CHAPTER FOUR
Start Line
Harry spent the rest of his summer preparing himself for school.
He had always made sure to prepare himself thoroughly for even the most minor of changes in his life, so why wouldn't he do the same for the biggest? Unfortunately, that meant starting with something he normally wouldn't have patience for:
Handwriting practice.
It sounded silly even in his own mind, but he couldn't show up to Hogwarts and not know how to write with a quill. He wanted to leave an impression in the minds of his classmates and teachers that he was a cut above the rest. Hogwarts was an elite school, at least according to Susan Bones, which meant he was going to be competing with the best.
Perhaps it was a juvenile idea, but he wanted to live up to his parent's reputations. If he couldn't get to know them, get to earn their pride, then he could at least force the people who had known them to admit that he was just as good as they had been at his age. In a roundabout way, it would continue to make him feel as though he were a part of something larger than himself.
So, as Lupin had often reminded him, it was best to start with the fundamentals and work your way up. That began with learning to write with a quill.
The writing sets themselves were quite fascinating. The entire thing was enchanted; the rosewood box to be lighter and slimmer on the outside than it should be, the inkpot to change colours to whatever he verbally requested and the eagle feather quill, with just a tap of its tip against the closed lid of the inkpot, would somehow transfer the ink from the pot to the quill tip without any mess. The inkpot itself was so large he couldn't imagine emptying it even if he wrote a thousand pages.
Pages. Yes, he had tried to avoid writing on the rolls of vellum he had purchased, wanting to save it for school, but the quill kept puncturing all the different kinds of paper that Privet Drive had to offer. So, with regret, he began to practice with his expensive parchment and sent his owl to purchase more for him from Scribbulus Writing Instruments. By the end of summer, he was determined to recreate his normal neat handwriting on parchment.
Harry didn't spend all his time scribbling. He also read, more eagerly than he ever had, the books he had taken from his vault and purchased from Flourish and Blotts. The history books were especially fascinating to him as they read more like the mythopoetic stories of a fantasy world, like The Silmarillion, then they did a history text required for school. Wars against magical beings, Dark Wizards, even the creation and impact newly invented Artifices had on the world. It was all unbelievable, but it was presented to him as though it were mere mundane fact.
The best parts were when the name Potter turned up. It only appeared a handful of times over several different textbooks, but whenever it did he got a small thrill out of it. Linfred, who had invented a handful of potions that were still being used to this very day. Ralston, who was one of the first supporters of the Statute of Secrecy. Abraham, who was amongst the first twelve Aurors in the Confederacy. And Henry, who torpedoed his own political career in his support of Muggles during the First World War.
Of course, his parents were mentioned several times, both in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. There were mentions of the battles and skirmishes they had taken part in and estimates of the number of people they had saved. This made him both nervous and excited, as he had never had any expectations to live up to before, but it was all he wanted to do now.
Strangest of all was when Harry saw his own name being mentioned alongside theirs. His survival of the Killing Curse seemed like a topic of interest for the Masters of the Dark Arts guild. Reading in between the lines, it seemed that it was only by the word of the Magister of the time, Lord Albus Dumbledore, that he hadn't grown up in the Magisterium being experimented on by researchers. Harry wondered why someone so powerful would return to his origins as a schoolteacher, especially as he seemed to be at the height of his power and popularity at the end of the war, according to Modern Magical History.
Harry didn't spend all of his time indoors. After finding his owl waiting for him on his windowsill when he returned from Diagon Alley, he had spent a part of everyday bonding with the aloof bird. It would obey his commands, but it didn't seem interested in being near him.
Despite being on another continent from its natural habitat, the owl spent most of its time outdoors, rarely staying on the perch Harry had set up for it in his room. Harry spent a lot of time in the first few days looking for it, only to find it busy burrowing a hole in the local park or people's gardens at all hours, living up to its name. It only ever returned to Privet Drive intermittently in order to sleep.
It was only when he got lost in his books and hadn't searched for him for two days in a row, did the Burrowing owl return in order to stare at him from its perch. As it turned out, his new pet liked being in charge and making his owner come to him, and Harry was annoyed it had taken him days to figure that out. Slowly, by ignoring his bad behaviour and rewarding the good with owl treats and attention, did the owl learn to bear his presence.
Harry named the Burrowing owl Argos, after the dog of Odysseus, who had waited loyally for his master for twenty years. He hoped Argos would live up to his namesake, just as he wished to emulate his favourite mythical hero. Odysseus had known when to be brave and when to be clever, and Harry admired him for it. Now that he was returning to the world he was born into after ten years away, he felt he finally had something in common with the lost hero. Perhaps courage and cleverness will come to him in time as well.
Surprisingly, when he had first returned from Diagon Alley, the Dursley's didn't even protest the presence of an owl. In fact, they hadn't even acknowledged him or his magical school things. Petunia and Vernon had returned to their usual cold lack of acknowledgement of his existence. Dudley had attempted to do the same, but as he had never even known Harry was magic to begin with, it was harder for him to pretend that he was no threat now. Perhaps it was wrong, but he had grown to enjoy the sight of Dudley turning pale every time he entered a room and fleeing from him, whether his (baffled) friends were around or not.
Harry had taken the time to buy clothes with his remaining Muggle money. He splurged on brand new clothes that he didn't really need, and even found a sports apparel store that was willing to sell him some of their remaining winter clothes, boots and fleeces, as he didn't know if he could purchase clothes through owl order at school.
One morning, as July drew to a close, Harry awoke to the smell of freshly baked treacle cake. Opening his eyes, he saw the window he had closed last night was now wide open and there, on his desk, was a wrapped gift and a large sticky ginger and treacle birthday cake. Climbing out of bed, he searched his room from top to bottom but couldn't find a single sign that anyone had been in his room aside from the cake.
Approaching his desk, he saw the words Happy Birthday written in icing atop the cake. Harry sighed. There was only one person who ever made him birthday cakes and that person was also aware that sticky ginger and treacle cake was his favourite food in the world.
Lupin. He had been using Argos' bad behaviour as an excuse not to write to him, but just last night his owl had obediently returned from Hogwarts with a reply from Hagrid. There were no more excuses left to be made now.
Dear Mr. Lupin, he wrote,
I have recently become aware of your significant deception-
Harry cut himself off there. There was no point in writing a letter if it wasn't going to lead to a productive outcome. Wishing he knew a spell to remove ink, he disposed of the (terribly expensive) sheet of parchment and began with another.
Dear Mr. Lupin,
Thank you for your gift and the cake. It was very thoughtful of you.
I think you should know that a representative of a unique school has recently paid me a visit. This person shared an enlightening bit of information about you. I'm not sure how to think about it. If you have any explanation about this, I would like to hear it.
Kind Regards,
Harry Potter
There, that should do it. Straightforward and polite, while also giving him the chance to explain his side of things properly. Attaching his letter to Argos, he asked his owl to deliver it to Remus Lupin, but to not wait around if he had another owl to deliver for him. Hagrid hated making the trek all the way to the Hogwarts Owlery apparently, so he had asked Argos to stick around for him.
It was only when Argos departed did Harry even remember to unwrap Lupin's gift. He slowly undid the careful wrappings to find a well-worn copy of The Once and Future King. Harry scrunched his eyebrows together, confused. Lupin had suggested he borrow the book from him years ago, and Harry had done so, happy for more to read. He had very much enjoyed the first part, The Sword in the Stone, as he saw a lot of himself in young Wart, but the remaining four books had left a bad taste in his mouth. Who wanted to read a story with such a bleak ending? He had asked as much when he returned the books to Lupin.
"I thought you liked adventure books?" Lupin had asked him innocently. Harry merely huffed in response, able to know when he was being made fun of, and Lupin kindly decided to explain himself, but only in his usual vague manner. "There are always lessons to be learned from good books, sometimes even the bad ones," he smiled down at him, "if you're willing to look deeper than just the surface that is."
No matter how many times Harry asked him to explain what that meant, Lupin refused to elaborate, merely suggesting that he read the books again.
"You're not a very good teacher, you know."
Lupin quoted. "Education is experience, and the essence of experience is self-reliance."
Harry sighed. "I hate you." Lupin just laughed.
Harry had refused to read the books again, for reasons even he wasn't certain of. He had read and enjoyed other tales with tragic endings, but something about Wart's failures hit a little too close to home. He wasn't sure what he was expected to learn from these stories, but he convinced himself to give them another try. It must be important if his old teacher and secret bodyguard went out of his way to send them to him on his birthday.
Lupin's gift wasn't the only surprise on his birthday either. When he had gone for a midday walk, after spending his morning reading and eating half his birthday cake, he had bumped into Sara and Jade just as they were approaching Privet Drive. "Hello," Harry greeted them awkwardly, remembering the last time he saw them.
"Harry! We were just coming to find you!" Jade exclaimed, before surprising him with a hug.
"Err…why?"
"It's your birthday, isn't it?" Sara looked as awkward as he felt, and thankfully, she chose not to hug him.
"We wanted to hang out with you. We brought gifts!" Jade thrusted the bag he had only just noticed she was carrying at him. Sara did the same.
"It's just some art supplies. Sara said you liked to draw?"
Jade was clearly trying to make up for thinking the worst of him in the Reptile House, while Sara was still trying to mend bridges. Back when they had been friends, she had told him when her birthday was and he had refused to do the same, still pretending he didn't care about her. Somehow, maybe by asking Lupin or the school, she had figured it out anyway.
Harry's shock wore away, only to be replaced by embarrassment. The girls were clearly expecting some sort of party or get together at his house, for him to invite them in and celebrate with his family. The way the Dursleys ignored his birthday was normal to him, but he knew it would only get him pity from his former classmates. Quickly, he snatched the gifts from them and backed away slowly to Number Four.
"Thanks! I'm not allowed inside until later, for some kind of surprise, I think. A private thing. Just family. But if I put these in my room, we can go somewhere else. Cinema, maybe?" He said all of this in one breath and the girls were clearly startled by his behaviour.
"Err, yeah okay. I just need to get some money from home. Meet us at the park in… ten minutes?" Harry agreed, relieved.
Once they had met up again, they made their way through the park and to the high street, where the town's only cinema was. After watching a hilariously cheesy action movie, that Jade thought was silly but the other two enjoyed, they ate at a burger place and played games at the local arcade before making their way home.
Along the way, they caught up with each other's summers and exchanged their plans for the next school year. Sara and Jade were both headed to different schools, Sara to Ladbroke Academy, a comprehensive school just outside of Little Whinging and Jade was going to Highsmith's. When they asked him where he was going, he wasn't sure what to say.
"Hogwarts. It's a small school in Scotland my parents went to." He decided to stick to the truth and simply omit the magic part. Jade seemed excited for him and started asking questions about his new school, but Sara seemed a little annoyed.
"So, we're not going to see each other this year? I thought we could hang out together now that we're friends again." Harry wasn't sure when exactly they had become friends again, but he didn't want her to expect anything from him. Something magical had made her memories of his strange gifts disappear, and it was all Harry's fault. What else would happen to her if they remained friendly?
"I'll be hundreds of miles away. You should focus on making new friends at your new school. Right Jade?" Said girl looked a little confused as to how she wound up in the middle of a brewing argument but agreed with him anyway. Seeing that she was outnumbered on this, Sara let it go as they got back to her place.
After saying his goodbyes and thank yous, Harry returned to Privet Drive in a pleasant mood. He was glad to be leaving Little Whinging behind him, but it was also strangely heart-warming to know that at least three people had thought of him on his birthday.
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The remainder of the holiday passed by like a dream. Spending time preparing for school, bonding with Argos and writing to Hagrid became his favourite way to pass the days. Time moved so fast that before he knew it, August had drawn to a close.
The only thing that stuck out to him as bad was the fact that Lupin had never written back to him. It made it clear that Harry had only been an assignment, someone he had been paid to protect, but now that his mission was over he would moving on with his life. Harry was a little hurt by this, but he forced himself to focus on his bright future, rather than his still murky past.
On the last evening of August, before he left for school, he popped into the dining room while the Dursleys were having their dinner. Dudley turned pale, but he had finally seemed to realise that Harry wasn't going to set him on fire a couple of weeks ago, so he remained seated. Petunia ignored him all together as he got Vernon's attention.
"Vernon? Could you give me a lift to King's Cross Station tomorrow morning?" Harry asked, getting straight to the point.
Vernon glanced at his wife, but when she continued speaking to a still pale Dudley as though Harry had never entered the room, he turned back and nodded jerkily at him.
"Thanks. I need to be there by eleven." Harry turned on his heel and made his way back up to his room for an early night. He was glad he was leaving tomorrow. He was sick of the people he lived with pretending he didn't exist. He was glad that tomorrow would be the last time he would see them for ten months.
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Harry had never suffered a more awkward car ride than he had the next morning, and for him that's saying something. He woke up a little after five as he was too nervous to sleep, washed and dressed by six and had eaten his breakfast and triple checked his trunk by seven. Vernon had agreed to drive him, but it went unsaid that he would be leaving at his usual time and would merely be dropping Harry off on his way to work. Still, he could not help but feel nervous as he heard Vernon only wake up at seven.
While he got ready upstairs, Harry tried to distract himself by watching the television, but he found himself wishing Argos were there with him. He could use the company. His owl, however, had seen fit to fly straight to Hogwarts. At least Harry hoped he had. It would be a bit awkward to go to his first Care of Magical Creatures class and tell Hagrid that he couldn't keep track of a single owl.
Finally, Vernon came downstairs for breakfast. He paused at the doorway. Harry wasn't sure what confused him more; the fact that Petunia wasn't there to greet him with breakfast as she did every morning, or that Harry was brazenly watching his television right in front of him. It was obvious Petunia didn't want to see Harry before he left, and Harry was beyond caring about getting into trouble with the Dursleys anymore.
Eventually, Vernon came in and began bumbling around the kitchen, making himself a simple breakfast of burnt toast and soggy cereal. Once he was finished, he left for the door without a word, leaving Harry to hurry after him with his floating trunk following closely behind. Vernon had averted his eyes from the levitating luggage as though it deeply offended him, but again, he said nothing.
He got into the driver's seat, waited only as long as it took for Harry to load his trunk into the boot, and took off before Harry could even properly close the backseat door behind him.
Harry put on his seatbelt a little nervously, afraid of an imminent accident. Vernon seemed even more on edge than usual.
The next ninety minutes was where most of the awkwardness took place. He couldn't believe that on the day his magical journey began, he would be forced to start it with one of the Dursleys, but he didn't exactly have much of a choice. After he had splurged his Muggle money on a year's worth of clothes, books that he had always coveted but the library never seemed to have, and half a summer's worth of takeout and junk food, he didn't have enough left for a taxi ride from Little Whinging to London. But as he sat in the backseat in tense silence, while cars were honking around them in standstill traffic, he realised he should have just paid the driver with gold Galleons. Sure, it would have gotten him into trouble before he even got to school, but any kind of punishment was better than this.
Once they had finally reached King's Cross Station, Harry unloaded his trunk as quickly as he could, and faced the driver's window awkwardly. "Well, goodbye then," he said. Vernon opened his mouth to say something, and for a moment Harry thought he looked almost guilty. But then he simply grunted and drove off back into traffic.
It was only much later that Harry would remember that moment and wonder if Vernon had been trying to tell him the truth, even then.
However, in that moment, he thought nothing of it. It was just typical Dursley behaviour. For a family that prided themselves on being normal, they could be very strange.
Harry found himself a trolley and loaded his trunk onto it. He had read that the Veil didn't work on all Muggles, about one in a thousand were immune, so it was safest to hide magic (and all floating luggage in particular) in more mundane areas.
When he entered the station, he noted that it was barely half past nine. That was good. The Hogwarts Express didn't leave until eleven. Not really sure what to do with all this spare time, he wandered through the station until he found an indoor cafe. Harry spent the next hour reading a newspaper, drinking tea and spending the last of his Muggle money on sausage rolls.
Stuffed now that he had eaten two breakfasts in one morning, he collected his trolley and made his way towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Hagrid had told him how to enter the platform, but this was someone who had already played a practical joke on him. Twice. It was better to be careful and wait for someone else to run into a brick wall first.
But waiting for another student to arrive was took a while. Sitting on a nearby bench, Harry watched anxiously as the clock's long hand went from six, to seven, to eight. Maybe he had read the letter wrong, and it said ten o'clock instead of eleven? Or maybe Hagrid was messing with him and there was another way to access Platform Nine and Three Quarters?
Before his thoughts began to spiral out of control, a friendly voice behind him said, "Hello. Are you a First Year?" Harry turned around to find that a slim teenage boy, with neatly combed brown hair and a welcoming look on his face had been the one to greet him. He was wearing the full Hogwarts uniform in broad daylight, pointed wizards' hat and all, with sapphire lining the black of his robes and a blue and bronze school tie. Before he could think of anything to say the boy spoke again.
"Are you for Hogwarts? You must be with a trunk like that and the way you're staring at the barrier. Otherwise, you're the strangest Muggle I've ever met." He smiled and Harry knew then that this boy was just being reassuring and not a bully trying to pick out a new victim. As if to confirm Harry's thoughts, the older boy added, "My name is Robert Hillard. I'm a Prefect. I'm supposed to help Muggle-born First Years find the Express." As he said this, he flashed his blue and bronze prefect badge with deliberate ridiculousness, as though he were a police officer. He was trying to set Harry at ease.
It worked. Harry smiled and nodded in relief. The idea of having to go back to Privet Drive with his tail between his legs was too mortifying to contemplate. Robert glanced around. "Are your parents looking for the platform?" He asked.
Harry shook his head and spoke for the first time since Vernon left. "No, I'm here on my own." Hillard looked at him concerned for a moment, before shrugging and leading the way to the platform.
"You've got your ticket, haven't you?" He asked and nodded briskly when Harry pulled it from his pocket. "The ticket is what lets us pass through the barrier, otherwise any old Muggle could have the shock of their lives." As he said this as he pulled out his own ticket and walked confidently towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Even though Hagrid had told him what to expect, he still winced when Robert walked right into the brick wall. But then Robert walked right into the brick wall.
It was as if the barrier was not even there. Or it was there, but the tickets they held somehow made them intangible to it. Realising that the answers to his questions and the methods on how to create something similar himself would be taught to him on the other side, Harry quickly followed. He tried not to close his eyes, to be as confident as Robert had been, but he squeezed them shut at the last second and only stopped walking when a hand landed on his shoulder.
"You'll walk right into another wall if you keep your eyes shut like that, and the next one will hurt." Robert laughed, "Besides, the train is this way." He turned Harry around to face an entirely new train platform. They had been transported to somewhere else entirely.
It was a gleaming train station, far smaller than King's Cross as it only had one train platform, made of white marble, with a high dome glass ceiling and several bridges that were made of both glass and golden arches, that crisscrossed each other in the air. These bridges carried students who appeared out of roaring green fireplaces along the far wall, providing them with direct paths to the gleaming emerald and silver steam engine train on the tracks. It was a magnificent thing, eleven carriages long, and had the words Hogwarts Express written in bold silver lettering on the front.
"I'll never get tired of seeing that expression." Robert smiled as he led Harry to the side, towards a dozen doorways on the wall opposite of the fireplaces that had the words Changing Rooms written above. He helped him store his trunk neatly on one of the racks in the luggage carriage, after patiently waiting for Harry to change into his uniform. Harry felt a little silly wearing the hat, but seeing that everyone else was wearing them, he buried his embarrassment.
"The carriage in the end is reserved for Slytherin House, they won the House Cup last year, and the Prefect carriage is closer to the front of the train. You can pass through, or you can stop to ask for help, but you can't sit there." He explained. "Anywhere else is free, but I recommend you go to the very first carriage. All the First Years sit there every year. You might make friends." With a reassuring pat on Harry's shoulder (he didn't look that nervous, did he?) Robert Hillard jumped back off the train and towards the barrier to look for more wayward first years.
Harry made his way through the reserved carriage, which was quickly filling with students with green lining their school uniforms. He noted that the entire compartment was designed more like a giant room than a part of a train. It had black leather sofas, an excess of cushions, a fireplace (how did that even work?) and a dining area on an upper level, with strange floating metal creatures organising food and drink to hand out to the lounging students. It looked like the strangest and most interesting party Harry had ever heard of was about to take place in this room and he was curious to see it play out. However, judging by the irritated looks he was receiving, First Years weren't welcome.
As he stepped out of the party carriage and onto the rest of the train, he was a little relieved, but mostly disappointed, to see it much more similar to what he had expected. Of course, the train itself looked as though it had come right from the Victorian era, with its excess in wood panelling, carpeted floors and heavy curtains at the windows. What really made it different was that it was at least three times wider than it should be, giving students the room to walk comfortably without squeezing past each other while they searched for seats. Still, compared to the mind-boggling dimensions of the carriage he had just left, this seemed more natural made to his senses.
Allowing the larger students to move past him, he joined the steady flow of kids his age in the opposite direction. There was safety in numbers after all. Compartment after compartment, carriage after carriage, their large herd lost numbers as individuals and groups peeled off to find friends already waiting for them or an empty compartment that they could call their own. They passed through the Prefect carriage, which was half full of friendly older students like Robert, who encouraged the youngest students onwards and firmly told the few older kids that remained to turn back and find seating in the five carriages that were available to them.
Once Harry had passed through the Prefect carriage, he was much more at ease. How could he not be? With dozens of tall and bulky teenagers looming over him in such an enclosed space he had felt a little intimidated. Now, he was with students his own age, wearing robes without any special colour trim on their uniforms, and kids about a year or two older who didn't seem threatening at all.
Considering that they were probably the last before the stragglers arrived, it wasn't surprising that he couldn't find a compartment of First Years that wasn't full until he reached the very first carriage as Robert had recommended. Finally reaching a compartment that only had two First Years in it, Harry didn't overthink his next action as he normally would have in any given social interaction, too relieved to have finally found available seating. He simply knocked, opened the door and asked, "Is it alright if I join you?", just as the train let out a whistle and began to leave the station.
The two First Year boys looked up at him in curiosity. They were both sat opposite each other, one on his right splayed out across the cushioned bench as though he were at home and the other on his left sitting properly, as if to purposefully contrast himself from his companion. After a brief, but confused, moment, as the two boys had been so enraptured by their conversation that they seemed to have forgotten there were other people on the train, the proper boy managed to collect himself and replied politely, "We don't mind at all. Please." He added gesturing a hand to the bench beside him.
Nodding his thanks, Harry sat by the window on the side of the polite boy, carefully avoiding the relaxed boy's legs. "I don't recognise you," the relaxed boy said, eyebrow raised. "I'm bad with faces but I'm sure we've never met. Are you a Muggle-born?" The polite boy made a noise of disgust, but not at the word Muggle-born, at his companion's rudeness.
"Terry! You can't just ask a stranger questions about their heritage!" He scolded him in the way all older brothers do; with authority their younger siblings did not respect. "Besides, not everyone goes to Pendle's."
"Not anyone who gets to go to Hogwarts. So, he must be Muggle-born." Terry said, in a matter-of-fact manner. The still unnamed boy began to say something in response to this, both apparently forgetting that he was still in the compartment, when Harry interrupted.
"Are you two brothers?" He asked and felt immediately stupid for asking such a question. While the two reminded him of the squabbling siblings that he had known in Little Whinging, they could not have looked more different.
Terry was a small East Asian boy, with short spiky black hair, arched eyebrows and a clever smile on his face that gave him a mischievous air. He looked like the kind of kid who would keep his fingers crossed behind his back while making promises to a teacher.
The other boy, almost in contrast, was tall and thin like Harry, with tawny brown skin and meticulously trimmed black hair. His face was fine featured and had appeared friendly and open a moment ago but at Harry's question he seemed to withdraw in on himself.
Seeing this, Terry was quick to sit up and speak, "Anthony and I grew up in the same house. Our dads were best friends." He said this as if it was a completely normal living situation, but Harry had already caught on to his blunder when he had heard the word were. He quickly tried to remedy it.
"I grew up with my relatives after You-Know-Who killed my parents." Harry said, perhaps a little too suddenly. In his mind, he was already aware that he wasn't the only orphan of the war and that many more people had their families broken by it.
"Shouldn't I know you from Pendle's then?" Terry asked, as rudely as he had before, but this time it was for a purpose. This seemed to snap Anthony out of his brief funk as he groaned, "Terry!", and said boy leaned back into his seat, looking pleased with himself.
Anthony turned to Harry with a smile back on his face and his hand outstretched he introduced himself politely. "Anthony Goldstein," they shook hands firmly and he gestured to Terry, "This is my brother, Terry Boot." Terry merely gave a lazy wave, looking too relaxed for a handshake.
Harry nodded back at him and said, "Harry Potter."
Anthony's eyebrows shot up as Terry let out a gasp and sat forward and began to pepper Harry with questions. "Do you really have a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning? Do you remember what You-Know-Who looked like? How did it feel to be hit with the Killing Curse? Did it hurt? I bet it did. Have you really been with Muggles this whole time? Do they really fly across the sky in giant metal-?" Anthony finally cut him off by jumping on top of him and covering his mouth with his hand.
"I'm sorry about him, his parents are planning to have him checked by a Mind Healer." Anthony apologised. "Sometimes people ask me about my parents too, but it must be a thousand times worse for you." He stressed this last part while looking at Harry, but in a tone of voice that was clearly meant for his brother.
Terry, who had looked annoyed at being forcefully silenced a moment ago, now looked remorseful. Pulling Anthony's hand from his mouth he said apologetically, "I'm sorry, Harry, that was rude of me. I'll let you kick me if it makes you feel better?" Harry leaned away from him, confused by this bizarre offer, and Anthony did his best to explain as he reclaimed his seat.
"It's what the two of us do whenever one of us, mostly Terry, does something that needs making up for." Harry blinked and felt strangely touched that these two were willing to include him in their odd traditions. Still, he refused, as kicking someone he had only just met seemed like a bad way to make friends.
"I've heard of Pendle's before," he said, changing the subject, "Is it true that they don't teach magic there?"
Anthony nodded slowly and smiled. "You really did grow up with Muggles, didn't you? They don't trust kids younger than eleven with wands; learning actual magic is considered the first step towards adulthood. They don't really trust teenagers much either because, until we're eighteen, our teachers and parents will be held partly responsible for anything bad we do with our magic."
"Does that mean that you don't know any spells yet?" Harry was relieved by this but also the tiniest bit disappointed. He had been hoping to ask other First Years for tips. Terry grinned, as though he had been just waiting for someone to ask, and he drew his wand with a flourish.
"I learned a spell from a Wendell's kid I met in the alley this summer. I could show you if you like?" Harry glanced at Anthony, half expecting him to stop the smaller boy, but he merely looked amused. "Alright then, go ahead." He shrugged.
Terry drew a stack of glossy purple cards from his pocket and, removing one, he placed it on the bench beside him and pointed his wand at it. His grin faded slightly as he began to concentrate, and Anthony caught Harry's eye and winked. After a moment Terry's eyes seemed to snap into focus as he flicked his wand down at the card and sharply said, "Colovaria!"
To Harry's surprise the card wasn't affected at all, but Terry was. His previously black hair had turned green with pink polka dots. Anthony's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter, but Terry didn't seem to notice as he was holding his card up towards the sunlight, trying to see if it had changed colours even slightly. His shoulders slumped when he accepted that it hadn't.
"Don't forget the General Counter-Spell, Terry. You know that it's a good habit to get into." Anthony managed to say with a straight face.
"Yeah, yeah," Terry muttered and waved his wand, "Finite Incantatem!" With that, his hair had turned to normal. Harry had wanted to compliment him on successfully removing the spell from his hair, but Anthony's small shake of the head warned him not to ruin the joke.
The next couple of hours were spent exchanging what spells all three boys knew (it wasn't many), spells they had seen their parents and teachers do (Harry only spoke about the ones he had seen Hagrid use) and all of the different kinds of accidental magic they had done. Harry was only just finishing the story of the awful orange and yellow fuzzy jumper Petunia had tried to force over his head until it shrank enough to fit one of Dudley's action figures, when there was a knock on the compartment door.
It slid open to reveal a kindly faced elderly witch, pushing a trolley bursting with snacks and drinks. She poked her head in the compartment and asked, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"
Terry leapt up and raced to the trolley as if to beat the other two with Anthony following at a more sedentary pace. Harry reached into his Mokeskin pouch for a single gold Galleon and approached only when the other two sat back down. He wasn't sure what to buy so he just purchased "One of everything, please." It said a lot about the worth of a Galleon that he still had three bronze Knuts left over in change.
"How are you going to eat all of that?" Anthony asked, laughing as Harry required three trips from the trolley to his seat, in order to transport all of his goods. Harry shrugged as he closed the door after the trolley witch went to the next compartment.
"I've never had magic snacks before. I want to know what I like and don't like. You're both free to help me decide of course, I've got more than enough to share." Anthony refused politely, but Terry chuckled.
"I like you already, Harry! Pass the beans." Anthony sighed at his behaviour as Harry handed over Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
They lost track of time as they began eating their food and making recommendations to Harry, which treats he would hate and which he needed to try first. More than once it devolved into an argument over whether jelly slugs or jelly snakes tasted better (Harry couldn't tell the difference) or whether pumpkin pasties tasted better than chocolate frogs (surprisingly it was the pasties, although he would never tell Terry that). Harry was enjoying himself so much, that he was annoyed when there was another knock on the compartment door.
It opened to reveal a boy with white-blonde hair, framed on either side with two hulking figures (Why are those two wearing First Year uniforms? Harry thought, they look old enough to shave!). Terry took one look at the open doorway and said in a deadpan voice, "Oh great. It's Draco."
The white-haired boy, Draco apparently, spared Terry a glare while Anthony snickered in the background, before turning to face Harry with a pained look on his face. It took Harry a moment to realise that this was meant to be a friendly smile.
He spoke politely, as if he was mimicking an adult's formal behaviour. "You must be Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Draco Malfoy." His face pinched as Terry joined in on Anthony's redoubled snickers, before continuing as though he hadn't heard anything. "These are my companions, Crabbe and Goyle." Each boy grunted when their names were mentioned but they were so similar Harry immediately forgot which was which.
Harry wasn't sure what to say. Normally he was given a chance to introduce himself, but having a stranger start a conversation with a "you must be" had left him on the back foot. It didn't help that Anthony had buried his face in his hands in a poor attempt to hide his giggles. Thankfully, Malfoy didn't seem to expect anything from him.
"I only just came to introduce myself to you before school formally begins. It may not be my place to say it, but I would recommend you choose better companions once we arrive at Hogwarts. Having the wrong friends can drag you down." Anthony finally gained some control over himself, lifting his head out of hands in order to glare at Malfoy through watery eyes.
"I'm more than capable of choosing for myself. But cheers." Harry was annoyed, partly because he didn't understand what Anthony found so funny, but mostly because Malfoy reminded him of all the fair-weather friends he had back at St. Gregory's.
Malfoy scowled and looked as though he were about to say something rude before Terry interrupted. "Are you still here? You really do make a habit of hanging around where you're not welcome, don't you?"
With one last filthy look at Terry and Anthony, Malfoy quickly turned and left. Crabbe and Goyle lumbered after him.
"What was all that about?" Harry asked when Terry closed the compartment door. "And what was so funny?" He asked Anthony.
Terry sighed, leaning back in his seat as he began to explain. "Draco Malfoy and his goons. We went to Pendle's with them. His dad got away with serving You-Know-Who cause he was playing both sides with information and gold. When his victims came forward after the war ended, he claimed that he was bewitched. Doesn't seem to feel any guilt for all the people he tortured and killed though. Draco seemed to think that made him untouchable too."
Anthony made a noise of disgust, his humour completely gone now as he listened as Terry continued.
"When we were in our final year, there was an election for school representatives. You know someone to help organise students for outings, get special privileges, even go to the Ministry and be the face of the school to help the teachers explain why funding is so important, or whatever." Terry's lips flickered into a smirk. "During elections he kept annoying everyone by interrupting lunch and playtime with his stupid speeches. He even kept us behind when our parents came to take us home."
"I'm still not seeing the joke."
"I'm getting there," Terry waved his impatience aside. "For years, he was always getting on Anthony's nerves about his parents, and he always threatened to run to his father whenever things didn't go his way. So, before another one of his silly little speeches, I slipped him a babbling potion I bought from Galopes and Japes, but one I added my own twist to it. He was stuck saying "I'm Draco Malfoy!" and "My father will hear about this!" over and over until our teacher got fed up with him and sent the prat home."
"He said it so often that she didn't even realise anything was wrong with him for half an hour!" Anthony was laughing hard at the memory. "They had to take him to St. Mungo's!" He wheezed. "He was out all week!"
Terry smiled proudly. "Most peaceful week of school we ever had. And he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut after that, too."
Harry didn't think that was funny enough to have tears coming out of Anthony's eyes, but he figured it was one of those "you just needed to be there" type of things. But there were two points in the story that interested him, and he decided to ask about the more serious of them first.
"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to," he said to Anthony, "but your parents are they-?" Anthony cut him off.
"My mum was killed when I was a baby," he said this simply and without emotion, as though it were just a cold fact, "my dad was an Auror, but now he's on the third floor of St. Mungo's Hospital. They fed him a variant of the Draught of Living Death after making him watch what happened to mum. For the crime of marrying a Muggle." Harry was furious.
"And that guy, Malfoy, made fun of them? Even though his dad was a Death Eater?" Anthony just nodded while Terry scowled.
"I wanted to really get him back, but Anthony didn't want us to get in too much trouble. The Malfoys have more sway than my parents do. " Terry said looking chagrined. "Dad says the world values gold more than it does its Aurors."
Anthony agreed. "It's the only reason brain dead, magicless morons like Crabbe and Goyle can even get into Hogwarts. Their parents donate to the school and suddenly one or two names get added to the Book of Admittance." The mood had taken such a nosedive that Harry wished he had never asked to begin with. Wishing to change the subject, he asked his second, more light-hearted question.
"I thought you said Pendle's didn't teach magic. How'd you manage to add a twist to a potion?"
"I'm a genius." Terry said proudly. Anthony scoffed.
"At potions and only potions. He's pants at everything else." Anthony smirked. "Compared to me anyway."
"You don't have to keep telling people that!"
"And you don't have to keep telling people that you're a genius!"
As Harry watched the two boys argue, he felt the tiniest drop of jealousy enter his mind. Anthony had ended up like Harry, in the care of people other than his parents, but while Harry had ended up with the Dursleys, his new friend had gone to the Boots and became a part of their family. He tried to imagine a world where he and Dudley squabbled like brothers but came to each other's defence as fiercely as Terry had for Anthony. He couldn't even picture it.
In no time at all the sun began to set as the train made its way through the Scottish Highlands and the conductor's voice came over invisible speakers.
"The train will be entering Hogsmeade Station in ten minutes. Your luggage will be brought to you at the school. Please exit only once the train has made a complete stop and follow the Prefect's directions as you exit in an orderly fashion."
The three boys got up, stuffing their pockets with what little remained of their afternoon treats, and made their way out of the compartment and to the nearest exit only to find it jam packed with restless First Years who were all eager to get off the train. Despite the conductor's instruction, the students were neither waiting for the train to make a complete stop nor making their exits in an orderly fashion. Harry tried to feel bad at the overwhelmed expressions on the Prefects' faces, but as Terry pushed both he and Anthony into the jostling crowd, he gave up and started pushing and laughing along with everyone else.
Once the train actually did come to a stop, and the Prefects were promising to tell all four Heads of Houses about their newest students' misconduct, Harry and his friends jumped off the train and onto the platform, stretching gratefully and taking deep breaths as though they had been through a strenuous ordeal.
Hogsmeade Station was lit by the glow of a dozen lit lanterns and it contrasted heavily with the deep blue sky. It was a beautiful sight, but it was nothing compared to the valley below. Hogsmeade, Harry had learned from Hogwarts: A History, was the only magical town in Britain, with a population of a little over twenty thousand. It was one thing to read that number, but it was another to see it.
The town below seemed to be divided into different sections; to the west where the mountains hid the last rays of a setting sun, was a residential area. Hundreds of homes with winding streets, and a large park with a wide river that seemed to go around half the town. He could see, even from this distance, small children running back to their parents after a long day splashing and playing in the late summer sun.
To the east, there was an incredibly large and dense forest which the wide river seemed to connect to a lake that separated the forest in two. Between the forest and the park there appeared to be a commercial area. A high street in the very centre of town was filled with shops that were still open despite the late hour, witches and wizards making their way to the local taverns after a hard day's work. In the centre of the Hogsmeade was a large stone bridge which connected the town's centre to the residential area, which had been intersected by the river.
With Hogsmeade station to the south and there, so far north he could not make it out under the rapidly darkening sky, was Hogwarts, it's silhouette vaguely recognisable from the photographs from his history books. Even without the setting sun making it clear where the cardinal directions were, he would have been able to tell by the statues.
To the north, east, south and west, there were four, one hundred foot tall, marble statues. Gryffindor to the north, Hufflepuff to the east, Ravenclaw to the south and Slytherin to the west. They were the four founders of Hogwarts and the town that neighboured it.
Harry looked up at the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. It had been enchanted to always face forward, no matter who or how many people were looking at it from various angles. When Harry had first read that he had thought the founders didn't want people to remember them by their giant marble buttocks. But looking up at Ravenclaw's regal and composed face he felt as though he were safe under the protection of the Founding Four. He dimly wondered if that was the whole point.
Harry was jostled out of his thoughts by Anthony's hand clamping onto his arm. He was annoyed for a second, until he saw that he had done the same to Terry. Said boy hadn't been as enraptured in the sight of Hogsmeade as Harry had been but had been trying to sneak something slimy and green into the pocket of a black-haired girl he seemed to know. As Anthony led them down the platform like lost little lambs, Harry and Terry exchanged amused looks as he muttered, "Now I have to watch two of them."
"First Years! First Years over here!" Called a familiar voice. There, at the end of the platform and away from the older students who were headed for the horseless carriages by the station's iron archway exit, was Hagrid. Harry grinned and hurried to him, dragging along the still attached Anthony and Terry.
"Alright, Professor Hagrid?" Harry asked as soon as he was within earshot. Hagrid looked down at him and winked.
"Been keeping out of trouble, Harry?" Harry smiled back at him, surprised at just how much he had missed someone he had only known a day.
Eventually, all the First Years seemed to crowd together, as the last stragglers hurried once the older students had departed on their carriages. Harry looked around, surprised to see that there were so few of them. At a normal comprehensive school like Stonewall, there were about two or three hundred kids per year. With only three schools in the country, he had expected even more in Hogwarts, but there weren't even fifty First Year students.
"You seem surprised," a cool voice spoke quietly to his right. Harry turned to face the same blonde stocky blonde boy who had run out of Ollivander's. He seemed much more composed now, with his hands in his pockets and his uniform scruffy just enough to let everyone know he thought he was the cool kid.
Harry shrugged. "I just expected more students. I thought Hogwarts was the best school." The blonde boy snorted.
"Hogwarts can only maintain that reputation by being exclusive. The Board of Governors would rather have no students in a year group than have one filled with subpar sorcerers. The last war left Hogwarts with slim pickings for our generation." The boy gestured to the small crowd and seemed amused by Harry's naivety. "It's happened before, you know. I think it was in 1879?"
"It was in 1889, Michael." Anthony sighed, immediately popping the boy's condescending air. "It's annoying how you don't pay any attention in class. I hope you don't continue that behaviour at Hogwarts. They won't be as lenient as Pendle's." The boy, Michael, scowled at this chiding and stalked off to the back.
"Don't mind him," Terry said, watching the other boy push his way to the back to be as far away from them as possible. "That one's got a chip on his shoulder, but he's nice when he forgets to pretend not to be." Before Harry could even begin to decode that statement, Hagrid called out to the crowd.
"Alright then, is that everyone? Good! Follow me." He led them through the exit of the station, but instead of following the carriage's route through the town, Hagrid led them towards the now dark forest. At the opening, Harry could spot a well-maintained cobblestone path, lit by similar lanterns the station had. They walked, tightly packed together once they reached the dense forest, the trees enclosing them on all sides, with Hagrid glancing back every so often to make sure he hadn't lost anyone to the surrounding gloom. Eventually the cobblestone path led them to a large dark lake, where the sky had turned completely to night during their walk, only to find twenty small boats were waiting for them at the shore.
"Now more than four to a boat!" Hagrid called out, which began a mad scramble, as most wanted to find a boat just for their friends. Harry, Terry and Anthony were not exempt from this silliness, as they hurried to claim a boat that could fit all three of them. They climbed onto the nearest available boat together and after a minute they were joined by a reluctant Michael. Harry had the impression that they were the best in a series of bad options for him.
"Is that everyone? Brilliant. No fighting while we're on the boats, alright? I can't even believe I have to tell you that, but the one year I didn't, some kid fell overboard and was nearly eaten by the Giant Squid." Hagrid tutted, as though this student deserved to be eaten for his stupidity.
Harry blinked. "Hang on, did he just say Giant Squid?"
"FORWARD!" For the briefest of moments, Harry thought this meant that Hagrid wanted them to row themselves to the school and he began to search for oars. Then the boats began moving by themselves and he felt like an idiot.
Despite the fact that there might be an actual Kraken underneath them, Harry was too distracted by the breath-taking sight before him. The lake was so still it reflected the stars and half-moon above them like polished glass, and their boats cut through it all like sharp knives, slicing the mirror image into ribbons. He had thought that was an impressive view, at least until they left the forest behind them as they turned a corner and Hogwarts was captured by his eyes for the first time.
Harry had never seen a building like it. He had thought he knew what to expect when he had seen the pictures in his textbooks, but it was nothing compared to the sight of the castle in person. There were seven towers protruding from the castle, each a different height and size, and not all of them completely visible from this angle. He couldn't quite tell how many floors there were, he thought maybe seven when counted once, but his eyes must have been playing tricks on him as he counted five the second time and nine the third. Every window was emitting a light that shone brightly through the night and the smooth stone walls seemed to thrum with an indefinable energy. The entire school was a beacon in the dark world the students were leaving behind.
As they circled the school, going around what must have been the Great Hall, where the school seemed to be a little too close to a cliff edge, they saw a large stone boathouse waiting for them in the distance, by the shore.
Once their boats had docked and they had all disembarked, the first years followed Hagrid out of the boathouse, up the school's sweeping open lawn, towards a wide-open door. Through the door they were led up a steep flight of stone steps, which in turn opened up to a large courtyard in front of two of the largest doors he has ever seen in his life. Hagrid approached said door, leaving the students huffing and puffing after him, and knocked on it thrice.
After a minute, both doors swung open, revealing a witch in neat robes and hat, looking down at them calmly. Aside from her glasses and tight bun of black and silver hair, she looked nothing like Headmistress Roemmele, but her intimidating presence was identical. This was not someone he wanted to cross.
"The First Years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid made a gesture as if he were presenting them to her for inspection. Which, apparently, he was as because Professor McGonagall stared at them all for a moment as if to check if they were to her liking. Finally, she nodded once and said, "You may join the feast now, Professor Hagrid." Hagrid nodded and moved past her into the castle.
Professor McGonagall stared at them for another minute, making some kids fidget in nervousness. Harry had been in trouble enough times to know that this was a favourite tactic teachers used to make students confess to wrongdoing. He couldn't imagine what McGonagall wanted them to confess to. Perhaps she was just naturally intimidating?
McGonagall finally spoke to them and what she said and the way she said it was just more evidence that she really was an effortlessly intimidating individual.
"In a moment you will be led to the Great Hall where you will be sorted in front of your peers and teachers. The four houses you will be sorted into, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, are all noble houses with long and rich histories. Tonight, you will become part of that history. Any proud triumphs or shameful behaviour will reflect not only on you, but your entire house. How you act from this moment forward will reflect upon you for the rest of your lives."
She paused after this dramatic speech, as if to give them a moment to understand the impact their conduct could have on their entire lives. She wasn't wrong to do so. Harry could feel the familiar anxiety building in his stomach and he could tell from the way some students seemed to have stopped breathing that he was not the only one who was silently freaking out. Seemingly satisfied that they had understood her message, McGonagall gave them one last piece of advice.
"Do clean yourselves up. You will want to put your best foot forward." With that she turned and walked back into the castle, the doors closing themselves behind her, leaving fifty terrified eleven-year-olds in a dark and empty courtyard.
After she left there were a few moments of nervous silence, before there was a sudden scramble amongst all of them to straighten their uniforms, fix their hair and wipe the remains of lunch from their faces and robes. Harry helped Anthony straighten his uniform, while he helped Harry in return with fixing his hat. Terry and Michael were amongst the very few who seemed unconcerned. Anthony began to point out that first impressions mattered even if you thought you were too cool for them, but before he could finish McGonagall made her return.
"We are ready for you now."
The first years lined up behind her in single file without needing to be told. The marched into an entrance hall that was larger than the Dursleys' entire house, through another pair of giant doors that seemed to open by themselves into a hall that was bigger than all of the houses on Privet Drive.
The Great Hall.
It was just as Hogwarts: A History described and so much more. From the four long tables running along the length of the entire hall, the four house banners that hung from the left wall to the fireplace along the right-hand side that was so big even Hagrid could stand comfortably in it. There was the teachers table, on a platform parallel to the doors, so that they could watch over their students. Even the invisible ceiling was better than he had expected, with the way it opened up seamlessly into the sky and illuminated the hall with moon and starlight better than the dim floating candles did. Everything about this room just screamed magic to him. It was all so impressive.
At least it was until Professor McGonagall placed a three-legged stool on the teacher's platform and placed a raggedy old hat on top of it. It only got worse when the hat began to sing a song about the four houses, only to achieve a half-hearted applause from the students upon completion, with only the old man sitting on the gilded throne looking impressed with what he had just heard.
As the applause began to die down, Harry caught the man's eye accidently, while he was incredulously looking at him applauding the hat's song. For a moment, he seemed just as surprised that they were making eye contact all of a sudden before he winked at Harry and turned his attention back to McGonagall. Harry's eyes couldn't help but remain on him a moment longer, as he was the strangest person Harry had ever seen. He was an ancient man, with a long and crooked nose, half-moon spectacles and with a pin straight hair and beard set, that was whiter than the moon above them, and long enough to tuck into his belt. The craziest thing about him was the deep blue and black robes he wore that seemed to have moving constellations on them.
Where do you even buy clothes like that? Harry wondered.
It was only McGonagall's voice that finally stopped Harry from staring. "When I call your name, you will step forward and place the Sorting Hat onto your head. When sorted please join your new house table." But what if I'm not sorted, Harry wanted to ask. He wished he had been given some warning, especially as judging from the lack of reaction from his year mates, they had all been told about this beforehand. Why hadn't Hagrid mentioned this? A warning wouldn't have helped though. There was no way to prepare for this test. The hat was going to see into his mind no matter what. Harry tried, and failed, not to be panicked by that realisation.
One by one the students were called upon in alphabetical order and, not for the first time in his life, Harry was glad to have a last name that was in the middle of the alphabet. Good Lord, imagine going first. Poor Hannah Abbot, Harry felt sympathy for the round cheeked, pig tail wearing girl, as she approached the stool on shaky legs, but not enough to want to take her place. Better you than me, he reasoned. A few moments later, the table to his right, where all the students wore black robes with yellow trim, began applauding as the Sorting Hat announced, for the entire hall to hear, "HUFFLEPUFF!", and a relieved looking Hannah joined their ranks.
Slowly, the number of First Years began to thin as they joined their older peers along the house tables. First amongst the students he knew was "Bones, Susan", who after half a minute of deliberation ended up in Hufflepuff. Then came, "Boot, Trevor", who went to Ravenclaw. Michael and then Anthony joined him there. "Malfoy, Draco" joined Crabbe and Goyle in Slytherin. Soon, after "Patil" and "Patil" were called it was Harry's turn.
"Potter, Henry."
It was only because he had spent the last twenty minutes composing himself, that he didn't react to the sudden burst of whispers that came from the house tables. Was it his imagination or did some of the teachers lean forward as well? He sat on the stool calmly, removed his own pointed hat and replaced it with the raggedy Sorting Hat.
Brave, but selfish, a voice suddenly whispered in his mind, Cunning without ambition. Determination, but with hollow loyalties. Intelligence, but lacking in wisdom. Where should I put you? You have potential, yes, but you will chafe and struggle no matter where you are placed.
Harry was insulted but managed to keep his cool. After all, hundreds of pairs of eyes were on him now. I don't mind being called selfish, unambitious or even disloyal, he thought as hard as he could while keeping his face impassive. He hoped the hat could hear him. But I resent being called unwise. Wisdom is about having good judgement, isn't it? Someone recently told me it's the responsibility of the adults around me to teach me that. Place me in a house where I would learn wisdom and watch me grow.
It was obvious what he was doing. He knew it and the Sorting Hat knew it. But Harry had guessed by the sorting of Crabbe and Goyle (who were, apparently, "brain dead magicless morons") into the House of the Cunning, that the student's choice in where they were placed really mattered. Either that or desire played a part in the sorting. And Harry really wanted to go into Ravenclaw. Hogwarts was a school, and what better house was there to be in during school, than one which valued intelligence, wisdom and creativity?
The hat let out an amused huff in his mind. You catch on fast. I suppose wisdom is something you need to learn first. The rest will all come from that. RAVENCLAW!
The hat had shouted out this last word for the entire hall to hear. The Ravenclaw table began applauding, as Harry put his own hat back on and made his way to the House of the Wise.
Harry dimly noted that he was receiving more applause than anyone else had before him, but he wouldn't even think on that until much later. Just as he had struggled to not let his nerves show during the sorting process, he was now trying to hide his relief. He made his way to the front of the table, closest to the teachers, where the seven other Ravenclaw First Years were sitting. He was surprised that there were so few of them. The other tables had reached double digits in their First Years, and Hufflepuff had twice their number.
Harry sat in the wide space between Padma Patil and Michael, across from Terry and Anthony, as the other house members nearby made sure to introduce themselves to him. Harry did his best in trying to remember all their names, but only succeeded in memorising his year mates and the closest Prefects; Isobel McDougal, a very tall girl who greeted him with a solemn nod, Padma Patil, who had a long plait down her back and a confident smile on her face, Su Li, an inquisitive girl who peppered him with whispered questions as the sorting began again and Amanda Brocklehurst, a pale girl who had to be introduced by Su as she was so shy.
Soon, just before the sorting was finished, the same energetic black-haired girl that Terry had targeted on the platform was sorted into Ravenclaw. She squeezed herself in between Harry and Padma, where she immediately began a whispering, giggling conversation with the other girl. It was only once the Prefects reminded her to introduce herself, did she raise her head, say "Lisa Turpin'' and returned to her secret discussion.
The two Fifth Year Prefects introduced themselves as Penelope Clearwater, a short blonde-haired girl, who made sure to tell all the First Years to come to her for anything, and an impossibly tall and muscular lad called Christopher Watkins, who didn't seem all that interested in them. It was only when Penelope kicked him under the table, did he bother even introducing himself.
Once the sorting had been completed, the strange old man rose from his gilded seat, walked through his place at the table as though it were an intangible illusion, and approached the tall wooden podium that had images of flying boars carved onto it. As he got closer, Harry noted that his robes looked even more crazy than before, as shooting stars shot across them.
"To those of you who are new to these hallowed halls, I say welcome! To those of you who have managed to return, I say welcome back! To all who do not know me, I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of this school. While I personally prefer to keep all speeches short and sweet, there are some things too important to wait until you are all fed and watered."
"First of all, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to any students who are not accompanied by or have the express permission of a member of staff. This is done only with your safety in mind, as many Dark Creatures lurk behind the forest boundary." He seemed to be speaking to a certain group, as his eyes flickered to specific students around the hall.
"Secondly, the use of spells in the corridors is strictly prohibited. As fun as it may be in the moment to hex a classmate's toenails to rapidly grow, it won't be nearly as fun in Saturday Detention, believe me." He was definitely speaking to specific students now, as several older students in Harry's line of sight adopted sheepish looks.
"Thirdly, it gives me great pleasure to formally announce this year's Hogwarts Triumvirate! Nymphadora Tonks! Charles Weasley! Silas Rosier! Please stand!"
At his request, a slim blue haired girl stood from the Hufflepuff table, a stocky redheaded boy rose from amongst the Gryffindors and a short, serious looking dark-haired guy from the Slytherin table slowly got to his feet. "These will be our representative team for the Triwizard Tournament! Let's all give them a big round of applause!" The students and teachers did so, but while every other house was enthusiastic in their appreciation (Gryffindor in particular, as they stamped their feet and practically dog piled a laughing Charles Weasley) Ravenclaw was muted in their congratulations. It wasn't difficult to see why. They were the only house without a Representative.
Dumbledore finally brought the applause to an end by raising his hand for silence. "The entire world will be watching the three of you." He spoke solemnly now, directly to the Triumvirate. "How you perform will reflect on this school for the next three years. I wish you all the luck in the world." The Triumvirate slowly took their seats, now looking tense. Harry couldn't blame them, as it almost sounded as though Dumbledore was threatening them.
"The final thing you all should know is that the dungeons beyond the portrait of Headmistress Burke are forbidden to all students. Any trespassing would lead to expulsion if you are lucky and an instant and painful death if you are not." Despite his grim warning, he had a wide smile on his face. "Now, let's eat!"
With that disturbing warning, he clapped his hands and a feast appeared on every table. Harry would have asked questions about that dying an instant and painful death business, but he was distracted by his growling stomach. He wasn't the only one, as instead of asking any questions, everyone began to tuck in. There was a lot to tuck into, every kind of food he was in the mood for, roast beef and potatoes, lamb chops, peas, carrots and sprouts all cooked to perfection, ended up on his plate. Harry stopped eating when he was full, sipping on a goblet of pumpkin juice, when the golden dishes were cleared, and dessert appeared. He was glad that the dishes magically refilled themselves when emptied, as Michael had a bigger appetite than Dudley.
Just as he had finished his second helping of treacle tart, the dishes cleared themselves away. Dumbledore rose to his feast and called out, "I hope you all enjoyed such a pleasant meal. You will need the energy for tomorrow's classes. Prefects, please lead our First Years to their brand-new homes!" There was a great rumble, as hundreds of students got to their feet, and began to exit the Great Hall. He understood now why the eldest students sat by the doors. It was for a quick escape. It took almost five minutes for the Ravenclaw First Years to reach the Entrance Hall and twice that long to make their way to Ravenclaw tower.
Once the finally reached the top of a long and winding staircase (No wonder Hagrid had never heard of an escalator, Harry thought, If wizards knew about it, they would have put it in this castle already) they met a bronze eagle head knocker guarding a heavy wooden door. Penelope, scowling at a yawning Christopher, had to reach around his massive form in order to knock the eagle head thrice.
The head opened its beak and spoke in a deep, soothing voice. "I always run, but never walk. I always murmur but never talk. I have a bed but never sleep. I have a mouth but never eat. What am I?"
Penelope looked back at them, probably to ask them to solve it as a test, but it had been a long day for Harry. With his stomach full, a long walk through the castle and the prospect of a bed just on the other side of that door, he was drowsier than he could ever remember being. That meant he didn't have any patience for the usual teacher-student back and forth. "You're a river," he yawned.
"Correct." Said the door knocker.
Penelope sighed. "Are you good with riddles then?" She asked, as they entered the common room. She looked put out that he had ruined her moment.
"No, I've just heard that one before." This seemed to annoy her for some reason.
The Ravenclaw common room was large and circular, and divided into two sections. On the left side of the entrance there were neatly organised tables and chairs, clearly meant for studying, or tutoring. On the right, was a cosy sitting room area, with comfortable looking sofas and armchairs, enough for the entire house, and a roaring fireplace. The walls were a deep sapphire and the ceiling seemed to be enchanted like the Great Hall's, peering through floors above like they weren't even there and revealing the moon and starlit sky to their eyes. Coupled with the large, wide windows, this gave an open air feeling to the room, and Harry was glad that he wasn't afraid of heights. Straight ahead from the entrance was a familiar statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, but instead of one hundred, it was only ten feet tall. On either side of her were doorways that said Girls on the left and Boys on the right.
As Christopher began to lead the four boys through the labelled doorway, there was a sudden screech behind them.
Lisa had finally put her hands in her pockets and had found the green slime Terry had snuck in there earlier. Her hand began to transform into a reptilian claw, but she didn't seem worried about it only angry. She seemed to know where to target that anger, as her head snapped up to the now fleeing First Year boys.
"Terry! You little-" Whatever she was about to say next was cut off as Anthony firmly closed the door behind them. Terry was laughing to himself as they followed the still disinterested Christopher.
The silent Prefect led the up another stone staircase (Harry felt sure he was going to die of exhaustion before the year was out) to the very top floor, where there were four closed doors, two on either side, with their names on the front with bronze plaques.
"You'll be on the seventh floor, bad luck that." Christopher spoke for the first time looking vaguely amused. "You'll be stuck walking up all those steps for the next seven years." With that, the not-so-helpful Prefect walked down the stairs, chuckling to himself.
"He's a real sweetheart, isn't he?" Harry murmured, swaying sleepily on his feet.
Harry didn't wait for the others to respond. Walking through the door that had his name on it, he closed the door behind him, located the bed and slipped underneath the covers, only after stripping himself to his underwear.
He did not think. He did not dream.
Author's Note
I made Harry a Ravenclaw because I hardly ever see it in fics and I think it's an underrated house. Nothing to do with it being my favourite. Nothing at all.
Not much is known about the Ravenclaw boys in Canon, so I took liberties with their appearances.
Terry and Anthony in particular are based two kids I knew from school. The characters personalities mimicked them so much, I just modelled their appearances after them too.
Hogsmeade is another change. It's the centre of magical Britain in this fic, almost half of all witches and wizards in the country live there. I gave the population a boost, which comes into play later.
Also, I'm trying to portray Harry as one of those students who claim they never study, because that's not cool, but they're at the top of every class. That annoying type of kid. He'll grow out of it slowly.
Oh, and all the riddles will come from Google.