Algernon was not the first Bythesea to attend Hogwarts, but he might as well have been. Harriet had done nothing to enlighten him on what to expect—in fact, she'd abandoned him from the moment they boarded the train, leaving him to fend for himself! He wasn't too fussed about it though, having taken the hours-long ride to enjoy the scenery of he British countryside and go over the meticulously-crafted checklist he'd shoved in his coat pocket. He had everything he needed, and possibly more, but he'd always been of the mind that it was better to be over-prepared than under-prepared.
Now he stood alongside the other students, recognizing some faces better than others. There was Pippa, of course, but also a few children he'd sworn he'd seen during various children-friendly functions his mother and father had brought him and Harriet along to. He'd sat with none of them on the train, though, and had not spoken to any of them yet.
He waited impatiently for his name to be called, his fingers rhythmically tapping against his robe until it felt like his fingers had started to move to a beat all their own and he was forced to shake his hand to rid of the odd sensation. Finally, his name was called.
He plopped down on the stool and stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep himself from fidgeting. Then the voice began.
It was an odd question, he thought, because he treasured no memories. Life at the Bythesea home was dull to say the least—father was busy, mother was always disinterested, and although the staff cared enough for him to keep him entertained on the daily, they were constrained by money and their role to do anything beyond. He was certain there had to be something worth celebrating, but he couldn't think of anything even as the seconds ticked on.
"I don't know," he told the Hat, more upset by his inability to give an answer than the fact that he had no treasured memories worth sharing. "It's not as if my life if bad. I swear it. It's just—Not much happens at home, but I think I'll find more worthy memories to hold onto here."
There were plenty of people in his life who knew parts of him. His father knew of his interests, even if it was at he surface level. His mother know... parts, he was sure. His sister was privy to his complaints about being bored and wanting to play, and his younger brother knew how much he loved chess for all the time Algernon had tried to teach him. Nanny had known him the best at one point, but he'd even grown distant from her. Was he such a blank slate that he had no memorable moments or people close to him?
He hadn't considered that he might be boring until this very moment.
"I know myself the most," he declared, knowing it to be true. "And I think that's fine, don't you agree? Not all parts of myself are meant to be shared with everyone around me." It had to be fine—else he was boring, and that was a devastating thing to consider.
Algernon perked up at the question. "Oh, I like learning. I'm not sure if that makes me smart or curious or what," he explained, thinking back through all the little phases in his life he'd gone through. His bug phase had not lasted long (nanny was grossed out by all the beetles) and his art phase lasted a good year before he'd broken his paintbrushes in frustration that his pictures didn't look like the images he'd conjured in his mind. He'd always been interested in magical creatures, though his tutor had seen fit to remind him that he'd be better off waiting until he was older until trying to explore the subject more in-depth. "But don't get me wrong. I don't like studying. Tutor always said I was terrible at it. I like learning about subjects I'm interested in. I'm awful at focusing on subjects I'm not."
"You know, I've tried to have one of those before," he started off casually, thinking back to the day the previous summer when he'd tried to map out that exact prompt on a sheet of parchment. "I couldn't manage it, but I do remember what I put down. I wanted to eat breakfast in bed, sit by the oak tree outside my house and finish a book, play a game of chess and defeat someone better than me, skip dinner and eat a whole chocolate cake, and then stay up until midnight to watch the stars. I think now I'd want to add a trip to the bookstore and an hour to practice whatever spells I wanted, but I think that's reasonable, don't you think?"
Merlin, was he boring?
In truth, he'd gleaned most of his information about Hogwarts from his elder sister's vague comments and the contents of the textbooks he'd purchased. He'd been too afraid to admit to Papa that he didn't know anything about Hogwarts, and mother—save for the past few weeks, when she'd been acting different—had never been much help when it came to answering his questions about the world.
To make it worse, the question insinuated he should know a lot about Hogwarts. Had he been stupid for not asking? He had plenty of cousins he could have asked, surely, and Papa probably would have preferred to to sit through his questions than send his son off to school completely clueless.
"Any class where I get to use my wand," he answered honestly. He'd kept his wand tucked in his pocket since he got onto the boats, but he desperately wanted to take it out and see what he could do with it.
Now he stood alongside the other students, recognizing some faces better than others. There was Pippa, of course, but also a few children he'd sworn he'd seen during various children-friendly functions his mother and father had brought him and Harriet along to. He'd sat with none of them on the train, though, and had not spoken to any of them yet.
He waited impatiently for his name to be called, his fingers rhythmically tapping against his robe until it felt like his fingers had started to move to a beat all their own and he was forced to shake his hand to rid of the odd sensation. Finally, his name was called.
He plopped down on the stool and stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep himself from fidgeting. Then the voice began.
"What is your most treasured memory?"
It was an odd question, he thought, because he treasured no memories. Life at the Bythesea home was dull to say the least—father was busy, mother was always disinterested, and although the staff cared enough for him to keep him entertained on the daily, they were constrained by money and their role to do anything beyond. He was certain there had to be something worth celebrating, but he couldn't think of anything even as the seconds ticked on.
"I don't know," he told the Hat, more upset by his inability to give an answer than the fact that he had no treasured memories worth sharing. "It's not as if my life if bad. I swear it. It's just—Not much happens at home, but I think I'll find more worthy memories to hold onto here."
"Who knows you best, and why?"
There were plenty of people in his life who knew parts of him. His father knew of his interests, even if it was at he surface level. His mother know... parts, he was sure. His sister was privy to his complaints about being bored and wanting to play, and his younger brother knew how much he loved chess for all the time Algernon had tried to teach him. Nanny had known him the best at one point, but he'd even grown distant from her. Was he such a blank slate that he had no memorable moments or people close to him?
He hadn't considered that he might be boring until this very moment.
"I know myself the most," he declared, knowing it to be true. "And I think that's fine, don't you agree? Not all parts of myself are meant to be shared with everyone around me." It had to be fine—else he was boring, and that was a devastating thing to consider.
"How would you describe yourself?"
Algernon perked up at the question. "Oh, I like learning. I'm not sure if that makes me smart or curious or what," he explained, thinking back through all the little phases in his life he'd gone through. His bug phase had not lasted long (nanny was grossed out by all the beetles) and his art phase lasted a good year before he'd broken his paintbrushes in frustration that his pictures didn't look like the images he'd conjured in his mind. He'd always been interested in magical creatures, though his tutor had seen fit to remind him that he'd be better off waiting until he was older until trying to explore the subject more in-depth. "But don't get me wrong. I don't like studying. Tutor always said I was terrible at it. I like learning about subjects I'm interested in. I'm awful at focusing on subjects I'm not."
"Describe your perfect day from start to finish."
"You know, I've tried to have one of those before," he started off casually, thinking back to the day the previous summer when he'd tried to map out that exact prompt on a sheet of parchment. "I couldn't manage it, but I do remember what I put down. I wanted to eat breakfast in bed, sit by the oak tree outside my house and finish a book, play a game of chess and defeat someone better than me, skip dinner and eat a whole chocolate cake, and then stay up until midnight to watch the stars. I think now I'd want to add a trip to the bookstore and an hour to practice whatever spells I wanted, but I think that's reasonable, don't you think?"
Merlin, was he boring?
"What class are you most excited about? Why?"
In truth, he'd gleaned most of his information about Hogwarts from his elder sister's vague comments and the contents of the textbooks he'd purchased. He'd been too afraid to admit to Papa that he didn't know anything about Hogwarts, and mother—save for the past few weeks, when she'd been acting different—had never been much help when it came to answering his questions about the world.
To make it worse, the question insinuated he should know a lot about Hogwarts. Had he been stupid for not asking? He had plenty of cousins he could have asked, surely, and Papa probably would have preferred to to sit through his questions than send his son off to school completely clueless.
"Any class where I get to use my wand," he answered honestly. He'd kept his wand tucked in his pocket since he got onto the boats, but he desperately wanted to take it out and see what he could do with it.