mean to another dimension?  In space?!!”

“Administrator not…”

“Wait!  Tell me everything!”

“ Administrator not detected… ”

“Alright!” Glimmer yelled.  “We’re going!”

The sounds of spidery footsteps were already approaching at speed as Bow and Glimmer ran for the exit, followed by Scorpia, who was not all that slow on the uptake, and Entrapta, who had to be physically picked up and carried, shouting questions back at the hologram the whole time.

As they reached the relative safety of the Whispering Woods, Glimmer glitched again.

“Glimmer!” 

“Faaaaascinating,” Entrapta said, portals apparently forgotten.  “How did you get out of phase with your runestone?”

“How did I what?” Glimmer mumbled.

“You appear to be having episodes of vibrating at one frequency on the physical level and a completely different one with your magic.  You’re probably out of phase with the Moonstone.”

“Shadow Weaver cursed me.”

“With the Black Garnet?  Using the different magical frequency to block your own innate connection to your runestone?  Of course!  That’s so smart!”

Bow and Glimmer looked at her angrily.

“Also bad, for you,” she amended.  “But the effects are unlikely to be permanent as long as…”

“Catra’s gone,” Scorpia said, not so much cutting in as completely unable to comprehend what the others were saying.  It looked very much like her entire sense of purpose had collapsed with the revelation that her dubious friend had vanished.  Horde soldier or not, Bow couldn’t help feeling bad for her.

“So is Adora!” Glimmer pointed out.  “And it’s probably Catra’s fault!”

“That doesn’t seem likely,” Entrapta said.  “Catra is quite smart, but she hasn’t had time to build a portal machine and she was inside that ruin when it happened.  It’s more probable that there’s an ancient First Ones device built into the ruin that was somehow accidentally triggered.  Oh!”  Her eyes were full of stars now.  “Imagine the worlds they could be seeing!  I hope they bring back lots of tech!”

Bow shook his head, trying to get back on track.  “Ok.  So if Adora - and Catra - have been accidentally sent to another dimension, how do we get them back?”

“I don’t know!”  The tech Princess looked utterly euphoric about it.  “We’d need lots of information about the First Ones in order to reverse engineer a portal device, plus some kind of lead on where they might have gone - and we’d need a power source.  Something really big.”

“But… it could be done?” Scorpia said, seizing Entrapta by the arms and lifting her off the floor.  “We can bring her back?”

“Put her down!” Glimmer yelled.  “We’re not going to save Catra!  We’re going to save Adora!”

“But they’re in the same place,” Bow reasoned.  “Glimmer, I know you don’t like Catra, but I think we have to save both of them.”  He frowned, filling up with purpose, and stood up straighter.  “We have to work together.  For our friends: for Adora and for Catra.  It’s up to us to bring them back.

Scorpia put Entrapta down and looked at him in surprise.  Glimmer looked at the Force Captain, the Tech Princess and him, and nodded.  Entrapta did some kind of happy jig on her hair.

“We’re going to go to spaaaaaaace!”

Chapter Text

Catra

Breakfast, Catra thought, was kind of a weird affair.

The food was incredible; having lived on ration bars for most of her life, she had no idea what most of it was, but the smell alone made her purr out loud, and the variety of tastes, and the textures…greasy, juicy, crispy, tender, chewy, squashy… it was pure heaven, but she could have said that about lunch and dinner as well.  No, what was weird about breakfast, was that it was so unregimented.

The other meals were served at fixed times.  Everyone took a seat at their House tables, generally in roughly age order (youngest closest to the teachers, oldest towards the main doors), food appeared, everyone ate, dessert appeared, most people ate that too, and after an hour it was all done.  Breakfast was a completely different concept.  Catra loved sleep, but for reasons best known to whatever the hell her weird biology was, she was usually up with the dawn and she was astonished to find a few people already present when she wandered down to see if she could scrounge some food.  Over the course of the next three hours more drifted in, helped themselves to the various platters on the tables and either drifted out again or stayed, going over their notes and textbooks.  No one seemed to care about the seating arrangements.  Catra had automatically placed herself in roughly the same position she had occupied the night before, but when Samantha Dale and Ying Chen from her own dormitory wandered in, they were waved over by a couple of Hufflepuff girls and went to sit on the other House table.  Such a thing would never be allowed in the Horde; everyone sat where they were told to, with their squads, no questions.  Before long Catra had completely forgotten the textbook she had started to review and was absorbed in watching her classmates and teachers, fascinated by how people acted when they were free to choose.

“History of Magic?” someone said, behind her left shoulder.  “I’ve got Binns this morning, as well.  I warn you, it’s dire.”

Catra hissed in surprise, and Sebastian smirked as he plonked himself down next to her.  

“Good morning to you, too,” he greeted her.

“How come no one cares about the House tables in the morning?”

“It’s too damned early to care about much,” he shrugged.  “Pass the sausages, would you?”

Catra hesitated.  “Ok, this might sound weird, but I don’t know what a sausage is.”

Sebastian gave her a confused look.  “You’re eating one right now.”

Catra looked at her fork.  Juicy, meaty cylinders with the crispy skin.  Good to know.  She passed him the platter.  “This is a sausage?  It’s delicious.  What’s it made of?”

“Pork, mostly.”  He clocked her blank look.  “You know, pig meat?”

Catra made a snap decision that was drastically out of character, but there was no way she could keep wandering around this world knowing literally nothing.  “Ok, I’m going to tell you something, and if you tell anyone else, I will hurt you severely.  The place I grew up was really, really different from this.  We only had ration bars, that tasted like cardboard and I have no idea what was in them.  This… proper food thing is completely new to me.  I need you to tell me what all of these things are.”

“Wow.  Ok.  I’ll tell you what, I will help you out, if you tell me something in return.”

Catra’s eyes narrowed.  “What’s that?”

“Why don’t you want Adora to know you saved her life yesterday?”  Sebastian was watching her closely, as smug as ever, but sharp with it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yes, you do.  Impeccable Confringo, by the way.  Don’t tell me that was a first attempt?”

She huffed irritably.  “Ok!  And yes, it was a first attempt.  I seem to be… good at fire.”

“Which is interesting in itself, but it doesn’t explain why you decided to hide it from her.”

Catra hesitated.  If she was completely honest - which would be unusual, at least - she wasn’t entirely sure.  She got the impression relationships were… different here.  Less intense, perhaps.  People had multiple other people, not just one.  Adora had been the only person she had had for so long that she felt like she couldn’t breathe without her and yet… she’d left.  She’d left, and Catra was still alive.  And as much as a part of her yearned for that closeness, there was another part that didn’t trust it anymore.  But how to explain that over the breakfast table to someone she met yesterday?

“I don’t want her head to get any bigger than it already is,” she said flatly.  “It’s not like I like her.”

Sebastian chuckled.  “Of course you don’t,” he smirked.  “Anyway, that plate there is bacon.  You should definitely try it…”

History of magic was awful.  For about twenty seconds, she had been excited to see the teacher was a ghost, but as soon as he started talking he realised that the reason he was still in this classroom was that he lacked the gumption to have walked into the light.  Catra wasn’t even the first one to fall asleep.  She woke up long enough to copy down the title of the homework - “Compare the effects of the Goblin Rebellions of 1612 and 1752 on the Wizarding brewing industry” - and yawned massively as they headed away from the classroom.  She caught sight of three Slytherin girls giggling and pointing at her fangs and bared them in their direction.

Next up was an elective session.  Fig and Weasley had decreed that she and Adora should take one class of each subject they thought they might like to try, given that they had had no prior experience on which to base their choices.  Given that Sebastian was heading that way anyway, and that he was the only person she had met so far that she could stand to be around, Catra tagged along to Ancient Runes.  It was only marginally better than History of Magic.

Lunch, on the other hand, was a definite highlight.  Sebastian had apparently decided to help her out with Food Identification, if only because her ignorance was a source of massive entertainment to him.   This time there was chicken casserole and lamb chops and something called nyama that the other students avoided.  Apparently it was ‘foreign’ and the Divination teacher, Professor Onai, requested it to remind her of home.  Catra hadn’t had a Divination lesson yet, and to be honest it sounded like a pile of giant beetle droppings, but she might go along just to see what other food this woman had.  She felt the usual post-prandial lethargy stealing over her and was grateful for the napping opportunity of a free period - in which she was supposed to do homework, presumably, but that was a problem for Future Catra - but just as she was getting up from the table, Adora sprang up behind her, holding a letter.

“Catra!” she chirped.  “I’m so glad I found you!  Professor Fig wants to speak with us.”

“Really?” Catra yawned.  “Sure he doesn’t just want to speak to you?”

“Of course I’m sure.  Look, he sent us a letter.  An owl delivered it to me,” she added happily.

She scanned the note with a sigh.  Professor Fig’s writing was cramped but elegant:  

I’ve discovered something in the locket.  I’d like both of you to come and see me as soon as you are able.  Professor Fig.

Well.  He had said both of them.

Of course, the first challenge was finding his classroom.  There were a surprising number of students milling about in the halls and courtyards, apparently with very little to do, and Catra and Adora attracted a certain amount of attention - largely admiring in Adora’s case and vaguely wary in Catra’s.  Eh, same old.  Adora asked directions off a girl in Gryffindor colours who she called Nellie.  The girl started going on about flying keys, but once they escaped that conversation, her instructions were easy enough to follow.  Fig’s office was at the back of a classroom that was a mirror image of Hecat’s.

“Professor!” Adora exclaimed.  “It’s good to see you.”

By the Horde, had she always been this over the top?

“And you,” Fig smiled.  “I’m glad to see you’re both in one piece.  I heard about the attack.  Trolls in Hogsmeade?”

“Sir, the troll was wearing armour.  It looked like the collar the dragon was wearing.”

“Goblin silver?  But why…?”

“To get to Adora,” Catra said.  “Ranrok was there, talking to a guy called Victor Rookwood.”  She recounted the conversation as best she could.  

“They want the locket,” Fig said gravely.

“Yeah, probably.  Did you say you found something in it?”

Adora frowned at her tone - probably was going to tell her it was disrespectful later - but Fig answered the question.  

“Indeed.  I found an inscription, and when I read it aloud, this map appeared.” 

He indicated his desk and they noticed it for the first time.  It looked like Hogwarts.  Tiny specks of shiny ancient magic flitted around the area they now knew to be the library, around an area that appeared to be separate, walled-off.  So, they needed to find a book?  Catra yawned.  What did this scavenger hunt business have to do with anything?

“It leads to the Library,” Adora said.  “I can see traces of Ancient Magic there.”

Oh, yeah, Fig couldn’t see that.

“I suspected you might see something,” Fig smiled, and Adora glowed.  

“Maybe we need to find a book.  Shall we go?”

“Yes.  Let us…”

“Fig!”  The door opened and the Headmaster strode into the room, his palpable arrogance preceding him.  “I have work for you.  Come.”

“Headmaster, I am with the students and my schedule…”

“You’re schedule will wait - indefinitely - as will your students.  You’ve caused me enough trouble with this business with Osric.”  Black glared at all three of them.  “My office.  Five minutes.”

And out he strode.

Fig sighed.  “I suppose this will have to wait.”

“But…” Adora started.

“It would be unwise to provoke our illustrious headmaster any further.  You two concentrate on your studies.  I will send you a message when I have completed whatever toils I must endure.”

Thus dismissed, they wandered back downstairs.

“Shall we do homework in the Great Hall?” Adora asked, brightening at a concept that made Catra shudder.  “Or we could sit outside?  We’ve got an hour before the next class.”

They had reached the main hall of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower.  Catra spied a familiar figure contemplating a portrait of a witch pretending to be burned.  Not that she could see much other than a green-trimmed robe and a thatch of dark hair, but no one else could swagger that much while standing still.

“Hey, I’ll meet you in the Transfiguration courtyard,” Catra said.  “I just need to check something.”

She walked off before Adora could find a reason to follow.

“Hey, Sebastian.”

He grinned.  “Hey, Catra.  Recovered from History?”

“Not quite.  Can’t wait to do some proper magic again.”  She dropped her voice once she was sure Adora had wandered off.  “Listen, did you say something yesterday about sneaking into the Restricted section in the library?”

“I might have done.”

“Is the Restricted section the closed off bit on the right-hand side?”

“It might be.”

“Great.  I need to break into it.  How do we do that?”

Sebastian grinned.  “Alright, I’ll help you.  But that’s the second one you owe me, and this is a much bigger favour than telling you about bacon.”

Catra narrowed her eyes.  “Owe you what, exactly?”

“I haven’t decided yet.  Information, probably.  Or maybe you can do my History of Magic homework later in the year - once I know if you’re any good.”

She felt her eyebrows retreating into her hairline.  Still, it made sense, there had to be something in it for him.  She would have been more suspicious if he’d offered to do it out of friendship or kindness or some rubbish like that.

“I guess that seems fair.”

“Alright then.  Meet me at the top of the Central Hall staircase half an hour after curfew.  Don’t be late.”