Chapter 9: The Timetable
The first-year boy with fluffy blond hair considered the question with great seriousness for a moment.
"I have no idea," he said.
"Then what were you thinking so hard about?!" Michael groaned, convinced that between his two new friends—Anthony and Terry—he was guaranteed to die young from stress.
As for the elegant, yet rapid, dining etiquette he had observed…
An impoverished orphanage will always find creative ways to get rid of its wards, though these methods rarely amount to more than the systematic torture of children's bodies and minds. The only ones who seemed to benefit were the caregivers, who were given an endless supply of reasons to scold and berate.
Sean had been forced to learn many things in that crucible, including a rigid, formal etiquette that governed his every move, from dining and walking to how he slept.
I'm glad I'm out of there, Sean thought. Otherwise, the newly unemployed Matron Anna would have surely made my life a living hell.
In the Great Hall, Dumbledore was laughing and joking with the other professors.
Sean was eating.
Michael was chatting up a few of the girls at their table.
Sean was eating.
Terry was diligently taking notes on Dumbledore's every word.
Sean was eating.
He continued his single-minded feast until the noise in the Hall gradually subsided and the food vanished from the tables.
"Now that we are all fed and watered," Dumbledore's voice boomed.
Fed and watered? Not quite, Sean thought silently.
Dumbledore continued, issuing the three traditional start-of-term warnings: the corridor on the third floor was strictly out of bounds, as was the Forbidden Forest, and magic was not to be used in the corridors between classes.
"And now, before we all go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried.
Sean watched as the smiles on every other professor's face at the high table became instantly fixed and strained. A moment later, he understood why.
"That's awful," he muttered, covering his ears.
"If you don't want to listen, you have to sing!" Michael advised, already belting out the lyrics with gusto, though entirely off-key. "It's a simple rule: if you don't assault their ears, they'll assault yours!"
"Fair point."
And so, Sean joined in.
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something, please,
Whether we be old and bald,
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling,
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."
"You've got a great voice!" Michael said, leaning over when the cacophony finally died down. Sean nodded. He had simply set the words to the tune of a pop song from his past life. The effect had been quite good; at the very least, it had drowned out the demonic howling immediately around him.
A few minutes later, they were following a tall, slender prefect out of the Great Hall and up a grand, moving staircase.
And up another moving staircase.
And another…
"This staircase is long enough to be the death of me!" Michael gasped, leaning against the banister in dramatic exhaustion.
"A moment ago you were saying the prefect's long legs were to die for," the blond boy, Anthony, pointed out with a roll of his eyes.
"Hey! You can take liberties with pudding, but not with my words, Anthony! That was a brotherly secret! How could you betray me?" Michael, suddenly re-energized, lunged at Anthony and began tickling him.
By the time they reached the common room, Sean was pale and gasping for breath. Any more stairs and his frail body would have given out completely.
I have to find a solution to this, he wheezed in a quiet, broken whisper.
The prefect, a girl with a cascade of blond hair, waited with a pleasant smile for all the first-years to catch their breath. When the panting had subsided, she began.
"Congratulations! I am your prefect, Penelope Clearwater, and I am delighted to welcome you to Ravenclaw House. Our emblem is the eagle, which soars where others cannot climb. Our common room is located at the very top of Ravenclaw Tower. As you can see, the arched windows of our circular common room provide a spectacular view of the Hogwarts grounds: the Black Lake, the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch, and the Herbology greenhouses. No other house in the school has a view this magnificent."
"Of course," she continued, "some see the long climb as a drawback. But I can tell you that once you learn to fly a broom, it is a truly wonderful experience! Oh, and our house ghost is the Grey Lady. Others think she never speaks, but she is always willing to talk to Ravenclaws. A little rumour for you—she lived during the same era as our founder. Perhaps they knew each other? She can be very helpful if you ever get lost or misplace something."
"I'm sure you will all have a wonderful night. Our four-poster beds are covered with sky-blue silk quilts, and the sound of the wind whistling past the windows is incredibly soothing. So, I will say it one last time: congratulations on becoming a member of the cleverest, wittiest, and most interesting house at Hogwarts!"
Her concise, passionate speech lit a fire in the eyes of the young wizards. Michael and the other Ravenclaws applauded enthusiastically.
Flying brooms, Sean thought, the idea taking root. He knew that some of the more skilled flyers in Ravenclaw simply flew straight to the tower entrance. He mentally added 'learn to fly' to his list of priorities, placing it right after 'secure the scholarship'.
He took a moment to properly survey his new home. The Ravenclaw common room was one of the most airy and spacious rooms in the castle. A large, circular space with graceful arched windows draped in blue and bronze silk. The ceiling was a dome painted with stars, a motif that was repeated on the deep blue carpet below. The room was filled with tables, chairs, and bookshelves. In an alcove opposite the door stood a tall, white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw.
"Now," Penelope said, pointing to a door beside the statue, "if you would each come and collect your timetable, you may proceed through that door to your dormitories. Your room assignment is on the back of the schedule."
The young Ravenclaws dutifully lined up. Sean took his timetable and his heart sank. His most difficult class, double Potions, was first thing Monday morning. A wave of urgency washed over him. He wanted nothing more than to rush to his dorm and immediately begin reviewing Magical Drafts and Potions. He had only managed to memorize it once; what if he couldn't recall a crucial detail? The Half-Blood Prince wouldn't be there to save him.
"Sean!"
Michael's excited voice cut through his thoughts. Sean turned, confused.
"My grandmother always said that people who love to eat can't be all bad!" Michael grinned, shaking his own timetable. On the back, in neat script, were the words: Dormitory 404: Sean Green, Michael Corner.
With Michael's arm slung (entirely one-sidedly) over his shoulders, they entered their new room. The walls were hung with blue and silver tapestries, and each bed had its own personal bookshelf. The arched windows were framed with flowing blue silk.
Sean's eyes, however, moved past all that. They landed on the thick, blue-green quilt folded neatly on his bed.
I won't be cold anymore, he thought.