A HOGWARTS TALE
Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's characters. I only claim ownership of new characters introduced by myself.
Author's Note: This is the very first time I wrote a fanfiction story (and not just in the Harry Potter world) so I would appreciate any feedback - positive or negative - you can give me. Please note that English is not my first language and I have no beta, so be gentle.
CHAPTER ONE
The light of the sun waned as the train covered its last miles towards its destination. The view had been pleasant enough when they set off, but had gradually become more stunning over the hours. Suburbs became meadows, meadows became hills. The occasional lake would shimmer in the sunlight, its ripples increasing or nearly disappearing as gusts of wind came and went. It appeared the further they travelled away from London's train station, the more magical the surroundings seemed to get. Regina had her own ideas about what any actual 'magical' surrounding would look like precisely, but that and many other things she had yet to find out for herself. And yet here she was, already wearing the black school robe and cloak all first year students had had to purchase; seated in one of numerous compartments of the Hogwarts Express.
She had heard many tales about this School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her bedridden grandfather would often tell her of the joyful years he spent at Hogwarts. Her favourite one out of all his stories, though, was when he told of how exuberant her father Reginald – who she had been named after – had been when his first letter had arrived. Her grandfather would smile sadly when he spoke of his son. He and Regina missed him so, as did her Muggle mother Gwendolyn. The latter had seen her world collapse when she lost her husband. Though she grieved for his death, she was also angry at her late husband for leaving her behind to raise Regina by herself. Even as a toddler Regina had looked a lot like her father, so Gwendolyn had had no trouble taking it all out on this miniature version of Reginald from then on. She would often remind her daughter how respectable a man her father had been, and wondered out loud why he hadn't passed down those genes to his daughter. She didn't have to think twice about using her husband's authority as her own when ordering her daughter around either. 'If your father was still alive you wouldn't have dreamed of disobeying him, so do as I say!' or: 'You are a disgrace to the name of Garland! What would your father have to say about that?' When her mother used the Garlands' name to pressure her, Regina would wisely bite her tongue so as not to blurt out which one of them the Garland was and which one the Muggle. The young girl couldn't get her head round the fact that a decent wizard like her father had married a vicious woman like her. In ways such as these, Gwendolyn's frequent use of her husband's death to excuse her actions drove Regina mad with frustration and grief.
All in all, it moved Regina greatly to hear her grandfather talk about her father's life, though her mother would of course regularly interrupt them. Once, Gwendolyn had been highly displeased when her father-in-law dug up an anecdote of one of Reginald's not so brilliant and even downright foolish acts and she caught Maxwell Garland and his granddaughter both laughing warmly at the memory.Gwendolyn had snarled at them both to 'shut their mouths, and how dare they speak so disrespectfully of Reginald in the house of his birth!' When Regina's grandfather protested to her absurd insinuations, Gwendolyn had thrown a fit and threatened to throw him out of her house, because yes, he had heard that right, it still was her house!
Regina envied the Muggle girls in her class who had a good relationship with their mothers. She found it harder and harder to ignore her mother's cutting remarks, though she found comfort in her grandfather and the stories he told her. When the kindly old man shared his memories of his son, it allowed Regina to put an image of her father together piece by piece; and she stored it well into her memory and relived it in her dreams.
As it was, when her grandfather spoke of the school his grey eyes would light up and his voice would often trail off as he brought up many fond memories of his stay at Hogwarts. She would beg for more stories about how he rode his first broom, managed his first proper charm or brew his first successful potion. She would sit by his bed and listen to him for hours as he reminisced the good old days, recalling even the smallest details of the castle. He had been a Hufflepuff, while his son had been a Gryffindor, so she was told. When Regina asked if her grandfather thought she would make a good Gryffindor as well, he would kindly assure her she would do great no matter which house she would be placed in.
Suffice to say the 11 year old girl was tremendously looking forward to step in her family's footsteps and become a witch.
It had not yet been morning when the letter came. She had practically been bouncing off the walls in excitement when she showed the parchment to her grandfather, a huge grin plastered on her face. The next day, her mother had taken her to by far the oddest neighbourhood she had ever been to, to purchase her school supplies. Gwendolyn had given her money to buy the books she would need, school garments, a wand (this one purchase had particularly excited the young girl), a kettle stuffed to the rim with potion and other supplies, and finally: a cat. Regina had never been allowed a pet before, and was pleasantly surprised to say the least when her mother barked at her to 'pick one from the shop, silly girl, what are you waiting for?'
Said feline was now snoozing and purring softly on her lap as Regina watched the sloping landscape pass by. She had spend most of the journey like this; absently stroking Oddball (a name the black cat with one blue and one yellow eye and a peculiar temper most definitely deserved) and watching the scenery. She wasn't really anti-social by nature – just a bit too shy for her own good perhaps – but the group of fellow first years she shared this compartment with had been particularly rude. The muscular boy sitting next to her on the far end of the bench would have looked very fearsome if it wasn't for his ridiculous pudding bowl haircut. On the opposite bench and facing his more muscular friend sat a thick-set boy with bristly hair. Next to him and thus closest to Regina, a blond boy with a pale and pointed face was perched on the bench. Regina noted the latter did most of the talking.
She had gladly enjoyed the silence when they left the compartment for a while, but when they returned the thick-set boy clutched his knuckles with a handkerchief and she could see it had small blood marks on it. He had apparently injured himself, and his particularly foul mood was clearly catching.
They had barely acknowledged her presence most of the time – something she didn't regret after overhearing parts of their slanderous conversations (she noted most of them involved poking fun at someone named Potter) and sneering remarks about passing students. At some point, though, the boy with the formerly bleeding knuckles had clearly said something amusing at her expense. At least that's what she assumed when the three as one turned their heads in her direction. They stared at her long enough to make her decisively uncomfortable; the thick-set one and his muscular comrade sniggering like loons, the pale blond boy thoughtful for a mere moment before a distinct smirk spread on his face. Regina didn't see his expression turn into a sly smile; she turned her head quickly, felt herself colouring a little and let her gaze fall to her lap where Oddball was cleaning his fur.
Regina decided then and there she didn't like them one bit.
That had been about an hour ago, as far as she could tell, but she still couldn't quite understand what was so bloody funny about her. She was just as plain as any other girl, and in her own opinion even more so. She was neither tall nor short for her age and skinny as a twig. She inherited the grey eyes of her father's side and her mother's raven hair, though hers was much longer and less well looked after than her mother's. At this moment it hung loosely over her left shoulder in a thick braid. There was nothing too peculiar about her face either, at least she didn't think so, and her clothes were now the same as any student's. It could have been her glasses, though. But still, she was hardly the only one who wore glasses on this train and she didn't even find hers that horrible. Or was it Oddball? He did look a tad scruffy; she had to admit that much. But what did they expect? Cats are predators, so obviously not all of them are meant to look like they've just returned from a beauty salon.
She was still caught up in her own thoughts when she noticed the train was slowing down. Not wanting to embarrass herself further, she decided to wait until the three boys had left before she started packing her belongings. She found the garments she wore looked more comfortable than they actually were, and nearly tripped over them when she hauled her cabin trunk onto the platform, almost squashing Oddball under her arm as she did so. The cat wheezed indignantly and squirmed until he was freed of her grip and leapt to the ground. "Oddball, no!" she yelled out, but the cat had already darted into the crowd and vanished from her sight.
She mingled with the other students as they shuffled towards the sound of a booming voice bidding the first year students to leave their luggage and follow him. She soon discovered the voice belonged to a colossal man dressed entirely in pelts, most of which had belonged to ferrets. When she found she had sufficiently given in to the – very understandable – urge of simply gaping at him, Regina only listened to his words of welcome with one ear. The rest of her attention was aimed at detecting possible clues about the whereabouts of her cat. Still scanning the ground for a flash of black fur or uneven eyes, she trotted along with the rest of the students as they were led towards an anchorage where many small boats awaited them. While some of the students were already finding themselves a seat, she helplessly whirled around her own axis to find Oddball – until she spotted a furry black figure dashing off, skilfully avoiding bumping into one of the many legs on his path.
Once she had elbowed her way to the spot she had seen her cat disappear to, though, she had already lost sight of him again. Her eyes flicked back and forth as she gazed at the ground, muttering things such as 'where did that stupid beast go?', 'I should've got an owl' and 'bloody cat'. She was so caught up in her search she didn't see the pair of feet approaching her until she bumped into their owner. She was about to mutter an apology when she saw the person was holding her cat.
"Oddball!"
"I believe this 'bloody cat', as you so well put it, is yours?" She looked up to see the blond boy from the train grinning down at her. Fan-bloody-tastic. The last thing she needed right now was for this stuck-up bully to have another laugh at her expense.
"Yes, he is. Thanks," she murmured as she took over the now dubiously calm feline from him. She gave the cat a filthy glare; Oddball on the other hand looked at her so smugly you would think he had just caught her something far bigger than a mouse. Regina narrowed her eyes further and held the cat closely to her chest, determined not to let him slip away again.
Much to her dismay, she found the blond boy was still standing in front of her. He made no effort whatsoever to conceal his smirk. He was clearly amused by her demeanour, so Regina thought. She felt herself colouring a little again and made a figurative attempt to glue her eyes to the cat in her arms. "Um… We'd better hurry if we want to catch a seat," was her murmured suggestion.
The boy snorted. "'Seat'? I wouldn't quite call it that. We'd be very fortunate not to sink, anyway," he mocked. Have you seen how utterly worn the material these things are made out of is? Couldn't carry the weight of a squirrel, let alone four students if you ask me." Suddenly the boy's thick-set, bristly-haired friend appeared at his side. Regina now noted he was almost two feet taller than herself, a bit taller even than the blond boy. The boy who had caught her cat looked him up and down and added sneeringly: "Especially not if they're all built like Goyle here." Regina smiled nervously. They really should get to a boat now, falling apart or not. And why she was still talking to this villain – because he really did give her the creeps – she had no idea.
She was saved when the Mount in ferret pelts who called himself Hagrid prompted them to 'climb aboard now, com' on, an' why were you kids still standin' there in the first place'? Regina hurriedly crawled into the boat Hagrid was in, already accompanied by two other students. All the while she clutched Oddball firmly to her chest like her life depended on it.
Once she had sat herself down as comfortably as possible, she noticed to her relief that the blond boy strode to the other side of the anchorage to one of the few boats with less than four passengers. The thick-set boy she now knew as Goyle was sent off to find his own spot somewhere else after much arm-waving and shouting from the blond one. "I will not go down with this wonky excuse for a boat because your granny doesn't know when to stop force-feeding you cookies! Gerrof!" it echoed. She couldn't help but grin.
"Bi' shenshi'ive, tha' Malffoy, ain' he?" A tall boy with bright red hair and a mouth full of candy elbowed his dark-haired friend and grinned. The shorter boy with glasses chortled. "How many times must I tell you? Talk first, stuff your mouth later. I didn't understand a word of that." The red-haired boy adopted a pained expression and swallowed what was left of the candy all at once. He turned slightly pinkish, that way partly camouflaging his freckles for the briefest of moments. The boats chose this moment to set sail, although Regina thought you couldn't really call it that. Were they moving entirely on their own or was she imagining things? Surprised cries from other students and the redhead's quiet 'wow' confirmed her suspicions. When they had adequately uttered their astonishment and awe, the red-haired boy – the shade of his face now returned to normal completely – turned once more to his friend.
"As I was saying, Harry," he started, excessively emphasising every syllable, "bit sensitive, that Malfoy, isn't he?" He puffed out his chest and did his best to look smug and superior. "Draco the Dreadful, lord and ruler of the wizard world if you have to take his word for it, but scared of getting a wee bit wet." The red-haired boy collapsed into giggles and it looked like there was a fairly good chance he would wet himself he was laughing so hard. The boy named Harry also laughed out loud, and Regina found her grin couldn't broaden any more so she chuckled as well.
It was only then the two boys seemed to notice her. "Oh hello," the redhead said, recovering from his laughing fit. "I'm Ron Weasley," he said, holding out his hand. While she shook it, he continued: "And this is Harry Potter." Harry looked vaguely uncomfortable when Ron introduced him, but shook her hand anyway and greeted her. "Hi. I'm Regina Garland." Ron studied her face for a while as if expecting some sort of reaction from her, but she had no idea what she was supposed to react to. Was there some kind of wizard etiquette in greeting she wasn't informed about?
"What," Ron blurted out, "no 'Harry POTTER?! Is he really… Oh my god!'" He continued stammering and gibbering, so Regina was led to believe he was doing a rather well impression of a hyperactive fan-girl when she met a band member or actor she had a crush on.
"Ron," Harry murmured, clearly feeling very awkward by now. Ron laughed: "Oh Harry, you have to admit it: The famous Harry Potter! Judging from all the staring and giggling girls – and boys, mind you – we bumped into on the train, you'd expect everyone to know about you, wouldn't you?"
Regina suspected she might feel as uncomfortable as Harry Potter did by now. At least now she knew why Harry had looked so uncomfortable when they were introduced, but she felt she had clearly missed something here. "I'm awfully sorry," she started, "but I can't say I've ever heard of you." She shrugged apologetically.
Harry looked slightly relieved and looked like he was about to say it didn't matter in the slightest, but Ron butted in. "The Boy who Lived? The only one to ever have survived You-know-who's deadly curse?" He gaped at her meaningfully with eyes opened wide. Harry shifted slightly in his seat, his face reddening a little. Regina's eyebrows shot up to meet her hairline at the mention of he who shall not be named, but she could only shake her head apologetically as an answer. "Blimey!" Ron exclaimed. He turned to his friend again. "Well Harry, it seems you have one less shrieking fan-girl to worry about." He grinned when he added: "Not that you lack those, really." Harry gave his friend a playful punch in the ribs. "Oh, shut it, you."
Suddenly something dawned upon Regina. "Wait, I think I may have heard your name after all." Ron shot Harry a triumphant look which unmistakably said 'I told you so'. "But it had nothing to do with You-know-who," she added hurriedly upon seeing Harry's expression. "That blond boy you called Draco Malfoy and those silly friends of his…" She bent forward slightly and lowered her voice. "They were talking about you on the train." When the two of them wanted to know what they had to say, Regina shrugged and told them she hadn't really been paying attention. This was no lie, but still she had overheard more than enough to know Malfoy thoroughly disliked Harry. The blond boy had not been very polite when he had spat out the name 'Potter'. She felt reluctant to tell them that, though she wasn't sure why exactly.
"So you mean you had to spend the entire way in a compartment with Malfoy?" Ron pulled a face. He seemed to genuinely feel sorry for her. "We got in a real quarrel with that git and we didn't even have to see his arrogant snout half as much as you did!"
Regina was intrigued. "You had a fight? Oh, is that why one of them had bleeding knuckles?"
Harry chuckled. "Yes, but not by our doing. We had Ron's brave rat to thank for that." Ron sat up a bit in an attempt to make himself look even taller and radiated pride. He softly patted a somewhat bulgy fold in his garment. "Scabbers didn't like the sight of three bullies trying to steal his owner's candy, did you now?" His hand went to reach for his rat but Regina hurriedly shook her head and cast a meaningful look at the cat on her lap. "I'm sure you could think of a better ending to Scabbers' day of glory, am I right?" she grinned.
Caught up in their conversation as they were, they hadn't noticed the boats had almost reached the shore. Hagrid stood, making their boat wobble like mad, resulting in the three students clutching the edge like their lives depended on it. Regina was having a particularly hard time trying not to slide off her seat, as she had Oddball to look after as well. Hagrid shouted out to all students to remain seated until the boats had dragged themselves to shore. "Bloody hell! He could've thought of that himself before he nearly sent us to the bottom of the lake," Ron muttered quietly.
Once all of them had got out of the boats and stood safely on the shore of the lake, Hagrid led the way to the castle. It was every bit as huge as her grandfather had described, Regina noted with delight. The towers were countless and the great doors through which they were about to pass could have allowed even the largest dragon to enter.
Moments before they reached the doors to what she would soon discover was the Great Hall, Regina noticed the students had gone remarkably quiet. Her heart raced as she recalled what her grandfather had told her so many times: How all first year students were to be sorted into their houses at the first evening of their stay. She didn't think she had ever been more nervous in her life.
They passed their baggage before entering the Hall, so Regina took the opportunity to put Oddball in his cage. A few trunks ahead, she saw Ron taking his rat from his inner pocket and unceremoniously stuffing it into a satchel that hung from his luggage. Several owl cages, shrieking birds included, were already piled onto the heap of suitcases and trunks.
When the doors flung open, she trotted after the rest of the students and into the Hall. She wondered in awe at the enchanted ceiling her grandfather had often bragged about. A ghost passed them by, excusing himself but he was rather at the late side. She stared at him wide-eyed – more through him, actually – as did many other students. Her grandfather had assured her ghosts and floating candles were only the beginning of the magic she would encounter at Hogwarts. Despite her nerves, she was also getting increasingly excited.
The four long house tables crowded with older students alone were bad enough to make her feel ill at ease already; each and every face was now turned in the newcomers' direction. But now she spotted the long table at which the teachers sat – some smiling in a friendly manner, others with expressions that suggested they would rather be somewhere else at the time – she felt her stomach turn. The main reason for this was not the presence of intimidating professors in witchcraft and wizardry, though. In front of the teachers' table stood a stool upon which lay the thing she had simultaneously looked forward to and dreaded most: The Sorting Hat. Behind it stood a tall, elderly wizard with a ridiculously long, white beard. He wore colourful wizard robes and a pointy hat which looked like it had seen better days, and introduced himself as Headmaster Dumbledore. He bade the new students welcome at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but Regina's attention was focused solely on the worn, dirty hat on the stool in front of him.
Her grandfather had told her about how he had got sorted. It hadn't taken the Hat long to decide, he admitted, but in his year there had also been some students who had sat on that stool for almost five whole minutes! And what if the Hat decided she couldn't be sorted at all? That she hadn't enough witches' blood in her veins? That her magical abilities were far beyond salvation or even nonexistent; that not even a wizard school as ancient and experienced as Hogwarts could teach someone with this little talent?
She had been so caught up in her worries that she had missed half the welcoming speech already. She tried to focus, but the particularly distressing image of the Hat bursting out into laughter as it was placed onto her head fought for her attention.
When the first student was called forth by a strict looking witch with square-framed glasses Dumbledore had introduced as professor McGonagall, she came back to her senses. The girl who shuffled towards the professor was rather small for her age and looked so jumpy Regina feared she would be scared to death once the Hat started talking to her. Though she not often realised it, she was privileged to have heard so many things about Hogwarts – talking Hats, see-through ghosts and floating candles could not catch her off-guard.
Or that's what she kept telling herself.
'Abbott, Hannah' was sorted into Hufflepuff. A round of applause emerged from the table of said house, and Hannah was given friendly nudges and pats on the shoulder when she went to sit with the rest of her house. Perhaps this wouldn't turn out to be so horrible after all, Regina thought to herself.
Draco Malfoy's friend, who she now found out was named 'Crabbe, Vincent', got sorted into Slytherin. Several of the Gryffindors booed, but Slytherin's cheers overpowered them.
As she waited for her turn, Regina tried not to ponder about which house she suspected she would be sorted into. At home she had contemplated the various possibilities dozens of times, of course, but had never quite come up with a satisfying answer. If she had any preference at all, though, she would of course want to be a Gryffindor, like her father before her. If there was anything she could do to stir up her mother's currently nonexistent pride of her, it would definitely be being sorted into Gryffindor. If, on the other hand, there was anything that could make Regina sink even lower in her mother's esteem, it would most likely be ending up in Slytherin. What she did realise, though, is that her mother only loved one house and hated the other because of her father. As a Gryffindor, Reginald Garland had got involved in many a quarrel with members of the Slytherin house. 'As he should have. It was his right and duty towards his house!' her mother would say. The feud between the lions and the snakes seemed to Gwendolyn the most natural thing on earth, even if she had only heard of it and not experienced it herself. Regina's grandfather on the other hand had always been fairly neutral towards the Slytherins. As a kindly and tolerant Hufflepuff, he assured his granddaughter all houses were equally matched. All four of them had brought and would still bring forth great wizards and witches.
Still, Regina thought that if a clear numskull like Crabbe got sorted into Slytherin, where folk were after all supposed to be 'cunning', she dreaded to think how bad the older students must be; which was a second reason why she would gladly be sorted into any other house.
Or did prejudices of that kind in fact prove her worthy of Slytherin?
"Garland, Regina."
She gulped upon hearing her name. Were there really no more students whose last name began with an 'F'? She took a deep breath and bit her lip nervously. This was it, then.