Alphabetical Order

Chapter 1

The shining crimson train hissed to a halt, breaks squeeing quietly in the silent afternoon. The tracks trailed behind it in a serrated black line to the horizon, contrasting with the gently rolling moors of the Scottish countryside, glistening like a carpet of emeralds under the five-o-clock sun. From every compartment came the sounds of windows sliding shut in the boisterous shuffling and laughter that presaged the exiting of the train's occupants. Out of the last compartment, however, a curly brown head popped through the open window and bright eyes surveyed the landscape. The girl's face burst into an exuberant laugh as she looked up into the sky. They had never arrived in daylight before. It was almost worth having to drag herself from her blankets when the sun was still sleeping.

"Hermione! Are you coming?" came a voice, its owner's red head half in and half out of the compartment door, looking over his shoulder at the girl. She ducked back into the compartment, blinking slowly at the dimness of the train's interior after the bright sun. she gathered up her bag and her monstrosity of a ginger cat and practically skipped through the narrow corridor that ran up to the engine, trailing behind the two people in this world that understood her almost better than she did herself.

Even running into the one person who could never understand anything about her wasn't enough to dent her mood.

"Watch where you're GOING, know-it-all!" he spoke with angry eyes, disdain written in every line of his tall, graceful form. "You could have—" She laughed in his face.

"Why Malfoy, I'm touched at your concern for me," she said in sugared tones. "Do be careful, you wouldn't want to spread it around that you care." Disregarding the dumbstruck rage on his immobile features, she swept past him to her friends, who slapped her back and crowed accolades. The three of them walked out into the sunlight, one black head, one brown, one red, in perfect harmony.

Hogsmeade was bustling. Shouts flew back and forth over the heads of the crowd as students sought friends and acquaintances they had been unable to locate on the train. Professors trotted around looking harried, each trying to find the year assigned to them. Minerva McGonagall, as Deputy Headmistress, was in charge of the oldest group. "Seventh years! Seventh years, please line up by the first carriage," she called in a slightly reedy but strong voice. Some heard her; some were too busy sharing schedules and other things of a more personal nature. Professor McGonagall gave an exasperated sigh as she saw a rowdy fifth-year stuff a dungbomb into the back of a pretty fourth-year's robe, and run for cover. She noted his name, and to remind herself to deal with him in a few hours.

The swirling masses of people eventually settled down—thanks in no small part to the exceedingly unsubtle intimidation of one Professor Severus Snape—and before long all of the young witches- and wizards-in-training were divided up, crammed into the horseless carriages and rolling toward the castle.

Hermione Granger, still sandwiched between her other two-thirds, was almost jumping with excitement, watching the immense stone structure get larger and closer in the window. Here she was for her final year, and not only were N.E.W.T.s coming up, not only was she Head Girl, but this would be the year she would shine—do her Seventh Year Thesis and prove once and for all that she belonged. Hermione Granger belonged in this world of swish and flick, of bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses, of conjuring magic from ugliness; yes, even of Darkness deep and encompassing, that could only be fought on such a battlefield, a battlefield of power and magic.

It was also her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, her last year of carefree camaraderie with her fellow students; these would be the last months she could share all of her days with Harry and Ron, wake up in the morning to their faces and fuss them off to their dormitory at curfew. She vowed to live every moment like it would never return—for after all, it wouldn't. Hermione was not naïve by any stretch of the imagination, though she was innocent. She knew that once they graduated, life would loom with terrifying immediacy and with it the task of defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort, the task Harry (and by extension she and Ron) had been building towards since almost the day they had met. She grimaced a bit at the recollection, and grinned at that of the day they became friends. She had loosened up quite a bit since then.

She drew her gaze back from the window and onto her companions, who were debating hotly on the subject of whether the loss of the previous year's senior students would change the dynamics between the Quidditch teams this year. Snatches of conversations from other students floated around.

"...so romantic," Lavender Brown was cooing, showing a very gaudy engagement ring to her wide-eyed friends. Parvati and Padma Patil gave synchronized squeals of awe. Hermione's face filled with amusement. She and her roommates were as different as night and day, but she had to admit that Lavender and Parvati had grown on her over the years.

In another corner, Neville Longbottom shared a seat with a dreamy-looking Luna Lovegood, bent heads close and eyes locked on each others'. Luna was smiling calmly, but Neville was permanently pink in the face. She suits him, thought Hermione.

A snorting guffaw in her left ear made her turn to its owner, eyebrow raised. "What is it, Ron? Transfigure Harry's nose again?" Ron exploded into fresh hysterics. This earned her a friendly jab from the other side, where she turned to find a slightly pink Harry Potter, green eyes full of mock hurt.

"You wound me, Hermione. You think I'd let Ron do that to me more than once? Have you no faith in my abilities?" he asked plaintively, making sorrowful eyes at her.

This time Hermione joined in the laughter, and poked Harry back. They spent the remainder of the carriage ride indulging in pleasant banter, each inwardly thinking how much they had missed the dynamic between them.

Seventh year, here we come, thought Hermione with a wicked grin. We're going to kick your butt to Belgium.

Entering the girls' seventh-year dorms, Hermione, Lavender and Parvati stopped short in the doorway. Confusion marring their faces, they looked at one another in bewilderment.

They had all been in the seventh year dorms before; they were no different from any of the others, red and round and spacious with airy windows. But this room...was a surprise, to say the least.

The beds were the same as they had always been, heavy wooden four posters in rich shades of mahogany and cherry, the walls and floors the same Hogwarts slate grey—but the hangings, the bedspreads, the curtains...were blue! There wasn't a single speck of red or gold anywhere, no Gryffindor lions inscribed on their trunks, no gaudy yet comfortingly familiar dark golden tassels. No, the entire room was swathed in airy, rich royal blue fabrics. The beds were hung with satin and brocade, the windows with translucent chiffon. Everything was edged in delicate silver piping, and here and there silver-gold tassels dangled on the ends of cords used to secure the bed and window curtains. Only on the cold stone floor was there any vibrant colour, a luxuriant rug in vibrant shades of blue and turquoise, flowery and eastern-looking.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

But it didn't feel like Hogwarts, like home. It reminded the girls of an elegant and impersonal hotel suite.

Quite disconcerted, the girls sought their previously delivered trunks to unpack—only to discover that the room was empty of luggage. The girls stared flabbergasted at each other, their mouths triplet 'o's of shock. Lavender was the first to regain her wits.

"What on earth...Hermione, what is this? And where's our stuff vanished to?" she gestured wildly at the beautiful room, a slightly hysterical note in her voice.

Hermione shook her head and shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. There was nothing in my Head letter about this...whatever it is!" The other two girls stared in horror at their dorm mate. If Hermione didn't know what was going on, there was real cause for alarm.

Seeing the panic on their faces, Hermione added hastily, "But don't worry, I'm going to have a word with Professor McGonagall right now. Come on."

Arriving in the common room, the girls were met with bewildered faces matching their own, and a low murmur that rose to a crescendo as the entire Gryffindor house caught sight of their Head Girl...and began to advance on her. Hermione gulped; this was her moment of truth. Could she live up to the responsibility resting on her left breast pocket, shiny silver and gold with the Hogwarts crest?

Ron and Harry fought their way to her side, wide-eyed with confusion. "Hermione, what's going on? Bloody hell, our room is blue!"

"I don't know, Ron, but watch your language, I'm stressed enough as it is!" Harry snickered at this, and she gave him a dirty look. Hermione thought quickly and decided the best way to calm everyone down was to get them quiet and then wave them off to the Great Hall with vague assurances.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

At that moment Professor McGonagall walked in. She took in the situation within a heartbeat and was soon directing the students in silent, orderly groups to the Great Hall.

Hermione let out a shaky breath and slumped her shoulders, relieved and disappointed. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to meet Harry's green eyes. She smiled. He had finally gotten some new glasses last year, slightly rectangular black ones that complemented his angular face.

She took in the faces of both her friends, who stood in front of her with rueful sympathy.

Why, they're men, both of them, she thought with some surprise.

She hadn't even noticed when they had lost the last vestiges of baby fat and taken on the features they'd keep for the rest of their lives. It must have been sometime during sixth year. And, dear Merlin, here they were, noticing how she felt! In the early years of their friendship, she practically had to hit her boys upside the head with something before they saw it... especially when it came to... horror of horrors... feelings. But now even Ron could usually detect her moods.

Unbelievable, she thought. How did we get here?

They both raised their eyebrows at her. "Hermione? You are all right, yeah? Don't worry about McGonagall. She knows you're going to be a wicked good Head Girl, just as everyone else does." She sighed and shook her head.

"I'm fine. I was just...thinking about how far we've come since we got here." The three of them contemplated each other's faces. Ron broke the quiet moment.

"Oi, come on you two, save the sap for Commencement. I feel like I have a ten-metre hole in my midsection." Smiles and laughs burst into the air, dispelling the bittersweet nostalgia instantly.

"Hungry, are you, Ron?" Harry mocked. "We'd better get you to the Great Hall before you have a swoon." Hermione snorted.

Ron looked affronted. "Men don't have swoons, Harry!"

"Who said you were a man? Hermione, have you been trying to 're-educate' him again?" this time she burst out into a full belly laugh. Harry's deadpan expression split into an irrepressible grin at the thunderous look on Ron's face.

"RUN!" gasped out Hermione, and she and Harry flew from the common room, Ron hot on their heels with a manic gleam in his blue eyes.

They were among the last to reach the Great Hall, and rested a moment outside its doors, panting a little from their impromptu game of tag. After a minute, Harry pushed open one of the massive doors and led the way in.

And promptly stopped dead in his tracks, causing Hermione to bump into his back and Ron to plough into hers with twin oomphs. They both poked their heads around one of Harry's shoulders to see what had immobilized him.

Their mouths fell open, mirroring the shell-shocked expressions of the students at their tables.

The entire Great Hall was devoid of a single scrap of House-related paraphernalia.

The four long tables were covered in plain white tablecloths, not a single house crest visible on any of them. The brightly coloured banners that had floated permanently above each table, proudly proclaiming the students' house in vibrant letters, were gone without a trace. Instead, large solid-coloured tapestries edged in gold proclaimed in gothic gold letters, "Unum," "Duo," "Tria," and "Quattor".

"Latin numbers?" Hermione muttered in disbelief. "They took away our House names and replaced them with Latin numbers?" The other two had no answer, having all they could manage just getting to the far table—formerly known as the Gryffindor table—without incurring permanent damage to themselves. The three sat heavily in their chairs and were about to begin furiously discussing the new development with a confused Ginny, when Albus Dumbledore rose at the High Table and called for their attention, half-moon spectacles glinting in the candlelight. He started on his standard Welcome address, and was halfway through when Ron elbowed Hermione hard in her ribs. "Ow!" she hissed at him.

"Sorry, Mines. But look—I just noticed what's missing."

Hermione furrowed her brow as she gazed toward the dais, then gasped. "The Sorting Hat!" The two stared in speechless horror at the spot the stool had always occupied in past years.

It was empty.

The Hall seemed a good bit less friendly all of a sudden.

Dumbledore wound down his speech, and finished with the usual tongue-in-cheek warning about the Forbidden Forest, this year a much graver warning than in any years past, adding that certain 'very dangerous creatures' lurked beyond its borders. The first-years looked as if they were about to wet themselves.

Then he cleared his throat and said the words they were all waiting to hear.

"You all must be wondering about our new décor," he began with a knowing look. Honestly, thought Hermione, when has the man not looked as if the secrets of the world were his children? The Headmaster went on over the swell of murmurs that greeted his statement, "Last year was a trying year for us all, a year of great courage and sacrifice," at this the Hall grew deathly silent, "but also a year of terrible sorrow and enmity.

"We cannot allow the Dark Lord and his followers to divide Hogwarts the way he did last year. Division weakens us—much like a single twig will snap easily, but a bundle of them can withstand great force—and only through unity will we be able to triumph over the malicious forces that seek to rip us apart, if we have the strength.

"And we must." His voice swelled with authority. "For if we do not hold together, I guarantee that tomorrow we will be faced with a world that is darker and more desolate than we could ever have imagined."

The students stared in surprised awe at the man they had always seen as a kindly if rather eccentric grandfather, who now seemed to glow with power and righteousness as he stood before them, having laid matters bare as never before.

A clap came. Then another, and soon the Hall was full to the crimson sky with thunderous applause, and the teachers rose at the High Table, and then the students were on their feet as well, even the Slytherins, all feeling some blessed bit of relief from the hopelessness that had bogged down their hearts for the past two years, giving Albus Dumbledore a standing ovation the likes of which Hogwarts had never seen.

He was just that kind of man.

He smiled then, and motioned them all back to their seats, smiling fiercely without the slightest hint of a twinkle.

"And that brings me to my reasons for all this." He made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the Great Hall. "After consulting my Deputy Headmistress, I have come to the decision that if we are to unite in the cause of good, we must first eliminate our excuses for infighting. And one of our biggest crutches in that regard...is House rivalry." Here he paused.

A moment passed in silence, and then a low mutter of unease swept the students, rising to a deafening volume in an alarmingly short space of time. Professor McGonagall rose and rapped the High Table sharply with her recently acquired cane. "The Headmaster has not finished speaking," she said sternly. The Hall quietened immediately.

"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said with a twinkle at her. She nodded once, a pleased expression on her face. He turned his attention back to his children, who were dying of curiosity. "In the past, the generational pride in House affiliation has been a Hogwarts tradition, harmless and even beneficial when it motivated students to better themselves. But as the threat of Darkness grows, these loyalties distract us from what is truly important, and have caused much petty conflict, depleting time and energy we need for other more pressing matters. I want you all to listen to me very carefully.

"The rivalry between the houses Gryffindor and Slytherin has escalated to a ridiculous and dangerous level. When members of these two houses clash, they bring their housemates into the fray, and eventually even involve Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff in the melee. I am ashamed to say that it is my seventh-years that have been the root of these problems. So to them I say:

"You all must stop acting like children." His face and voice were wiped clean of any trace of amusement, anger vibrating in his voice. "Do not let your small, petty jealousies become the weapon that You-Know-Who decides to strike at Hogwarts with." A collective gasp filled the air. "Oh, make no mistake, he has his eye on us.

"And to this aim I have dissolved the four houses indefinitely."

A cry of outrage rose from the depths of the Hall and shrieked to the rafters. Even the professors looked shell-shocked at this impulsive scheme. Dumbledore spoke over the din in an attempt to quell the bedlam; he was ignored completely. After a few more tries, he looked decidedly unamused.

"Children, quiet down IMMEDIATELY," Dumbledore thundered. Total silence fell over the vast room.

"I realize this is somewhat unorthodox," he held up a quelling hand before the protest could begin, "but we are coming close to the end now, nearer and nearer to the Final Battle. If disbanding the houses that were founded along with Hogwarts is the price of unity on that fateful day, I am willing to pay it with no regrets.

"After much deliberation, the Deputy Headmistress and I have decided that the most unbiased way to divide you would be alphabetically by last name. Accordingly, A-F will be in House Unum, G-M will constitute House Duo, N-S will be House Tria, and T-Z House Quattor."

At this new horror the students were shocked into absolute silence.

"Latin numbers? ...Couldn't they use some imagination?" Hermione said incredulously into the gathering mutters.

"Honestly Hermione," whispered Harry furiously, "I think there are more important issues at stake here."

Hermione gave no response, her eyes glued to the Gryffindor crest sewn to the breast of her friend's robes. "Harry," she said slowly. "Your robes..." The red and gold lion was melting away, replaced by an ornate 3 on a starburst, embroidered in varying shades of green. Quite pretty really—not to mention extremely alarming!

Harry looked down at his robes in shock, and then at Hermione's. Her crest was morphing into a similarly monochromatic red circle with a 2 on it. All around them, students were noticing the same phenomenon, and the noise level rose steadily.

"Well, at least you got to keep Gryffindor red," remarked a nauseous-looking Ron.

"Purple clashes horribly with my hair," moaned Ginny dramatically. The siblings had identical purple squares on their robes, embroidered with 4s. Hermione swallowed.

"But that means...we're none of us in the same house," groaned Ron. "I'll be all alone with—the end of the alphabet!" He yelped as Ginny poked him hard. "I meant except you, Gin." She rolled her eyes at Hermione, who was looking greener by the minute. She managed a weak smile in response, feeling her knees wobble under her.

"Figures I would get green, I wonder where my dormitory is? None of us are in Gryffindor tower, that's done up in blue," Harry remarked, oddly calm in the face of all the chaos. "Where do you think you'll be, Hermione?" No answer was forthcoming. "Hermione? Hello?" He waved his hand in front of her eyes, which were fixated rather fiercely on the back of a shiny blond head.

Hermione finally blinked and turned her head, staring at Harry with an almost comical expression of impotent horror. She was mumbling something under her breath. "What's that?" Harry asked her, growing a trifle concerned at her strange behaviour. Her gaze suddenly focused and she said very clearly, "G through M."

Harry furrowed his brow, puzzled. "Yeah, and...? Oh. OH." Harry's confusion cleared, to be replaced with a look that mirrored the one on Hermione's.

Ron and Ginny had tired of bickering, and turned their attention to their friends, who stood facing each other with rather glazed stares. "Erm...Harry? Hermione? What is it?" They looked over at him, Hermione with a desperate, pleading look on her face, like she needed to be saved from something. Ron's protectiveness kicked up to full speed immediately. "What's the matter Hermione? Speak to me!" She was silent. He turned to Harry, fighting panic.

Harry twisted his mouth in a grimace. "Hermione's in House Duo. G through M." Ron nodded. Harry took a breath and went on.

"With Draco Malfoy."

11/1/04 - Revised, and cleaned up... Thanks to NotreDamegirlie for pointing out my little gaffe about the Patil twins - you're right, they are very similar in personality :).

2/20/05 - Got rid of some baby errors, but more importantly: To all of you wonderful people who reviewed, I'm sorry I haven't updated. / But I don't want to get into another huge story right now, as I am working on two right now, a D/Hr (check it out!) and a PotC - both of which I'm behind on, due to a long-term illnes that's been eating up my coherence. Oops, I'm rambling... but I wanted to let you know, so you won't be disappointed. I'd rather sit on this for a while, and do a proper job when I can actually commit to it. Thank you for you patience during this long boring announcement. :) Happy reading!