If someone had been paying close attention to the head table, they might have seen several of the older Professors suppress a groan. Fortunately, the students were too busy watching that year's firsties entering the hall. Everyone noticed the three redheads huddled together in the back of the line, soaked through to their skins, and whispering excitedly, not a trace of nerves or fear visible. Two of them, a boy and a girl, were clearly twins, identical but for the length of their hair. The third's hair was a blonder shade of red, but her eyes were the exact same shade as the twins, and all three had the intangible appearance of those of irrepressible character and the utmost confidence in their selves.
Over the years, teachers inevitably develop a sort of awareness, an ability to identify troublemakers. Whispering without fear of punishment when they were about to Sorted, wet from falling into the lake, that aura of self-assurance, all of it came together to ring the collective bells and whistles of even the most inexperienced staff. Headmistress McGonagall, who had survived, not just lived through but survived, the eras of both the Marauders and the Weasley twins, and knew these particular three rather well, had been dreading their arrival for years. At least none of the Marauders or the twins had been one of her godchildren. The three children standing in the back of the Great Hall not only knew how to twist her around their little fingers, but had absolutely no reservations about doing so, and had been since practically birth. Hogwarts was, as the young ones said, screwed.
Even as the noise in the hall slowly began to subside, and the Ravenclaw Head of House brought out the stool and Sorting Hat, a clear peal of laughter rang out. The boy's twin elbowed him in the gut, drawing his attention to the gazes of the startled students. He waved a hand at them indolently, even as he finally managed to get his amusement back under control.
"Sorry about that folks, don't mind me," then, in the same breath, "Uncle Nev!" Fred, Roxanne and Dominique Weasley, fondly known as the Weasley Triple Threat, waved excitedly at the Herbology Professor, and current Head of Gryffindor House. They had also, on occasion, been called the Terrible Trio, the Trinity of Terror, and the always favorite Terror Triplets. The most fear inspiring epithet any had ever heard though, was the bloodcurdlingly forbidding, "George's Protégées." The implications of that, the ramifications of such a thing, were just too daunting, too menacing to consider for very long.
Neville Longbottom, vaunted War hero, and, according to the Hat, true Gryffindor, once the wielder of Godric Gryffindor's sword, sighed resignedly and gave them a wave back. For some reason, this caused Fred to crow, "I told you so!" and hold out his hand expectantly. His sister and cousin cheerfully shrugged , dug through their sopping robes, and handed over a couple of coins each. Neville just sighed again, even as scandalized looks twisted some of his colleagues' faces. Blaise Zabini, in the seat next to him, looked amused.
The Hat began to Sing as the Head of Slytherin whispered, "Gambling in the Great Hall, under the undivided attention of all the Professors, on the actions of a Professor, before they're even Sorted. These three are certainly going to be an interesting handful aren't they?"
"George Weasley's twin children, and the girl who is their sister in all that matters. You cannot possibly have any idea what this school is in for."
"Did you realize, as offended as some of the others are, they couldn't even take points off earlier, as they haven't been Sorted yet. Nor can they be punished, as they can claim they didn't know the rules, though I really doubt Hogwarts is encouraging of gambling."
Neville murmured softly, voice clearly expressing fondness, "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if all three of those brats were Sorted into your House."
A wry smile curved Blaise's mouth. "I'm sure they'll be suitable heartbroken should that occur."
"On the contrary, Zabini, I'm pretty sure they're hoping to be put into Slytherin. The lack of House prejudice growing up, and George's warped sense of humor, means they'll probably be disturbingly amused by the reactions of the collective Wizarding World if all three of them were Sorted into Slytherin. Not to mention, they'd fit right in."
"Merlin preserve us."
Their under-the breath conversation was cut off when the Headmistress glared at them. Both looked remarkably like the guilty schoolboys McGonagall had, on more than one occasion, caught them being years ago. The Hat had finished, and the Sorting begun while their attention had been otherwise occupied. Suitably chastened, they watched as another child's name was called.
Finally, there were only the three Weasley's left. First of the trio to be Sorted was Dom. When her name was called, she sauntered to the front of the room, with not slightest apprehension marring her beautiful face. She hopped up onto the stool, took the Hat from the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with a sunny, "Cheers," and pulled its dirty, tattered brim over her head.
A minute later, when the Hat shouted out, "SLYTHERIN!" Dom pulled off the hat, grinning, handed it over to Professor Hynes, and swaggered over to the stunned Slytherin table, ignoring the whispers breaking out though the hall. Teddy and Victoire, shaking their heads and smiling at her actions, started the applause from the Gryffindor table.
Next, Fred made his way to the stool. He winked at his sister, shot a smirk at Dom, and put the Hat on. Less than twenty seconds later, he, too, was making his way to the Slytherin table. The applause was prompter this time, though the students looked even more nonplussed at the idea of not one, but two Weasleys in Slytherin.
Roxy bounced up to the dais and onto the waiting seat before Hynes could even call her name. She blew Fred and Dom a kiss before settling the Hat on her head. She was up there for a good five minutes, each passing minute causing more and more whispering, before Fred lost his patience.
"Oh for Merlin's sake Rox, hurry it up already! I'm dying of starvation here!"
Roxy's voice, though the Hat still covered the majority of her face, was just as clear. "Shut up Freddie, there's a good boy. Can't you see I'm trying to have a nice chat here? And besides, you're always hungry."
Dom joined the conversation. "Well, it's not just him. The rest of us are starting to become a bit famished too." The rest of the school just looked from one to the other, not quite believing the audacity of the elven year olds.
Roxy sighed gustily. "Oh alright."
A second later, the hat once more called out, "SLYTHERIN!"
The newest snake pulled the Sorting Hat off her gleaming red head and gave it a friendly pat before she handed it to Professor Hynes. She stepped off of the raised platform at the front of the room and turned to the head table to say, face and voice the picture of earnestness, "Aunt Minnie," then correct herself with a cheeky grin at the Headmistress's glare. "I mean, Professor McGonagall, you really ought to talk to Herbert more. He says it gets awfully boring sitting on a shelf day in and day out all year."
Neville mouthed Herbert a bit disbelievingly, but McGonagall was unfazed. She replied to her goddaughter's (Merlin, what had she been thinking when she'd agreed to be George's daughter's godmother?) words in an even voice born of long experience and suffering, "Thank you for your advice Miss Weasley. Now, if you could, please, take a seat." Roxy, affable as always (until she wasn't), made her way to where Fred and Dom were sitting. "Thank you." She then stood and faced the entire school.
"Welcome everyone to the beginning of another year. Before we begin dinner, I'd like to make a few quick announcements, so please, give me your attention for just a short while longer.
"First years, congratulations on your Sorting. As you have no doubt already heard, your House will be the equivalent of your family during your stay at Hogwarts, so get to know everyone around you; You will spending a considerable amount of time with them.
"Next, there is a copy of the Hogwarts rulebook and a list of items not allowed at Hogwarts in every dormitory. Therefore, you have no excuse to break the rules or to have any prohibited objects in your possession, and will face the appropriate consequences for doing so.
"The Forbidden Forest is, as you are reminded every year, was appointed with that appellation for a very good reason. Namely, that it is forbidden. I would be much obliged, " she requested dryly, "if you would make an endeavor to remember that.
"If you have any doubts or questions, please, ask a Professor, Prefect, or one of older students. They will probably be able to provide you with a satisfactory answer.
"In other news, Quidditch tryouts will be held next weekend. Captains, stay behind after dinner so you can work out a suitable schedule for the Pitch.
"That is all. I wish you the best of luck with your year. Enjoy your dinner, and remember, classes start Monday. Schedules will be available starting tomorrow." The occupants of the burst into applause, though it was unclear if it was for McGonagall's rhetorical skills or the food that appeared on the tables with the end of her speech.
Fred, Dom and Roxy dug in with gusto, ignoring the uncertain, measuring glances they were receiving from the rest of their new House, and some students from other tables too. Dom and Roxy finished eating first, and leaned back, relaxed and satiated. Fred was making his way through his third plate of apple crumble, and had slowed down enough to be able to pay attention to more than just the food in front of him. They sat in content silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts, though those thoughts happened to be, not so remarkably, quite similar, until the food vanished and a Prefect called for the first years from end of the table closest to the entrance.
The other Slytherin first years seemed unsure of what to think of them, and stood a little apart from them, watching the three cousins from the corners of their eyes. One of their older housemates, though, had no such reservations.
"You know this House has gone to the dogs when there's three Weasleys in Slytherin. You don't belong here you little twerps, and you'll realize it soon enough." The three first years he was addressing in such a menacing hiss looked more amused than intimidating. Of course, when you grow up with a French, part-Veela mother/Aunt, fourth year Slytherin bullies just aren't that frightening.
Before they could retort though, and before the three Gryffindors they could see approaching could do or say something, the Slytherin Prefect had interjected herself between them.
"Trust me when I say you'll really want to be wanting to be leaving right about now Goyle."
"But Hem, they're Weasleys! They shouldn't be here!"
"And who are you to say otherwise? From what I've seen so far, they seem as if they'll fit into Slytherin perfectly. And as older students, it is our responsibility to make them feel welcome. Since you obviously can't do that, you will stay away from them." The Or else was unspoken, but very clear in the way she was fingering her wand through her robes. The boy, Goyle, beat a hasty retreat.
The Prefect turned her back on him, sniffing contemptuously. "I apologize on behalf of Slytherin House for that moron. He's a bit thick, but it's not his fault. Trust me when I say he comes by it honestly."
"Oh we've heard the stories." Teddy slung a companionable arm around Dom and Roxy, reaching out with the other to scrub affectionately at Fred's hair. Molly and Victoire took turns hugging the newly Sorted Weasleys.
"Thanks, and don't worry about it." Dom replied with a charming smile at the Prefect, somehow managing to convey the impression of innocent perfection, despite snarled hair and still damp robes. It was a gift. She extended one dainty hand confidently. "Dom Weasley, pleased to make your acquaintance. This is Fred and Roxy."
The older girl accepted the outstretched hand with a smile. "Nice to meet all of you. I'm Hemlock Artirus. You can call me Hem." She included the other first years with her last words. They all nodded back at her.
"Well brats, I'm off to bed. You know how to reach any of us if you need to. Don't hesitate if you need to, but if you wake me up before eleven as a joke, I will string you up on a parapet using your guts," all this was said with a cheerful smile. Vic smacked him, hard.
"Teddy don't be so common. Use some of that imagination people are always saying you have. I've got this really great idea involving thestrals and bloody steaks." The Slytherins were staring at Victoire in fascinated horror. Her family members looked unfazed.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," they chorused together, smirking.
"Let me make this very clear." It was Molly's turn now. "I love you all very much, and sure you're you can be terrifying little beast sometimes, but remember this, I have just as much access to Wheezes as all of you. And I know where you sleep, where you live, where you eat, and where you keep your stuff. Consider this a universal warning Triplets, and remember it before you even think about pranking me." Molly may have been Percy's daughter, but between his wife's genes and George's influence growing up, she was nowhere near as straightlaced or stuffy as her father had been (and still was most of the time).
"See," Dom said in an admiring voice, "that is a somewhat scary threat."
Fred and Roxy nodded, also showing appreciation. "Maybe you should hold lessons Moll. I'm sure they'd be very appreciated. Goyle might even learn something." Roxy was starting bounce on the balls of her feet with her enthusiasm for the idea.
"No Rox," Molly sighed, "I will not hold lessons to teach people how to be scary."
Hem spoke up then, interrupting whatever entreaty Roxy was about to make. "Not that this little window into the workings of the Weasleys isn't fascinating or anything, but we really should be going. Say your farewells to the Gryffies."
Professor McGonagall watched as Pansy Parkinson's daughter led the Slytherin first years out of the Great Hall. Just before they exited, her goddaughter caught her watching, and blew her an impertinent kiss and a wink.
She nearly put her head down on the table and groaned when she though about what the next seven years would and could bring. Only the fact that there were still students and teachers in the hall stopped her. Though nothing could prevent her fervent desire for a stiff drink.
She did groan when she saw Blaise Zabini and Neville Longbottom (Merlin, what an unexpected friendship!) shake hands, and heard Neville say, "You're delusional Zabini, if you think they can last through the weekend without detention. You're forgetting, I know those three, they go looking for trouble when they think it isn't finding them fast enough. "
"I didn't say they would stay out of trouble, I just expressed a belief in their ability to remain uncaught, or if caught, unpunished."
…
Was it too late into this year to consider retiring to the coast like Poppy kept advising her to?