One
Truthfully, if there was one thing to know about Henry, it is that he is an older brother before he’s a friend, a student, or a person. With two younger brothers and one younger sister to help his father care for, he spent so long caring for people that it felt wrong not to do so. That being said, it was a bit of a surprise to be placed in Gryffindor rather than Hufflepuff(or so he’s been told). He’d pondered about it consistently throughout his first week at Hogwarts when he even had the spare time to wonder about such things in the worries of an oncoming war.
Still, at the end of his third week, the question still remained. Why was Henry DeWitt placed in Gryffindor with his clever jokes, hard-working nature, care-taking attitude, and welcoming atmosphere that would be better suited for Hufflepuff?
Simple, when it comes to the people he is loyal to or those that cannot stand for themselves? Henry is reckless in the face of danger when danger is facing one who cannot stand their own ground.
This is a collection of stories where the New Student came to be Mama Henry among the folks of Hogwarts.
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A less admirable trait for Gryffindor, to be sure, is their demand for justice and high morality with an air of self-righteousness. They pride themselves on their hard-headed sense of right and wrong, and to dishonor or accuse them of otherwise is of the most significant offense. Gryffindors will fight for you if you stand behind them, fight with you if you stand by them, and turn a grudging hurricane, reckless of self-preservation if you stand against them.
They’re stubborn and hard-headed.
Henry, for his part, felt that most of these traits weren’t a testament to being a Gryffindor, per se, but more from his younger siblings. He had to be stubborn against begging for things that weren’t good for them. He had to be patient to the point of hard-headedness when they were uncooperative for bedtime or dinner. He had to be reckless when their harmless trouble became dangerous trouble in the event that someone might get hurt.
He didn’t believe these were traits given to him at birth but nurtured into him by being a parent. If that is so, then did it make a difference when the sorting hat chose his house? Did it matter who he was without his siblings’ influence, or did that dictate who he was now? Had it not been for his siblings, would he have been in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin? If so, what did that say about how the houses were chosen?
Shaking his head, Henry cleared his mind of the swirling thoughts. Best not to get too engaged with it, he firmly told himself, you’ll spin yourself into a spiral.
See, the halls of Hogwarts were so vast and maze-like that Henry would oft wander them as he let his mind wander, too. He had a list of things he had to get done and a mounting pressure to do them, starting with meeting Professor Fig at San Bakar’s tower tomorrow afternoon. Was he prepared? Would he miss any assignments at that time? Should he work on some? Which-?
The sounds of sniffling caught his ears, and all thoughts halted, including his steps. Looking around, Henry took stock of the hall he was in, near Professor Fig’s classroom. It was mostly empty, with the exception of a wandering cat. One he was nearly desperate to pet for the sake of calming his nerves. But he remained stock still, straining his hearing to catch the sound once more.
There. The sounds came from a bathroom, the boys' bathroom.
Eyebrows furrowed, Henry approached the door, listening to sniffles, hiccups, and muffled misery. He paused right in front of the green door, with a wizard symbol on the front, wondering how exactly to go about this. Taking a deep breath, Henry gently pressed a hand to the door and creaked it open. The sounds halted immediately with a sharp intake. The bathroom was suddenly silent. Henry scanned the room, finding it empty, with the exception of a closed bathroom door at the end of the stalls.
“Hullo?” He called, his voice quiet and even. There was no response. “I heard some sad sounds coming from in here. Are… you alright?” He wouldn’t pretend that there wasn’t anyone here. Especially so close to curfew. If need be, he could always hide in Fig’s classroom. The same couldn’t be said about whomever this was.
A sniffle.
“Go away.”
Pursing his lips, Henry now understood that this was the voice of a younger kid. Granted, his stature at 15 wasn’t very impressive, but this voice sounded eerily similar to his 11-year-old sister. He glanced at the bathroom door once more, just to make sure, and found that this was, indeed, the boy's bathroom. He didn’t want to be presumptuous, though, so he asked.
“May I ask why you’re crying in the boy's bathroom so close to curfew?”
“ Blast. ” The voice murmured, but it bounced off the tiles and settled into Henry’s ears. He stepped away from the door, let it swing shut, and leaned against the sinks. “What are you, a prefect?” The tone was deeper now and Henry wondered at its purpose because it didn’t sound much like a boy.
“No,” Henry replied evenly, “but I don’t think you want to get in trouble.” Quiet once more. “Look, I’m not going to rat you out to anybody, I swear. Though I’d like to help you, if you’re amenable.”
“You promise not to tell anyone?”
“Yes,” Henry replied quickly. Anything for you to come out and unburden yourself of this isolation. He was preparing himself to see the child when-.
“What’s your house?” The question had Henry pausing, eyebrows drawing together again as he tried to figure out the point of the question. What does my house have to do with anything? He asked himself, glancing down at his red robes.
“Gryffindor?”
Another pause. The stall door opened. Henry remained where he was, making a conscious effort to remain in his spot. Let the scared creature come to you, his father told him. A Hufflepuff through and through, his dad.
When the student appeared in the doorway, half shrouded by the dim lighting, Henry’s eyes scanned… her? He found no injuries, and she wasn’t standing in any way indicating injuries he couldn’t see. The child wore Gryffindor robes, some fitting slacks, and a white button-up that looked a size too big. Hair was in dark droves that stopped at the base of her neck.
The kid must’ve mistaken his quiet for something unsavory because the young voice spoke up again shakily, “If you tell on me and break your promise, then I’ll put Gobstones under your sheets.” The threat had him chuckling in amusement. “And don’t laugh at me!”
“I’m not,” he quickly amends, “I wouldn’t. Quite the spitfire, aren’t you?” The kid didn’t reply; just watched him skeptically. “Would you please tell me why you’re in the bathroom crying?”
“Because the other girls won’t let me in the girl's bathroom.” That answers two questions.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t like skirts or dresses.”
“I see,” Henry murmured, trying to figure out a solution to this predicament. He couldn’t think of any presently besides attempting to make the girl’s bathroom a safer space for her. “Are they in there now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Alright,” Henry nodded, “you like wearing the boy’s uniform, is that it?” She nodded slowly in response, and Henry noticed that she wasn’t clinging so tightly to the stall doorway, having stepped out a little.
“They’re just clothes . I don’t understand the big deal.” Truthfully, Henry didn’t either. He found skirts to be rather bothersome when it came to movement. “I trip over the dresses too much, and my dad says I can wear whatever I want as long as I have good scores and make something of m’self.” The last part is spoken quite haughtily, as though she dares Henry to say otherwise. He does not.
“I see nothing wrong with those demands,” he replies simply, trying to ease her somewhat. “Have you talked to Professor Weasley about all this?”
“Will I not get in trouble?”
“I can’t imagine why, though,” he paused, thinking for a moment, “it might not be easy for you when dealing with your peers.” She nodded firmly.
“I already know that it doesn’t matter.” Henry hummed,
“Well then, how about this? Tomorrow, we’ll go to Professor Weasley and speak with her about it; for now, we’ll go back to the common room, and you can go to bed. Have you eaten?”
She looked down.
“Right, I believe I have some spare apples in my school bag. Will you come with me?” She hesitated before nodding.
“I don’t want to go to bed.”
“I can’t tell you what to do, kid. If you’re afraid of the other girls, you can always sleep on the common room couch.” She nodded firmly once more, thinking it over and stepping out from the stall doorway.
“Alright, I’m- I’m ready. Let’s go back.” Henry hummed with a smile and led her out of the bathroom.
They were approaching the stairs to the Gryffindor common room when she spoke up again, “My name is Louisa.”
“Henry,” he replied.
“Will you tell anyone I was in the boy’s bathroom?”
“I won’t if you tell me who was bothering you; sound like a deal?” She narrowed her eyes at him but nodded when they started climbing.
“Some of the fourth years… I don’t know their names. Usually, Natsai tells them to leave me alone, but she’s been busy.” Henry could agree with that one. With the whole Harlow and Rookwood business, Natty has, indeed, been incredibly preoccupied. In fact, with all of the traveling Natty was doing, Henry was impressed at her ability to keep up with schoolwork, friendships and continue her investigation. Nobody would ever convince Henry that Natty wasn’t determined or driven.
Henry felt a bit of sympathy for drawing Natty away from Louisa, and he resolved to speak with Natty about the situation to get more information.
The rest of the way up was spent in quiet, as Henry focused on listening for anyone that may intercept them on their path. Thankfully, nobody was around yet, so Henry quickly spoke the password to the portrait and shepherded Louisa into the common room. It was barren, with a few students working on assignments or playing card games.
Louisa gripped Henry’s sleeve briefly as his eyes scanned the room before turning to her. There wasn’t anyone that stood out so far. But he would continue to keep an eye out.
“You will come to me if you ever find yourself in need of welcoming company, yes?”
Louisa nodded slightly, “If it’s not a bother, Henry…”
“None at all,” he assured, “Maybe you can teach me how to braid my hair such as yours.” Her hair was a little longer than his, and on the way up, Henry noticed the braid that hung on the curtain of her left side. His own hair was just under his chin, similar to Poppy Sweeting’s, typically tied back from his face if he could help it. A braid would be nice.
“Sure…” she replied slowly, scanning his expression. He attempted to keep it as open and sincere as he could. “If you want. Why do you want a braid in your hair?”
“Why do you want to wear trousers?”
“Because I like it, and it makes me comfortable.”
“Well, then I think I’d like a braid in my hair.”
“Okay,” Louisa smiled, accepting his response happily now that Henry wasn’t jesting her. “I’m going to work on my charms homework, Henry; see you tomorrow..?” She trailed off questioningly, half-turned away as she awaited the response. He nodded.
“Yes, you’ll see me tomorrow, Louisa. And,” Henry paused before nodding to her, “I believe trousers suit you stunningly.” Her smile broadened, and her chin tilted up slightly at his comment before turning away to work on her homework, a studier air about her.
Henry would speak to Natty about these other girls tomorrow to keep an eye out for Louisa. For now, he delivered an apple to her as she did her schoolwork and resigned himself to his potions homework as he wondered what he would say to Professor Weasley about Louisa’s situation. That said, an idea planted in his mind as he counted his galleons from Duncan’s payment for the large venomous tentacula leaf.
Father always told me to become a businessman, Henry mused to himself. While he was glad to help the young Ravenclaw, the sheer amount of devil’s snare that had greeted Henry in that hallway was more than he bargained for in a simple favor.
Maybe taking Louisa to Galdrags the next weekend wouldn’t be a bad idea for a fun outing. Henry had a few things to sell either way. He’d label the clothes he found on his adventures as ‘antique’ and ‘ancient.’
As Henry tucked in to finish the Potions homework, something Sebastian said ringed in his ears, “We’ll make a Slytherin of your yet!”
Maybe so, Henry mused, maybe so .