1 - A Wet Welcome
The rainstorm had started as soon as everybody had deboarded the Hogwarts Express, almost as though it had been waiting for the perfect time to strike. For everybody but the first-years, this wasn't a problem. They simply hurried to their waiting carriages and rode in dry peace to the castle. The first-years, however, were left in the lurch of pouring rain, herded together by a particularly large teacher under a hideously pink umbrella. In the center of what surely looked like a group of huddled mice to any of the owls cowering in the nearby trees, stood a boy a half-head higher than those around him.
Martin Malagot was eleven-and-a-half years old, with today being his half-birthday. Though this wasn't ever an occasion for celebration, it was something he always took note of and with a bitter grin, wondered if it was anything more than coincidence that it and his situation lined up. The rain was cold and hard enough to almost hurt. The yellow streetlamps did little under the watery veil. As they reached the crest of the nearby hill, Martin gave the Express one last glance, with its dim lights now just a smudge of color in the rain.
"Seems silly that we have to take the long way." muttered Martin , pointing his complaint at nobody in particular. He was nearly sure it had gotten lost in the rain when a girl in front of him turned a bit over her shoulder, a long few curls of bright yellow hair spilling out from under her hood.
"My brother says that this is how all first-years have to go." She said over the rain. A few students around them noticeably turned to her voice, though most preferred to keep their heads down.
"Even in rain like this?" said Martin, "One would think they'd make exception."
"My brother says-" The yellow-haired girl began to say, but was cut short by the sudden appearance of Hogwarts castle on the high cliff overlooking the lake. Through the rain, only the lights and general shape could be seen, but its prominence was enough to capture the attention of nearly every student there. Martin looked up at it with a general interest, more concerned really with getting inside and drying off.
The narrow path they'd been walking on opened up, removing the dark treeline and replacing it with a tremendously large lake. Despite the path continuing onward, the large man lead them to a nearby jetty, where a fleet of wooden rowboats floated on the beaten water. He gave his umbrella a twirl and the water that had filled them vanished. After instructing them no more than four a boat, everybody began to nervously board.
Once everybody had been seated, the boats began to move, gliding through the rain-churned waters as calmly as though the rain didn't exist. Martin sat as squat as a mushroom, hugging himself pointlessly. Halfway through the journey did he notice the yellow-hair girl was sitting across from him. She was turned at the waist to continue her amazement. Her hood had fallen off, showing now a full head of matted yellow curls. She turned to look at Martin with an amazed expression.
"Isn't it brilliant?" She said.
"Looks like any other school I've ever seen." Martin grumbled. Yellow hair gave him a strange look before turning back to gawk.
The boats carried them across the lake a tunnel in the cliff. The removal of the rain was a sudden, intense relief. The temperature had not changed from outside the tunnel, but now felt like sitting next to a fireplace. The yellow-haired girl sat forward again, her excitement splashed across her face. From inside her robes she took a rolled-up bit of cloth, which when shook turned into a pointy witch's hat. She sat in on her head, the angle obscuring one of her bright blue eyes. She peered the other towards Martin, catching him looking at her as he wrung out his sleeves.
"My brother got it for me." She said. Martin nodded.
From the rocky little underground pier, pink-umbrella led them up to a courtyard that housed the big oak doors of the castle. The rain, seemingly excited to see them again, once more bit their shoulders and heavied their clothes. Yellow-hair's hair drooped sadly, looking much like Martin felt. Pink-umbrella banged three times on the doors. Much to Martin's relief, then opened swiftly.
Inside, an elderly witch met them under one of the big arching passageways. Dressed in green robes with a hat much pointier than yellow-hair, she began talking on about house names and dormitories. Martin stood still hugging himself, now somewhat colder than outside due to his robes still being just as wet. The witch was midway through explaining house points when Martin could no longer bare it and flew up his hand. The witch came to a curious stop and pointed her stern expression Martin's way.
"Ma'am, I was wondering when we could change into dry clothes." He asked. The smallest hint of a smile fluttered across the witch's face.
"Of course." She said, lifting a wand from inside her robes. She swept it across the space in front of her and just like that everybody's clothes became as dry as they'd been back in London.
"Thank you." said Martin, sticking his hands into his pockets. The witch continued, Martin drifting in and out enough to understand the basic gist of what was being said. When she finished, the witch made everybody line up single-file and then marched them into the Great Hall.
The Great Hall was just that. With hundreds of candles floating casually in the air above tremendously long tables that ran vertically to the horizontal teacher's tables up front, with a ceiling that reflected the moody grey rainfall sky so well that Martin almost expected to again become drenched. The witch that led them in hurried along to set up a three-legged stool on which she placed a hat much like yellow-hair's in front of him, but much, much older. She took a sidestep from it, giving a few minutes of silence before a wide stitch opened in the front and the hat began to sing.
By the end of the song, Martin found himself tapping his toe, the sound not unlike a lazy woodpecker. It filled the sudden silence, turning the attention of many nearby students to Martin. The first-year in line behind him gave him a little shove, knocking him into yellow-hair who gave a look of stern disapproval.
The pointy-hat witch next to the hat stepped forward, this time unfurling a roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you shall step forward and be sorted!"
So she began. One by one, first-years were singled out of line to go and put on the elder hat. Martin looked up and down the line. He was suddenly curious as to why they had to be 'sorted' this way. In his years of primary before receiving his acceptance owl, students were put into classes according to their age and grade-a simple, straightforward method of putting people where they needed to be.
"MALAGOT, MARTIN!" The witch yelled. With a resolute sigh, Martin walked up to the front and put on the hat. It fell nearly over his eyes, just so that he could still see most of the hall, but also the underside of the wide brim. For a moment, nothing happened, then a distant voice spoke.
"Hmm-hmm-hmm. Quite the serious one, aren't you? But not serious enough to deter your determination. Maybe Slytherin, perhaps? No, no...that's too much a different kind of serious...alright, then."
"RAVENCLAW!" The hat bellowed and the nearby Ravenclaw table cheered. Martin removed the hat, nodded respectfully at the nearby witch and hurried off to sit down. A few hands extended as he made his way to the empty spot near the far end, to which Martin obliged either handshakes or slaps, depending on position.
"NEA, CHARLOTTE!" The witch yelled. Yellow-hair broke out of line and nearly ran up to the hat, only just containing herself as she replaced her own hat with the sorting one. It covered her eyes wholly. She sat for the same few moments as Martin did, legs crossed, holding her hat neatly in her lap.
"RAVENCLAW!" Shouted the hat. Once more the table around Martin erupted into applause and Charlotte blushed pink as she found the empty seat across from Martin, re-fixing her hat onto her head. She watched the rest of the sorting with the same excitement that she'd carried to this point, clapping hard at each student sorted. Once every first-year was found at their respective tables, the headmaster took the podium. Martin daydreamed through the following speech, part imagining what new things he was going to learn and part wishing the speech (and its surrounding riff raff) would end.
When the food appeared, filling the various plates and bowls, Martin flinched out of his thoughts. He looked hungrily up and down the table. Charlotte was carefully scooping little domes of potatoes onto her plate. Martin took a few pork chops and a pile of steamed carrots, biding his time until the potatoes were free. He reached to take them from Charlotte's hand before they even touched the table. She peered at him from under her hat, at first somewhat pensive, then with a broad smile.
"My brother says this is the best food in all of Britain." She said.
"Sure looks that way." Martin said, burying his carrots and pork chops under potatoes.
"He's just graduated last year." Charlotte continued, "Working at the Ministry now."
"Oh yeah?" said Martin. He had found a slight annoyance at being roped into the conversation. He filled his mouth, listening to Charlotte go on about her brother's prestige. The students next to them had turned to occupy their own engagements, leaving both Martin and Charlotte alone at the end of the benches.
"My mum was so happy when my owl came." Charlotte said, "Though-I think she'd prefer me in Gryffindor."
"A house is a house." spat Martin through potatoes, "Doesn't really matter."
"Of course it matters!" said Charlotte indignantly, "My brother was in Gryffindor and loved it very much!"
"He would have liked any house he was put into." said Martin. He had cleared half his plate and was scraping his fork through leftover gravy. Charlotte peered at him from under her hat. He could feel her preparing a further lecture. It was the same kind of steady pause that his mother would use right before dressing him down. He spun a few more spirals into his gravy.
"Water!" He said, looking up suddenly enough to make Charlotte flinch. Her mouth closed quickly, exactly the effect Martin desired. He looked up and down the table, "Where's the water?"
"There's pumpkin juice." said Charlotte, pointing at a nearby pitcher. Martin looked at it flatly before filling his cup. He wrinkled his nose at the taste and Charlotte, sitting now with her head in her hands, watched him as though she knew exactly how he was going to react.
"I just want water." explained Martin, meeting her skeptical stare. He leaned to look down the length of the table. The only pitchers he could see were those full of pumpkin juice. He began to raise his hand, only to quickly withdraw it as he saw how much conversation was occurring at the teacher's table.
With a sigh, he found an empty cup nearby and set it before him. From inside his robe he withdrew his wand. He steadied the tip against the rim. Charlotte sat up straight, holding up her palms in sudden panic.
"W-what are you doing?" She asked.
"My mom uses this spell all the time, don't worry." Martin said.
"Y-y-you can't! You can't c-cast spells in here!"
Martin gave her nervous stutter a genuine smile. He then hit the edge of the cup with his wand and said sternly "Aguamenti!" There was a cannon blast of water from the tip of his wand. Everything on the table between Martin and Charlotte was exploded into the air. Charlotte herself was thrown backwards from the force of it, bowling into Gryffindor students who had turned to look at just that moment. Martin, who had flown the other way and into a row of Slytherin, had knocked his head against their table. He saw stars upon impact. He became incredibly dizzy, so much that trying to get to his feet only caused him to fall, much to the pleasure of all the students around him.
He got to his knees, head still swimming. Before he could try to get to his feet again, somebody had wrestled him under the arms and was dragging him out of the Great Hall. Martin didn't put up a fight. He simply kept tight on his wand. The last thing he saw before turning into the hall was Charlotte being propped up by a myriad of helpful hands, her expression sour and her hat askew.
"You've got some nerve!" His dragger said. They had walked the length of the hallway before Martin was thrown to the ground in preparation for accosting, "Couldn't even wait until after the Feast to cause trouble, eh?"
Martin said nothing. The boy who had dragged him from the hall was a full two heads higher than him and much wider. Spiky brown hair and the kind of face that looked like hard clay. A shiny Prefect badge glittered from the dim lamplight. He crossed his arms and looked expectantly at Martin.
"Anything to say?"
"I just wanted some water." said Martin.
"And it didn't cross your little first-year mind to just ask?"
Martin pulled up to one knee, then to his feet, the whole time under watch of the big prefect.
"Ask who?" asked Martin.
"Just ask." said the prefect, his tone taking a sudden empathic softness, "The house-elves would have provided you with some."
"Why couldn't it just have been on the table, then?" Martin scrunched up his face, "Maybe I wasn't the only one who wanted water."
The prefect looked him up and down. When he spoke, his voice was hard again.
"I hope this isn't a sign of things to come, yeah?" he said, "You keep your nose clean, understand? No detention this time-it's too early for that-but I'll be watching you."
"Thanks." said Martin, hoping it didn't sound as sarcastic as it felt.
"Get to the common room, then. That'll be that for it."
The Prefect made a sweeping point. Martin turned to look. When he turned again to ask directions the prefect had hurried away, leaving him alone in the now-chilly hallway.