Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Very Silly School Crossover Fic
The Very Silly School Crossover Fic
The set-up: What if both Hermione and Lily came from maternal lines of squibs who had not forgotten their links to the Magical world? And what if not all Squibs were like Mr. Filch and Mrs. Figg?
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The Very Silly School Crossover Fic Chapter 01
By Dr. T
She-Who-Must-Be-Mentioned and her subsidiaries and partners own the Canon Potter-verse. He-Who-Was-a-Genius and various UK companies and associations own the crossover rights. I indulged in them crossing over by taking a hockey stick to the pair of them. The HP folks whinged a great deal, while the crossover girls merely stuck out their collective tongues.
*
The set-up: What if both Hermione and Lily came from maternal lines of squibs who had not forgotten their links to the Magical world? And what if not all Squibs were like Mr. Filch and Mrs. Figg?
*
Chapter 01-The Transfer
October, 1990
Hermione Granger hid in her room as her parents argued about her education. She was different than the other students in her primary school, and she had long been ostracized for her differences. Granted, any smart girl who was not particularly ‘girly’ who also had wild hair and somewhat oversized front teeth would have been teased. It was worse when such a girl was easily the most brilliant student in her ‘gifted’ school – the other students were competitive and hated losing to the same student time and again, especially to the teachers’ pet.
She also had odd accidents – the other students therefore also felt she was ‘weird.’ They were not to know, under any circumstances, that she was magical.
No doubt, somewhere in her father’s past, he had had magical ancestors. Her mother certainly had, just four generations before Hermione. She still had magical relatives, although nearly all of them now lived in various parts of the British Commonwealth. They had left Britain to escape the predations of two ‘dark lords,’ the smaller group in the 1930s-1940s, the rest in the 1970s. Hermione’s direct maternal ancestors were what the Magicals of Britain called ‘Squibs’ – having a touch of magic but unable to perform active magic.
Her mother, and many of their maternal female relatives, had for generations all attended a boarding school originally set up in mid-Victorian times as a school for female Squibs, although they now accepted a few ‘mundane’ students under special circumstances, especially those of a Squib or magical background who no longer had even that extra touch of magic sensitivity. During the 1930s, they had even started accepting fully magical students, who were seeking both a magical and a Mundane education.
Before it was evident that Hermione was a witch, her father had wanted her to fully realize her brilliance in a fully traditional Mundane school, while her mother pulled for her alma mater. Now, it was a choice between that school and Hogwarts, the premier magical school in the British Isles, and, at least according to their own vision of themselves, the world.
Hermione was torn between a love of academics and a wild side she was afraid to express (much to her mother’s and aunt’s disappointment, but to her father’s approval). Where she went would no doubt reinforce one side of her or the other.
The arguing stopped, and a few moments later, her mother appeared at her door. Hermione looked up. “Your father, and I believe you, believe what Hogwarts like to claim. You are going to a magical school of some type, which means you may not go back to regular schools until you have completed your O.W.L.s. If you go to Hogwarts, that option will be permanently closed, as you will be too far behind.”
“True, but they do offer many more magical options, Mum,” Hermione pointed out.
Emma Granger nodded. “A few more, which doesn’t mean as much as you think. I am agreeing to Hogwarts only because it’s what you think you want. We will leave the other option open – transferring is difficult but not impossible.”
Hermione merely smiled.
*
October 31, 1991.
Hermione was crying. Why had she agreed to come to Hogwarts? It was at least as anti-intellectual at nearly all levels as her other choice had been, and much more socially prejudiced. The ‘best’ teaching was primarily rote learning. Necessary, no doubt, but any exploration of the reasons for magic, the ‘how’ of magic, was discouraged. Her outstanding academic achievements barely earned her a ‘well-done’ from the best teachers and a few House points that others quickly lost. As for the worst – Snape and Binns – Hermione now realized this had been an academic mistake. On the personal level, well, life was worse than at primary school.
Hermione suddenly stopped sniffling as a horrible stench permeated the toilet room.
Then the door was shattered, and Hermione screamed.
That night was in many ways the worst ending of the worst day Hermione had so far had in her life, but it was also the best, as she had gained two friends.
*
December 30, 1992.
Minerva McGonagall was not totally surprised to see the four women standing at the front entrance. She was torn, as it was Hogwarts policy to keep every outsider exactly there, outside. Under the circumstances, however, she had little choice, and it was for one of her best Lions.
Minerva looked at the quartet, saying, “While I can allow Mrs. Granger to see her daughter. . . .”
“She’s part cat, isn’t she?” one of the women demanded.
“Yes,” she admitted. “We aren’t sure how it happened. If it was merely a transfiguration accident. . . .”
“You would likely be capable,” the woman retorted. “But this is a potions accident.”
“Professor Snape. . . .”
“Severus is an exorable, puerile, bullying moron,” the woman retorted. “We will take care of this.”
“Who dares?” Snape demanded, coming out of the shadows. “I am the potions master here. . . .”
The woman stepped past McGonagall, “You are a first rate brewer and an idiot. You are the potions TEACHER, you are at best a master brewer, and will never be anything more.”
Seeing who it was, Snape frowned, knowing he was in the presence of the highest rated potions mistress currently teaching in Europe.
A much older woman also walked past McGonagall. “And if Melinda cannot fully solve the problem, I am sure the two of us working together can.” She sneered at Snape. “Or do you doubt my abilities as well?”
Snape swallowed nervously. Cygnia Black was not a witch to be trifled with. She was a runes master as well as the best (or at least the most notorious) ritual mistress in Europe. She also had family connections which made her politically untouchable.
“Severus, take them to see Miss Granger,” McGonagall ordered. Grumbling, he did so. She turned to the other two women. She knew Mrs. Granger, but could only guess at the remaining woman. “And you are?”
“Sophia Bryan, Maths instructor and Hermione’s aunt.”
*
Hermione was turned back into herself fairly quickly, albeit not easily. Although there were few students about, information quickly spread that Hermione Granger had connections within the magical world outside of Hogwarts. As the story spread, Hermione found herself explaining about the other school to girls who had heard of it, and to those who were disillusioned with Hogwarts or just afraid because of the events of the previous year and the current one.
Hermione also had to enter into greater correspondence with her aunt. The reasons to leave Hogwarts were strong and becoming stronger, but Hermione also felt the pull of friendship with Ron and Harry. Ron was exasperating, sometimes callous, and usually unmannered, but he also had a goofy charm that Hermione sometimes (more often that she wished to admit) enjoyed. Harry had an intensity and strength of character that Hermione admired. Still, Hermione now knew that Ron could make his own way in the magical world. She had learned that Hogwarts, for those coming from at least partially magical families, was more about making connections and alliances than about education. It was Hogwarts students from magical families who would be recruited into the Ministry, and, with the addition of a few exceptions of privileged home-schooled boys or those schooled at Durmstrang, those were over 95% of those employed by the Ministry, other than in a menial capacity. The truly Muggle-born were at Hogwarts primarily to subsidize the education of the less wealthy magical elite and to provide new ‘breeding stock’ for the more second-tier elite families to replenish their bloodlines.
As the Weasleys were both a Pureblood and, albeit for the first time, a ministry family, and Ron had two elder brothers in well-respected professions, Ron’s future prospects would be limited only by himself. For him and those like him, almost every opportunity in magical Britain was open to those willing to put forth just a little effort (not that many bothered).
Perhaps that was why Ron was often so slipshod in his treatment of her.
Harry was different. No doubt, even more opportunities would be open to Harry than to Ron, although expectations about him were at times impossible to fulfill. Whereas Ron had a huge ego and yet still had many underlying glimmers of self-doubt, Harry had little belief in his own self-worth.
The Sorting Hat had at first debated between placing Hermione in Ravenclaw for her intellect or Hufflepuff for her loyalty. It then decided upon Gryffindor as a balance between the two, along with her courage and self-confidence, plus her desire to join the House Dumbledore reputedly had been a member of.
As Hermione’s aunt learned through their correspondence, Hermione was loyal to Harry Potter.
*
When Hermione was petrified, her aunt and the two witches from her aunt’s school again descended on Hogwarts. This time, however, they had to admit there was nothing they could do. The strongest version of the de-petrifying potion was needed to counteract the magic in the victims, and that meant fresh mandrake, harvested at just the right stage of growth.
The three women were impressed that Harry Potter was spending part of every day sitting with Hermione, reading his class notes to her and chatting at her. (‘No doubt, the most words the boy has ever gotten in edgewise to her,’ her aunt would comment.) Before they left, Miss Bryan slipped Harry an envelope. When he read the contents that evening, his eyes went wide with the possibilities.
He quickly decided to respond via Hedwig.
*
Harry and Hermione exited Platform 9 ¾, Hermione making a beeline to hug her father and then her mother while Harry watched their luggage. He was quite surprised to see his aunt approach him. He had expected his uncle.
Petunia took in the scene and sighed internally. “Boy, our cousin has been in correspondence with me about you. You do know that old man forbade what she has suggested?”
“I guess I’m not surprised to hear that,” Harry had to admit.
A very rare smile tugged at his aunt’s mouth. “I want this; she wants this. From what I’ve been told about the recent goings-on at that school of yours, you’d be a fool not to want this. Are you a fool, Harry?”
Harry looked her in the eye. “No. Can we do it?”
“We can. You’ll come with me and stay for three days. Tomorrow, we’ll transfer your guardianship, but you’ll still come back with me. This way, by alternating, that old man will not know what is going on, as those things will transfer over. Hopefully, within two or three weeks, they’ll be transferred and you can stay with her full time. Those things should still cover us until early September, and the house goes up for sale in early September.”
“A win all around,” Harry stated, who was correctly assuming the ‘things’ were the wards.
*
Harry paid little attention to the news about Sirius Black. Dumbledore, who of course believed that Sirius had been the Secret Keeper, also presumed, with even less reason, that if Sirius had betrayed the Potters he must also have the Dark Mark and therefore could not approach Privet Drive. Therefore, he did nothing concerning Harry.
Others were not so blasé.
As Sirius, in his animagus form, approached Little Whinging, he suddenly passed out. A voice from a disillusioned witch muttered, “Now we’ll see what my idiot cou+sin has been up to.” A moment later, the dog disappeared as well.
*
Hermione was not the only student seething as the upper years rode to the castle. Dementors were not only stationed around the castle, they had invaded the train! This set a number of students to act. Some, like Malfoy and Percy Weasley, wrote or would write letters later that night to their parents complaining about the train invasion, along with other news. Most, like Ron, simply whimpered or whinged on about it.
A few of the girls took up their convictions and decided to go through with the plans many had hoped were only contingencies, although more than half, when it came down to it, did not dare leave despite having parental approval ranging from the tentative to outright encouragement. For Hermione, and especially Harry, this merely gave them even more justification for what they were going to do in any event.
In the end, Harry and ten girls gathered near the entrance of the great hall as most of the students found their seats: 4th Years Katie Bell (Gryffindor) and Joy Talbot (Slytherin); 3rd Years Hermione Granger, Cecelia Moon, Sally-Anne Perks (Gryffindors); Mandy Brocklehurst (Ravenclaw); Megan Jones (Hufflepuff); and Slytherin Tracey Davis; and 2nd Years Luna Lovegood and Slytherin JJ French. Hermione and Sally-Anne were from Squib families, while Luna was a Pureblood. The others came from more mixed backgrounds.
Seeing the group, Dumbledore stood to command them to be seated, so that the Sorting could begin. Instead, Katie amplified her voice and stated, before Dumbledore could say anything, “Pursuant to the British Magical Education Authority Guidelines, section six, sub-section twelve and section seventeen, subsections three and eighteen, we declare that we find that this Institution, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, does not meet our educational requirements. Furthermore, pursuant to section three, subsections one, four, seven, and eleven, we declare our lives have been endangered here, and are currently in danger, the latter as demonstrated by the attack on the Hogwarts Express and the presence of dementors around this school. We do so declare!”
The others echoed, “We do so declare!”
“Stop this nonsense!” Dumbledore demanded.
“We also declare, with the permission of our guardians, our immediate transfer to another school, as permitted under section thirteen, subsections four and forty-two!”
“We do so declare!” The girls then started the process which would transfer them: the singing of their new school song. Harry joined in, although he substituted ‘students’ for the first word of the song. As the small group sang, their uniforms started to change.
Maidens of St Trinian's, gird your armor on.
Grab the nearest weapon; never mind which one.
The battle's to the strongest; might is always right.
Trample on the weakest; glory in their plight.
The Hogwarts and House insignia had totally faded by now, and their ties had been replaced by St. Trinian ties. Harry’s robes were beginning to transfigure into a more standard trouser/blazer set, while the girls’ were transforming into the St. Trinian gym slips. Three poles had also appeared behind the groups, the outline of flags just beginning to appear.
St Trinian's! St Trinian's! Our battle cry!
St Trinian's! St Trinian's! Will never die.
The three flags were now completely visible. At the center was the official Tau-cross banner of the school. On the right was the St. Trinian ‘battle flag:’ a skull wearing a straw boater hat with a St. Trinian hat-band, over a crossed hockey stick and a lacrosse stick. On the left was a similar banner, only this skull was over a crossed hockey stick and a wand.
Stride towards your fortune boldly on your way,
Never once forgetting there's one born every day.
Let our motto be broadcast: "get your blow in first!"
She who draws the sword last always comes off worst.
The uniform transformations were now complete, and the group, started to fade from sight.
St Trinian's! St Trinian's! Our battle cry!
St Trinian's! St Trinian's! Will never die!*
And with that, the group was gone.
The great hall of Hogwarts was totally silent, until the sound of the Sorting Hat softly giggling was heard. Her hands shaking, McGonagall, who had led the new students in as Alicia had made her group’s declaration, raised the roll of new students, and began the Sorting.
*
“Welcome, girls, and Harry. I am Miss Fritton, your new headmistress. You are about to join a most unique community. We house and educate all types of students, from a few whose family have magic but who personally have none, to the majority of our students who are just touched by magic, to the most powerful of witches. We have even educated pure Veela, werewolves, goblins, and a vampire over the years, although we have no vampires or pure Veela or goblins currently. Yes, Hogwarts is a prestigious school, and those that leave from Hogwarts hog those positions in the magical world which take Blood-connections and high social standing, but we at St. Trinian’s have sent girls out into the magical world, well-able to compete for all those positions which take know-how, guts, and determination to succeed at: healers, potion makers, members of the MLE and Department of Mysteries, and many positions at Gringotts and similar institutions. Other students have gone on to university or have quickly taken up positions throughout the Mundane world. Our students are most welcome at those few institutions, which you have likely never even heard of, that operate in both the mundane and the magic world. Some of the girls and staff will now be giving you orientations. Say your goodbyes to Mister Potter; you will see him in class or in the corridors.”
*
“Let the fools go,” Snape insisted to the assembled staff much later that evening.
“We may have to let the young ladies go,” Dumbledore admitted. “You and I shall go and retrieve young Harry tomorrow.”
“Why me?” Snape demanded.
“Yes, Headmaster,” Madam Hooch piped up, which was rare in staff meetings. “If you want Snape here dead, there must be more convenient, if less certain ways.”
“What are you talking about, woman?” Snape demanded.
“Don’t take that tone with me, Snape, or I’ll cut you off at the knees!” Hooch retorted in the same tone. She turned to Dumbledore. “It may have escaped your notice, but St. Trinian’s was founded as a school for what you lot so graciously refer to as female Squibs. They only revamped their curriculum and started allowing witches in back in the 1930s. They would have been easy targets in both of the last two Dark uprisings, especially the last one, without very specific wards. Death Eaters like Snape here will be dead before they go three feet onto the grounds.”
“Severus is not. . . .”
“Snape is a Marked Death Eater, no matter what your relationship is,” Hooch snapped back. While the entire staff knew Madam Hooch had not attended Hogwarts, this was the first time any of them had wondered what her school had been. Well, it was fairly obvious by now what it had been. “The wards, if anything, are even stronger now than they were then. So, take Snape with you by all means; the quality of education here could only be lifted.”
Snape’s arm lifted, showing his wand was already out. He grimaced in pain as his upwardly moving wand hand was smashed down by a beater bat in Hooch’s left hand, while her wand, held in her right went to under Snape’s nose.
“Rolanda!”
Hooch flicked her eyes at Dumbledore. “As usual, excuses for this Death Eater and reprimands for those who defend themselves. Dumbledore, you will have my resignation in the morning. As for you, reach for your wand before I am out of the room, or show your long nose anywhere within my sight before I leave this castle and you’ll learn if there can be a one-handed potion maker.”
“No worries,” Flitwick said. “I have your back tonight.”
Hooch nodded her thanks, and left.
“Minerva, please accompany me in the morning. Severus, see to your hand, and see to your manners. No doubt it is your biased treatment of many of our students, not to mention Harry, which has in some way contributed to what happened tonight.”
*
The pair apparated to a St. Trinian side gate the next morning. Dumbledore touched his wand to it, and after a moment the gate opened, and then closed itself behind them. “Could you feel the wards?” Dumbledore asked.
“No,” McGonagall admitted.
“In some ways they are similar to ours. There are strong Muggle-masking wards on the wing of the building we are walking towards. Whereas Muggles see Hogwarts as a ruin, I doubt they see this wing at all. In both cases, they are diverted away, although for us it is the entire Hogwarts area, where here it seems to be just that wing.”
As the pair went on, so did Dumbledore. “What are different are some very strong and specific anti-magical wards. I strongly suspect Rolanda was correct about Severus being affected after all.”
“You were wrong to defend him last evening,” McGonagall pointed out.
“I was,” Dumbledore admitted. “Severus disliked doing so, but admitted he was wrong to take up his wand. He has apologized, and Rolanda will remain on staff.”
“Good.”
Dumbledore smiled. “I believe he has cautioned his Slytherins to obey her.”
A student of about seventeen was standing in the open outer doorway, obviously waiting for them. “The Headmistress is able to see you now, but has an appointment in forty-five minutes.”
“Thank you.” The pair followed the young woman through the wing and into the main building. A few students were out in the corridors, and not unexpectedly they stopped and stared. Dumbledore was fairly used to being stared at, but both he and McGonagall felt the hair on the back of their necks start to rise.
The student showed them into an office. “Miss Fritton will be in soon,” she stated, closing the corridor door behind her.
“Albus. . . .” McGonagall said nervously.
“I know,” he muttered back. “It felt like we were being watched by a pack of wolves.”
“Hyenas more like,” McGonagall said under her breath.
The inner door opened, and Camilla Fritton, the headmistress of the school for only her second year, entered.
“Albus, welcome to our school. I take it you are Miss McGonagall?”
“Camilla,” Dumbledore retorted. “Yes, this is Professor McGonagall.”
Fritton rolled her eyes at the attempt at the pretentious title. “Please do be seated. I didn’t expect you to deliver the records of our new students in person.”
“I have come to discuss ten of those students, and of course to retrieve Mister Potter.”
“Take Harry? Nonsense.”
“I am taking Harry with me, for two very good reasons. I am his magical guardian and will determine his school, and secondly, not that it matters considering the major point: this is a girls’ school!”
“You do happen to remember Harry’s maternal grandmother’s maiden name, Albus?”
McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, hoping he might know the answer.
“Not going to admit that you know the answer to your associate, Albus? It was Rose Fritton, Miss McGonagall. She was my aunt. Petunia transferred Harry’s legal guardianship to me late in June, and we transferred the blood wards to me, here, in early July. As I am magical, my taking his guardianship in the mundane world automatically grants me the guardianship in the magical. Unless you would care to unseal the Potter wills, where you would of course find my name third, after the Longbottoms and Sirius Black? No doubt one reason why you illegally sealed it.”
McGonagall was speechless. Dumbledore was not. “I am surprised Petunia acknowledged you.”
“She is jealous of the magical world,” Miss Fritton agreed. “We attended this school together, and she was quite happy here her first two years. She was in fact quite an accomplished potion maker for her age. . . .”
“But. . . .” McGonagall started to object.
“Come now, it does not take active magic to concoct over ninety-five percent known potions. The magically-touched, the Squibs as you like to call them, are quite capable of taking and doing perfectly well up through the O.W.L. level in all the non-wand subjects. No, it was Lily’s listening to that guttersnipe friend of hers that convinced her to go to your school that drove Petunia against magic. She had been so looking forward to looking out for her little sister here. Her early successes here may have even prompted her into thinking that she might be allowed to transfer to Hogwarts, which you stopped, of course. That may seem a petty reason for such hatred towards the magical world to us, perhaps, but not to her. In any event, yes, Petunia transferred out of St. Trinian’s after her third year here, but that is of no account. We have not been close since, but as I do operate in both worlds, she has asked me for advice over the years. Had Harry been Harriet and dumped on her, no doubt she would have turned down your letter and come here in any event.”
“But he is not a Harriet,” Dumbledore retorted.
“And yes, this is a school for girls. It was founded by the Fritton family and several others as a refuge for girls from magical families who had passive rather than active magic, the group you Pureblood’s call Squibs.” She had repeated this point to rub the pair’s noses, who liked to consider themselves open-minded, in the prejudices of their world.
Dumbledore and McGonagall both winced at being called Purebloods. They knew that Fritton used the term not to describe their actual blood status or imply an alliance with the Pureblood Purists, but because they were part of the elite which controlled magical Britain.
“Back in the ‘Thirties, the need arose and we started accepting active magic users; which is why I was able to attend. Yes, all the current students are girls. However, a clause in our by-laws allows male children of the staff to attend as day students, which Harry now is. He of course does not live with the girls, but in a suite adjoining my rooms.”
“No offense to your school. . . .” McGonagall started, but Fritton broke in.
“But you like to think of yourselves as the ‘premier’ school of magic in Britain.”
“In the world!”
Fritton snorted. “Nonsense. You are the oldest continually currently operating school of magic in Europe, as both the schools in Delphi and Tuscany were suppressed and only refounded after yours. And you are certainly the most socially prestigious school of magic in Britain, nothing more. Yes, you are allowed to offer all twelve subjects authorized by the Ministry, while we are limited to nine, and some of the other schools are either limited to eight subjects or may teach only through the O.W.L.s, but those two facts are important only to you.”
Fritton glared at McGonagall. “As our students have feet in both worlds, they are not allowed to take Muggle Studies, and thank goodness for that! The national curriculum in the subject is either outdated or just plain wrong, when it isn’t both. No, we do not offer history of magic. Why bother? All the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s are geared to the Hogwarts curriculum, and your history course is worthless. No one outside of Britain even recognizes it as valid. Nor do we teach Care of Magical Creatures. We don’t have the room to hide anything larger than a crup or a kneazle on our grounds. Since we had to drop three, those were the easiest to drop. Now tell me, Miss McGonagall, how many fully magical British and Irish children were in the year that left school this past year?”
“I must admit I don’t know,” she acknowledged.
“There were 1008. Ten from the so-called ‘hedgerow’ families did not attend any magical school, and were therefore at best home-schooled. I am proud to say we were able to take in two witches from those families, and would have taken in more if their families had allowed it – that is something we have been trying to do, with very limited success, this past forty years, but that year was one of our least successful. Eight students were indeed more properly homeschooled. Four went to Durmstrang and seven went to seven other magical schools outside the country. All the rest were therefore educated in various schools throughout Britain and Ireland. Forty-eight attended Hogwarts, twelve attended here. Just looking at our twelve fully magical students, all twelve scored at least an A on all of their O.W.L.s, and did the same on their N.E.W.T.s. Is there any year and even any subject where Hogwarts can say the same?”
McGonagall could only shake her head.
“In fact, ten of our most recent class earned their N.E.W.T. in potions. That is more, in absolute terms, than Hogwarts has had since that guttersnipe took full control over your N.E.W.T. potion students. And, they did this while taking a full load of mundane subjects.”
“Do they do as well there,” Dumbledore sniped.
“Of course not. The national standards for the mundane world are set moderately high. The magical standards are geared for Hogwarts students, and are therefore fairly low.”
Both Dumbledore and McGonagall flushed at that shot.
“What can you offer Harry than we cannot? Three set Quidditch games a year? Well, I must admit we do not have a regular Quidditch schedule. However, if he wishes he can probably play in a dozen games this year. The level of which, I might add, is quite high. We currently have fifteen of our old girls playing professionally, while Hogwarts currently has what? Six? I am sure one of our scratch teams could beat any one of your House teams.”
“When Mister Potter comes back, I would be glad to match Gryffindor against your school!” McGonagall snaped.
“Harry will NOT be going back, so I would suggest Slytherin, next June.”
“Harry WILL be coming back,” Dumbledore insisted. “Do you think your girls will have any protection against the Dementors? The Ministry will insist, to try and capture Sirius Black.”
“Ah, and now we come to the other reason why I allowed you entrance.”
The two looked puzzled, until they heard a voice behind them.
“Ah, Albus, Minnie. Surprised to see me?”
*
Note that while liberties have to be taken with how St. Trinian’s has been shown in the movies (less so than in the original cartoons, especially with the lack of the financial problems which drove many of the movies), most of the girls being Squibs or Witches would explain their great physical resiliency! See also Ronald Searle, St Trinian’s: The Entire Appalling Business, pp. 52-53. The original St. Trinian’s song is credited to Sir Malcolm Arnold (music) and Sidney Gilliat (words).
By Dr. T
She-Who-Must-Be-Mentioned and her subsidiaries and partners own the Canon Potter-verse. He-Who-Was-a-Genius and various UK companies and associations own the crossover rights. I indulged in them crossing over by taking a hockey stick to the pair of them. The HP folks whinged a great deal, while the crossover girls merely stuck out their collective tongues.
*
The set-up: What if both Hermione and Lily came from maternal lines of squibs who had not forgotten their links to the Magical world? And what if not all Squibs were like Mr. Filch and Mrs. Figg?
*
Chapter 01-The Transfer
October, 1990
Hermione Granger hid in her room as her parents argued about her education. She was different than the other students in her primary school, and she had long been ostracized for her differences. Granted, any smart girl who was not particularly ‘girly’ who also had wild hair and somewhat oversized front teeth would have been teased. It was worse when such a girl was easily the most brilliant student in her ‘gifted’ school – the other students were competitive and hated losing to the same student time and again, especially to the teachers’ pet.
She also had odd accidents – the other students therefore also felt she was ‘weird.’ They were not to know, under any circumstances, that she was magical.
No doubt, somewhere in her father’s past, he had had magical ancestors. Her mother certainly had, just four generations before Hermione. She still had magical relatives, although nearly all of them now lived in various parts of the British Commonwealth. They had left Britain to escape the predations of two ‘dark lords,’ the smaller group in the 1930s-1940s, the rest in the 1970s. Hermione’s direct maternal ancestors were what the Magicals of Britain called ‘Squibs’ – having a touch of magic but unable to perform active magic.
Her mother, and many of their maternal female relatives, had for generations all attended a boarding school originally set up in mid-Victorian times as a school for female Squibs, although they now accepted a few ‘mundane’ students under special circumstances, especially those of a Squib or magical background who no longer had even that extra touch of magic sensitivity. During the 1930s, they had even started accepting fully magical students, who were seeking both a magical and a Mundane education.
Before it was evident that Hermione was a witch, her father had wanted her to fully realize her brilliance in a fully traditional Mundane school, while her mother pulled for her alma mater. Now, it was a choice between that school and Hogwarts, the premier magical school in the British Isles, and, at least according to their own vision of themselves, the world.
Hermione was torn between a love of academics and a wild side she was afraid to express (much to her mother’s and aunt’s disappointment, but to her father’s approval). Where she went would no doubt reinforce one side of her or the other.
The arguing stopped, and a few moments later, her mother appeared at her door. Hermione looked up. “Your father, and I believe you, believe what Hogwarts like to claim. You are going to a magical school of some type, which means you may not go back to regular schools until you have completed your O.W.L.s. If you go to Hogwarts, that option will be permanently closed, as you will be too far behind.”
“True, but they do offer many more magical options, Mum,” Hermione pointed out.
Emma Granger nodded. “A few more, which doesn’t mean as much as you think. I am agreeing to Hogwarts only because it’s what you think you want. We will leave the other option open – transferring is difficult but not impossible.”
Hermione merely smiled.
*
October 31, 1991.
Hermione was crying. Why had she agreed to come to Hogwarts? It was at least as anti-intellectual at nearly all levels as her other choice had been, and much more socially prejudiced. The ‘best’ teaching was primarily rote learning. Necessary, no doubt, but any exploration of the reasons for magic, the ‘how’ of magic, was discouraged. Her outstanding academic achievements barely earned her a ‘well-done’ from the best teachers and a few House points that others quickly lost. As for the worst – Snape and Binns – Hermione now realized this had been an academic mistake. On the personal level, well, life was worse than at primary school.
Hermione suddenly stopped sniffling as a horrible stench permeated the toilet room.
Then the door was shattered, and Hermione screamed.
That night was in many ways the worst ending of the worst day Hermione had so far had in her life, but it was also the best, as she had gained two friends.
*
December 30, 1992.
Minerva McGonagall was not totally surprised to see the four women standing at the front entrance. She was torn, as it was Hogwarts policy to keep every outsider exactly there, outside. Under the circumstances, however, she had little choice, and it was for one of her best Lions.
Minerva looked at the quartet, saying, “While I can allow Mrs. Granger to see her daughter. . . .”
“She’s part cat, isn’t she?” one of the women demanded.
“Yes,” she admitted. “We aren’t sure how it happened. If it was merely a transfiguration accident. . . .”
“You would likely be capable,” the woman retorted. “But this is a potions accident.”
“Professor Snape. . . .”
“Severus is an exorable, puerile, bullying moron,” the woman retorted. “We will take care of this.”
“Who dares?” Snape demanded, coming out of the shadows. “I am the potions master here. . . .”
The woman stepped past McGonagall, “You are a first rate brewer and an idiot. You are the potions TEACHER, you are at best a master brewer, and will never be anything more.”
Seeing who it was, Snape frowned, knowing he was in the presence of the highest rated potions mistress currently teaching in Europe.
A much older woman also walked past McGonagall. “And if Melinda cannot fully solve the problem, I am sure the two of us working together can.” She sneered at Snape. “Or do you doubt my abilities as well?”
Snape swallowed nervously. Cygnia Black was not a witch to be trifled with. She was a runes master as well as the best (or at least the most notorious) ritual mistress in Europe. She also had family connections which made her politically untouchable.
“Severus, take them to see Miss Granger,” McGonagall ordered. Grumbling, he did so. She turned to the other two women. She knew Mrs. Granger, but could only guess at the remaining woman. “And you are?”
“Sophia Bryan, Maths instructor and Hermione’s aunt.”
*
Hermione was turned back into herself fairly quickly, albeit not easily. Although there were few students about, information quickly spread that Hermione Granger had connections within the magical world outside of Hogwarts. As the story spread, Hermione found herself explaining about the other school to girls who had heard of it, and to those who were disillusioned with Hogwarts or just afraid because of the events of the previous year and the current one.
Hermione also had to enter into greater correspondence with her aunt. The reasons to leave Hogwarts were strong and becoming stronger, but Hermione also felt the pull of friendship with Ron and Harry. Ron was exasperating, sometimes callous, and usually unmannered, but he also had a goofy charm that Hermione sometimes (more often that she wished to admit) enjoyed. Harry had an intensity and strength of character that Hermione admired. Still, Hermione now knew that Ron could make his own way in the magical world. She had learned that Hogwarts, for those coming from at least partially magical families, was more about making connections and alliances than about education. It was Hogwarts students from magical families who would be recruited into the Ministry, and, with the addition of a few exceptions of privileged home-schooled boys or those schooled at Durmstrang, those were over 95% of those employed by the Ministry, other than in a menial capacity. The truly Muggle-born were at Hogwarts primarily to subsidize the education of the less wealthy magical elite and to provide new ‘breeding stock’ for the more second-tier elite families to replenish their bloodlines.
As the Weasleys were both a Pureblood and, albeit for the first time, a ministry family, and Ron had two elder brothers in well-respected professions, Ron’s future prospects would be limited only by himself. For him and those like him, almost every opportunity in magical Britain was open to those willing to put forth just a little effort (not that many bothered).
Perhaps that was why Ron was often so slipshod in his treatment of her.
Harry was different. No doubt, even more opportunities would be open to Harry than to Ron, although expectations about him were at times impossible to fulfill. Whereas Ron had a huge ego and yet still had many underlying glimmers of self-doubt, Harry had little belief in his own self-worth.
The Sorting Hat had at first debated between placing Hermione in Ravenclaw for her intellect or Hufflepuff for her loyalty. It then decided upon Gryffindor as a balance between the two, along with her courage and self-confidence, plus her desire to join the House Dumbledore reputedly had been a member of.
As Hermione’s aunt learned through their correspondence, Hermione was loyal to Harry Potter.
*
When Hermione was petrified, her aunt and the two witches from her aunt’s school again descended on Hogwarts. This time, however, they had to admit there was nothing they could do. The strongest version of the de-petrifying potion was needed to counteract the magic in the victims, and that meant fresh mandrake, harvested at just the right stage of growth.
The three women were impressed that Harry Potter was spending part of every day sitting with Hermione, reading his class notes to her and chatting at her. (‘No doubt, the most words the boy has ever gotten in edgewise to her,’ her aunt would comment.) Before they left, Miss Bryan slipped Harry an envelope. When he read the contents that evening, his eyes went wide with the possibilities.
He quickly decided to respond via Hedwig.
*
Harry and Hermione exited Platform 9 ¾, Hermione making a beeline to hug her father and then her mother while Harry watched their luggage. He was quite surprised to see his aunt approach him. He had expected his uncle.
Petunia took in the scene and sighed internally. “Boy, our cousin has been in correspondence with me about you. You do know that old man forbade what she has suggested?”
“I guess I’m not surprised to hear that,” Harry had to admit.
A very rare smile tugged at his aunt’s mouth. “I want this; she wants this. From what I’ve been told about the recent goings-on at that school of yours, you’d be a fool not to want this. Are you a fool, Harry?”
Harry looked her in the eye. “No. Can we do it?”
“We can. You’ll come with me and stay for three days. Tomorrow, we’ll transfer your guardianship, but you’ll still come back with me. This way, by alternating, that old man will not know what is going on, as those things will transfer over. Hopefully, within two or three weeks, they’ll be transferred and you can stay with her full time. Those things should still cover us until early September, and the house goes up for sale in early September.”
“A win all around,” Harry stated, who was correctly assuming the ‘things’ were the wards.
*
Harry paid little attention to the news about Sirius Black. Dumbledore, who of course believed that Sirius had been the Secret Keeper, also presumed, with even less reason, that if Sirius had betrayed the Potters he must also have the Dark Mark and therefore could not approach Privet Drive. Therefore, he did nothing concerning Harry.
Others were not so blasé.
As Sirius, in his animagus form, approached Little Whinging, he suddenly passed out. A voice from a disillusioned witch muttered, “Now we’ll see what my idiot cou+sin has been up to.” A moment later, the dog disappeared as well.
*
Hermione was not the only student seething as the upper years rode to the castle. Dementors were not only stationed around the castle, they had invaded the train! This set a number of students to act. Some, like Malfoy and Percy Weasley, wrote or would write letters later that night to their parents complaining about the train invasion, along with other news. Most, like Ron, simply whimpered or whinged on about it.
A few of the girls took up their convictions and decided to go through with the plans many had hoped were only contingencies, although more than half, when it came down to it, did not dare leave despite having parental approval ranging from the tentative to outright encouragement. For Hermione, and especially Harry, this merely gave them even more justification for what they were going to do in any event.
In the end, Harry and ten girls gathered near the entrance of the great hall as most of the students found their seats: 4th Years Katie Bell (Gryffindor) and Joy Talbot (Slytherin); 3rd Years Hermione Granger, Cecelia Moon, Sally-Anne Perks (Gryffindors); Mandy Brocklehurst (Ravenclaw); Megan Jones (Hufflepuff); and Slytherin Tracey Davis; and 2nd Years Luna Lovegood and Slytherin JJ French. Hermione and Sally-Anne were from Squib families, while Luna was a Pureblood. The others came from more mixed backgrounds.
Seeing the group, Dumbledore stood to command them to be seated, so that the Sorting could begin. Instead, Katie amplified her voice and stated, before Dumbledore could say anything, “Pursuant to the British Magical Education Authority Guidelines, section six, sub-section twelve and section seventeen, subsections three and eighteen, we declare that we find that this Institution, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, does not meet our educational requirements. Furthermore, pursuant to section three, subsections one, four, seven, and eleven, we declare our lives have been endangered here, and are currently in danger, the latter as demonstrated by the attack on the Hogwarts Express and the presence of dementors around this school. We do so declare!”
The others echoed, “We do so declare!”
“Stop this nonsense!” Dumbledore demanded.
“We also declare, with the permission of our guardians, our immediate transfer to another school, as permitted under section thirteen, subsections four and forty-two!”
“We do so declare!” The girls then started the process which would transfer them: the singing of their new school song. Harry joined in, although he substituted ‘students’ for the first word of the song. As the small group sang, their uniforms started to change.
Maidens of St Trinian's, gird your armor on.
Grab the nearest weapon; never mind which one.
The battle's to the strongest; might is always right.
Trample on the weakest; glory in their plight.
The Hogwarts and House insignia had totally faded by now, and their ties had been replaced by St. Trinian ties. Harry’s robes were beginning to transfigure into a more standard trouser/blazer set, while the girls’ were transforming into the St. Trinian gym slips. Three poles had also appeared behind the groups, the outline of flags just beginning to appear.
St Trinian's! St Trinian's! Our battle cry!
St Trinian's! St Trinian's! Will never die.
The three flags were now completely visible. At the center was the official Tau-cross banner of the school. On the right was the St. Trinian ‘battle flag:’ a skull wearing a straw boater hat with a St. Trinian hat-band, over a crossed hockey stick and a lacrosse stick. On the left was a similar banner, only this skull was over a crossed hockey stick and a wand.
Stride towards your fortune boldly on your way,
Never once forgetting there's one born every day.
Let our motto be broadcast: "get your blow in first!"
She who draws the sword last always comes off worst.
The uniform transformations were now complete, and the group, started to fade from sight.
St Trinian's! St Trinian's! Our battle cry!
St Trinian's! St Trinian's! Will never die!*
And with that, the group was gone.
The great hall of Hogwarts was totally silent, until the sound of the Sorting Hat softly giggling was heard. Her hands shaking, McGonagall, who had led the new students in as Alicia had made her group’s declaration, raised the roll of new students, and began the Sorting.
*
“Welcome, girls, and Harry. I am Miss Fritton, your new headmistress. You are about to join a most unique community. We house and educate all types of students, from a few whose family have magic but who personally have none, to the majority of our students who are just touched by magic, to the most powerful of witches. We have even educated pure Veela, werewolves, goblins, and a vampire over the years, although we have no vampires or pure Veela or goblins currently. Yes, Hogwarts is a prestigious school, and those that leave from Hogwarts hog those positions in the magical world which take Blood-connections and high social standing, but we at St. Trinian’s have sent girls out into the magical world, well-able to compete for all those positions which take know-how, guts, and determination to succeed at: healers, potion makers, members of the MLE and Department of Mysteries, and many positions at Gringotts and similar institutions. Other students have gone on to university or have quickly taken up positions throughout the Mundane world. Our students are most welcome at those few institutions, which you have likely never even heard of, that operate in both the mundane and the magic world. Some of the girls and staff will now be giving you orientations. Say your goodbyes to Mister Potter; you will see him in class or in the corridors.”
*
“Let the fools go,” Snape insisted to the assembled staff much later that evening.
“We may have to let the young ladies go,” Dumbledore admitted. “You and I shall go and retrieve young Harry tomorrow.”
“Why me?” Snape demanded.
“Yes, Headmaster,” Madam Hooch piped up, which was rare in staff meetings. “If you want Snape here dead, there must be more convenient, if less certain ways.”
“What are you talking about, woman?” Snape demanded.
“Don’t take that tone with me, Snape, or I’ll cut you off at the knees!” Hooch retorted in the same tone. She turned to Dumbledore. “It may have escaped your notice, but St. Trinian’s was founded as a school for what you lot so graciously refer to as female Squibs. They only revamped their curriculum and started allowing witches in back in the 1930s. They would have been easy targets in both of the last two Dark uprisings, especially the last one, without very specific wards. Death Eaters like Snape here will be dead before they go three feet onto the grounds.”
“Severus is not. . . .”
“Snape is a Marked Death Eater, no matter what your relationship is,” Hooch snapped back. While the entire staff knew Madam Hooch had not attended Hogwarts, this was the first time any of them had wondered what her school had been. Well, it was fairly obvious by now what it had been. “The wards, if anything, are even stronger now than they were then. So, take Snape with you by all means; the quality of education here could only be lifted.”
Snape’s arm lifted, showing his wand was already out. He grimaced in pain as his upwardly moving wand hand was smashed down by a beater bat in Hooch’s left hand, while her wand, held in her right went to under Snape’s nose.
“Rolanda!”
Hooch flicked her eyes at Dumbledore. “As usual, excuses for this Death Eater and reprimands for those who defend themselves. Dumbledore, you will have my resignation in the morning. As for you, reach for your wand before I am out of the room, or show your long nose anywhere within my sight before I leave this castle and you’ll learn if there can be a one-handed potion maker.”
“No worries,” Flitwick said. “I have your back tonight.”
Hooch nodded her thanks, and left.
“Minerva, please accompany me in the morning. Severus, see to your hand, and see to your manners. No doubt it is your biased treatment of many of our students, not to mention Harry, which has in some way contributed to what happened tonight.”
*
The pair apparated to a St. Trinian side gate the next morning. Dumbledore touched his wand to it, and after a moment the gate opened, and then closed itself behind them. “Could you feel the wards?” Dumbledore asked.
“No,” McGonagall admitted.
“In some ways they are similar to ours. There are strong Muggle-masking wards on the wing of the building we are walking towards. Whereas Muggles see Hogwarts as a ruin, I doubt they see this wing at all. In both cases, they are diverted away, although for us it is the entire Hogwarts area, where here it seems to be just that wing.”
As the pair went on, so did Dumbledore. “What are different are some very strong and specific anti-magical wards. I strongly suspect Rolanda was correct about Severus being affected after all.”
“You were wrong to defend him last evening,” McGonagall pointed out.
“I was,” Dumbledore admitted. “Severus disliked doing so, but admitted he was wrong to take up his wand. He has apologized, and Rolanda will remain on staff.”
“Good.”
Dumbledore smiled. “I believe he has cautioned his Slytherins to obey her.”
A student of about seventeen was standing in the open outer doorway, obviously waiting for them. “The Headmistress is able to see you now, but has an appointment in forty-five minutes.”
“Thank you.” The pair followed the young woman through the wing and into the main building. A few students were out in the corridors, and not unexpectedly they stopped and stared. Dumbledore was fairly used to being stared at, but both he and McGonagall felt the hair on the back of their necks start to rise.
The student showed them into an office. “Miss Fritton will be in soon,” she stated, closing the corridor door behind her.
“Albus. . . .” McGonagall said nervously.
“I know,” he muttered back. “It felt like we were being watched by a pack of wolves.”
“Hyenas more like,” McGonagall said under her breath.
The inner door opened, and Camilla Fritton, the headmistress of the school for only her second year, entered.
“Albus, welcome to our school. I take it you are Miss McGonagall?”
“Camilla,” Dumbledore retorted. “Yes, this is Professor McGonagall.”
Fritton rolled her eyes at the attempt at the pretentious title. “Please do be seated. I didn’t expect you to deliver the records of our new students in person.”
“I have come to discuss ten of those students, and of course to retrieve Mister Potter.”
“Take Harry? Nonsense.”
“I am taking Harry with me, for two very good reasons. I am his magical guardian and will determine his school, and secondly, not that it matters considering the major point: this is a girls’ school!”
“You do happen to remember Harry’s maternal grandmother’s maiden name, Albus?”
McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, hoping he might know the answer.
“Not going to admit that you know the answer to your associate, Albus? It was Rose Fritton, Miss McGonagall. She was my aunt. Petunia transferred Harry’s legal guardianship to me late in June, and we transferred the blood wards to me, here, in early July. As I am magical, my taking his guardianship in the mundane world automatically grants me the guardianship in the magical. Unless you would care to unseal the Potter wills, where you would of course find my name third, after the Longbottoms and Sirius Black? No doubt one reason why you illegally sealed it.”
McGonagall was speechless. Dumbledore was not. “I am surprised Petunia acknowledged you.”
“She is jealous of the magical world,” Miss Fritton agreed. “We attended this school together, and she was quite happy here her first two years. She was in fact quite an accomplished potion maker for her age. . . .”
“But. . . .” McGonagall started to object.
“Come now, it does not take active magic to concoct over ninety-five percent known potions. The magically-touched, the Squibs as you like to call them, are quite capable of taking and doing perfectly well up through the O.W.L. level in all the non-wand subjects. No, it was Lily’s listening to that guttersnipe friend of hers that convinced her to go to your school that drove Petunia against magic. She had been so looking forward to looking out for her little sister here. Her early successes here may have even prompted her into thinking that she might be allowed to transfer to Hogwarts, which you stopped, of course. That may seem a petty reason for such hatred towards the magical world to us, perhaps, but not to her. In any event, yes, Petunia transferred out of St. Trinian’s after her third year here, but that is of no account. We have not been close since, but as I do operate in both worlds, she has asked me for advice over the years. Had Harry been Harriet and dumped on her, no doubt she would have turned down your letter and come here in any event.”
“But he is not a Harriet,” Dumbledore retorted.
“And yes, this is a school for girls. It was founded by the Fritton family and several others as a refuge for girls from magical families who had passive rather than active magic, the group you Pureblood’s call Squibs.” She had repeated this point to rub the pair’s noses, who liked to consider themselves open-minded, in the prejudices of their world.
Dumbledore and McGonagall both winced at being called Purebloods. They knew that Fritton used the term not to describe their actual blood status or imply an alliance with the Pureblood Purists, but because they were part of the elite which controlled magical Britain.
“Back in the ‘Thirties, the need arose and we started accepting active magic users; which is why I was able to attend. Yes, all the current students are girls. However, a clause in our by-laws allows male children of the staff to attend as day students, which Harry now is. He of course does not live with the girls, but in a suite adjoining my rooms.”
“No offense to your school. . . .” McGonagall started, but Fritton broke in.
“But you like to think of yourselves as the ‘premier’ school of magic in Britain.”
“In the world!”
Fritton snorted. “Nonsense. You are the oldest continually currently operating school of magic in Europe, as both the schools in Delphi and Tuscany were suppressed and only refounded after yours. And you are certainly the most socially prestigious school of magic in Britain, nothing more. Yes, you are allowed to offer all twelve subjects authorized by the Ministry, while we are limited to nine, and some of the other schools are either limited to eight subjects or may teach only through the O.W.L.s, but those two facts are important only to you.”
Fritton glared at McGonagall. “As our students have feet in both worlds, they are not allowed to take Muggle Studies, and thank goodness for that! The national curriculum in the subject is either outdated or just plain wrong, when it isn’t both. No, we do not offer history of magic. Why bother? All the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s are geared to the Hogwarts curriculum, and your history course is worthless. No one outside of Britain even recognizes it as valid. Nor do we teach Care of Magical Creatures. We don’t have the room to hide anything larger than a crup or a kneazle on our grounds. Since we had to drop three, those were the easiest to drop. Now tell me, Miss McGonagall, how many fully magical British and Irish children were in the year that left school this past year?”
“I must admit I don’t know,” she acknowledged.
“There were 1008. Ten from the so-called ‘hedgerow’ families did not attend any magical school, and were therefore at best home-schooled. I am proud to say we were able to take in two witches from those families, and would have taken in more if their families had allowed it – that is something we have been trying to do, with very limited success, this past forty years, but that year was one of our least successful. Eight students were indeed more properly homeschooled. Four went to Durmstrang and seven went to seven other magical schools outside the country. All the rest were therefore educated in various schools throughout Britain and Ireland. Forty-eight attended Hogwarts, twelve attended here. Just looking at our twelve fully magical students, all twelve scored at least an A on all of their O.W.L.s, and did the same on their N.E.W.T.s. Is there any year and even any subject where Hogwarts can say the same?”
McGonagall could only shake her head.
“In fact, ten of our most recent class earned their N.E.W.T. in potions. That is more, in absolute terms, than Hogwarts has had since that guttersnipe took full control over your N.E.W.T. potion students. And, they did this while taking a full load of mundane subjects.”
“Do they do as well there,” Dumbledore sniped.
“Of course not. The national standards for the mundane world are set moderately high. The magical standards are geared for Hogwarts students, and are therefore fairly low.”
Both Dumbledore and McGonagall flushed at that shot.
“What can you offer Harry than we cannot? Three set Quidditch games a year? Well, I must admit we do not have a regular Quidditch schedule. However, if he wishes he can probably play in a dozen games this year. The level of which, I might add, is quite high. We currently have fifteen of our old girls playing professionally, while Hogwarts currently has what? Six? I am sure one of our scratch teams could beat any one of your House teams.”
“When Mister Potter comes back, I would be glad to match Gryffindor against your school!” McGonagall snaped.
“Harry will NOT be going back, so I would suggest Slytherin, next June.”
“Harry WILL be coming back,” Dumbledore insisted. “Do you think your girls will have any protection against the Dementors? The Ministry will insist, to try and capture Sirius Black.”
“Ah, and now we come to the other reason why I allowed you entrance.”
The two looked puzzled, until they heard a voice behind them.
“Ah, Albus, Minnie. Surprised to see me?”
*
Note that while liberties have to be taken with how St. Trinian’s has been shown in the movies (less so than in the original cartoons, especially with the lack of the financial problems which drove many of the movies), most of the girls being Squibs or Witches would explain their great physical resiliency! See also Ronald Searle, St Trinian’s: The Entire Appalling Business, pp. 52-53. The original St. Trinian’s song is credited to Sir Malcolm Arnold (music) and Sidney Gilliat (words).
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