The Way We Know It
Chapter 2: All Aboard
When one wakes up in the morning, the usual feelings are of eagerness to start the day, or of imminent dread in anticipation of facing the day and its possible hardships.
For Theodore, it was the latter.
Groaning, he fell out of bed—literally—and crawled out from under his sheets, throwing them back onto the bed. As he stood, Theo stretched and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, his eyes fell onto the mirror stationed across from his bed.
He almost screamed.
When Theo went to bed, he was fifteen years old. He had grown over a foot from when he had first entered Hogwarts, his voice had definitely lowered in pitch, and he definitely had larger hands.
I look like I'm eleven!
Theo froze. No, no way, that's impossible…
Taking another quick glance at the mirror, Theo dove for the calendar behind his door. His jaw dropped at the date.
September 1st…1991? My birthday? What the hell?
He dropped the calendar to the floor, pacing across his room. His brain was frantically thinking, his mind a blur of questions and confusion. How in the world did he get transported four years into the past? And why on this date?
Theo honestly couldn't figure it out. The only explanation that would make sense would be something about him being eleven, or something to do with him needing to enter his first year again.
Breathing heavily, Theo ran his hand through his brown locks before glancing at his closet. Might as well make myself presentable…Mum will have a cow otherwise.
For some reason, his body flinched at the mention of his mum. Theo frowned. Well, that's odd…
Shrugging it off, Theo started the beginning of what he felt was going to be the rest of his life.
Well, isn't that just the cliché…
He was sleeping peacefully as his family car cruised down the way to King's Cross station. The birds chirped cheerfully in the background of the typical city noises as cars sped off to their destinations. Anthony had not a care in the world—he was innocent, carefree, and had no burdens.
Then he woke up.
Face flat against the window, Anthony blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the sudden light. Rubbing a hand against his eyes, he looked out the window.
And he froze.
This is not the middle of Scotland. And I am not on the Hogwarts Express. Anthony quietly surveyed his surroundings, his eyes resting on sisters.
His alive sisters—the ones sitting right next to him and that were very much breathing. Anthony looked at the front seats and saw his father and mother—alive.
No freaking way. This isn't possible.
His shock must have registered on his face, for Chelsea, being two years old, looked at him with an amused expression. "Tony okay?"
Mum turned around, looking at her children. "What's wrong, Tony, honey?"
"Nothing, Mum," said Anthony, the word leaving a tingling on his lips. "Just—forgot where I was for a moment there."
Mum smiled at him before turning back to the front. When Dad pulled up at the station, Chelsea was giving him an odd look.
"Forgot where you were, huh?" asked the two-year-old, cheekily. "Let's see about that."
Anthony blinked. "Um—sure…" he trailed off, shrugging off his sister's odd behavior.
The entire way to the station, Anthony tried to figure out where he was. And when, because he definitely didn't feel fifteen anymore, and his family was alive. He was not in 1995. That much he knew.
All the logical points pointed to one place, one time—1991, September 1st, and Anthony was about to take the Hogwarts Express to his first day at Hogwarts.
He gulped. Do I seriously have to do this all over again? Oh Merlin, please let there be a way to go back…
But in the back of his mind, Anthony knew he didn't want to go back. His family would be dead there, the Wizarding world plagued by war. He didn't really want to go back.
His feet had taken him by instinct, Anthony absentmindedly following his Dad as he led the family to platforms nine and ten. He closed his eyes for a moment, a feeling of excitement, wonder and awe creeping up his throat, but only for a flash before it dissolved. Frowning, Anthony opened his eyes before glancing behind at Mum who was positively beaming.
Turning his attention to the trunk he had in front of him, he pushed it towards to barrier. He was about to step forward through it when Dad grinned at him brightly.
"Ready, son? I know you're nervous and everything—I mean, you are going through a seemingly solid barrier—but I'll be with you. Chelsea would probably be able to go too, but let's let your mom have some company, shall we?" he said cheerily.
Anthony could have hit himself. I'm not fifteen anymore, am I? I must be eleven now. I've never been here before, I've only ever heard of Hogwarts, I haven't actually gone there…I'm not in Ravenclaw anymore—I'm eleven.
Smiling hesitantly, he nodding in what he hoped was a nervous manner. It must have passed the test, since Dad led him by the arm. Smiling encouragingly, he pushed him gently.
"Go ahead, son. Close your eyes, it helps, I find."
Fighting down the urge to sigh, Anthony closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.
Another one—
Soon he was walking swiftly—
A breeze past him—he opened his eyes—
He was through.
The first feeling of comfort reached Anthony at that point. Inwardly, he smiled.
He had no idea what was going on, but if he was going to Hogwarts, if his parents and his sisters—if his family was alive—he'd make it through.
He had to.
Walking behind his father, Theo looked at the ground, absorbed in his thoughts. Everything was happening so suddenly. Half of him wanted this to all be a dream, for none of it to be real. The other half of him wanted to stay forever, wanted to never leave.
His mother was dead.
Dad wouldn't tell him how she had died, but it was fairly obvious once Theo had arrived for breakfast and the former Death Eater had cheerfully ushered him out the door. Theo had tried to ask about Mum, but something told him not to.
That was when he saw the picture, positioned on the mantelpiece.
And suddenly, it came back to him. She's dead.
Theo looked at his father and frown thoughtfully. A clear difference from the father he used to know was evident. But there was one thing that was bothering him.
Why did everything change? There's obviously something different in this time line, but what?
Theo looked at the box in his arms. He had picked it up in haste on his way out, knowing it would probably hold some sort of clues that would help him fill in the blanks in his mind. It had been just lying there in his room; it must have held something that could help him. Theo studied the top sheet with interest.
HARRY POTTER DEFEATS THE DARK LORD
Sirius Black Imprisoned, Twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew Found Dead!
By Rita Seeker
Snorting at the author, he looked back up, his thoughts again returning to his mother. His dead mother.
She's dead.
It was going to haunt him, he knew it. But it didn't make it any less surprising, or any less unpleasant. Even if he hadn't been very close with her, and even if she had called him Dora, she is—was, was…I hate past tense—his mother. And she always would be.
He sighed as they reached the station, Theo finding himself facing the platform between nine and ten. He could feel his father at his shoulder, a bright smiling dawning his face, pride and happiness evident. Theo felt his throat close up at the thought of a father who loved him. Actually and truly loved him.
Closing his eyes, he stepped through the barrier like he'd done for the past five years.
Only now, technically it's my first year.
And it hit him. I'm a first year! I'm eleven! I can't go to Hogsmede, I have to learn the levitation charm again, and I haven't kissed a girl! Oh Merlin.
The year would definitely be interesting.
He was reminded just how interesting it would be when he bumped into someone.
And that someone looked to be Muggle-born.
While he was bent over, stuffing some of the papers back in box he had in his arms, Theo frowned inwardly. He didn't really understand why he was acting all nice to people. Hadn't he yelled at Potter and Weasley back home? Hadn't he hated Dursley with a passion, being unnecessarily mean to him?
Theo shrugged it off, standing up. He frowned outwardly when the boy in front of him struggled to load his trunk. "Let me help you with that."
"No, no, that's okay, really," the boy protested. Theo had nothing of it, however, shaking his head.
"Well, too bad," he said, lifting one side and shoving it onto the rack. The other boy thanked him.
Theo waved it off. "I told you, it's no problem. It's Theodore Nott, by the way," he added.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley."
Theo's smile faltered for a moment before coming back. "You're a first year, also, I assume?"
"Is it that obvious?" asked Justin, nervously.
"No, no," said Theo, laughing. "You just remind me of myself when I first—" he cut off suddenly, however, his eyes growing wide. "Um, pardon me. The train will probably be leaving soon."
And before Theo could make more of mess than he already had, he rushed off.
Gah, how stupid can I be? I almost told him! Well, this isn't going to be as easy as it looks, it seems.
Scanning the crowd in search of Dad, Theo stepped up onto the train. He spotted him a ways away, speaking to a friend of his, stowing away Theo's trunk into the luggage rack.
He turned back to the train, wandering through the compartments. Most of the ones in the front were already full, so he made his way towards the back.
Then he reached the Slytherin compartments. Theo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Do I want to do this? Will they just suck me into whatever Dad used to make me do? Or do I sit somewhere else, start fresh?
His decision was made for him, however, when a pale blonde stepped out of a compartment and brightened at the sight of him.
"Theodore! How are you, mate? Come in here, keep you safe from all those pesky Mudbloods around here—what that fool is thinking, I'll never know—"
Theo followed Draco Black—or was it Malfoy? He was certainly acting like one—into the compartment, not having any other choice. He recognized the others as his former classmates—though it seemed likely that they'd be in the same House again. Pansy Parkinson sat in the corner, speaking rapidly to a very bored-looking Millicent Bulstrode, beside of whom Artemis Moon sat, a book in hand.
Blaise Zabini sat by the window, staring out at the parents as they hugged and kissed their children before sending them off. Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe sat across from each other doing what they did best.
They stared at each other. Theo raised his eyebrow before turning back to Blac—Malfoy.
"So, um, Malfoy?" said Theo hesitantly. When Malfoy just looked at him with bored expression, Theo continued. "It's kinda crowded in here, isn't it?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Not too bad. Besides, I can always use an expansion charm if we need it."
Theo blinked. We learn that in third year… "You can do one?"
"Of course. My father isn't Lucius Malfoy for nothing!"
Nodding absently, Theo frowned inwardly. Well, that answers that question. I wonder what happened to change that from this time line…
Theo pushed it away from his mind for now, taking a seat across from Parkinson, who was still talking to Bulstrode, completely unaware that the latter wasn't taking in a word she was saying. Theo stifled his snickers.
In the back of the train, Justin finally found an empty compartment. After settling himself in, he reached into his trunk and pulled out a book, which he began reading as he leaned against the wall of the compartment.
He was interrupted a few moments in, however, when a boy stumbled through the compartment door. At first the boy looked confused, as if he hadn't meant to enter, but his eyes grew wide as they landed on Justin, and the Muggle-born had the intense urge to shrink away.
Justin was never good with attention, and having the strange boy look at him like he was some type of spectacle in a zoo was making him very uncomfortable. He was about to look away when the boy snapped out of it and tried to force a smile on his face.
"Um, do you mind if I sit here? Can't find another compartment right now," he said kindly. Justin nodded and the boy sat down across from him. "I'm Anthony. Anthony Goldstein... Um...I'm a first year. You?"
"Justin Finch-Fletchley. And I'm also a first year," said Justin, awkwardly turning back to his book. He didn't know why but the way Anthony looked at him—it was giving him the creeps.
The train had started moving. Justin's stomach leaped in excitement, but he was still very, very nervous. No turning back now…
Justin could hear Anthony as he reached into his trunk and moved his arm around in it. Book high enough to cover his face, Justin frowned. Why doesn't he know what's in his own trunk?
"Um, this might sound as a really odd question, but do you know what year it is?" he asked, and Justin, raising an eyebrow, frowned more deeply.
"1991. Why?"
"No reason," was the reply, but Justin knew that there was more than that. However, if the other boy wasn't going to tell him, Justin wasn't going to pry.
Yet.
"So…what House do you want to be in?"
The question startled Justin, who had thought that the other boy would just stay quiet. Instead, he was trying to make conversation. He sounded interested.
Justin was quite unnerved. But trying to make the most out of the company, Justin forced a smile on his face. "Um…I dunno. What're the Houses?"
"Oh, right, you're Muggle-born," he said, as if he should have known that. Justin opened his mouth to point out that he hadn't said anything about being Muggle-born, but Anthony had already started to speak. "Well, there's Gryffindor, founder Godric Gryffindor, house of the courageous and the brave. Also home of the more stubborn and reckless. Head of House is Professor McGonagall, the transfiguration professor.
"Hufflepuff was founded by Helga Hufflepuff. It's the House for the loyal and the hardworking, though admittedly they're not the most outspoken or the most famous. Most people call them the house of duffers; the nobodies who don't fit in any other House. I happen to think they're some of the coolest people. Their Head of House is Professor Sprout who teaches Herbology.
"Slytherin is the house of the ambitious and clever. It was founded by Salazar Slytherin and has Professor Snape, the Potion's master, as head. Most of the bad wizards usually end up there, though…" he trailed off, his expression thoughtful. Justin allowed him a moment before idly clearing his throat. "Oh! Right! Sorry about that."
Justin just smiled. "It's okay…" He rather liked having Anthony talk—it saved him from the trouble of thinking of something to say and it got rid of the awkward silence of earlier.
"Well, the last House is Ravenclaw, founded by Rowena Ravenclaw. It's the house for the brilliant and the bright, the studious and those ready to learn. Most of us—the people in the house are bookworms, though. Professor Flitwick is the head. He's the Charms teacher," said Anthony, slowly turning redder. "Um, sorry, I—my older—brother—told me all this stuff, and I—um, get excited easily, yeah—" Justin shook his head.
"It's okay, really." And it really was. Justin still was unnerved by Anthony—he had given him the creepiest looks—but it was normal to be nervous. Besides, I'm nervous too. Justin frowned, however, as he realized something. "You sure know a lot about the Houses and Hogwarts in general, don't you?"
Anthony froze. He smiled nervously. "Um, well, like I said, older brother goes—went there. So, you know…" he trailed off, his eyes trained to the floor. Justin just smiled.
Turning back to his book, Justin heard Anthony pull out one of his own.
Maybe he's just nervous—maybe he didn't mean to be so…creepy. He shot a glance over the top of his book. Maybe he'll be in my house and we can be friends and can tell me why he's acting so…weird.
Maybe.
Alexander Slytherin did his best to hold back the grin that threatened to overtake his lips.
He failed.
After all, two out of three isn't that bad.
Theo was bored.
It had only been an hour or so since the Hogwarts Express had left the station, but already he found himself falling into a doze. As his head drooped, the train would wake him up again. Eventually even the endless cycle of Theo trying to sleep got boring, so he smiled at Malfoy and hastily made his way to the restroom.
It was on his way there that he spotted a boy—eleven or so; so young—the same age as me—lying in the hallway. Rushing over to him, Theo immediately checked to see if he was breathing.
He was. Sighing, Theo looked into the compartment where the boy looked to have tried to stumble into without opening the door. Two boys were seated in it, both carrying books. His eyes narrowed as he recognized both of them.
Finch-Fletchley and Goldstein.
Glancing back at the boy, Theo noticed that he had red hair and looked familiar. But for some reason, he couldn't quite place a name to the face. The redhead stirred, and Theo turned back to the occupants of the compartment.
"Lend me a hand, will you?"
Goldstein, after shooting him an odd look, leaned over and looked at the boy. "Are you okay?" he asked. The boy moaned, rubbing his forehead, before nodding. He stopped, however, seemingly too painful.
"Yeah, I think. Head just hurts and—" he cut off, though, spotting Theo and Goldstein. His eyes grew wide. "Who—who are you and why am I on a train?"
Theo and Goldstein exchanged looks. "Um, how about you come in here. You must have hit your head hard," said Theo, helping the boy up. A name flitted to front of his mind, but Theo couldn't recall exactly what it was. Frowning, he helped the boy to a seat. "I'm Theodore Nott," he introduced.
"Anthony Goldstein, and this is Justin Finch-Fletchley," said Goldstein, nodding towards the other boy. Finch-Fletchley, still clutching his book and staring at the boy, merely nodded.
Theo awkwardly stood in the doorway. The fact that he didn't recognize the boy unnerved him. He should know all the students, shouldn't he?
But then the reality hit—the time line was different, something wasn't the same here. But it didn't change the fact that the boy looked familiar. Looks like a Gryffindor, definitely…but who? Sighing, Theo nervously glanced at Goldstein. In his other life—wow, that sounds strange—the Ravenclaw hadn't really liked him. He suspected it was because of his…fickle nature and his dealings with Dursley. But he wasn't sure.
I'm in a new world; I might as well make a new start.
Theo gave Goldstein a nervous look. "So, um, do you mind if I sit here, my compartment was getting kinda—stuffy," he asked nervously. Goldstein, his eyes slightly hesitant, nodded slowly. Theo gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks."
Taking a seat next to the boy—who was still rubbing his head, his expression that of disbelief—Theo inwardly sighed. Look at me. Trying to get away from them when I know perfectly well that I'm going to end up like them anyways. Oh well...
Glancing at the other occupants in the room, Theo knew that something was up. Where had this guy come from? He looks like he fell from the sky…
There was something odd about the boy, and Theo was going to find out.
My life is so strange, it isn't even funny.
Anthony was staring at the boy who had fallen out of nowhere. Anthony didn't recognize him, so he guessed there was something different happening this time. The boy had just fallen into the compartment door, and luckily, Nott had been passing by. Speaking of…
Theodore Nott, Slytherin and lackey of Draco Malfoy. At home, Nott had been solely responsible for half of the accidents on the other houses during Quidditch season. Not to mention that he followed Malfoy like a dog.
Then of course, there was Justin. Justin, his former best friend. Justin, his first friend at Hogwarts. True, he and Terry and Michael were close, but Anthony missed Justin.
He missed his dead best friend.
Anthony refused to look any of them in the eye. That was when he noticed something. "Hey, um, you dropped something."
The only object that had been in the boy's possession lay on the floor. Bending over, Anthony picked it up, planning to hand it over to the boy.
He eyed the cover. "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," he read, his face turning very pale. His eyes turned on the owner, hard. "Who the hell are you and where the hell did you get this?"
"I bought it—" the boy started, but he stopped. "Why am I explaining? This isn't possible," he said. "I mean, I'm dreaming, I have to be! This isn't possible." The redhead's was muttering under his breath, his hand running through his hair.
Justin looked nervous as the boy continued to mutter nonsense. He eyed the boy warily, his knuckles clutching his book tightly.
Nott, on the other hand, froze. He wheeled around suddenly, his eyes focused on the newcomer."Why is that?"
"Why is what?"
"Why is this not possible?" he questioned, more eager, his eyes flashing. Anthony frowned. This Nott wasn't the same as the one from back home. That Nott had been apathetic, emotionless. This one seemed angry.
The boy looked around the compartment, confused, but his eyes were hesitant. "I'm—I'm Seamus Finnigan and in the world I come from, Harry Potter is only a fictional character."
Anthony and Nott both sat down.
