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Author: Zahri Seb Melitor Story: Timeslip Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 11 Words: 12,220
Several hours later, the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Ron gave a sigh of relief – he was hungry, and the food trolley had apparently come around at some point before the group arrived in the past, so he hadn't eaten since breakfast. This was a grave crisis, even though Hermione didn't seem to think so. Hermione fussed, making sure the other five had put everything back in their trunks, while Neville conscientiously refolded a pile of his robes and Luna picked Trevor up from the seat next to her. Harry and Ginny tugged and pulled their own trunks back so that people wouldn't trip over them. Ron picked up Maddie's cage and eyed the owl warily. She looked innocent, but the second Ron looked away to see Luna hand Trevor to Neville, she grabbed at Ron's sleeve with her beak and tugged it towards her. "Why is it that I'm the one who ends up with the hyperactive, neat-freak owl?" Ron grumbled, trying to wrestle his cuff out of Maddie's mouth. Maddie apparently decided that Ron wanted to play tug-of-war and pulled back equally enthusiastically. He raised his other hand to tug on her feathers, then flicked Maddie's beak. Her beak shot open, and he was able to get his sleeve away. Ron looked suspiciously at his hand and then at Maddie. Did I know to do that? He shook his head, confused. "Come on, Ron!" Ginny peered back through the door, frustrated. "Do you want to get to the start of term feast or not? You've only been bothering us about your need for food for the last six hours." Ron shot one last warning look at Maddie and then followed Ginny out of the train. Chaos reigned on the platform, just as it always did. Students were scattered in all directions, chattering and adjusting their robes. Ron and Ginny walked over to where the others were standing. Harry grinned when they came up. "Having problems with your owl?" Irritated, Ron just sighed. He looked around the platform at the confused little first-years, who didn't know where to go. Suddenly, a familiar voice cut across all the platform chatter. "Firs' years! Firs' years, over here! Now, Miss O'Donaghue, stay close. You don't need ter fall into the lake like yer sister did." Harry's eyes lit up. "Hi Hagrid," he called, waving across the crowd. Hagrid, busily pulling a thickset boy away from Bill Weasley, didn't even look up. Harry's face crumpled like a piece of cheap parchment, and he looked smaller than usual. "Stupid me," he growled angrily. "Of course he doesn't know me. Why would he? I'm just another student." Ginny wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. "Come on," she said. "I see an empty carriage over on the right. Why don't we see if we can all squeeze into that one?" Luna, Ginny and Hermione crowded into one side of the carriage, Ginny's slightness allowing the three to fit with only a bit of a squish. Neville and Ron clambered into the other side. Ron looked out at Harry, who was eyeing the inside of the carriage apprehensively. He realised that, although Harry was still the smallest boy, they'd all grown enough in the last year or two for the three boys not to all fit in. Harry looked reluctant, as if he was about to find another carriage to travel in. Rolling his eyes, Ron stood up and moved to lean against the empty side of the carriage. "Hop in, mate." When Harry opened his mouth to protest, Ron continued. "I'm fine here. See? I can sit on the floor." He slid down to the base of the carriage, pulling his knees in to demonstrate. "Get in. You do want to eat tonight, don't you?" Harry shook his head, but he still moved to sit in Ron's spot. As he shut the door behind him, the carriage moved off. Ron could feel every jolt and shudder of the carriage as it hit rocks and cracks in the road, but he didn't say a word. It was uncomfortable, but it was a small sacrifice so that they could all travel together. Hermione started talking in a bright voice about some of the spells she'd read in her textbooks over the summer and how useful they sounded. She moved on to books in the library she wanted to read, discussing with Luna how hard it was to get some of them. Ron mostly ignored the conversation, nodding his head every now and then. His tailbone was feeling affronted, and he was sure that he'd be sore tomorrow. Harry was picking at the cuff of his robe, also ignoring Hermione's chatter. Neville and Ginny were busily discussing the magical properties of willow bark, in low voices, and what differences Whomping Willow bark had. Apparently it was more potent painkiller than normal willow bark and was used to help treat magical pains. Ron shook his head. The conversation was too technical for him. Harry quietly joined in, asking a few questions about which disorders the bark was used to treat. Ron began getting very, very confused. Aren't both Harry and Neville completely hopeless at Potions? It sounded like a Potions conversation to him. A while later, the carriage finally rattled to a stop. Ron climbed to his feet, wincing as he did. Yes, he was definitely going to be sore later. Robes a-flapping in the breeze that had sprung up, Ron hurried towards the Great Hall. The sooner he got there, the sooner the first-years would be sorted, and the sooner the food would be served. Floods of chattering students dressed in their school robes poured out of the carriages, up the front steps and into the Entrance Hall. Ron and the others were swept along in the crowd. As Ron walked through the doors of the Great Hall, he couldn't help but gape. Even if the train had seemed unbelievable, the sight of Professor McGonagall with dark brown hair and about half of the staff being people he couldn't recognise brought home that this wasn't the hall that Ron had left scant months ago. It was different. Luna detached herself from the others and wandered towards the end of the Ravenclaw table. A few students half-smiled at her, and others continued on their conversations. No one stopped and stared. No one challenged her as she sat down. Ron took a deep breath and headed over to the Gryffindor table, towards his usual spot about halfway up the table. A lanky boy, with limbs that seemed out of proportion with his body and mousy brown hair, waved at Ron. "Oi! Ron! Harry! Come and sit down; it's not like either of you to hover." Ron had only got halfway to the table when he ran into Harry, who had stopped dead in front of him. Harry was staring back towards the double doors that opened into the Hall. Ron turned to follow his gaze. A black-haired boy, with his scruffy hair sticking in all directions, was gallantly leading a red-headed girl to her seat. He looked as smug as a Kneazle that had just spent the last half an hour methodically turning a Puffskein into a hairball. The girl used her free hand to tuck a few stray locks of her hair behind her ears, and the corners of her mouth twitched as the boy guided her to a seat next to a few other girls her age, then bowed over her hand. Harry slumped against Ron. Ron felt that such behaviour was understandable. After all, even with Pensieves, it wasn't every day you saw your dead parents courting each other. * * * Harry opened his eyes and blinked. No, he could still see his mother, sitting a little way up Gryffindor table. No, his father was still sitting near her, his forehead nearly touching that of another black-haired boy who had to be Sirius, plotting something. Ron poked Harry in the back, and Harry straightened up. "Buck up. People'll start staring at you if you keep leaning against me like this. Here, grab my arm. Just pretend they're not over there – act normal, like Ginny suggested. Oi, Neville!" Ron gestured urgently to Neville, who was nearby. "Give me a hand with Harry here. He's feeling a little faint. It must be the lack of food. I certainly know that I'm feeling in need of feeding." With Ron alternately cajoling and insulting him, Harry made it over to the Gryffindor table. Hermione looked worriedly at him from the other side, and the three boys slid onto the benches, Neville and Ron bracketing Harry. "What's wrong? Harry, you look whiter than Sir Nick!" Ron lowered his voice. "Harry saw his mum and dad come into the Hall. It should be self-explanatory that he's currently a bit... distracted." "Oh? Oh!" Hermione twisted her body, looking up and down the table. "Really? I wonder what year they're in." Harry shrugged. "I suppose they'd be in seventh year – Lupin once told me that Mum wouldn't give Dad the time of day until that point. And she certainly seemed to be appreciating the stuff he was doing." "But that would mean that...." Hermione got no further in her speculations as the doors of the Great Hall swung open and Professor McGonagall entered, leading a crowd of first-years in. All of the conversations in the Hall quietened to whispers, as the students of each house speculated about their new peers. Professor Flitwick brought out the Sorting Hat and set it upon a small three-legged stool in front of the teachers' table. Nervously, the first-years hovered to one side of the stool, glancing askance at the hat as if it were about to explode. Several jumped when the rip in the brim of the Sorting Hat opened, and it began to sing. Once upon a time, 'Twas fair Helga, years ago, With Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Gryffindor, As the Founders taught the students, Slytherin's favourites were Ravenclaw gathered in Gryffindor was attracted to Hufflepuff cared for The Founders realised that Eventually it was Gryffindor And every September since then I've looked in their heads at So calm right down, There was loud applause at the end of the song as the Hat fell silent, then bowed to all five tables. Professor McGonagall unrolled the student list and sighed. She adjusted her glasses and peered closer at the parchment. She took a deep breath and called the first student. "Adams, Sarasvati-Christobel." Titters spread through the Hall as a shamefaced little girl, with fair hair and a very red face, stumbled over to the stool, looking incredibly embarrassed. The Hat covered her head for a few moments before calling out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Ginny shook her head. "Poor girl, to be saddled with a name like that! It's like sticking a sign on her forehead reading 'Come and tease me'." "Don't despair, it could have been worse. She could have a name as tease proof as yours, Ginevra," said Ron. "While, of course, a name like yours is completely untouchable, Ronald Bilius?" retorted Ginny. "Hah! Bringing middle names into this is completely unwarranted! I have a perfectly respectable first name that can be used in polite company without anyone sniggering or raising an eyebrow." "Oh, would you two quieten down, please?" said a girl with sandy waves of hair framing her face and sparkling brown eyes, who was sitting a bit further down the table. "The names that some of these Muggle hippies come up with are worse than mine. Fortunately, my parents were only out of touch with modern slang rather than the entirety of society!" The short girl opposite her laughed, her brown curls bobbing around her face. "At least Dorcas is a real name, my dear." The lanky boy that had called out to Ron earlier and was now sitting only a few seats down the table, looked away from the Sorting sharply. "Have those Slytherins been giving you a hard time again, Dorcas? Ron, Harry and I can go and have a word with them, if you like." Dorcas shook her head. "Thankfully no, Nick. I'm going to have a chat with our newest little Gryffindor, Sarasvati-Christobel, when we get upstairs, if only to find out a name that we can call her. Gwen, you're prefect. Will you help me?" The brown-haired girl nodded. "Poor dear to be saddled with such a name. I'll help." Harry turned his attention back to the hat, which was now Sorting 'Mistry, Gaius'. Most of the rest of the first-year's names were fairly normal, with the mix of Latin names that were so prevalent amongst wizarding families. There were giggles at 'Trevors, Merlin', but the glares Merlin bestowed upon the entire hall kept them smothered at all but the Slytherin Table. The jeers of the Slytherins became louder as Merlin was Sorted into Hufflepuff. Hermione glared at the Slytherin table with undisguised disgust as they did so. "What would most of them know about the Muggle world? Nothing! Merlin's a far more sensible name there than 'Galadriel Arwen Starsong' or 'Daffodil Porcupine Silvermoon'!" Even Neville smiled broadly at the name 'Porcupine'. "Is that supposed to be a fancy modification of Porpentia or something?" Ginny asked, giggling. "It sounds utterly ridiculous!" "You obviously don't appreciate the fine style of hippy baby-naming!" said Hermione sniffily. She then broke down and grinned. "I will admit that Porcupine's a bit too ridiculous, though." "Only a bit?' Harry said scornfully. "Come on, even Dudley's a better name than Porcupine." Ron was jiggling his leg nervously. "Only two more teenies to be Sorted... come on, hurry up! I'm starving!" "Ron!" Hermione sounded exasperated. "How many times do I have to tell you – the Sorting is a fine, old tradition and is not to be rushed. And don't call the first-years 'teenies' or 'midgets'. You were once that short." "Calm down, Hermy." Ron grinned as Hermione bristled and prepared to launch into a lecture. "I didn't really mean it. Really. Look, I'm sorry." "For the 'teenie' comment or calling me Hermy?" asked Hermione acidly. "If you really think that I would ever respond to such a demeaning name...." "Finish the argument some other time," said Ginny, laying a hand on Hermione's sleeve. Ron winced and glared across the table at Ginny. "Look! Bill's about to get Sorted!" Turning back to face the Sorting, Harry realised Ginny was right. Professor McGonagall had reached the end of her scroll. "Weasley, Bilius." With a worried look on his face, Bill walked over to the stool like a condemned prisoner to the noose. Eying the hat with panic, he picked it up, stared at it for a moment, then rapidly sat down, pulling it over his head in one decisive movement. "He looks as though he's terrified of the hat! Even Ginny here didn't approach it with such reluctance. Doesn't he know that Weasleys are always in Gryffindor?" Neville looked amazed. Ginny scowled at Neville. "I had good reason to be worried about my Sorting. And anyway, that's the exact reason he's scared. He's wondering if he's going to be the first Weasley in four hundred and..." Ginny thought for a moment, "...twenty six years to not be in Gryffindor. He's got one of the biggest imaginations in the whole family." The Sorting Hat called out "GRYFFINDOR!" Bill, with a look of relief on his face, all but ran down to the Gryffindor table to sit with the other first-years. "Well, that's that!" said Ron. "Now can we get some food?" As he spoke, platters of food appeared on the golden crockery before them. "Finally!" There were half a dozen slices of roast beef on Ron's plate before anyone else had time to blink. Harry shook his head and started spooning some baked potatoes onto his plate. He'd never known Ron to quite have this level of food fixation, but then he'd never known Ron to miss out on lunch and snacks. After pudding disappeared from their plates and went back to the house-elves to clean up, Professor Dumbledore stood up. As he looked across the house tables, the cheerful chatter died to a murmur. "Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts. I trust by now you have all eaten and renewed your acquaintances with those you have not had a chance to converse with over the summer. First of all, however, there are gaps in this Hall where friends once sat. I would like to pause for a moment to remember them." Throughout the hall heads turned as the student body tried to work out who was missing. Gwen looked up and down the table worriedly. "Albert and Elsie Darlington aren't here!" Nick's voice was heavy. "Their family was attacked in August, and their father's still missing. Dad told me: he was assigned to their case. They're not sure, but because Mrs Darlington's a Muggle, they think it's those crazies who call themselves 'Death Eaters' again." "How can people do things like that?" Dorcas' voice was outraged. "It's because they think that purity of blood is more important than magical ability." Harry looked in shock at Neville, who was speaking with a very hollow voice. "It's idiotic, but that's what they think." "Why does every pure-blood separatist group seem to want to take back up Salazar Slytherin's noble cause? Muggles aren't just going to go away, and there will always be Muggle-borns. There'd be even more trouble if everyone without pure blood wasn't trained!" Ginny was turning red with anger. It was Hermione's turn to grab Ginny. "Calm down!" she hissed. Dumbledore's voice cut across the political and philosophical discussions going on all over the hall. "Mr Filch has asked me to remind the school that Dungbombs and Dr Filibuster's Fireworks, along with many other more esoteric items are on the list of forbidden objects in this school. He has also requested to inform the school at large that anyone caught with possession of any of these objects will be required to copy out the entire list – three hundred and eighty seven items, I am reliably told – one hundred times, on top of any other assigned detention." Dumbledore looked further up the Gryffindor table with a serious look that did not reach his twinkling eyes. "Also, the school as a whole is reminded that the village of Hogsmeade is out of bounds, excepting those occasions when students have permission to visit. Now, as I'm sure you're all very tired, off to bed with all of you!" The entire school stood up with the maximum amount of noise and flooded towards the doorway. Harry found himself in a stream of Gryffindors, including the other sixth years, heading back to the common room. Soon enough, after many tall staircases and long hallways, they arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait. The brown-haired girl called Gwen stepped forward. "The password is emeralds and rubies. Don't look at me like that, I didn't choose it. Our esteemed Head Boy did." "No prizes for guessing why," shouted a voice from the back of the crowd. "Would you all hurry up and go in the portrait hole?" Scant moments later, Harry stepped through the small stone tunnel and out into the familiar red of the common room.
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