Chapter 48. The Beginning of Second Year
Our second school year had finally begun. At first, of course, we'd thought about going to Diagon Alley with everyone else, but remembering how noisy it got there in the last days of summer—especially now, when for several days in a row there was an exhibition by some Gilderoy Lockhart, whom the headmaster, as it turned out, had hired out of sheer desperation—we changed our minds. After all, once they learned of the previous teacher's death, wizards were genuinely afraid of that cursed position. And Sirius still couldn't take on the role, since the healers had decided he wasn't stable enough yet.
Of the interesting things, perhaps it's worth mentioning that nobody met Dobby over the summer—he simply hadn't had the opportunity to get into the Blacks' house, since he didn't know where to Apparate. And in Diagon Alley itself, judging by Harry's words, there had still been a clash between Ron's father and Lucius Malfoy, which meant we at least expected that the horcrux would still end up in Ginny Weasley's hands. We even used the Skull to check. Only the only thing we saw was that it was lying somewhere dark, with almost no light and very little space. So we couldn't say with 100% certainty that she had it, though we did warn Dumbledore about the possibility, and he decided to keep a close eye on the girl through the house‑elves so that at the first hint of Tom's diary they would report to him.
Perhaps it was wrong—our rather lax attitude toward Voldemort's whole topic—but it wasn't even close to being the main goal of our life, more of a waypoint, while what interested us much more was how much we could manage to achieve in this life, especially with Dumbledore's help. And at that moment our thoughts were especially occupied with how exactly our classes would work thanks to the Time-Turner. Naturally, to use it safely without risk of self‑erasure, we would most likely have to follow rules about how far back we could go at most, as well as rules about not meeting our doubles and not doing anything that could in any way affect future events.
In short, we were weighed down with expectations when we finally all traveled together to Platform Nine and Three‑Quarters, where we met Hermione and hurried to claim a compartment. Fortunately, even though we had brought Carolina with us, there was more than enough room, even when Ron joined us—Ron, who compared to the previous year had changed dramatically. Our gift to him had clearly done him good. Looking at him now in his new clothes, with a new confidence in his future in his eyes, he really did outwardly resemble a member of one of the oldest magical families in Britain. And just how grateful he was to us, and how much he wanted to show off his new things, was a whole separate subject.
But probably the most amusing part was Carolina's reaction, as she eyed with disbelief the boy who, for many "Potter" fans, was practically synonymous with the very idea of untidiness. The sheer bewilderment written on her face was well worth photographing. In the future it would definitely make a good scene for teasing the girl, who apparently still hadn't fully grasped that this world was already different from the fairy tale she knew so well. And for at least the next two years she wouldn't be getting a castle full of incredible adventures, but everyday life filled with studying magic. A pile of homework, and spell practice turning into a semi‑monotonous repetition of the same thing over and over to fix the result. It was all too obvious that, despite her interest in magic, she hadn't yet found something that would motivate her to practically live and breathe it, and because of that, even at home she was spending less and less time on books and relaxing more instead. In other words, just living.
Though perhaps that is exactly the reaction of a normal person—unlike us, who, as if insane, reach for things most normal people would never even think about, instead of simply living. Even among the fanfics we remembered from our previous life, how many were there whose characters would have been ready to use the advantages of the world without thinking about a possible future reincarnation, and instead focused solely on the here and now—and how few that thought the other way around.
When we finally arrived, this year, unlike the last, we rode to the castle in carriages drawn by thestrals. And Carolina, as first‑years are supposed to, went with Hagrid to the boats.
"What strange horses," Harry remarked as we were getting into the carriage.
"Horses?" Hermione repeated, thrown off balance.
From our little group, apparently only three of us could see the thestrals. Naturally, two of those were us, and the third was Harry, who, unlike in canon—where he most likely hadn't even fully realized that Quirrell had died—this time had literally seen the man torn apart before his eyes.
"They're thestrals, Harry. Only people who have seen death can see them," we decided to explain to him before taking our seat in the carriage and adding thoughtfully, "By the way, it's strange you didn't see them last year."
"Death?" Ron echoed, stunned.
"In case you've forgotten, last year Professor Quirrell died right in front of them," Hermione replied to him, then, looking curiously in the same direction Harry was staring, added, "Actually, I wonder what they look like in real life."
"I remember everything," the boy snapped back irritably.
"Er… did they really pull the carriages last year too?" Harry asked, bewildered, ignoring the little spat and staring at the creepy horses with bat‑like wings.
"Yes. Come on, get in quickly, if you want you can ask Hagrid later, he'll show them to you," we hurried him along through Regulus.
Harry nodded in response and took his seat in the carriage, and then we were carried off to the castle.
To be honest, even though not that much time had passed, as we sat at the Gryffindor table we felt a certain nostalgia. This magical castle really did get under your skin quite nicely, making you grow attached to it, and of course it helped that the students spent basically ten months of the year here.
It was especially interesting to sit at the table now and watch the first‑years file out of the little side room, just as we had a year ago. Among them was our cousin, who without our existence would most likely have died, and a couple of other interesting figures who had appeared in canon, among whom Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood stood out the most.
As always, the children were called up one by one, the Hat was placed on their heads, and then the verdict was announced.
"Black, Carolina," McGonagall called.
The girl, trembling slightly with impatience, sat down on the stool with a smile on her face. We were ready. From what we had learned about her over this time, we expected two possible outcomes. First—she'd decide to be silly and end up in Slytherin. Second—she'd follow us to Gryffindor.
"Ravenclaw!" the Hat shouted, as if yelling at us that we had overestimated ourselves. And the eleven‑year‑old girl ran happily toward the applauding house.