Chapter 04: Meeting friends

Rick had spent two entire months devouring every textbook he'd bought for his first year, committing their contents to memory like a scholar possessed. He now knew every incantation, potion, and magical creature related precaution by heart. Charms, spells, transfiguration theory, even a basic overview of boggart behavior, he could rattle off from memory. But theory wasn’t enough. What he really craved now was practical application, to finally wield his wand and cast spells, to feel the magic flow through his fingers.

Sadly, that was a no go. Wizarding law forbade underage magic, and while Rick was tempted, he wasn’t foolish. He suspected the Ministry monitored magical activity with an obsessive thoroughness only government bureaucracies could achieve. It made sense, who in their right mind would let a child run wild with a literal stick of arcane power without supervision? The mere existence of a school like Hogwarts proved magic could go wrong, sometimes spectacularly so.

His caution paid off. One hot August afternoon, he’d snuck into Flourish & Blotts to browse beyond his budget. While the staff buzzed around helping last minute shoppers, Rick took the opportunity to discreetly read advanced tomes he couldn't afford. The shop was stacked to the rafters with books, no one could possibly keep track of them all. He spent nearly an hour perched in a dusty corner, flipping pages at lightning speed. Between clever positioning and timing, he managed to learn a few new things and slip away unnoticed.

Whenever a question stumped him, especially one not covered thoroughly in his books, Rick turned to his best resource, Professor McGonagall. For anything related to Transfiguration, he penned careful letters and sent them via Morrigan, his crow, who relished every excuse to stretch her wings. Morrigan, sleek and sharp eyed, had no trouble hunting her own food, bugs, worms, the occasional unlucky spider, but she always came back for the berries Rick kept ready. In London’s grey and polluted skies, they were a treat she never passed up.

To Rick’s delight, the professor responded with admirable regularity. Her letters, penned in precise yet elegant script, were always concise but carried the unmistakable weight of a seasoned educator who had no time for nonsense, but just enough dry wit to keep a clever student on his toes. Each reply felt like an academic treasure, a miniature tutorial wrapped in parchment. One particular letter had proven invaluable.

He could hardly believe it when she first mentioned it in her letter, he’d have to take a train to reach Hogwarts. A magical train, yes, but still a train. Part of him had envisioned enchanted carriages pulled by thunderclouds or portals disguised as broom closets, not standard railway logistics. And yet, the instructions had been crystal clear, right down to the part about walking directly into a solid looking brick wall. If McGonagall hadn’t explained exactly how to access Platform 9¾, Rick would’ve thought it some elaborate prank to make him knock himself out in front of a crowd. The name alone sounded like something ripped out of a children’s book, and he was almost certain saying it aloud would’ve gotten him side eyed or escorted out of King’s Cross by security. Magic, he was learning, had a particular flair for dramatic entrances.

He had left the orphanage early, offering Miss Willson a quiet but resolute farewell. He'd told her that the other children needed her more than he did, and that he'd be perfectly fine on his own. A small part of him had hoped she might argue, insist on staying with him just a little longer, but she hadn’t. Her quick, almost relieved goodbye stung more than he wanted to admit, though he carried it with the same stoic calm he always did.

Arriving an hour and a half early at King’s Cross, Rick was the first to step onto the hidden magical platform, and for once, being alone didn’t feel lonely. Instead, it was like standing in the eye of a magical storm, everything quiet, suspended, electric with possibility. The scarlet train gleamed like a polished ruby beneath the sprawling ironwork of the canopy, steam gently curling around its wheels like lazy spirits. He stood in awe, watching the smoke rise and catching his first glimpse of the majestic silhouette of Hogwarts Castle, distant yet impossibly grand. For a brief moment, Rick forgot his nerves, forgot the orphanage, forgot even his questions, and simply existed in that pocket of quiet magic, right on the threshold of everything about to change.

He found it curious that the service was called the Hogwarts Express when the locomotive itself bore the name Hogwarts Castle. And why, in Merlin’s name, did Hogwarts A History devote four whole pages to this single train? A glorified school bus with a coat of paint. Clearly, the magical world had a dramatic flair, and an uncanny ability to make even transportation feel mythic.

He liked the scarlet red the train was painted with, bold, dramatic, and unmistakably magical. Red wasn’t his favorite color by any means, but even he had to admit the Hogwarts Express wouldn’t look right in any other shade. Something about that rich crimson hue screamed adventure ahead and gave the whole thing an air of theatrical charm.

Curious to see more, Rick dragged his trunk aboard and began exploring. As he passed compartment after compartment, his eyes widened. Plush, antique looking seats. Polished wood. Velvet curtains that looked like they’d seen a century’s worth of wizarding drama, and still looked brand new. The train radiated opulence preserved by enchantments, a moving museum that somehow felt both lived in and untouched. Magic, clearly, was good at upkeep.

Rick was awestruck. He couldn't help but wonder what spell kept the brass fixtures gleaming and the upholstery spotless. He needed to learn that one. If magic could keep a train this flawless, maybe it could do something for the sad state of his orphanage socks.

He ended up slipping into one of the compartments and hoisted his trunk onto the rack above a seat near the door with a practiced grunt. His school bag remained firmly slung over his shoulder, within arm’s reach, just in case. From it, he retrieved his well worn copy of The Dark Arts Origins and Countermeasures. Not his first choice of reading material for the ride, he’d have preferred Hogwarts A History, but the tome was heavy enough to count as a bludgeoning weapon and far too bulky for his satchel. Still, the dark arts text was a close second. Even after poring over it more times than he could count, Rick returned to chapter one without hesitation. There was something comforting in repetition, in the crisp pages and the sharp scent of ink, as if each reread carved the knowledge deeper into his bones. It wasn’t just study anymore, it was ritual.

“Hello, is this compartment free?”

Raising his head from his book, Rick turned his head to look at the open door where a boy around his age was standing. He had jet black hair, hazel eyes and big round glasses.

“Yes, it is. You can come in if you want.”

“Thanks!” the boy said and dragged his trunk inside. Just like Rick did with his, he put it up above a seat. Once done, he turned around and presented his hand for a handshake. “I’m James Potter, nice to meet you…”

“Rick. Rick Wald. Nice to meet you too.”

Rick sprang to his feet and clasped the offered hand with firm enthusiasm, a flicker of friendship already sparking between them. Before either could say more, a new voice rang out from just behind James, drawing both boys' attention with curious surprise.

“Sirius Black.”

James turned around with a curious expression on his face, which puzzled Rick.

“Are you allowed to speak with me, Black?”

“Nope. That's exactly why I did it when I heard you say your name when I was passing by, Potter.”

The new boy had long, unruly black hair and sharp grey eyes that gleamed with mischief. From the cut of his robes, elegant, expensive, and likely custom tailored, Rick immediately knew this was someone from old money. Yet, there was nothing stiff or proper about his demeanor. That easy, confident grin tugging at his lips was more rebel than aristocrat. James mirrored the expression without hesitation and offered his hand, meeting Sirius’s in a firm, already familiar handshake that hinted this wouldn’t be the last time they joined forces in something chaotic.

“I can respect that.” the glasses boy said as Sirius shook his hand.

“Rick Wald.” Rick introduced himself again and also shook Sirius’ hand. “If it’s not too personal, may I ask why you’re not supposed to talk to Potter?”

Both boys looked at Rick in silence for a brief moment, then at each other.

““Muggle born.”” They said in unison.

“Definitely.” Black added and James turned back to Rick while the former put his trunk up.

“We come from very old wizarding bloodlines. The Potters have long been associated with the Light, justice, equality, all that noble stuff, while the Blacks have historically leaned toward the Dark, with all the elitism and blood purity nonsense that comes with it. So yeah, by family standards, we’re supposed to be mortal enemies.”

“So they avoid talking with each other if not down right being seen together.” Sirius explained further. “But to hell with what my family wants! Bloody bigots that’s what they are!“

James nodded in agreement and dropped into the seat by the window, Sirius flopping into the one across from him like he owned the place. The two quickly launched into animated conversation, trading stories, jokes, and the kind of bravado only eleven year olds with too much confidence could muster. Rick listened for a while, quietly amused, but soon found the allure of his book too strong to resist. He returned to its pages with focus, the comforting structure of paragraphs and spells offering refuge from the chaotic energy of socializing.

He was so immersed he nearly didn’t notice the change in tone until voices rose a little too sharply. Looking up, he realized the compartment had filled. Two more boys had joined at some point. One, with tired eyes and rumpled brown hair, wore robes that had clearly seen better days. Rick recognized the wear, he had similar ones folded in his own trunk. The other newcomer had lank, shoulder length black hair and a sharp, hooked nose. The greasy haired boy was now deep in a tense argument with James and Sirius, each boy fiercely defending his opinion on which Hogwarts house reigned supreme. The disagreement was turning ugly, and a few thinly veiled insults had begun to fly.

Rick’s eyes drifted to the boy with second hand robes. He was hunched slightly, clearly uncomfortable, his expression unreadable but his posture practically shouting, please let this end. It was obvious he had no intention of stepping in. The argument raged on, and Rick, sensing a verbal explosion was imminent, began quietly weighing his options for escape.

Not one for conflict or being caught in adolescent crossfire, Rick slipped out of the compartment like a shadow, book in hand and bag over his shoulder. He paused just outside, scanning both ends of the corridor like a secret agent assessing enemy territory. One end was jammed with older students deep in loud conversation, so he headed the other way, boots quietly thudding against the floor as he walked. The frosted glass windows of each door were just transparent enough for him to make out vague silhouettes, and his ears strained for any sign of life, laughter, chatter, even a sneeze.

After passing four compartments, he finally spotted one that seemed unoccupied. No voices, no shadows. Jackpot. He slid the door open, only to stop mid step.

Two pairs of eyes blinked back at him. One pair a stunning, oceanic blue set beneath a cascade of bright blonde hair. The other, a piercing green, deep and vivid, like polished emeralds, belonging to a redhead whose hair was so dark it could've passed for burgundy in the right light. Rick froze, caught mid thought, recalculating everything in real time. So much for solitude.

“Hm… Sorry to bother you, but would you mind if I joined you?” he asked, his voice polite but tentative, eyes flicking between the two girls as if scanning for even the smallest sign of annoyance. His posture was respectful, book clutched close, expression carefully neutral, like someone used to reading rooms before stepping into them.

“Sure, go ahead. Plenty of room,” the blonde replied with a bright smile, her tone friendly and welcoming, as if they'd been expecting him all along.

“You’re only just now finding a seat? We’ve been on the move for an hour!” the redhead exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and teasing curiosity.

“Actually, I did, first one on the train, believe it or not. Had the whole thing to myself at first,” Rick said, setting his bag down on the bench beside the redhead with a sigh of mild theatrical exasperation. “But then some boys started arguing, loudly, and about something incredibly stupid. So I bailed.” He extended a hand with a polite smile. “I’m Rick Wald. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Lily Evans,” his seatmate replied.

“Marlene McKinnon,” the blonde said brightly, her voice carrying a natural confidence. Then, tilting her head with genuine curiosity, she added, “What were they arguing about? It sounded intense.”

“Which house was the best.”

“Definitely Gryffindor.”

Rick’s hand froze mid reach inside his bag, fingers brushing against the spine of a book. His head turned slowly toward Marlene, eyes wide with theatrical dread, as if she’d just suggested he duel a basilisk with a toothpick. The horror on his face was both genuine and exaggerated, a perfect portrait of a boy who had seen too much House rivalry too soon.

“Please, don’t start arguing,” he pleaded, tone half dramatic and half serious, which only made the girls burst into laughter.

“I won’t! Just pulling your leg. Though, to be fair, it’s true, Albus Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, and he’s widely considered the most powerful wizard to have ever lived after Merlin.”

“Who, by the way, was a Slytherin,” Rick shot back, arching an eyebrow with the kind of academic smugness only someone who reads Hogwarts A History for fun can pull off.

“What?! No way!”

“It’s true, or Hogwarts A History made a mistake,” Lily said with mock solemnity, as if the idea of the book being wrong was more unthinkable than Voldemort showing up to teach Charms.

“It’s possible. A thousand years of history crammed into one book? Odds are, there are more than a few mistakes buried in there.”

“Merlin, no! I’m locked up with two brainy people! Help! They read books!”

Lily and Rick exchanged an amused glance before bursting into laughter, thoroughly entertained by Marlene's exaggerated display of mock horror, one hand dramatically to her chest, the other flailing like a Shakespearean actress mid soliloquy.

“How about we settle the great house debate by just agreeing the best one is whichever we end up in?”

“Deal!”

“Although if we’re not in the same house, obviously mine’s going to be the best,” Marlene declared with a wink. “And it definitely won’t be Ravenclaw!”

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with loving books! But yeah… Ravenclaw’s off the table.”

“Why not?” Lily asked, genuinely puzzled. Everything she'd read, and been told, described Ravenclaw as the house for those who valued intelligence and sought knowledge, both of which were among the qualities she prided herself on. It seemed like a perfect match, at least on paper.

“You have to answer a riddle just to get into Ravenclaw’s common room. I mean, who wants to solve a logic puzzle every time they’re trying to get to bed? I hate riddles, so by default, Ravenclaw’s off the list, no matter how amazing their private library might be. And don’t even get me started on the name. It's Ravenclaw, but their mascot is an eagle? Come on, that’s false advertising!” he said with mock indignation, which made Lily giggle.

“Okay, you just went from brainy to funny brainy in my book, which officially makes you cool,” Marlene said with a grin, giving him a playful nudge.

“Yay for me, I suppose?” Rick replied in a deliberately flat tone, the deadpan delivery clashing humorously with the amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes! Now, which house would you like to be in?”

““Gryffindor.””

Both Rick and Lily answered in perfect unison, voices ringing with matching enthusiasm. Their synchrony earned them a shared, genuine smile, a small moment of camaraderie forged in instant agreement. Marlene grinned at the display, clearly on the same wavelength but far too mischievous to let Rick off without a jab. She leaned forward, eyes glinting with teasing delight, already preparing her verbal ambush.

“I thought you didn’t like Grynffindor! You liar!”

“I never said I didn’t like Gryffindor. I just made a point that there's no best house overall. Big difference between being diplomatic and not having a favorite.”

“He got you there, Marlene.”

“I hope you get in Ravenclaw!” the blonde jested.

“I’d rather go to Hufflepuff.”

“That’s an acceptable alternative.”

“No slytherin?” asked Lily.

“The two of you should definitely not get into Slytherin,” Marlene said, her voice suddenly firm, stripped of its usual levity. The playful sparkle in her eyes vanished, replaced by a seriousness that made both Rick and Lily sit up a little straighter.

“Why not?” inquired Lily with a frown.

“That’s where most blood purists go. As muggle borns, you would have a really bad time there.”

“I suppose Lily mentioned it, but how exactly did you figure out I’m a muggle born?” Rick asked, tone carefully neutral but edged with curiosity. This was the second time someone had made that assumption, and it was starting to gnaw at him.

“Only muggle borns or future Ravenclaws willingly read Hogwarts A History cover to cover. And since you’ve already ruled out Ravenclaw…”

“You deduced I was muggle born. Are you sure you’re not a Ravenclaw in disguise?” he teased with a playful grin, earning a loud snort from her.

“What did you mean by blood purists?” Lily questioned.

“Some of the oldest magical families believe in this thing called blood purity, basically, they look down on anyone with Muggle ancestry. Salazar Slytherin was notorious for pushing that ideology. According to legend, he didn’t want Muggle borns at Hogwarts at all, let alone in his own house. It’s said that no Muggle born has ever been sorted into Slytherin. It’s rare, but not technically impossible.”

Lily frowned, her earlier cheer fading into quiet contemplation as the implications settled in. Beside her, Rick felt a shift, magic still shimmered with wonder, but the people who wielded it? Not always. That realization sat like a pebble in his shoe. The air between them had grown heavy, weighed down by history and prejudice. Wanting to lighten it, Rick smoothly steered the conversation elsewhere, tossing out a new question to lift the mood back up.

“Do you know how the Sorting works? I mean, how we’re actually chosen, how it decides which house we belong to?”

“I always wondered about that! It was never said in the book!” Lily exclaimed.

“Nope! It’s sort of an unwritten rule, everyone, students and staff alike, agrees not to spoil the surprise. The Sorting is one of those Hogwarts traditions you’re meant to experience firsthand, not hear about secondhand.”

“Did someone ever get… not sorted?”

“No, everyone joins a house.”

Lily visibly relaxed, a subtle tension leaving her shoulders as reassurance settled in, she wouldn’t be sent packing just because she didn’t fit into a house. Rick caught the shift in her demeanor but couldn’t quite understand the cause. From his perspective, the very idea that Hogwarts would invite someone only to reject them later seemed absurd. Why offer magic education, then snatch it away? It defied both logic and kindness.

“My turn to ask questions! My cousin went to Hogwarts and told me that when her muggle born friend got their letter, an actual Hogwarts professor showed up to deliver it in person. Is that really true, or was she just messing with me? And if it's true, which professor did you meet?”

“It’s true. Professor McGonagall, our Transfiguration teacher, came herself to deliver it. Showed up all stern robes and sharp eyes, like something out of a magical courtroom. Scared the life out of me at first, until I realized she was actually being kind.”

“Half and Half?”

Lily tilted her head slightly, brows knitting in confusion as she looked at Rick, clearly puzzled by his remark.

So did Marlene, who leaned in with a curious frown and a hint of suspicion in her voice. “What do you mean, half and half?”

“An owl delivered my letter, when it wasn't supposed to. But a few days later, both Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore came to see me in person to apologize. Apparently, a student working at school misfiled my name, put it in the pile meant for magical born kids instead of Muggle borns. If the owl hadn’t waited patiently for a reply, I might’ve missed my chance entirely. I almost didn’t get to enroll.”

“Oh, I’ve got to hear this in detail!”

Seeing Lily’s interest piqued just like Marlene’s, Rick obliged them with the story. He carefully skipped over the fact that he lived in an orphanage, not out of shame, but because he didn’t want to darken the atmosphere or make the girls uncomfortable by asking. Thankfully, Marlene’s curiosity leaned more toward the wide eyed wonder of magical discovery. She was especially eager to hear about their first impressions of Diagon Alley, hungry for the perspective of those who had walked into the wizarding world for the first time, jaws slacking and hearts racing.

“Oh!” Rick exclaimed as Lily pulled out her wand. “Willow, 10 ½ inches, Unicorn hair.”

“How did you know that?” the redhead asked, her voice laced with disbelief and wide eyed wonder, clearly thrown off by the uncanny accuracy of his observation.

“That was the very first wand Mister Ollivanders made me try. I’m glad she found a partner. She was quite lonely.”

“Lonely?”

“Hmhm.”

He hummed his assessment, lips twitching with amusement, but chose not to elaborate. The last thing he wanted was to come off as arrogant or sound like he was spinning tall tales. Better to keep quiet and let Lily take the spotlight, besides, the girls didn’t seem overly fixated on his comment, more swept up in the excitement of sharing their own magical experiences.

“It felt like I finally got back a missing piece of myself I didn’t know about.” Lily commented with a pleased smile.

“That’s magic for you! I felt exactly the same when I got mine.” Marlene showed her own wand.

“Cypress, 11 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring.” Rick announced

“How do you… you tried it too?”

Rick nodded. “The last one before I found mine.”

“That’s quite the coincidence here.” noted Lily. “You tried both our wands. Mine first, Marlene’s last.”

“I guess we were fated to meet.” joked the blonde. “What about yours?”

Rick pulled his wand from his bag and showed it to the girls. “Cedar, 13 inches, phoenix father. Took me more than an hour and trying 76 wands before this one chose me.”

“76!?”

“Wait, you’re the one Ollivander told my dad about when I was buying mine! I was on my sixteenth try, and my dad looked nervous. Said someone had just shattered the shop’s record. That was you!” Marlene exclaimed, eyes wide with a mix of amusement and awe.

“Did I?” an astonished Rick wondered.

“Yep.” Marlene replied, popping the p.

With wands now out and excitement building, the conversation shifted naturally to spells and upcoming classes. Marlene practically beamed when she mentioned looking forward to Transfiguration and DADA, short for Defense Against the Dark Arts, she explained, since saying the full name every time was a chore. Lily lit up at the mention of classes too, eager for all of them but particularly excited about Charms. Rick, unsurprisingly, was all in on everything, Charms, DADA, Potions, he couldn’t decide which fascinated him more.

The two Muggle borns couldn’t help but share a bit of frustrated envy. Since Marlene had grown up in a magical household, she’d already had the chance to try a few spells over the summer, nothing fancy, but enough to give her a head start. Rick and Lily, meanwhile, had their wands, but dared not use them without supervision. With magic, the line between impressive and explosive felt alarmingly thin. Marlene sympathized, but mostly held back from bragging out of kindness, or maybe guilt. She didn’t want to make their wait feel any longer than it already was.

An older student slid open the compartment door and leaned in with the calm authority only a prefect could command. “You lot should start getting your robes on, we’re almost there,” they said, their tone brisk but not unkind. The prominent P badge on their chest gleamed slightly in the corridor light, and Rick immediately recognized the symbol for what it was, a mark of responsibility, and apparently, schedule enforcement.

“I’ll go get changed,” Rick said, standing up with a purposeful motion as he slung his school bag over his shoulder, already mentally retracing his steps to the other compartment.

“See you soon!” Marlene said enthusiastically and Lily nodded her head with a smile.

Rick nodded as well and made his way back to his original compartment. Upon sliding open the door, he immediately noticed a change, one of the boys, the one with the hooked nose and perpetually scowling expression, was gone. In his place sat a short, pudgy boy with tousled brown hair and a nervous look in his eyes, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve like it might unravel the tension in the room.

“Hey Wald! Where were you?” Sirius Black almost shouted.

“I went to explore the train and meet people.” lied Rick.

“And?” James asked as he was putting his robe on.

“I didn’t get very far. I ended up speaking with two girls and lost track of time.”

“Girls! Man!” Sirius exclaimed with the scandalized outrage of someone personally wronged. “You ditched us, for girls? We were causing chaos and you were off socializing with girls? You’re completely mental!”

Rick gave a casual shrug and offered quick introductions to the two unfamiliar boys, one looking exhausted and withdrawn, the other twitchy and pudgy. The tired one turned out to be Remus Lupin, the nervous, fidgeting one was Peter Pettigrew. Names locked in, Rick wasted no time pulling down his trunk and retrieving a neatly folded set of school robes. Once dressed, he shut the trunk just as another prefect stopped by, announcing that their luggage would be transported to the castle for them. Rick thanked the student and made his exit, slipping back down the corridor toward the compartment where his new friends waited.

Just before he reached for the handle, he hesitated. Something instinctive, maybe social survival or just plain decency, stopped him. He knocked instead. After all, they were still changing, and he had no intention of losing the first genuine friends he’d ever made due to sheer idiocy.

“It’s Rick! May I come in?”

“Yes!”

“No!”

The no came a split second too late, Rick had already pushed the door open. He was immediately met with the sight of Lily, cheeks flaming and hair a wild halo of red, clearly mid fix. Across from her, Marlene was lounging back with the smug satisfaction of someone who knew exactly what they'd done, barely holding back laughter.

“Marlene!” the redhead yelped in indignant protest, clutching at what remained of her composure as she shot her friend a betrayed look.

“What? It’s just your hair Lily!”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what the big deal is, but I can wait outside if it makes you more comfortable. I even have a comb, want it?”

He pulled out the object from his bag and handed it to Lily who snatched it and shooed him away. After five minutes, the door opened. His arm was grabbed by Marlene who dragged him inside.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” he said to Lily.

“No, no, it’s alright! And thanks for the comb. Here.”

She handed him back his comb just as the looming silhouette of Hogwarts appeared through the mist shrouded window, signaling their arrival at Hogsmeade Station. The train hissed to a halt, and the compartment buzzed with nervous excitement. Stepping off onto the platform, Rick and the others were quickly swept into the tide of first years. They followed the crowd toward a small group of older students, each one standing tall with a polished badge bearing a large P gleaming proudly on their chest.

“Severus!”

Lily stood on her toes and waved enthusiastically at a boy she clearly knew, Rick recognized him as the one who had been arguing with Potter and Black on the train. He kept quiet, though his stiff posture betrayed his unease. Almost on cue, Potter and Black called out to him from across the crowd, their voices loud and attention grabbing. Marlene, quick to notice the subtle shift in Rick’s demeanor, casually slipped in between him and the noise, intercepting the moment before it spiraled.

“Sorry boys! I’ve claimed him! Hostage situation, no negotiations!” she called back dramatically, latching onto his arm like she’d won a prize at a fair.

“We’ll get him back!” Potter shouted back.

Rick thanked Marlene for stepping in, and she flashed him a radiant smile. “I don’t think they’re bad, just a bit too loud and way too forward for my taste.”

“So am I. Guess you attract our kind, huh?” she joked.

“You’re not nearly as loud, and you somehow come off smarter, blonde or not,” he said with a cheeky grin, clearly inviting trouble.

Marlene gasped, clutching her chest like she'd been personally insulted. “You didn’t just say that! And you’re blonde too, you traitor!” she protested with dramatic flair, eyes wide in mock betrayal and outrage.

Lily’s friend joined her, and she quickly introduced him to Rick and Marlene. His full name, Severus Snape, came with a quiet, reserved greeting that carried more caution than warmth. Rick’s eyes instinctively took in the boy’s threadbare robes, clearly second hand, clearly worn, and concluded that Snape’s family wasn’t well off. It stood in stark contrast to Lily, whose own robes were well made and clearly newer. The contrast made Rick briefly wonder how two kids from such different circumstances had become friends in the first place.

He didn’t even bother trying to guess at Marlene’s background, her robes were every bit as fine as Potter’s and Black’s, their quality shouting old money. He was almost certain she belonged to one of the elite wizarding families, the ones he kept hearing referred to as Houses with a capital H. The way people mentioned them made it sound more like noble bloodlines than anything else. He wasn’t quite sure how it all worked yet, but he intended to find out. Preferably in the library. It was already obvious this house stuff mattered, maybe more than it should.

“Wow, he’s big.”

He turned toward Marlene and noticed her craning her neck, gaze fixed upward. Following her line of sight, Rick’s eyes landed on a towering figure, a mountain of a man who was rounding up the first year students. The man introduced himself as Hagrid, and Rick’s jaw nearly dropped. Hagrid was easily two, possibly three, times his height, and Rick was already half a head taller than most of the other students. The man’s massive hands looked like they could comfortably cradle a watermelon, or someone’s entire face. For a moment, Rick seriously considered whether this might be his first encounter with a giant. And after a glance at Hagrid’s sheer scale, he didn’t immediately dismiss the possibility.

The man, who introduced himself as Hagrid, the keeper of the castle grounds, had the task of guiding the first years to the edge of the Black Lake. There, they would take enchanted boats that would ferry them across the water to Hogwarts Castle itself. The trek down from Hogsmeade Station to the boats was anything but quiet, nervous energy filled the air as students chatted about their expectations, their nerves, and their wild guesses about what was waiting for them. Some were practically bouncing with excitement, while others glanced around with wide eyes and hushed voices, clearly overwhelmed by the moment.

“I don’t get why anyone’s nervous. Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest place in all of Britain,” Marlene said confidently, as if the idea of fear was completely foreign to her.

“I can,” Rick replied, then quickly clarified, not wanting to sound like a coward, which he absolutely wasn’t. “Not that I’m scared, but seriously, look around. It's pitch black, the trees are thick enough to hide anything, we're trudging through unfamiliar woods, it's freezing, and everything smells like fog and moss.”

“I guess now we know a bit about who’s brave and who’s not.”

“Yes.”

They reached the shore of the lake, where a line of old, creaking boats bobbed gently on the black water like relics from another age. Rick didn’t hesitate for a second, he stepped into the nearest one, utterly unbothered by its ancient appearance. He trusted in magic, and more importantly, in the staff who surely wouldn’t risk sending first years to their deaths in leaky antiques. Turning, he offered his hand to Marlene, who took it with a grin and used him for balance as she stepped aboard.

“Chivalry’s not dead, huh?” she teased, steadying herself.

Rick just gave a small smile and nodded, then extended the same courtesy to Lily and Snape. Lily accepted with a soft “thanks,” her fingers brushing his with fleeting warmth, while Snape declined the hand with a slight shake of the head, offering a reserved but civil nod instead.

Once each boat held exactly four students, they began to move, smoothly and silently, gliding forward as if the lake itself had exhaled beneath them. No paddles, no oars, no visible force. Just magic.

At the front of the procession, Hagrid towered alone on a massive barge, lantern in hand like a watchful guardian of the crossing. As the boats neared the middle of the lake, the noise slowly died away. Words failed them. Hogwarts emerged from the darkness with breathtaking grandeur, its many spires and towers glowing golden against the vast, inky sky. The castle’s reflection shimmered on the still surface of the lake, perfect and surreal, like something conjured from a dream. Rick stared, struck speechless. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was mythic. For the first time, it felt real, he was really going to Hogwarts.

Splash

Most students whipped their heads to the left, instinctively reacting to the loud splash that echoed across the still water. Laughter, unmistakably belonging to Potter and Black, rippled through the night air, drawing everyone’s attention. A moment later, gasps and stunned silence followed as a massive tentacle emerged from the depths, gently lifting a soaked student back onto their boat. The surreal image of a casually helpful lake monster left many students wide eyed and breathless.

“That’s one big tentacle.” Lily remarked bewildered.

“I guess they weren’t exaggerating when they said a giant squid lived in the lake. At least it seems friendly.” answered Rick.

They reached a boathouse and carefully stepped out of the boats, the wooden dock creaking softly beneath their feet. Hagrid performed a quick headcount before leading the procession up a steep, winding staircase carved into the rocky hillside. The climb was long and left several students panting, but anticipation kept most of them moving briskly.

At the top, they emerged into a wide courtyard lit by enchanted lanterns. There, standing like a sentinel in elegant emerald robes, was Minerva McGonagall. Rick recognized her instantly. Her posture was straight, her expression neutral, but her eyes were sharp and observant.

Hagrid exchanged a few brief words with her before nodding and stepping away. McGonagall, without so much as a flick of her wand, dried the student who had taken an unplanned swim in the lake, leaving them bone dry and flushed with embarrassment.

Without further ado, she turned and opened the towering double doors behind her. The massive oak creaked open, revealing only shadows and torchlight within. She didn’t speak, just walked forward with the sort of quiet authority that demanded obedience. The first years followed, boots echoing against the stone floor, until they came to a stop in front of another set of double doors. From behind them came the unmistakable sound of hundreds of voices in conversation, a dull, thunderous hum that made the silence among the first years feel even heavier.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” the deputy headmistress finally greeted. Now that she had everyone’s attention she went on. “The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.” She stopped for a dramatic effect of what Rick believed to be a well practiced speech, then went on.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

With that said, she slipped through the towering doors, taking care to leave them open just enough to keep the Great Hall hidden from view. For five long minutes, anticipation buzzed among the first years like static. When she returned, the doors swung open fully, unveiling the grandeur within.

Four long house tables stretched across the hall, gleaming with polished silver and gold, leading toward a high table where the staff sat. At the center, unmistakable even to someone who had only seen drawings, was Albus Dumbledore, calm and composed beneath a crown of silver hair. Rick ignored the curious stares of the older students and instead turned his gaze upward, where his breath caught.

The ceiling wasn’t painted. It was enchanted. A perfect reflection of the night sky shimmered above them, stars twinkling in real time, wisps of clouds gliding silently across constellations. It was like standing beneath the open heavens without the cold. Rick stood transfixed, and his awe deepened with the knowledge that Rowena Ravenclaw had crafted such a masterpiece. Magic wasn’t just practical, it could be transcendent.

Near the end of the table, right before the teacher laid a stool with a very old and almost decrepit wizard hat on it.

“When I call your name, you are to come forward and sit on this stool. The sorting hat will decide in which house you will be sorted.” announced the transfiguration professor.

The roll call followed alphabetical order, and it didn’t take Rick long to realize he’d be among the last to be sorted. Wald was never going to win a race. Each time the Sorting Hat made its decision, it bellowed the house name with a booming, unmistakable voice that echoed through the Great Hall. The hat itself was a marvel, old, wrinkled, enchanted, and worse, alive.

The fact that it not only spoke but also sang had thrown Rick for a loop. Part of him was still trying to recover from the surreal performance, another part was already wondering if it was possible to enchant an object to do the same. A talking, singing comb, maybe? He made a mental note to look into it. Eventually.

Time passed quickly and he saw Lily and Marlene being sorted in Gryffindor to both their delight. So were Black, Potter and the two boys hanging out with them since they were on the train. Snape ended up in Slytherin and despite having a stoic face seemed proud of it. He didn’t miss the longing in his eyes when Snape looked at Lily sitting at the Gryffindor table.

When he was the only student left, Rick walked with calm purpose to the stool, measured, composed, and not too fast, not too slow. As the Sorting Hat settled onto his head, his first thought was surprisingly practical, did the staff ever clean this thing? Considering how many sweaty eleven year olds had worn it before him, it felt less like a magical artifact and more like a shared towel at a gym, well intentioned but deeply unhygienic.

‘It is not, young Mister Wald but I’ve been enchanted with a cleaning charm to solve that little problem.’

Rick stiffened, his spine going rigid as a wave of startled awareness hit him, there was a voice in his head, and it wasn’t his own. He fought the urge to leap off the stool, gripping the edge until his knuckles turned pale. The realization clicked, the Sorting Hat wasn’t just sitting on his head, it was in his head, reading his thoughts and responding directly. Once the initial shock passed, Rick did what he always did when presented with something unknown and sentient, he asked questions.

“Why didn’t the founders add a self repairing charm? You look quite worn, did it not exist back then?”

“Alas, no.”

“Can’t someone cast one on you?”

“Many thought about it but gave up on the principle that it may mess with all the other enchantments making me, me.”

“Do you have a name? Besides sorting hat, I mean?”

“No. The founders didn’t bother giving me one. It’s not like I’m in need of it. Now, enough questions, let’s take a look at who you are.”

“My apologies for delaying you in your work.” Rick replied politely but the hat ignored him.

“Hmmm… I see many things in you, young Mister Wald. A very strong sense of loyalty but only to the people who earned it. Your lack of studiousness makes Hufflepuff ill suited for you however. You do are very bright. More, way more than the average student. Hmm… Ravenclaw? Perhaps… I see a lot of bravery too. You take life as it comes and always go forward, regardless of what your peers think of you. An uncontrollable need to explore and discover and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Gryffindor or Ravenclaw? Gryffindor would put you on the path of an exciting life, while Ravenclaw would put to good use your intellect and your beyond your years’s wisdom… Hmm…”

Understanding the hat’s hesitation, Rick was forward and shared his wish after enough time passed.

“Gryffindor. My friends are there. They’re the very first ones I made and I don't want to lose them. Besides, I don’t like riddles and I don’t want to be locked outside the Ravenclaw’s common room because I can’t answer any. I also prefer red over blue.”

The last part made the hat chuckle, a low, dry sound like old parchment being folded, but it also helped solidify its choice. It wasn’t just the loyalty or the bravery, but the honesty and self awareness. The hat respected that. A request made with sincerity and a touch of humor? That sealed the deal.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Grinning with quiet satisfaction, Rick rose as the Sorting Hat was lifted from his head. He gave McGonagall a respectful nod, which she returned with a small, pleased smile before gesturing him toward the Gryffindor table. As he walked over, Lily waved him over excitedly, patting the empty space beside her. He mouthed a quick “thanks” as he slid into the seat, only to realize with amusement that Marlene was directly across from him, already smirking like she’d known this outcome all along.

“I knew you’d be with us! Though you took your time!” the blonde said.

“Time?” he repeated, confused.

“You were under the hat for at least five minutes. The teachers began to talk between them.” explained Lily.

“The hat didn’t know if it should put me in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. In the end I asked for Gryffindor.”

“Ah! Called it, brainy! Wait, hold on. Did you just say you asked the Sorting Hat?” Marlene blurted out, first with triumphant glee, then blinking in disbelief as the full meaning sank in. Her eyes widened. “You negotiated with a centuries old magical artifact? Who does that?!”

Before Rick could launch into the story of his inner debate with the Sorting Hat, Dumbledore stood up, immediately capturing the attention of the hall with his signature twinkle and quiet authority. He welcomed everyone warmly and introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the year, though Rick didn’t quite catch the name over the buzz of excitement still rippling through the students. Dumbledore then reminded everyone in a tone that danced between stern and whimsical that the Forbidden Forest was named quite literally, and exploring it was an excellent way to earn detention or worse. He also noted that the full list of restricted and banned items was posted outside the office of Argus Filch, the castle's less than friendly caretaker. Rick made a mental note to look it up, mostly because he had no idea what even counted as a forbidden object in the magical world.

The speech ended as oddly as it began, with a few nonsensical but cheerful sounding words, something about lemon drops and waltzing barrels, before Dumbledore declared the feast officially begun and sat back down, his eyes still twinkling like he knew something no one else did.

“You got yourself a very interesting lion cub, Minerva.” he said to the woman on his right.

“Indeed. Seven minutes under the hat. I think that’s a new record.” Horace commented from Dumbledore’s left. “I don’t recognize the last name, a muggle born?”

“I think that’s the student who wrote to you early in the summer, isn’t he? And now that I think about it, wrote to you all summer too.”

“You’re correct, Filius.” Minerva answered. “Mister Wald is that student. Quite brilliant and curious. I wouldn’t be surprised if the hat hesitated to put him in your own house.”

Minerva watched Rick for a long, thoughtful moment, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. The brilliance he had displayed in his letters over the summer had been undeniable, precise, inquisitive, almost startling for someone his age. But the classroom was a very different arena than parchment and ink. She wondered not just if his intellect would hold under pressure, but whether the spark she’d seen on the page would translate into something tangible, something exceptional, in the ever unpredictable world of magic.