A/N Hey guys I know I haven't been active in the FF community for a while. I was just going through my old stories on my computer and I realised I haven't posted this up. It's a multi-chaptered fic but one that I guarantee I will finish, since I'm already 80% done anyway. It's a drabble, if you wish., that popped into my mind one day and wouldn't go away. Blair meets the Hat, the Hat sees Blair's future and picks out which House is good for her. It's pretty depressing, if you're a light!happy!go-lucky! sort of person. Which, you might be able to tell, I'm not.
Review, please.
It is the beginning of the new school year, and the grounds of Hogwarts are dotted with black robes as students file one by one into the Great Hall. The Great Hall is one of the greatest magical archetypical structures of the ages, filled with humming magic that is spun like the finest silk. The air is charmed to sing like birds fresh in spring, and the gold chandeliers to droop lazily; majestically from the ceiling, magically enchanted to embody the vibrant hues of autumn, pure gold against dark, burnt auburn. Four long tables, each lined with the different colors – green, red, yellow and blue – stretch out the vast length of the Hall, four parallel lines streaking away from the Headmaster's grand table.
It is breathtaking.
Eleven year old Blair Waldorf supposes it will be tolerable.
Her beautiful brown tresses are pulled back in a neat ponytail, and although she is young her beauty is apparent. Her cheekbones are high and sculpted, her skin porcelain white like a queen, and her chocolate eyes are large and doe-like. She is the personification of Innocence – or would be, if not for the curl lifting the side of her perfectly shaped lips.
It is apparent she is born into wealth (she is decked in Eleanor Waldorf robes, no less). Her mother, Pureblood of course, was the leading designer and the founder of the upscale beauty boutique Eleanor Waldorf Designs for high magical-society wives. Her father, another Pureblood (thank God), was one of the top-notch Magical Defense Attorney at a private reputable law firm, well-known for its rather elitist stand in only catering to the fabulously wealthy who could afford their services. He was also in the Wizengamot, as well as being a significant shareholder in Gringotts.
Blair crinkles her nose (she straightens it out again quickly; it was rude). Although it was safe to say she held nothing but the highest respect for her parents, this had to be the worst decision they had ever made. At least in Beauxbatons last year (she'd been accepted there in an early admission in a magical aptitude test), the students were sorted purely by social standings. Of course, Blair had been immediately accepted to the Upper East Sorority with her best friend Serena and her boyfriend since forever Nate and his best friend Chuck (who was absolutely repulsive, what did Nate see in him?).
But Hogwarts had offered her a place too at the end of that year, and her parents had switched her schools because the education system here was better, and Eleanor had to open her new conglomerate of beauty charms and potions here anyway.
She'd heard stories about the Sorting, where witches and wizards alike were supposedly sorted (well, Chuck had told a few rumors about the Sorting being having to battle a seven-headed chimera but that was stupid, not to mention her parents would sue) according to a person's character. How inane. It was a terrifying thought, though, that she might get stuck in a room filled with ugly girls who lacked even the barest modicum of fashion sense for sevenyears. Seven.
Blair notices the Headmaster speaking, but only distractedly. He's old and wrinkly and he looks intelligent except for the fact he was wearing a bright purple robe with orange trimming that she might have seen on sale at Madam Maulkins.
Purple with orange.
Madam Maulkins.
Sale.
Hogwarts was mad, the whole lot of them.
The Headmaster is finished speaking and around her a few people are chuckling, but she doesn't get the joke so she ignores it and turns her attention to the elderly female teacher (who has clearly never heard of Beauty Charms or Anti-Aging Potions), who reaches behind her to produce a…
A hat.
It's black and old-looking and wrinkly. Its pointed tip sags at the top.
Blair's struck with the mental thought that it just might be the shape of her breasts, fifty years from now. She shudders and promptly resolves never to think anything remotely as disturbing as that ever again.
It opens the brim of its hat, to form a strong resemblance to what might have been a mouth, and abruptly speaks, its voice croaky and surprisingly strong. Some First Years around her jump in fright at the sudden noise, and the older students snigger. Blair's not surprised, though, although she would fall off her seat if the hat announced itself to be taken from the summer catalogue of Warloca. Honestly, even historical relics fundamental to the development of magic of this age shouldn't have the excuse of looking so filthy and proletarian.
The hat is singing now, in a voice that reminded her of the Warbling Sisters possibly undergoing puberty (hence the cracked voice), but Blair isn't interested. Surely they didn't expect her to put that thing – her, a Waldorf- on her head? You can't be serious. You can't be serious. You definitely cannot be serious. A persistent voice in her head repeats over and over again, followed by a mind-conjured tinkling, annoying laugh of disbelief. Now that she thought of if, that laugh did sound a whole lot like Serena's…
"Antonio, Gordon."
A lanky boy with glasses hurries to put it on and almost trips on his feet. Blair distractedly fights a smirk from curling up. But her thoughts are preoccupied. Oh Merlin, they really do expect us to wear it, don't they?
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
This time, Blair doesn't fight the smirk.
She already knows what she wants, and she's already color coded all her headbands, accessories and spare robes to be of silver-green. It's perhaps the only place that she can meet other people who might have an inkling of society and high culture that Blair has been reared in, and she's not going to let that opportunity slide and get shoved into any of the other savage Houses, much less Hufflepuff.
"Pétain, Pierre. SLYTHERIN!"
Blair claps because the boy's handsome with his bright blue eyes and his wink that somehow finds her and singles her disinterested figure out from the rest of the enthusiastically clapping First Years, and the fact that he's ambling toward the Slytherin table.
"Norringston, Theodore. RAVENCLAW!"
"Niels, Humphrey. GRYFFINDOR!"
"Parkinson, Penelope. HUFFLEPUFF!"
There is a stunned silence, long enough for Blair to gather with arched eyebrows that this is probably not supposed to happen. She knew the Parkinsons were a wealthy upper-class family that often shopped in her mother's boutique, and were often invited for tea parties and balls within the pureblood society. The Parkinsons would probably recover from the slight, but even so it would be propriety to write to Eleanor to inform her one less invitation to the Haute Couture Show this year.
"Smith, Juliet. GRYFFINDOR!"
Blair cringes because the buck-toothed girl with frizzy red hair is the fourth Muggleborn to wear the hat already and Blair wonders how many times she will have to wash her hair out after today.
"Valentine, Jarrell. HUFFLEPUFF!"
Blair claps politely because it's her turn next and she doesn't want to give a bad impression of her teachers. After all, she is perfection and she is designed to please. She is schooled in the finer arts of culture and etiquette and she doesn't want to disgrace the Waldorf name.
"Waldorf, Blair."
As Blair slowly walks to the hat and tries to school her face into an excited, happy one, she can hear whispers stirring from the audience.
"Blair Waldorf? As in, Waldorf?"
"Like, from Eleanor Waldorf Designs?"
"You think she'll let us peek at their fall collection?"
"Man, she's hot."
"She's way too young for you, paedophile."
"For a First Year, I mean."
Blair settles herself down in the rickety old stool with as much dignity and composure as possible, schooling her face into a slight smile as she can muster, trying to convince herself that it would be over soon, she would not contract any Muggleborn-related disease that would make her perfect hair fall off, this Hat would not give her the case of Uncurable Dandruff…
She's surprised when the Hat speaks in her mind.
The Hat sees everything.
It's been with Godric Gryffindor for as long as it can remember, ever since Gryffindor fashioned it; knitted its first threads and knots with magic and intertwined each strand with a fraction of its power. It made the Hat infallible in where he himself was fallible to – Time. The Hat, rugged and worn as it might be, the magic Gryffindor had imbued it with had enabled it to withstand the harsh, demanding sands of Time designed to crumble and take away.
The Hat had seen its fair share of magic in every single kind of student, but as it was it was not its place to comment on the magical capability of each – only to see the character, through and through, and to sort them accordingly into the Houses best suited to nurture them and fully develop their potential into the best they can be.
The Hat is impervious to time, and when it is sat on a student's head it accesses that particular unique ability granted by Godric to see what it could not. It sees the Past, Present, and Future. Of them all, the Future is far by the most uncertain, and for each student there is a myriad of Futures, every one generated from every single choice the person has made, or has to make. The Hat sees them all, and it sieves out only the best, and determines what House has made them this way.
It is cleverly done, but the power given to the Hat is a large one, and sometimes the Hat wishes it cannot see, if only to escape the enormity of the responsibility and the knowledge that of every single Hogwarts alumni bearing the Dark Mark, it was it that had made them this way. Twisted and evil, but stretched to the best capability that they can be.
The Hat is weary from all its thoughts as it rummages through the latest First Year – Jerrell is seven years old and he sees Mother crying, an ugly black mark blossoming on her face from where Father had struck her and he hurries over – "Ma, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean to make him mad, it's my fault, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" This boy is of pure heart and so much love for a boy in his situation, and he will grow up to be an exceptional owner of an orphanage that would care children, who he will treat like his own.
HUFFLEPUFF.
And the next First Year ambles over, Blair Waldorf, and the Hat sees the disgust in her slightly scrunched nose, the sway in her walk of someone knowing that she is pretty, knowing that she will be beautiful, and a challenge in the innocent brown eyes and it knows that this one will be difficult.
The Hat lowers itself on her head, and images of the Past surface and the Hat watches, absorbs and decides.
i. Ravenclaw
She is intelligent, very much so.
Blair Waldorf sits on the examination chair, her back straight and her chin tilted just like her mother teaches her too. Her tiny hand grips her wand with a surprising familiarity for one as young as she, and a slight smirk tugs at her lips as she stares at the Invigilator for her Magical Aptitude test.
"Let's see," Madame Marie says. "Show me the Hovering Charm."
Ten year old Blair doesn't show it, but she's disappointed. She'd thought the Magical Aptitude test would demand something more challenging, like something involving the Locator Spell or even the quick Transfiguration of something. Certainly not something that she had mastered when she was six. But this is a test and Blair aims to please, so she flicks her wand and commands haughtily, "Wingardium Leviosa."
The pen hovers, delightfully steady and just for fun Blair twitches her wand and the pen spells out her name in the air, leaving threads of shimmering red (like her headband) and frills to spell her name BLAIR CORNELIA WALDORF. She looks triumphantly over at the older woman as she applauds in wonder, Blair's dark eyes glittering with triumph at the show of praise and admiration – the admiration that was due to her prodigious skill at magic. Affection that Eleanor had never shown at home save for when Blair was exhibited at parties -
Of course, what Blair does not know is that what she has done is in the curriculum of Beauxbaton's Third Grade – two years above her own.
Blair exits the room with her head held even higher, after managing to Transfigure her goblet into mice (pink, because she hates white rats with red eyes). Madam Marie negates to mention Colour Changing Charms are taught in Beauxbaton's Fifth Year, and in the OWLs syllabus in England and instead claps politely with restrained excitement.
Blair exits the classroom and walks past a surly, brooding looking boy with overly-gelled hair (too tacky) and dark arrogant eyes. "I've already gotten a place, Waldorf. The teacher said my audition was…memorable." he calls out lazily, eyelids lowering.
Blair narrows her eyes at him. She's not surprised if he's made a pass at the teacher; he's done it to women old enough to be his grandmother before. "Only cause Daddy Dearest bribed Madam Maxime, I suppose." She sneers back with equal contempt.
His eyes narrow at she knows she's hit a nerve. "You won't get in princess," he spits. "They only take in the best."
A thousand retorts fly to the front of her mind, but Blair notices a large, grownup frame fill the doorway. Blair turns, and smiles sweetly at Chuck Bass, although her eyes flare venom and promise a challenge. A sly smile curls Chuck's lips as he watches her turn and walk away, head held high like royalty.
Of course, Blair doesn't mention the entire interview on her part was conducted in fluent French (taught by her father's lover no less), and instead she walks away with a smile reminiscent of a Kneazle who caught the Pygmy Puff.
A week later, she gets the letter. She doesn't squeal and jump about because it's so undignified, but she smiles and beams at her mother anyway. Dorota shouts in delight and grabs her in a hug. Her mother doesn't look up once as she mutters her congratulations, and hurries off for tea with the Minister's wife.
Quite intelligent, the Hat muses. She'd been top of the year in Beauxbatons. She would do well in Ravenclaw, if intelligence was her only trait. But it isn't, and so the Hat notes with disappointment the loss that Ravenclaw will never know it lost.
ii. Hufflepuff
Underneath the cold exterior of disdain and disapproval, and underneath the angles at which her chin was tilted, almost arrogantly up away from those deemed to be below her, Blair Waldorf did have the makings of a Hufflepuff.
"S? Why are you crying?" Blair asks, tentatively. She doesn't dare approach the sobbing Serena – she is, after all, wearing her new dress from the fall collection of Delacoure. But Serena has been her best friend since forever, after all, and although there is a twinge of satisfaction that the beautiful Serena is, of course, prone to crying like any other human being, it is extinguished under the weight of her concern.
Serena looks over, and Blair thinks stupidly for a moment that even when crying and being only ten years old, Serena still manages to look beautiful, a photoshopped child model on the cover of Witches Weekly.
"It's just…my family," Serena sobs as she reaches for a tissue. "I miss home."
Blair stares. She doesn't miss home – alright, maybe she does miss Dorota, her house elf, and Daddy a little. But she doesn't really miss her mother who's always away at her boutique to even bother about her (except when she told her she was getting fat) and Daddy was always out with his boyfriend anyway so it didn't matter, really. Being at Beauxbatons, surrounded with magic and her best friend was going to be so much fun.
Then again, Serena did have a better life. Her mom liked her and bought pretty dresses for her and complimented her all the time, her brother was cute and easygoing, she was the prettiest girl ever (although she wasn't the brightest by far), and all the boys liked her.
"A-and," Serena continued, her voice breaking into small hiccups, "Anne Baudrillard told me she – she – she thought I was u- u-gly and that she didn't l-l-like me."
Blair narrows her eyes. Anne Baudrillard was the resident Queen Bee of the Upper East Sorority, and it was apparent to all except maybe for Serena that the fifth-year felt threatened by the pretty first-year. Blair gives her wand an uncertain flick, and Scourgifies the tears off Serena's angelic face. "It's OK, S," Blair assures her. "You're pretty."
She glances up, and there is a certain, distinct, Slytherin-like gleam in her eyes as she adds, "I think I might have a word with her, though."
Everyone is surprised when Anne transfers out of Beauxbatons two months later, leaving in sobs and designer frocks in disarray, clutching her wand to her chest. Whispers abound that the Queen's sudden departure from the ruling court, and now there is a gap of ruling hierarchy that begs to be filled. Naturally, everyone vies for it.
Everybody but the Upper East Siders whisper when news gets out that Blair Waldorf, a first year, makes Queen .The UESers simply smirk at the others' ignorance, and the UES Girls tug their matching headbands a little lower.
Blair Waldorf would never accept herself as a Hufflepuff. She would fight against the system, and when she indubitably fails, resent Hogwarts, and perhaps even herself. She will grow up to be a respected, but bitter fashion critic.
iii. Gryffindor
Gryffindor, then? There is a surprising amount of Gryffindor in this individual – the tendency of chivalry was present in Blair Waldorf, although it didn't make a frequent appearance. Blair knew what was wrong and what was right, the only problem was that she often overlooked it and overstepped the boundaries anyway.
Blair glares at Chuck. "You cheated." She grounds out.
Chuck lifts an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? How?"
"It was a duel!" Blair stomps her foot on the ground. "You're supposed to use a wand to duel! You're not supposed to punch her!"
Chuck shrugged nonchalantly. "Georgina deserved it," he says flatly, his eyes boring into her in such a manner that Blair begins to fidget, a little. "You should have heard the way she was talking about you. Besides, everyone knows you two hate each other. I thought you'd be happy that she's covered in boils and now everyone knows you're much prettier-"
"She's a girl, Chuck!" Blair screeched, although a part of her glows at Chuck's unintentional compliment."Besides, you can't go around hexing everyone who talks about me into the Infirmary!"
Chuck's lower lip juts out, and he matches Blair's blistering gaze as he replies contemptuously, "You're a girl, Blair. You were the one who insisted that girls are just as good as boys. So why can't I hex girls?"
"You – you just can't."
"Georgina deserved it."
Blair nods quietly. "She did," she concedes, and pauses. "Thank you, Chuck."
She turns away from Chuck; who watches her with a strange expression for a while before he shoves his hands in his robes and runs away to play with Nate Archibald and the other boys, a new bounce in his step.
"But it's still wrong." Blair whispers to herself, in a voice so low no one can hear as she hurries away to the Infirmary.
Blair Waldorf might make a good Gryffindor, but she would forever face the disapproval in the Pureblood society, where the number of Hogwarts attendees ending up in Gryffindor were close to negligible. She would fight her family with the fire of Gryffindor, of course, but her self-confidence would be diminished. Similarly while she fought for her Gryffindor ideals, she would try to stage a Slytherin hierarchy in the house of Gryffindor, and fail spectacularly in that ideal. Needless to say, Blair Waldorf would be an outcast in both her House and her home.
iv. Slytherin
The Hat notes with bitter regret that alas, Blair Waldorf's most dominant trait is that of cunning and manipulation, and do stifle such domineering traits would be impossible. She is so utterly Slytherin, and despite her redeeming qualities of loyalty and chivalry and intelligence she is cunning and knows how to use those qualities to her advantage.
"Anne Baudrillard?"
The fifth-year, surrounded as usual by her giggling girlfriends and a few fawning boys, turned around and raised an eyebrow at Blair Waldorf. She was very beautiful, Blair thinks, like a full grown doll. With perfect, olive skin, dark hair, blue eyes and Veela blood Anne was easily the prettiest girl to walk the halls of Beauxbatons.
A pity she has to go. Blair had always looked up to her.
"Oh, she eez adorable!" one of the girls exclaims, bending down to pat Blair's head. Blair's head snaps up and glares a fiery look so scathing the girl jerks her hand back and laughs nervously. "Ooh, theez one eez…how do you say it…a firecracker?"
Blair's smile shows a lot of teeth, although her eyes are cold. "Anne, could I please talk to you?"
A few of her friends laugh at the mere thought of it, but the sniggers turns into curious looks as Anne irritably waves them away. "Go, go. I will see you at lunch."
As soon as they have disappeared around the corner, Anne glances around furtively and drags her into the nearest empty classroom. "What are you doing?" she snarls. "I told you not to approach me in daylight!"
Blair stares coolly at her mentor. Blair has always respected and looked up to the older girl. Ever since the first week of school Anne has marked her as her protégé in secret, training her to take over the throne once she has graduated. Midnight rendezvous had been in order, with Anne teaching Blair everything one has to know about ruling the Bitch Court as Queen.
A pity then, that usurpation of the throne was in order.
"I thought I might just want to give you a heads-up, Anne," Blair says coolly.
A perfectly manicured eyebrow is raised. "What do you mean, leetle one?"
Blair tries not to bristle at the derogatory term, or the condescending sneer in the older girl's voice. She pitches her voice lower, as if sharing a juicy secret. "I'm just saying, I saw Renee and Professor Aquinae make out outside his quarters on the eighth floor. They looked like they were in love!"
And Blair sees it – the thing she has been eyeing Anne's face keenly for. A flash of anger and jealousy and hurt and guilt.
Score.
"Why would you think something so minor would interest me, leetle one?" Anne sneers, but it has little of its intended venom and falls flat.
"Of course, forgive me." Blair looks up at her with wide eyes. "I didn't know you were over the Professor so fast that you would be so impassive. It must be that charming Michel from seventh year that has stolen your heart now, no?"
Anne goes white. "You – you know?"
Blair inclines her head, and there is a fire in her eyes now that she has seen the prize within reach, and now it's clear she's playing for keeps. "Of course, I was absolutely shocked when I saw them – Renee and Professor Aquinae, naturally – together. This is an institution for learning, after all. Some propriety should be observed between teacher and student! Can you imagine how this will affect Beauxbaton's reputation if this leaks out? Wouldn't you agree, Anne?" Blair looks at Anne, feigning ignorance, though is a predatory smile now, which looks oddly out of place on a first-year.
Anne's face is looking more frantic now. "Of- of course."
"Well, if this got out – the professor would be sacked, naturally, for having sexual liaisons with his students. And Renee; her future will be ruined of course. Smashed to smithereens. Imagine the scandal! If I were related to her, I certainly wouldn't show my face to society for years." Blair heaved an exaggerated sigh.
Anne didn't say anything, instead her large, wild eyes making her look like a trapped animal.
Checkmate.
"And after Renee left him he entered his quarters. His door wasn't closed so I peeked in for a little while and saw him writing Renee's name to a list – a list! Do you suppose he writes down the names of those students he sleeps with, Anne? So he doesn't forget them and call them by some other name?"
"I-"Anne falters.
Blair smiles and went in for the kill.
"Well, I snuck in at night and copied all the names last night – you know, using the Copy spell you taught me? Well I sealed it up and ran away before I could get caught. I've already done many more copies of it with the Copying spell you taught me– I'm planning on sending a few owls to the Minister of Education, the board of Beauxbatons and pasting a few up on the wall. They should know how education is run in these halls, after all. What do you think?"
"I- I have to go." Anne says, pushing past Blair and breaking out into a run.
She doesn't see Blair's smirk of triumph as she watches Anne run to her rooms, where she will pack her bags and Floo home in the night. Neither does Anne linger around long enough to wait for the next day, where students enter the Hall and realize there has been a takeover within the span of a few hours and instead, a new Queen on her throne ruling her loyal subjects, and the start of a new regime.
She will never realize that the only Renee in the school was a bubbly Second Grader; and that the list Blair had indeed seen had been Professor Aquinae's letter of resignation from Beauxbatons clumsily left on his desk, claiming "affairs of the heart" and" emotional obligations".
She had even seen the ring, gleaming bright silver under the letter, waiting for it's chance to be slipped onto slender fingers.
But Blair has always been too caught up in her own fairytales to even imagine the possibility that she just might've ruined someone else's.
Blair's futures are endless, a myriad of different possibilities with different occupations, most successful in their own right save for some. Slytherin is the one house where she will excel in every possible future, aided with adoring housemates. The best future for Blair Waldorf is in Slytherin, where in this optimum future, she will reach her untapped potential. She will push the limits of magic, and she will experiment with new forms of magic. She will be respected in the Wizarding World, and everyone will fear her name.
She is to be the right-hand woman of the Dark Lord.
A/N please don't flame me for that little twist right there - the sequence of events to lead up to that little bit will all be elaborated on in the next chapters. At the same time, I realise this this little fic isn't meant for everybody. I know a lot of people won't like it, and frankly, I don't really care. This is a story that intrigued me, so I write it. That being said, I would love some feedback.
R&R!