Hi guys/girls! We're back just about a day after uploading chapter two. I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed, favorited, and followed the story so far. We really appreciate your support.
We do not own Harry Potter. Just a few OCs.
Note: William Chambers III, Marcus Belby, and Eddie Carmichael are not OCs. Chambers was briefly mentioned once, so I decided to give him a name somewhat of a role in the story.
Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 3
Harry could not believe what Hermione had just said. The Ministry is trying to take over Hogwarts? How can they do that? However, in Harry's experience, the Ministry was never particularly mindful of its legal boundaries. They would find a way to get Hogwarts under its jurisdiction, and it would not end well for anyone else.
He sensed everybody getting up from their table, and presumed that Dumbledore's had dismissed the students. Harry left quickly, deciding not to wait with Ron and Hermione, who were responsible for shepherding the students to the Gryffindor common room. He pretended to ignore the random stares and pointing from just about every student he passed, but mentally berated himself for not expecting it.
After all, it was he who just two months ago had come out of the Tri-Wizard tournament's final task, a dark maze, clutching the dead body of another student. It was he who had claimed that Voldemort had returned. It was he who was being painted as a liar and attention-seeker of questionable mental health. "The boy who lies." Ha! I almost wish Voldemort would lay waste to the Ministry itself. That'll show them!
Eventually, he arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor. The woman in the painting smoothed out her pink dress and looked at him vacantly. "No password, no entrance."
"Um…Uh…" Oh, what is it?
"Harry, I know the password!"
Harry turned around and saw Neville jogging toward him somewhat breathlessly.
"You do?" Harry asked somewhat disbelievingly.
"I remembered something for once! Mimbulus mimbletonia!"
"Correct," The Fat Lady said. With that, the portrait opened, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind it. Harry and Neville climbed through it into the Gryffindor Common Room and made their way to their dormitory.
Two of their roommates, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, had beaten them there. They had been talking as they decorated the areas around their four-poster beds, but abruptly stopped when Harry entered. Does anyone realize how telling that is?
"Hi," Harry greeted them experimentally.
"Hi Harry," Dean replied, "Good holiday?"
"Not bad," Harry lied, "You?"
"It was okay," Dean replied. "Better than Seamus's. He was just telling me about it."
"What happened, Seamus?" Neville asked.
The sandy-haired Irish boy did not immediately reply, instead making sure his Kenmare Kestrels poster was satisfyingly straight. "Me mam tried to transfer me into a different school." He did not turn to look at Harry.
"What?"
"She didn't want me returning to Hogwarts." Still, Seamus tried to avoid eye contact.
"But…why?"
Seamus was hesitant to answer "It's because of you, Harry."
"What do you mean it's because of me?"
"Well…" Seamus still couldn't bring himself to look Harry in the eyes. "…It isn't all because of you. It's also Dumbledore."
"She believes all the rubbish the Daily Prophet is saying about him and me?! She thinks I'm a liar and he's lost his touch in old age?"
"Yeah, pretty much." He paused. "What did happen that night, anyway?"
"Why are you asking me?" Harry retorted harshly. "Read the Daily Prophet like your mum does. I'm sure it'll explain everything."
"Don't talk about my mother like that!" Seamus snapped.
"I'll talk about people as I see fit. And your mum isn't even trying to look past-"
Without warning, Seamus shoved him. "You leave my mother out of this!" He hissed threateningly.
"What's going on here?"
Ron had appeared in the doorway, clearly not expecting an ugly scene such as this. He pointed his wand in the general direction of Harry and Seamus, ignoring Dean and Neville.
"He insulted my mother!" Seamus shouted.
"What? Harry wouldn't do that. It's not like him. Don't you remember last year? We met your mother, and we got along just fine."
"But then she started believing every lie that damn newspaper printed about me!" Harry interjected.
"Oh. Well that explains a lot."
"You're insane, you know that?" Seamus told Harry.
"Just stop. Both of you." Ron ordered, "Nobody here needs this arguing."
A tense silence befell the room, as the others realized he was right. Besides, they were aware that Ron was now a prefect, and arguing with one just about never ended well for anyone. Seamus glared at Harry one last time before sulking over to his four-poster for the night.
"My gran says the Daily Prophet is a load of rubbish," Neville said. "She cancelled our subscription this summer. She says that it's the Ministry that's losing it, not Dumbledore who's losing it. For what it's worth, we believe you, Harry."
Harry nodded gratefully. Neville tended to believe whatever his grandmother said about issues like this, but it was still one more person who said he believed him. It was still something. Dean returned to decorating the area around his four-poster, not wanting to take sides. Harry found himself hoping that Umbridge's speech and the dispute in the dorm would not represent microcosms of the school year.
(End scene)
Ammon sulked amongst the other Ravenclaws on their way to their common room. Well this is just great! My sister and I have been sorted into different houses, and the defense against the dark arts teacher is completely obnoxious. Not a good start to the year.
Eventually, the students all stopped at the fifth floor of a spiral staircase leading up a tower on the West side of the school. Anthony Goldstein, a blond, Jewish fifth-year student and newly appointed prefect, tapped the door a few times with a knocker in the shape of an eagle. Instead of granting everyone access, the eagle knocker asked, "What came first, the phoenix or the flame?"
"A circle has no beginning," Anthony replied matter-of-factly.
Instantly, the door opened to a very airy room with a midnight blue carpet. Arched windows gave the students a very good view of the school grounds; allowing them to glimpse the lake, Herbology gardens, Quidditch pitch, Forbidden Forest, and the mountains that surrounded the school. Blue and bronze silks hung from the windows, and the domed ceiling was decorated with painted stars. Tables, chairs, and bookcases furnished the room, and across from the entrance, there was a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four founders of the school and the house's namesake, which marked the entrance to the dormitories.
"Uh…So which one's ours?" Ammon asked nobody in particular.
"That depends," A regal voice asked him, "What year are you in?"
Ammon turned to his left, the direction of the voice, and saw a male student about his age and height. He had close-cropped blond hair, clear blue eyes, and a friendly smile. Ammon would have frowned if the boy wasn't offering help. I can't tell whether he's being genuinely friendly or superficial.
"Sixth."
"That's my year, too. Come on, the boys' dormitories are up the staircase to the left, and the sixth years' room is beyond the second door from the right."
Ammon followed him through the door to the boys' dormitories and up the staircase. Progress, however, was slow due to the staircase's congestion with other students. Still, in a couple of minutes, they made it to the room with seven doors, one for each year.
The other boy led Ammon through the second one from the right. Beyond that door was, as he said, the sixth years' dorm room. There were six four-poster beds, each with sky blue drapes and a rug next to it. There were also a few desks, drawers, and bookshelves. At the back of the room, there was a door that presumably led to a bathroom with a shower. Ammon noticed that his four other new roommates had beaten them there, and that his stuff had been arranged on the bed on the opposite wall closest to the entrance and exit.
Ammon nodded slowly. "Nice place."
"Indeed it is." The prefect extended his hand. "William Chambers the Third, student, quidditch chaser, and prefect, in that order precisely.
Ammon nodded and shook his hand. "Ammon Pendleton."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ammon. Now allow me to introduce…" He gestured to a thin, dark-haired boy. "Marcus Belby…" Marcus gave a shy wave. "…Eddie Carmichael…"
Another lanky, dark-haired boy, who wore his hair slightly longer in the front than Marcus, waved at Ammon. "Dose of Baruffio's Brain Elixir for five galleons?"
Ammon shook his head. "No thanks."
After a brief pause, William continued the introductions. "Ezekiel Okyoe..." A husky boy with noticeably darker skin than the others looked up at Ammon for a moment, nodded in acknowledgment of his presence, then returned to the potions book he was reading.
"…And Stéphane Chennault."
A boy with chin-length, somewhat messy chestnut hair and a roguish smile walked over to him. "You're the American, right?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"What are the witches in America like? My older brother Antonin studied for a year in New Orleans and ended up going through three girlfriends there. In his letters, he said they were all very attractive. Is this true with the other witches in America?"
"Uh…It depends." That's something Francesco would have asked. Heck, the two even look somewhat alike.
"Well then," William continued, "Now that we are all acquainted with our new roommate, it's time for a short meeting. Gather 'round, everyone!" Marcus, Eddie, Ezekiel, and Stéphane all formed a circle with William and Ammon.
"As you all know, it is our sixth year at Hogwarts. We likely have fewer classes than the first through fifth years, but more than the other sixth years." William noticed that Ammon's hand was raised. "You have a question?"
"Yeah, why do we have fewer classes than the younger students, but more than the other sixth years?"
"Well, the classes are supposed to be fewer, but more challenging, with more homework. We'll likely have more classes than the other sixth years because, as a general rule, Ravenclaws are smarter than students from the other houses, with the possible exception of Hermione Granger, so we're more likely to have qualified for more classes than other students."
Ammon nodded. "Fair enough."
"As I was saying," William continued, "We've had the highest marks collectively of all the Hogwarts years for four years running. We shouldn't have any issue making it five."
"We barely won that distinction last year," Ezekiel pointed out, "And we nearly killed each other to do it."
"Because some of you got competitive with each other," William replied, "Let's try not to do that again this year. We're supposed to be friends."
Ezekiel nodded, although Ammon detected a slight trace of resentment in his eyes.
"Okay," William continued, "So to recap, it's our sixth year, classes will be fewer, but a bit more challenging, homework will be more, but easily manageable for Ravenclaw geniuses like us, we're going to be the smartest dorm in Hogwarts yet again, and do it without fighting. There, that covers it."
"Celebratory drink?" Eddie asked.
"What's that, Eddie?" William asked.
"I nicked a few bottles of firewhiskey when my dad wasn't looking." He held one of them for the others to see. "Ogden's."
Stéphane's eyes widened in surprise. "How'd you smuggle that in here?"
"I have my ways," Eddie replied vaguely.
"Eh, you guys go ahead," Ammon replied, "I took a sip of that stuff last year once when I was fourteen and nobody was looking." He shuddered at the memory. "It tasted so bad."
Eddie shrugged and opened his bottle of firewhiskey. "Suit yourself." He turned back to the others. "Alright, all of us are going to put five galleons in the center of this circle, and whoever can down their bottle first wins the lot."
Ammon left them to their drinking game and took from one of his bags a poster of the American Quidditch League's Denver Dragons. He used a permanent sticking charm so that it would stay on the wall. Stepping back, he admired the poster, which depicted chasers Alejandro Arroyo, Kenneth Hastings, and Alton Pryor passing the quaffle amongst themselves, right over the heads of the chasers of the Dragons' hated rivals, the Seattle Thunderbirds. The action sequence ended with Pryor luring the goalie away from the left ring, then passing the quaffle to Hastings, who netted an easy ten points.
"You all pay them back for beating you in the semifinals this season, okay?"
"I win!" William declared jovially, spiking his now-empty bottle of firewhiskey on the ground and shattering it.
"Do you have any more of that stuff, Eddie?" Stéphane asked.
"I'm afraid not. But I think Roger Davies might."
"If he does, do you think he'll mind?" Marcus asked.
"He won't," William replied, "I know Roger. He and I are on the Ravenclaw quidditch team, remember? He'd be more than happy to share. That is, if he actually has some firewhiskey with him. He's old enough to drink and buy it legally now."
Eddie headed for the door, having finished his own firewhiskey. "Well what are we waiting for? Let's do this!"
"You three finish what you've got before joining us." Eddie told Marcus, Stéphane, and Ezekiel, "We're not really supposed to do this." He turned to Ammon. "Care to join?"
"Nah, I'm good. Again, I've had a bad experience with firewhiskey."
"Oh, lighten up!" Eddie tried to cajole Ammon, "It's your first night at the greatest school in the universe! Surely you don't plan to squander it all studying, do you?"
"I didn't plan to study the entire time. I'm not an antisocial bookworm." At least, not when you get to know me and you seem like someone whose company I would enjoy. "But getting totally plastered isn't exactly on my to-do list."
William shrugged. "Whatever you say."
He and Eddie left, with Marcus hurrying behind them, as he had finished his firewhiskey. That left Stéphane, who was nearly finished, and Ezekiel, who was taking his time and had only gotten about halfway through his drink.
Taking advantage of the peace and quiet, Ammon sat down on his bed and remembered the envelope Gray Sky had given him. "Accio envelope." In moments, the envelope floated into his hand. Ammon opened it and unfolded the parchment within.
Dear Ammon,
It's so weird not having you here at school. We miss you already. We just hope you have a good time at Hogwarts. Don't forget to make new friends. Write to us, okay? We're just an owl away.
Your friends,
Noah, Cara, Francesco, Paolo, and Rafael.
P.S. If you meet any hot girls overseas, let me know right away and send a picture. –Francesco
Ammon chuckled. Classic Francesco. Ammon looked out the nearest window, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to see a thing. I already miss you guys. But I'll still enjoy my time at Hogwarts. He smiled, convinced that he knew what he had signed up for.
(End scene)
Avery gazed around her new dorm room timidly. It was in the shape of an oval, illuminated with silver lanterns dangling from the ceiling, and with a quartet of old four-poster beds along the walls. Green, silk drapes hung from them. Next to each bed was a dresser for storing clothes and other belongings. Slytherin crests adorned the walls. In the silence of the room, Avery could hear water from the lake gently hitting the windows. (Part of the Slytherin common room and the dorms were located underneath the lake.)
She thought about how badly the night had gone. She and her brother had once again been sorted into different houses, and from what she had heard earlier, now nobody she met on the Hogwarts express would want anything to do with her. She remembered how venomously Ginny had spoken about the house of Slytherin, to the point where she had to make a mental note to ask Ammon what some of the unfamiliar words the red-haired girl had said meant. She, Harry, and Neville had all seemed nice when Avery met them, but now that she had been sorted into their rival house, it would likely no longer be the case.
And how would Ammon respond to the hat's decision? Did he believe what Ginny had said about how bad Slytherin students were? Would be want nothing at all to do with her now?
"I knew you seemed a bit old for a first year," One of her two roommates said.
Avery turned around, having zoned out too much to notice the people around her. She saw that it was a girl with curly brown hair who had made the comment.
"That's because I'm a second year," Avery replied somewhat irritably.
"Then how come-Oh that's right, you're American." The girl put on a black headband to keep her hair out of her face. "My name's Catherine, by the way, but I prefer to be called Cat."
"I'm Avery."
"Nice to meet you." Cat paused momentarily. "You're lucky the hat placed you in Slytherin, by the way. We're the best house in Hogwarts."
You sure about that? "What's wrong with the other three?"
Another girl, this one with blonde, shoulder-length hair, answered the question before Cat could. "Ravenclaws are know-it-alls who won't treat you with any respect if they think you're not as smart as them, Hufflepuffs are weak, and Gryffindors…" Cat's voice suddenly took on a more venomous tone, not unlike Ginny's when talking about the Slytherins. "Gryffindors are just awful. They hate us because of our heritage and because we actually want to reach our full potential as wizards. They act like ambition is a bad thing. What do they expect us to do? Settle for some job as the caretaker at some lesser school? No thank you."
"My brother got sorted into Ravenclaw, and he doesn't treat me badly because I'm not as smart as him. And Luna Lovegood doesn't seem very smart at all."
"Jessica's right." Cat gestured to the blonde girl for emphasis. "You just wait. By the end of the year, he'll be so full of himself and his intelligence that he won't take you seriously again. And Loony's just plain mental, so she isn't a good example."
"My brother and I sat with a few Gryffindors on the train. They seemed really nice."
"That's because they didn't know you'd end up as a Slytherin," Jessica explained. "Had you been sorted into any of the other two houses, they wouldn't have an issue with you. But now you're a Slytherin, and they probably hate you because of it."
Avery frowned. "You're sure of this?"
"Positive. You don't want to be friends of people like them, anyway. They're no big loss to you. At Hogwarts, you've got to make good decisions when it comes to friendships. Cat and I can help you out there."
Avery did not need to take long to make a decision. Cat seemed nice enough, although Jessica seemed more than a little spiteful toward the other houses. Then again, so had Ginny, who likely wouldn't want anything to do with her now that she was in Slytherin, assuming Cat and Jessica were correct. Everybody needs friends, and I might not get an opportunity like this later. What could go wrong?
"What do you say?" Cat asked.
She smiled. "That sounds great."