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On the train, he shares a compartment with a quiet boy called Vernon Boyd (“Call me Boyd. Not Vernon. Vernon’s my dad.”) and a loud girl called Erica Reyes (“You can just call me Erica. Hi!”). Boyd likes to read muggle comic books – something his father would never let him read after his mother had died – and Erica knows how to do magic.
“Muggle magic,” Erica giggles at his confused expression. “With cards and stuff.”
He nods his head, he’s seen people do this sort of magic on the streets of London before, and lets Erica teach him how to do a simple card trick. She accuses him of cheating when he accidently turns the card blue, but her grin is still there.
Boyd hides his behind his issue of Batman.
Boyd is a muggle-born, and Erica’s a half-blood. Boyd tells him about how a weird woman came to his house to tell his parents about Hogwarts, and his mother laughed in her face.
“It was so embarrassing,” Boyd says, and Erica giggles next to him. “I’ll be so embarrassed if I see her at school.”
Erica tells him he’ll be fine, not noticing the blush that appears on Boyd’s cheeks when she pats his arm.
Erica’s mother’s a witch, but she didn’t go to Hogwarts. She went to a wizarding school in France, and moved to England when she married Erica’s father. “He’s the one that taught me muggle magic,” Erica explains. “I think he secretly wants to be a wizard, so he’s making up for it with card tricks.”
“They’re quite impressive,” he tells her, and she giggles at him. He smiles.
When they get the station – all changed into their school robes that are all slightly too big for them – their split into groups to go onto boats. He wants to go on the carriages – the ones with the black horses – but a prefect tells him that he’ll cross the lake first.
He gets split up from Erica and Boyd, who are put onto a boat together, but he doesn’t really mind. He steps onto a boat that already has three people on it. There’s a very pretty girl with long, strawberry blonde hair that spares him a glance and a small smile before turning back to her compact mirror, a boy with large eyes and talks loudly and with his hands and has his hair shorn close to his scalp, and another boy with tan skin and an adorably crooked jaw that introduces himself as Scott.
Scott says that he’s been friends with Stiles since they were little – Stiles being the other boy – and that he’s really excited to go to Hogwarts.
“My mom’s a healer,” he says, grinning. “I wanna be in Gryffindor just like her.”
Stiles’ father is a muggle policeman, and his mother was a witch. “She was an Auror,” he says, pride evident on his face. “She was really smart too. She was a Ravenclaw, you see.”
He nods. “My mother was a Ravenclaw too,” he says.
The pretty girl snaps her mirror shut and yawns widely, showing her straight white teeth. He looks curiously at Stiles, who’s looking at her like he’s just been told Christmas has come early. He bites his tongue to stop himself from laughing.
The girl looks up, and gasps loudly. The three boys swivel around to see what she’s staring at, and they’re met with the sight of a great castle, grand and tall and massive, on the top of a twisted cliff.
“Oh my god,” the girl breathes, and he can’t help but agree. His mother’s stories simply couldn’t do Hogwarts justice. The school is awe-inspiring and terrifying and homely all at once, and he can’t wait to see what it was like inside.
They got off the boats, and a tall professor who introduces herself as Talia Hale greets them with a smile. She is wearing a long, intricately embellished red cloak, and he swears he can see the embroidery moving.
They’re led into the great hall – full of floating candles and curious students – in pairs, and he finds himself standing next to a girl he’s never seen before. She plays with her silver necklace nervously, and he gives her what he hopes to be a reassuring smile. She returns it, and he feels slightly better.
Professor Hale stands at the top of the stairs, next to an old worn hat on a stool. She explains that, as they know, Hogwarts is in search of a new headmaster. Their old Headmaster has retired, and the position should be filled by the end of the first semester. The hat on the stool clears its throat, and as Professor Hale moves out of the way, bursts into song.
When it finishes, and the applause has died away, Professor Hale holds up rolled up scroll, and the girl next to him gulps.
Professor Hale unfurls the scroll, and clears her throat.
“Argent, Allison!”
The girl next to him draws in a breath, and steels herself. She walks up to the front of the hall, and sits on the stool. Professor Hale places the sorting hat on her head, and Allison jumps as it ‘hmm’s in thought.
After a few moments, the hat clears its throat, and shouts out, “Gryffindor!”
The girl’s face breaks out into a grin, and the hops off the stool to join her house. The Gryffindor table is on their feet, cheering and hollering, and he smiles.
Professor Hale goes through name after name. Boyd gets sorted into Hufflepuff, and after what seems an eternity, he’s called up as well.
“Lahey, Isaac!”
He gulps, walking through the crowd to sit on the stool. He jumps slightly at the hats touches his ears, and he holds his breath for the verdict.
“Hmm,” the hat hums, and Isaac doesn’t know if the voice is in his head or not. “Where to put you?”
Isaac stays silent. His mother was a Ravenclaw, but he’ll never be as clever as her. And his dad will kill him if he’s not in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin–
“You’re a loyal one, I can tell,” the hat says. “Not so sure of yourself, but sure of others. You also know the consequences of your actions, hmm?”
Isaac flinches visibly, and he can see Scott smile nervously at him in the crowd.
“Do you want yourself to be happy? Or do you want your father to be happy?”
Isaac wonders why the sorting hat has to be so mean, and it laughs out loud, startling the crowd. Professor Hale simply raises her eyebrow in amusement.
“You’re gonna learn to be tough, huh? Better be–”
“Hufflepuff!” the hat shouts, and the Hufflepuff table erupts in cheers. Isaac releases a breath he hasn’t realized he had been holding, and almost trips down the stairs in his haste to join them. He sits next to Boyd, who gives him a one-armed hug,
As the list goes on, the pretty girl from the boat – who’s called Lydia Martin – gets sorted into Ravenclaw, Scott gets sorted into Gryffindor, Erica into Slytherin, and Stiles – whose first name isn’t stated, oddly – into Ravenclaw.
The feast is magnificent, and he talks and doesn’t feel out of place and he grins until his face hurts.
He almost forgets what his father’s reaction will be like when he finds out he’s been sorted into Hufflepuff.
Scott can’t keep still. He’s been buzzing ever since the hat shouted out “Gryffindor!” and he took his seat at the cheering table. His mom is going to be so. Proud.
“This is cool, huh?” Asks a boy called Danny, and Scott grins at him. Their beds are right next to each other, and they unpack their trunks with shaking hands.
Scott proudly runs his hands over the red and gold of his new school cloak. He hangs it over the back of the chair, along with his red and gold tie and his jumper. He pulls an old grey shirt over his head once his stiff white shirt has been taken off, and soft sweatpants replace the ironed black trousers. He grabs one of his new quills from the bedside table – when did that get there? – and starts to write a letter to his mother.
It isn’t long – just telling her that he’s been sorted into Gryffindor and that he’ll write to her soon – but it makes him feel really good.
“You okay?” Danny asks from the next bed, and Scott nods. “My mom was in Gryffindor. She’s gonna be really happy I’ve been sorted here.”
Danny smiles. “That sounds nice. My parents are still getting over the fact that I’m a freaking wizard, man. They don’t know what Gryffindor even is.”
Scott laughs, flopping onto his bed. “Well, they’ve got seven years to learn, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Danny says, but Scott is already asleep.
“Rude,” he scoffs, and falls asleep not moments later.
It’s the first day of classes, and Scott’s first class is herbology. He meets Stiles down on the way to the greenhouses, and he won’t shut up about that girl from the boat and her beautiful strawberry hair. They rush into the greenhouses just in time, and Scott almost bumps into a Hufflepuff boy.
“Sorry,” he mutters, and Scott tilts his head.
“Sorry? I’m sorry, man. I bumped into you.”
The boy turns slightly, his curly hair covering his eyes.
“Sorry,” he says again.
“Wait, Isaac?” Scott says, and the boy turns around again. “Yes?” Isaac says again, and Scott grins at him.
“How are you enjoying school so far?” he asks, and Isaac looks surprised.
“Um, it’s good?” he says, unsure of his own words. “It’s better than home, at least.”
Scott doesn’t comment on that, doesn’t feel the need to, and just nods.
The teacher comes bumbling in before the conversation turns awkward. They’re split into pairs – Scott and Stiles, and Isaac and his Hufflepuff friend – and told to find a way to make the flower buds in front of them bloom.
Stiles groans next to him about how it’s boring and it’s no use to anyone but Scott doesn’t mind. His mother did herbology for her N.E.W.T.s and he helps her tend to the plants in the garden. These flower buds’ teeth are sharper than the ones at home, but Scott learns to adapt.
Next to him, Isaac peers curiously at the flower buds as Boyd flips through his textbook. He whispers something to Isaac (“It says to stroke it? Also I’m not touching that, man.”) and Isaac nods.
Isaac extends a cautious hand – they do have teeth, after all – and strokes a gentle finger down the long purple stalk of the flower. The bud lets out a fluttering sigh, and unfurls itself to reveal the kaleidoscope pattern of the delicate petals.
Isaac lets out a delighted laugh, a laugh that Scott finds himself wanting to hear more often, and the herbology teacher praises him with a pleased smile.
Isaac flourishes – like the flower, Scott notices – under the praise, and grins even wider. The flower hums again, teeth curling in on themselves. “It just looks like a normal flower now,” Isaac says to Boyd, who’s still eyeing the flower wearily.
“Doesn’t mean it didn’t have teeth before,” he says, and Isaac laughs again.
“Dude,” Stiles says, nudging Scott. “I don’t care it that Hufflepuff’s fingers didn’t get ripped off. I’m still not touching that. You do it.”
Scott nods, stroking the stalk like Isaac did, and the flower reveals its petals like Isaac’s did.
“Hey, you did it too,” Isaac says quietly from next to him, and Scott beams back.
And Isaac feels warm inside.
Isaac and Scott don’t have any of the same classes besides herbology, potions, and transfiguration. Scott and Stiles seem to be perpetually late to all of their classes, and the potions master Harris hates them anyway.
They burst into the dungeons just in time, and slide along to bench to where Isaac’s sitting next to Lydia. “You’re lucky Harris isn’t here yet,” Isaac whispers, and Stiles grins.
“We’re always lucky,” he says. “Hey Lydia!”
Lydia glares at him.
Isaac smiles his little half-smile, and Harris bursts through the doors.
“McCall! Stilinski! Detentions for being late,” he says, not sparing them a glance, and Stiles splutters.
“What?!” he exclaims. “We weren’t late! You were later than us!”
Harris looks at him blankly. “Double detention for Mr Stilinski,” he says finally, and Stiles drops dramatically onto the table.
Harris ignores him, and tells the class that they’re working in pairs, and to light the fires under their cauldrons. Stiles looks curiously to where Isaac and Lydia are lighting their fire.
“Hey Isaac,” Stiles whispers, and Isaac turns to raise an eyebrow at him. “Um, would you mind, um, swapping places? Please?”
Scott hides a chuckle behind his hand, and Isaac simply stares at Stiles.
“No,” Lydia says, and Isaac shrugs. “Sorry, man.”
“It was worth a shot,” Stiles says, and Isaac nods.
“Can you do that spell that we learnt in charms last week?” Lydia whispers to Isaac, who nods. “Kinda,” he says, and she purses her lips in thought. “I can never get it to go purple, though.”
Isaac tilts his head, and when Harris turns his back, mutters a spell. The fire under the cauldron turns a light purple, and Lydia giggles. “I have to remember how to do that,” she says, and Isaac shrugs. “It’s no big deal,” he says. “I’m sure you can do it.”
“I sure as hell can’t,” Scott mutters, and Isaac looks at him. “Sure you can,” he says. “I can do it.”
“Yeah, but you’re good at charms,” Scott says, and Isaac blushes.
“Thanks,” he says quietly, and Harris clears his throat.
“Pay attention,” he snaps and Isaac flinches. Harris bustles past their table to stand at the front of the class. “I’m sure you’ve learnt mild persuasion spells in class before,” he says and the class murmurs in assent. “Well, you’re going to learn how to make the potions counterpart. Flip to page 37 in your textbooks and start. Extra ingredients are in the supply cupboard. The first ones to finish the potion get 20 house points to their respective houses and please, don’t bother me.”
Lydia and Isaac immediately rummage through their draws for the right ingredients, and Stiles flips through the textbook to the right page.
“Why doesn’t Lydia like me, man?” Stiles whines next to him, and Scott shrugs. “I dunno,” he says. “Maybe it’s because you’re not helping me get extra stuff from the cupboard?” Stiles sticks his tongue out at him. “Yeah yeah,” he says, hopping off the stool. “I got it. Newt’s tongues, right?”
“Yeah, three of them,” Scott replies, and he starts chopping up the rest of the ingredients. He glances to his side, where Isaac’s crushing up some weird purple pods with his knife per Lydia’s instruction, and he grins when Isaac looks up.
“You going home for Christmas, Isaac?” he asks, and Isaac stalls. “No,” he says. “I’m staying here. My mum always told me stories about Christmas at Hogwarts. And Boyd’s staying too, so…”
Scott nods. “I’m going home. I don’t think my mom would let me stay!” Isaac smiles, a little wistfully, and goes back to crushing the pods. “That sounds nice. Say hi to her for me.”
Lydia snaps her fingers under Isaac’s nose, and he almost crushes his thumb in shock. “Come on,” she says. “We’re gonna win this.”
Isaac smiles his little half-smile again, and scrapes the juice from the pods into the cauldron. Lydia then sets him the task of cutting a jelly up into little cubes, and Stiles finally makes his way back to the bench with the newt’s tongues.
“I had to trade them for some of that gross jelly stuff,” he explains. “With that Argent girl? I think she likes you man.”
Scott blushes. “Really?” he says, a little hopefully, and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, you should go talk to her,” he says, and Scott nods. He doesn’t notice Isaac averting his eyes, his cheeks flushed for a different reason.
When summer finally comes, and Isaac goes home, he hides from his father’s angry hands and from his brother’s jibes. He knows his brother’s only teasing, but his father’s words hurt in a way his slaps never could.
He escapes to Erica’s house for the last two weeks – who knew they lived in the same neighborhood? – and everything’s peaceful. His dad never comes to look for him, and Erica’s dad is understanding and her mother kind.
Isaac can almost fool himself into thinking it’s home.