Druid's Apprentice: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 4

BTW: I drew a new picture of Damon in his first year and posted it on my bio page. Take a look, see what you think. (no snickering at my crappy art skills)

The door remained closed for several moments until a tall, black haired witch in emerald-green robes swung them open. She had a stern face that reminded him of Merrill's when the old Druid was in one of his moods.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you," she responded. "I'll take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was huge, larger in fact, than the entrance hall at the manor. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches and the ceiling was so high that Damon couldn't make it out.

They followed McGonagall to a smaller room off the main hall. They could hear hundreds of voices from a nearby doorway, the rest of the school must already be here. She had them all gather close together while she gave her customary speech.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, the start of term banquet will begin shortly. Before you take you seats in the great hall, however, 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 the school. 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 pints will be awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much s you can while you are waiting."

Damon had to fight to keep from grimacing as the witch had explained about the houses. Not only was the practice outdated, it built walls between students that he and his friends have to tear down over time. With a surreptitious glance at his friends to make sure they were alright, (Ron and Draco were at it again) Harry turned back to Mandy and tried to draw her out.

"So which house do you think you'll be sorted into?" he asked the mousy-haired girl.

Balking at Damon's question, Mandy seemed to shrink into herself. Something about dealing with other people seemed to make her close up. Terry, on the other hand, had no problems like that at all.

"We're going into Ravenclaw," said the boy enthusiastically. "Mandy has been doing independent study with her parents since she was eight and I'm just the same. I've read every book in the family library twice. I can't wait to see what books they have here. How do you think they'll be sorting us? I asked my dad, but he said that it's kind of a secret. Ron Weasley over there, his brothers told him we have to wrestle a troll. I don't think its anything like that… maybe a riddle. I like riddles"

Though quickly coming to regret his question, Damon couldn't help be amused by the effervescent boy. Where Mandy was quiet and unassuming, Terry seemed to bubble with enthusiasm. The young druid opened his mouth several times, looking for the proper opening to give his opinion on the sorting when a girlish scream nearby had him spinning about with his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.

Damon relaxed immediately when he saw the cause of the commotion. Twenty ghosts, their forms white and semi-transparent, came through the far wall. Several, a rotund monk and a frilled dandy among them, were going on about someone named Peeves. Finally taking notice of the first years, the dandy demanded, "I say, what are all you doing here?"

"We're waiting to be sorted sir," answered Damon.

When no one else spoke, the ghost turned to face the young druid. After a moment's examination, the apparition's eyes seemed to widen a bit. "What is your name, boy?" asked the dandy in a hushed tone.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Damon opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Professor McGonagall's sharp voice.

"Move along now," she said. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

With the witch's return, the ghosts moved as a group and disappeared through the far wall. The dandy gave a last fleeting look at Damon, who put a finger to his lips, requesting the ghost's silence. With a nod, the dandy disappeared after his fellows. Damon and the other first-years let themselves be led out of the small room and into the Great Hall.

The room was much different that Damon remembered it when he and his grandfather had been here earlier in the summer. Thousands of candles were floating in midair above the four house tables. Each table was laid with glittering golden plates and goblets where the students were sitting. At the far end of the hall sat the staff table, just as the young Druid remembered.

Professor McGonagall led the first years to the front and lined them up facing the student body with the professors at their backs. The hundreds of faces staring up at them looked like lanterns in the pale candlelight. Damon spent several moments scanning them with his eyes, wondering how many would fight for Dumbledore, Voldemort, or for the order. His musings were cut short when he heard Hermione Granger whispering to a couple of the other students.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read it in Hogwarts, a History."

Damon turned and followed the girl's gaze upward. He saw a velvety black ceiling covered in stars. So complete was the illusion, that it was hard to believe the Great Hall wasn't simply open to the heavens.

Playing the part of a curious eleven year old, Damon glanced around at the professors arrayed behind them. They all looked more than a little frazzled, likely caused by the unexplained ringing of bells earlier. Dumbledore, the consummate actor, seemed relaxed and amused by the evenings events, but his eyes were in constant motion, checking all the doors and windows. Damon had reasons to feel good and bad about this. First, it meant the headmaster wasn't as all-knowing about what happened in his school as they'd feared. In addition, it meant that the school hadn't alerted Professor Dumbledore the moment the bells rung. The school itself didn't seem to trust him completely.

The other professors also looked a bit out of sorts, though Professor Snape seemed to hide it best. The potions-master caught Damon's eye as the boy was looking about and nodded slightly in recognition. He then motioned for the boy to turn back about and face the crowd.

Looking back down, the young Druid watched as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On it she placed a pointed wizards hat. It was patched, stained and extremely dirty but still exuded great power. For a moment, there was silence; then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and then the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

In times long past the founders sought,

By creating a useful tool,

To sort the kinds of children that

Would seek knowledge from the school.

Though he who taught them forsaw the day,

When all must fight as one,

You'll put me on and learn the skills

That'll bring balance when you're done.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning

Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps you'll be in Slytherin,

With friends of cunning mind,

Using any means to achieve their ends

Better allies you cannot find.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a thinking cap!

The whole hall burst into applause and Damon caught Ron whispering something to Harry out the corner of his eye. The redhead seemed to be caught between relief and anger as he glared at the Gryffindor table. Following his friends gaze, Damon spotted Fred and George snickering to each other in some shared joke. Remembering what Terry had said earlier, he smiled himself - a troll… really. Damon blinked in surprise when he realized that riding on Georges shoulder, was Niffar. The old bird was barely hanging on and had a pile of feathers around his claws, but he was alright.

Professor McGonagall stepped back in front of them holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"

Damon paid careful attention as each student was called to try on the hat. Every one of them was a potential member of the order. Mandy Brockhurst and Terry boot both ended up in Ravenclaw as expected. There were so many students, he knew, that picking the few that they would induct that year into the order would be difficult. Still, the young druid had a plan that would allow them to get to know the members of at least three houses first hand.

"Forester, Damon!"

Putting on a show of seeming less confident, Damon climbed up on the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

"Hello," Damon thought to the hat as he felt a tickling in his mind.

"Well, well," replied the hat. "Mr. Potter. I didn't expect you this early in the sorting."

"Don't call me that," warned the young druid. "You know what name I'm going by here. By the way, Grandfather sends his respects."

"How is the old liar?" asked the hat with apparent amusement. "Just being his grandson means I should by all rights put you in Slytherin."

With a mental shake of his head, the young druid answered, "Draco will be going into Slytherin. I also want you putting my twin into Gryffindor with Ron Weasley. You'll be putting me into Ravenclaw."

"What about Hufflepuff?" asked the hat. "Shouldn't one of your little order be in each house?"

"Things will be happening this year that will probably have Harry in more than normal danger. I want somebody with him in case." Damon paused for a second in thought, then asked, "Would you take a good look at all the Hufflepuffs for me? I need to find two that would be likely candidates for the order."

"Fine… like I had nothing else to do with the rest of my year than be your recruiter," the hat grumbled. Well, I guess there's nothing for it except to say… Better be…RAVENCLAW!"

Damon jumped off the stool to the applause from his new house. Joining Mandy and Terry, he watched as the rest of his friends were sorted just as he asked. The Sorting Hat had barely touched Draco's head when it declared him "SLYTHERIN!" When Harry was called, the hall filled with whispered comments from all directions about the boy-who-lived. The hat spent quite a bit of time conversing with Harry, until finally it roared, "GRYFFINDOR!" Ron, his house a given, soon joined Harry and his brothers at their table and waited for the sorting to finish. When the last child, Blaise Zabini had been sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and took the hat away.

Professor Dumbledore, who'd been beaming like a child at Christmas ever since Harry had been sorted, rose to his feet and said, "Welcome! Welcome to Hogwarts, before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. They are, Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

As the headmaster sat down, Damon shook his head in wonder at the old man's games. These little displays made everyone think that Professor Dumbledore was a bit cracked. This made him seem less dangerous and more loveable in most people's eyes. The young druid's attention turned from the headmaster to his stomach as the table before him filled with food. Setting his plans aside, Damon tucked in and enjoyed the feast.

As they ate, the first years began introducing themselves to each other. Damon had already met Terry and Mandy. Across from him sat another dark-haired boy with his nose buried in a book. When Damon tried to introduce himself, the boy gave him a disdainful glance and went back to his book, pointedly ignoring everyone around him.

"Don't mind Michael," said a blond boy beside him. "He's always had a stick up his arse. I'm Kevin Entwhistle by the way. You're Forester, right?" Grinning, Damon took the Kevin's hand and nodded.

"Call me Damon. Do you play Quidditch?"

"No, but my favorite team is the Kestrels. You know they invented the Hawkshead attacking formation?"

"I've heard that," Damon replied. "But I like the Tornados. The way their roster is shaping up, I can see them leading the league in the next couple years."

"You like the Tutshill Tornados?" asked a black haired second year. "I've loved them since I was six! Call me Cho."

And so, the introductions went on through the meal. Damon learned the names of the other Ravenclaws in his year. There was Morag McDugal, a pale redheaded girl with a thick Irish brogue. Padma Patil was one of a pair of twins that had been sorted that night. Her sister, Parvati, had ended up in Gryffindor. Lisa Turpin was a bubbly girl of short stature that seemed have boundless energy. The last of them was a portly boy with serious eyes named Kevin Goldstein.

They were nearly finished with their meal when Damon felt a prickling on his forehead where the curse-scar should have rested. Glancing over at the Gryffindor table, he could see his brother rubbing his own scar with a pained look on his face. The scar was reacting to Voldemort's proximity; the fallen wizard must be aware of Harry and was probably quite angry. Trying to be casual about it, Damon looked up to the head table and watched as Snape talked to Quirrell. The DADA professor was facing away from Harry, so Voldemort, hidden beneath that ridiculous turban, was facing the boy directly. What was more, Snape was sending evil looks in Harry's direction that Damon would have to investigate. It was bad enough that Dumbledore and Voldemort were after Harry, now it looked like the potions-master had an axe to grind as well.

The headmaster, choosing that moment to stand and address the school, stopped whatever Voldemort was doing. The prickling passed and Damon listened disinterestedly as Dumbledore gave the school announcements. One thing did catch the young druid's interest, though. The professor warned them all to stay away from the third floor corridor on the right hand side. Though he'd told them of the grave consequences of going there, Dumbledore's warning sounded more of an invitation to curious students with a thirst for adventure.

During the singing of the school song, (a bizarre ditty that everyone was encouraged to sing with his or her own tune) Niffar flew unsteadily over and perched himself drunkenly on Damon's shoulder. The old bird immediately began molting feathers all over the young druid's robes as it tucked its head under a wing and went to sleep. With a shrug and a smile to his housemates, Damon stood and followed the prefects as they led everyone to the Ravenclaw tower.

Once inside, the first years were so tired by the days events that they went straight to their dormitories. There was very little banter between the exhausted boys as they got ready for bed. Damon, not tired in the least, listened quietly from under his covers until he was sure everyone else was asleep.

Getting out of bed, Damon quietly slipped into jeans and a t-shirt. Taking one last look to be sure everyone was asleep, the young druid padded down to the common room. Making his way to a large, hanging tapestry by the fireplace, Damon pulled one edge aside and faced the bare-stone wall behind it. Taking his grandfather's words on faith, the boy placed his right palm against the wall and waited as his oath-scar began to glow. Silently the stones began to arrange themselves until a doorway formed, leading into darkness. With a last glance over his shoulder, Damon passed through the portal; the tapestry swung back into place, leaving the darkened common room empty again.

Stepping through the doorway, Damon found himself immediately in another common room. It was just a cozy as the one in Ravenclaw, but instead of the eagle motif, everything was marked with the silver image of a dragon. Being the first to arrive, the young druid pulled out his trunk and enlarged it. When he opened it, he found the rat-man still unconscious in his bindings. Unceremoniously, Damon pulled the bedraggled man from the trunk and dragged him to the centre of the room. He'd just resized his trunk and put it in his back pocket when his friends began to arrive through the same door he'd entered.

First came Harry and Ron. Both boys looked a bit nervous, being in a new place but brightened when they saw Damon. Coming over by the fireplace, they both gave the prone man a pointedly hostile look before finding seats for themselves.

Last to arrive was Draco. Unlike the other boys, who'd come in wearing their dressing gowns, with hair rumpled by laying in bed, the blond Slytherin was dressed neatly with his hair gelled back like always.

"Off to a party after this, are you Malfoy?" asked Ron with a grin.

"Weasel, please," they boy responded idly. "Some of us must have a sense of decorum." Edging around their prisoner, as if it was something that would foul his clothes, Draco eased himself down on the couch by his friends and looked up expectantly at Damon.

"Everyone settled in alright?" the young druid asked with out preamble.

He was rewarded with nods from Ron and Harry, but Draco looked a little peeved and grumbled, "I thought you were supposed to be sorted into Slytherin with me."

Grinning at the other boy's mock anger, Damon responded, "Grandfather wants us spread out among as many houses as possible. The only reason Harry didn't go to Hufflepuff is that Dumbledore expected him in Gryffindor and might have become suspicious if he ended up anywhere else. Plus, with both him and Voldemort keeping such close watch on Harry, I thought it was best to team him up with another of us.

"One thing we have to work on is finding someone to recruit from Hufflepuff. Everyone keep their eyes open. I'm going to talk to the Sorting hat this weekend about who went there this year, to see what he thinks of them."

Turning back to the unconscious form on the floor, Damon added, "Lets find out who this is then."

Releasing the full body bind, they woke him with another spell. 'Scabbers' stumbled to his feet and began searching for any means of escape. Not wanting to spend too much time dealing with the strange man's foolishness, Damon waved a hand in front of rat-man's face and intoned, "Cairdeas Cengal!"

The strange wizards form completely relaxed, surprising everybody in the room but Damon when he smiled brightly at them all.

"Feeling better then?" asked Damon in mock concern.

"Much, thank Damon," the rat replied.

"You know us?"

Nodding eagerly, 'Scabbers' answered, "Of course, I've known Ron there since he was little. The rest of you, I learned about on the train… except Harry of course. I'd know him anywhere. He looks just like James."

Caught off guard, Damon asked "How do you know about… I mean what are you talking about?"

"James Potter, Harry's dad. The boy looks just like him when he was eleven… except the eyes, he has Lilly's eyes."

"Who are you, exactly?" asked the young druid. "And How do you know Harry's father?"

"I'm Peter Pettigrew; I was one of James' closest friends."

Pettigrew… the name was familiar somehow. Damon knew he'd Merrill mention the man, but it had been so long since they'd talked about his parents. Taking a step closer, he asked, "You knew them, then? M… Harry's mum and dad?"

Beaming with pride, Peter boasted, "I was one of the few people they trusted completely. They even made me their secret keeper."

Damon frowned at Pettigrew's last assertion. He remembered now, Merrill telling him what he'd learned of how the Potters had died. Voldemort had marked them for death and they had gone into hiding at James house in Godric's hollow. To protect their location they had placed the Fidelius charm over the house. But their secret keeper had been…

"Wait," said Damon. "I thought Black was the Potter's secret keeper. He betrayed them to Voldemort, then killed you and a street full of muggles the next day."

With a conspiratorial smile, Peter sneered, "That's what I got everyone to think."

A sick feeling seemed to settle in the pit of Damon's stomach. With cold eyes and an icy voice, he asked, "What really happened with the Potters and Black?"

Still blissfully unaware of the danger he'd put himself in, Pettigrew answered cheerfully, "James knew that someone near them was working for the Dark Lord. With a few, well chosen words, I got Sirius to suspect another friend of ours, Remus Lupin. They were still worried about the Dark lord finding them, so instead of Black becoming the secret keeper, they made me."

Damon's fists were clenched so tightly that his palms were bleeding where his fingernails cut into flesh. Still oblivious to the young druid's growing anger, Peter continued. "they had no idea that I was serving My Lord since seventh year. I told him where to find the Potters… you understand don't you Harry? He promised me such power… anyway after the Dark Lord vanished, I knew that Sirius would come looking for me. I made sure he met up with me on that street, I'd already prepared the curse that would blow up the street. All it took was a few weepy words from me and then after setting off the spell, I slipped away in the confusion. Fudge was so happy to have a scapegoat that he never even gave Sirius a trial… just threw him into Azkaban. I decided to lay low until my lord returns, and just happened on one of Ron's older brothers and I've been there ever since."

Three of the four boys stood, stunned by wormtail's flippant words. Ron and Draco looked horrified, while Harry seemed on the verge of tears. Damon's eyes were empty of all emotion, however as he stared coldly at the foolishly grinning traitor. The sing of a steel blade slipping from its sheath had the young druid's friends snap in his direction. Ron and Draco quickly tackled Damon and did their best to hold him back. They both knew Damon would regret it later if he killed Pettigrew in cold blood, even if the man so dearly deserved it. Peter, still in his own little world, just smiled happily as his new friends rolled around on the floor.

"Damon, Stop!" yelled Ron. "You can't just kill him."

"He killed… he killed Harry's parent," snarled the young druid. "He deserves to die!"

Draco, who had ended up sitting on Damon's sword arm to keep the boy from using it, thought quickly and asked, "What about Black then? If you kill the rat, no one will ever know he was innocent."

The young druid fought on for a few more seconds before going limp. Draco was right. As much as he wanted to take revenge for his parents, he needed to get Sirius Black out of Azkaban first. A girlish scream from Pettigrew reminded them that someone else would want revenge the traitor.

Harry didn't have a knife or the physical strength that Damon possessed from years of training. What he did have was the wandless spells taught them all by Merrill and his grandson. While the other three boys were otherwise occupied, Harry snapped out of his shock and gave Pettigrew a look of pure hatred. Raising his hand, the raven-haired boy snarled, "Miodo'g o' Solas!" Two 'daggers of light,' or magic missiles, shot from his hand and into Peter's chest. The traitor's clothing, where the missiles had hit, vanished and the skin beneath it was horribly burned. Pettigrew fell in a whimpering heap on the floor, hugging his chest in pain.

Hardy finished, Harry cast another spell. This one ignited his hands so that bright flames seemed to envelope them. Harry stalked towards the fallen traitor, intent on choking the life from him or burning him up. Either would work for the raven-haired boy. Before he could reach him, however, Damon put himself between his brother and Pettigrew.

"Harry!" he yelled. "I want him to pay as much as you do." Pulling his brother into a tight hug, Damon whispered, "We'll make him pay for every second we had to live without them… but not yet. We need him alive for a little longer… Please, Harry."

The raven-haired boy, the flames on his hands flickering out, collapsed against his brother and began to cry in earnest. Pettigrew, somewhat recovered from the magic missiles and free of the charm that Damon had put over him, started to crawl away until he felt a foot stomp savagely on his hand. Peter squealed piggishly as Draco knelt over him with a sadistic grin on his face.

"I'd stay put if I were you. I don't think you want any of us any madder at you than we are now."

Damon looked up from his brother and waved Ron over. "You two go back to your dorm, Draco, you too. I'll take care of Pettigrew." At their wary looks, the young druid laughed grimly, don't worry, I'm going to take him to grandfather. It looks like everything else will wait for tomorrow. Tonight I think I have other business."

Doing nothing to repair the traitor's injuries, Damon put Peter back into a body bind and grabbed the tatters the man's robes and vanished.

It was a dark and stormy night. The haggard and miserable man lying in a stone cell huffed in sick amusement. All of the nights were dark and stormy here. For nearly ten years he had been trapped behind these walls for a crime he wasn't allowed to commit.

When they had locked them up, they'd said it was or the betrayal of his best friend and his family to the dark lord along with the murder of Peter Pettigrew and thirteen muggles. Sirius didn't argue with the first charge. He betrayed James and Lilly by trusting Peter. As for the other charges… well Sirius knew that he'd never killed anyone and the only one he wanted to kill had caused all his pain.

There were two things that kept Sirius Black from giving up to the madness that threatened him daily. Pettigrew was still out there and Sirius so wanted revenge. Someone else was out there, however.

Harry.

James' son was still alive and should be starting Hogwarts this year. For Harry, he wouldn't give up. If he thought the boy was in danger, Sirius knew these walls wouldn't be able to stop him from going to his godson. But that was neither here nor there. The night was cold and wet; Sirius could feel the wet cough starting again and hoped that he wouldn't be coughing up blood like the last time.

Lightning flashed again and Sirius stiffened. Something was different about his cell. Thunder still crashed outside and the wind howled just outside the window, but nothing was coming in. Lightning flashed again, still showing the room to be dank and depressing. Still, the temperature in the room rose noticeably and the nagging feeling of despair that the dementor's presence caused, faded away. Sirius gasped and tried to struggle to his feet after the next lightning flash. There were two figures in hooded cloaks standing against the far wall. The taller wore a beard that just peaked out of the shadow of his hood. The smaller of the two could almost be a child, by his height. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head fiercely. 'No…' he'd lasted this long, he wasn't going to go mad now.

"Sirius Black," said the taller figure. "we need to talk."


Okies kiddies, sorry it took so long. But I'm slowing down on my writing. Plus, I'm thinking about starting book2 of blind faith and alternating between the two with updates.

Uten: Glad you like the story, and hey your memory may be bad but your perceptions are spot-on. I've updated the sketch on my boi-page, take a look, see what you think.

Shade Dancer: you can see how long this chapter ended up being, so many of your questions may have to wait a bit to be answered. You can see that Damon isn't stingy about his blade, however, he wanted to give it to Peter… tip first!