Falkman Residence, Norwich, The United Kingdom.
1991, August.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
''Get up! Time to get up, sleepyhead!''
Fredrik blinked his eyes open, frowning. The blanket was gone, which meant it must've slipped to the floor during the night. He'd slept through the whole night, though, which he was thankful for. Normally, or at least before, he'd be up to pee, get a drink, or wander around because a nightmare had dragged him fully awake. But things were improving. These days, he made it through the night more often than not.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
''Get up! Time to get up, sleepyhead!''
He shifted and sat himself on the edge of the bed, stretching himself out like he had seen the alarm clock do numerous times in the comic strips on his uncle's newspapers. Before the cat could sound off again, he pressed its pink nose.
''Nah! Don't get up, stay in bed. Sleep longer.'' Garfield tempted him. He always tempted him. Some days, he convinced him. But not today; he would never be able to do it today.
His morning routine this morning, even though it was a special morning, had not changed. It started with a shower. The water was warm, soft and lovely. He could always spend ages inside a shower, standing there with his head up toward the roof until his fingers became wrinkled.
But today, he kept it brief: ten minutes and no more. It had still left him feeling fresher. Lighter. He dried his blonde hair as best he could, dressed quickly with a simple shirt, jeans, and socks, and stepped out of the upstairs bathroom.
Fredrik felt the butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he made his way downstairs. Though the feeling stopped only slightly as he heard commotion down the stairs. The sound of shoes being put on – and was that the door opening? He sped up his pace, even skipping one or two stairs. Anders never leaves this early, not during the summer.
Fredrik's instincts were right. As he rounded the bottom step and turned left, he saw his uncle, halfway out the door.
''Uncle?'' Fredrik asked.
His uncle, Anders, flinched only ever so slightly. Before turning his head towards Fredrik with a startled smile. ''Oh,'' he said. ''Morning, little man.''
''Vart ska du?'' Fredrik asked. Where are you going?
That got a different reaction out of him, his eyes hardened. ''English,'' said Anders sharply.
''But we're at home,'' protested Fredrik, still switching reluctantly. ''And it's the summer holidays.''
''We are in England. '' The stern tone had not lessened. ''And just because it's the summer holidays doesn't give you an excuse to slack,''
''Okay,'' The tone in Fredrik's voice was a low one. This wasn't how he had imagined this morning going.
''I have to go to work,'' Anders said as he decided to put on a light coat. ''Got a call this morning.''
Fredrik frowned with big eyes. ''What about our trip?''
''You'll have to go without me. Breakfast is on the kitchen counter.''
As his uncle stepped through the door, he hesitated and glanced at him. There was a hesitant expression on his face now, like he was having trouble deciding something in his head, which struck Fredrik as a bit odd. Why was he hesitant about going to work?
He shook his head a moment later. ''I'll be back by dinner,'' He said, and then the door closed.
Fredrik stood in the hallway for a few moments, just staring at the door. Waiting... hoping his uncle would come back. But when it became clear he wouldn't, Fredrik turned and walked to the kitchen, his steps heavy.
Breakfast was simple: a boiled egg that sat unpeeled and ready on a small plate beside a single slice of toast. He picked up the plate and an empty glass and sat down. As he reached for the juice carton on the table, his eyes drifted to the newspaper lying nearby.
COME ON YOU REDS! – GORBY BLIMEY!
Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev shows what is really behind the coup in the Kremlin – the communist hardliners are trying to get hold of his Goals football pullout edition in Monday's Sun.
He considered opening the paper to look for some comic strips while he ate, but the thought quickly vanished when he noticed what lay beside it. The letter. He hadn't seen it in a while. His uncle must've taken it out this morning and looked it over again. When had he last seen it? It felt like months ago. Back when he first received it, and he'd accepted the offer immediately. Too quickly, in his uncle's eyes. Had it been up to him to decide, and had the professor not been here, Fredrik was sure he would not have been able to go.
He grabbed the letter; the newspaper was only a distraction now. He had read it before, but now, he read it again.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump in the International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr Falkman,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
He tossed the letter aside, finished his breakfast, and descended upon the living room.
Professor Flitwick had been the one to come to their house and deliver the letter in person. He was a very small man, dressed in rich, finely made clothes. Ever since that visit, Uncle Anders had changed. He didn't smile as often. He kept Fredrik at a slight distance and no longer involved him the way he used to.
But It had been a far cry from how Anders had acted when the Hogwarts professor first arrived. He had been cold then.
Fredrik had barely finished reading the letter when he announced his excitement and accepted immediately. Anders, by contrast, had flatly refused. ''Secondary school is coming up,'' he had said, and ''What about your football practice? What about your friends? They will miss you terribly, I'm sure.''
Even though a boy named David was the only one Fredrik really considered as a friend, he became unsure. Professor Flitwick, on the other hand, had been confused. He countered by telling both of them of careers Fredrik will be training for and could pursue within the Wizarding World, even naming some of them with great enthusiasm.
Fredrik had liked Flitwick, but the same could not be said for his uncle.
The professor hadn't even noticed his uncle frowning deeper and deeper as he continued talking. By the time Flitwick mentioned his contact with Mr Gyllenberg and asked if they remembered him, Anders' face had hardened into stone.
''I know who that man is,'' Anders had said, in a tone Fredrik had never heard from him before. Cold, emotionless, and scary.
Fredrik had stiffened, while the Hogwarts professor had blinked, then chuckled uncertainly. He had gently asked if they might speak in private after that. Fredrik didn't know what they had talked about behind the closed door, but when they were finished, Anders had given him his blessing, though it was reluctant and a bit sad.
In the living room, Fredrik began to draw. It was his favourite hobby and the only thing he actually enjoyed doing on his own. Sure, he liked football too, and on some days, it would've been really hard to say which he liked better. But Fredrik found that playing football alone just wasn't the same. It only felt fun and right when he played with his teammates or with David. No, Football was best with others. But drawing? Drawing was different. That was something he could enjoy all by himself.
He'd gotten better, too. His old primary school teacher, Miss Brown, had helped him improve a lot. On the last day before summer holidays, she'd complimented his progress and told him to keep practising every other day. She even asked him to send her some of his drawings, and he had promised he would. It had been sad leaving primary school. He really liked Miss Brown.
Knock. Knock. Knock. The door sounded.
Fredrik grinned and jumped up from the couch, bolting to the door. When he opened it, he was greeted by the familiar sight of Professor Flitwick, standing with a wide grin on his face.
''Hello again, Mr Falkman,'' said Professor Filtwick cheerfully. ''Are you and your uncle ready to head off, perhaps?''
''My uncle couldn't make it,'' Fredrik said, offering a shy smile in reply. ''He had to go to work. But he said I could go without him.''
''Oh.'' The grin dropped from Filtwick's face. ''That's unfortunate. He seemed rather uncertain about the Magical World, so I had planned a little tour during our brief trip. I even booked us a table at the Brews and Stews .''
The disappointment lasted only a moment, though; the smile returned quickly. ''No matter! I can't begrudge a man who loves his work. I love my own just as much,'' said Flitwick. ''Let's be on our way then, Mr Falkman. No time like the present.''
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺🌍༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Diagon Alley, London, The United Kingdom.
''Ahh, here we are,'' said Flitwick with satisfaction. ''This, Mr Falkman, is where we wizards and witches get most of our shopping.''
''Woah,'' Fredrik breathed, wide-eyed.
''Beautiful, isn't it?'' He could hear Flitwick's chuckle behind him. ''Now, let's go through your list of things you'll need for your first year at Hogwarts.''
''But, sir,'' Fredrik turned as he realised. ''My uncle forgot to leave me any money.''
Flitwick smiled reassuringly. ''Don't worry, young student. Your uncle has already given me the coin required for all the shopping.''
Diagon Alley was a long, narrow, cobbled street filled with all kinds of shops, restaurants, and strange entertainments. The buildings were unlike anything Fredrik had seen before. They were colourful, crooked, and full of eye-widening sights. The things for sale were even stranger. Broomsticks, Cauldrons and Leeches.
They sold other things too, things Fredrik had seen before. But they were… strange. Plants that grew far too large compared to any he had seen before. Kites that flew with no wind at all. And seeds that looked ordinary but, according to Flitwick, would cause terrible blisters if touched without gloves.
It was stunning, beautiful, and absolutely dreamy. Fredrik had already seen floating candles and moving paintings, but this was amazing in whole other ways. He knew that he had made the right choice then, despite what his uncle thought. A wave of gratitude passed through him for the tiny professor who had convinced Anders to say yes.
''Professor?'' Fredrik asked as they stepped out of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions , with new stuff inside his trunk. ''I wanted to ask, how do you know Mr Gyllenberg?''
His newly bought trunk floated alongside Professor Flitwick as the older wizard turned his head. ''Ludvig?'' Flitwick echoed. ''Oh, we've been acquainted for quite some time. We first met during the Alexian Trails in Kampala.''
''Alexian Trails?''
''Why, yes, of course!'' Flitwick beamed. ''The most renowned competition in the Wizarding World. Ludvig had just graduated from Durmstrang, while I'd already left Hogwarts many years earlier by then. Both of us were part of a large group of wizards from all over the world – and Merlin – all of us were so eager to take home an Alexian trophy. It was at my fifth tournament, and Ludvig's first, that we met. We had the pleasure of duelling each other, you see.''
They duelled? ''Who won?'' Fredrik blurted out, caught up in the story as he was.
The smile Flitwick bore now was so prideful it almost looked like a smug smirk. ''I did. Though if you ask him, he'll most likely still insist it was a draw and blame the referees.''
Fredrik giggled; he could relate to that. He hated when the referee blew the whistle for a tackle that wasn't even that hard.
''Ludvig's a fine duellist,'' the Professor added. ''He simply didn't have the same drive for it. I kept going back each year after I lost. Ludvig stopped after his second attempt.''
''Did you ever win?''
''I did. Once.'' Flitwick's voice turned nostalgic. ''In Paris. Against Jiang Xin, 'the She-dragon', they called her. She'd been undefeated with five Alexian trophies, all won in five straight competitions, but I beat her in the finals.''
He paused, smiling with distant eyes before turning his head toward Fredrik once more.
''I won some other, more local trophies after that, but with my world champion's trophy earned and my ambition satisfied, Headmaster Dumbledore offered me the position of Charms professor at Hogwarts. I've been there ever since.''
Fredrik wanted to ask him more about it, Professor Flitwick stopped abruptly in front of a narrow shop.
''Here we are, Ollivanders . This is where you'll get your wand, Mr Falkman.''
Right! A wand. The most important things he needed and the one he'd been most curious about.
Flitwick gave him seven golden coins. ''Go on!'' he said cheerily.
Tling! A little bell rang somewhere in the depths of the Ollivanders as they stepped inside. The shop was one of the smaller ones Fredrik had visited today, and it was absolutely cramped with boxes. Piled in so many shelves, from the floor right up to the ceiling.
''Ah yes,'' said the old man behind the counter, looking up. ''Filius Flitwick, how wonderful it is to see you here again. Maple, phoenix feather, nine inches. Still serving you?''
''It does, wonderfully so,'' Flitwick said with a grin. ''It's good to see you, Mr Ollivander.''
''Likewise,'' Then, piercing silver eyes all but penetrated Fredrik. ''And who might you be, young man?''
Fredrik swallowed. ''Fredrik – Fredrik Falkman, sir.''
''Muggle-born. One of Hogwarts' newest first years, here to purchase his first wand.'' Flitwick added.
The old man continued to study him, hard. ''Hmm,'' he hummed. ''Will you hold out your wand arm, please?''
After Fredrik figured out with the help of Filius what he meant by 'wand arm', the old man proceeded to measure nearly every part of him. Hand first, then head, then the size of his nose and fingers. Eventually, the tape measure began moving on its own, and It became really hard to stand still, especially when it started to tickle.
''Right then, I'm quite confident which wand it will be for you,'' Ollivander finally said. He ran a long, bony finger across the boxes until he tapped one and pulled it out. ''Try this. Oak and dragon heartstring, nine inches, nice and supple. Take it and give it a wave.''
Fredrik held the wand for a moment, then remembered what he was supposed to do. He gave it a small wave. But before he could even try again, Ollivander snatched it from his hand. ''No, not this one,'' he mused.
Ollivander took some time after that. Fredrik watched as the old man muttered to himself while searching high and low across the many tall shelves of boxes.
''Perhaps… no.''
''What about – no, wait.''
''Interesting…''
Eventually, Ollivander let out a triumphant ''Aha!'' and placed another open box before him. ''Beech, phoenix feather, twelve inches, brittle.''
Fredrik gave it another try, and this time it had indeed been different. This time, the wand was yanked away before he could fully lift it away.
Fredrik frowned. ''Hey! Let me–''
''No,'' Ollivander flatly replied.
A short time later, he was offered another wand, a black one that looked the coolest yet. Still, it was taken abruptly. Another one after that, and then another.
''Hmm, no, no, this one.''
''Definitely not!''
''This is proving quite difficult.'' the old man had now grinned as he said so. It only made Fredrik creeped out and worried.
Am I doing something wrong? he wondered, reaching for another wand. But that one was taken too. Fredrik eventually lost count of how many he had tried. And the more he failed, the more nervous he became.
''Try this one,'' Ollivander said, staring at him in a trance. ''Pinewood and unicorn hair, ten inches, reasonably pliant.''
He grabbed yet another wand; this one, though, really was different. He heard himself take a sharp breath. A wave of warmth surged through him from head to toe. It reminded him of the times he first entered a warm shower on a morning when he was cold because he had left a window open.
He grinned. Feeling relieved and brave, he tightened his hold and gave it a swish. As he did so, blue and yellow sparkles flew out of the tip of the wand.
''Brilliant!'' squealed Flitwick, clapping his hands. Fredrik's grin widened at the sound.
''Marvellous,'' Ollivander added, nodding. ''You've found your wand, Mr Falkman. May it serve you well. Seven Galleons, please.''
Fredrik paid the old man with a relieved smile and offered a polite farewell. He hadn't even realised how tough and stifling the air had been inside the wand shop until he stepped outside.
''Well done,'' said Flitwick warmly. ''I'd award you five house points if you were already sorted. It'll be very interesting this year to see where all of the first years will be sorted. I do hope you'll join us in Ravenclaw.'' He finished with a wink.
''Thank you, sir.'' Fredrik said, smiling. ''Is there anything else we have to get?''
''Books, and we'll find those at the Flourish and Blotts . I know just the way.''
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺🌍༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
King's Cross Station, London, The United Kingdom.
September, 1991.
Two weeks later, Fredrik now found himself navigating the busy King's Cross Station. His arms ached from all the dragging. When his left arm could take no more of dragging the trunk, he switched to his right, and then back again, over and over. He really wished Professor Flitwick were here to make it float. An excitement ran through him at the thought. Maybe I'll learn how to do that myself one day. I'll never have to carry anything again. The idea filled him with butterflies.
Uncle Anders was walking ahead, leading him toward the chosen platform. The ticket Fredrik had been given by Professor Flitwick was taken from him the moment he showed it at home after his trip to Diagon Alley, and Anders hadn't let him keep it since. They'd been searching for over an hour, first checking platforms nine and ten, with no luck. At one point, Anders tried asking a train officer for help, only to be laughed at hysterically.
Eventually, Anders came to a full stop and sighed, ''Platform nine and three-quarters,'' he whispered to himself. ''Lost my fucking mind...''
Beep. Beep. Anders' pager sounded. He picked it up and read the screen, but whatever it said only made him more irritated. Fredrik knew the sound meant work-related stuff.
''Fuck's sake,'' Anders grumbled. ''I don't have time for this shit… have to travel all the way back to Norwich too… God.''
''I can find it on my own, uncle.'' Fredrik felt like a burden to him. ''Don't worry.''
''Huh?'' Anders looked up from his pager, blinking. ''What? No… no… you shouldn't have t–...'' He drifted off, glanced at the ticket and frowned harder. ''No information on how to get to this goddamn place. And why do you have to leave from London? Have these wizards never heard of local stops?''
Beep. Beep. This time, he ignored the pager and shoved it into his pocket with a grunt. ''Come on, it has to be around here somewhere.''
Fredrik followed, dragging the trunk behind him. Even that short pause had helped ease the strain on his arms. His uncle had refused to even touch the thing after he found out it was bought in Diagon Alley, so it had to be him to drag it. They returned to the space between platforms nine and ten. Fredrik thought it would be a waste of time because they'd already looked through here. Still, he kept quiet.
It was a good thing he hadn't, too. Right there, on a stone barrier in the middle between platforms nine and ten, he saw it. A mother and a son, holding a cart together. They ran at the barrier with full force, and Fredrik winced at what he assumed was about to be a painful collision, but as they were halfway towards the wall, his mind clicked. Could it be?
Sure enough, they both passed through the stone barrier like it was air. He dropped his trunk and ran to Anders, who had his back turned, still studying the ticket.
''Uncle, look!'' Fredrik breathed.
''What is it?'' Anders sounded tired, but not too stubborn to look. Just as he turned, another family ran full-speed at the stone wall and disappeared.
''Wha-?'' Anders' brows shot up. Then, he frowned deeply. ''How did we–...''
''Let's go!'' Fredrik beamed, grabbing his uncle's arm. ''We'll miss the train.''
But Anders didn't move. His feet felt glued to the floor. Fredrik looked up and saw the expression on his face. He looked afraid. Fredrik tried to take his hand, but Anders flinched and stepped back from him
Then he blinked, shook his head, and forced a smile. It looked strained. ''Well, I suppose this is goodbye then.''
''What?'' asked Fredrik. He was supposed to see him off at the train, he had promised. ''But we're not at the train yet.''
''It's only through that wall,'' Anders stated, then crouched down to Fredrik's level. ''Take care of yourself, okay? Do you have your money?''
Fredrik nodded.
''Good… good,'' He breathed. ''I'll miss you.''
''But what if–''
''I'll have to go to work now, Freddie. I'm already late.'' Anders interrupted sharply, then rose to his feet. ''I'm sorry, I just… I'll see you at Christmas, yeah? I'll ask David's family if they want to celebrate with us; you'd like that, wouldn't you? You will miss each other, surely. And write to me what you wish for Christmas, okay? Anything you want.''
Fredrik's face only fell slightly when he said he could get anything for Christmas. He did manage to nod, though.
Anders looked relieved. ''Good, Ha en bra termin, '' he said, managing a proper smile. Have a good term.
And with that, he left. Fredrik watched him go until he disappeared into the crowd. The look he had given him before leaving… he knew that look. Only too well.
No one had taken his trunk. That was good, at least. He picked it up again – it felt even heavier now, he noticed – and turned to face the stone barrier. He gripped the trunk as hard as he could, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and ran at it with all his might.
As he passed through the barrier, warm darkness enveloped him. Then, suddenly, people. Lots of them, and a scarlet steam engine. A sign overhead read Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Fredrik breathed a sigh of relief. He was in the right place.
The platform was busy and crowded. Students leaned out of train windows, waving goodbye to parents and siblings. Watching them made Fredrik's chest tighten. But the sadness was quickly swept away when he spotted a clock. It was five minutes until departure, so with sweat already building on his forehead, he grabbed the trunk and began pushing through the crowd.
As he searched for an empty compartment, he noticed owls, cats, and even something that looked like a very small dog, if it was a dog at all. Both his acceptance letter and Professor Flitwick had mentioned that students could bring pets to Hogwarts. But Anders had refused. He didn't want animals in the house during the summers. Though Fredrik found he didn't mind all that much.
He thought it would be hard to find an empty compartment, but eventually, he spotted one that was unoccupied.
He stepped through the open train door first and then turned to drag the trunk inside. He realised his mistake when he couldn't reach the handle. Grimacing, he bent down and grabbed the trunk from the sides instead. It was heavy. But after a few moments of struggling, he managed to haul it inside.
He figured it must be the stress that gave him such strength until he glanced outside and spotted a wizard with a wand aimed discreetly at the trunk. The man winked, causing Fredrik to blush and give him a bashful smile.
Once inside, he pushed the trunk into the compartment and slid the door shut. That's when he noticed another trunk already in the corner. He shrugged. Maybe someone had just forgotten it. With a relieved sigh, he sat down. Moments later, the train began to move.
Professor Flitwick had told him about some spells he'd be learning this year; one of them was the Levitation Charm. Fredrik was still sore from all the dragging, so he opened his trunk and pulled out The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1). He hoped that, with some practice, he'd be able to float the trunk when they arrived at the school. No more dragging it around.
As he closed the trunk and sat back down, the book resting in his lap. The compartment door slid open. A boy about his age with curly hair looked surprised to find someone inside. ''Oh – Hello,'' the boy said.
''Hi,'' Fredrik replied. He glanced at the other trunk, and realisation hit. ''Wait, was that your trunk already in here?''
''Yeah. I had to go to the bathroom after I left it here. But you can sit here,'' the boy added with a smile.
''Thanks.'' Fredrik set the book aside and offered his hand. ''I'm Fredrik.''
''Fredrick? That's cool.'' The boy grinned and shook his hand. ''I'm Justin.''
The boy, Justin, sat down across from him and caught sight of the book in Fredrik's lap. ''What are you reading?'' He asked curiously.
''Uh,'' The question caught him off guard. Are you allowed to practise magic on the train? ''The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1).''
''It's your first year, then?! Mine too!''
''Cool,'' Fredrik said, smiling. ''I had to drag my trunk all across King's Cross. So I'm trying to learn the levitation charm, so I don't have to drag it again when we get to Hogwarts.''
Justin's eyes lit up. ''Oh! That's brilliant! Can I join you?''
''Sure,'' Fredrik said, patting the seat next to him.
The boy quickly stood and took the seat to Fredrik's right, where the book had been moments before. It took a little while to find the page with the Levitation Charm, and by the time they did, the train had already left London behind and was gliding through the countryside.
Justin leaned forward and pointed excitedly at the charm. ''That's it!'' They both pulled out their wands and took turns trying to levitate the book. Again and again, they flicked and swished and muttered. Nothing happened. Not even a twitch.
Eventually, after what felt like hours passed, they returned to the book for a second look. That's when they spotted something further down the page that made both of them scratch their heads. A diagram. It explained a very specific hand movement that had to be performed at the same time as the incantation. But the drawing was strange, just a single, weirdly curved line.
Justin frowned. ''Maybe we're doing it backwards? I mean, there's no arrow or anything. Maybe wizards cast spells from right to left?''
They tried the other way then, but still, nothing. They experimented back and forth for what felt like another eternity. That's when Fredrik pointed at the incantation itself. Wingardium Leviosa, how do you even say that?
''Are we even saying this right?'' Fredrik voiced his thoughts.
Justin looked at him. ''...Yeah? I mean, how am I supposed to know? I've never heard anyone cast a spell in my life.''
''Me neither.''
A pause, and then. ''You're normal, then?'' Justin asked. ''I mean, uh, your parents, they're not a witch and wizard?''
Fredrik stiffened. ''No,''
''Right.'' Justin nodded. ''I thought so.''
Fredrik quickly turned the question around. ''What about you?''
Justin shook his head. ''I'm still not sure if I made the right choice coming to Hogwarts. But my parents and I figured I should give it a chance.''
''Oh,'' That surprised him. ''You weren't sure?''
''Yeah, I mean, my parents always had a plan for me. Then suddenly, a witch shows up and tells me I'm magic. It's a lot, you know?''
''You didn't know?'' Fredrik breathed.
''Er, well, no.'' Justin's face started turning red for some reason. ''That's why we were unsure about it.''
Fredrik thought about asking how he could not know, but the question felt risky. It could easily bounce back to him. Fortunately, Justin kept talking.
''My parents thought Professor McGonagall was some illusionist trying to sell something. Even when she had turned a hat at our home into a stone in front of our eyes.''
Fredrik's eyes widened. A hat into a stone?
''We only really started to believe it after we went to Diagon Alley,'' continued the brown-haired boy. ''She took me and my parents there. Others too, you know. The families who didn't know how to get there.''
He suddenly looked at Fredrik with curiosity. ''I didn't see you there then,'' he remarked.
''I was taken there by Professor Flitwick,'' Fredrik replied.
''Oh, what does he teach?''
''Charms, I think.'' A grin came unbidden across his face. ''He was a duelling champion!''
''Really?'' Justin gasped, eyes wide.
Fredrik retold the story Professor Flitwick had shared about the duelling championship. He hesitated briefly and decided to leave Mr Gyllenberg out of the story. Justin seemed to like the story either way.
Eventually, Justin picked up the book to look over the Levitation Charm again, while Fredrik was distracted by the arrival of a smiling, dimpled woman who slid open their compartment door and asked if they wanted anything from her cart.
Everything she offered was strange, but Fredrik decided to take a chance. He picked two chocolate frogs and four cauldron cakes, words he could actually recognise. When she told him the price was 'sickles' and 'knuts', he hesitated, unsure how much to give, but the kind woman guided him through it patiently. He handed her three silver coins and one bronze.
''Here you go,'' Fredrik offered Justin a chocolate frog and two cauldron cakes.
''Wow,'' Justin breathed. ''I've never seen any of these before. Thanks!''
''You're welcome,'' Fredrik said with a smile. He sat down beside him and looked over the book again.
''Blimey!'' Fredrik turned just in time to see Justin holding up a card. ''I swear, there was a face on this card a second ago! Look at yours!''
Fredrik put the book aside, unwrapped his Chocolate Frog, and picked up the card inside. A man's face stared back at him. He had a large moustache, a book and quill in hand, and brown hair growing only around the sides of his head. Fredrik flipped it over.
HEINRICH CORNELIUS AGRIPPA VON NETTESHEIM
1486-1535
Celebrated wizard imprisoned by Muggles for his writings.
He turned the card over again and saw that the man was gone. ''Woah,'' he breathed.
''I know, right? Who did you get? I got Albus Dumbledore!'' Justin said excitedly.
''Dumbledore? That's the headmaster, right?''
''Yeah!'' Justin grinned, flipping his cards over. ''We've got, like, a celebrity for a headmaster, Fredrick! Look!''
They swapped cards, and Fredrik read the back of Justin's.
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts
Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and for his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.
''Yours is much cooler than mine,'' Fredrik observed.
Justin giggled. ''Sorry. You can have it, if you want.'' He turned the Agrippa card over again. ''Cornelius Agrippa… old fella, isn't he?''
Suddenly, a loud gasp could be heard from the corridor, followed by quick footsteps. A red-haired boy appeared at their open door, breathless.
''You got Agrippa?'' he gasped. ''That's, like, super rare !'' The boy stared at Justin.
Justin and Fredrik stared back, a bit taken aback. Justin then let out another giggle. The redheaded immediately looked embarrassed, his ears turning pink. ''Sorry, I'm Ron, Ron Weasley.''
''Justin Finch-Fletchley,'' Justin replied, then pointed at Fredrik. ''He's the one who got it. I got Dumbledore, though.''
''Can I see it?'' the boy, Ron, blurted out.
Justin handed the freckled boy the card, and he took it eagerly, inspecting it with a loud ''Wow!'' and ''Brilliant!''
''You can have it, if you want,'' Fredrik offered after a moment. He seemed to like it a lot, and Fredrik had no interest in collecting cards; he hadn't even known the Chocolate Frogs came with cards.
The redheaded boy's head snapped up, wide-eyed. ''Nah, you should keep it,'' he said after a moment. ''Loads of wizards collect these.''
''I don't,'' Fredrik shrugged. ''Really, take it.''
The boy hesitated, then smiled bashfully. ''Thanks.'' His eyes lit up. ''Tell you what, I've got hundreds of these! I'll trade you three Alberic Grunnions and a Cliodna for this one!''
Fredrik smiled. ''Sure,'' he agreed.
''Brilliant!'' Ron cried. ''I've got to write to my mum and dad and get them to send 'em! You'll have them by Christmas, I promise!'' And just like that, he was gone.
As they moved on from the cards and started eating their cauldron cakes, a timid boy appeared at their door and asked, in a soft voice, if they'd seen his toad. When they both shook their heads. The boy let out a tiny, frustrated sound and moved on to the next compartment. A little while later, a girl showed up with him again, and when she asked for him if we had seen it, Justin spoke, wide-eyed.
''Blimey! He only just asked. In the short time since then, we still haven't seen his toad.''
Fredrik had to stifle his grin. Alone once more, they finished their cauldron cakes in silence.
''We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time.'' A voice echoed clear and loud inside their compartment. '' Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately. ''
Justin and Fredrik stared at each other over the announcement, dumbfounded.
Justin sighed. ''We should change,''
By the time Fredrik had packed his book away and Justin had cleaned up the remains of their sweets, the train had begun to slow. As they struggled into their robes, the train came to a full stop. They shuffled along in a long, slow-moving line before finally stepping out onto a dark platform. Cold night air blew at all of them.
After they had to follow a long and slow line, they finally stepped out onto a dark platform.
''Firs' years! Firs' years! over here!'' a voice boomed across the platform. ''All right there, Harry?''
''Woah!'' Justin whispered. He agreed. It was a giant of a man who had shouted. He stood at the far end, waving them over. Fredrik couldn't stop staring.
''C'mon, follow me. Any more firs' years? No?'' He boomed. ''Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!''
A group of wide-eyed children followed the enormous figure. Fredrik kept glancing at his back, stunned. He had seen trolls before, but only from far away, and he remembered the trolls having a far uglier face than he did. Then again, you could not see much of the giant's face at all. When he turned to face them by a lake, Fredrik saw that much of his face was hidden by darkness outside and wild hair around and on his face.
''No more'n four to a boat!'' The giant boomed. Fredrik and Justin climbed into a nearby boat, quickly joined by two other students. ''Everyone in? Right then. Forward!''
As the boat moved on its own throughout the lake, they were eventually met by a sight that had everyone gasping. A castle, a proper, proper castle. It loomed ahead of them, rising high above the cliffs. Its many lit windows shone like stars. Massive towers, spires, and stone bridges. It was the most incredible thing Fredrik had ever seen.
This is it, he thought, smiling. Hogwarts School. Justin bumped him with an elbow and gave him a wide-eyed look that said, Are you seeing what I'm seeing?
The boats slipped through a curtain of ivy that hid a tunnel carved into the rock and emerged in a harbour beneath the castle. From there, they climbed a set of worn stones. The timid boy found his toad on the way, scooping it up with relief just as they arrived in front of a massive wooden door.
A tall, very unfriendly-looking woman stood by the door. ''That's Professor McGonagall,'' Justin whispered next to Fredrik as all the children came to a stop.
''The firs' years, Professor McGonagall,'' said the giant.
''Thank you, Hagrid,'' the woman said sharply. ''I will take them from here.''
They followed her through the towering doors, across the entrance, and up a grand staircase. Every student glanced around in silent awe. The hall was huge and polished, with torches flickering, mounted on tall stone pillars.
Fredrik kept looking around, even when the professor led them into a smaller chamber and talked about the four Hogwarts houses they would get sorted into.
An army of ghosts later flew straight through the wall behind them. Justin screamed while Fredrik froze.
''My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?''
Fredrik gawked at the ghosts. One of them kept talking, but Fredrik didn't hear any of it. His mind was somewhere else.
''Mamma, please help! There are ghosts inside with me, they are going to hurt me.''
Goosebumps ran down his arms.
The ghosts eventually flew back through the wall and vanished. Fredrik stared at the spot where they had disappeared and kept staring until a tug on his robe brought him back. Justin was the one pulling it. The other children were leaving the chamber. Fredrik quickly followed.
The castle had thrown him gasps, goosebumps and awe, and it wasn't done just yet. No roof; there was no roof. A sky shone above them, with thousands of floating candles floated high above the Great Hall. Four long tables stretched across the big hall, filled with students in robes. At the far end, a smaller staircase led to another long table where the teachers sat.
He spotted Professor Flitwick, grinning at no one in particular. In the middle sat a kind old man who could only be the Headmaster, as Flitwick described him. Tall, thin and old. With long robes, a purple cloak, and half-moon glasses. He smiled warmly at the new students as they ascended the small stairs.
Fredrik could feel hundreds, no, thousands of eyes watching as they stood near the teachers' table. Professor McGonagall placed a single chair in front of them, and on it, a very old-looking hat. Right. The Sorting. Fredrik had nearly forgotten. He did wonder how a chair in front of all the students and a hat had to do with it, though.
He glanced to the side and caught a glimpse of Justin's face; it was as pale as milk. Fredrik didn't think he looked that bad himself, but he wasn't sure; he hoped so.
𝅘𝅥𝅮 ''Oh, you may not think I'm pretty
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hat's sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands, though I have none
For I'm a Thinking Cap!'' 𝅘𝅥𝅮
Wild applause followed. He noticed that the hat, the singing hat , bowed to the long tables.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward next. 'When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,'' she said, a long roll of parchment in hand.
''Abbott, Hannah!''
A timid girl stumbled before walking slowly to the chair and placing the hat on her head.
A moment later. ''HUFFLEPUFF!'' the hat roared.
One of the four tables burst into wild applause as Hannah briskly made her way down to join them.
''Bones, Susan!''
A moment later. ''HUFFLEPUFF!''
''Boot, Terry!''
''RAVENCLAW!''
''Brocklehurst, Mandy!''
''RAVENCLAW!''
As he watched more students be called, seated, and sorted, Fredrik's thoughts drifted. To Professor Flitwick. To Justin. To his uncle. And to the song the Sorting Hat had just sung. Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart. Hufflepuff, those patient, true, and unafraid of toil. Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind. Slytherin, cunning folk who'll use any means.
''Falkman, Fredrick!''
His heart jumped. But he made his way slowly to the looming chair. As he reached it, he glanced up at the teachers' table. In the middle, the Headmaster looked at him with curiosity. To the right, was Professor Flitwick, beaming down at him. He gave a wink. Fredrik felt himself relax and grinned back at Flitwick.
He sat down and put on the hat. Darkness. He waited. Suddenly.
''Hmm. Okay. Interesting,'' said a voice very close to his ears. ''We haven't had someone like you in a while. Let me see… a tragedy that left you with something to prove. But what? And to who?''
Fredrik stiffened. He was somehow getting close to suppressed thoughts. Too deep. He did not like it one bit.
''Oh, I see now,'' the hat murmured. ''Very well, I think I know where to put you.''
Fredrik waited, silence, brace.
And then.
''RAVENCLAW!''