o0o0o0o
A Grand Welcome
'WHAT?' thought Ron, but the hat had already been taken from his head.
The crowds were applauding him the same as they had with everyone else, nobody seemed to notice the wrongness that had just occurred. Ron looked down and watched his robes shimmer and turn black and yellow, a black badger on a yellow shield appearing on his chest. He got up shakily and made his way towards the yellow table.
'This isn't right,' thought Ron, still in shock, 'Weasleys are Gryffindors. I don't care what that hat says, we've always been in Gryffindor. That isn't supposed to change, it's just how things are.'
Ron noticed that an older Hufflepuff had just budged up to give him room on the bench nearby. He squeezed into the seat silently and stared at the black plate and cutlery in front of him, perfectly placed on the canary yellow tablecloth that covered surface of his house table. He looked upwards, away from the colours and found himself faced with a giant black badger on a yellow banner, staring down at him from above.
'I'm a Hufflepuff,' realised Ron. He still wasn't sure how he was supposed to react, but he felt very uncomfortable in his red t-shirt all of a sudden, even if it was hidden by his robes. He had never even considered that he might end up in a different house.
"You all right, Weasley?" said the boy who'd moved to let him sit down. Ron turned to him. He was tall and broad, with short brown hair and grey eyes.
"I don't- hold on," said Ron, momentarily distracted from the yellow around him, "I know you, don't I?"
"My name's Cedric," said the boy, holding out a hand, "Cedric-"
"Diggory," said Ron, shaking Cedric's hand, "Your dad's Amos Diggory, right? I met you when he came over last summer."
Amos Diggory worked at the Ministry of Magic and had recently been doing a lot of work with Ron's dad. He also happened to live in Ottery St Catchpole, a small town not far from Ron's house.
"Yeah, that was me," said Cedric, "You're Ron, aren't you? The youngest."
"Not quite. Ginny's the youngest, she's starting here next year," said Ron.
"Oh yeah, I remember her," said Diggory, "Tiny little thing, curled up on her chair like a cat. Really, she's ten already? She looked like she was seven."
"Yeah that's her," agreed Ron with a laugh, "Mum keeps going on about how she's far too small to be leaving already, it gets-" But Ron didn't get to finish. The last of the First Years had just been sorted and the hall was cheering louder than ever. Ron and Cedric turned back to the front and clapped along with everyone else as the hat was carried away by McGonagall.
The applause continued while Professor McGonagall took her seat at the High Table and only ended when Professor Dumbledore stood. He didn't even have to say anything. His mere presence in the room commanded enough respect to create a perfect silence throughout the entire hall. He beamed down at them all with twinkling eyes.
"Welcome!" he said, his voice carrying through the length of the hall, "Welcome all! To those of you returning to us for another year, welcome back! Now, I'm sure you're all quite ready to get stuck in with our wonderful feast, but before you do, I have a few important things I must say: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" And with that, Dumbledore sat himself down again and clapped his hands once, signalling the start of the feast.
Ron laughed and applauded along with everyone else. Leaning over to Cedric to be heard, he said, "Everyone always said he was a bit barmy."
"That's a word for it," agreed the older boy, "Doesn't stop him being brilliant."
However, Ron had just lost interest in conversation. The once empty plates before them were now piled high with every food Ron could imagine and a few he couldn't. He had heard tales of the Hogwarts feasts from his brothers, but no words could accurately describe the sight before him. At that point, he really didn't care what table it was served on. He quickly filled his plate with everything he could reach, almost regretting how many sweets he'd eaten on the train.
The food tasted just as good as it looked and Ron didn't look up again for some time. As he chewed on a piece of steak, he finally decided to look around the room. He was sat on the inner side of the table, which meant he was facing towards the Gryffindors. He felt a pang of guilt as he caught sight of the golden lion above them, and his eyes quickly found Fred and George, who were laughing at something their friend with the dreadlocks had said. Neither of them were looking towards the Hufflepuff Table and Ron suddenly didn't feel quite as hungry as he had before.
'I should be there,' he remembered, 'They're supposed to make fun of me and then I get angry at them and Percy shouts at them to stop being mean to me. That's how its supposed to be.'
He scanned the rest of the table and located his other brother. He was talking to a boy Ron didn't know and he also didn't seem to notice where his brother had ended up.
'This isn't right,' thought Ron, his food forgotten, 'Why is nobody making a bigger deal out of this.'
His eyes slid from his brother to the tiny boy sat next to him, but even Harry didn't seem to notice him. Actually, Harry was looking very distracted by something at the High Table.
o0o0o0o
Harry had never seen so much food in one place before. It was like whoever had cooked it had been given explicit orders to prepare all of Harry's favourite things in vast quantities. There were long racks of ribs, heaping piles of Yorkshire puddings, mountains of mashed potato and tall jugs of steaming hot gravy. Harry could only imagine the look on Dudley's face if he could see him now, just the thought of it made him laugh out loud.
It was enough to make him forget that he had just been separated from the only three friends he'd ever managed to make.
As he ate, he turned his attention to the High Table. Directly opposite the foot of the Gryffindor Table sat Professor McGonagall. To her left was Hagrid, who waved down at Harry and gave him a thumbs up. Harry smiled at him through a mouthful of potato and returned the gesture. To the right of his new head of house was a younger witch with dark skin and even darker hair, dressed in golden robes and a wide-brimmed hat.
Next to her was a blonde witch, who was chatting with a tall woman in crimson robes. Next along was a plump woman with grey hair, who seemed to be particularly enjoying a roast duck. Professor Dumbledore of course sat in the centre, while on his left was a gaunt wizard wearing a high-collared robe, and to his right was a balding man with a eye-patch, who's right arm ended in a stump just above his elbow. Next to the one-armed man, a tiny wizard with a shock of white hair was sat in a long-legged chair.
The short man was giggling at something the tall witch next to him had said, and next to her was a man in finely cut robes that looked almost like a suit. To this man's right was a witch with heavy, silver earrings and a tall, pointed hat. Next to her sat Professor Quirrell in his distinctive purple turban and robes. He looked as nervous as ever and was talking to a hook-nosed wizard with greasy black hair and pale skin.
The pale man's eyes locked with Harry's from across the room, just as a burst of pain shot through the boy's forehead.
"Ow," he gasped, rubbing his scar.
He looked back at the man, but he had already returned to speaking with Quirrell. The whole thing had happened so fast that Harry wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the lingering pain in his scar.
"Hey, Percy," he said, tapping the Prefect on the shoulder, "Who's that man over there?"
"Hmm, sorry?" said Percy, turning to where Harry was pointing, "The one in the turban?"
"No, the man next to him, the one in black," said Harry.
"Oh, that's Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin. He'll be your Potions teacher. It's no wonder that other fellow looks so nervous, though. He's probably our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"He is," confirmed Harry, enjoying the fact that he knew something for once, "His name's Professor Quirrell, I met him in Diagon Alley. He looked just as jumpy then, as well."
"Yes, well he has good reason to be," said Percy, "Nobody's kept the Dark Arts job for longer than a year in- ooh, thirty years, I think. Snape's been after the job ever since he arrived, but Dumbledore keeps refusing him. I don't think we've ever had a Dark Arts teacher who he hasn't given the evil eye."
Harry looked back at Professor Snape, who was now talking to an old wizard in dusty robes to his right. There had been something dark in the pale man's look, brief as it had been. Harry couldn't put his finger on what it was, but it gave him a very bad feeling.
Trying to put it out of his mind, he took another bite of chicken and turned to Sir Nicholas, who was still floating nearby.
"I meant to ask," he said to the pearly white man, "Why does everyone call you Nearly-Headless Nick?"
"Why, because my headsman was an incompetent buffoon who didn't know the handle of his axe from the bladed end," said Sir Nicholas acidly.
Harry blinked in surprise at the anger in the dead man's voice. Clearly this was something he took personally. Apparently, this statement had attracted attention from other nearby First Years.
"Nearly headless?" said a boy with sandy hair, "How are you nearly headless? What does that even mean?"
"It means I can do this," said the ghost calmly. He grabbed a fistful of translucent hair and yanked hard on his head. The whole thing flopped to the side and onto his shoulder, only attached to his neck by a thin bit of silvery flesh.
One of the girls screamed at the sight and several older boys laughed. The sandy-haired boy's eyes went wide. "Cool!" he said ecstatically. A darker-skinned boy nearby nodded in agreement.
"I'm glad you think so," said Nearly-Headless Nick proudly, "Goodness knows it was embarrassing for the both of us. Forty-five swings it took him. Forty-five! The blasted thing still didn't come off. Oh look, I think the Bloody Baron wants me for something. I'm sure I'll see you all again soon. Welcome to Gryffindor!"
He proceeded to glide across the width of the hall, his head still detached. Harry laughed as people from the other tables turned to stare at him. One of the Hufflepuffs did such an over-dramatic double take, that they knocked over a whole plate of sausages with their elbow. Nick continued, as if unaware of the attention he was attracting, and approached another ghost who was covered in silver blood.
Not far away from the two spirits, Harry saw Daphne Greengrass gawking at them. He smiled as he remembered her enthusiasm when they'd seen Nick outside, but the grin slid from his face when the image of her pleading with him reappeared in his mind. The hat had seemed very certain about its choice, but Harry could have at least argued.
'Why didn't I?' wondered Harry.
When the hat had told him there was only one place he could go, he had immediately thought of Gryffindor, but he had no idea why. The hat had even said that his conflict wasn't resolved, so he could just as easily have picked Slytherin instead, right? As much as he told himself that, he knew he never would have picked anywhere but Gryffindor. This was where he belonged, he knew that for certain, but the reasons why still eluded him.
It was bad enough that he hadn't chosen the house Daphne had asked him to, but what made it worse was that he hadn't ended up sharing a house with Ron or Hermione either. In fact, none of them had ended up in houses with each other.
'Why does it matter anyway?' thought Harry, 'It's like I said before, we still go to the same school. It's not like I'll never see them again.'
Yet for some reason, everyone kept acting like that was exactly what it meant.
o0o0o0o
Not that she would ever admit it to anyone, but if there was one thing in the world which Daphne Greengrass enjoyed above all else, it was the taste of fresh pumpkin.
When the remains of the feast finally disappeared and were replaced with dessert, she told herself that she'd already eaten far too much and any more might make her ill. That sentiment had lasted until she spotted the platter of pumpkin pie nearby, so she had amended it, saying that she would only have one slice. One slice to celebrate successfully reaching Slytherin.
Three slices of pumpkin pie later, she watched as the last remnants of the puddings and sweets vanished like the mains before them. At the High Table, Professor Dumbledore stood again and silence swept across the tables once more.
"Well, that was scrumptious as usual," he said warmly, "I'm sure you'd all rather run along to bed, now that you're properly fed and watered. However, if you can bear this old man's ramblings just a little longer, I have a few start-of-term notices I need to give. Firstly, I would like you all to welcome our new member of staff, Professor Quirrell."
He gestured to a man wearing a turban, who stood and nodded shakily at the room. The hall briefly rang with polite applause.
"Professor Quirrell will be taking up the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. For those of you who I know are interested, he is the thirty-first teacher of that topic in as many years. Secondly, First Years should note that no magic is to be used in the corridors between your classes. I would also like to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest in the grounds earned its name for a reason. No students are permitted to enter it without supervision, a fact that certain individuals seem to conveniently forget on occasion."
He seemed to be looking pointedly at the Gryffindor Table when he said this. Daphne noticed that many Slytherins were yawning silently and one or two had lost interest in the speech completely. However, a stocky Third Year nearby still looked like he was hanging on Dumbledore's every word.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Those wishing to join their house teams should speak with their team captains about an exact date. Finally, I fear that this year the third-floor corridor, on the right hand side of the statute of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, will be out-of-bounds to anyone who does not wish to suffer a most painful death."
Several of her housemates who had been losing interest snapped back to attention at that. A couple of them laughed, but most seemed to be taking the warning very seriously. Scattered whispering had broken out along the length of the table.
"Why doesn't he tell us what's in there?" hissed a girl.
"Does it matter? I doubt he'd keep it from us without good reason," the one speaking was the same Third Year who had been watching Dumbledore so intently during his speech.
"Silence," said Dumbledore. He didn't appear to raise his voice any more than he had before, but all whispers ceased immediately, the word echoing through the silence it had created, "I expect you all to take this warning very seriously, for I do not give it lightly."
"Now then," he continued, far too cheerily, "On that note, I believe it is time for bed. Chop chop."
He sat down again and everyone around Daphne began moving at once. They all stood up and began to move along the table towards the doors. Across the room, people at other tables were doing the same. Daphne joined the crowd and followed along silently, hoping that everyone was going back to the Common Room.
As she approached the double doors, a voice cut through the murmurings of her housemates, "First Years! First Year Slytherins over here! Come on, come on we haven't got all night! First Year Slytherins!"
Daphne weaved her way through the older students and found a tall girl with shoulder-length auburn hair, who looked like she would rather be doing anything but leading around First Years. The boy next to her looked much happier, but Daphne took one look at his bright eyes and twisted smirk, and lost any trust she might have had for him. Both of them wore glittering silver badges with the letter P on them. Daphne was joined by seven other new Slytherins and the male Prefect did a quick headcount.
"All right then," he said, "Let's get moving. Sooner we get back, the sooner we can all get some sleep."
The Slytherins followed their two Prefects out of the great doors and back into the Entrance Hall. To their right, they saw half of the school climbing up the marble staircase, while to their left, the other half were making for the doors between the hourglasses.
"This is the Entrance Hall," said the female Prefect in a bored voice, "To our right is the Grand Staircase, that leads to where most of your classes will be. Those two doors either side of it lead to a part of the castle we never use, just spare classrooms mainly. Left is the hourglasses, I'm sure you know what they're for. Now we'll show you how to get to the Common Room. Try and keep up."
"Excuse me Farley," came a voice from behind them, "But you're blocking the door. Do you mind getting a move on?"
They all turned, to find the Gryffindor First Years, being led by a prefect with red hair.
"Weasley," said the girl he'd called Farley, "Of course. It's a lot of stairs to the Seventh Floor."
The Slytherins moved to the side and watched the Gryffindors pass them. As they did, Daphne noticed Potter trying to catch her eye and looked away quickly. The Gryffindors turned right and climbed the stairs, making their way to the upper floors.
"Pompous arse," spat Farley, once they were out of earshot, "Hope he trips on a fake step and breaks his leg, that'll knock him off his pedestal."
"He's going to be even more insufferable now that he has that badge," said the other prefect glumly, "Still, let's not waste any more time. It's this way."
He led them to a door between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin hourglasses and went through it, into a stone corridor lit by bright torches. They continued down this passage until they reached a wide spiral staircase, which sloped steeply downwards for a long way. At the bottom of the stairs, they entered a large room. It was built from dark stone, with a high ceiling that was held up by four tall, mossy pillars carved with serpents. To their left and right, two wide staircases led up to wide open archways, which served as entrances to a pair of cavernous corridors. The room was lit by large iron braziers filled with green flames, which cast eerie shadows across the floor.
"This is the main entrance to the Dungeons," explained Farley, "The left staircase leads to the Potions labs, as well as Professor Snape's office. You'll be spending a lot of time in the former and you'd better pray that you never get to see the latter at all."
The Prefects took them to a stretch of bare stone wall opposite the stairs they had just descended. It looked no different from any other section of wall.
"This is the entrance to the Common Room," said the male Prefect, "The password changes every month, but it's always the name of a famous Slytherin. For example, Phineas Nigellus Black."
There was a loud hiss and a vertical crack appeared down the centre of the wall. The two halves of the newly formed door swung open on invisible hinges, revealing a spacious room with a dark, wooden floor. The room was made up of three levels. The highest was first, a long, open area just beyond the entrance, which reached from the left wall to the right. The second level down was U-shaped and had several desks with straight-backed chairs and green-shaded lamps, presumably for people to study on. The lowest level was a large square, which was home to several comfy-looking green sofas and armchairs.
The ceiling was quite low and arched over their heads, and the left and right walls were both lined with sleeping portraits, which probably depicted famous Slytherins. On the far wall was a gigantic floor-to-ceiling window, made of glass so clear that it was almost like there was nothing there at all. Beyond this window was a dark abyss of nothingness, which it took Daphne a few seconds to realise was actually the waters of the lake. The Common Room must have been built into the side of the cliff which Hogwarts sat upon.
The Prefects led them down to just in front of the window, where a large boy in very well-made robes was stood waiting for them. Daphne noted that he too wore a Prefect's badge, but also another badge which read Head Boy. The two Prefects that had escorted them went to stand behind him and he smiled down at the First-Years. He looked like he was trying to be friendly, but that was a very difficult feat when you were six-foot tall and had a severe, almost military style haircut.
"Welcome to Slytherin," he greeted them, placing a hand on his chest he said, "Ivan Renshaw, Head Boy. These two are Gemma Farley and Jake Flinton, our newest Prefects."
He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace, which did nothing to lessen his imposing presence.
"First thing you need to know about Slytherin," he continued, "That old hat might say we're cunning or ambitious, the Gryffindors might say that we're cheaters and the Malfoys would probably say we're the only house worth squat. They're all wrong."
Out of the corner of her eye, Daphne noticed Malfoy bristle at that comment. He looked like he wanted to say something, but stayed silent, probably aware that this Head Boy was even bigger than both his bodyguards.
"What we are is a house of winners," said Renshaw, making the statement very clear. "The Quidditch Cup," he said, pointing at a glass case to his right, which held a winged silver trophy.
"We've won that cup five years in row," he explained, "This year we're going to make it six. This doesn't concern you that much, since none of you will be on the team, but we still expect you to show up to our matches."
He pointed left to another case, this time holding a gleaming, golden trophy that was much larger.
"The House Cup," he said, "This one we've won six years in a row. By the end of this year, we'll have won it seven times in seven years. That's never been done before, by any of the houses."
His dark eyes turned hard and the First Years shivered under his stare
"Older students are expected to do whatever they can to help us win this cup and, in Slytherin, that means a lot," he said in a serious tone, "We don't much care what rules you break, so long as it doesn't lose us points, but you're all new here. You'll keep your heads down and stay well within the school rules. Win us points where you can, but leave the foul play to the professionals. Stick to these rules and we'll have no trouble keeping ahead of the other houses."
He smiled at them, shifting gears again in a flash. "That said," he continued happily, "If you're having any trouble with the other houses, feel free to bring it to any of us Prefects. This house has a lot of bad reputation, some of it unfounded and some that's perfectly true. You might have problems with the rest of the school because of this. Lastly, do not bother Professor Snape under any circumstances. If he wants to see you, then you'll know about it. In fact, you should hope that you never have to see him out of lesson at all."
"Anyway, if there are no questions, then I'll let you get off to bed. Boys, come with me and Flinton. Girls, you follow Farley."
Daphne followed the auburn-haired Prefect through a tall, wooden door to her left. She wasn't surprised by the speech she'd just received, but it had been a bit different to what she'd expected.
'I knew Slytherin was infamous for their outlook on rules,' she thought, 'But they really aren't trying to hide it at all, are they.'
The door led to a short flight of stairs, which ended at a small landing. On this landing was another door, and an intricate picture of a unicorn was displayed on its surface.
"A unicorn?" asked a large girl, who Daphne recognised as Millicent Bulstrode.
"The Runic Numeral for One," explained Farley, "Now get off to bed, all of you. You've kept me up long enough." With that, she disappeared up another set of stairs, which most likely led to the other dormitories.
Daphne pushed open the door and entered her new chambers. The dormitory was a long room and the floor was carpeted in green. The ceiling was low and curved, like in the common room. To the left were four large beds with green covers, each with its own bedside cabinets. The girls' trunks were each at the foot of one of the beds. The side of the room opposite the beds was dominated by a pair of massive windows with heavy green curtains.
"Oh," exclaimed Pansy Parkinson, running up to the window, "Look at that."
The other three followed her and let out similar sounds of awe. Their room must have been no more than ten feet higher than the surface of the lake. Outside, they could see all the way across the glassy surface of water, to the dark patch on the horizon that was the Forbidden Forest. Daphne opened one of the windows wide and stuck her head out, looking upwards. The castle loomed over her, reminding her just how far beneath the ground she was.
They could only admire the view for so long, before they pulled on their night clothes and climbed into their respective beds. Daphne lay awake for some time, thinking about what the hat had told her and what had happened on the journey there. Above all else though, she thought about how much she had enjoyed the company of a mudblood, a Weasley and a Gryffindor.
'Some Slytherin I am.'
o0o0o0o
After the Welcome Feast was over, Ron and the other Hufflepuffs had been gathered together by one of the Prefects, who introduced himself as Gabriel Truman. It had taken a bit longer than with the other houses, since they had twice as many students, so the Entrance Hall was already empty when they left.
Truman had led them through a door to their right and into a corridor. Before taking even five steps forward, he had grabbed a nearby lever disguised as a torch and opened a passage in the wall. The passageway was cramped and twisting and it seemed to slant downwards gradually, eventually opening out at into another corridor. When Ron glanced back, he saw nothing but bare stone where they had exited the passage. From there it was only a brief walk until they reached what looked like a large storeroom. Truman had gone straight to a line of twelve big wooden barrels, which sat on their sides against the far wall.
"The entrance is hidden in the third barrel along," he explained, raising his hand, "And it's opened by a special knock, which we change each year."
He knocked five times on the barrel in a distinct pattern and the front of it swung open with a creak, revealing a large circular crawl-space.
"Make sure you don't get it wrong or knock on the wrong barrel," he warned, "It can get messy."
Ron was sure that he didn't want to know what would happen if he got it wrong, so he just followed his housemates through the short tunnel silently. When he clambered out the other side, he got his first look at the Hufflepuff Basement.
The room looked like the inside of a saucepan. It was circular, with curving walls, but a domed roof and a tiny domed alcove in the centre of the ceiling, from which grew some odd kind of plant. The floor was wooden planks, but yellow rugs were dotted around here and there, usually with small, round tables atop them, which were surrounded by overstuffed armchairs. Little alcoves were built into the walls, filled with strange and colourful plants, some of which had grown beyond their allotted spaces and begun to creep up the sides of the walls, giving the room a very earthy, overgrown feel. There were two doors leading off on the left and right walls.
In the middle of the room, the centrepiece of the image, was a great fire pit which crackled and spat sparks around, all of which vanished before they could reach the wooden floor. The smoke which rose from this fire also seemed to vanish magically, although occasionally it appeared to form strange shapes or patterns, but never for more than a second or two.
Lounging in the chairs around the room, were several older Hufflepuffs, who turned to watch the new First Years enter. Among those gathered was Cedric Diggory, who was with a few others, playing a game of Gobstones that nobody was paying much attention to.
"Welcome to Hufflepuff!" said Truman warmly, turning to the First Years.
"The house that outnumbers everyone, but never wins a thing!" added a Third Year boy who was sat near the fire.
"Thank you, Cyril," said Truman testily, "Sadly it's true, but this year we have a shot at winning something."
"Says who?" scoffed a girl from a nearby armchair.
"Says me," replied Cedric, "Now that I have a decent broom, maybe I'll actually make the team this year."
There were murmurs of agreement throughout the room.
"Plus, nobody wants to see Slytherin get their hands on either of those cups again," continued a beefy looking boy who had been playing Gobstones, "I bet Wood will be running those Gryffindors into the ground to try and get their name on those wings."
"Getting back on point," said Truman, "Here in Hufflepuff, we look out for each other. If you need anything, come see me or one of the other Prefects, or you can pay a visit to Professor Sprout, our Head of House. Her office is next to Professor Flitwick's on the Charms Corridor, Second Floor. Actually, that reminds me-"
He moved over to a set of drawers nearby, but stopped when one of the other students tapped him on the shoulder and passed him a stack of parchment. He nodded his thanks and returned to Ron and the First Years.
"These," said Truman, handing them out, "Are your maps of the castle. Now, I'm going to say straight away, don't rely on these too much. Hogwarts is practically impossible to map effectively, these are just a guideline, but they should help you find certain landmarks, so you can figure out where you are if you get lost."
"Like that's ever worked," laughed Cedric.
"I don't think I've ever met anyone who didn't get lost at least once every term," said Cyril.
"What about the Weasley twins?" argued another girl.
"Yeah, but they don't count," said the girl in the armchair, "Everyone knows that they must be cheating."
"Anyway," interrupted Truman, looking annoyed, "You should all get to bed. Boys head up the left stairs, girls the right. Remember, breakfast is at eight o'clock tomorrow. You'll get your timetables then."
"Just pray that you don't have Astronomy tomorrow," said Cedric, packing up the Gobstones.
"Or Potions," added someone else, receiving several nods of agreement.
Ron made his way up to his new dormitory with the other First Year boys. The older boys followed them up, but continued upwards after the first door. A few of them gave a quick "Welcome" or "Nice to have you here" as they passed. Cedric gave Ron a quick pat on the shoulder.
The dormitory itself was long and low, and looked almost like a cellar. The walls and ceiling were made of stone and the floor was the same wood as in the common room. The best way Ron could describe it was simple and cozy.
The boys found their belongings piled in a corner near the door, but then they all milled about for a bit, unsure which bed to take.
"Er- does anyone have a preference?" asked a boy with curly blond hair.
"Somewhere with a higher ceiling maybe," suggested another boy, distaste clear in his voice.
"Just grab a bed," said one who looked particularly tired, sitting down on the closest mattress and pulling off his shoes.
The rest of them shrugged and started picking out beds. Ron ended up in between the tired boy and the one who had complained about the ceiling. The latter boy was currently looking at Ron like he'd only just noticed him.
"Well, look at you," he said, "A Weasley, are you? Shouldn't you be up in the tower?"
"Leave it alone Zach," said a boy who sported a rather large and pointy nose, "We should get some sleep."
"Don't you understand, Hopkins?" said Zach, "I think we might be the first house other than Gryffindor to get a Weasley in a hundred years."
"Longer," corrected Ron, glad that at least someone understood the strangeness of it all, "I'm Ron, by the way."
"Zacharias Smith," said the other boy, "That's Wayne Hopkins," he pointed to the boy with the nose, "The other redhead over there is Roger Malone."
"Nice to meet you," said Roger.
"I'm Justin," said the curly-haired boy, "Justin Finch-Fletchly, pleasure to meet you all." He went around and shook Ron, Zach, Wayne and Roger's hands one-by-one.
The other three boys introduced themselves as Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwhistle and Oliver Rivers.
"If you're all quite done with the meet-and-greet," said the tired boy, who was glaring at them all, "Then maybe we could get some sleep."
"You can't miss a minute of your beauty sleep, can you Ernie?" said Zach mockingly.
Ernie shot him a particularly dark look and rolled onto his side, facing away from them.
"That sourpuss is Ernest Macmillan," said Zach, "Since he's clearly too rude to give his name on his own."
"I'll give you more than that if you carry on Smith," shot back Ernie.
Kevin, Justin and Oliver all laughed at the two and Ron fell back against his covers, smiling up at the ceiling.
'Maybe Hufflepuff won't be so bad after all.'
o0o0o0o
The Ravenclaw Tower had not been nearly as easy to find as the Slytherin Dungeon or the Hufflepuff Basement.
After the feast, Hermione and the other First Years had been escorted swiftly out by a pair of Prefects, one a girl with long blonde hair, the other a rather rotund boy with a double chin. They had taken them on what Hermione was sure must have been the scenic route. Either that, or the castle had been designed by someone who hadn't the tiniest smidgen of logic in them. They went up steep stairs and down spiral stairs, through hidden doors and corridors behind tapestries. At one point, their two guides stopped, looked around for a moment, then told everyone that they needed to backtrack to a door that they'd missed.
However, Hermione was far too wrapped up in what was happening around her to really complain. To start with, all of the paintings in the corridors were moving, though most were asleep. She also swore that one of the suits of armour bowed to them as they passed it, but they moved on too quickly for her to check.
Eventually, they arrived at a tightly spiralling staircase, at the top of which was a plain wooden door. The door had no handle, lock or anything that looked like it could be used to open it, except for an ornate bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.
"The eagle provides a riddle," said the fat Prefect, "You need to provide an answer."
"What happens if we can't?" asked the long-haired boy next to Hermione.
"Then you have to wait for someone who can," he said simply, "Or until you figure it out yourself. How else will you learn?"
The blonde Prefect knocked three times on the door and waited. Thankfully, Hermione had seen enough magic at this point that she didn't jump when the knocker came to life and spoke to them.
"I have seas with no water," said the eagle in a calm voice, "Coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?"
"Anyone have any ideas?" asked the blonde one.
Hermione thought she had the answer, but she wasn't sure if they were meant to shout out or put their hand up like they were in class. It seemed like those around her were having similar doubts.
"No one?" asked the blonde, looking disappointed.
"Um- is it a map?" asked a girl with dark skin.
"It is indeed," replied the knocker, and the door swung open.
They filed inside, a few of them looking disgruntled that they hadn't answered the riddle first. The room they entered was tall and airy, its floor covered by a blue and bronze carpet. It was octagonal in shape and the walls spiralled near the top to form a conical ceiling. Many desks were scattered around the room, all with identical wooden chairs with blue cushioning and ornate carvings.
All eight walls, except for the one which housed the door, had a bookcase built into them that had been spilt into several sections. Four of the walls had tall, teardrop-shaped windows above their bookcases, while another two had large braziers filled with crackling fire, hanging from the beaks of two great stone eagles, that protruded from the walls like gargoyles. Above the bookcase in the far wall, was a raised platform, which had a set of stairs leading up to it. Atop this platform was a statue of a beautiful woman, who could only be Rowena Ravenclaw herself.
"This is Ravenclaw Tower," said the blonde Prefect, sweeping her arm in a wide arc, "Welcome to the House of Learning."
"I'm Robert Hilliard," said the fat one, "This is Penelope Clearwater. We're the Fifth Year Prefects, which means we're the newest. Which is why we have to stay up showing you around."
"Not that we mind," said Penelope quickly, "I'm sure we'd all like to get to bed though, so I'll get through this quickly."
She opened a drawer in one of the desks and picked up a few slips of parchment.
"Each Ravenclaw is given a personal bookshelf here within the tower," she explained, "If you leave any books from the School Library on your shelf, then they will be collected and returned automatically when they are due back there. If you would all care to write your names on one of these labels, your shelves are the first wall on the left."
Hermione and the other First Years quickly scrawled their names onto the little parchment labels, using a quill and ink provided by Prefect Hilliard. Hermione couldn't see or feel anything resembling glue on the back of her label, but nobody else was asking for any, so she followed their lead and attempted to stick it on a section of shelves anyway. To her surprise, the label stuck like super-glue with very little effort on her part. She would definitely need to learn how to do that at some point.
"Now then," said Penelope, "Breakfast is a eight tomorrow, but first lessons won't start until nine. Our Head of House, Professor Flitwick, will hand out timetables during that time. You'll find that all of your belongings have been moved upstairs and all of your robes should now be the correct colour. Any questions?"
"Yes," said a long-faced boy, "Do we have a copy of the school rules at all? I'd like to know what they are."
A few people looked at him strangely, but others nodded in agreement. Hermione was definitely with the boy. It would be useful to actually know what the rules she was supposed to be following were.
The two Prefects looked taken aback by the question. "Uh- I don't think there are any written copies actually," admitted Robert, "I mean, there's the list of banned items in Filch's Office, but other than that-"
"I'll speak to Professor McGonagall for you tomorrow," promised Penelope, "If anyone knows where to find a list of rules, she will. What was your name again, sorry?"
"Nott. Theodore Nott," said the boy.
"Right, Theodore. I'll have them sent to your bookshelf as soon as I can. Is that all?"
Hermione raised her hand out of instinct, momentarily forgetting that she wasn't in class.
"Uh- go ahead," Robert prompted her.
Hermione turned pink and put her hand down quickly. "I- um- I was wondering if we were going to get a map of the school. It seems awfully too complex for us not to need one."
A few people snorted at this, but once again, a couple seemed to agree with her.
"There is no map of Hogwarts," explained Penelope, "People say that Rowena Ravenclaw had one, back in the days of the founders, but nobody's ever managed to recreate it."
"Doesn't stop the Hufflepuffs trying though," said Robert, "Trust me, you're better off without a map."
'Well that doesn't make any sense,' thought Hermione, 'What kind of place is easier to navigate without a map?'
"Anyone else?" asked Robert, "No? Good. You should all get to bed. Best for us all to get an early start tomorrow. Follow me."
He led the up the steps and past the statue of Ravenclaw, to a pair of wooden doors which led to the left and right.
"Boys, with me. Girls, follow Penelope."
He led the boys through the left door, while Penelope took the girls through the right. Inside was another spiral staircase, which they climbed up to the first landing. Penelope bade them goodnight there and continued up the stairs to her own room. The girls quickly entered their new quarters.
Unlike the Common Room, the dormitory was perfectly circular, although it had the same spiral-style ceiling and teardrop windows. The wooden floor also had a spiral design, which was centred around a spindly pedestal in the middle of the room. Atop this pedestal was what looked like a large glass ball filled with milky-white fog.
"Ooh, a crystal ball," said the girl who'd answered the riddle, "Come on, let's try and read it."
"Or, we could actually get some sleep like everyone suggests," said another girl, who had her black hair pulled back into a long ponytail.
Hermione was inclined to agree with the second girl. She found her luggage at the foot of one of the four blue beds in the room and began to change into her pyjamas. As she did, she glanced out of the window to her left and was immediately distracted by the view outside. They must have been well above the top floor of the castle, because this tower was definitely higher than seven stories, however that may have been because her window faced towards the lake, which was also at the bottom of a cliff.
"Oh wow," breathed the ponytail girl, who had moved to look at what had caught Hermione's eye, "I hope none of you are afraid of heights at all."
Hermione, who actually was a bit afraid of heights, continued staring at the surface of the lake far below. She was at the top of the world, looking down on a fall that would most certainly kill her if it occurred. The thought was terrifying yes, but she couldn't deny that it was also strangely exhilarating.
'I'm a witch,' she thought, 'Living in a tower. Getting ready to learn how to cast spells and fly around on a broomstick. My only three friends are all either a member of some purist nobility or a legendary historical figure.'
Strange, how it had only hit her now what a ludicrous situation she was in.