Disclaimer: I don't own HP, don't make any money off of this story, etc. I just have fun playing with Queen Jo's characters and occasionally copying sections of her wonderful books directly into my fanfics.
Harry POV
The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.
There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three quarters came in. He looked tearful.
"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"
When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"
"He'll turn up," said Harry.
"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."
He left.
"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."
The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.
"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."
He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.
"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway
He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.
"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.
"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."
She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.
"Er - all right."
He cleared his throat.
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.
"What spell was that?" asked a soft voice from behind the bushy-haired girl. Harry realized in surprise that the other girl, small and dark-haired, had been standing there the entire time.
Before a now very red Ron could answer, the bushy-haired girl was talking again.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
She said all this very fast.
Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.
"Harry Potter," said Harry.
"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. For background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.
"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.
"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."
And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.
The dark-haired girl remained, giving Harry a shyly apologetic smile. "I'm Serena Shafiq—Hermione means well, she's just a bit much."
Harry smiled uncertainly, but Ron sat bolt upright at the mention of her name. "Shafiq? That's impossible, there aren't any Shafiqs left!"
The girl raised an eyebrow, a skill that Harry had always secretly wished to possess. "Obviously there are," she said drily. "Although we've been in Iran for nearly one hundred years."
"Dunno why you bothered coming back then," Ron said, rather nastily. "There's nothing here for you lot."
Serena pressed her lips together and seemed on the verge of responding, but evidently decided against it. "I'm going to change now," she said evenly. "And you probably should too; Hermione was right about that at least." She closed the compartment door with a sharp Snap, leaving a red faced Ron and bewildered Harry.
Ron refused to elaborate on his comment, and the two of them changed in silence.
Serena POV
The castle was huge; bigger than Serena could have ever imagined. She didn't think that she could feel any smaller as she huddled in the boat next to the giant gamekeeper in the shadow of the imposing castle.
"Land ahoy!" Hagrid boomed cheerfully, helping her step out of the boat. Her robes were too long, and she winced as the soaked hem brushed against her ankles.
Raising her chin she stepped smartly after Hagrid as he led them up the rocky passage and a steep flight of stone stairs until they reached the great oaken door. She realized that she was trembling slightly, whether from cold or trepidation as Hagrid lifted his huge fist and knocked three times.
The sound had barely echoed when the door swung open to reveal a tall, stern-looking witch in emerald green robes. Professor McGonagall. She looked exactly as she had in the useful book Serena had been given- Recognizing Anyone Worth Recognizing, down to the tight bun and square spectacles. The woman beckoned them inside, and then turned gracefully without waiting to nag them along. Clearly this was someone who was used to being in a position of authority and wielded it expertly.
They were led to a small chamber where they all clustered together nervously. We look like frightened sheep, she thought ruefully. Even the aristocratic-looking blonde boy whom she found herself standing next to was shaking slightly, his fingers drumming restlessly on his thigh.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
Her sharp eyes swept the room once, and then she left.
"Each has produced outstanding witches and wizards," the blonde boy snorted. "Show me the last Hufflepuff who did anything except take up valuable space." He had a posh, drawling accent and everything about him reeked of wealth and good taste.
"I'm hoping to be in Slytherin, of course," he told Serena. "I'm sure I will be- it's in the blood, you know." He made a stiff, formal bow. "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. You?"
"Serena," she said quietly. She had no desire to share her rather controversial surname with this opinionated boy.
"Pureblood, I take it? Hoping for Slytherin?"
"We'll see," she replied noncommittally. "I'm not sure that I'm quite right for Slytherin."
"You look like a Slytherin to me," he asserted with the air of one paying a great compliment. "I'm sure you'll make it."
"That's the Sorting Hat's decision, isn't it, Draco?" she teased lightly. "Unless you're applying for the job…"
He looked slightly surprised at her casual use of his first name. "Malfoys do not apply for jobs," he informed her haughtily. "We give jobs and take them away, but no Malfoy has applied for a job in centuries." He turned away with finality to discuss something with a weedy-looking boy standing on his other side.
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. "Now, form a line," she told the first years, "and follow me."
They filed after her quietly, footsteps echoing in the complete silence. Serena found herself between Hermione Granger, the girl she had met on the train, and a scared looking blonde girl in pigtails. She flashed what she hoped was an encouraging smile at the blonde before they stepped through the doors and her breath was stolen quite away.
The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. The ceiling was velvety black dotted with shining stars.
Dimly she heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
She was so transfixed by the beauty of the room that she nearly jumped out of her skin when a shrill, nasal voice began to sing.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
There was a long, loud round of applause during which the hat seemed to beam, while Serena frantically turned the implications of the song over in her mind. Brave or loyal, wise or cunning. Daring or witty, hard working or ambitious. The houses didn't seem so very different after all; each had overlapping characteristics with the others.
It was logical, after all, as nobody was just one type of person. People were complex, and putting them in houses seemed to be so restrictive. Couldn't one be witty and cunning as well as brave, loyal and daring? Why would the school box in the students that way?
She was still pondering when a huge cheer came up from the red-and-gold table. Two red heads (more Weasleys?) were banging on the table, shouting. "We got Potter! We got Potter!" She wondered why they were making such a big fuss, and felt rather bad for the skinny, green-eyed boy as he went nervously to the table. He was just another kid; he didn't look much like a hero at all. Another box, she sighed to herself. She would have to get down to the bottom of these boxes.
And then:
"Shafiq, Serena."
Serena approached the stool, her heart thumping in the sudden hush that had fallen. She sat down gingerly- her feet dangled nearly an inch above the floor- and placed the hat gently on her head.
Shafiq, eh? Said the nasal voice in her ear. Snap judgment would say Slytherin, but we musn't be hasty here .Ah, yes, there's that burning ambition, but it seems more like a thirst for knowledge then a thirst for power. Ooh, I felt that flinch. Not one for power, are you? You could run circles around all of Gryffindor and a mind like yours is wasted in Hufflepuff. There seems to be just one place for you, my dear, and a credit you'll be to that house. I'll be hearing about you soon- we all will, mark my words Serena Shafiq. So, good luck in RAVENCLAW!
She stood up on shaky legs as the blue and bronze table cheered. I'm a Ravenclaw, she thought. But first a witch. Always first a witch, then a Ravenclaw. No house name is going to put me in a box! With that determined, she slipped into her seat next to a first year boy, proud to be a witch and a Ravenclaw.
