A young pureblood boy knows exactly where he's meant to be going, and won't take no for an answer.
A/N: Based on the Innocence Lost roleplay; Gideon Wilkes is one of my four muses and this piece was originally written for the game. He is semi-canon - a Wilkes is mentioned in the books, but nothing is known of him other than that he was a Death Eater who died "the year before Voldemort fell". The characterisation is therefore wholly mine. Cameos from other students in his year are based on the game.
September 1st 1966
The journey had been relatively uneventful; not many people tended to bother the first-years apart from other first-years, and Gideon was secretly rather relieved. No matter how confident he'd acted in front of his parents - both to reassure his anxious mother and to avoid accusations of clinginess from his father - he was really quite nervous. He wasn't going to see his family again until Christmas, a good three months off, and in the meantime he had the family honour to uphold.
The sail across the lake, under a dismal, cloudy sky, was interesting enough. Those who had heard stories from older relatives were keeping a lookout for any sign of the lake's inhabitants, mostly the giant squid. For his part, Gideon amused himself watching his fellow students, particularly the Muggle-borns; it was painfully obvious how little they knew about the magical world, the way they were gawping. How they would ever cope with actually trying to do magic was beyond him.
He did his best to be patient as they were taken up to the Sorting, though he couldn't help but feel very self-conscious on realising he was by far the tallest one in the group. Resisting the urge to hunch down and try to hide, he instead concentrated on the Sorting Hat's song and the line of people ahead of him dwindling slowly. Names floated past him - "Black, Narcissa" - "Fawley, Janine" - "Rookwood, Augustus" - and then finally, "Wilkes, Gideon!"
Putting on a confident grin, he strode up to the stool and sat down with a little swirl of his cloak. The Sorting Hat was settled on his head, and a dry voice suddenly muttered, "Well, what have we here? Oh, but you're a difficult one. A quick mind, I can see that, and a lot of courage - and ambition, too, by the look of it. Ravenclaw perhaps - or even Gryffindor - no?"
The idea of going to another House had made him actually grimace. "I belong in Slytherin," he thought fiercely.
"Your loyalty does you credit, I have to say, but you'd excel wherever I put you, young man, I can assure you. I still think you'll fit in well in Gryff-"
"It has to be Slytherin! I'm pureblood, my family's always been there, it's where I belong!"
"Very well, very well…" It sounded almost disappointed, but the next moment he heard the shout of "SLYTHERIN!" echo around the hall, and let out a silent sigh of relief. He didn't even want to think about what his father would have said if he'd become a Gryffindor.
The next moment, though, the cocky smile reappeared as the Hat was lifted off his head, and he all but strutted over to the Slytherin table.
This was where it would all begin. One day… one day, when he'd mastered all the magic he could, he'd make his parents prouder than they'd ever been before, and the world would know his name.
But for now, he'd settle down to the Headmaster's speech and the opening feast. It had been a long journey, after all.
