Lewyn Violet and the Snakewood Academy

Chapter 1: The Violets

"That old manor", as it was called by the residents of Goldenrain estates, towered over most of the homes and at high noon it cast a large shadow over part of the neighborhood. It wasn't ugly, per-se, in fact it had a very old-time charm about it. But those who lived in the neighborhood were big fans of modern architecture, and what was "trendy". And "that old manor" definitely wasn't trendy. The patriarchs and matriarchs of the area, just as irritated by it as those who actually lived near it, had tried to persuade the owner of the land to sell several times. They had all pooled their money together and offered him exorbitant amounts of cash, but he responded the same way every time:

"Of course not," Alan Violet said, turning to his eleven year old son with a bemused expression on his face. "What would make you think I would sell it this time?"

The child in question, Lewyn Violet, shrugged and averted his gaze.

"I dunno," he mumbled, "they offered you a lot of money this time." Lewyn looked almost exactly like his father. Both had soft light brown hair that fell in a naturally stylish way, a thin frame, and piercing blue eyes. They even both wore glasses, though Alan had circular black glasses and Lewyn favored a silver rectangular design.

"No-Maj money has no use to me. I work at the currency exchange department in New York (but you know that already) and at least four times a week I get someone who has a chunk of no-Maj money and tries to exchange it for many more dragots than it is actually worth. Dealing with crestfallen and simultaneously angry people is probably the worst part of my job," Alan remarked.

"And besides, where would we live?" Lewyn chuckled.

"Exactly," Alan said. "Perceptive as usual, Lewyn."

The boy grinned a little to himself. One of the most important things to him was his family's legacy. Alan didn't make a big deal of it, but almost everyone except his Uncle Kenny had been sorted into Horned Serpent in their family. Uncle Kenny was a Wampus and almost everyone ignored him at family gatherings (usually held at Alan Violet's manor). It was very important to the Violets that you be intelligent as they claimed that their bloodline could be traced back to Rionach Steward-Sayre herself. Most fellow wizards and witches scoffed at this notion, as Rionach had famously never been married. But no one could deny that the Violets' ancestor, Thomas Violet, had been a dear friend of Rionach. And furthermore, Thomas Violet had never married either and was shown to be an only child, but yet the Violet family line continued. So it was the opinion of most Violets that Thomas Violet and Rionach Steward-Sayre had had a moment of weakness, and a child had resulted from that. After all, what was the alternate option? To admit that all Violets had no legendary blood whatsoever? They were a very proud family, and they would admit nothing of the sort. Even if only one descendent of Thomas Violet had ever been able to speak Parseltongue like Rionach (and many suspected that he had simply perfected a charm with temporary effects and never told anyone), all members of the family, even Uncle Kenny, held fast to that belief. Either way, the surname Violet was a very dubious pedigree.

"But you know what?" Alan said. "You should really get to bed. We have to get up very early tomorrow, your school supplies isn't going to buy itself."

"Oh yeah!" Lewyn said excitedly. In his preoccupation with the house he had forgotten that tomorrow was they day they headed into New York City to buy his school supplies. He was a bit apprehensive about starting school at Ilvermorny, but his father assured him that it was more than likely that the Horned Serpent would choose him. Lewyn's obsession with his placement ran so deep that he had researched all he could about different wand woods and their cores, and had pinpointed exactly the wand wood he thought he would have: walnut, the favored wand of the highly intelligent. And indeed, quite a number of Violets possessed a walnut wand. He hadn't decided on the core or from which wand maker he would get his wand, as Ilvermorny imported wands from Jonker's, Shikoba Wolfe Wands, Violetta Beauvais herself (who was very old and the only original wandmaker of the 20th century still alive), and Ollivander's in the UK. He had heard tall tales that one student who was entering school this year had a Thiago Quintana wand, which had stopped being manufactured in the late 1930s upon Quintana's death. They were said to be the most innately powerful wands on the continent, but very few remained and those that still existed were often passed down as family heirlooms, never used but locked up for display.