Round Robin: Bookbound
“I found myself here,” said Dean bending down slightly to be heard over the din of the entrance hall. “I just zoned out and then here I was.”
The small group huddled together as they queued outside the chamber that led to the hall with the rest of the first years.
“The note on top of the book was rather strange.” Dean looked between Neville’s round face and Daphne’s thin one. “Do you think someone brought us here to make a difference?”
“We can assume it likely,” said Daphne as she impatiently rocked to the tips of her toes to peer over the students to gauge to distance. “Even if it’s not, let’s go ahead and make a difference.”
Dean and Neville caught each other’s eyes and nodded in agreeance.
“About that,” Daphne spoke slowly as if she was still pondering her next words, “what houses are you both aiming for? It’d go well if we are sorted together.”
Dean readily responded. “We should shoot for Ravenclaw. Flitwick is low maintenance, and no one would question us if we were to frequent the library for research.”
“It would be best not to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves,” Neville added helpfully. “I think Ravenclaw could be a good choice.”
“Or-” Dean’s gaze had a faraway look as if he was considering something. “-we could split up and collect information on the other houses. We can see what changes our existence has made and meet up at least once a week at the library to regroup.”
“Good point,” Daphne looked impressed. “Before bringing up the house question, I had wanted to go to Slytherin. Daphne is expected to go to Slytherin and it would draw attention if she goes to Ravenclaw. Same with you Neville,” Daphne’s blue eyes focused on Neville’s serious ones. “Original Neville was expected to be sorted into Gryffindor by his grandmother.”
Neville nodded in assent. “That’s true but we have to be careful. Once we start changing things, we won’t even recognize what’s supposed to happen. The story we knew would stop existing and after that, we’re just guessing.”
McGonagall ushered more students into the chamber, and their organized line began to look more clustered. They crowded the door as if they were going through a bottle neck. The great hall seemed to be having the same dilemma.
They didn’t have long to talk.
Dean, Neville, and Daphne found themselves huddled in a circle just outside the Great Hall as students actively tried to muscle their way through the ever-amassing swarm. Luckily for the trio, the overenthusiastic first years were making the buildup of students take longer to disperse into the Great Hall. Dean scanned the room to ensure no one would listen in on their discussion.
Dean began, “The main players here are Voldemort, Harry, and the Horcruxes. I think we should leave the Death Eaters to the Big Guns. We are in the bodies of 11-year-olds. We need more time to train and become as powerful as we can before we are useful.” He paused for a moment and continued with a glint in his eyes, “I can stick with Ravenclaw and keep tabs on the Horcrux in the Room of Requirement.”
“I’ll be in Gryffindor and keep an eye on the trio,” Neville responded coolly.
Daphne nodded her head, “Agreed.” Her eyes went back and forth from Dean and Neville, then she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “We will have some relative peace for about 4 years. Let's keep things as far as canon until Voldemort's resurrection. By that time, we need to at least master Occlumency. I'll be in Slytherin and keep tabs on Death Eater news and on Snape.”
“We should owl each other the schedules so we can figure out what day of the week to meet up. We should also keep a lookout for any other ‘Travelers’.” Dean suggested.
“Yeah, we will do so. And ‘Travelers’ sounds nice, let's keep this for our group's name.” Daphne smiled, quite pleased with the plan.
‘Trelawney’ took in the atmosphere of the Great Hall. It was one thing to read about enchanted ceilings and floating candles, and quite another to experience them firsthand! Currently the hall was filled with noise from hustling older students, running in all directions, greeting old friends and finding their places along the long tables.
Alinas dreams of exploring Trelawney’s private quarters had been crushed quickly. She had hardly entered the castle and made a beeline for the nearest staircase, when she had been intercepted by her chiding colleagues, accusing her of trying to slip away from her duties.
It seemed Trelawney was resented, not only by the students, but also by her colleagues.
Alina shrugged. It didn’t really matter. She had never been an “it girl”. More like the odd, ostracized girl hanging with the geek boys. In this case, she only saw Trelawney’s lack of popularity as more freedom to operate for herself. She wasn’t here to win a popularity contest.
She steered towards the empty seat at the far right of the high table. She supposed she could just as well pick a seat that would give her a good view of the golden trio, while trying to pick up the names and houses of the suspected time-travelling students during the sorting ceremony.
The end seat had another advantage; she would only have to make small talk with one person beside her. As the seats began to fill, that one person turned out to be Charity Burbage, who joined her with short nod.
‘Trelawney’ was thinking of some neutral topic to discuss. What muggle stuff had been new in 1991? Probably a lot of stuff she would consider ancient by now. She was saved from striking up a conversation by Professor McGonnagall, who entered the hall followed by a winding line of first-year students.
The first-years were led up to where the Sorting Hat sat, with McGonagall having them wait as she stepped up onto the dais. Once the rules of the sorting were explained, Hannah Abbott was the first called up, and she was sorted into Hufflepuff. One by one, each student was sorted as they had in the books, all the way up to "Daphne", who was now next.
"Greengrass, Daphne!" called Professor McGonagall.
That's my cue! thought Daphne as she strode through the Great Hall toward the witch. She wasn't nervous, she wasn't actually an eleven-year-old girl, after all. Okay, maybe a little. The whole situation felt so out-of-this-world that she tried to cloak her insecurities with a facade of confidence.
Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head. Daphne began to mutter inside her mind, Slytherin, please! Slytherin, please!
She startled as a voice echoed in her head. "Hmm... this is new.... You must be a long way from home, and yet you seem to be holding up well enough...."
Daphne felt herself loosen a bit and started to vent. "Yeah, it's been overwhelming, mate. Talk about getting isekai'd right after a 9-to-5 job." Then, contemplating the ethics of the experience, she added, "But hey, are you reading my mind? Dude, that's totally illegal; I didn't give you any consent."
The Sorting Hat replied in a smug tone, "I'm not a person; therefore, you cannot sue me."
"Hmph, fine. I'll just have to sue the founders when we get the shit done," Daphne grumbled. "Hey, can you tell me if you've read the mind of any fellow 'Traveler' before mine?"
"You would be the first," the Hat replied. "And with that earlier comment, it's safe to say Ravenclaw is out of the question."
"No shit, Sherlock," Daphne said in a deadpan voice. She then pressed her case. "I totally need to go to Slytherin. It's the cool gang, my favourite house, and, obviously, Severus Snape is there, who I totally need to save. So sort me out. As Dumbledore said, we choose our house. Now announce it."
The Sorting Hat complied, its voice ringing out across the hall with unenthusiastic flatness, "SLYTHERIN!"
Daphne couldn't help but smirk. "See? It's that simple," she whispered to the Hat.
She walked to the Slytherin table, where students were clapping with polite enthusiasm. An older student wearing a Prefect's badge shook her hand and nudged her toward the other first-year Slytherin girls, Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis. She took her seat and turned her attention to the rest of the Sorting.
Finally, Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the chatter once more.
"Longbottom,Neville!"
Neville walked up to the stool and sat down. If he had actually been 11-years-old he might have felt nervous, but he just felt annoyed. After all, he was just following a plan.
Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. The hat was partially covering his eyes. He rolled his eyes at this and suppressed a sigh. He hated being a child.
''Let’s get this over with… I need to be in Gryffindor.''
A low amused voice talked inside his head, ''Hmm… another one, I see… I can see some resolve, that much is certain…''
''Sure, as long as that puts me in Gryffindor. Look, I didn’t plan to be here, I’m trying to go with the flow.''
''And adapting quickly. Good… you’ll need it.''
The hat suddenly bellowed aloud, ''GRYFFINDOR!''
Applause erupted from the lion’s table.
''Sweet'' Neville bared his teeth in a wide grin, and hoped it looked genuine, as he stood up and handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall. He spotted Harry Potter a few spots behind the front of the line and their eyes locked by accident, he didn’t look like Daniel Racliffe.
Neville kept walking, scanning the Gryffindor table. He spotted familiar faces, or at least faces that matched book descriptions of some of the characters. He also overheard the Weasley twins betting each other on to which house their younger brother, Ron, would be sorted into.
He took a seat in front of Hermione and Seamus, and gave them both a smile. He had decided to play it as close to canon as possible and not draw attention to himself while he worked to uncover how to get out of this mess. The whole adventure seemed fun but he didn’t want to live in the Harry Potter books forever.
He decided that he would keep a watchful eye on the ‘Big Three’ protagonists from his house but keep them at arms length. He remembered that Neville was more of a side character and that suited him just fine. He saw Draco Malfoy being sorted into Slytherin and everyone losing it when Harry Potter was sorted into Gryffindor.
''Thomas, Dean!''
It didn’t take long for Dean to be sorted into Ravenclaw. He made a beeline to his table and bowed his head, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment at how loudly his table cheered. A couple students welcomed him by leaving a gap for him to sit on the wooden bench. The entire end table pointed excitedly to the spot as he neared. Not one to refuse, Dean hurriedly sat himself down, receiving a few claps on the back in greeting before the din of the Great Hall settled down for the next sorter.
Dean craned his neck to see pass the Hufflepuff table to scan for familiar faces in Gryffindor. Very quickly he was able to distinguish the gaggle of gingers in one section of the table, in the midst of it, was the notable dark messy hair of Harry Potter. But that wasn’t who Dean was looking for. After more scanning he found Neville, looking more reserved than any normal 11-year-old would be. He was just simply observing his surroundings. Dean let out a stressed sigh, his shoulders dropping slighting as the muscles he had seemingly tensed since he separated from the other Travelers, relaxed. He had to admit, he found reassurance knowing he wasn’t alone in this and if he somehow made a mess of things they would be able to fix it together.
After the sorting and school song, Dumbledore stood to give his speech and dinner appeared on the table. Throwing etiquette to the wind, Dean inhaled the food like a starved man ignoring the looks and comments he was getting telling him to slow down. There wasn’t any need to be anxious. Knowing the outcome of the books, the next few months would be predictable but there was a constant niggling feeling in the back of his mind that told him their existence alone would dramatically change everything they knew about the future. It felt like any second, Quirrell would interrupt their meal yelling that the troll was in the dungeons or Voldemort deciding early that he would start a war now instead of later. Logically, it didn’t make any sense, but that anxiety spurred him to eat as much as he could before he didn’t get the chance to do it again. It was too peaceful. He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Dean’s stomach loudly complained and twisted in protest.
Aside from the standard announcements Dumbledore would have made during dinner, the evening was largely uneventful. Eventually, the students were led to their respective dormitories, and "Neville", "Dean", and "Daphne" became acquainted with their sleeping situations (the biggest change felt by "Dean" due to his sorting into Ravenclaw).
Apart from the three students, "Trelawney" was the least prepared, as she was only familiar with reading about the student dorms and not so much regarding the professors. It didn't help that Trelawney lived in the castle itself.
‘Trelawney’ had followed the sorting ceremony from her seat at the high table, trying to memorize names and faces. Her focus sharpened when the tingling sensation she had felt at the train flared again, quite surprisingly during the sorting of Neville Longbottom. He seemed rather well-coordinated compared to the clumsy child described in the books. Shouldn’t he have run off with the hat?
How would things unfold if they were already deviating from the original story? She’d need to have a chat with Thomas, Daphne and Neville to find out if they were time-travelers too, preferably sooner than later.
As the students were dismissed, Trelawney got up and let the crowd push her towards the exit. What was she supposed to do now? She glanced around, her attempt at discrete peering doubtlessly foiled by her huge magnifying eyeglasses. She saw the other teachers leave in different directions and took it as a cue.
Her attention was caught by a flash of burgundy-lined robes and an authoritative voice guiding the first-year Gryffindors. Trelawney tailed the group, eavesdropping on the prefect. She presumed her quarters would be adjacent to her classroom in the north tower, which, in turn, should be near the Gryffindor tower.
With a smug smile, Trelawney made it to the seventh floor, now aware of moving staircases, loose steps and other quirks on the way. As the fat lady’s portrait closed behind the Gryffindors, she continued exploring on her own until she found a trapdoor in the ceiling.
She frowned. How was she supposed to get up there? Before she could think of a solution, the hatch opened and a ladder dropped down. Maybe it was spelled to react to her presence? Either way, she was grateful that she didn’t have to deign to ask for help to enter her own quarters.
She climbed the ladder and stepped into a dark classroom. Beyond it she found a rather cozy bedroom with a kitchenette. Her living quarters weren’t big or luxurious, but they would suffice, once she had aired out the sticky smell of old incense.
On the desk in the classroom, she found her teaching schedule and lesson plans, along with a few books, mostly on divination. The title ‘Everyday spells for nitwitted witches’ got her attention. Exactly what she needed to learn a bit of magic!
"Damn it," Daphne grumbled, waking up. Last night had been... something. She checked her surroundings, and yeah, it was official: last night wasn't a dream. She was in a dormitory with the other first-year Slytherin girls. The room was adorned with Slytherin green paint, dark polished wooden furniture, and silver accents. Gotta give it to Slytherin, she thought, amused. They've got class.
After the Sorting, they had endured the cringeworthy Hogwarts school song. If she hadn't read the books, she would have definitely written Dumbledore off as a senile, barmy old man. The feast, however, was something else. She had to consciously stop herself from gorging on the incredible bounty and variety of food. Everything was cooked to perfection, and she immediately made a plan to visit the Hogwarts kitchens as soon as possible for private treats.
The Bloody Baron looked menacing, and thankfully, his presence kept Peeves away. Her gaze drifted up to the staff table, where the professors were eating and chatting, and found herself watching Severus Snape, who was glaring sharply at the figure of one Harry Potter. Oh boy, poor Harry doesn't have the slightest idea what's in store for him. She deliberately avoided eye contact with both Snape and Dumbledore, who were definitely Legilimens, and swore to master Occlumency as soon as possible.
After the feast, they were led to their common room in the dungeons. The password, "Hail Salazar," was so stereotypical she had to roll her eyes. The first-years were then taken to a separate room where Severus Snape gave them a private speech. It was a brief introduction to the House of the Serpent and the legacy of Salazar Slytherin. He spoke about maintaining the dignity of Slytherin, respecting rules, giving their best performance in academics, and upholding Slytherin values: ambition, cunning, resourcefulness, leadership, and determination. He also urged them to treat Slytherin as their family and to stand with their housemates no matter the situation.
After that, he handed out their class schedules, damn, talk about fast work, and bid them goodnight.
She moaned at having to wake up at 6:30 AM. After going through her morning rituals, she went down to breakfast at 7:30 AM. Classes would run from 8 AM through 4:30 PM. She copied her schedule onto a piece of parchment and sent notes to Dean and Neville.
Her first class was Charms with Professor Flitwick, shared with the Ravenclaws. She looked forward to the prospect of finally learning magic and to a further discussion with Dean.
