AN:
Oni: I KNOW ITS BEEN A WHILE DONT KILL ME PLEASE!
Eridan: Wwhere havve you been?!
Harry: Seriously all of your focus have been untouched for almost a year. More on others.
Oni: I have terrible time management skills. Plus my internet broke down a while ago too. Uuuuugh.
Harry: *sigh* Why must you be this way...
Oni: I dunno, but anyway you know the drill!
Loki:*salutes*
Harry: Oh no when did HE get here...
Oni: A while ago.
Oni: Also, I've gotten some reviews stating that my Eridan is Gary Stu. He might be, probably, but then again, this may not be a crack fic, but making Eridan a bit...well Gary Stu is just a way of making myself and hopefully you guys laugh. Overly serious stories are too much for me, so I stay away from that.
"English"
"Alternian"
Eridan: Oni does not owwn Homestuck nor Harry Potter. The premise of this fanfiction is, howwevver, of her owwn devvisin.
Harry: Wait, then what's Loki for?
Loki: *cackles*
Harry: OH MERLIN NO- *crash* *bang* *cat screeches*
Oni: AAAAAAAND ONWARDS!
Alternia Interlude - Karkat
"NO, TROLL RICHARD GERE! CAN YOU NOT SEE SHE'S FLUSHED FOR YOU EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE A PURPLE BLOOD AND SHE'S RUST? SHE ALREADY FILLED A BUCKET WITH YOU YOU FUCKING BULGEWIT! TAKE HER AS YOUR MATESPRIT AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER!"
Shouting was common in the Vantas hivehold, and today was no different. Karkat's yells shook the sturdy grey cement walls of his rumpusblock. Another Rom-Com today, but when is it ever any different? He heard his Lusus Crabdad screech at his volume from the floor below, probably something along the lines of 'SHUT UP AND WATCH THE DAMN MOVIE IN PEACE' or something like that. One can derive that yes, a troll shares many personality traits with their Lusus.
Today had been a pretty boring one. This was his 52nd time watching this particular one (not that he was complaining, it was one of his favorites) and he didn't have anything to do after it was over. Usually he'd pester one of his friends, but Sollux was still trying to find the perfect look for his character in his new role playing game (even though it had already been WEEKS since he first got the fucking thing in the mail), Terezi was FLARPing with Serket (and he didn't wan to risk trolling her just in case the spider troll was around), Gamzee was currently in a post-sopor food coma, and Ampora had somehow managed to go gallivanting on another fucking PLANET.
He wasn't JEALOUS, per say, but let's face it, no troll under the age of majority ever got off Alternia. Noting that, somehow the non-sea-dwelling seadweller managed to do it under the drones' ever present radar. While he was happy that somebody managed to do it, he was unhappy that he couldn't joking in on the fun until later. His Rom-Com buddy had stressed quite a bit on trollian that Earth was morally and culturally different to Alternia.
Not that he minded. After all, he had to admit he wasn't the most violent out of all of his friends (Empress knows that title belonged to the one troll on the new fucking planet), and the fact that all humans (as these aliens were called) bled the same color as him. That and no culling. Earth apparently had a 'no killing' rule which was something he could really get behind.
Not dying because of his blood color would be really, really awesome.
His mind had been submerged in this for so long that Karkat was jolted out of it once the opening credits started playing on the screen in front of him. Mildly annoyed at being both yanked out of his thoughts and missing the end of his Rom-Com, he stomped towards the machine below the screen and ejected the disc, carefully placing it back into its case.
His eyes shifted from side to side in a paranoid manner to make sure no one was looking before softly stroking the cover of the disc case, smiling as his grey-contacted eyes skimmed over the cover art of an embracing troll couple with the receding title in the background describing the plot of the film. Ah, how he loved his beloved Rom-Coms.
Crabdad screeched once more from the floor below, this one more of a questioning tone.
"YEAH I'M FINE. IS DINNER ALMOST READY? I THINK THE SUN WILL BE UP IN A COUPLE HOURS."
Another screech answered his question to be affirmative. Walking into his closet, Karkat placed the case in his hands back in its place on one of the shelves. Closing the door behind him as he exited, the mutant blooded troll let out a sigh. He didn't tell the guy, but he kind of missed having Ampora around. You could just troll him on a whim to hang out and he'll be at your door in minutes if he wasn't FLARPing beforehand. They'd even have mini-feels jams as Gamzee may be a good listener, but sometimes he didn't GET Karkat's problems all that well (being stoned all the time and believing anything and everything to be a "MoThErFuCkInG MiRaClE"). It made him wonder how his moiraillengence with Peixes was going if that was the case, as the fuchsia-blooded heiress was the one who should be doing these kinds of things. Maybe they do, maybe they don't, it wasn't Karkat's business to pry on these things (even though he does anyway, there was something about gossip that was too good to pass up).
Crabdad screeched again from below, signaling that food was now prepared. He didn't know why, but even now his Lusus insisted on preparing meals for him, as if he were still a small wriggler. It was probably so that he'd be less likely to have an accident and expose his blood color, but it still made him fell kind of useless and vulnerable. It wasn't like he would be able to join the army if he got a wound in battle. He'll probably be culled on the day of career trials. His lifespan would end at adulthood if he didn't find another way, Karkat thought sourly to himself as he thumped down the stairs to where his custodian was waiting with a steaming pot of grub stew. His cartilagenous nub took in the rich and savory scent as he sat down to eat, patting the exoskeleton of his Lusus when he did so. He didn't really want this to end. He had good friends, a good caretaker, and a determination to survive.
All the more reason to think about that new planet. It would be a place he could reside without being culled by trolls, and he could easily see his friends on Alternia using whatever device Eridan managed to procure. Perhaps the next time he talks to Ampora, he'd ask him about the offer he posed in the store all those weeks ago. Maybe it was time to look at a chance of living past adulthood.
Noise.
Lots and lots of noise.
That was the first thing that the small troll noted after the Sorting Hat called out his House. The Hat was lifted from its place atop his head, and his sensed became overloaded with sounds and sights. Applause had erupted from the blue and bronze table with the predatory squawkbeast motif, and Eridan felt dizzy as he managed to stumble his way to the benches there. Some students scooted aside to make room, treating him like every other student that had gone to their House previously. Perhaps transfer students were relatively common, or perhaps in light of recent events it was expected to happen eventually.
Thankfully the resonating sound of clapping and voices died down, and McGonagall swept away with the stool, putting it away before taking her place at the professor's table. The walking fashion disast- Headmaster Dumbledore stood from his place at the center of this table and walked up to the podium in front of it.
"To our newcomers," boomed Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his face, "welcome! To our old hands, welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"
There was an appreciative laugh and another outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate. It was then that Eridan noticed that food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice. A wide grin crept up to his face. Oh, how he loved magic.
Eagerly he looked around at all the food, spooning a bit of everything on his plate. Unfortunately for him, most of the foods tasted too bland on his troll palate. With a resigned sigh, he instead took to sucking on the peppermint humbugs, which were nice and minty, but not filling.
"The Feast not doing well for you?" came a voice next to him.
Turning his head, the disguised troll turned to see Luna Lovegood staring at him good-naturedly with her usual far-off expression. She was still wearing her radish earrings and her butterbeer cork necklace but had put away her Spectre Specs at some point during the train ride.
"I suppose I still havve some problems wwith the taste...it's just so..." Eridan started, but Luna held a finger to his lips to silence him.
"It's alright. Dessert should start soon, which means there will be cakes and puddings and lots of sweets. So don't fret, and try to get those Wrackspurts out of your ears before you worry too much."
As if the Magic had heard her words, the table once more filled with food, and the scents that flowed into him were wonderfully sweet. This time he took larger portions of the sugar-filled foods, making up for what he didn't eat at the meal portion of the Feast. When he had filled up his plate, he turned back to Luna. She was spooning some pudding into her plate with unhidden glee. Like him, she seemed to be taking more of the dessert than she had the savory meals. Without even turning to him, she plopped some of the gelatinous foodstuff into Eridan's plate as well.
"Try it, the pudding here is wonderful. Not as good as what my mum made, but close enough." Luna told him with a faraway look, yet there was a hint of sad sentimentality around her.
Eridan tentatively tasted the spoonful of pudding. It did not clash with his Alternian palate. On the contrary, it was brilliantly sweet and creamy, just like a milky grubpaste. The meal passed in a similar manner, with Luna quietly explained the different foods to him as he tried each one. She was a wonderful help to him, as he was sure at the beginning of the Feast that he was going to be unable to blend into the human culture well enough. Thankfully Luna seemed to have picked up on his distress and had decided to aid him.
It seems that he won't be alone in Ravenclaw after all, he thought with a smile.
Harry and the rest of the Legacy clapped appreciatively when Eridan was Sorted into Ravenclaw, the choice having been so obvious to them since the first dinner with him at 12 Grimmauld Place. After the clapping had simmered down, the Headmaster stood up from his place at the Head Table to say his customary speech. Dumbledore, in his usual fashion, only said a few words of welcome before allowing the Feast to truly begin. It was calming to see the man up there, ever present and a beacon of safety to those who dwelled within the walls of Hogwarts. Though, how safe it could be with a homicidal alien in their midst could be questioned, but Harry wasn't too worried about Eridan doing anything crazy yet. Soon enough, food appeared and Harry's stomach rumbled at the sight of it.
"Excellent," said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick.
"It's strange, isn't it? I've never heard the Hat sing such an odd song before..." Neville mumbled into his bean casserole.
"Too right," Harry agreed readily.
"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" said Hermione, sounding slightly anxious.
"Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville toward her (Neville winced, it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you, all cold and icy), "The hat feels itself honor-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels as if it is needed."
"So this has happened before?" asked Ginny curiously, spooning some mashed potatoes and gravy into her dish.
"Oh yes!" exclaimed Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm, "Yes, I have heard the hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: Stand together, be strong from within."
"Did the school actually heed those warnings?" was the question asked by Harry at the same time Ron had uttered out:
"Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?"
His mouth was so full Harry thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all.
"I beg your pardon?" asked Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted, though Ron paid it no heed and simply gave an enormous swallow and repeated clearly, "How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a hat?"
"I have no idea," answered Nearly Headless Nick, "Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there."
It would make sense that the Hat would have done such things. Dumbledore might not have even realized that he Hat was listening in on his conversations. If the little snippets that the Hat caught from Dumbledore's office was so bad that it had to give a song like that, things might have been worse than he anticipated. But at least they now had help, albeit a small, homicidal one.
Speaking of which...
He turned toward the Ravenclaw table, where the small troll was now seated. This kind of setting was probably nothing like he was used to, and Harry could see the signs of the alien getting a little jittery. He was a little worried that Eridan would attempt to murder some of his fellow hapless first years, but it appeared that Luna now had the situation under control, distracting the troll from the potentially nosey Housemates. Luckily said Housemates were content on talking about the Hat's new song, or the upcoming year. With a contented sigh, Harry Potter turned back to the marvelous dessert that had just appeared in front of him, and helped himself to a large serving of his favorite treacle tart.
When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was starting to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. His four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft...
"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," started Dumbledore, "First years ought to know that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to students... and a few of our older students ought to know by now too."
They did not miss the lingering look that everyone had on the Weasley twins, who puffed out their chests and pretended to look heroic, as if breaking such rules was a grand task placed upon them by a higher power.
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door." Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling on with humor, before subtly becoming more sober.
"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons, and we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
At the name, Harry's head snapped to the Head Table. There she was, in all her pink cardigan wearing glory (or un-glory...), looking like she was a cat who got the cream. For a brief second they locked eyes, brilliant wide emerald green with sickeningly black beady ones, before breaking apart in mutual hatred and understanding. She was here so that the ministry could make sure Hogwarts doesn't step even a tiny toe out of line against them.
"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the-" Dumbledore started but suddenly broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge.
As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking.
"Hem, hem."
Ah, a speech. How unpleasant. What was she even going to talk about? The reason why she, of all people, was here to mess with Hogwarts? Was she going to try to placate them with sugared words and flowery speeches in an attempt to make herself appear nicer? Harry has heard all that bullshit before with Aunt Petunia and her ladies' clubs.
It was clear however, that he was not the only one displeased with this new addition. Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, before sitting back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. The other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise and displeasure. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it.
No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking. This woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."
Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish. It was like someone had burned a cake and attempted to cover it up with light pink frosting and flowers, only to his ears. Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike for the woman once again, and almost rolled his eyes when the woman cleared her threat again.
"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" she tittered out and smiled, revealing very pointed teeth, "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"
Harry suppressed the urge to retch. He glanced around the room to see everyone else's reactions to this. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old. Harry was used to being treated like a child, but it was never this... blatant.
"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"
It was actually kind of disgusting, the way she talked. Discreetly Harry took a glance at Eridan over at the Ravenclaw table, and wasn't surprised to see that the tiny troll looked livid. In his human form, Eridan's ire was actually kind of cute, but Harry knew better. Luna seemed to be squeezing his hand in an effort to make sure he didn't just march up there and blast Umbridge with his rifle. Closer to Harry, students exchanged looks at her words. Some of them were barely concealing grins.
"I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into quite giggles.
Those who heard the comment were trying very hard not to laugh. Unfortunately, Umbridge was not one of them. She cleared her throat in her quickly-becoming-a-cliche manner of hem, hem. When she continued some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them, which Harry thought was a little better than the falsetto act she was trying to pull before.
"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."
Hippogriff shit, Harry thought as Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members. To the green eyed teen's joy and amusement, none of them bowed back. Snape retained the image of being genuinely bored, but years of learning how to read the Potions Professor has allowed the Boy Who Lived to see that the man had a familiar murderous tinge to his obsidian eyes. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge cleared her threat again and went on with her speech.
"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation..."
It sounded good, on the surface, but after meeting this woman in the Ministry and seeing the way she operated showed Harry that she was hinting at something far more sinister. Even so, Harry found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of focus. The quiet that had always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling.
Over at the Ravenclaw table, Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends. A few seats along from Cho, Luna had got out the Quibbler again, trying to pull Eridan out of his homicidal storm. His face conveyed that it wasn't working very well. Harry internally sighed. It was already going to be difficult keeping Eridan under wraps with Malfoy, but with this added problem Harry wondered how long it would take for the genocidal troll to just snap and blast someone to smithereens. Even the human disguise could not hide his inhuman nature then, nor could it change his upbringing. Harry was also beginning to struggle with himself. While he was raised to understand that killing was bad, he also was tempted to let the troll loose and get rid of his problems for him. One blast for Malfoy, one for Fudge, one for Umbridge, and a big whopping blast for Voldemort. It would be so EASY...
Harry shook his head and attempted to distract himself from his own thoughts, turning to the Hufflepuff table. Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and he was sure the yellow-wearing teen was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest. Chancing a glance at the Slytherin table, Harry saw that things were not very different there either, though some (cough, Malfoy, cough) wear at least pretending to listen in order to impress the Ministry's Toad.
Professor Umbridge did not appear to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the distinct impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have plowed on with her speech, albeit perhaps with gritted teeth. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke. Though judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.
"...because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."
As she sat down, Harry could not prevent the shiver that ran down his spine. The Ministry really was trying the overrun Hogwarts. He cast a glance at Eridan once again, only to find the same murderously clam facade that Snape had. Internally he wondered if he should take bets on how long the woman was going to last in this castle, especially after THAT declaration.
Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.
"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said genially, bowing to her, "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held..."
"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," muttered Hermione in a low voice.
"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron asked quietly, turning a glazed face upon Hermione, "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."
"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," grumbled Hermione, "It explained a lot."
"Nothing that wasn't unpredictable. It was pretty obvious from the beginning why the bloody hell she's here. Besides, the Ministry interfering with Hogwarts is the LEAST of our worries." Harry added, to his friends' surprise.
"And what's that?" Hermione sniffed out before Harry discreetly tilted his head toward the Ravenclaw table and her eyes widened in dawning understanding, "...oh, right."
After following their gazes, Ron let out a snort.
"Yeah, how long would it take for the Ministry to lose one of their employees to an alien psychopath?"
Said alien psychopath was watching as the students from every table began to stand up after Dumbledore had officially dismissed them to their dorms. He sat there rigidly, hands clamped to the edge of the table, waiting for the flurry of cloaks and scarves to leave before he joined the stifling crowd again.
"First years, over here!" shouted a girl around Hermione's age, decked in the Ravenclaw colors and a shiny badge pinned to her cloak.
When she got nearer to the table, her eyes zeroed in on him.
"Ah, you're the new student. I was told you'll be coming with the first years for now to show you how things are done at Hogwarts okay?" she told him kindly, though some of the older students chuckled a little at the fact a thirteen year old was being grouped with a bunch of first years.
Unashamed and with his head held high, Eridan followed her alongside the rest of the new students. As they walked down the hallways out of the Great Hall, the male prefect sped up and began to walk backwards in front of them, addressing the group with a large grin on his face.
"Congratulations on your Sorting! I'm Prefect Robert Hilliard, and I'm delighted to welcome you to the brilliant RAVENCLAW HOUSE. Our emblem is the eagle, which soars where others cannot climb! Our house colors are blue and bronze, and our common room is found at the top of the Ravenclaw Tower, behind a door with an enchanted knocker. The arched windows set into the walls of our circular common room look down at the school grounds: the Black Lake, the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch and the Herbology gardens. No other house in the school has such stunning views!"
Some of the first years oohed and aahed at this, nervousness slowly trickling away from them. Eridan breathed a sigh of relief, not from the words, but from the lack of fear that had been crushing his senses from all sides. Robert Hilliard and the female prefect both excreted confidence and excitement.
"Without wishing to boast, this is the house where the cleverest witches and wizards live. Our founder, Rowena Ravenclaw, prized learning above all else - and so do we! Unlike the other houses, who all have concealed entrances to their common rooms, we don't need one. The door to our common room lies at the top of a tall, winding staircase. It has no handle, but an enchanted bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. When you rap on the door, this knocker will ask you a riddle, and if you can answer it correctly, you are allowed in. This simple barrier has kept out everyone but Ravenclaws for nearly a thousand years!"
Eridan, ever the sceptic, highly doubted this. If all the barred the student from entering is a riddle, then anyone with a clever mind (like his Gryffindor friends) could enter. Even so, he felt the nervousness and fear from the first years beginning to rise, most likely because they were not confident that they could answer any riddle. Sensing this, the prefect continued.
"Some first-years, like you at the moment, are scared by having to answer the eagle's questions, but don't worry. Ravenclaws learn quickly, and you'll soon enjoy the challenges the door sets. It's not unusual to find twenty people standing outside the common room door, all trying to work out the answer to the day's question together. This is a great way to meet fellow Ravenclaws from other years, and to learn from them – although it is a bit annoying if you've forgotten your Quidditch robes and need to get in and out in a hurry. In fact, I'd advise you to triple-check your bag for everything you need before leaving Ravenclaw Tower."
That sounded incredibly counterproductive in the troll's opinion, though shared living was also just a big no-no in Alternia in general. With the implementation of a value or supposed common trait to the security of the common hivehold came the problem of those who couldn't use it but live there nonetheless. For example, Ravenclaw is supposed to value intelligence, but that didn't mean the student had to have much of it. This poor Ravenclaw would have to wait until another housemate came along to help them figure out how to get into their abode.
This was why troll hives all had different methods of defending their home. Only with the permission of the sole inhabitant could another troll pass through these defenses. Unless, like Captor, they lived in a compound hive complex, but even then each hive block had its own way of warding off the other inhabitants of the building. Eridan's train of thought turned to his own hive, which was now protected by lasers and other interesting traps of all sorts. In a way, he was looking forward to putting those defenses to good use, though he would have to replace the traps if they were used.
"Another cool thing about Ravenclaw is that our people are the most individual. Some might even call them eccentrics. But geniuses are often out of step with ordinary folk, and unlike some other houses we could mention, we think you've got the right to wear what you like, believe what you want, and say what you feel. We aren't put off by people who march to a different tune. On the contrary, we value them!"
Which explained why the Hat decided to put him in the house in the first place. Trolls were highly individual people, who only amassed rarely in groups of blood color. Being in the house of the eccentric would mask any strangeness or slip-ups he had, including Alternian jargon or habits. The talking piece of fabric was smarter than he gave it credit for.
"Speaking of eccentrics, you'll like our Head of house, Professor Filius Flitwick. People often underestimate him, because he's really tiny (we think he's part goblin, but we've never been rude enough to ask) and he's got a squeaky voice, but he's the best and most knowledgeable Charms master alive in the world today. His office door is always open to any Ravenclaw with a problem, and if you're in a real state he'll get out these delicious little cupcakes he keeps in a tin in his desk drawer and make them do a little dance for you. In fact, it's worth pretending you're in a real state just to see them jive."
Eridan absentmindedly wondered if Flitwick would be able to understand Gobbledegook. Even a bastardized version of his native tongue would be better than none. He didn't want to admit it, but the emotion known as "home-sickness" was starting to sink into his system, and he didn't like it in the slightest.
"Ravenclaw house has an illustrious history. Most of the greatest wizarding inventors and innovators were in our house, including Perpetua Fancourt, the inventor of the lunascope, Laverne de Montmorency, a great pioneer of love potions, and Ignatia Wildsmith, the inventor of Floo powder. Famous Ravenclaw Ministers for Magic include Millicent Bagnold, who was in power on the night that Harry Potter survived the Dark Lord's curse, and defended the wizarding celebrations all over Britain with the words, 'I assert our inalienable right to party'. There was also Minister Lorcan McLaird, who was a quite brilliant wizard, but preferred to communicate by puffing smoke out of the end of his wand. Well, I did say we produce eccentrics. In fact, we are also the house that gave the wizarding world Uric the Oddball, who used a jellyfish for a hat. He's the punch line of a lot of wizarding jokes."
He remembered hearing about all these people in Hogwarts, a History, but other than become confused about the strangeness of humans, he didn't really pay attention to them all that much. It gave him enough information on the goals and behavior of the society, as well as some VERY interesting uses of magic, but it wasn't really the people that interested him. Even so, to hear a casual version of the texts and the variations of how their history is told was enticing to him as well, though unfortunately nobody other than Minister Bagnold was connected to some sort of military history.
"As for our relationship with the other three houses: well, you've probably heard about the Slytherins. They're not all bad, but you'd do well to be on your guard until you know them well. They've got a long house tradition of doing whatever it takes to win so watch out, especially in Quidditch matches and exams."
Thoughts immediately turned to Malfoy, who Eridan was itching to just blast into the ground along with his two hulking bookends. But then there was Severus, who was the Head of Slytherin. Severus, who was the most like Eridan that the troll had ever seen, closer to him than even the Orphaner.
"The Gryffindors are OK. If I had a criticism, I'd say Gryffindors tend to be show-offs. They're also much less tolerant than we are of people who are different; in fact, they've been known to make jokes about Ravenclaws who have developed an interest in levitation, or the possible magical uses of troll bogies, or ovomancy, which (as you probably know) is a method of divination using eggs. Gryffindors haven't got our intellectual curiosity, whereas we've got no problem if you want to spend your days and nights cracking eggs in a corner of the common room and writing down your predictions according to the way the yolks fall. In fact, you'll probably find a few people to help you."
That didn't sound like his Gryffindor friends at all, though to be fair perhaps the members of the Legacy were not like the rest of their house. Harry was more of a Slytherin than his Gryffindor colors advertised, and both Ron and Hermione have been incredibly quick to adapt to the strange situations his arrival had put them in. Neville was none of the traits that the Ravenclaw prefect had just listed, and while Ginny could sometimes come off as a show-off on Quidditch topics, she wasn't overly boastful. Equally so, Luna had told Eridan of the ridicule she had endured from members of her own house for her habits, so the troll was incredibly skeptical of the prefect's words.
"As for the Hufflepuffs, well, nobody could say they're not nice people. In fact, they're some of the nicest people in the school. Let's just say you needn't worry too much about them when it comes to competition at exam time."
As he had discreetly eyed the yellow and black table during the Feast, he couldn't help but silently agree with that, though this too could be an incorrect assumption.
"I think that's nearly everything. Oh yes, our house ghost is the Grey Lady. The rest of the school thinks she never speaks, but she'll talk to Ravenclaws. She's particularly useful if you're lost, or you've mislaid something."
For some reason that comment sparked Eridan's memory on Megido's...somewhat strange trollian message of 'don't forget to talk to the ghosts'. It made him wonder if she could communicate with the spirits on Earth as well as Alternia. He knew she had a habit of bringing in the ghosts to help her on excavation trips, as she had demonstrated the last time that she had brought him along as a consultant on the Battle of Grimorah. It had been both a frightening and fascinating experience.
"I'm sure you'll have a good night. Our dormitories are in turrets off the main tower. our four-poster beds are covered in sky blue silk eiderdowns and the sound of the wind whistling around the windows is very relaxing. As Ravenclaws encourages self study in anything that interests you, each student gets their own separate sleeping quarters, as past happenings suggest that it might be...less hazardous this way."
Well, if you put individuals who love to experiment in a shared sleeping quarters, at least one kind of disaster is going to happen. Eridan thought back to his lab back near the Archway and what it would have been like to do those experiments with others sleeping around him. The issue was pretty obvious, but the house had thankfully remedied it.
They had just climbed up the tall, winding staircase that the prefect had described early in their journey, and the troll couldn't help but marvel at the intricately crafted silver railing. In fact, he couldn't help but be in awe at the castle's architecture overall. Everything was crafted in such incredible detail and care, much like the underwater palace of his dear moirail.
One could not say that the Heiress didn't have good taste.
At last, the group of Ravenclaws reached the top of the staircase, and were met with the sight of the infamous bronze knocker. It was indeed shaped like a predatory squawkbeast, its head tilted low as if to scrutinize the lot of them. Robert Hilliard the prefect took the knocker in his hand and rapped the door three time with it before stepping back and waiting.
To Eridan's unhidden glee, the metal began to move, the eagle bursting to life. It blinked as few times before raising its head in an imperial manner.
"I do not breathe, but I run and jump.
I do not eat, but I swim and stretch.
I do not drink, but I sleep and stand.
I do not think, but I grow and play.
I do not see, but you see me every day."
Owlishly the first years blinked, and the troll had to mull over the riddle in his head. Prefect Robert Hilliard smiled before stretching his arms out.
"Alright! Let's solve this one together! What do you think it could be?" he asked them with a smile.
Most of the first years gathered together and murmured to each other quietly. Eridan tried to think of something that fits, but was still coming up with nothing. Memory, he was good with. Tactical warfare? He could do that too. Riddles and word games? Not his forte. A movement to his left caught his eye, and he saw one of the first year Ravenclaws shifting where they stood, a little embarrassed. Silently he crept towards her.
"Is there somethin wwrong?" he whispered to her, causing her to squeak softly in surprise.
"Well...I've read this riddle in a book when I was younger, so I know the answer. I feel like it's cheating though..." she muttered out under her breath, her cheeks turning pink for some reason.
He could sense embarrassment coming off of her, as well as something else he couldn't pinpoint. However, at this point he was a little impatient to see the inside of Ravenclaw Tower, so he paid this no heed and pressed on with his questioning.
"Wwhat's the answwer?" Eridan asked curiously, his eyebrow raised.
This made the girl turn even redder and sputter a bit before stammering out the answer. What was with this human? Was she sick? A thought passed through his head, but he immediately dismissed it as completely ridiculous.
"It's a leg. Ingenious, isn't it?" she managed to squeak out.
Fortunately for the rest of the first years and the Prefects, the knocker seemed to pick up on her words.
"Correct. You may enter. Welcome back to Ravenclaw Tower." it told them imperiously.
As the rest of the crowd gasped in surprise, Eridan gave the girl a wide smile.
"Indeed. It is vvery ingenious."
As the girl beamed and stammered out what vaguely sounded like a 'thank you' under all the repeated phonics she was spouting out, the rest of the first years followed the prefects into the tower. Like a bottle of Faygo had finally been opened after vigorously shaking it, they all streamed into the new room with no little amount of pushing and pulling.
The view was well worth the wait. The Common Room was decked out in royal blue, silver and bronze. Eagle statues were regarding them carefully, and muttered to themselves about the new arrivals. Bookshelves were packed tightly together, and nearly reached the roof of the room. It wasn't nearly the size of the one in his Hive, but it was enough that he felt the homesickness in his system simmer down at the familiar sight. A fire was at the furthest corner of the room, crackling loudly in the quietness. Sofas, Plush chairs, and things that were undoubtedly bean bags were scattered around the room, near tables of various shapes and sizes and colors. Since the color scheme was limited to only three main colors, Eridan felt himself relax a little. While it did remind him of Zahhak with the blue, it felt much like a royal troll's Hive above everything else. For some reason that calmed him down even more.
Robert Hilliard and the female prefect clapped their hands to get the students' attention before speaking again.
"Alright! We know you guys are probably all tired and ready to crawl into bed so we'll make this quick. Girl's dorms are on the right and boy's are on the left. You'll see the stairs branch off in seven directions. Just head over to the one with the "I" Roman Numeral, as you are first years. Your names will be inscribed on the plaque on your door. So goodnight to all of you, and once again: well done on becoming a member of the cleverest, quirkiest and most interesting house at Hogwarts!"
With that, the students dispersed into their appropriate areas, Eridan following the boys over to the left of the room. True to the prefects' words, the words "Eridanus Ampora-Black" was inscribed on a bronze plaque on one of the royal blue painted doors. Silently, Eridan wondered if he'll be able to get used to such a strange and convoluted name.
Opening the door, Eridan took note of his new sleeping quarters. The floor was covered in a dark blue carpet, and a four poster bed with curtains sat to the far right of the room. His trunk sat at the foot of the bed, gleaming at him in the pale moonlight. Next to the night table on the left was a dark painted desk, and above the desk was a rather large window that showed the view of the outside of Hogwarts. The moon shown brightly into the room, illuminating the Forest and the Black lake as well outside. It wasn't like the view from his Hive, nor was it like 12 Grimmauld Place. Eridan knew he would be able to get used to it, but the currently breathtaking view was not anything he had ever seen before. Again a pang of longing washed over him, but he squashed it down resolutely.
He wanted this. He wanted to go here and study Magic, which wasn't something that he could do back home. He was a soldier from Alternia, dammit, and he could get through these childish emotions.
Feeling suddenly very drained, he capchalogged the bed and uncapchalogged his recupracoon instead. Digging into his trunk (under his own identification sign which the humans called "Aquarius") he found his sleeping trunks and changed into them. Tiredly he sunk into the calming feeling of the sopor slime, duel eyelids blinking blearily from all that had happened. Excitement shot through him when he thought of the magic he would learn here, but worry began to seep in after he recalled the arrival of that disgusting woman and that fuckface named Malfoy.
Oh, if only he was allowed to kill them...
That was Eridan's last thought before drifting into sopor-induced slumber.
Harry was, frankly, too tired for this kind of thing right now. He ignored the stares from everyone in the Great Hall, ignored the fact that he didn't know the password to get in the Common Room (Neville was nice enough to tell him the password, grinning as he did so as it was the same name as that plant he got for his birthday), ignored whatever the Weasley Twins were putting up on the Notice Board (not tonight, not tonight) but once he got to his dormitory, things got...annoying. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were putting up more posters to cover their sides of the wall (Dean managed to bribe Collin halfway through their third year to make the pictures on his posters move, so now the warring posters frequently have muggle verses magical sport arguments that could get rather funny) and chatting animatedly until he had walked in, where they fell completely silent.
He had the feeling he had just walked into some sort of Wizarding Drama.
"Hi," Harry mumbled tiredly, moving across to his own trunk and opening it.
"Hey, Harry," reciprocated Dean, who was putting on a pair of pajamas in the West Ham colors, "Good holiday?"
"Yeah, pretty good, despite a few hiccups." he answered truthfully, his mind thinking about Sirius's disappearance, reappearance, his trial, and the alien named Eridan, exchanging knowing looks with Neville, "You?"
"Yeah, it was okay," chuckled Dean, "Better than Seamus's anyway, he was just telling me."
"Why, what happened, Seamus?" Neville asked as he placed his Mimbulus mimbletonia tenderly on his bedside cabinet.
Seamus did not answer immediately, making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry,
"Me mam didn't want me to come back."
"What?" sputtered Harry, pausing in the act of pulling off his robes.
"She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts."
Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pajamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry.
"But why?" asked Neville, half shocked and half curious.
Harry had a sinking feeling about this, and his brain was slowly shutting down due to being both full and tired. Seamus did not answer until he had finished buttoning his pajamas.
"Well," he said in a measured voice, "I suppose...because of you, Harry."
As usual, it's all because of me, Harry thought with a silent groan. He was expecting this. Blaming Harry Potter happened on a yearly basis at Hogwarts anyway, it just happened much earlier than usual.
"...What do you mean by that?" he asked quietly after a slight pause.
"Well," mumbled Seamus again, still avoiding Harry's eyes, "she...er...well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore too..."
"She believes the Daily Prophet?" finished Harry flatly, "She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?"
Seamus looked up at him. "Yeah, something like that."
Harry simply shrugged tiredly, continuing to change into his pajamas. He expected this sort of thing, what with the Ministry owning most of the Prophet and all. And really, it was the Wizarding World's leading (and only) mainstream newspaper, so he couldn't blame anyone for believing what it printed. After all, he had only began to doubt the paper during the events of the previous year, where he met one of their most annoying journalists - Rita Skeeter. For a while silence reigned in the dorm, until Seamus spoke up again.
"Look... what did happen that night when... you know, when... with Cedric Diggory and all?"
He sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard. A chill ran down his spine at the mere thought of the events that night, one that he took great pains into trying to shove into the back of his mind.
"Well..." Harry started tiredly, plopping onto his bed and burrowing under the covers, knowing it was going to be a long story, "We...Cedric and I... had just reached the end of the maze...we decided to grab the Cup together. United Hogwarts Champions and all that. The Cup turned out to be a Portkey, but we didn't land...at the start like we were probably supposed to...Barty Crouch Jr, the one who was using Polyjuice to pretend to be Mad-Eye Moody, had tampered with it, just like he had done with the Goblet of Fire. Turns out he was right, I was in the Triwizard Tournament because someone wanted me dead, I just didn't know it was him."
He paused for a moment, sighing at the onslaught of emotions being dredged up from the events that happened that night. Dean had used this pause to quickly retrieve his slipper before sitting down. Seamus and Dean then leaned over closer, eyes as wide as saucers. Even Neville, who had heard most of what had happened during the early part of the holidays, was curious about how much Harry would say.
"We landed in a Graveyard in Little Hangleton, where Voldemort- alright, alright, how's Lord Snakeface for you guys? Better? Okay. Where Lord Snakeface's dad was buried. We were met by Peter Pettigrew- yes, yes he's alive and at large, but that's an explanation for another day, holding a deformed baby in a bundle of robes. A-and as they got closer...my scar began to hurt again...and I knew...and I heard his voice S-say..."
Harry had to stop and take a deep breath, this was the part that he still had nightmares about...the voice...the light...Cedric lying on the...
"Kill the spare. A-and, then I heard Pettigrew lift his wand and say the words to the killing curse...it hit...it hit Cedric...and he fell...and his eyes were still open and his face was stuck in a surprised expression..."
His shoulders began to shake, and he took another deep breath.
"They used my surprise against me and bound me to Lord Snakeface's father's headstone. A cauldron, already bubbling, was brought to my attention when that snake came along and...the deformed baby turned out to be none other than Lord Snakeface himself, who's frightening even as a baby...and they were doing some sort of ritual with the bones of his father and the flesh of the servant...and the blood of the enemy, forcibly taken...and the baby was plopped into the cauldron and out rose Lord Snakeface decked in black robes..."
This time, Seamus stopped him.
"This defiantly isn't what the Prophet said, but I can tell you're not lying. You've never been this bad before. I'm...sorry for asking." Seamus whispered, his head bowed, not wanting to look at Harry, who was shaking rather badly from taking about it.
Harry knew it was better than when he had relayed the story before, but it still shook him. He hated feeling like this, as showing weakness at the Dursley's usually did not bode well for him. Some Chosen One he managed to be. A pressure on his shoulder had the emerald eyed teen looking up again, to see Neville with a hand on his shoulder and a knowing smile. With a strained smile and a nod signaling that he was going to be okay, Harry grasped the hand one his shoulder and squeezed it. At that moment, Ron walked into the dorm, finished with his prefect duties. He was about to greet them before taking note of the somber mood and his eyes landed on Harry, who although was not shaking anymore had tear streaks imprinted on his already naturally pale face.
"What happened here?" he asked confusedly.
"They wanted to know what happened...that night." Harry whispered out tiredly, "But it's alright, it's done with. Probably best if we all got some sleep."
Some mumbles of agreement emanated from the beds of Dean and Seamus, and Neville sounded his own grunt of exhaustion. With a shrug Ron began to get ready for bed himself, putting his things away in his trunk. Silence stretched between them, with only the sound of Ron bustling around the room to even tell them that no, they hadn't gone suddenly deaf. Harry laid with his head lolled to the side, too tired to right it. The events of the day and the conversation moments ago had completely drained him of his energy.
With his lids becoming too heavy to keep up anymore, Harry drifted to sleep.
Ron looked at his best friend's sleeping face, once again wondering why he always seemed more peaceful this way than even with friends. A sigh escaped his lips as he pulled the bed curtains shut for Harry before heading to bed himself.
"Why would the Prophet tell a different story?" Seamus whispered into the dark of the night.
"Because by lying to the people, they can rally the population against anyone they don't like, whether they're right or wrong. Common domestic war tactic." Ron replied almost mechanically.
Seamus stared at him like he had just grown two heads.
"Mate, no offense, but I didn't think something like that could ever come out of your mouth. Merlin, I didn't think you knew what the word 'domestic' meant."
A round of quiet chuckles echoed the room.
"I guess knowing...what's coming soon made me grow up a little." Ron answered with a sigh.
That made Seamus solemn again.
"So he really is back?" he whispered out, fear laced in his voice.
"Yeah," came the answer, from Neville this time, "he's back, and the Ministry doesn't want to admit it. If the can keep the image of peace up, there won't be fear or unrest. If there's no unrest, there's no one to march to their doors and demand them to DO SOMETHING. They don't want to look at the problem because they're afraid that they'll be hilariously outclassed just like they had the last time. Plus, it's not a secret that "ex"-Death Eaters are a large part of Ministry Faculty."
Dean whistled lowly.
"Looks like everything's changing around here. Harry's breaking down, Ron's grown a brain, and I guess you grew a spine, Neville." Dean said jokingly, trying to diffuse the palpable tension in the room.
It worked, and soon the boys were stifling their peals of laughter, though it wouldn't have mattered. Their fifth, sleeping, companion wasn't going to wake up even if a bomb blew off. And indeed, even with the silencing spells only placed so nobody OUTSIDE could here them, the boy slumbered through what became loud, guffawing laughter from the other four occupants of the dorm.
Soon enough however the laughter died down, and the boys decided it would be best to get some sleep. So they said their "goodnight"s and settled down into beds, pulling the curtains tight and the worries of tomorrow still raw in their minds.
AN:
Oni: Thats everything for now! I made it extra long this time!
Harry: *shuddering* Don't...forget to...review...and favorite...
Oni: And I'll see you next time(whenever that may be), my pretties!