Harry Potter: Magical Memories

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

What about you, Neville?" I asked politely.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me—he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned—but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced—all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here—they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

"Are you telling me that you call uncle attempted to force the magic out of you via attempted murder?" I asked in a soft, dangerous voice. I tried keeping my emotions under control, and I think I succeeded, for the most part, but I know I couldn't control everything, not when I felt such anger at someone attempting to kill their family in some misguided attempt to force magic out of them. Maybe it was just because of how my relatives had tried to stamp the magic out of me, or maybe it was because of my preconceived notions of how family should behave with each other, but the thought that someone could harm a child for such a mundane reason pissed me off to know end.

The others must have sensed my change in mood, because Neville, Seamus, and Dean all leaned backwards slightly.

"W-Well, it's not like I was hurt or anything," Neville stuttered out, and I realized that I may not have been as successful as keeping the rage out of my voice as I thought. I frowned. It seemed I was slipping.

"Sorry, Neville," I told him, and everyone else, "I didn't mean to frighten you or anything. I just don't like that someone would willingly put you in harms way to try and force magic out of you. That's no way to treat family." I was being honest too. I had always believed that family should be held in the highest regard and treated with love and respect. And while I did not consider the Dursleys to be my family, I did consider Lisa to be my family, and I always tried to treat her well, even if I acted a little distant at times.

"No, it's fine," Neville said. He seemed pleased by my words, almost uncomfortably so. I got the feeling no one had ever stuck up for him before. Hmm... maybe that could be my ticket to gaining his allegiance. "Thank you."

I gave him a friendly smile.

"You're welcome."

Conversation flowed by and I let myself be swept into it. I kept my ears open and listened to everyone else as they spoke, even adding a few comments myself, but my body was pretty much running on auto-pilot. I didn't need to pay full attention to remember everything that went on around me. It was one of the many benefits of having eidetic memory.

I let my eyes scan the other tables, searching for those I felt would make the best allies. Susan and Hannah were sitting next to Sally-Ann Perks and Megan Jones, talking animatedly. Well, Hannah was talking, Susan was listening with a small smile. At the Slytherin table Tracey, Blaise and Daphne were all sitting together. I noticed that while they were sitting with the other first years, they seemed to be a separate entity from most of them. Only Lilith Moon, a dark-haired girl with green eyes, pale skin and a few freckles on her nose seemed to be separate from Draco Malfoy and his ilk like the other three. I got the feeling she was a bit of a loner.

My eyes wandered over the Ravenclaw table. I didn't know anyone in that house, so I couldn't make a well-judged decision on who to ally with from their yet. I studied a few of the first years for a moment, before moving on.

Over at the staff table I could see Albus Dumbledore speaking to Professor McGonagall about something, and Hagrid was drinking from a large cup. I tried to put a name to the faces I could see based on my mother's descriptions in her journal. I recognized Professor's Flitwick and Sprout, the Head of House Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively. My mind could also place the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, but many of the others I did not recognize. They must have come after my parents graduated.

One person I did recognize was Severus Snape. My mother's former best friend. He looked a lot like her journals described him as, only more angry and bitter. His face seemed to be set in a constant sneer, like he had just gotten so used to sneering all the time that it became permanently stuck on his face. He sat next to a man I did not recognize wearing a purple turban.

As if sensing my eyes on him, Snape turned and his sneer seemed to deepen. At the same time I sensed a burst of intense pain in my scar. I ignored it, having felt much worse, and simply let my eyes move away from the greasy-haired man's loathsome gaze and continue studying the other teachers.

The desserts soon disappeared in the same manner as dinner, and Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet again. The hall fell silent, and Harry found himself impressed. Despite looking like a frail old man, he obviously commanded a lot of respect.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

A few people laughed at the declaration. I did not. My eyes narrowed. I wondered if he was being serious, and if so, why was something apparently dangerous enough to cause death even in this school in the first place?

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. I noticed almost immediately that the eyes of the other teacher's had become fixed. Clearly, this was not something they enjoyed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

What followed next was quite possibly the most god awful singing I had ever heard in my life, and when I considered how bad Lisa was at singing, that was truly saying something. I loved the girl like a sister, but by the gods her voice could shatter glass. This was worse, much worse. Everyone singing was doing so to a completely different rhythm, they were all off beat, off key, off tune. It was utterly horrendous, and I was extremely aggravated to know that this memory was going to be branded into my mind for life.

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