A/N: Review Responses are available in my forums. I would also like to take a moment to discuss certain topics of discussion in this chapter. Magical society in this story is homophobic. This is not me advocating homophobia at all, but rather just one of the many illustrated points of how broken and oppressive this society really is. Think of it as similar in concept to some of the repressive practices of V for Vendetta. It is not my intent to be insulting to anyone based on orientation, but to rather explore how such a society would handle such orientations. The world of Magic in this story is not a friendly, happy place.

Chapter Five: Walls of Magic

Harry couldn't walk straight. He tried, truly he did, but he just could not concentrate on anything as mundane as walking. The moment he climbed off the boat, he started stumbling drunkenly. At first the other students laughed about it, until they realized it was not Harry Potter trying to be funny or acting the fool—it was Harry Potter being so completely overwhelmed by the magic in the walls of Hogwarts that he could not focus even enough of his mind to the simple task of walking.

"Alright there, Mr Potter?" Elfaba said, taking his shoulder in her hand.

A spark of energy shot through him at the touch and he jumped in surprise. He could see her power completely now, burning like a roaring fire in her chest; she was as nervous about being head girl as he was about being a first-year. He didn't even think as he reached out and touched the fire, calming it almost immediately.

He heard gasps behind him, as well as Malfoy snickering about stupid Mudbloods, but he could only focus on calming the fire in her chest—it helped keep him focused away from the overpowering levels of magic in the walls around him.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall said, arriving suddenly. Then, more gently, "Elfaba?"

"Oh, sorry, Professor," the elder girl said, taking Harry's hand from her breast. "That's quite the effect he has, isn't it? Just like you said." Clearing her throat, she said, "Harry, remember, we don't touch like that here."

He swayed a little, then blinked and blushed. "I'm sorry, but you were so nervous and the walls are so bright my head hurts and…oh, yeah. Sorry."

He looked down at his feet in shame. "No worries, mate," the Scot, Finnigan said from behind him. "Nothing else, you just got to feel up a hot looking bird."

"In your dreams, Mr Finnigan," Elfaba said.

"Every night," the boy said with a smug grin.

"Not unless you're older than you look," the head girl shot back with a saucy wink. "The first years are ready, Professor."

"Very good, Elfaba. Please join your table." When the head girl was gone, McGonagall turned and looked back at the First Years. "Miss Rivers?"

A pretty girl with a wide, freckled oval face and eyes so blue they were almost violet blanched. "Yes, Professor?"

"Given that you are to be sorted after him, could you please make sure Mr Potter stays in his place for the sorting?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Very good, thank you. All of you, as you should be aware now from our head girl, you are all about to be sorted into your houses. These houses have been designed specifically for persons with your elemental inclination over several hundred years. Everything from color scheme to furniture placement has been designed for your personal comfort. That is because for the first three years of your lives here there will be some additional restrictions on you that you will not find once you are older. This is for your own safety and propriety. Your heads of house shall act as your guide, your parent and your advocate while you are here, and if you have any problems at all you should not hesitate to contact those heads. Now, if we are all lined up, we shall go."

She lined them up in front of a pair of huge doors and walked down, nodding to each one. As she did so, she noticed Harry wincing and swaying a little, while behind him Jessica Rivers looked worried. "Ms Patil?" she asked the girl directly in front of him.

Parvati looked up and smiled. "Yes, Professor?"

"Ms Rivers may need some additional help with Mr Potter. See to it, please?"

"Of course, Professor, but why?"

"Imagine stepping from a dark room you've lived in all your life into the brightest day in you can imagine," McGonagall said. "If there was any doubt of him being an Aether, it is certainly gone now. His mother had the same difficulty. It will take him some time to adjust. I appreciate your helping."

"What?" Harry asked, having completely missed the conversation.

"Nothing, Harry. I'm Parvati, nice to meet you."

"Hi, Parvati," he said. "You're pretty. You'll like Gryffindor, I think." He winced and held a hand to his brow. "Sorry, head hurts."

"Will I be in Gryffindor?" a second Patil girl asked.

Harry blinked. "I'm seeing double," he muttered.

"They're twins," the girl behind him said helpfully.

He turned and looked at her, smiling faintly, then looked back to the twins. "Er, no, you'll be Ravenclaw. But she'll-" this pointed back to Jessica Rivers, "be in Gryffindor."

The doors opened, and Harry took a step back. "Wow," he breathed out in pain.

The walls of the Great Hall burned with magic so brilliant it was almost unbearable, and the enchantment in the ceiling thrummed with power. If not for Parvati leading him by the hand and Jessica Rivers pushing him from the back he'd never have made it.

McGonagall led the students into the hall before leaving them to stand be a stool with a hat on it. Removing a scroll from her robe, she said, "Hannah Abbot!"

A short blond girl with dimples and freckles on her cheek walked nervously to the stool. Harry focused on her earthen-ed magic desperately, trying not to think about the walls of the castle. "Hufflepuff," he whispered as McGonagall lowered the hat on her.

"Hufflepuff," the Hat announced a moment later.

"Terri Boot," McGonagall said, reading the next name.

One of the girls from Muggleborn Orientation walked to the stool next. "Ravenclaw," Harry said.

"Ravenclaw," the hat echoed.

"That's really kind of amazing," Padma Patil said.

"Kind of creepy, too," Parvati added. "But he won his bet with Malfoy."

So the names went, Harry announcing their placement right before the hat in a desperate bid not to focus on the walls or the ceiling. He hardly noticed when Padma was called, or Parvati after her. It wasn't until Jessica pushed at him gently that he turned to look in confusion. "It's your turn, Harry," the girl was saying, looking pointedly at the patiently waiting McGonagall.

"Oh, right, thanks." Harry walked stiff-legged across the floor—not even looking down helped. The floors were as magical as the walls, and he could sense movement beneath them, though his mind shied away from what it was.

When he got to the stool, he missed it entirely the first time he tried to sit and fell to the floor, to the delighted laughter of Malfoy and many of the other students. "Professor, there's something moving under the floor!" Harry hissed.

"House elves, Mr Potter," McGonagall explained. "I promise it is nothing to be concerned about. Now, up on the stool with you."

From the table, he heard a high-pitched voice say, "Albus, he's just like Lily was, do you remember?"

Harry tried to turn to see who spoke, but the hat was immediately shoved down on his head and he stiffened as the light of the magical room dimmed before something so bright his mind shied away from it, casting everything else in shadow.

"Another Aether," the hat said in his mind. "And a powerful one as well. Your magic is stained, boy."

Harry tried to breath. "What do you mean?"

"You've been touched by evil," the hat said. "Your natural inclination is fire, but the stain is of water. Something is keeping the stain limited around your scar, but if that protection ever breached, the fire would be extinguished. Fire and water are elemental opposites and bound to destroy each other. You would die."

Harry felt his heart thumping in alarm. "What should I do?"

"Get the stain removed, of course," the hat said with a smirking tone. "I could sort you to Slytherin because of that stain. Lots of politicians come from the house of the water serpents. Water flows into all available cracks and escapes through any opening—like a good politician. You could achieve real power in that house, but you would not be happy."

"Malfoy's a prat, I don't want to be anywhere near him."

"Yes, yes he is. Then it better be, Gryffindor!"

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Harry had three roommates—Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom. Of the other boys, Ron and Seamus's magic seemed to burn the brightest, while Neville's magic had a slightly brown tinge to it that made Harry think the boy could almost have been a Hufflepuff.

They had a very large room with four poster beds with thick curtains for privacy. Next to their beds were space-enhanced wardrobes so big they could get dressed in them if they wanted, and a writing desk on the other side of each bed. Attached to the room was their own washroom, with a large open shower, three sinks and three toilets.

"Better not all need to piss at once, then," Finnigan said. "So, Potter, what's the deal with you acting so weird?"

"The walls are really bright," Harry complained. "Felt like someone was hitting me in the head with a hammer. Couldn't even bloody walk straight."

Seamus looked at the nearest wall and saw stained, old stone blocks. "Bright, eh?"

"Remember Elfaba said he could see magic," Neville pointed out.

"Aye, 'have to remember that if it lets me feel up birds like you did, Potter. So, name's Seamus Finnigan, I'm from Clydebank, just up the river from Glasgow."

"Neville Longbottom, Holywell. Been there for a thousand years or so, my family."

"Ron Weasley, Ottery St. Catchpole," the red head said. "My brother Percy is here, and the twins, Fred and Georgina. My youngest sister is going to be starting next year." He looked at Harry and grinned. "She's read every book there is on you, Harry, and likes our Dad to tell her bedtime stories 'bout the boy who lived. Better not feel her up like you did that bird, though, or Mum might cut you up and make a pie out of you. Or worse, bond you to her."

Harry shuddered. Being cut up was one thing, but being bonded was quite another. "Okay, promise."

"So what's your story, 'Arry," Seamus said.

Harry shrugged. "I grew up with Muggle relatives. Found out I was a wizard, here I am."

"The books are better," Seamus said, snorting. "Okay, enough with the biographies. Who's up for some exploding snap?"

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

The next morning, an older boy stepped into their room at six o'clock. He had a thin face, curly red hair, and freckles underneath his glowing brown eyes. He wore the Gryffindor robes with a prefect badge on his right breast over the Gryffindor lion. He stared at the four sleeping boys with a smirk before raising his wand. With a flick, a swish, and an incantation under his breath, the morning stillness was shattered by a horrid caterwauling reminiscent of a thousand moose being emasculated by rusty butter knives.

The boys screamed in horror as they all tumbled out of their beds and rushed about in alarm, until one boy saw who was making the noise. "Percy you prat!" Ron shouted.

The noise ended. "Good morning," the boy said. "My name is Percy Weasley, I am the fifth year prefect and your personal god. I can make your life hell, or…well, I will simply make your life hell, to be honest. It is time to wake up, get dressed and come down to the common room. You have ten minutes."

With that, Percy turned and left. Ron started digging into the trunk by his bed, pulling out far more clothes than such an object could readily hold, all the while muttering about prat siblings. Ten minutes later the four boys tumbled down to find the six girls of Gryffindor already dressed, primped and prepared with Elfaba.

"Good morning!" the Head girl said brightly; behind her, the girls giggled. "Welcome to your first day of classes. Percy, thank you. You and Adelaide can get the second and third years now."

Percy and another girl with mocha-colored skin split up to go get the next years, while Elfaba led the first years through the strangely large portrait of an even larger woman dressed like a Wagnerian opera singer and through the castle until they came to the Great Hall. Almost at the exact same time, the first years from the other four houses were led into the Great Hall.

They were all seated together when food suddenly appeared, just like at the welcoming feast. A few minutes later the four Heads of Houses emerged from a door near the staff table and walked to their respective first years.

"Good morning," Professor McGonagall said as she handed a stack of parchments to Jessica Rivers, who took one before passing it down. "These are your class timetables. All first year boys will take classes together, while first year girls will be in a separate track. First years will eat together as group, but after dinner you will have personal time. You are to stay together—one tardy student results in all your housemates being tardy, and all of them being punished with you."

Harry's head felt better that morning, and the walls did not seem quite so bright. He could see the magic there, but it just did not hurt as much as before. He accepted a stack of parchments, took his, and passed them to Seamus.

"Most extracurricular activities are limited to Third Years and above," McGonagall said. "However, you will all be taking a special course of flying, and will be studying various wizarding methods of transportation in Wizarding Studies. I expect you all to be on your best behavior. If you have any issues, please bring them to my attention."

She finished with a nod before walking to the Staff Table. In her absence, Harry looked at his schedule. He saw with dawning horror that he would be in classes every day from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon. The classes switched day to day, so he'd have Herbology, Charms, Wizard Studies and Muggle Studies on Monday, Wednesdays and Thursdays, then Transfiguration, History, and then four straight hours of Muggle Studies on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And on Saturday, he had flying.

"Wow," he muttered. "That's a long day. School until five?"

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Hermione beamed from down the table.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Herbology was hard. Not so much the memorizing plants, but the sheer amount of physical labor involved in successfully growing magical plants was daunting. In the first thirty minutes of her first two hour class, Professor Sprout explained why only witches, wizards and squibs could cultivate a witch's garden, while Muggles could not: magic, of course.

"A mandrake to a Muggle is just a rather unattractive root, really. It does have some medicinal value to them, to be sure, but there is no magical aspect to it. However, take this same seedling and have a witch or wizard plant it, and the very act of our intent for this plant to grow imparts a spark of magic into it, causing that mandrake to develop into the magical variety we use here at Hogwarts. This is true for all magical flora, and for a surprising amount of magical fauna as well. The magical composite creatures, like Centaurs, as you'll learn as you advance, were all created by wizards and depend on magic to survive."

Soon, the lecture was done and Sprout had them all working on planting magical seedlings for a crop of plants that they would care for through the year. It was not the most fun class ever, but after eight years of working on Aunt Petunia's garden, it was nothing Harry had not done before.

However, it made Harry suspect that he was the reason why Privet Drive's garden looked as it did, since Aunt Petunia was constantly bragging to her neighbors how good her front garden looked.

Charms was much more of a challenge for Harry, being the first class in which they employed their wands. Again, their class was comprised solely of the thirteen boys of the first year, and Harry thought the class would be rowdy and hard to control, only to find the exact opposite. Professor Flitwick held their complete attention through all two hours of charms

Harry noticed that after each class, a prefect from a different house would march them to their next class. Not once did they see the girls as they moved between classes, not until they marched into the Great Hall for lunch. Even then, they were seated together as a group, as were the second years. Third years were allowed to co-mingle a little, while the upper years were given leave to sit where they pleased, even with other houses.

It wasn't until after lunch that the truly fascinating classes began. The boys settled into the class after their prefect dropped them off and left for her own classes, being a fifth-year Slytherin. At one on the dot, a hawk-faced woman with yellow eyes and spiked hair that looked vaguely like eagle feathers strode imperiously into the room.

"Good afternoon," she said. "I am Rolanda Hooch, your Wizarding Studies professor, as well as your flying instructor. Your first flying lessons will actually be an extension of this class. As you should have seen, this class meets for six hours each week. The purpose of this class is to introduce all of you into the magical world, to share with you the expectations of your society, the pitfalls of failing to meet those expectations, and the intricacies of everyday life that even those of you who were raised in it may not be aware of."

She spoke in sharp, clipped tones and paced about the head of the class imperiously as she lectured. "The goal of this first year is to ensure that you are all familiar with the Statutes of Secrecy and the reasons why those statutes were created, the foundation of both the British Ministry of Magic and larger International Confederation of Wizards, the covens that primarily control those bodies, and the societal pressures unique to wizarding life. I see that there are only two Muggle-raised in the room. So, for their benefit, I pose the following question. Mr Malfoy?"

The blonde-haired sat up with a surprisingly attentive smile. "Yes, professor?"

"How many siblings do you have?"

"I have three older sisters, Professor."

"Born to whom?"

"Born to my father's elder wife, Elezeta Malfoy née Lestrange. I am the sole child of my father's younger wife, Narcissa Black."

Harry blinked in surprise and couldn't help but look back at the smirking boy.

"Mr Weasley," Professor Hooch continued. "There are a total of seven children born to the Weasley family, including four boys, a statistical anomaly that has advanced the fortunes of the family significantly. How many wives does your father have?"

"Well, just the one, now," Ron said, cheeks burning. "Mummy Adeena died in the war. She was my brother's Bill and Percy, and sister Charlene's mum. Me and Fred, and my sisters Georgina and Ginevra were all born to Mummy Molly."

"Thank you," she said. "I say this mainly for our two Muggle-raised students so that they understand the one, basic fact of magical life. There are too many witches and not enough wizards. While it may seem hard to believe, wars have been fought between covens for the right to claim wizards."

"But we're stronger!" Seamus proclaimed. "We got ourselves more magic!"

"That is true," Hooch said. "However, what good will all that magic do you if a coven of angry witches attacks you?"

Finnigan gulped loudly. "That doesn't sound fun."

"No, it isn't," Hooch said, wearing a smirk oddly reminiscent of Malfoy's. "Many elders of the Wizengamot over the years have learned this lesson when they failed to speak according to their coven's wishes. I say this, because this is one of the expectations of being a wizard in our society. You will get married, and will at the least have two spouses. There are only forty children in this incoming class. Last year, there were eighty four. Before that, there were one hundred twenty three. Before that, one hundred fifty. This school was built to house and teach up to six thousand students at any one time. We have not had a student body above a thousand for nine generations, and that was when we were one of the only magical schools in all of Europe. Nor are we alone—Beauxbatons and Durmstrang also have experienced population losses, as have most of the magical communities in the world. We will explore many of the theories why in his class."

She paused and looked at the boys in the room. "Next year's class is almost eighty percent witches. Four witches for every wizard, primarily because of the stress of war, and the purposeful targeting of male children by You-Know-Who."

MacMillan raised his hand until Hooch nodded to him. "What if you're a poofter?"

Hooch sneered. "You get married and do your duty, and then you go seek whatever pleasures you wish if your coven so allows it."

Harry sat up—day school teachers did not talk like that. "Make no mistake," the professor continued. "Wizarding society has its expectations, and those who fail to meet those expectations are at best looked down upon. Our population cannot tolerate any behavior that would prevent a wizard from siring children. If someone of an alternate sexual orientation fails to marry and produce a child, that wizard will be bound, veiled, and sent out among the Muggles. It is harsh, and for those raised in modern Muggle society, a facet you may not be accustomed to. However, it is one of many necessities of our society. Now, open your books to chapter one, where we discuss just what it means to be magical."

For the first time since this whole strange adventure began, Harry wondered if he had perhaps made a mistake in coming. Or if he never had a choice at all.

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Author's Note: Very special thanks to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading.