The dormitories are unbelievable.
I watched the badger patched students -- Huffintuff? -- leave the Great Hall and immediately veer into their rooms behind a tapestry, so I assumed all of the houses would be similarly close to the Hall.
Boy, was I wrong.
Twenty minutes later, after nearly being thrown off of a MOVING staircase (and hurling over the edge, stupid pumpkin pasties...hope I didn't hit anyone) and climbing to what felt like the peak of Everest, we ended up in front of a rather large woman in some feathered pink silk gown. The Gryffindor prefect, Prudence Edgecombe, said "Gillyweed" loudly enough for all of us to hear, whatever that meant, and the pink-swathed lady nodded before her frame swung open, revealing a tunnel behind it.
"It is important that you remember the passwords. Do not write them down. If you forget, make sure you have someone with you who does remember."
Well, it was easier than keys. I lost those all the time. To be honest, I was lucky I even heard what she said, though I had no idea what a gillyweed was, because I was breathing harder than a forty year smoker after climbing those stairs. A second year Gryffindor, Jimmy or Jack or some other J name, had looked confused when I asked what we would do for a physical education class before asking if I meant flying. The thought of floating around shocked me so awfully that I just stared, jaw open, until he turned to talk to some red headed girl who had been sorted last.
The first year girls had four poster beds circling their dorm room, their trunks at the foot, curtains tied back with scarlet sashes. The red headed girl bounced over to her trunk and released her owl from it's cage. It was a tiny little thing that struggled to hop out of the cage, but appeared thrilled to see its owner.
"Alright there, Pig?"
I squinted at the owl, apparently named Pig, before making my way to my trunk and pulling out my pajamas. The pet options had all seemed strangely exciting to me, however my mother's cat allergy, hatred of toads, and wariness of all birds meant that I was pet-less. Sad, but maybe I could convince them to get me a quiet owl like Pig.
Some of the girls chatted quietly while I dug into my trunk. I've never been much for people, preferring to observe things. Tomorrow would bring, I hoped, some excellent observation opportunities.
HPHPHPHP
The red haired girl was going through our schedules aloud the following morning, allowing me to chow down on some rashers and eggs instead of reading.
"So, it looks like we've got double Astronomy first with Hufflepuff,"
That's what it was! Hufflepuff. I rather preferred Huffntuff, but that was just me.
"And after break we have double Potions with Slytherin, ugh, then lunch. After lunch is study hall and we finish with Flying."
My pumpkin juice shot across the table, drenching some unsuspecting black puddings with bogie-flecked pumpkin froth. My housemates glared and the platter of black pudding disappeared.
Flying sounded awful. I was having nightmares of Willy Wonka style floating into fans after drinking the fizzy lifting drink. No, thank you. I would much rather leave my feet upon the ground.
"Flying frighten you?"
I nearly fell backwards after the bespectacled ghost from the night before appeared in front of me, rising from the table.
"It probably should. Terribly dangerous thing, flying. After some student shenanigans in the 1970s involving Ogdens and a fire that nearly burnt down the Forbidden Forest, we started requiring permission slips for trips to the village. And yet, Harry Potter, the Harry Potter, nearly died his first year chasing the Malferret on a broom, broke his arm second year, fell off again in third year when the dementors attacked, but I was able to stop him before he died. 10 points to Dumbledore, if I do say so myself. The Whomping Willow destroyed his broom though. Yes, terribly dangerous thing, flying. And yet, we still don't require permission slips. Odd."
The ghost, Dumbledore she guessed, floated away, leaving me with a spinning head. What kind of bleeding institution had my parents let me attend?! Students chasing animals, being attacked by the demented, trees that apparently break things… Although, he had said "broom". Brooms, somehow, sounded significantly safer than fizzy lifting drinks.
HPHPHPHP
Astronomy was a strange course to learn in the early morning light, but the professor had it covered.
Professor Sinistra joked that she would make the room as dark as her skin, and boy was she right. The blinds all snapped shut, winking out every bit of light and causing more than a few students to gasp. Someone farted. Fear gets to all of us sometimes, I guess.
Suddenly, sparks begin to fly from her wand and formed into constellations we all recognize: Orion and his belt, the big spoon, the little spoon, and then more and more fill the "sky".
"In this class, you will learn the names and movements of the stars and planets. For thousands of years, man and centaur have used the night sky to divine life's truths. This is a class that will require much of your brain and none of your wands so you can tuck them away."
There was an audible slumping of shoulders as all of the excited lions and badgers tucked away their wands. It was their first lesson ever, and they weren't going to be doing any magic. What a waste.
Professor Sinistra showed that it wasn't quite a waste.
We didn't get the chance to do any magic, but they got to watch Professor Sinistra create beauty in stars. Sitting in her room was like sitting in a galaxy. It was beautiful and wonderful and beyond my greatest imaginings.
After warning us to guard our eyes, Professor Sinistra whipped up the curtains and we were reminded that it was still early in the morning. The lack of practical magic had been disappointing, but Professor Sinistra's lecture had been so enjoyable, we hadn't minded. At least, I hadn't. As it turns out, when teachers use magical balls of light take the form of the mythical figures they're named for and begin charging across the "sky".
HPHPHPHP
The end of the Astronomy led to one terrible realization: our next class was Potions. Located in the dungeons.
It seemed I was right: as an alternative to physical education, our exercise would come from the endless stair walking each day. To give an idea of what this entailed, Hogwarts is a large castle that would put the castles of Germany to shame. Astronomy, understandably, takes place in the highest tower Hogwarts has, more than twelve stories on its own. The main portion of the castle is four floors, with the dungeons another few stories down, under the surface of the lake.
My legs, by the time I get to the Potions classroom, are as jelly-like as some of the bizarre ingredients I saw in the potions shop in Diagon Alley. I attempt to regain my breath subtly.
It doesn't matter.
Everyone is huffing and puffing.
I wonder if that's where the Hufflepuffs got their names. They don't live in the towers, have to climb less steps, maybe they breath harder? Who knows.
I'm about to walk into the classroom to attempt my next class when fireworks erupt in the hallway. Most of the students shriek, but Rose spins on a heel a looks down the hall.
"Uncle Fred, I know that's you."
A ghost pops into appearance and "leans" against the wall.
"Mooorning," says the ghost.
He's different than most of the ghosts we've seen around. He's not dressed in old fashioned clothes, and he's young. Really young.
He's not child young, but he's a very young adult. I cock my head and examine him. He has a wide grin and a glint of mischief in his eyes. His nose is very like the nose of the unflappable Rose in front of him.
"We're trying to get to class and I don't want to make a bad impression on my professors."
The ghost smirks and waves her on, looking after her fondly.
I'm left to wonder why Rose's uncle is a ghost.