Disclaimer:
I don't own the characters or the world appearing in this story. They are creations and property of J.K. Rowling. I'm not sure if I can claim any OCs as my own, so I'll play it safe and dedicate them to her as well.
——————————
"...firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon now, don't be shy, follow me!"
The voice boomed across the platform like a foghorn, cutting through the chaos of students and trunks and the lingering steam from the Hogwarts Express. Arthur turned towards the sound and felt his jaw drop slightly. The man holding the lantern was absolutely massive—easily twice the size of anyone Arthur had ever seen, with a wild black beard that seemed to have a life of its own and eyes that twinkled kindly in the lamplight.
"Blimey," Fred muttered from beside him. "That's Hagrid. Dad's mentioned him. Says he's mental about dangerous creatures."
"Right then," James said, shouldering his way through the crowd with the sort of practiced confidence that suggested he'd been doing this sort of thing his entire life. "Come on. Last thing we want is to get left behind on our first day."
The three of them followed the stream of first-years as Hagrid led them away from the platform and down a narrow path that seemed to disappear into the darkness ahead. Arthur's breath misted in the cold air, and he could smell pine and damp earth and something else—something wild and magical that made the hair on his arms stand up.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out as the path opened onto the shore of what had to be the biggest lake Arthur had ever seen. The water stretched out before them like black glass, reflecting the stars and the nearly full moon overhead. And there, across the water, Hogwarts rose from the darkness like something out of a dream.
Arthur had thought he'd been prepared for it. He'd seen it from the train, after all. But this was different. From here, with the castle lit from within and reflecting on the still water, it looked less like a building and more like magic itself given physical form. Towers twisted up into the night sky, windows glowed with warm yellow light, and the whole thing was so vast that Arthur couldn't take it all in at once.
"Mental," he breathed.
"Wait until you see the inside," James said, but even his practiced coolness couldn't quite hide the awe in his voice.
The boats were small and looked like they'd been carved from single pieces of dark wood. Arthur had expected them to have oars, but as soon as he, James, and Fred had settled themselves into one, it began moving on its own, gliding across the water with barely a ripple.
"Magic boats," Fred said with satisfaction. "Much better than having to row the thing ourselves."
Arthur trailed his fingers in the water and immediately pulled them back—it was freezing. "How deep do you reckon it is?"
"Deep enough," James said. "Dad told me there's a giant squid in here. Friendly, apparently, but still. Giant squid."
"Course there is," Arthur said. "Because normal-sized squids would be too easy."
They were halfway across the lake now, and Hogwarts loomed larger with every passing second. Arthur could make out individual windows, see the way the light spilled out across the water, and count at least seven different towers. It was overwhelming in the best possible way.
The boats glided into what looked like a natural grotto carved into the base of the castle, and Arthur felt solid stone beneath his feet as he clambered out. The air was warmer here, though it still carried that wild, magical scent that made his pulse quicken.
"Everyone out!" Hagrid called, his lantern casting dancing shadows on the rough stone walls. "This way, don't dawdle now!"
He led them up what seemed like hundreds of stone steps, past walls hung with portraits that moved and whispered to each other as they passed. Arthur caught glimpses of medieval knights and elegant ladies and what looked like a small dragon curled up in the corner of one frame, all of them watching the procession of first-years with interest.
Finally, they reached a massive pair of oak doors that looked like they could have stopped a charging elephant. Hagrid knocked three times, and the doors swung open to reveal a tiny wizard standing on what appeared to be a stack of pillows.
Arthur's heart jumped. Professor Flitwick looked exactly the same as he had six months ago when he'd visited their house—small and precise, with bright eyes and snow-white hair peppering black.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor Flitwick said in his high, cheerful voice. "I'll take them from here." He beamed at the assembled first-years, and Arthur caught the small nod of recognition the professor sent his way. "Right then, children. Follow me."
They found themselves in an entrance hall that was bigger than Arthur's entire house, with a marble staircase that seemed to go up forever and more moving portraits than Arthur could count. The noise from beyond another set of doors was tremendous—hundreds of voices talking and laughing and the clatter of cutlery on plates.
Professor Flitwick stepped back onto yet another stack of pillows and cleared his throat. "Welcome to Hogwarts," he said, his voice somehow carrying despite his size. "In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates in the Great Hall. But first, you must be sorted into your Houses."
He went on to explain about Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, about how your House would become your family, about earning points and losing them and the House Cup at the end of the year. Arthur tried to listen, but his attention kept drifting to the sounds coming from the Great Hall and the way his stomach was twisting itself into knots.
He was going to be fine. He was going to get into Gryffindor with James and Fred, and they were going to have the most brilliant time, and—
"The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a moment," Professor Flitwick said, and Arthur's attention snapped back to the present. "Please wait here."
The professor disappeared through the doors, leaving the first-years alone in the entrance hall. The noise from the Great Hall died down to an expectant hush, and Arthur felt his pulse hammering in his throat.
"Right," James said quietly. "This is it, then."
"We'll all be in Gryffindor," Fred said with the sort of confidence Arthur wished he felt. "Has to happen. It's destiny."
The doors swung open again, and Professor Flitwick beckoned them forward. "Follow me, please. Single file."
Arthur's first glimpse of the Great Hall nearly stopped him dead in his tracks. The ceiling was gone, replaced by what looked like the night sky outside—stars twinkling in an endless expanse of darkness. Thousands of candles floated in mid-air, casting everything in warm, golden light. Four long tables stretched the length of the hall, packed with students who had all turned to watch the first-years enter.
And at the far end, on a raised platform, sat the staff table. Arthur could see McGonagall in the center, stern and imposing, and beside her other professors he didn't recognize. The whole thing was so overwhelming, so impossibly grand, that Arthur felt small and insignificant in a way he hadn't since he was five years old.
Professor Flitwick led them to the front of the hall, where an ancient wooden stool sat waiting. On the stool was a hat that looked like it had seen better centuries—patched and frayed and stained with what Arthur hoped was just age.
The professor unrolled a long piece of parchment and cleared his throat. "When I call your name, please come forward and take a seat on the stool."
Arthur's stomach dropped into his shoes as the reality of the situation hit him. Aalto. He was going to be first. He was going to have to go up there in front of the entire school, with no one else having gone before him to show him how it was done.
"Aalto, Arthur," Professor Flitwick called out, his voice echoing in the sudden silence.
The collective intake of breath from four hundred students was audible. Arthur stood frozen for a moment, meeting James's wide-eyed, panicked look and Fred's expression of horrified sympathy. Then he forced his legs to move, walking on unsteady feet towards the stool.
The walk felt like it took forever. Every eye in the hall was on him, hundreds of faces watching his every step. He could hear his own breathing, could feel the weight of their attention like a physical thing pressing down on his shoulders.
He reached the stool and sat down, the ancient wood creaking under his weight. Professor Flitwick lifted the hat and placed it gently on Arthur's head, and suddenly the world went dark and quiet except for the sound of his own heartbeat and—
"Well now," said a voice inside his head, ancient and raspy and amused. "Starting the year with an interesting one, are we? Confidence of a king... a mind that races... plenty of courage, oh yes, plenty of courage. You'll need it for what's ahead."
Arthur tried to think of something to say, but the voice continued before he could form words.
"But what's this? The magic in you... it's not a neat little well like most of your peers. It's a wild, untamed spring... not channeled, but overflowing. You've been tasting it on your own, haven't you? Shaping it without a wand. Highly unusual... and powerful. Very powerful indeed."
Arthur felt something like pride swell in his chest, but the Hat wasn't finished.
"And deeper still... what have we here? An echo... a whisper of the Serpent's tongue... but no trace of the bloodline. No hint of the Heir. Curious... a fluke of nature, then. A mutation. How very, very rare."
The Hat sounded genuinely intrigued rather than alarmed, which Arthur took as a good sign.
"Such a strange mix," the Hat continued. "The power could be honed in Slytherin—they do appreciate raw talent. The mind would do well in Ravenclaw—that analytical streak serves you well on the racing circuit, doesn't it? But that spirit... that love of diving headfirst into the unknown, consequences be damned... that's a racer's heart. And there's only one place for a heart like that..."
Arthur held his breath.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The word boomed out across the Great Hall, and Arthur felt a wave of relief so intense it nearly knocked him off the stool. The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers and applause, students jumping to their feet and clapping him on the back as he stumbled towards them.
He found a seat about halfway down the table and tried to smile at the older students who were welcoming him, but his attention was already turning back to the front of the hall where James and Fred were still standing with the other first-years.
"Brilliant sorting," said a girl with curly brown hair who looked like she might be a third-year. "You looked terrified up there."
"Cheers," Arthur said absently, watching as Professor Flitwick called the next name.
The sorting continued. Arthur watched as students he didn't know were sorted into Houses he didn't care about, his anxiety growing with each passing name. What if James ended up in Slytherin? What if Fred went to Hufflepuff? What if he was stuck at Gryffindor table surrounded by strangers while his friends were scattered to the other corners of the hall?
"Jenkins, Sarah," went to Ravenclaw. "Lewis, Michael," ended up in Hufflepuff. Arthur's leg bounced under the table as he waited.
"Longbottom, Alice."
Arthur perked up at that—he knew that name from somewhere. A round-faced girl with determination written in every line of her posture walked to the stool. The Hat barely touched her head before calling out "HUFFLEPUFF!" and she practically skipped to her table.
More names. More waiting. Arthur's palms were sweating now, and he found himself clenching and unclenching his fists under the table. Come on, he thought desperately. Come on.
"Potter, James."
The whisper that went through the hall was audible. Every head turned to watch as James walked to the stool, his shoulders set with the sort of determination Arthur recognized from their conversation on the train. The Hat was placed on his head, and for a long, tense minute, nothing happened.
Arthur held his breath, his fingernails digging into his palms.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Arthur's shout of triumph was lost in the roar from the Gryffindor table. James broke into a grin that could have lit up the entire hall and jogged over to the table, sliding onto the bench next to Arthur and slapping him on the back hard enough to rattle his teeth.
"Kept you waiting, did I?" James said with the sort of cocky grin that didn't quite hide his own relief. "Had to make sure the seat was warm!"
"You absolute pillock," Arthur said, but he was grinning too widely to make it sound like an insult.
They turned their attention back to the sorting. There were still plenty of names to go, and Fred wouldn't be called until near the end. Arthur tried to relax now that James was beside him, but he couldn't quite manage it. Not until all three of them were safely sorted.
The minutes dragged by. Arthur half-listened as the older students around them made comments about the new arrivals, but most of his attention was focused on the dwindling line of first-years at the front of the hall.
Finally—finally—Professor Flitwick called out "Weasley, Fred."
The Hat had barely touched Fred's head before it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and Fred was practically sprinting across the hall towards them, his grin so wide it looked like it might split his face in half.
"Bloody hell," he said as he collapsed onto the bench across from Arthur and James. "Thought it was never going to be my turn. Fred Weasley, by the way," he added to the older students nearby, who laughed and introduced themselves in return.
Arthur felt the last of his tension drain away. They'd done it. All three of them, sorted into Gryffindor just like they'd hoped. They were going to be sharing a dormitory, taking the same classes, sitting at the same table for every meal for the next seven years.
The sorting continued with the few remaining students, but Arthur barely paid attention. He was too busy listening to James explain Quidditch positions to a bewildered-looking second-year and Fred regaling anyone who would listen with stories about his father's joke shop.
Finally, Professor Flitwick rolled up his parchment and stepped down from his books. Headmistress McGonagall rose from her seat at the staff table, and the hall fell silent.
"Welcome," she said, her voice carrying easily to every corner of the vast room, "to a new year at Hogwarts. I have only a few announcements before we begin our feast. First-years should note that the Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggests, forbidden to students. Several of our older students would do well to remember this as well."
Her gaze swept the Gryffindor table, and Arthur was fairly sure he saw a few guilty looks.
"Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the list of banned items now includes Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The complete list may be viewed in Mr. Filch's office for those interested in reviewing several hundred items."
She paused, scanning the hall with the sort of look that suggested she could see right through anyone foolish enough to be planning mischief.
"And now, before we begin our feast, let us welcome our new students with the school song!"
Arthur blinked. A school song? But before he could ask James about it, McGonagall had raised her wand, and golden ribbons were streaming from the tip, forming themselves into words that hung in the air above the staff table.
The entire hall burst into song, though it quickly became apparent that everyone was singing to their own tune and tempo. The result was a cacophonous mess that somehow managed to be stirring anyway. Arthur found himself grinning as he tried to follow along, listening to James belt out the words in what sounded like a funeral march while Fred had apparently decided to turn it into some sort of jaunty sea shanty.
When the last voices finally faded away—a pair of Hufflepuff seventh-years who had apparently decided to perform an opera—McGonagall smiled and raised her hands.
"And now," she said, "let the feast begin!"
The golden plates and goblets that had been sitting empty on the tables suddenly filled with food. Mountains of it—roast beef and chicken, potatoes and vegetables, pies and pastries and things Arthur didn't even recognize. The smell hit him all at once, making his mouth water and reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the sweets on the train.
He looked from James's grinning face to Fred's, then at the mountain of food that had just appeared before them, and thought, with a certainty that filled his entire being, I'm home.
——————————
Consider Patreon if you'd like to support me. It's ahead by a few chapters.
patreon.com/MoonyNightShade