Harry Potter: How I Met Your Mother
Fifth Year Start
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its characters, its background and its plot were created by JK Rowling and are the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I do not own them. I DO claim Tristan Woodbine, his family and friends, his associates, and other OCs that appear in this story.
This story was written for my amusement and ego gratification. I neither expect nor deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction. Good reviews are sufficient compensation.
This story has NO relation to the How I Met Your Mother television series. I still detest Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy pairings and intend to do what I can to see to it that no such pairing occurs in this tale.
Harry Potter: How I Met Your Mother* Harry Potter: How I Met Your Mother* Harry Potter: How I Met Your Mother
My fifth year at Hogwarts started on a Tuesday, unlike the previous two, which had started on a weekend. The difference meant little for Wizarding Folk: the wizarding world by-and-large ignored the Monday to Friday rhythms of the Muggle work week and exceptions like the Ministry made exceptions to allow parents to bring their children to King's Cross Station and put them on the train to Hogwarts.
For Titus and me, our morning began early with a flurry of activity: washing up, packing our school things, and an early breakfast. Both of us were facing the new school year with feelings of apprehension: Titus because this would be his first year at Hogwarts, me because I was facing my Ordinary Wizarding Level exams at year's end.
We went back upstairs after breakfast and looked around to see if there was anything that we'd forgotten to pack.
"What if they don't like me?" said Titus.
"They'll like you fine," I said. "You're a likeable kid. Besides, you have friends from that school you attended, didn't you?" Titus had attended a small day school for young witches and wizards too young to attend Hogwarts. Despite the fact that the teachers were usually parents, volunteer faculty and the occasional au pair, the quality of instruction was quite high, especially for Wizarding schools, which could either be quite high or, more often, abysmal.
"And you'll have me to keep an eye on you," I said. "I know loads of people in Slytherin and many of them have younger brothers and sisters attending this year."
"But what if the Sorting Hat sorts me into another house?" he said.
"I can't imagine it not doing so," I said. "You're a crafty little bugger."
Titus smiled.
We sealed our trunks and I levitated them to make it easier to take them downstairs. Underage magic was illegal, but I'd long ago learned that young wizards growing up in magical households had an advantage that their counterparts who grew up with Muggles lacked: the Ministry was usually unable to tell just who was performing magic at home.
Dad and Mum were waiting at the foot of the stairs when we came down. Da was smiling; Mum had tears in her eyes.
"All set, boys?" said Da.
"All set, Da," I said.
"Let's go, then," he said.
We walked over to the family fireplace and flooed away to London and King's Cross.
Hogwarts Express
We arrived in London a bit before half-past ten, crossed the streets, and made our way towards the entrance of King's Cross and the space between Platforms Nine and Ten. The Muggle street traffic was heavier than it had been in years past and we all kept weather eyes on the cars and lorries as they drove along, hoping that they would stay where they were supposed to when we crossed over. A short time later, we'd entered King's Cross. We crossed the overhead to the right platform and, after looking both ways to see if there were any Muggles on the platform who might spy us as we walked through what looked like a masonry arch holding up the station canopy, we quickly crossed through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾.
We'd arrived early, so it was relatively easy for Titus and me to sort ourselves out. I found a compartment with a couple of mates and set down my luggage. I then helped Titus search for a suitable compartment. We found one that had a couple of kids he knew from his primary school and he was able to take possession of a seat. Titus made a couple of introductions, although I promptly forgot their names. I decided that turnabout was fair play: if they didn't remember mine, they'd remember "Titus' older brother" until they learned that my name was Tristan.
Once Titus was settled, I briefly stepped off the train and showed Mum and Da which car and compartment Titus would be traveling in. I then walked back to my compartment to see who else I knew had boarded the train. I hoped to see Camilla again and patch things up, hopefully on the train or at school, but I didn't want to spend my entire trip to Hogwarts brooding our disagreement. Aiden came in and took a seat, so did Edgar, and we began talking about how the coming year's Quidditch lineups were shaping up. The locomotive's whistle blew, interrupting our discussion. I found a place by the window in time and waved goodbye to Mum and Da as the Hogwarts Express began to pull away from the platform.
Half an hour later, I walked by Titus' compartment to see how he was doing. I was pleased to see that he was engrossed in a conversation with his day school friends as well as several other firsties I didn't know. I gave a brief rap on the window, Titus gave me an annoyed look, and I stepped away, stopping at the trolley to pick up some bottled water to wash down lunch. For now, at least, Little Brother was taking care of himself.
About an hour later, I'd settled in for the long train ride to Hogwarts. A couple of seats in our compartment had been taken by sixth-year Ravenclaws. I'd already learned that Gilderoy Lockhart would be this year's DADA Professor and wondered if the Claws knew anything about him that we didn't: after all, Lockhart had been a Ravenclaw and I thought that perhaps their parents knew him back in the day. One of the Claws had just told us that his mother had been in some of his classes when there was a knock on our compartment door and your Mum stuck her head in. "Tristan, have you seen Harry and Ron?" she said. "I've been searching the train and I haven't see any sign of them."
"No, Granger, I haven't," I replied. "Didn't they get on at the station platform?"
"I don't know," she said.
"If it makes you feel better, I don't think they're dead," I said. "They've been too bloody lucky. Good luck in your search."
Your Mum scowled at me and closed the compartment.
"Who was that?" asked one of the Claws.
"That was Hermione Granger," said Edgar. "She's Woodbine's pet Gryffindor."
"The Hermione Granger who tipped the scales to Gryffindor with fifty house points last year?" said the Claw.
"The very same," said Edgar. "I hope he can cure her of her habit."
"So do I," said Aiden.
I got up a bit later to stretch my legs. I'd heard that in some countries like Canada and America, trains ran many hours without stopping, just like the Hogwarts Express. On a whim, I decided to see if I could locate the two young errant Gryffindors. I walked through several carriages and saw no sign of them. I did find Ronald Weasley's older brothers and told them that Granger was looking for their sib. That alarmed them: apparently the Weasleys and Potter had all flooed together from their house to London and were still together as far as the barrier. They'd assumed that their little brother and his friend had passed through the barrier and boarded the train. They began their own search.
I did not return to my compartment after alerting the Weasley twins. Instead, I resumed my own walk through the cars. I did find your Mum's compartment and found that she'd dozed off with a book in her hand. One of the other Gryffindor Second Years looked at me suspiciously but opened the compartment door a crack.
"Tell Hermione that I told Ron's brothers that he and Potter are missing," I said quietly. "They've started their own search." She nodded and I slid the compartment door shut.
My stroll through the train took me by Camilla's compartment. I noted that she wasn't seated with the same people she'd sat with the year before. Instead, she'd found a place among Clotilde de Verre's retinue. She looked up and frowned at me when I tapped on the glass, then waved me away. I slunk back to my carriage in a dark mood. Maybe we'd be able to make up at school, I thought forlornly.
It wasn't until the Hogwarts Express reached the Scottish Highlands that I saw an extraordinary sight: the train was being buzzed by someone driving a blue Ford Anglia. Unlike most Ford Anglias, this one had been enchanted. What's more, it was flying. I briefly wondered who was flying it. I'd heard that a very few Wizards were railway enthusiasts, but the way this one was flying, I doubted that any were using it. The car dipped low enough for me to catch a glimpse of its passenger compartment and I saw a small boy with dark, messy hair wearing eyeglasses. He was on the left side of the vehicle, which meant that he wasn't the one driving it.
"Idiots," I said, shaking my head. It didn't take long for word to spread about the flying Anglia and who was driving it. Almost everyone, including upperclassmen, pressed their faces to the carriages' windows so they could get an eyeful of the two fools in their flying Anglia. So did your Mum, I was told later on. I have since learned that she used the very same word when she saw the Anglia trying to keep pace with the train.
The Sorting
Young Weasley and Potter having been found, I gave no more thought to them, save to wonder what McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore would do to them. Had they been seen? The train ran in and out of Muggle territory. Had they been seen? If so, they'd not only violated the statutes prohibiting underage magic but they'd also broken some of the Statutes of Secrecy. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes when they arrived at the Castle.
Our own arrival was far less spectacular. We got off the train and stepped onto the platform. I paused to give Titus a pat on the shoulder and told him to follow Hagrid down to the boats before I turned away to board one of the carriages for school. Some students said that the carriages didn't pull themselves but were pulled by thestrals, invisible horse-like creatures that could only be seen by someone who'd seen death. I was not one of them. At least not then.
When I arrived, I took my seat among my fellow Slytherins and waited. That didn't stop me from giving the occasional glance at the entrance to the Great Hall. The two idiot Gryffindors still hadn't made an appearance. After a while, the newly-minted Firsties trooped in, the Sorting Hat sang its song, the Ghosts made their appearance, then Professor McGonagall picked up her parchments and began reading the names of this year's First Year students.
I'd overheard my parents that both the Grindelwald War and what we called the Wizarding War had killed off a lot of the population of Wizarding Britain: not only Muggle-born, but also Pure Bloods and Half-Bloods as well. The oldest witches and wizards I'd overheard, those who'd lived a century or more, informed my parents that they were worried about the future of wizarding Britain and claimed that in their day, Hogwarts should have many more students. As a student attending Hogwarts less than a decade after the end of the Wizarding War, I didn't know whether they were right or wrong. But whatever was the case, when Professor McGonagall began reading the scroll of new students. I was relieved to learn that we still had lads and lasses whose surnames began with "A."
I admit that I didn't pay that much attention to most of the First-Year student's names. I was relieved to learn that the House of the Serpents would gain some new faces, both from the Old Families as well as lads and lasses from families I'd never heard of. I waited for Titus to be sorted and wondered whether I should prank him when he took his place among us Slytherins.
I sighed and tapped my foot. That didn't speed matters along, but Professor McGonagall eventually worked her way down to the W's. I discovered that Mrs. Weasley had produced a daughter as well as sons and that Ginerva Weasley would be a Gryffindor just like her older brothers. Professor McGonagall then called and sorted an Ickle named George Winthrop, then called "Titus Woodbine."
"Ah, here's his moment," I thought.
Titus nervously walked forward, put the Sorting Hat on his head, then seated himself on the sorting stool. I smiled and wondered just how long it would take for the Hat to place him in Slytherin. That was where I'd been sorted, that's where our parents had been sorted, and that would be where he would be sorted. Then the Hat surprised me and the rest of his friends.
"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the Hat.
Ravenclaw? The Claws burst into applause and I began applauding, although less enthusiastically than I would have if Titus had been sorted into Slytherin. So I was wrong. Little Brother would be spending the next seven years with the Birds. I shook my head. If he wasn't going to be a Slytherin, he would be going to a good house.
I briefly wondered how Mum and Dad would react to Titus becoming a Ravenclaw, then decided that they'd both be pleased.
"Bad luck, Woodbine," said Edgar, patting me on the back.
"At least he'll be sleeping with a roof over his head," I said.
Author's notes: Some readers might note my awkward word choices and my moving in and out of British dialect. I'm an American and I tend to speak and write using American idiom. My characters are not and I'm doing my best to portray them as British.
