The Arrival
Professor Fig guided Ruairi through the forest until they reached a smooth beaten path with, what the boy thought were magically crafted lampposts. The light inside them was certainly magical and it shone so brightly it made him wince when passing by. They hurried along. There was no time to go sightseeing but even in the evening darkness, Ruairi saw glimpses of a ginormous body of water which reflected the silver moon and stars above. It was beautiful.
The whole area smelled differently than Mr Fig’s cottage but similar to the Druidic glade in Wales. He smelled the sweetness of wildflowers, the petrichor clinging to gleaming dew on grass and a cold fresh mountain air that filled his lungs and energised his steps. The rain was familiar. The next sensation, however, was not.
It began as they walked across a small river bridge and Ruairi saw his first sight of the Hogwarts castle.
It was…bright. As bright as the blazing sun he wondered for a moment if there was some trick to it. Would Professor Fig explain the light emanating from the castle? Was it some kind of magical barrier that Ruairi was sensitive enough to see clearly?
Then they came to the front gates and the boy began to feel overwhelmed with sensations which came from all around the place. Every stone, every piece of grass and every metal surface gleamed like a thousand diamonds and Ruairi struggled to keep his eyes open. Why was everything so bright? It couldn’t be normal, right?
“Professor…ah…”, he hissed in pain.
“Ruairi? Are you all right?”
They stopped to let him lean against the main doors of the castle. When Ruairi accidentally touched the wooden parts, all of a sudden a thousand voices erupted into his eardrums, whispering fervently at the same time. It was impossible to discern one from another and he gasped in pain and grabbed his head.
“Ruairi? Ruairi, can you hear me? What’s wrong?” Professor Fig sounded very worried now.
Then, a slow realisation came to him. If Ruairi was sensitive to magic and Hogwarts was the most magical place in the entire area, perhaps even in Britain according to his mentor, then…oh, bugger.
“I can’t…It’s too bright…the magic, it’s too much! It hurts!”, he gasped again trying to at least see through his fingers but to no avail. “Everything is brighter than the sun. My eyes hurt!”
“Wait a moment, this should help” said Professor Fig and Ruairi heard him muttering an incantation. Then, a soft piece of fabric was tied around his head covering his eyes and the boy felt most of the pain subside. He sighed in relief. But what now? How long will he have to keep the band on?
“I must say I should have expected this. I apologise.”
“Expected what?”
“That with your unique magical ability you might be especially sensitive to magic. And Hogwarts full of it.”
Ruairi cursed in Welsh. His mentor chuckled at that and though he couldn’t exactly see his expression he was sure someone’s lips were curling into a smirk right now. “Great. What now? First my leg, now my eyes? How am I going to attend classes if I cannot see?”
“I don’t think it’s a permanent predicament, at least I don’t think so.” Said Mr Fig. “We will tell everyone that it’s a lingering injury from the dragon attack. You’ll just have to survive until I come back from the ministry.”
“What? You’re going away?”
“Not yet, but I will. Now come, we really must hurry, the sorting is probably almost over.”
Professor Fig took his arm into his and carefully but quickly guided him through the various halls and stairs until they finally reached the gates of the Great Hall where they could hear excited chatter of students and a low voice shouting “Gryffindor!”. Ruairi grabbed the string of his bow in a tight fist.
He heard the door being slightly opened and then closed again as his mentor groaned in annoyance.
“Phineas Nigellus Black. Prepare yourself, you’ll soon have the pleasure of speaking with the Headmaster of Hogwarts.” He said pronouncing the word pleasure with as much disgust as was polite. Ruairi remembered what was said at the beginning of their journey and he gripped his bow even tighter now, afraid that it would be ripped from his grasp before he had any say on the matter.
The huge doors squeaked open and a pair of boots clicked on the stone floor, approaching them impatiently.
“Professor Fig! I don’t tolerate tardiness from our students, let alone from our faculty members! Explain yourself!”
Ruairi immediately disliked the man. His posh accent with rolling “r”s and a pushy attitude made him sound like a spoiled prince. He wondered if he wore elegant robes and a monocle to match.
“There were complications…” Mr Fig tried to explain.
“Complications?!”
“The goblins…”
“Enough about goblins!” The headmaster scoffed. “I have no time for rumours and you are testing whatever patience I have left!”
Then Ruairi felt the Headmaster’s attention turn to him and he instinctively straightened his posture.
“Though, I see the rumours about dragon must at least be true. You will be sent to Madam Blainey after the feast. And what is that thing on your shoulder, boy? This is a wizarding school, not a savage playground. Where is your wand?!”
Before Ruairi could protest, he felt Mr Fig’s hand squeezing his shoulder in reassurance and a silent plea to not interrupt, which he understood and closed his mouth.
“As you know, most of his belongings have been destroyed. This bow is a family heirloom, the only thing that survived and…”
“Never mind! I don’t want to see it! Now keep up and we may perhaps let you be sorted this evening!”, then the man swiftly turned around and marched through the doors of the Great Hall. He didn’t wait for him to follow, let alone help a blind student find his way around. Ruairi felt shaken from the ordeal and he quickly looked at where he thought his mentor must be standing.
“Does it mean I can keep it? He won’t take it from me?”
“No, and as long as you don’t use it and keep up the family heirloom ruse he won’t do anything about it. Professor Black might be many things but you can count on his lack of general interest in student affairs to keep you safe. Unless you’re from a pureblood family, that is.”
“What?”
“You should go and be sorted now. Wait, let me just ask someone…”
He pulled Ruairi through the door and it was like being doused with cold and warm water at once. The magic felt even more pronounced here, with so many students and magical objects floating around. He heard Professor Fig ask someone to stand up and help guide him to the stool. The student happily agreed and Ruairi felt small soft hands grab his and gently pull towards a destination.
“I’ll be in touch. Good luck, Ruairi!”
Ruairi nodded and let himself be led by, what he assumed must be a small girl. Her steps were soft and her magic tasted of honey and fresh cut grass.
As they walked, students’ voices on both sides began to rise and they washed against him like tides of the ocean. Not only was it unheard of for anyone to start as a fifth-year student, but his lateness and peculiar appearance caused quite a stir.
“Look, he’s blind!”
“Is he? Maybe the dragon got him?”
“Don’t be stupid, why would a dragon attack him?”
“My brother is a prefect and he heard the professors talking about it! They said that they barely escaped!”
And on and on the rumours went. While one side of the Hall speculated about his late arrival the other side was more interested in his looks. Ruairi might have even heard some girls giggling when he turned his head to hear them better.
“Look how tall he is! Oh, and that shiny long hair! Do you think he’s related to the Prewetts or the Weasleys?”
“Look what he’s wearing! Didn’t even bother with a uniform!”
“Is that a bow? An actual bow and arrows?”
“I heard they found him living in a forest like a savage! I wonder if he can speak?”
He suddenly felt a tug on his hand as the little girl pulled him to walk faster. He must have been dragging, listening to murmurs and gossip more than he should. Not that he cared. If they thought him a savage then the feeling was mutual, ironically. He sniffed the air, trying to discern what types of magic surrounded him but with the amount of people and enchanted objects it was near impossible. All he felt was a hundred stares of curious adolescents.
Then the girl stopped and another voice spoke up. A gentle voice that sounded like warm hugs and winter jumpers.
“Oh, my Goodness! What happened to your eyes?”
Ruairi shrugged his shoulders, hoping that he’d sound convincing. “Just a scratch from the dragon fire. Professor Fig fixed it right away and he said I’ll make a full recovery. It’s just…the lights…”
“Of course! Are you in any pain right now? I can take you to our resident healer after the sorting.”
“No, it’s just itchy.”, he said. He wanted to avoid meeting what wizards considered a healer at any cost.
“Very well. There is a stool in front of you at your knee level. Just sit down and I will put the sorting hat on your head. The hat will determine which house you belong to and where you will spend the remaining three years. I hope Professor Fig explained to you the concept of Hogwarts houses?” He nodded again and then waved his hands about trying to find the stool. The kind lady helped him and once he sat the entire Hall fell silent. Everyone was watching and Ruairi even heard some students taking bets on which house he’ll be sorted into.
Honestly, he didn’t care. He wasn’t supposed to be here and so far the wizarding world did not impress him. How could they all sit here and not drown under the pressure of magic seeping from every stone? He thought he was sensitive at first but perhaps they were all numb. Was that why everyone used a wand?
It didn’t matter. As soon as he adjusts to the new environment he’ll go looking for all the secrets Hogwarts has to offer. Then, he’ll practice masking his magic and prepare to leave this place.
But where would he go? He wondered often if his family even knew he was alive. Did they find Ciaran’s body and assume the worst? That he was kidnapped or murdered? Or did they think that he betrayed them? He couldn’t stand the thought that his clan would not let him go back but it would serve him right. He couldn’t let anyone know where he came from or what he could do, except Mr Fig who was already deeply involved in his affairs.
It meant he had to blend in, as much as the thought disgusted him.
Suddenly, all of the whispers fell silent as an old musty piece of clothing fell on his head and would have completely obscured his vision if it wasn’t already. A raspy voice echoed in his head and he nearly jumped and would have pulled the hat off if not for the fact that he had an audience.
“Aah, what have we here? Interesting…very curious indeed, I have heard of your kind before and I have even sorted a few with your abilities but you are not from here, are you?”
“Get out of my head, spirit!”, he spat angrily.
You came here with preconceptions and assumptions. You do not see magic as a tool like most in our world but as an equal. Tell me, what are you planning to do here, son of Herne?”
Ruairi froze. That name again. Only Wild Mother’s children called him that and he always wondered what it meant but one thing was certain – this was no ordinary magical hat.
“…I don’t know”, thought Ruairi honestly for the first time this evening. “I am stranded. Lost.”
“And Hogwarts can be your home, you can find those who think like you in these Halls. I see your hunger for justice and a desperate need to belong to a family, a circle….oh, yes! Almost enough curiosity for Ravenclaw, but your bravery…cunning and mischievous as well…humm…you enjoy hard work and do not shy from voicing your opinion…and your loyalty to those who find a place in your heart! I think I know exactly where to put you…better be…”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
A thunder of roars and clapping came from one part of the Hall and to Ruairi’s surprise he felt a warm spark ignite in his heart. It felt nice to be accepted so readily by so many.
He stood up and was ready to bask in the welcoming warmth when something unexpected happened.
“Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Llewelynn. There is just one small thing that needs changing.” The kind lady said and then Ruairi felt a wave of magic tingle all over his body. He stepped back in shock.
“Did you just cast a spell on me?!”
“I only transfigured your overcoat into Hogwarts school robes and added a splash of colour to represent your-“
“You had no right!”. Did people just randomly cast spells at each other here without any consent? Although her magic tasted like a cozy mug of chocolate he felt…violated was too strong a word for it but stunned for sure. “I did not give you permission to touch me with your magic!”
She seemed taken aback by his outburst and was going to retort but the Headmaster chose that moment to interrupt them.
“Professor Weasley! Please take care of our new student and instruct him on the importance of school rules! Make sure his injuries are seen by Madame Blainy.” Then he took a few steps and addressed the Hall. “Please welcome our new addition to Hogwarts, Mr Ruairi Llewelynn!”
Some students clapped politely, some cheered and what Ruairi assumed was the Hufflepuff table cheered the loudest of all, even banging their cups and stomping their feet. But it wasn’t enough to distract him from Professor Weasley. He wanted answers. He wanted to know if this was a norm to be expected here.
“You had no right.” He said quieter to not attract more attention. He touched his new robes and they still tingled with a layer of magic, soft and warm.
“I…you’re right. I apologise for startling you, Mr Llewelynn. I should have asked first since you cannot see.”
“Do all professors cast magic on students without consent here? Is that how wizards act?”
“Oh, not at all! I only wanted to help but I can see your point. Perhaps a verbal agreement will suffice?”
Ruairi pondered for a moment and thought that arguing in the middle of the Hall about it would be pointless, so he nodded. “It would be enough, thank you.” It would have to be enough, at least he would be warned before a professor threw magic at him like it was nothing.
Thank Hecate he didn’t pull out his bow. Not after the Headmaster’s warning.
In the next moment, he was sat on a bench by a table and Professor Black announced that the feast could begin.
A plethora of scents appeared so abruptly that Ruairi had to resist a coughing fit and covered his nose with a sleeve. There was chicken and potatoes, cooked carrots, parsnips, sausages. He could smell cheese with various herbs like basil, oregano, and rosemary. Somewhere near him, a pleasant aroma of sweet strawberry pancakes called to him and his stomach responded with a grumble.
Next to him sat the girl who guided his steps not a moment ago. She was cheerful but Ruairi noticed that she didn’t talk with other students too much.
“Would you like me to help you? There are sandwiches, sausages in blankets, some toast and-“
“Those strawberry pancakes would be nice, please.”
A pair of students on his right stopped chatting and he felt their stunned stares on him.
“How did you know?”
Now it was his turn to look confused.
“Um…I can smell them?”
There was a short pause and then one of them said: “But they’re too far. And you’re blind.”
“I’m not bl-“
“They’re far in the middle of the table.”
“Are you a werewolf?”
Are they all mad? If only Ruairi could roll his eyes. “No. Can I have a Pancake?”
“Of course! Hey, Samantha! Could you pass us some of those pancakes, please?” The sweet girl asked.
Soon enough, he had food. He touched the table looking for a fork and a knife and a small hand guided him to the utensils. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”, she didn’t say anything more and focused on her food. While everyone was busy with eating and catching up after two months of holiday, Ruairi concentrated on not stabbing himself by accident which meant he managed to eat only two pancakes. Then he felt another rush of magic and the food disappeared just as suddenly as it appeared. Where did it go? Who cooked the food here?
Then silence fell around the Great Hall again and seeing his confused expression, the girl quickly piped up: “The Headmaster is giving announcements now.” She paused for a moment and then added “I’m Poppy, by the way. Poppy Sweeting.”
“The name suits you.”, he replied with a smile and nodded in thanks.
The Headmaster indeed must have stood up and Ruairi heard once more the irritating posh accent.
“Before all of you retire to your dorms there is another thing. Due to the unfortunate injury on the pitch in last spring’s Finale, this year’s Quidditch season has been cancelled.”
The man might have as well announced that all students were expelled or something just as barmy because the uproar it caused was enormous. The Hufflepuffs around Ruairi groaned and moaned and another table behind him actually stood up and shouted angrily at the Headmaster. Professor Fig told him about the wizarding sport but Ruairi had no idea it was that important. Wizards were so strange.
“Enough!” The headmaster silenced the Hall and most students reluctantly complied. “It’s not as though I have banned flying altogether but Do. Not. Tempt. Me.”
Someone next to Ruairi gave him a clap on the shoulder and he nearly flinched, surprized by the gesture. “Sorry pal looks like you’ll miss the best part of Hogwarts until next year. Hopefully.”
He wanted to ask what was so incredible about flying brooms but judging the outrage, such comments would make him sound crazy and ignorant. “yeah, a pity.” He muttered.
“Now”, the Headmaster continued “Since you are here to focus on your academic futures, I’m sure you have plenty to do before classes begin tomorrow.”
Ruairi only heard a short pause before students began to stand from their benches and wander off, leaving him alone. No one approached him, which was an odd behaviour for him. If roles were reversed and someone landed in his Circle, there would no doubt be at least a few eager hands helping him and guiding the new arrival, ensuring they did not get lost in the new environment. Perhaps he did something the wizards considered bad manners?
The kind lady came to him, which was expected. He stood up, still uncomfortable in magicked robes she transfigured for him, and he turned towards her.
“Now, I’m going to guide you towards your common room although I have to ask again, are you sure you don’t need anything for your injury?”
“No, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you.” He paused and then decided to add. “Do you know when Professor Fig will be back?”
“I am not sure, but if he promised to check on you he will be available tomorrow in his classroom.”
“Thank you.”
“Now come along. I’ll stand next to you and you’ll grab my arm.”
He did exactly that. Without his sense of vision, Ruairi could only guess where were they going. They passed a few doors, a bridge and a lot of stairs but just from this journey alone, Ruairi could tell that Hogwarts was a maze. Professor Weasley in the meanwhile was kind enough to try and describe the path to him. It was useless, but he appreciated her gesture.
“…and here we are.” She announced as they stepped through a corridor and turned right. She turned to the left and then grabbed his hand to touch, what he assumed to be a stack of wine barrels placed on top of each other. “In front of you is a large and round barrel with faucets but it is only a disguise to prevent students from other houses from finding your common room. To get inside you must-“
“Professor Weasley!”
A cheerful voice came from Ruairi’s left and he heard someone approach them quickly. He sensed a strong earthy scent mixed with wild herbs and gentle wafts of berries. Whoever it was, he liked her already. Her magic reminded him of his mother’s vegetable garden.
“Professor Garlic! I was about to tell our new student how to get to his new common room but I’m glad you managed to join us.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly miss meeting our new sapling, especially when they are in need of gentle guidance.” She said and her voice sang in sweet melody to Ruairi’s ears. She seemed like a very caring person and Ruairi imagined her wearing a large pair of glasses over a pointy freckled nose while a jungle of wild brown hair framed her face. If only he could see her.
“Come with me, darling! Step up to the barrels on your left and find the middle one in the second row, two from the bottom.” He hesitated before touching them but no loud noises came whispering into his ear. He found the correct barrel and Miss Garlic praised him. “Splendid! Now, our house is known for many things but we like to make our life more lively and joyful by implementing music. So, all you have to do is to tap the barrel in the rhythm of our founder, Hel-ga Hu-ffle-puff.”
That’s it? No password or tricky riddles to gain entry?
When he voiced his opinion, Professor Garlic only giggled and quickly explained. “We change the rhythm and the password once a month. You can ask a prefect, which is an older student with a shiny badge, to give you the password but you are strictly forbidden from sharing it with students from other houses. Your common room is your sanctuary. A place to feel safe and at ease when too much is going on. Go on. Now try the password.”
Well, there was nothing easier for him. He knocked and then heard as well as felt magic singing to him in a welcoming song. He doubted the others heard it. Although, he swore Professor Garlic’s magic pulsed with strong emotions, just for a short moment. No, he must have imagined it. Surely.
“Come, little sapling. You may not see it yet, but I’m sure your other senses will tell you what your eyes cannot.” And she gently took his hand into her and pulled through the opening in the giant barrel.
She was right. More than she thought, as a plethora of scents and smells washed over him in waves and for the first time since leaving his settlement, he almost felt at home.
He smelled baked goods, cakes, truffles, brownies and tarts. All fresh and fruity.
He smelled fruits, apples, pears and plums, freshly plucked from their branches.
He sensed a myriad of vines, plants and branches that enveloped the walls and ceilings like a mother embracing her child. His magic reacted instinctively, and he reached out to the nearest greenery to touch and feel what was unmistakably the Wild Mother’s presence. She was here. Not much, like a small jug of water compared to streams and rivers in his home. But she was here, nonetheless.
And he smiled brightly, hopefully.
He was not alone.