Chapter 2 is arrived! Directing attention to the 67 people who bothered to look at this story, Storm and Roc and WarKnyte for reviewing, and Storm and Roc again, and Changechild for alerting/favoriting. More reviews will be helpful! The word 'hiatus' might be in this story's future otherwise! Oh, and I'm sorry if the chapters feel a little rushed. I have been having bouts of 'must post something A.S.A.P.' syndrome. I just have this problem with really long chapters. I just wanted to get to the bits I wanted to write. Maybe I should just write a drabble on funny things that would happen if Garion went to Hogwarts.
Anyway,
STORYTIME
"A brick wall?"
"Yeah!"
"Me?"
"Yup!"
"Walk through it?"
Ron moaned, and slapped his face.
"Yes, Garion. You walk through the brick wall. Just like Fred, and George, and Percy did." His fingers were sliding down his face, when a new voice entered the conversation.
"Um, excuse me." The redhead and the blonde turned. A slightly scrawny boy, with messy black hair, and a roughed-up look stood before them.
"By any chance, do you know how to get to the platform?" Ron grinned, and Garion sighed. The freckled boy had a thing for seeming intelligent.
"Platform nine and three quarters?" The black-haired boy looked relieved.
"Yeah. That's the one. Where is it?" Garion grinned.
"I've been through this explanation enough times to know!" He said, cheer in his voice, "Follow me!" And with that, the recently inaugurated member of the present turned on his heel, grabbed the handle of the cart he had been so recently been admiring, and marched towards the brick divider.
"Won't he crash?" The dark haired boy asked in a hushed voice, as he nervously combed his fingers through his hair, "That is brick after all."
"Oh," Ron said, smiling, "He'll be fine. Platform nine and three quarters is right through the post between nine and ten. By the way, I never got your name!"
"Harry, Harry Potter. And by the way, how does the 'platform-inside-a-bunch-of-bricks' thing even work?"
"..."
!SQUEAL!
"Thank you sir!" The uniformed man grinned as he pulled the last of Garion's luggage onto the train.
"No problem lad!" He dusted off his gloves. "No' you better be goin' t' find y' self a seat! Trains a' leavin' in 'bout five minutes!"
Garion murmured his thanks, and turned to walk away. Reaching into his left pocket, he fingered his wand. He still thought the idea was strange, but there was something different about this. It felt...right (in a strange way). He strolled down the platform, a slightly self-satisfied smile showing on his face.
'Now,' he thought, 'all I need to do is find a good seat!'
!WHSHHH!
Garion turned sharply, eyes widening for a brief second before he was enveloped in steam. Coughing, he began flailing at the air with his hand, a vain attempt to get rid of the steam. Stumbling forwards, his foot touched something. He bent down to look at it, when he coughed again.
He rocked forwards, placing one hand out to steady himself. That hand met open air. He clutched around, looking for a handhold, before toppling forwards. He hit the ground, winding him. "Damn!" He moaned. He looked up, blinking, as the steam cleared. Dimly, in the distance, he could see the shape of a quickly retreating train.
"DAMN!"
Ron stared at the passing scenery, head pressed to the window. Looking up, he could indistinctly see the cloud of smoke trailing from the locomotive's smokestack. He shifted his body, now staring at the wall. 'God,' he thought, 'this is boring! Where the heck is Garion?'
The door squeaked. Ron turned hopefully. Another first year peeked in.
"D'you mind?" Harry Potter asked, "Everywhere else is full, and-" Ron nodded his head vigorously.
"Sure, why not?" He returned to staring at the window. Harry leaned back, also staring into space. Time passed, and whether it was minutes, or hours, it seemed the same. The next instant, or hour, an aging lady pushing a cart bursting with candy, stopped in front of their cabin.
"Anything off the trolley, boys?" Harry eyed the sweets hungrily. He reached deep into his pocket.
"I'll take the lot!" A handful of sickles and knuts gleamed in his hand. He turned to Ron. "Um, what's your name again?"
"Ron." He replied after a short pause, face pressed intently against the window. "Oi!" He turned to the plump woman behind the trolley, "Do wolves ever chase this thing?"
Garion looked up. He could see Ron's face pressed against a window, three, maybe four cars ahead. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, sweat flying out of his pores. 'Why does this train thing have to be so fast?' He grinned (an appropriate adjective would be 'wolfish') as more and more passengers peered out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small dais, which led to one of the entrances to the train. His legs pounded on the ground, faster than before. Garion's muscles tensed, his lupine body preparing to jump. And jump he did. A short flight, accompanied by a skittering landing, and he was on board. A brief second of concentration, and Garion, now bipedal, yanked the door open, and stepped into the car. Step by step, he advanced through the rows of compartments.
"Oi! Garion!" Garion turned. Ron, poking out of the door to his compartment, motioned frantically with his hand. "Come 'ere mate! You got to see this!" Garion scooted around a gaggle of older girls, maybe second year, to reach his friend. Closing the door, he sat down on a bench.
"What was it you wanted me to see?" asked Garion. Ron's face lit up.
"There is an enormous wolf chasing the train!" He grabbed Garion's arm and pulled him over to the window. "It's right...there..." Ron sat down, disappointed. "I swear! It was right there!" Garion laughed.
"I believe you," He said, chuckling, "and who's your new friend?" Ron looked around wildly.
"Who? What? Oh! Y' mean Harry!" Harry raised his hand in a semblance of a greeting, most of his attention occupied by a small, pentagonal, blue card he was staring at.
"Oi!" He exclaimed, almost indignantly, "He's moving!" Harry exclaimed. Ron chuckled.
"Y' can't expect him to stand around there all day, can you?" Garion grinned, remembering the first time he saw those moving pictures.
-Flashback-
"Garion!" Ron shouted, "Garion!" He'd been looking for hours, but couldn't seem to find his recent friend. "Garion!"
"Over...here..." Ron jogged away, following the sound of Garion's voice. He found him, in the parlor, staring at a photo of his great-great-great something-or-other. "Ron?"
"What?"
"Am I going insane?"
"Why would you think that?" Ron scoffed.
"The pictures are moving! Please tell me I'm not going nuts!
"..."
-End of Flashback-
Garion shuddered. 'Actually,' he thought, 'let's not think about that anymore. And never under any circumstances, tell Ce'Nedra.'
"They...do that." He said shortly.
"Excuse me, but have any of you seen a toad?" Everybody looked towards the door with one, simultaneous motion. With the frizzy haired brunette standing in the doorway, it looked almost comical. She continued, "Neville's lost his toad... Well?" She looked across the uncomprehending faces of the three boys in front of her. "Oh. I guess not. Well...bye?" She slowly turned her head, and continued down the car.
Silence reigned.
After a few, still moments, Ron spoke out.
"Uh, anybody want to see me turn Scabbers yellow?" Harry nodded vigorously, while Garion simply said, "Why not?"
"Alright then." Ron pulled out his wand. "Um... Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid fat rat yellow." A fitful spark burst out of the end of his wand, and Scabbers remained his natural hue. Garion laughed.
"Here, let me see him." He extended his hand, and Ron carefully placed his rat in his palm. "Are all spells that complicated?"
"Ah..." Ron almost stuttered, "...well...the ones that Fred and George told me at least..." Garion laughed again.
"That explains a lot."
"That wasn't a real spell, you know." The boys turned, and saw the same girl from earlier, standing in the doorway. "My name's Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger."
"Ah," Garion interjected, "We'd kinda established that already. I mean the bit about it being, um... well...fake? Let me try."
"But you can't!" Hermione burst out, "You don't know the proper incantations, let alone-"
"Yellow." Garion's word had a force to it, something beyond the words Ron uttered.
"Garion!" Hermione almost scolded, "You have no... idea ...wha-" A slow change took over Scabbers. Almost like a wave of gold, Scabbers's fur changed from dull brown, to bright golden yellow.
"But...that shouldn't be possible!" Hermione breathed. That... that's basic transfiguration!" Garion looked puzzled.
"I'm not supposed to know that?" Hermione shook her head no, while Ron and Harry looked on in awe.
"Your parents could get into serious trouble for teaching you that! Underage magic is prohibited!" Garion stared.
'Why didn't you tell me this?' He thought indignantly.
There was no reply.
"He shouldn't have been able to do that!" Hermione almost shouted. "Nobody should have been teaching him magic! I think there's something weird about him."
Garion pulled a little farther down the hallway, nervous about the conversation going on inside. He had just gotten back from changing into his robes. If his grandfather saw him, he'd have apoplexy.
"No, really." Ron said dryly, "When he showed up, he knew next to nothing about the wizarding world, and even less about the Muggles!"
"Well," Harry thought, "Could he have, I dunno, maybe been living in the countryside all his life? Like, a town based on medieval stuff?"
'Medieval?' Garion thought, 'What are they talking about?'
"I don't know," Hermione replied, "All I'm sure of is that his parents are doing something illegal! Or at least, a lot different from the way the Ministry conducts things."
"Ministry?" Harry voiced the question forming in Garion's mind.
"Yeah." This time, it was Ron who replied. "The Ministry runs the magical community in England. Y' know, like your Muggle government."
"I didn't know we had one of those." Harry mused.
"But still!" Hermione continued. "Something's up! According to Hogwarts, a History-"
"Hogsa what now?" Harry interjected.
"Hogwarts, a History. You were supposed to read it."
"Oops."
"Anyway, it said that all incantations are Latin derivatives! Not 'yellow' for crying out loud! I say be careful around him.
"Oh, just be quiet, will you?" Ron said. "Garion's alright, okay? Just live with it! He can do some weird magic! Okay! Just let it lie!"
"I-..."
"Firs' years this way!" A giant of a man, donning a long coat bellowed, "Firs' years!"
'He's taller than Barak!' Garion thought. He moved through the crowd of disembarking students. Steam shrouded the faintly glowing lantern in the man's hand. Garion turned around, seeing his friends still behind him. Harry, particularly, looked especially excited upon seeing the man he called 'Hagrid'. Harry motioned the group to a stop when they neared him!
"Hagrid!" He cried, gleefully.
"Harry!" The giant responded in like manner. "Good t' see you, m' boy!" Best be gettin' on t' them boats now, eh?" Garion's face lit up at the mention of boats, but Hermione's looked particularly green, for some reason.
"Boats." She muttered. "Why always boats?"
Garion nudged her. "What?" He asked plaintively. "Don't like boats?"
"No. Not at all." She replied curtly.
An increasingly large group of first years had gathered around the groundskeeper. Looking around, Hagrid apparently decided that everybody had arrived. Turning his enormous frame, he led the students down a path, into a grove of trees. Within minutes, they stood on the edge of a wide lake, its water gleaming like obsidian glass under the moonlight.
"Any boats?" Garion voiced. Hagrid only grinned. He turned, and struck a large bell with his fist. A bell that, previously, nobody had noticed. Out of the darkness, at least a score of boats, maybe two, slithered up to the shore. The students looked at them warily.
"Go on then!" Hagrid said in his usual boisterous voice. "Get on!" Garion eagerly hopped into the canoe, followed cautiously by Hermione. Soon, the rest of the first years had grouped up, and boarded a boat. A slight rocking brought a greenish cast to Hermione's face, and the grin Garion sported only made it worse. Then, without warning, the boats slid forwards, knifing through the small waves. The lake was eerily silent, at least, until the small flotilla rounded a bend in the lake. Most of the first years gave a collective gasp. Hermione let out what could only be called an anticipatory (Yes, that is a word) squeal. Garion almost laughed at his friends antics.
Suddenly, Hermione dug her elbow into Garion's ribs.
"What. The. Bloody. Hell. Are. Those."
Garion looked up, startled. Hermione was not one to curse.
"And by 'those' you mean..." He let the sentence trail off.
"The carriages!"
"And what's so strange about those?"
"They haven't got horses!"
"Don't Muggles have a thing like that? Those 'car' contraptions." Hermione mentally smacked herself in the face.
"No! These are different!" Garion sighed.
"And where would they be?" Hermione pointed frantically to the dim lights on the shore of the lake.
Garion squinted. Now he could clearly see the silhouette of a group of carriages. And, also quite clearly, he could see the horses pulling them.
"What are you talking about? They have horses!"
Hermione paled. "Um, Garion?" She squeaked.
"Yes?"
"Have you ever seen anyone die?" asked Hermione. Garion looked up.
"Why?" he replied. Hermione looked around nervously.
"I...have a hunch." said Hermione. Garion fidgeted. The question was a little invasive.
"Ah, yes." answered Garion. Hermione brightened.
"Okay! Then they're probably Thestrals."
"Thestrals?"
"Oh! You can only see them if you've seen death. In particular, a human's."
"Seen enough of that..." Garion muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing." Hermione looked at Garion.
"Who was-"
Then they rounded a bend in the lake...
A collective gasp rose from among the passengers of the canoes. Reflecting on the gleaming lake, an enormous castle rose before them. Soaring spires, climbing walls, and intricate buttresses, it was a sight to behold. Well, for most of them.
"Obviously never seen Vo Mimbre." He said, just a little too loudly. Hermione looked at him a little oddly.
"Vo Mim-what? Is that a castle on Scotland?"
Garion froze. "Um...what are you talking about, Hermione?"
"You just said something about a place called Vo Mimbre!"
"No..."
"..."
"Rosenthal, Michael!" A nervous looking boy made his way to the front of the great hall. Garion was still having trouble taking his eyes off of the ceiling. He almost fell over when he looked up, seeing the glittering night sky littered with stars and floating candles...
All the students were going through some sort of ceremony, involving a strange talking hat. All of his friends had already gone through this, and were now sitting at the Grifo-something-or-other table.
"Hufflepuff!" The few remaining students shifted nervously. Harry had already been sorted after a long wait, and Ron had gone up, too, as with Hermione. All three were sorted into Gryffindor.
"Ryva, Garion!" Garion looked up, startled. Threading his way through the crowd, he approached the inconspicuous hat resting on a simple three-legged stool. He deftly grabbed the hat with one arm, sat down, and put the hat on.
'Hello.' Garion jumped. Did that hat just talk straight into his head?
'Yes, Garion, I did.' Garion jumped again. Did that hat just read his mind?
'Yes, Garion, I did.' The hat sounded quite exasperated now. Almost beginning to sound like the mysterious voice he later found out to be the Prophecy of Light.
'Prophecy of what now?'
'None of your business.' Garion retorted.
'Actually, it is.' The hat replied smugly. 'How am I supposed to sort you if I don't read your mind?'
'Am I really having a conversation with a hat?'
'Yes, you are.'
'Do you have to read my mind?' Garion whined.
'Yes, I do. Now open up.' Garion sighed.
'Promise not to tell anyone?'
'Got a secret crush?' The hat wheedled.
'No.' Garion said. 'Much more important.'
'Okay, I promise.'
'All right, here I go.' Garion opened the customary barriers on his mind. Memories, images, moments he thought long forgotten flooded through his head.
'Oh. Oh my.' The hat breathed. Garion remembered. Asharak, leading a band of Tolnedran legionaries, soon to be burned to death. Ctuchik, crying out to Belgarath, to save him from his mortal mistake. Torak, with his last breath, crying out to his mother. And then the images stopped.
'Ah...okay. That was new.' The hat seemed very unsure of itself now. 'How could I put someone with that life anywhere but-'
"GRYYFINDOR!"
Well, that's it. Again, sorry if it seems rushed. I just want to get to the good parts.
FC