DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or anything you recognize.

Curiosity
Part Four: Old and Tattered Hat

Jacob woke the next morning to an insistent tapping on his window. He groaned and buried his face deeper in the pillow, trying to drown out the noise so he could get back to sleep. But the tapping grew louder and louder and when Scott yelled at him to 'Shut the fuck up,' from the room next door, he finally got out of bed. He tripped over his sheets that had somehow become tangled around his legs as walked the few steps towards the window. Grumbling, he used the window frame to pull himself up and peer outside, searching for what was making the noise.

'What?' he said as he saw an owl tapping its beak against the glass. The tawny owl had a piece of paper clamped under its beak. Jacob pulled back the bolts holding the window shut and pushed it open allowing the bird entrance. 'What?' he asked again.

The owl flew over to his bed and alighted on his pillow, dropping the paper there. Jacob hoped back over to his bed, still tangled in the sheets and then picked up the letter and opened it, breaking a golden seal. The letter read:

Jacob,

Aren't you glad they decided not to Oblivate you and leave with you no memory whatsoever? My youngest brother Oblivated a bloke once – well no, the man tried to Oblivate him but my brother's wand was broken the curse backfired and hit him. Poor guy's still in Saint Mungo's (a hospital) with no clue who he is. A shame, he was quite famous.

ANYWAY; Kingsley sent an owl to Professor McGonagall as soon as we left. She is more then happy to teach you. You're in for a right slog, she makes you work hard. So have fun! Kingsley always wanted you to come back to Diagon Alley today, so I can get you a wand. We'll sort out your not having any Wizard money later. Just let me pay for this now. Then he also wanted to me Floo over to Hogwarts with you for your lessons. It's like I'm your minder or body-guard, I don't mind. It's fun. And I can just make Ron (my youngest brother) look after the shop for a while, so it's not a problem.

Come to the Leaky Cauldron at about 12pm. I'll be waiting for you inside.

Can't wait to see you and hear your charming accent again.

Ignore the owl; he's a little too friendly. Just give him a shove and tell him to sod off and he will.

George Weasley.

Jacob looked at the owl and sure enough it was rubbing its head against his elbow, making strange crooning noises as it did so. Shoving the tawny bird away he told it to go away, like George had told him. Watching it fly out the window, looking as depressed as a bird could possibly look, Jacob caught sight of the clock hanging above the doorway. He yelped in alarm and searched for the time on the letter again. Both times read 12pm.

Throwing himself off the bed again, he sprinted out of his room and turned on the shower. He jumped inside, shedding his clothes before he did not caring that the shower was freezing cold. Side-stepping under the cold water he quickly lathered soap into a sponge and ran it up and down his body. He didn't let the soap rinse of properly as he jumped out of the shower and ran naked back to his room, pulling on underwear, jeans and a simple shirt – he only moved this fast when he ran for a bus, he was sure of it. He catapulted down the stairs, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl as he left the house. At this stage he didn't care nor remember who had brought that apple or who had claimed it for themselves.

It took him only five minutes to reach the Leaky Cauldron; he had run down at full speed. As he ran he looked down at his watch again, it read 12:30. Hoping George was still there he pushed open the door of the old pub and walked inside. Huffing, trying to catch his breath. Even though it was midday and the sun was quite strong outside, the Leaky Cauldron candles were still burning strongly. Jacob scanned the room and saw George sitting in the same place where Jacob had meet him previously. George saw him and smiled broadly.

'Sorry,' Jacob muttered as he came to sit in the seat opposite George. 'I was sleeping when the bird came. What's with that anyway?'

'It's ok, figured you'd be one for sleeping in late,' George chuckled, and seemed to make a move across the table, but then stopped letting his hand fall back. To Jacob it almost looked as though he was going to ruffle his hair. He smiled. 'The owl?' George asked.

'Yeah, why not normal post?'

'Owls are seriously clever, take the letter to whoever you want it to go to,' George said. 'It's a Wizard thing, you'll get used to it, don't worry,' he added when Jacob made a face.

'So, what's first on the agenda today?'

George eyed him curiously and asked his own question. 'Aren't you at all scared or frightened or anything?'

'Why would I be?'

'You just found out that you're life is going to be completely turned upside down, and you just go with the flow?'

'That's what I do, I go with the flow. You never know what's going to happen next, take one day at a time and go with it,' Jacob said. 'Works for me.'

'Good philosophy,' George said, leaning back in his chair to stare Jacob firmly in the eye. 'What makes you think that?'

'My family never really planned ahead, you always had to be ready to jump up and go somewhere,' Jacob said and snorted at a memory. 'This one time, my parents decided we were all going to go to the beach and my sister was still in the shower so she just jumped in the car with her towel on and away we went.'

'Oh,' George said grinning. 'Funny, but I thought there'd be some sort of tragic reasoning behind your view.'

'Hardly,' Jacob said. He stood to his feet, eager to get started. 'Can we go?'

'Yup,' George said, standing up and walking with Jacob to the back courtyard.

This time Jacob watched with interest as George tapped the bricks with his wand in a specific order. Jacob couldn't see what bricks where tapped because the red head's hand moved so fast across the stones and the walls had faded apart before he could even say, 'What?'

'Are we going to get me a wand?' Jacob asked as they stepped into the not so busy street. He was disappointed by the lack of people this time; he had enjoyed the plain difference of them.

'Yeah,' George said, rubbing hands together.

Nodding, Jacob found that a bout of irregular butterflies had settled in his stomach. He didn't usually get this nervous. 'Do you just go in and choose a wand you like?'

'No,' George said. 'No way! It's nothing like that. Merlin, no! The wand chooses you.'

'The wand chooses you?' Jacob asked incredulously.

'Yeah, Mr Ollivander – an absolute genius – makes all the wands and then when you come in he just gives you some and you try them out until a wand chooses you.'

'Huh, really?'

'Yeah,' George said kicking a stone along. 'It's freaky. There's the shop,' he added, pointing.

The sign above the dingy looking shop read Ollivanders – makers of fine wands since 382bc. Jacob stopped, letting George wander into the shop without him as he looked at the display window, something he had a habit of doing. All that was there was a wand atop a plush purple cushion and a number of collective dust balls. The shop obviously wasn't concerned about the image it was putting across, normally Jacob's eyes would have slid right past it. But by the way George said the name of the shop he could tell it was important and had some great significance behind it.

Hurriedly he stepped in after George. The inside of Ollivander's was no better then the outside. Dust was everywhere settled upon the stock, candle sticks and the other items that littered the small room. Jacob looked around him, behind the front desk were many shelves that looked like a miniature library but stacked with thin boxes. Sitting near the door was a group of pictures and portraits, gathering dust. A spiteful looking man, dressed fully in lemony yellow, glared out at Jacob from one of these portraits and stuck out a fat swollen tongue. Jacob recoiled slightly startled and turned his attention to the two other people in the room.

An elderly man was sitting behind the desk, his white hair a shock of colour in the dull room. His dark eyes stared out at George and Jacob behind as they walked into his shop. His thick eyebrows furrowed and then rose as they stood before his desk. Standing in the aisles of boxes a young chubby teenaged girl stood, staring out at them with the same heavy eyebrows and long nose as the old man. She was tapping her foot with impatience.

Before even greeting them or welcoming them the man stood and spoke to Jacob. 'Arms out,' he demanded. George had whispered his name to Jacob – Mr Ollivander – and then Jacob had complied sticking his arms out, wondering why this was important.

As Mr Ollivander pulled out a silver measuring tape and measured Jacob's arm span he began rattling on about wands. 'George Weasley,' he muttered, 'beech, springy, hair from a female unicorn, good for charms, identical to your twins if I remember rightly.'

'That's because we were twins,' George said.

When Mr Ollivander had stopped measuring his arms and stared at George with a morose expression on his face. As quickly as the look on his wrinkled face had appeared, it vanished and he asked Jacob which was his wand hand. To this question, Jacob stared blankly at him.

'What hand do you write with?' George supplied.

'Oh, right.'

Mr Ollivander clicked at the girl hovering amongst the shelves of wands and she immediately ferreted in them and pulled out a box and then squatted on the ground searching for another. When she found it she walked over, carrying the two long boxes and gave them to the wand maker. 'Ash, unicorn hair, rigid, 9 inches,' she said pointing to the first box and moving to the second, she said. 'Chestnut, Dragon heartstring, a little bendy, 10 ½ inches.'

'Hmm,' Mr Ollivander clucked his tongue. 'Very good, very good. Did you make either of these?' he asked her.

'Yes, the ash one.'

'My granddaughter,' he explained to them, 'the only one of my relatives whom I trust to take up such a complex and mysterious branch of Magic such as Wandlore.'

Jacob nodded, completely confused as to what was going on around him. He'd have to ask George later about why making a bit of wood was so difficult. Suddenly he was presented with the first wand of a fine ash colour and asked to wave it about as Kingsley had asked him. He took the wand and gave it a swish, not forming an S like he had the last time. Nothing happened except a soft pfft noise from the end of the wand and one pitiful blue spark.

'Perhaps not,' Mr Ollivander muttered, snatching the wand from Jacob's hand and looking at it in surprise. 'I would have sworn it would suit you.'

'I did too,' the girl said, pursing her lips and putting the wand back inside the box. 'Never mind, try this one.'

He was handed the chestnut wand told to wave it. As he did a warm feeling flooded him and a shower of red sparks shot out the end of the wand, he beamed knowing this was something that was supposed to happen. The sparks fluttered off like tiny birds before popping out of existence.

'Bravo!' Mr Ollivander cheered, half heartedly. 'Suits you well, a nice fit.' He took the wand back from Jacob who was standing quite stunned next to George, surprised he had even been able to make it do anything. But he supposed that the rightness he'd felt when his hand had clasped over it was normal and he had been able to 'channel' magic in him through the wand.

'Pretty colour, too,' George added as he took the wand from Jacob and inspected it. 'How much?' he asked Ollivander.

Jacob turned away, knowing he didn't have the right kind of money to pay for the wand and he thought that perhaps George wouldn't want him to over hear the favor he was doing him. There was the distinctive sound of money being handed across and George said thank you.

After they left the shop Jacob took the wand from the box that George handed to him, and looked it over. It was a thing of beauty as far as wood went. The deep creamy brown colour of chestnut was polished to a gleaming perfection. 'Wow,' he breathed out as he ran his hands over it feeling absolutely no bumps or blemishes.

'That's something,' George said, nodding to it. 'It's nice.'

'Thank you George,' Jacob said and without realizing what he was doing, he flung his arms around George's neck in a tight hug. 'Thank you,' he said again as the hug broke off quickly.

George nodded with no a trace of a blush, which annoyed Jacob because he was sure he had acquired the faint pink tinge across his cheeks. 'You're welcome,' George said.

'What is your money anyway?' Jacob asked. 'I know it's not normal pounds and such.'

'Galleons, Sickles and Knuts, in that order,' he added. 'I'll explain it later.'

'I don't have any kind of that money though, so I won't be able to pay you back at all.'

'It's ok; you can exchange Wizard and Muggle money at Gringotts. That big white bank,' he said when Jacob looked at him in confusion.

'Oh.' Jacob thought it best not to tell him that he had no money of his own, not even Muggle money at this stage. He'd exhausted the supply of money his parents had given him for University on his student loan.

'Do you know what the time is?' George asked him. 'We have to be at Hogwarts by 1:30.'

Jacob looked at his wrist and scowled when he remembered he hadn't put his watch on this morning after his rushed shower. 'No, sorry, I don't know.'

'Never mind,' trilled George. 'It's 1:15.'

'How do you know?'

'Magic.'

'Ha-ha, very funny,' Jacob said and then drew out his wand. 'Where should I keep this?' he asked.

'Always have it on you,' George instructed. 'Keep it in your sleeve or something, that's where I keep mine.'

'What if I'm wearing short shelves?'

'Stick it down your pants.'

Jacob laughed and nodded, pushing his wand back up his sleeve. 'Know any really easy Magic I could do right now?'

'Yeah, but I'm not going to show you until you talk to Professor McGonagall.'

'How are we going to get to Scotland in less than fifteen minutes?'

'Magic,' the red head said again, with a soft laugh.

'I wish you'd stop doing that, it makes me feel stupid.'

George didn't reply but pushed open the door of his shop. Jacob had hardly noticed they'd walked all the way there; he'd been too absorbed in his conversation. Behind the counter stood another red headed boy, who had to be another Weasley child. They were so noticeable. Jacob wondered how many brothers George had. This young man looked bored and tired as he took the money handed to him from a squabble of youngsters.

'Ron!' George barked. 'Try and look a little more interested.'

'Shut it, George,' Ron said sighing. 'You sound like Hermione.'

'And that's not a good thing for you?'

Ron didn't answer the question instead he asked his own. 'When will you be back?'

'In a couple of hours.'

'Any longer than that and I seriously will kill you, ok?'

'Ok, fine,' George held his hands up and rolled his eyes. 'This is Jacob,' he added, pushing him forward. Jacob had been standing safely behind him.

'Hi,' Ron said wiping his hands on his jeans and stepping out from behind desk to shake his hand. 'Wow,' he added. 'I've never heard of anyone like you before, seriously incredible. Actually amazing. George says you are going to meet Professor McGonagall and have your first lesson?'

'Yeah,' Jacob said, grinning. Ron, like his brother, was easy to talk to. He had an air of friendliness about him. 'Been a few pretty hectic days,' he added.

'I can imagine,' Ron said. 'I can't believe you're going back to Hogwarts.'

'Not back,' Jacob said. 'I've never been there before.'

'Ok!' George said loudly. 'Stop talking, we need to go.' He glared at his brother and pointed a threatening finger at him that must have meant something to them because Ron nodded and waved goodbye to them both.

George walked him upstairs, and into the flat above the shop.

'What are we doing up here?' Jacob asked confused.

'Using the fireplace.'

'Um, why?' Jacob asked. 'It's not cold or anything.'

George hit himself squarely in the forehead. 'I kept forgetting you're not a Wizard! We use fireplaces to get places sometimes.'

'What like Santa?'

George snorted. 'Yeah, I suppose.' He moved over to the tall fireplace standing beside one of the large double beds. 'Come here,' he said to Jacob.

Jacob complied and moved across the smooth wooden floor to stand beside George. Beside the fireplace was a bowl of green dust, George placed his hand in it and stirred it around a little. 'This is Floo Powder.'

'Floo Powder?'

'Yeah, Floo Powder,' George said grinning. 'You stand in the center of the fireplace and say where you want to go in a loud clear voice, careful about that, could end up somewhere completely foreign if you're hasty. And then you throw the powder up and you should whisk away to where ever it is you want to go.'

Jacob stared at him blankly. 'You travel through fireplaces?'

'Yes, do you want me to go first?'

'No!' Jacob said half terrified at the thought of being left alone and then forgetting what to do. 'I'll go first. What if he ended up somewhere completely different, like somewhere in China? No, he quite liked China. What if he ended up in Australia? 'What do I do?' he asked.

'Cleary say Hogwarts, that's all, simple and then just like that,' he clicked his fingers to show his point, 'you should be there.'

'Should doesn't sound very positive!' Jacob said as George grabbed his shoulders and steered him towards the hearth.

'You'll be fine,' George said opening his hand above Jacob's and letting the green dust fall into it. He pushed Jacob into the fireplace nearly causing Jacob to fall over his own feet. But he straightened up and shot George a frightened look.

'H-Hogwarts!' he stammered loudly and threw the 'Floo Powder' into the air.

It felt like the ground was being ripped out from under his feet and thrown over his head. He had a distinct notion that he was traveling but not quite sure how this was possible. He barely saw exits to what must be other grates but was being rushed by too quickly to take notice of these. Abruptly it seemed he was thrown from the connection and out onto a cold stone floor.

'Good morning,' a voice greeted him and a pale hand was extended down. He clasped hold of the hand and was pulled to his feet.

A tall stately woman stood before him, clad in a green dress and a pointed hat to match. She had round spectacles that hung on the bridge of her nose over which she looked down at him. Though her appearance showed she could be harsh and tough when required, her brown eyes were also kind and compassionate. She looked to be old and frail but her strength when she had helped him to his feet suggested otherwise. The woman had an air of importance about her.

'Am I right in guessing that you are Jacob Smith?' she asked. Jacob was thrilled, he'd come to the right place! And her accent was Scottish. He beamed.

'Yes, ma'am,' he said with a broad smile.

She returned his smile. 'Scottish blood,' she said surveying his face. 'You still have the accent.'

'I know,' he smiled.

'I'm Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,' she said, and then gestured towards a chair. 'Please sit, Jacob.'

Jacob nodded and sank into the chair before her large desk. Using the time he had while he got comfortable to look around the office. Her desk was tidy; a set of books sat on the right side and to the left a stack of papers. In the center was an ink pot with a graceful peacock feather arching out of it. Behind her desk was a large portrait with a purple background, the portrait was empty. Jacob gave it a quizzical glance before he continued to look at the room. On one wall was a set of book shelves filled to the brim with. One shelf was empty except for an old battered hat. His eyes slid past this and onto the next wall in which a huge window hung, outside a forest could be seen and the black dots that must be students were milling about the edge of a giant lake. Opposite her desk was a large gargoyle statue, and a single step. The rest of the room was an assortment of goods and belongings that Professor McGonagall had seemingly acquired over her years.

'Ow!' George's outcry could be heard as he too clattered into the room. Before either Jacob or the headmistress could rise to their feet and help him, he had risen and was standing before her desk, obscuring Jacob's view.

'For you,' he said and held out something that Jacob could not see.

'Sit down Mr Weasley,' the Professor scolded, though her tone suggested she was pleased. 'We are not here to discuss you, we are here to explain to Jacob some of the properties of Magic and perhaps teach him several small spells.'

'Just wanted to say hello my old head of house,' George grumbled and winked at Jacob as he sat down next to him. When George had turned to wink at him, Jacob saw the Professor wave her wand tiredly at the bouquet of flowers George had obviously presented her with and they turned into a swarm of dust which promptly vanished. She smiled at Jacob wirily as if daring him to tell.

'Professor?' George asked.

'Yes?'

'Can Jacob be sorted?'

The Professor clucked her tongue in thought and looked at the old ragged hat on the empty shelf and then back at Jacob. She narrowed her eyes and then nodded. 'I don't see why not. Accio sorting hat,' she said with a wave of her wand.

The old tattered hat flew gracefully off the ledge and landed in her outstretched arms.

'What is that?' Jacob asked, peering at it.

'This is the sorting hat,' the Professor explained. 'Let me tell you the story of our school. Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago, by four of the greatest Witches and Wizards of that time. They built the school together, far away from the eyes of Muggles. And at Hogwarts we have four houses named after the founders. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. -'

George made a face when the last house was mentioned.

'- Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin. The founders had different ideas of what sort of students should be allowed to attend Hogwarts,' she continued. 'Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw all thought that any one who showed the talent should be allowed to attend that school. But Slytherin would only take the students with the purest of blood to be in his house.'

'And so that's why the sorting hat was created,' George said. 'To find which qualities a person had and to put them into the house were their qualities would be used best.'

'Is the Sorting Hat Magic?' Jacob asked.

'Yes,' the Professor said straightened in her chair.

'What house are you two in, or were you in?'

'Gryffindor,' they both said at once.

The Professor added. 'Once sorted into a house and after you spend most of your school years in that same house you still come to think of yourself as a Gryffindor even after school.' She handed him the hat. 'Try it on.'

Review please! Takes about thiry seconds and I really appreicate it!