Chapter Eleven: In Which Harry Meets People Who Really Shouldn't Exist, And, WOW, What Is Happening?
Truthfully, [REDACTED] hadn't been a big fan of writing scenes of their MC first riding the Hogwarts Express. Or any time riding the Hogwarts Express, really. To them, it was trope that had been beaten to death and wrung out dry years before they started writing for the fandom themselves. And yet it was a staple; for AUs such as the one Harry was now living in, it wasn't something they could avoid even if they initiated a time-skip by putting on the headphones of their new Walkman and burying their face in the pages of their eruditionary. Harry's desire to self-isolate aside, neither Justin nor Kenneth were willing to let Harry just read the whole journey.
After Harry had frolicked through Concordia and Plunkett and ended up with a veritable bard's arsenal that day (a few other knick-knacks from other places), they went on to find a better inn as they had promised Mrs Finch-Fletchley. It was a place from one of their fics — the Nightengale's Cage, a firmly upper-middle-class establishment. After goggling at the sight and nearly swooning at the potential implications thereof for a good minute, Harry booked a nice room even the Dursleys wouldn't turn their noses up at. From there, they finally hit up Justin again so the two could get a leg up on their coursework.
This "getting a leg up on the coursework" ended up being primarily reading (which Justin wasn't too willing to jump in on) and some small spell practice (which Justin was willing to try his hand at). Harry had been concerned that the magic that they'd shown Justin over the years would dampen the boy's wonder at their current situation, but it turned out that wanded wizardry was still fantastic enough that prior knowledge of magic didn't take away from it. That didn't make him any greater a fan of reading, though.
Harry took a moment to wonder if this was a nerfing effect characteristic of being designated as a tertiary character and conditional minor antagonist within this story, if boy children were really this fussy about doing only what pleased them, or if this was a trait honed and mastered by the annoying shit-stain they affectionately called Justin. They didn't take much longer to wonder about it, though, because they had just gotten to their favourite part of the story they were—
"You're seriously going to try to just read and hog your Walkman the whole time?" Justin complained, kicking Harry's calf from where he was sprawled next to them. "Why didn't you tell me before that you're so boring when school's happening? I would have traded you out for someone better ages ago!"
Eyes still fixed on the words in front of them, Harry grew their hair long enough to tickle their shins. With a toss of their head, they whipped it into Justin's face.
"Silence, thot."
Justin sputtered around his mouthful of Harry's hair.
"Excuse me?!"
"You're excused."
"YOU—!"
"Guys, can we not?" sighed Kenneth, looking over his summer homework. "The train hasn't even left the station yet, for Merlin's sake."
"Who is this 'we'?" said Harry, lowering their book. They shortened their hair back to its original length of around their shoulders and tucked a lock behind their ear. "I was just minding my own business here."
"You're being boring is what you're doing," sniped Justin.
"Are you such a great baby that you can't be left unentertained for even five minutes?" Harry scoffed. "Shall I go fetch a mobile and set it spinning above your pram?"
"It's been way longer than five minutes!"
"I don't hear a 'no' to the offer of the mobile—"
"Harry!"
They bickered for a while more before the sliding door of the compartment opened again.
"Ken!" exclaimed a boy with sandy hair and pale eyes. "Since when do you get here this early?"
Another boy peered over his shoulder. This one had the same colouring as the former, but the former was meatier and taller and more squarish while the latter was thinner and had a longer face.
Ah, Kenneth's other friends.
Truthfully, Harry wasn't sure what to expect when they heard that Kenneth had friends other than them. This was not to say that Harry thought he was shunned by those of his House, or that he was inherently unfriendable, but the other Gryffindors in Kenneth's year that were canonically named could be counted on one hand, and literally the only interaction with them involving Kenneth was when the Weasley twins pranked him and made him miss important exams. Forget being a tertiary character like Justin, Kenneth was a quaternary character — effectively background noise. Call Harry narrow-minded, but it just didn't fit their world-view.
"What's with the Firsties?" said the second fellow, shouldering around the first guy. "You got siblings you didn't tell us about?"
"Don't be stupid," said Kenneth, making a face. He glanced at Harry with an embarrassed expression. "Don't listen to them, they're idiots."
"Oi, who you calling idiot?" whined the first fellow, following his companion in. "What's so stupid about a question like that?"
"Perhaps it's because none of us look anything at all alike?" Justin suggested, adopting that smarmy tone of voice he thought made him sound posh and grown-up. Harry thought it made him sound like discount Martin Freeman.
"Speak for yourself," said Harry with a sniff. In a blink, their features blurred and they morphed into what looked like Kenneth's twin sister.
Kenneth's friends exclaimed in startlement.
"You're a metamorphmagus?!" cried thick'un. "That's wicked!"
"Wait, so that's actually the word for it?" asked Justin, looking chagrined.
"I really don't know why you doubted me?" said Harry, shaking their head and turning into a copy of skinny'un. "Like I've said a thousand times, what would even be the point of lying about that?"
"You make up nonsense words all the time!"
Scowling, slowly and with attention paid to their enunciation, Harry said, "I construct perfectly etymologically-sound polysyllabic nomenclature, thank you very much!"
"There you go again! Swot!"
"Numbskull!"
"Know-it-all!"
"Dunderhead!"
"That's enough!" Kenneth exclaimed over their voices. "Honestly, you two — can you not go five minutes?"
Harry shifted back into their base form and looked up puppy eyes at Kenneth.
"Ken! Why are you shouting at me?" They went over and plopped down next to Kenneth, wrapping around his right arm and played at being cutesy. "Can't you see it's him that's picking on me?"
"You two-faced kiss-up!" Justin complained, pointing.
"Who you calling a kiss-up, mummy's boy?" Harry shot back, sticking out their tongue at him.
"Boffin!"
"Numpty!"
"Try-hard!"
"Pillock—!"
"Guys!"cried Kenneth, utterly beleaguered. "Seriously!"
"Are you sure they're not your little brother and sister?" snickered Young Master Chonk, shoving his luggage up on the rack.
"As if that one would be so fortunate," Harry said, turning their nose up at Justin. They pulled out a new black folding fan from an extra space on their wand holster and fluttered it under their chin haughtily. "It's lucky he isn't related — how could he possibly live up to the standard Kenneth has set?"
"I can't tell you two are actually friends or not," said Number Two, sitting down on Kenneth's other side. "David Dawlish, nice to meet you."
Before Harry could blink upon hearing that surname, Number One said, "And I'm Cal! Callahan McLaggen!" as he threw himself on the opposite bench.
While Harry's head spun at what it meant for this reality to have spawned OCs related to named canon characters, Justin nodded agreeably and said, "Justin. Justin Finch-Fletchley, pleasure."
Hold on, hang on! Could the introductions not go so fast? Harry was still reeling at the additions to the Dawlish and McLaggen families here! Those two clearly must have spawned pre-Harry's birth — they were in Kenneth's year after all — but canon-divergence to plot-relevant matters such as characters shouldn't have taken place until after [REDACTED] had entered the story! Why were deviations cropping up pre-divergence point? Did Harry's existence as an extradimensional-insert result in retroactive changes to the continuity of the timeline? Was it resulting in reality-distorting fuckery a lá The Cursed Child, that utter shitshow?
"Harrington Vervain, you can call me Vivi, Harry, or anything else you can come up with — I'm not fussy," murmured Harry in one breath, blinking rapidly and thinking quickly. "I also answer to 'Hey, you!' So there's that option on the table as well."
Perhaps these two extras had existed within the original universe but simply went unnamed and unacknowledged because they weren't relevant to canon!Harry's narrative? They were two year-levels above Harry but weren't part of the Weasley twins' crowd, and they were currently only related to tertiary canon characters at most, too, so . . . it wasn't like they were contradicting canon by existing; there was no proof they didn't exist before. . . . And that would fit with Rowling's style, that retconning terf. . . .
Harry maintained their calm exterior and smiled in a carefree manner. This was fine. Previously unnamed background characters being identified surely didn't mean the impending dissolution of this plane of existence.
With Kenneth playing mediator again, the five of them eased into comfortable chatter once the ice was broken. Summer events were discussed, teachers were complained about, and they fell into easy companionship. Harry eventually pulled out a deck of playing cards after the three older boys were done looking over their summer homework. The radio of Harry's Walkman filled the background with music as they played and bickered, and the entire thing felt like just a lazy weekend day as [REDACTED] during middle school hanging out with their choir friends post-regionals.
Harry was hyper aware of the door the entire time — in preparation for Hermione or Neville appearing to ask about Neville's escaped toad — but it happened that no one but the sweets-trolley lady came by. It was such a minor detail, barely worth remembering in the grand scheme of things, but it did prickle at Harry's nerves that neither of the two showed up. Yes, Harry wasn't sitting with Ron, but Hermione implied in the story that they went through the entire train looking for Trevor; surely that meant that Harry's current location would be visited to be asked as well? Did this mean Trevor didn't escape Neville in this universe? Was this an example instance of the Butterfly Effect taking place?
Harry was granted an answer to their pondering when the boys stepped out to allow Harry to change into the school uniform in privacy. As Kenneth slid the door closed behind him, in hopped a sizeable brown toad with little light spots dotting its front.
It looked like an unripe avocado with legs. It was also a lot smoother than Harry expected and unexpectedly cute! Its dewy black eyes and its wide, dramatically downturned mouth gave it a solemn look. Its expression said that it had ridden many days in full armour by horseback through wind and rain to deliver Maiden Vervain the grave news that the noble knight who the fair maiden had been betrothed to since infancy had died a fiery death attempting to slay the evil dragon Wightgar the Wicked that was plaguing the west of their kingdom; they must away to the neighbouring kingdom to seek asylum! The dragon means to capture Maiden Vervain and add the maiden to his hoard!
"Sir Trevor!" Harry gasped, moved by their imagined scenario for the toad. They scooped it from the ground and swung it around in a circle with two hands as if dancing with it. "Dost thou speak in sooth? By my troth! Such lamentable news! But what became of the rest of thy comrades? Doth my lord brother yet live? Prithee speak quickly ere I faint fast away!"
"Maiden Vervain," Harry pretended Trevor said with great gravitas, using their forefingers to wave Trevor's hands here and there, "'Twas your ladyship's very brother that bade me come and take you away. Wightgar heard word of your late betrothed's adoration for your ladyship's grace and loving heart, and he grew envious! The evil beast approaches; we must make haste lest ye fall into his monstrous grasps!"
"Ah, me!" Harry sighed as if swooning. "But what of my kith and kinsmen, good sir? With the situation as such, shall I e'er see them again?"
"This lowly knight knoweth not, good maiden," Harry squeaked out Trevor's supposed response. "But come! We mustn't tarry long. To your lady mother's elder brother's keep we must away ere break of day!"
Harry giggled and twirled again. They brought the toad to their face and kissed its little head.
"A kiss for you, good sir knight! Mayhap thou shalt transform into a fine prince and wed me in my late beloved's stead."
Harry was wont to be caught up in fits of fancy, but they almost wanted to say that Trevor looked rather pleased with them. Perhaps it enjoyed playing pretend, too? Were toads a species that could be magical? Maybe Trevor was a toad with intelligence similar to wizardkind's owls?
In any case, this answered the question of whether Trevor escaped or not! Still, it was strange that its pursuers hadn't come looking here for it, though. . . .
After petting it, Harry put Trevor in an empty Chocolate Frog box and then used a second to cover it, to make sure the toad didn't escape again while they were occupied. They'd return it to Neville once they eventually came across him.
Wasting no more time, Harry dug out their uniform from their bag and began putting it on.
Now . . . Harry was nowhere near a fashionista (and they as a fic-writer really weren't one that cared to get into the details of what characters were wearing unless it happened to be actually relevant), but Harry had thought long and hard about what kind of uniform they wanted Madam Malkin to make for them. They didn't want to be stuck wearing a short skirt in the Highlands of Scotland during winter, but they really didn't want to risk being mistaken for a boy either; they liked wearing trousers, but they didn't like the stiff, unstretching kind schools used for their uniforms. So what were they to do?
It was after a stretch of fretting that they remembered that this life was guaranteed to be high-stakes and life-threatening; that they had to take their little comforts when they could, had to carpe all the diems they could get their hands on! So Harry decided fuck it — fleece leggings, hoop-skirts, and petticoats under calf-length circle skirts it was. And on top would be oversized cardigans over loose button-fronts. It was toeing the line of the limit to uniform modifications (and, yes, they'd checked), and they'd be going around dressed like a 1950s Mormon, but, hey, they'd be warm, comfortable, and manoeuvrable.
Harry shrugged on their outer robe and clipped the clasp into place. With a pleased bounce, they plucked up Trevor again and then went to let the boys have their turn to change at last.
The stretch of corridor that led from the front of the train carriage to the end was lined with other students milling around, similarly waiting for their friends to change, or going to or from the loos for the same purpose. Light yet upbeat chatter filled the air-conditioned air.
"What's with the frog? And what took you so long?" Justin complained as Harry stepped out and the other boys went in. "Were you making the clothes yourself?"
Harry blew a raspberry at him.
"Beauty takes time," they said, smoothing out their pleats.
"Surely you don't mean you?"
Harry had to pause at that. They held Trevor to their chest and gave Justin a disbelieving grimace.
"Look, I enjoy our banter as much as you do, and I understand that the exchange of petty insults is how you communicate affection, but that has to be the most pathetically ineffective jab you have ever made," Harry said. They twirled and struck a cute pose with Trevor held under their chin. "Anyone with eyes can see I'm fucking adorable. Are you looking at this face, Justin? Are you seeing this face? This face could sell ketchup ice lollies to a woman wearing white gloves."
Justin turned pink.
"Geez, can your head get any bigger? Your vanity is large enough to plug the hole in the ozone layer."
"I can literally look any way I want, and yet my usual appearance is just my base form with no modifications," said Harry flatly, lifting an eyebrow and turning it purple. "I'm cooed at in the streets by adults. My primary school now uses photos of me in their brochures. I'm a lovely little flower, and it's not vanity if it's the truth."
Anything Justin wanted to say to that was interrupted by Kenneth poking his head out and urging the younger boy to stop wasting time and change clothes already.
Harry shook their head as Justin was pulled into the compartment.
"Isn't he a fine example of a stupid boy, Sir Trevor?" Harry said, petting the toad fondly as they swayed their skirt from side to side.
Gods, they were going to fit so many snacks into the enormous pockets of these things; it was their favourite part of these skirts. The hoops of the hoop-skirt layer meant that any and all items stored within will be completely hidden and prevented from disturbing the silhouette of the outfit — in other words, they could hide, like, multiple loaves of bread and a respectably-sized wheel of cheese on their person, and no one would suspect a thing until Harry was chowing down.
"What do you think, gentle knight?" Harry cooed at Trevor, lifting him up and bouncing him a little. "I could hide yummy treats for you as well — wouldn't that be great? A treat for you every time we meet!"
Not long after the boys had finished getting dressed, the lights of Hogsmeade could be seen in the early evening dim in the distance through the compartment's window. Harry twitched aside the curtain to get a better look, their heart thumping, blood pounding in their ears. They could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky.
They could feel the train begin to slow down.
A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
The five of them crammed their pockets with the last of their sweets and tidied up before joining the crowd thronging the corridor. Harry slipped their Walkman into one of their skirt's deep pockets and dropped Trevor into the other so that they could hold their eruditionary to their chest once more; the hold on their precious book might have led to them being lost in the crowd if it wasn't for Kenneth's protective grip around their middle.
The train slowed fully and finally stopped.
As if of one mind, people began moving and pushing their way toward the door of the train carriage and out onto the dark platform. As Kenneth guided Harry away from the outpour of their fellow students, Harry looked left and right, taking in the sight of the other train carriages similarly spilling out passengers.
Harry shivered in the chilly night air. They lamented that they hadn't thought to put on a scarf; their breath misted a bit before them.
A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard: "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"
Harry looked up and up and up at the mountain of a man that could be no one other than Rubeus Hagrid. Thick, black beard and hair, hands like trash bin lids, and as wide as three regular men at least — he was more awe-inspiring than Harry had anticipated.
Oh, they were so going to make friends with him! He looked like he could carry them around on one shoulder and forget they were there! He must give amazing hugs!
"C'mon, follow me — any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"
With an encouraging smile, Kenneth nudged Harry and Justin in the direction they were being called, where other first-years were timidly gathering.
"We'll see each other again tomorrow morning if not after dinner," he said with a wave. "Walk carefully!"
Shifting their book to sit propped against one hip, Harry laced fingers with Justin so they could walk without fear of losing each other. Using each other as support, the two eased down the steep, narrow path the others went slipping and stumbling down. The darkness of the thickly clustered trees loomed over them in an arched canopy; it lent an eerie feeling to the nervous tension being emitted from the nearly entirely silent children. There were hushed whispers at most, and every once in a while someone would sniffle.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder as he led them forward, "jus' round this bend here."
"O-o-o-o-ooh!"
The narrow path opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to the fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore that would take them across.
Being in the middle of the pack, Harry and Justin managed to snag a free boat for the two of them before they were joined by two others, neither of whom Harry thought looked anything like what Ron or Hermione or Neville was supposed to look like.
Well, it wouldn't hurt to make nice with other students right away — Harry would need as much positive feelings towards them as possible when shit really started hitting the fan for them later.
"Hi!" Harry chirped quietly at the additions to their boat, giving their best smile. "Isn't this exciting?! Oh, I could sing!"
"Please don't," Justin shot down immediately in a mutter, giving Harry an unimpressed look.
The extras — one boy, one girl — apparently both got something of a kick out of that and gave little huffs of laughter.
"I didn't say I would," Harry pouted, "just that I could."
And everyone's ears would be blessed to hear it, okay? This was what they communicated with their eyes at this self-made hater. Had Harry not been making their flavour of Mary-Sue obvious enough at this point? They'd dipped their toes into a few variations, but they were clearly a musical-type main. And Justin knew they could literally enchant with their singing, so why—?
Oh. He probably didn't want Harry making a scene.
Okay, fair enough.
"It is exciting," the girl offered, smiling cautiously.
What a nice kid — seemed to have a temperament suited for Hufflepuff. Harry couldn't recall any Hufflepuff girls in Harry's year that wore glasses, though. . . .
"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid from a boat of his own when no one was left standing on shore. "Right then — FORWARD!"
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth and still as glass. Everyone fell silent then, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff.
They all bent their heads, and the boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour — the boathouse, where the boats were stored during the rest of the school year.
The children clambered out onto rocks and pebbles, some misstepping and getting their shoes wet in the shallows.
Harry and Justin unconsciously stuck to their boat-mates as they all climbed up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp. The steps were somewhat uneven and a bit too tall for the children to walk easily; little huffing and panting could be heard. They came out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. From there, they walked up another flight of stone steps — this time properly smooth and easy to walk up — and crowded around the huge, oak front door.
Harry bumped shoulders with the girl that had been sweet enough to try to console them, and grinned at the boy; he had yet to say anything, but he did smile back unhesitantly this time. Progress!
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and gave three thunderous knocks on the castle door.
The door began to open immediately. It swung in, and a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes emerged.
Severe face, queenly bearing — Minerva McGonagall! Oh, how strange; Harry was amazed to see that she looked basically exactly the same as the actress who played her in the films. Was this a coincidence? Had it been great casting on a cosmic level? Either way, this McGonagall really lived up to the standard for first impressions set before her by her actress.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
The entrance hall was so big that it could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it — could have fit three, really. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like how one might imagine to be described in a DnD session; the ceiling was too high to make out in the evening dim; and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.
They followed McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school already in the Great Hall — as McGonagall showed the first-years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said McGonagall, reciting the speech she no doubt gave every year. "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 will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honour. 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 eyes went around over the crowd of children, lingering here and there.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
Harry was privately having a fit of nerves so fierce that it felt like it was edging on a panic attack. However, that wasn't a face that was seemly to be shown on this stage, so they channelled glee and made it seem like they were trembling from excitement, adding on some swaying and bouncing in place to sell it.
"We're here, we're here, we're here!" they squeaked, dancing in place with their massive book. "Tomorrow we'll start classes! Learning magic!"
"Swot," Justin taunted. He couldn't hide his own excitement, though; he was fighting a losing battle against an eager smile.
"What House do you think you'll be in?" Harry asked, turning and grinning brightly at their boat-mates. "Harrington Vervain; you can call me that, or Vivi, or Harry, or, like, Tonton, or whatever else," — they said this quickly, mouth going a mile a minute, — "and I'm hoping for Ravenclaw! I heard they have their own library in their common room! How cool is that?! Private library, oh, my godssss! Anyway, yeah, sorry, sorry — what are you hoping for?"
The girl looked a bit overwhelmed. It was the boy who answered first.
He said, "My father was in Ravenclaw and my mother was in Slytherin, so I suppose either of those would suit me."
Oh, he spoke rather nicely — even more nicely than Justin, and that one was so proud of his privileged upbringing.
"No preferences other than that?" asked Harry, leaning in. "Wow, you're so agreeable!"
Was that an appropriate compliment? Was this how eleven-year-olds talked? Harry wasn't sure. They normally didn't bother acting anything but themselves, but they were trying to be peppy and especially friendship-worthy at the moment, and they were concerned they might be doing a poor job of it.
Channel cloud-cuckoo-lander? That would give them plenty of excuse when they inevitably were notably odd for a child. . . .
Any other potential faux pas Harry might make were headed off by several screams.
"What the —?!" Justin gasped.
About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room arguing with one another and hardly glancing at the first-years.
A fat little monk (the Fat Friar! Oh, he was one of [REDACTED]'s favourites!) was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"
But a ghost wearing a ruff and tights — Nearly-Headless Nick — cut him off peevishly.
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them upon noticing them as well. "About to be Sorted, I suppose? I hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know."
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. It was McGonagall, who had just returned. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
As the ghost floated away, McGonagall had them form something of a line; it ended up more as a pair of lines. Harry had Justin on their right, the two boat-buddies behind, and two dark-haired girls in front. Thus arrayed, they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.
McGonagall led the first-years up to the front, so that they came to a halt between where the other students and the teachers faced one another. The first years were made to stand facing the crowd. The hundreds of faces staring back at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candle-light. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver.
Twitchy with all the staring eyes, Harry hugged their book for comfort and looked to the middle distance instead of risking meeting eyes with anyone. They probably looked like a complete nerd toting a huge book with them at such a time — not even the canonically Ravenclaw first-years had been that stereotypical; not even the supreme swot herself, Hermione Granger. Still, they were set on Ravenclaw, had years of experience with Sorting Hat quizzes both unofficial and official assigning them Ravenclaw again and again, so it couldn't hurt to be looking the part already.
Harry refocused and watched with keen eyes as McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. Then, on top, she put the Sorting Hat. Harry took the opportunity to commit names to faces as first-years were called up to be sorted.
Canon . . . canon . . . more canon — oh, hey! That one was only in the films! And only as an extra for the DA in the fifth film! Canon . . . canon . . . background character. . . .
Justin went off to Hufflepuff, as expected. Harry was in the middle of being proud of him for having a complex enough personality that he wasn't sorted instantaneously (that they liked to think they contributed effort into helping develop) when "Goldstein, Anthony!" was called out, and the boat-mate Harry had only just recently coaxed a smile out of walked forward.
Harry nearly gasped aloud. He was one of their favourite tertiary characters! He didn't have any real scenes in the books or films — only mentions of him — but fanon had developed him into a chill dude; the Blaise Zabini of Ravenclaw minus the blood-supremacy. There was this one great fic where he was a secondary love-interest and, whoa, the writer developed him so well! Harry smiled and clapped especially loudly when Goldstein was sorted into Ravenclaw once more.
Goyle . . . Granger . . . Greengrass . . . Hopkins. . . .
Even though it was the rare first-year that was a Hatstall — and there'd only been one so far that had even come close to being called a Hatstall — the sorting was taking longer than Harry had anticipated; they weren't even halfway through before Harry started wondering if it would be rude to start reading as they waited. If they got too bored, they'd start daydreaming, and if they started daydreaming, they'd start humming, and if they started humming, they'd start dancing, and that was surely inappropriate to do in such a setting.
MacDougal . . . Macmillan . . . Matthews. . . .
Okay, no — if they remained so bored and simultaneously hyper-vigilant, they might very well explode.
Harry shuffled to the back of the pack and covertly cracked open the volume. A poem! They'd read a nice little poem; that would take their mind off their jitters but wouldn't distract them too much from the current proceeding. They flipped a few pages and arrived at their Lewis Carroll section.
Ah, the Walrus and the Carpenter — a classic.
'The sun was shining on the sea,/ shining with all his might./ He did his very best to make/ the billows smooth and bright —/ and this was odd, because it was/ the middle of the night./
'The moon was shining sulkily,/ because she thought the sun/ had got no business to be there/ after the day was done —/ "It's very rude of him," she said,/ "to come and spoil the fun!"/
'The sea was wet as wet could be,/ the sands were dry as dry./ You could not see a cloud, because/ no cloud was in the sky. . . ./'
"Potter, Harry!"
Harry jumped and nearly dropped their book.
"Present!" they squeaked without thinking, closing their book with a snap. Their cheeks heated as eyes bore into them and excited chatter erupted. "Ah, right — sorting, not attendance. Sorry, sorry! Don't mind me!" They babbled as they weaved through the thinned crowd of first-years and scurried up to the stool.
Their hair was far more voluminous in it's length than that of canon, so instead of the brim slipping over their eyes, it landed at Harry's forehead and stopped there. This gave them the unenviable ability to see for themselves the hall full of people craning their necks to get a good look and the gawking looks on those faces.
"Goodness me," said a small voice in their ear. "You're not a type I see too often, are you?"
Harry's heart felt like it had torn itself from its spot in their ribcage and lodged itself in their gullet. They felt their eyes go wide and their face go cold, no doubt paling. Ducking their head, their scalp going numb, Harry vaguely wondered if anyone had a good enough view to be suspicious.
"Oh, now, none of that!" said the Sorting Hat. "Remember a past life isn't a crime. Admittedly, it's odd that you were a seer that knew of possible events of your current incarnation, but that also isn't a crime. You're not in trouble, dear child. You've done nothing wrong."
No? They weren't at risk of being taken away by Unspeakables? They wouldn't be grilled and tortured for information about the timeline?
"No indeed! Reincarnators and seers have the same rights as any other wizard; no one has any grounds to have you locked up for knowing what you know. Goodness me! Such bone-deep worries here! Dread boiling in the back of your mind at all times, and yet you still put on such a steady front? How courageous of you! But rest assured — no one has any grounds to have you arrested."
Hearing the Sorting Hat's words, a stone Harry hadn't realised they'd been carrying lifted from their gut. They were not an anomaly without precedence. Granted, they doubted any other 'reincarnated seer' had their same circumstance, but Harry was not outside reasonable ruling.
Wetness prickled at the corners of their eyes. Harry blinked rapidly lest they really make a scene. They didn't want to imagine what people would think if Harry started crying while being sorted; no doubt that would lead to outrageous speculations and rumours.
"Hmm, not quite right for Gryffindor, though — don't quite have the temperament for that environment. Hufflepuff might do you some good; you're very principled and have a strong sense of fairness. It would be a great boon when you face the difficult choice you'll no doubt have to make on your way."
Huh? Did the Sorting Hat not see they were an obvious candidate for Ravenclaw?
"Yes, yes, a hard-working mind here. Very good. Great appreciation for education and the development of knowledge. You'd find appreciation for your interests in Ravenclaw. Comrades and rivals as well. You're rather good at reading people, so you'd be able to make more friends than enemies. . . .
"Yes, very good at compromising and showing others your best side, very clever how you do that. Very good at dealing with others. Hmm. . . ."
Was there anything else to ponder? Was Ravenclaw not the obvious place for them? Had the Hat noticed that this sorting had likely reached the length for Hatstall already? Wouldn't it be best to just place Harry as soon as possible? There were still a good number of first-years left to sort, and no doubt everyone was already rather hungry; wouldn't it be rude to continue to keep them waiting?
Thinking too much on Harry was unnecessary, Harry thought at the Sorting Hat. They really didn't need so much of the Hat's consideration. He didn't need to be so kind; despite Harry playing at being a Mary-Sue, they didn't actually deserve this amount of attention paid to them. Assign Harry to Ravenclaw and he could go back to take his well-deserved rest sooner.
"What a well-spoken, clever child," the Sorting Hat said delightedly, this time not just in Harry's ear. "No doubt about it, better be — SLYTHERIN!"
EH?
AN: I'm not in a good mental state right now, so if you don't mind, please leave a comment even if you normally wouldn't; it would make me feel better ^^'
