Metanoia Story - Tumblr Posts

Metanoia’s Draco Abraxas Malfoy “The Sliver Prince”.

Metanoia’s (Y/n) Sirius Potter “The Protector”.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐬

Next Chapter

BOOM.

They knocked again.

Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind Harry and Y/n and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands — now Y/n knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you — I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then —

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey. . . ." He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear. "Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here ya are Harry, Y/n!" said the giant. Harry and Y/n looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. "Las' time I saw you both, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Harry, yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes." The giant turned his attention Y/n and tears welled up. "And yeh, Y/n, yeh got yer mum's smile and nose. Oh, an' yer dad's chin!"

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. "I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway — Harry, Y/n," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh both. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat, he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers, while Y/n watched his twin with curious eyes. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with 'Happy Birthday Harry & Y/n' written on it in green icing.

Harry and Y/n looked up at the giant. "Thank you . . . sir?" said Y/n, a smile blooming on his face while his brother stared at the giant man.

Harry meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm, before taking Y/n's and giving his arm the same treatment.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind." His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing, but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea.

Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry." He passed the sausages to Harry and Y/n, who were so hungry they had never tasted anything so wonderful, but they still couldn't take their eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, Harry said, "I'm sorry, but we still don't really know who you are." The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

Y/n shared a look with his twin before answering. "Er — no," Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly, trying to cover up what his brother said, hoping that this giant of a man didn't hurt him or Harry. "Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows.

"It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh both weren't gettin' yer letters, but I never thought yeh both wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" Harry asked this time, confusion clouding his features.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!" He had leapt to his feet. In his anger, he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall. "Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that these boys —these boys! — knows nothin' abou'— about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He and Y/n had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad, although Y/n did do a bit better on their exams.

"We know some things," he said. "We can, you know, do math and stuff." But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?" asked Y/n, his arms folding nervously. Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed. Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry. "But yeh both must know about yer mum and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My — my mum and dad weren't famous, were they?" asked Harry, his attention to his cowering aunt and uncle. "Yeh don' know . .. yeh don' know . . ." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry and Y/n with a bewildered stare. "Yeh don' know what yeh both are?" he said finally. Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell them anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer them both? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from them all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly, making Y/n swat his brother on the arm. Harry turned his head glared at his twin before turning his attention back to his panicking uncle.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid.

"Harry, Y/n — yer a wizard."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"We're a what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh both read yer letters."

Harry and Y/n stretched out their hands at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter and Mr. Y/I Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. Y/n pulled out his letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Y/n's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes, he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?" Harry nodded his head, as if he had the same question in his green eyes.

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart-horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat, he pulled an owl — a real, live, rather ruffled- looking owl — a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry and Y/n could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry and Y/n their letters.

Taking them both to buy their things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone. Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight. "They're not going," he said. Hagrid grunted. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop them," he said.

"A what?" asked Y/n, interested. "A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you and your brother grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm―We're― a wizard?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you and your brother not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that. They were proud of having a witch in the family!" She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you both, and of course I knew both of you would be just the same, just as strange, just as — as — abnormal; and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you two!"

Harry and Y/n had gone very white. As soon as Y/n found his voice, he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry and Y/n Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their name!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently. The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious. "I never expected this," he said in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh both, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, Y/n, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh — but someone's gotta — yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'." He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh — mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it. . . ." He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows —"

"Who?" asked Harry.

"Well — I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?" he asked again.

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went . . . bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was . . ." Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Y/n suggested, sweetly.

"Nah — can't spell it. All right — Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered.

"Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this — this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry, Y/n. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches . . . terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him — an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You- Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You- Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before . . . probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em . . . maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where yer both was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. Yeh both was just a year old. He came ter yer house an'— an'— "

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad — knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find — anyway . . .

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then — an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing — he tried to kill yeh both, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you and Y/n got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even — but it didn't work on yeh both, an' that's why yer famous, Harry, Y/n. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you two, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an' you two was only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in Harry's and Y/n's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, both boys saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than they had ever remembered it before — and Y/n remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

Hagrid was watching him sadly.

"Took the two of yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot . . ."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Y/n however, glared at hit fat uncle, fury in his e/c eyes.

Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage, thought Y/n as he watched his uncle. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boys," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about the two of you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured — and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion — asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types; just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end —"

But at that moment, Hagrid leaped from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley — I'm warning you — one more word . . ."

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry and Y/n, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry — I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you both. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see . . . he was gettin' more an' more powerful — why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you both finished him, Harry, Y/n. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin' about you two stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at the twins with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry and Y/n, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Them? How could they possibly be? They'd spent their life being clouted by Dudley and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if they were really wizards, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him and Harry in their cupboard? If they'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick them around like a football?

"Hagrid," said Harry quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think we can be wizards." To his and Y/n's surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Y/n's brows furrowed on his forehead as he thought about all the unexplained things he and Harry did in their life. While Y/n was thinking, his eyes glued to his feet, Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it . . . every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him and Y/n had happened when they, Harry and Y/n, had been upset or angry . . . chased by Dudley's gang, they had somehow found himself out of their reach . . . dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, they'd managed to make it grow back . . . and the very last time Dudley had hit him and Y/n, hadn't they got their revenge, without even realizing they were doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry looked at his brother and saw that Y/n had a small smile forming on his face. He gave his twin a smile and Y/n's smile became wider and they looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at them both.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry and Y/n Potter, not a wizard — you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you they're not going?" he hissed. "They're going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they both need all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands and —"

"If they wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop them," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son's goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their name's been down ever since they was born. They're off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled —"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH THEM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER —" he thundered, "—INSULT—ALBUS—DUMBLEDORE—IN—FRONT—OF—ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry and Y/n saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers. Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully. "But it didn't work, anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway, there wasn't much left ter do." He cast a sideways look at the boys under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff — one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job —"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry, making Y/n elbow his brother in the rips. Harry gave his twin a glare, but he wasn't looking at Harry. No, Y/n was staring at Hagrid.

"Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?" asked Y/n, curiosity getting the better of him.

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it at Harry.

"You both can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

Once they were settled down for bed, with the loud sores of Hagrid occupying the hut, Harry and Y/n laid next to one another with Hagrid's coat over them. Y/n's left arm was bent and behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling. Thoughts filled his head, thoughts about his parents, this magic school called Hogwarts, how he and his twin were wizards. It was all so overwhelming, yet exciting at the same time.

"Harry?" he whispered into the night. Harry grunted, letting Y/n know that he was awake. "Are you okay?" he asked. Harry sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "I honestly don't know, Y/n. It's all so crazy, yet fantastic at the same time. But what Hagrid said about Voldemort killing mum and dad frightens me. What if he's still out there?"

"I don't know Harry. But I do know that I'll always be there for you. By your side. Always."

Harry turned his head to look at Y/n with a smile on his face. "Thank you Y/n." he closed his eyes and mumbled: "Night," and Y/n smiled at his twin before replying quietly. "Night, Harry," the eleven-year-old boy closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of a woman with red hair and green eyes singing softly into the dead of night.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲

Y/n woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight. The rays of sunshine flickered in the hut, shining down upon Y/n, making the boy groan. Y/n was never a morning person, he preferred to spend his days lying about in his lumpy bed, with the blankets tightly wrapped around his body as he snoozed on. (Harry often told him that he was like a cat.)

There was a sudden loud tapping noise. Y/n groaned once again, cracking his eyes open, greeting the morning. He rubbed his eyes before sitting up, the coat Hagrid lent him and his brother fell from his body as he looked around. The giant was sleeping on the lumpy couch, snoring loudly.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up." Y/n looked over at his brother and smiled. Harry looked over at him and saw that Y/n was pointing at the window, where an owl was rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry gasped and scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that." said Harry as Y/n got up and went over to his twin. They tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl —"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa. "What?" asked Y/n, confused.

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets — bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, tea bags... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?" questioned Y/n, taking (more like yanking in Harry's opinion) Harry's hand and inspecting it for himself.

"The little bronze ones."

Y/n―still holding Harry's hand―counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Y/n could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched. "Best be off, Harry, Y/n, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry―who yanked his hand away from his twin's strong grip―was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

"Um — Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"We haven't got any money — and you heard Uncle Vernon last night... he won't pay for Y/n and I to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed —"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold — an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks?" asked Y/n, looking at the giant curiously while holding his sausage.

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

"Goblins?" he asked as Y/n bit into his sausage, savouring the taste.

"Yeah — so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry, Y/n. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe —'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly while Y/n got up and had a slice of his and Harry's birthday cake. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you — gettin' things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see."

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry and Y/n followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now, and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat. "Flew," said Hagrid. "Flew?" asked Y/n, awe visible in his voice.

"Yeah — but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying, with Y/n bouncing in excitement.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry and Y/n another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter — er — speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harry and Y/n, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked, clearly interested.

"Spells — enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high-security vaults―"

"―DRAGONS?!" squealed Y/n, making Hagrid jump back a bit, in shock at Y/n's outburst, while Harry just looked amused and shook his head at his twin. It was not a secret that Y/n loved dragons. Whenever they went to the library, Y/n would be taking out book after book about dragons and he practically memorized everything there was about them.

"Er, yeah," said Hagrid, clearing his voice before continuing. "And then yeh gotta find yer way — Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harry sat, watching Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet, and turned his head towards his twin (who was still in awe at the mention of dragons). He learned early on from his Uncle that people liked to be left alone while they read their paper, so he tried to start a conversation with his brother when Hagrid muttered: "Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," and turned the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, curiosity laced in his voice.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?" piped up Y/n, his brows furrowing on his forehead.

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country." Explained the giant.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment, the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Y/n couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry, Y/n? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Y/n, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, with Harry trailing behind him. "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?" he asked, wanting to make sure that Hagrid wasn't lying about the subject. Ever since Y/n saw a book about Dragons at the library, they frequented, he always wanted one.

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one? Me too!" Hagrid turned his bushy head and smiled down at Y/n before answering. "Wanted one ever since I was a kid — here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes.' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry and Y/n so they could buy their tickets. People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letters, Harry, Y/n?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket and handed Y/n his - who waved the parchment happily.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

"I know, I read it last night," said Y/n as his brother unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore Magical Draughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS!!

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud. "If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid. Y/n shared a look with Harry, who shrugged his shoulders.

Y/n and Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and Y/n had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Y/n and Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, they might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told them so far was unbelievable, and they couldn't help trusting him.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry or Y/n wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, both Harry and Y/n had the most peculiar feeling that only they and Hagrid could see it. Before either of them could mention this, Hagrid had steered them inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. Y/n's eyes took it all in. His feet were itching to run around the pub, a small smile spread across his lips - this place was amazing. His eyes landed on a few old women who were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in.

Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle, while Y/n was still taking it all in.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry and Y/n, "is this — can this be —?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent, (finally) drawing Y/n's attention back to the present. His brows were furrowed in confusion and he turned his head to look at his brother, trying to figure out why all these people were staring at him and his twin.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry and Y/n Potter. .. what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes, making Y/n recoil back.

"Welcome back, Mister. Potter's welcome back."

Harry and Y/n didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at them, making Y/n a tad bit uncomfortable. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out, while Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry and Y/n found themselves shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter's. Can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter's. I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter's, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. Y/n looked over at the man and squinted his eyes in concentration, trying to figure out where he and Harry had seen him before.

"You bowed to me and Y/n once in a shop." The realization slapped Y/n in the face and he nodded his head. "That's right! I knew I remembered that top hat - very nice," he complimented, making Dedalus Diggle blush a bright red. "They remember!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? Harry and Y/n Potter remember me! And dear Y/n Potter complimented my top hat - take that Doris!"

Harry and Y/n shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more. A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Y/n, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter's," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c- can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you." he said before grasping Y/n's hand, making Y/n look at the man with curiosity.

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" he asked, smiling at the man.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P- Potter's?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry and Y/n to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on, Harry, Y/n."

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, making Y/n's eyes dance with mirth, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry and Y/n.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh both you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'." That made Y/n sad for the poor professor. When he was younger, Y/n also had a terrible stutter that made him a target for bullies - mostly his cousin Dudley and their gang - and no one except Harry would stick up for him.

"Is he always that nervous?" he asked, a frown on his face.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience. . . . They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?"

"Vampires? Hags? Cool." thought Y/n.

Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up . . . two across . . ." he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry." Y/n grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back as Hagrid tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared—it grew wider and wider—a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐬

Y/n couldn't think or speak. The magic of Diagon Alley overwhelmed him as he stared at the shops. Once the archway appeared Hagrid led him and his brother through before the archway shrunk instantly back into a solid wall. Y/n turned his head away from the now solid wall, letting his eyes wander all over the Alley. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, noticing Y/n and Harry staring at the nearest shop, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Y/n and Harry wished they had about eight more eyes. He and Harry turned their heads in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping.

A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad. . . ."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium—Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's and Y/n's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it.

"Look," the boys heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand—fastest ever—"

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Y/n had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon . . .

"Gringotts," said Hagrid. They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was—

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry and Y/n. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Y/n noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid as Y/n studied the text, a lump forming in his throat. "Uh-huh,"

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Harry, and Y/n made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry and Y/n Potter's safe."

"You have his key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry and Y/n watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he, Harry, and Y/n followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked suspiciously. "Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Y/n, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in—Hagrid with some difficulty—and were off.

At first, they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. "Blimey," muttered Y/n. Blimey is right, thought Harry as he tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's and Y/n's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but Harry kept them wide open, while Y/n squeezed his eyes tight, disliking the cold air whipping around his face and hair.

Once, Harry thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late—they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Harry turned his head to Y/n and elbowed him in the ribs. "Oh!" his eyes popped open. "Bloody Hell, Harry," he muttered angrily as he rubbed his bruised ribs. Harry rolled his eyes and climbed out of the cart with Y/n behind him muttering about Harry's bony elbows as if he didn't have bony elbows as well.

Griphook unlocked the door. The door creaked open, drawing Y/n's attention as a lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, both Harry and Y/n gasped simultaneously. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"Are-are those . . .?" he couldn't get the words out properly, shock took over his body as his eyes traveled from each mountain and heap of the magical currency.

"All yours," confirmed Hagrid, a giant smile on his face.

All his. And Harry's. It was bloody incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from them faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry and Y/n cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to them, buried deep under London.

"Well? Come on then!" Y/n dragged his brother closer to the vault as he scooped up some of the money as Hagrid gave them a velvet pouch with a wand embroidered on it. "How does this work? The currency I mean," said Y/n as he picked up a gold coin.

"Well, that one there is a Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough." Harry and Y/n nodded as they scooped a pile of the coins into the bag. "Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." mused Hagrid as Y/n pulled the leather strings of the bag, closing it.

Hagrid turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?" Y/n had to agree with Hagrid, he did not enjoy the ride down here in that blasted cart. "One speed only," said Griphook with a sneer. Y/n never glared harder in his life.

The three of them climbed back into the cart, Y/n scowling at the goblin as the cart started moving. It gained speed quickly and Harry felt the adrenaline pumping in his veins. They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled around tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck. "What yeh think you're doin'??!" he shouted over the wind. "I just wanted to have a look―"

"Are you MAD?!" shrieked Y/n as he stared at his twin in shock. "You could've fallen over! You could've DIED!? What were you thinking?!" Harry looked at his twin, then to Hagrid, both shared looks of shock, anger and worry. For some strange reason, their reactions―especially Hagrid's―made him happy, content, and brought him to tears. No one, besides Y/n, had ever cared for Harry as did Hagrid at this moment. He was a complete stranger to this giant, yet he gazed at Harry like he was his own.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole. This confused Harry as much as it did Y/n. How was Hagrid supposed to retrieve something within this vault if it had no key hole? Griphook answered the question before they asked.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. "Woah!" whispered Y/n, awe shimmering in his eyes.

Griphook smirked. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there,"

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin. Y/n shared a look with his brother and visibly gulped in fear. Note to self, he thought, never mess with goblins.

"Something really extraordinary has to be inside this top security vault," whispered Harry. Y/n nodded in agreement. As the vault door opened, both he and Harry leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least . . . nothing. There was nothing in there. It was empty.

Y/n sighed aloud and rolled his shoulders. "Well, that was a waste of a trip now was it?" Before Harry or Hagrid could retort back to him, he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Both Harry and Y/n longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid, which drew a smile from Y/n. One wild cart ride later, they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Neither Harry nor Y/n knew where to run first now that they had a bag full of money. They didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than they'd had in their whole life—more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Wish Dudley could see us now," smirked Y/n. "Thirty-six??! That's two less than last year, Mummy!! Ohh poor me, I only have thirty-six presents for my birthday!! Waahh!" Harry laughed at Y/n's impression of their cousin, tears streamed down his face while Hagrid looked at them, confused.

"Inside joke Hagrid," explained Y/n. Hagrid nodded. "Ohh, always wanted ter be in one," he said. "Anyway, might as well get yer uniform," Hagrid nodded his head towards a shop called: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry,Y/n, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry and Y/n said their goodbyes to Hagrid and wished him well before entering Madam Malkin's shop.

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬

Y/n pushed open the glass door and took a deep breath as a bell chimed, letting the owner know that she/he/they had a customer. Harry turned his head to look at Y/n - who was not looking at his brother, but in fact staring at all the clothes, dress robes, cloaks, and people in the quaint little shop.

Y/n’s eyes travelled up the small flight of stairs in the back, leading to a loft area where teens were shifting through the racks of clothes. The young eleven-year-old boy smiled at the sight. His aunt never let him or Harry browse through high-end cloth shops, only taking them to discount and thrift stores. Apparently, she didn’t want to run into anyone she personally knew and tarnish her (already low) reputation. A smile played at Y/n’s lips as he looked around.

A large group of elderly women were crowded around a rack of amethyst and emerald cloaks with a sign above it saying: “DISCOUNT CLOAKS―LINE WITH CHIMAERA SKIN/FUR”. A few of the old crones were speaking in hushed whispers while others were taking out each cloak and holding it up.

“Hogwarts, dears??” Y/n tore his eyes away from the group of old women and saw a squat woman with greying black hair in a tight bun on her head, with round spectacles that sat on the bridge of her nose. She had a kind smile on her face with crow's feet in the corner of her eyes, as if she lived a happy life and found something daily to smile about. She wore a floor-length mauve a-line skirt that flared out at her hips, with a white long sleeve with puffed sleeves that were cinched at the wrists, and a black apron tied around her full waist.

“Um yes―” started Harry before being interrupted by the lady.

“Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.” She sighed before continuing. “Well, come on, let’s get you two fitted, shall we?”

Y/n turned his head to Harry―who shrugged his shoulders―before both of the boys were ushered over to the back of the shop, where a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

“Excuse me, but are you Madam Malkin?” asked Y/n as the witch stood Harry on a stool next to the boy. “Well, yes dear!” she smiled at him before pointing to the other witch next to her. “And that right there is my apprentice, Vanessa Snape,” Y/n turned his head towards the other witch.

Vanessa had long black hair with a sharp pointed nose with thin lips and pale skin. Like Madam Malkin, she wore a floor length a-line skirt that too flared out at her hips, but emerald green with the same white long puffed sleeves and a black apron tied around her waist.

Miss. Snape was pinning a few pins in a long black robe in the other boy’s robe when Y/n finally registered that there was another person there.

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” said Harry (rather rudely).

“My father’s next door buying my books and Mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice that would make anyone around him hang onto his every word. Y/n’s brows furrowed at his statement, but continued to watch and listen to him.

“Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one, and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.” Harry rolled his eyes as the boy turned his attention to Y/n, his cold grey eyes meeting his warm e/c. “You’re going to bully him? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t it be more effective to just ask him politely instead of forcing him?” asked Y/n, a confused expression on his face.

For eleven years, he’d watch Dudley bully his parents into getting him what he wanted, and it always worked, but look how that got Dudley. He’s a spoiled little pig, bullying and picking on the weak. (But to be frank, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursely were nitwits anyway, so it was no surprise that they were dimwitted enough to even listen to Dudley, let alone his whining.) But in Y/n’s mind, parents were supposed to be caring and nice, and when their children asked them for something politely, they most likely said yes.

The boy just stared at Y/n, a curious look on his face, before turning his head back to Harry.

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on.

“No,” said Harry.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Harry said again, sharing a look with Y/n. Both were wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

“I do—Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

“Um . . . No,” said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute, while Y/n shook his head.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin. All our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm,” said Harry (wishing he could say something a bit more interesting). Y/n noticed that Miss. Snape rolled her eyes at the boy’s remark before making a few notes on her loose bit of parchment.

“I say, look at that man!” said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and Y/n, pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn’t come in. Y/n smiled at Hagrid, who smiled back at him. A flush appeared on his cheeks as passing witches and wizards were staring at him.

“That’s Hagrid,” said Harry, who sounded pleased to know something the boy didn’t.

“He works at Hogwarts.” piped in Y/n as Madam Malkin urshed Harry off the podium and nodded to Y/n to step up. She smiled at Y/n as he lifted his arms and she placed some black robes over him and started pinning at the right measurements.

“Oh,” said the boy, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”

“He’s the gamekeeper,” scowled Harry. He liked the boy less and less every second.

“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.”

“We think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly, as he glared at the boy, ignoring the glare his twin sent him.

“Do you?” said the boy with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” said Harry and Y/n, shortly. Harry didn’t feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

“They died when we were very young,” explained Y/n as the boy shot him a confused look. A flicker of emotion passed through his grey eyes before reverting back to the empty and cold look he kept up through their conversation.

“Oh, sorry,” said the boy, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

“They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean,” said Harry, a scowl permanently on his face, his scrawny arms crossed over his chest.

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways.” the blond turned his head to stare at Y/n. “You know, some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine.” Y/n’s brows furrowed together as he thought about what the boy said.

There are others who didn’t know they were magical? We weren’t the only ones?

“I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

“Pott―”

“That’s you done, my dear,” interrupted Madam Malkin, and Y/n hopped down from the footstool. As he did this, Y/n noticed how both the boy and Miss. Snape was watching him, Miss. Snape held a curious gaze as she ranked him down with her eyes. He gave her a bashful smile and her eyes widened, almost in . . . recognition?

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said the blond boy.

“See you at Hogwarts,” said Y/n and gave him a smile. After he turned around, the blond boy had a ghost of a smile on his face.

(Notes: Hi!! So I've literally packed this story full of OC's and Vanessa Snape is one of them! She's our lovely grumpy asshole's little sister—aka the light and the insanity of his life. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter and I am still working on the tag list for this story, so if you wish to be part of the tag list let me know and I'll add you to my list once I find the time to make it lol.)

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐆𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭

Hagrid immediately noticed that something was wrong with the twins. For one, they were rather quiet. Nothing like their usual selves this morning, asking question after question about the Wizarding World. Secondly, Y/n was staring off into the distance with a faraway look in his eyes with a flush creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears, while Harry was eating his ice cream solemnly when he should’ve been more enthusiastic about the ice cream since he never had any at his Aunt and Uncle’s, due to Dudley eating the pint in a day. 

“Alright, ‘tat’s enough,” muttered Hagrid before clearing his throat and looking at the twins with a cornered gaze. “What’s up?” Y/n snapped out of his trance and noticed his cone of ice cream was melting, getting chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts all over the ice cream parlor’s tables. 

“Nothing,” Harry lied. “Yeah, it’s nothing Hagrid.” piped in Y/n, as he wiped up the ice-cream mess. “We’re just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.” Harry nodded his head in agreement, thankful that his twin piped in because the look in Hagrid’s eye told him that he didn’t believe Harry when he said nothing was wrong. “Alright, but if somethin’s the ‘atter, you can tell me.” 

“We well Hagrid, thank you,” Y/n gave the giant and smile before licking a stripe of his ice cream, moaning in delight at the flavor. “Oh, this is excellent. Thank you, Hagrid. Tis delicious,” Hagrid smiled before sniffling and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. 

Once they finished their ice cream, they stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote, while Y/n almost bought out the entire shop―color changing ink, rainbow ink, pastel ink, feather quills, peacock quills, raven quills, thick parchment, a pack of different color parchment, thin parchment, stationary cups and holders, and a quill/ink cleaning kit―and Harry had to drag him out of there before he could spend more. 

When they had left the shop, Harry asked, “Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?”. Y/n looked up from his purchases and looked at Hagrid, his eyes lighting up in curiosity. Hagrid looked at Harry with an aghast face before shaking his head and mumbling: “Blimey, Harry, Y/n, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know — not knowin’ about Quidditch!” He shook his head once more that reminded Y/n of a wet dog.  

“Don’t make me feel worse,” mumbled Harry before He and Y/n told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin’s. 

“— and he said people from Muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed in —” exclaimed Y/n, with a slight shake of his head. “Yer not from a Muggle family. If he’d known who yeh both were,” Hagrid made a gesture with his hands before continuing. “— he’s grown up knowin’ both of yer names, if his parents are wizardin’ folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh.” The memory alone made Y/n blush in embarrassment. 

“Anyway, what does he know about it, some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ’em in a long line o’ Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!” At the mention of their Mother, Y/n and Harry exchanged a look of sadness. A flash of green eyes and red-hair flashed before Y/n’s eyes, making his heart clench. 

“So what is Quidditch?” asked Harry, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. 

“It’s our sport. Wizard sport. It’s like — like soccer in the Muggle world — everyone follows Quidditch — played up in the air on broomsticks and there’s four balls — sorta hard ter explain the rules.” Harry nodded his head, the wheels in his head turning. 

“And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?” asked Y/n, his eyebrows were drawn together on his forehead as his (e/c) watched the giant. 

“School Houses.” Hagrid and the twins walked around a large company of witches sporting matching jumpers with a crest on their left breast. The crest, Y/n noted, had a wand raised up with a vial, with the words: “Sanitatem, Cinium, Herbis.”. Below the crest was: St. Mungo Witch's Institution, written in a fancy script. 

“There’s four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ duffers, but —”

“I bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” said Harry gloomily, making Y/n glare at his brother. 

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know- Who was one.” Y/n narrowed his eyes in suspicion as Harry spoke. 

“Vol-, sorry — You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?”

“Years an’ years ago,” said Hagrid with a shake of his head. 

“So anyone could potentially be a bad witch or wizard? Regardless of their house?” asked Y/n as they walked down the cobblestone street. “Well, er, I suppose so. But ‘tat would be ‘ery unlikely,” 

“Why would that be unlikely, Hagrid? I believe everyone has the potential to be “evil”, even the best of us can be turned to the dark side. To be tempted by it.” Hagrid blinked at the eleven-year-old boy, shocked by his words. Harry gave his twin a glare before returning his gaze back to Hagrid. 

“Where to next Hagrid?” he asked. 

Together, all three went to buy Harry’s and Y/n’s school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. 

Y/n was in heaven at the magical creature section of the bookstore. He bought several books about dragons and other magical creatures. Poor Harry had to drag his twin away from the aisle before the (h/c) boy had a heart attack. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these, though Harry as he dragged his twin away from the fully stacked shelves. Later, Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian, while Y/n looked on in awe. 

“I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.” Harry tried to explain as Hagrid sent him a disapproving glare. “I’m not sayin’ that’s not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances.” Harry looked away, his bottom lip slightly out in a pout. “An’ anyway, yeh couldn’ work any of them curses yet, yeh’ll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level.” 

Hagrid wouldn’t let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either (“It says pewter on yer list”), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope (Y/n was extremely excited about the telescope and shouted “I’m a pirate of the seven seas!!” in the store, which caused them to get many funny looks in the store.).  

Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. Harry wasn’t fond of this store at all, while his twin was giddy; rocking back and forth with a smile on his face as his eyes were lit up with so many questions and awe. 

While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for the twins, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

All while Y/n was right by Hagrid, asking the wizard behind the counter question after question about the different herbs and items they sold. 

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry’s and Y/n’s list again.

“Just both of yer wands left — oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.” 

Y/n and Harry felt themselves go red.

“You don’t have to —” started Harry but was interrupted by Hagrid. 

“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer both an animal. Not a toad,

toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at — an’ I don’ like cats, they make me sneeze. I’ll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they’re dead useful, carry yer mail an’ everythin’.” 

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been

dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn’t stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell. Although Y/n was a bit bummed that cats made Hagrid sneeze, he was extremely happy with his choice of owl. Y/n carried a cage that housed a sleeping barn owl, its face was white with deep brown eyes that carried wisdom and curiosity. It’s feathers on its body were brown with little spots of grey and other shades of brown. His name was Patroclus. 

“T-t-thank you s-s-so much H-h-hagrid!” stuttered Harry as he looked at the giant with gratitude in his eyes. “Don’ mention it,” said Hagrid gruffly. “Don’ expect you’ve had a lotta presents from them Dursleys.” Hagrid gave the twins a smile of his own, and in his eyes, you could see the joy brimming in them. He was happy. Happy to give them their owls. 

The giant cleared his throat before speaking again. 

“Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand.”

A magic wand . . . this was what the twins had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. 

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Y/n felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Both Harry and Y/n jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

“Er -- hi,” greeted Y/n, he lifted his hand and gave a little awkward wave, as he sat Patroclus in his cage down. 

“Hello,” said Harry. He too was extremely awkward. His eyes drifted to his brother for a second, before following suit and placing his own owl down as well. 

“Ah yes,” said the man. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you two very soon. Harry and Y/n Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s eyes, Harry. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Y/n watched as the old man looked at his brother, and he wished the old man would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

Finally Mr. Ollivander tore his silvery eyes away and placed them upon Y/n, chilling him to the very bone with his blank stare. 

“You, on the other hand, have your father’s statue . . . and his eyes . . . but you have your mother’s curiosity . . .” Mr. Ollivander trailed off, as he stared into Y/n’s e/c eyes. Y/n did not know what to think about the man in front of him. He had his father’s eyes?? No one -- not even his aunt and uncle had told him that. Although, they never spoke about their parents. Not until yesterday. 

“Your father, on the other hand,” said Mr. Ollivander, who finally snapped out of his stupor and turned to look at Harry; his eyes never leaving Y/n’s twin. “--favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.” As he spoke, Mr. Ollivander had started leaning his face close to Harry once more, and he had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. 

This man . . . (or was he really a man at all?) scared Y/n. 

“And that’s where . . .” Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. Before turning to Y/n and doing the same to his forehead, making him flinch. 

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it . . . to both of you,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and- a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . .”

He shook his head and then, to both Harry’s and Y/n’s relief, spotted Hagrid.

“Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again. . . . Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?”

“It was, sir, yes,” said Hagrid.

“Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?” said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

“Er — yes, they did, yes,” said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. “I’ve still got the pieces, though,” he added brightly.

“But you don’t use them?” said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

“Oh, no, sir,” said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

“Hmmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. “Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see.” He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?” He said looking directly at Harry. 

“Er — well, I’m right-handed,” said Harry.

“Hold out your arm. That’s it.” He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

As he said this, Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own, all while Y/n watched in awe at the sight of more magic being done. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. “That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. 

“Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.” Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —” Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

“No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.” Harry tried. And tried. Y/n had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. 

The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.” 

Harry took the wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped, as Y/n cheered and hugged his brother. Harry made a oof sound before smiling and wrapping his arms around his brother. 

Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well . . . how curious . . . how very curious . . .” He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious . . . curious . . .” Y/n’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion at the mutterings of the old wizard.

 “Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?” 

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you and your very own brother that scar.” Harry and Y/n swallowed. Y/n’s stomach curdled at that relation. 

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.” Y/n shivered. He wasn’t sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. Harry paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, before Mr. Ollivander turned his sights onto Y/n. 

“Hold out your wand arm,” said Mr. Ollivander. Y/n held out his arm as the tape in the old wizard’s hand began to measure him like it did with Harry. Once Mr. Ollivander received his measurements, he started digging around in the many boxes for a wand. 

Mr. Ollivander turned on his heel and placed a couple of boxes down on the counter. A spark was lit in his eyes. “If you’re anything like your brother, Mr. Potter, you too will probably be a tricky customer.” He opened one of the lids and pulled out a wand. 

“Here’s a nine-and-a-half inches, maple wood, and a dragon heartstring core. Slightly springy.” He handed the wand to Y/n and he gripped it firmly in his hands. Y/n tried to give it a wave but the magic that burst out of it was not pretty indeed. A gust of wind blew out from it, making a stack of papers sitting on the far corner of the counter spill onto the floor. Mr. Ollivander hummed, snatched the wand out of Y/n’s hands and used his own to place the papers back on the counter. 

“No . . . that’s not it. How about . . .” he grabbed another wand from the stack. “Here, ten inches, Yew wood, and a unicorn hair core.” Y/n barely had a grip on the wand when Mr. Ollivander snatched it away . . . again. Muttering under his breath, Mr. Ollivander finally pulled another wand out. 

“Here, Mr. Potter, try this one. Fourteen-and-a-half-inches, hawthorn wood, with a phoenix feather core -- like your brother -- and it’s slightly springy and flexible.” Y/n turned to look back at Harry, his eyes wide with nervousness. Harry gave him a small nod of encouragement and Y/n took a deep breath before wrapping his hand around the wand’s handle, gripping it tightly. 

He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. And a bright, glowing light spewed out from the tip of the wand. Y/n gasped in amazement as the light lit up the dusty and dark shop. Y/n could feel a connection, a spark, between him and the wand. As if the wand laid a claim on him. As if it chose him. 

Once the light dimmed down, Harry and Hagrid clapped joyously. “Bravo Y/n!!” said Hagrid, as Harry smiled brightly at his twin. Y/n’s cheeks redden in embarrassment. 

“Yes, excellent Mr. Potter.” Mr. Ollivander plucked the wand from Y/n’s hand and examined it. “It appears you and your brother have a close connection with the phoenix.” His grey eyes twinkled before he placed his wand back in its box and handed it to Y/n. 

Y/n paid Mr. Ollivander eight gold Galleons, all while smiling and thanking him for his help. “Oh . . . you’re welcome . . .” he looked startled, as if no one had ever thanked him before. But Y/n continued smiling at him, even as they all walked towards the door (of course not before picking up Patroclus’s cage and reminding Harry to take his owl as well) and Mr. Ollivander bowed as they left his shop, with a smile on his old ancient face.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Y/n,Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Y/n was happy as ever, a smile was still glued on his face as he talked and babbled to Hagrid, speaking of all the things he couldn’t wait to see. Patroclus even looked as if he too was listening and understanding what his new owner was saying. 

While Y/n was excitedly talking, Harry didn’t speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn’t even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry’s lap, and Patroclus asleep in his own cage on Y/n’s lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves,” he said. 

He bought Y/n and Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around, while Y/n ate his burger in content. To Harry, everything looked so strange, somehow. 

“You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet,” asked Hagrid, concern dripping his gruff tone. Y/n even turned to look at his twin, worry in his e/c eyes. Harry wasn’t sure he could explain. He’d just had the best birthday of his life — and yet — he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

“Everyone thinks I’m -- we’re --- special,” he said at last. “All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander . . . but Y/n and I  don’t know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? We’re famous and we can’t even remember what we’re famous for. We don’t know what happened when Vol --, sorry — I mean, the night our parents died.” 

Y/n’s mood immediately changed and his shoulders slumped. He didn’t realize that his brother had all this on his mind. He didn’t realize that Harry was right. They weren’t special. All they had was cool scars on their foreheads and they somehow killed a dark wizard (okay that is pretty cool, but that’s not the point). So why was everyone thinking that they were indeed special. They acted like he and Harry were King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. But they weren't. They were just two orphan boys whose parents had died and by some magical reason they survived a dark wizard attacking them. 

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile. “Don’ you worry, Harry. You and Y/n will learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll both have a great time at Hogwarts — I did — still do, ’smatter of fact.” Y/n gave Hagrid a weak smile, but his mind was still raging with thoughts. How could they be special?? 

Hagrid helped Harry and Y/n on to the train that would take them back to the Dursleys, then handed him and Harry an envelope.

“Yer tickets fer Hogwarts,” he said. “First o’ September — King’s Cross — it’s all on yer tickets. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with one of yer owls, they’ll know where to find me. . . . See yeh soon, Harry, Y/n.”

The train pulled out of the station. Y/n and Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; they rose in their seat and each pressed their face against the glass of the window, their hot breath making it fogging and their noses were against the window -- which wasn’t the best feeling in the world --, but Y/n blinked and Hagrid had gone.

Well, hello there! It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry I haven't updated in a bit. I've been busy with life (projects, holy crap), and hadn't had the time to write for this story. I've been writing my own original stories while consuming all the fanfiction and manga I can get. But I'm here! I'm still active and will update, but for the meantime, due to my muse being a bitch---updates will be whenever I get the vibe. However, I am excited about this series and I can't wait to show you all the oc puffs I've created to be (y/n)'s friends!! I love you all and please take care of yourselves! Also!!! Please respond to this post to be added to the taglist i'm creating!! Thx!

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐭

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face, and Harry’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross. Yet she sported a warm gaze in her hard eyes. When her eyes landed on a few of the first years, her posture softened before turning back into a statue. Y/n knew from that moment he liked her. 

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid, his voice a bit gruff.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” She pulled the door wide. Y/n gasped and took in the surroundings. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys’ house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. 

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, their footsteps echoed, and Y/n smiled. He could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “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.”

“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.”

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose, and a young chubby red-headed girl’s messy hair. Y/n and Harry shared a glance and then nervously tried to flatten their hair.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.” She left the chamber. Harry swallowed. “How exactly do they sort us into Houses?” he asked Ron. “Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.” Y/n’s heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he or Harry didn’t know any magic yet — what on earth would they have to do? He hadn’t expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she’d learned and wondering which one she’d need.

Harry tried hard not to listen to her, while Y/n also went over what spells he might need and tried to remember the wand movement, but did it in his head. He’d never been more nervous, never, not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teacher’s wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him and his brother to his doom.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed.

“What the — ?” He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. Y/n jumped into Harry, trying to avoid the ghosts that seemed to be arguing. 

What looked like a fat little monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, 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 had 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 people nodded mutely.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said Friar. “My old House, you know.” Y/n smiled at the ghost as the Friar winked at him. 

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony is 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.”

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Y/n got into line behind a boy with brown hair with the girl with auburn-hair behind him, and Ron was in front of him, and Harry was in front of Ron, behind a boy with sandy hair, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Y/n had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Y/n looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He smiled and he heard Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open on to the heavens.

Y/n quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn’t have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Y/n thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing — noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. 

Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide 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 Hufflepuffs are true 

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

 If you’ve a ready mind, 

Where those of wit and learning, 

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning 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!”

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

“So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Y/n heard Ron whisper to Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”

Y/n smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Y/n didn’t feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a House for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!” A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause — “HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Y/n saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her, and Y/n watched as older Hufflepuffs greeted and welcomed the girl.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah, and just like Hannah, the Hufflepuffs greeted and welcomed her as well. Throughout the ceremony, with each sorting of Hufflepuff, they would greet and welcome their new housemate. 

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.  “Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but 

“Brown, Lavender” became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron’s twin brothers catcalling.

“Bulstrode, Millicent” then became a Slytherin. And Y/n watched as a few Slytherin’s greeted the girl and welcomed her to their house. Although some of the older students did look a bit unpleasant and bored. 

Y/n was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered how he and Harry were picked for teams during gym at his old school. And they’d always been last to be chosen, not because they were no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked them.

“Douglas, Charlie,” 

The brunette boy Y/n shared a boat and walked out from the crowd of first years. He looked nervous and glanced at the hat and gulped. He sat on the stool and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head and he jumped slightly, and his green eyes became wide. 

“SLYTHERIN!” 

The boy looked relieved and his shoulder relaxed and he smiled at the Slytherin table, he looked pleased and walked over to them. 

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Sometimes, Y/n noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. “Finnigan, Seamus,” the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

“Fawcett, Sarah,” 

A girl with tawny brown hair and eyes, strode up to the stool and sat down. 

“RAVENCLAW!!” Cheers from the Ravenclaw table sounded and she smiled widely before she jumped off the chair. 

“Granger, Hermione!”

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. “GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat. Ron groaned. Y/n clapped for her and gave her an encouraging smile. She smiled at him, before striding over to the Gryffindor table and sitting down next to a boy with the same ginger hair as Ron and his twin brothers. 

A horrible thought struck Y/n, as horrible thoughts always do when you’re very nervous. What if he wasn’t chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he’d better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR,” Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to: “Malfoy, Draco,” 

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!” Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren’t many people left now.

“Moon, Aurora,” . . . , “Nott, Theodore,” . . . , “Parkinson, Pansy,” . . . , then a pair of twin girls, “Patil, Padama” and “Patil, Parvarti,” . . . , then “Perks, Sally-Anne” . . . , and then, at last —

“Potter, Harry!” As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. 

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

“Where’s his brother, Y/n Potter?” 

“The Potter twins?” 

Y/n’s cheeks became inflamed as eyes in the Hall eyed his twin and started looking for him. There were only a few students after him and soon he would be sorted. Y/n watched as Harry shuffled over to the stole and the hat. He watched his brother speak to the hat for a few minutes before the hat shouted: “GRYFFINDOR!!” 

The Gryffindor table exploded in cheers as Harry smiled widely. He looked happy and relieved that he was put in Gryffindor, and he slipped the hat off his head and walked over to the table as the Gyffindor’s cheered and the Weasley twins shouted: “We got Potter!! We got Potter!!” and Harry had his hand shaken by a Weasley. 

“Potter, Y/n,” 

The hall became quiet again, and everyone’s eyes were trained on his form as Y/n gulped and walked off to the stool. He sat on the four-legged stool and blushed at the eyes that were on him. Professor McGongall sat the hat down on his head and he jumped at the voice that he heard in his head. 

“Ah! Potter! Unlike your brother, who would’ve done well in Slytherin, you do not. No, I see a heart full of loyalty, bravery, honesty . . . a heart of gold, eh? Kindness is flowing through your veins, just like your mother,” 

Y/n perked up at the mention of his mother and he felt his heart become heavy. 

“Yes, though you’ll do good in Gryffindor, I see more . . . . yes, that’s where I’ll put you,”  This time the hat spoke aloud and shouted: “HUFFLEPUFF!!!”

Authors Note:

I hope you enjoyed it though!! I was a bit offline for a bit due to me on vacation with zero internet access and I write on my chromebook, but I do have a few chapters already written and working on more!

I hope you enjoyed it though!! I was a bit offline for a bit due to me on vacation with zero internet access and I write on my chromebook, but I do have a few chapters already written and working on more!

if you want to be part of the tag list, please respond to this post!

taglist:

@officialsaturn

@mysticanxy

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙚𝙣: 𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙃𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙥𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙃𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚

The hall was silent; everyone stared for a brief moment until Professor McGonagall started clapping. Slowly, the other professors at the high table on the raised dais joined in. Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was frozen—at a standstill. While the table under the yellow banner with a badger applauded and cheered with smiles, he never felt so unwelcome. 

Y/n didn’t notice that the stern professor had removed the old raggedy hat until she urged him off the rickety chair. He didn’t notice his legs moving on their own. Poor Y/n couldn’t hear anything. It was all muffled. As if someone was cupping his ears, shutting him out from the world into a plain of silence. His e/c eyes were glued on Harry. His twin was staring at him with a pained expression. Of course he was sad, thought Y/n bitterly. Why didn’t that talking hat put me in Gryffindor? 

Ever so slowly, Y/n started moving towards the table of his new house. Eyes from the Gryffindor table watched his movements as he slunked towards the long rectangular table. Behind him, Professor McGonagall continued to call out names for each new student to be sorted. Once he reached the table, many eyes and faces greeted him with smiles. They were happy; he realised. Happy to have snatched one of the Potters. Though they did not boast about it like Harry’s house, you could see the joy each one had. 

Before Y/n could sit down, a tall boy with black wavy hair and sky-blue eyes stood up, drawing attention temporarily from Y/n but in the end winded back to being on the young Potter. The boy stopped in front of Y/n and he watched with a terrified expression on his face. 

“‘Ello Potter! The name’s Oliver Benedict, and I’m the seventh year Prefect of Hufflepuff House. If you need anything at all, please come straight towards me. And welcome to Hufflepuff.” Y/n watched in silence as he smiled and gestured to the table behind him. The tall creature smiled too much, which made shivers climb up his spine. Y/n wanted to say hello or nice to meet you, or possibly anything. But alas, all he said was: “Um… w-where d-do I-sit at?” His e/c eyes wandered over the table, trying to figure out where he was supposed to go. He knew from primary school that each table had a group. And he was able to figure out which group was friendly and which one was not. However, there were no multiple tables for Hufflepuff. Just one long rectangular table that had a handful of students. 

“Oh, right!” Oliver cleared his throat and pointed to a small group at the end of the table. “You can sit there with the other first years, or—” He pointed to the front. “You sit with us, seventh and sixth years.” 

Y/n pointed to the rest of the first years. “I think I’ll sit with them; the other first years.” He said shyly. His eyes flickered down to his hands as he fiddled with the black robes of his uniform. 

“Of course, of course.” Oliver chuckled. “Remember now, if you need anything—and I mean anything at all, please come to me and I shall be glad to help you.” With one last friendly smile, Oliver went back to his original seat before Y/n sluggishly walked up to the group of first years. 

He quickly took a seat next to a girl with auburn hair. The girl turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were crystal blue, and she took in Y/n. He smiled, awkwardly. She returned the sentiment and tucked a copper strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Hullo, I’m Rosemary.” She had a bit of an Irish accent, but it wasn’t so prominent. Rosemary held out her hand. “And you are??” 

Y/n took her hand in his. 

“I’m—” 

“That Y/n Potter, that is!” exclaimed a boy with blond hair. He was leaning across the table, staring at Y/n closely. His brown eyes were glued to his scar, making Y/n want to cover it up with his hair. 

“If you don’t know who he is, you must be daft!” 

Rosemary glared at the boy. “And you must be rude to interrupt our conversation, y’know!” She spat venomously. 

The boy next to the rude one simply stared at Y/n. 

“I don’t know who you are.” He said quietly. “I’m Justin Finch-Fletchy.” He held his hand out. Y/n took it. “I’m Y/n Potter.” 

“How is it you don’t know who he is, Justin??” cried out the blond. “You muggle-born or somethin’?” Justin blushed, his cheeks were the colour of beets. 

“Yes. I-I am. Do you have a problem with that?” Justin’s voice quivered slightly. 

“No! ‘Course not! Just cause I’m a pureblood doesn’t mean I believe all that rubbish!” 

Rosemary rolled her eyes. 

“Anyway, I’m Ernie. Ernie Macmallin. Nice to meet you, Justin. Potter.” Ernie purposefully left out Rosemary to goad her, and she knew it too. Glaring at the blond pimple, she scoffed before introducing herself to Justin. 

Y/n watched as Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the sorting hat after a boy named “Zabini” was the last one to be sorted. Soon the hall grew quiet around Y/n as the man sitting at the high table on the raised dais stood up, raising his hands to draw everyone’s attention. 

“Welcome new and returning students!” His voice was soft yet strong at the same time, plus his long white beard reminded Y/n of Father Time. He, like the rest of wizards and witches apparently, wore bright purple robes with blue and burgundy embellishments and embroidery in the fabric. On his head seemed to be an overly large nightcap. “Before we start feasting, I would like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” 

Laughter boomed through the hall, and Y/n looked around the hall as he said those odd words. His brows were furrowed, confusion laced in his eyes. Was he supposed to laugh? If so, those words weren’t funny. In fact, they were rather strange. Strange word choice. He didn’t like the way the old wizard’s eyes twinkled. It made him shudder. 

“He’s a bit loony, huh?” questioned Rosemary. “My mum thinks so,” whispered a girl with blonde pig-tails. “Dumbledore, loony? Reckon you’re loony if you think the best wizard in the world is loony himself!” claimed Ernie. 

“Thank you, and have a wonderful feast!” He raised a hand and suddenly, dishes appeared. A plate and silverware and goblet materialised in front of him, making Y/n gasp and stare wide-eyed. 

“Whoa,” he whispered. Food started being passed around and lively chatter filled the hall. Soon, food was piled on his plate, drawing some looks from other Hufflepuffs—though Y/n did not care. He was busy eating. He never, in his entire eleven-years of life, has ever seen this much food that he could eat! Harry would be lucky to see him tomorrow and not nursing a food-coma. 

As he shovelled food into his mouth, Y/n missed the glances he received from others. A few Ravenclaws whispered behind their hands, a few Hufflepuffs elbowed each other and pointed, while some Slytherins watched on. Gryffindor house was the only ones that did not notice, for they were too busy being occupied by their new member. 

“Y/n, would you like some potatoes?” He looked up and nodded. “Thanks, Rosemary,” she smiled in return. “No problem,” She brushed her red locks behind her ear. 

“So, Potter, did you and your brother really kill You-Know-Who?” The table became silent. The only ones who spoke were the 7th and 6th years who were far down and didn’t hear. Y/n froze and hesitantly looked up from his plate. His housemates were either staring at him, waiting for his answer, or they were sending glares at Macmillian—Rosemary was in the latter, her fists clenched—and a tense silence was cast on the table. 

Before Y/n could give his answer, someone interrupted him. 

“Oh, shut your trap Macmillian, ye old geezer!” snapped a voice full of a Scottish burr. “The next time a hear any incentive thing comin’ outta yer mouth, a’ll kick yer arse maself!” A tall and muscular girl gripped the rude blond boy by the ear, yanking on him as her eyes, full of fury, was directed on him. “Shame on you for bein’ an old cocker!” Giggles and snorts were heard all around Y/n, as his new housemates laughed at Macmillian. 

“Mary!! Put me down!!” he whined. The giant of a woman sneered and Y/n realised then that somewhere in between her telling him off, she picked Macmillian up by his robes and held him close to her face, a few feet off the ground. The giant—Mary—plopped the scrambling boy down onto the bench and gave him one last glare, before she turned her fiery amber gaze onto Y/n. 

“Am Mary Fraiser, this little twat,” she nudged Macmillian. “--is ma cousin! He’s a shite, ignore ‘im,” Fraiser reached over and held out her hand. Y/n took it gingerly before being yanked a bit as she gripped it and shook. “Nice ta meet you!” 

The Y/n gave her a friendly smile, hoping that she’ll stop shaking his bones with her strength. “I’m Y/n Potter. Nice to meet you as well.” 

The brawley girl barked out a laugh. “Aye we know ye, Potter.” She chuckled before giving Macmillan one last glare before she went to sit further down at the table. 

The rest of the meal, Macmillan ignored Y/n, only talking—more like yelling—with Justin about the wizard sport, Quidditch. It looked like Justin didn’t get it, but nodded along for Macmillan’s sake.  

As Y/n reached for a jug full of pumpkin juice, an arm went straight through the jug, making the Potter boy scream and jerk back. His eyes blown wide, he watched as a fat man wearing a grey frock with a rope tied at the waist flew through the table, moaning as he gazed at the juice longingly. 

“Oh phooey,” he sighed. “I forgot,” 

A few older Hufflepuffs looked on at the ghost with pity. 

“Y-Y-ou’re the Fat Friar,” Y/n said, his eyes watching the ghost with a strange fascination. The ghost turned to look at him, a smile on his face. 

“Indeed, I am Mister Potter! Oh! I heard you were able to be sorted into my old House!! Oh, dear, I hope you’ll enjoy it. We have a celebrity! I cannot wait to rub it in Old Baron's face! Ha!” The Friar flew off towards the Slytherin table. Y/n turned his head to watch. He noticed how the ghost called the Bloody Baron was sitting next to the blond-haired boy—Draco Malfoy. Shaking his head, Y/n went back to his food. 

“What class are you excited for most, Potter?” asked Rosemary, her blue eyes full of curiosity. Before he could answer her, Rosemary interrupted. “I’m very excited for Herbology! My mum is a herbalist, it’s what drew my dad to her, y’know!” 

“I really like Charms, but also I’m very excited about Potions.” 

Someone chuckled. “I thought so too until I knew who was to be our Professor.” Y/n turned his head to look at the voice. He had short black hair and brown slender eyes and a round face. He looked nervous, yet confident at the same time. 

“Snape, that fellow right there,” He pointed to the raised dais where the high table was, and pointed at a man with a hooked nose, shoulder-length black hair and black eyes that were staring at his brother, Harry. 

“He’s a nasty bloke I’ll tell ya,” Y/n watched as “Snape” nodded his head as the professor from Diagon Alley, Professor Quirill, spoke with the black-haired professor. 

“He hates anyone that isn't in his house. It makes Potions dreadful. He’s always hovering and when you make a simple mistake, he takes away so many house points and calls you names.” Y/n and Rosemary gasped. 

“How cruel!” 

“Can he do that?” 

Cried Y/n and Rosemary at the same time, their eyes wide with shock and fury. 

“No one stops him, not even Dumbledore. Tcch.” The boy crossed his arms, his eyes rolling. Realising that he didn't introduce himself, he sighed and offered his hand. “Nakamura Hiroshi, second year.” 

“Y/n Potter,” He gripped Nakamura’s hand. “Rosemary Thorn, nice to meet you,” she smiled and shook his hand. 

“Nice to meet you both,” Nakamura nodded his head in greeting. “Welcome to Hufflepuff House,” 

The Hall fell silent after dessert as Professor Dumbledore stood up from his chair. 

“Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.” A few Hufflepuff’s rolled their eyes. “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” 

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.” Rosemary leaned over to whisper to an older Hufflepuff. 

 “Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.” Madam Hooch stood up from the High table. “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” Only a few people laughed, Harry being one of them, along with Justin, who looked around at the worried eyes of their new housemates looking grim. 

“He’s… he’s not joking?” asked Justin, his voice wavering. “Nah, he ain’t. A jus’ wanna know wat it is,'' spoke Mary a few seats down. 

“Usually Dumbledore gives us a reason,” murmured another student. 

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Y/n noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed. Oh, no. Nakamura and Mary firmly placed their hands over their ears. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

 “Everyone please your their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

 And the school bellowed:

 “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

 Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

 Our heads could do with filling

 With some interesting stuff,

 For now they’re bare and full of air,

 Dead flies and bits of fluff,

 So teach us things worth knowing,

 Bring back what we’ve forgot,

 just do your best, we’ll do the rest,

 And learn until our brains all rot.”

The noise was painful. Y/n had placed his hands over his ears when it first started. “Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. Rosemary whispered to Y/n. “Was that really music?” He chuckled, smirking at the auburn-haired girl. “A magic beyond all we do here!” 

“And now, bedtime. Off you trot!” Prefects, Oliver and a girl with short blue hair and green eyes, stood up with a bunch of other students from the three other tables, calling out: “First year Ravenclaws, follow us,” “First year Slytherins, follow us,” “First year Gryffindors, with me.” 

Y/n watched with sad eyes as he and Harry were split from each other, one wearing red and gold and the other yellow and black. 

Oliver and the witch led Harry and his fellow first years through the corridors of Hogwarts. Y/n watched as the other students, red and gold, blue and bronze, climbed the grand and moving staircase—thanks to Hogwarts: A History—that Y/n couldn’t wait to explore. While he and the rest of the first years followed their Prefects. Rosemary stuck close by him, pointing to the portraits that lined the cobblestone walls. 

“Our common room is in the basement?” whispered Justin. Macmillan nodded. 

“Yeah, it’s near the kitchens,” a smirk formed on his face. 

They climbed down the non-moving staircase and they felt a slight chill in the air. Rosemary stuck close by Y/n, pointing to the fruit themed portraits that lined the cobblestone walls. They passed a portrait of a bowl of fruit—that reminded Y/n of the bowl of fruit that muggle art teachers would have their students paint or draw—and Y/n could hear a slight commotion happening behind the portrait. Frowning, he looked at Rosemary, seeing if she had any clue as to what it was. Her face was marred in confusion. So she didn’t know what it was then, mused Y/n. 

“If you need a map of Hogwarts, please let us know, myself and Oliver shall provide you with one.” Commented the female perfect, a friendly smile on her face. 

The group stopped together at a nook, hidden by… barrels? Y/n looked at it in confusion. 

“Unlike the other houses where they need a password or need to answer a riddle, for us, we need to tap on these barrels to a rhythm, our House Founder’s song’s rhythm. We will teach you the rhythm tomorrow after your classes. So until then, stick together in a group and we’ll assign an older student to let you in and out of the common room.” Oliver smiled at the first years. “Now, Ethel, will you do the honours?” Ethel—the other prefect—nodded her head. She approached the barrels and tapped two from the bottom, and two in the middle row, and one in the top row. A soft melody played from the barrels, and the door of the nook opened. 

Y/n peered into the doorway along with the other first years. The ceiling was low; the room was round and had two small platforms with a staircase leading up to a door. One said Gents, the other Ladies. It must be the dorms, Y/n thought to himself. There was a sense of warmth and welcoming to the room. The smell of vanilla and sunflowers reached Y/n’s nose. It brought a sense of homeliness to the common room. It made him want to cuddle up in a blanket and read one of the books about dragons by the fireplace and drink some hot chocolate with marshmallows. It temporarily made him forget about his dread and his sadness. It made him forget that Harry wasn’t with him. His heart winced at the thought. 

“Welcome,” Oliver smiled. “To Hufflepuff House,” 

Authors Note:

Happy birthday Harry, Y/n Potter! Hope you enjoyed this weekends chapter! I don't know when the next one will be, hopefully soon, but this Monday I'm starting my last semester at school, so wish me luck! A lot of the characters that'll be showin' up will most likely be OC's, so I'm plannin' on doing an introduction to Hufflepuff house students of Hogwarts soon so you'll get a feel of them when they get older! Thanks for reading! xx

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