Serpentine

September, 1890

The sound of the cauldrons bubbling in the background were practically music to his ears. After just over a decade spent teaching at the illustrious school of magic, Aesop found that he rather enjoyed the experimentation of creating a new potion. Though he would never admit to such out loud, especially in the presence of the youngest brother in the pack of redheads that plagued his presence. While the oldest seven boys had been chaos in other areas, they had mostly, mostly left his classroom be. Not that they had made life easy by any means, with the Potions professor having been roped into cleaning up after the seemingly continuously growing line of pure-blood children.

The oldest, Robert, had made short work of testing Dinah Hecat's self-restraint, his dueling habits rivaling that of the younger of the Sallow twins. Leonard had chosen Divination, sending a multitude of his female classmates into hysterics with his "predictions''. Archibald had made a personal enemy out of Bai Howin, his never-ending torture of her beasts marking him as the least friendly Weasley they'd ever met. Thomas, while kind enough, had somehow managed to irritate Abraham Ronen with his flippant disregard for how charms were supposed to be utilized.

James had pushed every button Satyavati Shah had, while simultaneously becoming a personal favorite student to Chiyo Kogawa. William had seen to it that he had Mirabel Garlick practically begging Sharp to assist in reprimanding him in a desperate attempt to stop him from wreaking havoc upon her plants. Franklin had somehow managed to end up on the watch list of his aunt Matilda, both himself and the red haired woman having to track down and distransfigure more items turned animals than he could count on ten hands, if he had that many.

And then there was Garreth, and his younger sister Katherine. Oh, how those two absolutely reveled in creating nothing short of utter mayhem when it came to potions. Katherine herself had taken to being a thorn in Chiyo’s side despite the obvious favoritism her elder brother had elicited from the woman. Regardless of the fact that both Matilda and Gerald had been model students, inflicting as little pandemonium upon their professors as possible, the latter’s children were anything but. Yes, they’d had top grades and the majority of them had been prefects with one or two being head boy, but their antics were what made the family infamous.

Aesop found himself grateful that his time with this generation’s Weasley children was coming to an end, no more than four years and four of the redheaded menaces remaining before he could finally count himself lucky to have survived all nine of Gerald’s children. He now understood completely why Matilda was so insistent on remaining childless unlike her elder brother. He stood alone in the dungeons classroom, the sound of his chalk scratching against the board as he wrote the lessons that would be used the next morning.

A soft tapping echoed through the space behind him, followed by the padding of footsteps into the damp, dark space. He released the compacted stick, leaving it to float and continue writing of its own accord as he turned around. The aforementioned Charms professor was standing just inside his classroom, a smile plastered amidst the white of his beard. While he adored Abraham as if he were his brother, Aesop found his upbeat personality to be a bit much from time to time.

“I see you’re getting right to it, then, old chap. Are you excited for that wonderful enthusiasm that comes with those big, wide eyes of theirs?” Abraham’s smile would be infectious, if Aesop himself didn’t live in a constant state of cynicism.

“More like a new round of reminding self-indulgent miscreants that the behaviour they keep with their parents will not be tolerated here. How you were ever assigned to Slytherin is beyond me with that sanguine demeanor of yours.” He moved to meet his colleague halfway, the unremitting pain that plagued his leg shooting up to his hip as he limped across the room.

That fateful day from his time with the Ministry would never give him any pause, the curse that tormented his flesh a constant reminder of his mistakes. His former partner had lost his life because of him, and for that he would never forgive himself, never allow himself the opportunity to lose anyone close to him ever again. He had estranged himself from his family long before he ever became a professor, and thus he had no one besides his colleagues to share his life with. With even the lack of his partner and best friend, his own townhome in London had become painfully empty, the only soothing thing left of it being its view along the Thames.

“Oh come now, Aesop. Those bright, spritely faces are our future. And we, my friend, are responsible for teaching them the ways of our world. To help them grow and learn is our dutyand honor, my dear boy.” The older wizard waved his arms in gesticulation of what he was saying. “Now, your work can wait until after the ceremony. Come, come.” He walked back out of the room, waving one hand as if telling his friend to follow him.

Aesop sighed, reluctantly trailing behind the other professor, limping alongside his friend as they made their way to the Great Hall from his place in the dungeons. The two of them spoke of what they expected from their classes this year, and the conversation drifted to the student they had all been made aware was arriving that very night. A fifth year, a very uncommon occurrence for the current staff, as all new students over the course of the last few centuries had come in as eleven, not fifteen years of age.

“What is your prediction for the child’s house, Aesop?” Abraham walked with his hands clasped behind his back, a smile bright on his face. “Eleazar says she is bright, and learns quickly. But that she is also very brave, and has faced her fair share of aggressors in her few years on this earth.”

“Perhaps she will be best suited to Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, then.” His leg was already starting to throb, the scar burning with each movement he made. “There is not much to go on here, Abraham. We do not know the girl, therefore there is no reason to speculate where she might end up.”

The large dining area was already filled to the brim with all of the children that had come before this new class, the teenagers talking amongst themselves. He made sure to hobble around the edges of the room toward the large table at the head of the room, thankful he only had to stop once to reprimand a pair of fourth years for their lack of decorum.

It appeared they were a tad bit on the later side of things, receiving a hot glare from Phineas as they finally took their seats, seconds before Gladwin led the new class of first years through those double doors. He adjusted his leg under the table, his hand coming to grip roughly at his thigh and kneading it, nodding once at Matilda as she passed him by with the sorting hat.

He sat through the same ceremony he’d sat through for six years as a student, and another eleven as a professor, clapping with what, to some, would appear as stiff indifference each time the hat shouted Slytherin. But to those who knew him, especially the young, spritely red-haired woman to his left, there was a proud glimmer in his eye with each student that was sorted into his house. It truly did make him proud to see a new generation of ambitious young wizards coming into the world.

They were well and truly prepared to begin the feast, all under the assumption that the last eleven year old would be the end of the ceremony for the year. But then Phineas had stood, sneering as he straightened his lapels before marching across the Great Hall and slipping between the doors. The man had looked right bothered, not that that was any change from any other moment of the day. What had he gotten so worked up about this time, he wondered. Aesop found his question had a strange answer, one that had his eyebrows raising high into his brow line.

A young girl, small in stature and practically skeletal in body composition was making her way toward the podium. Her clothes hung loose from her limbs, causing her to appear as a child playing dress-up. She was pale, gaunt and frail with her cheeks and eyes sunken and bruised. Her grey eyes were large and stood out amongst her sickly features, giving her a deer-in-the-headlights look to her. White-blonde hair that easily matched that of the Malfoy family hung from her in a short, straight veil that flowed out behind her as she traipsed her way proudly up the walkway.

He had heard about the new fifth year they would be receiving, and yet she almost looked like a first year with how starved and tiny she was. She walked with purpose, head held high despite the stares and whispers surrounding her arrival. It was clear she had a set goal in mind from the way she refused to allow her eyes to flit about the room, gaze solely focused on the area of the room where she would have her mind questioned and prodded. Aesop couldn’t help but watch the child with intrigue, curious about both the circumstances behind her physical health and the pride with which she held herself. He would have to make a point to ask Matilda and Eleazar about her.

The entirety of the large room quieted down to near deafening silence when she sat upon the stool, the red-haired witch precariously placing the sorting hat upon her platinum head. He laced his fingers together and placed his hands against his mouth, watching intently as the hat seemed to take its time with her. He counted down the seconds, wondering if perhaps there would be a hatstall with the girl. His lips twitched at the corners, fighting a smile when the hat finally called out Slytherin.