After everything that had happened last year, coming back to Hogwarts seemed even more surreal than it did usually. He had spent most of his time answering letters by concerned and angry parents, most of them ready to enroll their children at another school.

It was a relief to see how many had still arrived and how unaffected their schedule seemed to be. Of course they had all been instructed to be more cautious and take care of the students, but since they had nothing but suspiscions about who could be responsible nothing else had been done.

It had been a long day for Maeve Delacroix. She had taught two sections of Wizard Comics, which, albeit enjoyable, were quite a hassle to keep in line. Now she was back in her office, sifting through piles upon piles of emotionally imbued artifacts. With every one she touched, her mind was invaded with sentiments of the past and the present; from complete and utter joy to panic and despair. To an outsider, it may have looked like she was having a psychological fit, bordering on complete insanity. The reality, however, was that it was all in a day's work for Maeve Delacroix. As the woman worked, she noticed the presence of an observer at her office door, but didn't acknowledge them. If it was important enough then they'd make themself known.

Everything seemed in order, more or less. The students weren't all happy--though some, he'd noticed, were freakishly elated--but all in all the experiment seemed to be working. From what he could tell, all the groups were well on their way to getting out.

Of course, he and some of the other teachers were standing by to ensure nothing went wrong. There was magic, yes, but nothing the students controlled, and there was so little that the professors had generated that "wrong" was largely reduced to punches and arguments.

He hoped very much they could avoid that, because this was designed to avoid exactly that.

So he was in Gryffindor. Great.

In truth, it was better than Hufflepuff or Raveclaw, but he'd been gunning for Slytherin. Now this was just another thing for Seb to tease him for.

He pulled the crinkled note out of his pocket.

Better get in Slytherin, it said, because anything else is shit and you know it.

Best of luck!

--Seb

Encouraging... Simeon thought bleakly as he shoved the note back in his pocket. Within a day Seb would surely send an owl, and then Simeon would need to explain why he wasn't a Slytherin, why Gryffindor was just as good, and why Seb needed to mind his own damn business.

In all honesty Gryffindor was fine for him. He was with Olly, and that was a plus. And now he could destroy Caspian at Quidditch. Also a plus.