The cloaked figure stood silently leering at the column of bricks that concealed the gateway to platform 9 ¾. His hands gripped a trolley carrying a trunk and a cage holding a raven. Metatron looked at the raven remembering when he had found it, injured and left behind by its unkindness. He remembered being enchanted by its beauty and the wisdom it held behind its piercing black eyes. He had nursed her back to health and put upon her the name of Lanoire, since then she had been the only companion he could rely on. His parents were always occupied and wouldn't under stand him if they tried. They had welcomed his admission to Hogwarts as a way to rid themselves of any illusion of responsibility.
That place. When he first received the letter Metatron was 15. The antediluvian headmaster explained is late arrival as a rare case where one is not born with magical ability but rather brings it upon them through study and metaphysical understanding. They were known to the wizarding world as "mages". He was the youngest mage ever recorded. Metatron had turned from the beliefs of his orthodox family to the study of pagan magicks at the age of 13. His beliefs alienated himself from his "peers", whom he had little respect for anyway, and he welcomed the letter from Hogwarts as a way to free himself of the drudgery of mundane society.
However upon arriving he found that it was merely a different place with the same shit. The same stupid cliques, the same annoying social climbers, the same jock worship, the same moronic teachers, the same belief that standardized tests told everything about you, the same emphasis on memorization rather than understanding. His experience had been trying to say the least. At least Dumbledore had recognized that his late awakening did not mean his skills were inferior and was placed in fifth year. He was placed in Ravenclaw. Having heard the reputations for each house he expected to find intellectually curious people who, like him, sought truth and knowledge above all else, he was sorely disappointed to find them just as brainwashed into thinking that memorizing facts equaled knowledge as the honour roll students of the muggle world. All in all, it was a big disappointment for Metatron who hoping for understanding found just as much alienation at Hogwarts as he had at his old school.
It was all his intellectual curiosity could do to keep him from turning from the platform and never looking back. But he found himself, almost against his will, entering passing through the gate onto platform 9¾. He quickly found a place for his luggage and boarded the train.
As he had come to expect people had already reformed the cliques they had last year. The populars had a car, as did the quidditch players, and so on. The only place for him was a car at the end that he thought was empty, praising the goddess, Metatron sat down and removed a small paper back book and began reading. He was eerily content until the three people he had been dreading meeting all summer entered. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and, the wonder boy himself, Harry fucking Potter.
His dislike of the trio was not jealousy like that tool Malfoy or some statement about his support for this "He-who-must-not-be-named" (or whatever they called him) that everyone seemed to be talking about, he was simply annoyed by them. Potter's tragic hero complex, Granger's need to get better grades (not be smarter just get better grades) than everyone else, and Weasley's lack of any sort of identity for himself instead of clinging to someone else.
Cursing silently, he continued reading despite their loud conversations. It was the same shit he had come to expect from their brood. Potter dominated the conversation somehow being full of self-importance and humility simultaneously. Weasley and Granger continued their veiled flirting. After about an hour without them shutting up Metatron turned around and asked, "Hey, you mind", slightly raising his book so that they would know his intention for the train ride.
Weasley muttered, "How rude" and Hermione chided him but it was clear she agreed. Potter though approached him like an idiot asking, "Hey, what book is that?" Metatron took a deep breath and calmly but chillingly said, "Leave Me The Fuck Alone by You Annoying-Bastard," and returned to his book.
He hadn't wanted to stoop to that level but it shut them up. After a while they started talking again but Metatron said nothing because at least this time they kept it down. As they started to approach the castle Granger said commandingly, we better change. Metatron just sat there as they pulled their foolish robes on. When Hermione began to leer at him, he marked his place, put his book down and stared right back at her, after about a minute he said, "Do you what something?"
"Shouldn't you change", she said.
"I'm already dressed," Metatron replied gesturing at his long black reverends cloak, pants, and poet's shirt.
"I meant your uniform," Hermione replied coldly.
"Very well." Metatron took out his robe and pulled it on.
"You a Ravenclaw?" Harry asked, seeing his cloak.
"Nice deduction Peter Gunn," Metatron said as he replaced his wide brimmed hat.
"Look," Harry said, "all I've tried to do is be nice to you!"
"Oh, did wonder boy get his feelings hurt? Too fucking bad. Not everyone had to like you."
With that Metatron quickly turned and exited the now stopped train.
The sorting was the usual boring stupidity. Fortunately, by providence, he was seated next to the only other person in the whole fucking school who didn't fall into the same cut and dry pattern as everyone else, Luna Lovegood. She was a fellow Ravenclaw but a year younger. They made pleasant conversation and Metatron wondered why he couldn't have sat next to her on the train, it was like a sadistic, lazy, no-talent writer dominated his life.
The sorting was completed and the students made there way to their rooms. Metatron noticed the hiked up security since last year's mess. The mage-distrusting bitch who'd replaced Dumbledore had almost expelled him and he praised the return of the lesser of two evils. The prefect, Cho, opened the door and the Ravenclaw brood poured into the common room. Cho, how had she ever gotten into Ravenclaw? She was an idiot, she had no intellectual drive or natural intelligence. She got mediocre grades and was, to his understanding, a second rate Quidditch player. She clearly got through the school on her looks. She still pined for that tool Cedric who, though Metatron had not met he had gathered enough information to deduce, was a dick. But his death somehow made everyone remember him like a saint. Fucking typical.
The first-years quickly found the rooms and the rest of the students turned in around midnight leaving Metatron alone with a large leather bound tome of the numerological teachings of Pythagoras.
He was happy.
He awoke suddenly on a chair in the Ravenclaw common room the prod of Luna Lovegood.
"Wake up, You'll be late," she said.
He replied with a quick thanks and quickly changed in is room and made his way down for breakfast.
The main hall was loud, noisy, crowded and hellish. Metatron, as a rule, tried not to hate anyone until they had done something to him. But these fuckers made it hard. The endless din of pointless conversation was enough to drive him mad.
He quickly breakfasted and left for his first class, Defense Against the Dark Arts. The teacher was, once again, new. He walked into the classroom and noticed the backwards-facing figure; cloaked in a coat similar to the one Metatron wore under his school-mandated uniform. He turned around and said, "class does not start for half an hour."
"I know," Metatron replied. "I just had to get away from everyone else."
"Well fine, just don't make too much noise. I'm reading."
"Thank you sir."
He quietly read from his volume of the works of the immortal poet, Dante. A blissful half an hour passed until people started coming in. He marked his page and waited for class to begin.
"Welcome to Defense against the Dark Arts," the professor, said when everyone had entered. "I understand that you have only had one proper teacher in the last six years. You are horribly behind and must be caught up."
Metatron smiled, this year would be good.
"My name is Prof. Nietzsche."
Metatron could not help it. He looked up and asked, "Like the philosopher?"
"My ancestor," he replied, "come up here and show me what you know."
"Prof. Nie – umm – Nit- uh … Professor," Hermione said, "He is not a good indicator. He is a mage and was not in school the one year we had a decent teacher."
"It's Nietzsche," the Professor replied, "and I'm also a mage, so I say he's fine."
Metatron walked to the front of the class and took his position concentrating his magickal energy through his cane.
The Professor hurled a curse towards him, Metatron repelled the blast back at him, breaking his defense and rendering him helpless.
The Professor stood up, looking impressed. "Very good, sit down thank you."
"Well it appears you are more advanced than I thought … unless the rest of you are not blessed with exceptional power like Mr. ..."
"Metatron."
"Mr. Metatron over here," here the professor paused and quietly asked Metatron, "Like the angel?"
"Seraph, a personal hero of mine."
"Fair enough," the Professor then continued to the rest of the class, "Mr. Potter lets have you come up and try this as well."
Potter came up, looking rather confident but was downed by the curse when it became apparent that his fancy Patronus wouldn't save him.
"Just as I though. Sit down Mr. Potter. You're power is there but you have no drive. You show off just too damn much."
Metatron smiled again, this would be a good year.
The day finished and Metatron went to the Library to read. As it was the first day of school and most people had no assignments, it was almost empty. Metatron picked out a book on Nordic runes and sat down. He read for a good half-hour before Luna came in. She sat down on that table in front of him silently watching for about 5 or 10 minutes. Metatron finally looked up and the two began to kiss passionately. Luna broke the kiss and took off Metatron's coat. Metatron quickly looked to see if anyone was around and slipped his hand up Luna's shirt.
He awoke suddenly in the library his head laying on the rune-book. He sat for a moment in silence trying to deal with his subconscious's unexpected revelation. He looked at his watch, shook off the feeling and left to eat dinner
The next day Metatron was still trying to forget the previous day's dream. He was in potions as Snape droned on about how everyone but Malfoy was an idiot. He began to doubt any actual learning would occur today and pulled out his copy of Neil Gaiman's The Sandman. Snape caught him and despite Metatron's protests his threw the book into a cauldron, which bubbled and spewed as the book melted.
He found himself waiting outside Dumbledore's office. After waiting for 15 minutes he noticed how remarkably easy it would be to burn the entire fucking school down. There was a small patch where he could tie up a flame spell. The snake feeding on its own tail, destruction powered by destruction. He wondered why not do it? What's stopping him? He thought for a moment but nothing came to mind … until he saw a picture of Luna Lovegood. He sighed and waited another 5 minutes before Dumbledore let him in and gave him a stern lecture about paying attention or some shit like that, then sent him on his way.