Hermione stared, spellbound, at the front of the hall, her hands clenching and unclenching as she, along with the rest of the school, waited with bated breath for the Sorting Hat to cry out a name. It had been almost a full two minutes since Harry had put the hat on, and the tension had risen to a ridiculous height. You could hear a pin drop in the hall as everybody silently gawked at the spectacle of the Boy-Who-Lived. It was rare that a sorting lasted more than a minute, and Dumbledore himself had only taken a minute and a half to be sorted. Hermione, of course, had her reasons to be invested in Harry's sorting. She had, naturally, gone and made an utter bollocks of meeting the Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived himself, and although he had been nothing but polite to her (because of course he was), she had no illusions that at best she was considered an acquaintance. For about the thousandth time, she mentally kicked herself for her first words to the Wizarding World's equivalent of a royal prince being to talk about how she had read about his orphaning. She had amends to make, and they'd be easiest if he was sorted into Gryffindor. Speaking of which, she hadn't gotten around to wondering how she'd even gotten into Gryffindor in the first place! She had never thought of herself as a particularly brave or noble person, and her natural bookishness had suggested that Ravenclaw was the only house for her. But, the sorting hat had been insistent, and since it was more than a thousand years old, she had figured it might know what it was on about. The hat, according to Hogwarts: A History, had been enchanted from one of Godric Gryffindor's very own wardrobes, and-
"Gryffindor!" The Sorting Hat yelled, startling Hermione out of her spiral into trivia as the hall lit up in cheers. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, although they didn't get the boy themselves, were happy enough to see him go to Gryffindor. Two older boys who, judging by their red hair, were brothers of her boat-ride companion Ron, started chanting "We got Potter!" like a pair of football hooligans, a sentiment that was echoed by the shouts emanating from other parts of the table. Judging from the vaguely reluctant way Harry walked towards the table, she wasn't the only one a little put off by the intolerable display. She looked a little closer at the black haired boy. She could have sworn his eyes were glassy and distant. Odd. But, then again, he'd had probably one of the most meaningful days of his life, and was just sorted into his parents house, so she supposed it was understandable.
"Isn't this exciting?" A squeal of excitement came from her left, as a girl (Brown?) tugged at her cloaks and gestured to their newest housemate. "Ohh, I bet he's all brave and smart and funny!" She squealed again, making Hermione's ears ring as it caught a frequency Hermione fervently believed only dogs should hear. By way of reply she nodded mutely, taken aback by the girl's enthusiasm. Parvarti, however, was not so shaken, and responded in kind. Hermione just tuned out their vapidity and watched Harry slowly wander over and sit down between Neville and Parvarti, giving only a muttered greeting to them as he slumped onto the table.
Nausea. Pure, unadulterated nausea. There were plenty of other emotions roiling around, begging for his attention, but nausea was the one that stood out the most of Harry James Potter, newest member of Gryffindor house. Not bothering to listen to the final few people left to be sorted, he just numbly stared into the middle distance, ignoring his new housemates talking amongst themselves. Across from him, Hermione was having a polite chat with Neville, whilst his neighbour Parvarti seemed to be getting along famously with Lavender Brown in a highly intellectual discussion about Quick-Slick hair gel. As Dumbledore began his speech, droning on about certain death and the Forbidden Forest, Harry just looked longingly at the table, forlornly waiting to drown his sorrows in whatever food was available. Finally, Dumbledore finished with some nonsense that sounded better suited to a children's book than the second most powerful wizard of the age, and suddenly, great piles appeared on the table. As he piled his plate high with sausage, bacon, steak and potatoes, he couldn't help but glance subtly at the most powerful wizard of the age. Well, more correctly, he surreptitiously looked at the face that it currently inhabited. Quirinius Quirrell was timidly picking at a leg of chicken, avoiding all eye contact with his companion, Severus. If not for the all too familiar prickling pain of his scar, Harry could have been fooled into thinking Quirrell was just another harmlessly idiotic defence teacher. Looking back to his meal, he took a mouthful of bacon and considered how precisely he could expose Quirrell now. He didn't know McGonagall all too well, but from what he did know she was a strict disciplinarian, more likely to give a student a stern dressing-down than an investigation if they were to raise issues with a teacher (unless it was Severus, of course.). And although he could still go to Snape like he originally planned to, without the prolonged exposure they'd had to each other in Slytherin house, he was unsure how Snape would react. He shook his head, before moodily spearing a sausage with his fork. It was just all so very bloody difficult.
Going up to Gryffindor Tower proved to be something of an experience for Harry. Whilst he had heard about Tower, he had never actually had any cause (or desire) to go up there himself. No, he much preferred the cool, classy vaults of Slytherin to whatever ungovernable madness the Gryffindors liked. Whilst he didn't find himself in the mood to make much conversation with his fellows, he had perked up somewhat upon learning that Percy Weasley was going to be managing them. Harry had always had quite a bit of respect for the prefect, since he was one of the few Gryffindors not outrageously biased against Slytherin. At least he was fair, if a bit of a stickler for the rules. Ironic, considering his brother's flagrant disregard for any and all rules that could conceivably hinder their pranks. Then again, perhaps the three were the reasons for each other's behaviour. Harry, without any real siblings to speak of, wouldn't have the foggiest idea.
Finally, they reached a portrait of a rather big boned woman, that looked at them critically.
"This, students, is the entrance to the tower, guarded by the Fat Lady. The password is currently Caput Draconis." Percy explained to the wide-eyed students, some of whom were still looking back longingly at the way back to the Grand Staircase. With that, Percy turned to the portrait and repeated the password.
"Enter." The Fat Lady said magnanimously, swinging ocean to reveal a cozy looking living room, with big couches and a large hearth.
"No gawking, Firsties, follow me." Percy said as he chivvied them inside.
The first thing Harry noticed was how much smaller it was than the Slytherin dungeons. The Slytherin common room was at least double the size, with nooks and crannies aplenty. This common room was far more…open. There was little privacy to be found here, nowhere one could discuss secrets, plans, and trades without being visible to anybody with a good eye and an open ear. He shivered unconsciously, despite the warmth of the room. The thought of being so exposed was…discomfiting, to say the least.
Percy, ignorant of his charge's existential observations, continued with his explanations. "The girl's dormitories are on your right," he gestured to a spiralling stairway that went both up and down the tower, "and boy's are on your left." He gestured to an identical staircase opposite the first. "No boys in the girls dormitories and vice versa, first year's dorms are on the lower level, and the older you are the higher you rise. No need to worry about your possessions, they've already been brought up. If you need any help, please ask a prefect," he gestured at his prefect badge with a hint of smugness, before continuing "if none are available, ask an older student. Classes begin tomorrow, you should all have your schedules, if you do not or believe an error has been made, talk to a prefect or our Head of House, Professor McGonagall. I've also been instructed to remind you that under no circumstances whatsoever should you go into the locked room on the third floor the Headmaster spoke of earlier. If that's all, I bid you all a good night, and welcome to the Gryffindor family." He finished with an air of finality, before sending them off to bed.
When Harry entered his lodgings with the other boys, he breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the beds. Given the size of the Gryffindor common room, he had half expected a spartan affair with single beds more suited to the SAS than teenagers. But to their credit, the Gryffindor dormitory looked quite cosy, despite the garish red that blanketed the room. Hedwig hooted at him in greeting, startling out of his amateur review of the interior design. He crossed over the room and claimed the bed closest to the big window, grabbing Hedwig's cage and stowing it on the sill.
"Alright lads," Harry started, turning around to face his companions, who were still working out who's bed was who's, "time to set some ground rules. No loud noises during the night unless we're all doing something together." Everybody nodded, although Finnegan seemed somewhat reluctant. "Also, Hedwig will be coming and going as she pleases from the room, anybody else with owls are free to join her. She won't make too much noise though, I promise. I reckon any arguments between us regarding the dorm after tonight should be voted on. Oh, and no messing with people's trunks or possessions, unless somebody's left their undies on the ground or something, yeah?" More nods. "Alright, anything else?" Harry finished. A few shakes of their heads. "Alright then, I'm pretty shattered, so, I'm going to sleep."
With that, he kicked off his shoes, opened Hedwig's cage, and threw himself onto the bed, testing its springs. It was comfy. Very comfy. In fact, although he was loathe to admit, it was far comfier than his old bunk in the dungeons, which was entirely built for appearances and whilst being far superior to the cupboard or Dudley's second room, lacked a certain…homeliness to it. That very thought was his final conscious one as, his head buried in an assortment of pillow, he drifted off to sleep.
"Ssshhh, it's him!"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
Harry rolled his eyes as he tucked into his bacon and eggs, ignoring the whispers about him that flew up and down the tables at breakfast. He had woken early, keen to avoid the whispers that he knew would be flying thick and fast on the first morning. However, breakfast was not particularly high on his list of priorities. Instead, he had spent the pre-dawn hour tapping on the stones of the Gryffindor dormitory, which would be the beginning and headquarters for his search for the Chamber of Secrets. The rationale was that Salazar Slytherin, being, well, a Slytherin, had decided to spite Godric by putting the Chamber under his charge's noses. After all, the Gryffindors were not known for their curiosity, or their thoughtfulness. If there was a place in the school where a hidden chamber could be undisturbed for more than a thousand years, it wasn't hard to believe that it was somewhere in Gryffindor Tower. So, his knuckles sore from an hour of tapping on stone walls, he had finally ventured down to the Great Hall, hoping to find it completely empty. He was, of course, disappointed to find that a few dozen students had gotten there before him, a high proportion of which had began subtly staring at him as soon as he had entered the hall. Ignoring them, he'd merely piled some breakfast onto his plate, and sat across from Percy, one of the few Gryffindors who had gotten up so early.
Percy looked up at him curiously as Harry sat across from him, smiling innocently at the Prefect.
"Mr. Potter, I'm glad to see you've found your way to the hall so quickly. Most firsties take weeks to get here this quickly." He said kindly, albeit with a little condescension in his tone. Still, Harry took the compliment in the spirit it was offered, and responded in kind.
"Well, I'm not most first years, am I? I've something of a reputation I should probably do my best to live up to, I guess." He explained. "Actually, that's the reason I wanted to talk to you. As the person most suited to be prefect, I must assume that you're probably the smartest person in your year, yeah?" He said graciously, trying not to lay the flattery on too thick.
Percy looked at him strangely, trying not to look too arrogant. "I mean…well, I suppose I'm somewhere up the top, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything. Before you ask, I'm not going to give you advanced instruction or anything Potter, I don't care who you are, you aren't getting any special treatment in my house. The rules will apply to you as much as they do anyone else, is that clear?" He said firmly, locking eyes with Harry and refusing to look away.
Good. He was right in thinking the prefect had plenty of steel in him. Truth be told, he liked it when people had a code and stuck to it. It was one of the few things he had admired about some Gryffindors. Unfortunately, most of them were all too happy to break that code when it came to the rivalry with their arch-rivals.
" I was hoping you would say that, I was going to ask that you ensured that nobody treated me differently. I get enough from that from people as it is, I'd rather not have the rules do it too." Harry replied silkily, returning Percy's gaze to let him know that the statement was genuine. "I was also going to ask you about something else…" He continued, trailing off at the end to see the prefect's reaction.
Percy, taken slightly aback by the fact that his house's newest celebrity wasn't asking for special treatment, cocked his head slightly at the small, dark haired boy. "Well, Potter, so long as your question doesn't enable you to make trouble I see no reason why I shouldn't answer." He finished, as he unconsciously fiddled with his silver badge.
Harry turned up his innocent factor to eleven, endeavouring to make himself look as small and lost as possible. "Well…its just that, I grew up in the muggle world, see? So I dunno much about Hogwarts other than it's really old and cool. I was hoping you could point me in the direction of as many books about the history of Hogwarts as possible, if that's okay?" He mumbled, turning his eyes down so as to look embarrassed by his ignorance. He wasn't entirely faking it, either. His first year had been so hectic and overwhelming he had never gotten the chance to read about Hogwarts proper, and although he had, of course, read Hogwarts: A History he had never gone into any depth about the castle other than his search for rooms and secret passages.
Percy considered for a moment, before nodding. "Very well, Potter, I can help with that." He assented, before shooting off a list of a half dozen books Harry had never heard of before. "That should be enough, I think, to catch you up." He flashed an encouraging smile at Harry, before scooping up a spoonful of baked beans as a way of dismissal.
Harry gave a muttered thanks, and moved down the table a little, eating quickly so as to finish before too many people arrived. When he finished, he began the long journey back to the dormitory. After a few awkward encounters with fans and a particularly grating argument with Peeves, her finally got back to the tower, muttering a few acknowledgements to Seamus and Dean, who were lounging about on the couch. A little grumpily, he stalked down the stairs, bumping shoulders with a Weasley twin in a rare encounter where they went attached at the hip. As he entered his quarters, he shot a baleful look at the youngest male Weasley, who lay snoring on the bed, and probably would be for a while yet. He'd probably be late, but it served him right. He'd have to grow up. Harry threw open his trunk, to pick up the items he needed for the day. A few lengths of parchment and his quill, which had migrated in his trunk someway from its original position, presumably during the night. He made a grab for it…and immediately recoiled when a jet black spurt of ink exploded from the feathers to coat his face in a sticky, oily substance that smelt like a ghoul crossed with a senile Hippogriff. Harry fell back with a startled cry, falling on the floor, clawing at his face in a futile attempt to get the slimy mixture off.
"Oh no, Gred, I think ickle Harry has had himself a little accident." Chirped a sickeningly innocent voice.
"Oh, Forge, what a shame, our resident hero's in trouble already?" Replied another, as Harry lay back on the ground, staring balefully at the ceiling as the play continued.
"Well, I suppose.."
"That, given our status as his housemates…"
"We should do our best…"
"To help!" They chorused in unison, as two grinning, red haired face came into view.
"Scourgify!" One of them shouted, and, like magic, the liquid was gone.
Harry sighed, before his eyebrows came together like two thunderclouds. He was pissed. With a no small amount of agility, he jumped up, before turning his baleful stare on the other Weasleys.
"Would you mind," he said with a polite coldness that belied his anger. "explaining to me, precisely what you think you're doing."
"Well.."
"Percy did mention you wanted to be treated like everybody else…"
"And, of course, nobody is safe from us…."
"So we decided to give you…"
"our own little introduction to the house, didn't we, brother of mine?"
"Oh yes indeed, brother dearest. A little initiation into the family, as it were."
Harry sighed, and massaged the bridge of his nose below his glasses. He understood now. It was their way of letting him know they considered him the same of everybody else, a plan Percy presumably accidentally put into motion. No special treatment for the Boy-Who-Lived from them. He wasn't sure to appreciate the gesture or try to curse them into next week. Still, he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of letting them know how much it had royally pissed him off.
"How…hospitable of you. I can already feel the warm glow of family surrounding me like a cloak." He said sarcastically, although with a smile to let them know he was (mostly) joking. "Truly, it's very kind, I'm looking forward to see what you come up with next, although, hopefully, in a less firsthand way."
The twins looked at each other for a moment, before cracking a synchronised smile.
"I told you he wouldn't mind, Gred, our ickle Harrykin's better than that."
"Right you are brother of mine, right you are! Well, we should let him get back to it, the quill should be working as intended, and we shouldn't take up too much of a celebrity's time. We'll be seeing you later Harry, and watch out for Snape!" With that, they turned around and walked out of the room, leaving a pouting Harry behind.