Chapter 3: Welcome to Hogwarts

Having been led into a low-ceilinged basement kitchen, I relaxed in the warm and comfortingly busy atmosphere. A dinner was being prepared and the smell of freshly cooked soup smelt so much like home that it was almost overwhelming.

House-Elves seemed delighted to see a child and while one pushed me into a seat, another presented me with a huge tray of sandwiches. I had found Eslis quite nervous and jumpy earlier, but I realised he was actually the calmest, as well as the largest, of his kind. He came back with yet another glass of the shockingly orange juice that the old man had summoned for me upstairs.

All in all, it was the most extraordinary thing I had come across since my I arrived by the mountain that morning. It looked like pumpkin smashed into juice. I was about to transform it but pulled over curiously. It actually smelled like pumpkin! I took a slip and fought hard not to split. It was disgusting… in a weird sweet way, somewhat, but definitely icky. I changed the glass into a large glass of fresh water and gulped it down.

‘You is not liking the pumpkin juice, Miss?’ Eslis asked with concern.

I looked at him in bewilderment and couldn’t help but cracking in laughers. ‘Pumpkin juice, really? You’re joking, right?’

Eslis did not seem to get into the fun so I stopped quickly, also realising that keeping changing contents of glasses people offered may simply be a bit rude.

‘I’m sorry, Eslis, no, I just like water.’

‘You is just having to ask, Miss,’ and he came back with another glass of water.

He waited and stared at me while I was eating the sandwiches.

‘We is to go back to the headmaster now,’ he said, and I pushed the tray back.

As I resumed my seat from earlier, the headmaster explained exactly where I was and who they were. And they were clearly not like me.

The female professor started a barrage of distressing questions which I could unconsciously relate to things I had heard before – Muggle questions, then. I tried to think fast. They were still the closest humans to me and even if we were doing it differently, it sounded like the same Magic to me. I had to stay here and see if they were any help. At least I would be able to act like myself, here. I bet the clever bloke in black would solve it soon enough and the wise old man seemed to know more than he was prepared to share right now. Or maybe all wise men looked that way?

I started to answer all their questions docilely and the best I could.

‘We are willing to help you,’ Dumbledore stated plainly. ‘You can enter Hogwarts as a student and we can try and help you find out more about your being a different sorcerer than the rest of us. Would you like to accept?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘Then, if you do stay, there are rules we must establish’.

Professor McGonagall spoke next.

‘We do not wish the other students to know that there is anything different about you. Do you agree not to tell them?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you are to enter second-year, as to justify your ability to perform magic already. You are not to perform any magic within Hogwarts without using a wand. You will learn the ways to use it and the spells together with your fellows. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Professor.’

‘You are to say that you were receiving education at home and that your parents have died last year, which will explain for your arrival here and for your advanced magical skills.’

‘I cannot tell my parents are dead!’ I cut in. ‘I will tell them they’ve disappeared, which is true, no? I mean, I have disappeared, right? It’s the same thing.’

‘Fine, you may tell them that. You must be registered under, and use, a family name. You have said that you cannot remember any?’

‘No…’

Albus Dumbledore spoke.

‘If it is all right with you, we could use Philius.’

That meant loving in Greek, which I found ridiculous. But then it did not seem like a wise move right now to cross the headmaster and as Greek did not appear anywhere in the book-list McGonagall had passed me, the other students probably wouldn’t know. I must have looked funny, though, because the headmaster asked, ‘Is there anything wrong with the name, Cybele? It is Greek, you know.’

‘Yes, I know, it means love,’ I answered, somewhat more grumpily than I intended.

The adults did not acknowledge my reluctance, however, as they were stroke by another idea.

‘I take it you understand Greek?’ Dumbledore asked. ‘Can you speak other languages?’

‘I don’t know.’ How could I know, really? ‘The inscription on the main door this morning, it was in Latin,’ I added helpfully. ‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon,’ I translated.

‘Minerva?’ Dumbledore invited.

She looked puzzled a second but soon took the hint.

‘Parlez-vous français?’

‘Oui… oui, je peux aussi parler français.’

They were not going to make me go through every language they could speak!

‘I don’t think language is a problem,’ I stated.

‘What do you mean?’ McGonagall asked.

‘Whatever I read or hear, I can understand and speak it myself.’

‘Yes, like… school stuff.’

‘You mean science, languages, history?’

‘Yes, these things. And information.’

‘Information?’

‘Yes, like...’ I felt uneasy disclosing this. What if they reacted just like lots of Muggles in front of magic and never behaved normal to me again?

‘It’s all right, nobody will scold you for what you may not help but know,’ Dumbledore said, showing kind understanding of my uneasiness.

‘Nor are we frightened by the abilities that make you who you are,’ added Snape in a cold whisper, catching even more accurately where my uneasiness lied.

Well, I just had to think a little bit about each of them and fish some harmless-looking pieces of information. I tried first with the old man and a swirl of century-long information engulfed me. I could control that, I was seeking for inconsequent small facts. Professor McGonagall was easier, facts appearing in a more appeased and chronological sort of order, it was easy to pick one or two things without feeling noisy. Professor Snape was overwhelming; I sensed powerful emotions, secrecy and privacy and concentrated hard to not decipher anything important precisely. I succeeded.

‘Your first name is Albus and you are addicted to the pumpkin thing you tried to make me drink, and she is Minerva and she lives with a grumpy creature named Fitzwilliam, and Professor Snape is Severus and he doesn’t like to ride a broom, but why would someone would ever do that anyways?’

Professor Snape slowly turned his head to me and asked.

‘Do you seek the information in our minds?’

‘Oh, no! I could, though, I think… but wouldn’t that be rude? Do you want me to try?’

‘No. So that means that you could as well give us any information about us which is in none of our minds, which we ourselves are not aware of?’ Snape went on.

I turned to Auror Moody at that, my mind set to revenge for his outright hostility. I though I caught a beginning of a smile from Snape at this but it was once again so fast I could have fancied it. I soon found something suitable.

‘When you received your “Aurorship� at the end of your training, you were not really the first of your batch. A boy who was arrested just after the examinations for “Death Eater� activities, he scored better. But the Ministry thought that this information was irrelevant and they never told any of the graduates.’ I said all this with a sweet smile.

Moody raised his Dumbledore-sided eyebrow in an interrogative glance and the headmaster nodded.

‘What does “Auror� and “Death Eater� mean, please, sir?’ I asked quickly.

‘Miss Cybele,’ McGonagall spoke, not answering directly my question, ‘you will have a lot to learn about the Wizarding society. I suggest we tell the other students that you come from another country, as to explain your ignorance.’

I nodded.

‘Which country, Professor?’ I asked.

Once again the three adults turned to the headmaster to settle this matter. Oddly enough, it almost felt comforting to have my life invented by this kindly old man, even if he did come up with a very cheesy last name.

‘It could be helpful,’ he suggested eventually, ‘to have you coming from a remote enough place. It would conveniently explain anything you may ignore about our habits. Would you mind saying you come from the East, maybe Lebanon? Simply say that your family was English speaking and wished you to be educated in English.

I simply nodded, my mind flying over the Mediterranean Sea, somewhere between Greece and Lebanon. I wondered whether the headmaster had travelled to all those places and how many languages he could speak. McGonagall resumed, unabashed.

‘You have asked for help, so we will try to work, observe and research in order to discover more about where you come from and where your abilities come from. We will need your full cooperation; you may need to train or to meet scholars very regularly.’

‘I will do as told!’ I assured eagerly.

‘Unfortunately,’ Dumbledore continued, ‘as willing as we all are to help you closely, Hogwarts’ scholars are very busy and the years coming promise to be busier than ever, due to some… reforms.’

I was trying to catch Professor Snape’s eye. If only he could volunteer to help me. Not only was he obviously more intuitive in his understanding of my situation, he was also making me fell much more at ease. He was not as sweetly kind as the others. I could tell they meant good but I had always felt uneasy around overly-kind adults. I liked Snape cold demeanour; he did not wear his feelings on his sleeve and I liked the sense of privacy it gave. He talked less but nailed more things down. I could also tell he would be second-fast to the headmaster to find some positive facts about me, and it was not likely that the headmaster would offer himself to work closely and frequently with me.

At last he turned to me and I caught his eyes. He saw the plea in my eyes and if anything, he looked surprised. We realised that Dumbledore had stopped talking and I looked back at him. The headmaster gave me a plainly sizing look before he saying with a sigh, ‘Miss Philius, do you think you could commit yourself to work with one of us on a weekly basis?’

I glanced at Snape a second time, just long enough to see him glance back at me, and quickly looked back at the headmaster who was starting to look amused. Fine, I was being obvious; I just hoped I was not offending the other professors, or worse, annoying Professor Snape. As seemed to be his habit, Dumbledore came down to it in few words.

‘Why Professor Snape, Cybele?’

‘He understands it better, doesn’t he?’ I stated, unfortunately, as if it had been obvious, forgetting that the others could hardly have been able as I had to assess his accuracy. ‘I would understand if Professor Snape is busy or disinclined. I would be grateful to work with any of you, of course,’ I added quickly, dreading to be rude.

‘I will meet you in the course of the coming weeks,’ Snape said simply, without smiling.

I made a short bow and wait to see if McGonagall would pursue with some more rules. She looked taken aback and even slightly disapproving. I must have offended her by my open preference for her colleague. I didn’t feel too well about that.

‘Hogwarts is a boarding school, Cybele,’ she eventually resumed, ‘and here the students are belonging to four different Houses.’ She described the four Houses, their colours and symbols and qualities. She was the head of Gryffindor’s house, she said, and Snape the head of Slytherin.

‘Cats and dogs,’ I thought.

‘We place students in their first-year, with the help of this ancient Hat.’

Dumbledore had stood up and was now coming back with a battered-looking black pointed hat.

‘Just wear the Hat,’ McGonagall said invitingly, ‘it will take a glimpse at the inner you and decide which House you’d do best in.’

Dumbledore then talked to the hat.

‘We have a little pre-term job for you. There will be no need to sing.’

‘To sing?’

Prof McGonagall passed me the Hat, which I wore. Nothing happened for a full minute, and then the Hat mumbled, ‘Muggle.’

Dumbledore spoke to it once more.

‘Miss Cybele Philius is not a Witch, but she is not a Muggle either and she will stay in Hogwarts this year. We will need to place her in a House.’

‘There is nothing to be seen in this mind, and I can tell a Muggle when I see one,’ the Hat replied stubbornly. I was starting to decidedly dislike it and I pulled it off not too gently.

‘Fine,’ said Dumbledore, ‘you shall keep it for tonight, Minerva. I suppose we will have to play the Hat ourselves, for we know a little about you,’ he said to me.

None spoke. They obviously considered the headmaster as the best judge of character and were willing to let him chose.

All the Houses seemed all right to me. I assumed it was just some sort of team-building institution and the same type of kids were to be found in all Houses at the end of the day. I doubted he would take me as a Hufflepuff, as I did not have occasion to display any faithfulness and my honesty could not be judged so fast. I felt a pang of regret, thinking that they must be a friendly and easy-going lot if they lived to the ideal of their House. I hoped I would not end with the brave Gryffindors; I imagined them to be a choosy group who would not accept any new friends unless they displayed some kind of spectacular bravery. I was not sure about the cunnings or the clever either, probably because I sort of liked being more cunning and cleverer than others, so what if they were all better at it than me?

The headmaster was smiling kindly at me and said, ‘I suppose you would fit fine in Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Then again, Slytherins may be more inclined to ask a lot of questions about your family, so better be Ravenclaw.’ He winked and added, ‘Besides, Slytherins do not generally befriend House-Elves.’ He went on more seriously. ‘Professor Filius Flitwick, the head of your House, will know about the particular of your arrival here. The rest of Hogwarts staff won’t.’

I nodded, puzzled at the new professor’s first name’s similarity to my brand new family name; but the headmaster did not comment and McGonagall spoke again.

‘You now need to purchase your books, as well as the other items listed here,’ she gestured at the list she had given me earlier and which I realised was still clutched in my hands. ‘I would take that you do not have any kind of money?’ she asked very kindly.

I reached my hand open and a dozen of fat Galleons appeared in my palm. McGonagall gasped, Moody’s jaw dropped as Snape and Dumbledore exchanged a quick glance. Trust adults to give their full attention when it comes to money… I broke their reverie.

‘How many of these would I need to buy a school book?’

‘Less than two,’ said McGonagall helpfully. She was frowning, though, looking suspicious, but she did not investigate.

‘A new term is starting tonight, Miss Philius,’ explained Dumbledore. ‘Students will arrive by train and gather for a feast in the Great Hall at seven. Be there. In the mean time, Eslis will escort you to do your necessary shopping in London. You will use the Floo, Eslis will explain to you. Usually, one of us would accompany new students from non-wizarding families, but I am sure you understand; we are running very late today.’

She had spent almost two hours shopping in Diagon Alley with Eslis.

She did not know what to make of the little Elf creatures. They all seemed to be working as servants in the school. They were so kind. But their kindness had a nervous and over-reverent way to it as not to let her consider them as equals or potential friends and it made her feel uneasy around them.

They stepped out of the kitchen’s chimney and went directly out of the painting-door to the East tower.

Cybele was left to spend the rest of the afternoon in Ravenclaw’s common-room and she was presently sitting on the common-room’s large window ledge, looking at her new tools and books. The list did not indicate any teachers’ names and she was curious to know what McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick were teaching.

She tuned a little radio she had bought in Diagon Alley, hoping to catch up on the wizarding news and trends but was unlucky so far. She turned the button to hear a loud female voice literally shout, ‘A cauldron full of love!’

She quickly turned the button again and heard a low voice on a heavy metal melody.

‘Magic creeps, underneath You cast a spell under your breath You know it’s useless… When you’re wandless…

When you’re…’

She turned the radio off. The wand… She picked it up from its thin box and turned it in her hands. Eslis had gotten it for her earlier. He had mentioned the wood but she couldn’t remember now. It had cost more than all the books put together.

McGonagall had said to keep it with her all the time. That was what wizards did. They would not perform any magic without these twigs, as the song had lyrically stated. She made a side pocket fit her green skirt and let the wand disappear in it, for now.

She had not bought any animal. Eslis had explained her that owls were used for the post. How many things will she discover tomorrow? First the last name story and now all of that… she was going to be a laughing stock.

She would have an owl! Eslis said a lot of students did. The ones in Diagon Alley where he had brought her just all looked so majestic, not like pets at all, she had not bought any.

So an owl appeared on the top of her knees. It was a bright auburn sort of brown, on the tiny side and perfectly round with a tiny sharp yellow beck. It hooted softly and peered its round dark eyes in the girl’s face.

She smiled. It was perfect. She explained to him that a lot more owls would be coming that evening, together with so many children.

The owl hooted sympathetically. She spoke to him with determination in her voice.

‘They don’t know it yet, but they are going to be my friends.’