hpmm51-62
Chapter 051
"Do you... do you want me to contact my aunty?" asked Susan, her face getting redder the longer she spoke. "If I tell her about this I'm sure she can help deal with this matter..." she trailed off, her face turning nearly as red as her hair when Harry gave her the first genuine smile he'd had all day.
"Thank you," he told her sincerely. "But there's no need to worry..." he paused, wondering if he should continue, before figuring there wasn't much they could say that would give away what he was doing so long as he didn't let them know what he had planned. "I already have a plan put into motion that should solve this problem nicely, so there's no need to concern yourself over it, though I do appreciate the offer."
"You're welcome," Susan whispered softly, looking almost like she wanted to both shrink in her seat and bask in Harry's smile at the same time.
The good mood that had begun to permeate the compartment would have continued, but at that moment, the compartment door slid open and in walked three boys.
Harry knew from the moment he glanced at them that these three would likely be trouble. The one in front was the obvious leader; a boy with slicked back blond hair, blue eyes, and a narrow chin. He didn't look like much, and truth be told Harry was more worried about the two much larger boys standing on either side of him. The term guerillas seemed to fit them both well; they were large, easily towering over the blond boy, and probably around a half a head taller than Harry, and that said nothing about their girth. Both of them were wearing rather stupid expressions on their faces, which Harry took as them trying to look intimidating.
They reminded him of Dudley.
"Is it true?" The one in the middle asked. "They're all saying that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Harry, wondering who had informed this boy that he was in his compartment. It wasn't like he had told anyone. Then again, he hadn't made much of an effort to hide his
scar, and a lot of people had been staring when he was walking down the hall.
"My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," the boy introduced himself. He then gestured behind him carelessly. "And this is Crabbe and Goyle."
"Ah, then you would be the heir to the Malfoy family, yes?" Harry asked, tilting his head with just a touch of inquisitiveness. He had heard a great deal about the Malfoy family from Andromeda. According to her, they were a family to watch out for and not ones to be crossed lightly.
"I see you've heard of me," Draco preened under the knowledge that Harry knew who he was.
"We've all heard of you, Malfoy," Hannah said with more than just a little disdain. "You're the son of a cockroach. Now why don't you bugger off!"
"And just who are you?" Draco asked with a sneer. "Some uppity little witch with no pedigree? You should learn to show respect in the presence of your betters!"
Hannah opened her mouth to retort, however, Susan gripped the girls arm. "Don't," the redhead hushed the girl softly. Hannah looked at her friend for a second, before sighing and deciding to heed Susan's advice.
Draco leered at the two girls, then turned his attention back to Harry. "You'll find that some wizard families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
As Draco Malfoy held out his hand, the raven-haired young man with the lightning bolt scar went over what had just happened in his mind and come to several conclusions.
The first was that this Draco was arrogant, a bully, and one of those people who held onto the belief that those of pure and noble blood were better than other witches and wizards out of principle. This was not unexpected, considering what Andromeda had told him about the boy's father, though the woman had hoped the son of her estranged sister would have been brought up better.
The second was that Draco Malfoy wanted his allegiance. For what purpose, Harry didn't know. Then again, just by being able to say he was friends with the boy-who-lived was enough of a reason to want an allegiance.
Harry's mind worked at light speeds as he tried to figure out what he should do to quell this situation before things went south. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He did not want to form an alliance with Draco Malfoy, not only because of the boy's apparent disdain for people he believed were beneath his station, but also because forming an
alliance with a family like the Malfoy's meant many other possible allegiances he could gain later in the future would become closed off to him.
"What do you mean there are some wizard families who are better than others?" asked Harry, adding just the right inflection of curiosity to make the question seem innocuous. It was a stalling tactic, he knew. Hopefully the blond boy wouldn't be keen enough to pick up on it.
Fortunately for Harry, Draco did not seem to realize this and began speaking with great enthusiasm. "Those families of pure blood who have power and know how to use it are, of course, better than some no name family with not a knut to their name. Naturally, my family is quite powerful; my father even has the ears of the Minister."
"You mean your father bought the ears of the Minister," Hannah replied snidely before Susan could stop her.
Watching Draco's face turn pink at the insult, Harry decided he needed to nip this in the bud before it came to blows. "You've given me much to think about," he told Draco in a very serious voice. "Perhaps some other time we can discuss this at greater length."
"Of course," Draco Malfoy replied, his pleasure at hearing that Harry was at least thinking about his offer seemed to make him forget about Hannah's comment. "I look forward to speaking with you more."
Draco and his two henchmen left. Harry turned to Hannah and said, "you really should be a little more careful with what you say. That situation could have easily devolved into violence if I hadn't appeased Draco in some way."
"Why should I have to be careful with my words around that jerk?" Hannah asked with, from what Harry had seen so far, uncharacteristic anger.
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Chapter 052
"Because if you don't, then that boy could easily make your life miserable," Harry answered calmly. "Trust me on this, I've seen his type before. Draco Malfoy is a bully and has a superiority complex the size of Asia. Not only that, but his father is a very powerful political figure in magical Britain, not to mention a Death Eater."
Death Eater was the term coined for those who had served under Voldemort. A group of witches and wizards who held onto the inherent belief that purebloods were better than other witches and wizards, and whose hatred of muggleborns and all things non-magical was well known. Before the war had ended, many non-magical families had lost their lives to Death Eater raids, and more than a few magical families became extinct because of them.
"Don't you mean former Death Eater?" asked Hannah, saying the word 'former' with enough sarcasm to fill the compartment.
"No." Harry shook his head. "I mean Death Eater. People don't just reform their ways so easily. From what I heard, Dacro's father got out of going to Azkaban without even getting a trial simply by claiming he was under the Imperius Curse and throwing some money at the Ministry. Anyone who does something like that to get off Scott free clearly hasn't reformed their ways."
"How do you know so much?" asked Susan, once more speaking before her mind caught up with her. She blushed a bit, but plowed on regardless. "I mean, you just told us that you've only been in the Wizarding World since you got your Hogwarts letter. It just seems... odd, that you would know so much about our world."
Hearing such a well-thought out question caused Harry's estimation of the girl to rise. Truth be told, while he had thought the girl to be a pleasant person during the first few minutes of their conversation, he had not really been able to form much of an opinion about her. Compared to the outgoing and talkative Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones had seemed a bit diffident. However, hearing her questioning his story in such a way, and giving supporting evidence to back it up, let Harry know that while the red-haired girl may be quiet and unassuming, she was also intelligent and had a sharp mind.
He gave the girl an honest smiled filled with more than a healthy dose of respect. The girl took one look at him and blushed to the roots of her hair.
"While I may have only been in the Wizarding World for a short while, that doesn't mean I've been idle," Harry informed them. "The moment I learned that I was the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, I determined that it would behoove me to learn as much about the current climate and most recent events of the last few decades. Considering most of those events involve me in some way, it was definitely a good idea."
He did not mention Andromeda, or that he had someone helping him learn everything he would need to know about politics, etiquette and the 'who's who' of the wizarding world. He didn't want the possibility of his dealings with the former Black getting out... yet.
"You mean you've been studying all this time?" Hannah sounded aghast that someone would spend their entire summer reading. "We haven't even started school yet!"
Harry's lips twitched in both amusement and slight depression. A strange combination. But then again, it wasn't everyday someone he just met said something so... Lisa, and he couldn't help but compare the two. Which explained why he felt both elated and saddened.
"Well," Harry drawled a bit. "I figured it was prudent to learn as much as I could about the current climate of magical Britain after I was mobbed by an entire restaurant of witches and wizards wanting to shake my hand in the Leaky Cauldron."
Both girls gasped.
"They didn't?" Hannah asked with a gaping mouth.
Harry just gave her a nod. "They did. At the time, I didn't even know that I was famous, so you can imagine my surprise. I figured that if I was going to be mobbed everywhere I go, then I should at least know why."
"I suppose I can understand why you would want to read then," Hannah said, before she scrunched up her nose. "Still, I don't think I could stand doing nothing but reading all summer long."
Harry gave her a mildly amused look, the kind he often gave to Lisa when she said something he thought was stupid. "Now why do you think all I did was read during the summer? I'll have you know I did a lot more than just sitting around reading books all day."
"Like what?"
"Well..." Harry licked his lips for a moment as he pondered what to tell her. "I did spend a lot of time practicing my martial arts..."
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Chapter 053
As the train ride wore on, Harry found himself actually relaxing his guard around the two girls he shared a compartment with. He had even been willing to tell them more about himself than he would have normally been comfortable with; like his martial arts, his love of learning new things, and most importantly, his friend Lisa.
It was a great surprise to Harry when he actually began telling the two about his non- magical friend. While Harry wouldn't call himself introverted, he wasn't extroverted either, but more of a mix of the two. He would speak with anybody and everybody, and could be outgoing when required, but he tended to be a private person when it came to his personal life.
This presented Harry with a great mystery. Why was he being so forthcoming? Was it because they were both magical like him? Because they were both girls? He would admit to being more comfortable around females, but was that enough to make him comfortable about personal information with two people he'd just met?
Or could it be due to how the two reminded him of Lisa? Sure, neither of them was exactly like Lisa. No two people could ever be the same, not even identical twins, but that didn't change the fact that he saw bits and pieces of his best friend in these two—Hannah with her outgoing demeanor, and Susan with her shy personality.
Admittedly, Hannah reminded him more of Lisa than Susan. His non-magical friend rarely ever showed such shyness as the red-haired girl. But there were instances, quite a few in fact, where his friend would act inexplicably demure.
Whatever the case, he could not deny that he enjoyed speaking with Hannah and Susan.
It eventually began to darken outside, and the three realized they would arriving at Hogwarts soon. After putting his robe on over his normal clothes, Harry left the compartment and stood with his back to the glass window, allowing the girls some privacy to change.
As he waited outside, the train began slowing down and a voice echoed through the hall: "We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to Hogwarts separately."
A minute after the voice had spoken, Hannah and Susan stepped out, and not long after that the train slowed to a halt. Harry and his two new acquaintances moved with the throng of people as they stepped into the cold night air.
He shivered for a moment as the cold air seeped into his bones. However, the coolness didn't last long before his own magic surged forth to counteract the weathers effects, warming his body until it matched his standard temperature of 98 degrees.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
A loud voice called out into the din. Harry turned with the other first years to see the largest man he'd ever laid eyes on. Easily standing over seven feet tall, the man towered
above the frightened first years. The giant, for that was all Harry could think to call him, had long messy hair, a just as messy beard and mustache combination, and black beady eyes that peered at them from in between scraggly locks of hair. Despite his imposing and downright terrifying figure, the large man possessed a friendly air that belied his size.
Harry frowned as a brief memory played in his head. The image was blurry, almost like something had been interfering with his sight, but he distinctly remembered this man soaring over London on a flying motorcycle shortly after his parents death.
"C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
Harry moved with the others, following the man down a dark, narrow path. The only thing visible beyond the lantern the giant of a man held was the barely visible outline of trees on either side. So dark was it that it took Harry a moment to realize that neither Hannah nor Susan were with him anymore. He wondered when they had gotten separated.
"Ye'all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," he called over his shoulder. "Jus' round this bend here."
The narrow path soon opened onto the edge of a great black lake that Harry could only guess the depths of. Several boats lined the shore, obviously their transport to Hogwarts. And there, sitting perched atop a high mountain, was the school they would be going to.
While Harry was not among those who let out a loud "ooooh!" at the sight, he would never deny to being impressed. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was an enormous castle that appeared to have been taken right out of the first century; tall and imposing, it seemed like a veritable fortress that could and had withstood numerous sieges in the past. Its many turrets and towers reached up as if to grasp the heavens, and the windows he could make out sparkled in the moonlit night.
It was not the castle itself that got Harry's attention, however. No, while the school was imposing and grand enough that Harry felt as if he had gone back in time during King Arthur's rein, it was not the outward appearance that truly held his intrigue.
It was the feeling of power the castle gave off; the way the hairs raised on the back of his neck, as if some kind of mystical energy permeated the atmosphere; the way his blood surged through his veins at an increased rate, like some foreign energy had invaded his body and was being pumped into his bloodstream and nervous system, heightening his awareness to levels previously unperceived by man. More than that, it was the joyous singing that rang inside of his mind, as if a thousand voices were calling out in union. More lively than the feeling Diagon Alley gave off, more hallowed then the reverence given off at Ollivanders, more powerful than both of those places combined, Hogwarts felt alive.
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Chapter 054
Harry wondered at this. He had come to suspect that places where magic took place, or where a lot of magic users congregated, became imbued with said magic, enough that someone in tune with the mystical energy could feel it. Was that what he felt here? Had the thousands upon thousands of students Hogwarts had hosted throughout the centuries imbued so much magic into the castle walls that the entire school had become sentient? A being of pure magic that went beyond the rock and stone that composed it?
Harry didn't know, but like everything else he had seen and felt since entering this world, he had every intention of finding out.
"No more'n four to a boat!" The giant called out as he pointed toward the small fleet of boats sitting on the shore. Harry didn't particularly care who he sat with—though a part of him did wish he hadn't lost Hannah or Susan—and just sat in the closest boat to him. He was joined by three other people, including the brunette girl he had met in Madam Malkin's.
"Everyone in?" asked the large man in a loud voice. "Right then—forward!"
As the boats began to glide across the waters surface, Harry took a second to look at the two occupants he had yet to meet. His gaze first drifted toward the male of the duo, tall and dark skinned, with high cheek bones and slanted eyes. His facial structure held a distinct Italian appearance.
His eyes flickered towards the other member of their troupe, a pretty girl with long blond hair flowing down her back in gentle waves and cold blue eyes like two chips of ice. Her cheek bones were slightly higher than average and a bit more defined, yet still soft. They gave her a much more regal bearing, much like Andromeda. Harry suspected she was a pure-blood witch. She looked much more mature than the brunette beside him, and not just her physical appearance.
"Hey! I remember you from Madam Malkin's!" The brunette exclaimed upon getting a better look at him as the moon cast its gentle glow upon their boat. The other two turned to look at Harry upon hearing the exclamation.
Harry's lips twitched ever so slightly as he stared at the brunette. "And I remember you," he replied, only a small hint of the amusement he felt entering his voice. "Not that I'm
surprised by this. Our meeting was quite... memorable."
The girl flushed as she, too, remembered their first meeting.
"I don't believe we properly introduced ourselves back then," he said, holding out his hand to the girl, who took it without hesitation. Harry gracefully brought it to his lips, brushing them lightly against her knuckles. In light of the moon, her blush became incandescent. "My name is Harry Potter."
Harry felt his eyebrow twitch when the dark-skinned boy's eyes widened and traveled to Harry's forehead and the scar shone there. Like her counterpart, the blond's eyes also widened and looked toward his scar. However, those icy blue irises narrowed a second later and a calculating appeared on her face.
The brunette's reaction was by far the most amusing of the three. She squeaked, her hand jerking back as if burned and her face turning so red he thought it might catch fire.
"Harry Potter!?" she asked in shock. "You mean to tell me that all this time I was talking to the Harry Potter and I didn't even know it? Why didn't you tell me?"
Harry shrugged. "It never really came up in our conversation, and besides, you didn't ask for my name."
"Well... I suppose I didn't, did I?" the girl asked, embarrassed as she realized he was right. She had been far too busy discussing Hogwarts and making a fool of herself by insulting the House of the person pinning her robes. "Still, I wish I had known I was talking to Harry Potter back then."
"Would it have made a difference?" asked Harry. The brunette opened her mouth to reply, no doubt to inform him that, yes, it would have made a difference, but he spoke first. "You know now, and you still haven't given me your name."
She blushed again. "Right, sorry." A second later she gained her second wind, and all embarrassment emanating off her person vanished as if it had never existed. It was almost like she had flipped a switch. "I'm Tracey Davis."
"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Davis," Harry inclined his head, before turning to the other two. "And may I know your names?"
"Blaise Zabini," the dark skinned boy said and, after a moments hesitation, held out his hand. Harry grasped it firmly within his own and gave a strong shake.
"Blaise..." Harry murmured. "If I'm not mistaken, that's a French name derived from the Latin blaesus, and was the name of the tutor and later biographer of Merlin when he
started traveling around Britain."
Blaise's left eyebrow raised. "You are correct on both accounts."
"And yet Zabini is an Italian name," Harry continued with a smile. "Your eyes suggest you are of Italian descent, yes?"
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Chapter 055
The right eyebrow joined the left in being raised. "Right again."
Harry smiled and nodded his head, pleased to see his assumptions were correct, then turned his attention to the blond girl. In turn, she looked at him for several long seconds, and when he held her gaze without flinching inclined her head.
"Daphne Greengrass," she introduced herself in a voice every bit as cold and aristocratic as her eyes.
"A pleasure." Harry gave her a slight bow of his head in return. He also took note of the fact that she hadn'tt offered her hand, which meant she had no intention of entering an alliance with him, or at least no desire to at this time.
"Isn't this exciting?" Tracey asked as she looked up at Hogwarts castle. "I can't believe we're finally going to get to learn magic!"
"I must confess to being quite jubilant myself," Harry admitted, his eyes flickering over to Daphne. He had seen her lips twitch upwards for a moment when Tracey spoke, as if she were going to make a remark, but had held herself back due to his presence. It suggested familiarity to the other two in the boat. Perhaps these three were friends? Or at least, Tracey and Daphne were friends.
"Jubila-what?" asked Tracey, blinking several times as her eyes were pried away from the castle and onto him.
"It means excited, Tracey," Daphne answered before Harry could. He cast his eyes over to her once again, but she studiously ignored his gaze. It seemed that mask of coldness had
slipped, if only for a moment. How interesting.
"Ah." Tracey nodded. "Why didn't he just say excited?"
"I did," Harry said with a raised eyebrow. "I just used a another word to do it."
Tracey rolled her eyes at the answer, and her mouth opened to give a retort when she was interrupted.
"Heads down!" The giant of a man yelled out as the boats reached the cliff. Blaise, Daphne and Tracey bent their heads down as they passed through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face.
"Why are you three ducking?" asked Harry, amused. Tracey and the other two looked up to see him sitting straight. When he noticed their looks, he offered a wry grin. "That man is over ten feet tall..." he paused, then added, "and standing up. Naturally, he would need to hunch over to pass through."
"Oh..." Tracey murmured with another blush. She sat back up and tried to regain whatever composure she had left, the other two doing the same, though with much more success than the brunette.
Those two were definitely purebloods. Harry surmised they had likely been trained on how to keep themselves collected, as tradition dictated, according to Andromeda.
After taking them through a dark tunnel that Harry imagined brought them right underneath Hogwarts itself, they came upon an underground harbor.
As the ships began to stop, Harry stood up and stepped out, then turned to the closest person to him. Surprisingly, it was not Tracey, who had been sitting right next to him (she was already out of the boat); it was Daphne. Despite her stoic demeanor toward him, he offered his hand and, after another second of intense staring, the blond girl gently set hers in his palm and allowed him to help her out of the boat.
They made their way along the path, following the giant man as they and the others walked up a flight of stone steps, only to stop in front of a large, oak door. The giant, whose name Harry had yet to learn, knocked on the door exactly three times.
The door swung open and Harry saw Professor McGonagall standing just inside the entrance, looking as stern as ever.
"The firs' years, professor McGonagall," the giant announced in a happy voice.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said. Harry filed the giant of a man's name
away for future reference. "I will take them from here."
She pulled the doors wide, and Harry would admit to being impressed with the size of the entrance hall. It was easily large enough to fit two or more houses of the Dursley's size and still have some room left over. The floor, walls, and Harry suspected the ceiling (it was too high up for him to see) were all made of large, gray stone. Off to the side, at the other end of the hall, was a magnificent marble staircase leading to other parts of the castle.
Professor McGonagall led the group across the flagged stone floor. As they walked, Harry could hear the droning of a hundred voices coming from a doorway to the right, and correctly guessed that the rest of the students must be in there. It was strange to him, then, when Professor McGonagall led them not into the room where the older students resided, but to a small empty chamber off the hall.
There was a moment of discomfort when everyone began crowding around each other. It reminded Harry briefly of his encounter in the Leaky Cauldron, which still brought chills down his spine. Thankfully, no one tried crushing him with their enthusiasm, allowing him to shove his discomfort away easily enough.
He turned his head when Tracey bumped into him as they were forced into close quarters. She stumbled, and Harry allowed her to steady herself by grabbing onto his arm.
"Sorry," she mumbled over the din of chattering voices.
"It's fine," Harry replied as he let the girl continue holding his arm for support. He was so used to Lisa holding onto him that physical contact with a female didn't bother him. Though he would admit it felt a little odd with this new girl grabbing him, but chalked it up to being more familiar with Lisa than Tracey.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began, silencing any and all conversations. "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 something 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.
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Chapter 056
"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 honor. 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."
Harry saw her gaze linger on a round faced boy whose cloak was fastened under his left ear, and the redhead known as Ron who had a smudge of dirt on his nose.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
As Professor McGonagall left, Harry peered at his surroundings. All the other first years looked nervous; the bushy haired girl he'd met earlier was muttering spells very quickly under her breath, Ron was tittering nervously as he told anyone near him that his brother said they had to pass some kind of test, and even Daphne and Blaise suddenly looked quite pale.
"Calm down," Harry told the three he near him in a hushed whisper. It wasn't hard as it was so loud with so many students chattering nervously at once—one whisper would be impossible to overhear. He could feel Tracey's grip on his arm tighten as she continued to worry herself. "Worrying about the sorting isn't going to do you any good."
"How can you be so calm?" asked Tracey in a nervous voice. Daphne and Blaise both looked at him as well, and for a moment he thought he saw a glint of respect coming from the blond girl when she saw he wasn't showing any signs of nervousness.
"Easily," Harry replied. "The sorting ceremony is designed to place you within the house you would do best in based upon the traits that the Four Founders felt were most important to them. That means they must have some kind of enchantment or perhaps a spell that will be able to tell which of the Four Founders' traits you possess the most of and sort you based on that."
Truth be told, Harry did not approve of how people were sorted based upon their most prevalent trait. He had studied much this summer and learned about the most recent history of his world, and after reading up on the war between Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the rest magical Britain, he had come to a single conclusion. It was because of the way children were sorted that had allowed Voldemort to gain so many followers.
Children were very malleable. Everything from their personalities to their beliefs were created based upon influences both external and internal. By sorting all of the children who were ambitious and desired power into a single house, Hogwarts had allowed Voldemort to gain a foothold in the younger generation. Worse still, Slytherin house was generally considered the house of the pure, due to thow many children of darker pureblood families went their more as a matter of tradition than because they held the traits Salazar Slytherin so admired.
"But aren't you worried about what house you might be sorted into?" asked Tracey. Though it was her who asked the question, Harry could see both Daphne and Blaise perking up. Clearly, they were just as interested in what he had to say as their friend.
"Not really," said Harry, shrugging. "I care not for what house they sort me into. It's not as if being placed into a specific house will change my goals. It will simply present me with a different set challenges."
He noticed that while Tracey was looking at him in shock and awe, the other two were giving him curious glances. Blaise looked intrigued by his words, as if wondering about the veracity of them. Daphne, on the other hand, was giving him a calculating look, making Harry wonder if perhaps she was trying to determine his worth.
He was torn from his musings when a scream rang near the back of the crowd.
Harry reacted instantly. Pulling himself out of Tracey's grasp he spun around on the balls of his left foot, body shifting, feet spreading, center of mass lowering as he moved into the ready stance he favored when sparring Master Wei. His magic flared as adrenaline pumped through his veins at an accelerated rate. Already his mind was coming up with strategies and counter strategies as he determined the best course of action. The room was crowded, filled to the brim with children his age. That meant he would need to find some way to weave through them if he wanted to deal with whatever threat had presented itself. Perhaps if he levitated himself in the air and floated over them? He wouldn't be able to hold it long, but he should at least be able to–
"What the hell?"
–his thoughts were completely derailed when saw the cause of the scream. Ghosts. About twenty of them in all. Human apparitions made from what looked like ectoplasm or some other form of spiritual matter. Pearly-white and semi-translucent, they glided across the hall, not even paying attention to the first years. They seemed to be having some kind of argument.
"Forgive and forget, I say," what looked like a fat monk was saying, "we ought to give him a second chance–"
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights suddenly noticed the first years.
Nobody answered.
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
A few nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."
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Chapter 057
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.
"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."
Harry found himself getting in line and following the stern professor with Tracey directly behind him, followed by Daphne and then Blaise. In front of him was a girl with dark red hair and a few freckles he had yet to meet.
Feeling more nervous than he allowed anyone else to see, Harry remained silent as he walked out of the small chamber, across the hall, and through a set of large double doors.
The chamber Harry found himself was large, very large. He couldn't begin estimating its size, but it had to be at least three times larger than the entrance hall in length and width if not height. A sea of candles floating in mid air illuminated the room, casting light and shadows along the many hundreds of faces within. There were five tables laid out in the room; four long tables running parallel from each other where all of the students sat, and one table near the bac where Harry could see the teacher's conversing with each other.
It was not hard for him to determine that the four tables were the dividing barriers
between houses. He could see the variations in house colors on the students' robes. Gryffindor in their gold and red splendor at the far right near the windows, followed by the bright yellow and dark black Hufflepuffs to their direct left. Ravenclaw came next in with their regal bronze and blue coloration, and on the direct opposite of where the Gryffindors sat were the Slytherins, marked by the dark green and silver colors lining their robes.
Taking a glance up, Harry caught his first glimpse of the magnificent ceiling he had read about. According to Hogwarts, A History, the ceiling had a powerful enchantment designed by Rowena Ravenclaw herself to look exactly like the sky outside. Currently, it was dark save for the hundreds of twinkling stars that filled the velvety night sky.
As Harry lined up with the other first years, his mind began to run wild. He wasn't nervous about the Sorting, but rather, if he would be able to live up to the expectations that he had placed upon himself. Could he truly become the greatest wizard in the world? Would the many students peering at him and the other first years, and those he stood next to, look up to him as one of those people who became a great leader that accomplished great things?
For a moment, thoughts of failure pressed against his mind. What if he didn't accomplish his dreams? What if he ended up leading a life of mediocrity? How would he ever be able to face his parents when he past on? How would he even look them in the eye?
He squashed those thoughts immediately and took a few slow, deep breaths. It would not do to dwell on 'what ifs,' especially when they had yet to happen. He couldn't allow himself to be clouded by doubt. He would be the best, and he would make his parents proud. There was no room for failure.
Professor McGonagall soon placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years, and atop of the stool she placed a hat. It was a very worn hat, raggedy and frayed. It looked old enough to have been around since the founders.
Harry stared at the hat with everyone else, wondering just how this would sort them into their houses. What enchantments did this old, worn looking piece of cloth possess?
He found out a moment later when, much to his great surprise, a tear opened near the brim like a mouth and the hat began to sing:
"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 Hufflepuffis 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 folk 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!"
Harry clapped with the others, though his applause was for a very different reason than the other students. What an extraordinary piece of magic! He couldn't help but conjure up wild theories on how such a thing as a singing hat was possible. Perhaps it was some very advanced animation charm used to mimic human speech. Or could it be some kind of advanced combination of enchantments and runes? Maybe the Four Founders had even poured all their considerable talents and gave the hat sentience! The possibilities were endless!
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a parchment in hand, and Harry brought his mind back to the present. It looked like the Sorting was finally about to begin.
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Chapter 058
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
Harry watched as the blond girl he had met from before walked up to the stool and sat down. She looked nervous, he noted.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the hat.
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah, who hugged the girl the moment she arrived.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
Harry sighed as he realized it would be awhile before they called his name. Sometimes he hated how his last name started with a letter near the end of the alphabet.
As his ears picked up the names of the people being called and his mind cataloged what house they were sorted into, he decided to focus most of his attentions on his own thoughts. Mainly, Harry tried to determine what he would do depending on the house he was sorted into. During the summer he had come up with many plans on what he wanted to accomplish, and while all paths led to the same goal, each one he could take branched out in many different directions. Each plan would change depending on what house he fell in with.
Of course, he hadn't planned for every occasion. Naturally, while Harry knew quite a bit about magical Britain thanks to his self-studies and Andromeda, he didn't know everything. It would be impossible to plan for every eventuality, especially when he didn't know anything about his peers. How would they react to his plans? Who would oppose him? Who would align themselves with him? These things would take research before he could put any of his half-formed plans into action.
Harry took careful note of the few people he had met when they were sorted. While both Hannah and Susan went into Hufflepuff, Blaise, Daphne and Tracey were sorted into Slytherin. On the other end of the spectrum, Hermione Granger ended in Gryffindor.
One of the people who caught Harry's eye the most when they were sorted was Neville Longbottom, the round faced boy whose robe was fastened under his left ear. He looked far more nervous than all of the other students, almost tripping on his own two feet in his haste to get his sorting over with. Unfortunately for Neville, the hat took much longer to decide where it would sort him and he was forced to endure the stares until then.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
More and more people went, and Harry's mind automatically identified and memorized each and every one of them. His keen mind and observant eyes cataloged everything he could about the people he would share classes with; the way they walked; the way they held themselves; the expressions on their faces. Nothing escaped his notice, which was good, because he would need every bit of information he could glean if his plans had any hopes of getting off the ground.
"Potter, Harry!"
And then it was his turn. Harry straightened his back and set his shoulders as he strode forward with confident steps that belied his nerves. He held his head high, projecting the
air of someone who did not feel even the slightest bit apprehensive. Whispers broke out amongst the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
"Wow, he's really tall for a first year."
"Look at how cute he is!"
Harry almost lost his demeanor when he heard the comments being made. He truly hoped he would not be subject to any of the cheek pinching some of the older girls at his former school had done when he was younger.
Well, if they did, at least it wouldn't be around Lisa to give her any ammunition to tease him with.
Sitting down, the last thing Harry saw before the hat drooped over his eyes was the entirety of the Great Hall staring at him in breathless anticipation.
For a moment nothing happened, and Harry suddenly felt incredibly stupid for wearing this large hat that didn't even fit his head. How could something like a piece of cloth, albeit, a magical piece of cloth with the ability to talk, possibly sort him into his house?
Those thoughts left him when he felt it, an intrusion in his mind. It felt like someone was poking around in the head with a stick. It was invasive, intrusive, and Harry reacted in the same manner he had done when he heard the scream. Violently.
His magic roiled forth, a hurricane that seemed to build within his mind. Like a pressure valve about to explode, the gates holding Harry's magic creaked as he prepared to unleash his power and shove the intruder out.
And then a voice entered his mind, stopping him in his tracks.
"Be at ease, Mr. Potter. I am not going to harm you in anyway." Harry blinked once, twice, thrice. "Sorting Hat?" he asked tentatively.
"It is I," the hat replied, sounding amused. "And might I say that was an impressive display of power you just showed. Had I not said anything, I dare say that would have shoved me out of your mind quite violently."
"How are you even in my mind in the first place?" asked Harry, his own natural inquisitiveness coming to the fore as his magic settled down. Now that he knew who was in his mind he wasn't as worried. Well, he was, but he was more curious and eager to learn about this seeming impossibility than he was at the thought of having a magical hat poking around in his head. At least for the moment.
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Chapter 059
The hat seemed to sense this, for Harry got the distinct impression it was amused.
"I was created by the Four Founders with the ability to enter a persons mind so that I might be able to sort them. The ability is not dissimilar to a skill known as Legilimency, which is the human art of delving into the mind and discovering the secrets contained therein."
"I see." Harry processed what he had just learned. "So invading the mind is possible."
"Yes, it is. Though people who are skilled in the art are very rare, even when I was first created. Given that you seem to already have a decent grasp on Occlumency, the art of defending the mind, without even knowing what that is, I suspect you will have an easy time learning Legilimency—provided you find someone to teach you, of course."
"Can you teach me?"
"Unfortunately what I know is not actually Legilimency, but an enchantment placed upon me by Rowena Ravenclaw that allows me to delve into the minds of the young," the hat answered, much to Harry's disappointment. He had been hoping the hat would be able to teach him something, or at least point him in the right direction.
"Such an inquisitive mind," the hat spoke again. "Such intelligence. You would do well in Ravenclaw Mr. Potter. Very well. But let us see what else makes you tick."
"Tell me," Harry spoke up suddenly. "Do you plan on informing anyone about what you find inside my head?" He had many plans that hinged upon them remaining a secret until he deemed them ready to be unveiled, and even if those plans had to be changed later on due to an added or subtracted variable, he didn't want others learning about his goals.
"Not at all," the hat replied. "The magics cast on me have also made it so that I cannot tell anybody about what I find within the minds of those I sort. If I could have done such a thing, the man you know as Lord Voldemort would have never been allowed to attend here."
"You seem perfectly capable of speaking about Voldemort," Harry countered.
"Indeed, but that is because Voldemort has already made his mark on the world," the hat answered. "The magic that keeps me from speaking only extends to those who are still attending Hogwarts. Not those who have long since graduated from these halls. Besides, you and everyone else know of him, and I did not inform you of anything incriminating."
"You may not have said anything, but sometimes it's what you don't say that allows people to make deductions they shouldn't have."
"Such an advanced and analytical mind for one so young," the hat chuckled. "Truly, Rowena herself would have been envious of your talents. That eidetic memory of yours is quite the boon."
"It's also quite the curse."
"Indeed, for one such as you, who has seen the horrors of this world at such a young age, it would be. Still, you cannot deny that your unique ability to remember everything has made you stronger than you would be otherwise."
Harry did not say anything, choosing instead to remain silent. Not that the hat needed an answer from him to know it was right.
"Now, while you have been gifted with an extraordinary intellect, you seem to have many other talents as well." The hat was silent for a moment. "You know, for such a young boy you are very ambitious. Few are the people who have already set themselves a goal that many have deemed unachievable in their lives."
"And few are the people who obtain greatness because they do not dare to try to reach for the stars," Harry countered. "Even if I should fail in my goal, at the very least I can have the satisfaction of knowing that I was not willing to shoot for mediocrity when I could achieve excellence simply because I was afraid of failing."
The hat chuckled. "You know, Salazar once said something very similar when he and the others were making me. Your ambitions definitely make you worthy of being a Slytherin. Rarely have I seen such drive to accomplish your goals. If the founders still existed, I suspect Salazar himself would have offered you an apprenticeship."
"Thank you."
"Though he may have been a bit disgruntled by your sense of honor. Your courage may have been tempered with your cunning, but I can already see the warrior you can one day become. You are much like Godric in that regard. He was never the kind of person who was willing to stand in the background when the going gets rough. The man was quite reckless, always leading the charge no matter the kind of battle he may face."
"A good leader is the kind who is willing to fight alongside those who serve under him," Harry defended. "It is the job anybody in a position of leadership to ensure the safety and well-being of his subjects. One cannot protect those who have placed their faith in him by hiding behind those he is charged with protecting."
"You are correct." Harry could tell the hat was enjoying their conversation. He sounded almost like Ollivander when the man found out Harry would need to have a wand made for him. "And it is not for the first time someone has compared me to the wand maker. Now, let me see here. What about Hufflepuff? Hmm... yes, you would do well there as well. You know the true meaning of hard work. You're dedication to learning and your lessons in hand-to-hand combat show me this. In fact, you work so hard I would almost call you obsessive. But what about loyalty? That seems to be a hard thing to earn with you. You are only willing to give loyalty to those you feel have earned it, and the only one who has earned it in your mind is that friend of yours."
"Loyalty not earned is loyalty that's easily betrayed," Harry informed the hat. He had read many historic events of great people who were betrayed at the height of their power. They did so not because they allowed themselves to trust, but because they trusted the wrong people. He would not make the same mistake. "I will not allow myself to be stabbed in the back."
"Yes, I can see that. I can also see that once earned, your loyalty is more fierce than a lioness defending her cubs. That Lisa girl is very lucky to have your friendship. I can see that you truly love the girl as your own kin."
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Chapter 060
Harry was just about to reply when the hat spoke again, only it was out loud this time. "Can I help you, Minerva?"
XoX
Albus Dumbledore watched with great anticipation and joy as the first years all lined up to be sorted. He looked out into the sea of faces, watching the nervous children as they no doubt worried about where they would be sorted. Of course, not all were worried. The Malfoy air seemed completely unconcerned—but that was to be expected, given who his father was.
As Professor McGonagall called up the first few students, Dumbledore watched with barely contained excitement as they were Sorted into their houses. It was always a pleasure seeing young faces light up as they were welcomed into their house by the older students. It did his heart good to see such camaraderie.
However, even while his eyes took in those who sat upon the stool and had the hat call out the house they would belong to, the vast majority of his mind wondered which house Harry Potter would be sent into. Professor McGonagall had told him about her encounter with the young boy, and Dumbledore had been concerned when he heard of the child's reaction to the people in the Leaky Cauldron.
Granted, anybody would be freaked out over having so many people crowd around them like that—and he was disappointed that those people, in their haste, forgot to show consideration towards the person who had saved them from a fate worse than death—but the reaction Harry had toward those people worried him. He did not know what to make of it, and was concerned about whether or not the boy would be able to cope with the students that would no doubt be staring at the boy every chance they got.
Much as he loved children, even he had to admit that most of them lacked the restrained to control their impulses about things that made them curious.
"Potter, Harry!"
When the name of the child who had consumed the vast majority of his thoughts was called, Dumbledore focused on the young boy as he walked confidently up to the stool.
Harry was an attractive child, from what Dumbledore could see. He was fairly tall for his age, easily one of the taller children in his year, and probably around the same height as some of the second years. His hair was very much like James Potter's had been, a fact that caused the old man to smile. However, his eyes were what the Headmaster knew would capture most of the attention. Twin orbs of the most startling green, the same color as the killing curse that had robbed the boy of his parents. Those eyes glowed with repressed energy and power, and spoke of someone who was confident in themselves, but not quite to the point of arrogance. Dumbledore had never seen those eyes on someone so young.
He watched with the rest of the faculty and student body as Harry sat upon the stool and
had the hat placed over his head. He waited on bated breath, curious to see which house Harry would belong to. Would he be placed in Gryffindor like his parents, where the heart of the brave dwelt? Or perhaps Hufflepuff, where those who knew the true value of loyalty and hard work found their place? Maybe he would belong to Ravenclaw; his mother had been quite smart, the most intelligent witch of her age, and he seemed the intelligent sort according to Minerva. Perhaps he would even be in Slytherin, if the ambition he saw in the boys eyes had anything to say about it.
And so he waited to see where young Harry Potter would go. And waited.
And waited.
And when the five minute mark was hit, Dumbledore waited some more. However, as the ten minute mark hit, he began to grow concerned. That concern soon turned into alarm when Harry stayed sitting on that stool for over half an hour.
By this point in time many of the students were muttering, some in concern, some in consternation. Not that any of them could truly be blamed. Dumbledore had been in these halls for a long time, over 100-years, and in all that time he had never seen or heard of a sorting taking this long.
Curious, intrigued, and more than a little worried for the boy, Dumbledore decided to use a talent he had developed many years ago. It was called mage sight, and much like the name suggested, it allowed those who were sensitive to the intricacies of magic to 'see' magic in a more literal sense. Normally, when using this ability, Dumbledore could determine much about a persons magic; what element they were aligned to, their predisposition to the light or dark. When using mage sight, many things that would have otherwise remained hidden about a person became visible.
When Dumbledore activated this rare ability and focused it on Harry, he had to shut it off immediately afterward, lest he become blinded. He almost hissed in pain as his eyes stung from the small glimpse he had managed to catch of Harry. Staring at the boy was like staring at the sun!
Being much more careful, Dumbledore tried a second time, making sure to only look at Harry out of the corner of his eyes so as not to suffer such pain again.
What he saw was shocking—no, more than shocking. His thoughts on the boy's magic being akin to staring at the sun were wrong, oh so wrong. Looking at Harry Potter's magic was like staring into the heart of a star gone super nova. The boy's magic shone so brightly that the only thing Dumbledore could determine about the raven-haired youth was that he had more power at his disposal than most adult wizards. To Dumbledore's sight, it looked
like the boy's entire body was one large ball of light so luminescent it was impossible to see the boy's magical core.
And to think he hadn't even gotten started his journey into the world of magic! Dumbledore could only imagine how powerful young Harry would be when he grew up!
By now, Dumbledore estimated that Harry Potter had been seated on that stool for nearly 45-minutes, the longest time he had ever seen anyone being sorted. Usually 45-minutes was enough to sort all of the first years!
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Chapter 061
Many people seemed to be getting anxious now. He could see many of the students looking on in confusion, wariness, worry, and annoyance. Whispers had already broken out as people wondered why Harry was taking so long. Filius Flitwick watched in unmitigated anticipation. Pomona Sprout looked worried. Rubius Hagrid also appeared concerned. Severus Snape was sneering at Harry Potter. And Minerva McGonagall seemed ready to tear the hat off the boy's head and sort Harry herself.
In fact, the woman was already stepping closer to the hat and boy to ask them to hurry this along.
"Can I help you, Minerva?" the hat asked before the woman could open her mouth. Minvera seemed unsure for a moment, but quickly regained her bearings.
"I am not sure if you are aware, but it has already been forty-five minutes since you have been placed on Mr. Potter's head. Surely, you can hurry up and sort him so the rest of the students can get sorted into their house."
"I apologize, Minerva, however, I seem to be having some trouble figuring out which house Mr. Potter should be sorted into."
Dumbledore found himself intrigued by the hats answer, and carefully leaned forward to study the boy sitting under the hat some more.
There were only two reasons for the sorting hat to have trouble sorting a child into a house. Sometimes when a child possessed the traits of more than one house the sorting sat couldn't where to put them. Dumbledore himself had this problem, his sorting had taken around 10-minutes as the hat tried to determine whether he should belong in
Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. The hat had eventually decided on Gryffindor due to the fact that Dumbledore was braver than he was intelligent.
The other reason was that the child being sorted possessed none of the traits the Founder's wanted. In this instance, the hat would either leave that choice up to the child being sorted, or decide on the house it felt would help said child grow the most.
Dumbledore wondered which was the case here, though he suspected it was the former.
"Trouble?" Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Just what kind of trouble takes forty five minutes to fix?"
"The kind where I cannot determine which house someone should belong in."
"And just why can you not determine which house Mr. Potter should be placed?"
"Again, I apologize, Minerva, but due to the magics placed upon me, I cannot tell you why I am having trouble sorting Mr. Potter. Now, if you'd please, perhaps you could let me continue trying to divine where I should sort the young man."
Dumbledore watched as Minerva McGonagall huffed in annoyance. Harry was getting more intriguing by the second, and he couldn't help but wonder where the young man would go.
XoX
"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems we have run out of time," the Sorting hat said, amusement once more seeping into its voice. "I must admit I am surprised by how long it has been since I was placed upon your head. You are a difficult one to sort. I have only had such trouble with one other person, and even than he had one trait that stood above the rest."
"Who was that? If you don't mind my asking?"
"Not at all. The man I am talking about as long since passed from this world, so there is no point in worrying over his identity. His name was Merlin Ambrosius, a man whose incredible ambition led him to becoming the adviser of kings."
Harry raised both eyebrows in surprise, glad that no one could see him doing so. Everyone had heard of Merlin, the man hailed as the greatest wizard to ever grace this world. Even the non-magical people had legends about him. He had not realized that Merlin had been an actual historical figure and gone to Hogwarts to boot.
"So he was real then?" asked Harry, unable to contain his excitement. While he would vehemently deny it to anyone who asked, Harry's favorite stories had always been about
Arturian Legend, particularly about Merlin due to how influential the man had been in his life. At least, if the stories told about him were to be believed.
"Yes, though not in the way you are thinking," the hat said. "While Merlin was indeed the adviser to Arthur during the time of Camelot, none of the stories you have read hold any truth, beyond his role as an adviser." There was a moments pause, before the Sorting hat began speaking once more. "Now then, let us continue with the Sorting," the hat started again. "As unfortunate as it is, I am unable to determine where to sort you. Unlike Merlin, you possess all the traits of the Founders in equal amounts. No one trait is anymore prevalent than another."
"So how should we proceed?" ashed Harry, worried. He wasn't sure what it meant that he could not be sorted. If the hat would not place him, how would he get into his house?
"Ah, now this is where the fun comes in," the hat said. "You see, because you possess an equal amount of traits that all four of the founders cherished most, I cannot choose where you belong. That does not, however, mean that you can't."
Harry took a moment to ponder the hat's words. "So, you are telling me I get to decide which house I go into?"
"Yes."
Closing his eyes Harry went through all the information he had on the four houses, and which one would best suit his plans.
He immediately discarded Hufflepuff. Harry had none of the prejudices against the house like other people, but due to the reputation it had of belonging to cowards and lazies it was the most ill-suited house to be in to accomplish his goals. Not even the challenge of turning Hufflepuff into a house the others respected was enough to make him see the benefit in going there.
Slytherin was equally out. While Harry would enjoy the challenge of changing the house from the inside out and showing the other houses that the house of snakes was not a den of dark wizards, it would take more time than he cared to spend on it. Time that could be better spent working towards his goals.
That left Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Both houses had their merits. Ravenclaw was generally considered a neutral house. The ones who went there preferred to observe the other houses and make their decisions based upon those observations. On the other hand, Gryffindors were known for being at the forefront of anything going on around the castle. They were the ones in the spotlight, so to speak.
Both also had their disadvantages, however. Most people in Ravenclaw were considered
bookworms. This meant the people of that house had a reputation of being more than a little anti-social, and if he tried to change the status quo it might alienate him from both his house and those outside of it. Going there meant any plans he made could backfire on him. And while Gryffindor would make him seem more approachable without others being too wary, the fierce rivalry between the house of the brave and the house of the cunning would make getting an ally in that house exceedingly difficult.
In the end, it came down to a single question. Which house's pros outweighed their cons?
His eyes surveyed the many students from underneath the hat, before locking onto one person in particular, who sat nervously watching him like the others.
"It seems you have decided," the hat spoke up after a moments pause. "Are you sure this is the house you wish to be in? Once I sort you there is no going back."
"I'm sure," Harry said without hesitation.
"Very well," the hat began. "If that is where you wish to be, then let it be known by all that you are to be sorted into..."
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Chapter 062
His lungs burned with each breath he took. His legs felt like they were made of led. His muscles were on fire, and every movement he made felt like someone was trying to tear his body apart. It was the ultimate form of torture.
And Harry loved every minute of it.
It was the day after the Sorting Ceremony. The sun was still hiding behind the horizon, not yet risen high enough to cast anything more than a pale yellow light into the sky. And like most mornings, Harry Potter found himself exercising before anyone else woke up.
The morning air was crisp and cool as Harry pushed his body much harder than he usually did. Each ragged gasp that left his throat produced a light mist in the cold air of Scotland, though he knew most of it was due to his magic reacting to his overheating body. The cool morning air of Scotland combined with the elevated height made his work out this morning much more difficult than some of his other ones.
Even as his lungs heaved another ragged gasp, a smile made its way to his face. There was something to be said about pushing ones body beyond its physical limitations, of trying to break your previous boundaries. Harry always felt his best when his work outs consisted of this kind of regime.
By the time Harry finished his body was caked in sweat and his shoulders heaved as he gulped in as much oxygen as his lungs would allow.
The cool air of the morning hit his naked torso, and his pectoral muscles twitched from the contrast it presented between the cold morning air and his overheating body.
Walking over to the tree whose limb he had used for his pull ups, Harry grabbed both the towel and water bottle he'd set aside. The towel went around his neck after he used it to wipe the sweat off his body, and the water bottle was guzzled down seconds later. He took one moment to look over at the sun as it continued its slow, steady rise over the mountains, before making his way back to Hogwarts.
Traveling along the path he had memorized from last night, Harry made his way to the Gryffindor Tower. He was forced to stop several times as the stairs moved on him, and sometimes he got sick of waiting and simply worked out a new path to follow. Eventually, he made his to the portrait of the Fat Lady, a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. The Fat Lady was asleep, the deep breaths she took and the her shut eyes told him this.
Despite having seen the moving images on the Chocolate Frog he had eaten on the Hogwarts Express, Harry had been quite shocked to see that the portraits lining the walls were all alive. The people within them moved and talked and acted just like real people. It was an amazing piece of magic—like all the magic he had seen performed—and the ever inquisitive part of his mind couldn't help but wonder how this feat was accomplished.
"Caput Draconis," Harry spoke softly so as not to wake the Fat Lady. The door swung open as the Fat Lady continued to snore, and Harry walked into the Gryffindor Common Room.
The Gryffindor Common Room was a large, circular room where Gryffindor students could relax and study in relative peace. It was full of squashy armchairs, tables, and a bulletin board where school notices, ads, lost posters, etc. could be posted. A window looked out onto the grounds of the school and a large fireplace dominated one wall. The walls were decorated with scarlet tapestries that depicted not only witches and wizards, but also various animals.
Harry recognized many of them, some were magical such as the Griffin, others were not, as was the case with the lion. The room itself wasn't bad looking; it actually was kind of cozy, though Harry was not very fond of the color. He had nothing against red and gold, but those two colors combine were just too bright and loud to have a whole room decked out in them. Still, it was his common room now, and he would be living there for the next
seven years. Might as well get used to it.
Without sparing the room a backward glance, Harry headed toward one of the two doors on the opposite side of the common room. Each door led to a spiral stair case which led to a set of dormitories. One for boys, one for girls.
Harry took the one leading to the boy's dormitory.
The boy's dormitory was a circular room, much like the common room, only instead of armchairs and tables it held beds. There were four four-poster beds in total, with deep red, velvet curtains. Once more, the color scheme was gold and red.