Hogwarts
Chapter 1: First Year: Hogwarts
Mary Macdonald’s mother wasn’t particularly concerned with the fact that she was magic.
Mary had been six when she’d changed the colour of one of her toys and her mother had pulled her out of school. Normal children can’t do things like that, she explained. And Mary wasn’t allowed around normal children anymore. So when years later they received confirmation—Mary was a witch—the sentiment was no longer of any interest. The shock had simply been dulled by time. Mary’s mother received the letter with cold eyes and a still mouth, flipping it over and handing it off to Mary as though she thought it was junk. It’s up to you to decide what to do.
Even through her mother’s practical indifference, upon receiving her letter via an owl of all things, Mary couldn’t be more thrilled. The wax seal and loopy handwriting made her feel like a character out of a novel, like she was about to go on an adventure. She could do things no one else could, and this letter made it sound like that made her special. But not so special that she had to be hidden away.
Even so, special or not, if she was going to go to school with other kids, it was up to Mary to make it happen, as her mother had made it clear she was not to be involved.
So at eleven years old, with no way of leaving the house, and resources in or access to the wizarding world, Mary wrote the headmaster of Hogwarts back.
She stated, in her neatest handwriting, in pen, that she would require supplies second-hand from the school, that if they could send the robes to her ahead of time that would be very much appreciated, thank you, and that yes, it was out of the question for her mother to take her to any wizarding shopping centres.
It was only after she had checked her spelling three times over and made sure all her y’s curled at the bottom in the way she liked that Mary tied her response to the owl’s ankle, the same way she’d found her letter.
For several weeks after, she paced and worried and spaced out during lessons, looking out the windows for any sign of more owl-post. She realised with dread that if her response had been a mistake, it would make for a weighty one. I’ll never forgive myself, she thought, if I’ve ruined this. She couldn’t imagine still being home years in the future, getting her education through tutors and her mother’s hush money, knowing somewhere out there were other children like her, casting spells and brewing potions.
But in the end all her worrying was for nothing; on the third week, Mary received her robes, books, and wand. She was going to Hogwarts.
***
It was with a subtle degree of annoyance and disapproval that Mary’s mum dropped her off at the train station. She kept her lips pursed in the way Mary knew meant all she was thinking about was returning to the office, gaze far-away. So when she hesitantly offered to go in and board herself, her mother nodded hastily in agreement and waved her goodbye. Her back was turned before Mary could say goodbye back.
While going alone had seemed a fine idea in theory, Mary quickly came across her first obstacle: the platform didn’t exist. When she first read the number 9 ¾, Mary thought perhaps she was missing something, that maybe there was something obvious implied that an adult would easily understand. It’s a matter of common sense; take some initiative, is what her mother would say. So Mary found herself wandering up and down Platform 9 and Platform 10, hauling her luggage around with her uncomfortably, debating asking for directions but not entirely sure how she would even go about it.
She must’ve looked considerably lost, because on her third go-around she was approached by a family of three: A moustached man with furrowed brows and wrinkled clothes smelling strongly of cigarettes, a thin, wide-eyed woman with a kind but faintly anxious smile, and a little brunette boy with a dented suitcase who was clearly their son.
“Are you on your way to Hogwarts too, dear?” the woman asked, glancing quickly at her husband who looked like he was either tuning everyone out or actively trying to disappear. Mary noted briefly that she had a distinctly lower-class accent and her jumper was missing its top button. Even so, she had clearly made more of an effort than her husband, who could’ve just rolled out of bed for all Mary knew.
“I am.” She spoke in a clear voice, the way she knew adults liked. “But I’m a bit unclear on where the platform is.”
The nervous woman straightened, looking pleased. “Remus here is starting his first year too! Perhaps you can board together.” Her husband grunted disapprovingly at this, and Remus looked embarrassed and put-out, but Mary flashed a bright smile.
“I’d like that! Are we close to the platform, do you know?”
“Yes,” the husband said shortly, and walked brusquely ahead, leaving his wife to half-jog to catch up to him, at which point they engaged in some tense, important-sounding whispering.
Mary was left to walk alongside Remus while his parents muttered to each other in front of them. The shorter boy had tucked his chin into his chest, and he seemed to want nothing less than to speak with Mary, which she thought privately was rather rude, but she figured it was probably out of embarrassment more than anything else.
Not even thirty paces later, they came to a stop at one of the barriers, and Mary frowned. She’d already walked along this bit and she hadn’t seen a sign marked 9 ¾.
Remus’ mum began straightening his clothes fussily, her hands fluttering around in a way that made her look a bit frantic, muttering again through a wobbly smile. Feeling suddenly awkward, like she was inserting herself into something private, Mary glanced away.
The boy slapped her hands away, agitated. “I can do it! I'm fine!”
Mary thought the boy clearly took after his father when it came to patience. His mother pursed her lips and straightened, moving to stand next to his father, who was checking his watch.
“Good luck, darling!” she said softly.
Without responding, Remus turned and took a breath, then barreled towards the barrier and disappeared right through it.
Mary jolted, swallowed a yelp, and did her best to pretend she had known that would happen, not wanting to embarrass herself further after being found lost and wandering around alone. She didn’t want Remus’ mum to think she was dim.
“Thank you for your help,” she said politely and nodded towards them both, then dashed after the grumpy boy through the barrier.
***
Wizards, was Mary’s first, star-struck thought. They were everywhere, some her age and some older, most of them accompanied by their parents—hugs and kisses, tears and goodbyes—but some of them were already boarding the massive steam engine, The Hogwarts Express. She felt giddy. She was going to school, with kids her age, with kids even older than her, with magic kids.
She had lost Remus in her distraction, so she was once again left to her own devices as she looked for a way to the train without being trampled. After briefly and embarrassingly standing on her luggage to get her bearings, Mary made her way through the crowd as efficiently as an eleven year old girl travelling by herself could, catching snatches of conversation as she went.
“So after the train there’s-”
“Yes, I know, Sev, you’ve told me a hundred times-”
She wasn’t sure if she should board now or wait and take in all the colours and sounds and snatches of magic from the people around her first. It was apparent that wizard fashion was even more flamboyant and bright than the clothes Mary liked to wear at home, and she suddenly felt a bit underdressed in her plain robes and solid-blue dress. A pair of wizard adults caught her looking and flashed tight, uneasy smiles. Her mother’s voice sounded in her head: It’s impolite to stare. She boarded the train.
Mary walked along the aisle, looking into each carriage door as she went, desperate not to sit alone but also strangely nervous to join anyone. She stopped at one with three kids who looked her age inside: a short blonde boy with a toothy grin, a dark haired girl holding a toad, and a dark-skinned boy wearing a pair of square-shaped glasses and hair too big for his head.
“But it’s slimy,” the girl whined. “You like bugs and things, Pete! You take him!”
“And deprive you of your mother’s thoughtful gift?” the blonde asked cheekily. “Never.”
The third student with the glasses glanced at Mary and she immediately ducked away, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping on a conversation between what seemed to be close friends.
After very little success from roaming around the train, Mary happened upon Remus, who looked sulking and was alone. Though the boy was a bit of a wet blanket, Mary was relieved to see a familiar face, and she opened the carriage door with a large smile.
“Hello, Remus! Do you mind?” She didn’t give him the chance to say yes before she heaved her suitcase through with her and sat down across from him. She could tell from his pinched face that he found this annoying, but Mary decided she wouldn’t take it to heart.
She noticed dimly that his hands were hidden, tucked into the sleeves of his robes, making him look younger than he was. But there was a level of calculation in his dark eyes that destroyed any illusion of harmless innocence; she sat up straighter, feeling unmistakably like she was being studied.
“I’m Mary by the way. Mary Macdonald,” she said, remembering suddenly that she’d forgotten to introduce herself to his family earlier.
“OK.”
“You excited for school?”
“I s’pose.”
“Do you know anyone who’s going?”
“No.”
Her heart sank a little and she felt her broad smile falter. It wasn’t going well; Mary knew this despite her minimal interactions with other kids. She thought about her mother, who must be home by now. Mary wondered if she missed her yet.
Remus’ gaze shifted; he stared, focused, out the window. Mary wondered if this meant she’d done something wrong, or if maybe she was just boring. Even so, it was a small relief to no longer be on the receiving end of his scrutiny.
He probably thinks I’m stupid. Mary was beginning to feel cramped in the compartment. It was too hot. She crossed her legs.
They sat in silence for a long time before Remus asked,
“Are your parents muggles?”
“What’s a muggle?”
If the boy hadn’t thought she was thick before he definitely did now, looking at her with raised brows, an unimpressed expression fixed on his face. Mary’s hands felt sticky with sweat, and she shifted in her seat, trying to wipe them discreetly.
“Non-wizards,” he said simply. She let out a breath.
“Well that’s my parents, then.” She couldn’t be sure this was the case with her father, but Remus didn’t need to know that. She was just glad there was something to explain why she felt so out of place—how should she be expected to know anything about the wizarding world when her parents were muggles? Of course everyone here seemed to know more than her; they all had parents that were helping to guide them.
Remus nodded; the conversation died out. How much longer before they arrived? Remus picked at a fray in the knee of his pants. Mary wiped her hands again. The remainder of the train ride felt awkward, the silence stifling. She opened the window for some air and gazed outside, trying to calm her heart and not think of home.