[X][CONVERSATION] Write-in as many topics as you like (e.g.: Hogwarts Houses, How Harry Can Get Minions Of His Own, The History Between Their Houses, What Implements Everyone Has, Etc.)
-[X] To start with, and if it's not rude to ask, what's the history between their houses? Because if were going to be friends it's probably good to at least see where the hatchets landed before we try and bury them.
-[X] What are they planning to learn at Hogwarts? Magic is new to us so we don't know what were aiming for but they probably have an idea.
-[X] What's it like being a minion? Do you get benefits, pay, stuff like that? If one of them gets in a bind do you have to save them? Do you share magic for big spells?
-[X] What's the weirdest thing any of them have seen? We know people usually don't turn into dragons and stuff thanks to Hagrid, but that still leaves out all kinds of cool stuff people can do or turn into.
-[X] We remembered what Draco said about "making your own fun" and as such we've taken on the duty, on behalf of wizard kids everywhere, to bring actual games and comics to this forsaken realm. Translation, do you wanna see what non-wizard kids do for fun? (Of course we have to open our jacket like a shady business man in an alley. Style points you understand)
[X][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] Sure, that's me: Harry doesn't mind it, but he doesn't pursue it either. If someone calls him that, fine. If they don't, fine. It's whatever.
[X][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] Just Harry's fine, mate: Harry doesn't like being addressed as Prince Potter. He automatically discourages people from calling him that.
[x] [][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] That I am, but you can just call me Potter: Harry likes being called Prince Potter. He's not going to be a prat about it, but he preffers to be called Potter and if someone makes him mad they damn well better call him by his title. Think "Mistress" Weatherwax, Granny Weatherwax to friends, "friends" and allies.
[X][CONVERSATION] Write-in as many topics as you like (e.g.: Hogwarts Houses, How Harry Can Get Minions Of His Own, The History Between Their Houses, What Implements Everyone Has, Etc.)
-[x] So what's the Wizarding music scene like?
-[x] Anyone up for a rousing one shot in the Tomb of Horrors?
-[X] What's it like being a minion? Do you get benefits, pay, stuff like that? If one of them gets in a bind do you have to save them? Do you share magic for big spells?
-[X] What's the weirdest thing any of them have seen? We know people usually don't turn into dragons and stuff thanks to Hagrid, but that still leaves out all kinds of cool stuff people can do or turn into.
[X][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] That I am, but you can just call me Potter: Harry likes being called Prince Potter. He's not going to be a prat about it, but he preffers to be called Potter and if someone makes him mad they damn well better call him by his title. Think "Mistress" Weatherwax, Granny Weatherwax to friends, "friends" and allies
[X][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] Sure, that's me: Harry doesn't mind it, but he doesn't pursue it either. If someone calls him that, fine. If they don't, fine. It's whatever.
-[X][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] A man's actions, not titles, should speak for him.
[X][DRACO] Invite him and his minions to sit with you: You're already on friendly terms, might as well reinforce those bonds.
-[X][DRACO] Offer them a board game together and get their opinions on them. You need to know exactly what different students might like about the school. After all, Ron and Draco seem like two opposing personalities and it would be interesting to know their opinions on how feasible what you decide to do is.
[X][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] Sure, that's me: Harry doesn't mind it, but he doesn't pursue it either. If someone calls him that, fine. If they don't, fine. It's whatever.
-[X] That being said if someone's being a prat it's Prince Potter with a capital P because we've learned from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia how to "politely" be a prat right back. The wizarding world's got nothing on a "lovely surprise visit" from Aunt Marge.
[x][x] [][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] Just Harry's fine, mate: Harry doesn't like being addressed as Prince Potter. He automatically discourages people from calling him that.
[x] -[DRACO] Offer them a board game together and get their opinions on them. You need to know exactly what different students might like about the school. After all, Ron and Draco seem like two opposing personalities and it would be interesting to know their opinions on how feasible what you decide to do is.
[X][CONVERSATION] Write-in as many topics as you like (e.g.: Hogwarts Houses, How Harry Can Get Minions Of His Own, The History Between Their Houses, What Implements Everyone Has, Etc.)
Just finished reading through this a couple days back and decided to try illustrating this quest's version of Garrick. All in all, great worldbuilding and even better writing! A genuinely enjoyable read, that I'll look forward to following in the future should it come out of its hiatus. In the meantime, all the best of luck with your novel.
[X][ADRESSING-ROYALTY] Sure, that's me: Harry doesn't mind it, but he doesn't pursue it either. If someone calls him that, fine. If they don't, fine. It's whatever.
[X][DRACO] Invite him and his minions to sit with you: You're already on friendly terms, might as well reinforce those bonds.
[X][CONVERSATION] Write-in as many topics as you like (e.g.: Hogwarts Houses, How Harry Can Get Minions Of His Own, The History Between Their Houses, What Implements Everyone Has, Etc.)
-[X] To start with, and if it's not rude to ask, what's the history between their houses? Because if were going to be friends it's probably good to at least see where the hatchets landed before we try and bury them.
-[X] What are they planning to learn at Hogwarts? Magic is new to us so we don't know what were aiming for but they probably have an idea.
-[X] What's it like being a minion? Do you get benefits, pay, stuff like that? If one of them gets in a bind do you have to save them? Do you share magic for big spells?
-[X] What's the weirdest thing any of them have seen? We know people usually don't turn into dragons and stuff thanks to Hagrid, but that still leaves out all kinds of cool stuff people can do or turn into.
-[X] We remembered what Draco said about "making your own fun" and as such we've taken on the duty, on behalf of wizard kids everywhere, to bring actual games and comics to this forsaken realm. Translation, do you wanna see what non-wizard kids do for fun? (Of course we have to open our jacket like a shady business man in an alley. Style points you understand)
"Alright!" said Harry, clapping his hands together as Draco sat on the same side as him, pressed against the door wall and as far away from Ron as possible. His trunk went under his feet.
He was about to say something else, but to his surprise, Crabbe and Goyle just nodded at their boss and closed the door in front of themselves, standing on each side of it with their backs to the compartment.
"Are they... not coming in?" asked Harry.
"Hm?"
"That's not really how minions work, mate," Ron hurried to explain before Draco could process Harry's question. "They're supposed to stay on guard as long as they can without breaking down. It's kinda barbaric."
"That's certainly... a way of seeing it," Draco frostily commented. "One might think the fact that your family hasn't had minions in centuries might influence it."
"Listen here, you-"
"Am I going to have to intercept every time you guys talk?" Harry asked.
Draco and Ron both looked away, frowning.
"Okay, look," Harry said, sitting up straight. "Can I just ask, what happened between your families?"
The two changed looks, and eventually Ron rolled his eyes and gestured for Draco to speak.
Draco nodded at his... rival? He nodded at Ron and looked to Harry, "You see, Prince Potter, sometime during the reign of the Bastard, the Head of House Weasley - Dukes back then - promised her eldest daughter to the youngest son of the Head of House Malfoy, who were mere Barons at that time."
"Alright?" said Harry, nodding.
"Well, Lady Rawa Weasley instead chose to send a transfigured pig in her daughter's place. When the deception was discovered, she claimed she merely gave a bride worthy of a Malfoy," Draco continued, tone icy. "Naturally, we sought out the King. After Scorpious Malfoy the Second performed a few feats of wit and power to gain his attention, the King handed out justice and switched our family's titles around."
Harry looked to Ron for comfirmation, who nodded.
"Er, no offense, Ron mate, but your ancestors kinda had it coming here," said Harry, making Draco preen with pride.
"I'm not arguing that," Ron sniffed, looking out the window. "Rawa ruined things for her family for no reason, just 'cause she was drunk on power and barmier than a fermenter. But then the Malfoys spent the next couple of generations using their new power to ruin everything my family put together. We're not Barons anymore. We're not any kind of noble."
Harry looked to Draco for confirmation, who winced and tilted his head.
Harry sighed, "So, if I understand the situation, a bunch of old dead people were cruel and now your families hate each other?"
"I wouldn't say they're all dead," Draco hedged. "We still have Scorpious II's reanimated head in the vault."
"Why?" Ron asked, genuinely intrigued.
Draco shrugged. "I'm sure it seemed reasonable at the moment, but now we don't know how to kill him again, so he just yells at people when we open the vault. He likes me enough, though. He's always happy to explain the history of the stuff in the vault."
"We had something like that with a statue of Great-Aunt Roberta," Ron nodded. Then, after a pause, he added, "Smashing her with hammers worked fine."
"I'll send a letter to my father letting him know."
"Right, see that?" Harry asked, pointing between them and startling both. "You can talk to each other just fine. About really disturbing stuff, sure, but you can talk."
The two pre-teens glanced at each other, winced, then looked away.
"All I'm asking is for a truce," Harry said, hands together. "From when we get onto this train, to when we head back. I'm not asking you to be best friends, but just try to get along?"
Ron and Draco looked at each other again, then at Harry.
"Well..." Draco started, scratching his neck a little awkwardly, "He is our Prince."
Ron snorted and nodded, "Right. We ought to be careful, or else he might tax us."
Well, wasn't that nice. They were getting along, all for the sake of mocking Harry.
[Harry gained the trait: Peacekeeper! Put him between people arguing, he'll get them to relax.]
Seizing the opportunity, Harry tried for a different topic of conversation. "So, what do you guys look forward to learning? I still dunno much about magic, so it all seems so exciting to me."
"You haven't read ahead, my Prince?" Draco questioned. "I figured, as a muggle-raised..."
[][BOOKS] Yeah!: "I know the basics, but I'd still rather know more from a local's perspective."
[][BOOKS] Er...: "I'm not really much of a reader. I learn more by doing."
Draco nodded, a bit hesitantly, and said, "Well... the Malfoy family has a long history of Accord Crafting. It is my hope to join the ranks of Slytherin, their library of Parahuman History is quite extensive, according to my parents."
"Parahuman?" Harry asked.
"He means Others," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Parahuman is just the fancy Ministry term for it."
Harry's face stayed blank.
"Sapient creatures that are not human?" Draco tried.
Harry nodded, "Got it. And they have their own history? Why would you need to know about it?"
"Well, Accord Crafting is half you and half the Parahuman you deal with," Draco said, gesturing vaguely with his hands as he spoke, seemingly without thinking. "You can trick a Parahuman into making a deal that does not benefit them, but it is generally better to exchange something the subject wants for something you could benefit from; so, knowing about their grudges and such helps to know who you can approach for what in exchange for what."
"Sounds complicated and politicky," Harry said. "Makes sense you like it."
Draco smiled bashfully.
"What about you, Ron?"
"Well, my family used to be big into Transfigurative stuff, but the past few centuries we've just done a mix of whatever comes by the family," Ron shrugged. "I dunno if there's anything that really calls to me. My mum does Accords, my dad does Rituals, my oldest brother Bill got really into cryptozoology... I guess I'd like to go to Gryffindor. I've got a staff, so big flashy Conjuration could be bloody awesome."
"Cool, cool," Harry said, nodding. "I understand what you're talking about."
Ron snorted and Draco looked down to hide a smile.
"They'll explain at Hogwarts, your Highness," Draco assured him.
"You're really into the titles thing, huh?" Harry asked, smiling a bit awkwardly. You were fine with "Prince Potter" and stuff, but "Your Highness" felt like a tad much.
Draco shrugged. "It's how I would want to be treated, were I a Prince."
"You mean still a Prince?" Ron asked, smirking.
Draco's eye twitched.
Yup. Topic change, now.
"Should I get minions?" Harry asked, bringing their attention back to him. He nodded towards the door, where the enormous figure of Goyle stood with his arms crossed while Crabbe waved his arms about, gesturing as he spoke. "Seems like a noble thing, right?"
"Well... not everyone has minions," said Draco. "But they are rather handy."
"Huh. What's it like, anyways?"
"Having a minion?"
"Er, no, being one."
Draco blinked, as if the question surprised him. "Oh, er... well, they receive a number of benefits."
"Like what? Pay?"
"They do recieve a monthly stipend," Draco nodded. "Though, since we're all eleven, it's more like an allowance from my parents."
"How much?"
"A few thousand quid," Draco shrugged.
"Blimey! That much?" Ron asked.
Draco nodded.
Ron blinked and looked at the middle distance, muttering, "I gotta get myself a boss..."
[][MINION] "Wanna be mine, then?": I mean, hell, apparently you're rich. (Gain a minion, Ron is conflicted about having a boss.)
[][MINION] Say nothing: It'd be a bit weird to have a minion. (Ron's not a minion (yet). You remain equals.)
"Anything else bosses have to do?"
"Well, if they become harmed in my service, I am expected to cover all expenses for their recovery. And they're more assistants than bodyguards, so I am expected to lead in a fight, even if they're obligated to protect me."
"Seems reasonable."
"Also... I do technically have the ability to drain them for power," Draco winced. "It's not something to be done lightly. It's barely an expemtion to the Vampirism Laws, and only because minions are one of the oldest traditions of Unspoken England."
"That makes sense. The idea of having someone to help me with everything through a generational pact sounds very British."
Both your new friends snorted, though Draco immediately blushed, cleared his throat and tried to cover by saying, "That is an unfair thing to say of our country, my Prince."
"Right," Harry chuckled. "Well, if that's all... what is the weirdest thing you've seen?"
"Pardon?" asked Draco.
"Like, to me, the weirdest thing I've ever seen was a birthmark that looked exactly like London's subway map on my Uncle's back, followed by Garrick," Harry explained, confusing Draco further. "I wanted to ask what was weird by your standards."
"Er," said Draco.
"I once saw an UFO!" Ron immediately cut in, dragging attention to him. He seemed really eager to talk about this.
"A hwat?" asked Draco.
"Really?" asked Harry, eyes wide and excited.
"Really!" said Ron. "I was in the garden at my house, 'cause I was coming back from playing, and I saw a big UFO leave a crop circle!"
"What's a UFO?" Draco tried again.
"An Unidentified Flying Object," said Harry. "Though, it's not really unidentified, because when people say UFO they mean aliens."
"Like... Americans?"
"No, like Little Grey Men!" Ron said, smiling excitedly. "My dad told me all about them. Apparently some muggles have experienced encounters with visitors from outer space. Advanced civilizations that visit from distant planets!"
"Tell. Me. Everything." Said Draco, with the single most intense expression you'd ever seen on his face.
"Nobody knows if they're real, though," said Harry, trying to calm them down.
"They are! I saw them!" Ron insisted. "They burnt a big circle into the crops! Scared the heck out of the Minor Nymphs!"
"Are they evil?" asked Draco, who sounded like he would love nothing more than to hear there were alien intelligences who despised him.
"Nobody knows..." said Ron, wiggling his fingers.
Oh boy. This looked like it would go on for a while. Hermione brushed her robes off, taking a deep breath, before approaching the two boys guarding another compartment door.
The boy, Neville, hesitated behind her while fiddling with his own robes, seeming a tad nervous. Hermione tried to present a front of stoicism despite having been shouted out of the previous compartment by some very rude upperclassmen.
Hermione made a mental note to be nicer to her underclassmen when she got older. She'd certainly never forget how scary it was to head to Hogwarts for the first time.
Not that she was scared.
But others might be.
She shook the thought off and cleared her throat as she stopped in front of the two boys. The larger one remained silent, but the one with the cap tilted his chin up at her.
"Um, excuse me," she tried, voice wavering just a bit. "Have either of you seen a frog-shaped Familiar around? I-It's Neville's."
The two boys traded looks, then shook their heads.
"Well, could we ask the people inside?" she asked.
The shorter boy shrugged, then tapped the glass of the door twice with his knuckle. A second later, he opened the door slightly and said, "Boss, some bird wants to ask about a frog. Should I let her in?"
Some bird?!
Receiving an affirmative reply, the rude boy opened the door, letting Hermione and Neville look inside.
She did so, after sending the boy a mean look that he easily ignored.
In that time, one of the boys inside--the blonde--called out, "Lord Longbottom. Long time no see."
She blinked, confused, then looked over her shoulder.
Neville was blushing, but he bowed his head and said, "Lord Malfoy. I-Is Earl Malfoy in good health?"
"He is. And the duchess?"
"Healthy as well," Neville nodded.
Neville was a Duke?
Neville was a Duke?
Neville was a Duke?
The boy didn't really seem all that royal... whatever, Hermione shook her head and said, "Well, I'm Hermione Granger."
The blonde boy, Malfoy, blinked, then nodded his head at her. "Charmed. I'll introduce the rest of us. The ginger is Ron, of House Weasley."
"Redhead," Ron corrected pointedly. "Red. Head."
"And at your right is Prince Harry Potter," Malfoy continued, ignoring Ron.
Hermione's first thought when she looked to her right was that the boy also didn't look very royal, much less prince-like.
Her second thought, as the boy thought about something, was Wait, Potter? Like the ones the books said brought down the Unforgiven? He definitely doesn't look like he could do that.
[Trait Triggered: Prince Charming]
Then the Prince took her hand delicately and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before smiling up at her and saying, "Enchanted."
Hermione's third thought was, That was just like my Shojou comics! He is a Prince!
"I didn't take you for someone so bold, your Majesty," Malfoy noted, eyebrow raised.
[Trait Triggered: Oblivious]
"Hm? Isn't that how Princes are supposed to say hello to girls?"
Malfoy opened his mouth but Ron beat him to it, saying, "Yes. That is exactly how Princes say hello to girls."
"See?" said Harry.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned to Hermione, who was fighting back a blush. "So? What can we help you with, madam?"
"Ah, yes," Hermione shook her head. "Um, Neville's familiar got distracted looking for something, I was wondering if any of you saw it?"
"Can't say we have," Prince Potter said.
"I'll take care of it," Malfoy said, stretching a hand forward, palm-up. "Nicodemus, out."
A shadow whirled out of his sleeve, gathering at his palm and slowly taking the form of a crow.
In a croaking corvid voice, it asked, "You. Rang?"
"Bloody sick," Prince Potter whispered, looking as awed as Hermione felt at seeing such visible magic in front of her.
Draco smirked a bit, then said, "Please help Lord Longbottom and Miss Granger to find the former's familiar. And please call the trolley while we're out."
Nicodemus nodded, then flew up to Hermione's shoulder and nipped her ear, pulling her back out of the compartment.
"Right, well, um, see you at Hogwarts," Hermione said, still flustered, and walked out.
As the door was closed by that rude boy, she saw the two turn to Harry, whom she barely heard say, "Anyways, as I was saying... Would you two like to see what non-magician kids do for fun?"
"Harry, mate, why did you open your coat like that?" asked Ron.
Harry x Draco
Harry x Ron
Ron x Draco
Draco x The X-Files
Hermione x Crabbe
Hermione x Harry
Hermione x Draco
Harry x D&D
(this is a joke, there's no ship flag system)
(depending on stuff, Hermione might turn out to be a shojou princess reverse-harem protagonist, though)
(and I'm open to whatever crack ship the readers feel like making happen)
Chapter Three: A Trolley and a Trip on a Train (part three)
[X][BOOKS] Yeah!: "I know the basics, but I'd still rather know more from a local's perspective." [X][MINION] Say nothing: It'd be a bit weird to have a minion. (Ron's not a minion (yet). You remain equals.)
The trio of Harry, Ron and Draco continued to spend their trip to school unperturbed.
The only interruptions were when the train left, at which point Ron poked out of the window to say goodbye to his mum and sister while Draco hid from sight; and then when Draco's inherited Familiar, Nicodemus, came back riding the shoulder of the Trolley Witch once they were a good hour away from the station.
After a brief debate over who would buy candy for sharing, which Draco won by pointing out that Harry didn't even have a checkbook, much less real paper money, the three new friends sat around to share on cartoonishly whimsical treats.
(Harry made a mental note that Ron stayed quiet during the brief debate.)
Mostly, they spent their time learning the rules and tricks of Dungeons and Dragons (2E) and setting up a quick-and-easy campaign.
Stuttery and a bit embarrassing at first, the three boys quickly got into the swing of things. At one point, Draco's Wizard and Ron's Wizard/Paladin found themselves at a roadblock when they got stuck at a particularly challenging puzzle that Harry made up on the spot, so Draco invited Crabbe and Goyle in at Harry's suggestion.
Goyle played a Barbarian/Wizard. Crabbe played a Rogue/Druid.
Everyone named their characters after themselves, for some reason.
Within minutes of real time and seconds of in-game time, everything was on fire, undead bees were everywhere, Draco had turned Ron into a kraken, Ron had decided to stay a kraken after it helped him easily win an encounter, Goyle was chewing on the face of a living and screaming black dragon, and Crabbe had decided to seduce a goat by turning into a bull, to general confusion.
Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. The others seemed to agree.
"You said you wanted to sell some of these things at Hogwarts?" Draco asked once the prince was rescued (read: incarcerated after Ron deduced he was the one behind everything and Harry decided that was a better plot twist than everything being a dream).
"Yeah."
"That's a really good idea, you could probably make a lot of money on this..." Draco frowned. "But, you only have the one rule set, right?"
"Yeah, I wasn't sure what to do about that. Is there something like a magical printer?" Harry winced and cradled his wrist, adding, "I don't wanna do everything by hand."
"Well, you could probably convince a Parahuman or an upperclassman to transcribe it with magic," said Draco, scratching his chin.
"The real problem's gonna be convincing people to play it," Ron said through a mouthfull of writhing confections shaped and behaving like various animals. "Especially people in different Houses."
"That's true," Draco nodded. "Unless..."
"What?"
"Well, um, Weasley and I already expressed desires for different Houses," said Draco. "Assuming we all get what we want, and that Prince Potter ends somewhere fitting but away from us... perhaps we could partner up? Maybe split the profits and make a joint operation?"
Ron's eyes got really wide, but he restrained himself as he turned to look at Harry for his response first.
[][PARTNERS] YEAH!
[][PARTNERS] NAW!
Whatever his response, they spent the rest of the trip eating, talking, laughing and occasionally listening to Harry's discman.
(Draco's expression when Harry played him some Ramones was the same as when Ron told him about UFOs.)
As they travelled farther, they cut through a thick fog and storm, which obscured how much the sun was hiding until the lights came on and all three boys realized how dark it had gotten outside.
After some awkward shuffling, hemming and hawing, they all took turns changing in the bathroom. When Draco went, Crabbe and Goyle went with him. They came back changed.
Harry and Ron would go on to wonder for the rest of their lives if the two minions went into the single-person bathroom with their boss and changed with him, or if they changed outside the bathroom while standing in clear view of everyone.
Whatever the case, soon enough things were put away, a voice on the intercom advised them to leave their luggage where it was, and they all merrily left the train to find themselves standing in muddy, damp, misty terrain.
"It's like we never left England," Harry joked.
"You beat me to it by a second," Ron replied.
Draco, burdened by nationalistic pride for some reason, sighed but said nothing.
The students stepped out of the train and found themselves at a wooden station, complete with a sign.
It read "Hogsmead Train Station. Irish Need Not Step Out."
"Oi, what the ass?" one boy Harry's age asked. He, predictably, had an Irish accent.
"Holdover from the Thatcher administration," an older boy with a similar accent said, voice tired. "They were going to remove it when she finally left last year, but some wanker did a ritual to stick it in place, and we're not allowed to set the bloody station on fire over a single sign."
"That's a bloody outrage!"
"First years! First years!" a familiar voice called out.
Relieved, Harry turned to find the enormous form of Hagrid stepping closer, holding up a lantern giving off a blue light from the azure flame inside.
"Are the Irish done being mad about the sign?" Hagrid asked.
"One moment," the boy Harry's age said, before turning around and kicking the sign.
It jostled slightly, but stayed put.
The boy nodded at himself then turned to Hagrid, "I'm good now."
"I keep telling them we need to replace that sign," Hagrid sighed. "Anyways. First years, with me! Upperclassmen, if you don't know where to go by now, follow someone that does!"
The mass of students split up, one seventh of it trailing after Hagrid like ducklings as he lead them from soggy wood to muddy earth, and then to a prim cobblestone path.
The mist seemed to curl around them as if it had a will of its own, but it parted eagerly under the shine of Hagrid's lantern.
They walked like that for a while, only capable of seeing each other and the massive frame of the groundskeeper. There was a moment of alarm when several students realized they could not see the ground under their feet and they started murmuring nervously.
Harry felt his implement warm around his finger, and when he looked down at it, he saw the mist curl into the shape of small baby-sized hands that tried to clasp his own.
Bizarrely unafraid, he turned his hand and brushed the mist. He immediately felt his hunger sharpen and his energy wane, but the mist turned briefly, partially golden and it parted from him, enough that he could see the cobbles under him aain.
And then, they exited the fog, and found before them a castle.
Harry's breath escaped him. His eyes dared not blink.
Tall, enormous, with two large towers on either side and a sturdy wall topped with weapons medieval and distressingly modern, the ancient walls of Hogwarts stood as they had for millenia, and as they would for the forseeable future. The grass and plantation outside the walls was perpetually pushed away as though by an unfelt wind.
There was something incomprehensible about the place, with the glimmering lights that could barely be seen through distant windows and atop the wall. It felt solid in an abstact sense, like its rich history and metaphorical durability were actual physical traits that could be observed with the naked eye.
"Here I am," the school seemed to say. "Here I stand, through time, kings and trials, to educate you. Fill my halls, learn the trades I offer."
And despite it all... Harry did not feel himself be assured of safety.
Eventually, the stupor ceased, and the students moved forward, as Hagrid had been patiently waiting for them.
"Even grander than my parents described it," Draco whispered.
"I know," Ron agreed, voice equally low.
The walls got even bigger and more eye-catching as they neared. They stretched upwards like skyscrapers, with only a few windows and peeping holes interrupting unyielding stone and masonry.
There was only one gate, almost comical in how it was sized for people when everything else was enormous.
Two gargoyles sat on each side of it, and there were two more gargoyle heads on the door itself, holding onto large ring knockers.
"Call Professor McGonagall, please," said Hagrid.
The gargoyle on the right turned its head slightly, and within minutes the sound of heels clacking on stone could be heard approaching.
Harry then noticed that Hagrid had been wearing a hat, because the large man removed it and started nervously wringing it in his hands.
The young magician-in-training barely had a moment to wonder at that before the doors open and an older woman with a severe expression and round glasses hanging off the edge of her sharp nose. She wore a full three-piece suit that clung to her thin frame tightly, along with a holstered wand on her side.
A golden ring with a black stone on it glimmered on her right finger, and her ears were lined with piercings exposed by the way her hair was tied back in a bun that could crack stone. On top of her head was a wide-brimmed witch hat, which flopped backwards on the end as all proper witch hats should.
She looked at the students for a moment, then turned to look at Hagrid, who'd spent a few moments stuttering.
"Timely as ever, Rubeus," Professor McGonagall said, harsh expression shifting into a gentle smile.
Harry barely spotted the tips of Hagrid's ears through all the hair. They were red.
... huh.
At that moment... Harry decided he would tease Hagrid about this later.
"Well, thank you kindly, Professor," Hagrid said. "I'll just, erm, make my way to the table."
"By all means," said McGonagall, stepping aside.
When Hagrid moved past her, she gave his thick arm a kindly pat, before her expression turned stone-like again as she focused back on the students, some of whom where giggling among themselves.
"Students, welcome to the Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am the Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor, Minerva McGonagall; Mistress of Conjuration and Expert Transfigurator.
"In moments, you shall all be sorted according to whatever House most suits your talents.
"Perhaps you shall join mine, and learn the heights of Conjuration. Should Transfiguration be more your style, Ravenclaw's doors are open. The arts of Wizardry are always in need of new points of view and new insights into what is and isn't possible.
"If the Craft is more your speed, Slytherin's pacts and Hufflepuff's rituals shall prove sources of inmense power for you all. The paths of Witchcraft are more marked than those of the Arts, but there is still room for advancement and refinement in every small thing.
"Regardless, you shall all be accepted into this noble Academy, even if you yourselves are not Nobles. Your housemates shall be your research partners and rivals, students outside your House shall be a welcome respit from competition for resources and access to certain tomes, and your teachers will guide and educate you.
"Make no mistake, though the walls keep the buildings inside safe, tomorrow the fog shall clear and everything outside will start scheming for access to and ownership of your names, minds and souls. Sabotage of another student is only acceptable as long as the result is not fatal, and ego death is no longer considered non-fatal."
Some kids huffed through their noses and/or clicked their tongues. Seems like they were really banking on that whole "ego death" thing.
"There is an expectation of chivalry in our students. Keep it, or face punishment. Either the removal of points or the removal of limbs."
Bloody hell! Was she serious?!
"That was a joke."
Oh.
"We can do worse things than dismemberment; and if you play with magic, you shall deserve every second of them."
Oh.
"With all that said, welcome once again. Please follow, and prepare for the sorting ritual."
With nary another word, she turned on her heel and stepped away.
The students interchanged nervous looks, then followed after.
Harry leaned in to Ron and whispered, "Was she joking about--?"
"No."
"Ah. You're sure?"
"Yes," he and Draco replied in unison.
"Got it."
The group moved across a large lobby, and then through a wide corridor lined with suits of stone and cold iron armor which turned their helms to watch them go.
Soon enough, they caught up with Professor McGonagall, who opened a wide set of doors with a single flick of a wand.
The doors calmly opened, and Harry laid eyes on a huge hall, complete with five long tables. Four were parallel with the walls to the sides and each other, stretching forward to fit all the students while the fifth one was perpendicular, in line with the back wall on the far end of the room, and hosted a wide variety of characters dressed in what Harry now recognized as typical adult magician fashion.
Which is to say that they were all covered in more ice than the titanic and had more drip than a runny nose.
There were other adults seated at the head of each table, minus the one on the far left where the students had red and gold ties and lining in their robes.
On the far right, where the students were decorated with green and silver, the one sitting at the head of the table was an elongated man with greasy black hair, a hawkish nose and dark robes from which no light seemed to escape and which writhed around his form constantly. Silver rings decorated each of his fingers.
The second table from the right, where students were lined with blue and copper, was lead by a miniscule man with the hair on his head shaved at the sides and tied back, a braided beard and tattoos on his face and neck. He wore chainmail armor, had a short bearded axe hanging from his hip and he was drinking from a horn so rapidly that he left a foam moustache on top of his real moustache.
The second table from the left, where students wore yellow and black, was lead by a plump woman with a kindly smile, simple green robes, and a two-handed sword hanging off her back. She was redheaded, freckled, and looked like someone's favourite grandmother. She was sipping wine from a skull that had been turned into a goblet.
Harry noticed that the older the students were, the more they accessorized. He had a brief vision of his future, where he looked like a pasty and English version of Mr. T and carried around weapons like a lunatic.
This vision...
[][FUTURE] Excited Him: Fuck yeah! If looking badass is an option, it's better than whimsy! (Harry will be willing to lean into the accessorizing stuff)
[][FUTURE] Horrified Him: God, could you imagine? His aunt and uncle would die on the spot. (Harry will try to look normal, even if it turns out that wearing ridiculous stuff is necessary.)
Whatever the case, Professor McGonagall strode forward after telling everyone to stay put, then headed for the main table at the end of the room.
There, a small podium was, which inclined forward to allow her access to a large leather-bound tome, which opened on its own for her.
She inspected it for a moment, then produced a list from the inside pocket of her suit jacket. She unfurled the scroll, and read out in a commanding voice, "Abbot, Hannah!"
A young blonde girl, with her hair tied in pigtails, nervously scurried forward.
The professor patiently guided her to rest her hands on the book. Abbot, Hannah did so, and after a few moments...
"HUFFLEPUFF."
The voice seemed to ring from everywhere at once, reverberating with the walls of the Great Hall.
The lining of Abbot, Hannah's turned black and yellow, and she quickly rushed to the appropiate table.
The process repeated a few times, and -- confident in their surnames' initials -- Harry, Ron and Draco quickly lost focus and went back to examining the room.
The walls were lined with several pillars of beautifully sculpted masonry, etched with drawings of runes and glyphs of unknown purposes. These pillars held up a ceiling that was hidden from sight by an illusion of the night sky above them; slightly clouded but with a shining moon above and no light pollution to hide the stars.
What did obscure the sight a little were all the candles hanging still in the air above the students, giving out warm lighting.
"How do they keep the wax from dripping on everyone?" Harry wondered out loud.
"They don't," a girl with long blonde hair deadpanned, gesturing to the tables then using the same hand to brush some dried wax off her shoulder.
Indeed, now that Harry was looking, more than a few students were already bearing a resemblance to an unattended statue at a park. Others were protected by different means, such as the wax droplets curving around them, turning into mist on approach, stopping and rolling off as if on an invisible umbrella or simply disappearing.
This was what happened mainly among older students, with only a few younger kids similarly blessed. Everyone else hissed when hot wax landed on skin and dealt with it.
Notably, none of it landed on the tables or the empty plates.
"This seems... purposeful."
"Hogwarts believes in motivation through mundane means," the blonde girl shrugged, already focused on looking forward.
The reason for her focus was made clear when "Greengrass, Daphne" was called out and she stepped forward, marching with her chin held high towards the tome, which took only moments before calling out "GRYFFINDOR."
Harry tracked her as she walked to the appropiate table, where the clapping and cheering was loudest. Remembering something, he looked to the left and was quickly able to spot the bushy hair of Granger, Hermione among the Hufflepuffs.
He hummed slightly, then yelped when wax landed on his ear.
Time moved forward; the nervous Duke-in-Training, Longbottom, was sent to RAVENCLAW.
(People chuckled when he almost tripped over his feet on the way there.)
And finally, Draco went first of the trio; blessed as he was by the M initial.
He gave Ron and Harry a nervous smile, then walked forward with surety and placed both hands on the tome.
It was only a matter of seconds before the voice called out with, "SLYTHERIN."
Draco's shoulders slumped slightly with relief, before he raised his chin and walked with imperious calm composure and striking dignity.
Which was a little tarnished by the knowledge that he was the kind of person that believed in aliens, named his inexplicably-scottish D&D character "Draco MacMalfoy" and struggled with puzzles designed for toddlers.
Two other people later, the name Potter, Harry was called out, and silence blanketed the room for a moment as Harry stepped to the front of the group and nervously marched forward.
Whispers broke out as he identified himself; more than a few commented on his short stature and unimpressive looks. Still, Harry got to the tome without incident, and placed both hands on the--
A fire, a roaring fire.
Consuming all, cursed with unspeakable, unceasing hunger.
But the fire was only an illusion. A gaseous gateway to a world of heat and undiscriminating gluttony. An expanding hole in reality.
And from inside the hole, two eyes peered out, shining with yellow glee, focused on Harry--
A voice called out. Or the opposite of a voice.
Words that carved silence into the noise of the world, taking away and creating voids in the shape of communication.
Harry felt himself pulled in two directions, one greater than the other.
[][HOUSE] The Greater Pull
[][HOUSE] The Lesser Pull
He didn't even realize he'd snapped out of it until he heard the clapping and cheering, loudest from the House that had accepted him, who cheered over and over that they "Got the Prince!".
He hadn't even heard the announcement.
Slightly dazed and with new appreciation for why Duke Longbottom tripped on the way to his table, Harry made his way to his own and barely acknowledged the people that greeted him. The haze in his mind remained until the sorting was done and the headmaster, an old man with a long grey beard and a very decorated purple suit, gave a short speech on the value of education or something.
Then, food appeared on the dishes in front of students, and Harry quickly stuffed his face while making superficial and polite small talk with his housemates.
Did everyone see a vision like that? For a moment, his head had felt like it would burst open at the seams.
After a while, food was finished and everyone made to walk to their Houses, when Harry was stopped by...
... the Headmaster?
"Um, hi?" said Harry, trying not to blush at the attention coming from his housemates.
"Hello, Prince Potter," the Headmaster said, smiling grandfatherly at him. "I was just hoping for a moment of your time? There is someone that was hoping to meet you. Don't worry, we won't keep you long."
Harry looked at his housemates, who were hurrying away at the urging of their head of house, then shrugged and nodded. "Fine?"
"Wonderful."
Professor Dumbledor lead Harry out of the hall through a discrete side exit, then through a series of labyrinthine hallways to a modest office, decorated with a number of paintings, a plus chair behind a desk, a desk, and two chairs in front of it that were even more plush, as well as occupied.
On one seat was occupied by a woman that looked like a greek goddess of some sort. Draped in a bone-white robe speckled with red and brown stains at her sandal-clad feet, she carried a trident that she rested against her shoulder in one hand and a shield in the other. There was a greek helm over her head, ready to be pulled down over her face at any time.
Her features were inhumanly perfect and symmetrical, though her eyes were uniformly grey, pulsating slightly with light.
The other was a normal man. Handsome, sure, but in a way you'd see in the street. Dressed in a salaryman's shirt and tie with the sleeves rolled up and with an open paperback open in one hand.
Harry barely managed to see the cover. "Neuromancer", by William Gibson.
Professor Dumbledore walked forward, leaving Harry at the door, and gestured to the two, "Your Highness, these two--"
"Albus, please," said the man, folding a corner of the page and leaving the book on the desk. "I think we can introduce ourselves. Or at least, I can."
The Headmaster's mouth twitched slightly, but he nodded agreeably and let the man speak.
The man smiled affably at the Headmaster, then turned that same smile to Harry, saying, "Good evening to you, Prince Potter. I apologize for interrupting your first day here, but I thought it best to get this meeting out of the way."
"I-It's no issue," Harry assured him.
"I'm glad," said the man. "Now, the lovely lady still sitting behind me and glowering menacingly at you is Britannia, my familiar.
"And I am the Unspoken King of England, Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Then, rather hurriedly, he dropped to a knee and bowed his head, trying to channel Draco as he said, "Your Majesty, it's an honour to meet you."
King Riddle blushed up a storm and started to stutter while Britannia smirked behind him, "O-Oh, please, none of that. There really is no need, please, stand up!"
Headmaster Dumbledore seemed just as ammused as the embodiment of Britain, taking a seat behind the desk and saying, "Now, now, Tom. There's nothing wrong with children honouring the old ways."
Despite that, Harry started standing up and tried not to show his nerves as he asked, "W-Why are you here, your Majesty?"
"You can just call me Riddle, I won't mind," King Riddle said, a little awkward. "And, well, I was hoping for a quick chat with the new Prince of England. I would have done this earlier, but Albus here arranged for you to be hidden and cared for beyond my reach."
Harry blinked, then looked at the Headmaster for confirmation.
"I'd spoken with your father about what to do in case of his and your mother's demise," Albus said. "While by the end he didn't have any family to leave you with, he wished for you to be raised somewhere calm and safe."
"And... what did my mum want?" Harry questioned.
"The same," Dumbledore replied. "For you to know family, calm and safety."
Harry frowned a bit, but had his attention dragged over to the King when he cleared his throat and spoke up, "In any case, now that you've mostly been raised, I wished to extend an offer to you."
"What offer?"
"As an Unspoken Prince of England, there are certain expectations of you. You are required to oversee a quarter of the nation's dukedoms, which themselves are made up of earldoms, and so on. This includes resolving disputes, managing deals between groups of enough importance, officiating weddings, divorces and funerals of those of enough political weight or personal importance, waging war, collecting taxes, things like that."
"That's... a lot," Harry smartly pointed out.
"Indeed. And with you out of contact and the Princely House Black... indisposed; it has fallen upon Houses Gaunt and Shacklebolt, as well as myself, to pick up the slack from both of you," King Riddle said, not unkindly while he folded his hands behind his back. "You won't be asked to take control before you finish your education here at the Academy, naturally, but it would be helpful if you could take care of some matters that have been waiting for you."
"Um... I'm not sure I could," said Harry. "I don't really know anything about ruling."
"And hence why I'm really here," King Riddle nodded. "I wished to offer you tutoring."
Harry blinked. The first thing to come out of his mouth was, "Like, in maths?"
"If you struggle with them," King Riddle shrugged. "Mainly, in the subtle arts of politicking and ruling. Both mundanely and in Unspoken matters."
"Does that include pronouncing capitalized letters?"
"It does, actually!" the King happily said.
"It's a subtle art," the Headmaster noted. Then he added, "One could say it is an Art, even."
The King nodded, "Indeed."
Harry blinked, "Did you do it there? It was hard to tell, for some reason."
"I've yet to completely master it," the King sadly shrugged. "I was busy learning to be an Archmage and a King."
That felt a tad passive-agressive.
"But enough stalling," King Riddle said, clapping his hands. "This is by no means a one-time offer, but it might be a yearly one, as I do need to organize my schedule for the coming year."
Britannia scoffed.
"Britannia needs to schedule my oncoming year," the King corrected himself.
"You have the personification of England managing your schedule?" the Headmaster asked, sounding horribly affronted.
"It's not like she was very busy," King Riddle shrugged. "All she did was lounge around, glare at anyone I talked to, steal things from ambassadors and eat Fish & Chips."
[READER CHOICE INTERRUPT!]
[Trait Triggered: Prince Charming!]
[Interrupt/Trait Synergy!]
Harry brightened up and smiled, saying, "I like Fish 'n Chips too!"
The Headmaster and the King gave him disgusted looks.
The personification of England, however, smiled for the first time since Harry met her, got out of her seat and put down her shield so she could ruffle Harry's messy hair.
The King blinked, then barked out a laugh, "Well, the boy just outpaced me as her favorite person. Good job, Prince Potter. I look forward to you usurping me with no resistance from my familiar."
[Harry gained the trait: Britannia's Specialest Boy! English Urban Magic just got ten times easier.]
Harry chuckled awkwardly, then nodded, "Right, so... tutoring."
"You can say no," said King Riddle. "I understand that it can be overwhelming to enter a new world. I went through it myself. And, frankly, I probably won't make integration any easier on you."
[][TUTORING] Accept: You're a goverment agent now. You need to know how to do your job so you don't end up like those politicians that Uncle Vernon's friends always complain about.
[][TUTORING] Decline: You're eleven, for goodness' sake! It can wait until you're twelve, at least.
Author's Note: *rolls up to my own funeral with a Baja Blast*
Hey, what's crackin'.
[X][TUTORING] Accept: You're a goverment agent now. You need to know how to do your job so you don't end up like those politicians that Uncle Vernon's friends always complain about.
"Yes," Harry said, nodding. "If I have these responsabilities and only seven years to learn, then the sooner the better."
"Well said," King Riddle said, smiling, while the Headmaster and Britannia nodded in approval. "Well, with that taken care of, you look... exhausted. I'll walk you to your dorm, since you missed directions because of me."
"And because there's paperwork waiting for you at home?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow.}
"I deny everything," King Riddle shrugged, gesturing towards Britannia.
The embodiment of Harry's nation tossed the King his book, then waved goodbye at the boy before vanishing in a splash of sea spray.
"We'll get out of your hair, Albus."
"Thank you," the Headmaster said. "And, young Prince?"
"Yeah?"
"Welcome to Hogwarts. I look forward to seeing you grow into an upstanding member of Unspoken Society."
"Thank you," said Harry, bowing his head a bit before King Riddle ushered him out the door.
A few steps outside, Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized was stuck in his throat. There were some seriously weird vibes between the King and the Headmaster, and the fact that they spoke like equals when one was in charge of a country and the other was in charge of a school was... weird, even for an eleven-year-old's understanding of society.
Harry looked at his... boss? Harry had a government position, so the King was his boss, right?
In any case, out of the corner of his eye he saw how inky black lines in geometric patterns appeared along his arms, starting from the fingertips and going all the way up to his neck, with two runes behind each ear as the highest tattoos.
The King noticed him looking, and smiled.
"My fashion sense doesn't really lean into all the decorations other magicians use," he explained, turning a hand back and forth between them and showing the pentagram in his palm and the thick black lines on his forehand, along with all the runes in each knuckle. "This is an alternate way, but it wasn't as popular before I became King. It's still pretty unpopular as the sole method of channeling, and I hide it around Albus because if I don't we get stuck arguing about it, but it's catching on these days."
"Channeling?"
"Mm. While your implement -- you use a dragon heart ring, right? I'm more partial to my thunderbird feather staff -- will be what handles the spells, most magicians need help either gathering power or controlling what they already have."
As he explained, the black lines on his arm started glowing with golden light, giving a beautiful shimmer.
"As a Prince, you have partial ownership over a quarter of our country, and as you assume more duties you will see your power input increasing," he continued. "I'd reccommend you start looking into jewelry. Or tattoos, if your guardians won't mind."
"They absolutely will," Harry asserted. "But... they'd also hate if I looked like British Mr. T."
"... you can just wear a necklace to ease them into it at first," King Riddle assured him, cutting off the glow of his tattoos and patting Harry on the back. "In any case... Gryffindor, huh?"
Harry looked down, realizing his robes indeed were decorated with red and gold. "Oh, um, yeah. I was so shocked after sorting I barely realized where I ended up."
"That happens," King Riddle chuckled. "It's my old house. Conjuration is a good art, it'll take you far if you explore its mysteries."
"Mm," said Harry, feeling to exhausted to really make more intelligent conversation.
Sensing this, King Riddle was kind enough to stay silent until they reached a majestic door made with red wood, decorated with golden dragon heads around the frame.
"Take care, young Prince," King Riddle said, patting his shoulder again. "I'll come pick you up this Sunday for your first lesson. We'll take it easy, since you'll be just starting school."
"Um... yeah," Harry said, nodding. "I can't thank you enough for offering this."
"No problem," Riddle said. "Your fortune is our nation's fortune, and vice versa. You will learn that soon."
With that said, the King turned around and walked away.
Harry watched him turn the corner, then knocked on the door, which flew open as one of Ron's infinite siblings welcomed him in and gave him a tour, but by then the entire day was crashing down on Harry.
Saying goodbye to his family, riding the Hogwart express, negotiating, running a D&D game, meeting people, getting sorted, meeting the Headmaster, meeting the King and Britannia, accepting tutoring...
Harry had no idea how he ended up in a large bed with silk sheets, but he barely had the presence of mind to take off his robes, shoes and glasses before falling asleep face-down on his immensely fully pillows and immediately passing out.
His last thought was the hope that Ron had a fun time in Ravenclaw.
[][DREAM] He Dreamt of Flowers: In his dream, Harry walked through an enormous field of white flowers, which turned red behind him as he passed. The further he walked, the more it spread behind him, and he knew this even as he refused to look back. The sky was grey and cloudless, and in the distance... a dark tower.
[][DREAM] He Dreamt of Rivers: Running water under his feet, pant sleeves rolled up, Harry walked down a shallow river, taking small polished stones out of the current and holding them in his shirt, accompanied by friends.
[][DREAM] He Dreamt of Winter: Frost everywhere, as far as his eyes could see. Snow fell in heavy flakes from the sky, tinted orange by the streetlight over his head. A sleigh could be heard in the distance, but all Harry can focus on is the dog sitting in front of him, caged and whipped, but wagging its tail at seeing him.
[][DREAM] He Dreamt of Skies: In his dream, the world was upside down, and people fell towards a bottomless blue expanse. One hand gripped onto a railing, while the other reached towards people who fell near and far. Some took his hand, others failed... but all eventually fell. All except Harry.
[][DREAM] He Dreamt of... Clowns?: Ah hell. It's that damn nightmare with the clowns chasing after him again.
Chapter Five: Education is Fun-damental (According to Huge Dorks) (part one)
He Dreamt of Rivers: Running water under his feet, pant sleeves rolled up, Harry walked down a shallow river, taking small polished stones out of the current and holding them in his shirt, accompanied by friends.
Chapter Five: Education is Fun-damental (According to Huge Dorks)
Sweaty and sore, Harry still managed to wake up feeling quite relaxed. The dream stuck around in his mind, enough that he could almost still feel the cool water lapping at his ankles, and the sense of companionship.
He laid there for a moment, eyes closed, not rushing to wakefulness but getting there at his own pace. Once he did, he was able to take in the room and actually pay attention to detail with a clear mind.
It was quite large, but lacking almost anything in the way of decorations. No posters, no baubles, nothing. Just red curtains with golden filigree, the same theme seen in the blankets, carpet and roof. Hogwarts seemed to really like sticking to a theme, actually.
Still, it seemed like it was a whole lot of empty space. There was a desk in the corner, complete with a plush chair, and in the opposite corner to the left of his bed, there was a large wardrove that had his suitcase on top.
He got up and stretched, his diminutive body forced to crawl all the way to the over-king-sized bed. There were posts on all corners that hung red silk curtains, and he now realized that his pillows had drawings of lions. He felt a little embarrassed now, and wondered if everyone else had this much oppulence in their rooms.
There was the door that lead out of the room, and another one next to it. Poking his head through revealed a private bath decorated with even more...
Was the toilet made of solid gold? Ugh. It was like something a yank would think was classy.
He quickly showered and changed into another uniform. The previous night's stormy weather had moved on, leaving the sun to shine down on the Scottish pastures. His room was already quite warm, so he decided to go without the outer robes and just settled for the shirt and tie, rolling up the sleeves and leaving the knot loose with the top buttons unbuttoned.
Once set, Harry found himself standing at the door, hand on the knob. His eyes stuck on his ring, comfortably warm around his finger, but his mind travelled past the door and into the common room.
Outside his dorm, he'd be sharing a House with a bunch of people that just knew him as... Prince Potter? The son of the Unforgiven's killers?
It was a bit intimidating, really. It was one thing for people to see him as a Prince, but Draco had known him as the muggle-raised chatterbox before that. They'd been pals. And Ron didn't really care about all that... he didn't think.
Petunia Dursley hadn't raised boys ignorant to social engineering. He knew that he would be seen as a meal ticket by most.
He needed... he needed a plan. A way to play this.
[][ATTITUDE] Aloof: Not really smug or superior, just... cool. Coolsville, even. Population? Us. Ignore the fact that he doesn't know what cool people actually do beyond look into the distance with steely eyes and not emote much. That should carry him through, right?
[][ATTITUDE] Polyanna: Harry's not really a pessimistic kid, or an optimistic one. But if he's got to choose... why not be all smiles and sunshine? Begin his Manic Pixie Dream Guy arc! Why not be a Prince that makes people happy?
[][ATTITUDE] Class Prince: Draco seems to have some ideas about how royalty should act, and as far as Harry understands he's the model of high society boys. Maybe he should immitate? Sneer a bit? Lead people? This seems complicated, but maybe it's a way to get ahead of King Riddle's tutoring?
[][ATTITUDE] Big Guy in Campus: Like the Class Prince in that he embraces popularity, but it's less sneering and more jock vibes. Clapping people in the back, parties, stuff like that. Still exhausting, but this seems like a friendlier way to be princely.
[][ATTITUDE] Write-in: Subject to QM's veto, write how you think Harry should present himself to his housemates.
Once down to lunch, a bit of social anxiety creeped into Harry's chest. All the upperclassmen were grouped up and talking amongst themselves, and a lot of people in the Houses themselves seemed to have met at the train and gotten sorted together.
Turning his head around, he realized that people from different Houses were able to sit together. Made sense, considering what Professor McGonagall said, now that he thought about it.
Hm... Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were... surrounded by people at the Slytherin table.
Dang, Draco was a social powerhouse, huh? Well, in that case...
Harry looked to the Ravenclaw table and found Ron sitting there, eating some oatmeal with the face of someone still half-asleep.
He quickly walked over and sat next to him with a smile, getting one back from Ron.
"Wotcher, mate," said Ron, gesturing at the empty plate in front of harry. "Ta-aah-p it twice and ask for whatever you want. Don't say please, you'll get stabbed."
By now used to the ominous asides magicians were so fond of, Harry did so and asked for tea and scones, which promptly appeared, both steaming hot and smelling sweet. A complimentary tub of strawberry jam even manifested, despite Harry not asking.
"How'd you sleep?" Ron asked as he sipped at his cup of tea.
"Great, I had a really nice dream. I'm actually surprised how well I can remember."
"Oh, you got your omen? I guess that makes sense?"
"My what? Why does that make sense?"
Ron stared blearily at him, realized he'd have to actually explain himself and ordered another cup of tea after he downed the first one in one swig. "Alright, so you know reality?"
"... yes? It's the stuff we're in, right?"
"Eh, more or less. Imagine that reality is like a thin film spread over a drum, and fate is a thin covering of water over the film," his friend said, gesticulating with one hand while the other brought the cup to his lips. "Now, some places and some people have more 'weight' on the film, because they have magic or history or whatever. And because they have weight, the water gathers on them, right?"
"Sure, that makes sense."
"Mm. So, as a Prince you probably have some weight, but Hogwarts is ancient and stuffed full of power, so it's practically tearing a hole through reality just sitting here, which means there's a lot of fate here."
"And what's fate, exactly?"
"Eh," Ron shrugged. "I never really got it. It's like... coincidence? My da' said that someone with a lot of fate kicks a pebble and causes a landslide, or they sneeze and cause a storm. It all ripples out."
"Like on water," said Harry, nodding like he understood.
"Yes," said Ron, nodding like he'd done that on purpose. "Anyway, when people with weight get into a place like Hogwarts, sometimes they get dreams that foretell future events in really ambiguous ways. If you can remember it perfectly all day, it's probably an omen."
"And is it good?"
"It's whatever the future is. You said it was relaxing?"
Harry nodded and explained his dream.
"Sounds relaxing."
"What does it mean?"
"Buggered if I know. I never really got into divination," Ron shrugged. "It's all metaphors and implications and whatever."
"Mm," Harry sipped his tea.
"By the way," Ron said, slightly more awake now, "What did the Headmaster want with you?"
"Oh, the Unspoken King offered to tutor me in politics."
Ron spat out his tea.
Before he could ask what the hell Harry was talking about, said Headmaster stood up at the faculty table and clapped his hands, which produced a thunderous sound.
"Students, we shall begin handing out your schedules for the year soon. Please go to your respective tables, there will be time for inter-house companionship soon enough."
Harry did as ordered, giving Ron a pat on the back on the way back. He ended up sitting next to the blonde girl that explained the wax thing to him during the Sorting, Greengrass, who gave him a speculative look as he settled down, but said nothing.
Professor McGonagall walked down the table, handing out paper slips to students. When she got to Harry, she graced him with a small nod before she moved on, which he returned a bit too late for her to see.
Embarrassed, he looked down at his schedule.
[][MORNING-CLASSES] Select the order that Harry's morning classes are in, and which House they take them with:
-[] Monday: --[] 1st Period:
--[] 2nd Period:
--[] Recess
--[] 3rd Period:
--[] 4th Period:
--[] Recess
--[] 5th Period:
--[] 6th Period:
The options are: Literature, Mathematics, Geography, History, Foreign Languages (French), Foreign Languages (German), Foreign Languages (Japanese), The Arts and Physical Education.
All of these are mandatory and can be repeated as many times as the voters wish, though I'll say that my highschool, upon which this schedule is based, used to make classes take two periods each.
The periods cover a forty-minute stretch, while recess is twenty minutes each, meaning morning classes take 4:40 hours, starting at 07:20 and ending at 12:00.
One hour later, the evening classes begin.
[][EVENING-CLASSES] Select the order that Harry's evening classes are in and what house they share with:
-[] Monday: --[] 1st Period:
--[] 2nd Period:
--[] Recess
--[] 3rd Period:
--[] 4th Period:
