Author's Note: "Segev" is pronounced with both "e"s short and the "g" is soft like a "j"

Author's Note: "Segev" is pronounced with both "e"s short and the "g" is soft like a "j". Segev is one of my favorite characters to roll play with, but he is not me or an extension of my personality (any more than any other character that an author uses). This is not a self-insert, despite the fact that I am using Segev as my pen name.

Disclaimer: Segev is (so far) the only original character or anything else in this story; Everything else is from J.K.Rowling's Harry Potter novels.

Erica Stephens was in the kitchen preparing a special breakfast while her husband sat at his computer in the living room, reading online financial news. Her son, Harry, would be down soon. This breakfast was for him, as today was his eleventh birthday. They were planning to go to the zoo later, taking one of his friends along as well (he didn't have many, something that worried Erica greatly).

                With school having ended two days earlier, Harry would probably sleep in given the opportunity; he'd always been more of a night person. She would have to wake him before much longer so he could enjoy his breakfast and have time to get ready to go before his friend arrived. She would probably send her husband up to do that; Harry always was hard to wake, and it could be a frustrating task.

                A few minutes later, she was about to call to her husband to go wake Harry--breakfast was almost ready--when her thoughts were interrupted by a loud tapping on the kitchen window. When she went over to see what had caused it, she saw a bright blue envelope on the ledge outside. When she opened the window and pulled it in, she saw that it was addressed to

                Harry Segev Stephens

                Upstairs Corner Room.

The flap was sealed with red wax, a stylized "H" impressed into it.

                ------Upstairs, the boy sat straight up in bed, suddenly wide awake.------

                The color and style of the envelope suggested that it might contain a birthday card for her son; though she was baffled as to who it could be from. She had just stopped staring at it and put it on the table with a shrug when she heard the sound of feet thundering down the stairs. To most mothers, this would engender, at most, a rueful shake of the head at the exuberance of youth, but Erica's reaction was very different: She jumped a full foot in the air, and was still frazzled when Harry slid to a stop on his stocking feet in the middle of the kitchen.

                Seeing him in his black silk pajamas (he had selected them himself) still wrinkled from his bed, his blond hair tousled, was even more unnerving. A usual morning would have her suddenly sense his presence in the room behind her; when she would turn to look, his pajamas would be in perfect order, his hair neatly combed, and nothing about him out of place. He always moved in unnerving silence, and never let his appearance be less than immaculate. The only similarity between the calm, collected boy she was used to and the more normally disheveled child she saw before her now, is the presence of the recorder (the musical instrument, not the mechanical device), which always hung from a red silken cord around his neck; this morning, it was clutched in his right hand, the cord hanging limp, as if he had just grabbed it off his nightstand before running down stairs.

                Harry quickly scanned the room, took a deep breath, and then visibly took control of himself, taking a moment to brush the wrinkles out of his PJ's and hang the cord of the recorder about his neck. Once he looked more like the child she was used to (though his hair was still a mess), he turned his ice-gray eyes on her and calmly said, "Good morning, Mother." His voice was polite, soft with a prepubescent boy's pitch, and quiet--little more than a whisper--yet carrying so that it could be heard easily. He sat down at the table, and, after a moment, noticed the envelope and reached for it.

                "That was left outside the window for you, Harry." The boy winced at the name, but let it pass, as he had so many times before. Examining it, he seemed unmoved by the strange address on it and the wax seal. Touching the seal, he started, then set the letter down. He got up and walked quietly over to the knives, pulling out the sharpest he could find. He then climbed onto the counter and rummaged around in the cabinets until he found a candle, which he lit. "What are you doing?" asked his mom.

                As he held the knife over the candle flame, he responded, "I do not wish to break the seal on this envelope."

                "Well, that's silly, dear. It's addressed to you; and, if I remember correctly, wax seals like that are expected to be broken." The boy didn't respond. Once he was satisfied with the heat of the knife blade, he slid it gently under the wax seal, cutting it easily and prying it from the envelope without breaking it. This done, he pulled out the parchment within, and began to read it. Then, he read it again. Then, Erica heard him laugh, and shivered.

                Harry Potter had spent the summer with the Weasleys, and thus was at the Station with them; the Dursleys nowhere in sight. It had been the best summer of his life. He and Ron were going to start their fifth year, and Ginny her fourth. It had perhaps been good for Ginny to have Harry living in her house, sharing a room with her brother--he had treated her like a little sister, and she seemed to have begun thinking of him as a brother, rather than one of those most mysterious and fascinating of all creatures: a boy.

                He was about to step onto Platform nine-and-three-quarters when his ear twitched. He could have sworn he'd heard a woman with an American accent say, "Harry, dear, there doesn't seem to be a number nine-and-three-quarters." Harry turned to see who was talking to him, and why she would make such a statement. He saw the speaker to be a woman in her early thirties, but she was speaking to a blond boy in a Hogwarts robe who seemed to be a first year. He had only one large suitcase--or maybe a small trunk, and, though he had an animal (a raven) it wasn't caged, but rather sat on his shoulder like a taxidermist's model.

                Harry waved Ron and Ginny on through (the Twins had passed through the partition already), planning to help the first year find the magical Platform. As he makes his way through the crowd towards the boy who shared his name, the boy set down his single large suitcase, muttered something that didn't look like English at all, and touched first his left eyelid, then his right. He then looked right at the partition between Platforms Nine and Ten and said in a voice that Harry could barely hear, "Oh, it's there, alright, Mother. Remember, this is magic we're dealing with." With a sunny smile that nonetheless chilled Harry when he saw it, the boy picked up his trunk with a heave and strolled casually past Harry towards the partition, and stepped through. The woman that he had left standing there looked startled at his sudden vanishing, then turned to a man that Harry hadn't noticed before and cried. She lifted her head off of her (presumed) husband's shoulder to call, "Good luck, Harry! Behave yourself! Study hard, and write often!" Then, she walked away with the man.

                Harry went to his bags and carried them through the barrier after making sure that no one was watching. Once through, he headed strait for the Hogwarts Express and stepped on board. Having found the compartment in which his friends were sitting, he settled his trunks and Hedgwig's cage before sitting down next to Ron and across from Hermione. "What took you so long, Harry?" she asked.

                Harry told them about the first year and his strange behavior. Hermione was, predictably, aghast at his behavior. "You mean he just left his mother crying without so much as saying 'goodbye'?" Harry nodded. Hermione sniffed her disdain. "How could he? Treating his parents like that. Shameful."

                She went on like this for almost a full minute before realizing that Harry and Ron weren't listening. When she leaned over to get their attention, she found them looking at quidditch cards. She was about to berate them for ignoring her when they both suddenly froze and stopped their animated discussion. Then, she felt it too; someone was in the room with them. They turned as one to see a small boy in Hogwarts garb holding a small trunk, a raven resting quietly on his left shoulder and a white wind instrument hanging from a red cord around his neck. Very politely, he asked, "Is there room for me in here?" He had an American accent.

                Ron was the first to speak. "Sure, there's room for you, since you have so little luggage, it can fit under Hermione's seat, and you can sit there." He indicated the seat across from him, next to Hermione.

                Harry stood and helped the boy to get his trunk situated. "Shouldn't your animal be in a cage? It might get lost or hurt if it flies around freely."

                The boy looked at Harry searchingly. "No, he will stay put."

                Once the trunk was put away and the children had taken their seats, an uncomfortable silence followed for a few moments. Then, the train started moving. Finally, Harry Potter broke the silence. "Your name is Harry, isn't it?" The boy looked at him, startled. When he didn't respond, Harry continued, "I mean, that's what your mother called you. I saw you out there, just before you found the entrance to the Platform. My name's Harry, too."

                The boy blinked, absorbing this nervous declaration. Finally, he responded, "Call me Segev. Only my mother calls me Harry." He seemed remarkably self-assured for a first year surrounded by larger fifth years. "I thank you for permitting me to sit with you. I was beginning to wonder why magic would be used to make a room smaller than it appears, as compartments with only one or two children did not have room for me."

                Hermione looked at him with pity, then seemed to remember what she had been saying about the behavior of this boy that Harry had told her of; she sniffed, "It was probably your manners."

                Segev looked askance at her. Quietly, and with a tone of adolescent puzzlement he said, "I don't think so. I bumped into a platinum blond youth about your age in the passageway while looking for a compartment in which to sit, and he asked me a most peculiar question: 'Are you a pureblood?' When I asked him what the term meant, he became disdainful, called me a 'mudblood', and proceeded to taunt me. After that, no one in that car had room for me. Yours was the first compartment I came to in this car, and you let me sit with you. Again, I offer thanks." He actually managed to bow while seated.

                At the mention of the word "mudblood", Hermione's expression changed again. Somehow, she managed to convey both outrage at the term and sympathy for the boy at once. Offering him a big sisterly hug with one arm, though Segev didn't seem to need it, she explained, "'Mudblood' is a filthy term to refer to those of us who are muggle born. Just ignore it; it's not your fault that your parents aren't wizards, and isn't even a problem. 'Purebloods' think they're so great just 'cause their families have had magic for generations, but their no better than the rest of us, and many are worse people. Harry and Ron here are both purebloods, but they don't make any big deal over it. Don't you worry; you'll do just fine at Hogwarts even if you haven't had any experience with magic before now."

                Segev waited politely until Hermione removed her hand, and then responded, "I don't think I'll have any trouble at this school." He smiled. "No, none at all." Then, seeming to realize the chilling effect his smile was having on his fellow passengers, he brightened it, and let loose an intentionally boyish giggle.

                After the tension of Segev's arrival had been broken, Harry and Ron began to tell Hermione about their summer, and she them about hers. Segev sat so quietly that they almost forgot his presence. The cart with snacks came and went, and Ron shared some of his Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans with the boy, who thanked him politely and swallowed one after another with no change of expression; occasionally setting some aside, not eating them. When Ron tried some of the ones he'd set aside, he found that they were all of the nastier variety--or orange flavored. Seeing Ron's face after eating a chalk flavored bean, Segev laughed quietly. "I won't eat the ones I don't like," he said, gesturing at the pile of discarded beans.

                Harry was about to ask him how he knew what they tasted like when he heard a familiar--and unwelcome--voice at the door. "So, Potter, you're still taking in stray mudbloods," sneered Draco Malfoy. Hermione was livid and pulling out her wand. Harry and Ron already had theirs pointed at the blond boy. Segev muttered something, and it sounded foul. Draco leaned arrogantly against the lintel of the door. "Point those somewhere else. We wouldn't want you to lose points for Gryffindor even before we get there."

                "You're not wanted here, Malfoy," snarled Ron.

                "Do my properly cut robes clash with your poorly fitting hand-me-downs, Weasley?" Malfoy insulted. "Don't worry, I won't show you up by walking in with you. I wouldn't want to be seen with a mudblood like her anyway."

                Hermione had just gotten her wand out and was looking as if she was trying to think of something truly nasty to cast. The word "mudblood" seemed to snap her out of it. "Malfoy, you apologize right now. You made it difficult for this boy to find a seat with your use of that word."

                "Why should I? It's true, isn't it? I don't believe that kid is even a wizard himself; he doesn't even have a wand. I bet the letter he got was just a mistake."

                Ron sputtered, "He does too have a wand! Show him, Segev!"

                Segev calmly stood up and pulled his trunk out from under the seat, opened it, and began to rummage through his robes until he found a small pewter cauldron, from which he pulled a white wand. Malfoy laughed, "He had it buried in his trunk? What kind of wizard puts his wand out of reach?"

                "Not everyone needs a wand to feel secure, Malfoy. You're the only person I know who sleeps with one like a teddy bear," Hermione taunted.

                Draco was not impressed. "You would know about security blankets, Granger. Still afraid of the dark? Watch out, You-Know-Who is going to get you mudbloods." He began to laugh maliciously.       Unfortunately, Hermione became incensed at his taunts, and brought her wand up, shouting a word. At the same time, the three fifth year boys saw this happening and brought their wands up as well. Malfoy pointed his at her to return a curse, Ron pointed his at Malfoy and Harry pointed his at Hermione. The latter two were shouting "Expeliarmus!" and whatever Hermione and Malfoy said was unintelligible as all four shouted at once. All four were shocked at the result: nothing. Not a sparkle, not a sound, not an uncomfortable cramp, not even a dropped wand. Malfoy walked off, staring at his wand, while Hermione began running her hands over hers, Harry and Ron both looked baffled.

                Finally, Hermione declared, "Well, I can't figure out what's wrong with our wands. We'll have to ask Dumbledore when we get to Hogwarts."

                Harry and Ron agreed. Segev pulled his white wand out. "What was it you two said? 'Expeliarmus?'" as he said it, his wand was pointing at all three of them, and their wands leaped out of their hands.

                "HEY!" shouted all three of them. Ron picked his up, and then looked it over to make sure it hadn't broken. He had been paranoid over this ever since his wand had snapped in two and he'd had to go through all of second year with a malfunctioning wand. In a fit of pique, he pointed his (still undamaged) wand at the smaller boy and spoke the same word. Segev's wand flew through the air and landed in Ron's hand. As he looked at it, he realized that it was strange. It was a smooth ivory spiral. "Hey, Segev, what is your wand made of?"

                "Unicorn horn." The boy actually looked...embarrassed. No, it must have been Ron's imagination. He was far too cold and calm to be embarrassed.

                Hermione tried another spell with her wand, and found it to be working. "You try yours, Harry." He complied, and found his to be working as well. Hermione scratched her head, and said, "We'd still better tell Dumbledore about this. Wands don't just stop working for no reason."

                "Yeah, right, what are we going to tell him we were doing? Hm? Fighting on the Hogwarts Express seems like a good way to get in trouble on the first day, Hermione," Ron replied, incredulously.

                They continued to argue about it until the Express got to its destination. Harry and Ron did manage to convince Hermione not to tell unless it happened again. Segev sat quietly staring out the window.

                As they were disembarking, they heard a loud voice saying, "Firs' yehrs come wi' me!" Segev was about to drag his trunk along, but Harry told him that it would be taken to the castle separately. "You get to ride across the lake with Hagrid." Segev shrugged and strode off toward the mass of first years around the Half Giant.

                It was crowded and noisy in the hall as the first years were herded towards wherever they were going. Segev was standing with several other boys, all of who were discussing the four houses and which one they'd be in. Curiosity peaked, Segev ventured a question: "How do they decide which house you'll be in?" None of the children knew.

                They finally got to the Great Hall, and the Giant had them line up in alphabetical order by last name. A bearded old man stood up at the High Table, and began giving a speech about welcoming the old students back and the new students here. He was midway through it when a disturbance occurred in the line of first years. It seemed that there was a ghost in really silly clothes dropping spinach filled balloons on the end of the line. Segev thought this rather pointless, but chose to ignore it. The giant was yelling at it, threatening to get someone called the Bloody Baron, but the poltergeist wasn't listening. A woman came down from the High Table when she noticed it and shouted, "Peaves! Stop tormenting the first years this instant!" She got a hairfull of spinach for her trouble, and stormed out of the room, presumably to clean herself up.

                The old man, meanwhile, had finished his soliloquy. "And now," he was saying, "the moment you've all been waiting for: the Sorting Hat!" A ratty old hat with a slit just above the brim was brought out on a silver platter, and, when it was put down, it began to bounce and sing, the slit opening and closing like a mouth. Segev didn't pay much attention to the song, but got the impression that this hat had the job of determining which House one would belong to. Not knowing much about the various Houses, Segev didn't much care.

                When he saw the means by which the hat placed students; namely, by resting on their heads and declaring a House name (sometimes taking longer than others), he became worried. The poltergeist (Peaves was his name?) was still dropping his spinach balloons, but most were being dodged. Unfortunately, he finally got to Segev's position in the line. Segev glared at the ghost, who ignored it and made ready to drop a balloon. Segev lifted his recorder to his lips and blew one long, shrill note, all the holes open. The poltergeist threw his hands over his ears and rocketed out of the Hall, flinging his balloon in a wild arc that landed harmlessly on the table in front of the old man. The four tables and the line of first years applauded.

                Segev took the opportunity to go talk to the Giant. He pulled on his robes to get his attention. The giant looked down at the small boy and said, "Yeh should be in line, lad."

                Segev looked him in the eye, mustering as much innocence as he could (not much, I'm afraid). Raising his voice to be heard above the chatter and the Sorting Hat's proclamations, he asked, "Can that Hat read minds?"

                The giant looked puzzled, and finally answered, "Yeh, a suppose it can." At Segev's worried look, he laughed, "But don't let it worry yeh, none. It ain't never told anyun's secrets to my knowledge. Now, get back in line, it'll be yehr turn, soon."

                No sooner had he gotten back in line than he heard the person reading names off the list call, "Stevens, Harry." He stepped forward, and as he walked towards the Hat said, "Call me Segev."

                Harry shushed Hermione as she was going on about who the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher was going to be when he heard a young boy's voice say, "Call me Segev."

                "Hey, Ron, it's that boy who sat on the train with us."

                Ron turned to look. "You mean the one with the Unicorn Horn wand? Yeah, you're right!"

                "Which House do you think he'll be in?" asked Hermione.

                "Hopefully Gryffindor. He seemed like a nice enough kid, we could get along with him," said Harry.

                They watched in anticipation as the Sorting Hat was set on Segev's head. It sat there for a surprisingly long time, but finally the Hat said, rather nervously, "S-Slytherin?"