The Iron Sole Alchemist Goes to Hogwarts (Chapter 1) Sorting Out the Basics
by Howlin
(Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to any of the universes, places, or characters, and only claim the protagonist, Sloth, and Loki as my own creation. This is fan fiction, and I don't profit from it. Please don't sue me.)
Note:
This story is an immediate sequel to The Iron Sole Alchemist. That story introduces characters, events, and concepts. You may not understand everything if you have not read the previous story.
Additionally, unlike the previous story, where pains were taken to avoid stepping on the toes of the canon, events will diverge from the original canon ones in the new universe due to the actions of the characters from another world.
Sloth and I surveyed our surroundings. We'd arrived in a circular, stone room. There was a door on one side leading out. The room itself was maintained, with no signs of dust or other abandonment. Despite the room's spartan and dreary appearance, the air smelled fresh, not stale.
"The archway we saw from the other side looks stable," I said, looking over the veiled passageway we'd used to enter this world.
Sloth set her bag down and walked with Loki to the opposite side of the room. She waved her hand through one of the stone benches as though it weren't really there and reported, "Looks like our powers are working normally."
Sloth went back to retrieve her bag. Loki turned his head toward the door and let out a warning bark. A pair of figures dressed in long, black robes stepped through the door, noticed our presence, and each drew a long, thin rod from a holster at their hips and pointed them at Sloth and I like weapons.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" demanded one of the robed men, fearfully.
"My name is Greed. This is Sloth and Loki," I said, with my open palms facing the men and slow, deliberate gestures. "We're peaceful explorers."
"How did you get in here?" asked the other robed figure, with more than a hint of accusation in his voice.
Loki didn't like that tone, and growled at the men. The dog's hair stood on end and blue light began to emanate from the alchemy arrays tattooed beneath his fur.
Whirling in an instant, the first man to speak, thrust his weapon towards Loki and shouted, "Stupefy!" A bolt of red light lanced out from the rod in his hand and impacted my dog with obvious force. Loki let out a yelp of pain, then fell motionless to the floor, the alchemic light he had begun to emit falling dark.
Sloth was moving the instant Loki fell, sprinting in a zigzag pattern toward the man who'd fired. He couldn't aim at her properly, so she was able to close the distance and punch the man hard enough to send him backward into a wall, then fall unconscious over a bench.
While Sloth went on the offensive, I raised my left arm towards our attackers and activated a transmutation circle embroidered on a wristband. A glowing blue disk sprang up between me and the robed figure as I called out, "Loki?!" I breathed a sign of relief when I saw the animal was still breathing.
"Stupefy!" yelled the remaining man, and his bolt of red light impacted against the disk of solidified air being held in place by my alchemy. He didn't miss a step, spinning to point the weapon at Sloth instead, who's unpredictable motion hadn't yet resumed after her last attack. "Stupefy!" he yelled again, and Sloth crumpled unconscious from the hit.
I stomped my right foot and a stone hand emerged from the floor beneath my opponent, accompanied by sparks of alchemic light. It reached up to pin the man, but before its grip could close, he again aimed his weapon at me and shouted "Stupefy!" He'd aimed low, and rather than impacting against my shield, the red bolt went under it, impacting on the foot I'd used to trigger the alchemy, and I fell unconscious.
I was in a different room when I came to. Sloth, Loki, and I were tied up. Our bags were on a table on the opposite side of the room. Two people were watching us. They weren't the same ones who'd captured us initially, but they were wearing black robes and were taking turns keeping a weapon pointed at us. There was a glass bottle on the table with our things.
"Where am I?" I asked as I came around.
"You're in a holding cell," answered the middle aged woman with her weapon lowered as her parter continued to aim his in my direction.
"What were you doing in the Department of Mysteries?" she asked.
"Exploring," I replied. "We're explorers."
"You picked the wrong place to satisfy your curiosity," she said. "How did you get past the security?"
"Security?" I asked. "We came through the archway."
She glanced at her partner and muttered, "He's been memory charmed to keep him from talking under the veritasyrum. The girl probably too." Then she turned to me and asked, "Do you know your name? Where are you from?"
"My name is Marcus Oren. I'm from the city of Liore, on the east side of the country of Amestris, north of Ishbal. And my memory is fine."
"Let's test that," she said, skeptically. "What can you tell me about the objects you were carrying?"
"The hilt with designs on it is a weapon that extends an energy blade you use like a sword. Most of the red crystals are used in alchemy. The big one is the Philosopher's Stone." I gasped. I'd just casually identified the most powerful and dangerous object in all of alchemy to people who, the only thing I knew about them was that they were holding me prisoner. "Why did I say that?"
"That's a good question," she mused. "You can't lie until the veritasyrum wears off, so you really believe what yo said. And so soon after the Gringotts break in." She tapped her index finger against her lip for a moment, then told her partner, "Keep an eye on them. If the Philosopher's Stone is involved, we'll need a consultant."
A few minutes after the woman left, Sloth started to come around.
"Is getting captured and tied up just going to be a thing traveling with you?" she asked.
"That's not fair," I complained. "This is the first time it's happened to you."
"I'm just saying, you made a habit of this and didn't exactly break it when we teamed up."
"They've dosed me with some kind of truth drug," I said, changing the subject. "Probably you too."
"The sky is orange at sunset, but usually blue during the day," said Sloth. "Yep. Looks like they dosed me too. What do we do?"
"They didn't think to take my boots-" I began to say.
"Evanesco!" called out the guard, waving the rod in his hand toward me, and my boots vanished off my feet.
"Truth drugs. Right. Sorry, Greed," said Sloth.
"How did you do that?" I asked the guard. "I've never seen anything quite like that?"
He didn't speak and just watched Sloth and I for any sign we were about to try something. The two of us sat in silence for a few moments when the woman returned, followed by an old man with a long, grey beard, wearing purple robes. The old man's eye was instantly drawn to the Philosopher's Stone, and I detected a note of recognition.
"You made the right decision contacting me," he said to the woman who'd escorted him in. He then turned his attention to me, bending at the waist to look me straight in the eye. After a long moment, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bag. "Would you like a sherbet lemon?"
I looked dubiously at the sack of wrapped candies he offered. "They already dosed me with veritasyrum," I said.
"Then you've nothing to fear from accepting," noted the man with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "In any case, I am satisfied with your story and you are both free to go." As he said that, he drew a rod of his own, gestured vaguely, and the ropes on Sloth, Loki, and I all vanished just like my boots had a few minutes earlier.
"Dumbledore, you can't be serious," exclaimed the woman who'd brought him in the first place. Even so, neither of the two guards raised thir weapons.
"I don't joke about offering sweets," said Dumbledore. "Besides, you couldn't have held them. And once they were gone, things would've been far more difficult."
I took one of the wrapped candies from the offered bag, gave it a cursory look, then popped it into my mouth. The two guards just stared incredulously.
Sloth hopped to her feet and asked, "Can I have one?"
"Of course," he said, offering the bag. Then he turned toward the guards. "I would like for neither of you to speak of this, and I trust the unspeakables who found them will live up to their namesake."
"What's this all about?" asked the woman.
"I regret that secrets must be maintained for the time being. The enemy has already penetrated Gringotts, and the fewer who know the full story, the safer the Stone will be."
They weren't happy about it, but both guards nodded their assent and left the room.
"Thank you for that," I said when they'd gone.
"Who is this enemy?" asked Sloth.
"As I told the Aurors," said Dumbledore, "some secrets must regrettably be maintained. As you are both well aware, it is possible to extract secrets from the unwilling."
Sloth and I couldn't deny the point. While we considered our situation, we repacked our bags.
"I will say," continued Dumbledore, "that the enemy is currently attempting to acquire a Philosopher's Stone, and that if he should succeed, the consequences could be disastrous."
"We're well aware of what the Stone can do in the wrong hands," said Sloth.
"Indeed," he replied. "A good friend of mine recently entrusted his Stone to my care." He withdrew a blood red stone from a pocket. It was smaller than our Stone, but I could feel the power contained within. It was a genuine Philosopher's Stone. "I have agreed to keep it under guard at the safest location possible. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am willing to extend the same offer to you, to keep the Stone safe until the danger has passed."
"A school you say?" I asked with a twinkle in my eye that fully lived up to the homunculus moniker I'd chosen. "Where you learn how to do things like the ropes?"
"He does already have one Stone," noted Sloth. "If he was going to cause trouble, he wouldn't need ours."
"And with no idea what sort of threats might be in this world, we'd be worse at protecting it than he would be," I added.
"Are we agreed, then?" asked Dumbledore.
"On one condition," I said. "We attend this school so we can be close by if anything goes wrong."
"I'm afraid Hogwarts is a boarding school for ages eleven through eighteen," he said. "You are far too old to pass as a student, and you far too young."
"We can fix that," I said with a smirk.
Sloth nodded her assent to me, and I clapped my hands. I placed on palm against the oroboros mark in the center of my chest, and the other on Sloth's oroboros mark on her shoulder blade. Sloth grew and I shrunk amid a shower of blue alchemic sparks dancing along our bodies. We stopped at the same height and looked at Dumbledore, who smiled.
"It would seem I've run out of objections," he said. "I will enroll you both as muggleborn exchange students from a distant land. What names shall I use?"
"I go by Sloth," she said as she placed the Stone in Dumbledore's hands, "but if that's a problem, I've also answered to Nina Tucker."
"Likewise, either Greed or Marcus Oren," I told him. "It's for the best that we be there," I added. "If the goal is to keep the enemy from getting the Stone, we'll need protection too. We both know how to make it."
Loki came around at that point and I greeted my dog, quickly assuring him that I was still me, and that everything was alright now.
"In that case," said Dumbledore, "in addition to your normal classes, I shall have to schedule Occlumency lessons for the both of you. Well, come with me."
Dumbledore led the three of us through the halls, down an elevator,, and into a massive lobby. Floating paper airplanes that accompanied us on the elevator rushed out to join a flock of them traveling down the long hall above a crowd of people. I caught sight of a statue in the center, depicting a number of inhuman entities, and what looked like fireplaces along the walls before Dumbledore grasped my forearm. I felt my entire body compress. It was an uncomfortable, but not exactly painful process.
An instant later, I was back to normal, and the four of us were now outside. Sloth and Loki both seemed as disoriented as I felt.
"This is Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore after making sure none of us were going to vomit. "Here are your Hogwarts acceptance letters." He handed us each an envelope. "I will, of course, have to sort out some paperwork to make it official. I imagine poor Minerva will be most put out with me accepting new students so late." He also handed each of us a small bag that jingled. "Since I am taking your Philosopher's Stone, it's only fair that I leave you with the money to buy your school supplies. I look forward to seeing you both at the start of the term." With that, he vanished with a popping noise, leaving us alone in the narrow avenue.
Sloth and I stepped off to the side of the street out of the flow of traffic to look over the letters we'd been given. In the package of documents was a form letter, a list of supplies, and a train ticket.
I looked to Sloth with an eager grin and asked, "Ready to go buy a magic wand?"
It didn't take long to find the right shop. When we went inside, we found hundreds of boxes piled haphazardly in the small store. An old man looked up from his book as we entered.
"First year students?" he asked, setting his book aside. "My name is Ollivander. Welcome to my shop. Each wand you see here has been expertly hand crafted. The woods have been carefully selected and paired with a core of an appropriate magical substance. You won't find higher quality anywhere else."
"I'm Sloth. This is Greed."
"Those are quite unusual names," he noted. "May I ask where you're from."
"A very... very distant country called Amestris," I said. "You probably haven't heard of it."
"You would be correct," said Ollivander with a slight bow. "So, shall we see about matching you to your wands?"
"What are our options?" I asked.
"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," he said with a good natured chuckle. "The wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around."
"Then how-?" began Sloth, but Ollivander was already answering.
"We make a few educated guesses, then you'll try wands out until we have a match. Your wand arms, if you please." He'd taken a line of measuring tape from around his neck.
"Which arm is that?" asked.
"Muggleborns," he noted to himself, then said, "your dominant hand. The one you write with?"
Dumbledore had used the same term to describe our cover identity. On the plus side, it seemed to be working. On the minus side, it would help if I knew what I was pretending to be.
"What does muggleborn mean?" I asked as he measured our right arms.
"A wizard child of two muggles," he said. Then noting our blank stares clarified. "Muggles are what we call non-magical folk. Your parents weren't wizards, were they?"
Sloth and I glanced at one another and shook our heads.
"Then that makes you muggleborn. Don't worry," he hastily added. "We don't discriminate at this shop."
It hadn't occurred to me that he might, which made his reassurance less than reassuring.
"Try these," he said, shoving a wand at each of us. Indicating the one in my hand, he rattled off, "Rosewood. Thirteen inches. Very flexible. Dragon heartstring core. Excellent for transfiguration." Turning to Sloth, he said, "Ash. Twelve inches. Unyielding. With a core of unicorn hair. Good for charms."
"What do we?" I started to ask.
"Wave them," he said. "Give them a good flick and see if they're a match."
Sloth and I waved the wands, not really sure what to expect. All that happened was that Ollivander snatched them out of our hands and put different wands into them. Again, he rattled off statistics and selling points that meant nothing to me, and again he took both wands away.
After the fifth attempt, I asked, "What are we looking for?"
"When there's a match, there will be a feeling of warmth, and a small sign of magic. Usually a few sparks."
We tried for three hours, seemingly going through every wand in the shop, but not a single one reacted to either of us in any way.
"I must say," declared Ollivander, "this has never happened before. I have had some tough customers, but I've always been able to match a wand to every customer who's come into my shop. And now to at the same time. Very curious indeed."
"What does that mean?" asked Sloth.
"Wandlore is a vast and sometimes mysterious subject, even to those of us who have dedicated our lives to its study. In the grander scale, I am not certain what this portends. As to the immediate, I'm afraid it means neither of you will be leaving with a wand today."
"What?" I asked. "But we need one."
"I am aware," he said, helplessly. "As I said earlier, the wand chooses the wizard, and no wand chose you."
Sloth and I left the shop feeling disoriented and worried. Loki kept us from just standing outside the wand shop staring into space. Licking at our hands and urging us to move around after the three hour failure of a shopping trip.
"Let's get the other supplies and then worry about the wand thing," I suggested. "It'll give us something to do while we think."
We stopped off at the book shop first, and began to read over the textbooks while the other was being fitted for their robes. Once we'd gathered everything else, Sloth, Loki, and I sat down in an alley, where I transmuted some garbage into new pairs of shoes for the two of us.
"I think I figured out why the wands don't work," said Sloth. "From what I read, it looks like wizards are really rare. And they usually demonstrate some sort of uncontrolled magic when they're younger. Did anything weird happen around you growing up?"
"No," I said, thinking back and frowning.
"Neither did Nina, who I'm based on. Greed, I think we're muggles."
"They don't let muggles in to Hogwarts, do they?" I guessed. "So not only can't we learn to use this world's magic, but we can't get to where Dumbledore is keeping our Philosopher's Stone."
"I was really looking forward to this," said Sloth sadly. "Nina died before she could go to school."
There had to be something we'd missed. I flipped open one of the books we'd bought to a random page. "You know..." I said, glancing over the spell described. "Some of these spells have effects that would be easy enough to duplicate with alchemy."
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
In response, I took the wooden hilt engraved with alchemic arrays we'd used to fight the Nazis out of my bag. It would do for raw materials. I set it on the ground, clapped my hands, and touched it. The wood glowed blue as it thinned and lengthened, becoming covered in a much more complex alchemic array. Then I took a red stone and affixed it to one end.
"I'm proposing we make our own wands," I said. I got to my feet, donned my wizard hat, and pointed my wand at a pile of crumpled up newspapers. The array engraved along its length glowed blue for an instant, then the newspapers cracked with blue alchemic light. A small puff of smoke exploded off them, and when it cleared, an unadorned shaft of wood was there.
Sloth picked it up and stared at it. Then she reached into her own bag and affixed a red stone to her wand. She pointed it at the ground and a simple alchemic array drew itself along the shaft. When the design reached the red stone, the array ignited, glowing red. A block of stone rose out of the earth, high enough to form a makeshift chair. The design vanished from her wand when the transmutation finished, leaving hte wood bare again. Sloth looked at what she'd done, then threw her arms around my neck and kissed me.
"It's not a perfect plan," I admitted once our lips parted. "We'll need to come up with alchemic equivalents for every spell, and anything that violates equivalent exchange uses up red stone energy. Your wand'll burn through it no matter what since your alchemy's powered by the stone directly. But if we can set up a lab to make more stones, that shouldn't be a problem."
Sloth smiled broadly. "We can do this," she said, giggling with glee. Then she pointed her wand at the block she'd transmuted, the wand glowed red, and the block merged back into the ground.
We got some food for Loki at an inn called the Leaky Cauldron and spent the rest of the night reading next to the fireplace in the common area with Loki curled up and sleeping at our feet. The next day, it was time to go to the train station.
The three of us arrived at the train station with plenty of time to spare, which was fortunate, since the platform our train was supposed to leave on was nowhere to be found. Asking other travelers prompted only strange looks.
"We could see the Leaky Cauldron normally from outside," I reasoned aloud. "If they're using the same protections to keep muggles out, we should be able to see the platform here."
"We can't be the only travelers going to Hogwarts," said Sloth. "Maybe we just arrived to early. I say we wait and keep an eye out for people with owl cages. I don't see anyone with one here, and they were on the list of approved pets."
So we waited near platform nine, watching for other travelers our apparent age with odd pets. As the hour of our departure approached, Sloth's plan paid off. A small family escorting a teenage traveler walked by. An owl cage was attached to the top of her luggage trolley. As a group, they approached the barrier separating platforms nine and ten, then passed through the apparently solid matter there.
Sloth, Loki, and I approached the barrier cautiously. I reached out and touched it, and saw my hand pass through. I nodded to Sloth and stepped through the barrier concealing platform 9 3/4. A train bearing the prominent nameplate "Hogwarts Express" was waiting. Sloth and Loki followed shortly after, and we quickly got our luggage loaded onto the train and settled into an empty compartment.
A few minutes later, the door to our compartment opened, revealing a pale, blond boy flanked by a pair of other boys. All the same age Sloth and I were affecting.
"I'm Draco Malfoy," declared the blond boy at the lead as though that should mean something to us. "This is Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Who are you?"
"I'm Greed," I told him. "This is Sloth."
Draco stared for along moment before saying, "Those aren't your real names."
"Nina Tucker," said Sloth.
"Marcus Oren," I said, following suit.
"You aren't supposed to be here," said Draco. "This compartment is reserved."
Loki took exception to Draco's tone and growled low. I put a hand on his head to calm him.
"You'd best keep that mutt under control," snapped Draco.
I'd been getting ready to vacate the compartment until that point. "You know, I didn't see a reservation card when I got to this room..."
"You don't know this yet," said Draco, "but the Malfoys are one of the oldest and most powerful pureblood houses. You don't want to make an enemy like me, especially not on your first day at Hogwarts."
"If you didn't want me as an enemy," I said, kicking my feet up and lounging as I continued stroking Loki's head, "you shouldn't have threatened me."
Draco looked between the two of us, then said, "I'll remember this." Then he signaled his companions and left.
"You think this really was his compartment?" asked Sloth.
"I doubt it," I said. "He thought he could intimidate us into giving up our room."
"Probably," agreed Sloth. "It was kind of funny seeing you posturing against an eleven year old."
"I'd have been dead a dozen times over if I wasn't willing to take a particular four year old seriously," I reminded her.
"So, I left you with some bad habits."
A knock came at the door and an older woman pushing a cart opened it.
"Honeydukes," said the woman cheerfully. "Would you like to buy anything? We have chocolate frogs, every flavor beans, cauldron cakes, what would you like?"
"First, can you reserve a compartment?" asked Sloth.
"I'm afraid not. I know how crowded it is this year, but it's first come, first serve."
"Good to know," I said. "How much is everything?"
We bought a couple of each of the sweets to see what we'd end up liking. I opened up a bag of the every flavor beans and tried one, then immediately spat it out.
"Why would anyone make a jelly bean that literally tastes like dog shit?" I exclaimed. As I said it, Loki immediately scarfed down the bean I'd spit out.
"I guess they really mean it when they advertise 'every flavor'," said Sloth, giggling at my misfortune. Then she opened up one of the chocolate frogs which leaped at her face. She was so startled, Sloth reflexively went intangible and the frog landed on the chair behind her. She had to leap up to stop from occupying the same space as the animated confectionery.
Whatever had given it the ability to move quickly faded on opening the package, and Sloth reported it tasted like ordinary chocolate. In the package, we found a card. The face was unfamiliar, but that was to be expected. The name, however, was unmistakable. Parcelsus Van Hohenheim.
"We knew there were doubles of people in different worlds," said Sloth. "They usually had different lives."
"There's a Philosopher's Stone in this world," I said. "Even if it wasn't him, someone made it."
"Dumbledore seemed to imply there's only one," noted Sloth. "Maybe they learned the lesson the first time here."
"I hope so," I said. Then I blinked. "Where did he go?" I pointed at the card with an empty picture where Hohenheim used to be.
"Maybe the pictures wear off the same way the frog moving around wore off," suggested Sloth.
As we stared at the blank card, the image of Hohenheim peaked into the frame.
"Hello?" I asked the clearly moving picture.
Hohenheim's image ducked back out of frame, then strolled back to the center and resumed his previous pose. He didn't respond to further inquiries. In fact, he seemed to be standing as stock still as a person pretending to be a still photograph.
"Excuse me," came a voice as our compartment door opened, causing Sloth and I to jump. A girl with bushy brown hair waited until she had our attention. "Have either of you seen a toad named Trevor? A boy named Neville lost him."
I darted a look back at the trading card and said, "We can finish this later." Then I turned to the girl and said, "We haven't seen a toad, but maybe we can help. Loki can track by scent."
"That would be a big help. Thank you. My name's Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."
"I go by Greed," I told her.
"I'm Sloth."
"You're named after sins?" asked Hermione.
"It's what we like to be called," I said. "We have regular names too. Mine's Marcus Oren."
"Nina Tucker," said Sloth. "Do you have anything with Trevor's scent?"
"Neville should," replied Hermione. "Follow me."
Sloth, Loki, and I followed Hermione to where a nervous looking boy was asking door to door after his missing toad.
"Did you find Trevor?" asked Neville when he saw Hermione.
"This is Loki," I said. "He can find Trevor if you have anything with his scent."
Neville turned out his pockets and Loki sniffed them. Turning about, Loki caught the scent and took off down the corridor. Sloth and I ran after, with Neville and "Hermione coming after.
Loki brought us three cars down and to the door leading to the luggage car, where a terrified looking toad stared down my floppy-eared brown dog, who was poking him with his nose.
"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed happily as he scooped up the toad. "Thanks Hermione. And thank you..."
"Greed," I supplied.
"Sloth," she added extending a hand.
Neville shifted the toad around to shake Sloth's hand, but that was all the opening Trevor needed to make another escape attempt. Hermione and I both dove for the escaping toad and ended up colliding in the attempt. When we got back to our feet, Loki again had Trevor cornered for Neville to retrieve.
"Um, thanks again," said Neville, embarrassed and apologetic.
"Why don't we get Trevor to a compartment where we can close the door," I suggested.
"I didn't think students were allowed to have dogs at Hogwarts," said Hermione on the way back to the compartment Sloth and I had defended from Draco.
"Special permission from the headmaster," I said. "We couldn't leave Loki behind."
"They've let folks have pets not on the list before," said Neville. "It's usually okay as long as they behave themselves."
"I'm muggleborn, so this is all new to me," declared Hermione.
"Us too," I said, indicating Sloth.
"I'm not," said Neville, unsure of what to say.
"Do you know what's going on with these cards?" I asked, holding up Hohenheim's card to Neville.
"Famous witch and wizard cards," he said. "They come with chocolate frogs. Some folks collect them."
"No," clarified Sloth. "Why is he moving?"
"Why wouldn't he be?" asked Neville, confused.
"I've read about this," said Hermione, excited. "Wizard photographs are developed in a special potion that makes the people in them move around like the person really would. I hear Hogwarts is full of portraits that can talk as well as move."
"Do they know they're in a picture?" I asked.
"The portraits do," said Neville. "Photographs mostly just keep doing what they were doing around the time the picture was taken. Time doesn't really move forward for them like it does for the portraits. If it did, we wouldn't use them for newspapers and other things you throw out."
At that point, an announcement came through the train, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately."
"I'm surprised you didn't know about the photographs," said Hermione while we all gathered up our things. "The recipe is in our potions textbook. Haven't you read it yet? I've learned all my books by heart."
"We got our books late," said Sloth. "We only got the chance to buy our supplies yesterday."
"Why would your letters be late?" asked Hermione. "I heard the own post is very reliable, and surely the professors wouldn't want anyone coming unprepared."
"We're exchange students," I supplied. "There must've been complications from that."
"Where are you from?" asked Neville.
"It's a small country called Amestris," I replied. "You've probably never heard of it."
We were spared any further questions on exiting the rain when a man larger than Sig Curtis and Alex Loius Armstrong combined, wearing a thick black beard called out, "First Years! First years over here! All right there, Harry?" A black haired boy wearing glasses nodded to him. Then he continued calling, "Come on, follow me! Any more first years? Mind your step now! First years, follow me!"
The giant of a man separated the first year students out from the returning students and led us down a path, away from the carriages, drawn by skeletal horses with leathery bat-like wings, that the returning students were boarding.
At the end of the path was a massive lake. A small fleet of boats was moored at the path's end, and across the lake was a massive castle. The castle was perched on a mountain. Sloth and I still hadn't learned to swim, so we were nervous boarding the watercraft with Loki. Neville and Hermione joined us.
Once we were all aboard, the huge man ordered the boats, "Forward!" and they pulled themselves across the lake. Our fleet entered a hidden cave in the mountain under the caste, and we disembarked at a small dock. We were then herded up a flight of stairs to a very heavy oak door. It was opened by a black haired woman wearing green robes.
"First years," said the large man, introducing the woman, "Professor McGonagall."
"Thank you, Hagrid," acknowledged Professor McGonagall. "I will take them from here."
She then led us to a cramped room off the entry hall. Then she announced, "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into hour Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony, because while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.
"The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."
She left the room, and I heard Hermione wonder aloud which of the spells she'd learned before the term that she'd need for the test they'd subject us to at the Sorting. There seemed little point worrying about it now. Hopefully, we could improvise with whatever came next.
Unexpectedly, a pair of translucent, silvery figures floated through a wall in the middle of a conversation amongst themselves. On noticing us waiting there, they greeted us. The ghosts didn't have time to say much before Professor McGonagall returned and ushered us out and into the Great Hall.
I registered Dumbledore and Hagrid with a number of other odd looking people at the faculty table. Four long tables held students dressed in the same uniform Sloth and I were wearing. The hovering candles and clear view of the night sky were no distraction from the silvery ghosts hovering over the tables. Actual ghosts. Proof of an afterlife. If we were found out as muggles in this ceremony and kicked out, if we never recovered the Philosopher's Stone, this trip was already worth it.
Sloth's eyes were likewise on the ghosts, but she was less enthused. It was little wonder. It'd take more study to confirm, but it was unlikely you could become a ghost if you didn't have a soul.
The first years were put in line and a battered wizard hat was put on a stool. Then a rip near the brim opened like a mouth and the hat began to sing.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are True
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk will use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
The rest of the first years relaxed visibly on learning what the Sorting would involve. I got more worried. I was a fully trained and certified State Alchemist with a red stone. I'd be able to fake some display of magic. I didn't have any way to keep a magic hat from plucking secrets out of my mind. And I had more than my share of dangerous secrets beyond the fact that I wasn't a wizard.
Students were called up in alphabetical order. They put on the hat and it called out one of the four Houses. Sometimes it called out a House instantly, other times it took a few minutes. Still, it was a remarkably quick process, even with each student cheered by their new House and going to join their table. Before I had time to come up with a plan, "Marcus Oren," was called.
I glanced pleadingly at Dumbledore where he sat at the head table. He nodded pleasantly, but I had no idea what that meant. I couldn't delay any longer, so I picked up the hat, sat on the stool, and placed it on my head.
"Not every day, I sort a student that's already got a background of sword-fighting monsters," said a quiet voice inside the hat. "Not to mention one without a drop of magic in him, planning to fool every professor here. Hard to get more ambitious than that. Don't worry, telling them about that isn't my job. If you can pull it off, good for you. And your other secrets are safe with me. I'd be out of a job if I made a habit of telling what I see in the Sortings."
I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Ah, there's your core," said the hat. "Shouldn't be any surprise for you. Ravenclaw!"
Only the last word had been audible to anyone else. I took of the hat to see the Ravenclaw table cheering me. I replaced it on the stool and went to sit down with my new housemates, who cheerfully congratulated me. I shot a smile and a nod to Sloth, who let Loki come to me at the table. Dumbledore calmed a momentary commotion at the head table, and the Sorting continued.
Neville and Hermione had both already been Sorted into Gryffindor. Whispers came through the students with the name "Harry Potter" was called.
"Is it really the Boy Who Lived?" asked one whisper.
"They say he defeated You Know Who when he was just a baby," said a student right next to me.
"No," I replied. "I don't know who."
"The Dark Lord," he attempted to clarify for me. "He Who Must Not Be Named."
Getting frustrated, I asked, "Why must he not be named?"
I didn't get an answer because a huge cheer erupted from the Gryffindor table. Someone was yelling, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Hagrid at the head table gave the boy a thumbs up. This must've been the Harry he'd been asking after at the train.
A few more names were called, and I joined in greeting the new Ravenclaws. A few names later, they called out, "Nina Tucker!" I was on the edge of my seat while the hat seemed to be considering. I wondered what it was telling her about herself.
"Hufflepuff!" called the hat. After McGonagall's speech about the Houses, Sloth seemed so much farther away than across the room as she removed the Sorting Hat and joined her new housemates.
The Sorting concluded shortly after, and Dumbledore greeted the students, "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I wold like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
As the old wizard sat down, the empty tables were instantly filled with food. There was no sound or crackle of energy. The food was just not there one instant and there the next. It was intimidating how casually the other students treated this.
"Eat," suggested one of my neighbors. "It's not going to hurt you."
The roast did smell good, so I decided to worry about how this was possible later. The food was excellent, especially the roast beef. I couldn't help but notice slight irregularities in the food, consistent with it being hand made. Expertly hand made, but it didn't have things like potatoes all exactly the same size that I associated with transmuted food.
After everyone had eaten, the food vanished, leaving empty, immaculately clean plates. Then deserts appeared, the same way the main course had. It was just as expertly prepared. When desert was finished, Dumbledore again rose to speak.
"Just a few more words now that we're all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you.
"First years should note that hte forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." That only a few of the first years laughed told me he was serious. That must be where he was protecting the Philosopher's Stones.
Dumbledore concluded by leading the school in a song, with a ribbon produced from his wand forming the words for us to sing along with. Then, the prefects brought us out of the hall to our separate House dormitories. I tried to hang back and signal to Sloth, but the first years were being herded most carefully. We'd have to talk the next day.
The castle was massive, filled with secret passages, twisting corridors, and more staircases than there were students as far as I could tell. Hermione had been right about the portraits. They watched our procession as we passed, sometimes calling out greetings, sometimes following after us into neighboring frames.
The prefects led us up a spiral staircase to a door set with a brass eagle knocker. When they approached, it animated and asked, "What runs fastest when it's standing perfectly still?"
"Don't answer right away," warned one of the prefects. "If you answer the riddle wrong, you'll be locked out of the common room until someone else comes and gets it right. The riddle changes every day."
"With a group this size," I noted, "each of us should be able to answer once and the right answer gets the whole group inside, right?"
"True," acknowledged the prefect, "but it's best to get used to stopping and thinking about the riddle now so when you come up on your own, you'll be in the habit."
"An hourglass!" exclaimed one of the first years, happily. "The sand doesn't run down as quickly if you move it all about."
The door swung open in acknowledgement of the correct answer. Beyond was a circular room with a star field printed on the ceiling. Numerous chairs, desks, tables, couches, and bookcases rested on the midnight blue carpet. Large windows overlooked the whole grounds. I briefly switched to my purple, slitted, homunculus eyes to verify that we had an excellent view in all directions, which would be visible to human eyes when the sun came up. Likewise, the tall windows would provide a lot of natural light during the day. Some blue and bronze silks accented the room and made the large space seem homier.
The prefects ushered us up to our dormitories, which were separated out by gender and year. I found my trunk of books and supplies had been placed at the foot of a four poster bed with a blue canopy and bedspread and bronze colored pillows. Loki quickly climbed up on the bed and curled up at the foot. He was asleep almost instantly.
"You ate too many sausages at the feast," I told the sleeping dog fondly as I opened up my trunk and verified everything was there.
The other boys had collapsed into bed almost as fast as Loki had. I retrieved my wand and touched the red stone at the end of it to each of my schoolbooks, and then to my temple. The contents of each book poured into my mind. I hadn't had the time the other students had with their books so far, but using a red stone to instantly assimilate them let me catch up to Hermione, at least where the required textbooks were concerned. That done, I closed my trunk and went to bed myself.
Author's comments:
Welcome to the sequel to the Iron Sole Alchemist. Our interdimensional travelers will soon find that even without magic of their own, Hogwarts has much to teach them.