Albus Dumbledore, a mighty wizard of renown, was a slave to bureaucracy. As Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and a close advisor to the newly inaugurated Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, Albus spent much of his free time buried in a pile of paperwork.
Not that he minded–it kept his mind off more unhappy and morose kinds of things.
But a little bit of monotony breaking was a good change of pace. A gray owl, one he recognized as belonging to his Deputy Headmistress, floated in through the window, dropping a sheet of parchment paper on his desk. Opening the parchment, he began to read the letter. His serene smile faded into a frown, and his face betrayed his concern more and more as he got deeper into the letter.
After finishing, he folded the letter up and glanced at his phoenix companion.
"It seems Mister Potter shall provide us many surprises, my old friend," He said, before sorting his papers and making his way to his fireplace. Taking a handful of floo powder, he whisked himself off to his destination, and emerged almost instantly on the other side, emerging from the hearth of the Scottish cottage Minerva called her home.
Harry was laying down, covered in a blanket, across Minerva's lap. Minerva and Rolanda both looked absolutely devastated, and deeply concerned. Peering up at Albus, he could see it even more clearly than ever.
"Minerva, tell me what happened," He said quietly, sitting down in the armchair next to her.
"Well, Albus, we went to Diagon Alley to get Harry his supplies for his first year, and when we went to Ollivander's, he was spending time trying to find Harry a wand… and… none of them worked."
"None of them?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No," Rolanda said, taking up the story. "There was one that exploded, actually. It was made of holly and had a phoenix feather core."
"Phoenix feather… interesting," Albus said, keeping his cards close to his chest and revealing nothing of substance to his deputy and flying instructor.
"Ultimately, Garrick said there was no wand he had in his possession that would work for Harry… and so poor Harry doesn't have a wand."
"Oh dear," Dumbledore murmured, peering down at the resting boy. "I will attempt to find a solution, hopefully before the start of the term."
"What if we don't?" Minerva asked quietly.
"We will simply have to figure something out. I know for fact the boy is not a squib. He deserves to attend Hogwarts like any other child his age. Excuse me while I begin looking into this," Albus said, rising to his feet again. Bidding Minerva and Rolanda farewell, Albus returned through the floo to his office.
Standing quietly in his office, he felt a strange queasiness in his stomach. He turned to Fawkes, and looked at the bird pensively. Silently, in his head, he asked it an unspoken question. The bird hopped off it's perch, and took off from the window.
Albus silently prayed to whatever deity was out there that his hypothesis was totally and utterly incorrect. In the mean time, he would try to see if he could at least mitigate the problems such a thing would cause.
…
Minerva and Rolanda had decided that for Harry's benefit if nothing else, a little time away from Britain would do him some good. But beyond simply getting the young kid's mind off the whole wand debacle, they wanted to connect Harry to some of his ancestry.
Unfortunately, due to Lily's status as a 'muggleborn' and her relative anonymity as far as the wizarding world was concerned beyond being one of "the Potters", finding data about her heritage was difficult. Despite this, Minerva and Rolanda made arrangements with the Central Portkey Authority, and set off with their son for the ancient Yematai capital, Kyoto.
Their time in the ancient capital was spent absorbing the sights, visiting historical places and seeing the splendor of nature. It was during this that Minerva had a realization.
"It must be very lonely for Harry to grow up being… the only person who looks like him he knows," Minerva said one night while Harry was crashed between them, drooling all over the pillow.
"How did his mother cope?" Rolanda asked, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Well, I don't rightly know," Minerva admitted. "She threw herself into schoolwork I guess, and made friends with other outcasts. She and Severus were very close friends for some time before they had a falling out, and she started dating James Potter. I don't think Lily really… felt bad about being out of touch with her ancestry."
…
"Alright," Albus said, hands folded behind his back. "I have been talking with Mr. Ollivander about a solution we could throw together to help you, Harry."
"Indeed, this wand you see before you is ten inches long, rigorous, and is fashioned from the limbs of a rowan tree, and a thestral hair core."
Harry eyed the rowan wand sitting on the small table with cautious eye.
"Is it going to blow up on me, sir?" Harry asked quietly. Albus gave a shrug in response.
"No way of knowing, unfortunately, my boy. You'll have to try and see. If we get a good response from it, perhaps we can try a few spells to see if it's going to be any good for you," Albus said, pensively eyeing Harry.
Harry gently picked up the wand in his dominant hand (left), and felt a warm tingle. The wand tip glowed briefly, but the light went out nearly as quick as it had lit.
"Hmm, curious," Ollivander said. "That was the best response any wand we've tried has gotten yet…" The old man narrowed his eyes at Albus. "Is there a particular reason you chose rowan, Headmaster?"
"No," Albus said, his eyes sparkling. "Alright, Harry. I'm going to show you a very simple charm, you'll learn it your first day in Charms class."
Albus walked over to a shelf and plucked a couple small things off it, and set them back down on the table in front of Harry. A silver pencil cup and a small quill.
"I want you to follow my lead, and watch what I do," Albus said. He swished his wand left to right, and flicked sharply down. "Do you see the pattern I am following with my wand? Swish, and then flick."
Harry echoed the movements as precisely as he could. Albus gave a nod and smiled.
"Now, the incantation as you perform the movements. Wingardium Leviosa."
As Albus said it, the silver pencil cup began to lift off the table, floating a good several inches before Albus flicked his wand again, and the cup clattered to the table.
"Now you have a go," He said, fondly.
Harry stared at the quill on the table, and took a deep breath.
"Windgardium Leviosa," Harry breathed.
The quill twitched, but did nothing. Harry looked disappointed, and frowned deeply.
"Try again," Albus suggested.
Harry repeated the incantation again, and the quill this time twitched and moved an inch up the table. Frustration seeping in, Harry kept trying, becoming increasingly frustrated with each pass over.
The sixth time Harry attempted the spell, the quill violently rocketed into the air, stabbing through the stone ceiling of the Headmaster's chamber.
Albus looked up at the quill now embedded in his ceiling and gave an amused chuckle. "It seems to me, Harry, though you will have difficulty with spellcasting, you are still very much a wizard. A strong one, once you learn your way."
"But taking nine tries to do basic magic…" Harry began to speak, before trailing off.
"Diligence and patience will be a virtue for you, then," Albus said firmly. "Should you have any issues, Harry, you are more than welcome to come see me… but I imagine you will do just fine, when it comes down to it,"
Harry wanted to object and argue more with the old Professor, but he knew better. He simply nodded.
"Yes, sir," Harry said, trying to not let his disappointment bleed into his voice.
…
Harry had never been to King's Cross before, but if the magical side was any indication, the muggle side was likely very beautiful. The platform for the Hogwarts Express was well-lit and was, for now, relatively quiet.
He had gone to the platform via Floo, using one of the dozens of hearths connected to the floo network. Minerva had explained that their early departure was to beat the lines, as once students started arriving on the platform, it would be nearly impossible to get through via Floo due to congestion.
After the train had arrived, Minerva and Rolanda had given Harry hugs and kisses, helped him onto the train, and then bid farewell so they could get to the school to make sure everything was set up for the Start of Term feast. Harry decided to focus on reading instead of the crowds of people boarding the train, he was so involved in the trials and tribulations of Lord of the Rings that he nearly missed the presence standing in his doorway.
Glancing up from his book, he saw a girl standing there. Her hair looked as if it had never (or couldn't ever) come into contact with a hair brush. She had slightly large front teeth, but had a very elegant air about her.
"Do you mind if I sit in here?"
"Yeah, sure," Harry said, gesturing for her to sit on the bench seating. She sat down on the offered seat and said, "I'm Hermione Granger, and you are?"
"Harry Potter," Harry replied. Hermione's eyes widened with surprise, eliciting a grimace from Harry.
"Do you know that you're in multiple books–" Hermione began to speak, but Harry cut her off.
"Yeah, Modern History of Magic, The Great Wizarding War: A to Z, The Rise of Fall of the Dark Lord, Harry Potter: The Boy-Who-Lived… the list continues, unfortunately," Harry said, shaking his head. "A lot of that's fake, though."
"I can only imagine," Hermione said, rubbing her cheek awkwardly. "I don't mean to bring that up, I'm sorry–"
"Don't apologize, 'sfine," Harry said. "But instead of talking about that, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, Hermione Granger?"
"Oh! Well, my parents are both non-magic, but I've known that I'm a witch since I read Matilda, one of my favourite books–"
"You've read Matilda too? It's one of my favourites as well," Harry said fondly. "The girl who escapes troublesome relatives and lives happily ever after, such a good story."
Harry and Hermione spent the first small part of the trip eagerly discussing their shared favourite, with the conversation eventually foraying back into their background. Harry learned a bit more about Hermione's experiences as a Muggleborn and how she positively relished in the idea of doing magic, while Harry talked to varying degrees of about his childhood as well.
When Hermione discovered his mother was the Deputy Headmistress, and that he'd been to Hogwarts before, he was bombarded with a dozen or so questions all about what it was like there. Harry smiled and eluded most of the questions, saying that the surprise itself was worth not knowing much.
"I've read Hogwarts, A History, but there's parts missing. It explains what the four houses are, but doesn't give much information…" Hermione said, frowning.
"I can answer that question at least, mostly," Harry said. "I've never seen the sorting ceremony, Mum and Lala never let me go, but I do know a little bit about the four houses."
He took a deep breath and began to explain Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff to an enamoured Hermione, describing some of the general traits associated with each house, and where their common room was.
"What house do you think you'll get?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged.
"I don't have a particular preference. All of my parents were Gryffindor, but that doesn't mean I'm opposed to other houses."
…
Hermione and Harry had a generally quiet and enjoyable train ride, nothing bothered them or interrupted their conspiratorial conversation, except for the lady who sold sweets from her trolley for the students. They'd shared a box of Bernie Bott's beans, and had gotten grossed out once or twice (Hermione had gotten bogeys and toffee; Harry had gotten cherry cola and earwax).
Hogsmeade was quiet and still, as could be expected at such a late hour. Harry had been into town once or twice in his youth, accompanying Lala to Honeyduke's, the sweet shop in town. A very fond memory, Harry reasoned to himself. As they disembarked, the large figure of Rubeus Hagrid, the man Harry had met at Gringotts, stood above them.
"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"
Harry and the other first years found themselves being loaded onto small wood boats to float across the large lake towards the castle. Hermione and Harry had ended up on the same boat as Hagrid, leading the horde of students.
"I bet you lot're excited," Hagrid said as they set off into the murky waters.
"Oh, yes, quite excited," Hermione said with a smile. "Is it really as tremendous as they say it is?"
"Hogwarts? Oh, yeh, absolutely. And it's run by the finest headmaster in the history of the school–Albus Dumbledore! Perhaps the finest wizard of our time, really."
As he said it, the castle finally came into view, and Harry smiled at Hermione's shocked expression. The moonlight was illuminating the castle, which had every window lit up. Torches lit the bridge that ran across the lake back to the shore, where carriages belonging to the older students were filing across, lead by strange bony animals.
"Hey, Hagrid," Harry asked quietly. "What are those things pulling the carriages?"
Hagrid nearly fell off the boat and looked at Harry in alarm. "Ye can see those things?"
"What things, Hagrid?" Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "The carriages have nothing pulling them."
Hagrid sighed and said, "Unfortunately not, Hermione. Those carriages are pulled by thestrals, winged horse-like beasts. It's said they look downright skeletal, like ye pulled all the skin off 'er real horse."
"Ew," Hermione said, looking green.
"But ultimately, they're invisible to anybody who uh… hasn't witnessed death. I guess it isn't surprising ye can see them, Harry… I just didn't really anticipate it," the older man admitted, rubbing his neck.
"Are they dangerous?" Harry asked.
"Oh, blimey, yeah, if you don't know how to handle 'em. Ministry's slapped a hard rating on them, quadruple-X. Means only licensed handlers can get permits for takin' care or raisin' 'em. You're lookin' at one of the only in Britain who can, in fact."
There was a quiet lull in the conversation, as so to avoid more grim topics. Eventually, their boats arrived at the shoreline, where a stone path would lead them up to the castle entrance. They were met at the shoreline by Minerva, who was holding a lantern and giving a stoic expression–one Harry had seen in the few times she'd been cross with him. Silently turning, she lead the array of first years up to the doors of the castle, and into the foyer of the building. Standing before the door to the Great Hall, and telling them to form a line, she waited patiently before beginning her speech.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. In a few moments, you'll pass through these doors and be sorted into the house in which you will spend the next seven years. These houses are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. Understand that the house will be like your family. You will celebrate victory together, and commiserate loss together. Following the rules and undertaking achievements will gain you points; misbehaviour will lose you points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup. Now, wait here," She said, before disappearing into the Great Hall.
Harry felt a great deal of weight, and he was sure the other students did as well, as everyone had dropped to a low murmur. After a few minutes, Minerva returned and gave the students a nod.
"Follow me, please."
The students filed into the Great Hall; where the students were all chatting excitedly and watching the crop of first years approach the front with trepidation. At the front of the hall, with the department heads watching carefully, Minerva stood in front of a stool, holding a large, floppy wixen hat in her hand.
"When I call your name, you will step forward, and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head. Very simple procedure," She explained. There was a murmur among the first years, with Harry hearing somebody moaning about his brothers' lying to him. Harry gave an internal chuckle at how easily it seemed everyone was in on the joke.
They were called in seemingly first name alphabetical order. Eventually, after blowing past some names such as Alice Ford, Anthony Goldstein, Amanda Brocklehurst, so on and so forth, Harry was beginning to feel a bit nauseous.
"Harry Potter," Minerva said, a glint of pride in her eyes as her charge approached the stool. Sitting down on it carefully, the hat was settled onto his head, and the voice spoke to him in his head.
"Ah, Mister Potter! I wondered when I'd be finally seeing you. Much potential in your soul, you fit each of the four houses quite well, but where will you serve the most benefit, that is the question… mmm…"
"Well," Harry replied silently. "Personally, I don't really have a specific preference. I know my parents were all Gryffindors, but…"
"Indeed. Gryffindor would suit you well, yes, but I don't feel it will… provide you the potential to do such weighty work. You are brave, yes, but you have more traits than that in your soul."
"Such as?" Harry asked.
"You're an incredibly inquisitive young man. I can see your brain already plugging away and trying to figure out how it is I can talk to you when I am simply a hat… this would be a great fit for Ravenclaw, however…"
"However?" Harry said internally, amused.
"Consider this: Slytherin has a reputation, both perhaps earned and not earned, of being the house of blood supremacy. This isn't helped by the bias that has settled among Hogwarts' student body that Slytherins almost always turn evil. History has had it's fair share of evil Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors…" The hat said sagely.
"What benefit would it be for me to end up in Slytherin?"
"Your role in the modern history of wizards… you could be the instrument of change for that bias. No man, woman, girl or boy could say that Harry Potter, the boy who conquered Voldemort, is a dark wizard."
"I doubt that's true," Harry retorted, and raucous laughter filled his head.
"Perhaps not, but wouldn't it be something?" The hat asked, voice carrying amusement and wonder.
Harry didn't say anything, but the hat could tell he had taken his words into consideration. "I respect your decision, Sorting Hat," Harry said silently.
"You are a fascinating young man, Mister Harry Potter. Please do visit me sometime in the Headmaster's office. It gets very boring there during the year." The Hat said to him internally, before shouting at the top of his voice.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The entire Great Hall was silent, with Harry suddenly becoming aware that it had been more than sixteen minutes since he had sat down on the chair. A few moments of continued dead silence passed, before Slytherin erupted into cheers. Some of the other houses seemed like they had swallowed a lemon.
Harry, on the other hand, felt satisfied that the sorting had been resolved. His uniform, as he sat down, slowly changed, the gray flares on it slowly changing to green and silver. As Harry sat down at a vacant seat, he eyed Minerva carefully. She gave him a tight nod, before turning back to dealing with the ceremony.
"Hermione Granger," Minerva said. The brunette approached the chair and sat down on it quietly. As time passed and no resolution was reached, another set of murmurs broke out across the table.
"You know, Potter, this isn't usual– there's usually no more than one hat-stall every fifty years," The girl to the left of Harry said in a low whisper. "I'm Gemma, by the way. I'm one of your prefects."
"Nice to meet you, Gemma," Harry said with a low smile.
"I'm surprised you ended up here, we're not exactly the most reputable house in the school," Gemma mused, and Harry shrugged in response.
"I'm not one to believe in myths and rumours. I get enough of that about my birth parents and the like. I'm sure we'll all get along well enough–"
"SLYTHERIN!" The hat declared after several minutes of silence. Hermione hopped off the stool and made her way to the Slytherin table among smatterings of applause, and sat next to Harry.
The remainder of the first years sorted into each house was much quicker than Harry and Hermione, with most of them being sorted in a matter of less than a minute or two. There were a couple "hesitations", such as with Neville Longbottom, who ended up in Gryffindor. After the sorting was completed, Harry watched his mother take her position at the staff table, while Professor Dumbledore stood up and made his way to the podium.
"I welcome everyone to another year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our feast, a couple small announcements. As always, students are reminded that the Forbidden Forest is a dangerous place, and students are strongly advised to stay out if they wish to retain their limbs. As well, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side, is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a most violent death. With that, enjoy!"
He waved his hands, and the tables filled with food, which Harry and his new housemates dug into with gusto. After the initial burst of food consumption, Harry looked up at the assembled staff table. A sizable number of professors were chatting quietly, including Professor Snape. He squinted his eyes at the man wearing a turban sitting to Snape's left, and realized it was Professor Quirrell.
He'd only seen the man a few times or so during his youth, but he looked… different than he used to. He was far more gaunt than before, and now wore an honestly gaudy looking purple turban. Harry idly wondered if his time in Albania had been good or bad for his sanity.
A sharp pain crossed his scar, and Harry clapped a hand to it, massaging it to alleviate the pain. That was a new sensation, and it broke his curiosity of peering up at the assembled mass of teachers; he turned his attentions to the brunette to his right.
"I'm glad we got sorted into the same house, Hermione," Harry said with a smile.
"Me too, Harry," Hermione said, giving him an equally happy smile.
As the feast came to an end and the Slytherin students began to break up, Harry and Hermione followed Gemma and the crowd down towards the Slytherin dungeons. As they arrived at the large stone door with a snake carved into it, Gemma came to a stop and dug a small sheet of parchment out of her robe pocket.
"Gloria," she said in a low, almost reverent tone.
The stone façade disintegrated, allowing the horde of Slytherins into their common room. Harry marvelled at the beauty– it was very cold down at the bottom, but not terribly so. The entire room was beautifully lit between the beautiful silver lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and the large glass windows that peered out into the lake they had crossed earlier. The floor was made of a soft, plush green carpet, and the walls were decorated in medieval tapestry and wood panelling, giving the room a very refined, yet still cosy design.
After a brief introduction from the Head Boy and Girl, they were split up into their new dormitory rooms. Harry found himself sharing a room with three boys– Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, and Blaise Zabini. Harry noticed that Crookshanks had already been let out of his carrier, and was silently snoozing on Harry's new bed, gently batting his paws at some imaginary thing, probably a rat or something.
The next person to make their way up was a tall, curly haired boy that stood at least a good head above Harry. He was thin and seemed very fidgety and nervous.
"Hello, I'm Harry," Harry decided to break the ice, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you,"
"Uh," The boy said, before taking his hand. "Nott. Uh, Theodore Nott."
The two boys turned to unpacking their trunks, resolutely quiet. The silence was broken when an dark-skinned boy entered the room, and dove onto his bed.
"Oi," the boy muttered into his sheets. "Too long of a bloody train ride."
Harry laughed some, before digging a chocolate frog out of his pocket. "Here," He offered.
The boy sat up and glanced at Harry, and took the offered frog. Taking a bite out of the head, he swallowed before speaking.
"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" He asked.
"Yeah, that's me," Harry said.
"Blaise Zabini, nice to meet you," He said, smiling.
"Ah, Roman?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, Scottish?"
"Kinda sorta. I'm technically not Scottish, obviously, but I was raised in Scotland from age six and up," Harry said, shrugging.
"I get what you mean, Potter, my family comes from Tripolitania, but I grew up in Antium with my mother and her numerous husbands." Blaise said and buried his head back in the sheets, clearly in disgust at the thought. Harry decided not to press him any further about what he was grumbling about.
Eventually, Harry came to meet his third roommate. Draco Malfoy entered the room with a sort of aristocratic sense of self-importance that Harry immediately raised an eyebrow. Draco scanned the room before making eye contact with Harry. Approaching him, he stuck out his hand.
"Draco Malfoy," He said.
Harry accepted his handshake, before clearing his throat.
"Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you." Harry said.
There was an awkward silence before Draco said, "Glad to see you're among the right sort, Harry."
"Oh, Merlin's arse, please don't start up with that again, Draco," Theodore said from his bed. "We don't need to have a philosophical debate about blood purity the first day of school."
"Potter," Theodore spoke. "Just ignore this ponce, he'll go on and on and talk your ear off about how important blood purity is, as if he hasn't got any half-bloods in his lineage anyway."
"Ah," Harry said with a snort. "You know I'm a half-blood, right?"
"Yeah, everyone knows that. Your, uh, birth mother– she's Muggleborn," Theodore said while taking his boots off. "Good thing my old man ain't here, he'd go on a two hour rant about Muggleborns."
Draco glared at Theodore and said, "I don't have a problem with half-bloods, they at least have some pedigree–"
There was a knock at the door, and the door opened on it's own. On the other side, Severus Snape stood in the doorway, his hands folded behind his back.
"Mister Potter," He said in a low voice. "If I may borrow you for a few minutes?"
"Oh, aye, Professor." Harry said, making sure his stuff was secure before stepping out of the door. The Professor turned and looked at the remaining three boys in the room before nodding to them.
"Gentlemen," He said, before following Harry out the door.
Harry soon found himself in accompaniment of Hermione and Professor Snape as they made their way down further into the dungeons to the Professor's office. The office itself was familiar to Harry, he'd spent some days of his youth in there, accompanied with reading material while Snape babysat him for his mothers.
"I've called you both here because it is typical I give a… speech, or a talk to incoming half-bloods and Muggleborns who are sorted into Slytherin House," He said, sitting at his desk and gesturing for the two to sit as well.
"Slytherin is not the house of evil wixen, as many would have you believe. While the majority of the Dark Lord's forces did indeed come from Slytherin, every house is capable of evil in their own right," Snape continued, folding his hands on his desk.
"In the years since the Dark Lord's defeat, Slytherin has had some progress in defeating the idle bigotry that exists in our House, but we still have some students who are… not as open minded as we would expect. So, I customarily give a warning about those few… and make sure you know my office is open should you encounter any issues. Particularly with Mister Malfoy… understood?"
"Yes, sir," the two students said deferentially. Professor Snape nodded, and gave a slight, quirked smile; though it looked more like a pained sneer. He picked up a sheet of parchment on his desk and quickly penned something with a quill, and signed his name.
He handed the paper over and said, "This will let you return to your dormitory without trouble, should you be stopped by Mister Filch or a Prefect."
As Harry and Hermione left, Snape didn't say much more, and simply sat there in thought, a smile that seemed a little more genuine crossed his face.