Hogwarts
The crowd of students filing out of the train made for an extremely uncomfortable way out. Dazai has never been a fan of touching and getting run over by a bunch of over-excited students wasn’t at the top of his list. And so he stayed behind, waiting for most of the herd to thin before making his way out. Their luggage and even their pets were supposed to be sent on their own to their respective dorm rooms, so that was one less thing for him to think about.
He hoped Chibi-chan wouldn’t bite him too hard for leaving him behind, he supposed he could visit him later in the owlery, Snape did say they had one.
By the time he made his way out into the open, most of the students were already well on their way to the castle. However, to his surprise and confusion, three familiar figures had stayed behind, waiting patiently for him in front of a lone carriage.
Dazai immediately noticed two things at once. The first was the additional presence of a short blond girl, her hair a shining platinum, almost white in the moonlight, it was dressed into a braid with flowers and other peculiar assortments of decoration merging into it. All in all, she looked pretty eccentric, and a little mystifying with the way she seemed to hold herself.
The second object of his attention was a little different in nature. He approached the winged horse strapped to the carriage, looking at it with morbid fascination. The horse? Or was it something else? Whined softly as he approached, getting a little restless. Dazai figured that magical creatures could somehow sense the threat that No Longer Human posed to them.
“You see him too?” Potter asked, almost managing to startle him with how he was so focused on this new discovery. His voice held something frayed in its tone as if he was scared of the answer he would get.
“Yeah, should I not be able to?” Their answer came in the form of one Luna Lovegood. A fourth year who explained to them patiently how the creature pulling the carriage was in fact, not a horse, but a Threstral. The name sounded familiar to his ears and he soon remembered the components of his wand.
“Only those who have seen death can see them.” She had said in a soft, dreamy voice. Dazai could tell the girl had been witness to some pretty gruesome stuff. He would have felt sorry for her if he wasn’t already well-versed in the cruel ways of the world.
Potter’s reason for seeing them was obvious, the events he’d read in the papers last year and the death of both his parents had surely left an impact.
The sad, worried looks he got when he didn’t offer any explanation of his own made him want to shoot someone. He really wanted this carriage ride to be over. He shouldn’t have let it slip that he could see them. He’d have to do more research on magical creatures, lest he fall into another situation similar to this one.
More work, oh joy. He lamented darkly, feeling like he’d never put this much effort into any mission in the past. He knew, however, better than most that knowledge was power.
“You should have gone with the first years on the boats, Dazai.” Hermione was saying. “The view from the black lake is simply breathtaking.”
“Yeah, mate, it’s practically a rite of passage,” Weasley added helpfully.
As the carriages got closer to the castle, Dazai understood what they had been talking about.
If the view he was seeing was only half as beautiful as the one he would have seen from the lake, well… he understood.
Inhaling softly, he looked at the expanding castle before him, eyes taking in every last detail as he watched the grounds get closer and closer.
Hogwarts was, for lack of a better word, Magical.
Something must have shown on his expression, for when he looked back, all four occupants of the carriage were smiling his way, eyes all too knowing for his comfort. He turned his gaze away before they could get a word in, uncomfortable with it all.
They walked through the main entrance, and into the great hall quietly. Somehow they seemed to wordlessly understand that Dazai needed a little time to take it all in.
The magic in Hogwarts was alive, Dazai could feel it just as clearly as he could sense his ability screaming at him from the inside.
Power, sheer, raw energy lurked within the very walls of the castle, slithering in between every crack and fissure in the stronghold, making the world shine almost brighter, the magic was a tangible vitality that Dazai could taste in the very air.
His head felt as though it would explode with all the new sensory feedback he was getting through his ability. He knew, even now, that it would take a while for him to get used to it. He hoped this mission would be worth it, in the end. Although, a tiny, inhibited part of him, secretly felt as if it already was, if only for the view alone.
The books didn’t make the Great Hall justice. He’d read about the enchanted ceilings and the hovering candles, but to see it firsthand was something else entirely. Hogwarts certainly was grand.
Nodding at the Gryffindor trio, he resolutely made his way to the group of first-years huddled at the front of the hall. He could feel eyes slowly taking notice of him as he joined them. As tiny as they all were, Dazai stood out like a sore thumb. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he let his eyes wander.
There was a table looming over most of the room, one that Dazai assumed was meant for the staff members. Rows of tables and chairs lined the other side of the room, each House separated distinctly from the others. Indolently, he wondered why they were so adamant about dividing the students like that. He figured it had something to do with friendly competition and incentive to be better, but still, if mafia logic applied, defining such immoveable lines in the sand, was sure to bring more conflicts than it was worth.
Looking back ahead at the teacher’s table, it seemed that the staff had arrived while he was distracted.
Almost immediately, he met the gaze of one Severus Snape. He grinned at the man cheekily, wanting to see his reaction. Not disappointed in the least as the man turned away sharply, scoffing.
Soon enough, a white-haired man, ancient in both looks and attire, stepped onto a dais, pointing a wand at his throat and speaking up. His voice reverberated through the hall, echoing in his ears loudly. He recognized Albus Dumbledore without having to be introduced to the man. He’d read about him enough times that he could recite the old man’s life story perfectly if he so wanted to. He was definitely a person of interest, as he was said to be one of the most powerful wizards ever seen in generations.
One would be a fool to not consider him a threat.
The headmaster’s speech was short and sweet, taking the time to spell out the house rules to the first years, Dazai regrettably included within the fold, before unexpectedly, or maybe even more so, announcing Dazai’s own presence. Announcing the arrival of a new transfer student to the entire school.
He resisted the urge to take out his knives, or simply disappear as suddenly the entire hall seemed to be looking at him. Murmurs and whispering reached a new level of intensity as the students and even some of the teachers openly discussed him.
Luckily, the speech continued afterward, even giving way for a new teacher to take the lead.
The woman speaking was an eyesore, to say the least. The sheer pinkness made his eyes hurt just looking at her. He could already tell she was a cat lady, he could nearly see the clumps of hairballs stuck to her atrocious bubblegum pink, and flower-patterned blazer. He shuddered at the mere thought.
Her speech had so many veiled threats that it made the tension rise in his throat, feeling as though he’d somehow chosen the worst year to join Hogwarts.
Everything he’d read about the ministry, suddenly made much more sense as he regarded the witch. A sense of dread formed in his guts as he could easily predict how the school year was going to unfold. His predictions were never wrong, after all.
She finished spewing her sugar-coated words, and stepped back to let room for the final act of this dramatic show they seemed to be putting on.
Another staff member, an older woman whose movement spoke of power and authority, approached the center of the stand, an old wrinkled hat held in her grasp, one that she set comfortably onto a chair she’d summoned a moment later.
With all the casual displays of magic he was witnessing, he wondered if he’d ever reach a point where he’d be able to do all that.
The sorting began, somehow, he’d never imagined it would be done this way. He worried suddenly if the hat would be able to read into his mind, or if it worked on him at all. Would he suck out the magic within it the moment it made contact with his head?
More and more first years passed before him, getting sorted into their respective houses with relative ease, and soon enough, Dazai's turn had arrived.
Taking his time, he walked casually up the steps leading to the chair in question, sitting with his hands still buried deep within his pockets, finger playing absentmindedly with the blade of his knife. He’d have to act fast if this went sideways.
Mcgonagall, the professor’s name, he’d gathered, approached him slowly, the hat in her hand visibly shying away with each step she took towards him. It would have been funny under a different context, but here and now, under the watchful eyes of the entire school, Dazai just wanted to find a lake and drown himself in it. Later, he thought resolutely, he would do it later.
Getting visibly confused and more than a little irritated, Mcgonagall shoved the hat towards him, and before it could even make any real contact with his head, it shouted out, its voice loud and ringing.
“SLYTHERIN!”
A stunned silence fell over the hall, broken a moment later by a new wave of whispering and muttering. It was followed closely by half-hearted applause. Even the Slytherins, with no knowledge of his blood status, seemed hesitant in their applause. As if still wondering what had just happened.
Getting up from his seat, body moving slowly, projecting an air of confidence. He shot a glance out of curiosity at the Gryffindor table and found the three he was looking for immediately. Hermione was in the middle of what looked like a heated conversation with Potter, and Weasley, well, if looks could kill…
There goes the easy way of getting insider information, he thought bitterly, ignoring the slight twinge against his ribcage.
Turning back to the Slytherin table, he settled into the only empty seat he could find. One on the far end of the table, nearest to the exit. He suppressed the urge to turn around and stare right back at the people currently staring holes into his back. He figured it came with the territory of being Hogwarts's shiny new toy. It made his blood boil with the need to cut something, mostly himself.
Suddenly a boy settled down into the seat across from him, shooing a couple of first years out of his way. Two beefy fellas followed his lead, flanking Dazai on each side, mirroring the actions of their supposed spearhead.
He kept his composure throughout the theatrics, eyes narrowed and gaze dark as he simply stared at the newcomer silently. His hair was a similar shade as Luna’s, he noted with little interest. A blonde going on white that caught the light easily, almost silky in its texture. His clothes were pressed and made of the finest fabric, and by his expression alone, Dazai could tell just what ideals he found favorable. A pureblood, and from a powerful family too. When his silence persisted, the Blonde spoke up.
“The name’s Draco Malfoy,” He introduced himself with no small amount of pride. “These two are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.” He gestured to the two respectively. Dazai didn’t pay them any mind, he knew unimportant subordinates when he saw them.
“Dazai.” He muttered in turn, looking down at the feast that had suddenly appeared between them. His stomach roiled with aversion at the mere thought of eating all this food. His two seatmates didn’t seem to share in his revulsion as they were both already elbow-deep in their grub.
“Well Dazai,” The blonde intoned, surprisingly getting the pronunciation right, “You’ll soon find that things go very differently in Slytherin than they might have in your previous school.” Was he going to have this conversation with every person he met?
“Hmm…How so?” His voice lacked any intonation, boredom dripping from every syllable.
“You see, since I’m this year’s Prefect, I am duty-bound to show you the ways of our most ancient and noble house.” He explained poshly, condescension, and superiority marking his every word. “I saw you fraternizing with the mudblood and the blood traitors, you would do well to cut that filthy habit before it ends up ruining you.” He spat his words as if they were made of venom.
Dazai wasn’t familiar with the term Prefect, nor was he acquainted with the evident slur that had just been thrown his way. However, from context, he could quickly infer what was being implied.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be talking to me then.” He spoke softly, his eye darkening as he met the other boy’s gaze sharply, letting some of his true self slip minutely through the cracks. “Wouldn’t want to ruin you, given that I am, what was it again?” He waved a hand carelessly, feigning a thoughtful expression. “A mudblood?” He finished innocently, deeply enjoying the scandalized expression twisting the teen’s features. It would surely come back to bite him in the ass later, but for now, he was satisfied. Murmurs broke out around them as those who heard spread the news to their seatmates. He did not doubt that his blood status would be common knowledge by the end of the night. He couldn’t get himself to care.
Movement to his left caught his eye, and surely, walking briskly towards him was Professor Snape, a solemn expression on his bat-like face.
“Mr Dazai.” He interrupted whatever outburst Malfoy had been about to throw. “If you would follow me, it is time for your placement test.” How convenient, he suddenly felt as if he owed Snape for his well-timed interference. He could feel the teacher’s eyes looking over his untouched plate, before walking away. He followed him with much fanfare, only turning back once to smirk at the furious blonde who looked beautifully seconds away from combustion.
A smirk twisted itself into his features, steps slow despite the hurried gate of the teacher in front of him.
Hogwarts was proving to be interesting.
Chapter 6-7 already on the link on my instagram bio