The Fifth House Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic

The world of Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, and I can't even get a mortgage.

AN: I wrote about 16k words when I realized this story needs a major rewrite. Large swathes of the following will not appear in the reworked version. But rather than delete it, I thought I'd post it and solicit comments. Thanks for reading.

1 September 2013

A young man, thirteen years of age, though he appeared older due to his height, pushed his luggage cart up to jogging speed and shut his eyes just before he hit the stone barrier. Immediately, he was greeted by the chaos and bustle of Platform 9 3/4. The scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express idled in a cloud of its own steam, building up pressure until the time it would be called upon to bring several hundred tons of students, luggage, and carriages to life. Families gave goodbye hugs and slipped spending money into little hands. Children manhandled bags to demonstrate their responsibility, and an enchanted trunk muscled its way through the crowd behind his owner. Merchants hawked their wares like there was no tomorrow, for the platform would be no where this busy until the beginning of Christmas holidays.

Lucas Sanstead turned as his mother step through the wrought iron archway behind him, blinking in astonishment even though the sights and sounds were not new to her. Isabelle Sanstead had first set foot on Platform 9 3/4 almost exactly seven years ago, he knew, because it had been his first time as well. His sister, Sophie, had started Hogswarts then, and their mother had insisted on seeing her eldest off. Lucas recalled how she hung back and clung to Father's arm as he guided Isabelle through the barrier while an eager Sophie ran ahead.

Despite almost twenty years marriage to a wizard, Isabelle Sanstead still found the magical world a little odd and intimidating. Here, in the multicolored throng of wizards and witches, she looked out of place standing there in her Muggle clothes and clutching her Muggle handbag for support.

Mother and son shared the same dark chestnut hair, but the family remarked he was growing up to match his father's imposing stature and build. The elder Sanstead was once the model of Gryffindor courage and pride, and Lucas hadn't fallen far from the tree.

"It's almost time, you should board. I'll see you off."

"Thanks for coming, Mum. I'll be fine. You can go if you need to," he said, trying to save her some discomfort.

"Your father wanted to come, but..." So I'm here for both of us, went unsaid.

"I know. Give him my love." Parent and child shared a parting embrace, though the mother's arms held on just a little longer. With Lucas at school, there would be no children in the house for several months. Finally, she let go. As the chaos of the platform reached a peak with the imminent departure, she quietly stood, an island in the magical bustle, watching him store his trunk then wave goodbye from a carriage door, and kept on watching until the train disappeared around the bend.

Isabelle released the breath she didn't know she had been holding, and it came out a sigh. Parents were already apparating away with sudden pops, so the platform was filled with what sounded like sporadic, backwards applause. She dodged eye-contact with the vendors as she made her way on foot back to the gate. At least she didn't have to worry about walking into a wall going back out.

Pulling back from the open window, Lucas set about touring the train, systematically peered into compartment windows, looking for his best friend Evie. "Ravenclaws... Gryffindors... Hi, Matthew... Hufflepuffs, but no Evie..." he muttered to himself. Students already were getting down to the business of catching up, playing Exploding Snap, and trading chocolate frog cards. They were also self-segregating by house, he noted in the back of his mind.

Crossing into the next car, he heard a commotion from up ahead and saw Leo Stone coming the other way. "Leo, what is it?"

"Oh, just some Slytherin fighting. Nothing to do with me."

"Aren't you prefect now?" Lucas nodded at the silver pin with a capital P on his senior's lapel. "Shouldn't you do something?"

Stone was one of the new prefects for Gryffindor. Though only slightly taller and slightly heavier built than the average fifth year, crowned with a shock of dirty blond hair, his cocksure confidence gave him presence and weight in the house. "I told you, not my business. Who cares what happens to Slytherin, eh? I'm due in the prefect's carriage." Stone excused himself and slipped by in the narrow hallway.

Lucas glared at the retreating back but said nothing. Continuing forward, he was not surprised to find Malacius Viperii and his cronies, Finley and Callum, already causing a stir. The three had donned their severe black school robes, resembling an execution squad more than a trio of students. However instead of picking on some poor student, Finley Malvern - Malacius' favored lieutenant - was shouting at his boss, and quite loudly too. Malacius lounged length-wise on a bench, back against the wall, feet propped up, one arm behind his head, with a smile of smug satisfaction across his lips.

"... betray mine, and you have the gall to still order..." Finley raged, but Lucas only half-heard the conversation as he noticed a child, almost certainly an incoming first year, standing in the compartment, visibly afraid but not moving from the spot. The boy looked vaguely familiar.

"Yes, yes," the tall, thin Malacius waved Finley down with a patronizing hand. "I expected this fuss. Now that you've gotten it off your chest, you may go." The lazy wave transfigured into a shooing motion. Finley's color deepened beneath his kempt black hair, and he pulled out his wand. But this was exactly the reaction Malacius was fishing for. Probably. It was hard to tell with Malacius as he played with his cards close to his chest.

Lucas paused in the doorway, his manner intimating he had no wish to embroil himself in the argument. A Gryffindor intruding when Slytherin wands were drawn was like feeding a dragon firewhiskey. Instead, he hissed in the direction of the first year.

Callum Sedleigh, the big silent one of Malacius' goons, now had his own wand in hand but was pointing it at no one in particular. "Finley, I don't think that will help things."

"Yes, don't start anything you can't finish," said blonde boy in the corner with a leering grin. Malacius had a habit of saying, "Yes," in an infuriatingly condescending manner, as if Callum had remarked that galleons were shiny. His manner was relaxed, but a wand had magically appeared at his fingertips as well.

Lucas' gestures for the kid to leave the compartment became increasingly frantic, but the black-haired youth wasn't looking at him, transfixed as he was by an imminent wandfight. Lucas racked his mind. What wand motion do you use to Shield another person? But he came up empty.

Finley's eyes, honed by seeker training to read details, noted Callum's body language: he held his wand neutrally, but Callum kept his eyes on Malacius. Playing beater for the Slytherin quidditch team, Callum habitually watched the greatest threat. If push came to shove, Finley guessed, Callum would side with him. But he wasn't sure, and now wasn't the time for subtlety.

"Callum," said Finley, not taking his eyes off Malacius' wand arm for, despite his arrogance, the scion of Viperii was an excellent duelist. "Between us, we can take him."

"Why should he? My father hasn't done anything to his family... yet." He let the threat hang in the air. "You seem to be under the impression he'll follow you in this rebellion."

"This is not a rebellion. Your family turned on mine first, and-"

Malacius gave another dismissive wave. "Yes, yes-" Sickles were silver colored.

A growl rumbled from Finley's throat and he raised his wand. Callum reached out to stop, but it was over in a blink.

Finley saw the first wand movements of Malacius' favorite curse: the full Body-Bind Curse, which left the victim helpless but had no other ill effects to distract from how vulnerable they suddenly were. And Malacius was extremely fast with it.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Protego!"

A bolt of green shot from Malacius' wand and bounced off Finley's shield. And ricocheted into the nearby first year, just as Malacius hoped, which was not hard in these close quarters. The child fell to the floor, body rigid as a plank. And as Finley turned to see what happened, that was all the distraction Malacius needed for his next hex cut through a weak spot in Finley's Shield charm. A moment later, another thump announced another body hitting the floor.

From his vintage point on the rocking floor of the train, Finley watched as Malacius' satisfied smirk floated into view, standing triumphantly above him. When suddenly it was obscured by the enormous shadow of Callum. "Stop, sir. Please." Callum's voice spoke deference, gentleness, and of mercy, which most did not expect from the hulking boy.

Callum had a large weight advantage over Malacius, but Lucas could see who was in charge of the situation. Like a river levy, the bigger boy could impede the flood, but he could not stop the water if it was determined.

Lucas took advantage of the lull to pull the first year from the compartment, though he was finding it hard to Locomortis the body out the door without banging it in his rush. Behind him, Malacius grinned, savoring the moment. The Slytherin made a show of leisurely putting away his wand and folding his arms behind his back before answering. "Why should I?"

"Professor Slughorn says, 'Violence is the crudest form of power,'" Callum quoted their house master.

Malacius thought a while then gracefully acceded. "Well, we Viperii are anything but crude." He resumed his lounging pose in the corner of the compartment. "I think I've made my point. Dispose of him, then return."

Lucas had already slipped away with the first year in tow. Callum didn't bother with Levicorpus but simply hefted Finley onto his back, though it felt odd that he didn't bend as most bodies do. He maneuvered Finley through the door and just as it closed said, "I don't know if I'll be returning," then disappeared down the corridor.

Callum had a reputation as being the dumb muscle, but even he wasn't so stupid as to wait around for Malacius' reaction. He trooped down the train after Lucas.

AN: This is a fanfic about Hogwarts. It's after the war. Life goes on, not just for the original power trio, but for the rest of the world as well. A generation of students has graduated since The Deathly Hallows, but Hogwarts is still there, just like your school when you graduated.

While the setting is all J.K. Rowling, the greatest influences on this fic are the early stories of P.G. Wodehouse, which capture all of the fun of school without the schoolwork: the friendships, the rivalries, how quidditch matches are the most important thing ever, and about breaking the rules right under the professors' noses. If you liked the school bits of Harry Potter, I suggest reading 'Mike,' especially the second half 'Enter Psmith.' Just replace all references to cricket with quidditch.

Reviews welcome. What do you think of the characters so far?