Chapter 5: Over the River and Through the Woods
The Hogwarts Express rumbled around its twenty-third tight turn and Phedra began to feel more than a little bit queasy. Of course, it could have been her nerves and the anticipation of the new school that she had been riding towards for the last three hours. Still, the monotony of the ride had eased her fears a little, and as she had slipped into some sort of comatose state, despite the pack of chatty teens crammed inside the compartment with her. Sliding down in the faded train seat, with her feet stretched in front of her, Phedra stared at the ceiling and put into practice one of her absolute favourite activities…eavesdropping.
Eavesdropping had always been a favoured hobby of hers. When she was very young, back in Ohio, her natural shyness and the peculiar first impression she would make upon meeting people (attempting to explain her even more peculiar name) left her on the sidelines where she was, for the most part, blatantly ignored. So, out of lack of a better game to play, Phedra would imagine herself a detective in Sherlock Holmes-esque garb (except for the pipe), and she would listen. Billy Parson had lice? Phedra was the only one steering a clear path. Laci McElroy has a “super-secret” crush on him? She unknowingly let Phedra in on it. Few other people knew as much as Phedra did about her peers at Cardinal Lake Elementary. Sometimes she surprised herself by how easily she went unnoticed. The eavesdropping continued as she grew older, all the way across the pond to a different continent. And here Phedra was, listening in on a group of teens she didn’t even know. Considering all of this, Phedra felt a tiny twinge of guilt, albeit mixed with pride, about her habit for the first time ever. Still, she told herself, it was the best way to pass the time without a magazine at hand.
“Hey, what about those Muggle killings back in July?” a boy with dark blonde hair and a spattering of freckles asked his companions.
“With the giants? I’m so glad I wasn’t there,” a dark-skinned girl replied forcefully, “but no witches or wizards were killed, right? So it’s not that bad.”
Phedra’s ears perked up. She had read about giants in her textbooks, but had never realised that they went on rampages. She also felt a pang of confusion. Did non-wizards not matter?
“Yes, but they’re still people, Susan!” the boy exclaimed rather pompously. “Besides, it’s not like the giants did it entirely on their own. Someone must have led them. A wizard.”
“Or witch!” piped up a girl with short blonde hair.
“Or witch,” the boy consented half-heartedly, rolling his eyes at the ceiling and adding, “Thank you, Marlene, our very own personal feminist!” in a rather sarcastic tone.
The conversation wandered on to circle around Marlene’s habit of giving lengthy, violent lectures to any potentially sexist male at school. Phedra lost interest, choosing to peruse a textbook for the remainder of the journey, one ear on the teens, her mind on what she had heard.
There had been mass killings recently? A witch or wizard had helped kill Muggles? Phedra was upset; she wanted to know what was going on. She knew that her parents and sister were Muggles, Mr. Magoon had explained to her about how some people had magic and some did not. Still, she wondered if not all wizards cared about the Muggles. Phedra remembered the expression on the face of the snooty woman from the station. She had half a mind to ask the teens what they thought about non-magical folk, but knew she could never actually work up the nerve to do it. Heaving a sigh (as quietly as possible), Phedra attempted to set her questions on a back shelf in her head to re-immerse herself in A History of Magic.
No sooner had she flipped to a random chapter in the book than the words “Muggle Protection Act of 1688” popped out at her. Phedra’s questions leapt off of the shelf in the back of her head and clattered onto the surface of the open book before her as her curiosity was aroused.
“Delegates from thirteen wizarding nations attended the convention of 1688. After two weeks of heated debate turned violent, eventually leading to an outbreak of duels, the convention was taken into the hands of Octavious Marcellus, a delegate from England. Under Marcellus’s sage guidance, the convention was able to establish several basic principles upon which they based the Muggle Protection Act of 1688. This document contained twenty-seven clauses, the three most important of which have been documented here for the curious witch or wizard’s convenience.
- One who possesses magic (a witch or wizard) has been born superior to one who does not (commonly known as a Muggle).
- Magical creatures (being defined as non-humans with limited thought capacity who commonly exhibit magical prowess), though inferior to both man and the wizard, are superior to non-human creatures who do not posses magic.
- To maintain preservation of traditional wizarding ways and ensure tranquillity, the non-wizard (Muggle) shall be treated with benign avoidance.”
The rest of the section spewed information about the various delegates that, although interesting, was rather tight-lipped about the twenty-four other clauses. Phedra heaved another silent sigh and peered out the window. It was starting to get dark as the train crossed a bridge that spanned an inky river. Inside the compartment, a couple of the teens were taking out their school robes. Phedra felt it might be wise to follow suit. After a moment of rummaging around in her trunk she uncovered them, trotted to the nearest bathroom, and pulled them on.
Looking in the spotty mirror in the cramped restroom, Phedra grinned to herself and twirled in a tight circle so that her robes swirled and billowed around her as much as they could in the tiny space. When she had first purchased the robes, from Madam Malkin’s shop in Diagon Alley, she had done the exact same thing. Phedra could see exactly why wizards chose not to wear Muggle clothes. Robes were much more fun. Spinning in Madam Malkin’s had reminded her of swirling around the living room of her home in Ohio, her skirt ballooning out around her, before toppling over on her back and watching the ceiling spin.
“I should swirl my robes every day!” she advised her reflection solemnly. The Phedra in the spotty mirror looked solemnly back, with twin Phedras reflected on the surfaces of its dark brown eyes. Content with her resolution, she checked her nail polish, smoothed her robes and hair, and marched determinedly back to her compartment. Sliding between the teens (who had also donned robes, theirs with cobalt blue trim and lining) on her way to her seat by the window, Phedra wondered how in the world they managed not to notice her. She was short…but not that short.
Not long after Phedra’s return from the bathroom, a voice floated down the train informing them that their destination was within five minutes and that they were to leave their belongings on the train. The posse of teenagers became increasingly excited and the speed and volume of their gossip tripled. Phedra pressed her nose to the window. Night had now settled and it was nearly impossible to see through her reflection on the glass. She could feel the train slowing down. Her heart was pounding. She sincerely hoped that there would be someone kindly at the station to guide the first years to wherever they were supposed to go. She half-wished that Martin Magoon, in his odd little sweater vest, was there to explain everything once she got to the school.
The Hogwarts Express stopped with a jolt. Her fellow compartment members got up and clambered out of the carriage and onto the platform. Phedra followed suit, trying not to slip on the steps off of the train. In the dim light of an old-fashioned-looking street lamp, she could see hundreds of students pouring out of compartment after compartment, talking comfortably amongst themselves. Here and there she spotted the pale, anxious faces of what must be a fellow first year, looking fearfully at the darkness around them.
Then a bright yellow lantern bobbed up high above the heads of the students.
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over ‘ere! Follow me!”
Phedra and the other pale faces hurried towards the bobbing lantern, and an enormous man loomed into view. The man was nearly twice as tall as her father, with large amounts of tangled black hair and beard, looming high above the tiny first years (many of whom were too afraid to get too close). Phedra, however, just wanted to be as close to the warm lantern-light as possible. He beamed down at her, and she was glad to see that it was a friendly smile. She hesitantly smiled back.
The enormous man led the group of shivering first-years down a path that wove between the black shadows of the tallest trees Phedra had ever seen. She wondered if everything at Hogwarts was so big.
“Here we are. Yer firs’ sigh’ o’ Hogwarts!” the large, bearded man announced proudly. A vast lake spread out before them, glimmering dully in the light that winked from a multitude of warm yellow windows in the castle on the other side of the lake. The castle stood black against the sky and the mountain it was perched upon. Eager to reach the warm yellow lights, the first-years scrambled into the rowing boats arranged at their edge of the lake. The boats took off on their own free will and sped off toward the large, dark castle with the warm glowing lights.
Phedra shivered slightly in the cold, damp breeze and cautiously eyed the other three first-years that had climbed in the boat with her. A ghostly-looking boy with dark brown hair and wide eyes sat next to a red-haired girl who was sitting up very straight on her wooden seat. Next to Phedra was a girl with blonde curls. All three of them stared up at the castle, the little winking lights reflected in their eyes.
The boats reached the other shore. Everyone climbed out and walked up a path to a set of large oak doors. The massive man knocked, and the doors opened promptly. Phedra half-expected the doors to have opened of their own accord, but there stood a woman, illuminated by the light that shone out of the castle and onto the scraggly group.
“Firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said the bearded man.
“Thank you, Hagrid,” said Professor McGonagall, who wore a tall pointed hat and a stern expression. She led the shivering group through the entryway (which confirmed Phedra’s suspicions that everything at Hogwarts was huge) and into a smaller room that was empty except for an unlit fireplace.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “Before you enter the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, it is very important that you are sorted into your houses. There are four houses at Hogwarts, and they are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each is well respected within the wizarding world. I hope that each and every one of you will do your respective house proud.
“The Sorting Ceremony will take place very soon; I will be back in a few moments. It would be wise to straighten yourselves up while you wait.”
Phedra straightened her robes and finger-combed her hair with shaking fingers. The stern-faced Professor McGonagall returned to the group, and led them out of the little room and into the magnificent Great Hall.
The Great Hall was aptly named, for great it was. Unfortunately, Phedra was too terrified to pay much attention to the floating candles, the glittering golden plates and goblets, or the starry ceiling. The first-years lined up along the front of the hall, and all Phedra could see was a haze of faces watching her. She was so nervous that she barely startled when a grungy old pointed hat burst into song in front of the whole school. Trying to focus on the words to its song, terrified that there might be a quiz later (it did say something about Ravenclaws and learning…she was sure of it) Phedra took deep breaths and tried to suppress the nerves that seemed to have been especially active all day.
“When I call your name, you will come forward, sit down and put the Sorting Hat on your head,” said Professor McGonagall in a clear voice. “Abercrombie, Ailis!”
The blonde girl who had ridden in the same little boat as Phedra walked very quickly up to the stool and put the grimy hat carefully on her head. It sunk down over her eyes, and sat there for a moment or two before yelling “GRYFFINDOR!” so loudly that Ailis leapt nearly a foot off of the stool. The table on the far left burst into applause. Ailis went to join them.
“Bagley, Phedra!”
Cursing the practicality of organising children in alphabetical order, Phedra made her way to the Sorting Hat with quaking knees. Just as she was placing it on her head she had a brief, ridiculous thought. What if the Sorting Hat carried lice? Ailis didn’t seem like the lousy type, but one never knew…
“I would never sink to that level, thank you very much!” the Sorting Hat said indignantly in Phedra’s ear. Phedra gave a little start.
Oh shoot! I’m so sorry, thought Phedra, blushing.
“Well, that’s too bad. You’re going in Slytherin!”
Phedra, horrified by the unjust judgment, opened her mouth to argue.
“I’m only kidding! It’s a joke! Haha…oh, never mind!” the hat grumbled. “At least you didn’t take it lying down, like some kids do. So, where to put you? Pretty good mind, that’s for sure. Still…there’s something else here. Lets see…”
Phedra sat up a little straighter on the stool.
“I’ve got it,” the Sorting Hat said proudly. “You definitely have potential as a…”
Through the Eyes of Phedra Bagley by notabanana
Chapter Notes: Many thanks to the wonderfull J.K. Rowling, from whom I practically stole the middle-to-end-ish bit of this chapter.