The Greatest Kind of Magic

2. Refugees

"Firs' years! Firs' years and new students, this way!"

Harry grinned and waved as Hagrid ushered the scared-looking eleven-year-olds towards the boats. Hagrid waved back, and called out, "Hi, Harry!" Then he shouted again: "Firs' years and new students, this way!"

Harry noticed the addition to Hagrid's usual call. First years and new students.

"Guess that means me," said Liam with a weak smile. "I'll see you guys later, I guess."

"Hey... good luck," said Harry.

Liam nodded. "Thanks," he said, and turned to follow the light of Hagrid's lamp.

Ron called out after him, "Hope you get into Gryffindor!"

"You shouldn't say that, Ron," chided Hermione as they began to make their way out of Hogsmeade Station. "He should get sorted into the house that best suits him."

"Well... as long as it's not Slytherin..."

Harry snorted at this absurd notion. "A wizard who chose to go to a Muggle school?" he said with a laugh. "No, I don't think he's Slytherin material, do you?"

"Technically, Harry," said Hermione sternly, "Slytherins are chosen because they are cunning and ambitious - not because they hate Muggles."

"Hah! Tell that to the Slytherins," said Ron, rolling his eyes.

They rounded a bend in the road and approached the stagecoaches, which would take them on the last leg of their journey to Hogwarts. The sight of the Thestrals, which drove the coaches, brought to Harry a memory of clinging to the animal's skeletal flanks, rushing through the air with terror gnawing at his stomach...

He pushed the memory away. He didn't like where it led.

For a while, the shock of seeing Liam Grady on the Hogwarts Express had driven away the leaden weight, which had settled in Harry's stomach after that night at the Department of Mysteries. Now his feelings of despair, grief and helplessness threatened to overwhelm him once again, and he desperately wanted to take his mind in a different direction.

"I wonder how Liam will go in class?" he said. "I can't imagine going into sixth year when he's never studied magic..."

Hermione frowned. "I think it is wrong not to train wizards properly."

Harry was a little surprised to hear this from Hermione.

"I thought you'd be all for wizards being allowed to choose?"

"Yeah, Hermione," said Ron, looking as perplexed as Harry felt. "And okay, he's a nutter because he went to a Muggle school, but if that's what he wanted, why should he be forced to learn magic?"

"Because it's dangerous not to," Hermione snapped. "No one should be making things explode at the age of sixteen."

"He said he could control it!"

"I'm not sure I believe him. I mean, I'm sure he thinks he's telling the truth, but I just wonder how much control he really has."

"Still, he seems okay," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's not a bad sort - he was one of the few people who was actually nice to me in primary school."

"I'm not saying he's a bad sort, Harry - though I haven't known him long enough to really know - but I am saying that he could get into serious trouble if he doesn't learn to control his magic properly. And at the age of sixteen, it might be too late."

***

Liam made a surprising discovery as he followed Hagrid and the first-years to the boats: he wasn't the only older student who was new at Hogwarts. Two other figures hung behind the crowd of eleven-year-olds. The younger of the two was a girl called Sylvia Rodney, who was starting third year. Like Liam, she had previously gone to a Muggle school. The other student was going into fifth year. His name was Jeremy Leighton, and he had been taught magic at home by a private tutor.

"My tutor quit because of the war," he said. He did not offer any clearer explanation of his tutor's departure. "And my parents don't trust anyone else to give me a proper education, so I have to come to Hogwarts."

He said this in the same tone other people might use to say, "I have to clean the toilets."

"Well, I am really hopeless at magic," admitted Sylvia. "I'm practically a Squib, which is why my parents thought I'd be better off in a Muggle school. But now they're afraid for me because of the war, so they said I should go here after all." She looked quite miserable at the prospect. "I bet I'm going to be terrible at everything."

Jesus, I thought I had it tough, thought Liam. He was worried about how he would be able to cope with Hogwarts when he had so little magical training behind him - but at least he knew that he had a decent amount of power. He could make things happen - all he had to do was learn the correct spells. This girl not only had to go into third year after going to a Muggle school, but she also had nothing in the way of natural talent. Liam suddenly felt extremely sorry for her, and wanted to say something to make her feel better.

"But you know, not all subjects require you to actually do magic," he told her, trying to sound reassuring. "Some of them are just theory subjects, like History of Magic. And Potions is basically like cooking, as far as I can tell."

"I'm terrible at cooking, too," said Sylvia miserably.

Liam decided to stop talking.

As the boats glided across the lake, Sylvia asked the question that had been plaguing Liam's mind: "Do you know how we get sorted into Houses?"

Liam cursed himself silently for forgetting to ask on the train. Jeremy, however, had not been so idle.

"It's a test," he said with an air of somebody revealing a juicy piece of gossip. "They tell you to do a bit of magic, and you get judged on how well you do it. The best students go into Slytherin, the worst in Hufflepuff."

"I'll be in Hufflepuff," said Sylvia gloomily.

Liam, however, was suspicious. "No way, that doesn't sound right at all. I thought the Houses were supposed to be equal! And that kind of test would be really unfair - Muggle-born students have never done magic before, they'd be at a huge disadvantage!"

"Muggle-borns?" Jeremy snorted. "Well, they're not much good anyway, are they? That's why only pure-bloods make it into Slytherin."

But Liam was having none of it. He was sure now that Jeremy was either lying, or repeating a lie somebody else had told him. "That's bollocks, mate, and you should know better than to believe it - or to try fool other people if you're the one making it up. My sister is pure-blood and she's in Hufflepuff - and let me tell you, she is one hell of a good witch."

Liam did not normally praise Tara, but he was finding Jeremy increasingly annoying. And he felt sorry for Sylvia, who appeared to be getting more miserable by the minute.

"Look, don't worry about it," he told her. "I honestly don't think the test can be that hard. I mean, all first-years have to do it, and some of them have never done any magic before at all! And I don't think any of the Houses is better than any other -they're just different, that's all."

In fact, Liam was nowhere near as confident as he sounded. He wished that he had asked about the Sorting ceremony, and about the Houses. Now his stomach was busily tying itself into knots. He wished he were back at Stonewall. He would be at home now, having dinner with his parents. Afterwards, he would probably settle down on the couch to watch some TV, or go into his room and play his keyboards. Maybe he'd call Jessie and they'd chat for an hour or two - Jess was always eager to talk. He sighed wistfully and looked up at the castle that now loomed above him. It would be more than three months before he'd be able to speak to any of his friends again.

They climbed out of the boats in a dark underground harbour, and followed Hagrid up to the castle's front doors. They were greeted there by a tall, stern-looking witch.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "My name is Professor McGonagall. The Sorting Ceremony will commence shortly. The first years will have their names called out in alphabetical order. The older students will be called after them, in order of age. The oldest student will go last. Is that understood?"

The students nodded nervously. Great, thought Liam. I'm going to have to wait for everybody. Just my luck to have to go last.

"They are ready for you now," announced Professor McGonagall, and led the way into the Great Hall.

For a few seconds, Liam forgot all his fears and misgivings, as he gazed around the Hall in wonder. He took in the four long tables, the floating candles and the enchanted ceiling (a black sky dotted with stars and a pale crescent moon). Then his gaze fell on a three-legged stool, which had been placed at the far end of the Hall, just in front of the staff table. There was hat on the stool. It seemed a rather odd object to be placed in this place of honour. But before Liam could wonder any more about this, a rip opened in the hat's brim, and it began to sing:

"Another year, another lot

Of students big and small

Who have arrived because they heard

Historic Hogwarts' call.

They'll be divided once again

House rivalries will start

And sadly it is still my job

To keep them all apart.

So here is how it always works:

You'll be split into four.

If you are a courageous soul,

You'll be in Gryffindor.

The hardworking and loyal ones

Belong in Hufflepuff

And to be placed in Ravenclaw,

A good mind is enough.

The Slytherins are cunning folk

Ambition is their trait.

These are the Houses of our school,

Now let's decide your fate!

In which House will you find your home?

That's up to me to say.

Now go ahead and put me on.

I haven't got all day!

The Sorting Hat's new song was received with the usual applause - but also a lot of muttering. At the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Is it just me," said Ron, "or did the Sorting Hat sound like it was pissed off?"

Liam, on the other hand, had barely noticed the Sorting Hat's tone. He was too busy worrying. If the Hat sorts people by their character, he reasoned, then it must be able to see inside their heads somehow. He was not sure why, but he found this thought extremely disquieting.

Beside him, Jeremy stuck his hands in his pockets and stared fixedly at the stage, where "Cain, Rosaline" was trying on the Sorting Hat. After a few seconds, Rosaline was sorted into Ravenclaw, and was replaced by "Cook, Jason". Jeremy looked grim, but determined.

Turning his attention to Sylvia, Liam was surprised to see that she was smiling. She noticed him looking, and said happily, "It's okay! All we have to do is try on the hat! I was so worried."

Liam smiled back, but his own worries remained. To him, trying on the Hat did not seem like such a harmless experience.

Eventually, the line of first-years dwindled. "Yockey, Helen" was sorted into Hufflepuff. A hush fell over the Great Hall, as all eyes turned to Sylvia, Jeremy and Liam.

Dumbledore stood up and cleared his throat. "As you all might have noticed," he announced, "this year we have some older students, who will be joining our school. They will be sorted like the first years. I hope that their new Houses will make them feel welcome. Professor McGonagall, proceed, please."

McGonagall looked at her parchment. "Rodney, Sylvia!" she read. "Sylvia will be starting third year."

"Good luck," whispered Liam as Sylvia walked towards the stage. She sat down on the stool and put on the hat.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sylvia got up, smiling, and walked over to the Hufflepuff table. On the way, she turned and gave Liam a small wave. Liam tried to steady his nerves.

"Leighton, Jeremy. Jeremy will be in fifth year."

Jeremy smoothed out his shiny black hair before putting on the hat. With him, it took longer to decide, and many long seconds passed before the hat finally yelled out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Well, I hope he's happy, thought Liam darkly.

"And finally, our new sixth year student. Grady, Liam!"

Liam ran a hand through his messy brown hair, and walked up to the stool. It was time to face the test. He took a deep breath, and put on the hat.

"Well, well," said a voice. "Another refugee, eh? A little older, a little wiser, perhaps? Hmm. Well, you have a good mind, right enough, and a bit of courage too, I see. A hard worker and a loyal friend. And ambitious! Though perhaps, not for magic, eh? You're a tough one to crack, Liam Grady. Where would you like to go?"

Watching Liam anxiously from the Gryffindor table, Harry muttered, "What's taking it so long?" It had been a full minute since Liam had put on the hat.

"It's got to be harder to decide with an older student," said Hermione, though she also sounded concerned.

"Yes, it always takes a while, with the refugees," said Nearly Headless Nick, appearing suddenly above the table.

"Refugees?"

"That's what we call them," said Nick. "It always happens in times of strife - there's an influx of students into Hogwarts. Parents, who for some reason didn't chose to send their children here before, become worried and send them here for protection. Didn't you find it strange that you had never had a new student before, and suddenly there are three?"

"Refugees," said Hermione. "Forced to come here because it's a safe haven. Is it really that safe, Nick?"

"Bad things have happened at Hogwarts, of course," he replied. "But it has always been the last refuge. If a great evil takes over the world, I think this will be the last place to fall."

They were distracted by the Sorting Hat, which had finally reached a decision. "GRYFFINDOR!" it yelled, and Liam tore it off his head as if it was a bee's nest. He practically ran to the Gryffindor table.

"Can you believe it?" he said, as Hermione made a space for him between herself and Neville. "It actually asked me where I wanted to go! I mean, I thought it had to judge your personality?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, maybe where you choose to be placed is a reflection of your personality?"

Liam thought about this. "But I didn't choose to go in Gryffindor because I was brave. I just wanted to be with people I knew - however vaguely." He grinned at Harry. "Hope you lot don't mind a new Gryffindor."

At this everybody shook their heads, and began slapping Liam on the back, congratulating him on making it into their House. He barely managed to eat that night, as he was bombarded with questions all throughout dinner. Liam didn't mind, however - now that the ordeal of the Sorting was over, he was more than happy to try and get to know his new classmates. All in all, he was feeling a good deal better about coming to Hogwarts than he had that morning.

When dinner was finished, the fifth year prefects called over all the first years, so that they could take them to Gryffindor Tower. Liam was not sure whether he should follow them, until Ron said, "Come on, we can show you the way. No need to follow the firsties."

Liam did his best to remember the stairs, doorways and hidden passages, but arrived at Gryffindor Tower knowing he would be hopelessly lost the moment he tried to walk around the castle without a guide. However, he was in a good mood now and didn't let it worry him. He was sure he would know his way around soon enough.

When the sixth year boys finally reached their dormitory, they found that an extra four-poster bed had been placed in the room. The dormitory had obviously expanded to make space for it, as it did not appear to be any more cramped than it had been before - but it was also still in the same place. In fact, it was still the exact same room. They knew this because "Draco Malfoy is a horse's arse" was still scratched into the wall above Ron's bed, in Ron's very distinct handwriting.

They explained all this to Liam, but he refused to think about it. The thought of such a gross violation of the laws of physics gave him a headache. He concentrated on unpacking his trunk instead.

He had brought many books with him, Muggle books as well as his Hogwarts textbooks. He did not want to lose touch with the Muggle world. He picked out "Good Omens", an old favourite, to read in bed, leaving the rest in the trunk. He also took out his photos of his friends and family and stuck them on the wall. They were a mixture of still, fixed Muggle photos and animated magical ones. Liam led a strange life.

Above the photos, Liam stuck his posters of U2, Pearl Jam and the Arsenal football team. Dean glared at him and muttered something offensive as he put up his own poster of West Ham.

"You two are insane," said Ron matter-of-factly. "I can't believe that you can still like football after seeing a game of Quidditch."

"It's a game of skill, Ron," said Liam. "Most wizards don't understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron sounded hurt.

"Nothing," said Liam quickly. "I just meant that wizards don't understand the Muggle world - it's sad, I think."

As he said this, his hand touched the violin case, which was buried under his clothes in the trunk. He pulled it out and opened it, just to check that his instrument had survived the journey. He ran his fingers along the strings and smiled.

He'd been told that nothing electric would work at Hogwarts, so he he'd been forced to leave behind his guitar, his CD player and his beloved keyboards. He had also been forced to leave behind a lot of his clothes, because the violin and the books took up most of the space in his trunk. Liam thought it was worth it. He was born a wizard, but he had chosen the life of a Muggle. He'd been welcomed at Hogwarts, and he'd made new friends, but he was still an alien in this strange, secret world. It was comforting to have these few small things, which still connected him to the world he knew.