Dragonseed I - The Serpent's Head

DRAGON SEED I - The Serpent's Head

Chapter One - The Sorting Hat

I hate the Hogwarts Sorting Hat. It ruined my life. In a few short words, in just a few moments, it ruined my life. Not that it caused the problem in the first place, but I can't help but give it the blame.

Until I started school at Hogwarts at the age of eleven and a half I knew exactly who I was and I was happy. But it was all a lie and the Sorting Hat shattered my illusions of reality.

My name is James Sirius Tonks Weasley, son of Nymphadora Tonks, Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and adopted son of Charles Weasley, Care of Magical Creatures teacher. I have a half-sister called Judy and a half-brother called John.

No one but Grandma Tonks calls Mum Nymphadora. No one else would dare. Grandpa Tonks calls her Dora, the students call her Professor Tonks, the Weasley cousins call her Auntie Tonks and every body else, except her kids of course, calls her Tonks, including Dad.

I was told that my birth father was a Muggle, but I never knew him. Mum and Dad married when I was very young, so Charlie Weasley is the only Dad I have ever known.

For most of my life I lived in the teachers' quarters at Hogwarts. My mother used to be an Auror, but shortly after I was born decided to accept the teaching position. She did not think that motherhood and Auror duties were a good mix. Pity about that. I used to think it would be so cool if she was still an Auror. Dad used to work with dragons, which would have been even cooler, but he had given that up before I was even born.

So I was stuck with two teachers for parents. How boring. Although some of the creatures Dad looked after could be quite interesting, they were never as interesting as dragons.

Life growing up at Hogwarts was quite uneventful. The year before I was born the most powerful dark wizard of the twentieth century, Voldemort, had been defeated by Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. So the magical world of my childhood was one of peace and healing. Hogwarts especially remained a bastion of learning and serenity, punctuated by the normal minor disturbances invariably created when you take a horde of teenagers with half-developed magic abilities and throw them together in a boarding school environment.

As children we were sheltered from most of this, of course. We had a fairly free run of Hogwarts castle and grounds, but we learned early what our restrictions were and were careful to be seen observing them.

We were not the only family growing up at Hogwarts. My Aunt Fleur was Charms teacher, so it was easier for Uncle Bill, Aunt Fleur and their children to live at Hogwarts while Uncle Bill Apparated to his job as head of the curse-breaking department at Gringotts Bank.

Marcus, Matthew and Morgan were of an age with me, Judy and John. Pretty much. I was always happy to make a point of the fact that I was a week older than Marcus and hence the oldest Weasley child in residence, when it suited me. But more often than not Marcus and I shared the leadership role between us.

When the adults were busy with their work, the job of keeping track of six active children fell to the house elves called Dobby and Winky. All my life Dobby has been there, watching out for me, telling me off if I do something wrong, and caring for my every need. That's what a good house elf does.

There are many house elves at Hogwarts but, aside from the fact that they look after us, Dobby and Winky are special. They wear clothes. At some stage long before my time they were freed by their masters and ended up at Hogwarts. Then for their sins they got stuck with us.

I think Dobby likes me best. I used to think it was because I am the oldest, but now I believe there may be other reasons.

I can easily recall how nervous I was that summer waiting for my first Hogwarts letter. What if, despite all the evidence to the contrary, I was really a squib and did not get a letter at all? I worried myself sick, unnecessarily of course. My parents' quiet confidence in me was justified and the letter came. I was over the moon.

Finally I was going to be a Hogwarts student, no longer just a child. I would move into one of the houses and learn how to be a real wizard and finally I would be allowed to use The Library. I had been in there, but only teachers, students and adults with special permissions were allowed to access the books therein. To me it is sacred ground. The main repository of hundreds and thousands of years of wizardry and magical knowledge. Even as a child I believed that knowledge was power and I longed for the day I could make it mine.

I was so excited on that trip to Diagon Alley to get my first school supplies, my Hogwarts robes and, most importantly, my wand. The focus and symbol of a wizard's magical power. I now consider the singular experience of getting my wand to be yet another piece of the puzzle.

I had never been in Ollivander's before. There had never been any need. Unlike the other shops there were no bright displays of product, artfully arranged to catch the eye. In Ollivander's there was just the counter, a chair and boxes and boxes containing wands stacked in shelves from ceiling to floor along two walls. I could almost feel the magical essence of so many wands together.

I took the first wand offered eagerly. Nothing happened. I was so disappointed. That was nothing to how I felt eleven wands later, when still nothing had happened. Even Mum was frowning at the lack of response from any of these wands.

But Mr. Ollivander just nodded and sighed and turned once more to the box-lined walls. He glanced back at me quickly. "I wonder..." he said, half to himself, as he selected the thirteenth box. He opened it with something approaching reverence, and handed it to me. "Try this one, Mr. Tonks." I took the wand, almost expecting nothing to happen, but the minute I touched it, I could feel it warm and pulsing, almost alive in my hand. Without being asked I lifted it upwards and swept it sideways, leaving a shower of red and gold sparks and a sound like music floating through the air.

"Ten inches, holly and Phoenix feather," said Mr. Ollivander. "It's a rare combination. The last one was very special indeed." Then he stopped and looked at me. Really looked hard and intently into my face and I believe he was about to say something else. But at this point Mum stood up and asked him the price. We had paid for the wand and she had hurried me out of the shop before I had a chance to inquire what he had seen when he looked at me.

Despite the fact that we lived at Hogwarts, our parents agreed with Marcus and me that to start our first year properly we needed the whole experience. As a result , the First of September found the two of us with our shiny new trunks, Uncle Bill, Nanna Molly and Grandpa & Grandma Tonks making our way through the Muggles at Kings Cross station on our way to platform nine and three-quarters. I had never seen this many Muggles before in my entire life. It was mind-boggling.

I am not sure who was more excited, us or our grandparents. We were the first of the new generation of Weasleys bound for Hogwarts and this was A Big Deal. Nanna Molly had given us each an owl of our own as a present and the cages sat on top of our trunks.

Marcus and I were still arguing about who should go through the barrier first, so I pulled seniority and, much to my amazement, the adults backed me up. This annoyed Marcus immensely and as I turned to head for the barrier I could see that ugly pissed off look on his face. He gets quite nasty when upset so I knew I had better get out of the way smartly or he would come through on top of me. I charged at the barrier quickly and promptly ploughed my trolley into the back of a stocky fair-haired boy about my age standing still on the other side.

"Sorry," I said, as I helped him up, "but that's really not a good place to stop. We'd better move out of the way or you'll get knocked over again when my cousin comes through."

"I couldn't help it," he said, grinning as we pushed our trolleys out of the way. He waved his arms towards the crowds on the platform and the Hogwarts Express. "This is amazing. I was told of course, but to see it..." He shook his head.

"You're Muggle-born then," I said with an acute grasp of the obvious, which thankfully he did not seem to mind.

"Yes. Brian Cooper." He extended his hand, which I shook.

"James Tonks-Weasley," I said as Marcus suddenly materialized, moving extremely quickly. "And that silver topped streak is why I suggested you move." Marcus came to a halt a couple of metres past us and turned. Upon seeing me talking to someone new he came back towards us with an inquiring expression on his face. "My cousin, Marcus Weasley."

The adults had followed through the barrier at a more respectable pace and accompanied the three of us to the train where I was acutely embarrassed by the emotions expressed by both grandmothers, especially in front of Brian. But eventually they let us go and we quickly found an empty compartment and settled in.

Just as the train started moving another boy entered, looking rather nervous. He was fairly tall and skinny with dark auburn hair. "Er, are you all first years?" When we answered in the affirmative he let out a sigh of relief and sank down into the empty seat. "I just didn't feel comfortable sitting with my brother and his friends. They were telling all sorts of horror stories about the Sorting."

Marcus sniggered. "It is just a hat that checks out your personality. Nothing to worry about."

"How do you know?"

"My mum's a teacher."

An expression of realization crossed the new boy's face. "So you must be one of the Weasleys?"

"Guilty as charged. Marcus Weasley at your service." He waved his hand at me and Brian. "The one with black hair and an idiotic expression on his face is my cousin James and this is Brian. He's Muggle-born."

At this the other boy almost sprang out of his seat. "So he's a Mud-- er, sorry." He could obviously see our expressions of distaste at the word he had started to say.

"Yes," I said, scowling fiercely at him. "No big deal about that, is there?"

The boy's eyes flitted nervously from face to face. "No, of course not. I'm Stephen Grey. Sorry if I caused offense."

At this apology we all relaxed. The trip to Hogwarts was a great success. We spent quite some time teaching Brian the intricacies of Exploding Snap and then nearly made ourselves sick on Chocolate Frogs. Then Brian told us a whole heap of Muggle jokes. Some of them we didn't get, but most of them were really funny.

It was dark when we reached Hogsmeade, but as soon as we stepped out of the train I could see Dad standing at the end of the platform with the lantern. "First years over here," he called, using the Weasley 'make yourself heard at the other end of a Quidditch pitch without the use of Sonorous' voice, which Uncle Fred once tried to make me believe was copyright.

I led the other three boys over to him and we joined the crowd of children gathering there. "The first fruits of the 'post-Voldemort' generation" is what Grandpa calls the children born in our year. It was a small group. Only thirty-six of us.

Dad led us down to the lake where ten small boats were moored. The four of us took a boat together and once everyone was seated the boats started moving under their own magical propulsion. Apart from the Keeper of the Keys, everyone only ever gets to see Hogwarts this way once. And it is a truly awesome experience. I think I held my breath the whole way.

The night we crossed the lake was a warm, still night. The myriad of lights shining from the castle windows were reflected mirror-perfect in the surface of the lake. As the boats sliced through the reflections they flickered and twinkled like stars captured in the surface of the water. The full bulk of Hogwarts castle gradually loomed up over us, blocking out the sky.

Dad led us up the stairs from the landing into the entrance hall. Waiting to meet us was Professor Lupin, Deputy Headmaster and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Oh, and also resident werewolf. Werewolves in general still have few rights in our society, but Professor Lupin is an exception. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and a hero of the final defeat of Voldemort, so he is treated differently, like a normal wizard, and no-one dares complain.

He gave the customary welcome speech and then led us into the Great Hall. It was packed to the brim with students and I felt suddenly very nervous.

I really wanted to be in Gryffindor because that was where the Weasleys always went and I wanted to be with Marcus, but I wasn't really a Weasley. Mum and Grandpa had been Gryffindor, but Grandma was Ravenclaw and with my love of books and learning that was a high probability, but what about inherited personality traits from my Muggle father's side? That could complicate things.

I was so preoccupied with my own inner turmoil that I did not hear the Sorting Hat's song. I only came back to reality when I heard Professor Lupin's voice call a name I knew. "Brian Cooper."

I looked up as Brian disappeared under the Hat, which quickly said, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Then a couple of minutes later Stephen Grey was sorted into Slytherin.

My pulse was racing and my nerves singing by the time I heard my name.

"James Tonks-Weasley."

I took a deep breath, walked up to the stool, picked up the Hat, sat down and put it on.

"Tonks- Weasley, that's not what I see," said the Hat. "There is a little cunning, but not much, your loyalty is always earned, you love learning but, like your mother before you, that is less important than courage. Your parents were both brave and courageous people. Absolutely has to be, GRYFFINDOR!"

I could not believe it. As I took the Hat off my mind was in total confusion. Yes, I was happy to be in Gryffindor, but what did the Hat mean by my parents? My father was a Muggle, wasn't he? The Hat couldn't know anything about him.

I sat down just as Professor Lupin called out, "Marcus Weasley." This at least was one consoling thought. We could discuss what the Hat said in our dorm tonight and Marcus would help me make some sense of it.

Then the Hat said, "SLYTHERIN!"

As Marcus's face emerged from under the Hat I could see the look of shock and confusion on his face. Never before had a Weasley been sorted into Slytherin and that was shock enough, but I could tell, with the ease borne of lifelong familiarity, that it was more than that. What had the Hat said to him? I caught his eye for a moment as he walked slowly over to the other side of the room. I raised my eyebrow and gave a slight nod, which he returned. Sooner or later we would have to get together and try and make some sense of it.

As everyone around me settled down to enjoy the sumptuous welcoming feast, I sat there eating automatically as I started to work on my problem logically. My mum had told me that my birth father was a Muggle. The Sorting Hat talked of my parents, plural, as if it knew them both. So if the Sorting Hat had seen my father, my father therefore had to be a wizard. Two possibilities remained - either the Sorting Hat had no idea what it was saying and got it wrong, or my mother had lied to me.

I hate the Sorting Hat. I wonder if it is susceptible to 'Incendio'?