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Harry Potter and the Winter Court Chapter 3
As the first years were led into the Great Hall every voice quieted. Every eye in the place was sweeping them, searching for one famous person. Harry ignored all of the stares, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the student in front of him. They were led to the front of the room, right before the head table. McGonagall lined them all up, facing the teachers in a single file.
The Deputy Headmistress walked over to the side and returned with a four legged stool with a worn and patched old hat sitting atop it. She set the stool and hat before the students and stepped back. Several of the first years were looking around, wondering if they were supposed to do something with the hat. Then a seam along the base of the hat opened into a mouth and the magical artifact started singing.
Harry had heard stories about the songs during his parent's years at Hogwarts. This version seemed to be pretty much middle of the road, describing the origin of the Sorting Hat and the characteristics of the four houses. Harry was thinking on what house he was likely to be sorted into when Minerva McGonagall stepped forward, unrolling a piece of parchment, and said, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." She paused a heartbeat before calling the first student, "Abbott, Hannah." Who went to Hufflepuff.
"Bones, Susan." Hufflepuff.
"Boot, Terry." Ravenclaw
The announcement of each student's house was followed by loud applause from that house's table as the new student went to join it. Harry paid only minimal attention to the proceedings until he heard the teacher say, "Granger, Hermione"
The bushy haired girl ran to the stool and pulled the hat down over her head. The hat quickly called out "Ravenclaw!"
Harry clapped along with the Ravenclaw table, happy for his friend. The list progressed, dwindling the number of students waiting to be sorted. Neville went to Gryffindor, and Harry once again clapped for his friend, giving him a thumbs up as he passed. Draco Malfoy "Hufflepuff", shouted the hat, silencing the entire hall.
"What!" yelled Draco, "I have to be in Slytherin, my entire family has been. I demand to be placed in Slytherin like my father."
To which the Sorting Hat replied, "Mr. Malfoy, your loyalty to your father and family are precisely why I put you in Hufflepuff, wanting to be in your father's house so badly only makes my choice even more appropriate."
Everyone in the hall watched as Draco Malfoy was led, crying, to the stunned Hufflepuff table. After a moment of shock Professor McGonagall spoke, "Well let's continue with the sorting shall we?"
More students were sorted into various houses, causing the noise level in the hall to rise and fall with a regularity that could almost be called a rhythm.
Finally it came, "Potter, Harry." This caused a flurry of whispered discussion about his identity as he went to put the hat on. As soon as he put the piece of brown leather on it fell down over his eyes. He could still feel the hall looking at him, but sat patiently, waiting for whatever was supposed to happen.
Suddenly he felt a mental connection form and heard, "Interesting. Very Interesting. Haven't seen a mind like this in a long time. Not since... well that's not important. Where do you think you should go?"
Harry was used to telepathy, and thought back, "Don't really care. Just so long as we get this over with and hopefully get some of them to stop staring at me like I'm some sort of prize to be won."
The hat chuckled, "I can understand that. You wouldn't believe how many first years look at me with a certain amount of fear when I start singing. They think I'll eat their brain when they put me on."
"Considering you're probably the only talking hat any of them have ever seen, that's not too surprising." Harry responded.
"True enough. I have enjoyed the chat, but if I don't get back to my job soon they'll think I've fallen asleep again. So without further ado..." The hat yelled out, "Ravenclaw!"
The indicated house table exploded with applause, nearly causing the heavy stone structure to shake from the reverberations.
Harry joined his house, taking the seat next to Hermione, and waited for the ceremony to finish. There were only four more students left, two before the redhead he had met on the train, and one after.
When Ron Weasley was called he went to the stool and repeated the process of all those before him. After a moments consideration the hat called, "Slytherin!" This received a smattering of applause from the house table, as well as some cat calls. The most surprising part was when several red haired boys at the Gryffindor table stood up and shouted, "That can't be. He belongs with us, in this house."
Minerva looked at the outraged siblings and said, "I'm sorry boys, but heredity is not a controlling factor in this process. Just because all the previous members of your family, in living memory, have been Gryffindor does not mean that your brother is going to be there as well."
Ron was looking a little disappointed and very embarrassed about the situation as he slunk off to join his house. With the next child out of the way McGonagall rolled up her list and exited the hall with the stool and hat.
The old man who Harry assumed was Albus Dumbledor stood, smiling with his hands raised calling for silence. When the students finally quieted he said, "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment Tweak! Thank you!"
As everyone clapped Harry finally realized what his parents had meant about the old guy being a little touched in the head. His attention was quickly pulled toward the tables, which had filled with all sorts of food. He did his best to curb his intense hunger and managed to eat with as much decorum as he saw the student's using. As he finished his third plate of food the green eyed boy noticed exactly how much he had been packing away, as well as the stares he was getting from his best friend. He took a swig of juice to clear his mouth and answered, "My Aunt didn't exactly feed me well, and I am a growing boy."
"I thought you liked your aunt?" Hermione asked.
"My blood aunt I meant, that's where my body was." At the continued look of confusion he added, "I'll explain later."
The bushy haired girl didn't like having to wait for understanding, but figured he had a good reason for not speaking before the entire student body. She turned back to her meal just as the dinner vanished and was replaced with innumerable desserts. Once again the students dug in, not wanting to miss out on all the delicious items offered for the meal.
As the last bits of the sweets also disappeared the Headmaster once again stood, "Ahem-just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you"
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And some of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."
"Quidditich trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
He allowed a moment for this to sink in before saying, "And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"
Dumbledore flicked his wand, causing a long gold ribbon to flow out of the tip and form into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"
The entire student body sung at different paces, leading to the words quickly becoming confused and garbled in the excellent acoustics of the hall. As the last two students finished singing the Headmaster commented, "Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
An older girl in her fifth year with long curly hair called out, "First year Ravenclaws over here." When the students had gathered around she continued, "My name is Penelope Clearwater, one of the two Ravenclaw Prefects this year. I'd just like to say what a pleasure it is to have you all in our house and I hope you have a good year. Now if you'll just follow me, it looks like most of the older students have cleared out and we can get up to Ravenclaw tower with ease."
She led them into the Entrance Hall and up the main staircase. From there they made their way through several corridors and up several flights of stairs before reaching a tower entrance on the fifth floor. Going up the tower was a tight spiral of stone steps that ended in a platform with a smooth wood door. The door had neither knob or keyhole, instead sporting a gold eagle knocker in the middle. As they approached the eagle animated and turned to face them. "What is one of the ingredients of a common Memory Potion?"
Penelope answered, "Jobberknoll Feathers"
The door replied, "Very good." And swung open.
The prefect led them into a large circular room with blue hangings trimmed in bronze. There were several plush overstuffed armchairs scattered around the room along with a few tables. Before the crackling fire was a midnight blue carpet with gold stars dotted throughout. The ceiling was high domed stone painted to resemble the night sky. Along the walls were several bookcases and windows showing the surrounding mountains. Opposite the entrance was a small dais with a life-size white-marble statue of the house's founder, Rowena Ravenclaw, wearing a jeweled gold band around its head. Next to this was a door leading to the dorms.
Penelope turned to the students and said, "This is the Common Room, and through that door is where you'll sleep. All your things have been taken to your rooms, so I would suggest you get some sleep. You'll get your schedules at breakfast and start your classes just after. Good night." The older student turned and walked toward the dorms.
Most of the students started off for their beds as the food started making them drowsy. Harry waved his friend over to a pair of chairs in the corner, using a touch of aura magic to insure their privacy. When they were settled he said, "I know what I say about my past doesn't always make sense, but that's because I didn't grow up exclusively in my body."
"How could you not have been in your body when you were growing up?" Hermione asked, a little confused but willing to give her only friend the benefit of the doubt.
"Let me go back a little more and lay the ground work for this story. What do you know about the Dreamlands?"
Hermione gave herself a moment to remember anything, then said, "I haven't ever heard of that particular term, but there is an old saying about sleeping and going to the land of dreams."
"Not quiet the same thing, but some people do wonder there when they sleep. The Dreamlands I'm talking about are other realities that exist close to our own. Most of the time you can't get to them, but there are some methods. Ten years ago a very strong willed man and woman, husband and wife, stood up to a thing that used to be human. The thing had come to kill their son, because of a prophecy he had heard only a fragment of. The child was only a year old, hardly a threat to anyone, but this crazy man still wanted him dead. His father told his mother to take the baby and run, that he would stand and fight to buy them time. He died without casting a single spell."
"The mother went to grab her son, and managed to get there and lock the door before she heard her husband die. She was trying to figure out how to safely get down to the ground with a baby when the door opened, showing the most evil creature she had ever seen. She flung herself at him, begging him to spare her child. He murdered her just as nonchalantly."
By this time Hermione was crying, suspecting she knew where this was going. Harry firmly forced his face into a determined mask while his guts churned, "Tom Riddle had long since ceased being human. He could no longer die, either from old age or combat. He felt only an uncontrollable urge for power, at any cost. Now he intended to create another piece to insure that survival. He had prepared himself for the act he was about to create. But he had never put any time into researching the history of Lily Evans Potter. He knew that James Potter was the latest descendant of a long line of wizards, which were spawned through the mating of humans and the ancient elves. But not every magic user was born from such means. About the same time in history there were also crossings with humans and fey. The first generation of these children were also magical, but they did not breed true with non-magical humans, instead passing their traits along as recessives. When enough of these traits would come back together you would have what is known as a muggleborn."
"And so it happened that the son of elves and the daughter of fey came together. But this was not the only thing that protected me. Because of the ritual he was prepared to perform, Riddle had begun separating a part of his soul, usually through murder and torture of others. This caused his powers to be weakened, and allowed the uncommonness of my heritage to instinctively reflect the curse back at him. He did not have the power to stop it, so it killed him. But it had other effects."
"It is legend that a strong willed magic user who dies a violent death can have their soul sent to the Dreamlands. This is where my parents awoke after their murder. I showed up a little after, causing a little confusion until someone came to meet them and explain things. I had the ability to cross between the worlds, at least in part. This is how I was able to learn magics that even Merlin considered myth, while at the same time being neglected by my blood relatives. They only saw me as a idiot child that had most likely been permanently damaged by the same thing that had killed my parents."
Hermione was having a hard time deciding if Harry was telling the truth. He was saying things that her upbringing said were impossible, but so was magic, in her opinion, until she got her letter. The real clincher was that he had used wandless magic, something that shouldn't be possible until sixth or seventh year, if even then. He was obviously not that old, so he had to have learned it somewhere else. Wiping the tears from her face, she said, "I believe you. After everything I've seen it just makes sense, sorta. But I thought you said Tom Riddle was alive."
Harry laughed a little at her attention for detail, "He is. I saw him in the Dreamlands once, just like I said. Since he can't actually die here in the real world, not having a body has kinda split him between the two. He's somewhere out there, but part of him is also being trained, so when he can return, he can pull some even more messed up stuff."
"What kind of stuff?" Hermione asked.
"He was immediately recruited when he got to the other side, by something who makes him look tame. When he manages to get back, he will try to summon his master from the pole of order into this world, giving that foul creature control over the whole of the multiverse. Or at least that's what they tell me." Harry said, trying to lighten the mood at the end.
"The pole of order? Some dark creature? I'm not getting any of that." The bushy haired girl responded.
"Unfortunately, a full explanation of the structure of the cosmos is something for another time. Suffice to say that I'm here to learn what I can, and practice what I already know, so that when old Moldyshorts comes back, I can stop him." The bespectacled boy said, yawning slightly.
"Moldyshorts?" Hermione asked through her own yawn.
"Something my Dad called him quiet often. I thought it was funny once upon a time." He rose from his chair and offered her his hand. She took it and they walked off toward the dorms.
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The next morning Harry woke early out of habit, dressed and started his usual routine. He jogged out of the tower and down the stairs, heading for the Entrance Hall. Once there he proceeded outside and down the lawns toward the lake. He could feel his other wordly physique returning, with the protein heavy meal of last night and the constant influx of magical energy he knew it was just a matter of time. In the mean time it would be good to get this body used to this kind of workout.
Harry circled the entire lake, at points being able to sense some of the magical creatures in the forest watching him as he passed. He relaxed his aura slightly while he was away from the castle and all the ambient magic it possessed. While not deadly for him to soak up so much magic all at once, it did have a chance of causing him to overload, increasing his chance of casting random spells. He had some experience with this, when Dr. Diggers had taken him to a cave with even more native energy than the school. Oddly enough this was when the boy had learned to block such energy, because at that time it would have killed him.
Reaching the far side of the lake, with the castle so far away he could not make out the windows any longer, the bespectacled boy decided to use the one ability his parents had told him to keep secret for as long as possible. He focused, willing his magic into his body. He bent forward as his bones changes shape, size, and number, running on all fours. The hair over his entire body lengthen and thickened while his entire body expanded. If anyone were there to watch, they would now see a Dire Tiger, sixteen feet high, forty-five feet long, running at nearly thirty miles an hour around the far end of the lake.
At this pace the extremely underage animagus made it around the safe part of the lake in under a minute, resuming his human form for the rest of the trip. Smiling at the ease with which he had transformed he settled in for the remaining run.
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Hermione had been awake for a while, sitting in her bed as the sun rose. She had learned so much about her only real friend the night before, so much that changed the way she felt about him. She now had to decide what to do about it. Because of the way her parents raised her she was always very mature for her age, expected to be more responsible than most other children.
The bushy haired girl knew that it had required a great deal of trust for Harry to tell her so much about his past. She could tell somehow that he was telling the truth about the night his parents were killed and how they had raised him in a parallel reality. She would be mad to betray the trust of such a friend, especially her only friend.
She got out of bed and retrieved her uniform from her trunk, heading down to the baths to get ready for the day. On the way back up to her dorm she passed Harry in the hall that connected the dorms to the Common Room, "Hey. Sleep well?" He asked.
"Pretty well." She lied, "Hey, Harry. I just wanted to say... Thanks. Thanks for trusting me with your secret." She blushed for a moment before continuing, "So, did you already go down to breakfast?"
The young wizard wiped his brow with the towel he had wrapped around his neck. "Nah. Just a little run around the lake. Gotta get this body into the same shape I'm used to. Gonna go get my uniform and grab a bath before I eat."
She smiled, "I'll wait for you. Then we can go down together." She squealed. It took a moment for her to realize what she had said, at which point she blushed and ran off toward her dorm.
Harry smiled and went to get his bathing supplies.
When he was bathed and dressed he stood before the mirror, concentrating on magically forming his hair into just the right shape to look like his father's. He could make it lay flat if he wanted to, but had made a deal with his Dad a few years ago to keep it this way, just to annoy his Mom. She really hated that he had "inherited" that particular trait from James.
As he looked into the reflective surface something jumped out at him. His eyes had changed. Where before the irises had been a bright vibrant green, now there was a distinct ring of fiery red on the inside.
Harry finished quickly and as he was walking back to the dorm began a magical inventory of his body. By the time he reached the Common Room he had found that all the extra magical energy from Hogwarts had caused one of his Fey traits to activate, at least partially. This resultant change reminded him of his mother's eyes and their triple banded design. It was a definite possibility that he would continue to develop these features the longer he spent at the school.
Meeting Hermione they started down to breakfast, discussing things in hushed tones.
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Their first class was History of Magic with the only ghost teacher at the school. Professor Binns was said to have died before the staff room fire, and not noticed. He had just went to class the next day and started teaching in his usual fashion. For about a week no one else had noticed either, as he usually had some of the castle's house elves bring him some food. Then one day a coworker came in to consult him on some point of history, finding his entire class in a state of drone induced stupor. As this was nothing new she wrote it off as his usual teaching style. Then she got to the podium and started screaming at the pearly-white translucence of the familiar man.
Unfortunately no one had bothered telling him he was dead since and he had continued working, without changing his routine one wit. This is why almost every student in the First year Ravenclaw class was asleep within minutes. As Binns droned on Hermione was raptly hanging on his every word, writing furiously to get it all down. Harry on the other hand was flipping through his textbook as the teacher spoke, only writing something down when it was not covered by the text. He had experience with taking history lessons, and knew that the only way to keep up with a lecturing teacher was to only take notes when necessary.
After their first class on Monday there was a short break, during which the two students reviewed for their first Herbology class. This seemed to be the most non-magical class they had, dealing with learning how to care for and harvest magical plants. The professor, Madam Sprout, was very knowledgeable on the subject and more than willing to give pointers on dealing with the plants.
In the afternoon they had their first joint class, Charms with the Slytherins. This was the first time they ran into that red headed boy from the train. He immediately went over and introduced himself to the famous student, the one the obnoxious child had barged in on, on the train, "How ya doin' mate. I was gonna introduce myself on the train before that git Malfoy started talking. I'm Ron Weasley."
Harry pointedly ignored the boisterous fellow student while he finished the thought he was sharing with Hermione. When he was done he turned a cold eye on Ron and said, "That's twice you've interrupted one of my conversations, big mouth. Don't do it again."
The-Boy-Who-Lived turned away from the annoying prat and continued on to find some good desks. Undeterred by the mild tongue lashing Weasley followed the two Ravenclaws, taking the open seat next to the bushy haired girl. For a first class the two friends found it very good. Not only did the diminutive Professor Flitwick teach with a good bit of enthusiasm, he was very helpful with hints on their technique. All they studied were the basics of wand motions and energy channeling. With his previous knowledge of doing magic without a wand Harry could tell something was wrong about this.
The energy required to push a spell effect through the thin piece of wood, especially with the magical core causing interference, was around three times what he had to use if he used aura magic. He could see how it would be harder for someone who had adapted their casting to the crutch to do without it after twenty or so years. In addition to that, it was designed for only one target at a time, where he could incapacitate a whole room with nothing but a thought.
Harry still had to admit that it was an effective teaching aid for beginners. But the modern magical methods barely outgrew its use, and only the strongest and most confident user ever used magic without it. It was such a waste of energy, best for beefing up a person's magical core.
About half way through the first class it was obvious that the annoying redhead wasn't really paying attention. His form was sloppy, and this was just the basics. Also, his annunciation sucked. He was lisping on a full third of his syllables, and his stresses were all wrong. He could just imagine the kind of problems the suck-up idiot could cause, as Harry knew that the key to good wand magic was precision. As much as the witches and wizards wanted to claim otherwise, magic was just as much a science as physics and electronics. It followed a specific set of rules that allowed for only so much variation.
Luckily the class ended before the red haired boy could cause any explosions. This released them to prepare for dinner, dropping their books back in the tower. Then they went down to the Great Hall for the evening meal. While they were eating Hermione said, "This has been a nice day. I can't wait to see what our classes are like tomorrow."
"We've got a double Potions with the Hufflepuffs first thing in the morning." He groaned out.
"I hear that Hufflepuff house is supposed to be nice." She responded, a little confused by his tone.
"It's the Potions , not the ones accompanying us in class." Harry could see she still didn't understand. He looked around to make sure no one was listening, "My mom once tried to teach me potion making." He shuddered before continuing, "No matter what, I couldn't seem to brew what I was trying to. One time, I was making a simple boil curing balm. It ended up being the Drought of Living Death. Now since I know you've read the book, you know those two have almost nothing in common. Then the next time, same recipe, I got an Aging Potion. No matter how many times I tried it I always got something different."
"But why?" The bookworm asked, "It doesn't make any sense."
He nodded, "That's what they all said. Until we investigated the ingredients. If you remember, according to the prophecy, I am the avatar of chaos. One side effect of that is I always get the oddball reactions. Even within the same type in ingredient, you get some, usually about one in a hundred thousand, that give completely different results. I somehow get these ones every time."
"Oh no. This could be very bad. What if the potion explodes? Some of those ingredients react violently." She observed.
Harry nodded mournfully.
"Hopefully the professor is good at his job, and can help if it goes that way" He said, not knowing who the teacher for the most dangerous subject at the school was.
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For those of you that have asked, yes that is feet. He is a Dire Tiger, and not even fully grown.
Thanks malko050987, we did forget.
