Author's Note: Hello. The preface of this story was a little cloudy; so let
me make a few specifications. The narrator of this story is Landon Weasley.
Landon is looking back on his life at Hogwarts. His parents are Ron and
Hermione. His little sister is Emily (Landon and Emily were introduced in
my story "A New Beginning" and then again in "Amidst the Pyramids"), and
his best friend is Harry's son, James Potter. James' sisters are Evie and
Rachel (Harry is married to Ginny, so you can see that they're cousins as
well as best friends). I hope that everything is cleared up now. Enjoy!
When Mum woke me up on September 1st, I felt as if I would be sick. She must have seen the look on my face, because she tried to comfort me. It did not work very well, though. I thought that perhaps I wouldn't know enough, or my I didn't take enough notes over the summer. Of course, since the notes weren't actually required, I was rather ahead of the game.
Mum had to go to King's cross before I did, so Dad was going to take us in the Porsche. If there was one thing that Dad loved about the Muggle world, it was cars. Well, not cars, just his shiny, black Porsche. He had made quite a few modifications, though. For instance, the passenger side was expanded, so three people could fit in the car, rather than three; the boot was also larger to fit more (like my trunk). At ten-thirty, my trunk was in the boot, Emily was sitting in between Dad and I, and we sped off towards London. At ten of eleven, we were sitting in a very tight traffic jam, Emily was whining, and Dad was getting upset.
"Daddy! Landon's looking at me!" Emily whined.
"I was not! I was looking at the Muggle shops!" I said. Dad wasn't really paying attention, instead he was muttering under his breath and glancing nervously at his watch. He was a little too quiet to hear, but I caught the gist of it.
"Hermione's going to kill me…we'll be late…if the bloody cars would only move…the train's going to leave without us…blimey, first day of school…Mione's going to kill me…"
"Daddy! Landon's doing it again!"
"Landon, leave your sister alone," he said, running his hand through the bright red hair that we Weasleys were known for. Suddenly, he jerked the car to the right, and quickly parallel parked it, not bothering to put any Muggle coins in the parking meter. He undid his seatbelt, and got out. "Come on, you two!" he said to us. We scrambled out of the car quickly and ran over to where he was standing. He grabbed Emily's hand, and turned to me. "Stay close, Landon. Hold on to that owl of yours." We took off running in what I assumed was the general direction of King's Cross Station. Emily eventually was too small and was nearly getting trampled, so Dad hoisted her on to his back. I tried hard to keep up, thinking of the gleaming red Hogwarts Express as my goal, but the sharp pain in my side was starting to slow me down. We had just sprinted nearly six blocks, and there were still another five to go before the station.
Once we arrived, I turned to look at the large clock. It was five minute past eleven; the train would be gone. Dad didn't slow down though. He let Emily down, and nearly threw me through the barrier, and within seconds, they were right behind me. I was yelling at the top of my lungs as I was running towards the train with Dad (Emily had disappeared with Rachel Potter as soon as we had entered the platform). I could see Mum standing and speaking with the conductor. She was looking quite mad, and was profusely apologizing.
"Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad!" I yelled as I jumped on the train. I quickly found James' compartment, and we leaned out the window. I could see Mum and Dad.
"I'm so sorry," Mum was saying to the conductor. "Thank you so, much." Then she turned to Dad. "Where were you? I can't believe that you were late, Ron!"
"There was a traffic jam; it wasn't my fault!" he was protesting.
Mum seemed to calm down a bit more. "Why are you all sweaty?"
Dad shrugged. "We ran the last ten or eleven blocks."
"You what?" Mum asked.
"Well, like I said, there was a traffic jam and it wasn't moving anywhere, so I parked the car and we ran here."
Mum was shaking her head, and it seemed as if she was suppressing a grin. "You're insane."
Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny came to join the two of them as the train was slowly pulling away from the station. Emily and Rachel were looking quite guilty as they smiled innocently at our parents (who were, by no means, fooled). Everyone left on the platform was waving as the train pulled away, and James and I didn't stick our heads inside until we could no longer see the station.
"So, why were you so late?" James asked me, as we snacked on Every Flavor Beans.
"It's a long story," I said. "Are you nervous?"
"Not really," James said with a casual shrug. "I mean, our parents survived, right?"
"Yeah, but our parents could probably survive anything," I said.
James smiled. "So you're nervous, eh mate?"
I shrugged. "A little."
"Why are you so nervous?" he asked. "It's obvious that we'll be in Gryffindor. Honestly, it's a given. Was there ever a Weasley who wasn't? True, my last name's not Weasley, but I'm related. And besides, all of our cousins will be there, and…dude! Your Mum's practically the headmistress!"
This was precisely the reason why I didn't want to tell James. True, he was my best friend, but he had a natural confidence about him that I just didn't have. Sometimes, he just didn't understand that. He didn't need to be smart to be confident, like I did. He had one of those naturally infectious personalities, and you couldn't help but like him. My personality, on the other hand, sort of…grew on you. I never worried about James making fun of any insecurity that I might have, but I didn't want him to think that I was a sissy, either.
"I guess," I said, my anticipation not eased at all.
"So, do you think we're going to have cool adventures and all? You know, like Dad, Uncle Ron and Aunt Mione?" he asked me, obviously satisfied by my half-hearted answer.
"I don't know. Dad said that they didn't look for trouble, it just sort of came to them. I reckon that if we go and run into the Forbidden Forrest, we'll get nothing better than a detention or two," I said.
James looked as if he had just found out that the tooth fairy wasn't real. "Dude! Look at who our parents are! Trouble will definitely find us!"
"Yeah, well speaking of who our parents are, you can get away with getting in trouble; your parents will be miles away. My Mum will be there every day! I couldn't do anything even if I wanted to." I didn't want to.
The door of our compartment flew open, and two of our friends came in. Jessica Thomas' and Fiona Finnigan's parents had been good friends of Mum, Dad, and Uncle Harry. Our families had gotten together a lot over the years, and my little crush on Fiona was no secret.
"Hey, girls!" James called out. That was another trait of James's that I was jealous of: his comfortableness around girls. Maybe that was just his confidence, but for some reason, girls always just flocked around him.
"Hey, James," they said in unison.
"Hi, Landon," Fiona added. That made me quite happy, and my ears turned a bit red. I hated it when that happened.
"So are you excited for school?" James asked Jessie as he pulled that "I need to stretch" maneuver to put his arm around the back of her seat.
"Oh, yes!" Jessie exclaimed. "I'm so excited. I stocked up on tons of your uncles' stuff from Diagon Alley the other day."
"Me too," Fiona put in. "They were all out of Canary Creams, though, but since they know my mum and dad, Mr. Fred…or was it Mr. George? Well anyway, they ordered some especially for me. They're sending it to school as soon as they come in."
"That was probably Uncle George," I said, emerging from my previously quiet state. "Uncle Fred is the one who does the field work and actually sells the product to other joke shops; Uncle George runs the stores and does all of the management work." As if they really cared. All that those two cared about was playing jokes. They were regulars at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
We talked a bit more. Well, actually James did most of the talking. I got rather bored and took out my Transfiguration textbook and began reading it through for the eighth time this week until the door to the compartment opened once again. A girl with soft brown curls, striking green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her straight nose entered.
"Hello," James said, rising and extending his hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm James Potter."
"And I," she said, "Am not so impressed by one's surname. I'm Charlotte Bronte."
Mum's library was filled with books. Books were everywhere- from textbooks to classics. I knew Muggle literature to recognize the name Charlotte Bronte.
"Didn't Charlotte Bronte write "Jane Eyre"?" I asked.
She glared at me. "So you read Victorian Romance novels, eh?" she asked smartly.
What self-respecting male would answer that question in the affirmative? "No, but my Mum's got a huge library. It's one of her favorites. I'm Landon Weasley."
"Great. So, what is this, the celebrity hotbed?" she said.
I, being a Weasley, of course inherited the temper that came along with the hair. "Of course not," I said. "You're here, and nobody knows who you are, unless you count a dead writer who would probably be ashamed that a girl like you shared her name."
"A girl like me? And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked.
"Well, you know. You're not all that pretty, and probably not anywhere near as romantic as the old Charlotte Bronte. My guess is that you have this tough exterior to make up for your insecurities, which are, no doubt, justified," I said. If Mum could have heard that, she would have killed me.
"Why you're a regular old psychologist, aren't you? Well, let me tell you something, Weasley. People may not know who I am, but at least I'm not basking in limelight that I didn't earn. And no matter how hard you try, you will never be as good as your Mum and Dad, so you might as well not even try," she said with a sneer.
James probably sensed that I would have hit her in a few seconds, leaving the code of conduct writhing on the ground, so he did me (and chivalry, for that matter) a favor, and spoke before I got a chance to do so.
"So," he said, standing up and laughing nervously, "What exactly did you come in here for?"
"I was sent back here to tell you all that we're going to be arriving in thirty minutes. Put on your school robes," she said. She turned and left, slamming the door shut behind her.
"I hope she's not in Gryffindor," Fiona whined. She was expecting Gryffindor house, like the rest of us were.
"Me, too," I said. I would be the first to admit that she was pretty, but there was no way that I could stand spending seven years with that girl.
When we arrived at the school, Hagrid (a very large man with a tangle of gray hair and beard whom James and I'd known nearly all of our lives), took all of us first years across the lake in boats. For all of the numerous times that I had been there, Hogwarts was still an astounding sight to behold.
Professor McGonagall opened thick wooden doors to let us into the castle. She then took us into this small room and explained to us about the sorting before leading us into the Great Hall. She smiled (yes, smiled) at me. She had always liked me, even when I was little.
"I'll be expecting great things from you, Mr. Weasley," she said to me as she passed me on her way to the staff table.
We got in line as Mum brought out a stool and the Sorting Hat on it. One by one, students filed up as my mum called their names:
"Adamson, Luke!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Bolding, Leonora!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Bronte, Charlotte!"
As Charlotte approached the stool, Mum smiled a bit and spoke to Charlotte. No doubt she was talking about her name, but since Charlotte smiled and spoke in a normal tone, I assumed that she was sucking up to the teacher.
Charlotte sat down on the stool as she put the hat on. It fell over her eyes, as she slouched there. After what seemed like an eternity, the hat still had not decided. She lifted the tip and looked up at Mum, who looked rather curious. Mum turned to speak with the headmaster, and then spoke quietly to Charlotte who nodded before walking to sit at the Hufflepuff table. None of the Hufflepuffs clapped; I didn't think that they knew what exactly was going on. To be honest, neither did I.
"Finnigan, Fiona!" came after awhile.
"GRYFFINDOR!
After quite a few people were sorted (including Jessie, who also went to Gryffindor), James' name was called. He confidently walked up to the stool and sat down. Mum smiled at him as the hat placed him in Gryffindor.
I, of course, was the last to be placed in a house. For a horrifying moment, I thought about what it might be like if I got put in Slytherin. I would be the first Weasley ever not to be in Gryffindor. And all Gryffindors hate Slytherin. Would my family hate me then?
"Weasley, Landon!" finally came, and Mum smiled reassuringly at me as I sat down rather nervously. The hat didn't even touch my head before it called out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Mum and Dad suspect that the Weasley hair might give off some sort of weird vibe.
I sat down with my cousins (who make up the majority of Gryffindor house- my dad was one of seven, what do you expect?) and Professor Dumbledore feebly stood up to make his speech. The glittering golden plates in front of me were taunting me with the knowledge that they would soon be filled with the most delicious food this side of the equator. I barely even heard the Headmaster's speech; I was so hungry. Finally, though, it ended and we dug in. I imagined Emily at home, pouting because Dad was making her eat her green beans. But then I thought that Dad probably wouldn't make her since Mum wasn't home.
When Mum woke me up on September 1st, I felt as if I would be sick. She must have seen the look on my face, because she tried to comfort me. It did not work very well, though. I thought that perhaps I wouldn't know enough, or my I didn't take enough notes over the summer. Of course, since the notes weren't actually required, I was rather ahead of the game.
Mum had to go to King's cross before I did, so Dad was going to take us in the Porsche. If there was one thing that Dad loved about the Muggle world, it was cars. Well, not cars, just his shiny, black Porsche. He had made quite a few modifications, though. For instance, the passenger side was expanded, so three people could fit in the car, rather than three; the boot was also larger to fit more (like my trunk). At ten-thirty, my trunk was in the boot, Emily was sitting in between Dad and I, and we sped off towards London. At ten of eleven, we were sitting in a very tight traffic jam, Emily was whining, and Dad was getting upset.
"Daddy! Landon's looking at me!" Emily whined.
"I was not! I was looking at the Muggle shops!" I said. Dad wasn't really paying attention, instead he was muttering under his breath and glancing nervously at his watch. He was a little too quiet to hear, but I caught the gist of it.
"Hermione's going to kill me…we'll be late…if the bloody cars would only move…the train's going to leave without us…blimey, first day of school…Mione's going to kill me…"
"Daddy! Landon's doing it again!"
"Landon, leave your sister alone," he said, running his hand through the bright red hair that we Weasleys were known for. Suddenly, he jerked the car to the right, and quickly parallel parked it, not bothering to put any Muggle coins in the parking meter. He undid his seatbelt, and got out. "Come on, you two!" he said to us. We scrambled out of the car quickly and ran over to where he was standing. He grabbed Emily's hand, and turned to me. "Stay close, Landon. Hold on to that owl of yours." We took off running in what I assumed was the general direction of King's Cross Station. Emily eventually was too small and was nearly getting trampled, so Dad hoisted her on to his back. I tried hard to keep up, thinking of the gleaming red Hogwarts Express as my goal, but the sharp pain in my side was starting to slow me down. We had just sprinted nearly six blocks, and there were still another five to go before the station.
Once we arrived, I turned to look at the large clock. It was five minute past eleven; the train would be gone. Dad didn't slow down though. He let Emily down, and nearly threw me through the barrier, and within seconds, they were right behind me. I was yelling at the top of my lungs as I was running towards the train with Dad (Emily had disappeared with Rachel Potter as soon as we had entered the platform). I could see Mum standing and speaking with the conductor. She was looking quite mad, and was profusely apologizing.
"Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad!" I yelled as I jumped on the train. I quickly found James' compartment, and we leaned out the window. I could see Mum and Dad.
"I'm so sorry," Mum was saying to the conductor. "Thank you so, much." Then she turned to Dad. "Where were you? I can't believe that you were late, Ron!"
"There was a traffic jam; it wasn't my fault!" he was protesting.
Mum seemed to calm down a bit more. "Why are you all sweaty?"
Dad shrugged. "We ran the last ten or eleven blocks."
"You what?" Mum asked.
"Well, like I said, there was a traffic jam and it wasn't moving anywhere, so I parked the car and we ran here."
Mum was shaking her head, and it seemed as if she was suppressing a grin. "You're insane."
Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny came to join the two of them as the train was slowly pulling away from the station. Emily and Rachel were looking quite guilty as they smiled innocently at our parents (who were, by no means, fooled). Everyone left on the platform was waving as the train pulled away, and James and I didn't stick our heads inside until we could no longer see the station.
"So, why were you so late?" James asked me, as we snacked on Every Flavor Beans.
"It's a long story," I said. "Are you nervous?"
"Not really," James said with a casual shrug. "I mean, our parents survived, right?"
"Yeah, but our parents could probably survive anything," I said.
James smiled. "So you're nervous, eh mate?"
I shrugged. "A little."
"Why are you so nervous?" he asked. "It's obvious that we'll be in Gryffindor. Honestly, it's a given. Was there ever a Weasley who wasn't? True, my last name's not Weasley, but I'm related. And besides, all of our cousins will be there, and…dude! Your Mum's practically the headmistress!"
This was precisely the reason why I didn't want to tell James. True, he was my best friend, but he had a natural confidence about him that I just didn't have. Sometimes, he just didn't understand that. He didn't need to be smart to be confident, like I did. He had one of those naturally infectious personalities, and you couldn't help but like him. My personality, on the other hand, sort of…grew on you. I never worried about James making fun of any insecurity that I might have, but I didn't want him to think that I was a sissy, either.
"I guess," I said, my anticipation not eased at all.
"So, do you think we're going to have cool adventures and all? You know, like Dad, Uncle Ron and Aunt Mione?" he asked me, obviously satisfied by my half-hearted answer.
"I don't know. Dad said that they didn't look for trouble, it just sort of came to them. I reckon that if we go and run into the Forbidden Forrest, we'll get nothing better than a detention or two," I said.
James looked as if he had just found out that the tooth fairy wasn't real. "Dude! Look at who our parents are! Trouble will definitely find us!"
"Yeah, well speaking of who our parents are, you can get away with getting in trouble; your parents will be miles away. My Mum will be there every day! I couldn't do anything even if I wanted to." I didn't want to.
The door of our compartment flew open, and two of our friends came in. Jessica Thomas' and Fiona Finnigan's parents had been good friends of Mum, Dad, and Uncle Harry. Our families had gotten together a lot over the years, and my little crush on Fiona was no secret.
"Hey, girls!" James called out. That was another trait of James's that I was jealous of: his comfortableness around girls. Maybe that was just his confidence, but for some reason, girls always just flocked around him.
"Hey, James," they said in unison.
"Hi, Landon," Fiona added. That made me quite happy, and my ears turned a bit red. I hated it when that happened.
"So are you excited for school?" James asked Jessie as he pulled that "I need to stretch" maneuver to put his arm around the back of her seat.
"Oh, yes!" Jessie exclaimed. "I'm so excited. I stocked up on tons of your uncles' stuff from Diagon Alley the other day."
"Me too," Fiona put in. "They were all out of Canary Creams, though, but since they know my mum and dad, Mr. Fred…or was it Mr. George? Well anyway, they ordered some especially for me. They're sending it to school as soon as they come in."
"That was probably Uncle George," I said, emerging from my previously quiet state. "Uncle Fred is the one who does the field work and actually sells the product to other joke shops; Uncle George runs the stores and does all of the management work." As if they really cared. All that those two cared about was playing jokes. They were regulars at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
We talked a bit more. Well, actually James did most of the talking. I got rather bored and took out my Transfiguration textbook and began reading it through for the eighth time this week until the door to the compartment opened once again. A girl with soft brown curls, striking green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her straight nose entered.
"Hello," James said, rising and extending his hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm James Potter."
"And I," she said, "Am not so impressed by one's surname. I'm Charlotte Bronte."
Mum's library was filled with books. Books were everywhere- from textbooks to classics. I knew Muggle literature to recognize the name Charlotte Bronte.
"Didn't Charlotte Bronte write "Jane Eyre"?" I asked.
She glared at me. "So you read Victorian Romance novels, eh?" she asked smartly.
What self-respecting male would answer that question in the affirmative? "No, but my Mum's got a huge library. It's one of her favorites. I'm Landon Weasley."
"Great. So, what is this, the celebrity hotbed?" she said.
I, being a Weasley, of course inherited the temper that came along with the hair. "Of course not," I said. "You're here, and nobody knows who you are, unless you count a dead writer who would probably be ashamed that a girl like you shared her name."
"A girl like me? And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked.
"Well, you know. You're not all that pretty, and probably not anywhere near as romantic as the old Charlotte Bronte. My guess is that you have this tough exterior to make up for your insecurities, which are, no doubt, justified," I said. If Mum could have heard that, she would have killed me.
"Why you're a regular old psychologist, aren't you? Well, let me tell you something, Weasley. People may not know who I am, but at least I'm not basking in limelight that I didn't earn. And no matter how hard you try, you will never be as good as your Mum and Dad, so you might as well not even try," she said with a sneer.
James probably sensed that I would have hit her in a few seconds, leaving the code of conduct writhing on the ground, so he did me (and chivalry, for that matter) a favor, and spoke before I got a chance to do so.
"So," he said, standing up and laughing nervously, "What exactly did you come in here for?"
"I was sent back here to tell you all that we're going to be arriving in thirty minutes. Put on your school robes," she said. She turned and left, slamming the door shut behind her.
"I hope she's not in Gryffindor," Fiona whined. She was expecting Gryffindor house, like the rest of us were.
"Me, too," I said. I would be the first to admit that she was pretty, but there was no way that I could stand spending seven years with that girl.
When we arrived at the school, Hagrid (a very large man with a tangle of gray hair and beard whom James and I'd known nearly all of our lives), took all of us first years across the lake in boats. For all of the numerous times that I had been there, Hogwarts was still an astounding sight to behold.
Professor McGonagall opened thick wooden doors to let us into the castle. She then took us into this small room and explained to us about the sorting before leading us into the Great Hall. She smiled (yes, smiled) at me. She had always liked me, even when I was little.
"I'll be expecting great things from you, Mr. Weasley," she said to me as she passed me on her way to the staff table.
We got in line as Mum brought out a stool and the Sorting Hat on it. One by one, students filed up as my mum called their names:
"Adamson, Luke!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Bolding, Leonora!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Bronte, Charlotte!"
As Charlotte approached the stool, Mum smiled a bit and spoke to Charlotte. No doubt she was talking about her name, but since Charlotte smiled and spoke in a normal tone, I assumed that she was sucking up to the teacher.
Charlotte sat down on the stool as she put the hat on. It fell over her eyes, as she slouched there. After what seemed like an eternity, the hat still had not decided. She lifted the tip and looked up at Mum, who looked rather curious. Mum turned to speak with the headmaster, and then spoke quietly to Charlotte who nodded before walking to sit at the Hufflepuff table. None of the Hufflepuffs clapped; I didn't think that they knew what exactly was going on. To be honest, neither did I.
"Finnigan, Fiona!" came after awhile.
"GRYFFINDOR!
After quite a few people were sorted (including Jessie, who also went to Gryffindor), James' name was called. He confidently walked up to the stool and sat down. Mum smiled at him as the hat placed him in Gryffindor.
I, of course, was the last to be placed in a house. For a horrifying moment, I thought about what it might be like if I got put in Slytherin. I would be the first Weasley ever not to be in Gryffindor. And all Gryffindors hate Slytherin. Would my family hate me then?
"Weasley, Landon!" finally came, and Mum smiled reassuringly at me as I sat down rather nervously. The hat didn't even touch my head before it called out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Mum and Dad suspect that the Weasley hair might give off some sort of weird vibe.
I sat down with my cousins (who make up the majority of Gryffindor house- my dad was one of seven, what do you expect?) and Professor Dumbledore feebly stood up to make his speech. The glittering golden plates in front of me were taunting me with the knowledge that they would soon be filled with the most delicious food this side of the equator. I barely even heard the Headmaster's speech; I was so hungry. Finally, though, it ended and we dug in. I imagined Emily at home, pouting because Dad was making her eat her green beans. But then I thought that Dad probably wouldn't make her since Mum wasn't home.