A.N.1: You may recognize the title of this story because this is a new and improved version that I'm reposting. This fic takes place 3 years after the beginning of its first version, which got screwed up.
A.N.2: Now, on to the important stuff. I've had these next gen. characters for a couple of years now, and I decided that there's no reason why I should abandon them now that they're AU. Overall, this fic will be some sort of odd combination of post-DH and AU, because I will use information from DH, except for the epilogue. And coincidentally, this does take place nineteen years after the end of book 7. So pleeease give the fic a chance and R&R!
I sit down at the Gryffindor table, a bit weak in the knees, as my new housemates clap and cheer. The Hat had seriously considered putting me in Ravenclaw, but decided on Gryffindor in the end. I really would've been fine with either or. I watch as eight more of my yearmates get sorted before Professor Sinistra finally calls out, "Weasley, Fiona!"
Please be in Gryffindor, please be in Gryffindor, I hope, clutching the bench that I'm sitting on. Fiona's my twin; or should I say my "twin". We're technically cousins and look rather different; but we act like twins and we're almost exactly the same age (she's 2 days older than me). After what seems like forever, the hat hollers, "Gryffindor!"
I think I'm probably cheering the loudest of everyone as she sits down beside me. Fiona's a bit taller than me, freckled, has curly, flaming red hair, and shockingly bright blue eyes. A couple more people get sorted and it's done. In a second, all sorts of food and drink appear on the tables. A few other first years gasp in surprise. I don't, as my older sister Beatrice had told me about this ages ago. I take a bit of steak, salad, Yorkshire pudding, and an egg roll (Hogwarts now apparently serves Chinese). The entire hall goes back to talking and us firsties all start getting to know each other. There are fourteen Gryffindors in my year, seven girls and seven boys. I hope the dormitories are big.
"Aren't you hungry?" the boy across from me asks half an hour later as he takes second helpings. I remember his name to be Jason Corner.
"I always get full fast," I tell him with a shrug. I hate that stuffed feeling, and anything more than one non-heaping plateful would result in that for me. Maybe that's why I'm so short (borderline midget) and skinny.
In what seems like no time, Professor McGonagall, the headmistress, dismisses us and people flock towards the doors. "First years!" hollers Patrick. "Come on! Follow me to the common room!" Patrick is Fiona's older brother; he's a fifth year Prefect.
We go after him up seven flights of stairs, along several hallways, and stop in front of a portrait of a fat lady wearing a pink dress. I wonder if she sings… "Password?" she asks.
"Ostrich feather," says Patrick. The portrait swings open to reveal a large, kind of threadbare room decorated in various warm shades. There are large windows across from us, a fireplace with a roaring fire to the right, a couple of sofas, several armchairs, and an assortment of tables and chairs all over the place. There are also two doors. "Girls' dormitories through the door to the right, boys' through the left," Patrick tells us as more students pile in through the portrait hole.
"'Night, Erik," says Fiona, heading towards the girls' dorms.
"'Night!" I call after her, heading up the left staircase with the other boys.
On the fifth landing, I reach a door labeled FIRST YEAR BOYS. Going in, I find a big, circular room with seven four-poster beds, six windows, and four wardrobes for things that need to be hung. Each bed has its own night stand and set of drawers. Hmm, not bad. The trucks had been brought up and placed at the foot of every bed; mine is the third one from the left.
As I'm laying there in my bed, all warm and comfortable, I start to grow really restless as soon as I'm awake. I feel like sleeping some more, but I know that the urge to get up and move won't be satisfied until I do so. I climb out of bed and see that it's only 6:30 A.M. I shower and get dressed, checking my appearance in the mirror before going downstairs. I really do look almost exactly like dad, except that my eyes are a darker green, I don't wear glasses, and my hair isn't quite as messy.
The common room's deserted this early in the morning, but I can hear doors opening and closing, a sign of people starting to wake up and get ready. I sit down on a squishy sofa and pull my book from my backpack. It's a Muggle classic called Prince Caspian, by C. S. Lewis. It's part of The Chronicles of Narnia; which are pretty good, if a bit weird at times.
Fiona comes down an hour later and we head out of the portrait hole. After we wander around for a bit, trying to remember how to get to the Great Hall, we run into Beatrice and a couple of her friends. "Bea!" Fiona calls, running after them. "We can't remember where the Great Hall is!"
Beatrice stops to wait for us. She's in her fourth year and has long ago learned her way around. Beatrice (a.k.a. Bea or Trixie), looks a lot like mum and has the same brown eyes, but her hair is raven black and she has only a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. There's no denying that she took most of the good looks in the gene pool. "Come on, then," she says, and continues on down to breakfast. We follow gratefully. I look around carefully so that I'll later remember the way.
After breakfast, we have Defense Against the Dark Arts along with the Ravenclaws. "Hello class," Professor Jordan says brightly once everyone shows up. "I'm Professor Lee Jordan and I'm going to be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts. The name of the class is pretty self-explanatory.
"There are many ways to defend yourself from unfriendly spells and creatures. Today we'll be starting with one of the most basic forms of defense: disarming your opponent."
Professor Jordan goes on to explain the finer points of the spell, the wand motion, and the incantation: expelliarmus. Twenty minutes into the lesson, Jordan moves the desks and chairs to the side of the room and has us practice disarming each other. I'm paired with Dominic Peatry, who's a very ordinary looking boy with short, light brown hair and a narrow yet square face.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouts. A strong gust of wind hits me, but I manage to hold on to my wand.
When I try to disarm Dominic I only succeed in ruffling his hair. As everyone's practicing, Jordan walks around among the pairs to see how they're doing and correcting them. He reaches me and Dominic when it's my turn again. "Erik!" he says expectantly. "Come on now; let's see how well you can do it!"
"Expelliarmus!" I shout, pointing my wand at Dominic. Again, I only tousle his hair as his wand stays firmly in his hand.
"Oh well, just keep trying," sighs Jordan, moving on to Fiona and Hyacinth. I feel a stir of annoyance at his disappointment. What was he expecting?
Our first afternoon class is History of Magic. A few people have told me about the previous history teacher, Professor Binns. He was the most boring ghost any of them had ever encountered, and I can't believe my good luck.
Last year, Professor Binns mysteriously vanished (some recon that he was finally sick of teaching) to be replaced by Professor Ayala, the coolest, youngest teacher to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts. Or so Bea tells me.
Fiona and I relentlessly search for the History of Magic classroom, but it still takes us half an hour to find it, and we're ten minutes late. We rush into what we're sure is finally the right classroom and almost everybody is already there. "Sorry we're late, Professor," Fiona immediately apologizes as we skid to a stop.
"No problem," Professor Ayala says cheerfully from the front of the room. I can't help but stare. If I didn't know it already, I would've never guessed that she's a teacher. I can't tell exactly how old she is, but Ayala can't be that much older than the seventh years. She's also incredibly pretty. Professor Ayala's obviously Hispanic, with her wavy dark brown hair, big, brown eyes, and warm-looking bronze skin. She's kind of short and curvy.
I sit down in the second row from the front next to Fiona, who quirks an amused eyebrow at me. "What?" I mouth silently. I'm going to pay very close attention in this class.
"Hey everyone, I'm Professor Ayala. This year you all will be learning about the early history of the wizarding world," Ayala begins. She has a really cute Spanish accent. "I could, of course, lecture you on and on, but I'm sure you'd all get very board with that, and so would I. So in this class you'll be doing projects and giving your own opinions as well as learning stuff from the book and listening to me talk.
"This term we'll be covering the ancient wizards of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, as well as a bit about British wizards (but they didn't do many interesting things back then). To start off, what are some of the things you all know about ancient wizards?"
Mine and Fiona's hands go up at the same time, as well as those of a few others. I'm hoping to make a good impression on Professor Ayala. "Yes, ummm," says Ayala, pointing at Fiona.
"Fiona Weasley. Egyptian wizards put all sorts of nasty curses on their tombs that made anyone who broke in grow extra limbs and everything."
"Right," she nods and then looks at me. "Anything else to add? Oh, and everyone, tell me your names when I call on you."
"Erik Potter. I, er, was going to say the same thing."
"Ok…" She moves on to other people. Why did Fiona have to think of the same thing I did? As usual…
After dinner, Fiona and I get about halfway to Gryffindor tower before we have to follow a gaggle of third years for the rest of the way. We're learning. Upon climbing through the portrait hole, I plant myself in a squishy armchair. The only homework assigned is a chapter to read for Transfiguration; I can do that tomorrow.
A moment later, Dominic comes up to me, carrying a stack of cards. "We're looking for people to play spoons, wanna join us?" he asks.
"OK, what are 'spoons'?"
"I'll explain later. Fiona?"
In a few minutes, nine of us are sitting in a circle: me, Fiona, Dom, Jason, Hyacinth, Quin, Aletha, Julian, and Lynetta. "Listen up," says Dominic. He's shuffling a pack of playing cards. "In spoons, you always have four cards and you try to get them to be all of the same suite. The way that's done is that one person has the deck and passes the cards along one by one, sending them around the circle. When you get a card that you need, you keep it and pass on one of your own that you don't need."
He pauses, takes out a handful of spoons from his pocket, and puts all eight of them in a row in the middle of the circle. "I nicked 'em from the Great Hall during dinner," Dom mutters to me and I grin. He then continues, "as soon as you have four cards of a kind, you immediately garb a spoon. Everybody is supposed to grab a spoon too when they see somebody else grab one. There's always one less spoon than there are people, so whoever is left without a spoon is out. Got it?" Heads nod all around.
Dom stops shuffling and deals out the cards. I have a four, a ten, a king, and a queen. Dom picks up a card from the deck, glances at it, and passes it to me. I glance at it (a seven), and pass it on to Julian. We keep going like this for a while; and I replace my four and queen with tens.
Then, Quin snatches up a spoon and we all dive for them. I grab a spoon, but Lynetta is left trying to get at mine, which I quickly hold out of the way. She, and one of the spoons, is out as the game continues.
"How do you sit like that?" Dom wonders, noticing the way I sit, as he shuffles the deck for the third time. (Jason was the second person to be out)
"Why?" I ask, looking down at my lap. I'm sort of kneeling, but my thighs a turned partially inwards so that my lower legs are to the side (on the outside) of them. Fiona's sitting the same way. "I guess I'm just flexible," I say. Dom shakes his head in a bemused way. It probably looks very uncomfortable to him.
Eventually it's down to just Aletha and me; we sit across from each other with the remaining spoon in between. She passes me the cards at top speed and I discard them. Just one more ace…
Aha! I snatch it up, throw aside my non-matching card, and grab the spoon a split second before she realizes that I just won. I "woo hoo!" holding up the spoon. Aletha throws her cards at me, pretending to be mad. Naturally, we all start flinging cards at each other, scattering them all around the common room and making a good deal of noise. I notice one of the fussier Prefects glare at us, but no one cares.