Chapter 3: The Old Acquaintances and the New
It was ten-thirty on September 1st when Evan got off the tube at King's Cross station with his parents. His father didn't care much for Muggle transportation or technology in general, but his mother, being Muggle-born and maintaining connections with childhood friends, usually insisted that they do things the Muggle way, especially when she was occupied with charming Muggle objects and trying to make them work for wizards, as she was now. Evan himself rather enjoyed the tube, when it wasn't too crowded. As it was, Sunday mornings people usually slept late, so they'd had a comfortable journey.
The Hogwarts Express was already there when they passed the hidden barrier to the Station 9¾, and Evan wasted no time in finding himself an empty compartment. His mother came inside with him, where she enlarged his trunk and placed Stheno's carrier on top of it, letting Stheno out to climb onto Evn's shoulders and wrap her bushy tail tightly around his throat. The juvenile Kneazle seemed perfectly content to be jostled around as he weaved around the students, and observing everything from her perch.
Having found himself a seat and disembarked the train, Evan returned to his father's side with his mother, where he found the man in deep conversation with Regulus Black, the man's ten-year-old daughter beside him.
Regulus Black was a relatively handsome man Evan's parents' age, with lustrous black hair and steely grey eyes, both of which Alya had inherited. He held himself like a proud aristocrat who was well aware of the power his position brought, and he behaved accordingly. Still, in the privacy of their home, Regulus was usually warm and even indulgent from time to time, and Evan was smart enough to understand that appearances could be deceiving.
Alya was shorter than Evan by about half a head. Her facial lines were regal, framed by black hair that was always half-braided away from her face, with the rest falling in voluminous waves to her waist, and her eyes were grey with blue of the clear, icy-winter sky blooming from around her irises, making them look piercing and ethereal. She held herself in much the same way her father did, though Evan knew that was only conditioning. In reality, Alya was soft-spoken and unobtrusive, with a great interest in academics and great tolerance for almost everyone.
He greeted her father first, before wandering to her and giving her a small smile. Stheno leaned slightly over to rub her cheek against Alya's in greeting, before settling back on Evan's shoulder.
"I didn't expect to see you here," he commented lightly as Alya raised her hand to pet the Kneazle.
"Father had business to discuss with Mr Snape, and Uncle Sirius is supposed to be here, as well."
In response, Evan raised his eyebrow.
"Don't tell me you're here to see Harry Potter?"
"I'm here because Father wished for me to accompany him," she replied shrewdly. "I cannot help meeting acquaintances while I am here."
"Oh, is that so?" he asked. "I hear you've made a new acquaintance?" Well, if she wanted to play the high-and-mighty game, he could indulge her. "Mayhap you meet her, as well?"
"I suppose it is possible," she agreed. They exchanged a look, before both burst into quiet laughter that was silenced quickly enough by Regulus Black's stern glare. "Ginny's great," she said, much more quietly. "She knows quite a bit more about Quidditch than you do."
"Of course, she grew up in a family obsessed with that infernal sport."
"Father is not too pleased with it."
"What, you socialising with known blood-traitors?"
"Don't say it like that," she pleaded softly. "He's not like that at home. And you understand very well why he finds this inconvenient."
"I do," he admitted. For Slytherins, social standing always came first. "I just think you have the right to make the kinds of friends you wish, rather than the kind you're dictated. You know how snooty some of the other Pure-blood children are."
"There are already plenty of things to use against our family, on both sides of the argument; Uncle Sirius, Aunt Andromeda, Cousin Bellatrix. He doesn't need me making complications for him, as well."
"Not when he has to work with the likes of Lucius Malfoy," Evan agreed. "Still, it is wise to cultivate relationships with both sides, and Ginny is a good ally to have in your corner."
"Oh, so you'll socialise with Draco, then?"
Evan scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Aside from the fact that my mother is a 'Mudblood'," he sneered the word with disgust, "he likes to imitate his father and pretend to be better than everyone else. I know you don't mind him since he's family, but Draco is the most conceited, self-absorbed little git I've ever met, and that actually includes Potter. I have no intention of antagonising him, but I won't be joining his circle of followers, either."
"You are an island in a sea of green."
They both giggled quietly at her comment.
"Be careful, Evan," Alya said. "There are a lot of Pure-bloods in your year, and no doubt most of them will be with you in Slytherin."
"That is, if I don't end up in Ravenclaw instead."
She shrugged. "Maybe. Either way, you'll be forced to choose sides eventually."
"I wish people weren't so obsessed with picking sided," he replied with a tired sigh. "Don't worry about me, I'll be perfectly fine."
"I'm sure you will," she replied confidently, eyes straying towards the Platform entrance, where a throng of red hair suddenly appeared. The Weasleys had arrived.
Two identical thirteen-year-olds and their younger sister separated from the group and approached Evan with matching smiles. Fred and George were eying Stheno, who returned their gaze with interest, while Ginny stepped over to give him a peck on the cheek which had him feeling appropriately uncomfortable.
"Is that the famed Kneazle we've heard so much about?" Fred (or maybe George; Evan was pants at differentiating them) asked.
"The one who scratches bullies–"
"–and chases pranksters?"
"One you've kept from us–"
"–for so long?"
"Yes, that is Stheno, and I've not kept her from you; it was just bad scheduling. Stheno, these are Fred and George. Good luck telling them apart."
The kitten cocked her head to the side as she studied the two thirteen-year-olds, before chirping out a greeting, the short, inquisitive one that sounded like the shortest version of her bird call (Evan always ended up giggling whenever he caught her sitting on his windowsill and releasing those half-choked imitations of bird chirps that didn't sound very convincing to his ears, but that seemed very good at confusing even Radagast, an experienced Screech owl who should have known better).
"Say, brother mine, doesn't she sound like..." he said, squinting lightly.
"She does indeed," the other brother replied.
"What?" Ginny asked, looking between them and the Kneazle.
"Looks like a bird to me like that," George (possibly Fred) concluded with a shrug.
"Wonder what Mrs Norris will think," the other brother said thoughtfully, but the glint in his eyes already promised things that couldn't possibly be good.
"Fred! George!" Mrs Weasley's voice rang out over the general noise of the station, and the twins melted back into the crowd like experts, leaving Evan with Ginny and Alya, who didn't seem the least bit shocked by the other girl's two brothers.
"I take it you've met them, then," Evan concluded.
"Yes, at Harry's birthday party last month," Alya confirmed. "Have fun at Hogwarts."
"Yes, that's precisely why I'm going, to have fun," he deadpanned with a roll of his eyes. Alya only gave him a small smile and wandered back to her father, who was now striding towards the barrier, out of which Sirius Black and Harry Potter had just emerged. Following his gaze, Ginny squeaked and grew absolutely red in the face, which Evan took as his queue to board the train.
"If you get bored, you can always write me," he told her. "I'll see you later."
"Don't keep your nose buried in those books for the whole school year," she said, tearing her eyes away from Potter in order to look at him properly. "There are plenty of other things in the world."
"Like Quidditch? No, thank you."
With a smile and a wave, she was off, back towards her family, while Evan approached his parents in the other direction. He had a momentary falter in his step when he realised he wouldn't be seeing either for a while, but Stheno, apparently feeling her human's sadness, rubbed her head against his cheek affectionately. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it out of his mind and focused on the here and now.
"Write to me often, will you?" Lily asked, giving him a tight hug into which he nodded in confirmation. "And make friends."
"Lily, do remember that the reason for his going away is to learn, not to skip curfew with other dunderheads and involve himself in petty squabbles with immature little brats," Severus admonished, and Evan gave him a small smile and a nod.
"Oh, don't rain on his parade, Sev," Lily said, swatting his shoulder lightly. "Especially if you're going to be a hypocrite about it."
His father scoffed at her words, before he, too, pulled Evan into an actual hug.
"I'manna miss you," Evan said into his black turtleneck, breathing in deeply the smell of herbs and fire that lingered even though he wasn't wearing his robes (Evan's mum was more likely to be in Muggle clothing on any given day than Evan's dad, but the sight wasn't nearly rare enough for Evan to find it strange – no, strange was reserved for the way his dad tied his hair back for any sort of Muggle world outings, because it really changed his appearance far more than clothes ever could).
"And I'll miss you, too," his father replied quietly, squeezing his shoulder once before letting him go. "Use that brain of yours I've worked so hard to fill with things other than foolishness."
"Yes, Dad," he said obediently.
"And here; my mother gave it to me when I first started Hogwarts," he said, pulling a metallic object out of his jacket pocket. Frowning, Evan accepted it and turned over in his hand, finding, to his immense pleasure, that it was a potions pocket knife, of the kind he'd seen in the apothecaries and far too expensive for him to get one for himself.
"Dad..." he whispered, extending one of the blades with a flick of his finger to inspect it. It was a little stained, but very sharp to the touch; there were several others in the knife, each for a specific purpose.
"It's old, but in good repair, and your mother renewed all the charms on it."
"Even added a few extra," his mum said, offering him a watery smile, which he returned in kind.
"It is sharp enough to cut through almost anything, so I trust that you'll be extremely careful when handling it."
"Of course," he promised, almost reverently, nearly lunging forward to hug his father tightly again in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. "Thank you, Dad, it's... thank you."
"Be good, my little light," his father whispered, placing a surreptitious kiss on Evan's head. "I'll see you at Christmas."
"Yeah, at Christmas."
"Bye, honey," his mother said with one last hug, before Evan climbed the steps into the train. The eleven-tear-old hurried to the window seat of his chosen compartment, choosing to stare out at the moving mass of students. His parents stood together, tears in his mother's eyes, but obviously comforted by his father's stoic presence; the Weasleys were gathered in a group, six heads with flaming red hair, and one with messy black belonging to Harry Potter; Alya was looking at him from her position by her father, the two Black brothers looking very much alike in everything but posture. Through tears, he watched the Weasleys board the train as the whistle blew loudly, heard its rumble and felt it move, stared out the window until he couldn't see anyone any longer, the last image that of Ginny's teary face as she ran beside the train, waving all the while. Then he wiped his cheeks, told himself not to be a wuss, pulled his Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and a pen out of his trunk, took off his shoes, lifted his feet onto the seat and, letting Stheno settle on his stomach, lowered his head over his book, burying himself and his growing nausea at the thought of leaving home and not seeing his parents for months on end in the reading and marking of pages, not even noticing as the door to his compartment opened and two other boys he didn't especially like seated themselves in the empty seats.
The first thing Harry saw when he passed the barrier to the Platform 9¾ was a sea of red. Grinning widely, he nearly ran into the crowd of Weasleys, letting Sirius deal with his luggage.
"Oh, is that ickle Harrykins?" one of the twins asked as soon as he pushed his way between the two, just in time to see Mrs Weasley rubbing Ron's nose with her handkerchief.
"Mum – geroff!" he yelled, wriggling free and noticing Harry in the process. "Oi, mate! I was wondering if you'd gotten here already."
"No, just now," he confirmed over one of the twins, who was saying: "Aaah, has ickle Ronniekins got somefink on his nosie?"
"Shut up!" Ron growled.
"Where's Percy?" Mrs Weasley asked, looking around. "And Ginny?"
"Perce's coming now."
"And Ginny's with her little Snake friend."
Harry craned his head around in search of the girl, finding her walking away from Evan Snape. That was one of the things he truly didn't understand – why in the world would a shy, awkward girl like Ginny ever be friends with a slimy, sullen boy like Snape? Half way towards them, Percy joined her, sticking his chest out proudly to show his shiny red and gold badge with the letter P on it.
"Can't stay long, Mother," he said rather self-importantly. "I'm up front, the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves–"
"Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy?" one of the twins asked, looking mightily surprised. "You should have said something, we had no idea!"
"Hang on," the other one cut him off. "I think I remember him saying something about it. Once–"
"Or twice–" Ron added.
"A minute–" the first twin filled in.
"All summer?" Harry joined with a smirk.
"Oh, shut up!" Percy replied, huffing indignantly.
"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" the second twin asked.
"Because he's a Prefect," their mother said fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term – send me an owl when you get there."
Percy stuck around only long enough to allow her to kiss his cheek and Ginny to give him a hug, before wandering back towards the front of the train. Once he was out of sight, Mrs Weasley turned to the twins.
"Now, you two, this year, you behave yourselves." Ron and Harry snorted quietly at that, hiding their laughter behind their hands. "If I get one more owl telling me you've... you've blown up a toilet or–"
"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."
"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."
Their grins were positively evil, Harry thought to himself. He couldn't wait to actually start with class and see what kinds of shenanigans they could pull off there.
"It's not funny," Mrs Weasley admonished sternly. "And look after Ron and Harry."
"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins and Harrykins are safe with us."
"Shut up," both boys growled in tandem at the twins, who waved merrily as they disappeared into the train. With them gone, Mrs Weasley focused her attention on Harry and Ron, giving them both a warm hug, which Harry accepted happily and Ron tried to squirm out of. Behind her, Harry saw Sirius walking up to them.
"Be good, you two," she said, suddenly sounding somewhat tearful. "Study hard and don't let the twins rope you into anything."
"Sure, Mum," Ron agreed hastily while Harry moved over to hug his guardian.
"Write to me if you need any help coming up with... fun activities," Sirius whispered to him, and Harry grinned in answer.
"You know I will."
"Your parents would be so proud of you, kiddo, if they could see you now."
"Yeah," he agreed, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "But you're here, so that's all right."
The whistle sounded, and with one last hug, the two friends clambered onto the train beside the twins just as it started moving. Ginny was crying, waving wildly as she ran beside the train.
"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls," Ron promised.
"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!" the twin nearest Harry yelled over his brother.
"George!"
"Only joking, Mum," Fred answered, staying only long enough to see that his sister didn't fall accidentally in her haste. Then the two thirteen-year-olds wandered away in search of their friend Jordan Lee and his pet tarantula, and Harry and Ron tried to find a compartment of their own. To their great consternation, the only one free was the one occupied by none other than Evan Snape. Harry and Ron exchanged slightly disgusted glances as they studied the boy – he'd taken his shoes off in order to put his feet up, his head was buried in a thick battered book, just as it was the last time Harry had seen him, and he was chewing on a thin black pen. Squeezed between his torso, his legs and his book was a pair of large sea-blue eyes that blinked lazily at him.
Nearly jumping in surprise, it took a moment for Harry to realise it was, in fact, a grey cat with weirdly large ears that was studying them intently. It didn't seem at all interested in Cybèle, whose cage Harry was holding in his hand, but unwilling to take any chances, Harry chose a seat nearest the door and across from Snape, who seemed completely oblivious to the two of them being in the same compartment.
The moment Ron took a seat across from him, however, the cat wiggled out of Snape's lap and approached him, a predatory gleam in its eyes.
"Hey! Keep your cat away from me!" Ron protested, making Snape look up, an expression of surprise on his face, before his green eyes focused on the cat in question.
"Stheno, what have you got?" he asked the cat directly. It hissed in response, blue eyes glued to Ron's chest. Ron covered it with his hand quickly, shooting a dirty look Snape's way.
"I have a pet rat," he informed the boy. "So you better get that thing away from me."
"Merlin," the dark-haired boy said with a roll of his eyes, before calling the cat back, which turned its head to look at him. "You'll get plenty of chances when we get there, Stheno, don't make a scene now."
"Hey!"
"I'm sorry, did you want something?" Snape asked Ron, looking completely innocent, as if he hadn't just encouraged his familiar to hunt down Ron's.
"Your cat better not be anywhere near Scabbers, you hear me, Snape?"
"You should have thought of that, Weasley, when you got a rat in the first place, seeing how a third of the school populace has cats as familiars," Snape replied condescendingly, petting his lap. The cat sent one more nasty glare Ron's way, before turning in its spot and marching back into the boy's lap, tufty tail held high in the air. It settled down, but its eyes stayed glued to Ron's jacket all the while. "Do at least try to find a more likely suspect within your own dorm if the thing goes missing, however, before accusing my familiar of doing it." Then Snape promptly put his nose back down into the book, a curtain of hair falling down to separate them from him. It was just as well, Harry decided.
The trolley arrived some time past noon, and Harry got them enough sweets to last for a good week. They went through them slowly, completely ignoring the sandwiches they'd been given for the trip. Harry gave Cybèle a few owl treats, and around the time they were finishing, Snape dug through his backpack and got his own sandwich out, as well as a cat plate into which he poured some cat food. His cat ate it willingly enough, but its eyes didn't stray much from Ron, who looked more than a little discomforted by it. They traded the Chocolate Frog cards between them, and tried to guess the flavours of Berty Bott's Beans before eating them, laughing all the while when the other one ran into a particularly foul candy.
Neville poked his head in at one point, looking very tearful.
"Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all? I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"
"He'll turn up," Harry said, knowing of that stupid toad perfectly well from Neville's stories during his birthday.
"Yes," the boy agreed miserably. "Well, if you see him..."
To their surprise, Snape's cat jumped out of his lap at that. It eyed Neville for a moment, studied Ron, then looked back at Neville, who had a stupidly confused expression on his face. Releasing a soft meow, the cat tiptoed out of the compartment, strutting as if it owned the place, and disappeared down the hallway.
"Oi, your cat's gone off to eat Neville's toad!" Ron exclaimed, wide-eyed.
"Oh, don't be stupid, Weasley," Snape replied with an exasperated sigh. "She has no need to eat toads, your rat is probably more than tasty enough." He gave Ron a disdainful look. "Then again, maybe not. Go on, Longbottom," he said, turning to Neville, who was still staring at them. "She seems to want to find him for you."
"Oh..." Neville replied and disappeared from the door. When Harry looked, Snape was back in his book, making an annotation in what looked like a ledger. Bemused, Harry shook his head, to which Ron responded by twirling his finger around his temple in the universal sign for 'mental'. With a grin, Harry nodded, watching as Ron pulled the sleeping grey rat out of his inner jacket pocket and placed it on his legs, secure now that the cat was out of the compartment.
"If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quickly as I could."
Snape snorted. "You're the one to talk. You brought a rat."
"Stick that big nose of yours back into your book and out of my business, Snape," Ron shot back. With a roll of his eyes, Snape actually did as Ron had asked him to. "Did you hear about Gringotts?"
"About the vault?" Harry guessed, nodding eagerly. "Yeah, I did. And I even know why they didn't manage to steal anything!"
"Well?" Ron asked eagerly.
"Because Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, took whatever it was in the vault out. Sirius and I ran into him when we were shopping for school supplies, and he rode with us down to the vaults."
"But how do you know that was the right vault?"
"I heard Sirius and Remus talking about it and he mentioned the vault number. It was the same one that Hagrid emptied."
"Well, what was in it?"
"Dunno, some small brown package."
"What, that's all?" Ron asked dubiously, and Harry nodded in confirmation just as the compartment door slid open and Draco Malfoy came into view, flanked by a pair of ugly, stupid-looking logs of boys that appeared to be his bodyguards, if such a thing were a profession for eleven-year-olds.
"Harry Potter," he greeted coolly.
"Draco Malfoy," Harry replied in the same manner. Across from him, Ron sniggered, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape shift in his seat, but remain with his head in the book.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
"Yes, and my godfather told me all the Malfoys bleach their hair, look like they don't even know what sun is, and can barely get the one child they do have," Harry shot right back, noticing how red Ron had gone.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," Malfoy replied, but his cheeks had gotten a red tinge. "Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either."
Both Harry and Ron jumped to their feet, but Malfoy's eyes zeroed in on the third passenger.
"Snape," he said, pretending not to see the other two, which only made them angrier, because being dismissed after being provoked was beyond insulting. Snape lifted his head and surveyed the room.
"Malfoy," he answered in a neutral tone. "What brings you to this future-Gryffindor-infested place?"
"Just wished to extend my invite to our compartment. There is a seat left."
"Malfoy, get lost," Harry growled, losing any patience he might have had.
"I wasn't talking to you, Potter, if you're too stupid to notice."
"Well, now you are, so do yourself a favour and get lost."
"You want to fight me, do you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "Unfortunately, we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We have some unfinished business here with people who are actually worth something."
One of the two logs leaned forward, and Ron pulled out his battered wand, but before anything else could happen, the big block of a boy screamed and started shaking his finger wildly, Scabbers hanging off of it, his sharp little teeth sunken in deeply, while at the same time Snape's cat hissed from the hallway and Neville gave a surprised yelp. Finally, Scabbers flew off the other boy, hitting the window, and Malfoy disappeared out of the doorway with his two cronies just as a bushy-haired girl appeared in his place.
"What has been going on?" she asked, looking at the compartment floor, where Ron now kneeled to pull Scabbers up by his tail. Harry's eyes immediately swivelled to the grey cat, surprised to find that, if it had been a human, Harry would have called its gaze calculating. As it was, the cat strutted back into the compartment to curl in Snape's lap.
"Er, thanks," Neville said awkwardly. "Your cat found Trevor."
"You're welcome," Snape replied calmly, just as Ron shook his head in bemusement, peering at his rat.
"I don't believe it. He's gone back to sleep."
"You haven't been fighting, have you?" the girl asked reproachfully. "You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"
"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Ron replied, scowling. "Who are you, anyway?"
"Hermione Granger," she replied, looking at Ron's right hand. "Were you using magic? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough. But the rules are clear, you are not allowed to hex other students, not even on the Hogwarts Express. Hogwarts, a History clearly says so."
Harry and Ron eyed each other, both thinking that the girl was too bossy for their taste.
"Anyway, who are you?"
"Neville Longbottom," Neville said, appearing pretty intimidated by the bossy girl himself.
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered, glaring at her. "And that's Harry Potter."
"Are you really?" she asked, peering at his forehead. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
Snape snorted again. "I'm sure he can even get you to recite all the passages for him, too."
"Shut it, Snape," Harry hissed.
"So, do any of you know what house you'll be in?" the girl asked in interest, stepping over the candy to seat herself beside Harry. Neville, after scanning the corridor, walked in as well, choosing to sit between Ron and Snape. Suddenly, their compartment seemed to be overcrowded.
"I bet he'll be in Slytherin," Ron said, pointing to Snape. "He's sure slimy enough."
"Lions salivate far more than snakes do, though I'm not surprised you don't know the first thing about it," Snape replied dryly, head in his book, but from the angle of his seat, Harry could see red blossoming on the other boy's cheeks.
"So, you do want to be a Slytherin?" the girl asked, sounding disdainful and confused. Snape shot her a scathing look over his book, the green eyes looking quite terrifying behind that curtain of black hair.
"My whole family's been Gryffindor for generations. I'd leave if I got sorted into Slytherin," Ron said, shaking his head and turning to Harry. "Wouldn't you?"
Harry only shrugged, remembering that Regulus and his wife were pretty decent for Slytherins, not to mention Andromeda, and that Sirius' family was also Slytherin for generations, yet he'd ended up in Gryffindor with Harry's dad.
"So, where do you want to go, Harry?"
Harry grinned at her, straightening in his seat and lifting his hand into the air to thrust his imaginary Sword of Gryffindor high above his head. "'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart'. Like my dad."
For the third time that day, Snape snorted.
"Got a problem with that, Snape?" Harry asked, quite irritated by now with the boy.
"No. If you'd rather be brawny than brainy, I applaud it. It suits you better, in any case."
"As I won't be going to the same house as you, I see that as a good thing. If brainy encompasses the likes of you, oh Lord of Grease, I'm keeping my distance from it."
He had the pleasure of seeing Snape go completely red in the face as Ron snorted out a laugh, but before the other boy could reply, his cat hissed menacingly, and Hermione jumped in, possibly sensing another brawl in the making.
"I've been asking around and Gryffindor sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..." she tapered off, as if suddenly realising that she was speaking about it to a Slytherin-wannabe.
Ron leaned over. "Whatever house I'm in," he whispered, "I hope she's not in it."
"What about you, Neville?" Hermione asked loudly, to which Neville timidly shrug his shoulders.
"I think I'll be Hufflepuff," he replied.
"There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff," she tried to assure him, though she didn't sound very assured herself. "You should all change, you know, we'll be there soon, I asked the driver just now and he said we're nearly there."
"Well, would you mind leaving while we change?" Ron asked irritably.
"Fine!" she huffed. "I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors, letting their pets out of their cages." She raised her head high and moved to step out, sending Ron a scathing look. "You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"
"Oh, would you just leave already!" he exclaimed, his nerves obviously as worn out as Harry's after Malfoy's insults, Snape's scathing remarks, the cat's glares and Granger's know-it-all attitude. "No one invited you in the first place! Bossy know-it-all," he grumbled as she stomped down the hallway. "If she ends up in the same house as I do, it'll be seven years of hell!"
"My trunk's in the other compartment," Neville said quietly as he stood up.
"We'll see you at Hogwarts, then, Neville," Harry waved him goodbye, shutting the door behind him. When he turned around, Snape was seating himself back down, school robes already on him. Blinking, Harry tried to remember when the other boy had had time to pull them on, before deciding it really wasn't all that important in the first place. By the time Ron and he had shrugged their jackets off and pulled their robes on, Snape had tied his shoelaces and was now occupying himself with placing his cat into a relatively roomy carrier.
"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time," a voice echoed through the train. "Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
Now dressed and ready, Harry and Ron joined the crowd in the corridor as the train finally stopped. Then everyone rushed their way towards the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform.
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!" Hagrid's familiar voice bellowed from the direction of a lamp that had started bobbing over the heads of the students. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years, follow me!"
Hagrid led them down a steep, narrow path that gradually emerged under his lamp's light from the absolute darkness beyond.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round this bend here."
And the narrow path opened suddenly to the shore of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers – Hogwarts. A collective gasp broke the silence as everyone took in the sight.
"No more'n four to a boat!"
Harry and Ron ended up in a boat with Neville and Hermione, who was decidedly not paying attention to them, obviously still insulted by Ron's words. Ron, in turn, grumbled under his breath about having to share the boat with her and how he hoped it wasn't foreshadowing of their house placement (Harry called it foreshadowing, what with Ron not knowing the specific term).
"Everyone in?" Hagrid bellowed from his own boat. "Right then – forward!"
The ride across was mostly silent, as everyone stared up at the magnificent sight towards which they were slowly sailing. Hagrid told them to put down their heads when they were about to pass into the cliff through a curtain of ivy, and they remained in collective stunned awe while they sailed through the dark tunnel, finally reaching a kind of underground harbour some five minutes later. The group of roughly forty eleven-year-olds clambered out, following Hagrid's massive form up a passageway carved in the rock that led them onto damp grass-covered courtyard right in the shadow of the castle. One flight of stone steps later, they were all crowding in front of the huge oak front door.
"Everyone here? Good."
He then raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door, the sound reverberating all around them ominously. The door swung open at once, letting them see a stern, dark-haired witch in emerald-green robes standing just beyond it. From Sirius' stories, Harry guessed who she was.
"The firs'-years, Perfessor McGonagall," Hagrid said, confirming Harry's silent suspicion that she was, indeed, Minerva McGonagall, the Transfigurations Professor and Head of Gryffindor House.
"Thank you, Hagrid," she replied. "I will take them from here."
She led them through the enormous Entrance Hall towards the buzz of hundreds of voices talking over each other to the right of the entrance. Contrary to Harry's thoughts, she led them to a small empty chamber off to the side of the hall and gave them a thorough lecture on how the school worked – they would first be sorted during the start-of-term banquet, after which they'd spend most of their days with the people sorted with them. They'd earn or lose house points based on their behaviour in order to earn the House Cup.
Of course, Sirius had already told Harry all of this. What he'd refused to tell was how they sorted into houses, but Fred's ridiculous story that it hurt a lot had been dismissed the moment Ron had mentioned it. Off a bit to his right, Hermione Granger was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learnt and wondering which one she'd need. At that moment, he fully agreed with Ron – if they got sorted into the same house, it would be hellish seven years.
"Does she never stop?" Ron moaned beside him, and Harry could do nothing but shrug helplessly.
"It won't be a test of knowledge," he heard Snape telling Hermione, grateful to the other boy (oh, the horror) when she finally shut up. "They sort by inner qualities, not spells you aren't even supposed to know yet."
"Oh. How do they do it, then?"
He didn't hear Snape's response, because the room suddenly became flooded with ghosts, pearly-white and transparent, and obviously arguing about 'Peeves'. Harry and Ron grinned to each other – they'd heard plenty of stories about the resident poltergeist, both from the two Marauders and from the Weasley twins. But, before anyone could do much more than gape, Professor McGonagall was back, shooing the ghosts and forming the first-years into a line.
The Great Hall was amazing, in Harry's opinion, lit by thousands and thousands of candles floating in mid-air over four long tables filled with the rest of the student body. Four enormous banners hung above each of the tables, depicting the four animals of the Hogwarts crest, background colours corresponding to the official House colours. At the top of the hall was another long table, occupied by teachers (Harry gave a small wave to Dumbledore, who answered with a knowing smile), and that was where McGonagall led them to. Looking up, Harry allowed himself to stare with awe at the velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.
By the time he looked back down, Professor McGonagall had already placed a four-legged stool in front of them, and a pointed wizard's hat on it, patched and frayed and extremely dirty, that opened its mouth (a rip near the brim) and started singing. If the song wasn't that impressive, the sheer fact that a hat was singing was enough. It gave out the qualities of each house – Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart; Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal; Ravenclaw, if you're a ready mind; Slytherin, those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends – proclaiming loudly at the very end that it was a 'Thinking Cap', no doubt trying to be funny.
It bowed to the four tables when its song was awarded with applause, and Harry joined in, grinning madly. He was looking forward to this. Now that he actually stood in front of it, gone was the doubt that he'd end up anywhere but in his parents' old house; he just knew it. In its place was the sort of excitement that made him want to jump on his toes and run in circles, but he forced himself to stand calmly. After all, he was Harry Potter; he couldn't look like a snivelling brat when everyone was watching.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," McGonagall said after she stepped forwards and unrolled a long piece of parchment. "Abbott, Hannah!"
And so it began. Harry tried to memorise as many names of his classmates as he could, remembering Sirius' advice on how important it was to always be aware of your surroundings – and that included, most of all, people. He was sure he'd forget half by tomorrow, but any chance to practice a skill the Aurors needed was not to be missed, in his opinion.
The girl whose name McGonagall had just called out was sorted, along with the one following her, Susan Bones, in Hufflepuff. Terry Boot went to Ravenclaw with Mandy Brocklehurst, while Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor. So far, that table, to the far left, was the loudest. Millicent Bulstrode went to Slytherin, as well as a mousy-looking girl by the name of Tracey Davis and the two logs that were Malfoy's cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, while Justin Finch-Fletchley was another Hufflepuff. Michael Corner, Kevin Entwhistle, and Stephen Cornfoot went to Ravenclaw, and Seamus Finnigan, a sandy-haired boy that had stood in front of Harry in the line, was sorted into Gryffindor, before Hermione Granger's name was called out.
The girl almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. Her enthusiasm got lost somewhere in the long three minutes – the longest so far – during which the hat wiggled around a bit, but remained silent. Finally, just when Harry was becoming impatient, it called out 'Ravenclaw'. He heard Ron beside him give out a small sigh of relief as they both watched the girl walk to the middle right table and join the other two first-years already sorted. Neville's sorting, surprisingly, took equally long. He fell over on his way to the stool, and looked almost as if quivering the whole time. His expression was equal parts grim and dazed when the hat pronounced him a Gryffindor, and in his nervousness, he ran off actually wearing the hat, for which he was awarded with gales of laughter.
Megan Jones and Wayne Hopkins before him had gone to Hufflepuff, Anthony Goldstein and Sue Li into Ravenclaw, and Daphne Greengrass was a Slytherin. Morag MacDougal after him was another Ravenclaw, and the hat barely touched Malfoy's head before it yelled out 'Slytherin' (not that Harry had expected anything differentl). Ernest Macmillan and Roger Malone ended up in Hufflepuff, while Lily Moon was yet another Slytherin with Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, the latter, pug-faced girl looking extremely pleased with herself. The surprise of the evening, for Harry, were the Patil twins – Parvati was sorted into Gryffindor, while Padma went to Ravenclaw. Sally-Anne Perks was the last person to be sorted before Harry, and she went to Gryffindor with Parvati and Lavender. Then Harry's name was called, and whispers broke out as he proudly strode forwards.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
The black rim of the hat obscured his view before he could see much else but a crowd of students.
"Hmm," a small voice in his head commented thoughtfully. "Interesting. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes, and quite a bit of loyalty, too. And ambition, interesting. So where shall I put you?"
I can choose? Harry thought with surprise. Didn't think that was an option.
"Ah, so you do have a preference?"
Gryffindor, Harry replied instantly. Like my Dad. Like Sirius.
"Yes, you do remind me of them quite a bit. And you certainly have your father's heart. Well, then, Gryffindor!"
Smiling smugly, Harry took the hat off and walked towards the Gryffindor table, which was almost deafening in their cheers and whistles. Percy shook his hand vigorously, and the twins kept yelling 'We've got Potter! We've got Potter!'. He seated himself beside Seamus Finnigan and turned to follow the rest of the sorting, eager not to miss a single name.
Watching Potter strut towards the Gryffindor table so full of himself made Evan understand completely what his father always talked about when he described his childhood nemesis. Honestly, as if there had ever been any chance he'd be anywhere else but in Gryffindor... or that he belonged anywhere else, he added mentally. Shaking his head, Evan focused back on the Professor McGonagall, who was now calling out Rivers, Oliver. He, along with Sophie Roper and Leanne Runcorn after him, became a Hufflepuff while Sally Smith went to Gryffindor. Than it was Evan's name being called, and he walked towards the chair.
In spite of already knowing the hat had to be looking into people's heads when it chose the houses, Evan was still surprised by the gentle Legilimency probe he felt when it was put onto his head.
Curious, the hat spoke into his mind. Such interest in knowledge. Ah, but what a sharp mind you have, when you've managed to figure out my secret. Not many do, these days. And there's chivalry there, too, with a strong sense of justice.
You haven't named the most important thing yet, Evan thought wryly.
Of course, of course, the thirst to prove yourself. And quite a bit of cunning, as well, though that comes with most sharp minds. So what would you wish, then?
Slytherin, he replied. Just like Dad.
Yes, you do seem too goal-oriented for Ravenclaw, and you lack a certain creative flare that marks all of the best of them. Very well, "Slytherin!"
Evan handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall and walked over to the far right table to loud claps and cheers, where he seated himself between Tracey Davis and Theodore Nott. Malfoy was looking at him with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, and the older students were measuring him up. He cast a glance at the High Table, only long enough to meet Professor Dumbledore's knowing gaze, before focusing back on the rest of the Sorting. It would be useful to know who was who and where they belonged as early as possible.
Ronald Weasley, predictably, was sorted into Gryffindor, together with Dean Thomas. Eying them across the hall, Evan could feel dread settling in his stomach as the two boys joined Potter and Finnigan. His mind raced back to all the stories he'd heard from his father about the 'Marauders', and watching the four Gryffindors now whispering among each other, he had a nasty suspicion history would be repeating itself.
Finally, Lisa Turpin was sorted into Ravenclaw, and Blaise Zabini, as they'd thought, was placed in Slytherin, after which Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and took the Sorting Hat away brusquely.
Dumbledore's address was somewhat wackier than the man usually behaved, but then that was the whole point, wasn't it. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
"That old fool is just barmy," Malfoy commented from across Evan as Dumbledore seated himself back into his seat, just as the food appeared on their table.
"That doesn't make him any less powerful," Theodore Nott pointed out calmly. Malfoy gave him a look, but didn't disagree.
Before anything else could be said, the translucent form of a ghost seated itself beside Malfoy, who instantly tensed. Evan studied the ghost, identifying him in his head as the Bloody Baron – really, there could have been no mistake, what with silvery blood trailing out of his chest wounds and all.
"You're the Bloody Baron," Tracey Davis said excitedly.
"If you have the need to point out the obvious, you should have been in Gryffindor," Malfoy commented with a sneer, all the while trying to slip slightly away from the menacing ghost.
"Seeing how you're the one who started it, I feel justified," she shot back, matching his sneer with her own, before turning back to the ghost. "It's nice to meet you," she continued politely, inclining her head in a little bow.
"So you are this year's Slytherin's brood," the Bloody Baron answered, casting a look about the little group that was at the same time dubious and assessing, and definitely far more favourable when it landed on Davis than the one he gave Malfoy, who still, despite his best efforts, appeared very uncomfortable with the ghostly presence seated beside him. In that sense, the Bloody Baron reminded Evan of his own father, imposing and menacing without saying anything concrete at all. In any case, he seemed very effective at silencing the chatter around him.
Crabbe and Goyle broke the stilted silence by reaching for food – no doubt the primary thing on their minds if their girth was any indication. Just like Evan's disgusting cousin Dudley, with eyes as big as their butts and as keen as their jaws. Of course, once they started piling food on their plates, everyone else reached for their own, because it became very obvious very quickly that, should they wait longer, there wouldn't be any food left to eat. Still, it brought some liveliness back into the group of first-years, and they gradually returned to conversation.
"Do you enjoy the company of the resident celebrity, Snape?" Malfoy asked, casting a disgusted look at the Gryffindor table, where the four first-year boys were whispering among themselves.
For his part, Evan snorted. "As much as any self-respecting Slytherin ever could," he replied with a slightly exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Too bad I have little use for late invitations, Malfoy. I have to say, though, that the spectacle Weasel's rat provided has made me reconsider allowing my cat free hunting in that particular part of the castle."
"What happened?" Daphne Greengrass asked before Malfoy could retort. It was best in any case – Evan thought it better to be on good terms with the little blond snot, but they both knew the boy had not come to that compartment to extend an invitation to Evan, only to provoke Potter. Evan had no intention of sucking up Malfoy's butt like the two oafs or the shrilly Parkinson seemed happy to do, but he would be damned if he let himself be cowed by the boy either. He had his own pride, and he would not let someone with more money than him stomp all over it.
The rest of dinner passed in conversation filled with needling comments designed to test each person there. The higher years didn't pay them too much attention, too occupied with discussing their summer, but the Bloody Baron stayed all the while, listening and watching their little interplays, while generally making Malfoy a little more on edge than was usual for the boy.
When the food disappeared, Dumbledore got to his feet again, and the Great Hall fell silent instantly. His words were said lightly, and his eyes twinkled as they usually did, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of his announcements, especially the one about the third-flood corridor on the right-hand side and dying a very painful death should it be disregarded. True, Hogwarts had its fair share of dangerous sections and inhabitants to be avoided, but saying this outright just made it sound like an open invitation, especially if that look the Headmaster gave a certain pair of twins across the Hall was anything to go by. Aside from that, he informed the room that the Charms classroom had been moved up a floor, as noted on their updated school maps (which obviously didn't mean much to the first-years, who didn't know where the old one had been located in the first place).
Singing the school song was one of the experiences Evan knew he could have lived without, with everyone singing to their own tune and making it a general cacophony that was just painful for the ears. Still, it was worth it to hear the twins proudly tapering off at the very end to a slow funeral march. They were probably the only ones who could make something so sombre seem so entertaining.
The Prefect who led the first-years down the stairs into the very bowels of the school introduced herself as Gemma Farley, a fifth-year, and she explained to them that the Slytherin quarters were in the dungeons, under the lake, which meant that they were strictly forbidden from provoking the inhabitants that would be swimming by their windows. She gave them the password, Micrurus diastema, which was terribly clichéd in Evan's point of view (though most of the kids found it very impressive when Gemma explained that it was the Latin name for a type of coral snake), only when they got to the entrance, a very non-descript stone wall that could easily have been dismissed as a possible entrance.
The common room beyond it was magnificent, lit by soft green lights that gave a sense of mystique. Again, pretty clichéd, but Evan wasn't complaining in the least. He was sure the room would look spectacular in the morning, when the dark windows were lit by the light filtered through the murky green waters of the lake. There was little warmth in the décor, true, but then Evan was never one for cuddly things in the first place. His own room at home was perhaps a converted attic, small and with a slanted roof, but the cold tones made it feel spacious, open, and uncluttered. This room quite clearly conveyed the element of the House itself – water.
It already felt like home.
"The password to the quarters will be posted on the board fortnightly," Gemma Fairley said, commanding their attention. "The boys quarters are down the left corridor, and the girls down the right. Be forewarned that boys will not be able to enter that corridor, and should they try to, they will suffer extremely embarrassing consequences." The first-years snickered at that, earning a glowering look from the fifth-year. "You have an hour to unpack and settle before you are required to present yourself here, in the common room. At this time, our Head of House, Professor Horace Slughorn, will further educate you as to the meaning of your sorting into this proud and noble house." She was somewhat uncomfortably stiff and posh in her delivery, but if anyone noticed, they didn't say anything. "One rule that you will always obey is that outside of these walls, we present a unified front. We receive enough dislike from the other houses as is, you will not add anything as evidence to their perceptions. While you are at Hogwarts, this is your home, and the students sharing it with you are your family, is that clear?" Heads bobbed in acquiescence from the eleven first-years, and a satisfied smile spread over the older girl's face. "Well, then, you are dismissed."
And with that, she led the five girls into their corridor, leaving the six boys to find their own way around, something that suited each and every one of them. After all, wasn't the whole point of new things to explore them for yourself?
As they headed for their hallway, Evan found his queasiness about leaving home and not seeing his parents pushed to the side, seeming completely insignificant compared to all the splendour and excitement that was the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And besides, he had Stheno with him, his Kneazle lounging on his bed, waiting for him, and he'd get to see his parents soon enough. Far more importantly than that – he was finally going to get to learn magic.
That seemed far more important by comparison, at least for the evening.
