Horace Slughorn and the Sorting

by Susan of Zog

Horace Slughorn was a genial sort of chap. He'd give a leg up to anyone, regardless of House. As long as there was something in it for him, of course. And as long it didn't require any actual, you know, work. Here's his thoughts on the 1971 Sorting.

I don't own Harry Potter. All that n a bag of chips. The fat kind, with salt and lots of vinegar.

---

Horace Slughorn and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Sorting.

'Oh! Good grief, what a horrid Sorting!'

Rosier, Wilkes, Mulciber, Avery... He couldn't have picked a more miserable cross section of society if he had tried. Straight out of the seediest corner of Knockturn Alley the lot of them. And that filthy little halfblood! Why, he could smell him all the way from the teacher's table! There was no way he was meeting with his House tonight. That awful smell had quite put him off his supper!

Why, oh why couldn't he have gotten that pretty muggleborn redhead? Now that girl had a definite Slytherin air about her. She practically radiated ambition, and the cool confidence all but unique to the few Slytherin muggleborns. Unlike the pathetic dregs he'd been landed with. Horace suspected that Albus was up to more of his meddling, because that girl belonged in his House as surely as night followed day.

Finally ensconced in his private rooms, he summoned a house elf to fetch him a nightcap. Perhaps some of that delightful aged mead sent by Abraxas Malfoy. His Lucius was such a delightful boy! Just what he needed to soothe his poor nerves. Oh, dear! Whoever said Hufflepuff was the House of the leftovers clearly had never seen a bad year in Slytherin..