Chapter 9: Before the Sorting

The rest of the article talked about the train, the separating of the three boys into different houses, and the incident in the bathroom, well the incident that Nim had told, not what really happened.

The recount of the incident was vivid enough, that Nim, Cyril, and Bill were pulled from their next periods and taken to the headmaster's office.

Nim hadn't seen Bill since the incident in the bathroom. The boy had a shiner right below his right eye and looked as if sleep had evaded him for several days. He didn't even have his hair slicked over like normal.

"What were you three thinking?" Professor Cera snapped. The three students were in the Headmaster's office along with their respective Heads. Her black nail polish gleamed in the dim light as she tapped them with fury against the wooden desk. "Especially you." She sneered at Bill.

"We can't really fault them for being curious, can we?" Professor Longbottom said. "I mean, be real, you used magic at that age, I'm sure."

"Yes, but just like these boys, no good came of it." Cera said and gave Longbottom a glare.

"Perhaps," Longbottom leaned on the wall opposite Cera. "I don't think we can really blame them for being curious. They are first years after all."

"Then we educate them. I suggest detention for a week. That ought to teach them something." She said.

"A week? For screwing up a charms spell?" A third professor chimed in. Nim recognized her as Professor Rosma from Astronomy. She had a pair of glasses with a crescent moon on one side and small stars on the other, that covered her dark brown eyes. Her skin was olive and her hair was white and wispy, pulled back in a loose bun. She had robes that were different from the others, brilliant shades of orange and pink with bangles dangling everywhere. Nim had only ever seen one dress like it…worn by women from India. A sara or something like that… "Preposterous. You only even cared about this because that student run newspaper made a fuss."

"Madame Thomasson confirmed the injuries to Mr. North were quite severe." Cera's eyes narrowed. Both women looked ready to lunge at each other.

"Please, please. Can we have our little disputes not in front of first years?" Headmaster Potter, sitting at his desk raised his hands. The Professors turned away from each other. "Better…I suppose." He shook his head and closed his eyes.

Nim had to stop the twist of a grin on his face. He could tell that this was not the first time Headmaster Potter had to deal with this. It showed in his expressions. It was borderline comical.

"While I can appreciate where Professor Cera is coming from." Headmaster Potter turned his head towards her. "I also believe we can't completely disregard the students' curiosity to try basic spells. We've all been first years, yeah?" He looked to Professor Longbottom who nodded and winked. "How about, I assign a one night detention to go over our rules with the boys, and we call it a day? I'm sure Professor Coremund as the objective Head can see to it."

"But Headmaster-" Professor Cera started.

"Do you wish to attempt to challenge my ruling?" Headmaster Potter asked. There was a stern look to his eyes.

"No." The witch balled her fist. "Just, tell Professor Coremund to let me know when the detention has been served." She turned around and stormed out.

"It's settled then." Headmaster Potter said. "I will be forwarding this to Professor Coremund. Now…is that all?"

No one said anything.

"Great. I have to get preparations together for the Triwizard Tournament. I bid you all adieu."

Nim, Cyril, and Bill stood up and left. Professors Rosma and Longbottom stayed behind.

"Are you alright?" Nim asked Bill once they'd passed the gargoyle. "I mean your eye and…well everything?"

"Nothing I can't handle." Bill said. He didn't face the others.

"Come on." Nim said. "Something happened. You might have your pride and everything, but-"

"I said I can handle it." Bill stopped. He turned around, fuming at Nim. "I can't be seen hanging around with you. I did enough damage with Zarlot. The more we associate, the less credibility I have as a Slytherin." He turned away. "I also don't want to let my family down."

"So talking to us, lets your family down?" Nim asked, almost in a laugh.

"Yes." Bill stamped his foot.

"How?" Nim raised an eyebrow.

"It…" Bill took a moment, but seemed to not find a sufficient answer. "It just does okay?" He ran off.

Nim debated running after. He didn't know why he was so drawn to Bill. He was prideful, arrogant, and a bit of a snob, but somehow, Nim knew he had a good heart. If he were going to make it in this school, he wanted to befriend people who had good intentions. He didn't know why, exactly. He just did.

"Don't let it get to you." Cyril said. He patted him. "Bill might come around. He might not. You can't force it."

"I suppose. I just…" Nim shook his head. "I just want things to go back to how they were, on the train, before the sorting."

"It was a nice train ride, wasn't it?" Cyril pondered. "Anyways, I promised Gisele I'd meet her to go over the Astronomy parchment. Care to join?"

"No I don't think so…" Nim said. "I'll cya around." He waved to Cyril as they split off.

It was a couple of hours later, that Nim curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace. The earthy smell of the burning, oaken smoke filled him with a sense of comfort. Miranda had strolled over and cuddled on his lap. Her purring soothed him. Maybe he wasn't the best wizard at this school, maybe he'd never find whatever camaraderie he had with Bill before, but right now, he was okay. He had the stone from Professor Coremund. It helped bring him to the current. He watched the flames crackle and sputter as they danced along the logs. The entire dormitory common room glowed with the embers.

As he ran his hand through the soft, warm fur of Miranda, he felt peaceful.

"Hiya Nim."

He turned around to see a bright faced Gryffindor approach. He was pale, but had dark brown hair. He had a semi pudgey face, and was dressed in Scottish garb. Kilt included.

"Hi umm…er…" Nim had seen him briefly at the sorting, but couldn't recall anything else about him.

"Macmillan," the boy plopped down next to Nim. "Russel Macmillan. You can call me Russ for short though." He held out his hand. Nim shook it, and the familiar spark zapped.

"Ouch, that's one nasty static shock there." Russ rubbed his hand.

Nim sighed. "Yeah…something like that." The fact that this had happened three times now, once with Rolf, once with Bill, and now with Russ, made him think there was something that connected the three.

"Well, in any case. No real harm done." Russ chuckled. "I saw you sitting all alone there with your cat and thought I'd join you."

"Thanks." Nim said. Truth be told, he had just started to enjoy the alone time.

"Where ya from?"

"London."

"Any wizards in the family?"

"None that I know of."

"Fascinating," Russ studied Nim. It was odd. This whole conversation was just odd. Nim wanted to get away, but couldn't find a good excuse. "Oh, I've bothered ya haven't I? I'm real sorry, I just don't have a lot of friends yet. These upperclassmen kinda keep to themselves ya know?"

Nim nodded. It was strange he hadn't seen much of the upperclass Gryffindors minus the prefects on their first day. "Maybe they're too good for first years?" He suggested.

Macmillan laughed. It was a loud, hearty laugh that rang throughout the common room. Other students who were there covered their ears. Nim included.

"That's a riot." He said after calming down. "Probably true though. We are just the annoying 1st years after all."

At least one of them was, Nim thought. "Something like that."

"Well, I can see you aren't really in the mood for talking. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow then?" He stood up and waved.

Nim couldn't think of a reason why he wouldn't see Macmillan. Curious he replied, "Is there something interesting going on tomorrow?"

"Yeah Quidditch tryouts. I figured most of Gryffindor is planning to go, on account of the tournament coming up. A bunch of sixth and seventh years are gonna try their hands at being champions. Leaves most of the field open. You should go." He grinned and walked off. He seemed to be headed for a really pretty blue eyed, brown haired first year girl in the corner. She didn't seem as enthusiastic about his joining her.

"Maybe I will." Thought Nim. Sure he wasn't an ace with a broom, but who knows. Maybe he had beginners luck.

That dream was soon shattered. He received notice at breakfast the next morning that he would be serving his detention that night during tryouts.

"That's awful." Gisele sat next to him in the great hall as he opened the letter. "I was hoping we'd get to go together." She twirled her spoon in her bowl. "I could use the encouragement."

"You're trying out?" Nim said. He smiled. "What position?" Not that he knew any of the positions, but he wanted to at least pretend to be interested in support of his friend.

"Beater." She grinned. "They get to use the Bludgers." She balled up one hand and crushed it into the flat palm of the other.

"Bludger?" Nim asked. Several other Gryffindors heard him and snickered.

"Yeah they do all of the smashing. It's what you can use to turn the tide in a game. I once saw a team lose because their seeker got hit by the Bludger."

Nim didn't know what a seeker was, but nodded, feeling like any other questions were just going to continue to destroy whatever non-existant credibility he had at this point. He wished Gisele luck before classes began. In potions, his usual group didn't quite finish the assignment, and were given an assignment to talk about different types of cauldrons and their variety of effectiveness. Coremund also reminded Nim after class about his detention being here.

There was nothing else of note per say, Professor Lupin still teaching different ways Lumos could be applied, Professor Binns rambling on about various historical events, Professor Rosma talking about Mercury's effect on types of magic, and Professor Simone continuing having the class work on Wingardium Leviosa, which Nim still couldn't get the exact pronunciation of.

After classes were over, Nim, with a yawn, began going back to the dungeon to the Potions classroom. He walked down the stairs and into the Great Hall. Just as he exited the other side of the Great Hall, he heard wimpering. His gaze shifted from left to right, but he couldn't see anyone.

"Hello?" He called. After a moment, he heard more wimpers and followed the sounds. Down half a flight of stairs, and off to the right, in a corridor, he saw someone laying on their side. He dashed down and crouched near him. "You alright?"

The figure turned over. Though his nose was bloodied and his fingers looked dislocated, Nim could still see in the faint light that it was Bill.

"Oh god." He watched as Bill sat up, muffled cries emitting. "What happened?"

"I…I'm a traitor…" Bill sobbed. "They…they don't care for traitors…"

"Hold on I…" Nim tried extending his hand to the others, but another shock sent a shriek through Bill and caused his nose to spurt blood. "What do I do?" He said.

"Wand…" Bill muttered taking a few deep breaths. "Point it at my right hand…"

Nim did as he was told.

"Say…Episkey…" Bill leaned his head against the wall, struggling not to cry.

Nim was nervous. So far the only truly success he had was with Lumos. "But what if I hurt you?"

"Do it anyway…" Bill clenched his teeth in pain.

Nim didn't have a choice. He couldn't help Bill up, there was no one around, and if he did nothing, he'd be letting Bill suffer more. He took a breath and said, "Episkey."

There was a warm glow. Bill's fingers cracked back into place on his right hand. He cried with each crack, but after the fifth one, he stopped. He stared at his hand and flexed it. After making sure it was usable again, he picked up his wand and cast Episkey two more times, fixing both his left hand and nose.

Nim watched in amazement as the bones set themselves into place. For the first time, he was watching magic help someone. And he'd been a part of that. Well, with Bill's help.

"That hurt." Bill said after he'd finished and stood up. "Those bastards confronted me. You know the ones, Zarlot and her minions." He wiped his robes off. Dust billowed. "Said I was a traitor to the Slytherin house for associating myself with Gryffindor. To you." He looked at Nim. "They figured they'd break my hands so I couldn't cast spells…and my nose for good measure. It's not the first time it's happened, just the worst."

Nim felt his heart sink. "Because of me?" He felt cold and shivered. "I'm sorry I didn't know…"

"I know." Bill walked over. "I'm not stupid. You don't have…the same advantages I had growing up. I don't know much else, but being muggle born, you don't have knowledge that I do. You probably…" He shifted uncomfortably. "You're scared aren't you?"

There was a moment of mutual understanding between the two. Nim nodded in agreement.

"You don't know about the long standing rivalry between our houses, or that being muggle born is considered bad by some. You probably don't even know the positions on a Quidditch team. It's like, being thrown into a world you know nothing about." He paused. "We…aren't so different."

"What?" Nim's eyes widened.

"I mean, I know what it's like to feel like an outsider. Not from Slytherin…though there too I guess."

"So are you muggle born too?" Nim asked.

"Heaven's no." Bill blinked. "Thank god. I mean…nothing against you, but there's enough going against me as is. All I'm saying Nim, is that…I want to try again. You helped me just now. Without you I could have bled to death. My own house already loathes me. I have nothing left to lose. Can we…be friends?" He rubbed his left hand against his arm and blushed, turning away. "I know all that pride crap I said earlier. I just was afraid. I've…shamed my family in the past. I didn't want to do it again. But…I don't care anymore. What you did goes beyond House or blood ties. I'd be a fool to resist any longer. There's no pride in turning away those who care about you." He blushed even further.

"Yeah, but…you don't need to go giving any speeches." Nim snickered.

"Shut up." Bill replied and walked off. "We should hurry or we'll be late to detention."

Nim smiled. It finally felt like things were falling into place. He was starting to get back to how things were before the sorting.

Detention took forever. Professor Coremund lectured the three students on why it's important to only do spells in the safety of their own common rooms and in the classroom. He included history, incidents, and risks.

It was all very boring to Nim. He knew it wasn't okay to go around doing spells at will, and even so, they were here under the pretense of a lie anyways. It was dark when Professor Coremund dismissed them, telling them to submit a brief paragraph as to why it was important not to cast spells in the corridors.

Cyril broke off first, a little taken aback when Nim and Bill didn't immediately dismiss each other and seemed to be getting along.

"Bill." Nim said once they'd reached the Great Hall. The other boy stopped and turned.

"Yes?"

"I need help." Nim sighed. He always felt weak admitting he needed help, but really, he didn't have a lot of options left.

"With?"

"Spells and stuff." Nim said. "I'm struggling. It's…difficult…and you just seem to know all of these spells and charms and hexes. And…well I can't ask Rowena to help."

"Of course not," Bill snorted. "She'd just rattle your head off with a bunch of information that won't help. Well, fair is fair. I owe you, and you need help. I'll give you some pointers. We'll start tomorrow in the library, if that's okay with you." He waved and took off after Nim acknowledged.

Nim slept great that night. For the first time since arriving, it felt like things were going well. He had made all of his friends back, he'd gotten someone who could really help him with his studies, and started to find his place.

The next morning, after waking up to the sound of birds chirping, Nim ambled down to the bathrooms. While brushing his teeth, he checked to make sure he was fine. His bright blue eyes cheered back at him, and he combed his frizzy, short brown hair to keep it from going crazy. He splashed water over his ruddy cheeks and square jaw. Once satisfied, he went back up, threw his robe on, and wandered to the Great Hall where other students had gathered.

He plopped down next to Gisele, who sat, looking at her bowl of porridge and stirred it.

"Hey!" He beamed.

"Hi." She replied. She didn't take her gaze away from the bowl and continued stirring it. Nim knew something was up.

"What's up?" He asked, poking her shoulder playfully.

"Oh nothing," She sighed. "Just…"

"Just?" Nim asked after a moment.

"I didn't make the Quidditch team." She frowned.

Nim felt bad. While he was cheerful, she was distraught. He put his arm around her in an awkward side hug. "I'm sorry."

"It's…alright." She hugged him back. "There's always next year. I was just looking forward to it you know? My dad was kind of a big deal in the sport…"

"He was?" Nim asked.

"Yeah he was a beater on the Gryffindor team when he attended Hogwarts. There's actually a couple of trophies with his name on them. I was just hoping to live up to his name…" She sighed.

"Well, I'm sure-" But Nim didn't finish his sentence. A large, brown owl swooped down and dropped a package in front of them. Nim and Gisele both jumped back. She picked up the package which was poorly wrapped in brown paper with black shoelace string.

"It's for you." She said and gave it to him.

Nim couldn't even begin to fathom who would be sending him a package. He doubted his grandfather would, and he had no other friends or relatives outside of Hogwarts that he could think of.

"Odd that it doesn't say who it's from." She handed the package to him. "Open it, but be careful."

Nim gingerly took the package and slowly undid the string. He peeled back the paper with caution and lay it out. As he removed the final bits of paper, his eyes widened.

He could feel his pulse increasing, spreading over his body like wildfire. Panic began to sink in. His thoughts became sharp, clear, and a loud buzzing sound filled his whole world, followed by the ghostly screams of his mother calling him down to breakfast. They grew louder and louder by the second.

He let go of the packaging and let out a yelp, looking at the present Rathley had given to him for his birthday. The thing that he'd lost after they had died.

The alarm clock.

A/N: Just when everything was going so well...ah well, gotta keep the plot moving haha. Nim just can't seem to catch a break can he? At least he's befriended Bill again :) Was shocked when I finished this chapter tonight. Didn't think I'd be posting two when the day started. Pleasantly surprised! Going on a trip this next weekend so it kinda makes up for the fact that you probably won't see another update for a week or so. Anyways, as always thanks for reading! Keep the reviews and comments coming, it's helped a lot :)