Late 1938, Hogwarts
As the sorting ceremony began, Leonard stood among over a hundred other first-year students, all equally wide-eyed and nervous. Despite the number of students, the process moved efficiently—each first-year stepped forward, their names echoing through the vast hall. The first fifteen or so students were sorted quickly, alternating between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, with the occasional student being placed in Ravenclaw. Each new house placement was met with cheers that bounced off the high ceilings.
Leonard noticed something peculiar about the Slytherin table. While the other houses cheered exuberantly for each new member, Slytherin’s applause was more subdued, almost restrained, especially when the new student wasn’t a name of note. He observed the younger students frequently glancing at an older boy, the blond one he had seen on the train. The boy clapped politely for most, but Leonard noticed that his enthusiasm varied depending on who was being sorted.
As the sorting continued, Slytherin remained relatively quiet until “Violetta Rosier” was called. The Sorting Hat barely touched her hair before it bellowed, “SLYTHERIN!” The Slytherin table erupted in applause, far more enthusiastic than before. The older students, especially those near the blond boy, clapped with genuine excitement, clearly pleased with the newest addition to their house. Leonard noted the contrast—Violetta’s presence had ignited a spark that had been missing earlier.
The sorting continued with Professor Merrythought calling out a few more names, including “Cassandra Yaxley.” A girl with long auburn hair and striking hazel eyes stepped forward. Unlike Violetta, Cassandra’s steps were hesitant. The hat deliberated briefly before declaring, "RAVENCLAW!"
As Leonard’s attention drifted, he found himself intrigued by the man standing behind the podium at the front of the hall. The man, appearing to be in his late fifties, had a slightly crooked nose that added character to his face. His hair, once deep brown, was streaked with grey and framed his face in gentle waves. He wore rimless glasses and sharp blue eyes that seemed to observe everything with quiet intensity. Most striking was his robe—a loud purple garment adorned with shimmering stars that shifted as he moved. Leonard wondered who this professor was, drawn in by the combination of his eccentric attire and commanding presence. For a moment, it seemed as though the professor’s gaze was focused on Tom, who stood several students behind Leonard. There was a sense of recognition, or perhaps interest, in the way the professor looked in Tom’s direction.
"Tom Riddle," Professor Merrythought announced. The boy brushed past Leonard, and out of curiosity, Leonard looked back at the professor in the loud robes. He wasn’t sure, but it looked he held a particular interest in the boy—concern, perhaps. Leonard averted his gaze and looked back at Tom, now sitting on the chair with the hat firmly placed on his head. After a pause, the hat declared, "SLYTHERIN."
The cheers from the Slytherin table were muted, marked by an undercurrent of confusion—perhaps even anger—among the younger pupils, who exchanged uneasy glances with the blond boy. He clapped, albeit in a reserved manner, a stark contrast to the enthusiasm shown for earlier names. It was clear the Slytherins were less than enthused by the newcomer.
After another dozen names were called, "Leonard Harrington."
His heart raced as he walked up the podium, cheeks burning under the intense gaze of the entire hall. He sat down, and the hat was placed on his head—it was heavier than he'd expected. As the Sorting Hat settled on his head, he felt an odd tingling sensation, as though the hat was sifting through his thoughts. The noise of the Great Hall faded away, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Leonard had been curious about the Sorting Hat since he’d first heard of it—how could an old, frayed piece of cloth possibly know where each student belonged?
"Ah, a sharp mind, but also a good heart," the voice murmured in Leonard’s ear. It was soft yet firm, carrying an ancient wisdom. Leonard’s heart skipped a beat—was the hat truly speaking to him? "You’ve got the potential for greatness, young Leonard, and a strong desire to prove yourself, to find where you truly belong," the hat continued, its tone thoughtful. "I see ambition in you, the kind that could flourish in Slytherin…"
Leonard tensed at the suggestion, but the hat wasn’t finished. "But no," the hat mused, its voice shifting to something more contemplative, almost gentle. "You’ve endured much, haven’t you? The hardships, the struggles, the new beginning—they’ve shaped you into someone who values loyalty and hard work. Hufflepuff would offer you comfort, a place where you could heal and grow among those who understand."
Leonard felt a pang in his chest as the hat seemed to brush against a tender part of his soul. But before he could dwell on it, the hat continued, its tone sharpening once more. "Yet, there it is… a thirst for knowledge, a hunger to understand the world around you. Something that, when nurtured, could be a great boon to yourself and others. Yes, yes, I see it clearly now. You most definitely belong in…"
The hat paused, and Leonard held his breath. "RAVENCLAW!". The word echoed through the hall, and Leonard felt a strange mix of relief and anticipation. He settled down next to his housemates, trying to absorb everything around him as the sorting continued.
His thoughts drifted back to Stepney, to his mother, his siblings, and the letter. He wondered how they were doing, whether they were managing without him. Maybe, with one less mouth to feed, things would be easier for them. As he tried to push the thoughts away, a tall, silver-haired man with an air of quiet authority stepped forward from the staff table, silencing the murmurs in the hall. His deep blue robes shimmered as he reached the podium.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," the man began. "To our new students, welcome, and to those returning, welcome back. This year promises learning, growth, and discovery for all. A reminder—the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits unless special permission is granted. "He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the students. "Hogwarts is a place where you will forge lasting friendships and uncover your true strengths. Embrace the challenges and joys ahead."
With a slight raise of his hand, he concluded, "And now, let the feast begin!"
In an instant, the plates before them filled with an array of food and drink, much to the amazement of the first-years.
Just as Leonard was about to reach for some roast chicken, a loud splash interrupted his thoughts. He looked down to see a bright green juice spreading across the table and onto his robes. The culprit looked mortified, his face flushing deep red as the juice dripped from Leonard’s sleeve. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” he stammered; his voice barely audible over the laughter that erupted from nearby students.
Before Leonard could react, an older student stepped in, pointing his wand at Leonard’s robes and muttering a spell that Leonard couldn’t quite catch over the noise. Instantly, the stain vanished, leaving the fabric as clean as before. The older student gave Simon a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a grin. “Happens to the best of us.” Simon mumbled a grateful thanks, clearly relieved, and Leonard nodded his appreciation.
As the feast continued, the chatter in the hall grew louder. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted as the room grew colder, and a faint whisper of wind rustled through the banners hanging from the ceiling. Leonard looked up just in time to see several translucent figures gliding through the hall—ghosts. The Ravenclaw table seemed particularly excited, and Leonard realised why when one of the ghosts drifted down to hover near them.
She was a tall woman with long, flowing hair that seemed to float around her like a cloud. Her robes, though ghostly pale, retained an air of elegance, and a faint diadem glimmered on her head. Leonard recognised her from descriptions he had read before—this was the Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw.
The Grey Lady moved gracefully among the students; her expression serene yet distant. Leonard could hear snippets of conversation as she interacted with the students. “Lady Helena,” one of the older Ravenclaw girls addressed her with a respectful nod, “thank you for guiding us last term. We were able to find all the books we needed in the restricted section.”
The ghost’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Knowledge is the greatest treasure, my dear. Use it wisely, and it will never lead you astray.” Leonard watched as the Grey Lady continued to glide past, offering quiet words of advice and encouragement to various students.
Leonard’s attention was then drawn to another ghost who floated over the Gryffindor table. A jolly figure with a plumed hat and a broad grin, the ghost waved cheerfully at the students. “Sir Nicholas!” one of the Gryffindors called out, laughing as the ghost tried to bow—his nearly severed head wobbling precariously as he did so.
“Ah, yes, good evening!” Sir Nicholas responded with a flourish. “I trust you’ll all be on your best behaviour this year. Wouldn’t want to disappoint your dear Head of House now, would you?” The Gryffindors erupted into laughter, clearly enjoying the ghost’s company.
As the feast came to an end, Leonard felt pleasantly full, though his thoughts still swirled with everything he had seen and heard that evening. The elderly man who had given the welcoming speech earlier stood up once again, raising both his hands. The hall gradually quieted down, the last murmurs of conversation fading as all eyes turned toward him.
With a gentle flick of his wrist, the headmaster raised his wand. “Instrumenta Convocare,” he intoned. Suddenly, the grand double doors of the Great Hall swung open. A procession of musical instruments floated into the room, gliding gracefully through the air. Leonard watched in awe as a grand piano, a set of trumpets, a harp, several drums, violins, and even a clarinet made their way toward the front of the hall. The instruments aligned themselves in a half-circle at the front of the hall, hovering in mid-air. A hush of expectation fell over the students, with Leonard among them, unsure of what was about to happen next.
For several long moments, the hall remained silent, everyone waiting in suspense. Then, with a sudden whoosh, a large portrait frame floated into the hall. The portrait was enormous—at least three times as tall as Leonard—and within it was a striking woman dressed in a bright red gown. Her hair was styled in elaborate curls, and she wore a bejewelled necklace that sparkled even in the dim light of the hall. Her expression was one of regal command, with a hint of a theatrical flair.
Leonard’s first thought was that she must be an opera singer—a diva, perhaps—judging by the way everyone had waited for her grand entrance. She cleared her throat with a delicate but purposeful sound, and as she did so, the instruments began to play a lively, somewhat whimsical tune.
The woman’s voice joined the instruments, filling the hall with a rich, powerful sound that seemed to resonate from the very walls. She sang with passion and energy, putting her heart and soul into the performance. Her voice soared through the hall, full of emotion and dramatic flair, but the lyrics, though beautifully sung, were whimsical and playful:
“Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something, please…”
As she moved across the Great Hall, her dramatic gestures accompanied every note, her red dress flowing behind her like a banner in the wind. She shifted from high, piercing notes to deep, resonant tones seemingly at random, as if simply to show off her impressive vocal range. Leonard couldn’t help but think that despite the disjointed nature of the performance, it somehow worked, creating a strange yet captivating harmony.
The diva’s presence filled the room, and she moved with grace as her portrait glided around the hall, her dramatic flair demanding the attention of every student and professor in the room. Finally, the song drew to a close with a dramatic pause, the instruments falling silent as the last note of her voice lingered in the air:
“And we'll do it all,
Over and over,
Hogwarts, our dear old school.”
There was a brief moment of silence before the hall erupted into applause. Though Leonard and many of the first years were still puzzled by what had just happened, they couldn’t help but clap along, caught up in the energy of the performance. The woman in the portrait took an exaggerated bow, her smile one of satisfaction and triumph.
The elderly man at the staff table stood up once more, addressing the room. “Thank you, Madame Fortescue, for that rousing performance,” he said with a warm smile. The diva, her voice rich with an old-world charm and a hint of a French accent, responded, “Vous êtes très aimable, Headmaster Dippet. I am most honoured to perform for ze students of Hogwarts.” She offered another grand bow, her curls bouncing with the movement, before her portrait began to float back toward the entrance.
After Madame Fortescue and the instruments had left the hall, the headmaster turned back to the students. “This concludes our festivities for the evening,” he announced. “Once again, welcome to Hogwarts. Please follow your house prefects to your common rooms. Each prefect will have a ‘P’ next to their house crest for easy identification.”
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As the students began to disperse, Leonard spotted one of the Ravenclaw prefects, a tall girl with dark brown hair tied back in a neat braid. Her robes were adorned with the Ravenclaw crest, and next to it was the distinctive letter "P." She looked around at the gathered first-years with a welcoming smile.
“First-years, over here!” she called, her voice clear and confident. As the new Ravenclaws gathered around her, she introduced herself. “I’m Penelope Clearwater, your sixth-year prefect. I’ll be guiding you to Ravenclaw Tower tonight, so stick close and don’t wander off.”
Leonard joined the group, positioning himself near the front so he could hear her clearly. He noticed a boy standing beside Penelope, silent and slightly aloof. The boy had a similar “P” on his robe, marking him as another prefect, but he didn’t seem as eager to engage with the new students.
Penelope led the group out of the Great Hall and into the vast network of corridors that made up Hogwarts Castle. As they walked, she pointed out various landmarks, her voice carrying easily in the quiet halls. “To your left is the Grand Staircase,” she said, gesturing to a massive, spiralling structure that seemed to stretch endlessly upwards. “It moves, so be careful. It can be tricky to navigate, especially in the first few weeks, but you’ll get the hang of it.”
The group followed her through a series of twisting passages, the stone walls adorned with portraits that occasionally shifted or muttered as they passed. Leonard tried to take it all in, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer size and complexity of the castle.
“That corridor leads to the library,” Penelope continued, pointing down a long hallway lit by torches. “Sir Pince, the librarian, is strict about the rules, but if you ever need help finding a book, don’t hesitate to ask him—or one of the older students. The Restricted Section, of course, is off-limits unless you have special permission.”
As they climbed a set of narrow stairs, Penelope kept up her commentary. “You’ll find that Ravenclaw Tower is a bit out of the way compared to the other common rooms, but the view is worth it. Plus, it’s usually quieter up there, which is great for studying.”
Leonard glanced at the silent boy walking beside her. The boy seemed to be listening intently but offered no additional comments.
“This is Geoffrey Podmore,” she said, nodding toward the boy. “He’s our other sixth-year prefect. Geoffrey’s a man of few words, but he knows Ravenclaw Tower better than anyone. If you ever need directions or advice, he’s your go-to.” Geoffrey gave a small nod of acknowledgment but remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead.
The group continued their journey, ascending more staircases and passing through a few seemingly random doors that Penelope assured them were shortcuts. The corridors grew narrower and more winding as they climbed higher into the castle. Eventually, they reached a tall, arched doorway set into the stone wall at the end of a long corridor.
“And here we are,” Penelope announced, stopping in front of the door. “This is the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower.” Leonard looked at the door, which was simple and unadorned, save for a brass knocker in the shape of an eagle.
“One thing you’ll need to know about Ravenclaw Tower,” Penelope said with a smile, “is that you can’t just walk in. The door requires a riddle to be solved before it will let you enter. It’s a bit of a test, really—one that keeps us on our toes.”
She reached up and knocked on the door. A soft, melodic voice emanated from the knocker, asking, “What is always in front of you but can’t be seen?” Penelope paused, giving the first-years a chance to think. After a moment, Geoffrey spoke up, his voice quiet but clear. “The future.”
The door swung open, revealing a spiral staircase that led upwards. “Don’t worry if you can’t solve the riddle right away. There’s no penalty for getting it wrong; it just makes you think a bit more.” Leonard followed the group up the staircase, his anticipation growing with each step.
Finally, they emerged into the Ravenclaw common room, a large, circular space filled with an air of quiet sophistication. The walls were draped in rich blue tapestries adorned with silver stars, echoing the house colours. Tall, arched windows lined one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the night sky, where the stars twinkled like the very emblems that decorated the room.
Bookshelves lined the curved walls, packed with tomes on every subject imaginable. In the centre of the room were several plush armchairs and sofas, arranged around a grand fireplace where a gentle fire crackled, casting a warm glow. The ceiling was painted in deep blue, with constellations that seemed to move subtly, shifting as if to reflect the actual night sky outside.
“This is where you’ll spend most of your time outside of classes,” Penelope explained, her voice soft yet clear. “Feel free to explore, get settled, and don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions. Your dormitories are through the door on the left. Boys on the right, girls on the left.”
As the group began to disperse, Leonard took a moment to absorb his surroundings. The room was cosy yet spacious, the atmosphere calm and inviting. He couldn’t help but notice how empty the common room felt, save for the first years. It was a scene he doubted he’d see again this year.
It didn’t take long until the other Ravenclaw students began to arrive. The sound of footsteps and cheerful greetings soon echoed through the space, the once-quiet room now bustling with activity as students reconnected after the summer break. As Leonard looked over the other students, he spotted two more prefects entering the room. One of them was a tall boy with slight stubble, clearly older—likely a seventh year. He offered Leonard a polite smile, which Leonard reciprocated with a nod. The other prefect looked younger, probably a fifth year, and Leonard guessed he might be new to the role.
Penelope addressed the first-years once more. “You’ll find your schedules in your dorm rooms,” she said with a reassuring smile. “Getting around the castle, especially for first-years, can be a bit tricky without knowing where the classrooms are. But don’t worry—you can always ask one of us. That’s why we’re here, to help.”
With that, Leonard made his way toward the boys’ dormitory, ready to start his first night at Hogwarts. As he passed through the doorway, he glanced back at the common room, now filled with the warmth and energy of his new housemates.
Leonard walked down the corridor, passing several doors with names neatly inscribed in golden cursive on each. The dormitories were clearly labelled, each name shimmering slightly in the dim light. He passed a few before he finally saw his own name on one of the doors:
Leonard Harrington
The letters were elegant, almost regal, and he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he pushed the door open. The dormitory was warm and inviting, lit by the same soft glow that illuminated the common room. It was a large, circular room, much like the common area, with three bunk beds positioned against the walls. Each bed was draped with heavy curtains that could be drawn for privacy, the deep blue fabric matching the house colours. The beds themselves looked comfortable, with thick, fluffy blankets and pillows stacked neatly at the head.
In front of each bunk bed were two trunks, one for each occupant, with names carefully etched into small plaques on the lids. There were also chests of drawers beside each bed, the same neat golden cursive labelling them. Above the drawers were empty shelves, likely meant for books or other personal items the boys might bring from home.
In the centre of the room was a large, round table, surrounded by chairs. The wood was polished to a shine, reflecting the flickering light from a small fire burning in the fireplace on one side of the room.
Leonard was the first to arrive. He took a moment to take in the room before choosing a bed. His gaze settled on the lower bunk closest to the window, where he could look out over the grounds if he wished. As he approached the bed, he noticed a trunk at its foot with his name neatly inscribed in golden cursive on a small plaque. Satisfied, he decided to check if his belongings were inside, but just as he was about to open the trunk, the door creaked open.
A boy with dark red hair and striking green eyes entered the room, his expression friendly but composed. He had a slight build, and his features were sharp yet unassuming. The boy looked around the room before his eyes met Leonard’s. “Hello,” the boy said, his voice carrying a subtle Scottish lilt. “I’m Philip MacDougal.”
“Leonard Harrington,” Leonard said with a nod and a brief smile. Philip returned the smile, though it lingered a bit longer, before turning back to his trunk. Just as Leonard was about to do the same, the door opened once more. Another boy entered, his dark hair neatly slicked back. He gave a curt nod to both Leonard and Philip before spotting his trunk.
“Alistair Burke,” he introduced himself quietly, his voice calm and somewhat distant. Without another word, Alistair selected the top bunk opposite Leonard’s and began unpacking.
Leonard turned back to his own trunk, relieved to see his belongings still neatly packed. As he started organizing them, the door creaked open again. This time, a boy with sandy blonde hair and bright brown eyes entered, a wide smile on his face.
“Good evening! I’m Roger Dawlish,” the boy announced cheerfully, his voice carrying a hint of polished elocution. “Looks like we’ll be sharing quarters for a while.”
“Leonard Harrington,” Leonard replied with a polite nod.
Roger glanced around the room, still smiling. “You know, I was almost sent off to Eton instead. My parents had it all arranged—quite the establishment, I’m told. But then the Hogwarts letter arrived, so here I am.” He paused, seemingly expecting a response. When none came, he added, more to himself, “Father wasn’t best pleased. He runs a rather large textile operation up north, you see. But Hogwarts... well, it’s rather a unique opportunity, isn’t it?”
Sensing Roger might talk for some time, Leonard nodded again and turned back to his trunk. Roger’s smile faltered slightly as he glanced around, clearly hoping for a more engaging conversation.
Needing a moment of quiet, Leonard excused himself to the washroom down the corridor. The familiar task of brushing his teeth brought him some comfort.
When Leonard returned to the dormitory, he noticed a fifth boy had arrived. This newcomer had tousled brown hair and green eyes that were sharp with both curiosity and caution. He was slightly shorter than the others, with a lean, wiry build that suggested a life of hard work.
As soon as Leonard stepped inside, the boy offered a quick grin and introduced himself. “Evenin’. I’m Arthur Smith—Artie, for short,” he said in a friendly, if slightly guarded, tone, his Northern accent evident.
“Pleased to meet you, Artie. I’m Leonard,” Leonard replied with a smile.
Artie looked relieved at the friendly reception and moved to unpack his things.
As the boys settled in, Leonard noticed that three envelopes on the large table had already been taken. He walked over, found his own name on one of the remaining envelopes, and opened it. Inside was his schedule, neatly folded, detailing his classes for the term.
Leonard glanced over at Artie, who was frowning slightly at the table. He picked up the last envelope and handed it to him. “This one’s yours,” Leonard said.
Artie took it with a nod, looking a bit uncertain. “Cheers,” he muttered.
Roger, who had been examining his own schedule, noticed Artie’s hesitation. “If you’d like, I could read it out for you,” he offered, his tone polite but carrying a slight air of superiority.
Philip, who had been arranging his belongings on the shelf above his bed, glanced over with a hint of irritation. “No need for that, Roger. Artie can manage just fine.”
Roger, with a slight roll of his eyes, kept his tone light. “I only meant to help.”
Artie, not wanting to make a fuss, hesitated before nodding. “Aye, that’d be grand. Thanks.”
Roger unfolded the parchment with a satisfied air and began to read aloud. His voice was measured, as though he relished being the one in charge.
As Roger read through the schedule, he suddenly paused. “Wait a moment,” he said, comparing it with his own. “You’ve got ‘Language and Literacy’ here... and ‘Basic Arithmetic.’ Those aren’t on my timetable.”
Philip, who had been listening, leaned over and quickly took the parchment from Roger, his frustration barely hidden. He compared it to his own schedule. “You’re right,” Philip said. “Artie, looks like you’ve got ‘Language and Literacy’ on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and ‘Basic Arithmetic’ on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We don’t have those.”
Before Roger could protest Philip taking the parchment, Philip handed it back to Artie with a reassuring nod. He then turned to Leonard. “Leonard, do you have these lessons?”
Leonard shook his head. “No, they’re not on my schedule,” he replied, checking to be sure. “Looks like they’re just for you, Artie.”
Artie shifted uncomfortably, clearly feeling out of place. “Aye, I guess so,” he mumbled, avoiding everyone’s gaze.
Roger, sensing an opportunity to assert himself, chuckled. “Well, it seems they think you might need a bit of extra help, eh? Not everyone picks things up straightaway.”
Philip, his patience wearing thin, shot Roger a disapproving look but chose not to argue. Instead, he addressed Artie directly, his tone softening. “Don’t worry about it, Artie. We’re all here to help each other out. If you need anything, just ask.”
Artie managed a small smile, grateful for the support. “Thanks, Philip. I’ll do my best.”
Roger, realizing he might have overstepped, softened his tone as well. “Quite right, Philip. We’re all in this together. If you need any assistance, Artie, I’m happy to help.”
The room settled into a more comfortable silence as the boys returned to unpacking. Leonard could still sense a bit of tension but was glad the situation hadn’t escalated.
As the boys settled into their beds, Roger, still full of energy, broke the quiet. “So, have any of you a background in magic?”
Philip was the first to respond, his tone careful. “Yes, both my parents are wizards. They’ve been studying ancient runes up in Scotland for years, so I’ve always been around magic.”
Before Philip could continue, Roger jumped in, eager to share. “Ah, I see! I always knew there was something different about me, even before I knew I was a wizard. I remember when I accidentally turned my nanny’s hair bright red—caused quite a stir.”
The room fell silent, and Roger, sensing the lack of enthusiasm, quickly added, “But of course, Hogwarts is where we’re meant to be, isn’t it? Quite the place.”
Alistair, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his tone reserved. “My parents are wizards too, but I spent most of my time with my grandmother. She’s taught me quite a bit.”
Roger, trying to keep the conversation going, attempted to steer it back to himself. “It’s interesting how we’ve all come from different places, but I’m sure we’ll settle in soon enough. My parents always said—”
Philip, unable to hold back, interrupted with a subtle but pointed comment. “Roger, if you’re going to ask about our backgrounds, perhaps let us finish before you start on about your own.”
Roger blinked, clearly taken aback. For a moment, he seemed ready to argue but quickly forced a laugh. “Right you are, Philip. Apologies, I do tend to go on.”
Sensing the need to smooth things over, Leonard quickly chimed in. “We’re all getting used to this. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other properly.”
Artie, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up, his voice sincere. “It was a bit of a shock, getting the letter, but... it was a relief for my family.”
Leonard smiled at Artie, offering his own experience lightly. “I think we’re all adjusting. But I can’t say I’ve ever turned someone’s hair a different colour—though it sounds like it was quite a day.”
“Let’s hope Hogwarts is ready for me—I’ve been known to clear out the pantry at home.” Artie added, which earned him some chuckles. The conversation drifted to other topics, like the grandeur of the castle and the excitement of what lay ahead.
Eventually, the talk died down, and one by one, the boys drifted off to sleep. Leonard lay awake for a while, thinking over the day. The slight tension between Roger and the others still lingered in his mind, but for now, he allowed himself to relax, the excitement of the day finally catching up to him.