The question had occurred to him as Sasha backed the large Friesian stallion between the shafts of the carriage.  Humans always seemed so caught up in labels and categorizing things - something animals never seemed they needed to do.  How often had he seen horses choose to linger in a field with a cow or a small, old donkey rather than another horse? 

So, what of this division between magical and muggle worlds did animals understand?  This horse of his, who'd just stepped into the "magical world" for the first time (in a rather jarring and unfamiliar manner) know he was in a world that was entirely different than his own?  Did Wobias look around at the multitude of creatures and see some as magical and some as mundane?  Or did he simply accept it as all part of the same world?  Could he see thestrals?  Did death matter to him?  It was impossible to tell but, with remarkable confidence, the black stallion seemed to be taking all the events of that day in stride.  The large black stallion stood patiently in the shafts of the carriage, just as if this were any other day at a show or exhibition.

After securing the traces to the carriage, Sasha began rigging the rest of the lines and straps between the carriage and the harness.  Once Wobias was secured, Sasha retrieved his dress coat and dressage top hat from the seat of the carriage, and gave his boots a last buff before he surveyed the whole get up.  Getting his own dress robes had, unfortunately, not been an option - they were still safely secured up in the Ravenclaw tower with the rest of his 'wizardy' stuff.  The dress suit he used for dressage competitions would have to suffice.  Wobias was clean and shining, Sasha's outfit was meticulously put together, the metal of the harness had been freshly polished and the carriage had been newly transfigured into its current cab-like arrangement.  It all seemed perfect.

Sasha stepped up to the Friesian's head, running his fingers through the horse's thick forelock, waiting for the first pair of passengers.  There was something very comforting and 'right' feeling about this event.  Being here with Wobias in Hogsmeade (very similar to how Neely had described).  It was, in many ways, the closest he'd come to not lying about anything in four years. 

The stilettos made an uneven clacking noise as they scuttled across the streets of Hogsmeade. Woodcroft day wasn’t exactly something Jacqueline cared about, so it was a real mystery as to why she was even there. She made a personal stride to stay far away from frolicking festivities. The elderly woman wasn’t exactly sociable, or even friendly. She would have been perfectly content in much more confined surroundings, like the inside of her new office at Hogwarts.

Start of term was less than two weeks away and Jacqueline was exceedingly behind. She had yet to set up her office or nail down her schedule, she didn’t even have her lesson plans prepared. She needed to spend the time working, as it would probably take all of the next two weeks just to finish getting things squared away. This, however, seemed like a good idea at the time. Lumpkin was in her office, trying to sift through the mound of work that needed to be done, but she simply couldn’t concentrate.

There was a terrible ruckus coming from somewhere outside, it had been going on since yesterday. That’s when she remembered that the little wizarding village by the school celebrated their founding day this weekend. It was bound to be…interesting. Surely there would be plenty of students there, and what better way to meet them than by stopping by and making her presence known.

It still wasn’t widely known who the new History of Magic professor was, and today seemed as good as any to educate the public. That’s what she was going to be doing in a couple of weeks anyway, so why not practice? She made her way out of the castle and across the uneven footfalls that led down to Hogsmeade village. She made a quick stroll through the village, trying her hardest to speak as little as possible and to not step in any ick.

On her way back through she noticed a boy, Hogwarts age, setting up a horse and buggy. Her shoes had already seen enough wear and tear for the day and she did say she was going to greet her new students, right? Taking a deep breath, she stepped over to the boy and gave him a simple curt nod. “Hello,” she said simply, French accent ringing clearly through her voice, “I’m Professor Jacqueline Lumpkin, and you are?” She pulled out a small coin bag from within her blouse and dumped a couple of galleons in her hand.

A voice drew Sasha's attention away from the horse and he turned towards its source.  After two days filled with all the junk-food-eating, excitement-seeking and face-painted festival goers one could imagine, Sasha hadn't expected to find a very clean-cut, grey-haired woman standing near the carriage with no evidence that face paint had ever (or would ever) touch her features.  Startled as much by the woman's prim presentation as her general out-of-placeness, Sasha ran his hands self-consciously over his dress coat.  It was an obviously pointless gesture; there were no wrinkles to smooth from his jacket. 

"Um, hello," Sasha offered in return, readily noticing the accent in the woman's voice.  He was about to comment on it when the woman offered a more thorough introduction.  Professor?  Automatically, Sasha glanced over in the general direction of the castle.  "You're ... you are a new professor at Hogwarts, ma'am?"  Sasha asked, looking back towards the older woman. 

Promptly, Sasha held out his hand to the woman, Professor Lumpkin apparently, but just as quickly, he looked from his hand to the horse he'd been just petting.  He quickly groped in his pocket for a white handkerchief and wiped his hand before holding it out once more.  "I'm Schlagenweit, Professor.  Sasha Schlagenweit.  Fifth year - or rather, I'll be a fifth year Ravenclaw." 

Already, Sasha's mind was trying to recall who he'd heard would be leaving the school for the upcoming year.  Such news wasn't always made public knowledge - they knew Professor Greyfriar was leaving but his replacement had been chosen already.  At least as far as the Headmaster's position went.  From what they understood, the Care of Magical Creatures position was filled.  Beyond that, staffing changes were a mystery.  "May I ask what class you'll be teaching?  And, may I ask what part of France you're from?" 

What was wrong with this boy? He seemed all a-stutter. Jacqueline was used to that reaction when students didn’t turn in their homework on time, was used to it when the shy students were asked questions in class… She was not used to it when she first met someone. Sure, Jacqueline’s appearance could be a little outputting, but that was no reason to be nervous…

She deemed from the boy that he was German, at least some part. His name was unmistakably of German descent… at least his last name. Who would put such a simple name like Sasha at the front of a last name so grand? Was it some underlying trait the boy possessed, trying to do as well as his last name? Maybe that’s why he was nervous.

"May I ask what class you'll be teaching?  And, may I ask what part of France you're from?"

“Oui! I’m originally from Bordeaux, a port city on the Garonne River. You may know of the city through its wine industry. I teach History of Magic.” She didn’t need to spend her time on describing the beauties of her home town, no matter how much she desired to. “I know it’s a little…unorthodox for someone of French descent teaching a class rooted in English history, but I assure you, you are in capable hands.

Why was she explaining herself to this boy? He was only a child, what did he care if parents were already hounding the school about allowing a foreigner teach English history? He didn’t, nor did Jacqueline. She knew she was at least as knowledgeable as Knox Greyfriar, if not more so. She could easily handle this post. Plus, she had experience, something many lacked.

Recognition dawned on Sasha's face when the woman identified her home town and quickly nodded his head.  While he'd never spent a large amount of time in France, he usually spent at least one weekend a summer in the Southwestern french city.  It was close enough to Spain to bring in strong dressage competition which was all the draw his stepfather needed.  It was a gorgeous old city and Sasha usually enjoyed the few days there. 

"Yes, ma'am," Sasha offered, nodding his head.  "I'm familiar with Bordeaux.  I was ... I was there two weekends ago for a show."  Sasha looked to the large, black horse hitched between the two carriage shafts.  "The St. Andre Cathedral is quite spectacular.  It's a beautiful city." 

History of Magic.  A primarily academic subject, it was one of Sasha's stronger classes - especially under Professor Greyfriar's tutelage.  How the class would go without the familiar professor, Sasha wasn't sure.  Without betraying any of his inner considerations, he offered, "it's a pleasure to meet you, professor.  I ... were you ... are you looking for a carriage ride?" 

Quickly, he shook his head at the professors concern.  "I ... I don't think it's that unusual ... I'm sure ... There are no borders in History."  Only the most isolationist of individuals thought otherwise.