"Fried Pickles. What kind of a password is that?" I mutter, reading the slip of instructions in front of me. I turn a corner and see the gargoyle mentioned in the note at the end of the hallway and when I reach it, I say the password. It jumps aside revealing a door. The instructions ended after the password though...

I readjust the strap of my messenger bag nervously, not sure whether to just go in, or what. So I knock. I hear a voice from the other side say "Come in," and I do.

Inside the room, I see a very elderly wizard with a very long silver-white beard and hair sitting behind the desk and a stern looking witch to his right clad in dark emerald robes, and a kind of sleazy looking wizard to his left in entirely black.

"Ms. (Y/L/N), I presume?" he asks, gazing at me over half-moon glasses.

"That's me," I say back, and the wizard grins.

"I'm Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. This is Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape."

"Hi," I say, half-waving to them.

"Were you able to find us easily?" he asks.

"Yeah, the directions were pretty thorough. 'Walk 18 paces and turn right after the portrait of a young lady holding a potato,'" I say, reading from the note in front of me. "That one was my favorite."

"And how do you like Hogwarts so far?"

"First impression is pretty good, but it's–it's pretty different," I say, shrugging and missing Ilvermorny more and more by the minute. There's another knock, and Professor Dumbledore calls "Come in!" once again. The door swings open to reveal a tall, slender white-blonde wizard who looks to be about my age.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, thank you for coming," the witch greets this time. "This is Ms. (Y/L/N). While you're here at Hogwarts, Ms. (Y/L/N), Professor Snape has agreed to take you on as an honorary member of Slytherin House. And Mr. Malfoy will be your escort for the first part of the semester," she explains, and the boy and I immediately begin to object.

"I–I don't need an escort," I say. "I'm totally capable of finding my own way around the castle."

The boy just looks back and forth between me and the professors, unable to form words, but he looks kind of infuriated.

"We believe it will be beneficial to both of you," Professor Dumbledore says.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you wouldn't mind showing Ms. (Y/L/N) to the Slytherin Common Room?" says the other wizard. The one in black.

"I suppose," the boy says, and he turns on his heel. I follow him out of the room after a quick, "Thanks," to the professors. The boy is storming down the hallway, long legs carrying him very far very fast, and I jog slightly to catch up. "Hey, can you slow down a bit?" I yell, annoyed. He stops and turns to me.

"Listen, I don't need a shadow, nor do I want one," he begins, but I cut him off before he can continue.

"Okay, I'm clearly not too happy about this either if you didn't notice, can you chill please?" I say, and he's taken aback by it. This kid clearly isn't used to being sassed. Good. This may actually be fun. "If I had my way, I wouldn't be here at all. But I am and it looks like we're stuck with each other. So I might as well know your name."

He actually smirks a little bit and extends his hand. "Draco."

"(Y/N)," I say, shaking his hand. And we begin walking again.

"You're American?" he asks.

"You're a detective?" I quip back, and he chuckles slightly.

"I don't think there's ever been an American Student at Hogwarts before," he says.

"First time for everything, right?" I say, glancing down at my shoes and longing for them to be on a different Castle's floor.

"So why are you here, then?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"My Dad's an Ambassador for MACUSA," he gives me a questioning look, and I inform him, "It's like the American version of your–umm–Ministry of Magic? So my dad's there now, at your Ministry, like representing America or whatever."

"You don't sound very happy about it," he points out.

"Oh no and I was trying to hide it so bad," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, I mean, the current plan is that I'll only be here for a year, and then I'll be back at Ilvermorny–the American school–for my last year. But with my Dad's job... who knows."

He nods, understanding.

"Be honest with me about something, will you?" I say, and he turns a raised eyebrow to me. "Do you like it here?"

He huffs out a sigh, clearly deciding what to say. After a moment, he says, "I can't wait to get out of here," and my heart sinks a little. "But. It's not a bad school," he admits, which looks like it's almost painful for him to say.

"Okay," I respond. "Thanks for the honesty."

"Sure."

We pass through a doorway and come into an enormous corridor full of staircases. And they're moving. "What the actual hell," I say seeing one come to a stop in front of us. He moves forward as if to board it. "Oh no way in hell am I getting on that thing," I say, and he chuckles.

"What, are you afraid of heights?" he asks. I gulp in response. "Oh bloody hell, you are afraid of heights. Come on, it's alright," he says and he grabs my hand.

"I swear if I fall, I'm dragging you with me," I say as he pulls me toward the staircase.

We begin to walk down, and about halfway down the steps he instructs, "you're gonna wanna jump that next step."

I look at him inquisitively.

"It disappears," he says.

My jaw drops a bit. "What the fuck is wrong with this school?"

And he laughs. "Trust me, love, there's a lot more than just disappearing steps."