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Curse of the Reapers by deanine

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Chapter 2 - Orientation

History of the World Volume IX Chapter 4 The Rule of Turpin – Equality of Inherent Potential

A fundamental truth of existence: all races, sexes, species, and religions are equal. The only true division can be made based on power, the inherent spring of magic which elevates some individuals over others. Division should begin at the earliest possible age. The powerful should unite with their own kind, growing in strength and wisdom...





Toward the south side of Suffolk, a rambling old five-story house spilled over the edge of its hillside. The average passerby knew from looking that the house was a wizard's dwelling. It meandered its way upwards in defiance of logic, physics, and sensible Muggle architecture. The wizard family inside didn't realize that their house would give the average Muggle vertigo. Muggle houses rarely elevated beyond two stories, and those that did, well they were few and far between, so the family had little reference with which to compare. From the third floor of the house a young man with a head of bright red hair stared out, wishing he could be on a broom instead of stuck inside listening to his mother lecture him about school.

"Ronald, you need to listen to me. School can be a wonderful experience, but you have to be very careful." Molly folded another robe neatly and stowed it in her son's trunk. "Your brothers will look out for you as much as they can, but it all depends on how the first sorting goes. If you're Class II or III or IV, you'll probably never see your brothers, not that I think you're going to end up in Class IV or even Class II. You just have to be strong, and think strong on that first day. If you're afraid, it will hurt you by several points guaranteed."

"Mum, I know. You've told me a hundred times. I'm going to be fine, just like Fred and George were fine. If they could make Class I, I can manage it, no problem." Ron smiled with a façade of confidence that he didn't really feel. "Even if I ended up in Class IV I'd still be okay." His next argument, that Charlie made it through school without anyone watching his back never made it to his lips. Charlie was a taboo subject. His oldest brother vanished into the hills to be a revolutionary. He abandoned his family for a set of ideals Ron wasn't terribly clear on. Uttering the word Charlie was guaranteed to send his Mum into a fit of tears and terror and mother-hen protectiveness that could last a month or more. Fred and George would jinx him for the rest of his life if he set his mother off like that.

"I know you're a big boy, and you're just as tough as any of your brothers, but I can't help worrying. You're my youngest, my baby. Give your mother a kiss now." Molly barely got the last words out because of the tiny sobs bubbling out of her throat.

Ron surrendered to the wet, sloppy embrace his mother required before heading downstairs with his trunk, none the worse for wear. His brothers were already downstairs waiting with their father. Dad wasn't around that much because his job at the antiquities department kept him on the road most of the time, but he always found a way to be home the day his sons went off to school. Unlike his mum, Ron's dad didn't try to fill his son's head with advice for the sorting or survival at school. Arthur Weasley hugged Ron close and whispered into his ear, "I love you son. Be safe."

"Finally," George said. Leaning casually against his trunk, he grinned at his twin. "I didn't think our little brother was ever going to make it downstairs."

"Mother seems to have got him a little soggy. Not good for first impressions. Do we have a drying spell?" Fred asked.

"I have one, but it may dehydrate him like a Ronnie-raisin," George replied. "That could hurt his performance getting sorted."

"God forbid," Fred said.

"No picking on Ron before the sorting," Molly shouted on her way down the stairs. "No jinxes, hexes, or anything that is going to hurt his confidence. Try to be good brothers for at least a day, or Merlin help me, you will regret it."

"Of course Mother, we wouldn't do anything to hinder his sorting. If he's anything but Class I how do you think that will look for us?" Fred and George chimed together. "We have a family reputation to uphold."

"All right boys," Arthur said. He ushered his children toward the magic circle in the centre of the room. "One at a time, I'll send you through." Standing back, watching his sons head into the Unified School System, Arthur wished that it could have been different, that Molly had been willing to live off the grid to live outside Turpin's strictly defined society. It was an old fight between them, and Arthur knew better than to bring it up again. Molly was satisfied with Turpin, with the safety and the stability of the empire. His boys were going to be fine.

Ron headed onto the dully-glowing red runes and kept a hand on his trunk. "Goodbye, Mum, Dad. I'll see you at the break." Traveling by magic circle was like falling into a rabbit hole. Everything was dark and fast for a few moments, but then your feet were back under you and you were somewhere else hundreds of miles away. Ron made haste out of the circle, so that the next arrival didn't land on his head. His brothers had headed through first, and they were already lined up in the class rankings. He could see them across the way, and wished he could join them, but he was new, and there was a clear sign directing him to the right where a large conglomeration of students had already gathered.

None of the kids there had trunks with them, and Ron knew what that meant. They were either Muggle-born, or group home kids or even more likely a mixture of the two groups. Ron didn't have anything against kids from different social groups than his own. These kids might be starting out on the bottom, but they were moving up into society, becoming second tier witches and wizards. They still made him a little nervous, like anything or anyone unknown. He seemed to be the only first year with a trunk who'd arrived.

One of the boys, wearing the same institutional gray robes as everyone else, stepped forward. He had a pair of round wire-rimmed glasses and a mop of unruly black hair. He smiled at Ron and motioned him over. "We don't bite you know."

"Speak for yourself, Harry," one of the girls spat. "If he's that scared, maybe he should just keep his distance."

"I'm not scared," Ron growled. Squaring his shoulders, he headed for the boy who had invited him over. "I'm Ron Weasley."

"Nice to meet you, Ron. I'm Harry Green, and my courteous friend here is Hermione Granger." Harry pointed to himself and the girl who'd threatened to bite. She had a sullen wild look about her. Part of the wild look was the bushy brown hair, but her eyes didn't leave you with a warm, civilized feeling either. "I'm from Group Home Four and Hermione is a former Muggle. They moved her to the group home last year, and we've been fast friends since she attacked me that first day."

"Keep making jokes, Green. I'll show you what a real attack feels like," Hermione snapped. "Why are you being nice to this silver-spoon anyway? He comes trotting around in his fancy robes and big trunk of goodies like he's better than the rest of us. I don't like him. Make him go away."

Harry leaned closer to Ron, a sly grin on his face. "She really doesn't like anyone the first time she meets them, and she doesn't really bite, unless you're wrestling then she fights dirty, hair-pulling, eye-poking, the works. Where you from Ronnie? You live in London?"

Feeling a little overwhelmed by the rush of information coming at him from the odd pair of kids, his peers, Ron took a moment to answer. "Nah, my family lives in the country. We're really not that important as wizarding families go. We don't have lots of money or third tier connections or anything."

"I weep for you, silver-spoon," Hermione snapped. She turned away as though finished acknowledging Ron's existence.

"Here they come," Harry said. "You were just the first Ron." The other children of established wizarding families had begun to appear in the arrival circles. Where the group home children were uniformly grey, these other children arrived in a rainbow of colors, styles, and fabrics. Harry wondered what the textures of some of the shinier silks or furs would be like. The other children reminded him of birds, fanciful and untouchable. They were from a different world. "You might want to join them Ronnie. There's a line here that they aren't crossing. You don't want to be ostracized on your first day. We don't have a choice, but you do. It's not a big deal, Ron. You aren't going to hurt our feelings."

"Yeah, silver-spoon, go home," Hermione hissed over her shoulder.

True, if he hadn't been the first of the established wizard's children to arrive, he probably would have kept to his side of the sorting area, but now that he'd crossed he wasn't going to just cross back. "Could you call your girlfriend to heel," Ron snapped. "It isn't like I know any of them any better than I know you two. I live in the country, and my parents aren't big on social mingling."

The cynical smile Harry had been sporting softened and he snorted at Ron. "You are a brave soul. Maybe we'll end up in the same class? Wouldn't that be exciting?"

Ron wouldn't have particularly minded being sorted into a grouping with Harry, but he had a sneaking suspicion that that the wild-girl, Hermione, was headed straight for group IV, low-potential land.

An older woman, stiff and regal, came forward from one of the larger transportation circles. A squat silver stone had appeared with the woman, and she levitated it forward with her. "Children, please pay attention. When I call your name, come forward and place your right hand on the stone here. When the stone glows yellow you may return to your friends and wait until the process is complete." Not wasting any time, the woman squinted down her nose at the list in front of her.

"Abbot, Hannah."

A mousy young girl from the group-home children moved forward, the first student to be analyzed. She touched the stone hesitantly, and it sparkled a golden yellow almost immediately.

"Aster, Forest."

Harry stared at the other children coming forward. He watched them touch the stone, and tried to discern a pattern to the flashes of light that strobed afterwards. Some of them had to stand at the stone for several minutes before it flashed. Others barely had to touch it. Did quick flashes imply strength or weakness? What should he hope for when they reached, him?

"Granger, Hermione."

His friend was moving forward then. Her fingers scarcely brushed the surface of the stone before it flashed golden. Then and there, Harry decided to hope for a quick flash. At least then he would maybe end up in a grouping with his friend, someone to watch his back.

"Green, Harry."

Quick flash, Harry hoped silently. He brushed his hand against the stone, and he waited, and waited. Wasn't it going to flash? A strange panic started build inside him and Harry felt real fear. Maybe he was really just a Muggle, not even enough magic in him to light the stone. They were going to throw him out of the only home he'd ever known, his group home, and cast him down with the regular humans in the gutter. "Flash, please," Harry murmured. The stone finally obliged him, giving an enthusiastic gold burst.

More names were being called, but Harry didn't even care to look. Forget the patterns and what group it would mean for him. He was headed for a group, be it I or IV. He couldn't say what happened for next hundred or so names, but he heard the last name of the morning.

"Weasley, Ron."

And surprise of surprises, Ronald touched the rock and got a nice flash of light like the rest of them.

The older woman abandoned her list and approached the stone. "We're going to start with Class IV and move up. When the stone calls your name, proceed to the Class IV circle. Ready?" The woman tapped the stone with her wand. "Begin recitation."

After the wait he'd had to endure for his flash, Harry was expecting his name to be called in the first group, Class IV, the lowest powered wizards, but he wasn't obliged, not in Class IV or III or even in Class II. No one class was filled with exclusively group home or established-wizarding types. Harry could tell the established wizard-family kids were mortified to be called before Class I. Some of them even protested to the old woman, demanding a conference for their parents, but the lady ignored the disgruntled children. With a wave of her wand, she sent the Class IV, III, and II children on to their school. She turned to face the handful of students who remained.

"Those of you who remain have the distinction of being the twenty students of greatest magical potential based on the results of our divination stone. Of your peers, you are the elite. Whatever your role in life before today, you are equal to any wizard of the second tier from this day forward. With work, you can do anything, rise as far as even the third tier of society. Now, you will be ranked individually and paired into teams, 20 with 19, 18 with 17, so on and so forth."

Harry looked around himself more content and self-satisfied than he would have thought possible a few minutes earlier. He was a Class I wizard, and his friend, Hermione, was with him. Heck, the new guy, Ronnie, even made Class I. Harry didn't care what number he took in the top twenty if he could land a pairing with someone he liked or at least knew. There were seven kids from the group homes in class 1 and he knew them all. The odds were reasonable that he might land someone who wasn't a complete idiot as a partner.

"When I call your name and number, come forward to meet your partner:"

"20. Patrick Aster and 19. Terry Boot
18. Charlie Dill and 17. Pierre Scott
16. Valerie Gunther and 15. Seamus Finnigan
14. Devon Teron and 13. Susan Bones
12. Morag MacDougal and 11. Padma Patil
10. Hannah Abbot and 9. Justin Fletchy
8. Dean Thomas and 7. Lisa Turpin"

Looking around Harry couldn't contain his excitement, top 10 and he still had a shot at pairing up with Hermione or Ron. He hadn't thought a lot about all of the Law of Turpin lessons they had to study as kids, but Turpin was totally right, the powerful were drawn together. He had made friends with the two people best suited to his abilities. It couldn't be coincidence.

"6. Millicent Bulstrode and 5. Neville Longbottom
4. Hermione Granger and..."

He was leaning forward ready to walk, but Harry's name wasn't called next.

"3. Ronald Weasley."

Looking around, there was only one other student remaining, a young man with slick white-blond hair. He met Harry's gaze with cool blue eyes that radiated cocky self-assurance. That kid wasn't shocked that he was either ranked one or two in the class. That's my partner, Harry thought. Don't be an ass, he wished silently.

"2. Draco Malfoy – 1. Harry Green."

Neither of them moved forward at first; Malfoy seemed to finally be nonplussed. No, you're not number one, Harry wanted to shout. A no-name, no-connections, group home nobody was number one. Hermione was grinning at him, and Harry moved forward with renewed confidence, practically glowing with the inherent potential he apparently possessed.

Harry wouldn't have thought anything could kill the emotional high he was reveling in, but the cool sneer of his partner Draco raised every hackle he possessed. Trying to be polite, despite his instincts, Harry offered the blond boy his hand. "Looks like we'll be working together."

Draco just stared at his hand as though it were contaminated and distasteful. "Class I should by all rights be reserved for those children whose families have actively participated in society for at least a generation. You Muggle-borns should have to serve society like the rest of us before you benefit from it. It's really a disgrace the number of your kind in my class this year. I wouldn't be surprised if some of you weren't reclassified after my father finds out what happened." Draco ran his eyes up and down Hermione for good measure. "A filthy shame."

Anger sprang to life in Harry's heart coursing down his arms and curling his fists into angry pistons capable of breaking pale thin aristocratic noses. Instead of yielding to his instincts he internalized his anger, letting it fuel his desire to succeed. Hermione wasn't nearly as composed. Harry was barely able to get himself between her and Draco before she could tackle him. "Hermione, remember what I said? Come on girl, if you break his nose they'll drop you a class. The idiot thought he could get my number one by default with a little taunting, but he's about to get your number four. Then I'd have to break your nose for being stupid, and they'd declassify us together."

"I don't think I'm going to like school if you can't stand up for yourself," Hermione growled. She stopped struggling to get at Draco, and settled on glaring at the rude snob. "He's trying to get a number one by default, eh? I can't believe that greasy pale toad was classed higher that me."

Draco turned to Ron as though he'd found a kindred spirit. "I feel sorry for you being paired with that savage. If we work together, I'm sure these two will be in Class II by spring term, and we'll be the number one and two of this class. My father's the Sheriff of this entire district, and with his help, it'll be no problem."

Flushing an embarrassed crimson that almost blended perfectly with his hair, Ron sputtered for a moment, partly because he had been consoling himself over his pairing with the savage. Hermione had made no bones about how much she disliked him, and she was a little coarse from his brief interchange with her. But he most certainly wasn't going to plot anyone's drop in rank. That was crazy, malicious, and bigoted. "I'll take my partner, thanks," Ron managed after a moment. "If you don't watch it, you'll be the one who gets dropped to Class II. They don't put up with nonsense at the Class I school. Everyone in this class is equal now, and your important Sheriff-Daddy won't be able to pull any strings out there."

"We'll see about that, I suppose," Draco said.

The older woman returned and shuffled them into a transportation circle, effectively ending their confrontation for the moment. Once through the circle the pairs of two were sent together to one of ten stations to acquire their school supplies. Ron gaped at the bizarre stalls that filled the Quidditch-pitch-sized room. The place looked more like a dungeon than a school with its mildew covered stone walls and torch-light.

He might have gaped longer, but Ron found himself jogging to keep up with Hermione. Was she going to be angry or happy? He did stand up for her, sort of. Sure he was wizard-raised, and she was a Muggle-born, but they could coexist and work together. They had to. Hermione slipped into the girl's section of the robe-fitting area, and Ron put his speculation on her mood to rest for a few moments, during which approximately three dozen measuring tapes scaled every inch of him. In less time than Ron spent brushing his teeth in the morning, a harried middle-aged witch presented him with a set of pale mauve robes. "I guess I should change, yes?"

Pausing in the hall that separated the girl's and boy's changing area, Hermione stared through the gauzy material that served as a door. Ron, her new partner, silver-spoon himself, was changing. It wasn't polite, watching him like she was, but Hermione didn't exactly pride herself on her manners. She had to find a way to be civil to Ron, to work with him, and not hate him. He didn't personally persecute her family, and he'd even been sort of decent so far. Harry had lectured her about being calm and trying to fit in for days, but Harry didn't know what it was like out there for Muggles. He had spent most of his life in the cushy group home, going to school and eating three square meals a day. If she felt underprivileged and resentful with a kid from Harry's background, how was she ever supposed to relate to Ronald Weasley, pampered wizard prince? Why couldn't the divination stone have paired her with Harry or someone else less distasteful?

"Come on, keep moving," one of the seamstresses said. She pushed Hermione forward through the gauze curtain where Ron was lacing the top of his shirt. "Our next students are here. Go to books down the hall."

Determined to be polite and make some sort of inroad with Hermione, Ron smiled, a forced expression. "You look nice," he offered. Purple wasn't really her colour, but the robes suited her much better than the poorly-fitted gray thing she'd been wearing earlier.

"Really? You look like a deflated sickly grape," Hermione replied. "I think I saw the books area this way."

"Girl knows how to take a compliment," Ron muttered under his breath.

Just stepping out of the Potions supply room, Harry didn't follow his partner straight for the cauldron station. Instead he craned his neck around, trying to maybe spot Hermione or Valerie, or someone else he knew, but everyone seemed to be busy at one station or another. With a sigh, Harry joined his recalcitrant number two getting his cauldron. The wizard in charge barely glanced at the two of them before tossing the heavy pewter pots at their midriffs. After grunting at the impact, Draco headed out without a word. The silent treatment wasn't bothering Harry. He only wished it would last.

"Where is the wand section?" Harry muttered. Hoisting his goods up into his arms for a more stable grip, he craned his neck around looking for sign with something pointy-looking on it.

"This way," Draco snapped. "Can't you read?"

"Yeah, I can read," Harry grumbled. "And apparently I have all the potential I'll need to be a significantly better wizard than you."

Walking behind him, Harry could see Draco's neck turn red, and he grinned. Draco might hate him and taunt him, but Harry had the upper hand because he had exactly what Draco wanted.

The wand supply room was much darker than the other stations they'd visited. A thousand small intricately labeled drawers lined the walls, and Harry's heart leapt at the thought of the wonders hiding behind those drawers. A stooped old woman stood behind the counter her gray frazzled hair surrounding her deeply wrinkled face in its crazy bushiness. "Touch the stone boys, one at a time."

It was another divination stone, much smaller than the one that segregated them into classes but very much the same: grey and squat and opaque. Harry came forward and brushed his fingers over the stone. He liked this kind of magic. Divination stones had been good to him so far.

"Annoying," the old woman grumbled. She tottered over to a wall of drawers, summoned a ladder, and made her slow ascent to the highest row. Squinting at the labels, she selected a drawer and removed a box. Harry could hardly stand waiting for the lady to make her way back with his wand. He accepted the box with shaking hands. The box opened with a delicate snap like a fine jewellry box, and Harry stared at the polished black wood.

"It's mahogany with a dragon heartstring core. Strong wand with a good bit of kick," the woman asserted. "Now you blondie, touch the stone."

"I already have a top-of-the-line wand," Draco said. He spared Harry and his school-issue wand a sneer. "I plan to use it, thanks."

Draco breezed out of the wand room without a backwards glance. It hadn't occurred to Harry that some students wouldn't use the school issue supplies that the empire provided. In his reading, every resource asserted that school was a level playing field that no one was given an advantage based on their heritage or family position. Ideals were never as perfect in practice as on paper.

"Little snob thinks his club of a useless twig is better than one of my wands?" the woman growled. "Idiot."

Harry smiled at the crone. "Draco's wrong is he? I'll do my best to prove you right."




Author's Note:

You may notice a few things and wonder why I changed them. Number one, Molly and Arthur Weasley only had four children, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron. All I can say is that Arthur spent a whole lot more time at work and less time having fun. I excluded Ginny for a very specific reason: I am a RABID Harry/Ginny fan, but Harry can't become romantically linked with a Weasley for complicated plot reasons. I have a slight romance option in which Ginny could be introduced much later in the fic transplanted into a new family, but I don't know that I'll ever go there. I could easily get very sidetracked with that romance in this fic. Plenty is going on without that distraction.