Narutoskee. Diary of a Belarusian Ravenclaw

Diary of a Belarusian Ravenclaw

Year 1. The Secret Room and the Minsk Transit (1992-1993)

First year at Hogwarts

Chapter 1. arrival at the school.

[Diary entry. July 1992. Belarus.]
An ordinary summer in the countryside. In the afternoon - help in the garden and a river, in the evening - fresh milk and chirping crickets. Once I went into the attic to get some old "Young Technician" magazines, but I found something more interesting.
There was a small, palm-sized silver disk in the pile of rags. It had a neat hole on top, so it looked more like a massive medallion. He looked alien among the old spinning wheels and chests: too clean, too complicated and beautiful. The engraving on it resembled a circuit board diagram intertwined with a maze. The engineer became interested in me.
There was a full moon. I held the find up to the beam of light to examine the details, and accidentally cut myself on the sharp edge. The blood got into the center of the "maze". The metal instantly heated up like a soldering iron. The air thickened, smelled of ozone, like before a thunderstorm. I blinked, and the familiar attic was gone.

[Diary entry. September 1, 1992. London.]
Instead of the silence of the attic, a roar hit my ears: the whistles of steam locomotives, the screech of metal, and a multi-voiced hubbub. I was standing in the middle of a huge train station.
I looked up at the scoreboard: "King's Cross. Departures". The meaning of the words hit me instantly, and only a second later I broke out in a cold sweat: I'm reading in English. I'm thinking on it. The signs, the snatches of passersby's phrases-everything was as clear as my native language, although I barely got a grade at school. And now it's like I've lived here all my life.
He raised his left hand, out of habit, to check the time - the mechanical watch was in place. The second hand was running as usual, but the number "1" was in the calendar window. I looked at the station's electronic board again.: September 1st.
My heart skipped a beat. The last thing I remembered was July, the attic, my grandmother's house. Where is the whole month? Where did August go? My head was buzzing. Vague, ragged images swam before my eyes: some kind of clothing store, the clink of coins, endless cobbled streets, spending the night in an unfamiliar room... It was as if I had lived this month on autopilot while my consciousness was asleep. Or someone lived it for me.
What about the parents? Grandma and Grandpa? I just disappeared from the attic! They're probably looking for me... Panic rose like an icy wave in his throat. I felt hot and stuffy.
I tugged at the collar of my shirt and felt something hard and warm touching my skin. I tugged at the collar of my shirt and felt something hard and warm touching my skin. He reached under his clothes and pulled out a strange object.
It was him. The silver disk from the attic. Only now it was hanging on a thin but strong chain and noticeably shrunk, shrinking to the size of a large coin or medallion. The maze pattern was still there, but now it looked not like a part of the device, but like an ornament.
I squeezed it in my fist. He was warm, almost hot, as if he were alive. So it wasn't a dream.
As it turned out, I was clutching the handle of a heavy suitcase in my other hand. In the pocket of my jacket (mine? not mine?) I felt a thick envelope. I took it out, and with it a folded notebook fell onto the pavement of the platform. I picked it up. The handwriting was narrow, with a strong slant, and the ink was slightly faded:
"Don't be afraid. Everything is going as it should. Your family is fine and won't worry. Just get on the train. A.D."
I read the note twice. And a strange thing happened: the panic suddenly receded, as if someone had turned off the fear switch. Instead of horror, the excitement of a researcher bubbled up inside. I felt like Ellie, standing at the beginning of a yellow brick road. Silver shoes (more precisely, a silver amulet) already on top of me, Toto (suitcase) is next to me. There is no turning back, only forward to the Emerald City.
I unfolded the official letter. Parchment, emerald ink... "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Magic? I grinned, tucking the note from the mysterious "A.D." back into my pocket and tucking the amulet under my T-shirt. Well, Hogwarts is Hogwarts. Whoever I have been this month, he has prepared me for this day.

[Diary entry. September 1, 1992. The Hogwarts Express.]
The train is a separate world. Noisy, smelling of charcoal and chocolate. I found a half-empty compartment, but the loneliness didn't last long.
In the hallway, I saw a red-haired girl who was trying to drag a huge leather-covered chest inside. He was obviously bigger than she was. She was panting, and her face was blotchy red, but she stubbornly held on to the handle.
"Let me help you" I jumped up and intercepted this "truck" from her.
We somehow put it on the shelf.
That's how I met Ginny Weasley. She turned out to be fragile, small, with a whole scattering of freckles on her face. And very scared. We are both 11 years old: she turned 11 in August, and I will be 12 in September. We started talking, two lonelies on a noisy train. She's under the weight of family expectations, and I'm completely lost.
"You really don't know?" She rolled her eyes when I asked who Harry Potter was.
I decided to keep silent about the fact that not only do I have no idea who Potter is, but I also have a hard time understanding what's going on here. It's better to pass for a silent one than for a madman.
She started to tell us, but we were interrupted. The door slid open with a bang, and two identical red heads appeared in the opening.
"And here's our little sister!" they gave out in unison.
"This is Fred and George", Ginny sighed, as if apologizing for their noisiness, but she smiled. "My brothers."
The guys shook my hand, joked something about me looking too serious ("Aren't you from the Ministry of Magic checking, buddy?") and sped off down the train. They're funny guys, and you can't tell which one is which.
A little later, Ginny introduced me to Hermione Granger. She looked into our compartment in search of someone's toad.
"This is Hermione, she's very smart," Ginny whispered to me when she was distracted. "She's friends with my brother Ron and Harry Potter."
Hermione was a year older than me. It was an unusual name, but we quickly found common ground when it turned out that her parents were Muggle dentists.
"Oh, the teeth! A familiar theme," I was delighted. She has slightly large front incisors, but a beautiful smile. There is something attractive about her, some kind of spark of intelligence.
Looking at the passing landscapes outside the window, I thought: probably, this artifact brought me to this particular carriage for a reason and introduced me to these guys.

[Diary entry. September 1, 1992. Hogwarts.]
After the train, another shock awaited us. On the platform, in the dark, we were greeted by a man of incredible size. A real giant with a mane of matted hair and a beard that could have entangled birds. A real giant with a mane of matted hair and a beard that could have entangled birds.
"Freshmen! Over here! Hey, freshmen, keep up!" He roared in a bass voice, drowning out the noise of the crowd. He introduced himself as Hagrid (a strange name). I felt like an ant next to him.
He led us to a black lake where small boats were bobbing. The other guys had gone somewhere, and we, the newbies, had to swim. I found myself in the same boat with Ginny and some little guy who was clutching a camera convulsively (I think his name was Colin). The boats sailed by themselves. No paddles, no motor. We just glided along the surface of the water. After crossing the lake (I kept trying to figure out what mechanism pushes the boats, but I still couldn't find the screws) Hagrid handed us over to a stern woman in an emerald robe. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall.
I tried to pretend that nothing surprised me, but in reality I wanted to close my eyes and hide. It was both scary and wildly interesting at the same time.
She led us into a huge hall. And that's when I forgot how to breathe. There was no ceiling. Instead, there is an inky abyss with myriads of stars.
"It's just an illusion, enchanted under the sky" Colin whispered excitedly in my ear. I nodded, trying not to look like a country bumpkin, even though my stomach was turning over. But the candles impressed me the most. Thousands of candles hung in the air. Like a fool, I looked up, looking for a fishing line, wires, or at least some magnets. Nothing. Pure levitation. The laws of physics don't seem to work here.
We were lined up in front of the teacher's desk. In the center, on a stool, lay an old pointed hat covered in patches. Suddenly she twitched, she had a crease that looked like a mouth, and she... She began to sing. She sang about the houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. The song said how they were different, but I was so excited that the hat was talking that I listened to everything.
McGonagall unfolded a long roll of parchment.
"When I say your name, you will put on your hat and sit on a stool," she announced.
One by one, the guys from our frightened group came out to a chair, put on a hat, and she shouted faculty.
"Creevey, Colin!" The guy with the camera took off, almost falling from excitement. The hat barely touched his head and shouted:
"GRYFFINDOR!" The table on the left exploded with applause.
My palms were sweating, and my mouth was dry. I looked for Ginny, and for some reason she was standing at the very back of the queue, small, red-haired, and pale as a sheet. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she was looking at the floor.
Finally, my last name came out. I was startled. I waited until the last moment for someone to tell me, "Boy, you're not on the list." But my name was called. Apparently, the one who guided me in that "lost August" provided for this, too.
I stepped forward, feeling hundreds of eyes on me. He sat down on a stool. The hat came down over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. She smelled of dust and old cloth.
"Oh, oh... What do we have here?" A soft, insinuating voice sounded right in my skull. I was startled. "Don't worry, I'm just a mind reader. Hmm... Very unusual. Thoughts are structured like a blueprint. You're looking for logic where there's a miracle. The mind is as sharp as a sharpened blade. The thirst to understand how everything works - yes, it can be felt from a mile away. You should go to Ravenclaw, they like such riddles there."
I mentally exhaled. Ravenclaw is about knowledge. It sounded safe. I mentally exhaled. Ravenclaw is about knowledge. It sounded safe. Like a library or a science club.
"But wait..." The Hat's voice became thoughtful. "What's hiding deeper? Not just curiosity, but... stubbornness. Willingness to stand up for your truth, even if you are one against all. Willingness to stand up for your truth, even if you are one against all. You're afraid, boy, you're very afraid, but you're going ahead anyway. There's a hidden fire in you. You'd make a good Gryffindor."
"I'm not a brave man!" I thought in panic. "I'm the one who thinks first and does it later. I'm not rushing into the embrasure, I'm counting the risks!"
"Ah, that's it!" the voice in my head chuckled. "You just proved it yourself. It is not the absence of fear that makes us brave, but the ability to act in spite of it. A reasonable risk. A rare combination. Well, then... You're looking for knowledge to curb chaos. Your path leads to wisdom."
The hat took a deep breath and shouted to the whole hall: "RAVENCLAW!"
The second table on the right slammed. I took off my hat, wiped my sweaty forehead, and went to my friends. My hands were being shaken, and someone was slapping me on the back. I sat down and looked at the others.
Ginny Weasley was the last to be called. She sat under the hat for quite a long time, and I was even afraid for her. But in the end, the Hat shouted,
"GRYFFINDOR!", I saw her running with relief to the table where her noisy brothers were sitting. We ended up at different tables, but I was glad that she was among my own.
Now I was officially a student. But what does this mean and what do I need to do? When will the rules of this game be explained to me?

Chapter 2. The early days

[Diary entry. September 1992. Ravenclaw's bedroom.]

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Аннотация: Year 1. The Secret Room and the Minsk Transit (1992-1993)

Narutoskee Diary of a Belarusian Ravenclaw

Narutoskee
Diary of a Belarusian Ravenclaw