Quirks in Wizarding World

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- Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle -

- September 1,1991 -

Arthav took his seat at the Ravenclaw table, feeling the warmth of quiet curiosity around him. The initial attention he had drawn slowly faded as the Sorting Ceremony continued, but a few gazes lingered longer.

Professor Dumbledore, ever the watchful headmaster, observed him with interest, though his expression remained as gentle and unreadable as ever. He soon shifted his focus back to the sorting, the twinkle of curiosity in his eyes never fully fading.

Professor Snape's dark eyes flicked toward him briefly before he lost interest, his attention returning to the proceedings. His disinterest was almost immediate, as if dismissing Arthav the moment he saw no reason to care.

Professor Quirrell, hunched and nervous, glanced at him in the same fleeting manner before quickly looking away, as if avoiding any unnecessary scrutiny.

Professor Flitwick, however, did not hide his emotions. He beamed, clearly pleased to have a promising student under his house, but soon turned back to the sorting, his approval lingering in his smile.

Arthav had sensed their looks but paid them little mind. He was more interested in the students seated around him.

To his right, a second-year girl with sharp, intelligent eyes and a calm demeanor introduced herself. "Cho Chang," she said with a friendly nod.

"Arthav Nair," he replied with a small smile.

Across from him, Padma Patil, freshly sorted like himself, spoke up. "Finally, someone else from India," she said, looking relieved. "My twin sister, Parvati, just got sorted into Gryffindor."

Arthav nodded. "It's good to know there's someone else with a similar background. Must be strange, being in different houses."

She shrugged. "A little, but we knew it might happen."

Despite being young, Padma already had a refined beauty, with delicate features and striking eyes that reminded Arthav of Samantha, the South Indian actress from his past life. Cho, on the other hand, had an elegant, graceful charm that was impossible to ignore, even at her age. Both girls stood out, their presence commanding attention in their own way.

Beside Padma, three boys leaned in with interest.

"I'm Terry Boot," the first introduced himself.

"Anthony Goldstein," the second added.

"Michael Corner," the last one said.

They all looked at Arthav expectantly, curious about the new addition to their house. His name and features stood out, and they weren't shy about their interest.

"You're Indian, right?" Michael asked. "Your name sounds a bit… different."

"My father is Indian," Arthav explained. "He runs some businesses in India. My mother was British—a witch who studied here in Ravenclaw."

That piece of information intrigued them even more.

"So you're half-blood?" Terry asked.

Arthav nodded. "Yes."

"That's pretty cool," Anthony said, leaning back. "A lot of Ravenclaws come from mixed backgrounds. Makes sense—different perspectives, more to learn from."

Padma gave him an approving look, clearly glad that he wasn't struggling to fit in.

As they continued their conversation, Arthav could feel eyes from the Slytherin table watching him. A few students had turned their heads in his direction, their expressions ranging from mild curiosity to open disapproval.

Some frowned, others whispered to each other, and a few openly scowled. His mention of being half-blood, Indian, and a Ravenclaw had clearly not sat well with them.

But Arthav didn't acknowledge them. He didn't even glance their way.

Instead, he kept talking with the Ravenclaws, effortlessly matching their curiosity with his own. His ease in discussion, his composed demeanor, and the quiet confidence in his voice kept the conversation flowing naturally.

Padma tilted her head slightly, her gaze lingering on Arthav's eyes. The others had noticed them too—deep blue with a faint, star-like shimmer, unlike anything they had seen before.

"Did you get your eyes from your mother?" she asked, curiosity evident in her tone.

Arthav met her gaze, his expression calm as always. "Not exactly," he replied in a measured voice. "Her eyes were brown."

That answer only intrigued them further, but he didn't elaborate, and no one pressed him. There was something about the way he spoke—assured yet reserved—that made it clear he wasn't hiding anything, just choosing his words carefully.

Cho, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. "They look… almost enchanted."

Arthav gave a small smile but said nothing more. The topic shifted as the group settled into an easy conversation, getting to know each other better.

Some of the students from wizarding families shared stories about growing up surrounded by magic. Anthony talked about the small charms his parents used daily, from self-stirring teacups to books that whispered their contents aloud. Terry mentioned how his grandmother's house had a mischievous ghoul that once locked his uncle in a cupboard for an entire afternoon.

Padma, despite her Indian heritage, had been raised in a fully magical household and reminisced about Diwali celebrations where floating lamps and enchanted fireworks lit up the sky. "It's going to be strange celebrating away from home," she admitted.

Arthav listened with interest, contributing where he could, though his childhood had been different. It made him appreciate both perspectives—the wonder of those new to it and the familiarity of those who had grown up with it.

As their talk continued, excitement bubbled among them when the conversation turned to Hogwarts itself.

"We get single rooms, right?" Michael said, grinning. "That's one of the best things about being in Ravenclaw."

Padma nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I heard that only Ravenclaw and Slytherin get individual rooms. The other houses have to share dorms."

Anthony smirked. "Well, it makes sense. Ravenclaws need space to think, and Slytherins… well, they just like their privacy."

"That's going to be amazing," Terry said. "A room all to myself, and enchanted to suit my needs? Definitely something to look forward to."

Arthav found the idea appealing as well. He had always valued solitude when he wanted it, and having a space entirely his own was an unexpected bonus.

The conversation soon turned to their upcoming lessons.

"Trust me, you first years are going to love the Charms lessons," Cho said. "Professor Flitwick is the Head of our House, and he is simply brilliant."

"Yes, but I'm more interested in Potions," Anthony added. "Though Snape teaches it, and he's… well, you saw him."

Arthav remembered Snape's brief glance in his direction before the professor had looked away, already losing interest. He had read enough books and watched enough movies in his past life to know that Snape favored Slytherins. Not to mention, with Harry Potter in Gryffindor this year, he was bound to be even harsher toward Gryffindors and their friends. Still, Snape wasn't completely unreasonable—just difficult.

Padma was more eager about Transfiguration. "Turning one thing into another? That's real magic," she said excitedly. "I hope Professor McGonagall isn't as strict as she looks."

"She is," Cho confirmed, "but she's also fair. She's one of the best teachers here."

Their discussion continued, filled with anticipation and curiosity about the world they were stepping into.

As the last students were sorted and the feast began, Arthav took it all in—the grand hall, the endless food, the lively chatter. He was in a new place, surrounded by new people, but already, it didn't feel so unfamiliar.

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As the last golden plates shimmered clean, the hum of conversation settled when Professor Dumbledore stood from his seat. The twinkle in his eyes remained, but his presence commanded instant attention. The Great Hall, which had been alive with chatter, fell silent as every student turned toward him.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he began, his voice warm yet firm. "Before you all retire to your dormitories, a few words of caution."

His gaze swept across the hall, pausing ever so briefly on the first years before continuing.

"The Forbidden Forest remains just that—forbidden—to all students," he said. "And for those with a particularly adventurous spirit, I must warn you that the corridor on the third floor is strictly off-limits unless you wish to meet a most unfortunate end."

A ripple of unease spread among the students. A few exchanged glances, some whispering in curiosity, but Dumbledore did not elaborate. His message was clear, and his usual air of whimsy made the words all the more unsettling.

"Now, with that out of the way," he continued, his usual warmth returning, "I bid you all a good night."

With a wave of his hand, the torches dimmed slightly, signaling the end of the feast. The Prefects stood, calling for their house's first years to follow.

Arthav joined the Ravenclaw line as Penelope Clearwater, their Prefect, led them out of the Great Hall.

The journey to Ravenclaw Tower was an experience in itself. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows along the towering stone walls, the distant echo of footsteps blending with the occasional movement of staircases shifting above them. Arthav's eyes lingered on the floating steps, noting the precise way they adjusted with an eerie smoothness. The level of magic at play here wasn't just advanced—it was masterful. Whoever had designed this castle had woven enchantments so intricately that they felt alive.

As they climbed, the group listened attentively to Penelope's instructions about the moving staircases and the unpredictability of Hogwarts' layout. When they finally reached the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, they found themselves before a large, arched wooden door with no handle or keyhole.

Penelope turned to them. "Unlike the other houses, Ravenclaw doesn't rely on passwords. Instead, the door asks a question, and you must answer correctly to enter. If you get it wrong, well… you wait until someone else gets it right."

As if responding to her presence, the door's surface rippled slightly, and a calm, knowing voice spoke from within.

"What is the value of wisdom if left unshared?"

A brief silence followed as the first years hesitated, some exchanging uncertain glances.

Arthav, however, answered without hesitation. His voice was even, carrying a quiet certainty.

"It holds no meaning."

The door seemed to consider his response before it swung open smoothly, revealing the Ravenclaw common room beyond.

Penelope glanced at him, a flicker of approval in her eyes. "Well done," she said before stepping inside.

The other first years followed, still absorbing the mysterious nature of their house, but Arthav lingered for a brief moment. The castle had already proven itself to be unlike any place he had ever been. And this was only the first night.

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