Ashes of the Phoenix: Year 1
Description: AU. Fem!Harry. Raised isolated from her family due to the priority of her brother being the Boy-Who-Lived, Ivy Potter was unaware that she was even a witch until her Hogwart's letter came – where she was sorted into Slytherin.
A/N: thank you so much to those who reviewed, they really made my day and keep me writing :) also a big thanks to all the favourites and follows!
Also, I will be going by the original source of Tracey Davis being a muggleborn, rather than the updated change of her to a half blood (I'm not entirely sure what a magical child of a squib-muggle relationship produces, but I'm going with muggleborn, since neither parent has magic).
The sorting hat's song and one of Ron Weasley's lines belong to JK Rowling, along with the world of Harry Potter. I'm just writing a good ol' fanfic :)
As a head's up: I will go with the theory that Lily was pregnant during the attack on Godric's Hollow, though that won't come into play for a while yet.
If you have any questions, or just want to talk, feel free to PM me :)
Without further ado, chapter 2…
Chapter 2: Platform 9 and ¾
Despite having never been particularly bookish or studious, Ivy Potter often found her eyes straying over to her books in the corner of the room. She had read a few that had taken her fancy, like the Heir Guide for Families of Olde which she had seen in Flourish and Blotts, which was fascinating to discover all the etiquette that she would need to know for Hogwarts.
Who knew that taking a hand shake could mean the making, or breaking, of an alliance?
Also, Mr. Flourish had recommended Quidditch Through the Ages so that she may learn more of the Wizarding World's most popular sport. Ivy found it amazing, and was physically shaking with excitement at the prospect of being able to go on a broom. She had also been most dismayed to learn that first years were not allowed to have a broom, but she would be sure to buy one for her second year!
Along with the book upon Quidditch, she had also, admittedly, devoured Hogwarts: a History ever so curious about the school that she was to attend.
Admittedly, she was yet to open her school books. Only habits died hard, she supposed, especially after it had took her so long to get into them after learning she could never outshine Dudley without risk of punishment.
But that was about to change.
Pushing herself off of her piteous excuse for a bed, she headed over to the stack of books in the corner of the room with a heaving sigh, picking out the most interesting looking one first.
"The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1," Ivy murmered, moving over to her bed with the book, "by Miranda Goshawk."
It had been a conversation that she had heard between a parents and their daughter that had spurred her into beginning her studies, as, despite being determined to prove her parents wrong, she had been nurtured in a way that handicapped this.
The daughter, with a head full of bushy brown hair, was proclaiming to her parents that she had read every single book on the curriculum for her new school, and the parents had been telling her how proud they are of her.
Ivy wanted that, so she renewed her efforts.
Having read Hogwarts: a History several times, Ivy knew that she was not allowed to use or practise magic outside of school, but there was nothing wrong with bending the rules a little bit. Just because she couldn't actually cast the spell didn't mean that she couldn't practise the wand movement and incantation separately.
Ivy enjoyed the illustrations of the wand movement, following them what she thought was near perfectly, but she found the words a bit confusing, even with the breakdown of how to pronounce it next to it.
After two hours of practising the wand movements throughout the book, but struggling with the words, Ivy got out her newly acquired parchment and ink and decided to pen a letter to Mr. Flourish, who she hoped wouldn't mind.
Biting her lip, Ivy tried to be as formal as possible, remembering what the Heir Guide said about Heirs not just making good first impressions, but good, consistent impressions. Also, it was good for an Heir to find possible allies that could be of use to them where they can.
Heirs were also only meant to make themselves vulnerable when they had something to gain from it.
Dear Mr. Flourish,
I'm sorry to be disturbing you, but I wondered if you might have any information on a quick way to learn a language? I'm having trouble pronouncing my Latin spells.
Also, I wonder if I would be able to buy a book off of you over owl post rather than in person at the store, I would rather like to read the Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2.
Kind regards,
Ivy Potter.
She decided not to sign Heiress Potter, thinking it might make the man feel as if she were trying to intimidate him and use her title to get what she wanted. A simple Ivy Potter sounded much better.
Sending it away via the newly named Hedwig, a Saint who had once helped poor orphans. Ivy may have parents, but she felt that she was all but an orphan; she had thought so for many years after all.
Sending that off, she reread the Standard Book of Spells once more, before moving onto The Dark Forces: a Guide to Self-Protection.
By the time she had looked at the clock, having been prancing around her room practicing wand movements, she found that she had been studying the books for about six hours. It was midnight.
Unable to put the book down, she got into Petunia's old pyjamas (she would have to go shopping for some muggle clothes before she went to Hogwarts, Ivy decided) and into bed, but continued to read.
"Flipendo," Ivy said, trying to stress the pronunciation, "flip-pen-doh. No, flip-PEN-doh. Fli-PEN-doh."
By the time the sun rose the following day, Hedwig had returned with a large box that almost grounded the bird. Ivy cooed softly at the owl, wondering how on earth she had got it all the way from London to Surrey.
"Well done, Hedwig," Ivy told her, feeding her some of the recently purchased owl treats.
Opening up the box, Ivy stared wide-eyed and wide-grinned at its contents. Inside, there was Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2 (Miranda Goshawk), The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts (Arsenius Jigger), Curses and Counter-Curses (Professor Vindictus Viridian), Jinxes and Hexes, They Never Saw It Coming (Andredida Davine) and Transfiguration: the Easy Way To Master The Most Difficult of Spells (Prudence Calloway).
Ivy already had the best potions books from the Slytherin packages she had picked up, as well as some other good books from a Ravenclaw package, but all of these were higher level.
Also, there was a small black box that, when opened, contained a bracelet. It was not a particularly expensive looking bracelet, nor a cheap one. It was one that would most likely not be noticed, and with what it was that was probably best.
Dear Heiress Potter,
Within this box are many higher level books and a bracelet. On the bracelet you will see one charm – this charm represents the Latin language. Each time you buy a new charm, you can add it on and you will be able to read, write and speak in that language.
These charms are very expensive, put up in price due to the spells upon it that make it work; frowned upon due to 'darker' nature (which you can read about in the Dark and Light: a Journey of Magic) but not forbidden. However, in a school run by a renowned, majorly 'light' viewed wizard, I'd keep it hidden.
My older brother is in the business with such charms and I would be more than happy to assist you in the future, and that you may be able to help me.
Kind regards,
Arthur Flourish,
Descendant of the Ancient House of Rosier.
From the Heir Guide and her other Wizarding World based book Families of Olde, she knew well that the House of Rosier was a dwindling one, once a Most Noble and Most Ancient House, and reduced to merely an 'Ancient' one due to lack of standing, wealth and activities of their relations.
Smiling, finding this to be her first success as an Heiress, as it was ever so clear that she had much to gain from such a friendship (and he was kind, so she would feel bad turning down such an offer), she wrote back:
Dear Mr. Flourish of House Rosier,
I thank you very much for the books and bracelet enclosed, and I share your view that we can both help each other. House Potter will majorly benefit from more allies, and I wonder if your House would be interested as well?
Yours Sincerely,
Heiress Potter
Grinningly, she sent the letter off feeling ecstatic, clipping the bracelet on and excitably putting her bracelet onto her wrist. Momentarily, she was blinded by pain, her entire head feeling as if a rush of molten lava had just made it's way into the inner parts of her brain. It was excruciating, and took more than twenty minutes to cease, in which Ivy felt like vowing to never do it again.
However, after she got every pronunciation right, and was able to speak to herself in the Old Tongue, it all seemed worth it.
Semi-confident with the pronunciation and wand movements now (she would go over it many, many more terms before term fully began again), Ivy Potter could only hope that it would work when she came to genuinely cast the spell.
-IP-IP-IP-
When the day of September 1st came, Ivy Potter found herself once more waiting for her parents. Who were half an hour later. This time, however, they did end up turning up; this left Ivy with the opportunity of meeting her brother.
Ivy herself had midnight black hair and bright green eyes, which Isaac Dawson at her school had compared to emeralds, until her cousin had ranted about how much of a freak she was. In opposition, her brother had dark red hair. Not as bright as their mother's, nor as dark as Ivy's or their father's. He, like her, had Lily Potter's eyes, looking more like their mother overall, just like Ivy looked more like their father.
He gave her a large grin, and Ivy had to stop herself from flinching when he pulled her in for a hug. This was the person, she had to remind herself, who had always stole their parents' attention – who they preferred.
"Hi Ivy, I'm Charles, you know, your brother," for a brief second, Ivy felt bad for laying all the blame on him, until he finished, with an arrogant look, "and the Boy Who Lived."
Then, clearly bored with her, he made his way into the car.
Under her parents' watchful gazes, she refrained from rolling her eyes at the arrogant sod. No, she decided, she did not feel sorry for laying all the blame on him.
James Potter ruffled her hair and told her, "it's good to see you again, Ive."
"I'm sure you and your brother will be great friends," Lily Potter chimed in, and Ivy simply grimaced and nodded, looking back to Aunt Petunia, she offered a small smile to the woman whom had been a little bit nicer to her lately, before getting in the car.
Her father had taken her trunk, but she insisted on keeping Hedwig with her, despite any of Charles' protests (and, because of Charles, her parents' protests).
"Bloody owl smells," Charles had complained with a scowl. Hedwig gave a hoot of annoyance in reply, and Ivy had simply ignored him.
"Language, Charles!" Their mother reprimanded, and the 'Boy Who Lived' payed her no mind.
Soon enough, the car was filled with Charles Potter's loud, arrogant voice as he told vivid – and, Ivy betted, very much exaggerated – stories of his own prowess in Quidditch and how he taught a bunch of 'slimy future Slytherins' a lesson.
James had praised him; Lily had frowned but said nothing.
This only increased Ivy's dislike towards him. She had read all of Hogwarts a history and, her love of history in the muggle world transferring to the magical world, she had read numerous history books about Dark Lords and the likes.
"You do realise that Algernon the Awful, the Dark Lord during the Norman Conquest, briefly went to Hogwarts and was sorted into Gryffindor?" Ivy inquired boredly, feeding Hedwig a treat.
"That's very true, Ivy," Lily told her with a proud smile. It made the young girl warm inside, and she hoped that she would receive that smile again and again – only for her, not for Charles.
"But all Slytherins are slimy gits! Only some Gryffindors are, like Sirius Black!" At the name 'Sirius Black' the entire car went completely silent.
Too confused to ponder the expressions of pain upon her parents' expressions she quickly asked, "who's Sirius?"
"No one you need to worry about, Ives," Lily swiftly soothed, "he's just a bad, bad person. He's serving time in Azkaban now, so you don't need to worry."
"He betrayed mum and dad to Lord Voldemort! He's the reason Voldemort came to our house and I became the Boy Who Lived!" Charles proclaimed, and, as a result, Ivy heard her father hiss at him to shut his mouth. It was the first time Ivy had ever heard James, or Lily for that matter, be harsh to their son.
It seemed it was a first time for her brother too, for his eyes quickly welled with tears. Ivy looked away from him. If they'd said that to her, she wouldn't have cried. Maybe. Or perhaps she would of.
It was a long twenty minutes of silence, other than Hedwig's occasional hooting which drew withering glares for Charles, before they finally arrived at the station. Ivy, whom had never seen this particular part of London before, spent most of that time staring out of the window in joy.
She also marvelled at the train station when she had entered. The young girl had never stepped foot in a train station before, so it was all very new. Charles had laughed when she had jumped in fright at a train's hoot.
Along the way, they met a red haired family, the girl of whom blushed and hid behind her mother at the sight of Ivy's brother, and another boy who immediately clung to Charles – drinking in his every word like a man whom had been deprived from water.
Ivy continued to walk alone, until she was bombarded at two sides.
"Who are you then?" One of the two asked, both being identical.
"You look like-,"
"-Prongs-,"
"-but we have-,"
"-never heard of you before."
They grinned at her bewildered expression, and thinking they were making fun of her, everybody always did, she quickly snapped, "If Prongs is some kind of nickname for James Potter then yes, I'm his daughter. And yes, I'm the twin sister of your precious Boy Who Lived. Get lost."
Ivy's people skills had never been good. Severely lacking, in fact. She had never been allowed to talk to anyone but her Aunt and Uncle, Dudley, Mrs. Figg, Mrs. Figg's cats and her teacher if they asked her a question.
She didn't have friends, or enemies, but none the less she was pretty sure that a person was supposed to leave when the other person told you to 'get lost'. They didn't.
"Sorry, little Potter, didn't mean to-,"
"-ruffle your feathers. If it helps-,"
"-we don't like the boy either, always acts as if he's got a-,"
"-stick up his ass."
Despite herself, Ivy grinned at the twins, giggling slightly and they smiled back. Soon enough, Ivy was watching, with shock and horror, as Charles Potter ran at a wall (quite frankly, she had thought that he was stupid on the car ride, but not this stupid), and then vanished through it.
All Ivy managed to get out was, "how.."
"Trust us, little Potter-,"
"-just run."
And so, closing her eyes, breathing out, and reassuring herself that the worst that could come out of this would be that she would die, and that meant she would never have to see another one of Mrs. Figg's cats… Or have to suffer under the Dursleys.
With more reassuring thoughts, she ran, and, vanishing through the wall. And kept on running. She ended up bawling a few people over before she opened her eyes, unable to realise that she had just ran through what she had thought to be a solid wall.
"Ouch!" Exclaimed a dark haired boy, whom she had knocked over as well as a blonde haired girl and what seemed to be the girl's little sister.
"Sorry," Ivy squeaked, quickly getting out of the way of the undoubtedly angry children, and making her way towards where she saw a head of red and black in the crowd. On the way, she heard what seemed to be a boy and his nan conversing about a lost toad called Trevor. Ivy couldn't help but snort at the name, and the fact that you could bring a frog to school!
"Have a good year, Charles, and remember to pull lots of pranks," Ivy overheard James Potter saying to his younger child, "and if Snivellous gives you any grief, remember that I'm only an owl away. I'll introduce the guy to that Herbal Essences shampoo your mum likes."
"James," Lily reprimanded, with a slightly amused smile, "remember to write weekly, Charles. You have no idea how much we'll miss having you around."
We'll miss having you around.
They didn't even want her around!
Just as tears started welling in her eyes, James and Lily turned around, and Lily's face swiftly turned to surprised and regretful, "Ives-,"
Ivy turned on her heel, unable to stop the tears from falling down her face as she evaded them, boarding the Hogwarts Express and relentlessly pulling at her case until it got on. Hardly anybody had boarded yet – still saying goodbye to their families – so almost all the compartments were free. Despite this, Ivy headed all the way to the back of the train before grabbing that compartment, not wanting for Charles to come and find her.
Or anyone else for that matter.
Sighing heavily, and brushing the tears from her eyes, she got out one of the books she had purchased via owl from Mr. Flourish - Lux et tenebrae, in disputatione, a book written in Latin, upon the debate of light and dark, their differences and similarities. It was her third time reading it, and each time she grew more and more confused and frustrated with the magical world.
How could they brand 'dark' magic for evil? Avada Kedavra could be used to put a suffering patient out of their misery, Crucio could be used to shock a wizard or witch back to life, and Imperio could be used to prevent a person from commiting suicide.
Just as a Wingardium Leviosa could be used to wrench someone from the ground and drop them off a cliff, or something of the likes. Dark did not mean evil; light did not mean good.
Just as Ivy had finished chapter eight, the train having already been going for what had to be an hour, the door to her carriage slammed open, and a girl in tears entered, closing and locking the door behind her.
She didn't seem to notice, or care, about Ivy's presence. But, when her head swivelled around to look at her, she began to frantically brush away her tears and began ranting, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was occupied. I was trying to escape Malfoy and his goons, they jinxed me," she sniffed as she gestured to the many, many bulging warts that had clearly been cursed there by the 'Malfoy' person, "and then I was running, and oh, I really didn't mean to come in here. They hate me because my dad's a squib and my mum's a muggle, dad changed his last name to her's, and, I'm sorry-,"
"It's fine," Ivy cut off with a small smile, offering the girl a seat at her side, which the brunette took gratefully, "I can take the warts off if you want… Are you allowed to use magic on the train?"
"I believe so," the girl told her, "and please do."
"Aversa Pars," Ivy casted, and the girl's warts were soon gone, leaving behind smooth, tan skin.
"Thanks," she said, "I'm Tracey Davis by the way."
"I'm Ivy Potter," she introduced, and saw how the girl – Tracey Davis, Ivy corrected herself – eyes widened. The older Potter rolled her eyes, already prepared for the Boy Who Lived connection that Tracey was sure to make. Surprisingly, however, the girl did not say anything at all and quickly looked away.
When she turned back, she caught sight of Ivy's forehead, her eyes widened and she asked, "is that a scar?"
Ivy fought the urge to be defensive. After all, at least she hadn't mentioned Charles.
"Yes, apparently I've had it since I was a baby," Ivy didn't elaborate anymore, and Tracey seemed to take the cue. Both falling silent.
However, Ivy quickly felt guilty and rather upset. It seemed as if she had scared off a girl who she could have become friends with. So, when the trolly lady came along, she made sure to buy practically the entire thing, and share it with Tracey.
Within ten minutes, half of it was gone and Tracey was telling her about how her father – who had some kind of strange name like Fulcran – had once been attacked by about ten chocolate frogs! Ivy didn't believe the tale until she opened a few packets and they were all jumping over her.
The train ride from then on consisted of debates on light and dark (Tracey eagerly showed off a similar bracelet to Ivy's, but with more charms, "my father has family ties to the Rosiers, who make and sell them," Tracey had explained), light hearted giggles and Ivy teaching Tracey some basic spells, and Tracey returning the favour with helping her understand the theory side.
Ivy found that she rather excelled at the practical, but theory seemed to be a rather different matter.
Only once were they interrupted by a girl looking for a toad, probably the 'Trevor' that the boy and his Nan had been discussing at the station, but she quickly went. Ivy said to find a prefect to accio him, as, while Ivy had tried, that spell was too high a level for her to accomplish with her current unrestrained and untaught magic.
When the train came to a stop, Ivy found that she was disappointed. Looping arms hesitantly (having seen other children do it, but never having participated in it herself) with Tracey as they headed off of the train and to where a ridiculously tall man – who Ivy rather thought was a giant! – and the boats.
Ivy and Tracey hurried over to get in one themselves, being joined by a dark haired boy that, for some reason, Ivy could have sworn she recognised, and an Italian looking boy.
"You were the one who bawled me over with your trolley," the dark haired boy accused, and Ivy quickly ducked her head as Tracey giggled at her, and the other boy let out a loud laugh.
Not a minute later, Ivy narrowly missed hitting her head on the bridge when she didn't hear the giant tell them to put her head down. Tracey had to yank her down.
As soon as they were out, they were ushered to follow a stern looking woman. She spoke, Ivy knew, but she found herself not paying attention at all, instead looking around at all the others. She was nervous. Nobody had told her what was supposed to happen at the sorting.
She knew a few spells, of course, but she lacked the ability to take in as much theory. Would she have a test on her first day? She hoped not!
Looking worriedly at Tracey, she realised, to some relief that the other girl was looking very much nervous as well as the stern woman left.
As they were left to chatter amongst themselves, Ivy heard the red haired boy who was with her brother say, "some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
Ivy, surprisingly, was more worried about the test part than the pain part. She hoped it wouldn't be much worse than the odd whack she got with the back of Petunia's frying pan. Tracey, however, clearly did not feel the same way.
Her whole face paled, and she stepped a bit closer to Ivy, "do you really reckon it's going to hurt?"
Ivy Potter didn't react, unaware of anything that she could do to comfort the girl without lying. After all, she didn't know either.
Feeling a gush of wind behind her, Ivy turned before letting out a small scream.
It was a ghost.
"Good heavens," the ghost said in a strangely joyful manner, "that was enough to burst my ear drums, girl. I do hope to see you in Gryffindor, with lungs like that."
It then moved away from her, smiling, and Ivy was left to exchange a wide eyed look with Tracey, before the other girl began to laugh.
"Shut up," Ivy hissed good naturedly, hitting her friend on the soldier.
"Sorry," Tracey told her between giggles, "it's just your face. It's a picture."
Ivy rolled her eyes, just as the stern woman came back into the room. At her commands, the ghosts took off and all the first years, including Ivy herself, formed into a line ready to be sorted, "follow me," she said.
Obediently, all the first years did, and Ivy marvelled at the celling that she had read all about in Hogwarts: a History, she heard another girl talking about it as well. The very same who had come looking for the boy's toad on the train.
As they came to a stop in front of a stool and a hat, Ivy's mind began to whirl with the possibilities. Tracey quickly whispered to her, "do you reckon we have to pull a rabbit out of it?"
Ivy felt cold dread fill her. She didn't know how to summon a rabbit, let alone get one in a hat, or magically pull one out!
"I really, really, hope we don't," Ivy said, shifting nervously around.
It was then, to all the unknowing students' shock, that the hat opened it creased, dusty mouth (Ivy was sure that Petunia would not let that thing within ten miles of her house!) and 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;
94
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffis 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!"
Everybody burst into applause at the tables, and Ivy found herself awkwardly half-clapping with them, too surprised to be overly impressed, all the while listening to the red haired boy threatening to kill his brothers.
"Abbott, Hannah," McGonagall called out, waiting only for a few moments before a blonde, pig-tailed girl went eagerly up to the stool, for the hat to proclaim only a few moments later:
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
There was a cheer from the table decked in yellow and black with the symbol of a badger – Hufflepuff's colours and animal, Ivy soon recognised – and the girl went to join them, her tie changing to yellow and black.
Bones, Susan was next, running up to become the second Hufflepuff, joining Hannah. Then there was Boot, Terry who became the first Ravenclaw, then followed by Brocklehurst, Mandy and then Brown, Lavender became the first Gryffindor of the lot.
The hat sent Cornfoot, Stephen to Ravenclaw and Crabbe, Vincent to Slytherin before, finally, McGonagall called out for, "Davis, Tracey."
Ivy gave her new friend her best reassuring smile as the girl nervously took to the platform. McGonagall quickly placed the hat on her head. It took a whole minute for Tracey, the longest so far, before the hat proclaimed: "SLYTHERIN!"
The green and silver table at the far end let out a small cheer, mostly politely clapping, and some not clapping at all. Ivy frowned, wondering why many were so unenthusiastic, before remembering that Tracey was considered a muggleborn.
Soon Ivy felt rage boiling within her. They were fools to treat Tracey like that! If they wanted muggleborns to respect their culture, as they should, then they should at least show them an ounce of respect! It was because of this that Slytherin gained it's bad reputation!
Ivy was determined to change the Wizarding World's conservative views, to make muggleborns and purebloods alike listen and savour in the Wizarding Culture and mutual respect.
Above anything, Ivy wanted to make a difference in this world. Leave her own mark.
Ivy frowned at the much, much more enthusiastic cheers for Greengrass, Daphne (the blonde girl Ivy had run over with her trolley, she realised, embarrassed) and the other Slytherins after her. That group consisted of Malfoy, Draco who Ivy suspected was the one who had cursed Tracey, and thus sent him a venomous glare, and the boy who she had ran over with her trolley Nott, Theodore.
Finally, she was broken from her thoughts when she heard them say, "Potter, Charles."
Her brother swaggered up there with confidence, but, soon after the hat was dropped upon his head, his face began to go red with what seemed to be anger and fear. Ivy fought the concern down. Everything that had occurred with her parents was his fault, she shouldn't have to feel bad for the arrogant sod.
After what must have been two and a half minutes of silence, everybody craning to get a look at Ivy's famous brother, the hat seemed to sigh and proclaimed, "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Potter, Ivy," was called up next, and, if possible, there were even more whispers at her name as she got onto the platform.
"I didn't know Charles Potter had a sister!"
"Do you reckon she's some kind of superhero too?"
"How come I've never heard of her?"
She drowned it all out, however, when, to her utter bewilderment, the hat began to talk inside her head.
Hm, it said as she jumped, interesting, very interesting…
What's interesting? Ivy longed to ask.
Plenty of courage, I see. But a thirst, to prove yourself. To prove yourself to your parents, to prove yourself to the world. A thirst for greatness. A very, very ambitious young mind, I see. With the potential cunning of a Slytherin. Though not the self-preservation. Too rash, too brave, too loyal.
Ivy honestly could not understand why the hat seemed to think that bravery and loyalty were ill traits.
You'd do well in Ravenclaw with your recent thirst for knowledge, Gryffindor your bravery and rashness, and Hufflepuffs would value your loyalty… And yet your ambitions, thirst for greatness and potential cunning are strong.
Slytherin, Ivy thought to the hat, I want to be in Slytherin.
A perfect choice, the hat told her inside of her head, they will lead you on the path to greatness. Better be…
"SLYTHERIN!"
Ivy eagerly took the hat off of her head, revelling slightly in the cheers her table emitted as they shook her hand when she came over.
They greeted her as Heiress Potter, and Ivy grinned at the use of the title that Charles could never have as long as she live. He may be the Boy Who Lived, he may have their parents' adoration, but she was still the Heir. And, somehow, all the Slytherins seemed to know.
She supposed that one of their parents did a bit of digging, wanting to keep them well informed, perhaps.
Ivy declined the few offers to sit beside others, grinning as she moved to sit beside Tracey, who looked slightly down.
Little did Ivy know that, in the next few days, when her brother's arrogance would be tied to her, her unrelenting friendship to a muggle born became evident and the Head of Slytherin made his dislike for her well known, the Slytherins would not be quite so warm.
A/N all my chapters are done without a Beta, by the way, if anyone would like to Beta then feel free to get in touch! 5600+ words, damn, that's the most I've done! Also, for pairings, I'm currently thinking of Fem!Harry/Theodore, but I'm also considering Draco and perhaps Neville. But, in all honesty, I quite like the idea of a Tracey/Neville pairing. What do you guys think? :)