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1991

When Elowen Palmer’s acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry shot through the mail slot one evening, her mother nearly had a stroke. Elowen’s mother was a tall and lanky woman with curly blonde locks identical to her daughters. She worked in London as a professor, teaching Astrology at a small private University. She had never heard of magic, as nearly no Muggle has, and never expected for her only daughter to leave her for months at a time at the young age of eleven. Two months later, as they walked down Diagon Alley hand in hand, Elowen and her mother frantically searched shop after shop for the supplies they needed. Elowen and her mother had never seen a cauldron, and surely had exactly no clue where to find a set of brass scales. After hours of searching, the final stop was to Ollivander’s, a wand shop, where Elowen was told that the witch did not choose the wand, but rather the wand would choose the witch.

“Stand here” Mr. Ollivander had said, pulling Elowen onto a small platform in front of the counter, “Oh yes, precisely… Odd isn’t it, plenty flexible and ready to cast any spell you choose. Go on, try it!”

When Elowen and her mother boarded the bus that afternoon, her bag was full of books and other magical items, including her wand. Ten and three-fourths inches, Mr. Olivander had said, with a phoenix feather core and made of cypress wood. Elowen had grinned ear to ear from that moment until she said goodbye to her mother at Platform 9 ¾ for the first time. She moved quietly through the train that morning, finding an open cubicle near the middle. This way, she thought, I won’t be the odd one out of the conversation. She was wrong, of course. Before the train left the platform, her cubicle was full. A young girl with deep mousey hair and a warm smile sat to her left, while three boys shared the bench in front of her. Two of the boys looked as though they could be siblings, with short cropped hair. The other boy, however, looked more peculiar than any boy she had seen in school before. His bright blonde hair stood out even against his pale, lanky form, and his eyes were cold and gray.

For most of the train ride, Elowen stared out the window and only heard small bits of the conversation her train mates’ had. Mostly they talked about “what houses they would be sorted into”, and whispered about someone named Harry Potter. The ride was boring, but went by quickly, and soon she found herself standing in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, watching her fellow classmates put on a talking hat and be sorted into their respective houses. The Harry Potter boy was sorted into Gryffindor, which Elowen had learned was the house whose symbol was a lion. She watched as many others joined Harry, including Hermoine Granger, a girl she had recognized from the train(as Hermoine had barged into her cubicle asking if she had seen a pet toad named Trevor). All three of her train mates were sorted into Slytherin(the house whose symbol was a snake), and many others found their places among the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. As Professor McGonagall neared the end of her list, Elowen felt her hands begin to sweat. What if she was here by mistake? Her mother had told her that no one in her family was magic, and for all she knew, this really was just some elaborate prank she was being thrown into-

“Elowen Palmer!”

Professor McGonagall’s voice ricocheted off the walls of the Great Hall as she called Elowen to the chair as the last student to find their house. Elowen slowly climbed the stairs to the large winged chair and sat down promptly, looking hopefully at Professor McGonagall. The professor gingerly sat the Sorting Hat upon her head.

“Ahhh, I see. Interesting this is…” The Sorting Hat began.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Nearly instantly, the table full of green robed students began to cheer and Elowen made her way to the table and sat down quietly. She did not know much about Slytherin house other than the small bit the Sorting Hat had sang. Was she really cunning and ambitious? She certainly didn't feel it at all as she sat alone at her table, knowing exactly no one.

“Pansy Parkinson.” The girl who sat beside her on the train said, sticking out her hand for a handshake.

“Oh, uh, Elowen. Elowen Palmer. You can call me El” Elowen had smiled back, taking Pansy’s hand.

“Palmer, huh?” The blonde boy from the train had said, scowling. “My father has never mentioned anyone with the last name Palmer. Where are you from?”

“Oh, I’m from London. I don’t think your father would know me or my mother. We certainly don’t know you.” She had retorted.

“Don’t listen to Draco” Pansy said, “He gets his knickers in a twist too easy.”

“What's your mother’s name? Surely my father would know her from the Ministry, or his time at Hogwarts, or nearly anywhere in Wizarding London. The man spends more time in Diagon Alley than he does at home.” Draco pushed.

“Well there is the problem isn’t it, Draco. My mother isn’t from Wizarding London nor does she frequent it. I’m the first person who is magic in our family, we only learned about it almost three months ago.” Elowen said calmly, but as she finished her sentence, the entire table went silent.

“Well well well…” Draco sneered, “looks like we’ve got a rare Slytherin mudblood on our hands.”