2nd bedroom on the right, 3rd floor
Before Harris could finish reading his own address, the letter was snatched out of his hands. "Harris got in!" screamed a young boy's voice. "Harris got in Hogwarts!" The small, red-haired boy ran out of the dinning room, proudly waving the unopened letter as though it were his own.
Harris sprang to his feet and gave chase into the foyer. "Gimme that, you red-headed midget! It's mine!"
Despite being half Harris's size, the younger boy's suprise attack had given him a strong lead. Another boy, identical to the smaller boy, reached him first. "Let me see!" The letter exchanged hands as they ran up the wide staircase. The second twin ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. The envelope was dropped on the top stair. Harris scooped it up as he passed by. The twins' lead was narrowing.
The second twin tried to read the letter as they sprinted down the hall to the stairway up to the third floor. The first pushed him along, in an attempt to make him move faster. "Go, go, Clarence!" The commotion was drawing some notice, and doors along the second floor hallway opened, and more children spilled into the hall. Harris pushed past the ones that got in his way.
The twins reached the top of the stairs and scrambled over the babygate. They barely avoided landing on a tiny girl with hair so blond it was white. "Dear Mr. Tragyl," the second twin began reading loudly when he saw he had a good sized audience coming up the stairs and from the rooms behind him. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at-" Harris had by now reached the top of the stairs. The first twin used the baby gate to hold him back, retreating away from the stairs, but keeping him away from Clarence. His twin raised his voice, to be heard over the racket, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September first. We await your owl by no later than July thiry-first. Yours sincerely, Minverva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."
The reading twin passed that note to his defending brother, who then passed it over the gate to Harris. Somewhat molified now that he had hold of the admission letter, he stopped fighting to get at the second twin, and read the letter silently for himself. The second twin scanned the other sheet, and read off the section headings. "Uniform, Course Books, Other Equipment." He looked up, exicited. "Harris! You can't bring your broom. Can I have it?"
His attack was sudden enough to take the first twin by surprise. He broke through the barrier, and snatched the equipment list from his younger brother. He found the line "PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS" prominently displayed at the bottom and frowned. Clarence was still looking at him, eyes pleading. Harris scowled. "Not a chance, firetop." The boy looked disappointed, but not surprised.
With the first bid rejected, a chorus of "Can I?"'s rose from the watching brothers.
"No!"
A squeal rose from the other end of the hallway, and the kids all turned toward the sound. A squat house-elf was half-running, half-limping toward them. "Lulli grab Tryna! Lulli grab Tryna!" it exclaimed dodging between the children, and caught the little girl just before she fell down the stairs. The older boys standing nearby looked embarassed for not paying attention to their sister's determined attempt to make it beyond the baby gate's normal position.
The house elf's shriek drew out the mistress of the house, where the kid's shouting had not. Mrs. Tragyl frowned up at the gaggle of children loitering at the top of the stairs. "What's going on?" she asked climbing thee stairs to a more natural speaking distance.
Lulli stood in front of Mrs. Tragyl, still holding the small girl. "Lulli grab Tryna. Tryna almost fall."
Mrs. Tragyl smiled fondly at the elf, "Thank you for your quick rescue, Lulli." The elf all but glowed under the praise. Then the mother's eyes darkened as she regarded her sons. "And how did that gate get moved?" Caught red-handed, the first twin reddened enough that he matched his hair. Mrs. Tragyl's gaze fell on him. "Menteron?"
"I was keeping back Harris." The woman's raised eyebrow asked 'why?' as clearly as the word. "So that Clarence could read his Hogwarts letter to everybody before Harris could steal it back." Mrs. Tragyl's gaze lightened as she turned toward Harris. "You got your letter?"
Harris pushed through his younger siblings and showed her his acceptance letter. "Right here." She waded through her other sons to wrap him in a hug that he immediately tried to escape from.
"I'm so proud of you." She released him, either because she knew he found it embarrassing or because she had simply finished. The reason was anybody's guess. "My first boy off to Hogwarts." Harris scowled, pretending that he wasn't mortified as she tousled his hair fondly.
"Put that gate back where it belongs!" she snapped suddenly at Menteron, when she noticed Tryna waddling in that direction again. Menteron jumped, but did as ordered, once his brothers on the stairs came through. Mrs. Tragyl turned back to Harris, a thoughtful look on her face. "I wonder what house you'll be in?"
"House?" one of the other boys asked.
"Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff," Clarence said, squirming through to the front of the group. "I read about them in 'Hogwarts, A History'." Mrs. Tragyl looked surprised at her five-year old son's words. "Gryffindor is for brave people, Ravenclaw is for smart people, Slytherin is for tricky people, and Hufflepuff is for boring people."
"Hufflepuffs are hardworking people, Clarence," Mrs. Tragyl corrected. "Not boring."
"What were you, Ma?" A blond boy who was even taller than Harris asked.
"Gryffindor. And Dad was Slytherin."
The young twin frowned. "I thought Gryffindors and Slytherins hate each other."
Mrs. Tragyl laughed, but it sounded a little forced. "Most do. But there are always exceptions. I liked your dad even though he was a Slytherin and dad liked me, even though I was a Gryffindor. And with those two rare and remarkable things happening at once, we figured it must be a sign. So we got married and here we are."
"Is that why you don't like Gramma and Grampa Tragyl?" the blond boy asked.
She made a mildly revolted face, as though she had just stepped on a frog. "More accurately, that's mostly why they don't like me. They're both Slytherins, too. Almost as far back as you care to trace the Tragyl line, they've all be Slytherins. On the opposite end of the spectrum, my family has all been Gryffindors for the most part. Some of them muggle-born or half-and-half. Slytherins don't much care for anyone who's not pure wizard."
"How do they decide what house we go into?" Harris asked.
Mrs. Tragyl shook her finger at him. "Oh, no. Nobody told me before I got there. You're just going to have to find out once you get there." She refused to say another word on the subject.
The two youngest siblings were left home when the rest of the family took the floo network to Diagon Alley. Mr. Tragyl went first, to keep the children (especially the twins) out of trouble until the rest of the family arrived. The tall, blond boy, Jansten, went second, followed immediately by Harris. Next came the twins, Menteron and Clarence. Brent, a brown haired boy, who was older than the twins, but younger than Jansten, went after them. The last boy, a seven-year-old, and the next youngest after the twins, came just before their mother. Mrs. Tragyl took the rear.
Once she arrived on the Diagon Alley side, she took a quick head count, and was glad to see that the twins had both successfully managed their first floo transport. Mr. Tragyl took Menteron's hand, and Mrs. Tragyl took Clarence's, then the family exited the shop and entered the main street of Diagon Alley.
"Wow," Clarence breathed.
"Cool," Menteron agreed, equally awestruck. The other children had been here before, and so were pretending like nothing was special.
"Jansten, you keep an eye on Brent and Valr," Mrs. Tragyl warned as the three middle boys began to wander off. "And don't spend all your allowances in the sweet shop!"
"I will, and we won't," Jansten promised. But the three made a beeline towards the candy store.
Menteron tried to follow, but his father pulled him back. "Oh, no you don't. You're staying with us, midget."
Mrs. Tragyl frowned at her husband, but didn't say anything when Menteron didn't seem to take offense at the name. He had instead fixed his attention on a shop down the street. "Oh, look! Can we go there?"
Clarence followed his twin's pointed finger and read the sign out loud, "Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop." Then his eye fell on the one next to it. "Flourish and Blotts. A bookstore!"
"Harris needs to pick up his books at Blotts. Keri, you take him and Firetop there. I'll let the midget take a look around the joke shop."
Mrs. Tragyl rolled her eyes, but led Harris and her twin toward the book store. Mr. Tragyl and Menteron quickly outpaced them in Menteron's hurry to reach the joke shop.
Not being a precocious bookworm like Clarence, Harris had never been inside the bookstore before. Both boys stared at the shelves that covered every inch of wall with books of every imaginable shape and size. "Wow," Clarence said again, in a voice even more impressed than when he had stepped into Diagon Alley. Once he recovered sufficiently to move again, he immediately made his way over to the Potions section. Mrs. Tragyl brought Harris to the propetier. The old wizard looked down over his spectacles at the boy and said, "Hogwarts student, then?"
"First year," Mrs. Tragyl confirmed.
The propetier collected the requisite books, muttering all the while in a voice not quite loud enough for Harris to make out. Finally, he dropped the stack of books on the counter and announced, "Well, that's all of them. Anything else?"
Clarence appeared at Mrs. Tragyl's side as though magically summoned. He held up a stack of three books, and let his eyes do his pleading for him. She looked through the titles. Potions of Fire, Less Potente Potions, and Potente Potions. "Clarence, you don't know anything about potions."
"I read the copy of Magical Drafts and Potions that you have in your closet. I liked it."
She frowned. "What were you doing in my closet, young man?"
He squirmed under her scrutiny. "Looking for Menteron's birthday presents?"
She regarded him severely for several more moments, then put the three books on top of Harris'. "But I don't want you trying to make any of these without supervision, understood?" Clarence nodded vigorously. "Good." She paid for the books, then led the two boys out of the store. Mr. Tragyl and Menteron were not to be seen. "Harris, run inside Gabols and Japes and see if you see your brother."
Harris pushed open the door, and was astonished to find not one red-headed twin causing trouble but three of them. As he stood gape-jawed, watching three boys dart about the shop and three parents trying to catch them, Clarence ducked under his arm and joined the fray.
"Merlin! Four, now?" the shopkeeper exclaimed in dismay.
But Clarence's appearance actually stilled the chaos. The other set of twins stopped flying about the room in order to to stare at the new pair. Menteron broke off his fevered inventory of the shop when Clarence arrived at his side. They started talking at once; Clarence about the potion books, and Menteron about the shop's contents.
Mrs. Tragyl entered the shop behind Harris as Mr. Tragyl grabbed hold of Menteron, a tall red-haired man grabbed hold of one of the other twins, and a short, pleasant-looking woman grabbed hold of the last. "Hello, Arthur," Mrs. Tragyl said, surprise coloring her voice as she saw the tall man.
"Keriesa!" He grinned. "Are those two your devils?"
She grinned. "One is. The other's my angel. I take it these demons are yours?"
"Archdemons Fred and George, yes." The Weasley twins simultaneously stuck their tongues out at their father. "Have you got any in Hogwarts, yet, Keri?"
Mrs. Tragyl nodded toward Harris. "My oldest is just starting. Harris, this is Arthur Weasley, my cousin. I went to Hogwarts with him."
Harris nodded politely. "Pleasure, sir." Mr. Weasley smiled back.
"The terror over there is Menteron," Menteron grinned and waved energetically. "And the nice one is Clarence." Clarence blushed and wiggled his fingers. "I believe you know my husband, Waltr Tragyl, right?"
"By reputation, certainly." He herded his twin near enough to Mr. Tragyl to shake hands. This pleasantry completed, both fathers put some distance between themselves.
Mrs. Tragyl pretended not to notice. "Have you any in Hogwarts, Arthur?"
"Two, yes. Bill and Charlie. Bill's in his second year and Charlie's just starting as well."
"Speaking of Charlie," Mrs. Weasley interrupted, "Mr. Ollivander has probably found him a wand by now." She hustled her twin nearer the door.
Fred (or George) twisted back toward the Tragyl twins, "Hey! How old are you guys?"
"Five!" Menteron called back. "You?"
"Six!" Mrs. Weasley managed to push the twin out the door, leaving his brother to pick up his end on the conversation. George (or Fred) did so without pause. "You'll have to come visit us at the Burrow." He looked up at his father, "They can come, right, dad?"
"Not a problem," he looked up at Mrs. Tragyl. "I'll talk to you by floo, Keri." He ushered his twin out the door, following his wife.
Menteron somehow convinced his parents to buy him a deck of exploding snap cards and some fillibuster fireworks before they, too, left the joke store.
Their next stop was Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. The twins waved at the Weasleys as they filed out the door. A boy around Harris' age was showing off his new wand to his younger brothers. "Harris, go on in," Mr. Tragyl instructed. "Mom and the twins and me will wait out here."
Menteron complained until Mrs. Tragyl gave him his exploding snap cards to amuse himself with. Harris entered the shop alone. The elderly wizard behind the counter was cleaning up a pile of shattered glass from a shelf. He turned around when Harris cleared his throat. "Ah! Mr. Tragyl." Harris didn't dare question how the man knew his name.
"Let us see," he muttered as he began running his eyes and fingers over a shelf full of long thin boxes. "You mother favors oak, but your father was definitely an ebony. Here, let's start you on an oak, 9 inches, unicorn hair." He handed Harris a wand. Harris's fingers had barely touched it before the shopkeeper snatched it back. "Oh. No, no. Certainly not. The wand chooses the wizard, young Harris." He replaced the wand back in its box and the box back in its place. His fingers hovered over another shelf before selecting another box seemingly at random.
"Willow, eight inches, pheonix tail feather. Give it a wave." Harris tried, but had the wand taken back again. "No, no, no. Not the one for you." It was returned to its place, and Ollivander approached another shelf. "Ebony, dragon heartstring, 10 inches. Much like your father's." Harris had no sooner touched the wand than a tingling warmth spread through his fingertips and up his arm. Harris gave it an experimental swish, and multi-colored lights streamed along its path. Ollivander smiled. "That's the one that wants you."
Harris paid for the wand with the money his parents had given him for the purpose, and left the shop. Menteron and Mrs. Tragyl were playing exploding snap, Clarence was reading one of his books, and Mr. Tragyl was looking bored. They all looked up as he approached. "Ebony, dragon heartstring," he repeated the wand maker's description of his wand. "He says it's a lot like yours, dad."
Mr. Tragyl smiled and drew his own wand for moment. "Ebony, dragon heartstring, eleven inches."
"Mine's ten."
The next stop was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occassions. Anticipating a long fitting session, Mr. Tragyl took the twins for ice cream. There was another boy getting fitted in the back as Harris and Mrs. Tragyl entered. "Hogwarts?" Madam Malkin asked, but didn't wait for an answer, "Come along to the back here then."
"Hello," the other boy greeted. "Are you a first year, too?"
Harris stepped onto the small fitting platform. "Yeah. Harris Tragyl."
"Weston Avery. You'll forgive me for not shaking your hand." A seamstress was pinning back his sleeves to an appropriate length, and shooting him nasty glares every time he made the smallest of movements.
"Quite," Harris agreed, warily eyeing another woman as she bustled toward him with an armload of black fabric and a cushion full of pins. She dropped the pile of clothing into his hands and instructed he go change. He was led to a small, empty room that offered only privacy for changing into the school uniform. By the time he emerged, Avery was gone.
Once the robes were fitted and paid for, Mrs. Tragyl and Harris reunited with Mr. Tragyl and the twins. In addition to ice cream, they had collected Harris' cauldron, telescope, crystal phials, scales, parchment, and quills. Jansten, Brent, and Valr caught up with them shortly thereafter, their faces smudged with chocolate and their pockets bulging with sweets.
Mrs. Tragyl frowned at them, but before she could scold, each boy held up two knuts. "See? We didn't spend all our allowances," Valr explained.
None of the Tragyl children had ever been to King's Cross Station before. Of them, only Clarence and Jansten had come to see Harris off. Jansten because he'd be doing this next year, and Clarence because he was curious. Harris pushed his cart of supplies between the crowds of Muggles, Jansten following close behind. Clarence darted in and out among the throng, but never long enough to make their mother worry. "Here we are, nine and three quarters," she finally announced, coming to a stop between stations 9 and 10. Clarence materialized at her side from wherever he had recently wandered off. "Just walk straight at the pillar there."
Harris nodded, lined up his approach and pushed his cart at the seemingly solid pillar. "A little quicker there, Harris," Mrs. Tragyl coached. Harris picked up speed and disappeared into the bricks. None of the Muggles appeared to notice, though they did look strangely at the little red-haired boy who inexplicably started clapping.
On platform nine and three-quarters, Harris found himself looking over his shoulder at a brick wall that looked no less solid that the one he'd just walked through. He mentally shrugged off his disorientation, and pushed his cart toward the waiting, bright red train. The crowd here was less obviously muggle. Most of the occupants wore muggle clothing, but the majority held recognizably Hogwarts-required equipment among their luggage. Others were dressed in the Hogwarts robes already, though these were a small minority. Almost everyone was between the ages of 11 and 17. Only a handful of parents had entered the platform.
With some difficulty, he manage to get his luggage into the train and find himself an empty compartment. Aside from Charlie Weasley who he had seen walking out of Olivanders, and Weston Avery who he'd passed a handful of words with, Harris didn't know anyone. Coming from a family of ten, this was a strange feeling. Everyone would be his age or older. With seven younger brothers, and one sister (youngest of them all), that would be even more odd. On the plus side, no cry-babies would wake him up in the middle of the night.
As this pleasant thought occurred to him, two girls and a boy piled into his car, laughing. When they noticed him, they looked somewhat taken aback. "Sorry," one of the girls apologized. "Didn't realize anyone was in here."
"I don't mind." He said politely, by way of invitation to stay. Either they accepted it, or they would have stayed anyway. The boy sat beside Harris, and the girls took the seat across.
"Tommy Frank," the boy said, sticking out his hand.
"Harris Tragyl," Harris return, shaking it.
The two girls introduced themselves as Evalyn Watson and Pamela Choi. Evalyn had light brown hair plaited into a long french braid. Pamela had very straight, glossy black hair that fell to her shoulders and features that Harris could identify as 'oriental', though he'd never actually met anyone with them before. The Tragyl children had been home tutored, and they rarely met anyone outside of their immediate family. Their neighbors were all Muggles who viewed the family as 'odd', 'snobbish', and 'unwise-to-interfere-with'. Mr. Tragyl himself strongly discouraged his children from leaving the property.
Harris smiled politely and shook each of the girls' hands in turn. "Hello."
"Know anybody in Hogwarts already? Older brothers or cousins, I mean?" Tommy asked.
Harris shook his head. "I've got a distant cousin who's been here a year or so already, but I never met him. All my brothers and sister are younger than me. You guys?"
"Nah. Pam's Muggle-born, she barely knows what Hogwarts is, nevermind who's there already. I'm an only child, as are my parents, and Tommy's in the same boat as you. Oldest kid." Evalyn answered for all of them. "We were hoping you knew what to expect."
"Ever read Hogwarts, A History?" Harris asked. Three heads shook. "Me either, but my kid brother did. Apparently, everyone gets sorted somehow into one of four Houses, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or, um, what was the last one? Huff-and-Puff or something like that, I think."
"How?" Pam asked curiously, as the train started to move.
"Mum wouldn't say, and Clarence didn't know. It depends on your personality, I guess. Clarence says Ravenclaws are smart, Gryffindors are brave, Slytherins are cunning, and Huff-and-Puffs are boring."
"I heard almost all of the Death Eaters came from Slytherin," Tommy whispered. "It was You-Know-Whose house, too." Three of the children shuddered. Pam looked confused. "You don't want to be in that one, especially now. Best one to be in is Gryffindor. A lot of Aurors come from there, and the Potters did, too."
"So did Sirius Black," Evalyn countered, also whispering. "And we all know what he did."
Pam cleared her throat nervously. Because the other two had, she also spoke in whispers, "Um, I don't know what Sirius Black did and I don't know who."
The other three look at her in surprise before Tommy recovered. "Oh, right. You're Muggle born." He exchanged looks with Harris and Evalyn. Both indicated he should tell the story. He began in a low voice. "It started a while ago, before any of us were born. A Dark Wizard started growing in power. His name was -"
"Don't say it!" Evalyn interrupted, terror making her raise her voice. All four jumped at the outburst. Evalyn blushed.
Tommy nodded. "I probably would've chickened out anyway. Most everyone calls the Dark Wizard 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' now," he explained to Pam. "Everyone knows that's who you're talking about. Anyway, You-Know-Who started to collect followers. They were called Death Eaters. And death is what they brought. They raided the homes of Aurors and wizards with Muggle blood. Looted them and killed everyone there, and almost never was it a quick and painless death. There are three Unforgivable magic curses, one forces people to do what the caster wants. One brings unbelievable pain, and the last kills. The Death Eaters, under You-Know-Whose orders, used all three." Harris and Evalyn nodded solemnly. Pam looked shaken.
"Then, almost three years ago, on Halloween, You-Know-Who was defeated. He went to kill James and Lily Potter and their son, Harry, who was just over a year old at the time. He managed to take down James and Lily, but his power was broken when he tried to kill Harry. No one really knows how. Harry Potter lived, and You-Know-Who was never seen again. Ministry is still tracking down Death Eaters."
Tommy's recap of recent events finished, a silence decended on the car. Nobody was sure how to turn the conversation to lighter matters. When it grew oppressive, Harris drew a bag and knut from his pocket. "Heads, and I'll eat a Bertie Bott Every Flavor Bean. Tails, somebody else does. No spitting it out the window. Any challengers?"
Pam looked uncertain. "What's an Every Flavor Bean?"
"Like a jelly bean," Tommy explained, "But there is really every flavor, including some pretty nasty ones."
To illustrate, Harris dumped the bag on the seat between him and Tommy. "These are the 'suspicious' ones from the last batch my brothers bought at Diagon Alley. First challenge, this pale green one. Any takers?" Tommy made a visible effort to screw up his courage, then raised his hand.
"You're all right with tails, or do you want heads?"
Tommy shrugged. "Tails is fine."
"Okay. Tails you eat it, heads I do." Harris flipped the knut, caught it, and flopped it onto the back of the hand holding the 'winner's' bean. Harris lifted his hand. "Heads." The word had a slight quaver to it. Tommy relaxed. Harris rested the coin on his knee, then brought the bean to his mouth. Then he lowered it again. "Now, the rule is that you need to actually chew and taste the thing. And if you spit it out, you need to eat three more." The three watched him sympathetically as he put the bean in his mouth, and began to chew. His fearful expression lightened to one of relief almost immediately. "Melon."
He passed the knut to Pam, sitting across from him. "Pick a bean, and ask for challengers."
"Whoever made up this game has got to be in Gryffindor," Tommy commented as Pam looked over the bean selection. "They're insanely brave."
"Menteron hasn't been sorted yet." At their curious looks, he added, "He's another of my kid brothers. And insane is probably a good word for him."
The game lasted until the lady with the candy cart came around. With more pleasant things to put in their mouths, interest in the game fizzled. Tommy went into a discussion about his chocolate frog card collection, managing to bore Evalyn and Harris, but Pam listened with interest.
Quiddich was the next topic of conversation. Tommy and Evalyn broke into a bitter argument over whether the Cannons or the Falcons were the better team while Harris explained to Pam what Quiddich was. "Get out!" Evalyn demanded, raising her voice over both Tommy's argument and Harris's explanation, and pointing at the door. Both Tommy and Evalyn were red-faced and scowling at each other.
Harris and Pam exchanged looks and shrugged. "The fans get very into it," Harris added, in case it wasn't obvious to her. "C'mon, Tom. We'll be at Hogwarts before long. Let's change into our robes now."
"Firs' Years, this way!" a giant of a man called out as students departed from the train. Harris and his three train mates followed the voice, and joined a swelling group of other eleven-year-olds. The giant looked over the small crowd and picked out an anomoly. "Yer not supposed to be here!" he hollered out, pointing into the middle of the group. Children melted away in front of it, revealing a small boy who was most decidedly not eleven yet.
"Clarence!" Harris exclaimed in surprise. The boy jumped, and turned toward his brother guiltily.
"Ye know this mite?" the huge man asked.
"Unfortunately, he's my brother." Harris scowled at the boy. "How did you get here, Firetop?"
He pointed at the Hogwarts Express. "Sneaked on when nobody was lookin'."
Hagrid looked to be at a loss for what to do with the stowaway. The prefects had already ushered the older students into the carriages, which had then taken off. "'S name is Clarence?" he finally asked Harris. He nodded. "Clarence, c'mere." He took the boy's tiny hand in his massive one, then called out, "All righ', follow me, firs' years."
They filed along a steep narrow path down to a lake, Clarence half-running to keep up with the giant man. As they took a turn, the students got their first look at Hogwarts. Whispers of awe rose from the small group. "Wicked," Clarence breathed. "This makes whatever father's going to say worth it."
A small fleet of small boats waited at the shoreline. "Four ter a boat, get in." Hagrid instructed. "Yer stayin' with me," he added to Clarence. When everyone was settled into a boat (Hagrid and Clarence had one to themselves), they began gliding silently across the lake.
The crossing seemed to pass slowly, yet the curtain of ivy marking the end of the journey came far too soon. At the end of dark, narrow tunnel, they came to stop in an underground harbor. Each student disembarked from the little boats and followed Hargrid up a passageway and onto a lawn. Before them was a great flight of stone steps leading to an oak door that dwarfed even Hagrid. Students, giant, and boy mounted the stair, and Hagrid's fist resounded three times against the wood.
It swung open immediately, surprisingly quickly for its size. Just inside, a tall witch with glasses and a stern, lined face awaited them. "Professor McGonagall," Hagrid greeted. "Here be the firs' years." He paused only a moment before pulling Clarence forward. "An' we ha' a stowaway aboar' the train."
The professor looked down disapprovingly at the boy. He cringed back into Hagrid, somehow sensing that the huge man was somehow the more pleasant of the two creatures. "Who is he?"
Harris stepped forward. "His name is Clarence Tragyl, ma'am." Her stern gaze shifted to him, and he wondered if maybe he shouldn't have spoken.
"And you are?" she asked with an arched brow.
This was decidedly not how he wanted to make his first impression at the new school. He hoped his father would ground Clarence for at least a year. "Harris Tragyl, Professor. His brother, ma'am."
"It wasn't Harris's fault," Clarence's clear, young voice spoke up. The professor turned back toward him, her lips pursed. Clarence swallowed, but continued, "He was already on the train and out of sight before I even got onto Platform nine and three quarters. The last time either of us saw the other before Mr. Hagrid pointed me out to everyone, Harris was pushing his stuff through the pillar at King's Cross station, and Mum was holding my shirt to make sure I stayed put."
"And why did you not 'stay put'?" McGonagall asked primly.
Clarence seemed to glow with delight and excitement. "I wanted to see Hogwarts, and now I did!"
"How old are you, child?"
Clarence held up one hand with all its fingers up. "Five. I really couldn't wait the six more years until I'm a first year to see all this."
McGonagall and Hagrid exchanged a look. Harris leaned toward Tommy and stage whispered, loud enough for McGonagall to hear, "You think he's bad? You should see his twin brother. Mum calls Clarence the good one." Maybe he imagined it, but he thought the teacher shuddered.
"Hagrid, send an owl to the boy's parents, telling them the situation. I'll take him and the first years from here." Hargid disappeared down a side corridor. McGonagall took Clarence's hand to keep him from wandering off again, and led the students into the castle.
The entrance hall was easily the largest room Clarence had ever seen. Flaming torches adorned each of the stone walls, and the ceiling was too far away to see. Clarence was not the only one gaping at the immensity. Voices filtered in from a large, brightly lit Hall on the right, but McGonagall led them into a small chamber beside it.
"Wecome to Hogwarts, students," she began. "Before you take your seats for the banquet, you will be Sorted into your houses. The four houses are Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Your house is your family while you are here. You will live in your house domitory, you will eat at your house table, spend your free time in your house common room, and all of your classes will be with your house mates. Your successes bring your house points, while your rule-breaking will loose your house points. The house with the most points at the end of the year will win the House Cup. The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily. I will return when we are ready for you. This will take place before the whole school, so you may wish to straighten yourselves up a bit. Harris, be certain your brother stays here." She released Clarence's hand, spun swiftly enough for her cloak to whip out at the bottom, and strode from the room.
"Dad'll murder you for this, you know that, right?" Harris asked his brother as soon as McGonagall was gone. "Curse you at the very least."
Clarence didn't seem to hear him. His eyes shone brightly. "I did it! I'm in Hogwarts! And that was Professor McGonagall! She's famous for transfiguration theory. I read a little about it in -"
"Clarence!" Harris's sharp voice cut him off. "If you're going to run your trap, tell us what you know about the Sorting Ceremony."
"Ok, I got this out of Hagrid on the trip across the lake, so it's on pretty good authority." The first years drew even closer together, hanging on to his every word. "Everybody gets called up one at a time, in alphabetical order." Students looked at each other nervously. "You put on a hat, and somehow, that determines which house you go into. Obviously, it's magic of some kind. There was something about singing involved, too." Consternation filled many faces.
"I'm tone deaf," one girl wailed in horror. "I can't sing a note. And this is in front of the whole school?"
"No wonder she wanted us to straighten ourselves up," another boy put in, his eyes wide. "She wants us to put on a concert!"
"I don't know any witch songs," Pam added, nervously, "Do you think the Beatles will be all right?"
"What have beetles to do with singing?" Evalyn asked, so confused she momentarily forgot to be nervous.
"The Beatles, not beetles!" someone else cut in, exasperated. "They're a really famous Muggle music group."
"Well I certainly don't know any Muggle songs!" Evalyn announced, anxiety creeping back into voice.
"Do we sing by ourselves, all together, or in small groups?" a boy wearing high-top sneakers under his robes asked.
The students turned as one toward Clarence. He shrugged and shook his head. "Hagrid didn't say."
"Anyone NOT know Happy Birthday?" High-tops asked. Nobody raised their hands, though some looked mystified about the question. High-tops contined, "Okay, then, if its a full group thing, we'll do that, inappropriate though it might be. If it's small groups, people who know Beatles songs come to me." Five or six students made their way to his side, including Pam.
"Ok, chaps who know stuff by the Whistling Werewolves, come here!" Tommy called. A much larger group joined him, and immediately began to argue over which song. They quickly divided into two factions, one planned on singing 'When Your Broom's Left in the Rain' and the other group decided on 'Transyvanian Love'. The split line followed gender almost without exception. One girl with short brown hair and calloused fingers decided to do the Broom song.
"Who's left?" asked the tone-deaf girl. A handful of people shifted uncomfortably and sidled toward her. "We'll do Happy Birthday."
"Form a line! Let's go!" The students jumped at McGonagall's voice. Careful to stay in their singing groups, they filed out of the room after her. She stopped momentarily in front of the Great Hall's open doors. Beyond her, they could see four very long tables stretching the length of the room. "Clarence, stay by me," she instructed. He squeezed his way through the group and stopped at her side.
They walked between the two center tables, the line losing its form as they spread to fill the available space. Exclamations of wonder escaped some of them as their stared at the endless sky above them, filled with hovering candles. Others muttered lyrics under their breath trying to remember all the words, and barely noticed their surroundings. As they neared the front, they noticed a ragged hat sitting atop a four-legged stool. In the worry about their concert, they had almost forgotten the rest of Clarence's news.
"Bet the singing's individual, we do it when our name's called, wearing that awful thing," Tommy whispered to the rest of the 'When Your Broom's Left in the Rain' group. They nodded, dismayed and pale with stage fright. "What song we pick determines our house," he added in a burst of insight. His listeners nodded again at this piece of wisdom, and quickly began trying to find a song to fit the House they most wanted.
The group of first years came to a stop at the front of the Hall. All was still for several seconds. The students had just begun to wonder if they should start singing Happy Birthday now, or wait for instruction, when the hat moved. A rip just above its brim opened like a mouth, and it began to sing. The group of first years almost laughed in relief. They weren't the ones giving this concert.
Welcome to the Hogwarts Palace.
Raise up your golden chalise,
And give your claps and cheers
For our many future years.
And as we let another start,
Hope our friends will never part.
I can see you all are very tense,
So let the Sorting now commense.
For I alone may show
Into which House you may go.
And then we shall see
If you have the cunning and trickery
Found in the House of Slytherin.
Or if you are wise like those in
the wonderful House of Ravenclaw.
Or hardworking without flaw
Like the House of Hufflepuff.
Or you may have the stuff
of someone whose bravery can soar
Like the members of Gryffindor.
So take me now about your head,
And find out into which House you shall be led.
The hall burst into applause, the first years keeping up the clapping and catcalls far longer than normal. Unlike other years, this group of new students turned their attention to Professor McGonagall and the hat with very little trepidation. McGonagall raised an eyebrow curiously. The group had come in literally shaking in terror. The hat's song this year had been nice, but she hadn't thought it was that soothing.
She put the thought aside and unrolled the list of names. "When I call your name, step forward, put on the hat, and sit on the stool," she instructed. She looked at the first name. "Adams, Felicity."
A girl with curly brown hair emerged from the group of new students. Harris recognized her as the girl who claimed to be tone deaf. She put on the hat, letting it fall nearly past her nose, and sat down. "HUFFLEPUFF!" screamed the hat. The table on the far left broke out into loud cheering and applause. She hopped down from the stool, and put the hat back on it. She beamed down at the other first years, and called out gleefully, "Happy Birthday!" The first years laughed, but everyone else in the hall just looked confused. She all but skipped over to the Hufflepuff table.
"Avery, Weston."
Weston had barely touched the hat to his head, when it called out, "SLYTHERIN!" He put the hat back on the stool without having sat down. The Slytherin table clapped energetically for its newest member. Weston paused briefly before passing the first years. He shot a nervous look around the Hall, then muttered, "Happy Birthday." The first years cheered him as he hurried off to the Slytherin table.
"Baxter, Brian," McGonagall called the next name.
The dark-haird boy who stepped forward now took a seat on the stool, and dropped the hat over his eyes. After a moment, it called out, "GRYFFINDOR!" He grinned down at the first years, and bellowed, "When Your Broom's Left in the Rain!" Then he went to join the wildly cheering, but utterly confused table of Gryffindors. The first years called out for an encore. Brian turned back toward them, just before sitting down, and called out "Happy Birthday!" even louder. The first years cheered as he sat with his new House.
"Choi, Pamela!"
The little Asian girl winded her way out of the crowd of first years. She dropped the hat on her head, and with some difficulty, did manage to settle herself onto the stool. The hat considered her for longer than it had anyone so far, then called out boldly, "GRYFFINDOR!" She dropped to the floor, replaced the hat, and came to a stop in front of the first years. By now the rest of the Hall had caught on that there was some kind of running gag going on, so they paused in their applause. "We all live in a Yellow Submarine!" Pamela announced, then went to take the seat next to Brian Baxter as Gryffindor resumed cheering.
Two more people went to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw before Tommy Frank was called. He was quickly declared a Gryffindor. He actually sang the chorus to 'When Your Broom's Left in the Rain' before taking a seat across the table from Brian Baxter. Even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws applauded his performance. Granted, they were laughing at him, but they did applaud.
After calling "Holland, Emily," McGonagall leaned down to whisper in Clarence's ear. "What is going on?"
Clarence whispered back, "While we waited for you to come back, we reached the mistaken conclusion that they'd need to sing as part of the ceremony. So now they're telling everyone what song they had planned to sing."
The hat declared Emily a Ravenclaw as McGonagall straightened. Emily announced, "Transylvanian Love," then went to join the Ravenclaw table.
High-top's name turned out to be Richard Jackson. He was sorted into Gryffindor, and instantly gained himself a new nickname by being the only student to use the song, "I am the Walrus!" The other Beatles singers stuck to their original selection, Yellow Submarine.
Eventually, McGonagal read, "Tragyl, Harris!"
Before Harris could make it to the hat, though, Brian Baxter stood up. "You missed someone, Professor! Tragyl, Clarence!"
McGonagall frowned. The cry was taken up among the other first years. "Sort Clarence! Sort Clarence!" Beside the deputy Headmistress, Clarence's face lit up, at first in surprise, then in delight. He folded his hands together. He looked up at her pleadingly. The upperclass Gryffindors were the first to figure out who Clarence was and what the first years wanted. They took up the chant, too. "Sort Clarence! Sort Clarence!" The five-year-old turned as bright as his hair, but continued to nod eagerly. At each of the other three tables, first years nearest the older students whispered quickly. The chant slowly spread up each of the tables, towards the back.
Dumbledore stood and held out his hands for silence. It took a moment, but it came. Clarence turned his pleading eyes toward this deciding vote. "Young Mr. Tragyl, if Sorted, will bring his house minus ten points since he has wrongly stowed away aboard the Hogwarts Express." Clarence's expression turned stricken. "But I will put it up to a vote. On the count of three, if in favor of Clarence being Sorted, clap and cheer. One . . . Two . . . Three!" The Hall burst into thunderous applause. Even the Slytherins were loudly cheering, if only because they figured he'd end up in Gryffindor. Despite his ten point penalty, Clarence couldn't help but grin.
McGonagall and Clarence both approach the stool and hat. "Hold that," she instructed, handing him the hat. The she hoisted the small boy on to the stool. She took the hat back and put it on his head. It fell all the way to his shoulders. The Hall laughed, but Clarence heard only the small voice that spoke more to his thoughts than to his ears.
"Well, this is different. Young one, aren't you? Let's see. Courage, yes. You'd fit well among Gryffindor. But see here, a sharp mind and a genuine passion for learning, books, and potions, despite your age. Expect that'll only grow. Best be - RAVENCLAW!"
The Hall was silent for a moment, then the Ravenclaw table broke into cheers. McGonagall lifted the hat from Clarence's head, and helped the beaming boy from the stool. "Go on, sit at Ravenclaw for the rest of dinner," she instructed.
The boy gave a whoop of joy and joined his table, pausing only long enough to yell "Happy Birthday!" Emily Holland helped him climb into the seat next to her. He leaned forward, looking down the table. "Sorry about the ten points."
Emily ruffled his red hair, smilling. Clarence made a face at this patronizing treatment, but he was too excited to mind. "Don't worry about it," she assured him. "Having the youngest and cutest house member at Hogwarts is worth ten points." The Ravenclaws close enough to hear her agreed heartily.
"School's going to be talking about you a long time, kid," an older boy with a prefect badge told him. "Ravenclaw sometimes gets overshadowed by Gryffindor and Slytherin. It's good to have you." Clarence grinned excitedly at him.
When the hall quieted again, McGonagall picked up where she had left off on her list. "Tragyl, Harris."
Harris sat, and put on the hat. "Hmm," a small voice spoke into his mind. "More difficult to place. Bravery, some. Smart, but without your brother's drive. Ambitious, yes. Very like your father. One place for that: SLYTHERIN!" The far right table burst into applause, and Harris joined them. He convienently 'forgot' to call out a song title. Nobody seemed to notice.
Two more kids went into Hufflepuff, then Evalyn Watson took the seat next to Harris in Slytherin. The last student was Charlie Weasley, and the hat barely touched his red hair before sending him into Gryffindor. He sang Happy Birthday on the way to his table. Brian Baxter and Tommy joined in immediately. When they hesitated on who to address the song to, Clarence quickly inserted "Hogwarts" and finished the song with the trio.
When they finished, Albus Dumbledore stood again. "Welcome to another exciting year at Hogwarts. I have just two words before dinner: Dig in!" He clapped his hands, and the tables were suddenly full of food.
"So when are you coming to Hogwarts, Clarence?" the prefect asked, taking a slice of roast beef onto his plate.
"Six years," Clarence answered, though by his tone it could have been forever.
The older kids looked disappointed. "Only the first years will see you again, then."
A mischevious look enter his eyes, "I could stow away again," he began hopefully, then shook his head, "but that'd loose you more points."
"Tell ya what. The Ravenclaws will meet you on Platform 9 and 3/4 next year when you see Harris off again."
Clarence grinned. "Ok!" The conversation fell into a lull as the Ravenclaws feasted. Clarence, having spent the entire train ride hiding in a luggage compartment, was especially hungry. His eyes darted toward the staff table. Hagrid had returned and was sitting at one end. Dumbledore, one of the most famous wizards in the world, sat in the middle, with McGonagall next to him. Most of the rest, Clarence couldn't recognize, until he reached the far end of the table. His eyes widened and he paled nearly as white as his object of fascination. "That's not Severus Snape, is it?" he asked in an awed whisper.
The prefect followed the boy's line of sight, then looked back. "Yeah. He started three years ago, when I was a first year. Teaches potions, though they say he wants Wallsby's job. Defence against the Dark Arts."
Clarence's gaze never wavered. "Of course he teaches potions. He's the best. He's really teaching here?" The question seemed almost drowned in disbelief and awe.
"Yeah," laughed the prefect. "And you wouldn't be nearly so excited if you'd ever taken one of his classes. He's very biased against anyone not in Slytherin. Not quite as bad as their Head of House, Wallsby, but still bad."
Clarence didn't seem to hear. "I hope he's still here in six years." Desperate hope filled his voice.
"He should be. Teacher turnover is pretty slow here. He's been here for three years, and he's still the newest teacher. The only one up there that Snape didn't have for a teacher was Trawlaney in Divination. And I wouldn't be surprised if Binns taught History of Magic to Dumbledore himself."
"I think he did, at that," confirmed an elegantly dressed, but transparent, woman, rising up in the center of the table next to the prefect. "Oh, hello, you must be the new students."
"This is Ravenclaw's resident ghost, the Grey Lady," the prefect introduced her. Around the hall, other ghosts were popping up through floors and tables, or swooping down from the walls and ceiling. "These are the first years and Clarence, Lady."
"And Clarence?" she repeated, only then noticing the five-year-old. "Good heavens! You're a bonny wee lad." Clarence blushed. "I haven't such a small one since I died."
Feeling distinctly like a particularly rare and fascinating bug in a jar, Clarence squirmed under her regard. He was saved from further commentary and study by Dumbledore. The Headmaster stood again, raising his arms for attention and silence. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. I have a few short of start-of-term announcements. The Forbidden Forest remains forbidden to all students, and there is to be no spellcasting in the hallways. First years, your things have already been brought to your rooms. Your prefect will show you the way to your dormitory and give you its password. Clarence, come to the staff table now."
The hall began to empty. The nearest Ravenclaws wished Clarence luck, then either departed or gathered around the prefect. Clarence drew a breath, and bravely approached Dumbledore. For the first time, he began to consider just how much trouble this stunt would put him in.
| Prev | | | Home | | | Next |
Author's Note: Many thanks to my brother for writing the Sorting Song used here.