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Chapter Text

In one world, Harry Potter was fate’s whipping post.

His parents were killed by a death-denying, psychopathic mass-murderer. Abused for years by his magic-hating relatives. Starved of love and affection. Had near-brushes with death every single year during his education in Hogwarts. Had to witness his friends and loved ones killed by the same mass-murderer and his in-bred ilk. Manipulated in and out by a meddling headmaster who set him up to die. And had to go through all kinds of trials and tribulations just to ensure that said mass-murderer was finally and permanently killed.

Harry never had any form of justice until he was free of the mass-murderer who made his life a living hell. He was made to suffer for years before he could finally find some semblance of respite.

It was unjust cruelty, and someone should have intervened.

This is how this version of Harry Potter begins his story, the moment he was left on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive.

“You don’t mean - you can’t mean the people who live here ?!” Professor McGonagall screeched under hushed tones as she pointed at Number 4, “Dumbledore - you can’t! I’ve been watching them all day. You couldn’t find two people who are less like us! And they’ve got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets! Harry Potter come and live here?!”

“It’s the best place for him,” said Dumbledore firmly, “His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he’s older. I’ve written them a letter.”

“A letter?!” McGonagall hissed, “Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He’ll be famous - a legend - I wouldn’t be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future! There will be books written about Harry - every child in our world will know his name!”

“Exactly,” said Dumbledore, looking extremely serious, “It would be enough to turn any boy’s head. Famous before he can walk or talk! Famous for something he won’t even remember! Can’t you see how much better off he’ll be, growing up away from all that until he’d ready to take it?”

McGonagall opened her mouth to protest, but slowly shut it the more she thought about it, “Yes - yes, you’re right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?”

No sooner had she said that, Hagrid appeared with a basket in his massive arms. Dumbledore and McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

“Is that where - ?” McGonagall whispered.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore, “He’ll have that scar forever.”

“Couldn’t you do something about it, Dumbledore?”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we’d better get this over with.”

After a tearful farewell from the half-giant, Dumbledore took little Harry and placed him on the doorstep of Number 4. After a few emotional moments, all three disappeared into the night, leaving the sleeping baby to his presumed fate.

What no one expected was for a soft glow of light to shroud Harry within minutes of their departure. It lasted for exactly five seconds, before fading away, taking little Harry with it. No one was any the wiser, and for all intents and purposes, Harry Potter had disappeared into the night.

It was a cold morning when the sun rose on the first of November, 1981, and Zhang Li Huang was getting ready to start her day. You-Know-Who had been vanquished the night before, and the whole country was in celebration. Every Ministry employee was given the week off, and Li Huang was determined to make the most of it with her family.

The war had been especially harrowing for Li Huang. A witch born to Taiwanese magical immigrants who came to Britain in the 1950s, Li Huang’s life was turbulent given that her mother was Muggleborn and had to keep low when You-Know-Who began his rise. Even when she met her husband and married him, Li Huang had to keep her head down to avoid becoming a target, especially when her daughter Qiu was born. 

Luckily, the mass-murderer was now gone, and she could finally raise her head again.

She had planned for a quiet day with her family, not expecting the huge shock she would receive when she went out to get the milk.

Instead of the milk bottles (incidentally knocked over and spilt), Li Huang gasped at the sleeping baby lying in a basket on her doorstep. 

She knelt down and picked up the basket. Li Huang looked around, wondering if this was some kind of prank by her Muggle neighbours or some hooligan. As it was, the street was empty, and there didn’t appear to be anyone hiding behind the bushes or trees waiting to spring out at her to laugh the whole thing as one massive joke. 

The baby stirred, and moved a little in its blanket bundle. Li Huang returned her gaze to it when she heard the crinkling of paper. There was a note pinned to the blanket. 

Tearing the note off, she read what was written.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped for a second time, almost dropping the basket. The sudden jolt woke the baby up. It made a little noise, staring up at Li Huang with curious emerald-green irises. She immediately noticed the lightning bolt scar on its forehead.

She stood there, completely frozen, only snapping out of it when her husband’s voice came from inside the house.

“Li Huang, do you have the milk? I can’t start breakfast without it!”

She robotically turned around, and stepped back into the house, “Jung Lei...please come over here. You need to see this for yourself.”

The door closed behind her with an inaudible click.

To Be Continued.

Chapter Text

In one life, Harry Potter would call the cupboard under the stairs his bedroom, and the spiders and dust mites as his only friends. In this life, he shared a large, spacious bedroom with his best friend in the world - his older sister Qiu. Instead of being forced to do chores for relatives who beat him black and blue for the slightest mistake or the barest hint of freakishness, he played games with Qiu and his parents, and went flying in the countryside. Instead of being chased and beaten by his cousin and his goons in a cruel game of ‘Harry-hunting’, he was taught all manner of spells, charms as well as offensive and defensive hexes from his parents and grandparents.

Most importantly, instead of being called a freak, and only learning his true name at school, Harry was known in this life as Chun - 春 - or the season of spring, since his mother commented that his eyes looked like a meadow of grass in the middle of spring during the blood adoption process.

Chun’s emerald irises and black hair, cut into a centre-parted draping look, were the only reminders of his former identity. His once round eyes had changed to a more almond-like shape just like his adopted family. Pale skin had become a warm beige, and his facial structure had changed a little to become a mix of his adopted parents - the beginnings of a square jaw that was a little rounded on the edges. Chun was also quite tall for his age, just slightly shorter than his sister by the time he was eleven, though this was perhaps due to a rigorous regimen of swimming that he had been undergoing since he was four. He had the beginning of a swimmer’s build that would really accelerate once he hit puberty.

Chun, like his sister, was trilingual. He spoke English, Mandarin and Cantonese. Mandarin was primarily spoken at home amongst the family, though Chun spoke Cantonese with his paternal grandfather, a wizard who fled with his son to Hong Kong when the communists took over China in 1949, and began a systematic slaughter of all Chinese magical folk soon after. Chun never knew his paternal grandmother, who was a Muggle and a staunch communist. 

Even with lingual spells, his grandfather was never comfortable with English, so it was only Cantonese that each conversation was spoken in. Even Mandarin was a no-go, since it only exacerbated bad memories of the communist take-over, as his grandfather bemoaned. 

Family history aside, Chun grew up healthy and happy. Though there was one occasion where his past identity briefly surfaced. 

When Chun was five, his biological relatives of Number 4 Privet Drive were murdered by an unknown assailant. Now, the murder of three Muggles wouldn’t have normally been a story worth mentioning in the Daily Prophet, but what catapulted the incident to the front pages was that the victims were the relatives of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Even worse, the saviour of magical Britain was missing, as no trace of the boy had been found when aurors went to the scene of the crime.

The public was, understandably, outraged and up-in-arms. As the newspaper reported over the next couple of days, howlers flooded the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts, screaming with all kinds of colourful profanity at Minister Bagnold and Hogwarts headmaster Dumbledore for their major fuck-up in keeping their saviour safe. Bagnold had shut herself up in her office, and Dumbledore, for once, had no answer to the growing questions against him about Harry’s safety or whereabouts.

The furore would last a good month, and by the time it had receded, Bagnold had been kicked out of office through a vote of no-confidence and Dumbledore had lost his position as Chief Warlock by a unanimous decision by the Wizengamot. An interim minister was appointed until an election could take place. In the end, Cornelius Fudge won and was sworn in as Minister of Magic in 1986. 

Beyond that though, the public gradually came to accept that the Boy-Who-Lived was truly gone. Dead or not no one could say for sure, but it became the general consensus that Harry Potter had ceased to exist. People eventually stopped asking questions, and a new normal settled over magical Britain.

Dumbledore, of course, was worried. He was the only person in the entire country who knew that You-Know-Who was not permanently destroyed back in 1981. But with the only weapon who could square up against the mass-murderer missing and presumed dead by the Wizengamot, Dumbledore feared that You-Know-Who and his followers would take advantage of the vacuum to attempt another take-over or wreak more havoc. 

Five stagnant years would eventually pass. There were no attacks, or indication that You-Know-Who was rising again. Dumbledore never ceased in his search for the Boy-Who-Lived, but nothing came to fruition. Not even the Hogwarts Register wrote Harry Potter’s name on the school envelopes in August 1991. It was a sombre period for Dumbledore and his staff, as the letter bearing Zhang Chun’s name flew out of Hogwarts by the talons of an owl.

The first of September, 1991 was a busy day for the Zhangs. The family had sat down for a big breakfast, a mix of Chinese, Cantonese and British fare, before they all trooped down to Kings Cross to see the children off to Hogwarts.

Chun was elated and excited. It had been a lonely year the year before when Qiu went off to Hogwarts. While he still had his parents and grandparents, a hole had found its way into his heart with his sister’s absence. Now, it was his turn to travel up north, and his sister would be in the same castle as he was. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he might be sorted into Ravenclaw just like Qiu.

The family arrived at King’s Cross half an hour before the Hogwarts Express was due to depart. After crossing the barrier into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Qiu broke off to meet with her friend, Marietta Edgecombe, who was also in Ravenclaw, while Chun stopped to marvel at the impressive red-painted locomotive waiting at the platform before him. 

Qiu returned with Marietta a short time later, and was introduced to Chun. Before they boarded the Express, both children hugged their loved ones and shared emotional farewells, with promises of studying smart and for Qiu, to do her best in Quidditch try-outs this year. 

Chun, Marietta and Qiu came on board and searched for an empty compartment. Qiu and Marietta talked, while Chun busied himself with some reading when they finally found one. Marietta then got up to use the bathroom, leaving the Zhang siblings alone.

“Qiu?”

“Yeah?”

“Does it matter which house I get Sorted into?”

“It won’t,” Qiu replied firmly, wrapping an arm around her younger brother, “I won’t think any less of you, nor will our family. I don’t care if you end up in, say, Gryffindor or Slytherin. Remember what Mama told us before we boarded?”

“Not every snake is bad, and not every lion is good.”

“Precisely, you’ll be okay.”

Chun grinned, and returned to his book just as Marietta came back from the bathroom. A few minutes later, there came a long, drawn-out whistle. The Hogwarts Express was departing. 

The Zhang siblings and Marietta went to the window, waving to their respective families as the train slowly chugged out of the platform. Jung Lei was holding Li Huang, the latter keeping back tears as she saw her two precious children off. Chun made sure to wave extra hard as a nonverbal assurance that he will be fine. The platform was soon left behind, as the Express gathered speed in its journey up north.

The next hour would pass peacefully. Marietta engaged in some conversation with Chun, but primarily kept her interactions with Qiu. Chun would spend that hour reading, and occasionally adding in an input or two every once in a while.

The compartment had entered into a quiet lull where everyone just sat back and enjoyed the view outside the window, when someone came knocking at the door.

“Excuse me, may I sit here? I need to get away from my sister.”

At the doorway stood an Indian girl with dark brown skin and long, black hair tied into a braid with her trunk at her feet. She had both a hopeful and exasperated look to her pretty features.

“Sure, make yourself at home,” Chun nodded.

“Thank you,” the girl literally sagged with relief, slipping into the compartment and sliding the door shut behind her. She sat down on the seat with a loud sigh.

“I’m Padma Patil,” she offered a hand to Chun.

“Zhang Chun,” he replied, shaking her hand, “You don’t get along with your sister?”

“Oh, we do get along,” Padma reassured, “It’s just that she is so talkative! She found a kindred spirit in some girl called Lavender Brown, and they’ve been talking nonstop for the past hour and a half! It’s all boys, makeup, fashion and gossip! I had to get out of there before my mind liquified into sludge and began leaking from my ears.”

“I understand,” Chun nodded, “Anyway, this is my older sister Qiu and her friend Marietta.”

Padma greeted them cordially.

“So Chun, you’re a first-year too?”

“That’s correct, Padma. I’m actually really excited to be going to Hogwarts.”

“Same, as long as I don’t get Sorted into the same house as Parvati,” Padma rolled her eyes affectionately, no real bite to her words, “I’ve lived in the same manor with her for far too long already! I need a break.”

“You two are twins?” Qiu was surprised.

“We are,” Padma nodded, “But personality-wise, we are two very different witches.”

The ice was broken, and conversation picked up from there. Over the next hour or so, they talked about anything that could be talked about, apart from boys, makeup and fashion. 

“So I heard that Harry Potter was supposed to be coming to Hogwarts with us,” Padma remarked, “Do you think that he’ll actually show up?”

Now here, Chun had to be careful with his words. It was no secret in the Zhang family that he was previously Harry Potter before the blood adoption. However, one thing his parents have constantly drilled into him was to never tell anyone he didn’t have complete trust in that he was actually Harry Potter. Even though Padma seemed to be a very nice girl, she was only an acquaintance right now. Perhaps, if possible, he would tell her the truth sometime in the future.

“Who knows, Padma? He hasn’t been found since his relatives were murdered. He might not even be in Britain anymore for all we know.”

“That’s true,” Padma nodded in assent, “I guess we’ll find out later in the Sorting then?”

“Pretty much.”

From there, the conversation shifted away from the Boy-Who-Lived towards what they expected of Hogwarts. Padma had a chuckle when she recounted how a redheaded boy had said that the Sorting would involve wrestling a troll. Qiu sorted the matter out by saying that a magical hat would decide which house they would go to. Padma briefly wondered where the troll-wrestling idea came from, but brushed it aside as some made-up joke to scare the first-years.

The rest of the journey passed in relative peace. There were brief, but multiple occasions where “Harry Potter mania” had spread, with many peeking into the Zhangs’ compartment asking about the Boy-Who-Lived. There was one outlier in the form of a bushy-haired girl who asked if anyone of them had seen a toad that belonged to a Neville Longbottom. Neither had, so the girl went on her way. 

An announcement over a crackly speaker notified the passengers that the Express was nearing Hogsmeade station. The Zhangs and Marietta left the compartment to let Padma change into her school robes, who then left to allow Chun to do the same. The Express pulled up into the platform with a great hiss of steam. The doors opened, and the students all trickled out. 

It was already nightfall, and the lanterns barely provided enough light to see. 

“Padma, do you mind if I held your hand?” asked Chun, “I don’t want you to get lost.”

“Sure, that’s very thoughtful of you, Chun.”

The two acquaintances held each other firmly as they followed Qiu and Marietta towards what appeared to be horseless carriages. However, before they could go far, a loud, booming voice echoed through the babbling of students.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years! All firs’ years to me!”

There, holding a lantern, was a giant of a man with a large beard.

“Chun, you’re supposed to go to Hagrid,” said Qiu, “I’ll see you at the Welcoming Feast.”

“Alright, see you soon.”

Qiu waved, before separating with Marietta and heading off towards the carriages.

“Was that Mandarin you spoke?” asked Padma curiously.

“Yep,” Chun nodded, “Come on, let’s go to Hagrid.”

The pair went up to the half-giant, and waited for further instruction. A few more first-years came up after them, and soon, a sizable crowd had gathered before Hagrid.

Chun noticed that the half-giant seemed to be looking for someone, and for a brief second, a pained look flashed across his face. He composed himself, and turned to the first-years before him, “Ev’ryone here? Follow me then. And mind th’ ground!”

Hagrid led the students down a dark, muddy path through the trees. Once again, Chun had taken Padma’s hand into his own, especially when the ground became particularly slippery.

“Why couldn’t they make proper paths, or even railings for that matter?” Padma wondered as she saw a student slip. 

“Because wizards lack common sense,” Chun replied.

After much slipping and sliding, the ground finally evened out. A few paces ahead was the edge of a large body of water. Nothing could be seen beyond a few feet because of the thick blanket of mist that shrouded the beyond like a veil. At the water’s edge, were dozens of small wooden boats.

“No mor’ th’n four to a boat!”

There was a great rush amongst the first-years to get to the boat. Chun and Padma followed at a more sedate pace, taking the last boat that was available to them. Chun helped Padma board first, before boarding himself.

Hagrid had a boat all to himself, “Forwards!”

With a great rumble, the boats took off into the water. The mist seemed to envelope them all as they entered, and for several moments, all Chun and Padma could see was condensed water vapour. But slowly, the mist evaporated, and the sight that appeared before them took their breath away.

Chun had seen pictures of Hogwarts castle in books, but never in real life. Against the backdrop of the starry night sky, the castle loomed large, tall and proud over the mountain it was constructed on. It had countless turrets and towers, windows alight from lanterns or candlelight with a soft orange glow. If Muggles could see the castle, it would be described as something right out of a medieval fairy tale.

The first-years were cooing in awe and delight, and while he did find the castle impressive, Chun’s attention was now turned towards the lake the boats were travelling across. Just like the castle, it was large and expansive, the calm surface reflecting the night sky and the silhouette of the trees surrounding it. 

Not bad for a swim, he thought himself.

“Heads down!” Hagrid shouted, snapping Chun out of his musings.

The boats were approaching the cliff-face where a wall of dangling ivy stood in front. Chun and Padma ducked down just as their boat went through the plant veil. The boats came to a stop in what appeared to be a large underground harbour. The students disembarked, Hagrid went up the stone steps and pounded on the door with a large fist.

It opened, and there stood a tall, stern-looking witch dressed in green tartan robes and greying hair tied tightly in a bun.

“The firs’ years are here, Professor McGonagall, but I don’ see ‘im amongst ‘em!”

Chun thought he must have been seeing things, because there was a brief flash of sadness in McGonagall’s no-nonsense eyes. She pulled Hagrid close, “We have expected such a situation, Hagrid. Pull yourself together, and go and join the feast.”

Sniffling loudly, the half-giant nodded, and went inside first. McGonagall sighed softly, before turning to the first-years in her default stern demeanour, “Everyone, follow me.”

The Scottish witch led the group into the Entrance Hall, stopping before a set of large, wooden double doors.

“Good evening to you all, first-years, and welcome to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. In a short moment we will be entering the Great Hall where you will be sorted into your respective houses. In Hogwarts, we have four houses, namely Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. As students, your house will be your family. Your triumphs here will earn you house-points, and any transgressions will cost you points. The house at the end of the school year with the most points wins the House Cup. Now, wait here, the Sorting ceremony will begin shortly.”

Casting one last look among the nervous first-years, McGonagall slipped into the Great Hall, the doors clicking shut loudly behind her.

Conversation quickly picked up from there.

“I wonder if she ever smiled,” Chun remarked.

“I’m sure she can, she just doesn’t seem like the kind to do it often though,” Padma replied.

“Did you see that pathetic oaf? He looked ready to cry because his golden ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ isn’t at Hogwarts!” came a nasally, grating voice that effectively interrupted all conversation, “I mean, he should have accepted that long ago! Everyone knows that Harry Potter was killed off alongside those filthy Muggles that he was forced to live with!”

Chun frowned, “Who is that?”

“Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” Padma sneered quietly, “The literal definition of a spoiled brat. And as Dark as his family has been for generations. His father was part of You-Know-Who’s inner circle, but pleaded the Imperius defence and got off scot-free. A nasty piece of work, to say the least.”

Chun knew right away that he would have nothing to do with Malfoy.

“Shut your trap you slimy snake!” came another loud voice, this time from a gangly redhead, “Harry Potter isn’t dead! There is no proof!”

“Well, then where is he, Weasley?” Malfoy sneered, “Has your beloved Dumbledore managed to find him this past six years? Grow some brains, will you? Everyone knows that dead children don’t come to Hogwarts!”

Whatever burgeoning argument that threatened to explode was interrupted by a parade of dozens of ghosts. They swooped overhead, commenting about this year’s fresh crop of students. Some, like a jolly-looking Friar, waved to the students, and Chun waved back as a polite gesture. 

Finally, the last ghost disappeared into the Great Hall, and McGonagall returned.

“Everyone, form two lines and follow me.”

Once in formation (Chun and Padma found themselves in the middle), McGonagall opened the doors wide, and led the first-years into the Great Hall.

Chun was once again impressed by the magic of Hogwarts. The hall was immense, and there were thousands of floating candles that lit up the hall with a bright glow. The ceiling couldn’t be seen, instead replaced by what looked like the night sky. Chun overheard someone saying that they’ve read about the enchanted ceiling from the book ‘Hogwarts, A History’. 

The entire school, students and teachers alike, watched McGonagall lead her charges to a raised platform with a stool in the middle. An old, dusty wizard’s hat sat atop the stool, slumped over slightly.

Chun already knew how the Sorting was going to play out, but even he was taken by surprise when the hat formed a mouth and sang its traditional song for the entire school to hear. Like everyone else, he clapped politely when the Hat had finished. 

McGonagall produced a scroll and read the first name on the list, “Abbott, Hannah!”

The time taken to sort the students was extremely varied. For some, like Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones, it only took the hat about thirty seconds or so to come to a decision. Both went to Hufflepuff for that matter. Malfoy barely had the hat on his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”. For others, however, the decision-making took substantially longer. The bushy-haired girl Chun briefly saw on the Express, Hermione Granger, sat on the stool for a minute and a half before the hat sent her off to Gryffindor. Neville Longbottom took even longer, about five minutes in total before the hat finally made its decision to send him to Gryffindor too. When McGonagall started with names beginning with a ‘P’, the Hall seemed to hold its breath. Padma was sorted into Ravenclaw, and just as she had predicted on the train, her twin sister Parvati went to Gryffindor. The last of the Ps went, and the tension in the air drained away. Chun guessed that the consensus that Harry Potter was truly not coming to Hogwarts was spreading, if a smug Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin table was any indication.

As it was, Chun was the last of the first-years to be Sorted. When McGonagall called his name, he stepped forward, and sat down on the stool. The hat was then placed over his head.

Interesting...interesting...where should I pu-

Chun raised an eyebrow.

Dear Merlin...it can’t be. Harry Potter, after so many years, you have finally returned.

Chun stiffened, ‘Can anyone hear you? I don’t want anyone to know.’

You need not worry, Harry Potter. No one can hear me except for you. But, if you don’t mind an old hat’s curiosity, what happened to you?

‘Blood adoption. You sorted my older sister Qiu into Ravenclaw last year.’

Yes, I did. Now...where to put you…

The Hat spent a few moments mumbling incoherently to itself. 

You have plenty of courage, and loyalty to those you hold dear. And you have a natural willingness to learn and explore new things…

‘If it helps, put me in the house where I will be the most comfortable.’

If that is what you want. Take care, Harry Potter. Better be “RAVENCLAW!”

The hall clapped politely, the house of ravens the loudest. The hat was taken off, and Chun hurried down to the Ravenclaw table. Padma was sitting next Qiu, and quickly scooted off to allow Chun to take the spot where she previously sat.

“You were there for quite a while, everything okay?”

“Peachy, Padma. And besides, I don’t think I took that long. At least, not as long as Longbottom anyway.”

The Indian witch nodded. Chun felt his sister pull him into a side-hug, “Welcome to Ravenclaw, little brother.”

“Thanks, Qiu.”

At the head table, Dumbledore stood up. Just like McGonagall, a brief flash of sadness swept across the headmaster’s face, before he put on a charm offensive, “A warm welcome to our new first-year students, and a hearty welcome back to our returning students! Before we begin with the Welcoming Feast, let me just say a few words before we all satisfy our hungry stomachs. Nitflick, Tweeter, Hacehook and Linstogam! Thank you!”

More applause, and across all the tables, food appeared in large bowls or platters.

Chun helped himself heartily, while answering any questions from his fellow Ravens the best that he could. He maintained continuous conversation with Qiu and Padma, and when dessert came, he busied himself with three slices of treacle tart. 

Finally, the food and drink disappeared. Dumbledore stood up again and made a series of announcements. Chun immediately grew wary about the warning of not to enter the third-floor corridor unless the person wanted to die horribly and painfully. While he knew for sure that he wasn’t going anywhere near that corridor, who was to stop others from doing so? Was there going to be some kind of guard or defence mechanism to keep away the curious?

“Honestly, Dumbledore’s warning is only going to serve as an invitation for adventurers,” Padma mirrored his thoughts, “How many people do you think are going to be carried away in shrouds, Chun?”

“Can’t say for sure, but I’m probably going to guess at least one,” he replied.

Then, Dumbledore led the entire hall through the school song. A minute later, Chun finally removed his hands from his ears.

“What kind of ear-rape is that?”

Padma patted his back, “It would be better if Hogwarts had a choir and led everyone on a standardised tune, but oh well.”

A pair of redheaded twins at the Gryffindor table were still singing along to an extremely slow funeral march. When they finally finished, the entire school clapped for them. Chun did so out of politeness.

They were all dismissed, and the prefects were then sent to bring the first-years to their respective house common rooms. Chun and Padma followed fifth-year Penelope Clearwater out of the Great Hall up to Ravenclaw Tower. She explained that the knocker would only grant them entry if they solved a riddle that it asked. Get it wrong and they will be locked out.

As it was, the knocker had a riddle ready.

“ I am an odd number. Take away a letter and I become even. What number am I?”

“Seven,” Chun replied immediately.

“Correct.” 

The door unlocked and swung open. Penelope led the first-years into the common room - a large, circular room with a domed ceiling painted with stars twinkling in the night sky. A midnight-blue carpet covered the floor, and the arched windows circulating the walls were draped with matching curtains. Bookshelves dotted the walls, with another room off from the main common area where more bookshelves were housed.

Chun decided that he quite liked it.

“Now, boys’ rooms are up that staircase, and girls’ rooms are up that other one,” Penelope pointed out to the first-years, “You will each have your own room, because unlike Gryffindor or Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff value privacy. Your room will be marked by your nameplate on the door. The bathrooms are down those flights of stairs, boys that side, and girls the other. If you have any questions or require assistance, feel free to approach myself or any of the upper-years. You’re free to do whatever, but remember that curfew is in about another hour and a half.”

From there, the first-years disbanded.

“Are you going to check out your room, Padma?” asked Chun.

“Yep,” she replied, “I want to get used to it before I prepare to go to sleep.”

“Same, I guess I’ll see you in the morning then?”

“Sure thing, goodnight Chun.”

“Goodnight, Padma.”

The two acquaintances went their separate ways up the staircases. Down a corridor, Chun found his room about halfway down. Stepping inside, his magical presence automatically lit up the lantern hanging from the ceiling, allowing him to see his room properly.

It was basic, but homely. At one end, a four-poster bed with blue drapes and sheets. Across from the bed, stood a simple desk and chair. Next to Chun near the doorway, was a dresser for clothes. His trunk sat at the foot of the bed.

Chun quite liked it, to be honest.

‘Alright, time to get ready for bed,’ he thought to himself, ‘I need to get up early tomorrow. Hopefully the lake isn’t too cold for a swim.’

To Be Continued.