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The Boy from M.A.C.U.S.A.
5. An American in Scotland

5. An American in Scotland

The Hogwarts Express burst from the tunnel, and turned around a gentle curve laying open a view of a breathtaking glacial valley. The magnificent castle of Hogwarts sat on a stone rise in the middle, looking like an artfully crafted model from this distance. The last rays of the sun cast a golden light over the ancient stone walls and towering spires, giving the weathered structure a warm glow, as if it were carved from sandstone.

Thick pine forests blanketed the surrounding hills, their verdant canopies giving way to rocky outcroppings and towering cliffs that plunged down to a massive glimmering lake. The surface of the water shimmered like an oil slick, reflecting the rays of the sun back in pinks, purples, and orange.

Hogsmeade Station emerged from the gathering twilight like something from a fairy tale. Gas lamps cast warm pools of light across the platform, and beyond them the village proper sprawled up the nearby hillside, its windows twinkling in the gathering darkness. With a great hiss of steam, the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station, its scarlet engine coming to a stop. Jack stepped out of his compartment and followed his future classmates out of the car. The station platform was bustling with activity, as students disembarked and began making their way towards the carriages that would transport them up to the castle. Further down the valley, one could see the lights of individual farms and smaller hamlets in the distance like will o’ wisps rising up to the impossibly high surrounding cliffs. The air was decidedly colder than it was in London, crisp with the promise of autumn. Jack took a deep breath, it reminded him of Mount Greylock, but with spicy notes of heather and pine from the surrounding highlands rather than the warm, sweet smell of fallen oak and maple leaves.

But it was the castle that caught and held Jack's attention. From this distance, Hogwarts loomed from its rocky prominence like it was carved from a single piece of living granite, its countless towers and turrets silhouetted against the purple twilight sky. The valley spread out below it like a landscape painting, and the great lake reflected the myriad lights from the castle windows. After five years in Ilvermorny's precisely arranged Beaux-Arts halls, Jack had to admit - it was seriously impressive.

The Hogsmeade platform was bustling with activity as students disembarked and began making their way towards the horseless carriages that would transport them up to the castle. "First years! First years over here! This way for the first years!" A short wizard in an enormous tartan cloak and kilt was corralling a herd of wide-eyed eleven-year-olds toward a flotilla of small boats bobbing at the lake's edge on the other side of the station. Jack headed the opposite direction, following the crowd toward the road, where a line of waiting horseless carriages awaited. Jack wondered idly if they used No-Maj engines. He was just about to reach one when Cassandra Hightower practically apparated in front of him.

“Hi!” Jack said, pleasantly surprised to see her. She looked even more beautiful in the evening light. “Want to ride up together?”

"What?” she said, taken aback, “No! First years go that way," she pointed behind him.

“Yeah, I know,” Jack replied, “The guy in the dress back there said so.”

She shook her head, "That includes transfer students. You'll be riding across with them."

“Gimme a break,” Jack scoffed. "I'm not a first year," he moved to step around her. "I'm joining the sixth year class. I'll ride up in the carriages with everyone else, thanks."

Cassandra moved to block him again, sticking out a slender arm in his path, violet eyes flashing in the lamplight. "It's tradition for all new students to cross the lake," she insisted as Jack bumped up against her. "That means you, Mr. Semmes."

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"Says who?" Jack took a step back and crossed his arms, it was hard not to smile at her determination. “You?”

"The rules!"

"Which rules?"

"The.. the..." she momentarily lost her bearing, "The Hogwarts rules!” she stamped her foot. “For Hogwarts students!"

"I've never heard of that rule," interrupted a cheerful voice. The sandy-haired boy from the club car poked his head out of the open window of the nearest carriage. "We haven't had any transfer students here since... oh, must have been 1923? Graf Siegfried Maria Hildebrand Maximilian Albrecht von Schlotterkopf Knickerbein from Durmstrang, wasn't it?” His hazel eyes twinkled mischievously. “Did he take a boat ride?"

Cassandra huffed, turning her glare on the newcomer. "This isn't your concern, Ravenhurst," she snapped. "I'm handling it."

Ravenhurst raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Doesn't look like there's anything to handle," he observed. "Unless you're planning on physically tossing our new Yank into one of those boats."

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Jack grinned. Cassandra went bright red, and for a moment Jack wondered if British witches slapped like American ones or just went straight for their wands.

"Henry Ravenhurst," the boy from the carriage said to Jack, leaning out of the window and not giving her a chance to respond. His broad accent spoke of wild moors and country manors. "Sixth year Gryffindor, just like you’ll be, hopefully. Don't mind our Miss Hightower here, she takes her prefect duties rather seriously. Especially when foreigners are involved - you know, you might be a spy, one never knows nowadays. Did she check you for Polyjuice before you arrived?”

Jack burst out laughing. Cassandra folded her arms and looked murderously at both of them.

“That is enough, Ravenhurst.” she said. “I will report you to Professor MacLeod for interfering with official prefect duties, to say nothing of your incorrigible-”

"Well then you’d better get a move on then," Henry announced lightheartedly, opening the door of the carriage for Jack. "Unless you would prefer to explain to Headmaster Hollowbrook why we’re delaying the welcome feast over some fictitious rule?"

A small crowd had gathered to watch the entertainment. Cassandra looked around, seemed to realize she was losing whatever authority she had, and drew herself up with wounded dignity. Then, with a final venomous look at Jack, she spun on her heel and stormed off. "This isn't over, Semmes," she declared balefully over her shoulder.

Jack let out a low whistle as she headed for the front of the carriage line, for once at a loss for words.

"Don't mind Hightower," Henry repeated, helping Jack into the carriage, "Known her for ages. She takes her duties very seriously. Bit of a stickler."

"You don't say," Jack chuckled, settling into the springy seat, "Thanks for the save. I'm Jack. Jack Semmes.” He stuck his hand out.

"Pleasure’s all mine, Jack," the other boy shook Jack's hand firmly as the carriage began to trundle up the winding path towards the looming castle. The sun had set beyond the western hillslopes, and a full harvest moon blazed low in the darkening sky. "No need for thanks, happy to help. Us non-prefects have to stick together."

Jack smiled, already warming to Henry's easy manner. As they rode, his companion kept up a steady stream of friendly chatter, introducing himself further (he was from the West Riding, which as Jack found out, was not a racetrack but part of Yorkshire), pointing out landmarks and sharing bits of Hogwarts lore. Jack drank it all in eagerly, craning his neck for glimpses of the castle as they rounded the twisting curves and passed through the outer curtain wall, under the North Gate, and onto the school grounds.

"How are you finding our sceptered isle?" Henry continued as their carriage rattled up the road, “Pleasant journey to London, I hope?"

“Everything was great until I got off the boat…” Jack provided an abridged and slightly embellished version of the chase and narrow escape that he had in Liverpool before taking the Floo Network to King’s Cross, adding some heroics that he certainly would have flawlessly executed had he been caught alone and without a Ministry escort.

“Merlin…” Henry’s carefree face turned extremely serious, “The Ministry official said they were Grindlewald’s men? That’s not good, did he say why they were after you?”

Jack shook his head, about to explain further about his father’s new position in the British Ministry when the carriages stopped at the foot of the sweeping front steps and they had to disembark.