Chapter Text
Thomas had found and settled into an empty compartment near the middle of the train. He watched the families say their goodbyes through the window. Students rushed past the compartment, occasionally sticking their heads in but quickly leaving when they saw him. The number of students on the platform steadily decreased until it was just parents and their younger non-school age children. He saw hands sticking out of the windows of other compartments as the train began to make its way out of the station. The door to his compartment opened again and two heads of red hair poked in.
"What do we have here, George?"
"Looks like an ikle little firstie to me, Fred."
"Sitting all on his own—"
"Not a friend in sight—"
"Can't have that now, can we?"
The two spoke in tandem as they let themselves into the compartment and flopped down on the bench across from him. Thomas mourned the prospect of a peaceful train ride.
"Isn't it rude, Fred?"
"What's that, George?"
"To not introduce yourself."
"You're right, it is!"
Thomas interrupted the targeted conversation, "Is it not more rude to discuss someone as if they were not present?"
The twins blinked at him then shared a glance. In sync they straighten their backs, their faces taking on a forced air of dignity.
"We apologize for our transgressions. We—"
"Did not intend to cause any offense with our actions. If you could—"
"Please grace us with your name, sir?"
Thomas barely contained a smile at their antics; twins were always fun, especially if they were attached at the hip. "Thomas Kulig, first year. And you are Fred and George, I assume?" He gestured to the one on the left then the right.
"That's right! Fred—"
"And George Weasley,"
"At your service," They spoke together with a small bow.
"And—" the right one, George.
"You might not believe it but—"
"We're actually—"
"Identical twins," they finished, again in unison.
Thomas put on his best surprised face, "Really? I never would have guessed, thank you for telling me."
The twins shared another look, a longer one this time; an entire conversation passing between them. It was interrupted by the door to the compartment opening again, this time by a dark skinned boy with dreadlocks. "There you two are! You'll never believe what I've got," the boy closes the door behind him, pulling out a box before he notices Thomas. "Already terrorizing the first years are you? Hi, name's Lee Jordan," he said, sticking out a hand.
"Thomas Kulig," he replied. The second he touched the other boy's hand, he felt a shock travel up his arm. He ignored it and continued the handshake; a strong reaction would probably encourage the behavior. Lee looked confused as they released hands and stared down at his own.
"Hey George, shake my hand," Lee said, holding out his hand to the twin.
George grasped Lee's hand and quickly let it go with a small cry, "Ow Lee, what was that for?"
"I was checking if it worked! It didn't on the firstie, I thought it was broken."
"It worked fine on me, I chose to ignore it," Thomas interjected before the two could argue any further. The three older boys looked at him then shared a smile.
"I think we've found our favorite firstie," said Fred.
Hours later found them disembarking the train, the first years filtering themselves out of the crowd. The incredibly large man, Hagrid, was calling for them and directing them to a small fleet of boats. The overhang of the trees obscured the view out of the inlet but the dark lakewater reflected the fading light of the sky. Thomas ended up in a boat with three other boys who appeared to have spent the train ride together. They didn't try to include him in the conversation and he was fine with that.
In unison the fleet of boats glided out of the inlet, revealing the view of a large stone castle silhouette in front of the red-oranges of the sunset. "Welcome to Hogwarts," Hagrid called out across the water. The boats made their way to a set of docks neatly contained in a torch-illuminated cave. The groups of students followed Hagrid up a spiral staircase that exited into a large hallway framed by two sets of massive double doors. "Here're the firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced to the woman standing across from them.
"Yes, thank you," she said. She entered a short speech about the house system and how points are attributed before leading us through the double doors. We walked up another staircase and down a hallway before she instructed us to wait where we were. The moment Professor McGonagall was out of sight there was a commotion between three of the students towards the front of the group. Thomas found it impressive how little time it took for these kids to start a fight but Professor McGonagall returned before it could progress to anything serious.
The professor guided us through another massive set of double doors into an equally massive room. Four long tables sat the entirety of the student body, each table trimmed in a different color. The hall was illuminated by countless floating candles and above them was the sky, streaked with the last rays of the sunset. Professor McGonagall began calling out names, starting with Abbot, Hannah.
The sorting process was boring. The twins had boasted about fighting a troll but it was actually just some threadbare hat. The fact that it held itself together and could announce the destined house was remarkable. The students were sorted one-by-one without much fanfare; one of the girls—Granger?—took longer than everyone else.
"Kulig, Thomas," the professor called. Thomas strode forward and sat on the stool. The hat was placed on his head.
' Oh, well aren't you a different one, eh? ' the hat whispered into his ear. ' It's been some time since I last had someone like you to sort. '
'Reborn, you mean? From one life into another?' He questioned back, not daring to speak out loud.
'Yes, very peculiar. You have previous knowledge of magic but not of this universe. You might do well in Ravenclaw but I think it better be SLYTHERIN!" Before Thomas could ask the hat any questions, a decision had been made and he was shuffled to the table trimmed in green. The sorting continued, Thomas already dreaded sitting through it in future years.
"Potter, Harry," Professor McGonagall called. The hall went quiet before dozens of students started hushed conversations.
Harry took his place on the stool. His sorting lasted longer than most but it wasn't long until the hat announced his place in Gryffindor. The applause that erupted was more glamorous than any previous celebration. Thomas resolved to figure out why such an average boy was so revered by the magical community—without appearing stupid for not knowing.
The sorting continued without fanfare until the last—Zabini, Blaze—was sorted into Slytherin. The Headmaster, a wrinkled old man with long white hair and garishly colored robes, informed the students that in addition to the general restrictions, the third floor corridor was also off limits. He then said four nonsensical words to begin the feast.
Thomas had never seen so much food in this lifetime. Even Before it was food for an army, not some student body at a boarding school. He served himself a small portion of everything, intent on trying it all.
His musings were interrupted by a boy with platinum blond hair practically glued to his scalp with product, "So you're Kulig was it? I haven't heard of you before. You must be the proper sort to be placed in Slytherin though. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
' The house of ambition shows itself already. The 'proper sort' is probably neither muggle nor orphan, best leave those facts out ,' Thomas thought to himself. "Yes, Thomas Kulig. Pleasure to meet you."
He was saved from elaborating by Zabini interjecting, "The Kuligs were an old Polish pureblood family. They fractured some years ago but what's left of the main branch attends Drumstrang."
Satisfied with that answer, Malfoy turned away to boast about his summer to another first year. Thomas made eye contact with Zabini, nodding his thanks, and returned to his meal. He would ask the other boy for resource recommendations regarding pureblood histories; whatever that meant. Passively listening to the conversations of the children near him gave him some idea of how interactions with his year mates would proceed; deliberately polite, backhanded remarks, or thinly veiled trades. Although he was looking forward to the verbal spars, his cohorts were eleven and would need some time before they could keep up, even with the head start on context.
The feast ended with the food vanishing as quickly as it arrived. An older Slytherin girl with dark brown hair approached the group of first years, giving them all a once-over. "My name is Gemma Fawley and I am one of the Slytherin Prefects, you will address me accordingly. Tonight I will show you where classes take place and how to access our house common room. Follow me," her voice held authority and she wasted no time in turning her back on the group and marching out of the Great Hall.
As they walked, Prefect Fawley went over the rules and the house points system. Explained the term schedule, subjects available, extracurricular activities, and sporting events. She showed us where the first years' classrooms were, saying we should learn quickly as the prefects will only guide us for the first week. She went over the Professors' general attitude regarding Slytherins and best strategies for avoiding causing them aggravation. Occasionally as we walked she would point out various landmarks and would encourage us to explore in our own time.
As we returned to the main floor she led us to a small alcove not far from the Great Hall. "This is the fastest way between the Great Hall and our common room. I'll not have you tripping over yourselves tonight, we'll go the long way for now," Fawley announced. Once we had descended another set of stairs she began explaining more Slytherin specific expectations. Power Plays were expected from time to time but remember that we are Slytherins first; the other houses don't need to know about our business. Student mentor groups will be assigned within the month, any problems before that should be fixed individually or brought to a Prefect. Professor Snape is our head of house but employs a rather strict hands-off approach.
Fawley came to a stop in an unremarkable part of the corridor. "I suggest you remember where we are, returning to the common room is entirely your responsibility," she then turned to her left and clearly announced, "Serpent's Scales." The wall in front of her recessed a few inches before gliding seamlessly to the side. "The password changes every fortnight at exactly midnight so make sure you know the new password if you're out when it changes. Not that you should be of course, you'd be breaking curfew," she continued lecturing as we entered the common room.
Placed intentionally around the room were various tables and chairs, the most desirable of which were occupied by the older years and closest to the fire. One wall was lined with books while the adjacent wall housed what looked like student created documents from years past. A large portion of the far wall appeared, at a glance, to be dark-tinted glass. Upon observation was revealed to be a window into the Black Lake with the occasional bioluminescent fish passing into view. Prefect Fawley pointed out a bulletin board where notices would be posted and where the entrances to the boy's and girl's dorms were. She left us with a reminder to meet in the common room at 7AM to be escorted to the Great Hall.
Thomas removed himself from his year mates and made his way down the long hallway to the first year dorms; it was always best to move in first. The boy's hall had four doors on either side—one for each year plus a communal bathroom—with the younger years further from the common room. The door marked with a silver number one revealed a green decorated room that was longer than it was wide. The four-poster beds were evenly spaced across the room with three on the left and two on the right. Thomas identified his trunk in the middle on the three-side and swapped it for Malfoy's on the two-side. Zabini opened through the door as he dropped his trunk into its place. Zabini glanced at the arrangement of the trunks before removing a few items of his own to store in his bedside table. Thomas mentally thanked him, put on his pajamas, and promptly fell asleep.
The first week of classes was largely uneventful. A different prefect lead the first years to classes and as Prefect Fawley had said, we were responsible for returning for breaks and meals. The professors lectured about their course, expectations, and major topics but hadn't assigned any work other than textbook reading; syllabus week was always a favorite. There was only flying lessons with the Gryfindoors then they were free for the weekend.
Thomas should have known the lesson would go wrong when paired with the Gryfindors; maybe that was why Professor Snape had targeted them more during double potions earlier that week. It was hardly fifteen minutes into the lesson before a pudgy Gryffindor boy—Longbottom?—managed to fly into the castle wall and break his arm. Madam Hooch promptly escorted the boy to the hospital wing leaving a group of eleven year olds unsupervised with access to flying devices. Thomas was beginning to see why Snape was so ill-tempered; he would be too, working with these adults.
"Give it here Malfoy," Harry's demand broke him out of his thoughts. Malfoy was holding something, a glass ball?
"No, I don't think I will, Potter," Malfoy shot back, mounting his broom and starting a slow lap around the group.
Inwardly, Thomas cursed his adult sensibilities that prompted him to intervene. "I'm surprised, Malfoy," he called out, making sure he had the other boy's attention before continuing. "That you would resort to petty theft so soon. With how much you brag about your father's influence, I would have thought you could afford to buy what you want."
The crowd was looking at him now. Malfoy stopped his circle to dismount in front of him. "What's it to you, Kulig?" Malfoy spat the words at him.
"Hardly seems worth it, is all. Facing the threat of expulsion for flying unsupervised and theft on top of that? For what? Antagonizing two of your pureblood cohorts?" Thomas kept his face neutral and his stance relaxed, an almost bored tone creeping into his voice. "If that is what you want, I will not interfere, but keep it to your own time. I would rather not be caught in the collateral."
Malfoy's face held a sneer while Thomas spoke. Suddenly, he threw the ball in Potter's direction and shouted "Take this piece of junk, it's as useless as Longbottom anyway." Malfoy stomped his way into the castle, closely followed by his shadows, Crabbe and Goyle.
Harry—who had caught the ball with an impressive display of dexterity—approached him, flagged by Granger and Weasley. "Thanks for that, I didn't expect you to help since," Harry trailed off, gesturing at Thomas's tie.
"It is refreshing that not everyone is an idiot. I thought Slytherin was all bullies too," Granger interjected.
"That is my house you are insulting. Besides, you were ready to step in. What was your plan, fly after him and knock him from his broom? A very Gryfindor action to take," Thomas shot back, annoyed at the clear disdain for his house. He may not have been in it long but he had grown attached to their methods.
"Slytherins are all the same, this one's no different. Let's go," Weasley snapped. He turned and marched away, the other two following quickly.
Overhead, the bell signaling the end of the period sounded throughout the castle. Thomas sighed. Children were terrible creatures to interact with. He could only hope they would grow out of it soon. For now he would head to the library to continue his research on pureblood customs. It was tedious work but necessary to continue blending in with the rest of his house.
He spent the weekend wandering the castle with his magic sense open, taking notes on areas of high magical concentration. So far he had worked out the passage Fawley pointed out, the entrance to the kitchens, and some barrels he thinks the Hufflepuff common room hides. There were a number of tapestries that were stubbornly glued to the wall and several statues of interest; all of their magic felt to be asking a question. Thomas figured they were waiting for a password or a physical gesture; like the common room and the kitchens. Perhaps if he meditated near one it would lead to some answers. That would have to be an endeavor for the next weekend; along with an exploration of the third floor corridor.
Monday morning saw Thomas entering the Great Hall later than his year mates, tired from the weekend's explorations. The moment he passed the threshold, he felt a light weight settle on the top of his head. He paused, reaching up with his left hand to keep his right near his wand. It was a flower crown, made of long stemmed dandelions and shaped like an actual crown. A second or two after he removed it from his head, another appeared in its place. He scanned the Gryffindor table for the suspected culprits and found them watching him with twin smirks, mischief in their eyes. He continued on his way to his seat at the Slytherin table.
“What, in the name of Merlin, is on your head?” Malfoy asked in a scathing tone.
“A flower crown,” Thomas replied, holding out the one in his hand for all to see, “I would offer you one but I suspect your ego is too large to fit.” He gracefully dropped himself into the seat between Zabini and Greengrass and filled his plate.
As if on a seesaw, when Thomas sat down Malfoy stood up. “Watch your mouth, Kulig,” he said with a sneer before stalking out of the Great Hall.
“Kulig,” Greengrass got his attention, her voice had an airy quality, “Could I have one of your flower crowns?” He smiled pleasantly and passed her one. His smile grew more sincere as she placed it neatly atop her head.
It was a common occurrence throughout the day. People would ask why he was wearing a flower crown, he would offer them one and maintain eye contact as a new crown appeared on his head. Most would take the offered crown likely out of shock or embarrassment than anything else. During his lunch break one of the older Ravenclaws asked him to replicate the process several times; even removing a few from his head herself. She walked away deep in thought with at least ten flower crowns. By the time dinner was served, the bright yellow of the dandelion flower crowns were dotted around the Great Hall. Some had even made their way to the heads of Professors Flitwick and Sprout. Thomas wondered if the twins had expected this outcome or were happy with it regardless.
Outside of that incident, the week of classes was as uneventful as the first, however, this week had the addition of homework. The professors began on the basic theory of their subjects and had us practice wand movements and pronunciations separately. In Herbology and Potions the importance of safety and diligence to the instructions was emphasized greatly. The only announcement of note was that first years were now encouraged to try out for the house quidditch teams.
Harry Potter had made the Gryffindor house quidditch team. Malfoy had as well but his position was on the reserve team; the current seventh year rightfully asserting herself. None of that stopped Thomas's plans for his Sunday night and he found himself wandering the dusty third floor corridor past the curfew hour. He was investigating a particularly magical suit of armor when the door to the central staircase opened with a clang. Having no desire to be caught, he stepped behind the suit and squeezed himself into the small space between it and the wall.
Thomas watched as Potter, Weasley, and Granger encountered Mrs. Norris and ran down the corridor in his direction. The trio passed him without notice and disappeared around the corner as Filch appeared next to Mrs. Norris. Thomas held his breath as Filch looked around, speaking a few words to his cat then turning back to the staircases and closing the door behind him. Thomas let out his breath in a heavy sigh, mentally cursing the trio and their habit to attract trouble. He followed after them.
As he rounded the corner he saw a door at the end of the hallway swing shut. Thomas strode forward coming to a stop in the shadows just to the side of the door the trio hid behind. Moments later he heard them scream, bursting into the hallway, and running in the direction they had entered from. ‘ Curiouser and curiouser ,’ Thomas thought, watching them run then looking at the room they exited.
He tried to open the door; it was locked. Thomas removed his wand from his robes and pointed it at the latch. “Alohomora,” he muttered and the door opened with a small click. Thomas opened the door carefully, eyes scanning the floor first. In the middle of the room was what looked like a trap door surrounded by giant… paws? His eyes followed the legs up to a massive body and not one, but three equally large heads. Oh . Thomas maintained eye contact with the middle head as he reached for the door and slowly but firmly closed it between himself and the beast. Perhaps that was enough rule breaking exploration for today.
He made his way back to the central staircases, reaching out with his magic to ask the stairs for the fastest way down. The stairs listened for the most part, only changing his direction once. He entered the dark and empty common room and silently made his way to the first year dorm room. Carefully, he opened the door, and immediately made eye contact with Malfoy.
“Where were you, then?” Malfoy whispered in an accusatory tone.
Thomas quickly grabbed his pajamas, putting them on as he replied “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“It’s my problem if you’re losing us house points.”
Thomas met Malfoy's eyes with a cold stare, “I will manage my own business. I do not need you to insert yourself in it.” He snapped the curtains around his bed shut with a flick of his wrist. Sleep found him easily that night.
The following weeks passed uneventfully. At the end of September the first years were assigned to their mentor group. The notable students in Thomas’s group being seventh year Seeker, Prefect Fawley, and Zabini from his year with two students from each of the other years. Observing the other houses led him to believe Sytherin was the only one to actively assign groups. The Hufflepuffs naturally banded together across year lines; few groups spanning more than three years. The Ravenclaws appeared to have research groups that the first years likely chose to join based on interest in the subject. However, the Gryfindors were the most segregated year-wise. While not impossible there was more interaction outside of meals and breaks, he suspected it didn’t happen. Perhaps it was destined to happen in a house of strong personalities.
His exploration of the castle had continued and he now had marked locations of interest on all the floors. So far his best find was a staircase that connected the ground floor to the second floor corridor. This passage warped space in some way that just fourteen stairs spanned the two floors. The only drawback was a trick step about halfway up the staircase. He was considering drawing an actual map but wanted more secrets revealed; he was sure there were more shortcuts to discover.
It was Friday and he was once again on the dusty third floor corridor; this time to attempt to meditate near one of the magic concentrations. He figured it would be the best place to be undisturbed for his first attempt. Thomas sat on the floor in the middle of the corridor facing the tapestry; legs crossed, back straight, and hands held loosely in his lap. He studied the image on the tapestry. It was a scene depicting a confrontation between a large flying creature and four human figures. He suspected the figures were the founders and the hill in the background the site where Hogwarts would stand. He closed his eyes and reached out.
The magic surrounding the tapestry felt stagnant, as if it hadn’t moved in years. As he reached out to it, the magic almost felt like it was reaching back, trying to guide him somehow. He followed the feeling until he felt something snap into place. The air he breathed in no longer felt like the musty air in the abandoned corridor but took on a fresh quality that was singed with magic. The smooth stone floor beneath him had transformed to the bumpy unevenness of grass. Slowly he began to hear the rhythmic flapping of wings and the muffled shout of a wizard. He opened his eyes to see the scene on the tapestry unfolding in front of him.
The figures shown on the tapestry were indeed the founders of Hogwarts. He was a short distance behind them on their right, just close enough to hear the spells shouted at the beast overhead. He felt the scene shift again and he could hear the four more clearly now. The short witch on the end turned to her companions, “We will not prevail ununited. One, together. Unum, simil,” she called out. The others repeated the phrase and raised their wands together.
He wasn’t sure what happened then. Between one blink and the next he was transported back to the dark and dusty corridor on the third floor. Where he was last sitting cross legged he was now spread eagle on his back, staring up at the cobwebbed marked ceiling. Thomas blinked and his eyes burned and watered at the action. He sat up, feeling cold and stiff, and reached for his wand. A quietly cast tempus told him about three hours had passed since he sat down; it was past curfew. He clambered to his feet, working the stiffness out of his joints. ‘ It’s already after curfew, no harm in figuring out where this leads before heading back ,’ Thomas reasoned to himself.
He raised his wand the way he had seen the founders and clearly said, “Unum, simil.” At first nothing happened, then he felt the magic of the tapestry surge into action. Where the edges had been immoveable from the wall before, they now fluttered against it, almost beckoning him. He peeled the corner away from the wall and stepped into the space it concealed.
For a moment he was completely surrounded by darkness as the tapestry snapped back into place behind him. In front of him four sets of wall sconces illuminated one by one; burning yellow, blue, red, and green. On the right side of the passage portraits of each founder stood; across from them was their house crest. As he walked forward, he could feel the eyes of the founders following his movements. The short passage opened to a large room filled with various odds and ends. From the ceiling hung a chandelier made from a massive skull, likely taken from the flying beast depicted on the tapestry. Every surface was completely covered in dust.
Thomas nodded to himself then turned to make his way back to his common room. Next step is definitely to learn some cleaning spells. He should see if any research has been done on the interaction between such spells and older artifacts. In his dorm room, he grabbed his towel and pajamas and walked back down the boy’s hall to the communal showers. His research so far has given him a solid grasp of the current influential families and cultural practices. The next topic in that vein would be laws surrounding his circumstance. The shower spray doused him in hot water that washed away the grime. He still hadn’t found any mention of a person’s ability to sense external magic, only the flow of one’s own magic. Maybe he was a freak of nature, he didn’t mind, it was working out in his favor. All clean, he stepped out of the shower, drying himself off. If he was observing a person’s magic while they cast a spell, he could replicate it in an attempt or two; unless it was one of the more advanced ones. Thomas was certain that it would be a useful skill, especially once refined. What will be more difficult is avoiding drawing too much attention to himself, being too capable at a young age will cause unwanted attention. All of that could wait, for now he would sleep.