Title: Four Houses

Author: Me!

Rating: PG

Warnings: AU, Harry Potter stuff, Human names used

Characters: England (Arthur Kirkland), America (Alfred F. Jones) maybe USUK if you squint

Notes: Part of my Pottertalia "Let's sort England into all four houses and see what happens!" project, which was inspired by all the Pottertalia stuff on Tumblr, especially Haku's stuff. Look at me being productive! And wow, look at me publishing fanfiction over here again...

Summary: Each Hogwarts house finds value in different traits and virtues. These stories are explorations of that idea with the participation of one Arthur Kirkland (and a certain Gryffin-er, Alfred F. Jones will make appearances every now and then).

Chapter I: Slytherin

He walked these halls every day, the same halls he's walked for the past six years, and somehow he still can't ignore what it's like. The stares, the whispers, the animosity. Six years and everything remained the same after he was bestowed green and silver to wear.

He remembered the first time he stepped beyond Hogwarts' doors. Everything was larger, frightening, uncertain. He was an Unsorted first year and he knew what was expected of him. The Kirklands were Gryffindors through and through and he was expected to uphold the family name. His brothers had all proved to be Gryffindors of the highest calibre, each finding their calling and making Hogwarts and the family proud. He was expected to follow in their footsteps and no one doubted that he could and would, despite his brothers' teasing and roughhousing.

But even then, at 11 years old and his future set out before him, little Arthur Kirkland had to wonder, what if things went differently?

"Hey Kirkland, scared any first years with those caterpillars on your face today?"

Green eyes turned towards the direction of the call and he did his best to ignore the initial feeling of something soft yet hollowing in his chest when he spied the owner of the distinctive voice. Instead, he let the familiar burn of annoyance and disdain take over as he always did, eyes narrowing at the sight of bright blue eyes behind glasses coupled with an infuriatingly superior smirk.

"Very original, Jones." He replied with his usual cool, one of those famed caterpillar eyebrows raising in idle inquiry. "How long did that take for you to come up with? Do try harder. Maybe then I'll actually care to think of saying something witty right back."

He walked on before he caught a glimpse of whatever expression there was on the Gryffindor's open face and shut out the retort yelled after him even though the encounter was most certainly over. Despite walking away, he couldn't help the way he scowled, not unaffected at all by what just happened. Gryffindors, walking around like they owned the school with arrogance and bravado in spades. There was no doubt that Alfred F. Jones, Quidditch Star and Golden Boy, fit right in, especially with how he reveled in the house rivalry. How he hated him, despised everything about him. Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

Six years and everything remained the same since he donned silver and green.

As an innocent child, he asked what it would have been like if things were different and he got his answer.

He got a dungeon instead of a tower and it indeed felt like a fall from grace. He was distrusted if not outright despised on sight. He didn't even need to speak a word; the colors of his robes marked him with their dark reputation. Cunning became more valued than courage and he grew cold and calculating. There would be no friends, just allies, and he would never take Alfred F. Jones' hand in friendship ever again. Don't even get him started on his family...

There was a reason why he was sorted into Slytherin, however. It wasn't long before he learned, adapted and then thrived. It didn't take him long before he had come to accept what he had been given and to plan what to do with it. And as he walked these halls and remembered that, his shoulders squaring and his eyes looking forward, he reminded himself that he had been given an opportunity (not a curse as most people seem to think) and he would show them.

He would show them all.