It was a mild morning in early autumn, and the air still held a trace of summer warmth. The new Calderon-Boot residence—a quaint cottage on the outskirts of London—sat beside a shallow, glimmering lake. Mrs Calderon-Boot was particularly fond of the place; it reminded her of her childhood home in Pennsylvania.
Today marked the first day of school for their daughter, Arya, at her new school: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Worried she might be late, Mrs Calderon-Boot had woken her up two hours early. And yet, Arya still hadn't come downstairs.
"Sweetheart, it's time!"
Arya closed her Ancient Spellwork textbook, placing it carefully into her suitcase alongside A History of Magic. She cast one last glance across her attic bedroom to ensure she hadn't forgotten anything. The small room was cluttered but cosy, with wooden walls adorned by a large photograph of three laughing girls—one of whom was Arya herself. Beside it hung a poster of the Horned Serpent Quidditch team. Her Ilvermorny robes in hues of deep blue and cranberry were neatly hung on a peg by the door.
She sighed deeply.
Arya had spent four successful years at Ilvermorny, but her father's recent assignment had brought them across the ocean. She rarely questioned his decisions, but she couldn't help wondering—what could be so important at MACUSA that her father would uproot her during such a crucial year?
This was, after all, the year of the final wizarding examinations—known at Hogwarts as the O.W.L.s. Arya had devoted her entire summer to studying the British curriculum, trying to align herself with the subjects taught at Hogwarts. Some, like The History of Magic, differed significantly. She'd had to set aside all the American magical history she had learnt and begin anew with British wizarding history.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her father's voice.
"If you don't hurry, you're going to miss it!"
She followed him out the door.
They blended in with the Muggles at the railway station, dressed inconspicuously. The platform was bustling. It seemed the train was near, but having never been to this station before, they were quickly lost among the many platforms of London's vast rail network.
Mr Calderon-Boot was searching for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, but the numbers only increased in the direction they were heading. Finally, with great effort, they found it. Arya noticed several people running at a solid barrier between platforms and, without hesitation, followed them.
The first-years looked the most nervous, but Arya, though older, felt just as uncertain. As Mr Calderon-Boot was placing Arya's trunk and her rabbit onto the train, he said:
"Hope you have a brilliant year, kiddo."
Her mum pulled her into a big hug, her voice already trembling:
"We'll write to you every single week, sweetheart."
"Mum, it's my fifth year—please don't make it a thing. You're going to totally embarrass me."
Her dad chuckled.
"Just try and enjoy yourself, alright?"
Mrs Calderon-Boot frowned and, while guiding Arba onto the train, added:
"Now remember, this isn't Ilvermorny anymore. So do me a favour and stay out of trouble, okay?"
"Okay, Mum," Arya replied as she boarded the train.
Suddenly, a deep wave of unease washed over her. She had said goodbye to nearly every familiar face from the American wizarding world and now found herself among hundreds of British students who didn't know her at all.
Her friends were all back at Ilvermorny. She was alone now. Yet Arya had always been confident—an excellent witch who rarely made mistakes, and when she did, she corrected them calmly. Her friends had nicknamed her "The Iron Queen." She was clever, disciplined, and among the top students of her class. Now, she'd have to prove herself all over again.
As she made her way through the crowded corridors of the train, she remembered she could look for Scorpius Malfoy. They had spent a lovely summer together. Scorpius, with his pale blond hair, was kind and soft-spoken. Arya rarely took to people so quickly. But the train had too many carriages to check them all.
After failing to spot him in several carriages, she stepped into an empty one. Three girls, all wearing crimson and gold Gryffindor ties, sat chatting quietly.
Meanwhile, Albus entered the Great Hall, moving carefully through the crowd toward the Slytherin table. His eyes scanned the room until they met Scorpius's. He made his way over.
The hall was buzzing with chatter. A cluster of Gryffindors had gathered at the far end of their table, clearly listening to someone recounting a tale. Albus smirked.
Probably James again, bragging about his imaginary duel with a Dementor…
He sat across from Scorpius, who was absorbed in reading the class timetable and didn't seem to notice his arrival.
"What's going on over there?" Albus asked, nodding toward the noisy Gryffindors.
Scorpius looked up, still a bit dazed.
"Oh—that? It's about the new student."
"A new student?"
"Yeah. From America. Everyone's talking about them."
Albus looked back at the growing commotion. It was rare—virtually unheard of—for a student to transfer to Hogwarts from another country.
"Did you know we have four straight hours of Potions tomorrow?" Scorpius asked, breaking Albus's train of thought.
"No, I didn't."
Still watching the dispersing crowd, Albus asked,
"How old is this student?"
"Who?"
"new bloke—"
Scorpius laughed.
"Not a bloke. She's a girl. Same year as us."
Just then, Albus saw her. A girl with long, slightly wavy brown hair and striking dark eyes, approaching their table. She looked more Asian than American, he thought—perhaps she had some Eastern heritage.
"Oh, Scorpius, thank Merlin I found you!" she called out above the hum of the hall. "It's so nice to see a familiar face."
Scorpius smiled warmly. Albus blinked at the two of them.
"Mind if I sit here?" she asked.
Scorpius shifted to make room, and Arya sat down, immediately drawn to the timetable in Scorpius's hands.
She looked up: "Oh my gosh, back-to-back classes? At Ilvermorny we at least had half an hour breaks in between!"
Scorpius smirked.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. By the way, you weren't on the train, were you?"
"No, my father and I arrived late. I couldn't find you, so I ended up in a carriage full of Gryffindors," she said, shaking her head in mild frustration. "They were actually really nice—just kept asking a million questions."
Albus, still puzzled by their familiarity, finally spoke.
"Oi—how do you two know each other, then?"
Scorpius opened his mouth, but Arya answered first.
"Oops — I've not even introduced myself yet!"
She extended her hand.
"I'm Arya Calderon-Boot."
"Albus Potter."
"Nice to meet you," Arya smiled.
Albus blinked again. She hadn't squealed or gasped at his surname like most others did. Maybe she didn't know. Or maybe, as a foreigner, the name didn't mean much to her.
Arya continued,
"We just moved from the U.S, and I spent part of the summer at Malfoy Manor. We were still figuring things out—had to search a lot to find a proper house."
"I see," said Albus, casting a meaningful glance at Scorpius.
"By the way," Scorpius asked, "have they sorted you yet?"
"Not yet," Arya replied. "Professor McGonagall asked me to come to her office after the feast. But I'm pretty sure I'll be in your house."
"How can you be so sure?" Albus asked.
"Well, at Ilvermorny I was in Horned Serpent, which is clearly the closest to Slytherin."
She lowered her voice.
"Actually, I find it weird how Slytherin's got such a bad reputation here. Everyone at Ilvermorny dreams of being in Horned Serpent."
"Really?" Albus asked.
"Yeah—when I got sorted there, three statues lit up, but I chose the Horned Serpent."
Albus smirked.
"I can guess which one didn't want you."
Another surge of noise swept across the Great Hall as the Prefects began guiding their houses out. Arya squeezed through the crowd, following McGonagall through the castle's winding hallways, trying to remember the path for later.
They stopped at the spiral staircase leading to the Headmistress's office.
"Class starts promptly at seven in the morning," Professor McGonagall announced sternly.
The staircase rotated, and they ascended together.
Once seated behind her desk, McGonagall looked at Arya.
"Well, Miss Calderon-Boot, I didn't announce your arrival at the feast. I assumed most students had already heard the news, and frankly, too much emphasis can be… awkward."
She glanced down at some papers.
"You understand this is a unique situation. Hogwarts rarely accepts upper-year transfers. But given your father's important work with the Ministry, we made an exception."
Arya folded her arms.
"I wasn't too thrilled about leaving my school and friends either, Professor."
McGonagall offered a small, kind smile.
"Of course. I only meant to say, your situation is unusual. But you come highly recommended—your teachers and Headmaster spoke very well of your talents. Still, things here may be different."
She paused.
"But Hogwarts students are good-hearted. If you need anything, you may always come to me."
"Yes, Professor."
"And now… the matter of Sorting."
"Is it really necessary, Professor?"
"Oh, my dear—it's tradition. Even for you." She nodded toward the Sorting Hat resting on the stool.
Arya reluctantly sat down, muttering to herself.
"Four years of study, and I still have to go through this like a first-year? Ridiculous…"
She placed the hat on her head.
"Hmm…" the Sorting Hat said, its voice thoughtful. "Not a first-year, clearly. Talented, intelligent, and ambitious. I can see your path quite clearly. If this were your first year, I might have debated Ravenclaw. But now, there's no doubt about it—you belong in… SLYTHERIN!"
Arya grinned, triumphant.
"Told you it wasn't necessary," she said to McGonagall.
The Headmistress chuckled.
"Welcome to Slytherin, Miss Calderon. Your trunk is already in the dormitory. One of the Prefects is waiting to show you the way."
"Wait, Professor—you knew I'd be in Slytherin?"
McGonagall winked.
"Oh, certainly. But tradition is tradition."
As Arya descended the staircase, she spotted a tall, dark-haired boy waiting for her. He looked a year or two older.
"Hi, I'm Epidorus Duvade. Slytherin Prefect and Quidditch Captain."
"Nice to meet you."
He led her toward the Slytherin common room.
"It's not far, but a few tips—don't mess with the enchanted plaques, and never leave the dorm after curfew. If anything happens in the girls' dorm, talk to Claria Lestrange."
"Got it."
They reached a stone door.
"Parseltongue," Epidorus said.
The door creaked open.
The Slytherin common room was surrounded by stone walls, illuminated by floating candles. A serpent statue loomed above the fireplace, encircled by green-hued armchairs. Most students had already gone to bed.
Arya didn't love the space—it felt dark, even eerie.
"The girls' dormitory is on the right. Good night."
Inside, five four-poster beds were lined up. Too exhausted to unpack, Arya changed and pulled a magical desk calendar from her handbag.
It shimmered as she set it down: a crystal orb on a silver tripod, within which a miniature Ilvermorny student changed clothing and background with the weather and seasons. Today, the figure wore a jacket over deep blue robes, and autumn leaves gently drifted down inside the glass. On one leg of the tripod, glowing magically, it read:
1st October
Arya smiled. She lay down, her thoughts drifting to Ilvermorny… to her friends, Sarah and Yindra… and to the castle she had left behind. A profound sense of loneliness wrapped around her heart.
Even thinking of returning and speaking with them made her ache with longing. She even missed the puckwudgie guards.
She tried to clear her mind.
Hogwarts isn't so bad, she told herself. I'll make new friends here too.
A final image of Ilvermorny floated in her thoughts before she slipped into sleep