(Arcane Tinker) Chapter 13: Divergence

Chapter 13: Divergence

1st September 1991, London

Dean didn’t have time to voice his question as the door opened loudly, and they all walked into the Great Hall. He would have to look up for his answer later. Or ask an older student. Yeah, that was probably the easier route to take. For now, he had to get sorted.

As he finally entered the Great Hall, Dean did his best not to gape like his future classmates. The gigantic room was lit by thousands and thousands of candles, which were floating in mid-air above four long tables that made up almost the entire length of the hall. On the other side of the hall, the professors sat at a table of their own. The ceiling itself was almost transparent, offering him a view of the cloudy sky.

When they arrived on the other side of the hall, they stopped in front of a stool. On top was a traditional hat, although it looked far older than his own and somewhat dirty. Most of the students just looked at the hat in confusion, that is, until it moved and started to sing.

Well, calling it a song wouldn’t be exact. The hat looked more like it was reciting a poem, one that described each house’s qualities. Dean didn’t really understand why a song was necessary. Maybe it was a final chance to inform the students about each house, in a way that children would have found fun centuries ago? Its voice was definitely memorable, and the poem was somewhat childish, meaning that it was written for the younger students.

The hat also explained how they were getting sorted by putting on the hat. Dean saw a few of his future classmates relax and sigh in relief. He’d research it later or just ask a teacher. In the books, the Sorting Hat had been in Hogwarts since its founding. There had to have been a reason why they let it sing every year.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice that a girl had been called to sit on the hat, which suddenly bellowed out, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Realising that the sorting had started, Dean wondered how the hat even worked. Did it look at memories? If so, then it was a severe breach of privacy. He didn’t think anyone would risk having a single artefact have so much information, maybe even family secrets, especially given most of the mages had to put on this hat at some point.

People with far more knowledge of magic than he have researched it. It wasn’t exactly a secret, after all. They would have made sure that it was safe. Dean would bet on their own paranoia, and even then, there wasn’t really anything else he could do. He barely even understood his magic, and there was no one there for him out there, not anymore.

The worst that could happen was his visions of Nathan’s life being problematic. It was a very small chance at best, since Clairvoyants were an entire classification of magic. There were people likely with far more knowledge of the world than his disjointed and inaccurate story within a vision, which he experienced in his visions.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel worried about it. He had barely noticed that more students even kept being sorted.

It must have shown on his face since a blond boy smirked, while looking at him, “Have something to hide, huh? I wonder what it is. You’re a muggleborn, aren’t you? I wonder what you’re trying so hard to hide.”

Dean didn’t answer, but the boy winced for some reason, “Merlin, that’s so weird.”

“What’s weird?” he whispered to the strange boy.

The smug expression on the boy’s face had all but disappeared, and instead, there was some excitement. “You’re not hiding something you did. Ah, you’re a Clairvoyant, aren’t you? I’m one too. Our magics tend to mess with one another. I can get the visions of answers a few times a day when I ask people questions out loud. It doesn’t work on visions of other Clairvoyants, though. My mum said it had something to do with me seeing physical things.”

“That was rude,” Dean replied quietly.

“My parents told me to do it. People who have things to hide would look panicked before the sorting. Don’t worry, the hat can’t see memories. It’s an enchantment that casts magic, the first and only one of its kind, from what I heard. It just casts a spell on whoever is there and gets which values we prefer. And believe me, my family would know. We’re descendants of Helga Hufflepuff, you know? Oh, where are my manners? My name is Zachariah Smith, of the Smith family.”

“Dean Thoman,” he simply replied, and winced as he saw McGonagall give him a severe look.

The other boy saw it as well and promptly shut up. But Dean felt a lot more comfortable with the sorting now. Apparently, the hat wouldn’t see his visions. But he couldn’t help but feel how dangerous it could have been for Dean’s greatest secret to be found out by another student before he had even been sorted. He would need to find a way to protect himself from Clairvoyants and Psionics, and he would need to do it as quickly as he could.

Of course, that was when Neville Longbottom’s name was called up. The entire hall started murmuring, but shut up when the boy who lived walked up to the stall and put on the hat with a bit of trepidation. Like the others, the hat barely took more than a second before bellowing the name of the house, in this case, it was “GRYFFINDOR!!”

The Gryffindor table erupted in cheer, it was by far the loudest one yet, and the house of lions started celebrating getting the boy who lived in their house as he walked up to their table with a bright smile on his face.

The only students he cared about their sorting were his friends, starting with Harry Potter, who was sorted into Gryffindor, followed by Sally-Anne Perks, who had also gone to Gryffindor. The boy next to him, Zachariah Smith, slumped in relief as he was sorted to Hufflepuff when he had been called up.

There were barely any students left to sort when Dean’s name was called out. Lisa was the only one left, alongside a dark-skinned boy and Ron Weasley, after him. She squeezed his hand as he walked up and sat on the wooden stool.

The deputy headmistress put the hat on his head, and Dean expected something to happen. He wasn’t sure what, maybe it would be some sort of conversation or seeing his life flash before his eyes. Instead, the hat didn’t say a word but yelled out, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Dean calmly walked up to the Gryffindor table, sitting next to Sally-Anne and Harry, regretting slightly his sorting. He had wanted to go to Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. He knew from his visions, even from Jack, that there was a very strong rivalry between the Gryffindors and Slytherins.

He didn’t even think he was noble or brave. He didn’t know why he was sorted there. He was an artist at heart, but he liked to study, to read, and he didn’t shy away from hard work. Nevertheless, something flashed before Dean’s eyes: the memory of himself as he grasped his mother’s body, as these men wished to kill him. He felt a familiar rage well up in front of him, like a fire ready to be unleashed.

The young mage felt the ring on his hand heat up and took a deep breath. No, this wasn’t the time or the place to do this. He opened his eyes enough to see Lisa being sorted into Ravenclaw, sadly, followed by Ron Weasley regrettably joining him in Gryffindor and Blaise Zabini being sorted into Slytherin.

With that done, the headmaster got to his feet, and silence fell upon the Great Hall. He beamed at the students, his arms opened wide, and he spoke.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are, Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Ignoring the nonsense the man was spewing, Dean chose to focus on the headmaster. He was an obviously old man, with a long white beard and half-moon glasses. And yet, he didn’t really look like a frail old man. He looked like a Muggle on the verge of retirement, just with a large beard, old-looking glasses, and ghastly coloured robes. These things were an eyesore.

Still, Dean’s train of thought was interrupted by the food arriving from thin air, and he realised just how hungry he was. The orphanage’s food was good, but it lacked the sheer quantity before him or the variety. It also tasted much better.

It was only during dessert that Dean noticed that the other students, first-years and older, were looking at him and Sally-Anne with slight contempt and a bit of fear. Dean did his best to ignore it, but Sally-Anne was obviously affected. Thankfully, Harry spoke up, “Muggleborns aren’t that common, and they have a… certain reputation. My mum’s a muggleborn too, and she’s not some monster. Although she can be pretty scary sometimes. In a few days, as long as you don’t do something insane, they’ll forget all about it.”

He didn’t sound convincing near the end, but Sally-Anne seemed to look comforted. Dean wasn’t fooled, though. He knew that they would be treated like outsiders and definitely with caution, maybe for years after.

Thankfully, Neville Longbottom started to talk about going to some Quidditch match, and the rest of the house’s attention turned to him, ignoring them completely. This was followed by a debate about Quidditch teams, students bragging about their magic, and so on…

Dean did wonder what he should say when it came to his turn. Would he tell them about him being an Enchanter that could recharge magic on items, or still go with being a pyromancer, thanks to his ring? The latter would spread in the school and would make other students try to avoid him when they could.

He didn’t get to decide, as Dumbledore stood up again and started what seemed like a regular speech, “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 students. Many of the creatures there are dangerous and territorial. Please do not attempt to go there without the explicit permission of a professor. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. 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. Like every year, there were new additions to the list of forbidden items, and Mr. Filch will provide a copy of the updated list should you request one. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. With that out of the way, to the new students, welcome to Hogwarts. To the old ones, welcome back. I hope you have a wonderful school year, and it’s time to conclude this feast. First-years, please follow the prefects to your common room. I wish you all a good night.”

Huh.

Was that it?

Where was the forbidden corridor and the threats to their lives?

Was the Philosopher’s Stone not in Hogwarts? Were more of his visions wrong?

This changed everything. Dean had come to Hogwarts knowing that things would be different, but some part of him expected Neville Longbottom to take the same path as the boy who lived had. He expected Lord Voldemort to possess a professor and try to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, with his mother’s sacrifice and the help of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Dean had been so preoccupied with this that he had forgotten another crucial fact. It was something that he only realised when he stared at the portrait of the Fat Lady. He racked his brain, wishing that he was wrong in some way, hoping that he just hadn’t paid any attention. Yet, the fact was undeniable.

Hermione Granger hadn’t come to Hogwarts.

AN: Like the other AT chapters so far, this isn’t part of the weekly schedule. Tomorrow will be an EM chapter, like you guys chose in the last poll. I decided on Gryffindor. I might change it depending on what you think, but I already did Slytherin in my previous story, and I didn’t want to repeat it for no reason. Ravenclaw felt like more of a cliché than anything. I was tempted to go with Hufflepuff, but I had a few cool ideas that needed Dean to be in Gryffindor. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this depending on your feedback, so as usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.