"As for you four," Ginny said, indicating James, Albus, Ralph, and Lucy, "you are scheduled to meet Zane next to the Octosphere at ten o'clock. He'll show you around the campus and get you prepared for your first day of school. If you plan to wear something other than your pyjamas and those ridiculous robes, I suggest you finish up quickly and change."
"Ugh!" Albus proclaimed suddenly, lifting his cup and staring at it disdainfully. "You call this tea? I'd heard that Americans couldn't brew a decent cup, but really! This tastes like warmed over prune juice!"
"Albus Severus!" Ginny scolded.
Franklyn peered at the cup in Albus' hand. Gently, he reached for it. "Ah, yes. Ahem. It tastes like warmed over prune juice because that's precisely what it is, young man," he said, taking the cup and sniffing it. "You seem to have picked up my drink by accident."
Albus' face reddened as James and his parents laughed. Audrey covered her own mouth to stifle a smile while Percy rolled his eyes. Merlin moved to get up, indicating the end of the meal.
"Oh. Well," Albus said stiffly. "Never mind then."
By daylight, the scale of Alma Aleron campus seemed even larger. Neatly cropped lawns and flower gardens were crisscrossed with paths running in all directions. Some of the footpaths were meandering and narrow, laid with pea gravel, others were wide flagstone thoroughfares, cutting straight swathes between the various buildings.
As James, Albus, Ralph, and Lucy made their way to the center of campus, they encountered innumerable students of nearly every age, most dressed in various versions of the school uniform, which consisted, generally, of a dress shirt, tie, pants, and blazer for the boys, or a blouse, skirt, and tie for the girls. V-necked sweaters were occasionally worn in place of the blazer, especially by the girls, and some students forewent the blazer altogether or carried it slung over their shoulders.
The confusing bit was in the fact that there didn't seem to be an established school colour. As James glanced around, soaking in the sights, he counted at least half a dozen different colour combinations. He did notice, however, that students in similar colours tended to cluster together in knots, either walking swiftly to their classes or hovering near the benches and low walls that dotted the campus, laughing and lounging, occasionally tossing around strange leather sporting balls.
The buildings that comprised the campus were mostly brick, covered in ivy, with dormers and towers jutting from their high roofs. The entrances were wide and grand, with stone staircases leading to banks of heavy wooden doors, many propped open to admit the fresh autumn air. Most of the main buildings seemed to range along a very long narrow common space, dotted with huge ancient trees, pools, bridges, gardens, and statuary. On the closest end of the commons, near the guest house and the Warping Willow, was something like an old ruin, mostly comprised of stone blocks stacked haphazardly around a grass-filled foundation. The only recognizable portion of the ruin was the main entrance and steps, which seemed ready to collapse at the slightest provocation. A very worn and broken statue of a severely dressed wizard holding a wand at his side stood in front of the entryway, looking as if it had once stood atop a grand pedestal which had, through time and entropy, become buried. The name engraved along the top of the ruin's doorway was barely legible: Roberts.
Across from the ruin, sitting at the far end of the commons like a patriarch at the head of a gigantic table, was a very imposing red brick building with buttresses and stone columns, ranks of tall windows, and a dizzyingly tall clock tower which stood over its impressive central entryway. The school's full name and date of origin were engraved over the columns in huge block letters: 'ALMA ALERON UNIVERSITY of MAGICAL HUMANITIES and SPELLCRAFT – 1688'. James had an inkling that he'd seen the building before, and then he remembered: it had been in the background of his first glimpse of A.A.U., seen through the magical rear wall of the Trans-Dimensional Garage during his first year at Hogwarts. He'd seen that very clock tower, albeit from a different angle, and heard it tolling the hour. He felt a little surreal now, looking up the building from its own lawns, knowing that he'd be attending school under it, probably for the entire year.
Finally, the four students made their way into the center of the campus commons and stopped beneath one of the massive elm trees that cast their shadows over the grounds, their turning leaves catching the sunlight like kaleidoscopes. Nearby, a grand, terraced pool splashed with fountains, surrounding a strange black marble ball that seemed to float in the very middle.
"Here he comes," Ralph said, mopping his brow with his sleeve. "How can it be so hot here this late in the year?"
Lucy shrugged. "This is mild by their standards. Be glad we didn't arrive in the middle of August. My father says you can boil a cauldron on the footpath during a typical American summer."
"Ugh," Albus grunted, shaking his head.
"I'm disappointed not to be able to try it, really," Lucy said, bending down and laying her palm on the stone at her feet. "This is barely hot enough to soften a jellywort."
"Has it ever occurred to you," Albus said, peering sideways at his cousin, "that your dad might be full of jellywort?"
Lucy regarded Albus calmly. "Yes," she said. "Actually it has."
"Morning everybody," Zane said happily, crossing the pool's terraces to meet them. "Sorry I'm a little late. There was an incident last night in my house involving a pledge, an Engorgio spell, and a key lime pie. I've never seen such a mess, and it was up to me to make sure it got cleaned up afterwards. The pledges barely swam through half of it. If you ask me, there isn't a Zombie in the bunch."
Lucy frowned. "A key lime pie?"
Ralph glanced at her. "You heard him say the word 'zombie', and the thing that struck you was the pie?"
"He obviously doesn't mean real zombies," Lucy sniffed. "Zombies are forbidden. At least in this country."
Zane raised his voice and pumped his fist in the air. "Zombie pride! Zombie grit! Undead fight and never quit!" He stopped, lowered his fist, and grinned. "Sorry, force of habit. Go Zombies, eh?"
"Whatever you say," James smiled, shaking his head.
"Come on, I'll give you the lowdown while we walk," Zane said, beckoning. "There's a lot to go over and not much time. I have class in half an hour. You can sit in if you want."
"Oh yeah," Albus commented brightly. "That'd be buckets of fun."
Lucy smacked her cousin lightly on the back of the head as they stood up. "Give it a rest already, Albus."
"All right," Zane said, turning around and walking backwards, his arms held wide. "This is Alma Aleron's main mall. Most of the classroom buildings are along here, on either side. Back by the Warping Willow, that pile of bricks and stone is the home of one of the original founders. Looks tempting to climb on, but not a good idea. Magic's the only thing holding what's left of it together these days."
"What happened to it?" James asked, looking back over his shoulder at the faded ruin. "Looks like it's a thousand years old."
Zane shrugged. "Sorry, that's not part of the tour. Mainly, 'cause I don't know. I'm sure somebody told me at one time, but I did myself a favor and forgot it as soon as I could. Leaves more room up here for Clutchcudgel and pledge dares," he said, tapping the side of his head with one finger. "Anyway, most of the dormitory houses are on the other side of the classroom buildings. There are six of them, which brings me to the most important part of your life here at the Aleron: which society you end up in."
"Just like the houses at Hogwarts," Lucy nodded, brightening.
"Yes!" Zane said, pointing at her. "And no. Things here are totally different, beginning with the Sorting. Mainly because there isn't one. Here, you have to rush for the society you want to get into. If you don't, or if you blow it during rush, you'll get assigned to a dorm house by the administration, and you don't want that to happen."
James followed Zane over a narrow footbridge, sidling past a knot of students going in the opposite direction. "Why not? You get into a house either way, right?"
; "Yeah, but you don't have any say about what house they put you in. It's based entirely on whatever space is available. And houses don't treat leftovers very well. Even Zombie House. I should know."
"Were you a… er… leftover?" Ralph asked.
"Heh," Zane said, glancing back. "No. Let's just say Zombie House's leftovers are still cleaning key lime pie off the basement walls. It's an ugly hierarchy, but an effective one."
"Sounds a bit barbaric," Lucy said mildly.
Zane nodded. "Anyway, there's six societies here, all originally named for Greek mythology, which the founding fathers were all just mad about. Nobody really calls them by their Greek names anymore, though, so don't worry about trying to remember it all. The societies have been in existence since the beginning of the school and they were designed to accommodate pretty much any magical personality type."
He stopped and turned around again, gesturing between two nearby buildings. "See that old mansion back there, behind Rhines Hall? That's Hermes Mansion, otherwise known as the home of the Zombies, where I live. My dorm is in the top right window, next to the tower. Zombies are perseverant and mischievous, adaptable to almost any situation. Just like me, eh?"
Albus nodded. "Hermes House Zombies are also known for having questionable judgment and requiring a lot of supervision."
Lucy, James, and Ralph glanced aside at Albus, eyebrows raised.
"What?" Albus said, spreading his hands. "Lucy's not the only one who can read, you know! It was in a booklet I found in our room last night."
Zane rolled his eyes. "Well, you're right, technically. If you ask anybody else, they'll tell you that Zombie House is the home of punks, rebels, and troublemakers. But they only say that 'cause they're jealous. Our colours are bile yellow and black."
"What about the other societies?" Lucy asked.
"All right," Zane said, raising his hand and beginning to count them off on his fingers. "Besides the Hermes House Zombies, there's Erebus, better known as Vampire House, headed up by Professor Remora, who you already met. They're all dramatic and morose, and they take themselves super seriously. You can tell them by their black and blood red uniforms, and by the fact that most of them are as pale as the moon and like to let their hair flop all over their eyes so they have to pull it out of the way just to see who's making fun of them. And it's usually a Zombie," he added proudly.
"Then there's the Aphrodite House Pixies. They're all cheerleader types, hung up on looking good and who has the most expensive broom and who's still wearing last season's designer cape. They're not bad, if you can get past the ego, and nobody can out-charm them when it comes to school politics and debates. They even have some real-life Veelas in Pixie House. Their colours are pink and yellow since those are the colours that are most commonly in fashion."
Zane started walking again, leading the group toward the main administration building at the end of the commons. "Next is Ares House, commonly known as the Werewolves. They're the military types, and the jocks of the campus. Their house is the one up on Victory Hill, behind the admin building. They've won that spot for twelve years in a row since nobody can beat them in the Clutch tournament. Werewolves are arrogant and tough, and they don't have much respect for anyone who isn't like them, so you'll want to steer clear of them unless you are one. Their colours are slate grey and burgundy, like military uniforms. There's their president over there, Professor Jackson."
James blinked and turned to look. Professor Theodore Jackson strode through the sunlight on the other side of the campus, wearing a slate grey coat and a dark burgundy ascot, his steely brow low. He apparently hadn't noticed James or the rest of his group, and James was glad.
"Then there's Hephaestus House, home of the Igors. They're just about the exact opposite of the Werewolves. Igors are technomancy and alchemy freaks, and they're dead geniuses at clockwork. Most of them spend so much time in their house laboratory that they hardly ever know what's going on around the rest of the campus. They talk a big game about taking over the world and creating doomsday devices, but they're really pretty harmless when you get to know 'em. You can tell them by their acid green uniforms."
Zane stopped at the base of the steps to the administration building, which was the enormous brick edifice with the clock tower. He turned and pointed across the campus, back the way they'd come. "And finally, there's the Bigfoots, Apollo House. They have that mansion way back there on the other side of the ruin, about as far from Victory Hill as possible. Bigfoots are nice guys, but there's nothing really interesting about them. They're a friendly, hardworking, upstanding bunch of fairly competent witches and wizards, which explains why everybody forgets about them about two seconds after they meet them."
"They sound like a very decent group," Lucy said, peering at the distant house.
"That's exactly my point!" Zane exclaimed. "They field a respectable Clutch team, but their spell game is totally weak, which explains why they never win. Their House President is a decent guy, can't remember his name. Professor Birch, or Bark, or something like that. Teaches Ethics of Magic at the college level. Way boring."
"Hold on," Albus said, raising a hand. "So this is supposed to be the best wizarding school in the whole Unites States, and you're telling me the best your people could come up with for house names was a bunch of half-rate monsters?"
"I suspect the Vampires, at least, would object to the term 'half-rate'," Lucy interjected.
Zane rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, join the club. Remember, I'm still a Ravenclaw to the core. When I got here last year, I told them how lame it all was compared to life at Hogwarts. Surprisingly, none of that went over very well. The point is, these nicknames were voted on by students, a hundred years or so ago, and they obviously weren't the most imaginative bunch. If you think monster names are bad, though, you should have seen the original society names from back when they started the school! The founding fathers may have been geniuses in a lot of ways, but deciding mascots wasn't one of them."
"How's that?" Lucy asked.
"Well," Zane said, lowering his voice, "those were the same guys that eventually decided the symbols for our political parties should be an elephant and a donkey. Benjamin Franklyn himself voted against making our national symbol an eagle. You know what he wanted it to be? A turkey!" Albus shook his head, grinning. "You're joking."
Zane straightened. "I wish I was, dude. He's still a little rankled about it, and it's been centuries! But anyway, like 'em or not, that's all the house societies. They'll grow on you once you get settled into your own. Rush week is still going on, so you still have a chance to pledge for a good house. I vote Zombie for the lot of you, but we'll have to ask Patches."
"Patches?" Albus blinked. "The administration cat?"
"He's a Kneazle," Zane corrected. "And he has a sixth sense about such things. You can apply for whatever house you want, but it's tradition for new students to consult Patches first. It's fun. In fact, there he is now."
James looked in the direction Zane indicated. In the far corner of the stone stairway, lying in the shadow of a statue of a huge eagle, was a perfectly ordinary looking calico cat. Its eyes were closed but the tip of its tail flicked restlessly, as if the cat was only pretending to be asleep.
"Come on," Zane grinned. "Let's ask him."
"This is some kind of prank you all play on new students," Albus said, lagging behind. "I can appreciate that. I won't be falling for it though."
"Suit yourself," Zane replied, unperturbed. He hunkered down in front of the cat and scratched it between the ears. "Hey Patches, how's everybody's little kitty-boy doing?" he said, as if he was talking to a baby. "Yeah, that's it. You like getting scratched between the ears, don'cha? You feeling like helping out some of my friends today? Sharing a little of that crazy feline intuition?"
Slowly, Patches slit his green eyes and peered up at James. His tail flicked.
"This is James," Zane went on, glancing back. "I know he's a day or two late, but he's come a long way, s
o he has a good excuse. You want to give him a little push in the right direction, societywise?"
The cat continued to regard James thoughtfully. James could hear him purring as Zane petted him. Finally, the cat stood up, stretched and yawned luxuriously, and padded away into the sunlight.
"Thus spake Zaruthustra," Albus quipped, rolling his eyes.
"Shh," Zane said, raising one hand.
Patches paced toward the administration building's open doors, tail held high, and then stopped with his left front paw raised. He turned to look back, as if making sure that the students were watching.
"Look where his foot is," Lucy whispered, nudging James with her elbow.
James looked closer. Engraved into the stone blocks of the steps was a line of six symbols. The one closest to James was a bat, its wings half-furled. The cat was standing over one of the symbols in the middle, its right paw resting right in the middle of it.
"That can't be right, Patches," Zane said, frowning.
"What is it?" James said, squinting. "I left my glasses in my duffle bag. I can't see the symbol."
Zane sighed. "It's a glass beaker with electric bolts coming out of it, the symbol of Igor House. Patches, James is no Igor. Technomancy isn't his thing. He's an expert with defensive magic. He's a Zombie all the way. Go on, go over to the cross-eyed skull."
To James' surprise, the cat almost seemed to shake its head. It stayed on the Igor symbol, its left foot raised, its right planted right in the center of the engraved beaker.
"I'm pretty sure I'm not an Igor," James commented.
"Yeah, well, stupid old cat," Zane agreed, peering sidelong at Patches. "Good thing it isn't like the Sorting Hat back at good ol' Hoggies. You can pledge at whatever house you want, regardless of what he says."
"Do me now!" Albus proclaimed, stepping forward. "Let James go to the spods. What about me, Patches, ol' buddy?"
The cat regarded Albus coolly, and then put down his left paw. Slowly, he meandered along the symbols and stopped at one near the end. The shape was obvious enough that even James could make it out. It was a werewolf.