The Sorting
Hogwarts was more amazing than René had ever imagined. And he had imagined it a lot.
On the third day of August, he'd recieved a letter from Hogwarts, explaining about witchcraft and wizardry, and most important of all, the school itself. Needless to say, he's been thrilled, as had his parents, although they had thrown the letter away at first, thinking it a hoax. Naturally, they'd been convinced when the letter just floated back out of the recycling bin, and had started speaking to them. The look on his parents' faces had been priceless.
As the remainder of the holidays had disappeared, so had René's patience. He had never been the most patient person, and got bored easily, so when he had discovered that he couldn't go to Hogwarts until the end of the summer, he hadn't been very pleased. To amuse himself, he read the letter over and over again, trying to glean as much information as he could about the school of magic that he was to attend. Somehow, the school must have noticed his eagerness to learn, as it had eventually (after what René had counted as his seventy-third read) sent him a second letter telling him about the world he had up until this point not known to exist. To say that René was excited would be the understatement of the year.
To Mister René d'Herblay,
We have noticed your somewhat eager nature to learn about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and have decided to send you a letter containing all the information you need to learn about the wizarding world. We hope you find it sufficiently interesting and that you take this opportunity to learn the facts we have given you.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Minerva McGonagall,
Headmistress of Hogwarts
Attached was a letter containing everything René could possibly have hoped for regarding information. A list of famous witches and wizards was included, along with the titles of books that wrote about them, and important places were named. It mentioned the currency, seventeen sickles to a galleon, twenty-nine knuts to a sickle, and various other facts. By the end of the letter, Rene's mind was reeling and brain close to exploding with information. René fully intended to know everything there was to know about the wizarding world, in the hopes that he would fit in.
René would dream about the school, letting his wild imagination go crazy, envisaging a huge castle, magic wands, and fearsome dragons that breathed crimson flames dominating the sky. He'd imagined flying broomsticks, Firebolts, and magic spells that caused books to levitate and locked doors to open. The world inside his head had grown to a massive scale and it had taken over his mind and his world. When he'd received his wand, however, he finally felt like he was a part of the world he'd only imagined. He could remember Mr Ollivander, that odd man with the white hair and the dusty suit, and that strange look in his eyes, as he'd welcomed him into the small shop. Despite being small and dark, and full of cobwebs, the shop had possessed an aura of quiet power, and René could feel it, along with an overwhelming sense of what he could only describe as magic. He had held multiple different wands, which were all unique in so many ways. The wand chooses the wizard, as the man had said, and René could easily believe it - the wands had all had different personalities, although he wasn't sure that was the right word to describe it. Some wands emanated power, raw and fierce, whilst others radiated warmth and comfort that flooded through his body, but only one was the one. There was only one wand that truly connected with him, and that wand was 12 and a half inches long, oakwood, with a dragon heartstring. That wand had been his from the moment he saw it; René had felt something that he had never felt before. He couldn't quite describe it, but he knew that every witch and wizard had felt it when they'd found their wand, and he knew that he had to treasure that feeling, as he'd never feel it again.
He'd bought his school books after that - a fascinating experience, although he'd been rather glad that the Monster Book of Monsters was not on his list - and various other pieces of equipment he needed. René had enjoyed his first trip to Gringott's, where he'd exchanged his normal currency for that of the wizarding world, and had an interesting conversation with one of the goblins who worked there that he didn't want to ever think about again. Needless to say, he'd escaped in a hurry before the goblin had gotten the chance to wring his neck.
Eventually he'd only had one item left on his list: a pet. Despite it being optional, René had felt the need to get one. He was an only child, and had always wanted a pet to keep him company. Unfortunately, his parents had refused to allow him one, considering he couldn't even keep his room tidy, but this was the perfect chance to get one, a chance too good to pass up. When he'd entered the shop, he'd been assaulted by the smell of animals, and fresh straw, and another that he'd been unable to identify, but the smells had been easily blocked from his thoughts by the sounds. There were owls hooting, squawking and tweeting, cats mewing, hissing and shrieking, and toads croaking in a variety of pitches. The setting overall had been overwhelming, and he had been frozen in place for a good few seconds, probably would have been for a considerably longer time had it not been for the beautiful tawny owl that had promptly flown gracefully across the shop and perched delicately on his head. After quickly realising it was there to stay, René had bought the bird and a cage for it. The shopowner had been glad to let it go; it had apparently ignored every other customer to enter the shop and hadn't been eating for a few days. He'd been told its brother had died that week, and the owl had not been the same since. The lady had been considering putting it out of its misery before René had come. This news had pleased him in a strange way. It meant that the owl was like him: it had lost someone close to it, as had he, and the fact that it had come willingly to him showed the trust that the bird had placed in him. He intended to honour that trust.
René had called the owl Belle, a name that he had thought fit the animal perfectly; she was a truly beautiful creature, and she deserved a beautiful name. Her hazel feathers were as smooth as silk and her eyes were a deep, rich brown that matched his own. She had warmed to him immediately, and as soon as they'd left the shop had moved as close to him as possible in the cage, gently nipping his fingers in an affectionate manner when he reached through the gleaming bars to stroke her. After leaving Diagon Alley, René had introduced his parents to his new best friend, whose shining eyes had inspected them on sight. Belle had approved of them very quickly, and René had wondered just how perceptive the bird was.
The days up to now had passed in the blink of an eye, and René found himself staring in awe at the grand hall in front of his eyes, as the huge doors opened to admit him. Somehow, the ceiling shone with stars as bright as life, startling against the peaceful backdrop of night that spread like a blanket above him, and golden candles floated effortlessly above his head, lighting the room in a gentle glow. The room itself was full of people in their Hogwarts robes, sat at different tables that René knew to be divided by the four houses: Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Griffindor and Ravenclaw. He had a vague idea of what each house valued, Griffindor prizing bravery and honour, Ravenclaw valuing intelligence, whereas Slytherin was proud of sneakiness and deception, and Hufflepuff took those who were kind. René figured he could be happy in any house except Slytherin, but he wanted to be in Griffindor; he found bravery and honour important in life, and it was what defined him. Although, René admitted, bravery was something easily confused with stupidity, something he himself had been accused of multiple times in life.
At the tables themselves were hundreds of students, all of them talking and laughing, or - oh no - turning to stare at the new first-years, of which he himself unfortunately was one. His usual confidence abruptly abandoned him as the huge hall went silent, and every pair of eyes present fell on him and the other new students, observing them as if to see which ones they thought would do well, which ones they thought would fail...
All of a sudden the fears he had been trying to ignore came rushing back at him with full force. Would he fail? Would he simply not be good enough to be a wizard? Would he have to leave the wizarding world behind and start again has if nothing had happened?
The questions rattled around inside his head like a hurricane, blocking any other thoughts from his mind. He felt paralysed with the fear of failure to become a part of this hidden world, a fear that he had fought so hard to overcome, only for his efforts to be in vain. This was where he belonged, here in the wizarding world of magic and dragons and trolls and elves; he didn't belong in the normal world, hadn't done since the rowing accident, and he feared he never would. But here was his chance to start again, and there was nothing he wanted more desperately right now than to take it and never look back.
Turning his attention to the strange hat sat on a three-legged wooden stool at the front of the room, René wondered what exactly its significance was - it was just a hat (a ragged one at that) and it didn't appear to be magical in any way that he could see. Then again, this world seemed to work in strange ways, and if there was anything René had learned in his short time here, it was that looks were often deceiving. It was for this reason that he focused on this strange object on the ancient stool with interest and curiosity, and waited for it to do something, and he could only hope that it would be something magical.
Despite this eagerness to see what it was about the hat that gave it such importance, René was still shocked out of his wits when one of the creases in the hat's leathery skin deepened, and from out of nowhere came a voice singing,
'A thousand years or more ago
When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive they did divide
Their favourites from the throng,
Yet how to pick the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?
Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head
The founders put some brains in me
So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never yet been wrong,
I'll have a look inside your mind
And tell where you belong!'
After the hat's song had finished, a deafening chorus of cheers and clapping resonated throughout the hall, and with embarrassment, René realised that his jaw had dropped and his mouth had been hanging open dumbly for the entire song. Cringing, he closed it with a snap, before he realised that the other first-years were clapping too, and figuring he should be doing the same, brought his hands together and clapped in complete awe of the hat. Looks can be deceiving...
No kidding.
Slowly, the racket died down as an elderly lady stood up from her seat in the centre of what René could only assume was the teachers' table, and raised her hands for silence. She wore dark green robes and, like most of the other teachers, she wore a pointed hat upon her dark-haired head, which had streaks of silver emerging in various places. A pair of glasses was perched on the bridge of her nose. She walked towards the decorated podium with an air of pride, and looked out at the many faces staring up at her.
'Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As always, we have new faces starting here, and as always, they must be sorted into the four houses before we can start the year. With that in mind, let the sorting commence!'
Again, cheering ensued, although only for a short amount of time, as the teacher who had escorted them to the school took out a list from her pocket, and called, 'Monty Argonson.' The cheering subsided to a low whisper as a boy with short black hair, who René assumed must be Monty Argonson, was ushered to the stool, which he timidly sat upon before placing the hat on his head. René watched with interest and slight intrepidity as he wondered what was about to happen. As soon as the hat touched Monty's head, the hat's facial features reappeared and its mouth opened as it murmured, 'Interesting, interesting.' A moment of silence followed before suddenly the hat blurted, 'Ravenclaw!'
The table with the silver and blue colours erupted into cheers as Monty took the hat off of his head and made his way to the Ravenclaw house table, where he was greeted with slaps on the back and was guided to a seat on one of the benches. The other houses watched in near silence. Then came the name, 'Chi-Ling Aui.'
A tall Japanese girl with long, straight hair made her way to the stool, her honey-gold eyes drifting around the room, before settling on the hat. This time, the hat barely touched her head before announcing 'Ravenclaw!' again. This process continued for what seemed like years to René, whose nerves were eating him from the inside out. A while later, he noticed that the boy he'd been in the boat with earlier was being sorted, and René was suddenly alert, watching what was going on with intense concentration. He'd been fascinated by Olivier, and had wondered how he had seemed to know exactly what he was going through. In that moment that Olivier had shown him his feelings, had opened the door to the real him through his eyes, René had felt like the other boy had been showing him his deepest, darkest feelings, and the sheer force of it all had made him suspect that Olivier had never done that to anyone before. Knowing that he'd shown all of that to a mere stranger, purely so he could help him with his grief, had made René realise how truly beautiful a person Olivier was, although he doubted the other boy knew it himself. René realised how good a friend he had made, and he yearned to be able to have that friendship for the rest of his time at Hogwarts, and even for the rest of his life. He had been so understanding, comforting him as he'd cried as if they'd always known each other, not judging him for his experiences, and not offering useless apologies for his past like anyone else would. All René wanted was for this boy to be his friend, and suddenly he was wishing that Olivier would be in Griffindor, and so would he. He was wishing for a friend, and in his heart, he knew he was wishing for a brother. But he was not sure that could ever be.
Olivier had his head up, his eyes fixed firmly on a wall, and was sat as stiff as a board. René could hear the hat talking to itself again, but this time quieter than it had been with the other students, as if it was talking to Olivier personally, as if it was saying things for only Olivier to hear. René could see the Headmistress' eyes gazing at the boy, with a strange expression on her face, and he realised that there was something she and the hat knew that he didn't - something important. However, his curiosity was interrupted by the hat finally coming to a decision.
'Griffindor!' the hat roared in triumph.
Olivier got up, visibly shaken for some reason - what had the hat said? - before walking to the red and gold table. René watched after him, concern for his new friend taking over his mind, when he heard the name, 'René d'Herblay.'
The shock of the moment froze him in place, and for a while he wondered why he was getting no closer to the hat, before he remembered that he needed to move his legs to get there, thus willing them into action. They felt as if they'd been turned to jelly, and he barely managed to put one foot in front of the other as he made the fateful journey to the stool and the hat; the stool and the hat that would seal his future, for better or for worse.
Eventually, René somehow made it to the stool - he didn't know how - and picked up the hat, placing it on his dark curls cautiously and sitting on the three-legged stool. Nothing happened at first, causing René to worry that this had all been some mistake, until suddenly the hat suddenly mused, 'Hmm...a muggleborn, eh?'
René felt a rush of anger at the smug tone the hat was using. So what if his parents weren't witches or wizards? That didn't mean he was any worse than those who grew up around magic. He stood just as good a chance at becoming a wizard as anyone else in the room. He was about to tell the hat so, when it shouted, 'Griffindor!'
As he left the stool and made his way to join the Griffindor table where everyone was cheering, René was sure he could feel some amusement from the hat. Internally frowning, he wondered what he'd done, when it hit him that it wasn't what he'd done; it was what the hat had done. It had said something that had made him think a particular way, and from that the hat could work out his personality, and therefore his house. René grinned at the hat's shrewdness as he sat at the Griffindor table. Next to him sat Olivier, who was smiling at him, and quietly said, 'Congratulations.' René felt a warmth spread through him at the company of his new friend, replying, 'Thanks. You too.' He flashed his usual grin, prompting a wider smile from Olivier, and thanks in return. They sat in silence for a while, René enjoying his friend's company, hoping that the other enjoyed his, as they watched the other new students be sorted. It seemed a fairly even split between houses, and René made sure he paid attention to those put in Slytherin; according to his knowledge, Slytherin was the house where the untrustworthy and unkind went, and it had been Salazar Slytherin himself who had turned from the four founders a long time ago.
The lady in green stood up once again, and the hall filled with silence as she spoke.
'I welcome you all to Hogwarts, whether this be your first, second, third, or seventh year, may you be Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Griffindor. My name is Professor McGonagall, and I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts, for those who didn't know. Before the feast begins, I have a few points to make. Firstly, as those of us in our second year or above know, the Forbidden Forest is called so for a reason. Despite the threat of Lord Voldemort long gone-'
The hall filled with cheers.
'-there is still nature to threaten our wellbeing. The Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to everyone except the members of staff, although even they should not venture into those dark woods very often. Secondly, I would like to welcome to our new herbology teacher, Professor Longbottom, who played an instrumental role in the defeat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.'
An awed silence filled the room, broken by McGonagall's clapping, which was soon copied by the rest of the room, as the professor stood up proudly at his seat at the teachers' table. René gave Olivier an impressed look - one that his friend returned. He had heard a lot about Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter, and the fascinating tale that entwined them. He recalled reading the name Longbottom multiple times in his new school books, and if he remembered correctly the man had destroyed a horcrux in the form of Voldemort's snake, Nagini, with the Sword of Godric Griffindor. René knew the significance of everything the professor had done, and was looking forward to being taught by him.
'And last but not least, may I warn you that exploding snap is not to be played in Potions lessons, as the sparks it creates can have rather terrible consequences...' McGonagall cast a look at a group of Hufflepuff boys, all of whom looked decidedly guilty, leaving it fairly obvious to guess what the relation was between the boys and McGonagall's words. After giving the Hufflepuffs one last look, the professor turned back to the rest of the hall, and finished, 'And with that said, let's enjoy the feast!'
The second years and above all turned rapidly towards the tables, looking eagerly at the empty bowls and plates in front of them. The first years stared at them, confused, when suddenly a grand feast appeared before their eyes. Anything you could think of was on those plates, from toast to ham to strange grey lumps of something, to an array of soups and sauces. Elaborately decorated desserts were soon attacked by spoons and forks, and so many drinks were available that René had no idea what to choose. Fortunately, the decision was made for him as a goblet of orange liquid was shoved in front of him. He looked up to see Olivier looking at him, and the other boy said, 'Try it. I think you'll like it.' René looked warily at the strange drink, wondering what it was, then decided that it really wasn't worth thinking about and took a sip. He was pleasantly surprised by the flavour, and looked at Olivier approvingly, who nodded and said, 'I told you you'd like it.' then took a drink of his own goblet. René was going to ask what the drink was, but before he could open his mouth Olivier said, 'It's Pumpkin Juice.' Vaguely wondering if it was actual pumpkin juice, or if it was just a name, René decided to ignore any further thoughts about it. He liked it, and that was good enough for him.
They ate their fill until René felt sick and had to stop for fear of throwing up. For a while they sat there, him taking in his surroundings and his friend staring into nowhere, obviously deep in thought, before a realisation came to him that lifted his spirits even more. 'So, we're to be classmates now, then? Looks like you're stuck with me.' he smirked.
Olivier looked at him, before he rolled his eyes, and when he spoke the sarcasm was evident in his voice. 'I don't know how I'll survive...' he sighed, before smiling mockingly. 'Well, maybe it won't be so bad. After all, I need someone around to annoy me, don't I?'
Clutching at the approximate location of his heart, René pretended to half-swoon, crying dramatically, 'You wound me with your words!', only to realise that he had leant back way too far, and that his face was about to get acquainted with the floor. With a hilariously comical look of horror on his face, René tried in vain to steady himself, and it was only when he closed his eyes, a couple of centimetres from the floor, that he felt a hand clasp around his forearm that prevented him from hitting the ground. Warily cracking open an eye, he turned his head to see Olivier's smug and self-satisfied expression looking down at him. He grinned sheepishly at him, along with the people on his other side who had shuffled away from him as he had fallen, before demanding with the scrap of dignity he still posessed to be helped back up. Olivier obliged, albeit reluctantly; René could tell his friend had enjoyed being capable of dropping him at any point, and he shuddered at the thought of what Olivier could have made him do to be let back up. Fortunately for his ego, his friend had decided to be merciful and let him go without a price.
Once he'd returned to his sitting position on the bench, René gave Olivier a betrayed and accusing look, knowing his friend knew all too well that he knew what the other boy had been tempted to do. Of course, Olivier only gave him an innocent 'What?' look accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders. René glared at him playfully, then followed Olivier's eyes to Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the hall, who's hand was once again up to call for silence.
'The feast is now over. Would all first-years please follow their house prefects to their common rooms, where they will find their belongings. The rest of you stay here until the prefects return. You will receive your timetables at breakfast tomorrow. Goodnight.'
With that, she turned and resumed her space at the table, and continued her conversation with the new teacher.
At the end of the table, the Griffindor prefects stood, and ushered the first-years out of the hall. René walked with Olivier as their small procession travelled along the long candlelit corridors, and up moving staircases, past moving paintings and multiple ghosts. René hadn't been too shocked at the ghosts, having read about them throughout the holiday, although that hadn't stopped him from nearly jumping out of his skin when the Griffindor house ghost floated past him. Olivier had found it highly amusing.
When they stopped, it was at a painting of a rather large lady who was currently looking at the first years in the way one would look at a puppy. The prefect introduced her as the Fat Lady, and explained the rules of getting in and out of the Griffindor common room. This week, the password was Mandrake Roots and the Fat Lady cooed at them as they entered.
The common room wasn't huge, nor was it small. It seemed to be the perfect size, and René immediately felt at home there, collecting his things from the massive pile in the centre of the room, stroking Belle fondly as she nipped his finger, and climbing the stone stairs to the dormitories. He and Olivier entered a room with four beds, two of which already taken, and dumped their belongings on the empty ones. The two other boys in the room looked up at them from where they were unpacking their luggage, then greeted them in a friendly manner. One of the boys, of average height with slightly tanned skin and green eyes, introduced himself as 'Thomas Sethmir Simons, but you can call me Tom.' with a flick of his ice-blonde hair, whilst the other, tall with dark skin and dark hair, merely said, 'I'm Isaac.', then grinned at them with a blinding smile and threw two chocolate frogs at them. These frogs, he would later explain, had been smuggled from the feast along with various other items of food, which turned into a midnight feast days after. René did not ask how he did it - the prefects had checked them all for food as they'd left the room; getting food out of there had seemed impossible - nor did he mention the fact that Isaac had unpacked nothing of his own except for the necessary robes and equipment.
He and Olivier introduced themselves, which led to the typical 'get to know each other' games, in turn leading to a very late night that René was sure they'd regret the next morning. However, right now there was nowhere he'd rather be than here with his new friends. As he finally got to sleep - although being 4am, there wasn't much sleeping he'd get done - René felt contentment warm him and when he felt sleep take over, he could rest happily knowing that he'd found where he belonged.
I like it here. I like it a lot.
Ahhhhh... Wasn't that a cute ending to the chapter? I think that I'll be able to get chapters up weekly for the next fortnight; as it's the Easter holidays, I have spare time (not to mention a total of eight hours of car journeys!) to write stuff.
I just have a choices I've made so far to explain:
1.) The way I have written the characters is a bit OOC, but I think that if you experienced such bad things in your life at a very young age, you would act older than you are, and be less child-like if you didn't talk to anyone about your feelings. If I'm wrong, I apologise, but I think it seems realistic.
2.) Hopefully, you've worked out who is who by now, but if you haven't, Olivier is Athos, René is Aramis, and Isaac is Porthos. D'Artagnan will be in this, just not yet. I want to focus on the original three Inseperables before adding the fourth. From my research and reading other fanfics, I think that I have used either the characters' real names, or the real name of the person they were based on. If not, I'll be happy to change it.
3.) You probably noticed that this takes place after Harry Potter, but before The Deathly Hallows epilogue. I did this as I wasn't sure if Harry and the rest would appear in this, and it leaves room for the musketeers to have adventures of their own without severely clashing with the original Harry Potter plot. PM me if there is anything you would like to see in this, as I have got no plan whatsoever about the future chapters. However, I won't do slash or any M-rated themes (I'm 13; M is a no-go and I can't write slash!)
- SindarDragonRider
