{This is part of an Alternate Universe where, to put it simply, Voldemort's attempt to kill Harry succeeded, but destroyed the Dark Lord along with it—as equally mysterious a demise to the world as his death in the original timeline. Peter "Wormtail" Pettigrew was slain in 1993, captured in rat form by a young Gryffindor student's rabid cat. The rest of Voldemort's supporters successfully - it seems - returned to their old lives.
Hogwarts itself has had little impetus to change either: Dumbledore remains respected and feared as the most powerful wizard alive; Professor McGonagall as his Deputy, and Head of Gryffindor; Professor Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin; Professor Flitwick, Charms Genius and Head of Ravenclaw; Professor Sprout, Herbology Savant and Head of Hufflepuff; even still, Rubeus Hagrid in charge of Magical Creatures lessons, Trewlawney and Divination and so on...
Here there are no fated heroes and no magical destinies—here, wizards are their own worst enemy in a different way}
Sitting somewhere near the very end of Ravenclaw's long table, Jackie Arucci grabbed for a goblet of a fizzling seltzer water and sighed through the wonderful fantasy of it all. Growing taller every day with scraggly, greasy black hair, Jackie looked a bit like a lumbering tree—well, more like a twig, actually, but he still maintained that he was a lot stronger than he looked.
Jackie stared up at the long staff table, toward an empty seat beside Professors Snape and McGonagall—often reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. One of Hogwarts' longest-lasting mysteries was its supposed "curse" on DADA Professors. Not one had lasted longer than a full year for ten years.
"They offered me the job, Margie," he'd heard his father say, over the summer, "Hogwarts!"
"You can't go, Anthony, you can't," his mother Margaret begged. "I don't want you to get maimed or killed or lost or—"
"That's all rumor, please, hon," Anthony Grizziolo had said, firmly.
"We were students back when those teachers were falling off like hotcakes!" Jackie's mom had shot back, standing her ground.
"Dammit, Marge—"
"Don't you think you worry me enough, trouncing about England all day with that rubbish partner of yours?" Margaret said, grumpy.
"And hunting down criminals is safer than being with Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts?"
"For all we know Dumbledore cast the curse, to keep the rest of the school safe!"
His parents had argued not only all night, but for a matter of weeks. And, eventually, told both Jackie and Vinny (his older brother, Hogwarts's Head Boy and Prefect of Gryffindor House) that he'd declined the position at Hogwarts.
Trying to find his brother through the throng of people eating and chatting at the Gryffindor table, Jackie realized Vinny was nowhere to be found.
All through the feast, whispers floated across every table about the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who's seat remained empty all throughout the Sorting and for another hour after that. Soon, interest waned, and turned to other things—Quidditch, upcoming classes, the food they'd try and sneak up to the common room after, all that sort've stuff.
At the Hufflepuff Table, Jackie's enemy, Wendy Greene, chortled across the table at a joke told by one of her cronies (Cameron and Dominic.) All of them were 3rd-years as well, and for some reason, had never been anything but rude and dismissive to Giacomo and his friends. Some people theorized that, because Gryffindor and Slytherin were always prone to intense rivalries, the same happened to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw by default—still, two years later, Jackie had trouble making sense of a senseless dislike.
Jackie turned his attention away from Wendy (who looked...different in a way he couldn't explain) and remained dead-set focused on the empty chair for much of the feast, staring holes through it as if he could make his father apparate there.
"You're looking quite upset Jac-kie," the smooth, French accent of Jackie's close friend Jacques drifted over. The 3rd-year glanced over to the wide, black French-boy and shrugged. "Didn't you hate the last two profes-sors we had?"
"Didn't you get his owl?" Jacqueline Marden III - another close friend of theirs - cut in, squeezing herself in next to Giacomo by pushing away a couple, scrawny first-years. "His dad was up for the job."
Together, the trio made up what some Ravenclaws (and other 3rd-years) called "The Jackies": Giacomo, Jacques and Jacqueline, although Jacques was rarely called Jackie ("Jackie Deuce", as his last name was Duclair) and Jacqueline went by her suffix "III", or, "Trey."
"Real-ly?" Jacques asked, quite unaware. He spun his wand (10-inches, sycamore wood with unicorn hair core) around his right index finger like a Quaffle, occasionally spinning it to regain momentum with his right middle finger. "I was quite bu-sy you know, I didn't read much ow-el mail."
"All you care about is that stupid broom of yours." Trey grimaced, putting her thin, small face into her long hands.
The previous year, Jacques had crashed one of the school brooms during Quidditch try-outs and had been in the hospital wing for well over a month. He was a good flier—but reckless like no Ravenclaw should be.
"It's a Turbo XXX!" Jacques grinned, dropping his wand in front of him on the table to lean forward. "Pa-rents got it for me new, it flies like my high-est dream! And this sum-mer, my dad took me to see a cousin who had an old Moontrim-mer!"
Normally excited to discuss anything about brooms (an avid flier himself, having been gifted an Air Wave Gold for his eleventh birthday), Jackie felt like his promise to Jacques for both of them to make the Ravenclaw Club that year was empty—all his excitement about the coming year drained away by the sound of his parents arguing all through the summer. At least Jacques had a good time, he decided.
"Look, Professor Dumbledore-!" Trey pointed toward the front of the Grand Hall, where all the staff had paused their own conversations as the tall, slim Headmaster of Hogwarts shuffled out of his center seat and toward the pedestal where he normally announced all sorts of new rules for the coming year—where he should have been announcing their new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. From Dumbledore's empty seat, Jackie saw a small owl flitter off into the ceiling, a note tied around its leg.
The Hogwarts Headmaster was a living legend, ageless and powerful, all-worldly and mysterious. And in spite of it, he gave off the aura of a comforting grandfather to any and all who walked the halls of his school. Professor Albus Dumbledore was tall and thin, with long, stringy silver hair that fell down past his waist, and a long, silver beard that withered into nothing the closer it got to his belt buckle. He wore a shimmering purple robe with crescent-moons stitched on, with a brilliant, emerald cloak clasped over the robe. A small pair of bifocal glasses lurched at the tip of his nose as he reached out with both arms, extending his long, bony fingers. His arms raised up high, then fell low to his side, hushing the loud Grand Hall in a single, silent motion.
"Excuse me for interrupting yet another lovely feast to start our time together at Hogwarts," he said, placing his hands on the podium. The hall was so silent, one could hardly heard the few hush whispered some friends shared. "It unfortunately seems that our selection for your new Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts has been held-up and - ahem - paused by the Ministry of Magic. I assure you, in over forty years as Hogwarts Headmaster, this is most unusual. I assure you, this will not last long. The Ministry of Magic offered a temporary replacement, which I have kindly refused."
"What does that mean, Professor?" Sean Shenwei, Ravenclaw's Prefect and Captain of the Quidditch team, called out. "We're not to skip those lessons entirely until the matter is settled, are we?"
"No no, Mr. Shenwei," Dumbledore shook his head, turning to look at the Professors behind him for a brief moment before spinning back to face the student body. "Your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes shall be...abridged with some of your other studies. I find each of your Professors McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick quite capable of teaching the subject matter required by your curriculum. Just note that your schedules are temporary, with one of Transfiguration, Potions or Charms replacing each Dark Arts slot. Again, I apologize, and this will be resolved quickly, so Hogwarts can instruct you properly as we've been designed to."
Clearly, Professor Dumbledore was angrier than most students at the school were used to—nobody liked the Ministry stepping so thoroughly in their path, it seemed. Jackie Grizziolo grumbled to himself, saying it wouldn't have been an issue had his dad just taken the job.
As the feast came to a close, the Jackie Trio walked over to Sean - their House's Prefect - as Sean gathered together the different, assorted first-years: three boys (Greg Gregovich, Pakawat Samorut and Adam Mada) and four girls (Helen Slenick, Adison Eems, Josephine Joseph and Amai Akao) huddled together, still in awe of the galactic view overhead, the unending plates of food appearing before them, the thousand floating candles that lit the view of the massive castle surrounding them.
"The riddle this year is a piece of cake," he whispered to them, trying to push them along, noticing that their presence further unnerved the first-years, quite overwhelmed by the proceedings. "Wait for me in the common room, Jackie-"
"-Which one?" Jacques asked with a silly grin.
"The one that actually goes by Jackie." Sean clarified, shooing them along.
Shuffling away, the Jackie Trio repeated the password to themselves a few times as they moved out of the Great Hall and toward the castle proper—an array of ever-shifting staircases, corridors and looming paintings older than even Dumbledore himself, watching over them with a fury. Ghosts passed through walls, some offering greetings (like Sir Nick of Gryffindor or the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw) others fear and pranks (Slytherin's Bloody Baron or the unaffiliated and always-infuriating Peeves.) Somewhere, an equally-ancient cat mewed out in dismay, alerting her owner - Mr. Filch, Caretaker - to some misdeed or other.
As far as the 3rd-year Ravenclaws could tell, Hogwarts had hardly changed in the last 150 years—let alone the last 50, as horrible as everyone older than them claimed those had been.
"Did we look like that?" Jackie asked his friends.
"Like what?" Trey said, looking around at the shifting staircases, keeping an eye at how the patterns had changed since last year. She pointed down a dark corridor to their right. "We're that way."
"Like those first-years, all frightened." Jackie clarified, looking to his right as Trey pointed. "Aren't we one floor too low?"
"That one stair-case took us up two floors," Jacques said, holding up two fingers and grinning at his spacey friend. "You were star-ing at the cei-ling."
"I don't think we looked that scared." Trey said, thinking as hard as she could as they pressed down the corridor toward the stairs up to Ravenclaw Tower.
"Maybe I'll ask Sean." Jackie continued, still curious about whether or not he seemed intimidated as a first-year.
"Do you real-ly want to know?" Jacques asked, laughing.
Deciding maybe he didn't, Giacomo Grizziolo shrugged and sighed. They reached the old, wooden door that led up to Ravenclaw Tower—with no keyhole or handle, the only option anyone had was to slam an old, bronze knocker against the door. When Jacques made the move, the door responded with a groaning, grumpy voice, full of nasally condescension.
"What is it that, given one, you'll have either two or none?" the door asked, as if having to was an embarrassment.
A few short seconds passed as the three, young Ravenclaws paused to think, recalling the door and its pattern of riddling. But before either Jacques or Trey could respond, Jackie blurted out:
"A choice!"
The door opened with another, overdone groan, and all three third-years pushed through it and up the winding, spiral staircase that led into the ovular common room. With high, ornately framed windows all around, the Ravenclaw common room had pine desks pushed up against the wall and spaced apart by stuffed-full bookshelves, though occasionally the bookshelves were replaced with cabinets full of spare supplies—quills, ink, parchment, rulers, abacuses, the works. Then the center of the common room was an array of tables and accompanying chairs, as well as more seating (blue and bronze couches and reclining chairs.)
Greeting a few of the other Ravenclaws that had beat them to the Tower, Jackie caught up with fellow housemates Hugh Pastel, Quinn Quavish and Freddie Bamish, the other 3rd-year Ravenclaw boys beside Jackie and Jacques. Jacques and the other three left after maybe ten minutes to unpack their things up in the dorm—but, still waiting for Sean, Jackie stayed behind.
While he waited, the 3rd-year pulled at a lock of his tangled, greasy hair and sighed. No matter how much he washed, it always seemed thin and straggly, and matted in place.
"Hey Jackie!" Samantha Pyczyck called out to him from across the common room with a wave.
Sam had been pretty and popular even as a first-year, though she seemed to carry a glow about her that was changed from the year before. Blonde, with a sharp face and massive green eyes, she was also almost as tall as Jackie—taller than some of even the older boys. In spite of Jackie's own middling popularity (he wasn't rich, or particularly funny or talented, but also not disliked), Sam still seemed to carry a torch for him; all because they shared a cabin on the Hogwarts Express two years prior, and Jackie had helped Sam defend herself against a ruthless, 2nd-year Slytherin. Muggle-born, even Sam's ever-rising popularity didn't defend her from the disgusting blood purists who still soured the wizarding world.
"Hey Sam!" he waved back, dropping his hair from his hand to do so. "Hope you had a good summer!"
"It was incredible!" she beamed, almost hopping up and down at the thought. "How was yours?"
"Great," Giacomo Grizziolo lied through his teeth. "Best ever!"
Before he had to keep up the ruse even further, Sean crested the top of the spiral stairs into the common room. When he had even footing, the 6th-year turned around and walked backward into the room, holding his arms out as if presenting the most impressive gift of all time. Still bewildered, the seven 1st-years paused at the top of the stairs.
"Boys dorms on the right, Girls on the left," Sean pointed as he spoke, beckoning them further in with a free hand. "Come, come, this is your home for the next seven years! You first-years will all be at the very top floor, remember. All your belongings are already dropped off, ready to be unpacked. Remember, no spells unsupervised! If you have any questions, please come to me. But, this is where our tour ends!"
Without even finishing his sentence, Sean Shenwei had spun on his heel and found Jackie sitting alone still gazing over at Samantha, who'd turned away to continue a conversation with Trey and another 3rd-year (Gloria Fenton.) Slowly, the 1st-years started milling around, and wandered off to their dorms to try and finally get settled.
"Where was your bother?" Sean asked, trying to keep his voice hushed.
"I have no idea." Jackie replied honestly. He'd been looking for Vinny in the crowd too, and hadn't found sight of him.
"It's not like him to just drop off like that," Sean said, looking worried. "He just stood up right as Professor Dumbledore started speaking - after the Sorting - and walked right out of the Great Hall. Then Professor McGonagall was leading the 1st-years, I don't know..."
"I wish I could tell you." Jackie shrugged.
"Well, try and keep an eye on him, okay?" Sean asked, genuinely worried. Although he was from a different house entirely, he seemed to respect Vinny Grizziolo pretty highly. Then, less serious, speaking out loud, he changed subjects. "Trying out for Quidditch this year?"
"Most definitely." he replied, feeling anxious about it.
"Good, I told you you'd have made it last year." Sean reminded the younger Ravenclaw, winked, and turned and left, off to mingle with his older friends.
Giacomo settled into his dorm, taking out portraits of family and friends as well as hanging up a poster of his beloved Abruzzo Abrasions (his hometown, Italian Quidditch club) and putting away the clothes he'd brought. He didn't have time to visit his Barn Owl, Madrigal, in the Owlery that night, so Jackie made a mental note to do that in the morning before classes began. Still feeling nervous about Quidditch, with the added worry about his brother and the mystery of the unfilled Professor position, Jackie had a hard time getting back into the groove with Jacques, Hugh, Quinn and Freddie, who roared with laughter around him as they played a new game involving enchanted ships—old galleons the size of your finger, which sailed through the air as they'd once sailed the sea, firing tiny cannonballs in an attempt to sink the other ships soaring around everyone's heads.
Somehow, Jackie fell asleep early, with the sound of cannons blasting just overhead. For some reason, he thought of Potions class the next day—with Hufflepuff, like always. He couldn't get Wendy Greene out of his head, a truly awful curse if he'd ever felt one.
Hogwarts itself has had little impetus to change either: Dumbledore remains respected and feared as the most powerful wizard alive; Professor McGonagall as his Deputy, and Head of Gryffindor; Professor Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin; Professor Flitwick, Charms Genius and Head of Ravenclaw; Professor Sprout, Herbology Savant and Head of Hufflepuff; even still, Rubeus Hagrid in charge of Magical Creatures lessons, Trewlawney and Divination and so on...
Here there are no fated heroes and no magical destinies—here, wizards are their own worst enemy in a different way}
Dramatis Personae — New Players
Chapter One
When is One, Two or None?
The Hogwarts Grand Hall erupted into an uproar as the food appeared in front of their plates like an oasis mirage; with the Sorting sorted, an artificial galaxy shining unnaturally overhead, everyone from first-years to sevenths rushed to reach out and grab whatever tastiest delight appeared first to their eyes. At the beginning of every year, old grudges and hopes of the future peeled away in favor of awe at the incredible magic Hogwarts had brimming in its skeleton.- Giacomo "Jackie" Arucci; 3rd-year Ravenclaw from the Abruzzo region in South Italy
- Jacques "Jackie Deuce" Duclair; 3rd-year Ravenclaw from Toulouse in France
- Jacqueline "Trey" Marden III; 3rd-year Ravenclaw from the United States
- Wendy Greene; 3rd-year Hufflepuff from Edinburgh
- Cameron Camprisere; 3rd-year Hufflepuff from Glasgow
- Dominic Petil; 3rd-year Hufflepuff from Devon
- Vincent Arucci; 7th-year Gryffindor, Head Boy+Prefect
- Sean Shenwei; 6th-year Ravenclaw, Prefect from Sussex
- Marissa Marinet-Greene; 7th-year Slytherin, Head Girl+Prefect
- Paulo Arudo; 3rd-year Slytherin from Catalonia
- Brian Weasley; 3rd-year Gryffindor from Devon
Chapter One
When is One, Two or None?
Sitting somewhere near the very end of Ravenclaw's long table, Jackie Arucci grabbed for a goblet of a fizzling seltzer water and sighed through the wonderful fantasy of it all. Growing taller every day with scraggly, greasy black hair, Jackie looked a bit like a lumbering tree—well, more like a twig, actually, but he still maintained that he was a lot stronger than he looked.
Jackie stared up at the long staff table, toward an empty seat beside Professors Snape and McGonagall—often reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. One of Hogwarts' longest-lasting mysteries was its supposed "curse" on DADA Professors. Not one had lasted longer than a full year for ten years.
"They offered me the job, Margie," he'd heard his father say, over the summer, "Hogwarts!"
"You can't go, Anthony, you can't," his mother Margaret begged. "I don't want you to get maimed or killed or lost or—"
"That's all rumor, please, hon," Anthony Grizziolo had said, firmly.
"We were students back when those teachers were falling off like hotcakes!" Jackie's mom had shot back, standing her ground.
"Dammit, Marge—"
"Don't you think you worry me enough, trouncing about England all day with that rubbish partner of yours?" Margaret said, grumpy.
"And hunting down criminals is safer than being with Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts?"
"For all we know Dumbledore cast the curse, to keep the rest of the school safe!"
His parents had argued not only all night, but for a matter of weeks. And, eventually, told both Jackie and Vinny (his older brother, Hogwarts's Head Boy and Prefect of Gryffindor House) that he'd declined the position at Hogwarts.
Trying to find his brother through the throng of people eating and chatting at the Gryffindor table, Jackie realized Vinny was nowhere to be found.
All through the feast, whispers floated across every table about the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who's seat remained empty all throughout the Sorting and for another hour after that. Soon, interest waned, and turned to other things—Quidditch, upcoming classes, the food they'd try and sneak up to the common room after, all that sort've stuff.
At the Hufflepuff Table, Jackie's enemy, Wendy Greene, chortled across the table at a joke told by one of her cronies (Cameron and Dominic.) All of them were 3rd-years as well, and for some reason, had never been anything but rude and dismissive to Giacomo and his friends. Some people theorized that, because Gryffindor and Slytherin were always prone to intense rivalries, the same happened to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw by default—still, two years later, Jackie had trouble making sense of a senseless dislike.
Jackie turned his attention away from Wendy (who looked...different in a way he couldn't explain) and remained dead-set focused on the empty chair for much of the feast, staring holes through it as if he could make his father apparate there.
"You're looking quite upset Jac-kie," the smooth, French accent of Jackie's close friend Jacques drifted over. The 3rd-year glanced over to the wide, black French-boy and shrugged. "Didn't you hate the last two profes-sors we had?"
"Didn't you get his owl?" Jacqueline Marden III - another close friend of theirs - cut in, squeezing herself in next to Giacomo by pushing away a couple, scrawny first-years. "His dad was up for the job."
Together, the trio made up what some Ravenclaws (and other 3rd-years) called "The Jackies": Giacomo, Jacques and Jacqueline, although Jacques was rarely called Jackie ("Jackie Deuce", as his last name was Duclair) and Jacqueline went by her suffix "III", or, "Trey."
"Real-ly?" Jacques asked, quite unaware. He spun his wand (10-inches, sycamore wood with unicorn hair core) around his right index finger like a Quaffle, occasionally spinning it to regain momentum with his right middle finger. "I was quite bu-sy you know, I didn't read much ow-el mail."
"All you care about is that stupid broom of yours." Trey grimaced, putting her thin, small face into her long hands.
The previous year, Jacques had crashed one of the school brooms during Quidditch try-outs and had been in the hospital wing for well over a month. He was a good flier—but reckless like no Ravenclaw should be.
"It's a Turbo XXX!" Jacques grinned, dropping his wand in front of him on the table to lean forward. "Pa-rents got it for me new, it flies like my high-est dream! And this sum-mer, my dad took me to see a cousin who had an old Moontrim-mer!"
Normally excited to discuss anything about brooms (an avid flier himself, having been gifted an Air Wave Gold for his eleventh birthday), Jackie felt like his promise to Jacques for both of them to make the Ravenclaw Club that year was empty—all his excitement about the coming year drained away by the sound of his parents arguing all through the summer. At least Jacques had a good time, he decided.
"Look, Professor Dumbledore-!" Trey pointed toward the front of the Grand Hall, where all the staff had paused their own conversations as the tall, slim Headmaster of Hogwarts shuffled out of his center seat and toward the pedestal where he normally announced all sorts of new rules for the coming year—where he should have been announcing their new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. From Dumbledore's empty seat, Jackie saw a small owl flitter off into the ceiling, a note tied around its leg.
The Hogwarts Headmaster was a living legend, ageless and powerful, all-worldly and mysterious. And in spite of it, he gave off the aura of a comforting grandfather to any and all who walked the halls of his school. Professor Albus Dumbledore was tall and thin, with long, stringy silver hair that fell down past his waist, and a long, silver beard that withered into nothing the closer it got to his belt buckle. He wore a shimmering purple robe with crescent-moons stitched on, with a brilliant, emerald cloak clasped over the robe. A small pair of bifocal glasses lurched at the tip of his nose as he reached out with both arms, extending his long, bony fingers. His arms raised up high, then fell low to his side, hushing the loud Grand Hall in a single, silent motion.
"Excuse me for interrupting yet another lovely feast to start our time together at Hogwarts," he said, placing his hands on the podium. The hall was so silent, one could hardly heard the few hush whispered some friends shared. "It unfortunately seems that our selection for your new Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts has been held-up and - ahem - paused by the Ministry of Magic. I assure you, in over forty years as Hogwarts Headmaster, this is most unusual. I assure you, this will not last long. The Ministry of Magic offered a temporary replacement, which I have kindly refused."
"What does that mean, Professor?" Sean Shenwei, Ravenclaw's Prefect and Captain of the Quidditch team, called out. "We're not to skip those lessons entirely until the matter is settled, are we?"
"No no, Mr. Shenwei," Dumbledore shook his head, turning to look at the Professors behind him for a brief moment before spinning back to face the student body. "Your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes shall be...abridged with some of your other studies. I find each of your Professors McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick quite capable of teaching the subject matter required by your curriculum. Just note that your schedules are temporary, with one of Transfiguration, Potions or Charms replacing each Dark Arts slot. Again, I apologize, and this will be resolved quickly, so Hogwarts can instruct you properly as we've been designed to."
Clearly, Professor Dumbledore was angrier than most students at the school were used to—nobody liked the Ministry stepping so thoroughly in their path, it seemed. Jackie Grizziolo grumbled to himself, saying it wouldn't have been an issue had his dad just taken the job.
As the feast came to a close, the Jackie Trio walked over to Sean - their House's Prefect - as Sean gathered together the different, assorted first-years: three boys (Greg Gregovich, Pakawat Samorut and Adam Mada) and four girls (Helen Slenick, Adison Eems, Josephine Joseph and Amai Akao) huddled together, still in awe of the galactic view overhead, the unending plates of food appearing before them, the thousand floating candles that lit the view of the massive castle surrounding them.
"The riddle this year is a piece of cake," he whispered to them, trying to push them along, noticing that their presence further unnerved the first-years, quite overwhelmed by the proceedings. "Wait for me in the common room, Jackie-"
"-Which one?" Jacques asked with a silly grin.
"The one that actually goes by Jackie." Sean clarified, shooing them along.
Shuffling away, the Jackie Trio repeated the password to themselves a few times as they moved out of the Great Hall and toward the castle proper—an array of ever-shifting staircases, corridors and looming paintings older than even Dumbledore himself, watching over them with a fury. Ghosts passed through walls, some offering greetings (like Sir Nick of Gryffindor or the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw) others fear and pranks (Slytherin's Bloody Baron or the unaffiliated and always-infuriating Peeves.) Somewhere, an equally-ancient cat mewed out in dismay, alerting her owner - Mr. Filch, Caretaker - to some misdeed or other.
As far as the 3rd-year Ravenclaws could tell, Hogwarts had hardly changed in the last 150 years—let alone the last 50, as horrible as everyone older than them claimed those had been.
"Did we look like that?" Jackie asked his friends.
"Like what?" Trey said, looking around at the shifting staircases, keeping an eye at how the patterns had changed since last year. She pointed down a dark corridor to their right. "We're that way."
"Like those first-years, all frightened." Jackie clarified, looking to his right as Trey pointed. "Aren't we one floor too low?"
"That one stair-case took us up two floors," Jacques said, holding up two fingers and grinning at his spacey friend. "You were star-ing at the cei-ling."
"I don't think we looked that scared." Trey said, thinking as hard as she could as they pressed down the corridor toward the stairs up to Ravenclaw Tower.
"Maybe I'll ask Sean." Jackie continued, still curious about whether or not he seemed intimidated as a first-year.
"Do you real-ly want to know?" Jacques asked, laughing.
Deciding maybe he didn't, Giacomo Grizziolo shrugged and sighed. They reached the old, wooden door that led up to Ravenclaw Tower—with no keyhole or handle, the only option anyone had was to slam an old, bronze knocker against the door. When Jacques made the move, the door responded with a groaning, grumpy voice, full of nasally condescension.
"What is it that, given one, you'll have either two or none?" the door asked, as if having to was an embarrassment.
A few short seconds passed as the three, young Ravenclaws paused to think, recalling the door and its pattern of riddling. But before either Jacques or Trey could respond, Jackie blurted out:
"A choice!"
The door opened with another, overdone groan, and all three third-years pushed through it and up the winding, spiral staircase that led into the ovular common room. With high, ornately framed windows all around, the Ravenclaw common room had pine desks pushed up against the wall and spaced apart by stuffed-full bookshelves, though occasionally the bookshelves were replaced with cabinets full of spare supplies—quills, ink, parchment, rulers, abacuses, the works. Then the center of the common room was an array of tables and accompanying chairs, as well as more seating (blue and bronze couches and reclining chairs.)
Greeting a few of the other Ravenclaws that had beat them to the Tower, Jackie caught up with fellow housemates Hugh Pastel, Quinn Quavish and Freddie Bamish, the other 3rd-year Ravenclaw boys beside Jackie and Jacques. Jacques and the other three left after maybe ten minutes to unpack their things up in the dorm—but, still waiting for Sean, Jackie stayed behind.
While he waited, the 3rd-year pulled at a lock of his tangled, greasy hair and sighed. No matter how much he washed, it always seemed thin and straggly, and matted in place.
"Hey Jackie!" Samantha Pyczyck called out to him from across the common room with a wave.
Sam had been pretty and popular even as a first-year, though she seemed to carry a glow about her that was changed from the year before. Blonde, with a sharp face and massive green eyes, she was also almost as tall as Jackie—taller than some of even the older boys. In spite of Jackie's own middling popularity (he wasn't rich, or particularly funny or talented, but also not disliked), Sam still seemed to carry a torch for him; all because they shared a cabin on the Hogwarts Express two years prior, and Jackie had helped Sam defend herself against a ruthless, 2nd-year Slytherin. Muggle-born, even Sam's ever-rising popularity didn't defend her from the disgusting blood purists who still soured the wizarding world.
"Hey Sam!" he waved back, dropping his hair from his hand to do so. "Hope you had a good summer!"
"It was incredible!" she beamed, almost hopping up and down at the thought. "How was yours?"
"Great," Giacomo Grizziolo lied through his teeth. "Best ever!"
Before he had to keep up the ruse even further, Sean crested the top of the spiral stairs into the common room. When he had even footing, the 6th-year turned around and walked backward into the room, holding his arms out as if presenting the most impressive gift of all time. Still bewildered, the seven 1st-years paused at the top of the stairs.
"Boys dorms on the right, Girls on the left," Sean pointed as he spoke, beckoning them further in with a free hand. "Come, come, this is your home for the next seven years! You first-years will all be at the very top floor, remember. All your belongings are already dropped off, ready to be unpacked. Remember, no spells unsupervised! If you have any questions, please come to me. But, this is where our tour ends!"
Without even finishing his sentence, Sean Shenwei had spun on his heel and found Jackie sitting alone still gazing over at Samantha, who'd turned away to continue a conversation with Trey and another 3rd-year (Gloria Fenton.) Slowly, the 1st-years started milling around, and wandered off to their dorms to try and finally get settled.
"Where was your bother?" Sean asked, trying to keep his voice hushed.
"I have no idea." Jackie replied honestly. He'd been looking for Vinny in the crowd too, and hadn't found sight of him.
"It's not like him to just drop off like that," Sean said, looking worried. "He just stood up right as Professor Dumbledore started speaking - after the Sorting - and walked right out of the Great Hall. Then Professor McGonagall was leading the 1st-years, I don't know..."
"I wish I could tell you." Jackie shrugged.
"Well, try and keep an eye on him, okay?" Sean asked, genuinely worried. Although he was from a different house entirely, he seemed to respect Vinny Grizziolo pretty highly. Then, less serious, speaking out loud, he changed subjects. "Trying out for Quidditch this year?"
"Most definitely." he replied, feeling anxious about it.
"Good, I told you you'd have made it last year." Sean reminded the younger Ravenclaw, winked, and turned and left, off to mingle with his older friends.
Giacomo settled into his dorm, taking out portraits of family and friends as well as hanging up a poster of his beloved Abruzzo Abrasions (his hometown, Italian Quidditch club) and putting away the clothes he'd brought. He didn't have time to visit his Barn Owl, Madrigal, in the Owlery that night, so Jackie made a mental note to do that in the morning before classes began. Still feeling nervous about Quidditch, with the added worry about his brother and the mystery of the unfilled Professor position, Jackie had a hard time getting back into the groove with Jacques, Hugh, Quinn and Freddie, who roared with laughter around him as they played a new game involving enchanted ships—old galleons the size of your finger, which sailed through the air as they'd once sailed the sea, firing tiny cannonballs in an attempt to sink the other ships soaring around everyone's heads.
Somehow, Jackie fell asleep early, with the sound of cannons blasting just overhead. For some reason, he thought of Potions class the next day—with Hufflepuff, like always. He couldn't get Wendy Greene out of his head, a truly awful curse if he'd ever felt one.