(September 1st, 1991, The Hogwarts Express, headed towards Scotland)

It was a big train. With its spatial enchantments it could comfortably fit over twice its current load. If I had to guess, it was made to transport upwards of two thousand students. Which was a lot at the time of its construction, but was probably done in the name of future proofing. Most of the train wasn't in use right now, many passenger compartments were folded away into tiny near two dimensionally thin creases in space, giving an illusion of fullness.

It was… cool, I supposed. Very intricate and artful, helped with walking from room to room inorder to meet everyone. Not that I could meet everyone, there were simply too many people for that. I might've had some ~480-ish minutes, but there were something like ~600 students on the train, so I focused on the first, second, and third year students. In that order.

Age was very easy to taste through the ether. Not only was age its own flavour, but younger students also had a noticeable lack of control that made them shine like beacons in my senses. It was a little cute, to be honest.

After a couple hours of being friendly with way too many people, I settled down in the Buffet Car. It was a train car, but also a fancy cafeteria slash restaurant. Kinda weird. There were some two dozen tables, all were circles fit for four, with white tablecloths. The car was oddly empty, only housing a few upperclassmen— more girls than boys, but language was a bitch— and most of the tables were completely empty. I got the feeling that most people didn't know about this place, even though it was very easily accessible.

I exchanged a few words with the old lady that handled both this car and the food trolley, asking her why so few people were up and about.

“Well, Deary, the younger lads and lasses either don't know that there's the rest of the train to explore, or they are lacking the confidence to do so. But the older students already have existing friend groups that they can sit and talk to, so they don't have any reason to leave their chatting rooms. And not many find this place to begin with, as the Buffet Car doesn't unfold into existence until an hour into the ride, and then it disappears again when I leave with my trolley.” the old witch said.

“So it's a small window of discovery?” I asked from my place leaning against the counter that she sat behind.

“Aye,” she answered.

“Then what's the point of this car- Oh… Hm… the decline of our society is depressing.” I said with a frown.

“It isn't that bad. It's nice sometimes, quiet. In a century or two the population will bounce back, then we'll be wishin’ there were less. That's just how people are, we always want somethin’ to be different or better.” she said. I huffed a breath out through my nose.

I sipped a glass of water that I had been drinking, as I silently lamented the lack of normal food and drink available. Everything was too sweet, or salty, or had some other extreme quality to it that made it unpalatable. My hypothesis was that magical healthcare allowed for wizards to forsake much in terms of lifestyle and still never face serious complications, thus nobody cared to live on a healthy diet. Another likely contributing factor was the fact that, historically, magic users always had more access to resources— like sugar— than muggles, which meant that they could add more extreme flavour inducing ingredients to their food.

If that second idea was true, did that mean that one day muggle food would become just as unpalatable as resource availability went up? I searched my brain a little harder, and oh my bollocks, it already was!? Nooooo!!! Ugrhhh, why- why were people just the worst.

I took another sip of my water. At least they couldn't ruin water. Good old dihydrogen monoxide, plus some basic minerals. Can't go wrong there.

I wished I had brought a book to read, or something.

My head jerked up out of its previously slouched position. ‘Of course I brought books, I'm going to school.’ I thought to myself as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Is somethin’ the matter, Deary?” The old lady asked, noticing my sudden motion.

I spent a moment explaining the series of thoughts that I had about books.

“Heh, I do suppose tha’tis a bit silly.” the old lady said.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before I left. I only saw a few people in the hall— hall? Corridor? Unimportant— on my way back to the compartment I had my carry-on in, but that was still more people than earlier. Olea met me by the door. She hopped onto my shoulder as I walked inside, and then once she had a good grip I started giving her some very well deserved skritches.

She was such a cutie. I felt proud that I'd made her.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

There was a clattering of wheels outside. I was sprawled out on the seating couch that I had claimed, reading one of my textbooks at a leisurely pace. The old lady from before knocked on the door, and then opened it without waiting for a reply.

“I don't suppose you want any of these now? It's a long ride, and I wouldn't want you to starve yourself, Deary.” she said, gesturing to the trolley filled with sweets that she had been pushing.

“No, thank you,” I responded curtly, and she closed the door as she moved on down the aisle— ha, there the word is!— to the next set of passengers.

I still had this room to myself. A quick ping through my mind told me that Thorsen had been chatting a lot longer per compartment that he had talked to, and that for the past hour he had been nerding out with a large group of lowerclassmen. There were nine boys, all crammed into one compartment, and all of them slowly loosening their minds talking about brooms. It was hilarious. They had no idea what they were talking about, and so much of their comprehension of the engineering— that they were fighting over— was just plain wrong. But they said it with such absolute confidence that all of the others believed them, which was just-

‘Ahhahahahaa! It's so funny to watch’ I thought to myself.

I sent a compressed version of my viewing to Olea, who was cuddled up against me. After a couple seconds of looking it over, she wiggled in place, and sent back feelings of appreciation at the comedy.

My compartment mate would clearly be busy for a while. So I settled back down, and continued reading.

We were already halfway there, the rest of the train ride would pass like a breeze.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

After some time, an announcement came in over the intercom. ‘ETA five minutes, put on your uniform, leave your carry-on’ it had said in a few more words. I re-packed my book, and dawned my robes. They were definitely a little more fancy than normal, but the embroidery being black on black meant that there wasn't too much flare, so they still fit the uniform. The grey skirt and jumper had a similar design to them, but with grey on grey patterns ornamenting them.

Luckily the pointed hats were no longer part of the normal uniform, as now they were only mandatory during ceremonies… like the opening feast that we were about to do. But that didn't apply to first-years, because we needed to use the sorting hat, so all the students except us had to wear the hats.

A minute— wow, I had changed clothes fast— after the announcement, Thorsen barged into the room. ‘Sigh, does anyone ever knock?’ He grabbed his robes and then tossed them on. After that, he double checked a paper, and then closed back up his trunk.

Once he was done, he groaned. “What a long train ride, couldn't they have used some better form of commute?” he asked in a clearly rhetorical manner.

“No,” I said, suddenly feeling rather snooty.

“Huh?” Thorsen inquired.

“The long train ride facilitates learning.” I replied.

“Wha.. how?”

“Think about it. You're a smart kid, Mr.Quintes. you're bound to find a good answer eventually.” I had a smug grin on my face as I sashayed out into the aisle.

Most of the students were in the corridor now, clogging it up like some great gaggle. I slipped into the crowd, then protected an aura of see-me-not for a few more seconds, before completing my seamless disappearance by side stepping to the edge of reality. Olea landed on my shoulder, as I phased through the throng of students. Passively, I wondered if having all the extra rooms folded up at the end was a contributing cause for the lack of apparent general knowledge about the train. I settled on a ‘yeah, probably’.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The train slowed down as it finally came to a stop, and I did my disappearing routine in reverse— Olea stayed phased, as she picked up where she left off, tailing me from beyond mundane reach— as I emerged onto the platform near the head of the crowd. The sun had set some time ago, but the edge of the western horizon was still tinted purple. The cold Scottish air kissed my skin with a ferocity that made some of the students around me shiver. I would be glad that I chose to wear my jumper, but I wouldn't be bothered by the temperature either way. The platform of Hogsmeade Station was dark, lit only by the LastQuarter Moon, and the light of a lamp held by a giant of a man.

He was over twice my height, standing at almost exactly three and a half metres. “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” he bellowed to the crowd. ‘Ope, guess that's me.’ I thought as I weaved my way through the crowd.

I only did the phase trick earlier because it was literally shoulder to shoulder levels of dense, but here there was at least a little room for me to squeeze through, so I did.

“C'mon, follow me – any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years, follow me!” the large man said. He led us down a steep and narrow path that wound through the woods, until it levelled out at the bottom. “Ye’ all get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” the bearded giant of a man called out over his shoulder. “Jus’ round this bend here.”

As we walked, the trees gave way to a stunning sight. In front of us there was a great lake that reflected the black canvas of the starry night like a crystal mirror, and beyond the lake— atop a small mountain— there sat the glimmering form of Hogwarts Castle.

“No more'n four to a boat!” the tall man said, as he gestured— with a folded up pink umbrella of all things— to a fleet of forty little boats sitting on the shore. I found a boat near the middle, and was joined by a girl with black hair and… purple eyes? They were mostly dark blue, but they were a kinda purple-ish blue. Like a blurple or something.

“Everyone in?” the bearded man shouted from his position, standing by himself in one of the boats. He surveyed the students, before raising his umbrella, and pointing it dramatically towards the castle. “FORWARD!” he commanded, and with the word came a wave of magic that latched onto the boats and dragged them into the lake.

After several seconds, he dropped the pose, and sat down into his boat. I looked towards my neighbour, as our ride continued to glide itself along the lake.

“You have pretty eyes,” I initiated smalltalk. She looked away from the castle in the distance, and her gaze settled on me.

“… Huh?” she said, tilting her head a little to the side in her confusion.

“Your eyes, they're pretty, I like the colour.” I restated. She smiled very briefly at the complement, before quickly looking back towards the castle.

“Thanks,” she said, then mumbled the next bit. “You- your's are too.”

“So, what house do you think you'll be sorted into?” I asked, leaning forwards as I joined her in staring at Hogwarts Castle. Her eyes flickered to me when she saw movement at the edge of her vision, but she returned to her stare after the glance.

“Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff,” she said following a moment of thought. “I am neither brave nor cunning, so that leaves Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.”

“You know, the sorting isn't determined by singular character traits. It's more complicated than that.” I said.

“Yeah, I know, but I also know myself well enough that I am doubtless that I won't be sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin.” That was probably true. She was showing confidence, not arrogance.

“Cool, knowing yourself is a useful life skill.” I said, and she let out a short exhale through her nose.

“Hmm…” she hummed. “What about you? What house do you think you'll go into?”

“Hufflepuff, most certainly,” Because I was going to cheat. No way I was ever letting anything look at the inside of my head. I frankly didn't care what my ‘real’ house would have been. I had already decided that I would go into Hufflepuff, and the Sorting Hat would have to deal with it.

As we neared the cliffy rock face at the other side of the lake, a cavern came into view. The dark of the night would have obscured it, but my eyes were greater than most's. It was covered in a veil of ivy that made us duck as we passed under.

“Hm, we never did introductions.” I said, as I reached a hand forward. “Hello, I'm Artemis Artwork Atterberry, it's nice to meet you.”

She grabbed my hand and shook it lightly. “Gabby Xoth, it's nice to meet you too.”

The fleet moved through the dark tunnel until it reached an underground harbour at the end. Though, really it wasn't much of a harbour at all, just a gravelly beach lit up by a few braziers of fire. After we all disembarked, the group was led up out of the cave, which exited right off to the side of Hogwarts Castle's main gate.

After the tall man— Hagrid, I had overheard when we were on the boats— knocked on the gate, the great oaken doors swung open, revealing a stern looking older witch.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid said to her.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

We then followed her down a large entrance hall, and into an empty chamber, where McGonagall gave a small speech about the sorting ceremony and houses— it felt a little redundant, but I reminded myself that not everyone was me, and then it felt less redundant— before she left.

Most of the students around me stewed with worry and anticipation, but there were still several that handled the pressure with ease. There was a small encounter with some ghosts that scared a few of the kids, but once that was done McGonagall came back in, and told the ghosts off. Both Mom and books had already taught me plenty about ghosts, but that was my first time actually seeing any. The timing of the whole affair made me think it was a purposefully planned encounter. Probably make sure that the students had a certain baseline level of context about the castle's ghosts, and possibly their opinion about Peeves.

From the waiting chamber, we were led— in a line, sorted alphabetically by last names— into the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting, and above it all was an enchanted ceiling that appeared as if it opened up straight into the sky above.

In the space between the four house tables and the teachers’ perpendicular table, McGonagall placed a wooden stool, and then atop the stool she put an old pointed hat made of leather. I could feel the enchantments upon it, they were ancient, old enough to be near alien when compared with modern enchantments.

The hat started singing. It was pretty weird looking, yet the song itself wasn't bad. Not that it was good either, but expecting that would've been asking for too much. Once the hat had finished its song, McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

The pigtailed blonde ahead of me stepped forwards, put on the hat— which fell right over her eyes— and sat down. Then, after a moment's pause, the hat announced the sorting to the hall. “HUFFLEPUFF!” it shouted. After which her clothes gained yellow accents, and Hannah placed the hat back onto the stool. She then joined the Hufflepuff table, which clapped and cheered for her as she walked over.

I tsked, second in line, lucky me. A silent prayer was directed at Gabby, the poor girl was going to be standing forever.

“Atterberry, Artemis!”

I walked up to the stool, picked up the hat, turned around and sat on the stool, then pulled the hat down onto my head. Its size had the rim falling over my eyes, and a subtle noise suppression covered my ears. As expected, the hat's mental probes splashed harmlessly off the outermost of my defences. After watching it flail for a few seconds, I extended a small, sturdy, and secure line out of my shields, which the hat then latched onto.

‘You know, I can't sort what I can't see.’ the animate object sent over the line.

‘...’

‘This is a two way line, right?’ it asked with some trepidation.

‘ >:Þ ’ I responded.

The hat grumbled atop my head. ‘So are you going to let me in, or…’

‘Have you ever had to sort someone with shielding before?’

‘Inquisitive, eh? Maybe you'll fit in with Ravenclaw, if that is all I'm working with.’ it said, clearly getting a little peeved. The hat took a breath, as if threatening to shout the sorting if I didn't reveal more. I just sat there, eyes covered and a grin on my face. It didn't need to breathe, which meant that it never did a buildup breath before.

‘So, have you?’ I reminded it of my question.

‘… No- no, I have not. It is rather impressive, you must be quite studious to have learned the skill this young,’ the hat probed further.

‘Ah.. Welp, that is disappointing to hear. Oh well, such is life.’ I felt a larger splash against my mind, but still nothing that I would ever worry about. ‘Thank you for your time, mister hat, but I best be off now. After all—’

“HUFFLEPUFF!” I made the object shout, which activated the colour changing enchantments on my clothes.

‘—table is waiting on me.’ I finished, destroying the telepathic line once I was done with it. Luckily whoever had first made the bewitched-head-garment lacked significant care for the security of its memory, so as soon as the next student was called I tugged away a little thread of its short term recollection, and it forgot all about me. ‘Except the basics, of course. An empty hole so close in recent memory would be too blatant after all.’

The Hufflepuff table clapped and cheered as I paced over, and a smile lit up my face as I sat down as I sat down by Hannah. “Why pigtails?” I asked her.

She furrowed her brow, but before she could respond the Sorting Hat called out.

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Huh, three in a row,” I said as Susan Bones approached the table, her dark brown hair bobbing as she walked.

“They’re cute,” Hannah replied to my earlier question.

“Sure,” I then waved to Susan. “Susan, I'm glad we have you here!”

She smiled back at me as she sat down, she was one of the many students I had met on the train. “Artemis, I'm glad I'm here too!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

From there the sorting continued on, some took mere seconds, others whole minutes. One Hermione Granger took the longest of the bunch, at an extra long four minutes, before she was sorted into Gryffindor. In the latter half of the ceremony Harry Potter was also sorted into Gryffindor, though for childish reasons it caused their table to go ballistic.

I quietly wondered what I could do about the kid's celebrity status. I knew my recent history, and from what I could gather— which was a lot— it was Mr. and Mrs. Potter that actually brought Voldemort down with them, so I was a wee bit miffed that most people saw Harry as some sort of saviour or something. ‘Eh, it'll probably quiet down once classes start and everyone realises that he is just another kid, like they are.’

Second to last, Gabby Xoth was one of the ones to have a long sort. Two minutes passed before she was finally sorted into, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

And I cheered extra loud when she was.

As soon as the last sort was finished, McGonagall rolled up her scroll, and took the Sorting Hat away. From the centre of the High Table, Albus— Percival Wulfric Brian— Dumbledor, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, stood. “Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! … Thank you!” He then sat back down.

Everybody clapped and cheered, but I honestly just felt a little insulted. I was neither stupid nor lazy, and I certainly—

—Was not that arrogant. Why was I thinking that? That tiny part of me that I had long since locked away into the deepest, darkest pits of my mind screamed with a enough fervour to make me itch. It didn't get that ferocious often, but I figured that going to school would increase its frequency. After double checking the chains, I added a counterweight and the feeling was evened out. ‘His words are a good lesson, something to think over during the feast, for most.’ I told myself.

The cheers died down, and once they did the feast began. Every part of the table was filled with food that was teleported in atop large bowls and platters. I ate through several pounds of food, inhaling it with fever despite appearing as though I was exercising the epitome of grace. Then came the deserts, and I held myself back on those, only eating twice a normal person's intake.

Once the feast was over and done with, Dumbledore said a few words— an actual short speech this time— about school safety, and then sent us off. The house perfects led the four groups to their dorms. The Hufflepuff dorm’s entrance was hidden behind a stack of barrels near the kitchen, and to get inside we were shown to “tap the barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row, in the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff.” Which made the lid swing open, exposing a passageway that led to the basement when crawled through.

‘.-..- is Morse code for È. It could also be interpreted as .- ..-, which would mean A U.’

The common room was super cosy looking, with lots of hobbit-hole vibes going on, but I was too sleepy to really appreciate it at the time. The dorms were located further underground. In a large hall off from the common room area, there was a split. The girls’ perfect, Jennifer Debloom, led us down the left staircase which spiralled counter-clockwise down into the earth, as opposed to the boys’ that looked like it went downwards clockwise. The staircase seemed to follow the outside of a very large cylinder, and as we passed by doors each had a copper plaque. Eventually we reached the bottom most door, with a plaque that read ‘First Years Girl Dormitory’.

Inside there were ten beds arranged to the sides of the room, each with a dresser next to it. And opposite the entrance was another door that, when opened, led to a rather sizable bathroom that took up almost a quarter of the circular floor-plan.

At the base of each bed was a pile of luggage. I walked over to the one that I recognised as mine and pulled out my pyjamas. A minute later, I stumbled out of the bathroom, and plopped into my bed like a brick.

‘What a weird and wonderful day,’ was my last thought before I ‘fell asleep’.