Author's Note
I hope you enjoy this story. I'm hoping to make it around 80 chapters in total but we'll see how it goes. I never leave more than a week between updates!
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The first years, around 40 of them, stood in a snaking line outside the doors to Hogwarts Castle. They waited in the dark under the watchful eye of Hagrid, who hung close to a pair of children near the front of the line. The girl of the pair had curly, auburn hair that was tied back into a neat plait. Her face was scattered with freckles and though she could not be called plain, neither was she especially pretty. She was a thoroughly acceptable-looking girl. The boy was slightly smaller than his cousin, with messy black hair and bright green almond-shaped eyes.
'Jus' like yer dad, you are,' said Hagrid to the boy, 'Feels like yesterday I was standin' 'ere with 'im, an' yer Mum 'n' Dad too, Rose.'
The children grinned up at the great man, having not seen him since he joined the Potters' and Weasleys' for a big Christmas Dinner that their Grandma Weasley had attempted the previous year. The half-giant beamed back, his dark eyes sparkling with joy.
Before long, an elderly, stout woman in mustard yellow robes emerged from behind the enormous doors. She smiled warmly at the long line.
'Welcome, first-years, to Hogwarts. I am Professor Sprout, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Hufflepuff house. You are about to enter the Entrance Hall of the castle. I will escort you directly through and bring you into the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into your houses.'
Albus and Rose exchanged a nervous smile, and Hagrid patted Albus on the shoulder causing him to nearly fall over. 'Follow me,' Professor Sprout requested and the line stumbled after her through the castle doors.
The Entrance Hall was huge, with a great marble floor and stone walls. The children looked around in wonder at their new home, brimming with colour: portraits, suits of armour, tapestries… Directly in front of them were the Oak Doors that the children knew led to the Great Hall. A flutter of nervous excitement washed over the crowd.
As they approached, an inscription covering both of the doors came into view. It was a long list of names. Reading through them, Rose caught a few that she recognised: Fred Weasley… Remus Lupin… Nymphadora Lupin. Above the list, carved in even larger writing read: IN HONOUR OF THE 58 LIVES THAT WERE SADLY LOST IN THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS 02 – 05 – 98 MAY THEY REST IN PEACE. Upon seeing this, many of the first years turned to look at Albus, and the young wizard shrunk closer to Rose, bewildered and slightly frightened.
They had reached the doors and Professor Sprout was pushing them open. Rose's heart was thundering in her chest. She saw Albus look to her for reassurance of his own nerves, though she failed to do this, too lost in her own concerns.
The first thing that came into view was the ceiling; a perfect night sky. She had seen the night filled with stars a thousand times from her bedroom window, but that sight would never be as beautiful as that ceiling, hanging clear and enchanting above her head as she stepped through the doors. The next sight was less pleasing. She looked down to see hundreds of faces turned towards her and her companions. Some were laughing, others clearly commenting on how 'cute' they were and others with dark, angry eyes that bored into hers.
The first-years shuffled up the aisle between what appeared to be the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, coming to a rest before the staff table. Rose eyed the limp, battered hat that she knew would soon to an extent decide her entire life at Hogwarts warily. She did not possess the terror of entering a house other than Gryffindor to the same level as Albus, but she was still nervous, still wanting to keep in line with the rest of her family. It would be a lie to say that she fitted in perfectly with them. Her cousins, aunts, uncles and even grandparents always seemed so sure of themselves, so confident in their words and actions, in their identities and content with them. Rose didn't feel that quite so much. She often didn't know what to say, while others talked so freely; or shied away from the large, loud, happy gatherings in favour of a book that would take her to a quieter world filled with people with doubts and flaws and insecurities, which she had always thought the rest of her family seemed to lack in comparison to her. All this meant to Rose, at this moment, was that she desperately wished that her sorting would not be another reason for her to be set apart from the rest of her family.
'The Sorting will now begin,' Professor Sprout announced as silence fell.
The hat stirred and yawned groggily as if waking up. There was a pause and then it began:
'A thousand years I've seen a lot,
Wars, from old to new,
I've watched the world from a-top my stool,
And sorted a millennium through,'
'And here I am a-top my stool,
To sort you all this night,
Place me upon your little heads,
And I'll read you, if I might,'
'Serpent, Eagle, Badger or Lion,
I'm the one to say,
Cunning, witty, hard-working, brave,
I'll tell you what's your way,'
'Never fear, I do not bite,
I'm here judge your mind,
And whichever house you end up in,
A family you'll find.'
There was a polite applause from staff and students. Professor Sprout stood again with a scroll of the first-years' names. Rose's heart sped up again.
'ABERCROMBIE, RHYS,' Sprout read.
A dark-haired boy near the front of the group stepped forward, visibly shaking. He tripped slightly and there were a few stilted giggles around the hall, only making the boy more nervous. When seated, Sprout raised the hat to his head. It had scarcely sat there a second when the cry came of, 'HUFFLEPUFF!' and thus the boy skipped over to the yellow-bannered table smiling.
Rose watched as student after student went up to receive their allocation. There, so far, had only been one Gryffindor sorted: a minute girl called Jessica Creevey. Rose grew more and more nervous and wished desperately to have been born with a surname that was nearer the front of the alphabet than 'Weasley'.
'MALFOY, SCORPIUS.'
The white-blond boy that her father had pointed out on Platform 9 ¾ stepped out from the crowd. His composure was betrayed by a clear fear that shimmered in his eyes. The hat was placed on his head and stayed there. Half a minute had passed before the hat cried 'SLYTHERIN!' Scorpius appeared relatively satisfied, and walked to join the emerald table. He was quickly joined by 'NOTT, ANWEN' and 'OLDRIDGE, CYRIL'
It was next the turn of 'POTTER, ALBUS', and this was the sorting that seemed to gather the attention of the entire hall, even the teachers leaned forward in interest. Sprout lowered the hat onto Albus' jet-black hair, and after several moments the shout of 'GRYFFINDOR!' came. His face lit up and there was a large cheer from the Gryffindor table. She watched as he sat down with Fred, Louis and James, with Victoire and Dominique clapping on the other side of the table. Rose felt a thrill of jealousy.
Rose's instinct was to be relieved for Albus, and happy that he had got his wish to become a Gryffindor. In many ways she did feel that. However, she couldn't help but feel a nagging disappointment. If Albus had been sorted elsewhere, she would not be the only non-Gryffindor if her sorting had gone a similar way.
After 'WALKER, VICTORIA' became a Hufflepuff, 'WEASLEY, ROSE,' was finally called. She stepped towards the hat shakily and sat down. She felt its weight on her head as Sprout lowered it only her curly hair.
'5th Weasley I've had in near as many years,' it whispered, and she jumped slightly, 'Hmm… let's see… I remember sorting your father; he was easy, typical Weasley, pure Gryffindor. Your mother was more difficult… very clever, that thirst for knowledge almost made her a Ravenclaw. I can see it in you, that want for learning. You wish to understand, to grow, to improve. It is your greatest aim. It was this fiery spirit I detected in your mother that tipped her into Gryffindor, but I do not find that in you. Not to say you cannot be as great, you truly can, but perhaps in-'
'RAVENCLAW!' the hat declared out loud and Rose's heart sank. She slipped from the stool and towards to blue table that had broken into applause. She didn't care for the applause. A backward glance showed her the encouraging smile of Victoire, with that golden lion emblazoned on her chest that Rose now so longed for. All her cousins would be together, the only people she knew it this enormous place, apart from her. She was unworthy.
Rose crept to the back of the Ravenclaw table and wished not to be seen, should anyone spot the tears that threatened to form in her blue eyes.