Dumbledore's Nephew

            On September 1^st, Harry James Potter awoke in Ron Weasley’s room, covered in a cold sweat, his disheveled hair matted down on his head, half-covering his lightning-bolt shaped scar, and his brilliantly green eyes revealed a look of pure horror.  Again, he’d woken up from a terrible nightmare, which had reoccurred since school had gotten out in June.

            Harry was not a normal guy in any respect.  Nightmares of course are a normal part of life, but not many 15-year-old boy wizards have nightmares of the strongest dark wizard in over a century, killing a fellow student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after having been port-keyed from the finish line of the first Triwizard Championship in a century.

            Harry Potter had thwarted Lord Voldemort’s plans time and again, and he did it again that fateful day, but not without great loss.  The words, “Kill the spare,” echoed over and over again in his head.

            “Well,” he said, “maybe I’ll break the world record for most consecutive nights having a nightmare that wakes you up at four o’ clock in the morning,” he got up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and went over to pet Hedwig, his snowy owl, who was sitting in her cage by the window.  Hedwig cooed in appreciation, and gave his finger an affectionate nip.

            Harry got dressed, quietly, and tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen.  To his surprise, Hermione and Ginny were sitting at the table talking, and they both froze when he walked in.  Blushing, Harry said, “Oh, sorry.  I didn’t mean to butt in.  Should I leave?”

            “No!  Harry,” Hermione said, and Ginny winced.  Harry got a funny feeling that Hermione had kicked her in the shin.  “Please, sit!”  The girl pulled out a chair next to her and motioned for him to sit down.

            “What are you guys doing up so early?” he asked, sitting down and taking a piece of toast off the tall stack on the table.

            “Could ask you the same thing,” Ginny muttered.

            “Well, Ginny,” Harry said, looking at her, “I had another nightmare, and I couldn’t fall back asleep.

            Ginny murmured something that sounded like, “Oh, gosh, I wish I hadn’t said that,” and Hermione got a concerned look on her face.

            “Harry, maybe you should see a psychiatrist or something, and tell them how you feel.  Maybe it’ll help you stop having these disturbing dreams.  I mean, look at this,” she said, scooting back her chair and half standing to touch under Harry’s eyes.  “Just look at it?  Bags and circles under your eyes, Harry?  That’s for over-worked middle-aged men, not fit, healthy, fifteen-year-old boys.”  As Hermione said this, her voice was filled with nothing but compassion, worry, and sincerity.  The look in her eye deeply troubled Harry.

            “I’m fine, Hermione,” and when she looked like she didn’t believe him.  “I swear on my parents’ graves that I’m not sick, ‘Mione,” he said, pulling out his hand from a pocket, and crossing his heart.

            “I didn’t say you were sick, Harry.  I said you need to talk someone.  You may not be sick, but such a lack of sleep is definitely not good for you,” the look in her eyes told him arguing was of no use.

            “How about this,” Harry said, ready to strike up a deal, “I’ll see if I can get Madame Pomfrey to give me some sleeping drought, if I can convince I’ll be using it on myself, then I’ll take it.  If I can’t, I won’t.  Deal?”  He offered her a large, tanned hand, which she shook heartily, and with a big smile.

            “Of course, Mr. Potter.  Excellent idea.”

            “Let’s eat breakfast,” Harry said.

            “Okay,” Hermione replied.  And that’s what they did.

***

8:45, King’s Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾, London, Great Britain

            “Come on, kids, on the train, now,” Mr. Weasley said, helping all of the Weasleys and various guests with their trunks.  Going to Hogwarts this year were: George, Fred, Ron, and Ginny, and they were accompanied by: Harry, Hermione, Lee Jordan, Amanda Brown (a friend of Ginny’s from Ravenclaw), and Jessica Stenson (another friend of Ginny’s, also of Ravenclaw).

            “Good-bye now, kids,” Mrs. Weasley kissed each one of them as they got on the train, including the non-family members, all of which she treated like family.  “I hope to see you all at Christmas,” she continued. 

            Harry was the last on the train, and before he got on he stood and waited, waiting for Mrs. Weasley to kiss him.  “Oh, Harry,” she said, tears filling her eyes.  “If there’s anything you ever need,” she kissed his cheek, “you just owl Arthur or I, alright?”

            Harry, shocked as he was by the outburst of emotion, smiled and nodded his head, giving her a hug, and a peck on the cheek, he climbed onto the Hogwarts Express, and waved.

            Harry, Ron, and Hermione, found an empty compartment near the back of the train.  After changing, they sat down and got settled in for the long ride ahead of them.

            “So,” Ron said, trying to strike up a conversation, “how’s the summer been going?”

            “Ron,” Harry said, as if explaining something to a kindergartener, “we’ve spent all but two or three weeks at your house.  What do you think?”

            Ron blushed slightly, and said, “Good.  I’ve been good.  How ‘bout you, Hermione?”

            Hermione nodded, smiling, “Very good.  I just love your house.  It just seems so…” she paused, looking for the right word, “well…homey, really.”

            “Yeah,” said Harry, absentmindedly, his thoughts elsewhere.

            Hermione had that look of worry on her face again, so he snapped back to attention, with a big, fake smile.

            “So, Ron, are you trying out for the Quidd—“ but Harry never finished his sentence, because at that point, a small boy opened the door to their compartment, wheeling along a trunk behind him.

            Harry inspected the boy, and was rather shocked by what he saw.  He was mere skin and bone, and you could tell even through his Hogwarts robes.  His hair was similar to Harry’s own, black and going in every direction at once.  The most shocking feature, though, was the boy’s eyes.  They were a vivid, electric blue.  If this weren’t interesting enough, they seemed to be an old man’s eyes, worn, and with a look that the boy had had to carry a burden that a child so young shouldn’t have to.

            “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to intrude upon a private conversation,” the boy said, using large words, that seemed to shock Ron, coming from such a small mouth.  “But would you mind if I sat here?  Everywhere else is full.”  He gave them a rather pleading look.

            Harry stood up, smiling.  “First year?” he asked.  The boy nodded.  “Welcome to Hogwarts.  You got accepted to the best,” he motioned for the boy to sit next to him, scooting over so there was room.

            “Thanks,” he said, sitting down politely.  “But I’m just with the best, sir.  I—“ but he didn’t finish his sentence because at that moment he saw Harry’s scar and gasped excitedly.

            “Wow!” he said, pulling his eyes down from Harry’s forehead to his bright green eyes.  “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Potter.  I’ve heard so much about you!” he offered a small hind, which was enveloped in Harry’s larger one.

            Then the boy turned, and saw Ron.  His polite demeanor, now completely gone, he gawked openly at Ron, who had a confused look on his face.  “Jeepers!” the boy cried, standing up and offering his hand to Ron.  “Ron Weasley, what an honor!  I’ve heard all about you, as well!  Was it true you really flew a car to Hogwarts, your second year?” he asked excitedly as he shook the elder boy’s hand, emphatically.

            Ron blushed Weasley red, and nodded.  “Yes, it sure was.”

            Then the boy turned to Hermione and his lower jaw nearly hit the floor of the compartment.  “Hermione Granger!  A pleasure it is, a real pleasure!  Top of every class, prefect, brilliant.  Of course, the brilliant thing is easily explained, as your parents are as well,” he stated, as if he was announcing the winner of the Quidditch World Cup.

            “How would you know my parents were brilliant?  You know, you look familiar.  Have we met before?” she asked with a queer look on her face.

            “Hermione?  Of course your parents are brilliant!  Everybody knows that!  At least everyone who’s every met them.  Not to mention they’re two of the sweetest people in the world.”

            “Okay, little boy,” she said with a harsh voice, “how the heck would you know my parents?” she practically shouted this last part.

            “Hermione?  Are you feeling okay?  It’s not like I’ve changed that much.  Well, it has been five years, so I suppose I must look a little different.  I mean, all of us were so sad when your parents said you wouldn’t be coming any more.”

            Hermione, Ron, and Harry all looked at each other.  Then Hermione returned her gaze to the boy.  “Okay, explain yourself.  Who are you?”

            “You know,” the boy said, “you just sounded like the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.”  He snorted at the thought.  “But Hermione, really.  Is the shouting necessary when you’re greeting an old friend from Sister Anne’s Orphanage for Boys?  Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all the volunteer work you and your parents did there?” he said with a dubious look on his face.

            “Sister Anne’s?  You’re from Sister Anne’s?  Oh gosh, I can’t believe it.  Now, who do you look like?  You’re eleven, so five years ago you would’ve been six.  Six year olds, six year olds,” she appeared to be scanning her memory, “six year—Jack?” she exclaimed, suddenly.

            “The one and only,” he said with a winning grin.

            “Oh gosh, Jack,” she hugged the boy, “it’s so good to see you, again!  How is everyone at the orphanage?”

            “They’re fine.  Lexi said that if I see you on my ‘travels abroad’, as the Sister told all the other kids, that I should say, ‘I wuv yuz vawy much, Hoomionie,’” Jack said smiling.

            “You’re an orphan?” Ron said, incredulously, “And the two of you have met?

            “My parents do all kinds of volunteer work,” Hermione said, with her hand on Jack’s shoulder.  “I used to always go with them.  I read all sorts of books to the kids, including Alice in Wonderland.”  She looked at Jack, “I can’t believe you still remember after all this time!”

            “I never forget anything, Hermione.  Nothing,” he said with a peculiar look in his electric-blue eyes.

            “Oh, really, Jack.  What was I wearing the first time I met you?” she asked jokingly.

            Jack stared back at her as if it was the stupidest question he’d ever heard.  “That’s too easy,” he said matter-of-factly.

            Ron snorted.  “Too easy, eh?  Afraid you can’t live up to your claim?” he asked jokingly.

            Jack shot him a look of pure venom.  He turned to the girl behind him.  “You were wearing a white and black checkered blouse, with eight buttons going up the front.  They were a cream color.  You also had on a black skirt that was cut off just above your knees.  You were wearing black dress shoes, with two buckles, and white stockings.  Your hair was up in two French braids.  Is there anything else you’d like to know?” he shot the last comment at Ron, whose mouth was hanging open.

            “I think he got you, Ron,” said Harry laughing, for the first time since Cedric died.

            Hermione had a look of awe on her face as well.  “You remember all that, Jack?  You were only six?  I can’t believe how much you remember!  Jack, what’s the first thing you ever remember?” she asked, wanting to see how far back the boy could remember.

            Jack closed his eyes tightly, scanning the depths of his mind.  All of a sudden his eyes flew wide open.  They had that old look again, and a terrible, terrible sadness and longing.  “I…I couldn’t walk very well, yet, but I did it because that’s how the grown-ups walked.  I remember a house…with two purple carpeted staircases…a fireplace that people kept popping out of…and my parents.  My father, at least, I think he was my father, he had a beard.  It was pretty long.  And he had dark brown hair.  And he wore spectacles on his nose.  My mom, she was beautiful.  She had thick, wavy black hair.  But I think I got my dad’s eyes.  Don’t you think, Hermione?”

            “You can remember from before you could walk well?  You must have been nine or ten months old,” said Harry shocked.

            “Really?  Cool.  Um…I remember something else, too.  But…it’s kind of scary, Hermione,” he looked up at the girl with fear in his eyes.

            “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked with love in her eyes, looking down at the small fellow.

            He nodded, then took a deep breath.  “I was sitting in my highchair, and mum was feeding me applesauce.  Then, this bang came from the door, and my dad dashed out of his…I think it was his office.  He came to the kitchen and told my mom to hide.  We hid in a closet.  This…this horrible voice shouted some words I didn’t understand, and then there was this green light and my dad fell to the floor with a thud.  My mum rushed out, leaving me in the closet.  The same thing happened to her.  I stayed by myself, in the closet, ‘til I thought it was safe.  One of the walls was blown up, and the door was completely off it’s hinges.  My mum and dad were both dead on the kitchen floor.  Then, this tall guy with a big crooked nose and glasses came, picked me up, ‘cause I was crying, and then took me to Sister Anne’s.  I never saw him again…’til recently.”

            Harry was shocked.  The man of which Jack spoke was most definitely Dumbledore.  “When’d you see Dumbledore, Jack?” he asked quietly.

            “How’d you know it was Uncle Albus, Harry?” the boy asked Harry.

            “Uncle Albus?” Harry, Hermione, and Ron all exclaimed at once.

            “Yeah, Uncle Albus.  How’d you know his last name?  I mean, my last name, Harry?  Did you meet him at school?”

            “Your uncle is Albus Dumbledore?” Hermione asked incredulously.  “THE Albus Dumbledore?”

            “It’s not a real common name, is it?” the boy asked.  “You must’ve met him at school.  I didn’t know that my uncle knew all of his students personally.  Isn’t he wonderful?” he asked with a beaming face.

            “Yeah,” Harry said, “he’s really great.”

            “He told me all about Hogwarts and the wizarding world and Lord Voldemort when he picked me up a couple months ago.”  Ron flinched when he said You-Know-Who’s name.

            “I can’t believe your uncle’s Dumbledore,” Ron said, his eyes wide.

            “Oh, he’s not exactly my uncle, per-say,” the boy said.

            “Then what is he, per-say?” Hermione asked.

            “He’s my great-great-great-uncle!” Jack replied, smiling.

            “Wow, I knew Dumbledore was old, but he’d have to be about 150-years old to be your great-great-great-uncle,” Hermione said, almost as much to herself as to her friends.

            “This is bizarre,” Harry said aloud.

            “I guess when you think about it, it kinda is, isn’t it?” Jack said with a smile.

            “Well…” Ron said, trying to break the ice, again.  “Um…I’m gonna try out for Quidditch this year!”

            The talk turned to Quidditch, which seemed to fascinate Jack, for he’d never flown, and his uncle had apparently left that out of his explanations of the wizarding world.  As Ron and Harry captured the boy’s attention for the rest of the ride, going into the finer details of the game, Hermione pulled out Hogwarts, a History, and started to read it for the 23^rd time.

            “Hermione, how many times have you read that?  Fifty-two, perhaps?” Ron asked sarcastically.

            “No, twenty-two.  And you really should read it,” and with that she returned to her book and Ron to his conversation.

            The time went by so quickly, and their conversation so lively (except for when the snack-cart witch came by, at which time they took a ten minute break for eating) that they were pulling into Hogsmeade station in what seemed like no time at all.

            The train screeched to a halt, and the four of them exited the train.  They saw a gargantuan’ figure holding a lantern.

            “Firs’ years, this way, all you firs’ years, follow me!  Oh, ‘ello Harry, Ron, ‘Ermione.  How was yer ‘oliday?” he asked, shouting over the swarms of students.

            “Good!” they shouted. 

            “See you later, Jack,” said Hermione, planting a kiss on his cheek.  “Good luck.  Hope I see you in Gryffindor.”  Then, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were swept away with the waves of students pouring off the train, and Jack was left to fend for himself, fighting his way towards Hagrid.

            “Ah, Jack.  Good ter see ye again.  How are ya?” he asked, patting him on the back with a trash-can-lid-sized hand.

            “Good Hagrid,” he said with a smile.

            One more time Hagrid bellowed out, “Firs’ years this way.  Follow me, now,” and then he led them to a lake where boats awaited the first year students.  “No more’n four to a boat, now,” said Hagrid, climbing into one by himself.

            Jack climbed into a boat and was soon joined by three girls who appeared to be identical triplets.  They all had black hair, blue eyes, and looked oriental.  They were completely identical, down to the mole on each of their left cheeks.

            “Hi,” said the first.  “My name’s Qing-jao Chang,” and she offered him a hand.  He shook it and then the second one spoke.

            “Name’s Jesse Chang.  Put’re there,” she said, ecstatically shaking his hand.

            Then the third spoke, in a voice identical to that of the first two.  “My name’s Amelia Chang.  Don’t mind Jesse, she watches too many American Muggle films.  This week she thinks she’s a cowgirl,” she rolled her eyes and shook her hand as well, then smiled at the girls.

            “Name’s Jack.  Jack Dumbledore.”

            All three of their identical chins dropped.  “As in, Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, Dumbledore?” asked Qing-jou.

            “He’s my great-great-great-uncle,” Jack replied with a smile.

            “Wow,” the three said.  “That’s so, uh, freezing!” Jesse exclaimed.

            “Cool, Jesse,” Amelia said, rolling her eyes again.  “Not freezing.”

            Qing-jou giggled as the boats started to move across the lake.  As they all got their first glimpse of Hogwarts, they gasped in awe, except Jack, who’d been there with his uncle just the day before. 

            Hagrid led them off the boats to a pair of large, wooden doors and rapped on them three times.  The doors opened and into view came the severe-looking, Professor McGonagall, who Jack had already met, and liked.  Even though Minerva McGonagall was a tough, old witch, she had a good heart, and Jack had had several fascinating conversations with her.

            “The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid said.

            “Thank you, Hagrid.  I’ll see you in the Hall.”

            Hagrid nodded and then entered the doors, quickly walking towards the doors that led into the Great Hall.

            “First year, follow me,” Professor McGonagall said, spinning around and going into a small chamber, just off of the Great Hall.  “Now,” she said, turning to the students, “in a few moments you will pass through these doors to join your classmates, but first, you will be sorted into houses.  While you are at Hogwarts, your house will be somewhat like your family.  Your victories will bring your house points, and any rule-breaking,” she eyed several students, with names we will soon learn, “will cause you to lose points.  The four houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.  Each house has a noble and respectable history.  Now,” she said, turning to a door on the opposite end of the room from which they entered, “please follow me.”

            She led them into the Great Hall.  The students “oohed” and “aahed” as they entered.  Candles floated overhead, and hundreds of students wearing black robes and pointed hats were seated at the four, long, house tables.  At the end of the hall—where they were obviously headed—was the staff table, and jack saw Uncle Albus wave at him.  The Chang triplets looked at Jack with even more respect than they had before.  And not just respect, with awe.  Jack could name all the teachers, what they taught, and how they acted towards their students and fellow staff members.  He could practically write up their resumes, after spending over a month at Hogwarts with his uncle.  Quite a few of his fellow first years were gazing at the ceiling and he murmured to the Chang triplets, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside.  It’s not really just open to the heavens.” 

            They approached the raised platform and lined up.  Professor McGonagall set out a three-legged stool on the stage in front of them, and she set down a frayed hat in front of them.  Jack knew that this hat had belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself, and it was an honor just to be allowed to touch it, let alone listen to what it had to say. 

            While he was processing all this, the hat had sung a song, and he found himself clapping automatically as it bowed to each of the tables.  He vaguely recollected it talking about each house, but couldn’t remember exactly what it said.  It didn’t matter.  He already knew were he belonged.  Gryffindor.  That was the only place. 

            Qing-jao Chang murmured in his ear, “Nobody in our family’s ever been in anything but Ravenclaw, but I want to break the tradition.  Hope I see you in Gryffindor,” she winked at him then turned to Professor McGonagall, he had a long piece of parchment in her hand.

            “When I call your name, please come up, and try on the hat.”  She cleared her throat loudly.  “Arkanian, Jemma.”

            Jack saw a girl with cropped brown hair, big brown eyes, and about as many freckles as all the Weasleys did, approach the bench and sit down nervously, placing the hat on her head.  It came all the way down to her knows, hiding most of her face.  Jemma sat there nearly three minutes, the hat squirming all the while, and it finally shouted, “RAVENCLAW!”   The girl, looking relieved, sat down at one of the two middle tables, which was clapping wildly, knowing how it must have been for poor Jemma.

            “Chang, Amelia!” McGonagall cried, and Jack watched as his new friend walked to the stool, and a girl at the Ravenclaw table, obviously the triplets’ older sister, almost stood up, trying to see her sister.  Amelia put on the hat which, the moment it touched her head, shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”  The older Chang girl looked quite disappointed, but clapped for her sister.  Amelia winked at her sisters and Jack, then went to sit at the applauding Gryffindor table, where she sat down near Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who greeted her with handshakes.

            “Chang, Jessica!” McGonagall said, and Jack watched as the second Chang triplet walked to the chair.  She looked McGonagall straight in the eye, with a piercing look she spoke icily.

            “The name’s Jesse, Professor,” and put on the hat.  It took about thirty seconds before the hat shouted, “RAVENCLAW!” the Ravenclaws applauded loudly, and the triplets’ sister gave her a huge hug.

            “Chang, Qing-jao!” McGonagall shouted again, and Qing-jao winked at Jack as she strutted, yes, she actually strutted, towards the stool.  As soon as her hand touched the brim of the hat it positively screamed, “GRYFFINDOR!”  The Gryffindor again broke into cheers, and Qing-jao waved at Jack as she went to sit next to her sister.

            Then, a Mr. Cameron was put in Slytherin.

            “Dumbledore, Jack,” Professor McGonagall said, and as Jack walked towards the hat, he felt hundreds and hundreds of eyes boring into him, and he heard whispers coming from all over the hall.  He saw all three of the Chang triplets, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione give him various thumbs up and high five-waves, and he sat down on the stool.

            As the hat slid into place, covering the better part of his face, Jack heard a voice in his ear.  “Ah, Dumbledore, eh?  There’s really one place, and one place only to put you, but I needed a word first.”

            Jack seemed to beam the thought, “Sure, why not,” to the hat.

            “So,” the voice said, “you hardly remember your parents, ‘eh?”

            “Yes,” he thought to the hat.

            “Do you even know their names?”

            “No.  Would you tell me?”

            “Of course.  I wouldn’t mention them if I wasn’t going to.  Their name’s were Qing-jou Wakatsuki-Dumbledore and James Albus Dumbledore.  They were good people, Jack.  They’d be very proud of you.  Take care, Jack,” the hat whispered, “and never, never forget what I’ve said.  GRYFFINDOR!”  Jack heard the hat shout the last word, and he lifted it up off of his head.  He noticed that he was getting more applause than any of the other kids yet, which wasn’t much to compete with yet.  He had a feeling he would be getting the loudest applause of anyone, though.

            He made his way to the Gryffindor table, and sat down in-between Harry and Hermione, and across from him were Qing-jou and Amelia.  Ron was sitting in-between Amelia, and a boy with bright red hair and freckles, who was sitting next to an identical boy.  The one sitting next to Ron offered Jack his hand.

            “Nice to meet you Jack,” the boy said, “Name’s Fred.  Play beater for Gryffindor.  This is my brother George, he plays beater, too.”  Jack shook both of their hands.

            George continued what Fred had started, “So,” he said, trying to sound casual, “is Professor Dumbledore really your uncle?”

            “No,” the boy said.  The twins looked confused, and Jack laughed as the Hufflepuff clapped for a girl who had just been sorted to their house.  “He’s my great-great-great-uncle.”

            The twins mouths dropped open, and the sight was so comical that almost everyone burst out laughing.  Well, at least Harry, Hermione, Ron, Qing-jao, Amelia, Jack, and several others sitting near them, who turned out to be Lee Jordan, Ginny, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson.  Each of these introduced themselves to Jack, every once and a while clapping to welcome a new Gryffindor. 

            After the last student had been sorted—Zabini, Joanna, to Hufflepuff, which appeared to infuriate a boy who appeared to be the girls brother, sitting at the Slytherin table—Dumbledore stood for silence, and McGonagall whisked away the hat and stool with a flick of her wand, and sat down on the seat to the right-hand side of Uncle Albus.

            “Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts, and I have a few quick announcements before we begin eating.  Since the events of last year, we are required to take extra security precautions.  A curfew of 9:30 pm is to apply to all students.  Unless, of course, someone is in grave danger, and in that case, you must find a prefect, or a faculty member.  First years should note, that entering the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden, unless you are accompanied by a faculty member.  No student is to enter the Restricted Section of the library without a signed note from a teacher,” when Uncle Albus said this, Jack could’ve sworn his eyes flickered toward Harry, who winked and grinned at Jack, “and I would like to say only four small words.  Nitwit.  Blubber.  Oddment.  Tweak!” and with that, the food appeared on the golden platters and everybody “tucked in”, as Uncle Albus always said.

            Eventually, the talk turned to family history, which some hadn’t much to add to. 

            “Well,” said George, “our family’s been involved at Hogwarts since the beginning.  Dad says that his great-great-great-great-grandfather was a good friend of Godric Gryffindor.  Of course, my dad also collects plugs and batteries, so he might just be a nutter.”  This caused quite a bit of laughter.

            Qing-jou decided she should put in her two bits.  “Well, mum’s always said that out great-great-great-great grandmum was somehow related to Rowena Ravenclaw, which I kind of think is true, since until an hour ago, nobody in our family had ever been in any house but Ravenclaw.”  Jack found the conversation interesting.

            “Uncle Albus says that we Dumbledores are somehow related to the Gryffindor family, but he wasn’t quite sure how.  Something about there only being a few Gryffindors left, but their blood would live on through my cousins and I.  That was the only other time he mentioned anybody else being related to me besides him.  You guys know of any other Dumbledores at Hogwarts?” Jack asked with a questioning glance at his new friends, but they all shook their heads.

            Some time around when dessert popped up, the conversation turned towards what the hat said to everyone when they were being sorted.

            Qing-jao started this, of course.  “I don’t even know what it sounds like.  As soon as I touched the brim is screamed like it was on fire!” she giggled.

            Her sister, Amelia, said, “the hat didn’t take much time with me, he just said.  ‘Hmmm…I have a feeling that you and your sisters are going to change things for the Chang’s, Amelia.  And whatever your mother says, change can be a very good thing’.  Then it screamed, ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ and I had no idea what it meant.”

            “Well, Amelia,” Hermione said matter-of-factly, “the hat’s very smart.  It doesn’t say anything that it doesn’t have a reason to say.  And it can look into the very depths of our brains, so it knows stuff that even we only subconsciously know.”  She took a bite of her chocolate icecream and continued, “The hat told me,” she licked her spoon of the last of the chocolate, “that I’d do well in Ravenclaw, and then it said, ‘Now what’s this?  Why, Miss Granger!  I’m shocked!  You don’t belong in Ravenclaw at all!  There’s only one place for you and that’s GRYFFINDOR!’, and I didn’t have a chance to talk to it at all.  I was rather disappointed, but happy to be in Gryffindor, of course.”  Hermione grabbed the ice cream scoop and took two more huge scoops.

            “Wowee,” Ron said.  “As soon as it was over my eyes it shouted, ‘GRYFFINDOR!’, so I never got a chance to talk to it either.”  He sounded slightly disappointed.  His brothers agreed, and Ginny did as well.

            Harry seemed unhappy about the conversation, and Jack quickly changed the subject, “So, what’s everyone’s favorite class?”  There were very shouts of, “Charms!” and “Muggle studies!” and “astronomy!”.  When the Weasley twins said astronomy, Hermione looked shocked.

            “I thought,” she said, taking the last bite of her chocolate ice cream, and letting it slide down her throat, “that you guys hated all classes?”

            They looked at her like she was crazy.  Fred looked too appalled to speak, so George did the talking.  “Who said anything about astronomy class?  We were talking about having snog-sessions up there,” and he winked at Angelina.

            There were giggles and looks of disgust, but mostly giggles at this comment.

            “George, you’re disgusting,” Hermione stated, bluntly.

            “I know.  But it’s the cross a handsome bloke’s gotta bear, right, Harry?” George said waggling his eyebrows.  Harry laughed so hard that some of his milkshake came out his nose, causing everybody else to laugh.

            “Oh please, George,” he said laughing, and gripping the stitch in his side, “you’re killin’ me.”

            As soon as everyone finished laughing, they realized the rest of the hall was silent, and Jack looked up to see his uncle standing and staring at the laughing Gryffindors.

            “Thank you,” he said, smiling, and scanning the rest of the students for signs of trouble.  “Well, before we’re off to bed, let’s sing the school song, shall we?”  Uncle Albus flicked his wand, and out came—what appeared to be—a gold ribbon, which twisted into words.  “Everyone pick a favorite tune, eh?”  The varied tunes sounded quite interesting all mixed together, and everyone stopped at different times. 

            At the end, George and Fred were singing to a funeral march, and Jack was singing in a wonderful soprano to some opera or other.  He finished even after Fred and George, and all eyes were on him as he ended with a trill.  Several students openly gawked at him, though most had enough common sense to merely stare.  He turned bright red, and looked down at his clean plate.

            “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Uncle Albus said, wiping a tear from his eye, “music is a magic greater than any we teach here.  Well, find a prefect, and they’ll tell you your common room password.  Ta-ta.”  Uncle Albus waved at the students as they all stood up and continued a conversation with a worried look on his face that he’d apparently started with Professor McGonagall before they sang the school song.

            “Wow,” Qing-jao whispered, “you sure can sing, Jacky.”  He was surprised that the girl already had a nickname for him, even if it wasn’t terribly creative.

            “Thanks,” he replied, beaming.  “It passes the time, you know?”  The first years followed Hermione and Harry, both of which were wearing Prefect badges.  The first years—and almost everybody else—was so tired and full that they hardly noticed that the chairs changed several time, they went through several hidden tunnels, and that Hermione had led them straight to a portrait of a rather plump woman in a large, pink dress.

            “Hello, there, dear.  Password?” the lady asked.

            Hermione murmured, “Just a sec’,” and turned to the students behind her.  “The password is your way of getting in.  You are not to tell it to anybody outside of the house.  The first couple of days, Lady Charlotte,” Hermione indicated the lady in the portrait, “will give you a break—first years—and will let you in if you can’t remember the password.  But after three days, she won’t be allowed to do it, and you’ll just have to wait ‘til somebody else comes back.  You guard the password with your life.  Is that understand?” she asked jokingly.  There were sleepy laughs from most of the students.  “Alright, now.”  She turned to Lady Charlotte.  “The password is Buzzing Bumblebee.”  The portrait swung open to reveal a hole, which the students climbed through. 

            Hermione led the students to the stairs marked “DORM”.  “One more quick announcement,” she glanced at Harry, who was yawning, and obviously off-guard.  “Harry, you go over the dorm thing, ‘k’?  I think I saw some stragglers back a ways, down the hall.”  Hermione left to find the stragglers and Harry was startled into action.

            “Alright then.  Boys, you aren’t to go into the girls’ dormitory, unless it’s an emergency.  In case of an emergency, find me.  Then, I’ll get a girl to go into the girls’ dormitory and warn them.  So either way, you aren’t allowed in.  Girls, same goes for you,” he paused.  “Except you’re allowed in the girls’ dorm, not the boys’.”  There were several giggles.  “Your stuff’s already in your dorm, so just go to the room that has a sign marked ‘First Years’ and your bed’ll be in there.  Any questions?”

            To Harry—and Jack—‘s surprise, Qing-jao raised her hand.  “Yes, Miss Chang?” he seemed to fumble over the last word, as if the sound of her last name caused him grief of some sort.  Jack was a smart kid.  He could sense things others couldn’t.

            “Well, Mr. Potter,” Qing-jao said, “what happens if we can’t find you or anybody else in case of an emergency and the boys who are in their dorms are in grave danger?”  She said this as if she were merely stating, “Bake until crisp, then turn over.”

            “Well,” Harry said, smiling, “in all likelihood that’ll never happen.  But if it does, you have my permission to go and save the poor little boys.”  He smiled at Qing-jao.  “Any other questions?”

            Jack raised his hand.  “Yes, Mr. Dumbledore?”

            “Would you shut up so we can go to bed?”

            Harry smiled as cheers broke out in the common room.  “Definitely.  And try to sleep and not talk the whole night.  You have a busy day ahead of you.”  He stepped aside and the first years swarmed up the stairs.

            “Night Jacky,” Qing-jao said, Amelia gave him a wink.

            Jack smiled then thought of a question he’d meant to ask her at dinner.  “Hey, Qing-jao!” he cried, causing her to run back down the stairs to the landing that separated into the two separate staircases.  “What does your name mean?”

            Qing-jao blushed deeply and bit her lip.  “I don’t know if I should tell you,” she said, chewing her bottom lip.

            “Oh, come on.  It can’t be that embarrassing!” Jack exclaimed as Harry walked past him, giving him an odd look as he walked up the stairs to the boys’ dorm. 

            “Oh, but it is!”  she turned away, and just as she had walked around the corner of the stairs to the girls dorm and Jack had given up, she swung her head around the corner.  “Jack?”  The boy turned around.  “Promise you won’t tell?”  Jack nodded sincerely.  The girl bit her lip.  “Gloriously Bright, okay?  Gloriously Bright.  Night Jacky,” and with that, her head popped out of view and Jack smiled.

            Jack had made a lot of new friends today.  And he had a feeling that they all had some strong connection.  He didn’t know what it was, but he sure as hell was gonna find out.