Hogwarts: 1977 (Sirius BlackxOC WIP)

The Prologue: Meet Marryanna

The Prologue: Meet Marryanna

Hoarce Slughorn sat on one of the benches that littered St. Pancras Station's oblong platform; it was during the off hours, nearly 11 o'clock at night, with few strangling muggles waiting for their arriving loved ones. Despite their on looking, he was proud of his lavender silk blazer over his tan wool vest with the mint green pin stripes. It wasn't his favorite, but it was the most comfortable for lounging in a muggle rail station as he awaited for the 11:03 arrival of an inbounding train from Paris.

He hadn't heard from his sister, Danielle, after she received her Study Grant from the Flamel Foundation in France; regardless, hearing of her sudden demise was a shock to him. As he shifted in his seat, fiddling with a pendent between his fingers, he recalled the details only briefly: Mr. and Mrs. Hurrwood perished without a trace in a laboratory incident, no bodies or evidence of their work. Rumors quickly spread like wildfire amongst the alchemists, some thinking the Hurrwoods were guilty of collaborating with dark arts enthusiasts.

Just before the start of the next school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hoarce Slughorn was abruptly given guardianship of his niece; out of conveniences, this also meant the girl would be transferring her education to Hogwarts. He had only met Marryanna once before, at a Christmas dinner when his mother was still alive, but he doubted that ten years later the girl would look the same. In other words, he had no idea who he was looking for when the train finally pulled into the station.

Marryanna had a picture of Slughorn from a clipping of the newspaper; it wasn't a good photo, the faces of the entire Hogwarts staff too small to really make out, but she got the jist of his shape. She stepped off the train, her trunk dropped down beside her by a thin faced conductor, before she was hurried forwards so the next passenger could unload. She yanked on the old leather strap, scanning the platform for anyone who looked like Horace Slughorn from her clipping.

He stood from the bench, a stream of various muggles parting around him like eager fish following the flow of the river; Hoarce than gave a smile, noticing she is not only the youngest to step off the late night train, but the only one standing still to find him. He slipped his fingers in his pockets when their eyes met, each sharing a tight knit smile through pursed lips.

"My Marryanna, you've grown so tall," he gave a flick of his fingers out of nervous habit, refraining from whipping out his wand and helping her with her trunk.

"Mr. Slughorn, it's a pleasure," she bowed her head slightly.

"No need for the formalities," he gave her trunk another glance before forcing a bigger smile, "The headmaster has arranged for us to take the train to Hogwarts with the rest of the students at dawn. In the meantime, how about we get a late night meal, hmm?"

She gave a glance over her shoulder, tugging her case a little closer, before nodding. Their shoes echoed differently against the marble flooring; his were heavy taps that landed with a waddling rhythm, her's short and shallow, dull and defeated. Marryana followed closely, eyes wandering around the platform's architecture with a critical curiosity.

Night had darkened the sky, but the stars were trapped in the streetlights; London was no different from Paris, muggle lights flickering like white flames inside glass cages. The few lonely passer bys didn't bother giving her a glance as she dragged the trunk close to her side. They walked a couple blocks from Kings Cross, arriving at a building with windows black like the sky and a creaky sign swinging above the crooked door. It'd easily go unnoticed by Muggles, the doors hidden on a narrow street with a dumpy car parked out front.

Hoarce held the door open for her with an expectant, forcefully polite smile as he finally put his wand in his hand and flicked a charm at the trunk; it lifted out of her hands and clumsily drifted through the door before thudding at the bottom of a set of rickety stairs.