‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - ✦ - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

LAYLA'S LAST MONTH with the family was fun, at least without Mr. Jordayne constantly in the picture. Nahida was delighted with her new book, and as it turned out, she did get her copy of Plato's complete works from another friend. She was sipping her tea in the garden, and she could hear her sister reading aloud from the philosophy book.

“…Very well then, men of Athens. I must surely defend myself and attempt to uproot from your minds in so short a time the slander that has resided there so long. I wish this may happen, if it is in any way better for you and me, and that my defense may be successful, but I think this is very difficult and I am fully aware of how difficult it is. Even so, let the matter proceed as the god may wish, but I must obey the law and make my defense. Let us then take up the case from its beginning. What is the accusation from which arose the slander in which Meletus trusted when he wrote…”

“What is she reading; a play?”, asked Lucretia.

“The Apology.”, replied Emmaline. “A defense speech.”

“Tullio used to read Plato when he was alive. He always managed to lull Nahida to sleep because it was so long.”, Lucretia remarked with a sad smile.

Emmaline stifled a laugh; “Really? Wouldn't expect that from someone heavily associated with Ancient Egyptian things.”

“I was surprised too.”, giggled Lucretia. “The first work he ever read to Nahida was the Phaedo.”

“Phaedo? I wonder why.”

“I cannot know now that he's dead.” Lucretia lamented; “at least that dialogue talked about the immortality of the soul.”

Layla, who had stopped listening to the adults' conversation, emptied her teacup, and smirked. Over the last week or so, Layla had kept to her room with her new books and owl for company (Plato often snuck up on Nahida, and even defecated on her hair once). Her school books were very interesting. She lay on her
bed reading late into the night, and even practiced some basic spells — usually on Nahida's books, which amused the girl to no end

It was lucky that Mr. Jordayne had been sent off to Norway on a business trip, which put the sisters at peace. Every night before she went to sleep, Layla ticked off another day on the calendar she had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

But right now, Layla wanted to spend some time with her little sister. With a small snigger on her face, she lifted her wand, swished and flicked, then aimed it at Nahida's very thick and heavy book

“…Not one of them is true. And if you have heard from anyone that I undertake to teach people and charge a fee for it, that is not true either. Yet I think it a fine thing to be able to teach people as Gorgias of Leontinie
does, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias of Elis. Each of these men can go to any city and persuade the young, who can keep company with— LAYLAAAA!!”

Emmaline and Lucretia burst out laughing, and watched Layla keep the book afloat with magic. Pouting, Nahida stood from her seat, and ran after her cackling elder sister.

“Faster, Layla!”, cheered Emmaline. Layla ran in circles around a topiary, with her younger sister hot on her heels, jumping up at certain points of the chase.

“Nilou will have my head if that book is ruined!”, Nahida added jumping and eventually, retrieving her book (but not before floating off the ground by a few inches).

“Then you shouldn't let it float away.”, chuckled Layla.

“That’s not fair, you have a wand!”

Emmaline simply watched the girls banter, and noticed that Lucretia was gone from her previous seat (probably preparing lunch). She too, decided to retreat to her room, where she sat on her bed, and pulled something out of a nearby drawer.

It was a stick of high-quality, blackthorn wood with a sharpened tip, and it had a small piece of graphite in it. The stick wasn't always a makeshift pencil; it used to be someone's wand; my mother's wand, Emmaline corrected herself.

“How did things come to this?”, she asked no one in particular, still holding onto the wand. “My Layla has your magic, and it appears little Nahie does too. I-I can't…”

Tears were starting to fall down her face. It was in those moments of solitude where she could truly be herself and just break down, not having forgotten that incident which led to the loss of her mother.

Mamma, please help me, even if you can't hear anymore…

“I can't lose anyone else, not after Fa— Mr. Jordayne pushed you off that balcony.”

On the other side of the door, Layla happened to pass by (she wanted to sneak in a few snacks into her room), and her eyebrows raised, herself at a loss for words.

Nights in the household were quiet affairs, especially because Mr. Jordayne wasn't present (he would spend hours scolding Layla and especially Nahida about the state of their rooms). While Layla had some spine to answer back, Nahida would remain quiet, and if she was feeling extra bold, would shut the door while Mr. Jordayne was speaking.

With him away from the house, it was almost eerily quiet, and the new books were starting to be a bit less interesting. Layla got up from her bed and turned on the hallway lights.

The hallway was long and a little wide, with three rooms on one side and two across from them, one of which was her own. The other one, decorated with lotus detailing, belonged to Nahida, and it was curious how the door was left ajar — Nahida always locked her door before tucking in for the night.

Layla styled her long, cooper locks into a simple braid, then exited her room. The night was warm, so she opted for a long, cotton, powder blue nightgown with short, tulip sleeves. Quietly, she took a small peak into the room next door.

Nahida was sitting on a dark green, plush chsir near her round, open window. The book by Plato lay on the oaken study table across the couch, with the medium sized, four-poster bed taking up the space beside the window, which was obscured by a pair of diaphanous, sage green curtains.  A closet door was beside the foot of the bed, slightly ajar, and the vanity was beside the study table, taking up another corner of the room.

The girl was clad in a long, off-white, cotton nightgown with sleeves that covered three quarters of her arms. She was fast asleep, albeit very lightly. (She had certain issues that not even a powerful medication could solve)

“Nahie?”

Nahida stirred, then opened her eyes. Stifling a yawn, she stood up and switched on the light.

“Lei, come in.”

Layla obliged, and sat next to her, and leaned her head on the cushion behind her. She felt something fluffy lean on her shoulder, and looked to the left, spotting some of Nahida's hair out of the corner of her eyes.

“Nervous?”, asked Nahida.

“A little.”

Nahida snuggled closer to her sister, which Layla didn't mind. This might be the last time I see her, she thought.

“You usually lock your door, Nahie. Did something happen?”

Nahida looked up at her, then blinked. “I’ve had nightmares all my life, but I couldn't tell you.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

Nahida took a couple of deep breaths; “I’m standing near a river and there's someone across from me. He doesn't look monstrous or anything; he looks like a sultan's adviser.”

Layla held her sister closer, anticipating where the conversation could go. Great-grandpa will have a field day hearing this. Luckily for us, he's not around.

“What’s a sultan’s adviser doing near a river?”

“Well he carried a staff with a serpent's head, slammed it into the water and the river turned into literal blood.”

Layla was at a loss for words. The first plague of Egypt! Why would she dream about it? Last I checked, Nahida doesn't read the bible or pray or do anything remotely Catholic.

“Did you offend a god, by any chance?”

Nahida’s eyelids drooped slightly. “I threw a scarab at a giant serpent once.”

“Why?”

“It killed my father.”

“Just so you know.”, Layla advised, though this was already years too late; “the gods don't like it if scarabs are thrown at them.”

On the last day of August, Layla thought she’d better speak to her father and grandmother about getting to King’s Cross station the next day, so she went down to the living room where they were watching a documentary on television. She cleared her throat to let them know she was there, and Nahida, who was reading a book on ethics, looked up and placed an index fonger over her lips. Layla understood exactly what her sister meant to hide.

“Er — Father, Grandma?”

      “Yes Layla?”, responded her father.

      “Er — I need to be at King’s Cross tomorrow to — to go to Hogwarts.”

      Nahida gestured for Layla to continue.

      “Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?”

      Thumbs-up. Layla supposed that meant yes.

“Thank you.”

      She was about to go back upstairs when her father added.

      “Funny way to get to a wizards’ school, the train. Where'd the brooms and carpets go?”

      Layla didn’t say anything.

      “Where is this school, anyway?” asked Nahida.

“Out in Scotland, dear.”, revealed Emmaline.

“I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o’clock,” Layla read from the ticket that had magically appeared in her pocket the day she went to Diagon Alley.

      Her father stared.

“I don't think that platform exists, Lei.”

“Only because you haven't seen it.”, added Emmaline. “It is a witch thing.”

Layla stared at her grandmother. She sure knows a lot about the witchy stuff. If Professor Flitwick was right about my great-grandma…

Layla woke at five o’clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. She got up and pulled on her best dress because she didn’t want to walk into the station in her witch's robes — she’d change on the train. She checked her Hogwarts list yet again to make sure she had everything she needed, saw that Plato was shut safely in his cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the rest of the family to get up.

Layla found Nahida in the garden at half past five, drinking Earl Grey tea, and she could spot the philosophy book on the table.

"…He says that I am guilty of corrupting the young, but I say that Meletus is guilty of dealing frivolously with serious matters, of irresponsibly bringing people into court, and of professing to be seriously concerned with things about none of which he has ever cared, and I shall try to prove that this is so. Come here and tell me, Meletus. Surely you consider it of the greatestd importance that our young men be as good as possible?…”

“Still reading the Apology?”

Nahida nodded. “Yes. There's something about a defense speech that I really like.”

“Imagine yourself defending yourself in front of the masses. I wonder if they'll believe you.”

Nahida chuckled darkly; “They won't, and then I'll get executed like Socrates.”

“Please don't die.”, whispered Layla, then made a beeline for her sister. Nahida closed her eyes and noticed how Layla had taken a shower (her hair smelled like lavender and jasmine).

“On second thought, I probably won't die like Socrates did.”

Two hours later, Layla's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the family car, Nahida automatically sat next to Layla, and they had set off.

      They reached King’s Cross at half past ten. Her grandmother placed Layla's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for her. Layla waited for Nahida to catch up (she was carrying Plato's cage) and the family stopped dead, facing the platforms with a look of caution.

“Well, there you are, Lei. Platform nine — platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, right?” Nahida quipped

      She was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

      “So, here goes nothing.” said her grandmother. with an even wider smile. She also dragged Nahida along, the three girls giving Prometheus a subtle signal to wait somewhere.

The groups stopped a passing guard, but didn’t dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts (or rather, Harrington School of Performing Arts) and when Layla almost couldn’t even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Layla's was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Layla asked for the train that left at eleven o’clock, but the guard said there wasn’t one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. The rest of the family was now trying hard not to panic.

“What now?”, whispered Nahida. Emmaline merely hugged the girl. Layla tried hard not to cry (she was already panicking herself).

According to the large clock over the arrivals board, she had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and she had no idea how to do it; she was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk she could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

“Please Lord, send me a sign.”, she prayed spontaneously.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind her and she caught a few words of what they were saying. Nahida cued Layla in, and placed Plato's cage on top of the trunk.

“Your sign, Layla.”, she mouthed, and stepped aside.

      “— packed with Muggles, of course —”

      Layla swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like hers in front of him — and they had an owl.

      Heart hammering, Layla pushed her cart after them. They stopped and so did she, just near enough to hear what they were saying. With her were a pair of strangers, a boy and a girl, seemingly lost in the station like her. The boy had messy, jet-black hair and bright green eyes. As for the girl — she could be mistaken for a lost twin, but for the more aristocratic facial features and the same, green eyes as the boy but flecked with gold.

“Hogwarts too?”, asked the girl.

Layla nodded, and could spot Nahida waving her goodbye. Layla smiled sadly, and waved back.

      “Now, what’s the platform number?” said the boys’ mother.

      “Nine and three-quarters!” piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, “Mom, can’t I go…”

      “You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.”

      What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Layla watched, careful not to blink in case she missed it — but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of her and the two other strangers and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

      “Fred, you next,” the plump woman said.

      “I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said the boy. “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?

Can’t you tell I’m George?”

      “Sorry, George, dear.”

“Only joking, I am Fred,” said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone — but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere.

      There was nothing else for it.

      “Excuse me,” the boy with green eyes said to the plump woman.

      “Hello, dear,” she said. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”

      She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

      “Yes,” said the boy. “The thing is — the thing is, we don’t know how to —”

      “How to get onto the platform?” she said kindly, and the boy nodded, glancing at the pair of redheads

      “Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”

      “Er — okay,” said the boy.

      He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

      He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. The boy walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he’d be in trouble — leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn’t be able to stop — the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes ready for the crash —

He disappeared.

Layla followed him, ignoring the huffs Plato was making, and had a similar anticipation for a crash, but she soon learned that a witch crashing into a wall wasn't an option.

It didn’t come… she kept on running… she opened her eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts’ Express, eleven o’clock. Layla looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, she had done it.

Soon enough, her almost lookalike appeared right beside her, amazed

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

      The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Layla pushed her cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She passed a round-faced boy who was saying, “Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.”

      “Oh, Neville,” she heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

      “Give us a look, Lee, go on.”

      The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

      Layla pressed on through the crowd until she found an empty compartment near the end of the train. She put Plato inside first and then started to shove and heave her trunk toward the train door. She tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice she dropped it painfully on her foot.

      “Want a hand?” It a girl of Indian descent who had been heading to the same carriage as her.

“Yes, please,” Layla panted.

      “Hey, Parvati! C’mere and help!”

      With the girls’ help, Layla's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

      “Thanks,” said Layla, pushing her sweaty hair out of her eyes.

The two girls looked almost similar, except for one of them, Parvati having a golden hairstick that pulled back her hair into a bun.

Layla watched the two strangers (especially her almost lookalike) board another carriage, their trunks pushed inside by the pair of red-handed twins they had previously followed to the train.

A boy passed by the compartment door and immediately grinned.

“Is this full?”,: he politely asked.

“There’s room for one more.”, replied Parvati.

The boy heaved his trunk inside, and when he was sure everything else was in order, closed the compartment door.

“Hello Layla.”, he greeted, waving his hand.

Layla, who was reading from the book of the New Testament, perked up. “Hi Anthony.”

Parvati smiled. “Goldstein! Didn't expect you to befriend a new face so quickly.”

“You know each other?”, Layla added.

“Where are my manners; I'm Parvati Patil, and this is my twin sister, Padma.”

Padma waved a hand, and returned to reading her book.

“I’m Layla Campbell.”, Layla responded

“To answer your question Patil, I only met her at Diagon Alley.nShe's got some pretty interesting stories to tell about Hogwarts.”, continued Anthony.

“Hogwarts is a pretty old school, of course there are stories about it. What could be worse than the Shrieking Shack?”, questioner Padma.

“Well you clearly haven't heard of the Serial Disappearances Case.”

Parvati and Padma stared. “What's that?”

“It is said that every year, a group of students always disappear from the castle without a trace. That's just the start.”, Layla explained.

“I asked my father about it a few days before the summer ended.”, Anthony joined in ”he has the specifics.”

“Like… what?’, Padma questioned.

“The target students who disappear are often first or second years who practice Catholicism. He said that the target would often hear a siren singing at there in the morning, and most of them will follow the voice and never return.”

“What if they resist?”, added Parvati.

“Good for them… until the Halloween feast. There are rumors that as the sunset approaches, the target will see a beautiful will-o'-the-wisp a few meters from their location. Somehow, they are compelled to follow it and they never return.”

“That’s one scary tale.”, mumbled Padma. Parvati nodded

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

      Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling,
dimpled woman slid back their door and said, “Anything off the cart, dears?”

      Layla, who was rather curious about the sweets of the Wizarding World, went out to the corridor.

“That’s enough ghost stories for today. Let's just tell Layla about the basics of wizardry.”, advised Anthony.

“Sure!”

Layla had never been allowed too much candy with her great-grandfather constantly criticizing her weight, and now that she had pockets rattling with gold and silver she was ready to buy as many Mars Bars and other deserts as she could carry — but the woman didn’t have Mars Bars.

What she did have were Bettie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a
number of other strange things Layla had never seen in her life. Not wanting to miss anything, she got some of everything (except for the pumpkin pastries) and paid the woman nine silver Sickles and four bronze Knuts.

“You sure are curious.” Padma remarked once she returned, placing the deserts on a small basket that was decorated with Ancient Egyptian symbols (Nahie, you're a lifesaver!) and watched Parvati unwrap a package full of halva.

“I wasn't expecting a sweets picnic.”, laughed Anthony, who placed his own snacks of mints and chocolates in the basket. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Padma, Parvati and Anthony, eating their way through all the deserts.

“What are these?” Layla asked Anthony, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. “They’re not really frogs, are they?” she was starting to feel that nothing would surprise her.

      “No,” said Anthony. “But see what the card is. I’m missing Aristotle.”

      “What?”

      “Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect — famous witches and wizards and in rare cases, philosophers and characters from mythology. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Aristotle or Paris.”

      Layla unwrapped her Chocolate Frog and picked up the card.  It showed a man of Middle Eastern descent, raising both hands and holding a staff in front of the sea.

MOSES

A Hebrew boy adopted by the Egyptian royal family. He was eventually called by God to free the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. Though he succeeded in leading his people out of Egypt, he didn't set foot in Canaan, the Promised Land

Layla turned the card back over and saw, to her astonishment, that Moses’s face had
disappeared.

      “He’s gone!”

      “Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day,” said Anthony. “He’ll be back. No, I’ve got Nero again and I’ve got about four of him… do you want it? You can start collecting.”

      Anthony's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

“Go ahead.”, said Layla. “But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos.”

      “Oh? Maybe their technology is behind.” Anthony quipped, which made Layla laugh.

      Layla stared as Moses sidled back into the picture on the card and gave her a small smile.

Anthony was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Layla couldn’t keep her eyes off them. Soon she had not only Moses and Nero, but Rama, Susano, Circe, Queen Guinevere, and Gilgamesh. She finally tore her eyes away from the Amaterasu, who was slinking into a cave, to open a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“You want to be careful with those,” Parvati warned Layla. “When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor — you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. Padma reckons she had a bile-flavored one once.”

“Hey!”

      Padma picked up a red bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

      “Bleaaargh — see? Blood.”

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Layla got raspberry, coconut, toffee, strawberry, cinnamon, grape, bubblegum, grilled pork, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny yellow one Anthony wouldn’t touch, which turned out to be lemon.
   

  The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

“So”, began Padma, who had started to take a cauldron cake. “What House does everyone want to be in?”

“Anywhere but Slytherin.”, said Parvati. “But I like Gryffindor the most.”

“Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”

“What’s so bad about Slytherin?”, Layla questioned, unknowingly crossing her arms.

      “That’s the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in.” replied Anthony.

      “Oh,” said Layla. “What about it?”

“How do we explain this in Muggle terms?”, Parvati whispered to Padma.

“Let’s just say that Slytherin house is the breeding ground for your Hitlers and all those nasty politicians you hate.”

“Is it really? What if a bad wizard cones from any house other than Slytherin? What then?”

“It is possible.”, added Parvati”but who would believe you if you found a bad lion in Gryffindor or a gem in Slytherin?”

Layla was just about to question back (she was starting to suspect she read too much Plato) when the compartment door slid open. Three boys entered, and Anthony recognized the middle one at once: it was a pale boy around their age, whom Layla would compare to a quintessential Aryan.

      “Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry and Jasmine Potter’s with us?”

“Who?”, Layla deadpanned.

“Harry and Jasmine Potter, the Twins Who Lived. Don't tell me you don't know them.”, insisted the pale boy, who had a sneer on his face.

“Oh I'm sorry, I was just emerging from Plato's cave and found the sunlight too bright.”

Anthony burst out into a chortle, Padma and Parvati followed.

“But to answer your question, I saw another redhead pass by. Her compartment is one of the last ones. Red hair, elegant face, green eyes with gold flecks.”, Layla added, gesturing to the compartment a few steps away from her own.

“The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”, replied the pale boy, before he left with his friends or cohorts. Once the door closed, Layla faced Anthony; “He looks like a Nazi. Not saying all blonds are Nazis but he also feels like one.”

“Everyone who doesn't live in Plato’s cave knows of his family,” said Antony darkly. “They supposed Wizard Hitler until he was defeated and claimed they were brainwashed.”

“Cult leaders do brainwash their followers but it's also a non-magical thing.”, Layla expounded. “Did he hate himself that much?”

“Dunno.”

“Anthony, out.”, said Padma as she closed the blinds. Anthony stood from his seat, and waved the girls goodbye. A few minutes later, the girls wete already in their robes and they let Anthony change alone, only returning when he opened the compartment door.

A voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

      Layla's stomach lurched with nerves and the Indian twins, she saw, looked worried. Layla covered the basket which still had plenty of sweets,  placed it inside her trunk and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

      The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Layla shivered in the cold night air, wishing she brought a coat. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Layla heard a man's voice: “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over
here!”

      Someone's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.  “C’mon, follow me — any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

      Slipping and stumbling, they followed the man, known as Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Layla thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody
spoke much.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”

      There was a loud “Oooooh!”

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

      “No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Layla, Padma and Parvati were followed into their boat by a red-haired girl who had the unique, green-gpld eyes.

“Is that her twin?”, Parvati whispered.

“Nope. My hair’s slightly lighter than hers and I have blue eyes.”, Layla refuted.

      “Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. “Right then — FORWARD!”

      And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

      “Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. They were slightly delayed because someone finally found their missing toad. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

      They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

      “Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?”

      Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

Here goes nothing,, Layla thought to herself and watched the doors open.