Title: In the Home of the Brave

Summary: Victor has grown up knowing he was going to be a Gryffindor. It has nothing to do with his parents or his relatives, honestly – it's just that he has always known, from the very beginning, that Gryffindor is the House for him. It doesn't take long before everyone else realizes it too.

So it's been more than a month. I'm really sorry this took so long.

Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed the previous chapter! I hope all of you stick with me to the end, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait.


Victor Stone had grown up knowing he was going to be a Gryffindor. It wasn't that he didn't want to be a Slytherin, or a Hufflepuff, or a Ravenclaw. It wasn't that he grew up believing he had to be a Gryffindor, or that he needed to be, or that Gryffindor was the best House there was. It was simply that he knew he was meant for Gryffindor, and anyone who knew him well could see that it was true.

It had nothing to do with his family. After all, his mother never wore dress robes that weren't some variant of Slytherin's green and silver, and his father still carried his Ravenclaw brooch wherever he went. Victor's cousins were as Hufflepuff as they can be, and his aunts and uncles were spread out among all four Houses.

His parents were never one for House discrimination. Victor grew up hearing tales of all four Houses, from their proudest achievements to their lowest points, and his parents taught him very early on to appreciate each one. He believed every word of these lessons, no matter what anyone said, and he knew that no House was greater than the others.

Victor couldn't see why most of the Wizarding world couldn't agree. He didn't understand why there were those who thought being in Hufflepuff somehow made you less the man you were, or why some believed that being a Slytherin made you inherently evil. It was ridiculous, and he thought everyone should be rolling their eyes at the inequity instead of supporting it.

So, really, it had nothing to do with favoritism or prejudice. Victor just knew, ever since he had been a little boy, that he was a Gryffindor through and through.


If Victor thought about it really hard, it was easy to pinpoint when his inner Gryffindor made itself known for the first time.

Victor grew up in a village near a Muggle city. His mother, a Muggle-born, was adamant that he become familiar with Muggle customs since he was, as she was so fond of telling him (especially after his magic started to show), as much a Muggle as he was a wizard.

"Just because you have magic doesn't mean you should turn your back from your Muggle side of the family," she would say. "If you do, you are half the man you can be and half the wizard you ought to be."

Victor grew up as accustomed to the Muggle world as he was with the Wizarding world. While he spent most of his afternoons as a kid playing with the children in his village, his parents took him to several trips in the nearby city, and his mother took great pains in teaching him Muggle culture. His father, ever the Ravenclaw, was interested in Muggle ways and encouraged Victor's curiosity about the world his mother considered as much a home as the Wizarding world.

When Victor was old enough, his father had insisted that he enroll in a Muggle school. His mother, surprisingly, had been against it at first, since he was old enough to start showing signs of magic, but at that time Victor was very clear about his newfound interest in Muggle technology, and so she let it be.

This was met with confusion among the magical neighbors, and it wasn't long before it turned into gossip. Whispers about Victor having some sort of magical defect or, worse, being a squib surfaced and were hard to quell. After all, the villagers said, why would anyone bother to be like a Muggle if they had magic?

When Victor showed that this was, in fact, not the case by impressing the village children with the occasional accidental magic, the villagers started whispering something else. The Stones must be inept wizards, they said, if they're so keen on the ways of the non-magical folk. This was by far the mildest insult and didn't sound so hurtful, but Victor knew that there were worse rumors about his parents circulating the village. He never heard them since his parents were careful in shielding him from the worst of it, but he was smart enough to know that it was worse than they led him to believe.

While his parents took the worst of all the talk, Victor wasn't left unscathed. No one seemed to want to play with him anymore. Squib, the other children called him (along with a variety of other names Victor would rather ignore), even though he wasn't. The few who didn't call him names weren't so keen on playing soccer or basketball or whatever Muggle game Victor tried to introduce. They ignored him when he tried to bring up something Muggle-related, so Victor learned to hide his interest.

Victor endured all the bullying and met all the insults with a thick skin. Nothing ever went beyond unkind words since the older children were kind enough to intervene before things got physical. But there were still days when he came home trying to hold back tears, and his mother would hug him and whisper in his ear how brave and noble he was as she soothed away the hurt. His father would place his hand on Victor's shoulder and crouch down so Victor could meet his eyes.

"You are twice the wizard they'll ever be, and that's all that matters," his father would tell him before Victor could look away. "You don't need magic to be a good man. Fairness and honesty and integrity – these things are more important than waving a magic wand. Remember that, okay, buddy?"

Victor did, and he never forgot.


In hindsight, it wasn't really surprising that Victor's first fight had to do with the village children. A boy a year older than him, and twice as big, had called Victor's mother a Mudblood, so Victor couldn't really bring himself to regret giving the first blow. That afternoon was the first time Victor came home with bruises, and it definitely wasn't the last.

Victor's next fight came not to long after that. Some bullies had made a scathing remark about his color and Victor found himself in a short tussle that wasn't as messy as the first. His mother made it very clear that she disapproved, but his father had patted him on the back and taught him how to defend himself the next day.

"It isn't right to pick on someone small or different just because you can," his father said when Victor had asked why he was being taught how to fight. "Everyone deserves a fair playing field, and we should give it when we can."

Soon the bullies, both Muggle and magical, learned that Victor wasn't one to be messed with. Though Victor never delivered the first blow after his first fight, it was clear that he could hold his own, and he found that he didn't have to use violence as much as he had expected to stand up for those who couldn't fight back. The older Victor got, the more brawls he found himself in, but he was also able to use words and diplomacy to stop fights before they got started.

This, Victor knew, was what made his parents proud.


When Victor received his Hogwarts letter, he was so elated that he insisted he and his parents go to Diagon Alley that same day. His parents didn't need that much convincing.

They spent that entire afternoon looking for everything he needed and more – books, robes, a new trunk. But what Victor was really looking forward to was his wand. His parents, no doubt wanting to prolong the suspense, had insisted that it had to be their last stop.

It wasn't the first time Victor had been to Diagon Alley. His parents had taken him there enough times in the past that he knew the place well enough to not get lost. He had probably been inside most of the shops at least once, and he was confident he could recognize all of the stores with just a glance.

They had just left the Apothecary when Victor's father announced at last that his wand was the only thing left on the list.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Fox's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. During past visits in Diagon Alley, Victor often found himself standing outside this store when his parents let him wander off on his own. But Victor never dared to enter – he had always been much too intimidated to come inside. After all, he had no reason to.

But now he did, and Victor couldn't hide his excitement.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as Victor and his parents stepped inside. Victor didn't know what he expected wand shops to look like, but he thought Fox's looked a lot like a dusty and ill-kept shoe shop. It was a tiny place, and stacks of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling.

There were already people inside, which made the store seem even smaller. A pretty red-haired girl about his age smiled and waved at Victor and his parents when they entered. She was probably the same height as Victor, which was surprising since he had never met anyone his age that wasn't shorter than him.

The girl's parents stood near the corner of the shop. They were a very stunning couple, tall and elegant, like a king and queen straight from a fairytale. They didn't fit in the picture of this dingy little shop, not with their statuesque profile and regal demeanor. Victor thought them haughty and proud, but they had kind, warm smiles and seemed friendly enough when Victor's parents engaged them in conversation.

"Are you going to Hogwarts too?" Victor asked the girl.

"Oh, yes!" she said cheerfully. "I have already bought most of my supplies, but I have been having trouble acquiring a suitable wand."

She seemed to deflate a little as her gaze landed on the spindly chair piled with wands. Victor wondered how many the girl had already tried.

"It seems that I have yet to find one that will respond to me," she continued with a smile, though it was obviously forced.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Victor said, trying to console her. "Sometimes it takes a while to find your wand. My mom told me it had taken her an entire day to find hers."

This seemed to cheer her up, and her crestfallen expression melted away.

"Truly?" said the girl hopefully.

"Yeah. Just gotta wait and keep tryin'. You're gonna find yours eventually."

His words seemed to lift her spirits. Encouraged and reassured, she smiled brightly at Victor.

Victor thought she wasn't the same kind of beautiful as her parents, though she looked very much like them. While her parents looked like the stuff of fairytales, the girl looked far less unreachable and far more genuine.

At that moment, a wizened old man appeared from the back of the shop.

"Alright, Miss Anders," said the man. "Try this. Ash and dragon heartstring. Eleven and three quarter inches."

The girl took the wand and waved it around a bit. A slight glow appeared at the wand's tip, but it disappeared so quickly that Victor almost thought he had imagined it. Mr. Fox snatched it out of the girl's hand almost at once.

"Almost, but not quite," said Mr. Fox, and he began flitting around the shelves and taking down boxes.

The girl didn't seem so dejected, despite another failed attempt. She turned to him then, looking a bit hesitant.

"I am Kori Anders," she said.

"Victor Stone," he said to Kori, and they smiled.


A few days after Victor met Kori, Victor and his parents were at Diagon Alley again. He was on his way to Florean Fortescue's to get ice cream when he heard an odd sound, like someone hitting the side of a building.

Thwack.

Victor slowed his steps, listening. He knew a scuffle when he heard one –

Thwack.

– and he knew the sound of someone getting beaten to a pulp too.

He turned the corner, trying to figure out what was going on. The alley was dark and narrow, but he could see three boys, unmistakably older than Victor, standing over someone lying in heaps of trash.

One of the boys, tall and burly, kicked the kid on the ground in the ribs and watched him yelp in pain.

"You just don't give up, do you, Mudblood?" he said.

"Logan just doesn't know when to run away from a fight," said another boy, this one shorter than the first, with more fat than muscle.

The one he called Logan was scrawny and blond, his chest rising and falling like he was catching his breath.

"I'm not scared of you," said Logan, gasping as he tried to push himself to his knees.

The other kids only laughed.

Victor approached them then, trying to look tall and menacing. "Hey, leave the kid alone," he said coolly.

The junior thugs turned around, confused. "What the hell do you want?"

"I'm not a kid," protested Logan, pulling himself to his feet before Victor could answer. Victor tried not to roll his eyes.

"You heard the runt," sneered the second boy. "So scram before we give you a beating like your friend here."

"I say we give it to him. He's obviously asking for one." said the last boy, walking towards Victor.

The boy swung out his left hand, but Victor, his reflexes fast as ever, ducked and brought his own fist tight and low, catching the other boy in the gut. He doubled over, about to swing again, when Victor rammed into him like a charging bull.

And just like that, Victor found himself exchanging blows with two people at once while Logan tried to hold his own against the tallest one in the gang. The fight would have lasted longer if it hadn't been for the shrill voice that sounded from above.

"What's going on down there? Are you boys fighting again?"

Everything seemed to freeze at that moment. Faster than the other boys could react, Victor grabbed Logan's arm and told him to run.


They sat on the curb, panting. Logan's shirt was torn and dirty, his skinny limbs black and blue. His nose, too big for his thin, angular face, had clearly seen the wrong end of the fight. It was bleeding so much that Victor fished a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Here," said Victor, handing the faded red thing over. Logan took it hesitantly, glancing askance before pressing it gingerly to his nose.

"Thanks for this," said the boy, his pale face down as he kicked a small rock at his feet. "Don't think you're going to want it back though."

Victor shrugged. His entire body felt tired and bruised, like it always did after a fight, and he wasn't sure he was ready to go looking for his parents for a good long while. He poked his split lip and grimaced.

Mom is going to kill me.

"I'm not even a Muggle-born," mumbled Logan under his breath, breaking the silence.

"You're not?"

The kid almost jumped, surprised that Victor was still there.

"Yeah – I mean no. I'm not Muggle-born. Both my parents are though." He shrugged. "Not that it matters to people like them."

Victor frowned, but didn't say anything. He hated all kinds of bullies, but the ones who looked down on people because of blood status irritated him the most.

"Thanks," said Logan quietly, not looking at him. "No one's ever come to my rescue before."

Victor looked away and cleared his throat. "No problem."

They sat in silence for a while. They didn't even know each other's name, yet the silence between them was comfortable. Victor supposed there were just some things you couldn't share without ending up liking each other, and beating up no-good bullies was one of them.

"But, you know, I could've taught them a thing or two on my own."

Victor scoffed good-naturedly. "'Course you could. How old are ya anyway? Eight?"

Logan's smile fell and he turned to him with a comically incredulous face that made Victor bite back a grin.

"I'm turning eleven! I'm going to Hogwarts this September!"

Victor laughed. "We'll be seein' each other there then," he said casually. "I'm Victor Stone by the way."

"I'm Garfield Logan," the other boy said, holding out his hand.

"Garfield?" Victor couldn't help but say even as he took Garfield's hand.

Seriously, who called themselves Garfield?

The other boy smiled sheepishly. "I go by Gar,"

"Gar then," Victor said, nodding. "You by any chance know how to play Mega Monkeys?"

Gar grinned from ear to ear, his eyes shining.

"I think," he said as he tossed an arm around Victor's shoulders, "this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship."


Victor knew he belonged in Gryffindor. Maybe that was why he didn't feel nervous at all as he approached the stool in front of the Great Hall.

"Oh, this one's easy."

The low, murmuring voice in his head though – that one, he wasn't expecting.

Victor started, but recovered quickly. Hello? he offered, hoping it sounded more confident that he felt.

"You're very sure you're going to be in Gryffindor," said the hat.

I don't really care where I go, said Victor.

"Oh?" The hat didn't sound surprised. In fact, it sounded amused.

No one House is better than the others. If you think I don't belong in Gryffindor, I'm not gonna hold it against you.

"Yes, very easy," the hat continued. Victor could hear the smile in its voice. "You'll do well in GRYFFINDOR!"


Victor was glad when Kori and Gar started sitting with him and Dick at the Gryffindor table.

It wasn't that he minded his Dick's company. It was just that Dick wasn't a very talkative person. Victor wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he hadn't imagined the famous Boy Wonder to be so reserved.

It seemed that the only time Dick became genuinely animated was when Kori would sit with them. He was less aloof, more enthusiastic when she was there, and he listened to her attentively when she talked, even when she was rambling off about some Muggle thing Victor, for the life of him, could never understand why Dick found so absorbing.

Kori, the only Muggle-born in their little group, was able to adapt to the Wizarding world easily enough. She was still in awe about a lot of things, but she took almost everything in stride and only had to have something explained to her once before she could catch on. Usually it was Dick who explained these things to her, and Victor thought it was amusing how the two of them seemed to be caught up in each other when it happened.

Victor wasn't the only one who noticed. Even Gar would tease Dick about Kori, and he and Victor would share the same amused look whenever they found Dick staring at Kor's latest group of friends. But either Dick chose to ignore Victor and Gar's teasing, or he really was oblivious to his behavior around the redhead. It was hard to tell.

Dick wasn't all the bad, really. He wasn't as antisocial as he seemed, just a bit distant, and he grew less distant and more open as the days passed. Victor wouldn't hesitate to call him a friend, but he would be lying if he said he didn't prefer Gar's company.

Gar never sat with his Housemates ever since he first joined Victor and Dick at the Gryffindor table, but Kori's own seating arrangements weren't as simple. Kori sat with someone new almost every day, and while she did make time for them, they found her sitting with a new group more often than with them. It became something of a game, to find where Kori was whenever she wasn't with them in the Great Hall.

Victor was sure, with the rate she was going, Kori would be friends with everyone in the school by the end of the semester. The older Gryffindors had even told him with barely concealed awe that they found her talking with the Bloody Baron. Victor wondered if it explained why even the Slytherins let Kori sit at their table despite her blood status (Kori's presence at the Slytherin table, whenever it happened, always caused a stir among the three other Houses). If Kori could talk with the infamous Slytherin ghost, the girl could probably do anything.

Victor didn't really have a problem with who Kori decided to sit with, but he could tell it bothered Gar that she sat with Rachel Roth at the Ravenclaw table more than she sat with them. Gar never said anything, but Victor was good at reading people. Dick was too, it seemed, since he was the one who first brought it up.

"She can't be that bad," he said when Gar frowned at Kori's new lunch buddy.

"Who?" said Gar.

"The Roth girl."

Gar turned to Victor, as if expecting him to disagree. Victor shrugged. "We have Charms with the Ravenclaws. She's…" he faltered. Victor knew nothing about the resident pariah. "…quiet," he finished lamely.

"Kori likes her," said Dick, like it settled the matter.

"Kori likes everyone," said Gar.

Victor didn't see a problem with it. Frankly, he was glad that Kori seemed to be friends with Rachel Roth. The Ravenclaw was always alone whenever Kori wasn't sitting with her.

It was nearly a month after school started when Victor noticed how things had settled into a nice little routine of their classes, friends, and their little corner of the Gryffindor table, Victor and Gar on one side, Dick and sometimes Kori on the other. Even with her irregular presence at their table, Kori had fallen into a group with the three of them, and they looked forward to having her.

But somehow they felt incomplete. Victor didn't know what it was, but he knew that there was something missing.

It was a month later, after the entire Halloween fiasco, when another person joined them at their spot. And, at last, Victor knew they were complete.


Next chapter is about Kori. Don't worry – it's already finished.

Up Next: In which Kori meets Gar and Victor, may or may not have a crush on the most famous celebrity of the Wizarding world, befriends a Death Eater's daughter, and keeps doing what everyone least expects.