Rebekah: Chapter 3
Story: Rebekah
Chapter: Through the Barrier
Rating: General
Setting: Post-HBP
Words: 3,642
Summary:
From its claws, she gently took a heavy envelope hand-addressed in emerald green ink.
This was the dawn of a new era; the dawn of a new generation, free from fear.
Rebekah is discovering her new world. It is tattered, bruised and bleeding from a terrible war. She must watch - and help - it heal while discovering her past, present and future.
The prelude to this story can be found here.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
____________________________________________________________
Rebekah wrapped her arms around Ellie and hung on as if for dear life.
‘I’ll write, I promise. And I’ll be home for Christmas.’
‘I know, I know - I’ll write too - but it won’t be the same…’
No. It wouldn’t. But this was how it was.
She could only hope Ellie wouldn’t ask too many questions about her lessons and polo and other things.
Finally they broke apart. It was August the thirty-first. They were saying their goodbyes now as she would have to leave so early the next morning.
Wiping her eyes, saying goodbye a final time, Rebekah walked along the familiar path to the cemetery. She would say goodbye to Great-Auntie Adie before going home.
***
Rebekah knelt down in front of her great-aunt’s grave.
‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going now. Remember I told you I was leaving for Hogwarts? Well, it’s the last day of August. We’re leaving really early tomorrow, so I can’t stay long, I have to go to bed early.
‘I don’t know how I’ll manage to sleep tonight, though. I’m too excited. I still can’t quite believe it - magic! It’s incredible - and so, so strange.’
She pulled her plait forwards to fiddle with it thoughtfully.
‘But in a way, it’s not strange. It’s like - like it was meant to be. I mean, I know it was, otherwise I wouldn’t be a witch, but I suppose what I mean is… it’s like… coming home. Like I’ve finally figured it all out. It’s not true, there’s so much to learn, but that’s what it feels like.’ She frowned. ‘I suppose I’m not really explaining it very well.’
She sighed, discarding her braid, and stood up.
‘I’ll see you in a few months, Auntie. Goodbye. I love you.’
***
They arrived at King’s Cross at quarter past ten and met their cousins in the car park. Rebekah loved it that she had cousins, even of the second or removed variety: her parents were both only children, and she’d never had any before this.
They spent almost half an hour there. It would be the last time Rebekah saw her parents for three and a half months. Eventually, she hugged them.
Jackie kissed her head and cupped her cheek.
‘I love you. We’re both proud. Do well, darling.’
Her dad smudged a tear across her cheek. It was hardest to say goodbye to him; her mum had a much better idea of what she was going into.
‘Be good.’ He smiled sadly. ‘Learn lots. Have fun. And try not to miss us too badly.’
‘I’ll try,’ she promised. ‘Write lots. I’m sorry you never got to teach me Latin, Daddy, I was looking forward to it.’ Her dad was a Latin teacher at Underlow.
‘So was I, but I got you a present.’
He pulled the first volume of the Cambridge Latin Course textbook from the front seat of the car. She laughed wetly. Anyone else would have been disgusted with such a present; she loved it. It was a piece of her dad. She stowed it carefully in her trunk.
She followed her cousins into the station, pushing her trunk on a trolley, swiping tears from her face, determined to meet this with courage.
They reached Platform Nine. Rebekah couldn’t see anywhere that looked like a hidden entrance to Nine and Three-Quarters. The others had been very secretive about it.
‘Right,’ Annie said briskly, ‘we’ve got about fifteen minutes. All you have to do, Bekah, is follow Owen. Off you go!’
Owen, trunk before him, strode briskly towards the barrier between Nine and Ten. Rebekah, uncertain, followed more slowly, watching him closely. What was he doing? Crashing into the -
Where’d he gone?
Remembering Annie’s words, she quickened again. Follow Owen, she said. She took a leap of faith and broke into a run. She was going to crash any minute now - Antonia, in a basket on her trunk, would go flying - the wall -
Above her was a sign. 9 ¾. This was it. But how had it happened?
Owen pulled her trolley out of the way just in time as another student came through with his trolley. Then there was Michael and Annie, and finally Kim and Peter. They grinned at her stunned expression. She decided not to ask. There would be plenty of time for that later - someone at Hogwarts would surely know how it had happened.
‘Wow,’ she breathed simply.
‘We’d better get on, Mum, there’s not much time,’ Owen pointed out.
The brothers said their goodbyes to their parents and sister. Rebekah got a hug from Annie and Kim, of course, and Peter shook her hand.
‘Take care of her, Owen,’ she heard him say softly to his son. ‘Make sure she finds a compartment all right.’
‘I will, Dad.’
They hustled her onto the train, trunk and all. It was a job to get all three on with all the other students jostling too after last-minute goodbyes. Michael dragged his trunk off to find the friends he had made whilst learning at the Ministry.
The whistle blew, and the train started to move.
‘Oops,’ said Owen, ‘I’ve got to be up front in the prefects’ carriage. Hang on, is that…?’ His face acquired a somewhat goofy grin. ‘Excellent.’ He opened the door to the compartment he’d been looking into. ‘Hi, Laura. Listen, I hate to do this, but I’ve got to get up to the front with the other prefects. This is Rebekah Miller. She’s my cousin - but she’s Muggle-born. Long story. Would you mind…?’
‘Of course not,’ a blonde, tall girl said, smiling warmly. ‘Come in Rebekah. Bye, Owen - I’ll see you soon, will I?’ She blushed slightly.
‘Yeah. Thanks. You’ll be okay with Laura, right, Bekah?’
‘Yep,’ she said, her voice slightly higher than she would have liked but steady nonetheless. ‘Go to your prefect thing.’
And he was gone, and she was standing in the doorway of a compartment with three older girls, a heavy trunk and a kitten. One who did not like baskets.
The girls laughed as Antonia hissed and clawed at her confinement. The dark-haired one who was closest took the basket from Rebekah’s hand. ‘I’ll get her out, shall I? She’s okay with other cats? I’m Zoë, by the way.’
‘Yeah, she’s fine,’ she said quietly. The reason became apparent when a black cat leapt down to greet the kitten. They sniffed each other, but neither seemed to find a problem with the other.
Laura got up and moved to pull Rebekah’s trunk in. They and the other girl managed to manoeuvre it into a luggage rack while Zoë kept the cats up on the seat, out of the way of stumbling feet. Eventually it was safely stashed away and they were all seated again.
‘So,’ began Laura, ‘Muggle-born and cousin to one of the most pure-blooded people I know. How did that happen?’
Rebekah shifted uncomfortably.
‘Well, we’re actually second cousins. My grandma was a Squib, and her brother is Owen’s grandpa. Mum was a Muggle, and all of Dad’s family, but somehow… I was a witch.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s pretty much that simple. Mum already knew about magic because she’d been to their house when she was little, but I only found out about a month ago.’
Has it really only been a month? she asked herself.
Yes. Yes, it has.
Rebekah soon relaxed around the older girls. They were Hufflepuff fifth-years like Owen. It came out that Laura had parted with him on very, very good terms. They talked about all sorts - houses, the castle, subjects - and played Gobstones. Zoë, as a senior player on the Hufflepuff team, took it upon herself to instruct their charge in the finer points of the game.
When a plump, cheerful witch with a trolley came around, they all bought something different, and she began to learn about wizard sweets, as well. She had already experienced some, like Chocolate Frogs, over the summer, but she threw herself into discovering the other varieties with great gusto.
By now they were wearing their robes, Owen had come to check on her (and left with Laura, who returned looking very flushed ten minutes later) and some other fifth-years had stopped by. She was feeling as ready as she would ever be to face Hogwarts. A voice reached their ears: ‘We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.’ All in all, she thought it was a shame when the train finally pulled into the station.
They left their trunks on the train to be collected and made their way onto the dark platform.
‘Firs’-years an’ secon’-years… firs’- and secon’-years this way!’ came a bellow from the end of the platform. Rebekah spotted a lamp held high above the students’ heads.
‘That’s Ha - Professor Hagrid,’ Laura told her. ‘Go on, you’re about to enter Hogwarts the traditional way! Remember it well; you won’t want to forget it.’
With a few backward glances, Rebekah hurried through the throng of people crammed onto the tiny platform towards the continued shout and the light. She finally broke through to see a very - big - man.
‘All righ’ down there?’ he asked jovially. ‘Over there wi’ the others.’
She scampered away from him to the cluster of children standing apart from the other students. She couldn’t spot Michael in the darkness, but Professor Hagrid was satisfied with the head count, so she decided he must be there somewhere.
The teacher led them all down a steep, narrow path. Stumbling on the rocks, unable to see a thing, they followed him, desperate not to get left behind. There was a moon out, and yet it was completely dark save for Hagrid’s lamp. Rebekah decided that there must be lots of trees around, blocking out the light.
They turned a corner. The students oohed and ahed as it came into view. She joined in. She really couldn’t help it. There was a reason the professor announced, ‘Hogwarts,’ with such booming pride in his voice.
It was magnificent. The huge castle was perched atop a hill in the distance. The grey stonework, almost black in the darkness of the night, was at least seven stories high (Rebekah counted the floors by the tiny specks of light that shone through the windows) with towers and turrets everywhere. The dots of light made it appear to glitter against the background of the starry sky.
The path had opened onto a vast shoreline. Little boats were clustered on the edge of the lake.
‘No more’n four to a boat,’ called Professor Hagrid, who needed one to himself. They all clambered in obediently, eyes fixed on the castle before them. ‘Righ’, all set? Forward!’
The boats began to move together, gliding across the smooth, silent lake. As they drew nearer, the castle began to tower over them, and they could see it was standing on a great cliff. The boats didn’t seem to be slowing.
‘Do you suppose it’s like the barrier?’ she whispered to the other occupants of her boat. ‘Will we pass through it magically?’
A slightly nervous chuckle met her ears. ‘You’re the nosey sort, aren’t you? You’ll be top of the class, I can tell.’
‘Michael!’ she hissed. ‘I didn’t recognise you - I couldn’t see your face.’
‘’S’okay,’ he answered. ‘I thi -’
‘Heads down!’ Hagrid yelled, and they ducked hurriedly, passing through the ivy that covered an opening in the cliff. They were carried through a dark tunnel that went on and on - it had to be taking them under the castle. Eventually it opened out into a little harbour, still underground. The boats nosed into the rocky ground and they all clambered out, slipping on the wet pebbles.
Hagrid glanced into each vacated boat to check that they hadn’t left anything behind before leading them up a passageway in the rock. They soon surfaced onto a wide stretch of wet grass in the shadow of the castle. They hurried after him up a flight of stone steps and gathered under the massive oak doors.
‘Not lost anyone, have we? Good, good.’ He raised his ham-sized fist and hammered on the castle door three times.
It swung open as if someone had been hovering behind it, waiting for the knocks. There stood a kind-faced, stout woman with brown hair cropped at her ears.
‘The firs’- an’ secon’-years, Professor Vector,’ said Hagrid.
‘Thank you, Professor Hagrid. Follow me, students!’
She pulled the door wider to admit them into the Entrance Hall. They all craned their heads to take it in: it was huge. Flaming torches lit the room, the ceiling stretched beyond their vision, and before them, a grand staircase made entirely of marble led the way to higher floors. Loud voices signalled the presence of hundreds of excited children, and Rebekah looked eagerly to the large doors on the right, but Professor Vector took them to a small room off the hall. They huddled in, despite the fact that it was no squeeze, even with twice the usual number of students.
‘Welcome to Hogwarts,’ Professor Vector announced with a beam, spreading her arms wide. ‘My name is Professor Vector, and I am your Deputy Headmistress. This is my first year in this post after spending a long time being a plain old Arithmancy teacher, and I hope you will enjoy sharing the experience with me and forgive any mistakes I make.’ She winked at them.
‘The first thing you will do here is attend the Sorting Ceremony. This is a very important part of your time at Hogwarts, because it is how we divide you all between each of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. The house you are sorted into plays a large part in your life here: you will learn with your house, eat with your house, sleep with your house and spend free time with your house. Each one has its own common room with attached dormitories and its own table within the Great Hall where we will shortly go to sort you.
‘I’m sure it won’t be long until you attain some measure of house pride, and rightly so. Each house has produced vast numbers of incredible witches and wizards, and they all have their traditions which I hope you will take to.
‘We have a yearly competition for the House Cup. The winner is the house with the most points at the end of the year. You gain these with your successes, and lose them with rule-breaking. I hope none of you will do such things, because to win the Cup is a great honour. I hope to see none of you dragged into my office for causing trouble!
‘I shall leave you for a moment to see if they are ready for you. I’m to tell you to smarten yourselves up, as I’m sure you don’t want to make a bad first impression on your new housemates!’
With one last beam, she left the room. Several more entered it.
To her great shock, however, these people did not enter through the door in the conventional way: they simply stepped right through the solid wood. She gave a little yelp.
‘New students!’ a fat, pearly-white man said. ‘Oh, how wonderful it is to have the castle alive again!’
‘You’re the Fat Friar!’ yelled a little boy. ‘My brother told me all about you.’
A female ghost giggled and smoothed her transparent gown. ‘He is both a friar and rather rotund, my dear boy, so it would appear that he is who you speak of.’
‘Hope there are plenty of Quidditch players amongst you Gryffindors!’ cried a wizard with a spectacular ruff encircling his neck. ‘Can’t let the side down, can we?’
The door opened. ‘Off to your tables and stop frightening them! The Sorting’s about to start, don’t miss it,’ chided Professor Vector. The ghosts sailed through a wall, waving their goodbyes.
‘Right now, follow me.’ Rebekah hurried after her classmates, looking back at the wall through which the ghosts had exited.
The Great Hall went quiet as they entered, then mutters and whispers broke out as they discussed the year’s double batch. The first- and second-years lined up between four long tables and the teachers’ table, Rebekah standing between one of Michael’s friends and a small boy with dirty blond hair who was probably younger than herself.
‘Octavius,’ he introduced himself quietly. ‘Isn’t the Hall big?’
‘Massive,’ she hissed back, ‘and everyone is staring.’
Professor Vector marched in front of them with a stool and a ragged scrap of fabric which appeared to be a very old wizard’s hat. It was so covered with patches and darning that Rebekah doubted very much that any of the original hat remained. She couldn’t imagine what they had to do with it, if anything. Perhaps it was some strange tradition?
The hat was placed on the stool. The entire hall was now still of all mutterings as everyone stared at it expectantly. She found herself staring, too. And then something astonishing happened.
A rip opened in the hat, and it began to… to sing.
‘Around a thousand years ago
When Founders Four stood tall,
They taught together, dined together,
United within our walls.
Destruction, however, was quick to come
When arguments forced them apart;
And yet these silly quarrels
Were only just the start.
Upon the dreaded day
Which dawned so bright
The wise yet fiery Ravenclaw
Did not let herself be riled.
Slytherin, so sly and quick,
Lashed out against his friends
Whom Hufflepuff, so sweet and calm,
Rushed at once to defend.
Alas, dear Helga was too late:
Bold Gryffindor drew his sword.
They say that with Slytherin the fault lay,
But children, both men are to be scorned.
Two warring friends, once great allies,
Were ripped apart for the last time,
Yet the fight lives on within our school -
Pupils, this is out of line!
So draw together, forge strong bonds,
Find love than never ends,
For this is the only way to survive
The bitterness Fate sends.
The was is over, peace is here,
But my words still apply,
So heed my song forevermore,
Until the day you die.’
‘Bit morbid, isn’t it?’ muttered Octavius.
‘When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and place the hat on your head,’ Professor Vector announced, her voice now more formal. ‘We will sort the second years first.’
She pulled from beneath her arm one of two scrolls of parchment. She unrolled it and began to read.
‘Capesthorn, George.’
A boy with shocking red hair strode forwards and, sitting on the stool, placed the hat upon his head. The hat twitched, as if considering something. The silence extended. She glanced around. Was it supposed to take this long?
‘SLYTHERIN!’ the hat roared, making Rebekah jump. The table on the far right burst into applause. She noticed that there seemed to be fewer at that table than any other.
‘Cauldwell, Michael.’
Michael’s friends clapped him on the back and he walked forwards to the vacated stool. After only a moment or two, the brim of the hat opened wide and yelled, ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’
Rebekah saw him smile and hurry over to the celebrating table. He sat down beside his brother, who ruffled his hair proudly.
The line dwindled past Merlan and Staunton, finishing with Thompson. The first-years fidgeted and the older students toyed with their knives and forks. Finally it was their turn.
‘Andrews, Yasmin.’
The hat slipped down so far that it covered all of her short blonde hair.
‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ yelled the hat.
Rebekah caught sight of her cousins again. They were cheering Yasmin. Would Rebekah go to Hufflepuff, too? And what if she didn’t? She wouldn’t know anybody.
‘Brown, Susannah.’
A girl with dark brown hair ran forward to put on the hat, which promptly sent her to Ravenclaw.
Now that Rebekah had something to worry about, the Sorting seemed to be going too fast. Which house would she go to? She caught herself staring at the Slytherins. They seemed to be a surly lot - would they be nice to her if she ended up with them?
She jerked her gaze back to the hat, which was sorting Johnson, Hannah into Gryffindor. It wouldn’t be long now.
‘Miller, Rebekah.’
She approached the hat. It seemed to be grinning cruelly at her. Perching on the stool, she lowered the hat onto her head. It covered her eyes, throwing her into darkness.
‘Well what have we here?’ said a little voice in her ear. She jumped. The hat was talking to her!
‘Now, here’s an interesting one. You’re certainly rather brave, but I fear the Gryffindors would exasperate you. No, no, that won’t do. I must say, you’ve got a very nice mind - puts me in mind of that Granger girl, but of course, she was exceptional - she could handle the Gryffindors. Is it friends you’re worried about? You needn’t, the others I’ve sent there are very nice. You, my dear, are going to - RAVENCLAW!’
____________________________________________________________
Well, there you go, anonymous reviewer. Not Gryffindor after all!
The purpose of this story is to develop the wizarding world, not as Harry's world, but as Rebekah. There is so much delightful detail in there. I know for a fact that I wasn't the only person who missed that the lake goes right under the castle and comes out the other side, or that the Owlery is in the West Tower, or any of those other little things. I want you to see them. So you shall.
As always, this is for Rebekah, who will never read it. Unbeta'd.
Chapter: Through the Barrier
Rating: General
Setting: Post-HBP
Words: 3,642
Summary:
From its claws, she gently took a heavy envelope hand-addressed in emerald green ink.
This was the dawn of a new era; the dawn of a new generation, free from fear.
Rebekah is discovering her new world. It is tattered, bruised and bleeding from a terrible war. She must watch - and help - it heal while discovering her past, present and future.
The prelude to this story can be found here.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
____________________________________________________________
Rebekah wrapped her arms around Ellie and hung on as if for dear life.
‘I’ll write, I promise. And I’ll be home for Christmas.’
‘I know, I know - I’ll write too - but it won’t be the same…’
No. It wouldn’t. But this was how it was.
She could only hope Ellie wouldn’t ask too many questions about her lessons and polo and other things.
Finally they broke apart. It was August the thirty-first. They were saying their goodbyes now as she would have to leave so early the next morning.
Wiping her eyes, saying goodbye a final time, Rebekah walked along the familiar path to the cemetery. She would say goodbye to Great-Auntie Adie before going home.
***
Rebekah knelt down in front of her great-aunt’s grave.
‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going now. Remember I told you I was leaving for Hogwarts? Well, it’s the last day of August. We’re leaving really early tomorrow, so I can’t stay long, I have to go to bed early.
‘I don’t know how I’ll manage to sleep tonight, though. I’m too excited. I still can’t quite believe it - magic! It’s incredible - and so, so strange.’
She pulled her plait forwards to fiddle with it thoughtfully.
‘But in a way, it’s not strange. It’s like - like it was meant to be. I mean, I know it was, otherwise I wouldn’t be a witch, but I suppose what I mean is… it’s like… coming home. Like I’ve finally figured it all out. It’s not true, there’s so much to learn, but that’s what it feels like.’ She frowned. ‘I suppose I’m not really explaining it very well.’
She sighed, discarding her braid, and stood up.
‘I’ll see you in a few months, Auntie. Goodbye. I love you.’
***
They arrived at King’s Cross at quarter past ten and met their cousins in the car park. Rebekah loved it that she had cousins, even of the second or removed variety: her parents were both only children, and she’d never had any before this.
They spent almost half an hour there. It would be the last time Rebekah saw her parents for three and a half months. Eventually, she hugged them.
Jackie kissed her head and cupped her cheek.
‘I love you. We’re both proud. Do well, darling.’
Her dad smudged a tear across her cheek. It was hardest to say goodbye to him; her mum had a much better idea of what she was going into.
‘Be good.’ He smiled sadly. ‘Learn lots. Have fun. And try not to miss us too badly.’
‘I’ll try,’ she promised. ‘Write lots. I’m sorry you never got to teach me Latin, Daddy, I was looking forward to it.’ Her dad was a Latin teacher at Underlow.
‘So was I, but I got you a present.’
He pulled the first volume of the Cambridge Latin Course textbook from the front seat of the car. She laughed wetly. Anyone else would have been disgusted with such a present; she loved it. It was a piece of her dad. She stowed it carefully in her trunk.
She followed her cousins into the station, pushing her trunk on a trolley, swiping tears from her face, determined to meet this with courage.
They reached Platform Nine. Rebekah couldn’t see anywhere that looked like a hidden entrance to Nine and Three-Quarters. The others had been very secretive about it.
‘Right,’ Annie said briskly, ‘we’ve got about fifteen minutes. All you have to do, Bekah, is follow Owen. Off you go!’
Owen, trunk before him, strode briskly towards the barrier between Nine and Ten. Rebekah, uncertain, followed more slowly, watching him closely. What was he doing? Crashing into the -
Where’d he gone?
Remembering Annie’s words, she quickened again. Follow Owen, she said. She took a leap of faith and broke into a run. She was going to crash any minute now - Antonia, in a basket on her trunk, would go flying - the wall -
Above her was a sign. 9 ¾. This was it. But how had it happened?
Owen pulled her trolley out of the way just in time as another student came through with his trolley. Then there was Michael and Annie, and finally Kim and Peter. They grinned at her stunned expression. She decided not to ask. There would be plenty of time for that later - someone at Hogwarts would surely know how it had happened.
‘Wow,’ she breathed simply.
‘We’d better get on, Mum, there’s not much time,’ Owen pointed out.
The brothers said their goodbyes to their parents and sister. Rebekah got a hug from Annie and Kim, of course, and Peter shook her hand.
‘Take care of her, Owen,’ she heard him say softly to his son. ‘Make sure she finds a compartment all right.’
‘I will, Dad.’
They hustled her onto the train, trunk and all. It was a job to get all three on with all the other students jostling too after last-minute goodbyes. Michael dragged his trunk off to find the friends he had made whilst learning at the Ministry.
The whistle blew, and the train started to move.
‘Oops,’ said Owen, ‘I’ve got to be up front in the prefects’ carriage. Hang on, is that…?’ His face acquired a somewhat goofy grin. ‘Excellent.’ He opened the door to the compartment he’d been looking into. ‘Hi, Laura. Listen, I hate to do this, but I’ve got to get up to the front with the other prefects. This is Rebekah Miller. She’s my cousin - but she’s Muggle-born. Long story. Would you mind…?’
‘Of course not,’ a blonde, tall girl said, smiling warmly. ‘Come in Rebekah. Bye, Owen - I’ll see you soon, will I?’ She blushed slightly.
‘Yeah. Thanks. You’ll be okay with Laura, right, Bekah?’
‘Yep,’ she said, her voice slightly higher than she would have liked but steady nonetheless. ‘Go to your prefect thing.’
And he was gone, and she was standing in the doorway of a compartment with three older girls, a heavy trunk and a kitten. One who did not like baskets.
The girls laughed as Antonia hissed and clawed at her confinement. The dark-haired one who was closest took the basket from Rebekah’s hand. ‘I’ll get her out, shall I? She’s okay with other cats? I’m Zoë, by the way.’
‘Yeah, she’s fine,’ she said quietly. The reason became apparent when a black cat leapt down to greet the kitten. They sniffed each other, but neither seemed to find a problem with the other.
Laura got up and moved to pull Rebekah’s trunk in. They and the other girl managed to manoeuvre it into a luggage rack while Zoë kept the cats up on the seat, out of the way of stumbling feet. Eventually it was safely stashed away and they were all seated again.
‘So,’ began Laura, ‘Muggle-born and cousin to one of the most pure-blooded people I know. How did that happen?’
Rebekah shifted uncomfortably.
‘Well, we’re actually second cousins. My grandma was a Squib, and her brother is Owen’s grandpa. Mum was a Muggle, and all of Dad’s family, but somehow… I was a witch.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s pretty much that simple. Mum already knew about magic because she’d been to their house when she was little, but I only found out about a month ago.’
Has it really only been a month? she asked herself.
Yes. Yes, it has.
Rebekah soon relaxed around the older girls. They were Hufflepuff fifth-years like Owen. It came out that Laura had parted with him on very, very good terms. They talked about all sorts - houses, the castle, subjects - and played Gobstones. Zoë, as a senior player on the Hufflepuff team, took it upon herself to instruct their charge in the finer points of the game.
When a plump, cheerful witch with a trolley came around, they all bought something different, and she began to learn about wizard sweets, as well. She had already experienced some, like Chocolate Frogs, over the summer, but she threw herself into discovering the other varieties with great gusto.
By now they were wearing their robes, Owen had come to check on her (and left with Laura, who returned looking very flushed ten minutes later) and some other fifth-years had stopped by. She was feeling as ready as she would ever be to face Hogwarts. A voice reached their ears: ‘We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.’ All in all, she thought it was a shame when the train finally pulled into the station.
They left their trunks on the train to be collected and made their way onto the dark platform.
‘Firs’-years an’ secon’-years… firs’- and secon’-years this way!’ came a bellow from the end of the platform. Rebekah spotted a lamp held high above the students’ heads.
‘That’s Ha - Professor Hagrid,’ Laura told her. ‘Go on, you’re about to enter Hogwarts the traditional way! Remember it well; you won’t want to forget it.’
With a few backward glances, Rebekah hurried through the throng of people crammed onto the tiny platform towards the continued shout and the light. She finally broke through to see a very - big - man.
‘All righ’ down there?’ he asked jovially. ‘Over there wi’ the others.’
She scampered away from him to the cluster of children standing apart from the other students. She couldn’t spot Michael in the darkness, but Professor Hagrid was satisfied with the head count, so she decided he must be there somewhere.
The teacher led them all down a steep, narrow path. Stumbling on the rocks, unable to see a thing, they followed him, desperate not to get left behind. There was a moon out, and yet it was completely dark save for Hagrid’s lamp. Rebekah decided that there must be lots of trees around, blocking out the light.
They turned a corner. The students oohed and ahed as it came into view. She joined in. She really couldn’t help it. There was a reason the professor announced, ‘Hogwarts,’ with such booming pride in his voice.
It was magnificent. The huge castle was perched atop a hill in the distance. The grey stonework, almost black in the darkness of the night, was at least seven stories high (Rebekah counted the floors by the tiny specks of light that shone through the windows) with towers and turrets everywhere. The dots of light made it appear to glitter against the background of the starry sky.
The path had opened onto a vast shoreline. Little boats were clustered on the edge of the lake.
‘No more’n four to a boat,’ called Professor Hagrid, who needed one to himself. They all clambered in obediently, eyes fixed on the castle before them. ‘Righ’, all set? Forward!’
The boats began to move together, gliding across the smooth, silent lake. As they drew nearer, the castle began to tower over them, and they could see it was standing on a great cliff. The boats didn’t seem to be slowing.
‘Do you suppose it’s like the barrier?’ she whispered to the other occupants of her boat. ‘Will we pass through it magically?’
A slightly nervous chuckle met her ears. ‘You’re the nosey sort, aren’t you? You’ll be top of the class, I can tell.’
‘Michael!’ she hissed. ‘I didn’t recognise you - I couldn’t see your face.’
‘’S’okay,’ he answered. ‘I thi -’
‘Heads down!’ Hagrid yelled, and they ducked hurriedly, passing through the ivy that covered an opening in the cliff. They were carried through a dark tunnel that went on and on - it had to be taking them under the castle. Eventually it opened out into a little harbour, still underground. The boats nosed into the rocky ground and they all clambered out, slipping on the wet pebbles.
Hagrid glanced into each vacated boat to check that they hadn’t left anything behind before leading them up a passageway in the rock. They soon surfaced onto a wide stretch of wet grass in the shadow of the castle. They hurried after him up a flight of stone steps and gathered under the massive oak doors.
‘Not lost anyone, have we? Good, good.’ He raised his ham-sized fist and hammered on the castle door three times.
It swung open as if someone had been hovering behind it, waiting for the knocks. There stood a kind-faced, stout woman with brown hair cropped at her ears.
‘The firs’- an’ secon’-years, Professor Vector,’ said Hagrid.
‘Thank you, Professor Hagrid. Follow me, students!’
She pulled the door wider to admit them into the Entrance Hall. They all craned their heads to take it in: it was huge. Flaming torches lit the room, the ceiling stretched beyond their vision, and before them, a grand staircase made entirely of marble led the way to higher floors. Loud voices signalled the presence of hundreds of excited children, and Rebekah looked eagerly to the large doors on the right, but Professor Vector took them to a small room off the hall. They huddled in, despite the fact that it was no squeeze, even with twice the usual number of students.
‘Welcome to Hogwarts,’ Professor Vector announced with a beam, spreading her arms wide. ‘My name is Professor Vector, and I am your Deputy Headmistress. This is my first year in this post after spending a long time being a plain old Arithmancy teacher, and I hope you will enjoy sharing the experience with me and forgive any mistakes I make.’ She winked at them.
‘The first thing you will do here is attend the Sorting Ceremony. This is a very important part of your time at Hogwarts, because it is how we divide you all between each of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. The house you are sorted into plays a large part in your life here: you will learn with your house, eat with your house, sleep with your house and spend free time with your house. Each one has its own common room with attached dormitories and its own table within the Great Hall where we will shortly go to sort you.
‘I’m sure it won’t be long until you attain some measure of house pride, and rightly so. Each house has produced vast numbers of incredible witches and wizards, and they all have their traditions which I hope you will take to.
‘We have a yearly competition for the House Cup. The winner is the house with the most points at the end of the year. You gain these with your successes, and lose them with rule-breaking. I hope none of you will do such things, because to win the Cup is a great honour. I hope to see none of you dragged into my office for causing trouble!
‘I shall leave you for a moment to see if they are ready for you. I’m to tell you to smarten yourselves up, as I’m sure you don’t want to make a bad first impression on your new housemates!’
With one last beam, she left the room. Several more entered it.
To her great shock, however, these people did not enter through the door in the conventional way: they simply stepped right through the solid wood. She gave a little yelp.
‘New students!’ a fat, pearly-white man said. ‘Oh, how wonderful it is to have the castle alive again!’
‘You’re the Fat Friar!’ yelled a little boy. ‘My brother told me all about you.’
A female ghost giggled and smoothed her transparent gown. ‘He is both a friar and rather rotund, my dear boy, so it would appear that he is who you speak of.’
‘Hope there are plenty of Quidditch players amongst you Gryffindors!’ cried a wizard with a spectacular ruff encircling his neck. ‘Can’t let the side down, can we?’
The door opened. ‘Off to your tables and stop frightening them! The Sorting’s about to start, don’t miss it,’ chided Professor Vector. The ghosts sailed through a wall, waving their goodbyes.
‘Right now, follow me.’ Rebekah hurried after her classmates, looking back at the wall through which the ghosts had exited.
The Great Hall went quiet as they entered, then mutters and whispers broke out as they discussed the year’s double batch. The first- and second-years lined up between four long tables and the teachers’ table, Rebekah standing between one of Michael’s friends and a small boy with dirty blond hair who was probably younger than herself.
‘Octavius,’ he introduced himself quietly. ‘Isn’t the Hall big?’
‘Massive,’ she hissed back, ‘and everyone is staring.’
Professor Vector marched in front of them with a stool and a ragged scrap of fabric which appeared to be a very old wizard’s hat. It was so covered with patches and darning that Rebekah doubted very much that any of the original hat remained. She couldn’t imagine what they had to do with it, if anything. Perhaps it was some strange tradition?
The hat was placed on the stool. The entire hall was now still of all mutterings as everyone stared at it expectantly. She found herself staring, too. And then something astonishing happened.
A rip opened in the hat, and it began to… to sing.
‘Around a thousand years ago
When Founders Four stood tall,
They taught together, dined together,
United within our walls.
Destruction, however, was quick to come
When arguments forced them apart;
And yet these silly quarrels
Were only just the start.
Upon the dreaded day
Which dawned so bright
The wise yet fiery Ravenclaw
Did not let herself be riled.
Slytherin, so sly and quick,
Lashed out against his friends
Whom Hufflepuff, so sweet and calm,
Rushed at once to defend.
Alas, dear Helga was too late:
Bold Gryffindor drew his sword.
They say that with Slytherin the fault lay,
But children, both men are to be scorned.
Two warring friends, once great allies,
Were ripped apart for the last time,
Yet the fight lives on within our school -
Pupils, this is out of line!
So draw together, forge strong bonds,
Find love than never ends,
For this is the only way to survive
The bitterness Fate sends.
The was is over, peace is here,
But my words still apply,
So heed my song forevermore,
Until the day you die.’
‘Bit morbid, isn’t it?’ muttered Octavius.
‘When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and place the hat on your head,’ Professor Vector announced, her voice now more formal. ‘We will sort the second years first.’
She pulled from beneath her arm one of two scrolls of parchment. She unrolled it and began to read.
‘Capesthorn, George.’
A boy with shocking red hair strode forwards and, sitting on the stool, placed the hat upon his head. The hat twitched, as if considering something. The silence extended. She glanced around. Was it supposed to take this long?
‘SLYTHERIN!’ the hat roared, making Rebekah jump. The table on the far right burst into applause. She noticed that there seemed to be fewer at that table than any other.
‘Cauldwell, Michael.’
Michael’s friends clapped him on the back and he walked forwards to the vacated stool. After only a moment or two, the brim of the hat opened wide and yelled, ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’
Rebekah saw him smile and hurry over to the celebrating table. He sat down beside his brother, who ruffled his hair proudly.
The line dwindled past Merlan and Staunton, finishing with Thompson. The first-years fidgeted and the older students toyed with their knives and forks. Finally it was their turn.
‘Andrews, Yasmin.’
The hat slipped down so far that it covered all of her short blonde hair.
‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ yelled the hat.
Rebekah caught sight of her cousins again. They were cheering Yasmin. Would Rebekah go to Hufflepuff, too? And what if she didn’t? She wouldn’t know anybody.
‘Brown, Susannah.’
A girl with dark brown hair ran forward to put on the hat, which promptly sent her to Ravenclaw.
Now that Rebekah had something to worry about, the Sorting seemed to be going too fast. Which house would she go to? She caught herself staring at the Slytherins. They seemed to be a surly lot - would they be nice to her if she ended up with them?
She jerked her gaze back to the hat, which was sorting Johnson, Hannah into Gryffindor. It wouldn’t be long now.
‘Miller, Rebekah.’
She approached the hat. It seemed to be grinning cruelly at her. Perching on the stool, she lowered the hat onto her head. It covered her eyes, throwing her into darkness.
‘Well what have we here?’ said a little voice in her ear. She jumped. The hat was talking to her!
‘Now, here’s an interesting one. You’re certainly rather brave, but I fear the Gryffindors would exasperate you. No, no, that won’t do. I must say, you’ve got a very nice mind - puts me in mind of that Granger girl, but of course, she was exceptional - she could handle the Gryffindors. Is it friends you’re worried about? You needn’t, the others I’ve sent there are very nice. You, my dear, are going to - RAVENCLAW!’
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Well, there you go, anonymous reviewer. Not Gryffindor after all!
The purpose of this story is to develop the wizarding world, not as Harry's world, but as Rebekah. There is so much delightful detail in there. I know for a fact that I wasn't the only person who missed that the lake goes right under the castle and comes out the other side, or that the Owlery is in the West Tower, or any of those other little things. I want you to see them. So you shall.
As always, this is for Rebekah, who will never read it. Unbeta'd.