3 Chapter 3: Fourth Year!

"Are you sure?"

"Sure, no big deal, I'm sure there's nothing personal in there, right?"

"Okay...it says, 'Dear Mr. Lerner, we are pleased to inform you that your transfer application has been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Based on your age and transcripts we have placed you in your Fourth Year?!' You're a Fourth Year?" Hermione asks incredulously. 

I shrug. 

Last I checked I'm a couple years older than fourteen, but I guess not, here in the Potterverse. 

"'And you will be Sorted with the First Years upon your arrival. Please find enclosed a list of materials for required classes and possible electives, and please be prepared to discuss your electives upon arrival.' This is incredible, you're in our year!"

"Well I'm glad I found your compartment, then," I reply with a smile.

"What about your electives?" Hermione asks, leaning forward, eyes lighting up.

"Oh boy, here we go," Ron mutters.

"Ah, I'm thinking of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, for sure. I have to take two, right?"

Hermione widens even further and she breaks out into a dazzling smile. "Great! I'm in those, too! You know you can take more than two if you want."

"You realize those are the most difficult ones, right?" Ron asks with a groan.

"You should take Care of Magical Creatures, too. It's really interesting â€" I got to fly a Hippogriff last year!" Harry says excitedly "And the professor, Hagrid, is a good friend."

I smile. "Well I don't want to load up too much, but I think I could swing that."

"You can...you can borrow my books when you need them," Hermione says, but she looks a bit ill at the thought. "But about your robes..."

"Neville's sprouted up quite a bit, hasn't he?" Harry offers.

"That's right! I'll go ask him," Hermione says, taking off before I can object.

"So do you play Quidditch?" Ron asks.

Damn, I'm really going to have to come up with a good backstory. Then it hits me: I've read Harry Potter fanfiction set in the United States! 

"Nah, it's actually not as popular over in the States as it is here," I say.

"Really? But...but...but why?" Ron blubbers. I think he's going to cry.

"I dunno, Quodpot is more popular there. It's like with Muggle sports, your Muggles like soccer - or football, as they call it here, and ours like American football. I never really got into it, though. Quodpot, I mean. I'm pretty awful when it comes to riding a broom." 

That's a guess, but a likely one. 

"And the thought of getting caught holding the Quod - what you guys call the Quaffle - when it explodes never really appealed to me."

"That's too bad, Harry here is a brilliant Seeker - he's been Gryffindor's since his First Year! Now that Wood's gone I'm thinking of going for Keeper..." Ron then began a lively monologue about Gryffindor's chances for the House Cup, potential new players, and the advantages of different brooms over the school's.

"Bothering him with Quidditch talk already?" Hermione says, sliding back into the compartment with a large black robe over her shoulder.

"What's wrong with that?" Ron asked in an annoyed tone. "Just getting him caught up on our chances for the House Cup is all."

"You realize he isn't even Sorted, yet? He might not even be with us in Gryffindor!"

Ron coughs in surprise and then looks ill. "You...you won't spill our secrets, will you?"

I laugh. "Of course not, I doubt I could even repeat most of the stuff you said, since I don't know anybody you were talking about," I lied. 

"So you guys are all in Gryffindor?"

They nod. "You know about the Four Houses, right?" Hermione asks.

"Gryffindor bravery, Hufflepuff loyalty, Ravenclaw wisdom, and Slytherin ambition."

"That's...compact yet insightful," Hermione says in surprise. "Which one do you think you'll be in?"

"Slytherin, definitely," I say with conviction, and watch their faces pale. My face twitches and I burst out laughing. 

"Sorry, couldn't say that with a straight face. I don't know which House, do I get a say?"

"Oh, well there's an enchanted hat that sort of evaluates your personality..." she begins, but trails off. 

"Actually, I don't think you're supposed to know more than that before you're Sorted." She looked over at him. 

"How did you get Sorted at your old school? Where did you go to school over there?"

"I went toâ€"" I begin, but then I realize Hermione probably knows the names of them, and I wouldn't put it past her to dig around looking into my past. 

Should I say Salem, since I know it exists in canon? 

Or should I go ahead and use the non-canonical school I first thought about and hope she never figures it out? 

I frown in thought.

"You...can't say it, can you?" Hermione asks. "We found out about this last year, right Harry? It must be a Fidelius Charm!"

I love you, Hermione. "I guess so...I mean it was right there on the tip of my tongue but..."

"Don't worry about it, you can't tell us if you're not the Secret Keeper. So what can you tell us?"

"Uh, well we weren't actually separated into Houses or anything. I guess there weren't enough of us. My Alchemy professor, or Potions as you guys call it, was a huge jerk, and so was the Dean. She would be called the Headmistress here." 

Damn, it's been too long since I read that series, I can't remember anything else. 

"Oh! I thought the janitor was pretty cool, though he turned out to be a bad guy in the end."

"Well we can relate to having a complete git of a Potions professor," Ron mutters.

"But the janitor? Is that why you left?" Hermione asks.

Uh, sure! "Yeah..." I say, acting like it was some painful memory.