Going Separate Ways
“Welcome student, at Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a of capital importance as, while you are here, your house will be something like a second family within Hogwarts.” The old harpy of a woman explained, her voice cold and clipping. “The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Now please wait until I call.” The crowd of excited brats murmured, sending a wave of buzzing noise to Jouno’s brain. With that, the older witch excused herself, leaving behind the hoard of eleven-year-olds.
Tecchou did not leave Jouno’s side, perhaps expecting the smaller to cause some form of trouble. Of course, Jouno wasn’t planning on anything. At least as long as no one else came bothering him.
Surprisingly, the two other boys from the boat stayed close, not bothering to mingle with other children.
“What house do you think they’ll put you in?” All of a sudden, Tecchou asked.
“How the hell would I know? I hardly even understand what they stand for.”
“Oh.” Tecchou sounded like a kicked puppy. Jouno wanted to tell him to suck it up, but instead of giving in to the hot boiling in his vein, he sighed. “Stop asking stupid questions.”
“Are you two muggleborns?” One of their former boat-mates sneered, his voice just a tad too cold. Jouno immediately dislikes that tone. He could feel the tense gazes burning his way, as if he was some kind of disgusting pest that invaded their homes. Whatever a “muggleborn” was, it definitely was no good to be defined as one.
“We are foreigners” Jouno quickly began, interjecting before Tecchou managed to open his muzzle. He could not let the other imbecile mess this up. “We come from Japan and have been given very little time to prepare.” Apparently, he had chosen the right words, for the crowd’s hostility seemed to melt right away. Even their former boat-mates mellowed down, nodding to each other in satisfaction.
“Are you two exchange students?” The quieter one questioned, still somewhat weary.
“Yes. We received our letters a week ago.” Tecchou promptly added. Jouno discreetly stepped on his foot. It wouldn’t do for that thick-headed dog to go barking too much.
“A week ago!” This time, the other boy—the one who had tilted their boat—nearly shouted. “But you’re supposed to receive it on your eleventh birthday! Surely, you didn’t both turn eleven last week?” He had a rather strong accent himself, though it was very unlike McGonagall’s or the Giant’s. He must have been a foreigner like them, but if Jouno had to guess, he still came from somewhere in Europe.
“I turned eleven last September.” Jouno informed, crossing his arms.
“And they waited until last week to send you your letter? Merlin’s beard! What in Mother Magic’s name is Dumbledore—il asino—doing? It’s barely enough time for anyone to prepare. Let alone people who live so far away as in Japan.” The boy’s accent only became more prominent with his disbelieve. However, Jouno could not agree more with the boy’s surprise. The stunt Dumbledore had pulled was nothing short of disgusting. Though, it was reassuring that the old coot’s actions seemed to shock the average person. Jouno was almost glad for it. For a moment he had truly thought that English wizards were just that daft.
“Then, it’s not surprising that you don’t know about the houses.” The tinier voice whispered once more, muffled by his book. It was pretty clear that one of the boys was a little bit more social than the other. Neither seemed to truly go out of their way to make friends, however one of them was definitely more open to conversation than the other.
“Oh? Would you care to enlighten two poor stranded foreigners?” Jouno asked—almost mocking.
“Sicuro.” The chattier one nodded. Jouno realised he must be Italian. “Gryffindor, which we associate to the colour red, stands for chivalry and courage, its symbol is the Griffin. Ravenclaw is the house of intelligence and wisdom, its house colour is blue. Hufflepuff, which is yellow, is known for loyalty and hard work. Finally, the best of the best!” Clearly the boy was not biased. “Slytherin’s the house of the snake. Its banners are green, and it stands for ambition and cunningness.”
Jouno was silently thankful that this boy had pointed out the house colours, considering how noticeable it would have been if he did not even realise that the students were assigned one. He did not know how he would have dealt with it, had he found out later.
“It’s true then?” A pretentious voice cut through every conversation. “What they were saying on the train.” This child crooned like a bird, which to Jouno’s ears sounded quite kickable.
“Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” A storm of whispers erupted in the hall. Children nearly vibrated like excited bees. Girls and boys raised their necks and stood on their tip toes, looking around for the famous Harry Potter. Jouno could only huff in frustration as noise washed against him like waves again a stony shore.
“There goes Malfoy.” Gritted the boy with his book. Jouno could almost hear him roll his eyes.
“We all knew it would happen” sighed the other. “He’s always been obsessed with the Boy-Who-Lived.” The defeat in his tone was that of a hopeless soldier.
“A friend of yours?” Jouno asked, though neither boy responded, too focused on what was currently happening. His own attention as well was directed back to the little exchange.
The painfully snobbish voice went on. “These are Crabbe and Goyle, and I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” With the thump of steps against the stone floor, Jouno assumed that Malfoy had walked closer to whoever he was talking to. A disgustingly wet snort rose from close-by.
“Think my name is funny, do you?” Malfoy spat, not at all as impressive as he must have believed to be. The other person said nothing. Jouno could feel Tecchou tense.
“No need to ask yours. Red hair and hand-me-down robes…you must be a Weasley.” If anyone noticed Jouno snickering, no one mentioned a thing. At least no one did until—
“You’re horrible.” Tecchou muttered.
“Admit it’s funny.” Jouno shrugged. Tecchou, in fact, did not admit to the hilarity of these children squabbling like toddlers on a playground.
“What are you doing?” He asked as Tecchou stammered in the direction of the argument.
While Jouno’s companion pushed through the crowd of gawking brats, the haughty boy continued. “You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to make friends with the wrong sort. I can help with that.” Perhaps that comment was linked to the “mudblood” thing from earlier. These children had become somewhat hostile when they asked about it. It annoyed Jouno that he still did not know what that word meant.
“I think it’s enough. You are being mean.” Tecchou’s stoic voice broke through the silence.
“What an idiot.” Jouno grit through his teeth as he pressed a hand against his forehead, as if cooling off an upcoming headache. The bookish one quietly nodded along while the other whispered “He’s dead” with too much amusement. Murmurs of disbelieve rumbled across the hall. Jouno already knew he would not interact with Tecchou again.
“Are you two close?” The taller of the two asked, his accent even stronger when he whispers behind his hand, as if to block out eavesdroppers.
“I met that oaf this morning when the harpy came for what was supposed to be, our school shopping.” Jouno sneered.
“The harpy? McGonagall?” The smaller one exclaimed after a snort.
“Yes. That old hag.” It caused the other to burry his head in his book, trying to hide his mousy giggles.
“If that’s the case, your social life isn’t dead yet.” The other snickered. “His on the other hand…”
“That one just sank faster than one could scream « Ice Berg »” Jouno drawled.
“Yep.” They chirped.
The three boys shook their heads in unison, mourning the intelligence of their classmate, though even a blind man could they weren’t actually sad about it. If anything, they were struggling in a deathly fight against their own smiles.
“And who do you think you are to tell a Malfoy what to do?” The shrill voice of the Malfoy boy demanded. Jouno almost rejoiced that the show continued. Was this what it felt like to go the movies?
“I’m Tecchou Suehiro”
Obviously, the other boy laughed, high and mean. “And you dare step in front of me? You a no-name Mudblood?” He mocked. Jouno shook his head, Tecchou was an imbecile.
“You are being rude. It’s not okay. You shouldn’t look down on someone for having less money. The just thing to do would be to help the less fortunate.” Both Jouno and the Malfoy boy snorted. The foreigner coughed, having breathed wrong, as the one with the book hid his head in his pages once more, nearly tearing the paper from laughter.
“You have to be among the most foolish people I have ever met. To tell such things to a Malfoy…You must be either ignorant of brainless.”
“Or both” muttered Jouno in the background, making the bookish kid giggle.
The taller one jumped “Oh balls! Malfoy heard you!” Grabbing Jouno by the shoulders and lightly shaking him. “Merlin, I think he almost laughed.”
Finally, someone pushed past Tecchou. “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.” Another boy said before turning away, dragging Tecchou along with him.
“That must have been quite a blow to his ego…” Jouno mused.
The boy next to him sighed. “Malfoy definitely didn’t take it well…” Mumbled the tiny voice.
“His ego’s as big as the Ministry, it’ll recover.” Reassured the other.
“I doubt it will.” Whispered the bookish boy. Jouno doubted he had been meant to hear.
McGonagall joined them just a minute later. The clicking of her heals announcing her arrival before she entered the room. “Come along. Your sorting will now begin.” She beckoned the pack of eleven-year-olds. Heavy doors creaked open like a monster opening its humongous maw to swallow them all whole.
Warm air hit Jouno’s faces like a slap, a sharp contrast to the cold winds of outside on the lake. Hundreds of voices echoed all leading their own conversations. Some laughing and joking while others spoke stories of the past months. Children from different ages sat together, waiting for something. A few commented on the newcomers’ looks, while others greeted them with enthusiasm.
“The ceiling…” Tecchou awed somehow appearing at Jouno’s side once again.
“It’s enchanted. I’ve read all about it in Hogwarts A-History.” Of course, that one was here too. Jouno hoped they wouldn’t wound up in the same dorm.
“It’s so pretty.” Many children echoed these words, looking above instead of ahead, which caused a few to trip and and fall, or push those in front of them. Jouno grit his teeth when some child almost knocked him over, their grubby little hands—which no one knew where they had been before—pressed against his back. To Jouno they felt disgustingly hot and sweaty even through his garments. He wanted to cut them off for touching him.
Tecchou grabbed Jouno’s head, forcefully tilting it towards the ceiling. “Look Jouno. It’s incredible.” He marvelled, not letting go of Jouno‘s jaw, no matter how much Jouno tried to shake him off. “The stars look so real. There! Did you see! A shooting star!” Jouno felt Tecchou’s arm close to his face, probably pointing to what he had observed.
“Yes. It’s very pretty.” Jouno deadpanned, observing the blur.
“The stars are actually twinkling! How do you think it works?”
“I assume it’s magic.” He said, eventually pushing Tecchou off.
Other eleven-year-olds couldn’t help but talk about the sky. Pointing out the shining moon and the moving clouds. Some even made wishes when a shooting star darted across the skies. Jouno stared where Tecchou held his head, seeing hazy darkness and the blinding whiteness of the lights, that send a deep ache into his skull. To him, it looked like nothing at all.
Once the excited crowd calmed down, McGonagall explained the sorting. Countless kids breathed out in relieve, having seemingly expected something dangerous or an exam.
“That hat looks old…” Tecchou mused.
“It is.” Mumbled the boy with the book, who had crept behind them, though his answer was curt and clipped.
“How old is it?” Jouno wondered.
“It was made by the founders.” The bookish kid—who was honestly growing on Jouno—answered nonchalant. His answer to Jouno was almost friendlier.
“And when was that?” He pressed, disliking this already.
“Roughly a thousand years ago.”
“I’m not wearing that thing! Do you imagine on how many heads it sat? How many flees and grease it was exposed to!?” Jouno shuddered, before almost gagging at the idea he had brought up.
Multiple surrounding children stilled before tensing or gulping. Several girls began to refuse to approach the hat, while many boys silently distanced themselves. The Malfoy boy was among the loudest, refusing to even step foot near the old thing—Jouno wished he could express out loud the same feelings towards Dumbledore and McGonagall.
Then suddenly, with a rustle of fabric, a gritty voice began to sing.
“Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry,
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin,
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means,
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
For a hat, it wasn’t that bad of a song writer—he heard worse melodies in the barrels of Yokohama slums sung by piss-drunk men or shrill voiced women. Obviously, it was no symphony worth remembering for a lifetime, however it was clever enough of an introduction song that—Jouno guessed—presented the houses of Hogwarts alright. Perhaps the hat had nothing better to do when it was not sorting the students. He could hardly imagine what other function a talking hat could possibly have.
Applause rang though the hall, so loud Jouno nearly puked. Luckily, it settled quickly, and he managed to really think.
Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Jouno wondered where he’d be sorted. He was nothing close to chivalrous, however he had plenty of daring in him. He was not loyal to anyone and would probably never be but could work himself to the bone should he need to. He knew himself witty and hungry for learning, he would not have lived that long had he not been. Alas, he was quite the cunning one—he knew—and had ambition in spades. After all, he needed if he wished to see this place burn to ashes before his graduation.
McGonagall called the first name, then the second. Jouno cared little for these people. He did however note that every house was called at least once. Hermione Granger was the first name he recognised. The insufferable girl was promptly sorted into Gryffindor and Jouno made the mental note to beg whatever or whoever he needed to in order to not wound up in the same dorm.
Right after the little pest came Draco Malfoy, who nearly had to be dragged up front to put on the dreaded hat. “My father will hear about this.” He hissed before sitting down. Luckily for him, the hat had no time to touch his head before sending him straight to house Slytherin, apparently, to absolutely no one’s surprise.
Theodore Nott was the next person Jouno knew of, though not because of his name. The bookish boy who had stood next to Jouno had walked forth as the unfamiliar name was called upon, before following Malfoy into the house of snakes.
The next name was called, cutting through every conversation like a sharp blade cut string.
“Harry Potter” McGonagall, the old witch bellowed, and every head turned to the sorting with an almost morbid curiosity. Unlike the first time that evening, no one dared to whisper. All eyes simply focused on the boy who like everyone else would be sorted by the ancient hat. Though, this time everyone was wondering which house would be privileged by his presence. Jouno did not know why he was regarded with such pristine, but he doubted any eleven-year-old had done a dead so outstanding that it deserved such aw.
The air around the table on the furthest left grew heavy and thick, nearly suffocating. Some students tensed, one or two seemed to sneer and even growl, while the other tables radiated with excitement and expectation.
For several minutes, the hall was deathly quiet. Children held their breaths with anticipation as the Potter boy seemed to be conversing with the magical hat. Jouno could hear him whisper “Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin” under his breath.
Finally, finally, “Gryffindor!” the hat yelled and the whole hall erupted with cheers and applause with an intensity that seemed unfair compared to what was given to the other children before. Jouno had to dig his nails into his arms in order to not faint. The pain caused by the loud rumble shot through his poor skull as if it might just burst like a too ripe watermelon. Jouno had once heard the sound of a head exploding after a poor fucker’s mouth was filled with fireworks. Jouno may not have been able to see the outcome, but the noise and smell were etched into his mind. It wasn’t important right now; an applause could not do the same to Jouno’s head. At least he hoped.
The leftmost table did not seem to share the crowd’s amazement. Almost no one clapped, the few who did were subdued, forcibly polite, as others whispered and muttered to each other. Jouno almost hoped to be sorted there, mainly because it felt like these children would save him a few headaches.
Another child was sorted, receiving almost a laughable amount of welcome compared to the one before him.
It took just another name belonging to an utter stranger before Jouno was called upon. “Jouno Saigiku” sounded almost like a curse when spoken out of McGonagall’s mouth. He was not stressed, yet his steps felt slow and heavy as he repeated to himself the wish to not get send to Gryffindor.
“Sit Mr. Saigiku.” The old woman instructed. Jouno was ashamed that he did not know where to, as he could not find the seat in his vicinity.
Pressing his lips in a thin line, he willed the tip of his fingers to turn into particles, sending them to explore the world he could not see. He hoped that no one would notice them. Luckily, he was considerably far from the crowd.
He felt the air for anything, his fingers turned to a thousand little specks that felt a million of things. He brushed against a long table where a few adults sat—assumably the teachers—, he collided with a wall, high and smooth and stone cold. He caressed the rough fabric of a pointed hat and then he found it, a tiny wooden stool with three legs right in front of him. Jouno took a step, then another, guided by the tip of his own fingers. In no less than a second, he had mapped out the front of the hall. He knew where every teacher sat—the giant among them—, he had found Dumbldore and discovered his impossibly long beard which he now vowed to burn off one day—or maybe keep it as a trophy.
Revelling in with the idea, Jouno smiled, bright like he had not smiled in months, radiating like the pale moon in the night sky. Jouno heard one or two teens express how pretty and cute he was. He smiled brighter, sweeter and some girls squeaked enamoured “awws” as he began to fiddle with the fabric of his own clothes, feigning anxiety. “He’s adorable. I’m stealing a child.” A girl nearly cried.
McGonagall dropped the hat onto his head with a huff, yet something in her tone felt almost as amused as she sounded exasperated.
Well. Well. Well.
Aren’t you something.
A voice rasped within Jouno’s head pushing him to nearly throw the thing off.
Plenty of wit there…but I wouldn’t call you wise.
‘Not Gryffindor. Not Gryffindor. Anything but Gryffindor. For fuck’s sake don’t put me in Gryffindor. I swear if you put me in Gryffindor, I’ll set you on fire.’
Not Gryffindor? Ha! I wasn’t going to send you there, brat.
Plenty of gall in that tiny body of yours, but too much cunning. You’d make of that pride of lions a bunch of lazy house cats in mere days.
Jouno jubilated, thank goodness he would not be sorted with that know-it-all girl or the school’s starlet. Of course, as soon as the hat heard his inner joy, it laughed before going back to its musings.
It is a first, you know? Sorting one of your kind. I do wonder…
Well, alas—it does not matter, does it? You’re here now anyways.
Now where was I? Ah yes, plenty of smarts in that tiny head, but not an ounce of loyalty except to yourself. You are as volatile as your gift~
A tiny devil’s spawn like you—For that’s what you really are, given who… Ah, you remind me so of that boy. Too clever, too smart, too cunning, even for his own good. A lad like you, though leaning on the handsome side rather than on the pretty.
Now look at you. It’s almost like seeing him a second time. Smiling as so innocently, as if you would never hurt a fly. They are eating it all up, those fools.
If a hat had a head to shake, perhaps it would have done so. In its reminiscing, Jouno did not know if it sounded highly amused or deeply disappointed.
A devil in white better be in—
“SLYTHERIN” it announced for the hall to hear. Countless clapped, teachers and students alike, though for the latter all sitting at the same outer edge of the room—the utmost left, Jouno recognised with relief. Though, he did sadly struggle not to put his hands to his ears to block out the noise.
“I would like to say I am surprised…yet it would be dishonest.” McGonagall said, one could almost hear a smile tugging at the corners of her lips if it wasn’t for her stern tone. “Off your go, Mr. Saigiku.”
Jouno nodded before hopping off the seat and darting towards the table all the way to the left. He quickly found his way at the very end of it, where the youngest voices echoed.
“Saigiku, I kept you a place. Come sit.” Someone called. Jouno recognised it as the bookish boy, Theodore Nott.
“Thank you. I’m utmost grateful.” Jouno bowed his head in thanks before plopping down in the seat next to the smaller boy.
“We hadn’t officially introduced ourselves. I am Theodore Nott. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Nott nearly muttered offering his hand that Jouno politely shook.
“The pleasure is all mine.” Jouno flashed a grateful smile, running a hand in his hair. “My name is Jouno Saigiku. Thank you for keeping me a seat. However, I do wonder how you knew I’d end up in Slytherin.”
“Please.” Jouno was sure Nott had rolled his eyes. It was interesting that the boy only ever kept his voice just above a whisper. “It was obvious.”
“Is that so?” Jouno tilted his head.
“I’m not blind.” He stated before burrying his head back into his book.
Another voice broke through their conversation, “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I do believe that I never heard your name among those of British the Purebloods.” Again, many heads turned towards Jouno upon those words. Whatever these people had going on with blood, it clearly was important to them.
“I doubt you would have heard of my name. I am from Japan you see.” Jouno started, smiling bashfully. “I only received my invitation last week and was originally simply supposed to come to shop for school supplies. Barely just had I bought the last of my necessities that I was stuffed into a train. I fear not even my family is aware of my current whereabouts…” Jouno pressed a hand against his cheek feigning worry.
“What! That is— Preposterous! Absolutely unforgivable! What was Dumbledore possibly thinking! To take a pure blood wiz— Your parents are wizards, right?”
“Yes.” Jouno did not hesitate. “My mother is a witch, though we do not stand from a notable family. She visited England twelve years ago and had me with a British wizard. Sadly, the man passed away before they got married. I never met him, and it is too sensible of a subject for mother to talk about, so I am unaware of his name.” Jouno lied.
Just like that, every child at the table went back to normal. “I see. Perhaps that is why you were invited to Hogwarts. Your father probably enrolled you before your birth.” The boy nodded, satisfied. “Still, sending your letter a week before the school year’s start is ridiculous. Worse, beckoning you here for your shopping only to send you straight to Hogwarts without former warning is clear disrespect! Dumbledore is losing his marbles! My father will hear about this! Believe me! He’s on the school board and he’ll get the old goat punished for his slight. My father—”
Malfoy was cut by McGonagall who called for an all to recognisable name. “Tecchou Suehiro” rang through the hall.
Just like Malfoy, the boy barely sat down before the hat shouted for all to hear. “Gryffindor!” It cried and applause rose again.
Well, so it seems he and Tecchou really would not have anything to do with each other again.
Jouno smiled at Malfoy, who muttered furiously about his father and the headmaster.
Soon the last name was called, and a boy named Blaise Zabini came sitting besides Nott. It took a second for Jouno to recognise him as the foreigner he had shared a boat with.
After properly introducing themselves and shaking hands once more, their heads turned to the front of the room, where Dumbldore stood up.
“Welcome!” The old man began to speak. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” Laughter chimed among the students.
“What nonsense?” Draco mumbled.
“Is this supposed to be an insightful speech?” Jouno questioned.
“È pazzo.” Zabini agreed as Nott grunted along.
Listening to the conversations around Slytherin table, which was simply one very long table where every student of the house sat in the order of their year.
“There are a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce.” The headmaster continued, ignoring the whispers and snarls of the Slytherin. “First years, please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretakers mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.” The elderly wizard spoke in a gentle, almost grandfatherly voice. Yet even with his warm tone, he seemed to only cast a cold wind over the utmost left table.
Jouno gaped. “That man cannot be serious.”
“I am telling my father about this.” Malfoy, declared.