Back in Black

by Byakugan789

Rescued from life on the streets, Eric Sirius Stark is about to discover the wonders of a hithero unknown magical world. Spells, intrigue and monsters await, buried between class and friends and rivals where no one completes their education unscathed. Enter stranger, but take heed… NOT SLASH, not SI, just OC

2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Eric stood in Kings Cross Station, his chameleon robes shaped like blue jeans, a muscle shirt and a black leather jacket. His normally untidy long hair was tied back in a tail which he was convinced looked dashing. He stood there looking dubiously at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. It appeared quite solid and the civilian leaning against it wasn't particularly encouraging. Raising Hogwarts a History back up to face level he read the passage again and looked at the sketch of the man melting in and out of the wall, waving at him and gesturing rudely. Shrugging he closed his eyes and walked forward. As his head plunged into something that felt like water he heard the someone shouting for him to wait before the sound was cut off. Opening his eyes Eric found himself under a woven metal archway, his back to a matte black surface that seemed to absorb light. Placing his hand on the barrier it immediately fell through, the edges sparkling like some sort of hologram in one of his sci-fi books. Sticking his head through the field he found himself face to face with a boy a little shorter than himself, looking at him in wonder.

"Umm… hi!" the boy said. "I was going to ask you how to get through the barrier, but now I just feel sort of embarrassed." He said rubbing the back of his head.

"Well don't let me stop you." Eric said with a grin. "Just let me get out of the way and you can walk right through. Careful though, the portal isn't very wide." Thus said he stepped back into the platform and off to the side. As he passed out of the alcove he found himself facing a large open air platform and large brilliant red steam engine. "Only a century out of date. I'm impressed."

"What's impress? Whoa…"

Eric chuckled. "You don't get out much do you?"

"Not really, but can you really tell me that isn't impressive?" the dark boy asked looking at him incredulously. Now that they were both on the platform Eric took a better look at him. His skin was a pale, unhealthy color which contrasted sharply with his pitch black hair that looked like he had a bad case of bed head. He had large expressive eyes of a really shocking green color that Eric could have sworn were magnified by large poorly cared for glasses. …or perhaps well beaten glasses, he thought as he took in the boy's cloths. They were enormously over-sized and appeared to literally hang off his frame. All in all the boy reminded him of some of the more unlucky street rats he'd lived with at one time or another.

"I used to live in a train yard." Eric shrugged. "spend a few months raiding refrigerator cars and running from yard security you see a lot more impressive models." He held out his hand to the boy. "Name's Stark. Eric Stark."

The boy took his hand enthusiastically. "Harry Potter." He said.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Potter, let's get onto the train shall we?" He made as if to walk away but turned back when he noticed the boy hadn't followed. "Something wrong?"

The boy started. "No." he said. "It's nothing." Harry said joining him, pushing the cart with his trunk before him. "It's just you're the first person since this whole thing started who didn't know my name."

Eric frowned, probably a pureblood then he thought sourly. "Should I?" he asked as they passed a group of children and their parents. Harry shrugged and pushed back his hair revealing a jagged lightning shaped scar. "Sowulo." Eric remarked.

"Excuse you." Came the reply.

"Your scar's shaped like sowulo, it's a Norse rune meaning the sun. It's a symbol of hope, sudden change and recovery. How'd you get it?"

Harry laughed. It was a pleasant sound, one indicating happiness and surprise. Then his face turned dark. "I got the scar when my parents were murdered by the recent dark lord. No one knows why, but when he tried to kill me he disappeared and all I got was this scar. Ever since I came back to the wizarding community everyone I've met has been treating me like some sort of national hero. It's kind of scary actually."

Eric felt slightly ashamed for thinking bad of the other boy. "My mum was murdered to when I was five. I'm still trying to recover the memory, but someone came to our house and there was a fight. They set her on fire and burned down the house. I don't know about my dad, Never met him Mum said she met him in a bar a few times before I was born. Kept telling me I look like him."

Harry nodded as they reached the train. "Want to help me with this trunk? And where is yours? You're not coming to Hogwarts without any school supplies are you?"

This time it was Eric's turn to look smug. "Na, I got mine shrunk in my pocket." He said patting his jacket pocket. "Here." He closed his eyes and a few seconds later the trunk and Owl cage were floating up the steps of the compartment to hover by the door. "Shall we?" He gestured at the train.

"How'd you do that?!" Harry shouted.

"Magic, how else?"

Harry got close as they entered the car and hissed at him. "But you didn't use your wand! I may not be a genius, but my books say that's impossible."

"What? You never developed your powers? I thought everyone in this world could."

"Yes, but not without a wand! Accidental magic is supposed to be just that, accidental! The books say it stops when you get your wand." Harry insisted as they entered a nearby compartment, Harry's trunk floating after them.

"Don't be ridiculous. I know a wand's useful, bonding with it really cleaned up my control, but it's just a focus. It makes things easier is all, even civilians know that! I'll lend you a few books I used before learning about Hogwarts." Harry was still looking at him strangely but Eric was lost in thought and had stopped caring. Was he really that unusual? He sifted through his memories of reading the text books, looking for something that could possibly prove him right but more and more it was looking as if wands were the only way to go about properly performing magic. But that couldn't be right could it? He did it easily enough. Harry was trying to get his attention again he realized as an unfocused feeling of pressure repeated itself.

"Huh?"

"You completely zoned out." Harry told him. "Are you alright man?"

"Yeah, just thinking… You know what? I'll teach you!" Eric said nodding firmly. He slid off the seat and landed on his knees with a thump. Crossing his feet, ankles on the floor, he sat down and put his hands on his knees. "It's really simple to do if you know how. After all, you've been doing it for years without thinking about it. Remember all those weird things that happened around you growing up?" Harry nodded.

"My magic, proof that I'm a wizard. Hagrid told me." He responded.

"Rubius Hagrid?" Eric said looking up sharply. "I'll have to get you to introduce me. Professor McGonagall said he manages the school game preserve. Anyways, the first thing you have to learn to do magic like I do is meditation."

"Medi-what?"

"Meditation. It's the art of focusing your thoughts. Your magic is…"

The door opened and a boy with shining orange hair poked his head in. "Anyone mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Eric shot the boy a dirty look but Harry quickly invited the boy in, eager to make a new friend. Eric closed the door with a twitch of his head and pushed himself off the floor. Sitting back in his seat Eric glanced out the door seeing even more people outside than when they'd come in. Full up my arse, he thought. He came looking for Harry. He turned back to the pair and watched as Harry and Ron Weasley introduced themselves. Ron faked surprise and asked to see the scar, acting like a fan boy the whole while.

"Are they all like this Harry?" He asked an eyebrow raised.

Ron's ears turned red as harry turned to answer him. "Yeah." Harry replied. "I'm still trying to get used to it. It was a lot worse in the leaky cauldron."

"Yeah, and who are you anyways?" Ron grumped, glaring at him, his face still slightly pink.

"Eric Stark." He replied, holding out a hand. Ron cringed and hesitated a moment before taking it.

"Ron Weasley." He returned shortly. The boys shoulders slumped slightly and he let out a sigh. "Let's start this over, yeah? You got a quidditch team? I'm a cannons fan myself."

"What's quidditch?" Harry and Eric said in unison. They looked at each other sharply and broke out grinning. They turned back to see Ron looking back and forth between them.

"What's quidditch?" he spluttered. "You need to ask what's quidditch? It's only the best game in the world!" he nearly shouted, shock warring with enthusiasm. Eric shrugged while Harry made the mistake of asking Ron to explain. Eric listened as Ron made a big production of it, complete with gestures and stories about time he and his brothers had played pickup games in their back yard. There were seven players to a team, a goalie, three offensive players, a pair of primary defense and the seeker. The seeker made no sense to Eric and he said as much.

"That's completely and utterly unbalanced." He put in, interrupting Ron's story about the acrobatics of some more famous players.

"What?" Ron asked, turning to Eric his arms still raised comically.

"The seeker." Eric explained. "He makes the entire game pointless." Eric insisted. Seeing Ron pale and then go dark red he continued, pushing forward before the boy could explode. "Each of the players have a reason to be there. There's the keeper, who guards the goal posts, a common member in any field game. Then there's the chasers, they score ten points a shot, your basic offense and literally the entire point of the game. Next come these beaters. I'm not entirely sure what a bludger is, but it's pretty clear they're the defense like in rugby or soccer, running interference and protecting the scoring players."

Ron was nodding, proud he'd been able to educate these poor souls in the wonder that was quidditch. He should have been more worried about what was coming next. "So you get the game, what's the problem?"

"Why have a seeker at all?" Ron's face darkened again, but Eric forged on. "In a single move the guy scores 150 points and stops the game." He raised an eyebrow at Ron who nodded in agreement. "Just by existing he completely unbalances the game. 150 points would swing the win away from the better team or make the win a complete insult to the losers, but that's hardly the worst of it, I'm still trying to work out how the rest of the players can stand to work with a position that makes all their efforts utterly pointless."

"THEY'RE NOT POINTLESS!" Ron thundered, finally breaking. He was quite fond of the keeper position and being told by some muggleborn he might as well not play was too much for him. He was about to expound on this when Eric cut him off. He was really beginning to hate this guy.

"How many points are usually scored in a game? It's probably less than 15 isn't it?"

"Sometimes." Ron conceded, growling. "but sometimes the seekers are evenly matched and the game doesn't end for days." He spat out, though how he thought this would possibly help his case Eric couldn't fathom.

"And sometimes it ends in a few minutes." Eric finished. "So not only do you admit that the seeker make the rest of the game pointless, he also cheats the fans by making the game as long or short as he wants. I couldn't imagine enjoying a game that ended as soon as you got there. I mean, it takes hours just for the stands to fill up for most types of pro game, I'm assuming that doesn't change for wizards? No teleporting right to your seat or anything?" Ron shook his head confirming his suspicions.

"That's actually a good idea." The redhead muttered. "You can't do it at Hogwarts, but outside? I don't think any of the stands are warded against apparition."

"So why not just drop the seeker position all together? It'd never survive a muggle game long enough to get to the judges table."

"But then how would you decide when the game is over?" Ron asked aghast.

It was at this point that Harry decided to interject. His second and third friend were fighting and he didn't like it. Taking a side was asking for trouble, but he wanted to end this quickly. The crowds were beginning to thin out as it approached 11 o'clock and he didn't want to listed to two boys sniping at each other the entire trip. "You use a clock, just like every other game." He put in startling the two boys out of their trains of thought and glaring session. "C'mon, can we talk about something else? You said you had brothers, Ron. All I ever had was my whale of a cousin, Duddly."

Ron began describing his family and Eric sent Harry a questioning look as Ron pointed out the train occasionally indicating one family member or another. Harry returned his look with a reproachful one, nodding slightly at Ron as if to ask why he'd felt the need to antagonize the ginger. Eric elevated both eyebrows and stared at his new friend significantly. Harry frowned and shrugged, his head tilted to the side before turning back to their companion.

Eric grumped and fell sideways in his seat. Closing his eyes he concentrated on his power and summoned a ball bearing from his trunk. Pointing at it for focus he set it floating above him. After several minutes of this he added a new one. The train started moving and Ron shrank back from the window as if not wanting to be seen by someone. Eric added another metal ball to the previous pair and kept them wobbling in the air as his concentration wavered with the trains movement. The compartment door opened again a number of minutes later as he added a sixth ball to his mental juggling and promptly lost control. A pair of heads as brilliantly orange as Ron's were poking into the cabin.

"Hey, Ron." The twin heads said in a creepy unison.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train," one said.

"- Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there." The other finished

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Who are your friends?" said the first twin, "Did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother."

"Ron's spoken of you." Eric spoke up, levitating the iron balls to his hand with a wave. Ron had been rather less than pleased to have the two as his brothers from the boy's comments, it seemed that the two were always pranking their kid brother and didn't always soften the blows for him like they did for others. That was enough of a reason for Eric to like them as the fan-boy attitude of the younger Weasley was beginning to grate on his nerves. His first friend since he was five and the ruddy ginger was hogging all his attention.

The twins grinned, looking for all the world like cats with milk. "Oh?" one of them said. "And what has-"

"Our wee, ickle bwudder-"

"Been saying about"

"Us?" they both finished.

"Why'd you have to say that?" Groused the redhead in question.

"Eric Sirius Stark." Eric said holding out both hands which the twins shook simultaneously.

"Harry Potter." The smaller boy added, waving his hand from his place by the window.

The twins promptly forgot all about their earlier question and focused on him. "Blimey, are you really?" The right one asked.

"Have you got the scar?" The other continued. Harry was turning pink again at all the attention and ran his hand across his forehead, moving his hair out of the way to reveal the scar.

"Wicked!" They chorused, sliding into the compartment, their friend forgotten.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Ron asked pointedly before shuddering. "With Lee and his monster?"

"Nah," They said.

"We think we'll"

"Stay here and"

"Keep you company!" They chirped, once again moving back and forth between which head was carrying the conversation. Eric watched them both with fascination; he'd never seen this level of coordination before.

"Much more interesting." They turned to regard Harry. "Do you…"

"Remember the attack?" Harry asked, having already been through this with Ron and sort of with Eric. The twins nodded. "Nothing. All I've got is a lot of green light and flying on a motorcycle with Hagrid." The twins nodded solemnly for once. They spent the next hour talking before Fred and George left. The pair were interesting and Eric took advantage of the time to introduce himself properly and show off a few tricks. The twins were as dumbfounded by his use of wandless magic as Ron, Harry and McGonagall had been but they recovered a lot quicker and with a dangerous gleam in their eyes had made him promise to teach them later at Hogwarts. Their fake groveling had set him into fits of laughter and he had quickly agreed, the pair looked like they'd be a lot of fun…

A short while later Eric was playing with his magic again when the door opened once more. Eric was about to snap at the newcomer when he saw a plump woman with a pleasant face smiling down at him, a little amusement in her eyes as he set up. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked in an alto.

"Yeah." Harry said from the window. "I'm starving." The smaller boy jumped up and headed for the cart. Eric grabbed his arm and caught his friend's eye.

"Get me some chocolate?" he asked, pulling a gold Galleon out of his pocket and putting it in the other boy's hand.

Harry shrugged. "Sure thing."

Eric sat back and waited for him to return with the sweets. Ron gave him a look and he tilted his head in question. The freckled fan-boy turned pink and looked away, playing with what looked like a set of wrapped sandwiches. Presently Harry walked back in his arms loaded with what looked like half the cart and dumped it on the seat next to him. "Not much in the way of chocolate," Harry said in way of apology, handing his six silver sickles. "but the witch promised these frogs were dark chocolate, so I got you some." He pointed to the pile of several dozen oddly shaped wrappers. "I just hope they aren't actual frogs." He finished with a small shiver of disgust.

"Nah," Ron replied. "They've got an animating enchantment or two on them, but it's just chocolate." The red head explained looking pointedly only at Harry. "It's the cards that make em special though. Each frog's got a trading card with a famous witch or wizard. I've got loads back home."

Eric nodded and opened one. The chocolate was good rich dark chocolate Eric noted happily as he munched on a squirming leg. Used to be he'd only get stuff like this for special occasions having considered survival and building his rainy day fund far more important than simple comforts like this. He sighed, slouching down in his seat as he enjoyed the taste. He could get used to this, he thought. He was finishing off his third frog when the door opened yet again, causing him to groan. Were they ever going to get any peace on this infernal train?

"H-has any anyone s-seen a toad?" the intruder sniveled. Eric looked up at the taller boy in irritation. He was a good several inches over Stark's own height and dirty blond with a noticeable amount of baby fat. Seeing that neither Ron nor Harry were going to respond beyond looking at the kid on the far side of the compartment, Eric rolled his eyes and spoke.

"C'mere." He grumbled, his voice hard. The boy flinched, but followed instructions. He'd done this often enough for civilians in his shows and the quicker the boy left the sooner he might be able to get back to his chocolate. "I can get you your toad." Eric said simply, watching as the boy brightened. "But to do that I need you to do exactly what I say." The blond nodded, his tear-stained cheeks jiggling with the rigorous motion. "Ok, sit down across from me." The boy did so and Eric sat up, time to get this over with. "I want you to stare into my eyes and don't look away. Good, now, clear your mind of everything except your toad and want me to see it. Very good, now keep thinking about it." As the boy followed his instructions he reached for his power and began channeling it through his eyes toward his counterpart. He didn't specifically need eye contact to do this, but it had always helped with civilians in the show. As he did so Eric started getting flashes of images dozens of memories of the toad floated through his mind and he nodded.

"Ok," he said. "Stop, and watch closely. Try not to blink." Idly noting Harry and the fan boy watching he took hold of the power he had been using to watch the boy's memories and focused on the toad. He wanted the toad, he needed the toad, it was here in his hands. He chanted the words in his mind several times, pushing the magic into the thought as he waved his hands before his face, opposite each other. With a flash a large green amphibian fell into his lap looking startled.

Loud gasps filled the compartment and the boy across from him thundered out "Trevor!" The frog turned to look at the blond instantly as if in fear and tried to leap across the compartment. Neville was faster and caught the warty escapee in both hands, all smiles. "Thank you!" he gushed, clutching the poor amphibian to his chest, looking as if he was doing his best to flatten it. Eric put a finger up to his mouth as the boy continued to thank him profusely. When he didn't stop he added a glare and pointed at the door. With a squeak Neville sat and quieted down considerably.

"Really," the boys said, much quieter now. "Thank you for getting my toad back. It was given to me by my great uncle Algee when I first showed signs of magic. For the longest time my family was afraid I was a muggle." He explained, looking down.

Eric tilted his head in interest. "Magic families can have kids without the gift?" he said questioning. That was sort of odd, in all of the books he'd read parents always passed down their power to their children, it was just a matter of whether the children saw the purpose in their power and learned to use it.

"Yeah, no one knows why it happens, but my Uncle Algee was always trying to catch me off guard and scare me into performing magic. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool Pier once and I nearly drowned, but nothing happened till my eight birthday when he hung me out the fourth floor window by my feet. Aunt Enid offered him a meringue and he dropped me, but I bounded all the way down the drive. They were all real chuffed, Gran was crying she was so happy. Great Uncle Algae was so proud he bought me Trevor. What? What's wrong, are you all right?"

Eric was staring at him jaw hanging open in shock. This couldn't be; his own family! He wouldn't believe it, family loved each other! "H-how often d-did that type of thing h-happen?" he asked, his face pale.

"Eric, are you alright, mate?" came Harry's voice from across the compartment where he had broken his conversation with Ron.

Neville was looking at him weirdly, but answered. "Dozens of times." The boy said with a shrug.

Eric went white, his fists shaking with fury, how could family do that to each other?! His own Uncle, tries to kill him on a regular basis and he just shrugs it off? The compartment began to heat up as ebon flames started rolling off his shoulders. This was unconscionable he raged. He was going to find this man and beat him within an inch of his life, he was going to… *slap*.

Eric reeled in shock, the black plasma dissipating as he refocused on the world to see Harry standing between him and a cowering, whimpering Neville. "The bloody hell, Eric! What's wrong with you?" the scarred boy hissed at him.

"His own family tried to kill him, Potter!" Eric snarled back, his shock at being slapped forgotten as the rage crept back up. "Repeatedly, and he just shrugs it off as if it was a reasonable thing to do! Just because as a child he couldn't do magic!"

"My aunt and uncle locked me in a cupboard without food or water when they thought I was doing magic." Harry said quietly.

Eric stared at his friend, at a complete loss for words. These people had families, their lives weren't supposed to be like this! It challenged his beliefs about what a family was supposed to be on a fundamental level. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ron was gaping in shock as well so at least he wasn't alone in his assertion and that comforted him somewhat. He slowly sat back up and noticed that Neville had left the compartment while he was out of it. There was a croaking sound by the door and he watched as the proof of atrocity hopped off down the corridor.

I'm going to set that toad on fire he thought darkly. It was hard to realize that compared to some, even he had a charmed life. His thoughts were interrupted as the compartment door slammed open to reveal a bushy haired girl, already in her Hogwarts robes. "Which one of you did it?" she hissed, eyes flashing.

"Did what?" Ron asked dumbly.

"There's a boy out in the corridor out of his mind with fear, crying himself silly!" the girl snarled, showing large front teeth. "He says someone in this compartment did it."

"That would be me." Eric said coldly. The girl turned on him eyes flashing. She was about to tear into him, but Eric cut her off. "NO. I will not be lectured by you. He up and told us his family was trying to kill him because his magic was weak!" Eric snarled. "I will not apologize for losing my temper. Something like that shouldn't happen, I may be looking at this with the rosy glasses of a five year old who loved and lost his family, but the way I see it I had every right to be furious."

The bushy haired girl stepped back, her mouth open in shock, face white. Then she recovered slightly and spoke again, her voice quiet and forceful. "That doesn't mean you have the right to traumatize the boy, he's obviously suffered enough already." She said her face determined.

Eric looked momentarily shame-faced. "I didn't intend to scare him, I just got so mad my magic got away from me. Harry stopped me before the black fire hurt anyone." He said, gesturing behind him.

Harry waved to her from his side of the compartment. "Harry Potter." He said in way of greeting.

"Ron Weasley." The redhead piped up.

"I suppose proper introductions are in order." Eric mumbled turning back to the young witch. "I'm Eric… are you alright?" The girl's mouth was handing open again, but instead of pale she looked flushed.

"Harry Potter? Are you really?" she squeaked. "I've read so much about you! I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" said Harry, looking disturbed.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…"

"I read he was a Slytherin." Eric said shrugging. Hermione turned to him sharply. "Where did you read that?" she asked.

"Pride and Pretense, a compendium of famous and powerful wizards by Batilda Bagshot." He said shrugging. "It's got a whole section on Dumbledore in there." He said as he removed his trunk from his pocket. "Mr Flourish at the bookshop suggested it to me when I asked him for books on practical knowledge." He continued, wandlessly unshrinking and unlocking his trunk. He gestured at the open hole and a book flew out of it into his hand. "Here you go…" he paused, pulling the book back slightly.

"Hermione Granger." She breathed, snatching the book out of his hands. "How did you do that? Is your trunk especially enchanted? That must have cost a fortune!"

"A little, but I found a fruitful investment and things worked out. Mr Flourish said the book would help me get a newt in magical history, so I'd like it back when you get the chance. I've read a few of the chapters; it has every magical inventor, big name politician, and master sorcerer in this hemisphere for the last thousand years. There are a few other volumes for earlier millennia down in my library. Even a few, who didn't become famous, just became really powerful and went nowhere. Those chapters are usually short. Did you know that the Yank who gave civilians electricity, Mr Franklin, was a headmaster at Salem institute for 30 years after he faked his death in the civilian world?"

Hermione brightened at that and the pair descended into conversation, happily passing the trip talking about things they had learned and how it might be possible. The rest of the trip passed quietly, blessedly free of interruptions. Outside the window the world became slowly darker until a voice hummed from all around them. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Eric snorted and placed his hand on his trunk, closing, locking and shrinking it. He put it back in his pocket and followed Hermione out of the compartment. They exited into a mill of students on the back most platforms. Seeing most of the students heading for a line of carriages pulled by black horses he started to follow when there was a bellow, like the voice of a giant.

"Firs yers! Or 'ere, firs yers!" turning to the call Eric found he was not far off.

Seeing Hermione beside him still, her own mouth agape again, he nudged her. "Is that a giant?"

Hermione shook her head rigorously. "No giants are 15 to 20 feet tall, he's only 12. I suppose he could be a runt, but he's probably something else. I thought I'd read about every magical creature already. I'm gonna have to visit the library first chance I get."

"Allo,'arry!" the enormous man thundered as they passed by. "'ave a pleasant trip?"

"It was great, Hagrid." Harry returned from behind Eric's shoulder.

"Righ'," the man rumbled "Any more firs yer's? Tha' all a yah? This way ter the boats!"

The man turned around and stumped off, disturbingly graceful for such a large man. "That's Hagrid?" Eric asked Harry quietly, seeing him nod. "No wonder he looks after the schools magical game. He's so big none of them could bother him!" He turned to Hermione. "When Deputy Headmistress McGonagall came to deliver my letter she told me Hagrid, that man, was in charge of the care and maintenance of the school's magical game preserve. Said I should go to him if I had any questions about magical creatures." Eric explained. "I think she also wanted me to stop asking so many questions." He finished with a smirk as they stepped into a boat.

Like soft thunder they heard the games keeper speaking again. "Ery one in a boat! Hurry up, no more'n four ter a boat!" he said as he took the furthest one all to himself. "Ery one settled? FORWARD!"

The boats took off silently, moving of their own accord. After a couple of seconds Hagrid spoke again. "Jus a sec an you'll ge yer firs glance at 'ogwarts!" he rumbled, and sure enough as the rounded the bend the trees cleared to reveal the castle in all its glory, against the dying purple and orange light of evening. The stars were peeking their way out of most of the heavens and gave the whole scene a distinctly magical feeling to it. Turrets soared above the cliff on which the castle sat and Eric could swear he saw waves of multicolored light wafting around the building like an aurora borealis. This is everything a magic school's supposed to be, he thought in wonder.

"Watch yer heads!" came the quiet bass of Hagrid's voice as the cliffs loomed near them. Instead of running ashore and taking some hidden stairs up as Eric has expected they passed under a large hanging growth of vines that covered most of the cliff side and passed into a low cavern. When the boats did run aground it was on a pebbled shore beside a set of stairs. As everyone got out the doors at the top of the short steps opened to reveal Professor McGonagall.

"The first yers as, Professor." The giant rumbled.

The stern looking witch nodded, her emerald robes shifting with the motion. "Thank you Hagrid, I'll take charge of them now." She said crisply. "Follow me." She said, and they did. McGonagall led them up the stairs and into a massive hall with a vaulted roof and two enormous wooden doors. Hagrid stepped past them and through the doors which opened shortly to reveal the drone of hundreds of voices. The dining hall, Eric assumed.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Eric met the stern teacher's eyes and smiled. She gave him a barely perceptible nod and continued to survey the other students for several moments.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

Immediately after the professor disappeared the crowd descended into frenzied conversation, trying to determine what the sorting would be. Eric considered quietly, taking amusement from the antics of his friends as they stood on either side of him. Ron and Harry were discussing the possibility of fighting a troll, something one of Ron's twin brothers had apparently assured him was the trial. Hermione on the other hand was reciting all of the spells she'd memorized, in a desperate whisper and practicing wand movements. She was going to Ravenclaw, he was certain of it. It would be nice to have a friendly face when he got there.

Eric himself was slightly nervous as well, though he refused to show it openly. He'd always felt calmest when performing for a crowd so he decided to practice one of his flashier moves. He was still struggling with it and he was far from being able to use it practically but it should be enough to impress any judge they could throw at a novice. Closing his eyes he began the breathing exercises he used to bring out his magic. As he concentrated on the suggested paths from his novels Eric pushed and opened his eyes to the soft whump of a miniature fireball igniting.

Eric grinned. The civilians loved this one. He'd had to explain it to them as chemical gloves and gas nozzles hidden under his sleeves, but the few times he'd used it had brought in a lot of coin. There was a scream and Eric looked up to see a number of Ghosts coming out of a wall arguing about something. Shocked, he lost control of the fireball causing it to fizzle out, unnoticed by all but Hermione.

Huh, Eric thought, ghosts are real then. It was not a comforting thought. While the specters' existence was definitive proof of an immortal soul, something no priest had ever been able to provide him, Eric had read too many stories about the angry nature of souls who chose to stick around as ghosts. That there were no less than four of them arguing about something was definite cause for panic.

Eric relaxed as the ghosts noticed the presence of the students and greeted them cheerily, almost like doting grandparents. He heaved a sigh of relief as professor McGonagall came back in. "The sorting's about to start, come along. Form a line."

The doors opened once more to a cacophony of sound. As the marched down the center of four long wooden tables Eric fidgeted nervously, what if he failed? What if the test was really one of those cruel boarding school initiation pranks he'd heard about, or they took his spells and made him look the fool? The stopped in front of the staff table, facing the four rows of students. Between them and the rest of the school stood a wooden stool and a ratty, badly patched leather witches hat. Eric looked at the Hat, confused, when a seam near the brim tore itself open and the hat started to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

It was the oddest thing he had ever heard and Eric could not help laughing as he clapped along with everyone else. So they put on a hat and it counseled them through their sorting. He wondered briefly if it spoke to them or used a professional version of his mindscape spell. He watched with interest as student after student passed by. Some were sorted quickly, barely having time for the enormous hat to fall over their heads, others took time, His bookish friend Hermione for one took nearly 10 minutes before the hat cried out her house. He spent much of that time whispering Ravenclaw under his breath, only to feel a biting disappointment when she became bound for Gryffindor.

Oh-well, he thought, it's not as if I can't follower her he mused silently. If anything this proves that having the qualities of multiple houses is expected and something, probably her obvious sense of duty, won out. I can be brave, he assured himself, given a reason.

Eric watched on as students continued their trek through the hat to the house tables with only minor interest. Longbottom was another student of interest; the poor kid looked a mess as he was sorted into Hufflepuff. Eric nodded firmly, hopefully the other kid could find some proper happiness there. Real friends, if the hat was right, to show him that regular attempts at murder were not something done by those who really cared about you.

He watched nervously as Harry's name was called and his second friend went up to be sorted. He crossed his fingers as the boy sat there for several minutes, waiting for something. He was taking even longer than Hermione. Eventually the hat cried out Gryffindor and the hall went wild. The two boys he'd met earlier, Fred and George Weasley, were up on their table dancing and making a big deal of their having gotten Harry.

Gryffindor it is then he thought, determinedly. All of his other friends were already there and he would be too if he had anything to say about it.

"Stark, Eric." McGonagall called crisply. He walked forward and plopped the hat on his head, letting it fall till it sat firmly on his head. Eric tried to stop himself, he really did, but his first thought as the old patchwork settled over his head was man this thing stinks.

A presence skittered across the borders of his mind and Eric felt a pronounced sense of irritation. 'well that's one way to go about influencing people, Mr. Stark. Though I must admit, yours in one of the most interesting minds I've ever had the pleasure of sorting. Would you mind opening the door, or should I make my own way in?'

Eric began his breathing exercises and fell quickly into the mindscape. Appearing in the house he opened the door and let the hat in. The hat itself was an interesting figure, adult but shifting randomly and even piecemeal between four different figures, two male and another two female of widely varying builds. The figure went to one of the walls where a portrait appeared before it automatically and began flashing through his life at an amazing rate.

"Hmm," the 'sorting hat' murmured. "Quite brave, but only when the mood strikes you, probably wouldn't be best to put you in Gryffindor. You've a work ethic Helga would be proud of and a fierce loyalty waiting for those who gain your trust, but you're too naturally suspicious to ever be a Hufflepuff, though the house would do you well. I see a strong mind as well, you prefer to think your way out of problems; an admirable trait for any house, and well suited for both the Raven and Snake. You have a Slytherin's lust for power, but view knowledge as both the source and goal of that particular quest. I see you as best suited to the house of the Raven, but I sense you have some conflict about that?"

Eric nodded slowly. "I've wanted Ravenclaw since I first read about the houses, it's the most noble of the four as far as I'm concerned, but all of the friends I've managed so far are headed for Gryffindor. I don't suppose I could convince you otherwise on my sorting?"

"Of course I can be swayed in my decision." The hat said, laughing bitterly. "How do you think so many get sorted as soon as I'm close enough to enter their minds? From the little I saw of young Malfoy's mind he'd do the best in Hufflepuff, he's a hard worker and blindly loyal to his chosen cause. Classic Puff, but his mind was so focused on the desire to be Slytherin that there was nowhere else to place him." The Hat explained. "Your friend Hermione is another good example. She's reasonably brave, but by and large is rather ill-suited to being a Gryffindor and I told her as such. She'd have been far happier in Ravenclaw but argued her own way."

Eric stayed silent for several moments, weighing the options. He could go to a house he was unsuited but unopposed to and be with his friends, or go to the house where he would fit in, possibly making new friends and growing to his potential. He felt torn and began going in circles when the Hat spoke again.

"You wouldn't be in any way barred from having friends outside of your house. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are accepted in all four house common rooms, whereas Gryffindor and Slytherin suffer a bitter rivalry." He perked up slightly at that and nodded. "Well, I hope to see you grow in RAVENCLAW!" The hat said, shouting the last word to the rest of the hall and retreating from Eric's mind. Removing the hat with a flourish Stark placed it back on the stool and quickly walked off to the table that was clapping the loudest.

As he sat down Eric closed his eyes and concentrated, pushing an image into the chameleon enchantments and turning the accents on oh his robes and the Hogwarts insignia to match the rest of the house of the Raven and the sorting continued. Next up was an Asian girl with her hair in a low braid named Su Li. She stayed on the stool a little under a minute before being sorted into Ravenclaw. Eric smiled a little as she plopped down beside him.

"Hi, I'm Eric" he said brightly, holding out his hand.

"Su." She said. "How did you make that fire ball there in the hall? I thought they didn't teach wandless magic in Europe."

Eric's eyes widened and he grinned. "I'm self-taught. Lived on the streets for a while and I had to make money somehow, so I forced my accidental magic to become intentional. I didn't even know about magical society till a few weeks ago."

"Oh" she said. "Mom says her old school taught those spells in third year." She held her hand just under the table between them and Eric looked down to watch as lightning started jumping between her thumb and fingers. "I've already started, see? It's wicked draining though. Kaa-san says wand magic will make it a lot easier. A simpler focus and all that."

Eric grinned widely, completely missing as Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, his wide eyes completely focused on Su. "Want to trade notes after classes?"

The girl looked at him considering and then nodded, taking his offered hand with a smile. "Sure."

"Miss Li, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

The ponytailed girl giggled, letting go of his hand.

Shortly after Zabini, Blaise was sorted into Slytherin and Professor McGonagall took away the hat. She wasn't gone for more than a moment when Dumbledore stood from his seat at the high table. The hall quickly grew silent and everybody turned to look at him expectantly. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "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!" He sat back down and everybody clapped and cheered.

Eric on the other hand stared at the high table, his brow twitching occasionally. "He's mad as a box o' frogs." Eric said as the smells of food started to tickle his nose.

"That's exactly what he wants you to think." An older student across from him said. "Now pass those rolls and stop talking." Eric glared at him and levitated the rolls in front of the boy. The boy looked a bit shocked, but visibly restrained himself. "It's house policy, due to the nature of our typical students if we don't enforce silence at the table most of us will never get to eat because we'll spend the whole time arguing the ins and outs of one subject or another." He explained, snatching the rolls out of the air and placing several on his plate. "But don't think we aren't going to have a long discussion about this when we get up the common room." He said, pointing his fork at the still flying basket of dinner rolls.

Eric nodded and started serving himself. It made a strange sort of sense, smart people liked to talk and you could carry on more involved conversations with someone who was on your level. With a whole house full of people just dying to go into lecture mode mealtime would all to quickly get eaten up should they be allowed to do so. With that in mind he quickly started serving himself from a steaming haunch of some dark meat that passed in front of him and called for the mashed potatoes.

When the meal finished nearly two hours later Eric was licking a spoon of ice cream and feeling bloated. It was quite the meal and he was slightly worried he was going to throw up from the sheer amount he'd ingested which would be a real pity. It wasn't often he'd seen this much food, let-alone been able to eat his fill.

The Hall suddenly got silent and Eric looked up, the sudden cease of conversation somehow much louder than the constant buzz. Up at the high table the plum robed professor, Dumbledore he remembered, had stood up from his throne. As soon as he was certain everyone was silent he raised his arms and spoke.

"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 a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "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. Next, quidditch 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."

Murmuring filled the hall at that pronouncement. That a school of magic would be dangerous was simply a given Eric reasoned worriedly, but for a hallway to suddenly become fatal? There was certainly something unusual going on here and the older students' reactions only helped to reinforce that notion. Eric vowed to find the library at his soonest opportunity, this was a proper magic school after all, perhaps they'd have a way of divining what dangers lurked on the third floor.

Eric was interrupted in his thoughts by the headmaster calling for the school to sing a song. He sat there, bemused, as a jarring cacophony of voices screeched, howled, warbled and otherwise pretended to sing the schools alma-mater to a hundred different tunes and beats. It was patently horrible, but as everyone else quieted down to finish off with Gred and Forge Weasley drumming out the final verses at a funeral dirge even he found the urge to laugh.

After the twins finished Dumbledore dismissed them and prefects started herding their first years to the dormitories' for the first time. Penelope Clearwater, their new fifth year prefect, led them west from the great hall and up several flights of stairs to the fifth floor. The moved down a corridor for a few minutes before the older girl stopped by an arch way and turned to the 11 of them.

"There won't be enough room for all of you to hear or see," she said, her voice soft and clear, "but the entrance to our common room is through this stairwell. There is no door, only a bronze door knocker. To enter the common room you must use it and answer the riddle. Fail to do so and you will be locked out until someone comes along who is capable."

With that she turned and proceeded up the stone steps. Eric followed her from the front of the group, wanting to see the door's mechanism at work. As he ascended he noted that the stair wouldn't fit more than one person at a time, probably to keep people from helping each other out with their riddle he mused. Reaching the top of the tight spiral Eric blushed as he found his nose only inches from the older blond's rear. Leaning against the wall, as much to remove himself from a potentially embarrassing situation as from curiosity about the door, Eric watched as the prefect grabbed the brass ring hanging from the mouth of a brass eagle and let it drop with a deep, unnaturally loud, thud. As the sound reverberated through the wall the eagle came to life.

"Miss Clearwater, welcome back." The bird intoned, its voice tinny. "Your riddle. Voiceless cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites and mouthless mutters. What is it?"

"Wind." She answered primly, apparently familiar with such games.

The common room was a large circular space with three levels, a pit interspersed with blue velvet couches and tables, a ring like main floor and a balcony of marble and rich golden-brown wood. The walls, covered with bookcases, were broken by numerous large, arched bay windows complete with bronze drapes and plush blue velvet window seats. The ceiling, which appeared to be domed, displayed a breathtakingly clear view of the stars and moon outside.

It's beautiful, Eric thought breathlessly. You never had a view like this in Belfast.

Eric came back to earth as Penelope directed them to a grouping of couches near the center of the room. There were a lot of people still in the common room and as they found themselves seats many of the older students began whispering and pointing. Their guide studiously ignored this and began her introductions.

"Welcome, first years" she said, sitting down in a lone, wing backed armchair. "and congratulation on being sorted into Ravenclaw, the most intelligent, quirky and competitive of the four houses." The platinum blond grinned for a moment, "believe me" she said "The Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry has nothing on us come exam time. In this house we value three things, achievement, individuality and privacy. As you can see along the walls the Airy, as we call our common room, has an extensive library covering literally anything you might want to study." She pointed to the balcony over their heads. "From the overlook aspiring brewers can access a fully equipped potions lab. Be careful not to disturb anyone else's work though, numerous portraits provide security and expertise of previous generations, but any tampering will see you banned from the room for the remainder of the year. There are also shielded dueling platforms for our more adventurous students, that room's also good for studying the practical side of your various classes as many ravens have found that while academics come easily to us, the practicalities of magic require a bit more attention to perfect. On the other side is a large music room and complementary art studio for the more artistically inclined and the hanging gardens for anyone wishing to get ahead in Herbology."

She paused a short while; while the new students absorbed this information before continuing. "at the back of the common room you will find a statue of our founder, Lady Rowena Ravenclaw. The spiral stair directly behind her leads to the dormitories. Lights out occurs promptly at 10PM, if you are caught making a ruckus in any of the rooms after that expect to find yourself on the fast track to detention.

Now that's out of the way, introductions. I'm Penelope Clearwater, your resident fifth year prefect. I received last year's top marks for fourth year and enjoy experimenting with ancient runes. Anthony Goldstien, you're first."

The boy she pointed to was a taller boy with blond hair and dark blue eyes. "Umm, right. I'm Anthony…"

The blond first year cut off suddenly as the boy Eric had met at dinner stepped into the circle of couches and jabbed his wand at Goldstien. "You lot can do your introductions later, you'll have seven years to get used to each other. I, and the rest of the house, want to know how that one levitated those rolls at the feast without using his wand." The boy said challengingly.

Penelope glared at him and turned to the rest of them. "This is Jack Turner" she told them, a disgusted look on her face. "He is my alternate number and should have assisted me in leading you up here." Eric looked at him for several moments, his brow furrowed as he took in the information. Now that they were away from the table the boy looked REALLY tall; probably six feet to his four, and lean, though it was hard to tell what people really concealed beneath these baggy school robes.

"A wand is a tool." Eric said after a while. "A means to an end, but not the end itself. Didn't you ever do magic before you got your wand? Stuff happening simply because you wanted it to when you were scared or angry?" Eric looked around to see many of the older students nodding to each other in apparent understanding, even excitedly whispering things to one another as he made his statement.

One boy at the corner of his vision stepped forward with a rebuttal. "I used to be able to do things like that." He said, his tow head at shoulder height to the girl next to him. "Even into my second year I could make plants bloom and grow by touching them." Eric nodded back in satisfaction as several people nodded, giving some small credence to the story. "But it's gone away since then, I can't even make a daisy bloom anymore."

Another one, a girl this time came forward with a similar story, about being able to play with fire, but losing it after she got her wand. Story after story came forward, most of them he would later find out were muggleborns, but they all ended with losing their powers after they got their first wand. Usually the next day.

Eric pondered this, would he too lose his hard-won abilities? He didn't want to, but the evidence seemed compelling. He looked back up at the first boy and while his eyes seemed disturbed, the boy's face was still smug. Looking down Eric thought for a moment. He'd have to talk to the others individually later, but he was sure they were missing something important. Their magic was a part of them, they could use it before they gained their wands, use of a tool shouldn't strip them of their powers.

"Wait." He said as the crowd started break up. "Didn't any of you have more than one power?" he asked. "I'm fairly sure I'm not unique, but I've been actively using dozens of spells for more than four years. Maybe it's a problem of how you do it?"

Jack scoffed, but turned back with the others. The curly black haired girl who'd professed to be a pyro-kinetic stepped forward again and told him that it simply came naturally to them. She wanted things to burn and they had. Most of them were like that. "But didn't you ever try to get control of it? Read books, learn meditation, and make your own spells?"

"Medi what?" asked a voice behind him. Eric turned to see Penelope Clearwater standing behind him, confusion written plain on her face.

"Med-i-ta-tion." He pronounced. "It's the art of thought. The ability to calm yourself and look for answers within. It's how I found my magical core and integral to my casting."

A look of comprehension donned on the prefect's face and she whirled on the boy who had challenged him, babbling excitedly. "He means oclumancy! I read about it in the library last year, It's a branch of magic dealing with the mind! I mean, most of the book dealt with protecting yourself from the magic's opposite number, Legillimancy, but it was hinted that the magic was far older than the use of wands and that skilled legilimens only need eye contact to work the spell. This could be what he meant."

Eric suddenly focused on Penelope, his gaze intense. "This occlumancy, have you done it? What's it like? I know what I do, but what's the professional version like?"

"I do believe that's quite enough, young Mr. Stark" came a squeaky voice from the stairwell "It's getting late and you all have a full day ahead of you tomorrow." The house looked around and parted before the diminutive creature that was professor Flitwick. The gnome like professor was smiling brightly, but there was a distinct air of authority around him that seemed to demand obedience. "We wouldn't want our Ravens to start of the year badly because you were up all night like the Gryffindors? Off to bed with the lot of you. It's already 1126, shoo."

Shortly after the crowd broke up and filed up the stairs towards the male and female dorms.

At the top of the boy's stairs there was a small circular atrium with seven doors, a number above each. Eric followed the other first year boys into the door marked 1. Behind the door was a fair sized room with a couch and further bookcase. Eric had to smile. Wit and knowledge indeed, he thought. As if claws had a chance to be anything else… you could hardly turn around without hitting another bookshelf.

Eric looked around, confused for a second by the lack of beds in their 'dormitory' before noticing that the room had six doors. Moving to one he opened it to reveal a small room with a queen sized four poster bed, nightstand and desk bookshelf combo. Backing out of the room Eric turned to the other boys. After a few minutes one of them stepped forward.

"Hi." Said the freckled brunette, shaking each of the boys hands in turn. "I'm Terry Boot. Pity abou us not bein able to get propa interductions dunstairs." He said stifling a yawn and grinning sheepishly. Having taken Terry's initiative as a signal the boys all shook hands and introduced themselves. The blond from earlier, Anthony Goldstien and interested in charms; Kevin Entwhistle was most looking forward to herbology. Michael Corner, a tall pale boy with long black hair and Steven Cornfoot, a brunette, were already budding potioniers.

Then it was his turn. "Well, um. I'm an orphan." He said scratching the back of his head. "I lived on the streets of Belfast for a while and I ran a magic show to keep myself fed, so I'll probably be our charms guru." He said shrugging and conjuring two balls of light in his hands.

The boys stared at him for several moments before Michael spoke. "You've got to teach me how to do that, mate." He said reverently.

Eric grinned. He had a good feeling about this school.