Chapter 7 — First Days
"Longbottom, Neville!"
The boy made his way to the stool with a barely perceptible trembling and lowered himself onto it slowly.
"Hufflepuff!"
I gave a slight shake of my head in mild surprise. It seemed I had changed things without doing anything in particular -- and I had not even met Neville. Perhaps he had simply been frightened by Weasley's brawling and had not asked the Hat to send him to the Lions.
While the boy made his way to his table, several more students were called. Some I knew -- or rather, had heard of -- others I did not, but on the whole everything went as expected. Those who were meant to go to the Snakes went to the Snakes, those who were meant to end up elsewhere...
"Davis, Tracy!"
A girl with dark, almost black hair approached the stool, and I would not have paid any attention to this at all, had Daphne not given the faintest flinch at the sound of the name.
"Ravenclaw!"
The girl hurried over to us and soon settled down across from Daphne.
"Hello, Tracy..."
My faithful attendant's voice carried a slight edge of uncertainty.
"Hello... and is that all you have to say to me?"
She looked Daphne over carefully, then turned to me with a mildly contemptuous glance. Though she said nothing. Understandable -- House Davis was not among the noble families, which placed me above her in standing. And given the way I had conducted myself, and the manner in which I had put Weasley in his place...
"I... can we talk later?"
"Yes..."
She winced slightly but agreed with Daphne's words. I could guess at the reasons behind Tracy's behaviour, though Hermi was looking back and forth between the two girls in complete bewilderment.
"Draco, why are they being so..."
She looked to me helplessly, as I was closer, and asked in a low voice -- though both girls heard her perfectly well.
"I cannot say for certain..."
I shook my head.
"...but I suspect that before Daphne became my attendant, she and Miss Davis spent a great deal of time together. Afterwards, however, in order to meet the standards expected of an attendant of the House of Black, Daphne had an enormous amount to learn. So much, in fact, that she could manage to see even her closest friend no more than once or twice a month. And Miss Davis took it personally and fell out with her?"
Tracy's eyes went wide, and she stared at Daphne in astonishment.
"Yes. I am now the attendant of my lord Draco of the House of Black."
It was said with pride, and before Tracy could get a single question out. Her mouth promptly closed, and she stared at me again -- with anger now, and something close to hatred.
"There is no need for that..."
I shook my head before she could speak.
"...Daphne has already agreed to speak with you, Miss Davis, and she will explain the circumstances of her current situation -- as well as whether she is content with it. After that, if you still wish to say something to me, you will be more than welcome to."
She gave a slow nod and forced out a single word through her teeth.
"Fine."
The Sorting continued, and before long we heard the name of the wizarding world's hero.
"Potter, Harry!"
The boy walked to the stool and sat down, showing his face to the Hall. His glasses were broken and barely clinging to his face, and a bruise was spreading under his right eye.
"Mr Potter, if you do not mind, I shall repair your glasses -- but please take them off first."
Harry did as McGonagall asked, after which she carefully shifted the Hat so that both it and the list of students were in one hand, freeing her wand hand. A brief movement of her wand and the glasses in Harry's hand were completely mended.
"I have to say..."
I shook my head.
"What, Your Radiance--"
"Tracy..."
Daphne silenced her friend, who was clearly barely restraining herself, but she fell quiet.
"My lord?"
She looked at me carefully.
"To do what she just did with a spoken incantation and a wand movement -- I could manage that, or possibly even drop one of the two -- but it would not look nearly so elegant. Without wand movement or incantation altogether, though..."
I shook my head.
"...that is where true mastery lies. In spells like that -- simple, but executed with absolute precision."
"Hmph..."
Tracy expressed her opinion of my words with a small, dismissive snort. But I genuinely believed it -- to perform even a straightforward spell without words or gesture, and to do so with such effortless elegance, was considerably more difficult than casting certain higher-order charms.
Not that I was dismissing the difficulty of higher magic -- not at all. But in order to cast it, one had typically already refined the simpler spells to exactly this level of perfection. Though some wizards did simply rely on brute magical power and dispensed with finesse altogether.
That particular luxury was not available to me.
Or rather, not in the near future. My magical potential was above average, but I fell short of what one would call truly gifted. The gifted were born with reserves of magic so vast that rigorous study was almost beside the point -- they simply shouted the incantation with enough conviction and it worked. Potter, if the canon held, was exactly that type.
Meanwhile Harry had put his glasses back on and the Hat was lowered onto his head, and then came the long minutes of waiting. The Hat frowned and fidgeted on the boy's head but seemed unable to come to a decision.
"All right... if that is what you want, then Ravenclaw it is!"
The Hat's words startled me considerably -- but the House, which erupted into applause, seemed not to notice that particular turn of phrase. Harry walked over to our table and took a seat next to Tracy. And with that, everything of any interest at the Sorting came to an end.
"Before the feast begins, Headmaster Dumbledore would like to say a few words."
McGonagall stepped to one side, and Dumbledore rose from the staff table.
"Thank you, Minerva..."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled warmly, before he turned a more serious gaze over the assembled children, who were hanging on his every word.
"I should like to announce to the first-years, and to remind the older students, that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits. Additionally, our esteemed caretaker, Mr Argus Filch, has asked me to announce that the corridor on the third floor, on the right-hand side, is likewise forbidden. To enter it is to face a most terrible death -- the worst you can imagine."
"He can't be serious?"
Hermione's stunned whisper went unanswered.
"And now..."
Dumbledore looked across each table in turn.
"...let the feast begin."
Dishes of every variety began appearing on the tables at once. Hermione immediately moved to help herself, and I stopped her.
"What?"
"First, let me share a rule of conduct in the wizarding world. Even in what is perhaps the safest place in all of Magical Britain, one should never neglect basic precautions. So one ought to cast diagnostic charms on one's food before eating. Watch the wand movement and the incantation..."
I demonstrated the spell for Hermione, who nodded dutifully. Harry was watching me with an expression of quiet astonishment but had not yet intervened.
"Wait..."
I shook my head and cast the charms over her food myself.
"...first you demonstrate the spell correctly to me or to Daphne, and only after that will you cast it on your own food."
"You think someone would..."
"No."
I shook my head, cutting her off.
"...at official mealtimes here at Hogwarts -- breakfast, lunch, and dinner -- it is extremely unlikely that anything will be found in your food. But doing this needs to become a habit. Also, if anyone offers you sweets or a drink, those must always be checked -- because that is precisely where slipped potions tend to turn up."
The girl gave a slow nod.
"Good. It's all clear -- you can eat..."
"Er, could I..."
Tracy glanced at Potter, who looked rather uncertain, and with a small sigh cast the spell over his portion as well. After which we all settled in to eat. Potter made an effort to follow our lead, though truthfully Daphne and I were not adhering to every point of etiquette ourselves -- only the essential minimum.
"Regarding..."
I took a small sip and winced slightly. I disliked pumpkin juice, but one ought to do the house-elves the courtesy of trying what they had served before asking for something else. Not that I had any particular concern for their feelings -- I simply did not wish to be rude. I would go and have a word with them later.
"...Dumbledore's remarks about a terrible death. You should keep in mind that the Headmaster is a man of an entirely different era. When he was a student at Hogwarts, corporal punishment was widely practised. So it is quite possible that whatever he has placed in that corridor is genuinely dangerous, and he simply considered the warning sufficient to cool any impulsive heads."
Hermione swallowed. I finished my drink, set my glass on the table, drew my wand, and gave two short, precise taps along the edge of the table -- each accompanied by a small release of magic.
"Pomegranate juice, please."
My glass filled with pomegranate juice immediately, and I found myself the subject of surprised stares -- from the first-years and from several older students alike.
"What?"
I looked around at them.
"I simply shared some magic with the house-elves and asked for a different drink."
"Is that actually allowed?"
The question came from one of the second-years, and was met with amused snorts from the more knowledgeable students of our House. Within moments everyone knew how to change their drink -- though I noticed that no one thought to mention that one could simply walk down to the kitchens and have a word with the little creatures directly.
The feast continued pleasantly enough after that. Easy, unhurried conversation -- though Daphne kept her Ice Queen composure, she chatted with Tracy quite contentedly behind the mask, and by the end of the meal Tracy had stopped shooting hateful glances at me. She had evidently gathered from the conversation that her friend was perfectly happy with her situation.
"Er, Draco, is it?"
Potter drew my attention when most people had finished eating and were simply talking amongst themselves.
"Yes, Potter. That is my name."
"Er... do you happen to know who that is, talking to Professor Quirrell?"
"Hmm?"
I turned towards the staff table.
"Ah -- that is Professor Snape. He is the Head of Slytherin and the Potions teacher. Incidentally, I would recommend reading at least a couple of chapters of the textbook before his class. As far as I know, he and your father were not on the best of terms -- so his attitude towards you may be somewhat less than impartial."
"Er..."
Harry nodded uncertainly.
"...yes, I will. Definitely."
He rubbed his scar, and all I could do was shake my head slightly.
"Is your scar hurting?"
"What? Yes..."
He gave an embarrassed nod.
"I do not know whether you will take my advice, but..."
I looked at him carefully.
"...you ought to visit the hospital wing. I cannot be certain where you were living before this, but from what I can see, it was not among magical folk. Which means you may not have received the proper medical attention."
"Er..."
The boy looked flustered.
"Actually, Muggles are quite educated and have very good medicine. My parents are dentists, for instance."
I smiled at Hermione.
"Hermione, I have no doubt about what Muggles are capable of -- I am well aware of it. However, the aftereffects of a curse like the Killing Curse, on a living person..."
I paused, and the children nearest to us fell quiet.
"...ordinarily result in death. To be precise, only one person in history is known to have survived it, and that person is Harry..."
"Just Harry is fine, really."
I gave him a nod.
"Very well, Harry. So -- Hermione -- after a curse of that nature, a full examination by a Healer is strongly advisable. Harry, has your scar caused you pain before today?"
"Er... no..."
He shook his head, looking a little lost.
"Hmm... I am certainly not a Healer, and my knowledge is nowhere near sufficient, but I do recommend a visit to the school Healer. She can at least examine you and give you guidance."
"I... thank you..."
He nodded.
At that moment Dumbledore rose from behind the staff table.
"I hope everyone has eaten their fill?"
The Hall answered with a general chorus of approval, and the Headmaster clapped his hands together. All the food vanished from the tables at once.
"Wonderful. And now -- let us sing our school song..."