One day while dining in the Great Hall, one of my roommates, Iris Pembers, said she’d received a bit of confidential knowledge about Hogwarts student policy, and that she had taken the opportunity to study up the loophole as well. I kept silent but listened while I ate. Iris was another kind of Ravenclaw: she gloated any intricate bit of information she could share. It was usually useful, however, and the rest of the third years liked to hear her stories. She never kept secrets, and sometimes that can be a great thing. However, she said she didn’t want to give away too much this time, and we would just have to wait to find out. This left my other dorm mates in a quizzical mood, and indeed classes were a tad difficult to focus on that day, in part due to her announcement.
The next day we had our first Care of Magical Creatures class, one I was particularly excited about, with Rubeus Hagrid. It was meant to be a shared excursion to the grounds outside the gamekeeper’s hut between third year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, whose kind and laid back temperament I had grown quite fond of. But there were several non-descript black cloaks around us as we waited upon the hill outside the courtyard. They were the kind of cloaks you saw on first years who were waiting to be sorted every year in the Great Hall. The rest of us wore the colours of our house: green and silver, blue and bronze, yellow and pewter, or red and gold. Hagrid cleared up the blatantly annoying confusion between some of my haughtier classmates by introducing the black cloaks as visiting students from another school.
“Dumbledore’ll want ‘ter giv’ you lot a formal introduction at dinner tonight I ‘spose, so I won’ say no more.”
He winked at the group before leading us down the slope to the edge of the forest for a lecture on what some of the many creatures were that made the Forbidden Forest, well, forbidden - to students at least.
When the class concluded I noticed Hagrid giving one of the black cloaks an enthusiastic and knowing clap on the back. I had already started up the hill and could not see the student’s face from behind, but found him to have a rather large build and long brown hair crudely tied back beneath the hood. I admired Hagrid, but had never seen him so friendly with a student he didn’t trust. He was a kind giant, but having been expelled from Hogwarts himself and needing to deal with the caretaker Argus Filch so often made him kind of jumpy; rough around the edges. Inside he was just a big softie.
Throughout the day there were whispers in the hallway about the black-cloaked visitors, mostly of outrage from Slytherins, who haughtily complained that they were ‘under the impression Hogwarts was an elite school’ and did not understand why ‘riff raff who were not invited as first years’ were allowed in. Some of the first year Ravenclaws, who did not yet realize the difference between wisdom and smarts, called the newcomers dull and dopey. They were a rather silent bunch, I admit, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t relate to. Gryffindor were already setting about making plans for a drinking match at the feast, and the Weasley twins seemed positive it would make the guests’ stay at Hogwarts a memorable one.
“We spoke to a lad for a couple of minutes before Herbology,” Fred said, catching up with me on the way to supper.
“Wouldn’t tell us much about him,” George continued, “but we’ll find out yet!”
They waved me away as we joined our houses at separate tables, and I took an unusual seat at the head among some older Ravenclaws who must have been approaching their O.W.L.S., because their noses were buried in books. They accepted I wasn’t going to get in the way of their dinner readings with chatter, as I hadn’t said a word since I sat down and did not make any motion that I could even see them (my eyes on something far more interesting by the head table where the Headmaster and professors sat), and looked back to the texts propped up in their laps. I noticed Hagrid already started drinking and he was toasting the Gryffindors from afar. When everyone was seated, Professor Dumbledore raised his hands for silence and stood to address the hall. I noticed Professor McGonagall standing off to the side with a herd of about twenty black cloaks. The students buzzed, murmuring their excitement.
“As many of you may have noticed, you had the pleasure of attending classes with some visiting students from Durmstrang today,” he began. The Weasley twins high fived loudly at the Gryffindor table; they were right. “Our fellows arrived late last night, but as a change from normal regulation,” Iris looked over at me from down the row with a grin, “I have allowed them, along with the helpful compliance of your wonderful professors, to join you in classes today and the rest of this week so as to get a feel for our beloved school.” Dumbledore paused for effect as he often did, the hint of a smile on his face.
“However, before they depart, with you so willing, I would like to invite them to join a house of their choosing for dinner.” Mixed reactions broke out across the hall as Dumbledore sat down, and McGonagall had to call for silence. She began in the same shrill, booming, authoritative voice she used for sortings.
“Those who have found their heart in the courage of Gryffindor, please have a seat,” McGonagall called, pushing a smile off her face as almost half the group strode over to their table. The Gryffindors erupted in cheers and applause as the newcomers’ black cloaks magically changed to those of gold and red. The Durmstrangs were beaming, and instantly took place in the drinking match, swaying around great mugs of ale.
“Now Hufflepuff will welcome those of you who have found kindness in where your loyalties lie.” Two visitors from the group approached the Hufflepuff table with warm smiles, watching their robes change to Helga’s signature of grey and yellow. McGonagall then looked back over her shoulder at one boy in particular from the crowd. I squinted and craned my neck for a glance at who her attention had focussed on but the few other visitors still waiting were standing in the way.
“For those who have seen their own powers and perseverance mirrored among the house of Salazar Slytherin, you may be seated.” The boy looked back at McGonagall and shook his head. She nodded. As the rest of his compatriots strode off to sit among a sour and yet pompous sea of green robes, a few Ravenclaws began to whisper.
“Only one?” said a first year.
“Not everyone dares assume they have the wit to be in Ravenclaw,” answered another.
“Sergius Moonblood, the fellow who stands before you, I am proud to announce will be permanently transferring to Hogwarts this year.” She spoke above the commotion that ensued. “He has officially been sorted into Slytherin house, but like his fellows may dine at any table of his choosing tonight. So, Mr Moonblood, you may be seated.” She left him to walk back to the head table. The new Hogwarts student slowly but confidently approached the long row of Ravenclaws.
“Sit with Twyla!” the twins screamed from across the hall. Everyone in Ravenclaw turned to look at me. The older boy separating me from the end of the table scooted down to allow the new boy to sit at the edge. I recognized him as the one who had caught Hagrid’s favour after class that morning. As he sat and drank, I studied him quickly. He had icy blue eyes, probably courtesy of his northern ancestry, and his hair formed curtains around his face that often hid them. He had dark scruff along his jaw that wetted after drinking pints and pints of mead. I glanced over at the Durmstrangs at other tables, most of them looked happy to be here. I wondered if they were all invited to stay. I hadn’t heard of any wizarding school having an exchange or transfer program before. Visitors, yes. There were visitors across Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons every five years for the TriWizard Tournament, but a permanent one? Was it even possible to allot for all the intricacies and differences between the schools? Did they speak english at Durmstrang? I heard from Fred and George that their older brother Bill was in school for the TriWizard Tournament one year and he said to them that at Durmstrang the students had to study for twelve years, not seven like at Hogwarts, and they must have started earlier because the ones in Bill’s year were much younger. So although this Mr Moonblood appeared to be much older, he couldn’t have been senior to Fred and George, but would nevertheless most likely be joining an older class. Would this new student be able to accommodate all that in time? Maybe he would know more, actually, considering -
“Hello,” a voice said. I looked to my left to find the new student leaning behind the boy next to me to stare me straight in the face.
“Hi,” I replied, very much used to hiding my shock. It wasn’t easy for me to carry on small talk, but when I was approached, I’d become accustomed to playing it off cool, as if people spoke to me all the time and I was perfectly bored with it. I remembered suddenly that Durmstrang is somewhere far north in the Baltics, maybe in the White Sea, but obviously they must learn many languages there. It’s not like here in the United Kingdom, where we have a universal one. Still, I hadn’t expected him to speak english very well, or to at least have a heavy accent, but as he continued his mother tongue was merely a note among his words.
“What’s your name?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“Candace Twyla,” I answered politely, giving him a welcoming smile. I looked over at the Weasley twins who were thankfully engulfed in song at the moment.
“Sergius,” he countered, informally dropping his last name.
“I know.” I turned back to my plate, which I was piling high with greek salad. It had tons of thick oregano dressing, feta cheese crumbled fine over the entirety of it. But I could feel his eyes on me still, and he hadn’t returned to his food.
“You didn’t wish to dine with your own house tonight, why?” I asked, spearing a plump kalamata olive on my fork.
“I’ll sit with them every other night,” he said with a dismissive shrug, “this seems like the quietest table; smartest people.” A corner of my mouth turned up with pride and I turned back to my plate to hide it, shoving the olive into my mouth and chewing furiously, nearly breaking my tooth on the pit. He grinned back at me.
At the end of the meal I hurried away from him down the row and out of the Great Hall in an effort to avoid any more awkwardness. Mr Moonblood obviously did not yet realize I was best left alone. Maybe I struck him as an interesting person, or even a normally sociable one, but it simply wasn’t the case. He would continue his studies as a Slytherin anyhow, and three years ahead at that, so we would not have any classes together. I wondered if being two years younger than his classmates would cause any friction. I expected it to, but I wouldn’t really know. Fred and George were plenty popular with students in the older years, so I really couldn’t say.
When I slept in my blue four poster that night, I dreamed about red cloaks, viking ships and warm animal furs. I dreamed of ice and winter.

Reactions from Slytherins the next day were mixed as students from all houses wandered the grounds after classes to enjoy the coolness of the coming autumn. I stood at a wide window in the tunnel bridge to Hogsmeade, admiring the view straight down a jagged cliff to the lead outs of the Black Lake, while listening to the chatter of students passing by. Durmstrang had a reputation as a powerfully dark institute, so most Slytherins admired it, but from the gossip I gleaned they were also outrageously insulted by Mr Moonblood’s choice to dine with Ravenclaw last night. This new shift in student society irked me, but I found the topic just as interesting as everyone else and prayed the stigma would die down soon so I could continue to focus on more important things than judgmental gossip.
The week went by without much luck, as the visiting students were permitted to dip in and out of classes and years. Many were envious that younger students were allowed to sit in on seventh year apparating classes, or participate in Felix Felicis potions tests - these were coveted courses all Hogwarts students had to wait patiently for and work hard towards. But, very rarely did anyone actually complain, as far as I could hear. Every student was still buzzing with excitement and pride over our beloved school. Many were sad to lose friends by the week’s end, but the only visitor I knew would be staying.
Many students had woken early instead of sleeping in that Saturday a week later to watch the enormous sailing vessel bearing the rest of the visiting Durmstrang students away. My roommates and I could see perfectly from our windows in the Ravenclaw tower girls dormitory.
“Do you think we’ll ever have the chance to study abroad?” Darwinnia pondered aloud, gazing dreamily in her pajamas out the window.
“If we can plot out the program ourselves, perhaps Flitwick will be impressed enough to allow us an audience with Dumbledore,” murmured Iris excitedly. Phoebe smiled at her and I knew the two of them would be conspiring about it for the rest of the break. I remained silent but mulled over in my head the possibilities to learn about our wizard counterparts in the north. I thought of my dream the night the Durmstrangs came, about the ice and the sea. I felt a pull at my heart for something undiscovered; something new, and I longed for it. A spark for travel had been set in me that quiet autumn morning that has never quite died out.