Harry
Harry stood by the fireplace, trunk in one hand and the owl cage in the other. Finally, after these long weeks of waiting, it was time to go to Hogwarts. He felt conflicted, however. These days he felt like he always was. This last month and a half had been spent visiting friends and saying his goodbyes. He obviously couldn't tell them he was going to a school to learn magic, not only because it was against the rules but because he would be laughed at. But he didn't want to just disappear from all his friends either. He couldn't do that to them. So on the one hand, he was excited to go to a new school and learn all this magic. But on the other, it did pain him to leave all his friends behind on an entirely different continent.
He looked down and gently patted Hedwig’s head, who looked up and cooed softly. At least he would have Hedwig for company and his sister. Speaking of his sister, she was late. As always. When she finally arrived, her trunk thunk-ing behind her on the stairs as she dragged it behind her.
“What took you so long, Molly?” he asked, exasperated. “Aren’t you excited to go to school also?”
“I know, I know, bro!” she replied, moving to stand beside him with her own trunk. “I just had to make sure all my equipment was ready to go!”
Harry gave her a long look, knowing exactly why her equipment was out of order. About a week after Dumbledore had left them, he had walked into her bedroom to ask her a question and found her secretly practicing with her potion equipment and ingredients. The only reason he had not immediately gone and told their parents was that she had begged him not to, and she had been using all the proper safety precautions as far as he could tell, using some of Dad’s work goggles and gloves, and working in a contained space. He hadn’t joined her, of course, not wanting to take the risk, but figured he could let her do her own thing.
Now, however, he gave her a glare and she had the decency to flush bright red for a few brief moments. “Yeah, okay, Sis. Whatever you say,” he replied, and then finally his parents came in, dressed in their Kevlar and titanium.
“You ready, kiddos?” asked Dad casually, smiling and slinging his duffel bag on his shoulder.
“Sure are, Dad!” chirped Molly with a grin.
“Definitely, Dad,” Harry said with his own smile.
“Wow, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you excited about school, Molls,” joked Dad before turning to Mom. “Do you have the letter, hun?”
“Yes, right here,” she replied, pulling out the letter they had gotten the week prior when they had woken up to find an owl knocking its beak against the front door. It had been from Dumbledore, detailing instructions on how to get to Hogwarts since he would be too busy making last-minute preparations to pick them up personally.
“What is the place we are supposed to say when we step into the fire again, dear?” Dad asked as he pulled out the bag of powder from the drawer and pulled open the drawstrings.
Mom flipped open the letter and quickly scanned it. “Hogsmeade Station, it says. Just step into the fire at 3 pm and say ‘Hogsmeade Station’ and it will take us there. Should arrive right when the train arrives, it says.”
“Thanks, dear,” Dad replied, the fireplace already roaring. “I will go first, then you Molls, and Harry and then you can lock up behind us, Charity?” He stepped forward and dropped some of the powder into the fire, turning it green and stepping into it. “Hogsmeade Station!” he shouted, and the fire flared up and when it abated he was gone.
Molly jumped forward eagerly, grabbing the powder in her hand and throwing it into the fire, tugging the trunk behind her. She almost fell headfirst into the fire, she was so eager and tripped on her robes. She corrected herself, stepped in, and shouted, disappearing quickly. Harry went next, not as nervous as the first time, but still nervous. He steadied his nerves and repeated the same actions his Dad and sister had done and were gone.
When the fire flared down and he could see again, he found himself standing in a small, comfy-looking sitting room. It had a fire burning in the hearth, which he quickly stepped out of, and armchairs surrounded it. There was a thick red carpet and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There also seemed to be a bar tucked away in one corner, with a glass display cabinet for the alcohol. Dad stood shaking hands with the same large man from earlier, Hagrid. When he saw Harry arrive, his face split into a large grin and he got on one knee, still towering above Harry, and shook his hand as well. “Dumbledore sent me to make sure yeh all get to the platform like yer supposed to,” he said in his thick accent, standing up and greeting Mom with a kiss on the hand. “Looking as beautiful as ever, Mrs. Carpenter,” he said, pulling back and giving Molly a pat on the head. “And yeh are too, Miss Carpenter.” He released one of his booming laughs and then gestured to the doorway. “Well, must be going now. Have to take the first years to the castle. Professor Sprout will be handling the rest of ’em. First years are my responsibility.” He said it with an air of pride around him and then bent over double to get through the doorway, straightening back out or his impressive height once on the other side. On the other side of the doorway, Harry soon found out, was a small pathway leading to a large station, in which a train was chugging in place. Students were coming out of the train, carrying suitcases and pets of their own, in robes that looked identical to theirs. He smiled in excitement, and Hagrid led them towards a group of smaller-looking students who were looking around nervously and shifting in trepidation.
“This is where ya belong,” he said, beckoning for Molly and Harry to join the group. They did so, sliding to the back of all the students, feeling no sense of the trepidation the others felt since they had met Hagrid several times before. Hagrid began to speak in his big booming voice. “I see we are all a little nervous today, ar’ we? There be nothing to worry about, I assure yeh. My name is Hagrid, I am the groundskeeper and the Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts, best wizarding school in the world, it is.” Once again Harry could hear the pride leak into his voice. “I will be takin’ ya there. Once we go down this pathway, there will be boats waiting for us. Four students per boat, that’s the rule. Trunks will be collected later by the House-Elves and brought to yer dorm rooms. Everyone clear on that?” he asked, and a few of the students let out cheers, but most just nodded.
Strangely though, as Harry swept his gaze over his fellow students, he noticed a girl about two people away from him hurriedly writing on a post-it note. As he peered to see what she was writing, he saw she was writing the very instructions that Hagrid had just said. He nudged her. “Hey, I don’t think they are going to quiz you on the instructions on how to get to the school.” He said. He had meant it as a joke, but the girl looked up hurriedly, face growing pale.
“Oh my! I never even thought of that! What if they do quiz us? What if it’s a test? Quickly, can you check this over for me to see if I got it all right?” Suddenly she was thrusting the crumpled post-it note towards him, and he found it suddenly in his hands.
“Hey, I was just joking. No one will quiz you, I promise,” he said, feeling some of her anxiety taking hold of him. He quickly scanned the post-it note, totally not because he believed there would be a quiz, he told himself. It was just the polite thing to do, of course.
“Yes, this seems all good to me,” he murmured, handing back the note as the group began to slowly move forward. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Hermione. Hermione Granger,” she replied, shaking his offered hand. “You’re sure there won’t be a quiz?”
He smiled, “Very sure. Though I am also from the Muggle world, so don't take my word for it.”
“Wait, you’re also a Muggle? Then why is the big man talking to your parents right now? And why are you American? I figured you were from a prestigious Wizarding family, which is why they let you come here!” she said, the words pouring out of her in a stream.
He turned to see what she was talking about and saw Hagrid speaking in a low tone to Mom and Dad. He tugged on Molly’s hand, who was in her own conversation, and gestured with his head to their parents. She nodded and they went over together. “One second, Hermione. I’ll be right back!” he said over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Carpenters. But I can’t let her go any further, not without the express permission of the Headmaster, yeh see.” Hagrid was saying when they arrived. Dad nodded solemnly and then hugged both of them, with Mom joining in. It looked like Mom had tears in her eyes, but it could have been a trick of the light.
“We’ll miss you guys. May God go with you.” Dad said, performing the sign of the cross over both of them.
“You better keep yourself safe, children. Or I will murder you myself, you got me?” said Mom, but not with her usual anger.
“Of course, Mom,” Harry said into her shoulder.
“We’ll be safe. Now let go, you're embarrassing us!” said Molly, pushing away.
“We love you,” said Dad gently, letting go of Harry also.
“We love you too,” said Harry, stepping away with tears in his own eyes now. It was just hitting him that he wouldn’t see them for nearly three months. Dad smiled at him, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. He then stood up, putting an arm around Mom and then without another word, turned away and began to trudge back to the room they came from.
Harry turned and made his way back to his group, looking over his shoulder to watch his parents disappear down the pathway, the night swallowing them up.
Once he got back to the group, they began to move forward, going down a winding pathway. He couldn’t see very well in the dark, but he could smell the fresh pines and hear the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs in the forest.
“So, you never told me your name!” said Hermione, falling in step beside him.
“Oh yeah! My bad. The name is Harry Carpenter-Potter,” he said, casting a sidelong glance in her direction.
As he expected, she stopped short suddenly. “Harry Potter? You’re the one who killed Voldemort? I read about you in Muggleborns Guide to Wizarding Britain: What is it and Where do you fit in? Volume 9! Wow, I've never met someone who was in a book before!” she said excitedly, eyes wide. “Why do you have a different last name, though?”
He pointed behind him where his parents had been. “Those people you saw, talking to the big man. They adopted me, and I consider them my Mom and Dad.”
“Oh, I see. What did it feel like to kill You-Know-Who? Wait, well… I suppose you were a baby so you wouldn’t know now, would you? And who’s the girl with you? Is that your sister? And how did your parents adopt you?”
Thankfully he was spared from answering by Hagrid, who had stopped the group. As he peered forward, he could see the moon and stars' reflections sparkling on the surface of a vast lake. Waves gently lapped on the shore and boats sat in a long row across the embankment, illuminated by the lantern attached to each stern. He once again repeated his instructions about only four students per boat and then proceeded to get in the first such boat and it slowly began to move. After that, everyone hurried to get in a boat so as to not be left behind. Harry found himself sitting in a boat with Hermione, his sister, and the person she had been talking to, a boy who introduced himself as Grey Mandla. He was a tall boy for an eleven-year-old and had brown hair that was swept back and fell to his shoulders. He was polite if a little loud and outgoing. Harry noticed that as the three of them talked, Hermione withdrew into herself, becoming silent.
He scooted closer to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, to which she looked over and he could see, by the lantern light, her smile gratefully at him. He turned his attention to the boat ride, amazed at how the boat moved all by itself and at such steady speeds across the lake. As he squinted into the darkness, gradually a shape began to emerge. It was a large and imposing structure, with many odd curves and features. As they got even closer, however, it took his breath away. He had been expecting a modern school building, short and blocky and long, but now he saw that all his assumptions were utterly wrong: It was a huge stone castle sitting on the cliffside, sloping gently down to the lake.
“It’s a castle! An actual castle!” he said in excitement. Everyone gave him an odd look, including his sister.
“Yes, of course, it’s a castle, Harry. Did you not look at the books at all? It was right on the cover!” Molly said. “And I thought I was the one who hated schooling.”
He flushed red. “Well, it was a busy summer. I figured they would make us read it in school anyway so I didn’t bother to.”
“Didn’t bother to research? I’ve read all the books ten times by now! I tried my best to memorize them, though I don’t think I succeeded,” Hermione said, looking aghast at him.
“Don’t worry mate. I didn’t read it either,” Grey said, patting his arm with a grin. “Figured I knew all I needed to know since I grew up in this world.”
Harry started to reply, to defend himself, but before he could the boat bumped up against the shore and came to a gentle stop. Grey stood up, extending a hand to Harry, who took it and was hauled up with more strength than Grey's body would suggest. Hermione was tucking all her post-it notes and pencils into her pocket and was out last, but Harry made sure they waited for her. Then they all joined the small group of kids that had gathered around Hagrid. Theirs was the last boat to arrive, so when they did, Hagrid clapped his hands together. “Well, that’s all of yeh! Let’s get going, don’t want to keep the headmaster waiting!” He began to walk into the darkness, holding the lamp high above his head to illuminate the way. He led them on a winding pathway around the east side of the building and they went through a stone archway into a large courtyard. The wind was biting in this courtyard, and Harry could not see much as they were rushed off to the large, teardrop-shaped entrance. Two massive statues, even bigger than Hagrid, stood on either side of it, with large stone halberds crossed over the doors. When they approached, the statue heads slowly moved with the slow grinding of stone and peered down at Hagrid. “Hagrid, Gamekeeper and Key Holder of Hogwarts!” Hagrid shouted at them. Obviously satisfied, they slowly straightened their heads to stare forward once more and the halberds slowly lifted so they too were straight and no longer blocking the entrance. Hagrid then lifted one massive hand and knocked on the huge, intricately carved stone doors once, and they slowly swung open with a groan. “Don’t wor’y about the statues. Just a little security precaution, yeh see? Now come on, kiddos. It’s cold out here, let’s get yeh inside. Don’t need any of you freezing.” Hagrid said, ushering them in. The last thing Harry saw when he glanced behind him before the doors finished closing were the weapons once again lowering and interlocking in front of the door.
Harry walked into the entrance hall and gasped, thoughts of giant scary stone statues immediately leaving his mind. It was one of the biggest rooms he had ever been in, as big as the Chicago Library. He looked up and could not even see the ceiling, as much as he tried to. The room was lit by flaming torches in brackets on the wall, and lining a magnificent marble staircase that stretched on and on in front of him. To the left, there were corridors branching off, and to the right were two large wooden double doors, almost as big as the stone ones he had just come through. He could hear noise coming from the other side of the doors and assumed that was where the rest of the students were.
“Here ya go, Professor McGonagall, the firs’ years,” Hagrid said, presenting the group to a stern-looking older woman with steel-gray hair and wrinkle lines on her face, in dark robes with a large, pointy hat. She nodded once, and Hagrid turned and went through the double doors to the room beyond.
“Hello, students. In a few moments, you will be brought into the main hall. Before you do, I must give you some instructions. First off, when you are all brought in, you will each be called individually. When you are called up, you will go right up the main walkway and will sit on a stool. Once sat on the stool, there will be a hat placed upon your head. I implore you to not struggle when the hat begins speaking to you inside your mind.” She looked up over her glasses from the parchment she was reading from and gave them a severe look to emphasize the point before continuing. “It is the Sorting Hat, and therefore the sole purpose of this hat is to speak to you and make its decision about which Hogwarts House you belong in. There are four Hogwarts Houses and contrary to what some would have you believe, they are all equal and have their strengths and weaknesses. Once sorted, you will go and sit down at your proper table. Now I must be going inside to tell the Headmaster you are prepared and briefed. I suggest that some of you…freshen up before you enter.” She curled her lip in distaste, looking at his sister's messy robes and other people’s unkempt hair and dirty faces, before turning and also entering the double doors.
Hermione immediately let out a small shriek and began to smooth down her already immaculate robes. Harry smoothed over his hair nervously. Determining where he would spend the next seven years of his life in front of the entire school? What if he did something wrong? What if the Sorting Hat made the wrong decision, or worse, no decision at all? And it wasn’t like he was a nobody either. He knew the moment his name was read aloud exactly what would happen. The whole room would go silent, and all eyes would turn to him. Then the whispers would start, about how he was the Boy-Who-Lived and how he had killed Lord Voldemort and all this stuff, just adding to the pressure. So when the doors opened and Professor McGonagall opened the doors and waved them inside to line up, he took a nervous breath and reluctantly walked in behind everyone else.
If he thought that the entrance hall was big, then the Great Hall was ginormous! It could have fit the entire Soldier Field Stadium in it if it was stretched oval instead of round. The ceiling arched high above him, with candles floating in midair. Four tables lined the room, two on each side, with a fifth table on a raised platform in the front of the room. Hagrid and Dumbledore and presumably the other teachers all sat at it, looking down at the students. And most impressively, the ceiling was a shifting landscape of stars and the moon, with clouds drifting across it. “I read that it’s spelled to look like the night sky outside!” Hermione said from behind him, whispering in his ear in quite the superior tone, in his opinion, now that she knew he hadn’t read the books. The professor cast them a glare, which made her shut up, and they slowly lined up as the doors swung ominously closed behind them with a bang.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, pulling out the parchment once again and taking a long, hard look at them once more as a warning. She then looked down at her parchment. “When I call your name, proceed to the front of the room. Abbott, Hannah!”
A girl with blonde hair stepped forward nervously, striding down the aisle and up the steps. She went and sat on the stool, and the hat was placed on her head. “Hufflepuff!” the hat shouted after a few seconds, and she smiled and got up, going to the second table from the left.
“Bones, Susan!” McGonagall’s voice rang out once again, and this time a young girl with sharp cheekbones strode up the aisle and sat in the chair. “Hufflepuff!” was the word that rang out once again.
“Boot, Terry!” was the next name from McGonagall’s lips, and a boy with reddish-brown hair and a nervous smile had the hat put on his head. This time the pause was a little longer than it had been before, more like ten seconds instead of five. But then the Sorting Hat opened its mouth and shouted out “Ravenclaw!”
The third table from the left let out cheers and Terry grinned and hurried over to that table, sitting down.
“Brocklehurst, Mandy” also went to Ravenclaw, and she was accepted with handshakes and cheers also.
The next girl, “Brown, Lavender,” became the night's first Gryffindor. The table to the very far left erupted in whoops and shouts, with the twins coming to carry her to their table in honor.
“Bulstrode, Millicent” was then made the first Slytherin of the night to much cheers from that table. They waved her over enthusiastically and she sat down to many greetings.
“Carpenter-Potter, Harry!” came the name he knew had been coming, the name he was dreading hearing from those lips.
As he expected, all the eyes in the room slowly turned toward him and the whispered conversations abruptly stopped. He stepped forward from the group, and each step echoed loudly as he walked down the center aisle, the silence magnifying it. He felt all eyes on him as he went up the raised steps. Hagrid gave him a reassuring thumbs up, which he answered with a grateful smile. Dumbledore just watched him, nodding once and that was all. He turned and sat down on the stool, and the hat was placed over his head.
Suddenly he couldn’t see anything anymore, and he felt a shifting in his mind, like the grains of sand through an hourglass. He started to fight back before recalling Professor McGonogall’s stern orders. He took a deep breath and relaxed his body.
Hmm. A bit conflicted, are we not? said a voice in his head, presumably the hat. Yes, I see, I see. I think you would make a good Hufflepuff, I believe. You show great loyalty to your adopted family.
Yes, they raised me. I am deeply indebted to them. Harry thought. Why would he not be loyal to them? They were his parents,of course.
Of course, it is no mean feat to stand up to a horde of very pissed goblins either. The hat mused aloud, the image of Harry standing with a spear in his hands flashing through his kind as it was dredged up. Or to protect a boy from children twice your size. Images of Harry protecting the kids at the playground from the local gang of bullies, led by their pack leader Charles Beckitt, flashed before his eyes.
Yes, I believe I have decided. I am very interested to watch how this particular story plays out indeed, Master Carpenter-Potter. Said the hat, and then from outside of his brain he heard the hat shout, “Gryffindor!”
The hat was yanked off his head, and he stumbled to his feet in a daze. It was a very strange feeling, having a presence invade his head so thoroughly. It wasn’t a feeling he particularly liked, nor wanted to experience again. He blinked his eyes to clear his head and then walked over to the Gryffindor table, where the twins had made a spot for him to sit. He sat down next to them and watched with interest as Molly was called up next. She strode down the hall confidently, sitting on the stool.
After a few seconds, the hat shouted out Slytherin. She stood up, surprise easy to read on her face. Well, easy for him, at least. She walked over to the table, massaging her forehead gently. For the next half hour he watched silently as student after student was closed up, some nervously, some excitedly. Interestingly enough, the boy they had met in the dress shop, Draco Malfoy, was the only one who actually swaggered, honest-to-God swaggered, down the hall and then to his table at Slytherin. Hermione went to Gryffindor, along with one of the boys who was clearly the younger brother Mrs. Weasley had been talking about in the bookshop, with the same mop of red hair and narrow face. He was sorted into Gryffindor, much to the twins' happiness.
He came and sat on the empty seat beside Harry, and leaned over, whispering to Harry. “Pity your sister got sorted into the snake’s den,” he said, seeming to have actual sorrow in his tone for him.
Harry turned to look at the boy, confused and a little bit angry. “What do you mean?” he asked in a hushed whisper.
Confusion flashed across the other boy’s face. “Well, she’s in Slytherin, mate. You know, house of You-Know-Who and all that? My Dad said it’s full of future Death Eaters, the evil sort ya know?”
Harry closed his eyes and slowly his hand found the cross hanging around his neck, cold iron biting into his flesh. God, grant me patience. He thought and then opened his eyes once again. “Just because a few bad folk happened to go to that house doesn't mean my sister is evil. Just because Hitler and his Nazis came from Germany, doesn’t mean all Germans are evil, does it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, I suppose so,” the boy conceded grudgingly. “But I’m telling you, mate, you better watch your back around your sister now, that’s all.”
Harry just sighed and shook his head, looking at the oblivious red-haired boy. “Just be careful how you talk about my sister, mate.”
The boy shook his head and patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be great. Name’s Ron by the way. I would ask yours but I think everyone here knows it by now.” He grinned an easy grin, and Harry found himself taking the boy’s offered hand, even after being insulted by him. There was an easy likeability to him when he smiled, even if he was insensitive and insulting. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, how come you're American? Seems kinda strange for a British celebrity and all.”
Oh, he doesn’t want to offend me with that, but he’ll openly insult my sister? Harry thought to himself wryly. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I was adopted by Americans and raised there. Dumbledore gave me an exception to come here because, as you said, I’m famous in Britain and am a legacy student.”
Ron’s eyes widened. “Wow, Albus Dumbledore himself gave you an exception? You actually got to meet the Headmaster personally?”
Speaking of the Headmaster, he was getting up just as the last student, “Zabini, Blaise” had just been sorted into Slytherin. He stood in front of the podium, silencing all conversation inside the Great Hall with his presence alone. “Hello, students.” He said, his voice booming out as he looked around the hall. “I’m very glad to see this many returning faces this year. It has been a few years since Hogwarts has been this full. Now that the sorting is done, there are a few words I would like to say to you all before the meal begins.” Groans echoed throughout the hall, and Dumbledore smiled lightly his eyes twinkling. “Oh, I’m sure you will enjoy these particular words.” He clapped his hands sharply twice and stepped back from the podium. “Let’s eat!”
Cheers echoed from the very hungry audience, and even some of the teachers grinned widely with relief.
Harry waited, watching the small door on the side of the room, waiting for the servants to come out. Which is why he was taken completely off guard when the empty plates and cups lining their table were suddenly not empty anymore. There was meat of every kind, turkey, lamb, pork chops and so much more. The other dishes were filled with vegetables and steaming piles of mashed potatoes and sautéed green beans. His mouth fell open and watered with the beautiful aroma of it.
“Want a leg of the turkey, Harry?” asked Ron as he helped himself to multiple helpings of all the food within his reach.
“Sure,” Harry said giddily, as he also helped himself to the food, using the ladle to scoop a huge pile of buttery mashed potatoes onto his plate, surrounding it with green beans and lamb. He took the turkey leg and balanced it precariously on top of his already full plate.
He began to dig into his food and looked up to see Hermione shift seats to sit across from him, along with a shorter, squat boy with a round face and short-cropped blond hair.
“Harry, meet Neville. Neville, this is the famous Harry.” Hermione said primly, and Harry reached out a greasy hand to shake the boy, who was looking around nervously.
“H-hey,” the boy said, returning the handshake.
“How are you liking the place so far?” asked Ron through a mouthful of food. “Did you think you were going to be in Gryffindor?”
“My gran wasn’t even sure I was going to be in Hogwarts!” The boy replied, wide-eyed. “I didn’t show any telltale signs of magic, you see. Every time my great uncle Algie visited, he would try and push it out of me. Never really worked right, till one day he dropped me out of a three-story window. I bounced down and survived, and everyone was overjoyed.” He said proudly, yet still in his nervous way.
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Your great uncle dropped you out of a window just to see if you would so happen to survive?” He asked incredulously.
The boy, Neville, frowned. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound rather bad, doesn’t it? But I did, and he was proven right! Oh, my gran is going to be so happy when I tell her that I got into the same house as my parents!” he said, a smile lighting his face in anticipation.
“What happened to your parents, anyway?” asked Ron, still with a mouthful of food.
Hermione glared at him disapprovingly, and he flushed red. “You do know it’s very impolite to talk with food in your mouth, right? Please chew and swallow before speaking more!” She chided sternly, reminding Harry strongly of Mom. “Not to mention it's impolite to ask someone why their parents aren’t raising them!”
“No, no, it’s fine,” replied Neville sadly. “I figured everyone knew, it was all over the papers. My parents, Frank, and Alice Longbottom were Aurors during You-Know-Who’s reign. They defied him one too many times, and he sent the Lestranges to… deal with them.” He paused here, grief and rage, deeper rage than Harry thought could exist in this kind boy, filled his eyes. “I think they were just supposed to kill them and be done with it, ya know? But they… they tortured them. Until they went insane. They’re still alive, I go and visit them on holidays and stuff, you know? They’re being treated in St. Mungo's hospital. Nothing they could really do for them.” Here he stopped his take, shoulders slumping. Hermione put an arm around him to comfort him, and he nodded gratefully. “And that’s why my Gran took me in and raised me. It’s not as bad as it sounds, I know loads of people whose parents are dead. At least mine are still around, in some fashion.”
Harry looked sadly at Neville. If he hated Voldemort before, now he positively detested him. To do that to people, torture them into insanity just because they got into his way? How could they do that to someone? God, may You look after the Longbottom family and bring them peace from their suffering, he thought, reaching out and patting Neville’s hand. “Don’t worry, Neville. I know how it feels.” He shot a withering glare at Ron, who at least had the decency to look ashamed in the brief intervals where he was not shoving food into his mouth.
“What about you?” asked Neville, gesturing to Ron, clearly desperate to get the focus off himself.
“Oh, me?” Ron said, swallowing and wiping his mouth with his napkin, shooting a glance at Hermione. “Both my parents are still alive, luckily. I’m the second youngest of the seven of us. My parents wanted a girl, you know. I was their sixth attempt. They finally got it right on the seventh try, thankfully. Don’t know how many more siblings running around we could have taken.” He sighed and took another bite of his turkey leg. He then looked at Harry. “Ok, let’s get real here, mate. What we all really want to know about is you! British hero, who ended a war, disappeared for a decade, and then shows back up with a sister and American accent? We’re all dying to know what the story is! Absolutely mental, it is.”
Harry swept his gaze around and saw the two boys named Seamus and Dean nod in agreement, and even Neville and Hermione looking at him expectantly. He saw no way out of it, so he settled back, took a swig of water, and began his tale.
As he told his story, he carefully edited out all parts about his Dad’s particular profession and his Mom’s magical talents. He told them about being dropped at the doorstep of his terrible relatives, the ‘coincidence’ of Dad finding him during a midnight stroll while on a work trip, and taking him home to Chicago, much to the shock of his mother. The group laughed at that part, as he mimed the faces that Dad claimed Mom had made during his many retellings of the story. He then went on to explain how he had been raised with Molly as his twin sister of sorts, though she had been born two months earlier than him and was already 18 months old when they had met for the first time. His audience was enjoying every word, and even the twins had stopped their scheming to listen to the story. He told them how he had gone to a private school, and then of how he had been in his backyard when Dumbledore had appeared one summer afternoon and told him of his heritage and of Molly’s as well. He then spoke of how he had gone to Diagon Alley, skipping over the incident involving Lord Gringotts, as it would raise too many questions.
“And then I came here and met all of you. I believe that covers just about everything.” Harry finished, taking another drink of water since his mouth was dry from the long story. All the plates were free of dinner now, with them all on dessert.
After his story was done, the rest of the group told their own stories. The boy named Seamus was a Muggle on his Dad’s side and his mother was a witch, who apparently didn’t tell her husband until after they were already married. Dean was Muggle-born, though his mother personally expected that his Dad, who had left the family and then died, had secretly been a wizard and never told them. Hermione was full Muggle, however; her parents were both prestigious dentists who were shocked to find out that magic was real.
“And that’s why I’m so glad to finally be in Hogwarts!” said Hermione. “So many new things to learn and study and master. Regular school was getting quite stale if I’m being honest. I had already gone through most of the books in the library.”
Before another conversation could be started, Harry was startled to see a few of the plates and bowls that had formerly held treats seemingly rise up by themselves and then drop back onto the table, smashing into a million pieces. Harry swore and ducked in case any of the pieces hit him, and from the corner of his eye he saw a boy at the far end of the table, wearing the Prefect badge he had been told about, stand up and march over to them. Harry took one look at him and immediately recognized him as a Weasley, even if he didn’t know his name. “Peeves,” said the boy with an annoyed sigh. “Show yourself right now and knock this off at once. Or I will get the Bloody Baron.”
From where the plates had floated appeared a short little man with a bowler hat on, and a wicked glint in his eye. He was pale and see-through and grinned down at the Weasley. “Aww, little Peevsie creating trouble for you? Little Peevsie making your life difficult?”
Harry’s eyes widened. A ghost! In the castle! And not just a ghost, but clearly one with malicious intent and a particularly strong one, seeing as he could make things float at will. Harry searched his pockets desperately before remembering that the small pouch of ghost dust that Mom had packed for them had been left in his trunk. He slowly, so as to not alert the ghost, reached his hand under his shirt and pulled the iron crucifix from around his neck. He then clambered onto the table, instantly taking the attention of the ghost and everyone around him. He didn’t care though, as he was desperately trying to recall the words his father had taught him for just such an occasion. “Be gone, foul ghost!” he shouted, stalling for time, and the ghost slowly rotated all the way towards him, grin widening.
“Oh? What’s an icky wittle First Year going to do about it?” The ghost asked, floating towards him and leering into his face.
In response, Harry thrust out his iron crucifix right in front of the ghost, and the ghost peered cross-eyed at it. Harry wasn’t sure if it was a trick of his imagination or not, but he could have sworn that the ghost's face went several degrees paler, and he lost his baby voice, uttering only two words. “Oh, crap.” He began to backpedal away desperately.
Harry thrust out the cross. “In nomine Domini, et ego te abolescam! (In the name of the Lord, I banish thee!) Et mundare haec domus tuae praesentia, malignis spiritus! (I cleanse these halls of your presence, malicious spirit!)” The ghost froze in place and began to utter a high, piercing wail of pain. He ignored the noise and continued determinedly. “Ad oblivionem promissa et reprobaverunt! Ite in lucem et faciem meam sententiam Dei! (Go to the oblivion you were promised, and rejected! Go into the light and face the Judgement of God!)” He began to feel a tingling down his arm, much like when he first picked up his wand. But this was different somehow, it spread out from his heart, a gentle warmth. It invigorated him and gave him the energy needed to complete the ritual. The wind whipped up around him, him and the ghost in the center of the maelstrom, time seeming to slow. The ghost continued to scream and from the center of him was a glowing white light that was slowly spreading and encompassing his body. “Per Verbum et secundum leges antiquorum, et ego dico vobis: et thrice ligabis te! (By the Holy Word and in accordance with the ancient laws, thrice I tell you and thrice I bind thee!)
“Per virtutem Christi, oro! (By the power of Christ, begone!)
“Per virtutem Christi, or- (By the power of Christ bego-)”
Suddenly he was cut off from speaking, his voice not working anymore. He looked around wildly in confusion, and then the cross was ripped from his hands by an unseen force. The wind slowly died down, and the light that had been filling him and the ghost disappeared just like that. The tether broken, the ghost shot up to the ceiling with a scream and disappeared through it, escaping! Now that the wind was gone, he glared in fury at Dumbledore, who was holding his cross in his hands and pointing his wand at him, his mouth set into a thin line and his eyes hard.
“Mr. Carpenter-Potter. Outside, in the hallway. Now,” said Dumbledore, gesturing for him to get off the table. Harry clambered down, still trying to speak to no avail. As he looked around, he saw the students peering at him in a mix of horror and awe. He also saw Molly who was moving towards him and was stopped with one hand by a creepy-looking teacher with a long, bitter face, and they began to argue furiously, but he was too far away to hear what was being said. One guy in the back, a scraggly old man with a cat circling his feet, even applauded him as he was led out of the room into the hallway.
Once they were out through the double doors, Dumbledore swished his wand and Harry recovered his voice, gasping. “Why did you do that?” he demanded, rounding on Dumbledore angrily.
All the anger had gone out of Dumbledore’s face and he sighed and sat down heavily on the steps, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “Perhaps I should have thought of this. A lot of things seem to be slipping my mind of late,” he said wearily.
“Thought of what? What are you talking about? You stopped me when I was almost complete!” Harry said, confused but anger still overriding it.
“Harry, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore gently, patting the seat next to him. “You cannot go around this castle for the next few months attempting to murder, well, perhaps murder isn’t quite the right word. Vanquish? Yes, vanquish. You cannot go around trying to vanquish staff members.”
“St-staff members?!” sputtered Harry, not believing what he was hearing and certainly not taking a seat next to this crazy old man. “That’s not a staff member! That’s a ghost! A friggin’ ghost, a creature of the Nevernever? A malicious spirit?”
“Well, I shall concede to you the malicious part, perhaps, but at the end of the day, he is a resident ghost of Hogwarts. Hogwarts is,” he paused again, steepling his fingers, deep in thought. “Hogwarts is an in-between place in our world.” He looked up, his eyes quite serious. “Harry, my boy, I must ask you to tell no one but your sister about this information I am about to share with you. I do not share this information lightly. I am only sharing it with you as an attempt to help you make sense of this… situation, given your rather unique upbringing.” He pursed his lips, and then once he saw Harry nod hesitantly, he continued. “Hogwarts is not fully in the mortal world, part of it is contained in the Nevernever. As you will come to realize, the castle can shift and have many more rooms than first thought can fit in such a place. That is because it exists in a limbo state between both worlds. The foundations and wards and physical objects themselves exist in the real world, our world. But the rooms, the extra space, the shifting staircases you will soon walk? Those exist in the Nevernever, bridging the gap. Does that make sense?”
Heavily, Harry sat down next to Dumbledore, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. “But… what does this have to do with that ghost, sir?”
“Well, that is not the only ghost in this castle. As you go through your days you will see many others. They are all tied to this castle. I don’t know how much your father taught you about ghosts, but they can only exist in a reflection of where they died or where they were tied to. And therefore, since this is a place of learning and of goodness, these ghosts are good also. Yes, Peeves may cause trouble from time to time, and he may be a general nuisance, but is not out to cause harm and very likely could not cause serious damage if he wanted to, for he wouldn’t be able to exist in this castle as he is. So I must ask you to please not go running around trying to exercise any of them. Is that fair, Harry?” Dumbledore asked when he had finished his explanation, laying a hand on Harry’s arm, and peering at him.
Harry mulled it over. He made good points, and his Dad had explained the nature of ghosts to him. He supposed it made sense, not that he would trust the ghost Peeves, or any ghost for that matter, the next time he saw them. “All right,” he said grudgingly. “I suppose I’ll apologize to him next time I see him.”
Dumbledore smiled, energy-returning to his body, and smiled kindly at him. “Oh, no need to go that far, Harry. I think it will be good to have Peeves on the downside for once. Maybe the Bloody Baron won’t be the only one who can keep him in check. Now, I suppose I should be giving you this back, with the promise you will not be trying to vanquish anyone else?” He pressed the iron crucifix on the necklace into Harry’s hand.
“I promise,” said Harry, slipping the crucifix around his neck, feeling the comfortable weight and cool metal settle on his chest.
“Thank you, my boy. Now I believe we have kept them waiting long enough, don’t you? Try and look reasonably ashamed when we go back in. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” He smiled and winked at Harry, who felt himself smile back.
Harry got back up from the steps, turning and offering his hand to help Dumbledore up also. Dumbledore took his hand gratefully and hauled himself up. He then put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and led him back through the double doors. Harry tried to adopt an appropriate expression of shame as he was led back in and assumed his former position at the table. People around him shot him looks of fear and awe, and not just because he was Harry Potter anymore. He came to the realization that he had inadvertently just made his reputation a little bigger with this misunderstanding. He sat down and didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, still playing the part that Dumbledore had asked him to play.
Speaking of Dumbledore, he made his way up the steps once again and stood in front of the podium. When he rapped his wand against the podium, the entire hall quieted and stopped peering at Harry, turning their attention to Dumbledore. “Hello, all. I’m glad to see you all enjoyed the meal. And, the night’s entertainment.” He cast a glance toward Harry, and the hall rippled with laughter. “Rest assured I have spoken to our esteemed new student, and he has realized his mistake. They apparently do things differently in America when it comes to ghosts, it seems. Now, before I send you all off to bed, I do have a few announcements to make. First off, there are two new teachers I would like to introduce. First, we have a new Muggle Studies and Foundations teacher I would like to introduce. Professor, if you would please?” From the teachers’ table, a tall skinny man stood up, a turban wrapped around his head. His eyes darted around nervously, and he raised a hand and waved to the crowd. “This is Professor Quirrell. He will be the new Muggle Studies and Foundations teacher. He has spent years living among them and is therefore much more qualified to teach than our last teacher, who regretfully never returned from vacation this year. You may sit back down now, Professor.” Harry could see the relief on his face as he sat back down and attention was drawn away from him by the next teacher to stand up, without prompting. “And this,” Dumbledore said, turning to see that the person was already standing up, “is Professor DuPont. She is to be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”
The woman stepped forward and bowed to the crowd. She was about 35-40 if Harry had to guess, with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and sharp cheekbones, giving her face a very narrow appearance. “It is very nice to meet you all, and I cannot wait to teach all of you this year.” She said, in perfect English with a hint of a French accent layering her words.
“Thank you, Professor. I’m sure we are all looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us this year.” Dumbledore said, and the woman smiled, taking her seat at the table. “Now a few more things before we all go to bed. One, I would like to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits. Any students caught there will be severely punished. Also, there will be no magic in the corridors as you are going between classes, nor will there be students in the corridors after 10 p.m. At the risk of sounding redundant, you will be punished if you are caught breaking these rules. I believe that is al- oh wait. There is one new addition. I heavily discourage all students from going in the far west corridor on the third floor, on risk of death.” Obviously, this was a joke. It had to be a joke! But Dumbledore said it with such seriousness that Harry began to doubt himself. What type of school had areas where you could die if you went into them? No, it had to be a joke, he told himself once again. “And those are all the rules that you need to know for the year. Once again, any students caught breaking these rules will serve detention with our Discipline Overseer, Mr. Filch.” He gestured to the old man that Harry had seen applauding him earlier when he had been let out of the room. “Now it is very late, and I am not as young as I used to be, I’m afraid. An old man needs his rest, and so do you, so with that, goodnight!” He stepped away from the podium and the teachers got up from the table, beginning to usher the kids up and out.
The Prefect Weasley and another prefect, a girl he didn’t know, got up and began to lead the kids out of the room, bringing them out of the Great Hall. Harry peered over the heads to see Molly being led in the opposite direction to him. He gave a short wave, which was returned by her before they lost sight of each other. He was led up the marble stairs and finally saw what the Headmaster had been talking about. Once they got to the landing, the one staircase split into many, many splitting staircases that were constantly shifting over each other and even going through each other at times, over and under. Harry’s mouth dropped as he looked up and up and saw the stairs just keep going to the top of the castle. After giving them a moment to gawk, the Prefects resumed leading them through the winding corridors and shifting stairs, in hidden panels and under tapestries. Harry tried to memorize the pathway, but it shifted so much and was so confusing he couldn't possibly do it, especially since he was so tired. Eventually, they came to the end of a corridor and stopped in front of the portrait of a lady in an opera dress. She woke up and looked at them. “Ooh, new first years! How exciting! Password?” She asked, clapping her hands in excitement and smiling. “Caput Draconis.” The Prefects replied in unison. At that, the painting swung open, and they were led into the dorm room. It was a round room, with many arm chairs and tables and a roaring fire. It had a plush red carpet, and couches by the fire. There were bookshelves on the walls and two curved staircases that met on the end, each going to a doorway set into the wall. Harry assumed they were in one of the castle’s towers he had seen earlier. The girls went up the left staircase led by the female prefect, and Weasley led them up the right staircase. There were multiple levels, and the first years were on the first level. There were five fancy beds with a post on each corner and from the top was a red velvet curtain that hung down the sides to shield the sleeper. The trunks had been brought from the lake, with each set in front of each bed. Harry scanned for his trunk, and found it. He opened it, getting out his knife he had stored in it and slipping it under his pillow, pretending to just get out his pajamas. He also put the wand in the end table next to his bed, along with the pouch of ghost dust just in case. He then quickly changed into pajamas, laying his robes neatly on the end of the bed for the next morning. He meant to go and talk to the other students, learn more about them but he was so tired the moment he lay down in bed and slipped under the covers, he immediately passed out, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.