Hogwarts Story: Part 3
Nov. 17th, 2005 11:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unforthHey hey,
Here's the next bit, yo! I don't think I'm quite as happy with it as the last two, but that's okay - I have trouble with transititions, always have, and I had to make the transitition from "back story" to "actual story" at some point, I tried to do it with a minimum amount of awkwardness. :) Anyway, looking at my schedule the next couple days, I'm not sure if it will be possible for me to write more, but I will certainly try. On to the writing!
Once they finished explaining everything to us, they set us lose on an unsuspecting student body. All the school rules – many of which I’d never heard before – swirled around in my head as I patrolled the hallways of the trains for any students doing misdeeds. To this day I can’t begin to guess what I would have done if I had actually found someone misbehaving. While I had always followed the rules assiduously (always accepting my independent business) I wasn’t really the sort to interfere with what anyone else was doing, I had a “live and let live” sort of attitude. Fortunately, it would not be until later that night that I would have to make my first official decision as prefect.
It was dark when we arrived at Hogwarts that night. Everyone chattered excitedly as they exited the train, the first years being herded towards the boats waiting for us, the rest of us gathering in the line of carriages that would talk us up to the school. I lagged behind to make sure that all of the students ended up where they need to be, and, once I was sure, went into one of the last carriages with a few other students who had fallen behind for various reasons. The ride was over almost before we knew it, and as a body we all climbed the entrance stairs up and into the castle.
There is no way I can truly describe the Great Hall at Hogwarts to those who haven’t seen it. It would take one far more poetic than I to convey the sense of wonder, the majesty, the beauty of that vast hall. Even to those who attend the school for five years, who eat three meals a day in that chamber every day, it never enters the realm of the mundane, for it is ever changing. The ceiling stretches high, high above your head as you walk in, the long tables all in a row before the teachers table. The cold gray stone of the walls and floor are always richly lit with the golden glow of candles. On sunny days, the great glass windows shatter the light of the sun into streams in a rainbow of colors, and the dust that slightly filled the air danced in breezes and sparkled in the light. When the weather was less pleasing, the hall was still always warm and welcoming, full of the smell of delicious food and the quiet murmur of conversation. Most wondrous of all, though, was the ceiling. Painted magically across it was a glamour that projected the sky above. Storms raged, stars twinkled, clouds scuttled across the sun, snow and hail and wind and bright blue sky all graced us in turn. I wish I could spin the picture so that everyone who read this could see, but I have no talent for illusions, and hopefully my words have been adequate.
That night the hall was in rare form. The night was crystal clear, and the stars and a dazzling full moon graced us as we entered the hall. Below, the tables were aglow with candles and laid out with place settings for all of the students. Many of the seats were already taken as I came in near the end of the stream of students, yet I couldn’t help but notice with minor distress how very thin the ranks of students looked. I remember wondering if this was attributable to the muggle war. At the time, I couldn’t believe that the war could have had such a profound effect on us – it wasn’t as if it was our war – yet I could think of no other reason why so many students of old were no longer there. As I headed towards my seat, though, I tried to push such thoughts away.
I took a seat opposite Lycia Gringott, another Ravenclaw girl in my year. She was the daughter of one of the heads of the Gringott’s bank at Diagon Alley. I never learned her fathers exact position – indeed, I never asked – but she was destined for a bright future in the banking profession. That said, though, she and I didn’t get along that well at times. She was temperamental and often distant, determined to do her family proud, though, when I say it that way, I can’t escape the feeling that that sounds a great deal like me. Anyway, she and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but she was a girl of strong principals, and I have always respected her for that. That day, she sat looking vaguely disinterested in the hall in general, casually flipping a galleon between her fingers. Her cat, Methuselah, hissed at me as I sat down, but it was an ancient, foul tempered beast, and I ignored it pointedly.
“How was your summer?” I asked, deciding that being prefect meant that I needed to work at my level of social activeness.
“Oh?” Lycia blinked at me for a moment before shrugging. “It was what it was.”
“Could have been much worse,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “Did you study, or work, or travel?”
“Worked,” she replied succinctly, with a tone that effectively ended any efforts to make conversation.
Nodding slightly to myself, I was spared trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next by the arrival of the headmaster and other teachers of the school. As Headmaster Nigellus arrived at his chair, all of the students stood in unison as welcome, for such was the tradition then, waiting for him to speak. “In a moment, the Sorting will begin,” he said without preamble. “Until then, I expect you all to be completely silent. You can be seated now.” And, echoing his words, we all sat down, doing our best to keep the scraping of chairs and shuffling of robes to a minimum. All of the upper classmen knew what drastic actions the Headmaster took when students did not do as he said. Strictness was a value well understood at Hogwarts in those days.
Here's the next bit, yo! I don't think I'm quite as happy with it as the last two, but that's okay - I have trouble with transititions, always have, and I had to make the transitition from "back story" to "actual story" at some point, I tried to do it with a minimum amount of awkwardness. :) Anyway, looking at my schedule the next couple days, I'm not sure if it will be possible for me to write more, but I will certainly try. On to the writing!
Once they finished explaining everything to us, they set us lose on an unsuspecting student body. All the school rules – many of which I’d never heard before – swirled around in my head as I patrolled the hallways of the trains for any students doing misdeeds. To this day I can’t begin to guess what I would have done if I had actually found someone misbehaving. While I had always followed the rules assiduously (always accepting my independent business) I wasn’t really the sort to interfere with what anyone else was doing, I had a “live and let live” sort of attitude. Fortunately, it would not be until later that night that I would have to make my first official decision as prefect.
It was dark when we arrived at Hogwarts that night. Everyone chattered excitedly as they exited the train, the first years being herded towards the boats waiting for us, the rest of us gathering in the line of carriages that would talk us up to the school. I lagged behind to make sure that all of the students ended up where they need to be, and, once I was sure, went into one of the last carriages with a few other students who had fallen behind for various reasons. The ride was over almost before we knew it, and as a body we all climbed the entrance stairs up and into the castle.
There is no way I can truly describe the Great Hall at Hogwarts to those who haven’t seen it. It would take one far more poetic than I to convey the sense of wonder, the majesty, the beauty of that vast hall. Even to those who attend the school for five years, who eat three meals a day in that chamber every day, it never enters the realm of the mundane, for it is ever changing. The ceiling stretches high, high above your head as you walk in, the long tables all in a row before the teachers table. The cold gray stone of the walls and floor are always richly lit with the golden glow of candles. On sunny days, the great glass windows shatter the light of the sun into streams in a rainbow of colors, and the dust that slightly filled the air danced in breezes and sparkled in the light. When the weather was less pleasing, the hall was still always warm and welcoming, full of the smell of delicious food and the quiet murmur of conversation. Most wondrous of all, though, was the ceiling. Painted magically across it was a glamour that projected the sky above. Storms raged, stars twinkled, clouds scuttled across the sun, snow and hail and wind and bright blue sky all graced us in turn. I wish I could spin the picture so that everyone who read this could see, but I have no talent for illusions, and hopefully my words have been adequate.
That night the hall was in rare form. The night was crystal clear, and the stars and a dazzling full moon graced us as we entered the hall. Below, the tables were aglow with candles and laid out with place settings for all of the students. Many of the seats were already taken as I came in near the end of the stream of students, yet I couldn’t help but notice with minor distress how very thin the ranks of students looked. I remember wondering if this was attributable to the muggle war. At the time, I couldn’t believe that the war could have had such a profound effect on us – it wasn’t as if it was our war – yet I could think of no other reason why so many students of old were no longer there. As I headed towards my seat, though, I tried to push such thoughts away.
I took a seat opposite Lycia Gringott, another Ravenclaw girl in my year. She was the daughter of one of the heads of the Gringott’s bank at Diagon Alley. I never learned her fathers exact position – indeed, I never asked – but she was destined for a bright future in the banking profession. That said, though, she and I didn’t get along that well at times. She was temperamental and often distant, determined to do her family proud, though, when I say it that way, I can’t escape the feeling that that sounds a great deal like me. Anyway, she and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but she was a girl of strong principals, and I have always respected her for that. That day, she sat looking vaguely disinterested in the hall in general, casually flipping a galleon between her fingers. Her cat, Methuselah, hissed at me as I sat down, but it was an ancient, foul tempered beast, and I ignored it pointedly.
“How was your summer?” I asked, deciding that being prefect meant that I needed to work at my level of social activeness.
“Oh?” Lycia blinked at me for a moment before shrugging. “It was what it was.”
“Could have been much worse,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “Did you study, or work, or travel?”
“Worked,” she replied succinctly, with a tone that effectively ended any efforts to make conversation.
Nodding slightly to myself, I was spared trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next by the arrival of the headmaster and other teachers of the school. As Headmaster Nigellus arrived at his chair, all of the students stood in unison as welcome, for such was the tradition then, waiting for him to speak. “In a moment, the Sorting will begin,” he said without preamble. “Until then, I expect you all to be completely silent. You can be seated now.” And, echoing his words, we all sat down, doing our best to keep the scraping of chairs and shuffling of robes to a minimum. All of the upper classmen knew what drastic actions the Headmaster took when students did not do as he said. Strictness was a value well understood at Hogwarts in those days.
