Ryan rose before dawn and opened his trunk quietly. He 
took a long, narrow sheath out of the trunk and padded 
silently past the other beds and out of the Slytherin tower, 
to find a solitary open corner where he could stretch and 
perform his daily kata. Once there, he began his workout, 
first stretching and going through the motions without the 
object in the sheath. Then, after completing a few passes 
without a weapon, unsheathed a thin sword from the long 
case and ran through several routines using it.

It was coming back that the boys stirred, opening their 
bedcurtains before he could conceal the sheath completely.

"Is that a broomstick?" Asked Crabbe, one of Malfoy's 
large and lumbering cronies.

"No," Ryan said shortly, but Malfoy didn't hear him. 

"Oh, do you play Quidditch?" He asked.

"No."

"Can't you fly at all?"

"Yes, I can fly. But I don't play Quidditch. Excuse me," he 
concluded and went off to shower and dress.

The plan was simple. The balance was difficult. It was easy 
to play hard to get and increase Malfoy's interest. It would 
be equally easy to gain respect among the Slytherins as a 
cool customer, even snider than Malfoy. What was difficult 
was doing so without making Malfoy an enemy. But at 
breakfast, he sat across from Malfoy and Pansy sat next to 
him, pointedly paying more attention to him than to Draco. 
This obviously nettled the boy, and Ryan planned to have a 
private talk with Miss Parkinson to send her back to her 
boyfriend. It wouldn't do to have a young girl hanging 
about, though he supposed a certain amount of crushes 
were inevitable. Several Elvish women his own age assured 
him that even by Anvasse standards, he was handsome. To 
a fourteen or fifteen year old girl, he must be devastating.

In any case, Ryan was polite to her, but hardly 
encouraging, and no different with her than any other girl 
in the class. He looked over his class schedule and asked 
who would be in "Care of Magical Creatures" with him. 
Malfoy groaned. "We are," he said, indicating both Crabbe 
and Goyle. "Hagrid is a horrible teacher, but it's an easy 
class to pass. The only problem is the Gryffindors are also 
in that class." He gestured vaguely toward their table.

"What's so bad about this Hagrid?" Ryan asked.

"He's incompetent," said Malfoy, and explained about how 
the gamekeeper had allowed a hippogriff to attack him one 
year. "Practically tore my arm off," he said.

Ryan raised an eyebrow despite himself. He wanted to ask 
what Malfoy had done to upset the hippogriff, but he knew 
better. Probably insulted the creature. Anyway, the boy 
wasn't finished speaking. "To make matters worse, he's 
half-giant. We found out last year. Shouldn't be allowed to 
teach, if you ask me."

"I see," said Ryan. He couldn't think of anything else to 
say. Just then the bell rang and the children scattered to 
their classes.

This morning, the Care of Magical Creatures class trooped 
down to the shores of the lake.

"Thought we'd take a look at some of the marine life you 
might expect ter meet," said Hagrid, their huge and bushy-
bearded instructor. He peered at Ryan. "You the new fifth 
year student, er, Pelerand?"

"Yes," said Ryan smiling. He held out his hand to Hagrid, 
noting Malfoy's rolled eyes behind him. Hagrid's grip 
engulfed Ryan's slender hand, but he was careful not to 
squeeze too hard. His eyes narrowed in reaction to Ryan's 
own strength, but he said nothing.

"Well, Pelerand, yer might as well go first. There's a school 
of banded regalfish about ten feet into the lake. If yer can 
catch one, yer can harvest its crowns. When dried, they 
make herbs that go in potions and the like. See if yeh can 
catch one, and then I'll show yer how to harvest it."

"He has to wade into the lake?" Said the red-haired boy 
who had to be Fred and George's brother. "Hagrid, if we all 
wade out there, we'll be soaked for the rest of the day."

"Yer fifth year now, Ron," Hagrid told him. "It all about 
O.W.L.s this year. If yeh know anything about O.W.L.s, 
yeh know yeh've got ter think around problems like that."

Hagrid didn't notice Malfoy whispering to Crabbe and 
Goyle, but Ryan could hear him say, "As if he knew 
anything about O.W.L.s. He never got further than third 
year himself." 

But Ryan smiled at the red-haired boy, pulled out his wand, 
and pointed it at himself, muttering, his other hand on his 
chest. Nothing appeared to happen, but Ryan put his wand 
away and waded into the chilly water of the lake just the 
same. He stepped forward carefully, avoiding the edge of 
the shelf where the floor suddenly dropped away, and saw 
the regalfish swimming just ahead. Their crowns were 
bands that surrounded their dorsal fins. They were gold and 
looked like fine hair. Ryan stood perfectly still and let the 
fish swim around his robes, getting used to the new 
obstacle in their way. Slowly, he eased his hands into the 
water, cupping his fingers tight together. He stood still for a 
few more seconds until the regalfish wheeled around and 
swam by again. Then in a rush, they passed in front of him 
and one swam right between his hands. In a flash, he 
clapped his hands together and pulled the fish from the 
water. It flapped around and almost slipped free, but Ryan 
shifted his grip, laying the fish on its side and disorienting 
it. He waded into the shallows.

Hagrid stood there with a bucket of lake water. Ryan let go 
of the fish so that it slid into the bucket and the two walked 
out of the water together. To Ron's amazement, Ryan's 
robes were completely dry.

"How did you do that?" They all asked.

"What, catch a fish?" Ryan asked back.

"That too-but what charm did you use?" Ron said.

"Oh. Aridiem Tunicus."

"'Course, I thought yeh'd just catch one with a spell, 
meself," Hagrid said to the young man.

"It's not wise to do everything with magic," Ryan said, 
grinning at the gamekeeper. "There are certain tasks best 
done with mundane skills, don't you agree?" Hagrid 
grinned back.

"Interesting." Said the bushy-haired girl, pushing her way 
into the conversation. "I would have used the Orb of Air 
charm." She smiled shyly and Ron groaned.

"Wouldn't work," said Ryan and Hagrid simultaneously.

"Why? There would be air all around me, and my robes 
wouldn't get wet that way," she insisted.

"Yeah, but yer also wouldn't be able to reach outside it to 
catch the fish," Hagrid pointed out. 

"Oh. Right." She blushed. Malfoy looked about to make a 
disparaging comment, but Hagrid called them all over to 
look in the bucket. He laid a metal tray next to it.

"Now, here's how yer harvest them," he said, and he 
reached down and carefully clipped the thick layer of gold-
colored fringe off the fish to fall into the tray. "Got ter be 
careful not to cut too deep," he cautioned. "It's like hair or 
fingernails to them-it don't hurt 'em, unless yeh get too 
close ter the fins. When yer done, just release them back 
inter the water.

"Now, who wants to try next?"

By twos and threes, the students caught and harvested 
regalfish. When they were done, Hagrid had a nice pile of 
crowns in his tray. "Good! Professor Sprout will be grateful 
ter all of yeh for replenishing her supply. That's all fer 
today. Remember to read chapters 12 and 13 of yer 
Monster Book of Monsters fer next class."

It was early, but the students didn't mind leaving ahead of 
schedule. Ryan noticed that Ron, Harry, and the girl 
Hermione all stayed behind. Of course, he remembered, 
they were friends with Hagrid and probably wanted to 
catch up from the summer.

"Where did you learn to catch fish like that?" Pansy asked 
Ryan, simpering slightly.

"From bears," he said off-handedly. Malfoy scowled. Ryan 
checked his schedule. "I've got History of Magic next. 
Where's that?"

"Oh, I'll show you," said Pansy excitedly. "I'm in that class 
too."

"Malfoy? What have you got?" Ryan asked, though he 
knew the answer.

"Advanced flying technique."

"Oh. Well, see you, then," Ryan said, and he walked off 
with Pansy, who put her arm through his.

"'Bye, Draco," she said coquettishly.

When they had gotten a few yards away, Ryan said without 
preamble, "Is Draco your boyfriend?"

Pansy blushed bright red. "Not really," she hedged. "Why?"

"Well, it's just...he seems a little upset whenever you talk 
to me. And I don't want to make enemies in my own house. 
Besides..." He winced a little artfully.

"Yes?"

"This is a bit awkward, Pansy, but....I've got a girlfriend 
already."

"Oh." She said, crestfallen. Then with a forced brightness, 
"Oh! Here?"

"No," Ryan shook his head. "Back at home. So, if you've 
got something with Malfoy, I don't think you should try to 
use me to make him jealous."

It was a less embarrassing reason for her behavior than the 
truth, so she quickly covered up for herself. "Oh-well, he 
just needs reminding every once in a while that he's not the 
only boy in Slytherin worth having. Besides, I just wanted 
to be friendly to a new house member."

"And I appreciate that, but I think he's aware that he can't 
take you for granted."

"Well, I should hope so. Here we are," she said, leading to 
the History of Magic classroom.

"Aren't you coming in?" He asked when she hung back.

"I'm just going to powder my nose," she said strangely and 
headed down the corridor a little way. Ryan's exceptional 
hearing could detect a very quiet sniffle as she left. He 
sighed and entered the classroom.

It was a shock for both professor and student. Binns had 
been alive when Ryan was a real Hogwarts student, and 
somehow Dumbledore had forgotten that here was one 
professor who might actually remember the alumnus. Ryan 
barely stopped the ghost in time from greeting him like an 
old acquaintance, which in effect he was.

"Ryan Pelerand?"

Ryan approached the desk quickly. "Yes, sir." He said 
loudly to make it sound like he was being introduced. Then 
in a whisper: "You don't know me."

Binns whispered back, "Ryan, my dear fellow-"

"Shh! I'll come explain everything later, but you've never 
met me before. I'm just another student like all these 
children. All right?"

The ghost sighed. "If you insist.... Take your seat, please, 
Pelerand." He then commenced to lecture arbitrarily for the 
hour, which was no different, Ryan thought, than when he 
had been alive....

Cygnus flicked a note onto Ryan's desk with a lazy 
levitation charm. Ryan waited until their young professor 
ducked his head into a huge book to read a passage in 
monotone, and he opened the parchment. Inside were 
detailed instructions for an escapade Cygnus planned. After 
six and a half years of trying, the two had finally 
discovered the password to the Slytherins common room. 
With it, they could slip in while the students were 
elsewhere and.... Ryan grinned. Everything they planned 
was innocuous enough, but Cygnus' prank would cause the 
Slytherins no end of subtle frustration for the rest of the 
term.

"Pelerand!" Binns had looked up and surveyed the class. "I 
do hope those are notes on the lecture, Mr. Pelerand," he 
said with false concern.

"Oh, yes, professor," Ryan agreed quickly. "But I'm 
confused about something...How exactly does the twelth 
burning of Wendolyn the Weird in the 14th century relate to 
the defeat of the French navy in 1804?"

Binns sighed. "Can anyone answer Pelerand's question?" 
He asked, as if it were obvious. No one could. "According 
to Hedibrius Hallifax, the noted scholar of British wizard-
Muggle relations in history, Wendolyn's penchant for being 
caught and burned at the stake led to an understanding of 
wizardry among a certain Muggle family. This family was 
of course the ancestral family of which Lord Admiral 
Nelson descended. Therefore, he was aware of certain 
channels-" he laughed at his own pun, "channels, that is, 
of communication, not water-which he could use to call 
upon wizarding assistance to defeat Napoleon. And can 
anyone tell me how exactly the incident at Waterloo 
affected the wizarding community around the world?"

A blonde witch raised her hand. It was none other than 
Gwenydd Haversham, Head Girl. "Sir, Napoleon's 
centralization of schools in France made it difficult for 
western European wizards and witches to obtain magical 
education. With the return of a less dictatorial reign, 
Beauxbatons is back among the forefront of wizarding 
schools."

"Excellent work, Miss Haversham. Five points for 
Gryffindor." Binns smiled, an action he rarely allowed 
himself, as it made him look barely older than his students. 
"Now, shall we see if your classmate can avoid losing them 
for you?" He turned suddenly to Pelerand, who was folding 
a piece of parchment to pass to Cygnus. "I'll take that, if 
you please, Mr. Pelerand," he said softly.

"It's-"

"Give it here," Binns insisted. He held out his hand and 
Ryan surrendered the folded parchment. Cygnus' eyes 
widened, but Ryan silenced him with his own warning 
look.

Binns scanned the parchment quickly. His frown deepened, 
but he handed the parchment back to Ryan. The whole 
class watched him stride back to the desk, piled high with 
books. He selected one and brought it back to Ryan's desk. 
"You'll report on this before the Easter holiday," he 
informed his student. "At least two feet of parchment, 
please. Annotated." But as he resumed his lecture, his face 
was flushed.

"What did you write?" Cygnus asked him after class, for 
Ryan didn't dare pass any more notes that day.

"I was going to ask you whether you knew if Binns and 
Gwen had stopped going out. You know, they were 
keeping company before he graduated last year."

"Our Miss Haversham and Binns? She wouldn't see a 
Ravenclaw. You're daft."

"Yeah, well, he didn't seem to think so, did he? I mean, 
look at this monster of an assignment. Still, that connexion 
between Wendolyn and Nelson-pretty weak, if you ask 
me."

"What's the book?"

"Ugh." Ryan said, assessing the tome. "Wizard Cooperation 
through the Ages, from Late Antiquity to the Present. This 
has to have over a thousand pages. Great."

Cygnus chuckled. "I stand corrected. I guess you were on 
to something there with Gwen and Binns!"

 

Ryan met up with Malfoy again at lunch, and afterwards 
they both had Double Transfiguration together. Pansy 
seemed back to her normal self, simpering over Malfoy, 
though Ryan had noticed that during their class, she had 
passed a number of notes to another Slytherin girl next to 
her, who now also avoided him. Malfoy seemed to take 
Pansy's return in his arrogant stride, and Ryan tactfully 
ignored any questioning looks from the other boys. By the 
end of lunch, he seemed forgiven.

On the way to Transfiguration, Malfoy recapped his 
opinion of Professor McGonagall. "You really have to pay 
attention in her class. She's a harsh old witch," he said, "but 
she knows what she's doing, at least. Not like that Hagrid. 
And don't think I didn't notice the way you ingratiated 
yourself to him, Pelerand."

"Of course I did, Malfoy." Ryan explained as if Malfoy 
should know this already. "What's the good in getting in 
trouble on the first day? I'm surprised you haven't wrapped 
the teachers around your finger by now."

"Well, I..."

"I mean, it's the easiest way to get away with murder. Look 
at that Potter boy. Doesn't he suck up to all his teachers?"

"Yes," Malfoy said angrily.

"And don't they always believe him when he says it's not 
his fault?"

"Yes-they do," and now he was amazed at this discovery.

"Honey catches more flies than vinegar, Malfoy. If they 
like me, maybe they won't be quick to condemn me."

"Is that what happened at your old school?" Malfoy asked, 
but they'd reached the classroom by then.

Professor McGonagall was tough, and she did know her 
subject very well. Even when he was in school, 
Transfiguration was not Ryan's best subject, though he had 
done well enough under the old instructor, Ariadne Scuttle. 
McGonagall, he discovered, was more exacting than 
Professor Scuttle had been, and Ryan soon was glad his 
grades didn't really count. She particularly seemed to want 
to put him through his paces. Whether this was because of 
the extraordinary circumstances of his transfer, the false 
record he and Dumbledore had cooked up, or because she 
suspected him already, he couldn't tell.

"I should think you need a little more fur on the left side," 
she commented as she passed his desk. They were turning 
kettles into cats, something Ryan hadn't done since school.

He gritted his teeth and waved his wand at the left side of 
the kettle, which was growing a tail out of its spout and 
whiskers from its handle. "Never learned anything useful," 
he muttered to himself.

"What was that?" She rounded in the middle of assessing 
Beth Harking's tea kettle.

"I said...it's very useful, Professor." He did his best to look 
innocent.

"Hmph." She pointed a bony finger toward him. "I've seen 
students like you before, Pelerand. Don't think you can fool 
me. Now, suppose you tell me just what kinds of 
applications you think Transfiguration has?"

Ryan racked his brain. He never used the form, if he could 
avoid it. "Er....self-defense," he sputtered, earning giggles 
and snorts from the whole room, Malfoy included.

"Explain." She stood arms folded in front of her, tapping 
her wand against one forearm.

"Well, if an animal were to attack, say a dog? One could 
turn it into a dustmop."

More laughter. "Hmph." She said again. "Back to work, all 
of you. Pelerand, I'd like a word with you after class."

Malfoy smiled jeeringly at him and whispered, "It's only 
the first day! See, I told you not to-" 

"Mr. Malfoy! You'd do well to concentrate on your teapot, 
and not waste your time gossiping, or you will lose points 
for Slytherin, I daresay. And on your first day of term as 
well."

She ignored the muffled smirks and giggles and returned to 
her seat at her desk. Ryan reapplied himself to the task at 
hand, not needing an excuse to feel unjustly chided. 
Finally, after another forty minutes and a painstaking trip 
through his memory, he recalled the trick of the spell. 
"Aha!" He shouted despite himself as his teapot popped 
into a full-fledged cat, blinked at him and hopped off his 
desk to explore. He shook his head in self-deprecation, 
remembering the lessons long out of use. 

Everyone in class glared at him, even Malfoy. None of their 
teapots were close to being real cats, though many had legs, 
tails, and even heads by this point. Fortunately, the bell 
rang just then and the students began to file out. Ryan just 
caught a glimpse of Malfoy looking back over his shoulder 
at him when McGonagall jerked his attention back to her.

"First of all, you will return the kettle to its former shape," 
she told him appraisingly, holding out the cat, which 
mewed softly. Ryan complied, trying not to make it look 
easy, though he remembered now it was all in the wrist. 
"Second, I wish to make something clear. Professor 
Dumbledore accepted your application to study here over 
my objections. As far as I'm concerned, it's a miracle you 
weren't expelled. One excuse, Pelerand, that's all I need, 
and I'll recommend just that. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Ryan said guardedly.

"It's a disgrace to your family name," she went on, half to 
herself.

"Yes, Ma'am," Ryan agreed. He felt a little head-hanging 
seemed in order, so he bent his neck slightly.

"Go on to your next class then," she told him, a little more 
warmly, he thought.

Malfoy was waiting for him. "So," he drawled 
triumphantly, "the Baron was right, wasn't he? There have 
been other Pelerands at Hogwarts."

Ryan shrugged. "Sure, I guess." He said. Using the same 
family name was a risk, of course, but a necessary one. He 
had to come from an old, long line of pure-blooded wizards 
to be accepted in Slytherin. A made-up name wouldn't do. 
And his family had used the name "Pelerand" in human 
circles for centuries, longer even than Hogwarts had been 
in existence.

"What do you know about them?" Malfoy asked as they 
walked toward their next class.

The youth sighed. "You want my resume now, Malfoy? 
They lived here; a few generations back they moved to the 
continent. And now, lucky me, I'm back to carry on the 
tradition at Hogwarts. Why don't you ask something useful 
for a change?"

"Like what?"

"Like how soon can we get out of this place and have a 
little fun?"

Malfoy looked puzzled. "Well, there hasn't been a 
Hogsmeade weekend posted yet. Usually Halloween is the 
first weekend we're allowed-"

Ryan's lip curled nastily. "Who said anything about being 
allowed?" Shaking his head in disgust, he pulled away from 
Malfoy, but deliberately let the boy follow him.

In their next class, Herbology, Malfoy eschewed Crabbe 
and Goyle to work next to Ryan. "You can't sneak out of 
here." He warned him. 

"Why not? Didn't you say Potter does it all the time?"

"Yes, but he-"

"Then there's got to be a way to do it and not get caught." 
Ryan waited a moment or two to watch the boy's face grow 
paler. "Fine. Stay behind then." And he turned his attention 
to the lesson before the professor could yell at them.

Ryan didn't come to the common room after dinner, but 
told them he had "other plans." In keeping with his decision 
earlier, he would neither say where he intended to go, nor 
would he let Malfoy accompany him. He chose his words 
carefully and made it seem like he planned to leave the 
grounds, if possible, or at least explore the options of the 
castle.

In truth, Ryan had no need to explore the castle, since he 
knew it quite well. What he did need to do was get a 
message back to his people that he had arrived, made 
contact with Malfoy, and was setting up his network. So he 
made his way up to the owlery, hoping to borrow a school 

owl for the job. But as he approached, he heard voices.

"Snuffles wanted me to write about anything weird," said a 
boy.

"Yeah, but you don't really have anything to say about him, 
do you?" A girl's voice.

"Well, I can at least tell him everything's okay, but don't 
you think a transfer student isn't normal?"

"Define normal, Harry." This was another boy. It could 
only be Ron, Harry, and Hermione, whom he met briefly in 
the Care of Magical Creatures class. Ryan turned to go, but 
just then a small, excited owl came hurtling through the 
stairwell, hooting in a high-pitched, urgent voice.

"Pig?" A voice called from the Owlery, and a tidy red head 
peeked around the corner. "Pelerand!" Ron exclaimed. 
"We-didn't know you were there."

"Of course not," Ryan said with an odd smile. "Is that your 
owl?" He asked, ducking as the tiny bird flitted around him to land on Ron's shoulder.

"Yeah, he's really enthusiastic," Ron said. "Um.... My 
brothers were real surprised about the Sorting. I mean-I 
don't know if you know about your house but-"

"Yes, dark wizards right and left. Well, I guess one can't 
fool the hat," he shrugged.


"What do you mean?" Harry asked, coming around the 
corner himself. Hermione was right behind him.

"Well, obviously, I must be a slimy, ambitious, self-serving 
dark wizard, mustn't I?" He laughed at the shocked 
expression on all three faces. "Relax, you lot. No worries. I 
just came to send an owl, same as you."

"But-why Slytherin?" Ron insisted. "Fred and George 
assured us you were all right. I mean," he continued hastily, 
pinking at the ears, "not that you're not, but of all the 
houses..."

Ryan grimaced. "I don't know," he said guilelessly. "Is the 
house rivalry that bad? Or the house itself? After all," he 
said, acting embarrassed, "the Sorting Hat said that 
Slytherins are powerful, crafty, and intelligent, and that 
they don't take any nonsense to get what they're after. I've 
heard Fred and George talk about the pranks they've pulled 
in six years here-are you sure they don't belong in 
Slytherin?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, they do have an irreverence for 
rules," she began.

"Yes, but they're not malicious," Ron said.

"Except when it's Malfoy," Harry pointed out.

"Or Flint," said Hermione.

"Or Dudley," Harry continued.

"Well," Ron prevaricated, "Okay, so maybe...but they 
don't-they're not evil," he insisted.

Ryan laughed. "No more am I," he assured them. "I just put 
on the hat, and it sorted me, same as you." He pushed past 

them into the Owlery and tied his note to the leg of a tawny 
owl.

But Hermione turned around accusingly. "What's your 
position on house-elves?" She asked with force, as if his 
answer would determine his nastiness once and for all.

"What?" Ryan said, genuinely astounded, watching Harry 
and Ron groan behind her.

"Oh, Hermione, honestly," Ron said. "She found out about 
the house-elves last year, and she's convinced it's slavery." 
He explained, red-faced.

"It is slavery," Hermione said, also flushed. "Don't you 
think?" She held Ryan's gaze.

"Well, the thing about house-elves," Ryan said, feeling his 
way, "is that it's a misnomer. They're not elves-well, not 
real elves. They're more of a variety of fairy. And the 
magic they have is a very limited magic. You see, they can 
only work magic if it is in the selfless help of others. No-
hear me out," he said, raising a hand to her protest. "A 
house-elf without a family to serve has no magic. He will 
eventually fade."

"But without any rights, or any pay-"

"Yes, they've become rather ingrained, Granger. But they 
are paid, in a way. The more a house-elf serves, the greater 
his capacity for magic. It has its drawbacks as a system, I 
know. Occasionally, there's one with a progressive nature. 
It will swing back the other way eventually. Give it time."

"But it's wrong!" She insisted.

"Give it time," he repeated, smiling enigmatically. 
"Goodnight." And he went down the stairs without looking 
back.

"Well!" Hermione said when he'd gone.

"How do you reckon he knows so much about house-
elves?" Asked Ron.

"And what does he mean about real elves?" Said Harry.

"Where did he send that owl?" Hermione asked.

A/N: Will Hermione figure out Ryan's secret before Draco 
does? Will Snape ever return to terrorize the students? And 
just how is Ryan going to get the Slytherins to trust him 
enough to tell him about the Death Eaters? The plot 
thickens next time.