sorting + gambling
As the train nears its destination, Nico exits their compartment, muttering sullenly. Everyone busies themselves into changing into their cloaks, minus Luna who had already been dressed in hers.
Percy touches the sides of his plain black cloak in discomfort, and grimaces slightly as he tries to walk and feels the hem hit his feet, apparently unused to having one on.
This is confirmed when he says, or rather more accurately complains: “Why do we have to wear dresses anyways? This is so impractical.”
Their group is already so used to his lack of wizard culture that nobody even acts surprised that he’s never worn one before, instead just shrugging at him helplessly.
Percy huffs, before digging out a black pointed hat and jamming it onto his head, making himself look exactly like the stereotypical wizard. “Might as well complete the look,” he says sarcastically.
They all board out of the train in single-file, lugging their huge trunks behind them. Percy’s apparent tantrum at the cloaks disappears as he gapes at the castle in obvious awe, and Harry feels a small smile grow on his face as he remembers how he’d felt when he’d first come to Hogwarts.
Voices call out individual years as everyone makes their way to their respective groups, and Harry glances around, searching for Hagrid’s characteristic deep bellow that shepherds the first years’ every year. To his surprise, the voice that calls for them is very much not Hagrid’s, but before he can go and investigate Hermione beckons him to the carriages, and he follows obediently.
“What are those horse things?” He asks Ron, pointing to the strange looking horses that are hooked up to the carriages. The carriages, from what he remembered, were usually very much horseless, which made the sudden change all the more perplexing.
“What horse things?” Ron asks, glancing around confusedly.
Harry impatiently points to the horses right in front of the carriages, but to his surprise his friend looks about two feet away from them, before turning back to him puzzledly.
How could Ron not see them?
Harry moves closer, pointing right ahead of him. “Right here! Are you blind?” He asks.
Ron blankly gazes forward in the direction where Harry is pointing, before giving him a worried look as though he’s lost his mind. For a moment, Harry worries that he has.
“You’re not crazy,” Luna says from behind him, answering his silent worry. “I see them too.”
Harry isn’t sure if he’s supposed to feel reassured that only he and Luna can see them, but he smiles hesitantly to her.
“I see them too.” Percy says casually, before turning to the horses with a strange look on his face.
“They’re called Thestrals.” He adds after a moment, before pausing once again weirdly and continuing. “You can only see them if you’ve seen death.”
Hermione gives him a suspicious look. “How do you know that?”
Percy pauses hesitantly, before replying in an odd voice. “I read about them in a book.”
Hermione opens her mouth to respond — most likely to ask another question(or five, knowing her) — but Percy claps his hands together hurriedly. “Right! We should probably get on.”
They all board the carriage quickly, and it takes off, flying them over the Great Lake.
Harry’s mind is still reeling from the knowledge that he can see the Thestrals.
Because he has seen death.
Because Cedric.
An image of Cedric’s dead body flashes through his mind, and Harry’s grip on his seat tightens until his knuckles are white. Hermione tries to catch his eye and give him a reassuring smile as she notices the vise-like grip Harry has on his seat, but he looks away.
Unfortunately, it seems Luna is not half as observant as Hermione because she turns to the group to continue the previous conversation.
“So, who did you two see die?” She asks, sort of matter-of-fact, as though they were talking about what they had for breakfast.
At the absolute silence in the carriage, she offers her own story.
“I saw my mother die when I was young. To be honest, I remember very little.” Her voice is sort of wistful, and Harry vaguely wonders through the white noise in his head how her mother died.
Dimly he feels her eyes on him, silently waiting for him to speak, and he looks up, meeting her owlish eyes with his own.
“I-” Harry starts, breathing heavily. His throat is closing up painfully; speaking has never seemed like such an impossible task.
When did it get so hard to breathe? It feels like there’s a weight on his chest, pinning him to his seat, to this moment in time. Everyone’s eyes are on him, and he hates it.
Anger bubbles to the surface — strangely comforting, as well as a rather common presence nowadays — and at least now he can talk.
“I saw a friend die last year,” he finally lets out, and it’s sort of garbled and harsh but at least he’d said it.
Harry takes a deep breath, relieved. It feels a little better, saying it to someone else now, to people who won’t automatically disbelieve him.
Harry glances at Percy, who is slowly realizing that everyone is expecting him to talk. For a moment, Harry wants to tell him to forget it, to just leave it be, as he remembers how he’d felt a moment ago. All of his curiosity, his suspicion, his worry, is nothing compared to the fear he’d felt a moment ago. But then Percy turns pensive, obviously remembering what had happened, and starts speaking.
“I guess, the first was my mother?” He says, thinking aloud. “Wait, no- she didn’t die, she was just kidnapped. Uhhh… well, um, there was Luke, and Bianca, Zoe, Beckendorf…” He starts counting on his fingers, unaware of the growing looks of horror on everyone’s faces.
His voice picks up again as he remembers more. “Micheal, Silena, Lee, Ethan…” He trails off, glancing at Hermione questioningly.
“Wait, we’re only counting people who are human, right?”
Hermione nods numbly, and a flash of relief crosses Percy’s face.
“Oh, good,” he says. “That’ll shorten up the list.”
Because there’s a list.
He screws up his face in thought before continuing.
“I didn’t really see all of them die though,” he says thoughtfully, near the apparent end of his list. “A lot of them were more like ‘seeing-death-adjacent,’ if you know what I mean. Like-”
He must have finally noticed the expressions on their faces, because he hastily shuts up and scratches the back of his neck embarrassedly.
“Sorry,” he says awkwardly. “Sometimes my ADHD brain goes off on its own.”
The rest of the ride passes in silence, and Harry spends it distracting himself from thoughts of Cedric with questions about Percy.
As they exit the carriages Percy is quickly ushered away by a harried looking Professor McGonagall — who seems worried but not altogether surprised that Harry has already met him — and the remainder of their group is herded towards the Great Hall, where they take their usual seats at the Gryffindor tables. Luna leaves them, murmuring a dreamy goodbye, to sit at the Ravenclaw table.
Harry’s concern grows as he notices that Hagrid isn’t at the teachers’ table, but before he can voice his worry Ron is turning to him and talking.
“You think he was lying?” Ron asks, obviously talking about Percy.
Harry had, to his own consternation, questioned it as well. Percy could have been lying. Who actually saw that much death?
The irony of the situation is not forgotten on him, and he hates it more than anything.
Hermione hushes them before he can respond(thankfully), pointing to the line of first years who are entering through the giant wooden doors to get sorted.
At the back of the line, Harry can see a group of about a dozen people significantly taller than the rest, and he spots Percy in the middle, talking animatedly to a girl next to him.
There’s something different about the transfer students, something otherworldly that Harry can’t quite place. It makes them stand out, so much so that by the time the Sorting has begun almost everyone’s eyes are fixated on them.
The Sorting Hat is given a far less receptive welcome because of this, and its song — which unlike previous years is far darker and riddled with warnings — is only barely paid attention to.
By the end of its song, the Sorting Hat looks positively disgruntled by the lack of attention it's been given, although Harry can’t pick out the exact features of its face that hint to this(if you can even call it a face).
Once over, the Sorting commences as usual, with the only difference being the constant and numerous whispers about the mysterious new foreigners still standing patiently by the door.
(There’s also several looks at Harry, but thankfully the new foreigners seem to be a hotter topic because he’s more or less left alone.)
Ron drums his fingers on the table impatiently, a silent complaint of hunger.
Finally, the last first-year is sorted, and Dumbledore comes up to the podium, blue eyes twinkling. Even with all of the mixed feelings Harry had been having for the headmaster, he can’t help but feel relieved to know that Dumbledore is here.
Dumbledore clears his throat, and a hush goes over the tables as everyone focuses.
“This year we will be having a slight change at Hogwarts,” he finally says, pausing to rove his eyes over the foreigners in the back of the hall. “I am delighted to let you know that this year we will be hosting eleven transfer students from America as 5th years.”
The tenuous silence from the tables disappears as everyone excitedly discusses the news.
“I knew it!” Dean tells the table victoriously. “Told you they were Yanks.”
Dumbledore clears his throat again, once again silencing the crowd, before continuing. “We are excited to say that we have discovered a new school in America, known as the Olympus School of Magic, and as a sign of friendship have opened Hogwarts’ doors to some of their students.”
The newly dubbed transfer students shift uneasily, and Harry spots Percy give one of his companions an indecipherable look loaded with meaning.
“Please be courteous to our new students, and make sure to help them as you would any new Hogwarts students,” Dumbledore says warningly, his voice turning grave.
More whispers wash over the Great Hall, and Dumbledore steps back, signaling the end of his speech. The Sorting Hat, which had been laying on its stool quietly throughout, comes to life, and the first of the transfer students is called up.
Dumbledore smiles. “Let the Sorting commence.”
“Thank Merlin,” Ron says relievedly, as mountains of food appear on the tables. Harry is too busy to answer, hungrily grabbing a slice of shepherd’s pie and a generous helping of pot roast.
The Sorting had finished rather quickly, with the transfer students passing through without any trouble. The Hat itself had squirmed slightly on each of their heads, as though uncomfortable, and each of the transfers had hurriedly taken it off after having been Sorted, as though neither of them could stand the interaction any longer. Surprisingly, the group had been split up almost equally, with at least a few students in each House.
Percy, Nico, and a really pretty girl named Piper had all gone to Slytherin. Hufflepuff had gotten a shaggy blonde-haired boy that looked like a surfer named Will, a broad-shouldered Chinese guy named Frank, and an African American girl with eyes like gold named Hazel. Ravenclaw had gotten two: an intimidating blonde-haired girl with gray eyes named Annabeth and a scrawny Latino boy named Leo who seemed to be wearing a tool belt under his cloak.
Three people had been sorted into Gryffindor: a pair of siblings named Jason and Thalia who barely looked alike and a serious looking girl named Reyna.
Thalia looked like trouble, with spiky black hair, electric blue eyes, a strange silver circlet on her forehead, and a scowl that looked permanently pasted on her face. In comparison, Jason and Reyna looked like stand-up citizens.
Jason was tall, blonde and handsome, eerily reminding Harry of Cedric and making his stomach twist uncomfortably. He sat ramrod straight in his chair and ate carefully, answering questions given to him politely yet evasively.
Reyna seemed a bit stricter, and unapproachable, but overall seemed nice, with light brown skin and black hair tied carefully back into a braid.
The three of them seemed comfortable together, so they were clearly friends.
The table is unusually quiet, most people watching the transfers curiously. Dean attempts to start a conversation with Thalia, who answers noncommittally, but hurriedly stops after she’s evidently had enough and glares at him warningly, holding her steak knife in one hand like a dagger.
But as the feast wore on, something even weirder happened.
For all of Harry’s time at Hogwarts, Houses sat separate. Which is why it wasweirdwhen Percy walked up to their table and squeezed in between Jason and Thalia as casually as if it were his own.
“Hey guys,” he says comfortably, moving a hand to grab a potato off of Thalia’s plate, which she smacks away with practiced ease.
Nobody at their table says anything, too surprised that a Slytherin just sat down at their table.
Jason bumps shoulders with him in a friendly manner. “Hey. I see you’ve cleared a nice section of the Slytherin table for yourself.” He says amiably, glancing at the Slytherin table, where there’s a sizable empty spot at the end where Nico and Piper are sitting. A surprising number of the ghosts seem to be crowded around the table as well, all grouped up and talking excitedly.
Percy grins. “What can I say? The Slytherins are super considerate like that.”
“Is that why that weaselly blonde kid is looking at you like you just wronged his entire family?” Thalia asks, smirking.
Percy shrugs, his grin unrepentant. “Let’s just say that he didn’t take it well when we told him we were raised by muggles.” He props up his elbows on the table, the now green insides of his robes serving a grim reminder of who he is.
“You know, you’re not supposed to sit at the Gryffindor table.” Dean says stiffly.
Jason, Reyna and Thalia all look slightly irritated at the comment — with Thalia going as far as openly glaring at Dean for it — but Reyna finally gives Percy a small look.
Percy huffs, but stands up, successfully snatching a potato from Thalia’s plate, much to her evident exasperation.
From behind him Nico appears, almost out of thin air. Several ghosts trail behind him, looking strangely excited for some reason.
“Get them away from me.” Nico grits out, his voice tinged with desperation, as he casts a dark and irritated look at the ghosts now watching him with what looked like awe.
Percy glances at the ghosts, and he must understand something because his face splits into a grin.
“What’s wrong, Ghost King?” He asks teasingly. “Getting swarmed by your new fans?”
Nico scowls, a dark look that promises retribution, but it quickly disappears as one of the ghosts comes up to him reverently.
“My lord! It is such an honor to have you here!” Harry had never seen Nearly Headless Nick gush so happily, especially at a Slytherin. What the hell?
Nico, Harry notices, is glancing around the room wildly as though searching for an escape, looking like he wants to be anywhere else but here.
“Oh, thanks,” he finally responds awkwardly, after realizing that there is no escape. “Uhh… this is cool and all, but I’m kind of talking to someone here?” He phrases the last part like a question, even though it isn’t one.
Nearly Headless Nick nods eagerly. “Of course, of course! I just wanted to introduce myself, and meet you. It is such an honor-”
“Right, thanks.” Nico interrupts, shooting him what could only be defined as a socially awkward smile and edging away slightly. “Sorry, uhh, could we talk later?” Nico asks desperately, and the ghost nods, stepping away slightly.
“Right… could you, I don’t know, give me some more space?” Nico asks, and Nick dutifully moves about an inch further away.
Nico grits his teeth, but seems to finally give up because he turns to Percy seriously. “Get me out of here.”
Percy just gives him a slightly pitying look — though the effect is slightly lost by the amused smile edging its way onto his lips — and Nico sighs. “Great. Do you think Frank will play Mythomagic with me if I ask?” He asks.
“Mythomagic?” Ron asks curiously. Percy nudges Nico humorously.
“It’s this old card game Nico loves. Right, Nico?” Percy asks.
Nico huffs, but doesn’t disagree.
“Hey, you could ask one of the ghosts to play?” Jason suggests, and at this idea Nico brightens slightly.
“Huh, yeah.” Nico says, shooting Jason a grudgingly grateful look. With an idea in mind, he marches off towards the crowd of ghosts, which seems to have multiplied.
Percy grins at his friend who is knee-deep in ghosts and follows.
Harry thought that that was the end of it, but it seems that none of the transfer students seem to care about the table rules because all of them keep shifting to different tables and completely ignoring the weird looks everyone gives them.
Eventually, they seem to converge around the Slytherin’s table, talking excitedly to each other and crowding over the end of the table. Draco shoots them a filthy look that goes completely ignored.
Something must have happened because a loud cheer goes out from the table, and Jason heads back to the Gryffindor table, followed closely by a victorious looking Percy and one of the Ravenclaw transfers who Harry was pretty sure was named Leo.
“Superman, remind me to never let you gamble again.” Percy says, and Jason sighs disappointedly, grabbing a small pouch and passing Percy and Leo a few strange looking gold coins that were very much not wizarding money.
“How was I supposed to know that Roman would lose? He’s been alive for way longer, it’s only logical to bet on him.” Jason argues.
While Percy explains to Jason the finer details of professional gambling(though Harry isn’t personally very sure of the quality of some of the advice), the other student named Leo sidles up to their table with a smile that Harry’s pretty sure is supposed to look charming but comes across more as maniacal.
“Hi there.” He says to the table, leaning onto one of the chairs casually.
“Uhh, you probably don’t want to lean on th-” Hermione’s advice is interrupted as the chair teeters over, causing Leo to stumble onto the ground, catching himself at the last moment.
“Right, good advice. Thanks.” He says, standing up again gingerly. He clears his throat, sort of puffing out his chest, and does a strange half-bow. “Nice to meet you all. My name’s Leo. Well, technically, it’s Leonidas, but nobody calls me that. So, Leo.”
Everyone at their table nods silently, unsure of how to respond, but Leo seems unbothered by the silence and grins at them.
“Cool, so, I was wondering, do you guys have like, a real-life mascot? Because let’s be honest, out of all the houses, yours would definitely be the coolest.”
Everyone at their table stares at him wordlessly, until Ron finally shakes his head. “I don’t think so?”
Leo frowns disappointedly, before thinking for a moment and brightening considerably. “Well, how interested would you guys be in me making you one?”
Before anyone can respond(and the Weasley twins were just about to, with hilariously excited matching grins on their faces), Reyna is standing up and peeling Leo away from the table. “Nope. Go pitch your ideas to someone else.”
“But its-”
“No.”
Leo huffs, giving the table a conspiratorial look that clearly says, ‘I know, she’s a real pain’, before Reyna glares at him and he hurriedly scampers off back to his own table.
At that moment, Nico walks up to them, looking oddly happy and child-like for the first time since Harry had met him. His mouth is curled up into a smile, and his eyes are strangely bright. It’s a far change from the boy he’d met on the train not long ago, and Harry marvels at the difference.
“Won the second one,” he says happily, and Jason groans, grabbing his money pouch once again.
Percy looks ecstatic at this new development, and pats Nico on the back supportively. “Keep it up, buddy.”
Nico looks positively murderous at being called ‘buddy’, but his victory seems to have at least made him more tolerant because he lets it pass.
“Maybe I can ask Frank to give Roman some tips?” Jason asks desperately, as he hands Percy a generous handful of coins.
“Who’s Roman?” Hermione finally interjects, clearly finding such a blatant lack of information in the situation troubling.
Jason glances over. “One of the ghosts. They call him the Bloody Baron, right?”
“Wait, wait, wait, you’re playing a card game with the Bloody Baron, who’s named Roman?” Dean interrupts, clearly surprised enough to get over his previous hangups about non-Gryffindors at their table.
“You guys don’t know his name? Haven’t you been here for 4 years?” Percy asks, looking at them worriedly.
They walk off together, leaving Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor table to watch in amazement.