The Boat Ride
Ella twisted her head around, trying to see how the back of her robes looked. "These bed-sheets", she muttered irritably "have to be the most impractical, unattractive and uncomfortable clothes I have ever had the misfortune of wearing!" Keosha giggled. They were both clad in the Hogwarts uniform, complete with the set of school robes, and were looking very smart indeed - by wizarding standards, at least. Much as she loved skirts, Ella felt a wave of annoyance each time the hem of hers brushed her legs. The cloth was unbearably rough and felt like ants were crawling up her thighs. The blouse accompanying it was barely any more comfortable, its newly-starched, stiff collar rasping like fingernails on the sensitive skin of her throat.
"I shall very much miss wearing my own clothes." she sighed as she attempted to fold in mid-air the dress she had been wearing. Her companion scoffed "Tell me about it! I utterly loathe skirts and such." Ella, ever analytical, had guessed as much from Keosha's garb and demeanour, but let a mild expression of surprise shape her brows. She didn't want Keosha to misinterpret her detail-oriented observation as judgemental, as the other girl might feel affronted. "I have no problem whatsoever with the uniform itself or its design - apart from how awfully drab it is.", she replied in her usual, blunt manner. "The fabrics used, however, are abominable! Who in their right mind wears wool clothes in the summer months, anyway?" Giving up on her dress, she stuffed it into the satchel she had slung over a shoulder and made a mental note to fold it properly once they got to Hogwarts.
As they made their way back to their compartment, Ella remembered a question she had forgotten to ask Keosha earlier. "You and your friend, Spencer, do either of you have magic in your family? You seem to be very close." As the words tumbled out, Ella reflected that her question wasn't grammatically correct and that the statement following it had little relation to the matter, but decided not to dwell on the issue. Keosha, for her part, seemed rather surprised at the question. "Neither of us have magical parents if that's what you're asking." Rubbing her nose, she continued, "And as for being close, well, we've been neighbours and friends for years." Ella frowned, her eyebrows constricting in mild confusion. "How bizarre," she commented, pushing her glasses up her nose. "I've never heard of muggleborns living so close together. It seems quite odd. To the best of my knowledge - and I do know quite a lot, if I do say so myself - they're considered to be quite rare." Seeing Keosha's bemused expression, she decided to push it to the back of her mind and changed the subject.
"Sorry if I seem rather obnoxious at times," she said with one of her easy, charming smiles. "The Weasleys have done their best to domesticate me, but I'm afraid I have a tendency to bulldoze straight through other people at times." As poor a joke as that was, it got a laugh out of the doe-eyed girl. She asked Ella "How did you get to know them? The Weasleys, I mean." Ella smirked, this time abstaining from flashing her companion with her perfect denture. "We've been neighbours and friends for years," she replied, throwing Keosha's words back at her. As they both laughed, a little fizz of happiness buzzed in her fingertips - although why specifically fingertips, she couldn't tell, perhaps due to the abundance of nerve endings in them. Ella sincerely began to hope that Keosha would be in the same house as her, as she seemed quite nice and apparently appreciated Ella's rather dry humour.
They reached their compartment soon after and were greeted by the sight of a slightly disgruntled Spencer and twins, and a saintly-looking Percy, all of whom were dressed in the school uniform. Ella felt a rush affection for the eldest Weasley present. "He looks quite dapper in those robes…" she thought, and all of a sudden felt underdressed and exposed despite all of the layers she was wearing, like a chicken whose feathers had been plucked. Fortunately, Spencer provided a welcome distraction from her awkwardness, his face breaking into a crooked grin as his eyes fell on Keosha. "Koko! You look ridiculous!".
"Koko..." Keosha had a nickname too, then, it seemed. The person in question glared at her friend, and shot something back at him in rapid Korean, no doubt a retort along the lines of "So do you, so shut up!". What would have happened next, if the trolley witch hadn't arrived at that very moment, Ella couldn't guess. As it was, Keosha sat down smartly in Spencer's lap, much to the amusement of the twins, and bought herself and Spencer a Cauldron Cake each. The Weasleys purchased nothing, and neither did Ella - not because she couldn't afford to or didn't enjoy sweets, but because she always felt guilty about spending money around any of the Weasleys.
To distract herself, she took out her wand and turned it over in her slim fingers. It was not of British make, and as such looked very different from any she had seen before, other than her father's. She had gotten it in Birka, an island close to Stockholm that was teeming with ancient magic from the Viking era. Her Ollivander wand, ebony with a unicorn-hair core, 12 ¾" and with hard flexibility, lay unwrapped and unopened in her trunk. "The wand chooses its wielder," the wizened wandmaker had told her, in the dark, musty shop he called his own. Recalling his words now, Ella briefly wondered if her British wand felt offended at being second-best. "I know I would." she mused. But perhaps it understood that she somehow, in her heart, felt closer to her Swedish wand, with its pale wood inscribed with runes. At her father's request, the wand had been crafted with a unicorn hair core, as opposed to huldra* hair, which would make it somewhat more docile when casting "English" spells.
Breaking out of her reverie, she realized that she was the only person not involved in a conversation. Fred and George had apparently taken it upon themselves to either put Keosha at ease, or put her in extreme peril of choking with laughter - the latter being the less likely intention yet most probable outcome. Meanwhile, Percy and Spencer were talking animatedly about Hogwarts. Her interest piqued, Ella decided to join their conversation.
"Now, Slytherin has the worst reputation of all houses," Percy was saying, "but not all members of this house are bad. You see, students sorted into Slytherin are characterized by their ambition, unscrupulous manner and cunning. These are unfortunately useful qualities for wizards who devote themselves to the use of Dark Arts, hence the popular opinion that Slytherin is an "evil" house." Spencer nodded, eyes wide. Ella looked at him through lowered lashes, wondering which house he would be in, and which he wanted.
She opened her mouth to ask him, but at that moment, the train reached the station and screeched to a halt. They all jumped to their feet. "Right, now, you first-years stick together, do try not to get separated, you'll hear Hagrid calling for you all to line up the minute you disembark", Ella heard Percy say over a din of excited babbling. Grabbing her trunk, she followed the others out of the compartment and out on the platform. Outside, Ella found herself swept away in the mass of black cloaks and deafened by their happy chattering. She fought a wave of panic rising in her chest as she stood on tiptoe, trying in vain to spot the others. Relief swamped her as she heard a deep, gravelly voice calling out: "Firs' years! Line up over 'ere please! Firs' years!" and quickly located its source in a giant of a man holding a lantern. Ella instantly recognized him as Hagrid, thanks to the multiple descriptions she had received of him over the years.
A line of children had already begun forming, the twins, Keosha and Spencer among them. Ella wove through the crowd to join them, making judicious use of her elbows to clear herself a path. She managed to squeeze in behind Keosha and Spencer and ended up beside another girl, whom she threw a small smile at. "You don't mind if I squish in here beside you, do you?" asked Ella, her smile still on her lips. The other girl returned it. "No, it's alright." Ella blinked rapidly in astonishment. "Golly, you sound posh!" she exclaimed. The other girl laughed. "I'm The Honourable Amanda Connington-Doyle," she said, less as an introduction and more as a means by which to explain her refined speech. Ella would have gaped, but she had been brought up to consider it "unladylike". Instead, she gave a gasping sort of laugh. "I'm Marie-Gabrielle Asplund, so I suppose that makes two of us with pretentious names - even though only one is actually an aristocrat." Amanda giggled. "Are your parents wizards, though?" asked Ella curiously, recalling various press clippings about them; the rich society lady Eugénie Doyle and her husband, Lord Hamish Connington. The other girl shook her head. "No. It was quite a shock to them to discover that I was, actually. They were very hesitant to send me here at first." She was about to say something else, but Hagrid bellowed at all of them to follow him. And so they did.
The rest of the journey to Hogwarts passed in a blur of wind and whispers. At one point, Ella remembered getting into a boat together with Amanda. The little boats ferried the first-years over the lake and through a curtain of ivy, which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out. Ella's feet slipped out from underneath her as she struggled to find a foothold on the wet rocks, and she clutched Amanda's arm to steady herself. The first-years were then shepherded up a flight of steps and - at last! - into the castle itself.
Hogwarts was every bit as impressive as it had been described, and Ella felt a rush of awe, excitement and anticipation that left her quite giddy. "I can't believe we're going to live here!" she whispered out loud, her voice a little unsteady. Amanda nodded. In the well-lit hall, Ella could finally see her clearly: a distinguished-looking girl, fair-skinned with a smattering of freckles across her long, thin nose, which was rounded at the end. She had almond-shaped brown eyes, framed with long, thick, dark lashes, and straight hair just a shade darker than her irises. Her least attractive feature was her thin, chapped lips.
At that moment, the twins materialized from the crowd, along with Spencer and Keosha. "Where have you been?" asked Fred, looking a little cross. "You know Percy will chew our ears off if he finds out that we didn't keep an eye on you every single minute of the journey!" his twin added. "Well, then you'd better hope he doesn't." retorted Ella, slightly nettled. "Anyways," she said, changing the subject, "I'd like you to meet Amanda." Introductions were rapidly made, Keosha and Spencer sizing up this other muggle-born, so different from them, with a reserved sort of manner. Ella had the strangest feeling that they disliked her.
END OF CHAP 5
This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience, the ebony wand's perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose. Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard. Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may 'die' and need replacing
My wand: A wand for good times and bad, this is a friend as loyal as the wizard who deserves it. Wands of English oak demand partners of strength, courage and fidelity. Less well-known is the propensity for owners of English oak wands to have powerful intuition, and, often, an affinity with the magic of the natural world, with the creatures and plants that are necessary to wizardkind for both magic and pleasure. The oak tree is called King of the Forest from the winter solstice up until the summer solstice, and its wood should only be collected during that time
This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike. Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won.
Ella felt a small stab of confusion. Stab was mayhaps the incorrect word, she thought, correcting herself, as it felt more like a thick, woolly mist seeping into her brain and impeding her from thinking.FOR LATER
/a-nordic-version-of-harry-potter-1756516804
r/harrypotter/comments/43gaiw/scandinavian_school_of_magic/
"As a Scandinavian, this has always irked me. You're absolutely right. J-Ro describes it as being in northern Norway or Sweden, obviously thinking the mountainous landscapes can hide a castle (like Scotland). The thing is, Scandinavia is larger than Britain, and putting a school up there is not equivalent to putting it in Scotland.
First off, the language barriers. We don't speak the same language all over Scandinavia. Norwegians and Swedes understand each other quite well (not taking all regional accents into account), but some have a harder time understanding Danish, and Finnish is as close to the others as is Turkish. Now add Bulgarian and Russian to the mix, and it just won't work at all.
Secondly, the distance. I live in Sweden, but putting Durmstrang in the far north of Scandinavia would mean it's as far away from me as southern France or Spain. And from Bulgaria, it's the same distance as Egypt. Hell, we'd probably do better in Beauxbatons, because either French, German or Spanish are compulsory classes in middle school around here.
Durmstrang is brilliant as a sort of Dark Arts school, but it makes no sense at all as being a Scandinavian school - let alone the Scandinavian equivalent to Hogwarts.
I think there should be a southern Scandinavian school on an island, like Gotland in Sweden, which is a likely origin of the Goths, or The Blue Maiden, which is a meeting place for witches in traditional Swedish folklore."
I think there should be a school either in Gotland or somewhere up north in Sweden or Norway, and there would be no houses and it wouldn't be very big either (considering the size of the population). Also less racially diverse but muggle studies would be mandatory (but doesn't mean that some people actually listen). Should we bring up Hitler? It's isn't very long after WW2 that HP takes place. And WW2 affected a lot of people. Probably wizarding folk too even though ppl didn't know that. Grading system would be similar to muggles I think….