Chapter One
Fyodor awoken; the bed covers are sprawled to one side of the bed, all clumped up unpleasantly, forming what sort of looks like a blanket cabbage pile. Fyodor rests his back against the wall, his eyes darting to one side of the room and then looking at the window. Fyodor examines the glass from the top to the bottom of the ceiling in a sweet, reflecting blue color that fades to black with the curtains. He sometimes thinks that all of these colors seem to pull him closer and closer to God. The savior of his life, blue is such a lovely color, the color of good.
He looked out with his reddish purple eyes, taking in what he saw before him. Gripping the bed sheets, he was upset that the pattern of his neatly done morning was about to be disturbed by something else.
He leaned against the wall to fight the sickening dizziness in his bed. Fyodor slightly trembles as his eyesight goes in and out, and his head thrums with a dull–
–bum
–bump
–bum
He let a couple of minutes pass before his head adjusted to having blood flow throughout his body once more so that once his feet touched the ground, Fyodor wouldn’t have problems walking around. After all, today was a big day for him and many people, apparently.
Fyodor fought against the dizziness with each step, determined not to succumb. He clung to the walls, his life seemingly dependent on them. Today was the day. On September 1st, he will attend a “Wizarding Academy” of some sort.
Fyodor runs his fingers through his hair in dismay, grappling with the reality that he was about to enter a 'wizarding' academy. What kind of religious person was he, he wondered? Was he committing blasphemy? These questions tormented him, his inner turmoil palpable.
He prayed to God, hoping that if he were born this way, God would forgive him and award him eternal life after he passed. Maybe, with this so-called “magic,” he could help people—maybe he could help those in need.
Fyodor, deeply rooted in his faith, views magic as mere trickery. He sees it as an unfair advantage that goes against the principles of self-improvement and righteousness.
For Fyodor, an 11-year-old about to embark on his journey to Hogwarts, the day is momentous. It's a dream he's always harbored, a chance to delve deeper into the magic he's been gifted.
Not really. He is not excited or elated one bit.
Fyodor was told that he himself had muggle parents.
Fyodor never knew his real parents. After all, he was raised in an orphanage. They told him his parents had died when he was young; they were supposedly found dead with no traces of any attack or sickness. It was as if they died from nowhere. The headmasters told Fyodor that they saw him as a toddler holding onto his mother’s corpse and her purple sarafan. He wonders why his brain aches and pulls inward like a vortex of thought that manages to shrink his limbs and extend them simultaneously.
Fyodor stumbles a bit, thinking about this on his way down to the communal area where he could pick up his breakfast.
Fyodor thinks when a funny clad dressed in black robes came to visit him, with greasy hair that fell down his face and inky black eyes that seemed dead to the world. They don’t see beyond the past, hunted by whatever troubles the man. He has a hooked nose that surprisingly fits his face since his cheekbones protrude out of his face, giving the man a ghoul or vampire look.
Fyodor pities the man a bit. Anyone looking at him could tell that he has lost a lot or just can’t get over the past. The man introduces himself as Severus Snape.
He peers down, looking at Fyodor; as much as Fyodor would like, he is a scrawny type of kid.
Snape’s hair dangles a bit as he looks down at Fyodor, “Mr. Dostovesky, as silly of a last name, that is, I have brought you a letter.” From the depths of his robes, Snape brings out a letter parchment: “You are to read the letter for better comprehension of your newfound magical abilities– or to say, you are gifted in holding some magical properties for the wizarding world.”
Snape hands Fyodor the letter carefully. In response to the news, Fyodor blinked slowly, trying to process what he just heard from the man. “How do I know you aren’t– lying?”
The older man sighed and pinched his nose, muttering something about Dumbledore and signing him up for this job, saying that he was not well suited for dealing with children in their private lives.
Fyodor hopes that man isn’t a professor.
“Now I will show you a simple spell– you will learn this spell, in fact, the first year you attend Hogwarts in Charms–”
“A SPELL? I’m sorry, but isn’t that dark magic–”
“No, it’s perfectly natural for a wizard or witch-”
“BLASPHEMY!” Fyodor irrationally screeched at the poor man, blushing suddenly, noticing his actions didn’t match his first impression.
Fyodor is just a little shocked that someone—or something else—might mention magic in this building. This building is the house of God, a place where people come for salvation, like himself. Maybe the man needed some light in his life.
Severus just slapped himself in the face wondering how he got stuck with a bugger of a kid, a kid who believes in God. Snape pulled out his wand and pointed it at the letter.
“Leviosa”
The letter in Fyodor’s hands started to float into the air.
Fyodor looked at the letter that floated with no strings attached. He glared at Snape and tried to see if there were any strings or anything making the piece of parchment float.
Nothing was making the piece of paper float. Instead, it was pure magic, making it float.
“Is this enough to convince your feeble mind that perhaps this is something more- or connect the dots to when you were younger? Strange cases of accidents that could not be explained in ‘normal’ terms?” Snape poked a Fydoor, trying to get the little lad to think more.
Fyodor thought back to times when he and a white-haired boy used to play; he, Shibusawa, and Atsuhi often hung around the orphanage.
Nowadays, it's mostly just him and Atsushi. Shibusawa left for France two years ago to an academy named ‘Beauxbatons.’ He misses Shibusawa a bit. They used to gossip together and talk about how they would change the world into their ideals one day, perhaps becoming more than orphans and what the orphanage tells them they are.
Atsushi and he usually just sit by a tree, Fyodor reading and Atsushi asking questions about the book. Atsushi is a bit younger than he is, about a year younger than himself. But the poor boy gets repeatedly teased and bullied by the headmasters and the other peers. Sometimes, Fyodor is the victim of teasing and bullying, but it’s not so bad.
He never cries in front of them, but Atsushi does. He cries in front of the headmaster, his peers, and in Fyodor’s arms.
He finds it pitiful. Atsushi should know better and just grow up. The pain and torment won’t go away; they will never go away.
He remembers he told Atsushi that he should “pray” more.
And then, the two started to pray together, asking God to come to save them.
Maybe saving is an exaggeration, but in Fyodor’s eyes, he finally got snot off his clothing.
He can sometimes hear Nakajima cry at night, praying to God. Fyodor sneers at Atsushi and his naivety, but he has finally saved a soul.
Though sometimes he noticed during these sessions that Nakajima would go quiet despite his lips still moving, or when Fyodor himself was getting the blunt action of the torment, he would suddenly be able to outrun them into the patio or turn invisible to their eyes when they sought him out when Atsushi was missing as well.
He assumed he was good at hiding; maybe that wasn’t the case.
Fyodor nodded at Snape.
“And that is all the proof you need, once again. Read the letter. School starts September 1st. I won’t be the person to pick you up but instead a taxi. The headmaster already knows of your situation, but sadly, I am needed in my classroom by that time for class preparations for the school year. It’ll arrive in a quarter to 10. Do I make myself clear?” Snape sneered down once more at a kid.
Well, shit, this dude is a professor.
Fyodor thought hastily, finding his mouth slightly agape and slightly ever more fearful of his education and religion. There goes his chances of being normal.
“Yes, sir.”
But an opportunity arises with chances of being normal being thrown out the window.
With that, Snape turns on his heels and leaves the bleak orphanage.
Fyodor spent the next couple of weeks trying to buy all of the materials for his school. It proved to be some trouble here or there. He soon discovered that you shouldn’t scream “DEMONS” when you see elves or anyone who doesn’t look human.
Talk about being shell-shocked.
Fyodor got himself ready, wearing white clothing. He put his robes and school uniform into a different bag, not wanting to look like your local crazy kid who ran away from his parents in the morning because he didn’t want to go to Sunday school. He packed his materials, getting ready for the school year. The man said a Taxi would pick him up and drop him off at this muggle train station. There, he would have to find platform 9 3/4. Fyodor thought it was outrageous that a man would tell him that he was a wizard and simply just leave afterward with little instructions that could lead him very well trafficked to the hands of someone greedy, but Fyodor digressed. He is a little stupid, and maybe this decision is all stupid, and he will pay the consequences later.
Fyodor feels a little queasy being in the taxi all by himself. He. He picks at his fingers and hands, feeling nervous.
What if it is the end of the line for him?
What if he never made it to being a teenager– had a romance– or experienced anything that an ordinary kid– all these life challenges thrown at him by God just for it to all be lead to waste just because he is pursuing an alternative education method, one that would promise him purpose and knowledge of the inner more realms of the world.
God, he is panicking just like a little kid–
What is he even thinking?
Fyodor has never been a kid. Since he’s been at the orphanage, he’s been isolated, sticking his nose in books and learning what he can from the outside world– that would make more use to him instead of lying in his self-pity– his isolation that yanks on his heart strings in wanting to have anything normal– something regular that he should have.
Fyodor clutches his rosary and prays to Virgin Maria in hopes that she will hear his prayers for safe travel—to stay safe and to guide him along the lines that the Lord believes are correct. He murmurs another prayer to God as he rides the taxi with an unknown stranger.
Fyodor moves with the currents of Traffic as his heart thrums through his chest– he clutches his suitcase and his bags. He needs to get out of this car in one piece.
What more can he bear to lose in this world? Fyodor wants to make a name in this world—he wants to be remembered not as a helpless orphan but as a renowned someone who helps people and does things out of goodwill—just like his Lord, just like the man who died on a cross.
He wants to be that savior for people; magic may help him.
Fyodor realizes he forgot to say goodbye to Atsushi.
Oh well, Atsushi may see him for the holidays or perhaps when the year is over. Whatever, Fyodor can always apologize or say it’s God’s plan.
Fyodor murmurs an apology to the air; maybe the airwaves will reach Atsushi from here. God forbid him from having one good thing happen to him.
Eventually, Fyodor arrives at the train station. He quickly hops out of the taxi and looks for the platform where he needs to board the train to Hogwarts.
Platform nine and three-fourths…. Where could that be?
Fyodor looks around, feeling overwhelmed by the number of people present. He looks for people his age—maybe he can get a glimpse of who will be attending with him.
He hears someone screech and ruttling noises.
He sees this brown hair boy with cracked round glasses run into a wall–
Correction: The brown-haired boy with cracked, rounded glasses ran into the wall.
Cheeky little bastards have their secret platform hidden within magic.
Fyodor makes his way to the platform and walks through. He sees the train that he needs to broaden. People are already wearing their robes and talking with each other.
Laughing, gossiping, crying, and yelling. So much commotion, so much disarray.
People like this shouldn’t act this way; people with magic are obnoxious. They should be spending their time acting in a more orderly manner, reading, learning, and definitely not acting like immature delinquents.
Fyodor enters the train, looking for a bathroom or room to change into.
He finds himself lost.
There are so many small compartments, but he doesn’t want to sit by anyone. Sitting by people means he has to interact with people who willingly commit blasphemy.
He is only here because he wants to make a name for himself and discover more secrets about the world, especially what occurred behind his parents' death.
He wants to comprehend why people around him tend to disappear and turn out dead a couple of days later. He feels his heart ache a bit for maybe a companion, his little companion Atsushi. He could have used a break from the orphanage as well. Oh well, that's a tragedy.
With all the thinking Fyodor was doing, he failed to notice a person before him. Fyodor bumped into someone and stumbled a bit backward.
“Sorry-”
“Hey, you seem new here!” a white hair boy appeared before him. Fyodor could only think that he looked like a clown and had a weird choice of aesthetics.
“Why don’t you sit here!” The boy waved and singled to come over; with such a commotion, Fyodor couldn’t help but oblige the boy.
“My name is Nikolai! And you?”
“Fyodor Dosto–”
Nikolai grabbed Fyodor’s gloved hands. “It is such a pleasure to meet you! Don’t worry, Big boy Nikolai is here to be at your service!”
“Please never say that again..” Fyodor flinches at the sudden contact his hands had with the other boy.
“GOGOL!!!” Fyodor’s head snapped to the side as he heard some screaming and outraged yelled down several compartments. Nikolai seemed to perk up at the sound of the voice before the door to the compartment slammed open, revealing another brown hair boy whose eyes seemed to trap light within them, only leaving darkness and his yet again unique sense of aesthetics of being covered in bandages.
“DAZAI! Buddy!” Nikolai stood up, rushed to Dazai, and hugged him. Dazai reciprocated the hug, and they both embraced each other, squealing about how much they missed each other and how they were both going through withdrawals. Eventually, they both calmed down after a couple of minutes. Fyodor just stared at the two boys, wondering what sin he had committed to find himself in this place.
Dazai looks at Fyodor, and his eyes are slightly narrowed down on him. “Hey, Gogol, who is this~.”
“Oh! I found this one lost, helpless, and roaming the hallways alone! Having the first years fend for themselves is a tragedy, so I took him in like the good person I am!” Nikolai exclaimed, feeling proud that he had helped Fyodor find a place to stay instead of wandering into some random stranger's compartment, which made it awkward for himself and the people who would have stayed with him on the ride to Hogwarts.
“Aw, if you were a girl, I would have proposed we could have committed double suicide! But I mean, a person is a person! Would you care to commit double suicide with me this lovely afternoon? Fedyyaa?”
Fyodor slightly twitched at the mention of ‘if you were a girl’ and felt somewhat uncomfortable by these clowns.
“I’m not interested; suicide is a sin. If you want to sin, go ahead. Don’t drag me into this.” Fyodor relented to Dazai
“Aw, come on, don’t be that way, lighten up a bit! You're a first-year! You're supposed to be optimistic!” Dazai exclaimed back while he made his way to sit in front of Fyodor near the window.
“I am being optimistic. I’m giving Hogwarts a chance.”
“Ah…. your no fun…..”
“Say, Dazai, what house do you think Fedya will be in?” Nikolai questioned Dazai as he wrapped his arm around Fyodor. “He seems too dull to be in Gryffindor like your red-haired friend!” Fyodor was slightly tense at his nickname, which was already ‘Fedya,’ not even Fyodor.
What was the point of him introducing himself to them if they would just nickname him?
“Hm… I think not Hufflepuff, and don’t drag Chibi like that! We know he is a Gryffindor for being a dog.”
“True, true, true.”
“I think that Fedya here would be some sort of a Ravenclaw..? Slythern?”
“I feel like you only said Slythern since you want another Slythern friend,” Nikolai replied mockingly.
“Hey! Don’t blame me! Okay! You and I get along perfectly fine in Slytherin… We could become a trio of Slytherns, taking on the dark and evil path of the wizarding world so scary.”
Fyodor deadpanned a little bit upon hearing Dazai’s tone; it was the tone of a child.
Fyodor decided this was going to be a long ride to Hogwarts. He simply wished the train could arrive a little sooner, maybe a couple of hours sooner, to save his sanity on the train.
Fyodor is indeed curious; he wonders what the houses represent. From what he has gathered, the ‘Slythern’ house seems filled with idiots.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what are the Hogwarts houses?” Fyodor prodded a bit, trying to seem like he knew what he was doing, trying to keep his ego inflated despite it taking some damage when he opened to ask a question about the houses.
The duo pause their conversation about chocolate frogs and jelly beans.
“You don’t know?” Questioned Nikolai.
Fyodor shrugged and nodded, “Why else would I be asking you, imbecile?” Fyodor seethed a bit, his cheeks turning a bit pink in embarrassment. He grips the seat a bit harder in irritation at the current situation.
Dazai examined Fyodor up and down, checking to see if the boy wasn’t lying about his current predicament. “Well, Fedya. Hogwarts houses are how people are organized in this school! It’s to help students like yourself find a home and get all buddy-buddy with each other. Make new friends, and have some friendly school competition!” Dazai added a little flare to his speech, ensuring it was entertaining to explain something every magical student should know about now.
“So… if that is the case, when I arrive at Hogwarts, the first years like myself will be sorted into one of the four houses you two mentioned?”
“Of course! That is how it was for us last year. I doubt they would change too much from year to year.”
“They called for all the first years to gather together and rode on a boat to a special section last year!” Nikolai helps to elaborate a little further.
“Ah, I see, I see. Thank you.” Fyodor nods in appreciation before leaning back down. “Do you happen to know where I can change?”
“Down the corridor to your left, there should be a couple of stalls at the end of the train cart,” Dazai supplies. “Just don’t bump into anyone; people tend to be a bit overdramatic here.”
Fyodor nods once more and leaves with his robes in one hand.
He chuckles at Dazai as he opens the door to leave, calling the students a bit overdramatic when considering how Nikolai and Dazai act together. They might as well become a trouble duo or the school's trouble duo. He feels like he could make use of them, as well. He has no one at the current school, and it’s better to have connections than not to have connections at the school. He’d rather not be picked on like at the orphanage.
This time, he would improve and climb the ranks more easily, possibly gaining respect and knowledge at the end of the school year. Perhaps he can start a club, maybe dedicating your life to a certain way.
Fyodor navigates through the people, worming his way through carefully so as not to bump into anyone. Like a rat, he squirms through the crowd and rokus unnoticed.
“Potter, you think you are so great–”
“Malfoy, keep it to yourself, go brag on someone else–”
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to bump into him–”
Fyodor sees why Dazai warned him about bumping into people. Such pretentious people behave in such a way. He almost feels sorry and pity for the young boy he saw earlier at the platforms.
He wonders how his round glasses were fixed; they were broken earlier. He will have to ask him later. It might be useful to fix broken materials at the orphanage.
He’d eventually reach the stalls and quickly change into the school uniform; he wouldn’t want to be caught slacking on the first day. He needs to make a remarkable first impression in Hogwarts. So the staff could respect him and see him as a dependable student with a future. Not as some streets or orphan scum.
Fyodor knows little to nothing about the history of magic. He ponders how God and magic correlate. If it wasn’t for the fear of blasphemy and becoming irredeemable… No. It’s part of him. An extension of his body, just like the rest of the students.
Every one of them is just like himself. Each existence is blasphemous. Nothing he does will ever make him irredeemable in God's eyes. Perhaps this is why he is tormented so often by people. It’s a punishment for existing.
Everything is a punishment, and he needs to take it as God’s plan.
It is all a challenge; everything is such a challenge that God made it nearly impossible. All of this is a cult.
Hogwarts' main intention is to stray people away from God's path. But no, Fyodor will stay. He will continue to follow God's path even if his veins carry such sin.
Even if his body is sinful.
Fyodor would continue to worship him, not some man named “Merlin.”
Maybe he can save the students here at Hogwarts.
Perhaps he can become the savior of the magical world and lead the students away from magic and into the guise of light with magic.
After all, leaders are hypocrites. They make such promises to betray their ideals. They cannot keep their promises if they wish to control a situation or event.
To control the press and media means to control the people. How the figurehead acts is how the people should behave and believe in.
People need something to believe in, whether in a higher order or themselves. They all hold that belief, and Fyodor wants to control it.
Fyodor wishes to control such desire and turn it away from what makes them so “special.” It is a sin to believe yourself to be above the natural order.
To use materials and yourself to commit crimes against god, to turn against him.
Fyodor returns to his compartment and back to his seat.
His hands bend together and he leans forward, praying silently, hoping the other two won’t bother him.
“Jeez, I didn’t know we had a Christian in our midsts,” Dazai peered over, looking at Fyodor’s bent-over form.
“I don’t know, Dazai; maybe he’s praying for family or a good school year?” Nikolai tried to explain Fyodor’s weird behaviors.
“I don’t know. Maybe you two can be quiet. I'm trying to pray a little here. And no, I'm not a Christian. I'm a Catholic.” Fyodor pulls out his rosary as proof. “A Christian wouldn’t carry this around; they believe it’s idol worship.”
The two apologized for their behavior and gave Fyodor a little more silence. There were whispers here or there, but Fyodor didn’t mind; they weren’t loud enough for Fyodor to pay attention to their murmurs. The only murmuring he would hear is his thoughts and prayers of forgiveness to God.
Eventually, Fyodor sat back up after a little lament on the train ride.
He was ready and prepped to start a new school year. To start school.
And for a new beginning.
Maybe these three would help him reach places where he couldn’t reach.