It didn't take long for Harry and Othniel to feel comfortable with each other. Sounds of laughter filled the compartment, undoubtedly due to the myriad silly stories each boy had.
Othniel's face flushed crimson as he had a particularly embarrassing yet amusing story to tell. "So last year, my older brother Gabriel dared me to run naked through this cornfield near our house… he said he'd give me five dollars for it."
Harry chuckled. "So, did you do it?"
"Erm… yeah," replied Othniel in a sheepish whisper. "Five dollars is a lot of money – for me at least!"
"Well, I guess some people would do anything for money," replied Harry with a slight shrug.
"That's not all there is to the story… when I emerged from the other side of the cornfield, Gabe and no fewer than ten of his friends were waiting on the other side. A couple of them were girls…" Othniel's face turned so red that it looked like a very nasty sunburn. "They were laughing at me soooo bad, y'know… but at least Gabe was true to his word and gave me an Honest Abe for the effort." He cocked his head. "D'you think you'd do it for five dollars?"
"I'unno," admitted Harry. He then grinned at his new friend. "I might…"
Othniel returned the grin. "My stomach's rumbling a bit. Wanna go to the dining car and grab a bite – yowwww!" He yelped in surprise and pulled his right hand out of his overalls pocket. A rodent's head then poked out and started sniffing the air. "Not literally, Ephraim!" He flicked the rat's nose with his index finger in retaliation.
"Is that your pet that you're taking to school?" Harry asked, pointing at the brown rat.
"Yeah! I found him near a gutter back at Nessel Rode a couple months ago. The list said I could choose a rat to take with me to Ilvermorny." He smirked at Harry. "He sorta looks like an Ephraim, doesn't he?"
Harry shrugged. "I s'pose so… and now that you mention it, I think I'm a little hungry too. Now, the dining car is toward the front of the train, so we have a bit of a jaunt…"
The boys made their way to the dining car, where a plump middle-aged hook-nosed witch showed the lads their seats. "Once you touch these enchanted napkins," she instructed, "it will read your mind and serve you whatever you'd like to eat."
"Cool!" the boys said together. As soon as the boys laid the fancy white calico napkins on their laps, a steamy hot plate of lasagna appeared for Harry, while Othniel got a big plate of chicken tenders and crinkle-cut French fries. Both boys' glass goblets were automatically filled with a bluish-purple liquid which neither boy recognized.
Othniel took a careful sip from the cup. "Hmm… it's a little sweet, and rather tangy. Pretty good." He then turned around to address a South Asian looking girl, perhaps a couple of years older than the boys, sitting at the table behind him. "Erm, 'scuse me," he said timidly. "D'you know what this drink is called?"
"Puckerberry juice," the girl replied in a tone that made Othniel feel like he should have known that already.
"Thanks," Othniel replied, before turning back to his meal.
Once the boys finished their meals, Harry suggested spending some time in the lounge car to play some games, to which Othniel agreed with gusto.
The boys spotted an air hockey table with an enchanted puck. Every time one of the paddles would strike the puck, it would screech out such colorful commentary such as, "Watch it, jerk!" or "Hit me like that again and I'll barf on you!" Every time Harry or Othniel would score a goal, the other player would hear taunts of "LOOOOOOSER!" or "Nice save – naaaaaawt!" By the end of their second match, both boys were on the floor, howling with laughter.
After they recovered, they saw a group of five or six children of various ages sitting around a card table, playing some sort of game neither of them recognized. Their curiosity was piqued when they occasionally saw several hands reach out and try to slap a pile of cards.
Harry tapped a biracial boy with a short brownish-black Afro hairdo and thick Coke-bottle glasses of about thirteen on the shoulder to see what they were playing. "Hey there… what game are you playing? Is it magical too, like that air hockey table?"
The boy turned to address Harry and Othniel. "Hey. We're playing Egyptian Rat Screw… it's a no-maj game, if you can believe it." He shrugged. "If you want to watch for a bit, you can slap in whenever you feel comfortable… just watch for doubles!"
Harry and Othniel looked at each other and grinned. "Count us in," said Harry.
The slightly older boy fist-bumped both Harry and Othniel, then nodded approvingly. "By the way, the name's Mathis. Rickey Mathis. You'll probably see me around if you like Quidditch – I'm the equipment manager."
"Quidditch?" both boys asked with puzzled looks on their faces.
Rickey chuckled. "It's a game on flying broomsticks… you'll learn more about it soon enough."
Harry cleared his throat. "I'm Harry Potter, and this is Othniel Beckett. We're both first-year students, so you'll have to forgive us if we don't know a lot about how things at Ilvermorny work yet."
Rickey chuckled. "Nice to meet you, Potter and Beckett. My advice – just follow the rules. You really don't want to get caught by the school caretaker, Keith Floyd. He's a huge man, like, he's nearly seven feet tall and close to three hundred pounds of solid muscle. He's a former auror for MACUSA… he's dealt with some really dangerous rogue wizards before… you definitely don't want to get on his bad side. If you get enough demerits, you'll be serving detention with him… he'll make it where you won't want to mess up again!"
The younger boys looked at each other and shuddered.
Rickey smiled. "Don't worry about that too much. We have a long train ride ahead, so just try and relax for the time being. And you'll have plenty of fun at Ilvermorny, I promise."
Harry and Othniel spent much of the next day and a half in the lounge playing enchanted air hockey and Egyptian Rat Screw. After lunch, Rickey reminded the younger boys to get changed into their formal robes as they would be at the castle in just a few hours.
At around three thirty in the afternoon, the train slowed down and came to a sudden halt. A loud voice rang out through each car: "Students are to remain in their cars until their year is called. A trustee will represent – look for an upperclassman wearing a silver sash. They will escort you to the castle momentarily."
The same elderly Jamaican witch knocked on Harry and Othniel's compartment. "You may leave your belongings in here – they will be waiting for you in your dormitory this evening. Until then, wait here until a trustee calls for first-years. Enjoy your feast this evening!" she said in a sweet lilt.
About ten minutes later, a clear soprano voice called out for first years. Harry and Othniel quickly clambered out of their compartment and out the subway car, and found themselves in a dimly-lit underground subway station. It looked different than the subway station in Seattle… like, it was far older as the technology was more primitive, and there were various eldritch symbols and runes carved into the walls.
Harry and Othniel saw a gaggle of students around their age clustered around a girl of about fifteen, standing on a small platform on the edge of the walkway. She was a slim girl of average height with her honey-blonde hair done up in what appeared to be a professionally-done French braid, and the light makeup on her face accentuated her pretty grey eyes. She wore a uniform similar to what the other first-year girls wore, except instead of knee socks and simple flats, she wore black opaque nylons and black patent lace-up brogues with three-inch block heels. Also, her sweater vest and necktie had teal and gold stripes, and she wore a silver sash diagonally across her torso that clearly spelled out "TRUSTEE". On top of her head was a teal beret with gold trim.
"First-year students, to me!" she called out in her high-pitched voice, containing just a hint of an Upper Midwestern accent. "Over here, first-years!" She crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she waited for all the wide-eyed firsties to congregate around her.
A couple of minutes later, a huge Black man approached the girl, who looked positively tiny next to the massive man. "Professor Goode is expecting ninety-four first-year students this term," the big man said in a basso profundo. "Don't forget to take a head-count before you escort them to the castle, Miss Ludwig. If even one student is unaccounted for, she'll ream both our butts!"
"I have the list right here, Mister Floyd," giggled the trustee. She turned again toward the crowd assembling in front of her. "First-years, to me!" She gave the eleven-year olds a couple more minutes to congregate before pulling out a rolled-up parchment from her robe pocket.
She cleared her throat before proceeding. Some of the students that already had some familiarity with magic assumed that she used a voice amplification charm, as her voice was exceptionally clear and loud, but her stance and facial expressions suggested she was otherwise using a normal speaking voice. "My name is Melissa Ludwig, but you may call me Missy or simply Ludwig if that's easier. I am a fifth-year student and a trustee, as you can tell by my sash. Trustees are fifth, sixth, and seven-year students selected by their respective house heads based on academic prowess, integrity, and leadership skills. Although trustees are students first, there are certain privileges and responsibilities bestowed upon us. We are the eyes and ears of faculty when they are not present – as such, we can award house points for things such as persistence or doing good deeds; we can also dole out demerits for delinquent behavior." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Believe me, you'll want to avoid receiving demerits… five demerits is an automatic detention, which usually means manual labor, often at inconvenient hours of the day."
Some of the students winced at the 'manual labor' bit; mainly ones belonging to magical families as they were used to having at least a little magic help complete their chores.
Missy continued her spiel. "We have only a few minutes before we're due at the castle, so without further ado, I want to make sure that everyone is present and accounted for. We have a very busy evening ahead of us. Please respond with something, such as 'here' or 'present' once your name is called." She proceeded to read from the unfurled parchment. She read about eighty names before getting to "Slater, Tallulah." She called out the student's name three times, and was about to turn around to call for Floyd, when she heard a rather distressed-sounding high-pitched squeak come from the last train car. "Wait for meeeeeee!"
A short, somewhat stocky girl with curly auburn hair and chipmunk cheeks ran as fast as she could to join the rest of the first years. She had a panicked expression on her face – indeed, she appeared to be on the verge of tears. She was carrying a large grey tabby cat in her arms, and a black Mary Jane shoe was dangling from her pinky finger.
Missy arched an eyebrow, her arms akimbo. "Tallulah Slater, I presume?" she asked in a slightly annoyed tone.
"That's me," replied Tallulah as she slipped on her shoe as discreetly as she could. "Sorry," she added with a sheepish squeak. "Gallifrey was being a very naughty kitty, you see."
Missy shook her head with exasperation, and continued to call out the rest of the names on the list. All ninety-four first years present and accounted for, she thought to herself in satisfaction. "All right, listen up everyone," she said, addressing her charges. "If you'll follow me, we've got a bit of a hike to the castle."
Harry and Othniel followed along with the other ninety-two first years. They had to traverse a dark stairwell with at least five hundred stairs, but to the students' relief, the more progress they made, the lighter it became. It soon became apparent that they were several hundred feet underground, and the light they were seeing was sunlight – the late afternoon sun was a real treat after being cooped up in underground train for two days straight.
"Goodness, that girl can walk fast in heels," Othniel grunted to Harry, who nodded in agreement. They traversed through an evergreen forest – the firs and pines were well over a hundred feet tall. When they emerged from the other side of the woods, they found themselves on the climb yet again. They looked down, and several hundred feet below them were the tops of evergreen trees. The beaten trail turned to rock, and once again the students found themselves traversing a long staircase, though these stairs appear to be made from rough-hewn rock, giving it a more rustic appearance.
"We are ascending Mount Greylock," explained Missy as she led the firsties uphill. "It is the highest natural point in the state of Massachusetts, and is the very place that Ilvermorny has called home for over three centuries."
Five minutes later, Missy came to a complete halt. Although the firsties were struggling to catch their breath, she looked as fresh as ever. She addressed the eleven year olds again. "You are about to take your first steps inside the greatest institution of learning witchcraft and wizardry has ever known. You are but mere boys and girls now, but when you finish, you'll truly be witches and wizards. You are about to undergo a sacred rite of initiation… the sorting ceremony. Professor Goode will elaborate momentarily."
She led the students through a huge wooden double-door – the double-door itself could swallow a whole house, thought Harry. The students found themselves in an enormous antechamber, with marble flooring, numerous spiral staircases and passageways, and countless paintings and sculptures, both grotesque and beautiful.
"Wait here," Missy commanded. "Professor Goode will fetch you shortly, and take you to the Sorting Chamber. Out of respect to the faculty and those who have come before you, silence would be most appreciated." She did an about-face, and the only sound that could be heard was the fading clicking of Missy's high heels as she left the antechamber.