A New Home and a New House
The trees disappeared at the end of the bend, turning what had been a narrow path into a wide vista. A giant lake spread out before them, pitch black in the darkness, reflecting the starry sky and the shadowed mountains beyond it like mirror. The mountain directly across from them, almost centred in the panorama, had a vast castle settled on its top.
The castle was almost as dark as the mountains behind it, but its silhouette was sharper, with many towers and turrets piercing the night sky. A few windows were lit up with the warm orange glow of firelight, but most weren’t, and those windows reflected the stars above, making the castle sparkle faintly in the darkness.
It was… magical.
“No more’n four to a boat!” the man called, jolting Harry out of his wonderment. Glancing around, he saw he wasn’t the only one who had been standing there and staring. The man pointed to a fleet of small boats Harry hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t surprised he’d missed them: they were sitting in the shallows by the shore, lit only by a small lamp placed at the front of each boat.
Harry followed the group, hurrying a little now that they weren’t all packed onto a narrow pathway so he could catch up to Hermione. She beamed at him as he came up beside her.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve seen pictures, of course, but they really can’t compare.”
Harry nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s amazing!”
They climbed into a boat together and were joined by a pair of twins, both girls, who were sticking very close to each other. Surprisingly, the boats were close enough to shore that they didn’t even need to get their shoes wet to get in.
“Everyone in?” the man checked. He was sat in the middle boat and had it entirely to himself. “Right then – FORWARD!”
At his signal, the boats moved off all at once. Their smooth movements left barely a ripple as they glided through the water. The people were as silent as the boats, giving the journey a tranquil feel that Harry had never experienced before. He had never felt this… pleasantly peaceful, before. He deeply breathed in the brisk air. He’d never tasted air this… clean. This fresh. It may just be his imagination, his joy at finally being out of Dudley’s second bedroom, but he could taste the freedom.
And the magic!
He wasn’t sure when it started, but about halfway across the lake he became aware of the slight tingle of energy across his skin. It was subtle – even fainter than the illusion over the archway of platform nine and three quarters – like… mist.
Well, he wasn’t going to give up the chance to feel more magic. Between one deep breath and the next, he let his mind slip completely into aware-but-not.
The ‘mist’ comparison was quite apt (though it got closer to ‘fog’ the closer they got to the cliff the castle stood upon). The magic was everywhere and, as he passed through it, it left traces clinging to him – like the damp that clings more and more the further you walk through thick fog.
It wasn’t unpleasant, though. It was actually really, really pleasant. Like when he dared to wrap the toasty-warm sheets, fresh out of the dryer, around himself while he’d been doing laundry in winter. It was soft, warm… welcoming.
Yes, it felt very nice.
Hogwarts swam in front of him, and he blinked away the tears. He didn’t want to miss a second of this. Unfortunately, they were reaching the end of their journey.
“Heads down!” the man yelled, as they reached the cliff.
They did, and the fleet carried them through an ivy curtain hiding a wide cave entrance in the cliff face. Looking up, they really hadn’t needed to duck (the man had to duck, but even ducking, he was taller than they were). The cave was very deep – more of a wide tunnel, actually – and was entirely unlit if it wasn’t for the lamps on the boats.
The soft, welcoming, warmth was still coating Harry, but it was starting to sink in deeper, reaching his very bones and the passively simmering energy in his gut. It settled there, content, and Harry finally let himself drift out of his focus, content himself now that he knew the magic was staying with him.
The tunnel quickly led them to an underground harbour, where the man ordered them out of the boats and onto the rocky shore, checking every boat as they emptied. Once they were all clear, the man guided them up a natural-looking passageway in the rock, his lamp once again the only source of light as the group clambered after him. This time, Harry managed to stay next to Hermione as she dogged the man’s heels.
By the time they finally reached the end of the passageway, Harry was out of breath and hoping they could sit down soon. He really was out of shape if that walk wiped him out that much.
The passageway had opened on to a smooth, damp lawn, looking almost black in Hogwarts’ shadow. Hogwarts looked even more impressive up close and much bigger (did it grow while they were walking up here? Or was it a perspective, thing? It was probably a perspective thing).
They followed the lamp up a flight of stone stairs (thankfully, they weren’t that long, but Harry still hoped he wasn’t expected to climb any more stairs that night) and huddled in front of the giant, oak front door. The man checked they were all still with him, before knocking – deafeningly loud – three times on the door.
The door was immediately answered by a stern-looking black-haired woman in emerald-green robes, and Hermione perked up next to him. The woman looked smart and serious next to the shaggy man… actually, she was quite tall too, but that was hard to tell next to the giant man. She was tall, but a normal-person tall.
“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” the man greeted.
“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”
So, this was the witch that gave Hermione her Hogwarts letter and told her about magic. He could see why Hermione liked her so much: she seemed like the kind of person who’d like a no-nonsense approach to teaching, and McGonagall seemed very no-nonsense.
And the giant man was called Hagrid! Harry wondered what subject he taught…
The oak door was pulled wide open, giving another dramatic introduction to a beautiful view. The entrance hall was huge, easily the size of the Dursley’s entire house, with the ceiling too high to see in the darkness. Torches lit up the stone walls, the pair of double-doors along the right wall, the smaller doors along the left, the magnificent marble staircase leading up, directly across from the entrance, and the flagged stone floor leading to it.
Professor McGonagall led them to one of the smaller doors on the left, passed the large double-doors which probably held the rest of the students, given the drone of voices coming from behind them. Instead, they were brought to a small chamber, where the group huddled together. Harry was glad he and Hermione had been at the front of the group, because it meant they were at the edge now.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall greeted. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common-room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”
Her gaze lingered on a few people’s much needed ‘smartening up’, including Harry’s hair. Quite frankly, that was a lost cause, but Harry made a token effort to make it lie flat. Next to him, Hermione was tugging and brushing down her already-neat robes.
“I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.” With that, Professor McGonagall left them alone.
Whispers immediately broke out, everyone asking everyone else about the Sorting ceremony and what, exactly, they would have to do for it.
“None of the books said anything, except it was a tradition to keep it a secret from all new students, like an alumni secret, I wonder if there are any other secrets like that, but at least one of the books should have mentioned them if there were.”
The most prevalent theory, given to one of his peers by their older brother, was that the Sorting ceremony was an apparently very painful test. The whispers quickly died down as the terror of that situation hit them.
Hermione was once most going through her spell repertoire (not anywhere close to the detail as she had on the train) and Harry listened closely. He was not ready for a test. He was not even close to ready for a test. He hadn’t even had a chance to read all his schoolbooks yet, and he’s held his wand a total of two times! And it’s going to be in front of the whole school… his magic was wonky enough when he was fully focused – he’d never be able to concentrate enough with a whole room’s eyes on him! He might end up turning invisible or something (which would be cool, but ultimately unhelpful).
And that wasn’t even getting into the whole ‘House will be like your family’ thing. Harry hadn’t had much luck with the whole family thing. Hopefully his ‘Hogwarts family’ will be better than the Dursleys.
Harry jumped out of his skin as about twenty pearly-white and semi-transparent people walked into the room, through the wall. Screams echoed his reaction but the people (ghosts? They looked like how he imagined ghosts would look like) hadn’t seemed to hear them, continuing their conversation about… Peeves ruining their reputation? And they were ghosts.
“-I say, what are you all doing here?” The ghost who finally noticed them was wearing a ruff and tights, so he’d probably been dead a while. The others were in similarly old-fashioned garments.
“New students!” a ghost dressed as a friar exclaimed cheerily. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?” The ghost continued after he received a few answering nods, “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know.”
Professor McGonagall returned to the room and spoke to the ghosts in a sharp voice, reinforcing the whole ‘no-nonsense teacher’ role, “Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.” The ghosts obediently walked back through the wall, and Professor McGonagall turned her attention back to the new students. “Now, form a line, and follow me.”
They did, huddling together nervously as they hurried across the Entrance Hall after Professor McGonagall’s sharp strides and through the large double doors. The droning of conversation had died down to silence, but the rest of the school was still there. Harry hunched over slightly as hundreds of eyes pressed against their much smaller group.
The students were a sea of black, filling almost the entire hall, sitting at four long tables running down the length of the room and interspersed with the occasional bright silver of a ghost. At the very end of the hall, a fifth table sat perpendicular to the rest, seating adults wearing an assortment of coloured robes (probably the rest of the staff). Each of the tables were laid with golden plates and goblets that shined in the light of thousands of floating candles. There were so many of them floating in mid-air that the light was a constant yellow-orange glow, with none of the flickering usually associated with candlelight.
Harry’s eyes strayed passed the hovering candles and widened as he saw the night sky. Were they outside? Was this even a room, or was it courtyard? The air didn’t feel cold or fresh enough for them to be outside again…
“It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside,” Hermione whispered to him, eyes staring up with the same wonder Harry felt, “there are four thousand candles and all of them were placed by the Founders, they never melt, of course, and they only appear for the dinner meals or when the headmaster calls them, I read about them in Hogwarts, a History.”
The group filed to the front of the hall and were instructed to stand along the front of the staff table in a single line, facing the rest of the school. Professor McGonagall picked up a three-legged stool from the side of the room and placed it in the middle of the line, before gently laying down a dirty, very frayed, and clumsily patched, wizard’s hat on its seat.
The whole school was staring at it – the teachers, the students, the ghosts… After a few seconds of the absolute silence, the hat twitched, and an unpatched rip just above the brim opened up wide. Harry had a moment to think how it looked like a mouth, before the hat began to sing… using the mouth-like rip as a mouth.
“Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!”
Applause erupted through the hall and the hat tilted its point to each of the four student tables in a bow, before stilling back into a normal hat again. Well, it seemed that to get Sorted, they only needed to put on the hat. Harry wasn’t sure if he found that relieving or more worrying. He didn’t think he was particularly brave, just, wise, or cunning… what would happen if a student didn’t fit into any of the houses? Would he be sent back to the Dursleys?
Before he could worry too much, Professor McGonagall pulled a long roll of parchment out of her robes and stepped forward, starting the ceremony with “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit in the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”
The process was nerve-racking. Harry tried to distract himself by trying to remember his peers’ names and faces, but they seemed to slip out of his brain sometime between their names being called, and them putting the hat on their heads. He did manage to notice which table belonged to which house, since the house the new student was Sorted into cheered the moment the hat shouted its decision (something that made Harry start every time). From left to right, they were Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff. That was a relief, because the part of Harry that wasn’t worried about not getting Sorted into a house, was worried about the house he was Sorted into being deathly silent upon his Sorting.
He knew it was stupid, that no one knew him here and he had no reputation, but no one ever wanted him to be on their team. Choosing Harry meant volunteering themselves to join in on Harry Hunting, on Harry’s side. Harry wouldn’t do that, either.
When “Granger, Hermione!” was called, Hermione rushed forward and jumped onto the stool, with an eagerness no one else had yet matched. The length of time that a person spent under the hat seemed completely arbitrary – some people spent a few minutes sitting in total silence, while others barely had the hat touch their heads before it shouted out their house. Hermione took a little less than a minute before the hat shouted “GRYFFINDOR!” and her ‘new family’ cheered her admittance. She rushed to an empty seat at the bench with no less enthusiasm and gave him a bright grin the moment she sat down.
Harry smiled back. Whichever house he ended up joining, hopefully he’d still have classes with her. Unfortunately for his nerves, ‘P’ was quite far through the alphabet. By the time Professor McGonagall called “Potter, Harry!”, there was only three kids still waiting their turn.
At least the reception to his name was completely neutral, no different from the majority of the others – the only real exception had been “Longbottom, Neville!” who, per Hermione, was a major celebrity for surviving a Dark Lord’s killing curse as an infant with only a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The attack had left him an orphan, leaving him to be raised by his grandmother, and had apparently killed the Dark Lord, leaving him a celebrity of the same status usually reserved for royalty. When his name had been called, the entire hall had filled with a buzz of conversation and shifting bodies as students stood up to try and get a better view. And they’d had at least seven minutes to gawk at him before the hat finally shouted “GRYFFINDOR!” to the obvious glee of said house.
Conversely, everyone was politely quiet and patiently watching as Harry slid onto the stool and the hat was placed on his head, falling right down to cover not only his eyes but his nose as well and leaving him staring at darkness.
“Hmm.” Harry flinched as a soft voice spoke directly into his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting … So where shall I put you?”
The hat could see into his mind and was talking to him without using its mouth. Ok. Actually, could its ‘mouth’ even be called a mouth? Did it have a tongue? Or vocal cords? What else did a mouth need to talk? It didn’t have lips…
Also, the hat thought he was brave, didn’t have a bad mind, was talented, and was… ambitious? He’s not sure where it saw all of that, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth – that ticked some of the boxes for some of the houses! It didn’t matter which house he went into as long as he was away from the Dursleys and could learn magic. He’d manage that no matter where he ended up (even if he was sent back to the Dursleys, he would continue learning whatever magic he could figure out).
“No preference? Very well, let those ambitions be fed in – SLYTHERIN!”
The last word had been shouted for the whole hall to hear (thankfully the voice had moved away from his ear first), and Harry took the hat off with a sigh of relief. There – he was sorted, and his house was cheering him, just like everyone else. What had he been worried about?
He wasted no time going to the Slytherin table, getting out of the spotlight of attention. The first year girls had taken up one side of the table, the boys the other, but there was more space on their side so Harry settled down next to “Parkinson, Pansy” and took the opportunity to put a little space between them. Directly across from him was “Nott, Theodore”, sitting next to “Goyle, Gregory”, “Malfoy, Draco”, and “Crabbe, Vincent”, in that order. Beside Pansy, was “Greengrass, Daphne”, and “Bulstrode, Millicent”.
Huh… He remembered much more of the Sorting Ceremony than he thought he had, because he actually knew the names of his new housemates. That’s really very good, because he didn’t want to have to ask them their names.
Finally, the last student, “Zabini, Blaise”, was called into Slytherin, and took up a seat next to Theodore. Professor McGonagall pocketed the scroll of names and took the Sorting Hat and its stool to a room behind the staff table.
The man at the centre of the table stood up from a golden throne-like chair and beamed, spreading his arms out welcomingly. His long silver hair and equally long and equally silver beard and moustache, shone in the candle-light, contrasting against his deep purple robes. He wore golden half-moon glasses perched on a long, crooked nose, that did nothing to hide the bright blue eyes sparkling behind them.
“Welcome!” the probably-headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin out banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are” Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”
Everybody clapped and cheered as he sat back down. It seemed the headmaster was a bit… eccentric, but if it saved him from having to listen to a long, boring speech while waiting for food, he’d happily take it.
Suddenly, the plates were filled with food. It seemed like every Sunday dinner at the Dursley’s for an entire year had been piled up in front of him. Roast beef and chicken, pork and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, potatoes (boiled, roasted, and chipped), Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and… mint humbugs?
Everyone around him started plating up their choice foods, with impeccable poise and manners. Harry did his best to mimic them and, even though he was tempted to pile as much food as possible onto his plate, he only picked out a small piece of chicken and a few of the vegetables. It’d been… a while since he’d had any solid food (the soups he’d lived off of had overcooked mush that used to be vegetables of some kind and chunks of mystery meat that dissolved the moment he tried to bite into them - he didn’t count either as ‘solid food’), and he knew from previous punishments not to eat too much or too fast after starving for a few days. So, he took the time to precisely cut off each mouthful and savour every bite.
“So, Potter,” a drawling voice spoke from across the table at an angle. Harry looked up to see it had been Draco Malfoy who had addressed him. The pale-skinned boy had a pointed face and looked even paler with his platinum blond hair, ice grey eyes, and black Hogwarts’ robes.
He seemed to be waiting for a response so Harry gave a nod and responded with “Malfoy.”
Draco puffed up slightly and couldn’t hold back a pleased twitch of his lips, though he seemed to really be trying hard to. “I’m sure you’re glad to have been chosen for Slytherin.”
“Yes,” Harry was very glad a house had been chosen for him. He didn’t care it had been Slytherin over the others, but he was not going to say that to his housemates.
His response was enough to break the awkward tension that had been hovering over the first year Slytherins, each one relaxing slightly and voicing their own agreements. Thankfully, the attention was quickly taken off Harry as the louder members of the group took over.
Next to him, Pansy Parkinson was one of the louder ones. She was one of the shorter first years (not as short as Harry, though), with a round face, bright hazel eyes, and dark brown hair, just long enough to show off a natural curl. She was chatting amicably with Daphne Greengrass, on her other side, and Draco across from her, with a familiarity that spoke of previous acquaintanceship, if not friendship. Daphne seemed the quietest of the three, but was still politely joining in. Her blond hair was much longer than Pansy’s and lay flat down her back, and her face was quite a bit softer, with large blue eyes and delicate features. At the moment, the three of them were comparing the Hogwarts’ feast to the food the Malfoy family provided when they hosted various parties. Somehow, the Hogwarts fare seemed to be losing.
Across from him, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were having their own quiet conversation, that Harry couldn’t hear above the general din around them. Blaise was the only first year Slytherin with dark skin, flawlessly smooth, and tightly coiled black hair cropped short, with high cheekbones and long, slanting brown-black eyes. Both he and Theodore were quite tall, but that was where the similarity ended. Theodore was thinner, with very pale skin, short curly blond-brown hair and light brown eyes.
Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle were as content as Harry was to sit back and listen to the other’s conversation. All three had similar body builds: heavyset and square. Millicent had short black hair, a heavy jaw and strong features. Vincent had dark brown hair in a bowl haircut, a flat nose and heavy brows over blue eyes. Gregory had short, bristly dark hair, with small, dull, and deep-set brown eyes. Vincent and Gregory looked like bodyguards as they bracketed Draco.
Harry had long finished his meagre meal, already full, and the others were starting to neatly place their cutlery on their plates (with Harry hastily copying them), when a ghost drifted over and settled in the middle of the Slytherin first years. The ghost hadn’t been part of the earlier intruding group, and looked quite ghastly compared to all those others. With most of the other ghosts, they… didn’t look dead? If they weren’t a semi-transparent pearly-white, they would look like normal people (albeit wearing old-fashioned clothes). This ghost had blank eyes that stared at nothing, a deathly gaunt face, and robes that were practically dripping with silver… something. It looked an awful lot like blood.
Why were none of the other ghosts covered in blood? They can’t all have died bloodless deaths, right? No, over at the Gryffindor table, the ghost in the ruff they’d seen earlier was pulling his head off like a hinge… That shouldn’t have been bloodless…
Pansy squeaked as the ghost’s bloody robe fluttered through her arm and scuttled over to press against Harry to avoid touching… him?... it? Either way, Harry slid over to the very end of the bench to avoid touching her.
“Welcome to Slytherin house,” the ghost croaked quietly. “I am known as the Bloody Baron – you will address me as such… I am the resident ghost of Slytherin house – I will provide you aid if able…”
That effectively killed all the previous conversation. The older boy beside Vincent glanced over at them with an amused smirk.
“He will help you, as will most of the other ghosts,” the boy said, after letting them stew in awkwardness for a full five minutes. He was one of the older students, with straight black hair touching his shoulders, and grey eyes staring out of sharp features. “The first week or two, especially, you’ll find their directions helpful when finding your classes. The older Slytherins will help as well, of course, but be cautious of any advice the other houses give you. They will only benefit from Slytherin losing house points.”
As he spoke, the tension was further dissipated as all the food disappeared, leaving the plates as sparkling clean as they had been originally, before they were filled once again – this time with dessert! Blocks of ice-cream (enough for there to probably be one of every flavour imaginable), apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs, jam doughnuts, trifle, fruit salad, jelly, rice pudding…
Maybe Harry could fit in a little more food.
“My name is Julian Mason,” the older boy finally introduced himself. “I’m Slytherin’s seventh year prefect, along with Enid Croaker, here.” He waved over to the girl across from him who gave a blank-faced nod as greeting. Her face was completely unreadable, as were her hazel-green eyes, and her ruddy-brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. “You’ll be introduced to the other prefects after the feast, along with our Head of House.”
Harry found himself wishing that ‘after the feast’ would come faster. Yes, the treacle tart was nice (delicious, actually), but with solid, warm food sitting in his belly, the long train journey to get there, and the lack of sleep from both the night before and no naps during the day, his energy was starting to flag.
He also found himself discretely pocketing pieces of fruit to save for later – a habit that had saved him quite a few foodless nights in his cupboard.
Finally, everyone had their fill, the ambient noise dying down as the long journey and full bellies took their toll on the rest of the students, and the plates cleared once again, leaving them glistening once more. It seemed they wouldn’t refill again, as Professor Dumbledore stood up, silencing the dim conversations.
“Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Despite the seriousness of his words, his eyes seemed to sparkle in amusement as they picked out a few students. “I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”
A few students laughed at that, but stopped quickly when they realised most people weren’t. So, was that a serious warning? Why was there something life-threatening in a school?
“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!”
He seemed excited, but he was the only staff member who did – the other teachers’ smiles had become very forced. Dumbledore gave a small flick of his wand, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, rising high above the tables and twisting itself into words.
“Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go!” Dumbledore said.
It was chaos and Harry cringed slightly against the assault. Still, he quietly sang along to no particular tune (not that he was able to hear himself),
“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot.”
Finally, a funeral march over at the Gryffindor table ended the singalong and Professor Dumbledore put away his conducting wand to clap.
“Ah, music,” Professor Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”
Harry respectfully disagreed with that sentiment, but was grateful for the order to sleep.
“All right, firsties, huddle together and stay huddled,” Julian said, gathering them together as the rest of the Slytherin years joined the mass of black leaving the hall.
He and Enid stayed with them and eventually led them into the Entrance Hall once the crowd died down. They walked across the flagstones and through the doorway to the right of the marble staircase, almost hidden in its shadow. Stone steps led downwards, and it quickly got noticeably darker the deeper they went. There was still light from the occasional flickering lamps along the wall, but the light was much softer and didn’t reach as far as the flaming torches of the entrance hall had. There was enough light to illuminate the labyrinth of passageways and numerous doors, but not enough to see any detail without letting their eyes adjust first.
Julian didn’t give them that time to adjust, swiftly leading their huddle through the dimness. Enid followed behind the group, probably to make sure no one got lost in the maze. Every corridor looked the same. Every door looked the same. Every lamp looked the same.
Eventually, they stopped next to a bare stretch of damp wall.
“The current password is Wormwood,” Julian said. A stone door, previously hidden inside the stone wall, slid open. Harry wondered how many other doors were hidden like that in the school. It couldn’t be the only one. How could he find them? “It changes the first of every month, and the new password will be posted on the noticeboard for that day.”
Julian walked them through the door. The room was long and low. The walls and the ceiling were made of a rough stone, and there were round, greenish lamps hanging from both on chains, giving the underground atmosphere a soft, murky lighting – illuminating everything without being searingly bright after walking through the dark dungeons. The stone floor had a long green rug, embroidered with slithering silver snakes along the border, running down the entire length of the room, leading to a fire burning brightly under a mantelpiece, elaborately carved into a writhing swarm of snakes (Harry was starting to suspect that snakes were the emblem of Slytherin house, and wondered which houses had the lion, the eagle, and the badger). Chairs and tables were scattered around the room, leaving the rug clear.
Silhouetted in front of the fire, was a thin man and four older students. The man had shoulder-length black hair, that had a visible sheen of oil in the strange lighting. The flickering firelight also made him look incredibly sallow and danced off his long, hooked nose. As Julian and Enid joined the five in front of the fire, the man’s piercing black eyes studied them. Harry froze as the man focused on him and Harry really hoped the slight scowl was just a trick of the light. Even if it was, though, his caution had been piqued and that distrust wasn’t going to go away until he was sure it was.
It had been going so well… why did his paranoia have to ruin everything?
“I,” the man said softly, “am the Slytherin Head of House and Potions’ Master, Professor Severus Snape. These, are your prefects, seventh years Julian Mason and Enid Croaker, sixth years Reynard Bulstrode and Adela Harden, fifth years Vivian Croaker and Charissa Wilkins. Any issues will be brought to their attention, before mine.”
There had been no indication as to which names belonged to which student, so Harry noted the names and the faces but didn’t know what to do with that information. Hopefully he’d be able to figure it out later, through eavesdropping.
“I expect exemplary behaviour from my Slytherins. We have held the House Cup for six years now, and you will not be the reason we lose the streak.” Professor Snape was definitely glaring now, but it was to the whole group. Maybe it had been his imagination before. “Outside this Common Room you shall support each other. I will not hear about petty squabbles between you from the other Heads of Houses. Let them bicker among themselves and tear each other down - we stay united. Our stories support our fellow’s, while theirs undermine their own. Inside this Common Room, you do not have to maintain this illusion, but I will be very displeased if I’m called away from my duties to babysit you.”
After one final glare over the group, he relaxed he waved to the sides of the room, where Harry only now noticed a door embedded in each of the corners. “To your right are the male dormitories, to your left, the female. The first doors down the halls belong to the first years, with each subsequent year inhabiting the succeeding rooms. Your belongings should have already been placed in your rooms – the beds are all identical, so there is no excuse to squabble over who was placed where. One final warning, before you retire - for this week, and this week only, a prefect will meet all first years here at 7am and lead them to and from the Great Hall for breakfast. It is up to each individual to learn the route and to find their way to their classes, so I suggest you all pay attention and learn fast.”
With that final word, Professor Snape strode through the group (with the first years in his way scuttling to the side) and exited the Common Room with a billow of black robes.
“All right, firsties, bedtime!” Julian drawled with a smirk and a condescending clap. “As the professor said, we’ll all meet here tomorrow morning and we’re leaving at seven sharp. If you’re late, we won’t wait for you, so don’t sleep in.”
The older students split off first, but Harry’s year-mates immediately followed. The door led to a corridor that matched the aesthetics of the Common Room, with the same walls, lamps, and carpet. The doors alternated left and right down the corridor with a final, eighth, door at the very end.
The first year bedroom was shaped as a heptagon, with each wall of the room housing a four-poster bed, a desk setup, and a wardrobe – the exceptions were the wall bearing the door they just entered through, and one of the walls opposite bearing a second door. The only light in the room came from a fireplace in the centre of the room, sitting on a circular rug that matched the rugs outside. The curtains around the four-poster beds had an identical design.
There were trunks sitting at the foot of each bed and Harry rushed over to the one he recognised as his. He was neighbouring the second doorway, and a quick peek inside showed a bathroom. Harry immediately dug his nightclothes out of his trunk and went into one of the toilet stalls. He was tempted to take a shower first, but he really was very tired. He’d shower in the morning.
The other boys quickly and quietly followed his lead, seeming just as tired as he was, and soon they were all tucked into their beds.
Trying to sleep on a very soft, not at all lumpy, bed, was harder than he thought it would be…
To take his mind off it, he let his breathing slow and his mind blur into his aware-but-not state. It was always easier to sleep like that, and even if he couldn’t manage to sleep, he would still ‘wake up’ feeling rested.
While he was in that state, he tried to find – to feel – the welcoming warmth again. It wasn’t very hard. With a small bit of concentration, he could feel it. Without that bit of concentration, it just turned into background noise. It had only been a few hours, and he was completely acclimatised to it – if he didn’t specifically seek it, he’d look right passed it.
He was warm… he was comfortable… his stomach was full… he was surrounded by magic…
Content, Harry let himself drift off to sleep, still mentally clutching at the warmth.