The Hogwarts Express lurched forward with a familiar whistle, billowing steam past the windows as it pulled away from Platform 9¾. Chris settled into his seat, the worn leather cushions welcoming him back like an old friend. Across from him, Susan and Hannah were already deep in conversation, their voices blending with the rhythmic clacking of wheels on rails. After the solitude of Ambrosia Manor, broken only by Jilly and Bouncy's company, the simple presence of his friends felt like coming home all over again.
"…and then Aunt Amelia actually brought the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation to dinner!" Susan was saying, her eyes wide with disbelief. "I had to sit there making polite conversation while secretly knowing he's the one responsible for that ridiculous regulation about underage broom height restrictions."
Hannah giggled, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "What did you do?"
"Asked him very innocently if he'd ever actually ridden a children's training broom as an adult before making rules about them," Susan replied with a mischievous smile. "You should have seen his face turn red."
Chris chuckled, drawing their attention. Susan's face brightened noticeably when she met his eyes, her cheeks colouring slightly.
"Chris! I didn't see you slip in," she said. "How were your last few days of summer?"
"Quiet," he answered truthfully. "Just some last-minute reading and packing. Nothing as exciting as dinner with ministry officials."
Hannah leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Have you heard about the new Defence professor? Dad says it's Remus Lupin, apparently, he was brilliant at Defence when he was a student."
"I've heard good things," Chris confirmed, thinking about how true that was. In the movies from his past life, Lupin had been one of the few competent Defence teachers Harry had encountered. "It'll be nice to actually learn something useful this year."
"Anything would be better than Lockhart," Susan said with an eye roll. "I still can't believe he was hired, thank Merlin we had the Auror replacement come in after the arrest."
Their conversation drifted comfortably from summer adventures to predictions about their new classes. Chris found himself relaxing into the familiar rhythm, enjoying the ordinary pleasure of friends catching up. This was exactly the kind of normal he'd been hoping for this year.
The compartment door slid open with a soft rattle, interrupting Hannah's enthusiastic description of a spell she'd found that changed the colour of parchment as you wrote. A small girl with strawberry blonde hair stood in the doorway, looking slightly breathless. Her Hogwarts robes were crisp and new, without a house crest, clearly a first year.
"Hello," she said brightly, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Do you mind if I join you? Everywhere else is completely full, and I've been walking up and down the train for ages looking for a seat, and my feet are getting tired, and I really don't want to stand the whole way to Hogwarts because that would be awful, wouldn't it?"
The three friends exchanged amused glances before Hannah spoke up. "Of course you can join us. Plenty of room."
"Thank you!" The girl beamed, dragging her trunk inside with surprising strength for her small frame. She settled beside Hannah, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. "I'm Astoria, by the way. Astoria Greengrass. This is my first year at Hogwarts, and I've been looking forward to it forever! My sister Daphne's in third year now, but she's sitting with her Slytherin friends and said I was being annoying with all my questions, which I don't think is fair because how else am I supposed to learn things if I don't ask?"
Chris felt a jolt of recognition at the name. Greengrass. He'd known Daphne was in his year, of course, though they'd rarely interacted across house lines. But Astoria... his mind raced back through memories from his past life, piecing together what he knew of the younger Greengrass sister. His heart sank as he recalled her fate, a blood malediction, passed down through generations, that would gradually weaken her until it claimed her life far too young.
Yet looking at her now, you'd never guess. Astoria radiated vitality and enthusiasm, her green eyes bright with excitement, her small hands gesturing animatedly as she continued to talk.
"We should introduce ourselves," Susan said kindly when Astoria paused for breath. "I'm Susan Bones, and this is Hannah Abbott. We're both in Hufflepuff, third year. And this is Christopher Emrys, he's in our year too."
"Hufflepuff!" Astoria exclaimed. "That's one of the houses I might want to be in! Or maybe Ravenclaw, because I do love books. Or Gryffindor sounds exciting too. I'm not sure about Slytherin even though that's where my family always goes. What's Hufflepuff like? Is it true your common room is near the kitchens? Do you really have plants everywhere? What are the classes like? Is Transfiguration as hard as Daphne says?"
Hannah laughed, not unkindly. "That's a lot of questions! Let's see... Yes, our common room is near the kitchens, which is brilliant for midnight snacks. We do have plants everywhere, Professor Sprout brings in new ones each term. As for classes, they start fairly simple but get more challenging as you go."
Astoria nodded eagerly, drinking in every word. As Hannah patiently answered question after question about everything from moving staircases to the giant squid, Chris found himself studying the young girl more carefully. She seemed perfectly healthy now, her cheeks flushed with excitement, her movements quick and energetic. The blood curse must still be dormant, or at least mild enough that it wasn't yet affecting her daily life.
From what he remembered, the curse would begin manifesting more severely in her late teens, gradually weakening her over the years. Despite the best efforts of healers, she had died young, leaving behind a husband and son. The thought created a cold, heavy feeling in his chest. Another child destined to die young because of circumstances beyond their control.
As Astoria peppered Susan with questions about classes and professors, Chris made a silent vow. This year was supposed to be quiet, no Philosopher's Stone to protect, no founders Chambers to find, no immediate threats to address. He had time. And he had resources, Hufflepuff's healing Grimoire, Ravenclaw's theoretical magic, his own enhanced abilities, and the extensive Ambrosia family library.
Blood curses were notoriously difficult to break, but they weren't impossible. With enough research, with the right approach, perhaps he could find a way to help her. The resolution settled in his mind like a stone dropping into still water, ripples of determination spreading outward. He would find a cure for Astoria Greengrass, he couldn't watch another child die, he would protect atleast this one.
The girl in question was now listening wide-eyed as Hannah explained the Sorting Ceremony, her earlier nervousness apparently forgotten in her excitement to learn everything she possibly could about her new school.
"So it's just a hat?" she asked, sounding both relieved and slightly disappointed. "Daphne wouldn't tell me anything! She kept hinting it would be something terribly difficult and dangerous."
"Older siblings like to tease about the Sorting," Susan said with a smile. "But don't worry, it's completely painless. The hat just looks into your mind a bit to see where you'd fit best."
"Looking into my mind sounds a little scary," Astoria admitted, chewing her lower lip.
"It's over quickly," Chris assured her, joining the conversation. "And the hat keeps your secrets. It only cares about finding the right house for you."
Astoria turned to him, her green eyes serious for the first time. "What if it puts me somewhere my family won't like?"
The innocent question carried weight far beyond what the young girl likely realised, and Chris felt a renewed surge of protectiveness. "Then you'll make that house proud by being exactly who you are," he said quietly. "The best witches and wizards don't just fit into their houses, they bring something unique to them."
Astoria considered this, then nodded solemnly. "I like that," she said, before immediately brightening again. "Now, is it true there are secret passages all over the castle? Daphne says that's just a rumour, but I've read Hogwarts: A History three times, and it definitely hints at them!"
As Hannah launched into tales of the castle's many mysteries, Chris exchanged a glance with Susan, who was watching him with a curious expression. He smiled reassuringly, though his mind was already racing ahead, cataloguing what he knew about blood curses and planning his research. This year might end up being less quiet than he'd hoped after all.
...
The Great Hall sparkled with floating candles, their golden light dancing across the enchanted ceiling where stars were just beginning to appear in the twilight sky. Chris followed Susan and Hannah to the Hufflepuff table, their path momentarily delayed by a cluster of enthusiastic second-years reuniting after the summer break. They had left Astoria at Hogsmeade Station with the other first-years, where Hagrid's towering form would guide them across the lake for their traditional first glimpse of Hogwarts Castle from the water.
"I hope she's not too nervous," Susan said as they slid onto the bench. "She seemed excited on the train, but crossing the lake can be intimidating."
Hannah smiled fondly. "Did you see her face when we told her about the boats? I think she's more likely to fall in from leaning over too far trying to see everything than from fear."
Chris nodded in agreement, recalling Astoria's breathless enthusiasm. "She'll be fine. Probably asking Hagrid a hundred questions about the giant squid right now."
The familiar warmth of the Great Hall wrapped around them like a blanket. All around, students chattered excitedly, comparing summer adventures and schedule predictions. The ghosts drifted between tables, Nearly Headless Nick demonstrating his partially severed neck for a group of horrified but fascinated second-years at the Gryffindor table. Peeves was mercifully absent, though Chris knew the poltergeist was likely planning some spectacular disruption for later.
His eyes drifted toward the staff table, scanning the familiar faces. Professor McGonagall's chair was empty, as she would be greeting the first-years. Professor Flitwick was deep in conversation with Professor Sprout, their hands moving animatedly. And there, in the center, sat Albus Dumbledore.
Chris studied the Headmaster carefully. The old wizard wore the same robes of deep purple, embroidered with silver stars that occasionally twinkled like their real counterparts above. His long silver beard was neatly groomed, his half-moon spectacles perched precisely on his crooked nose. To any casual observer, he appeared exactly as he always did: the eccentric but brilliant leader of Britain's premier magical school.
But Chris noticed details others might miss. The slight furrow between Dumbledore's brows that never fully smoothed out. The way his eyes didn't quite match the polite smile he offered Professor Vector. The almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders. Something was troubling the Headmaster.
Had his anonymous letter been received? It had been several weeks since he'd sent the paper owl with news of Voldemort's final demise. Surely enough time for Dumbledore to investigate the claims, to check with Snape about the Dark Mark's reaction, to perform whatever arcane detection spells he might use to verify such information.
The Headmaster's troubled expression could mean several things. Perhaps he hadn't believed the letter. Perhaps he had investigated and found evidence that contradicted the claim. Or perhaps, and this seemed most likely to Chris, he had confirmed Voldemort's destruction but was troubled by the implications. A prophecy unfulfilled. Plans for Harry Potter now obsolete. Years of careful manipulation suddenly unnecessary.
Chris's musings were interrupted as the great doors swung open and Professor McGonagall entered, leading a line of wide-eyed first-years. The smallest students he'd ever seen, all looking impossibly young in their new black robes. Among them, Astoria's strawberry blonde hair was easy to spot, her posture straight and eager rather than hunched with nervousness like many of her peers.
The Sorting Hat sat on its stool at the front of the Hall, looking particularly shabby against the grandeur of the surroundings. As McGonagall explained the procedure, Chris caught Astoria scanning the tables, perhaps looking for her sister Daphne among the Slytherins or for her new train acquaintances at Hufflepuff. When she spotted him, she gave a tiny wave, which he returned with an encouraging smile.
The Sorting began with "Ackerley, Stewart," who became a Ravenclaw after nearly a minute under the hat. Chris found himself paying closer attention to the Sorting than he had in previous years, waiting for Astoria's turn. As "Fairbourne, Elizabeth" went to Gryffindor and "Fawley, Richard" to Slytherin, he noticed Susan and Hannah also watching more intently than usual.
"Greengrass, Astoria," McGonagall finally called.
Astoria practically bounded to the stool, her excitement palpable. McGonagall placed the hat on her head, where it slipped down to cover her eyes. Unlike many sortings that ended with an immediate declaration, this one stretched on. One minute passed, then another. Astoria's small hands gripped the edge of the stool, her feet swinging slightly with nervous energy.
Finally, after what must have been nearly three minutes, the hat opened its brim and announced: "SLYTHERIN!"
The Slytherin table erupted in polite applause, with notably enthusiastic clapping from Daphne Greengrass, whose usually cool demeanor warmed slightly at her sister's placement. Astoria removed the hat, handing it back to McGonagall with a small curtsy that made the stern professor's lips twitch toward a smile.
But as Astoria made her way to the Slytherin table, Chris caught something in her expression, a flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even disappointment, quickly masked by a bright smile as she took her seat beside an older student who shifted to make room for her.
"Slytherin," Hannah whispered, sounding surprised. "I wouldn't have guessed that from meeting her on the train."
Susan nodded in agreement. "She seemed more like a Hufflepuff or maybe even a Gryffindor with all that energy."
Chris watched as Daphne leaned across the table to say something to her sister, Astoria's eager nod in response. "The hat takes your preferences into account," he said quietly. "And family expectations can weigh heavily on someone that young."
He continued observing as the Sorting proceeded. Astoria was already introducing herself to her housemates, that inexhaustible enthusiasm apparently undimmed by her placement. Yet he couldn't help wondering what conversation had taken place between her and the hat during those long minutes. What arguments, what revelations, what negotiations.
The Sorting finished with "Whitby, Kevin" joining the Hufflepuff table to raucous cheers. Dumbledore rose for his traditional welcome, keeping it mercifully brief with just a few words, "Tuck in!", before the golden plates filled with food.
As the feast began in earnest, Chris found his gaze alternating between Astoria at the Slytherin table, already chatting animatedly with a ghost that hovered nearby, and Dumbledore, whose troubled expression remained despite his outward joviality. Two puzzles to consider as the new school year began, one personal, one strategic. But for now, he turned his attention back to his friends and the excellent feast before him. Some problems were best approached after a good meal.
...
Torchlight flickered across the ancient stone walls, casting long shadows as Chris, Susan, and Hannah made their way through Hogwarts' labyrinthine corridors. The castle welcomed them back with familiar creaks and whispers, portraits nodding sleepily as the well-fed students streamed past after the feast. Prefects led clusters of first-years who gazed wide-eyed at moving staircases and animated armour, while older students took shortcuts and hidden passages with the confidence of seasoned explorers.
"I've missed this place," Hannah sighed contentedly, trailing her fingers along the cool stone wall. "Home is lovely, but there's something about Hogwarts that feels... magical in a different way."
Susan nodded in agreement. "The feast was excellent too. Did you try that new chocolate pudding with the raspberry sauce? I think the house-elves outdid themselves this year."
"Hard to imagine improving on perfection, but they manage it somehow," Chris said, neatly sidestepping a trick step that had trapped unwary students for centuries. The simple act of navigating the castle's quirks felt like slipping into a comfortable routine, muscle memory taking over where conscious thought once required concentration.
They turned down the corridor leading toward the Hufflepuff common room, the crowd thinning as students from other houses branched off toward their own dormitories. Torches burned lower here, casting a warm, honey-colored glow that suited the Hufflepuff vicinity. The scent of fresh-baked bread wafted faintly from the nearby kitchens, a homey reminder of their house's proximity to culinary comforts.
"I'm still surprised about Astoria," Hannah said suddenly, her voice thoughtful. "The Sorting Hat put her in Slytherin."
Susan nodded vigorously. "I was just thinking the same thing! She seemed so... I don't know, warm? Open? Not what you typically expect from Slytherin."
"She was practically bouncing in her seat on the train," Hannah continued. "All those questions, that enthusiasm. I would have bet five Galleons on Hufflepuff, honestly. Maybe Ravenclaw with all her curiosity, or even Gryffindor with that fearless energy."
Chris listened to their observations, considering his response carefully. He understood their surprise, the Astoria they'd met on the train had indeed seemed at odds with Slytherin's reputation for cool reserve and calculation. But he also understood more about the realities of pureblood society than his friends, whose families, while respected, didn't operate under the same rigid expectations as the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
"It's not always about personality," he said finally, his voice quiet but carrying in the stone corridor. "For old pureblood families like the Greengrasses, house placement can be... predetermined, in a way."
Susan looked at him curiously. "What do you mean? The Sorting Hat makes its own decisions."
"Yes and no." Chris slowed his pace, choosing his words with care. "The hat takes your choices into account. And for children raised in certain families, the choice has been made for them long before they ever set foot in Hogwarts."
Hannah frowned. "But that's not right. The houses are supposed to reflect who you are, not who your family wants you to be."
"In an ideal world, perhaps." Chris's voice held no judgment, just a matter-of-fact acceptance that made his explanation all the more sobering. "But imagine you're eleven years old. Your entire family for generations has been in Slytherin. Your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents all wore green and silver. Family gatherings are full of Slytherin connections, Slytherin pride, Slytherin traditions."
They turned another corner, descending a short flight of stairs that would lead them to the corridor with the entrance to their common room.
"You grow up hearing about family honor, about carrying on traditions. Your bedroom is decorated in Slytherin colors before you can even walk. Your bedtime stories feature famous Slytherins who brought glory to the family name." Chris continued, his eyes distant. "Then, when you're finally old enough for Hogwarts, you're told, not asked, told, that you will uphold the family legacy."
Susan's expression had grown troubled. "But surely families wouldn't actually…"
"Some would disown a child for being sorted into the 'wrong' house," Chris interrupted gently. "It's happened before. Not often, and not publicly, but it has happened. Cut off from family, from inheritance, from protection. All for the crime of being themselves rather than what was expected."
Hannah gasped softly. "That's horrible."
"It is," Chris agreed. "But it's reality for some students walking these halls. So when that eleven-year-old sits under the Sorting Hat, hearing it whisper that perhaps they have qualities better suited to another house… is it any wonder they silently plead for the house that will keep their world intact?"
They stopped walking, having reached the stack of large barrels that concealed the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. The corridor was empty now, the other Hufflepuffs having already gone inside.
"You think that's what happened with Astoria?" Susan asked quietly. "That she asked for Slytherin even though she might have fit better elsewhere?"
Chris shrugged slightly. "I don't know for certain. But I saw her face when the hat called out Slytherin. There was relief there, not just excitement. Relief suggests fear of the alternative."
"I never thought about it that way," Hannah admitted, her usual bubbly demeanor subdued. "It makes the whole Sorting seem less... magical, somehow. More political."
"Welcome to the wizarding world," Chris said, his tone softening the bluntness of his words. "Where tradition often matters more than individual happiness."
Susan's brow furrowed as she processed this perspective. "So even something as personal as which house you belong in can be another way pureblood families control their children."
"Legacy is a powerful force," Chris said simply. "Sometimes a cage disguised as a crown."
They stood in silence for a moment, the distant hooting of owls and creaking of the castle the only sounds in the corridor. Then Hannah sighed and tapped the correct barrel in the rhythm that would open their common room entrance.
"Well, at least she seemed happy at the feast," she said, trying to find a positive angle. "Maybe Slytherin really is where she belongs, family expectations or not."
"Maybe," Chris agreed, though he couldn't help but wonder what the Sorting Hat had whispered to Astoria during those long minutes, and what she had whispered back.
As they climbed through the round doorway into the warmth of the Hufflepuff common room, with its honey-coloured wood and overstuffed chairs, Chris found himself grateful once again for his own sorting. Here, at least, worth was measured by loyalty and hard work, not bloodlines or family names, a simpler, kinder standard that allowed room for students to simply be themselves.