If you're reading this, much love. A few quick words, if you don't mind. I want to give a shout out to all of you who are following and favoroting tis story, and a super special thank you to:
JK Rowling, for obvious reasons.
Merendinoemiliano, for the wonderful reviews and for the help.
BrendaPortela, your words made me smile. I hope you aren't disappointed!
and ChunkyFunkyMunky, who left the greatest single review I have ever read. You stay you, you magnificent bastard.
Before we move into this lengthy, fun chapter, some dad advice. Take the time to "wash behind your ears." A little self maintenance, even something as simple as brushing your teeth, clipping your nails, or putting on some makeup can make you feel a hundred times better, even in the times when the world feels less green, white, and blue and more like different shades of gray. It may seem trivial, but your mind will appreciate the confidence boost.
ENJOI
…
The doors opened and a tall, straight backed woman with pitch black hair pulled tightly into an immaculate bun looked sternly upon them from behind half-moon spectacles. Her green and black robes billowed around her feet slightly, but that was the only movement from her as she regarded them stoically.
Many of the others writhed under her gaze, but when her eyes fell on him James grinned and gave her a cheeky, two fingered salute. She ignored his playfulness and continued her appraisal, and James wondered if she was doing this simply for the enjoyment of watching them squirm.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced.
"Thank you, Hagrid, I'll take them from here," McGonagall replied meticulously. With a sweeping of her robes, she turned on her heel, silently bading them to follow her. Everyone was silent as she led them into the castle, which was made with yellowed granite and was lit with torches. Statues of armored knights lined the walls to the entry way, silently watching them as the new students passed.
McGonagall led them up a grand marble staircase and passed a huge door to their right. Hundreds of voices could be heard, but was deafened as McGonagall motioned them into a smaller chamber to the side. Crowding in, the first years were packed like sardines when McGonagall finally spoke to them.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she started, her Scottish accent coming through, but she still enunciated well enough to be understood clearly. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.
"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking-" she fixed James Dean with a prescient look. "-will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
Her gaze fell on Neville, who's robes were askew and trembling from the toad in his pocket, and Ron, who still hadn't gotten the dirt smear cleaned off his nose.
James and Travis pushed through the crowd as she left, straight to their brothers. In mock hysteria, they gave each of them weepy, sarcastic hugs and claimed obnoxiously that they had missed them. The other students laughed at their responding antics; Travis babbled about how without Brian he was lost like a love-sick girl, Brian giving James a sarcastically sloppy kiss on the cheek, and Harry warbled about how he was lost with his "better half." They even gave Ron an around-the-shoulder embrace, much to his surprise.
"So, this is the highly esteemed Hogwarts," Brian breathed, rubbing his hands to ward off the chilly night air. "Looks like any old castle to me."
"Are you kidding me?" Hermione Granger's voice called out from the middle of the flock of students. "This castle has so many enchantments-"
"Yes, yes we know, bookworm," Travis interrupted. "You're not the only muggle-raised person to read Hogwarts: A History."
A couple of kids laughed at her being shot down, and she didn't shoot back a reply. James snickered as he figured she had to be more than a little peeved, and the other kids next to her had to have been fearing for their lives, being saddled next to the snob.
"Bloody hell, mate," Ron exclaimed once she had closed the door. "You'd think she has it out for you!"
"And for good reason," Hermione sniped from the other side of the room.
"Bring it on," James replied to both brazenly. "It's about time we get to challenge our skills, right guys?"
"Oh, yeah," Brian drawled, looking excited.
"Sure," Travis laughed. "She our first target, then?"
"Oh, I can think of a few things to prank her on."
"Uh, am I the only one scared about the Sorting?" Ron piped in. "Seriously?"
"Oh my God, I'm scared too!" A tall, dark skinned kid answered. "Dean Thomas. I'm a muggleborn, see, so I have no idea what is going to happen."
"Fred and George said they had to battle a troll," Ron cast in. "I doubt it, though…"
"I heard you had swim across the Black Lake," a blond girl with pale blue eyes said wearily. Tony gave out an involuntary whimper.
"Am I the only one who has read Hogwarts: A History?" James and Hermione demanded. Looking at each other, they both scoffed and turned from each other.
"You just put on a really old hat and it tells you what house you're in," James murmured.
"Oh."
"Well, that makes sense."
"A ruddy hat?"
"What if it has lice?"
"Or muggleborn hair! I don't want to share any hats that some mudblood has tainted! I'd rather battle that troll!"
"So, it's true then," a familiar drawling voice caught James's attention as its owner made his way through the crowd, flanked by a pair of beefy looking brutes. "The Potters really are know it all's!"
"Yeah, nice to- what the-?!" James screamed as over twenty wispy, silvery men and women faded into the room. They were arguing about some poltergeist, when one of them noticed the first years.
"Well, what have we here? New students? I'm pleased to meet you all," the rotund, medieval-dressed man started kindly.
"Uh… back at you?"
"Oh, leave the children alone, Cecil, you're frightening them," another ghost of a tall and limber woman scolded.
"Well, they'll have to get used to us sooner or later, won't they! We might as well start off graciously rather than abominably!"
"You'll scare them regardless, dear."
"Damnable woman, that Sybil," the Ghost named Cecil muttered angrily as he floated through the wall to the Great Hall. "You'd think that after death I'd earn a reprieve from her marriage, but no, it's as if we never died at that wretched hotel-"
"Don't mind some of our resident spirits, young one," an ethereal voice spoke to James. Looking up, he saw a beautiful woman smirking sadly at him. "Most of us did not die under favorable circumstances."
"I'm sorry to hear that," James replied sincerely.
"Oh," she chuckled embarrassingly, running her hands down her eloquent dress, revealing a stab wound in her abdomen. "It's refreshing to have an actual living being show pity. Most of thine house's students are either cold to me, or simply avoid contact. Compassion is a rarity tis' day it seems, and I'm gleeful that you have it. I bid yee good luck with your sorting, kind boy, and wish thee well."
"Creepy," Travis stated.
"It… wasn't as weird as I thought it'd be. You know, when Mom told me about them."
"She must have been the Grey Lady," Granger spoke up. "The House Ghost for Ravenclaw."
James said nothing back, half because it didn't require a response, half because Professor McGonagall had returned, carrying a hat in one arm and a stool in another. "It is time."
She led them into the Great Hall, which was filled with four long tables with benches lining them, packed with hundreds of students. The stained glass windows were magically animated, showing curious creatures that moved and ambled about as the students walked past. James looked up at the ceiling, and was amazed at how little his books did it justice.
It was as if there wasn't a ceiling at all. Stars and clouds glittered amongst the moon. Hundreds, if not thousands of floating wax candles floated beneath it, dipping up and down as if floating in water. The ghosts had taken up positions in the hall, floating amid them, and silently waited.
McGonagall left the line of first years before the final table, which sat at the head of the Great Hall and had what appeared to be all the teachers sitting at it. A great, tall dais sat before it, made of gold and featuring an owl statue with open wings at the top, which also appeared to be a book rest. The professors themselves were an odd bunch, James surmised.
One was extremely short and old, with wild tufts of snow white hair puffing up from his knobby head. Another was tall and thin with immaculate, dark brown skin and a round face, which contrasted beautifully with her shimmering gold robes. A snide looking man with greasy black hair and sallow skin stared James and Harry down, Harry being oblivious and James rolled his eyes.
That must have been the professor their dad warned them about, Snape.
Ignoring the leers from the potions master, he then looked at Quirrell, who was stammering to Snape and sweating profusely, looking terrified of him. James caught sight of Hagrid and waved at him. Hagrid waved back with a smile and accidentally stepped on a frumpy looking professor's foot. The woman, in dirt stained gray robes and a funny looking droopy hat cursed at him, and he apologized as he found his seat.
McGonagall returned with a four-legged stool that had an old, tattered looking wizard's hat on it. The hat moved, as if alive, and seemed to be looking at its surroundings. After it finished its inspection of the Great Hall, a rip near the brim of the hat opened like a comically horrific maw and it began to... sing?
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, but don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, your top hats sleek and tall, for I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat and I can cap them all. There's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see, so try me on and I will tell you where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart. Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart. You might belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal. Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind, where those of wit and learning, will always find their kind. Or perhaps in Slytherin you'll make your real friends, those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
Applause erupted from the Great Hall as it finished its singing, but James stayed silent, waiting to get on with it. The Hat dramatically bowed to the four House Tables, then to the professors, before settling back on the chair. McGonagall stepped forward, and reading from a long roll of parchment, started calling names.
…
"Abbott, Hannah!" McGonagall called out. A blushing, timid looking blonde girl approached the hat.
Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his spot in line. James put a hand on his shoulder.
"Quit squirreling around, will ya?" he muttered as Harry tried in vain to tame his hereditary wild hair. "It's not gonna go down, so just leave it. Besides, it makes you look wild; the ladies all love a bad boy."
"I'm not here to impress some gross girl," Harry seethed back in a whisper, barely audible over the murmuring going on around them.. He looked up at the ceiling, which seemed to never end and was bewitched to mirror the weather outside. Thousands of candles glittered in the air above the tables, being suspended magically.
"Is it just me, or is it a little creepy that that thing was singing, much less able to carry his tunes in a bucket?" Harry's brother asked.
"It isn't just you, I think."
The hat seemed to be thinking on Hannah's head.. "Still scared?"
Oh, was Harry ever. What if that thing couldn't figure out what House to put him in? He wasn't feeling ambitious, like a Slytherin, nor brave like a Gryffindor. What if it just sat there, on his head, until McGonagall ripped it off his head and threw his sorry hide back on the train?
"Relax, worrying ain't gonna help. You'll get into anything else but Slytherin, trust me."
"How do you know?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Because you ain't got any ambitions, ya freak, that's why. You're my brother, I know these things."
Harry slugged James in the arm. "If you say so…"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Barker, Travis!"
…
Travis ambled up to the sorting hat, hands in his pockets and a breezy air about him. Inside, he was trembling, scared that he'd be separated from James and Brian and Harry, but he had a look to uphold. He grinned at McGonagall, who quirked an eyebrow back at him as she sat on the stool. She placed the big, dirty hat on his head.
"Ah, but what a refreshing thing this is," a small voice muttered in his ear. "An American? At Hogwarts? Yes, very interesting indeed. Brave lad, aren't you... But you hide your fear behind your bravery than actually being brave enough to fight that fear... no, no. Friendliness for the sake of being the opposite of your perceptions of someone else isn't true friendship at all, but a hard worker, indeed you are... but for you own benefit? Tut tut, that won't do at all... your ambitions lie in only being better for everyone's sake around you... not quite an ambition at all, but a noble sacrifice... no... you're... smart, though... hmmm... yes, I think you'll be better served in-
"RAVENCLAW!"
…
"You're worrying about nothing', bro," James soothed him, barely paying attention to Travis's sorting. "You are gonna be a Gryffindor, I guarantee it."
"Bones, Susan!"
"You can't guarantee I'll get into Dad's old house!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Boot, Terry!"
"Yes I can, you're a lot more noble and chivalrous than you think."
"Ravenclaw!"
"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"
"I hope you're right…"
"I always am. Just you see."
…
"Gates, Brian!"
When nobody came forward, McGonagall scowled. "Brian Allen Gates Jr.?"
"Oh!" Brian called out, ignoring laughter as he power walked up to the hat. "Sorry, that's me!"
"Perhaps if you spent a little more time paying attention, you'd end up not wasting anyone else, hmm?" McGonagall scorned him. He flushed a bit, but sat on the chair and let her put the hat on his head.
"Ah, another American. Two in one year? How lucky for me..." the hat whispered in Brian's ear. It felt kind of like someone was rooting around in his head.
"Oh, oh, my dear boy, I-" the hat tapered off. Brian felt bad, because it seemed like the hat sounded a little depressed, and he hoped it wasn't his fault.
"Oh, you precious boy," it tutted at him. "Worried about little ole me. You would be far better suited in Hufflepuff, that much is clear. However- tell me, lad. You see things in your daydreams, don't you? Things that were, things that will be?"
"Yes," Brian whispered, lip shaking.
"A rare talent, and for it to manifest in one so young, so well, and for someone who has known such... such pain... I pity you. Close your eyes, and drift with me a moment... tell me what you see."
"I see..." Brian whispered to the hat as he did what was told. "I see my brothers and I, together, and we're... we're fighting. We're fighting... oh, oh hell, it's-"
"That's enough of that, child. No need to frighten yourself on the first day. Its against my better judgment, as your sensitive heart would better be served in the warmth of Hufflepuff... but I think it'll be better for you with your friend in-
"RAVENCLAW!"
...
Kiara shuffled towards the stool. Her name was just called and the moment of truth was upon her. What her father would do to her when she returned home would be determined in mere moments, and it scared her beyond anything she had ever known in her entire life.
McGonagall's impatient stare did nothing to qualm her fears. Sparing a look around at everyone else, who's neutral stares did nothing to calm her fraying nerves, she forced herself forward. She was all but shaking into pieces when she stood before the intimidating presence that was Professor McGonagall. She almost fell over taking her seat, and jumped when the Sorting Hat was placed up her head.
"Ah, a Kennedy… I remember your father. Strong, commanding, and ambitious, Declan. It was easy to put him in Slytherin. And your mother, yes, I remember that girl very well too. How is she?"
Kiara choked on a sob. She had never gotten to know her mother, as she had died in a muggle car accident when she was an infant...
"Oh, I'm so sorry," the hat soothed. "There, there, wee girl, but do I ever see so much of her in you. Soft, warm hearted, extremely intelligent and talented..."
Her, Kiara Emmaline Kennedy? Intelligent and talented? Was this hat putting her on"
"No, m'dear, I most certainly am not. I know what I am, and see what you are. You are a kind and getnle soul, but with your abilities, you make an adept and apt…
"RAVENCLAW!"
Kiara was surprised she didn't faint. Numbly, she made her way to her new House table. The cheering seemed hollow to her, and she was pulled into the arms of a dark-haired, handsome older student who plopped her down next to him and congratulated her. She replied her thanks out of courtesy alone; she was too petrified of what her father would do to be sincere.
...
"Potter, Harry!"
"Looks like your tickets up, Harry," James whispered as he patted him on the back. "Good luck."
"Thanks," Harry replied appreciatively. James's pep talk had started to do wonders for him, and he wasn't as frightened as he was before. Taking a seat on the stool, he pulled the hat on and was oblivious to the increase chatter filling the Hall.
"Ah, a Potter! The famous Harry Potter, too, I must say, it is a privilege to meet you."
It can talk? Harry thought wildly.
"Yes, I can talk! How do you think I sing? But alas, to business. Difficult… yes very difficult. Plenty of courage, yes, but also a thirst to prove that bravery."
Not Slytherin, please not Slytherin…
"You don't want to be placed in Slytherin? Whatever for? You are powerful... and Slytherin can teach you to use that power. You could become a formidable wizard, and make friends in the right places to help you even better use that power. No...? Well then, you better be a...
"Gryffindor!"
...
You were right! Harry mouthed to James as he walked towards his table. The Weasley twins had stood up and chanted, "We got a Potter!" as the rest of the House clapped and cheered.
Told you so, James mouthed back as he strode towards the stool before McGonagall even called his name. So enamored was he in getting Harry's spirits up, he missed Brian and Travis's Sorting. Looking around, he didn't find them, so he stopped searching when he approached the stool and the hat.
"Potter, Ja- oh, you're already here. Well, take a seat then."
James did so, and grabbed the hat and placed it on top of his head a little crooked. Deciding he didn't like it that way, he shifted it to the other side. With a grunt of disapproval, he merely shifted it flush, and pulled it back so that its rear saddled on his neck, and out of his eyes.
"Ah, another Potter. A twin? Very rare, even for the Potters… they are renowned for having only one child. It is a pleasure to meet one of your stature as well," the small voice toned in his ear.
"Hey, nice to meet you to, man," James replied back out loud, earning amused looks from McGonagall and the rest of the Hall. James ignored them.
"Aha, a sense of humor. And… hm… intelligence, keen wit, cleverness to spare, and… oh my. You are very mature, an odd trait for one so young. And you have bravery, but nobility isn't your strong suit. You are loyal, and… well, you don't have a lot of ambition, do you? Laid back, as you would say… yes, difficult, difficult…"
"You could just proclaim me the next Headmaster and be done with it, make it easy for both of us."
"Oh ho! Perhaps you have some ambition after all! No one man or woman becomes the Headmaster of Hogwarts so easily! You have a sort of initiative your twin lacks, but not nearly as much of his raw power... Yet you are also incredibly lazy..."
"Woooooow," James scoffed, crossing his arms. "That's rude. I'm not lazy, I'm just unmotivated to do things I don't wanna do."
Laughter erupted as James talked loudly back at the hat, who chortled in his ear. "Yes, well, many would see that as being a form of laziness. Your laid back charm and charisma will net you many friends, but its a veneer isn't it? You could fit into any House here, boy, but I think you will do well with your friends in…
"Ravenclaw!"
James quirked his eyebrow, but shrugged it off, taking the hat off his head and spared a look to McGonagall. She looked down at him, her face mirroring his. It was obvious that she didn't expect him to be sorted into the bookish, rule-friendly house of Eagles.
Finding his bearings quickly, he stood up and strode to his new table. They were cheering just as loud as the Gryffindors did when Harry got sorted into their House, only theirs was a little more… jubilant. Nobody expected him, of all people, to be in Ravenclaw. An Asian-looking girl was jumping up and down, clapping and screaming while a seventh year ran up to him and folded him into a hug, picking him and twirling him around as she squealed, "We got the other Potter! We got the other Potter!" Brian and Travis ran up to him and nearly tackled him as they dragged him over to their spots.
"I can't believe it!" Brian exclaimed, an excited look that looked almost out of place on his normally hollow face. "We're all in the same House!"
"I know!" Travis jubilantly screamed back. "This is going to be so awesome!"
"I didn't know you guys got sorted into Ravenclaw," James laughed in admiration.
"You were too busy giving Harry 'The Talk,' you idiot! You missed us!"
By that time Dumbledore had to stand and scream, "Quiet!" because both the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were making so much noise, the Sorting couldn't continue. All along the tables, people were gossiping loudly, making speculations, or just plain celebrating.
"I don't understand why they are making such a big fuss over something so…"
"Trivial?" Brian completed questioningly.
"Yeah. I mean, it's-"
"Rivers! RIVERS!" McGonagall screamed over the din the students were making.
"SILENCE!" Dumbledore blared, holding his wand to his throat and projecting his voice. "Silence!"
"Rivers, Matthew!"
The rest of the Sorting was quiet; whenever a student was sorted, their new house would applaud politely, but it would die down fairly quick. However, when it ended with "Zabini, Blaise!" being sorted into Slytherin, the talks restarted.
"Hey, Potter!" an older boy with a handsome face and straight brown hair held up his hand. "Name's Roger Davies. It's nice to have you in Ravenclaw!"
James shook the hand with a nod. "Thanks, man."
"So is it true? That you are as good as your Dad at Quidditch?"
"What? He kills us every time we play!"
The look of disappointment on Roger's face was apparent. "Oh. Well, congratulations!"
"Yeah," James muttered, not entirely sure as to what just happened.
Dumbledore had stood at that moment and began to talk.
"Welcome!" he said. "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!" He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. James didn't pay attention as he poked Brian.
"Do you think that guy was trying to, you know, recruit me?"
"Recruit you? Well, I dunno, man," Travis whispered, applauding Dumbledore's short speech. Picking up a pork chop as if it hadn't just appeared right in front of him, he continued. "I heard that Roger Davies is supposed to be the next Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, he's so good. Wasn't Dad a chaser?"
"Yeah, good one, too, so he and everyone else says. But if Davies is so great, why would he try to get me to try out? I can't even play this year, so…"
"Don't worry 'bout it bro. You're probably reading a little too deeply into this. Oh my God, have you tried this mutton?"
...
"What about you? Do you play Quidditch?" a handsome, brown haired boy asked as he passed by.
Kiara looked up from her plate of small, picky foods she had decided she would choke down. Her stomach was doing somersaults. She didn't dare imagine what her father would do when he inevitably learned she wasn't in Slytherin. He wanted her to befriend Draco Malfoy, get high marks, be a Slytherin. Her father crammed blood supremacy, magical history, and his own philosophies down her throat every chance he had. He never let her so much as touch anything if it wasn't a book. "Quidditch? I never was allowed to even play it."
The older student shook his head. "Have to teach them all," he muttered.
...
"Oh, man, that was good," Brian drawled as he shoveled the last of his dessert into his mouth and leaned back, holding his stomach. James was chugging his goblet of water from eating a "spice cake" that was a little too spicy, and Travis was wiping his mouth neatly with a cloth napkin. Dumbledore stood again and started in on his full address.
"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins, before moving to meet James's own and the old man winked. James crossed his arms and griped, feeling like he was being pointed out.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
James, Travis, and Brian all gave each other the same intrigued look as Dumbledore continued. They knew exactly where they were going first chance they got.
"I wonder what Mom and Dad will say when they find out what House we got into," Brian said, hiding from everyone else around them what they were thinking.
"Mom will probably be ecstatic," Travis laughed. "She wanted us to get into Ravenclaw. Dad will bust a vein though."
Brian nodded. "I agree. He thinks the only worthy House is Gryffindor House."
James smirked and replied, "Well, we'll just to prove dear old Father otherwise, now won't we?"
"Oh no…" Travis groaned, patting his full belly. "So soon after dinner?"
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore, breaking their conversation.
The other teachers' smiles had become forced as Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.
"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed the lyrics, to which the three new Ravenclaws just sat back and watched. Everybody finished the song at different times, with the Weasley twins left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest. "Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
"Whatcha got in mind, bro?" Brian asked as the Great Hall was filled with the sounds of everyone clambering out of their seats.
"Just wait. You two just wait."
"First year Ravenclaws, on us, please!" A tall, thin fifth year commanded over the ruckus. He looked like he was Arabic, but had an Irish accent. "Follow us prefects to the Tower, please!"
…
"I'm Samhain al-Fulani, and this is Penelope Clearwater," the Arabic looking prefect introduced himself and his partner, a boring looking blonde with brown eyes and officious attitude. "We're prefects, and this," he waved grandiosely, "Is the Grand Staircase. Beware, the stairs have a habit of changing…"
The stairs did, in fact, change. The entire set of marble steps shifted and moved, shifting its destination to another hallway. The portraits lining the walls, painted with magic and featuring walking, talking, moving people, pointed and laughed at them, which was emboldened by the prefects looking forlorn at where the stairs led.
"...not always to your benefit," Samhain finished, looking sheepish.
The first years and some older students laughed nervously. They were all tired from their long day and huge feast, and looked groggy and ready for sleep. James looked over at the Gryffindors, whose group had broken from theirs and were stuck in a similar predicament, only with the added benefit of being attacked by floating sticks- oh.
James grinned and turned to Brian, who was also watching. Brian smiled back, and James tapped Travis on the shoulder, pulling him from his conversation with one of their fellow classmates. Travis saw the poltergeist attacking the Gryffindors and smiled big. Finally, a prefect James assumed was Percy Weasley scared the poltergeist off, who flew over the Ravenclaws shrieking in laughter.
Many of the others ducked and screamed from the floating madman, but James didn't. He smiled and caught the specter's eye as it flew past, and gave him a two finger salute. The poltergeist winked and flew away, raining the last of his little twigs on them as he disappeared.
Samhain and Penelope droned on and on about rules and studying as James, Travis, and Brian eased their way to the pack of the pack. Once they knew how to mostly get to the Ravenclaw dorms, they bolted.
…
"Okay, so what's the plan?" Travis asked as the retraced their steps back the way they came, in hopes of finding the poltergeist.
"We need to find that poltergeist," James replied as he checked a corridor for any incoming staff. "He can do what we can't."
"And what are wanting him to do?" Brian asked.
"Hit Hermione where she lives," James explained as they tore off sneakily down the hall. A few portraits saw them, but mumbled incoherently at them and went back to sleep. "We'll give him these-" he pulled out from his robes a few squished cauldron cakes, a pair of licorice wands, and a crushed chocolate frog. "-and have thrash him her with them. If he does it while she's sleeping, even better!"
"Why don't we do it ourselves?" Travis inquired, looking skeptical. "We just sneak in to her dorm and-"
"Won't work," James muttered. "I have done my research. First of all, boys can't get in to girls' dorms, its enchanted to keep 'em out. Second of all, we'll be recognized immediately. We're famous, and everyone knows us as the newest members of Ravenclaw house. We need this poltergesist to pull of what I'm thinking."
"Okay, but how's a ghost supposed to do that, then?" Travis demanded. "They can't hold onto physical objects!"
"He's not a ghost, you dolt, didn't you see him tossing sticks earlier?" James tapped his temple with two fingers. "He's a poltergeist, which also means he can't trip the gender-preventing enchantments. Besides, poltergeists live for making chaos and creating trouble."
"So he isn't a dead person?" Brian muttered. "That's trippy."
"Correct," James Dean answered. "They never were people to begin with, so they're just... I dunno, its hard to describe. They're chaos spirits."
"Chaos spirit, ehhhhh?" A high pitched, whistling voice shrieked in the dead night air, waking up a ton of portraits and making the three brothers seize in shock. "I like the sound of that! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"SHUT THE HELL UP!" James hissed, holding his finger to his lips as he whirled around to face where the voice came from. Sitting crossed legged as he floated in midair was the poltergeist they were looking for. Foppish black hair fell from beneath a jester's cap which rang from the bells that fell from the two tips, and he was dressed in a garish three piece suit with a wildly out of place orange bow tie. Sneering orange eyes gazed at the from wicked slanted slits, and a piggish nose danced as he silently mouthed James's words back at him mockingly.
"So, you're the poltergeist," James held his hands up, then motioned to his brothers. "I'm James. That's Travis and Brian. Gotta say, I'm a bit of a fan."
The poltergeist raised a curious eyebrow, but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.
"I want to... form a bit of an alliance with you," James furthered, giving the spirit a lopsided grin. "I have someone I want you to help me prank, and-"
"Ah, my boy," the poltergeist simpered, letting loose a giggle. "You're speaking my languaaaaaaage! Hehehehe, name's Peeves, by the by," he lunged forward suddenly, but James didn't flinch. Impressed, the Peeves held his hand out for a shake, making James grin.
"Pleasure to meet ya, Peeves, and while I... appreciate the gesture-" he motioned to the outstretched hand. "I know better than to get that chummy with ya."
"Oooooh, wise Potty, knowing better than to get too naughty," Peeves wheezed and giggled again. "Very well, Potty Potter Notter. You have my attention."
"I wanna get a Gryffindor student named Hermione. Bushy brown hair, big buck teeth, snobby attitude. Think ya can get at her for us?"
"Of course I can get at her for you!" Peeves demanded. "I am noooooothing if not a professional!"
James grinned and produced his weapons for Peeves to take. "Perfect. We were hoping ya could smear and trash her while she's in bed with these."
Peeves went in to a giggling fit. "Much as I'd love to get into the ladies' bedchambers, laddie, but alas, I am unable to get into any dormitory without... invitation."
James narrowed his eyes. "So... if we got the Gryffindor password and, say, let you in..."
Peeves stroked his chin. "Yeeees, that might work, but you aren't Gryffindors, are you? How do you think you're going to get in to their tower to begin with? The Fat Laaaaaaady is the portrait barring entry. She may decide not to let you in at all, even if you have her password."
James shrugged and tossed his weapons of choice at the poltergeist, who caught them handily and secured them... somewhere. "Let us worry about that, we'll get you in. Just remember, her name's Hermione, she has bushy brown hair, and huge front teeth."
Peeves grinned wide and giggled. "Sounds like my kind of target! Now, what do you suggest you give me in return, eeeeeeehhhh?"
"Nothing," James shrugged, arms held out wide, to which Peeves cocked his head in annoyance. "You said yourself you would love to get into the dorms to cause chaos, right? We're helping ya make that dream come true."
Peeves grinned big, which disturbingly split his cruel face ear to ear. "I think we're going to get along well well WEEEEELL, m'boy. Hehehehehehe!"
…
The Transfiguration Quad was a secluded courtyard that had plenty of hiding spots for the more amorous students to hide in. Amongst the bushes, hidden nooks, and shadowed crannies, James Dean, Travis and Brian found couples of every age and house getting their love on in one form or another. It kinda made James sick, watching as a Slytherin seventh year played tonsil hockey with a Gryffindor girl. But alas, with a little plying, the Snake got the Lion out of her snazzy, new, perfectly embroidered, black with red and gold trim robe with a perfectly emblazoned Gryffindor insignia on it.
The girl was closest to James's height, and as such, became a victim to their schemes. Travis, being lightest of foot of the three, snuck up while Brian and James flanked from hidden spots to make distractions, in case things went awry. They got lucky, though, as the robe went flying into Travis's path. Snatching it and getting back into the castle posed no problem as they slinked away from the Lover's Courtyard, feeling confused and worried about what puberty had in store for them.
…
They met Peeves a few halls down from Gryffindor Tower. The poltergeist had dutifully spied on students returning and was able to tell them the password. He then went invisible as James doffed his own robes and slunk into the Gryffindor girl's own. He was kinda jealous of them. It was light and airy and felt a lot softer than his bland, heavy one.
"Sure you wanna do this?" Travis asked. "I am usually the more charming one."
"Yeah," he replied with a cocksure grin. "Gotta practice my silver tongue skills sometime, right? Besides, I think I know what buttons on her to push if she gets suspicious."
"If you're ready, Naughty Potty, we can go," Peeves prodded, corporealizing for a moment.
"Right," James murmured. "Let's go."
James left Travis and Brian around the corner, and swooped his hair sloppily in a vain attempt to sort of disguise his appearance. When he approached the painting of the Fat Lady, he recalled everything he knew about the Fat Lady. According to Hogwarts: A History, she was a dutiful guardian and would under no circumstances allow anyone into Gryffindor Tower without the correct password. She was, however, prone to drinking and was a bit vain, so James figured if she harangued him about being a Gryffindor, he'd just have to sweet talk her a bit.
"Good evening, Lady," he greeted in a faux English accent with a lopsided grin, giving her a wave as he and an invisible Peeves approached. She was fat lady, to be sure, but she wasn't lacking in taste. She was dressed well in her portrait, with a beautiful, bright pink satin dress and her curled hair braided back in a wavy tail.
"Good evening," she replied, already looking suspicious. "I'm sorry, are you a new first year? Why weren't you-"
"I say, My Great Lady," James interrupted, holding a hand over his heart in feigned heart break. "You don't remember me?"
"Well, no, but-"
"After all the conversations we had last year?" James pushed, faux disappointment on his face. "My sweet, beautiful, Fat Lady!"
"I-I'm sorry," she gushed, blushing. "I think you might have me mistaken-"
"Pig snout," James muttered with a pout. "Just lemme in."
"Oh-Oh, fine... I'm so sorry."
"Yeah," James responded despondently, dropping the act as he ducked in to the opened portal. He stayed halfway out, though, and held an arm to Peeves, giving him his "invitation." Peeves's head manifested for a moment to wink at him, which he returned with a grin before bolting down the hallway away from the lady before she saw him retreat.
…
The three boys stealthily made their way up to Ravenclaw tower. They tried to keep their snickering to a minimum, but a little giggle would erupt as soon as they thought of Hermione being pelted with ruined cauldron cakes. They had evaded prefect patrols, a grouchy looking old man who was at the staff table at the Feast, and even a few ghosts. They almost made it to Ravenclaw Tower when their luck ran out and they ran into two older guys in Ravenclaw robes.
Literally.
"Oof!" James grunted as he drew back after running into the tall, blonde, broad shouldered and square jawed one.
Looking up, he noticed Roger Davies, as well, and the two older Ravenclaws looked down at the younger three in mild surprise.
James didn't know what to expect, but what happened wasn't on his list of possibilities.
"Alright, there, Potter?" Broad Shoulders asked, grabbing him by the shoulder and keeping him from falling.
"Uh, yeah," he answered warily. The guy had an important looking badge on his robes and when he read what was on it, his stomach dropped.
He had ran head long into the Head Boy.
"Hahaha!" Head boy Broad Shoulders laughed, holding his hand out. "Nice to meet ya, mate. I'm Desmond, Desmond Worthright."
"Er, charmed," James shook the offered hand while reeling to find a good excuse for why they were out. "We just got lost and were looking for our-"
"Don't worry about it," the seventh year grinned and looked to Roger, who's handsome face grinned and shrugged.
"We ain't supposed to be out, either," Roger explained. "But we were talking about Quidditch strategy and didn't want anybody in the tower to over hear our thoughts."
"Oh," James and Travis chirped, looking mildly surprised.
"I'd love to try you out for the team, mind," Desmond grinned. "If you're anything like your mum and dad, you'd be a good player, but its kinda hard for first years to play without being allowed a broom..."
"I'm only eleven years old," James muttered, still confused.
Desmond snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Be easier to mold ya into the player the team needs... but, hey," he shrugged. "Maybe when Roger here takes over next year, you can try out for my spot."
"Sounds... good?" James muttered, not really interested in playing Quidditch competitively, but also not wanting to tarnish the luck they had going for them at the moment. "Maybe, uh, Travis and I both will make the team, then."
"Hold you to it," Roger chuckled as he nudged Travis on the shoulder. James gulped, but gave a grin regardless.
"So, Sir Head Boy," Roger looked to Desmond. "Since we-" he pointed to himself and the three brothers. "-Aren't supposed to be out this late, care to escort us home?"
"T'would be an honor to walk the Great James Dean Potter home," Desmond joked. "Leave it to me."
...
"Yes, well, here we are," Desmond said lightly, referring to the door that led to the Ravenclaw Common Room. "I must leave to my private quarters. Have a good night, you four."
With a smile the square-jawed seventh year turned and strode back down the corridor, whistling to himself. He had led them through halls and corridors and up countless stairs that even James had struggled to memorize. After bookmarking several landmarks in his mind, he felt he could at least remember how to get back to the Great Hall. Argus Filch, the janitor or "caretaker" as he proudly called himself, nearly jeopardized his memorization when he popped out from around a corner screaming that he had "caught them." Accusing them of dropping dung bombs from the stairwell, Desmond ardently denied it before back talking Filch and making his stand as Head Boy. With a few veiled threats and other various methods of "persuasion," Filch turned on his heel, muttering about mud and stupid children.
James could tell that Filch was going to be a problem, too.
"Yes, well," Roger started, looking at the bronze and blue knocker with a trace of annoyance. The eagle head stared back as if it was alive and rather impassive. "I hate this door…"
"Why?" James asked hesitantly. Why was he just staring at it?
"Because if you want to get in, need to answer a riddle. All the other houses get passwords, but Rowena Ravenclaw just had to prove that Ravenclaws are smarter, the pompous… never mind. We need to gain entrance to the common room," he stated to the knocker as he tapped it twice.
"You will have to answer the riddle correctly," it answered firmly, but indifferently.
"Yes, yes, I know. Give me the riddle…"
"The man who built me wants nothing to do with me, the man who buys me has no need for me, and the man who needs me will never know it; what am I?"
Roger stared for a moment, and shook his head. "I have no idea…"
"A coffin," Brian answered after a few moments of thinking. James and Travis looked at him in admiration while Roger stared in shock.
"Correct," the eagle stated in its neutral tone. "Enter."
"What was that?" James laughed.
"What? It's kinda obvious, isn't it?"
"Well, quite frankly, no," Roger added.
"Oh. Well, can we just go in?"
"Of course."
Walking in, James noticed that the common room was rather large, as if it had been magically enhanced to be larger than it really was. It was wide and open, with two fireplaces at the north and south "ends" of the circle, with two staircases spiraling from the left on the north, and to the right on the south. Large blue tapestries with bronze eagles and trim lined the walls, with many moving pictures and portraits in between. Plenty of tables and end tables accommodated the soft and plush looking furniture. A large, crystalline chandelier was suspended from the ceiling with looping spirals and fluted glass cylinders sparkling in the glow of a pyramid of stair-stepping candles.
Before James could walk into the room any further, Samhain the fifth year prefect stepped in front of them with an imperious stance. "And where did you three first years run off to? You think that because you are famous, Potter-"
"These mates were with me, Sam," Roger spoke up defensively. "I asked them off to the side, to talk. Had a little favor to ask James, and he agreed. There was no… trouble like there was with the Weasley's this morning, I assure you."
Samhain sneered. "You had no right to break the rules, Davies."
"He didn't break the rules," Travis argued.
"Oh? And how would you know?"
"Because I read the rule book, and there was no passage that said first years are required to follow prefects after any feast."
Samhain's dark face flushed. "It shouldn't- there's no-"
"Gotta admit, Sam, he's pretty good."
"Well answer me this; what were you 'asking' of him?"
"I'm not at liberty to say. Confidential, but you can take it up with Desmond, I'm sure he'll vouch for us."
Samhain stuck his nose up. "I shall."
"Then you won't get anywhere, because Dez told me to keep quiet about it. Chaser's honor."
"Fine," the prefect growled, glaring at the four. "Well, Potter, the rest of our illustrious house wants a chance to meet you. I expect you will give them the honor."
...
"Remove this wretched cloth," the high, raspy voice commanded.
Quirrell did so. Staring himself in the mirror, he slowly began unwinding his turban, slowly but surely. With a stoic face, he faced himself as he unveiled his demon to his quarters, its vile caricature imprinted on the back of his now bald head. Ever since their "joining," Quirrell had felt more and more powerful by the day, but the Dark practice was leaving its mark on his body. Veins were showing through his skin as it lost its color and suppleness. The thinning skin, the loss of his body hair, and the beginning of sensory degradation were a by-product, the Dark Lord told him. When he attempted to do research on it, to try to understand it, to stop it, his doppelganger ordered him not to. To stop it would be to prevent getting the power, his Master explained.
"That… is better, Quirrell."
"Thank you, Master."
"Whatever are you thanking me for, boy?"
"This power. This opportunity. This gift."
Voldemort smiled. As long as the fool believed that this "power" was his, he would continue to feed and sustain Voldemort's dark spirit. And as long as Quirrell was under his control, his "guidance," than the good Professor would be the nexus for his return to his rightful place; immortality.
"There is no need for thanks," he whispered. Your just rewards will be upon you when your body falls to dust.