Tucking the green and blue scarf under his black leather trench coat he got out of the car, holding onto the coat's front and squinting his eyes he entered the derelict looking building. The driverless car flew off once the doors were shut. Once inside his eyes remained squinted for another reason, his hands covering his ears.
"We must hurry, no time for weakness. You'll get used to the loudness." The servant urged him on, walking between the tables and chairs. Outside the car flew away.
"Even here, where they've not seen me before, they go silent and look at me with fear and disdain or plain hatred." He thought glancing at the patrons, walking by them without hurry.
"What can I get you?" The bartender asked looking down at the servant, his hands moving between sink and the dirty glassware. He followed the man's eyes on the emblem on his coat, seeing his pupils react to it.
"Why not use that?" He asked, his right index finger pointing at an object near the bartender's left hand, on the wooden bar slab.
"In a world of magic, manual labour can be relaxing." His reply short, again.
"Nothing, just passing by to get his school supplies." His servant's reply also short and hurried.
"They let him in Hogwarts? After what his siblings did?" A patron almost screamed, her eyes bulging outwards, her voice high-pitched and throat tightening.
"Since birth and even before he had a name." The Servant's face deformed as if something foul was trapped inescapably beneath his nose.
"Friends in high places and gold will get you anything nowadays…" She scoffed, the implication making her lips curl in a smile.
"Blood. I'm sure even one such as you can comprehend blood." A lifetime of servitude with the boy's father and family had taught him how to play the game amongst players far superior to her.
"Why you…!" Her sentence cut off as a man sitting next to her placed a hand on her shoulder cutting her off from standing up.
"Let them go, they are a dying breed, the so called "pure bloods", too much inbreeding has fucked them up, while we half-bloods or muggle-born are becoming stronger. Let them go, all they have left are their words."
"We know about breeding, what could you possibly know about the subject?" A teenage boy's voice came in from behind them.
"Harold Nott…isn't your mother a half-blood?" The man sitting next to the woman asked him with a sneer.
"In the good old days, I'd have you killed for this insolence….and who knows maybe if his father succeeds where the eldest son failed…I will have that pleasure yet." Harold's lips curled into a sneer, his cheekbones rising and his amber eyes slanting, and his hands crossed in front of his chest.
He swallowed hard, feeling all eyes on him.
"They failed, and my brother and sister are dead, according to the ministry of magic's reports, I'm afraid you won't be having the good old days back, anytime soon."
"You sound happy for that." Harold commented, his face distorted as his eyes moved from the patrons to him. "Fortunately, I do not share your conviction of their untimely demise, mudblood heir to a glorious pure-blood family name."
"Share it, or don't. I don't care. Averill let's go." He walked to the end of the corridor where Averill pressed the combination of bricks opening the wall to Diagon Alley.
Stepping through the opened brick-way, he grimaced, his hands darting to pinch his ears shut.
"come on, let us get you your supplies." Averill walked amongst the stall owners and shoppers, pressing and pushing his way through.
"The bank? Can't we use credit?"
"They won't accept it after what happened with your father and brother." Averill walked towards Gringotts.
"Step-brother." Dreogan was quick to add, the top of his nose wrinkling and upper lip rising.
"step-brother, indeed Master Dreogan, and the pure blooded one."
"I hate my name, and don't forget who's the servant around here, Averill."
"I believe that is…was your father's desire, sir and unfortunately for you I have full power from your father, as patriarch of this family, over you." They entered the bank.
"What, my name or me hating it?"
"Yes." The servant replied, without breaking his stride.
Twenty minutes later they exited it.
"Time to get you a wand, something fitting one of your station." He heard Averill tell him, entering Oleander's.
"What station? My family are criminals, not royalty." Averill frowned, his lips twisting upwards, without a reply.
"It is not the wizard who chooses the wand…"
"I know." Averill interrupted the, young, store owner. "Where is your grandfather?"
"Retired, I'm it now, if ya don't like it…tough." Dreogan snorted.
"Walk over here, young Master…what's your name?" Oleander pointed at a place by the desk register, in front of the wand-full shelves.
"Dreogan…Gaunt." Dreogan stood where instructed.
"Interesting…you behave as if I should somehow know you."
"You don't? Everyone else seems to know me and my family name."
"I know the family name, who doesn't, but you I have not met before and I make wands, not idle gossip." Oleander replied, walking over.
Dreogan nodded, his lips curving in a faint smile as his eyes turned to the boxes the man had left on the table.
"So, let us see then, what wand will choose you, young Master Dreogan. Let us start with a maple and phoenix feather wand, nine inches. Perhaps you are a traveler by nature?" Oleander opened one of the boxes passing the golden-brown wand to Dreogan. No sooner than Dreogan had wrapped his left hand around it and the wand flew away and back into its box.
"Lovely, even wands don't want me, now." Dreogan commented, clenching his fists.
"Such apathy for one so young. Phoenix feathers are known to be…picky. Let us try this one, then. Sycamore with Dragon heartstring, 12 inches."
Dreogan grasped at the wand which almost instantly started firing fireballs around.
"No, nope, not this one, then." Oleander took it back with one hand, putting out the flames with his wand.
Ten wands later they were no closer to finding Dreogan his wand. Twenty wands after that Oleander was rubbing the top of his nose with thumb and index finger, his eyes closed.
"And perhaps the universe has deigned that Gaunts, after generations of fucked-up, dark wizards, should have no more wands?"
"Such sarcasm…"
"…for one so young?" Oleander chuckled.
"Indeed. Okay, this wand, let us try this one." Oleander handed him an opened box.
"No explanation of it, this time?"
"Pick it up." Oleander half-ordered him.
Dreogan looked at the opened, velvet box and the dark brown and silvery wand spiraling itself to a pointy edge, like two horns locked in embrace, inside it.
"Are you sure? This thing looks ready to stab me to death…not that I'd mind, much."
"Pick it…"
"Up. I know. Well, here goes nothing." Dreogan picked up the wand feeling it heavy and light at the same time.
"It's glowing…from the inside….and why do I feel incredible warmth and cold at the same time?"
"Fascinating!" Oleander exclaimed. "I never thought this wand would ever find it's match in a wizard. One of my first creations after taking over the shop and I thought it…defective. It is not often a wand has two different kinds of wood and core materials combined in one. Hawthorn with yew and Unicorn tail hair with chimera mane hair for the core. Maybe both wand and master are supposed to discover one's selves?"
"Aren't Chimeras creatures of darkness? Their manes used for dark arts and the likes?" Dreogan nearly threw the wand back at the table. "I want nothing to do with Black magic."
"A wand is only a tool, and this one will have to decide its nature as much as will you. The wand has chosen you, now Hogwarts will teach you how to use it."
"Using it is not the problem…" Dreogan eyed it worried.
"Young Master Dreogan, it is only a tool, it will cast the spells you perform." Oleander bent lower closer to Dreogan's face, a compassionate look about him. "If you do not cast black magic spells or jinxes it won't do it on its own accord." The man tried to assuage the boy's fear.
"Fine. Averill let's go."
Dreogan picked up the wand and stormed outside, nearly bumping into another boy in the entrance to the shop.
"We could have bought second hand robes…" Dreogan whined two hours later exiting Twilfitt and Tattings.
"Absolutely not." Averill replied, holding on to a cauldron, and several other items. "You are a Gaunt, your school uniforms must also have the family emblem as well as the school one. It is tradition."
"Yeah right, see how fast I break that tradition once I get my hands on the robes…." Dreogan whispered. "What remains? Books and an owl?"
"Indeed, Master Gaunt."
"For fucks sake, Dreogan!" The boy hissed at his servant's use of his surname.
Averill ignored him walking into Flourish and Blotts.
"This store has not changed in a hundred years, I bet you." A voice came in from Dreogan's left.
"It hasn't." Dreogan replied after a fleeting, uninterested glance at the voice's owner, a boy his age.
"Ah well, I think that's great!" The boy continued cheerfully.
"If you say so." Dreogan replied searching through the shelves for the books he wanted.
"Advanced hexes and jinxes? Those are not first year, are they? My name's Charles by the way! Charles Blake."
"Fascinating. And no, they're not." Dreogan picked up a book about first year spells and moved to the till.
"You didn't pick up that book about advanced hexes." Charles commented walking besides him.
"Your observation skills are good."
"What did you do with your wand, though?"
"Nothing of importance. I am in a hurry, if you don't mind."
"Okay, I'll see you in Hogwarts. I still can't believe all this magic stuff is real!"
Dreogan couldn't help but smile, Charles' grin was contagious.
"Give it a year or two, you'll wish it wasn't." Having paid for the book he exited the shop to meet Averill. "Animal next?" Averill nodded.
"That one." Dreogan pointed to an Augurey on the store's glass showcase.
"It will be difficult to handle during winter." Dreogan motioned his hand dismissively at Averill.
"It'll mostly be in the owlery in Hogwarts. I don't care if the other owls can't sleep well."
"We can buy you a phoenix if it's a phoenix you want. This one's tears will not heal you."
"Exactly, besides I like this one's silvery blue feathers and fiery eyes. Now purchase it and let us leave this place. Everything else's bought, yes?"
Averill entered the shop without reply and exited it a few minutes later with the silver-feathered bird in a cage.
A week later they were on the platform nine and three quarters along with the other students and their parents saying their goodbyes.
Averill loaded his stuff into the carriage, with Dreogan taking a seat in one of the carriages, in silence.
A boy Dreogan recognised as Charles came in the wagon, sitting next to him.
"All other seats taken?" Dreogan inquired.
"Huh? Uhm, no. But I don't know anyone else and we've met in Diagon alley." Charles replied with a grin.
"Okay." Charles followed Dreogan's eyes outside the window, the station slowly disappearing.
"I'm so excited about this, are you? I mean magic!"
"Sure, very exciting to leave…home behind for a few months."
"Is it true we get to learn to fly with brooms?"
"Unfortunately."
"Why is no one else sitting with us? My breath doesn't smell does it?"
Dreogan had to look at the boy after a question like that one. "Not that I can smell…you're weird."
"Says the person who tries not to smile like all the damn time."
"What is there to smile about?"
"Life! We're kids, why not?"
Dreogan's reply never came yet their conversation carried throughout their eight hours journey to Hogwarts.
"Come on, we're here. That's the train's horn sounding." Dreogan told Charles standing up."
"Oh man, it's so good stretching my legs! I didn't think it'd take that long." Charles' joints cracking as their owner extended his arms above his head, his fingers interlocked.
"London is in the south, Hogwarts is in Scotland, logical." Dreogan's voice came forth strained, his hands stretching above his head.
"This way! First years this way to the boathouse!" A man's voice sounded through all the carriages as they exited theirs.
Amidst the figures and bodies of the other students they saw a middle-aged man with long silver hair and beardless face with narrow features and deep amber eyes with hues of green.
"Woah! Look at those dogs! They are huge!" Charles remarked standing in front of three large black dogs and one grey one, sitting on the right and left of the man.
"Tibetan mastiffs? Here?" A girl asked behind them, her voice high-pitched.
"Indeed, follow me to the boathouse." The man turned on his heels, the dogs rising in an instant.
"I am Ives Jordan. I am the keeper of keys of Hogwarts and should you…all reach year four I might just be teaching you defense against the dark arts."
Dreogan followed Charles' look to see Ives staring at him. He met the man's gaze, holding it.
"Aren't we taking defense against the dark arts from this year, sir?" A plump girl with pony tails asked timidly.
"You most definitely are…but fourth year is where things get…interesting." His smirk made her gulp.
They walked to the boathouse and took their places in the boats. When all the first-year students had taken their seats, the boats started rowing themselves out of the boathouse and across the black lake, the stars shining above them in the clear autumn sky.
"Will you look at that!" A boy next to him in the boat pointed at the lit castle in front of them. Dreogan saw Charles' face grin-full at the sight of the castle.
"It is something." He whispered.
Upon arriving at the castle's docks Ives led them to the Castle's entrance where he knocked on the heavy-looking, iron-enhanced gates. A woman in her fifties opened them.
"Fresh meat, ma'am." Said Ives said with an evil yet playful smirk.
Charles and Dreogan had to giggle at her rolling her eyes at his comment.
"Thank you, Ives. As…colourful as ever. I'll take them from here." She closed the gates behind them. "I am Professor Diana Horsewood and I'll have what I am sure is going to be a pleasure teaching you all Herbology. Follow me, please." Said Professor, explaining the Hogwarts houses, rules and house cup on their way to the Great Hall.
"She's tall!" Charles whispered, suppressing a giggle. "Me mum's tall but she must be even taller than mum's 180cm!"
"She, is a professor and you'd be correct, pity I can't give you house points Mister…?"
"Charles, Charles Blake, ma'am!" Charles beamed, making her hide a smile.
Her eyes lingered on Dreogan before looking at the other first years.
"Don't think she likes me much, not peculiar though." Replied Dreogan.
"Nah mate, why do you say that?"
"She nearly smiled when you replied, then her face darkened when she saw me."
"Naw, I'm sure it's your idea." Charles and Dreogan chatted in hushed whispers.
"You will be called in momentarily for the sorting ceremony, please wait here until then." She turned and left.
Professor Horsewood returned ten minutes later, opening the Great Hall's doors. She walked them in, letting them stand between the rectagonal students' tables and in front of the teachers' table, with the Headmistress in the middle looking at the first years intently.
"My idea or is she looking at us a tad too much?" Charles whispered in his ear.
"Yes, sure…" Dreogan dismissed Charles yet locked eyes with the Headmistress for a second.
Dreogan looked around the candle-lit room, candles hovering all over the place, his eyes drifting from the students sitting in the tables before looking up to the ceiling.
"I heard it's enchanted to show the…" The same plump girl from earlier said, Dreogan interrupted her.
"…outside sky, yes I am aware. How peculiar for this part of the country…it's raining." Dreogan finished her sentence.
"There must be some few thousand candles!" Charles stated, his jaw slacking.
"You'll swallow a fly." Dreogan teased him.
"Dad always tells me that, who knows maybe they taste nice." Charles grinned at him. Dreogan had to roll his eyes.
It was hard not feeling awkward, having an entire room-full of people staring at you and to anyone paying attention, Dreogan seemed the only one not looking terrified of the experience, even if he was feeling stressed.
In front of them, and the teacher's table there was a stool and on top of there was placed what Dreogan knew to be the sorting hat, the method of Hogwarts for sorting new students into their respective houses based on qualities and personality traits.
At first all was silent, the teachers and older students knowing what came next, then through a mouth-like opening the hat started singing.
Rising from the age of Darkness,
Four Wizards started a school of magic,
And you might ask which their greatest achievement was,
Dreogan had lost interest, not even listening to the hat's song, thinking his own thoughts when he heard Professor Horsewood's voice.
"When I call out your name, you will come forth, put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." She said holding a parchment.
First came a rather queasy-looking boy which was sorted into Slytherin, then a short, scrawny girl. "GRYFFINDOR!" The hat screamed.
"Charles Blake." Charles walked to the stool looking timid.
"An easy decision this is not. Much courage you have, and fire within you. I could place you in Gryffindor but…HUFFLEPUFF!" The sorting hat exclaimed making the Hufflepuff table cheer.
"Anneke Joymother." Said Professor Horsewood and a girl that looked a bit too sure of herself if insecure, walked to the sorting hat. The hat had not even touched her head when it screamed "SLYTHERIN!". She did not look pleased with the outcome.
Laurence Brifriar was sorted into Ravenclaw, a strong-looking boy with long red hair that fell everywhere on his head and face. His older sister cheered him into the Ravenclaw table.
Three names later came the moment Dreogan dreaded.
"Dreogan…" Professor Horsewood started saying his name.
"Oh for…please don't say my whole name, please don't…" Dreogan whispered under his breath, looking at her with a pleading look plastered all over his face.
"…Delphin Cadmus Gaunt Riddle Lestrange" The Great Hall went dead silent as Dreogan felt goosebumps coursing through his spine with all eyes fixed on him.
"Lovely." He said and with two long strides reached the sorting hat, put it on and sat hard on the stool.
"This is a hard decision to make…hardest one in good long while." Said the sorting hat after five minutes of complete silence. "I have not seen such bravery since the twentieth century and such cunning and wit since before that. You have no ambition for power and yet…Gryffindor, you'd fit nicely in there, but you'd be well placed in Ravenclaw as well and Huf…yes that might be it!" The sorting hat contemplated in his ear, a voice almost only he could hear. "H…" The Sorting hat begun to say aloud when it stuttered and faltered for a moment. "SLYTHERIN!" It screamed.
Dreogan removed it from his head, throwing it back on the stool and storming to the Slytherin table.
A few names later and all the students sorted, and the Headmistress rose from her golden chair, looking at all of them.
"Another year starts, another feast to enjoy and things to learn. But before that, a few notices for our new students." She said sternly, her black hair falling in braids behind her head. "The dark forest is strictly forbidden to all pupils and especially it's heart, where the most dangerous of beasts lie." Dreogan thought she had looked at him as she said that last part, but he shook it off.
"Mr. Knott, our caretaker would like me to remind you that no magic is allowed in the corridors between classes." This time there could be no doubt she was looking at Harold Nott's way. He looked unphased by this, even smug.
"Quidditch trials start on the second week of term in the training grounds. Anyone interested in trying contact our new flying teacher, Curt Willows who used to be a chaser for the Appleby Arrows. And finally, due to last year's events the restricted section of the library won't be open to students this year. The rest of the library will open in a month or two…after restoration works have finished." She let that sink in for a moment. "Now, let us sing the Hogwarts song, enjoy the feast and off to bed, classes start with the morrow!" She declared before sitting down.
Dreogan ignored the song, staying silent through the chorus. When the song was over the Headmistress clapper her hands making most of the first year's gasp and "woah!" as the empty plates before them now filled with food of all kinds and imagination.
"What happened last year? Charles Blake by the way!" Charles asked an older boy sitting next to him.
"Ask him, I don't know nothing." The boy evaded, pointing at Dreogan. "Garrick, Garrick Nostrum." He said before returning to his food.
Dreogan ate in silence, this time not of his choice, as no Slytherin sitting near him allowed for any conversation. He sat straight and ate fast, wolfing down as much as he could as fast as he could.
"Slow down mate, no one's gonna eat your dinner, no one wants whatever you've touched!" A fifth year-looking boy sitting opposite him taunted him making those students nearby laugh.
"You did not have my brother or sister for siblings, you'd not be yapping your trap otherwise. No, you'd be cowering away in the corner wishing for death to liberate you." Dreogan replied in complete apathy, seemingly unaffected by the boy's attempt to taunt him.
"What did they do? Did he make you cry, little boy? Not like they used the Cruciatus Curse on you." The boy scoffed.
Dreogan did not reply, he simply locked eyes with him for a few seconds before returning to his food.
No one else attempted conversation until the feast was over and the prefects led the first years to their dormitories.
First class the next morning was potions, an old odd man taught it, half deaf and derelict. Standing on one good foot and a silver cane. "Victor Turney. Get your quills out, no time to lose. Who knows what the uses of Flobberworm Mucus?"
When no one raised their hands Turney pointed at Dreogan who remained silent.
"You come from a -supposedly- pure-blood family, Mr. Gaunt. You should know this." Came the slow-voiced reply from Professor Turney with a neutral tone.
Dreogan exhaled deeply, "it is used to thicken potions and it is used in wiggenweld potion, professor." He said, dismayed.
"Very well, 10 points to Slytherin. Class get your quills out, notes time." Said Turney, moving his wand at the blackboard behind him. The sound of chalk and quill scribbling filled the sparse-lit dungeons' room.
"So, how do you know this stuff? Your parents taught you?" Asked Charles.
"No, oppressed by father. And it is only Flobberworm, not Chimera…" Dreogan tried to write down his notes and ignore Charles.
"I have no idea what that is! Hell, until a month…" Charles whispered but cut himself short on seeing Professor Turney turn his eyes on them.
"It's a worm, obviously." Dreogan muttered under his breath.
"Hey, you're good at this whispering thing!" Charles tried imitating him.
"Well, it's no matter. Now, we're friends and you can teach me all about it!" Charles beamed at Dreogan who gave a sigh. For the rest of the lesson they learned about bezoars and how to brew a forgetfulness potion or tried to. Only a Ravenclaw boy, Dreogan and Anneke had a concoction even remotely resembling one by class' end. And Dreogan's cauldron smelled of something foul, which did not earn him ten points for his house, as did the other two students' efforts.
"Potions is hard man!" Charles exclaimed gathering his things. "And we have this stuff three times a damn week!"
"We'll just have to study more, then."
"Joy."
"You're funny when you speak Dreogan." Dreogan tried hiding a smile.
"I'm always funny! It's known everywhere." Charles quipped.
"I hadn't noticed." Dreogan tried -and failed- to remain serious.
"Admit it! I'm a good influence!" Charles beamed.
"I admit to nothing." Replied Dreogan, coldly, well semi-coldly.
They continued to talk, walking to their next class, charms.
"Sit in everyone, take your seats." Professor Umberto Rawthorn, waited for them in the charms classroom, standing up between the two rows of seats. Dreogan thought him to be of average height and weight.
"So much to learn so little time, come on, come on do hurry and take your seats." He told them, smiling yet Dreogan detected no warmth in his eyes.
Dreogan sat down with Charles on one side and Ethel Clifford, the plump Ravenclaw girl on the other one.
"Wands out, let us see what you can do…we will start with the severing spell." Professor Rawthorn told them looking at each one of them.
"Diffindo is the incantation, pronounced deef-IN-doe and your wand should move like so." Umberto flicked his wand two times, up and down in a zigzag motion. An instant later a dress on a mannequin in the center of class got torn in half right on the middle.
"Give it a test. And watch where you point your wands, given enough will, intent and magic power and you can tear out pieces of each other. Diffindo is not a curse but like many other tools in the hands of humans it can be used for more than its intended purpose." Professor Rawthorn told them grimly.
They spent the next half hour trying, mostly in vain, to cast the spell with only a few of them succeeding.
Charles waved his wand nigh screaming "DIFFINDO!" and a piece of the dress, a small one, fell to the floor.
A moment later Ethel succeeded, producing a huge smile as well as another piece of the dress falling to the floor.
"Very well done, not an easy spell for sure. Even for those who are not new to magic." Dreogan felt the Professor's glare on him.
Dreogan felt his lips curve in a sardonic grin.
Twenty minutes and some parchments of notes later Dreogan sat, between classes, eating his lunch in the Great Hall.
"Oh! Nice roast chicken!" Charles sat next to him in the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.
"Yghou should gho sit at your House's table." Replied Dreogan with a mouth-full of pancakes making Charles laugh.
"Why? Others are sitting cross-houses." Charles shrugged.
"You're not Slytherin, go to your table." Dreogan swallowed.
"Don't look so worried, it's only lunch. Besides…I dunno nothing of this world. So, we're gonna be best of friends and you are going to teach me!" Charles announced grinning widely.
"I'm sure your friends over at Hufflepuff table will be more than happy to help you. They can teach you all you need to know. How can you not know anything?" Dreogan inquired flabbergasted.
"No one else in my family is or was a wizard or witch before me…to my knowled…" Charles was unable to finish his sentence as Dreogan clasped a hand over his mouth.
"Do not say this in this table!" He pleaded, clearly stressed.
"See! I know nothing, ya hafta help me out here, mate!" Charles replied, removing Dreogan's hand from his mouth.
"Slytherins are NOT in the habit of helping weaklings, least of all mudbl…" Dreogan looked murderous as the owner of the voice, behind them, clasped at his neck, having lost the ability to speak, her eyes wide in horror.
"Mrs. Ariana Nott, not a day in Hogwarts and you get in trouble, ten points from Slytherin and one-month detention." A teacher said coming over from the teacher's table.
Ariana left, daggers coming out of her eyes, her fists clenched by her sides.
"Who's that?" Charles asked Dreogan.
"You really do not know anything do you?" It was not an accusation by Dreogan who felt astonished at his friend's complete lack of knowledge about the wizarding world, and Hogwarts.
"Only limited stuff…" Charles replied, looking gloom.
"What class do you have next?"
"Flying lesson, I'm so excited! Don't all first years have the same subjects?"
"Same subjects yes, necessarily same days and hours, no. Walk with me? Don't know why you'd wan…"
Charles cut him off by standing up, grabbing him by his elbow and dragging him off. Grinning.
"Cool, lead the way Mr. Grim-face."
"I'm not a Grim-face!" Dreogan protested.
"You are too. I've stated it so."
"That's not how this works." Dreogan was trying not to laugh. "What is it about him that makes it so easy to drop eleven years' worth of mental defenses?" He pondered internally.
"Does so, my friendship, my rules." Dreogan rolled his eyes but resisted not.
"This castle is Soooo cool!" Charles exclaimed as they exited the Great Hall.
"It's not that cool yet."
A loud noise originated from Charles, having facepalmed. "No, silly. Where have you been locked up all this time? Even other wizarding kids around here know some "normal" slangs!" He was not being sarcastic, yet the effect was immediate on Dreogan's face.
"Okay." He shrugged looking elsewhere.
"Tell you what! I'll teach you my world's stuff and you'll teach me all of this!" Charles pointed to their surroundings with both hands.
Dreogan eyed him through the corner of his eye before turning his head round.
"Tell you what, if by the end of the day you still want to be my friend…deal." He stifled a chuckle.
"Deal." Charles shook his hand before bumping fists with him. "I'll start! Cool is an expression indicating something someone said is amazing or great or funny in a good way." Charles explained. "Your turn now, what was that girl about to call me? It sounded as if it was bad for some reason?"
Dreogan let out a breath. "You know the word muggle, yes? -Charles nodded- and you know how you are muggle-born, indicating that your parents are not wizards? -Charles nodded again-. So, in our world there are few insults as nasty as calling someone mudblood. It means one's not from a "pure-blood" lineage, therefore one's unclean, not pure or a "proper" wizard or witch." Dreogan finished shaking his head in dismay.
"Oh, so it's the wizarding world's equivalent of racism, bigotry and fascism." Charles stated. Dreogan nodded.
"Do you know what the internet is?"
Dreogan shook his head. "I haven't the foggiest." Charles explained as best and plainly he could.
"Why do the others in my class, and in other houses seem to fear you?"
"Pure-blood bullshit…my great grandmother was the daughter of one of the darkest, evilest wizards that have ever been. Father and daughter, Tom Riddle and Dolphin caused a lot of trouble, pain, suffering and death until they were stopped successively by a wizard named Harry Potter and his friends and allies. Dolphin rotted away in Azkaban, but she managed to give birth to a child before getting locked up…"
"They fear you because of acts committed by your ancestors? Then they should fear me as well, my ancestors fought in Iraq and Afghanistan, those were countries by the way."
"My brother and sister -allegedly- died last year trying to organize a new revolt against the world's ministries of magic and consolidate power for the pure-blood families, although I do not know how they could have done so without outside help, as they were still students in here, in Hogwarts." Dreogan hang his head. Charles was unsure if it was out of shame or sadness, but he patted his friend on the shoulder a time or two.
"I don't get it…"
"We are all afraid he will continue where his siblings left off, whatever they were trying to acquire from the restricted section of the library. Or, assuming they are not dead, maybe he will let them inside the castle, so they can finish whatever it is they were trying to do, and the Headmistress stopped them." A boy somewhat shorter than them with blue eyes and dark blond hair said to their right.
"That's stupid, Emerick. Fear someone for things they have not done or because you think they may or may not do in the future? That's stupid." It was the first time Dreogan had seen Charles lose his funny and cheerful disposition, his face distorted in disgust.
"Maybe, but then again your sister did not die, when his siblings wreaked havoc last year." He replied before walking faster away from them and through the arched gateway to the training grounds.
"So, you believe they are in hiding?"
"I never said they are in hiding, only that I don't believe they are dead as for father…he is in Azkaban very much alive, and probably planning what to do next." They followed Emerick through the arched gates.
"Ugh…I hate flying." Dreogan stated. "And brooms."
"Hello, everyone!" A man in his mid-thirties welcomed the first years. "My name's Curt Willows and I will be your flying instructor and if anyone of you get selected in your house's quidditch team I will be the referee in the House Cup Quidditch cup games. Now to the side of a broom and call to it. It's simple just stretch out your arm and "Up!""
For the next hour they were taught the basics of flying and caring for their broom. Dreogan hated it, Charles loved it.
Dreogan walked in the Slytherin common room, it was late night.
There was only a girl sitting in one of the sofas, first year one. He started walking towards the dormitories.
"Hi." She spoke to him in a slow whisper.
"H…hi." He replied.
"You will cost Slytherin points, if they catch you out after hours." She told him, reading a book about potions.
"I know, but I prefer it to having to face all the Slytherin kids." Dreogan shrugged in apathy.
"They are supposed to be our family, in this place." She noted somewhat distraught.
"Then, I wish I was an orphan, everywhere." Dreogan stated matter-of-factly.
She did not reply immediately. "My name's Anneke Joymother." She gave a weak smile. "What's your name?".
"You don't know or are you trying to make fun of me?"
"I'm not good with names."
"Dreogan…Gaunt."
"Oh…I see. My uncle doesn't like your father much. They think I don't listen when they fight with my father."
"Half the wizarding community fear my father the other half hate my siblings for failing."
"And you're caught in the middle, in a prison not of your own choosing." She replied mournfully.
"Where did you hear that?" Her reply peaked his interest.
"My mother."
"Why does your mother talk of me?"
"Not you, her." Anneke looked away.
"I'm sorry to hear that, do you know it is inscribed in my family coat of arms? -she shook her head- House of pain immemorial."
"That is awful, why? Why would you have something so painful?"
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