A House at Hogwarts is one family.
At least, those were Professor McGonagall's words, quoted by the first-years as we walked from the end of the festive feast to the Hufflepuff common room. Despite the joy of admission, the children couldn't ignore the news that the school would be guarded by Dementors of Azkaban. If their anxiety was purely emotional, mine came from knowing what was in the books and sensing their magic. And yes, I walked with the first-years, but in fairness, it should be noted that Hufflepuff students generally walked as one crowd, hiding real anxieties and fear in their eyes behind ostentatious friendliness, smiles, and cheerful conversations.
No one had attacked me with questions yet, although at the table during the feast I was accepted easily, without excesses of undue caution or, conversely, friendliness. The Prefect, Cedric Diggory, was a fairly tall brown-haired boy with unruly hair and a polite smile that seemed stuck to his face. On the way to the common room, he talked about various trifles regarding these gloomy stone corridors of the school, how best to get to the Great Hall, and when and where you can get from the main tower where all the staircases move.
"And here," Cedric pointed to a large still-life painting, "is the Hogwarts kitchen. To get there, you need to tickle this painted pear."
He pointed with his finger but didn't do anything.
"The entrance to our common room is very close."
Indeed, we walked another ten meters, turned a corner, and saw large wooden barrels stacked horizontally on top of each other. They were so large that an adult could crawl through one just by stooping a little.
"The entrance is right here."
Although there were guys from other years with us who obviously knew exactly how to get into the common room, right now they stood nearby and waited for Cedric to demonstrate to the newcomers how it should be done. He knocked in a strictly defined rhythm on one of the barrels, and the bottom of another opened like a door.
"There. The sequence must be observed. Come in," the Prefect waved his hand towards the passage with a smile.
The House common room reminded me of something too strongly. A low domed ceiling with slightly sloping walls, an abundance of shelves with pots in which a wide variety of plants grew, cream-yellow colours with plenty of wood trim. The common room itself was not exactly in the dungeons—through the high round windows, one could see the grass growing against the castle walls. It looked like a basement, a dugout—call it what you like. Lots of extremely comfortable deep sofas and armchairs, massive but small wooden tables, a monumental fireplace, and… And again, round doors, behind which, as I see, passages to female and male dormitories were hidden.
These aren't Dwarven halls—this is some hobbit hole!
Everyone except me and the first-years wandered off, breaking into groups by interests. Although, most likely, many would go to sleep, for fatigue and relief could be read in their eyes—the familiar walls would protect them. For us, Cedric read a speech about what a wonderful House Hufflepuff is, how friendly and hardworking everyone here is, and that there is a certain Gryffindor-Slytherin conflict in the school. Because of this conflict, we need to "keep our finger on the pulse," and if there is a desire to be friends and communicate with students of these houses, always keep in mind the possibility of arrogant aggression from Gryffindors and cunning setups from Slytherins, because, to everyone's sadness, many consider our house a lair of dim-witted dullards.
"Hector," the Prefect addressed me familiarly, having previously instructed several students to settle the first-years. "You are enrolled directly into the third year, aren't you?"
"Precisely," I nodded seriously in response.
"No need to be so formal," Cedric continued to hold the smile on his face.
I don't know why, but it didn't seem natural to me. More precisely, not so much unnatural as forced. Yes, that fits better.
"Let's step aside," he pointed invitingly to a free sofa, on an armchair next to which a terribly decent guy of my age with damn neat parted dark hair was looking boredly into the fireplace.
"Justin," Cedric addressed the guy sitting in the armchair.
"Huh? Yes?" the guy looked at us. "Cedric. Did something happen?"
"You could say that," the Prefect turned to me. "You see, Hector, it is customary in our House that for the first time, first-years go to classes and breaks with Prefects or responsible persons. For the purpose of familiarizing themselves with routes, the castle, classrooms, and things like that."
"I think I understand the difficulty," I nodded again, mirroring Cedric's smile.
My gesture made him freeze for a moment, but he almost instantly continued speaking, and it seemed to me that he even nodded at something.
"Of course, usually we attach someone from the older students to the same first-years for the first time, but this is all strictly voluntary, and this year there won't even be one-to-one free older students for the first-years. Let alone for a third-year. Justin…"
Diggory turned back to the guy listening attentively to everything.
"You won't leave a new comrade in trouble, will you? Will you help Hector settle in?"
"We?"
"Yes. You, Justin, Zacharias, and Ernie."
"Our schedules might differ."
"What? Ah, yes, how could I forget. Hector, what electives did you choose?"
"Electives? I wasn't told anything about that."
"Hmm…" Cedric pondered, while Justin sat calmly, shifting his gaze to the fire in the fireplace. "But do you have educational literature for all subjects?"
"Yes. Absolutely all of them. Even that jaw-book for Care of Magical Creatures."
"Jaw-book?" the Prefect was surprised, glancing questioningly at the flinching Justin.
"Terrible book," the guy grimaced. "At first I was very surprised. But now, knowing that Hagrid will be the teacher, I understood the reasons for the appearance of this particular book on the lists."
For now, I only had to shift my gaze from Cedric to Justin, playing a simple but understanding and restrained boy. Although, I am one. And that book is really funny—big, with an eye, and behaves like a huge living jaw. I almost immediately realized that it needs to be stroked on the spine to open and read calmly—a very characteristic ridge on the spine.
"Understood," Cedric smiled again. "Hagrid is indeed peculiar. Look, Hector. You need to choose two additional subjects. Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Muggle Studies, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy."
"In that case," I thought for a brief moment. "Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes."
"An unexpected combination."
"Yeah," Justin nodded. "Everyone here chose Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, or Muggle Studies. The rest is of no interest to anyone. Hector, why CoMC and Runes?"
"Other subjects can be figured out on your own; the books there are quite understandable. Learning about animals is best done in contact with them, and books on Runes are too abstract. Muggle Studies… Well, you understand."
"That is true," Cedric nodded. "A dubious subject for a Muggle-born. Regarding Runes, I will talk to the other Prefects. And one more question. How are you with magic?"
"Practice in subjects? or theory?"
"Yes to both questions."
"Learned all the theory, no practice at all. But I learn quickly."
"Hmm, let's check," the Prefect smiled again and, taking a wand from the inner pocket of his robes, pointed it at a piece of parchment lying on the table nearby.
The sheet quickly and without any effects turned into a feather.
"Take out your wand and cast the Levitation Charm on the feather."
Pulling the wand out of the holster on my forearm, which I hadn't noticed myself crafting from my mother's old worn boot—a box of which was being prepared for disposal—I made the correct wave, released control of magic, and pronounced:
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Crumbs of my magic rushed to the wand and left it in a kind of trail, enveloping the feather. Yes, it took off and hovered safely over the table, obeying the movements of my wand. Only I didn't feel any special structuring or anything else. Magic, in practically unchanged form, seemed to envelope the feather, leaving a simple communication channel for interaction.
What is happening? Why? For what reason? Nothing is clear, but it is very interesting.
"Excellent," Cedric nodded contentedly and smiled at me. "And you haven't tried this spell?"
"No. Like other magic in the curriculum."
"Impressive," Justin looked with interest at the hovering feather, and I decided to cancel the charm. "You're just like Hermione, casting almost without practice. Then we'll quickly handle the material."
"By the way," Cedric clearly perked up, and even sat somewhat more importantly. "You, Hector, aren't by chance related to Hermione Granger?"
"Yes. Brother. Does it matter?"
"Not particularly," Cedric shook his head, but Justin had a different opinion.
"Well, she is the best student not only in her year but generally. Always perfect in studies."
"Alright, guys," Cedric got up from the sofa, and we followed him. "I won't keep you any longer. If I peeked at the schedules correctly, then your studies start tomorrow with Potions."
"Oh no," groaned Justin, causing another smile from the Prefect. A kind one, for a change. "Let's go, Hector. I'll show you the room. And don't worry about sorcery. We will definitely help and review it ourselves."
We left the gradually emptying House common room, passing through round doors into a corridor with several more doors. And yes, also round. Hobbits, honestly!
The room into which I was settled with the other guys from the third year was made in the same light colour scheme as the House common room, and the windows were just as round. In four of the six deep niches were quite large wooden beds with yellow canopies, like the lining of the House students' robes, and one could fence off from the common space with a thick curtain, creating a decent personal corner. Also in the niches, there was space not only for a bed but also for a trunk, and there was even a small table with a chair here. The room itself was quite spacious and boasted a large table, chairs, a sofa, armchairs, and two of the remaining niches were clearly turned by a student's hand into a nook for various trifles that had not found a place in the room.
"Yo!" a fair-haired boy waved to us and Justin; his hairstyle was a mirror copy of Justin's. "Hector, right?"
"Yes."
He and another boy got up from their chairs and approached, extending a hand.
"Ernie Macmillan, nice to meet you."
"And I," spoke the second, practically a blond, "am Zacharias Smith."
"Hector Granger," I shook hands with the guys.
"Talk? Or sleep?" Zacharias looked us over with a tired gaze.
"Sleep, of course. Potions tomorrow."
"On the first day? Nightmare!" the guys were synchronously upset, and Justin pointed to my school trunk, which stood next to the bed in one of the niches.
"Looks like you were assigned here. Now we have four guys in the year."
"And girls?"
"Two."
"So few?"
We started getting ready for sleep, and at the same time I found out where the full bathroom was, except without a shower or bath—the first is shared and located at the end of the corridor, and the second does not exist in principle. Well, unless you count the Prefects' pool.
"They say," Justin said when everyone was already getting into bed, and Zacharias had passed out immediately without even closing the curtain to his nook. "That the end of the seventies and the beginning of the eighties were very meager for children. That's why there are somewhat fewer of our peers than there were in previous years."
"And what happened?"
"They say a whole civil war by local standards. Doesn't impress by numbers, but considering the extremely small population of magical England, translating this into percentages and coefficients…"
"Speaking smartly…" a pillow literally whistled from one niche to another.
"Ouch…"
"Sleep already, will you…"