Hogwarts: A Future

A First Year, Chapter One: Letters and Tapestries

      Al Potter woke up in the boys' dormitory. For an instant he frowned at the bed curtains which surrounded his four poster bed. As he stretched he remembered where he was, at Hogwarts. Grinning now, Al sat up, hugging his knees to his chest, almost shaking with excitement. His sleep had been deep, peaceful and undisturbed by dreams. The previous night, his dreams had been full of hissing voices telling him he'd be in Slytherin, but now! Cautiously, he drew back his curtains, looking around the tower dormitory as he did so. His fellow first year Gryffindor boys were still asleep. Moving as quietly as he could, stealth he had learnt when James had refused to lend him his, James', broom so Al had resorted to quietly borrowing it in the summer's early mornings, Al dressed, grabbed his shoes and school bag which a helpful house-elf had placed on his trunk, and left the dormitory.

Climbing through the portrait hole Al hesitated for a moment. Would he be able to remember the way down to the Entrance Hall? Everything last night had been a whirl of people, stairs and reminders from the prefects.

'Do you need help, m'dear?' a voice said behind him.

Al jumped. Of course, his father and mother had told him stories about the talking portraits. James had even boasted that he had raced one troublesome knight from the second floor up to the North Tower. Their father had laughed, 'Was this knight by any chance called "Sir Cadogan"?' James, when asking Dad how he had known, had managed to prise the entire story out of his father, Aunty Hermione, Uncle Ron and Dad getting lost on the way to Divination and first being challenged by Sir Cadogan, then, rather dubiously, helped by him; and, later, Cadogan temporarily replacing the Fat Lady in front of the Gryffindor portrait hole. It was one thing to hear about the talking and moving portraits, quite another to be addressed by them.

'Um,' said Al, trying not to stare, 'I was trying to remember how to get down to the Entrance Hall.'

'Ah, first years,' smiled the Fat Lady, 'it's simple enough, and soon you'll be coming back after dinner with your eyes shut.' She gave him some simple instructions and told him to ask other portraits for assistance if he needed it. 'What a lot of students, and we portraits, although I do not include myself in that number,' she sniffed, 'forget is that we are here to help the students and inhabitants of the school. Really, between you and me, the number of portraits who don't...'

It seemed that the Fat Lady was preparing for a long and quite boring rant on the flaws of her fellow portraits, so Al, as politely as he could, thanked her and half ran down the corridor, his bag hitting his back as he went.

 



He got lost twice on the way, but, after being rudely rebuffed by a painted group of drowsy monks (perhaps the Fat Lady had a point after all, Al thought) he was helped by an oil painting of a young witch who stood in a field of cows. She flitted through portrait after portrait to show Al the way, assuring him that it was a relief to get out of her own portrait for a bit, 'All those bovines, good child, are apt to vex one', until they reached the top of the marble staircase.

'Thank you, very much!' Al said. The witch curtsied and began travelling back to her portrait, sighing slightly as she went.

'Al!' the footsteps of Rose ran up the stairs. Al's cousin reached the top of the stairs and hugged him.

'Can you believe it, Al? Ravenclaw!' she said excitedly, pointing to the Ravenclaw blue and black which now emblazoned her school tie and the lining of her robes.

Laughing Al responded, 'Yes, Rosie! You already know most of the text books for the next five years, if you weren't in Ravenclaw we'd know there was something really wrong with the Hat!'