Chapter 2: Standard Deviation
Sometimes, to make a distinction means to be so far out of the bounds that the mean is then non-reflective of the others.
"So, er, how's the Sorting again?"
"You have to fight a troll. Or a hellhound. Or an Acromantula. Depends on Hagrid's mood."
"Hagrid's not that mean!"
"Oh, fine, so depending on McGonagall's mood—"
"Mum! James is lying again!"
--James, Albus, and Lily Potter, Misinformation Session #53
The compartment was very quiet for the rest of the journey, not a single human entered and not even Aether or Cantabile made a ruckus. Rose had made it to the last of her second book (Duelling for Beginners) when a voice rung, telling the students to prepare for their arrival at Hogwarts. The torrents of emotions and nervousness that she had been able to block during the ride returned with revenge as she shuffled with the rest of the students to exit the Express. The first years, noticeably very small and scrawny compared to their seniors, were all as shaky—and more—than her. They were also huddled closely together; everyone seemed to have at least one other peer to pair with. Rage boiled within her, but she shook it, choosing to focus on not getting flattened by the older students instead. She had promised herself she would always give Al the benefit of the doubt, no matter how illogical his actions always seemed to be.
It was dark outside without only a little light coming from the carriages and the train. She wondered if she should follow the seniors.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
She snapped her head around. Standing far taller than everyone else, with his lantern swinging and his voice bellowing above the chattering was Hagrid, who waved and beckoned. A smile tugged at her lips as she made her way to him. It turned upside down when she noticed a very familiar blond boy, his pale face reflecting Hagrid's light, standing agape at the half-giant. Probably scared of a half-breed, she thought bitterly. Al stood next to him and was talking to both Hagrid and Malfoy.
That little snitch, abandoning her for a stranger they had clearly been told to not associate with.
Her desire to call out to Hagrid died, so she quietly positioned herself so that she was behind everyone else. She was particularly covered by a pudgy blond boy taller than her and a boy with brown curly hair.
"Everyone here? Righ', follow me!"
They shuffled forward wordlessly, except for the two boys in front of her who kept up a whispered discussion. Trying to distract her overactive mind from thinking about Al, she listened to their conversation.
"—some kind of induction, I think. The older kids are using some other means—" The curly-haired boy said.
His pudgy friend shrugged. "I know that. Reckon it's got something to do with this Sorting?"
"Obviously, otherwise they wouldn't fuss."
They were traipsing through a narrow and steep road. There was no light on either side of the path and the only light was in Hagrid's hand—she kept thinking of shoving the boys to move faster, otherwise she would be left out in the dark. As soon as she wondered where it would end, Hagrid spoke, "And here's Hogwarts! Ain' she a beauty?" Around a bend, the narrow path opened into an edge of a great, dark lake. Across the lake, perched on the top of a mountain, was the castle of Hogwarts. There were open 'oh' and 'ah' sound from around her—the two boys in front of her were gaping—and she agreed partially. Hogwarts looked magnificent, from its ancient look to its almost visible aura to its location—nothing less from the only magical school in Britain.
"Four in a boat, no more 'n tha'!" Hagrid's call brought her attention to him and the direction he was pointing at: a fleet of boat on the shore of the lake. Despite her resolve, she searched for Al, and her apprehension was proven, Al was visibly shaking at the sight of the lake. For a moment she almost obeyed her impulse to run up and comfort him, but then Hagrid helped him climbing into the boat with Malfoy and another student in tow. It was far harder to suppress her anger this time so she was rather brisk as she made her way into the only boat left. The two boys from before were in it, as well as a brunette who couldn't seem to stop wringing her hands.
"Everyone in? Off we go!"
The boat lurched forward and started moving slowly in a formation with Hagrid's boat as the spearhead. Rose's companions gave a uniform gasp; she thought she knew why.
"Uh, are you, er, Muggleborns, too?" The girl spoke timidly.
"Yes," the stocky boy answered in alarm, "how did you know?"
The girl looked flustered. "You were surprised when the boat moved. I don't think wizard-raised children would do that...would they?"
The brown-haired boy nodded contemplatively. "Makes sense. I'm Zoltán."
Rose almost snorted. And she thought her mother's name was rather terrifying. It was quite the tandem for 'Perdita', a name she found on her parents' potential baby name—and it was circled.
"Sorry. I'm Frieda," the girl offered.
"Tyson," the pudgy boy grunted. The three of them turned to Rose. She sighed mentally.
"Rose. And I'm not a Muggleborn." At their wary glances she added, "My Mum is." They still looked cautious. She had hoped the pureblood-mania her parents had encountered during their school days had vanished, but apparently it was too much to ask.
Against her better judgment, her eyes went back to Al. He was no longer shaking, but his head was now pressed onto his tights. Malfoy was just sitting beside him; it irked her: Malfoy was the one Al chose to sit with when it was supposed to be her, and then the git did nothing!
"So you know about Hogwarts? More than us, at least," Frieda asked a bit distantly. She snapped her attention back at her, glad for the distraction.
Zoltán was the quicker one to reply. "You can actually know from reading Hogwarts: a History," he said somewhat loftily, "it's available even for us Muggleborns."
Rose turned her head to them—she had been refusing eye contact by watching Hogwarts getting closer—and saw, even with the poor lighting, Frieda's creeping blush. As much as she thought every student should at least skim through the book (especially if they wanted to survive), the way he talked made it as if not reading the book was a crime. She didn't like that.
Tyson didn't either, apparently. "Not everyone's a bookworm, Zolt. You ought to can it."
Zoltán didn't answer. None of the four made a sound so her eyes drifted back to Hogwarts's looming figure, approximately just five minutes away. The butterfly in her stomach that she had been able to subdue hitherto returned with full force. The sorting would be here soon enough. She duly wondered how long the Hat would take before sorting her into Gryffindor. Another red head, and a Weasley to boot, into the house of the red lion. "If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disown you." How much of that was just a joke, and how much of that was serious? With Mum things were always said as they were meant, but Dad was slightly unpredictable, there were times when she had thought he was just joking but it turned to be serious.
"I didn't mean it, you know."
She came close to blurting out and asked what he was talking about. Then she realised he was probably still thinking about the exchange before. She shrugged it off—it was not related to her in any way. But whatever reply her fellow might have had was drowned by the fact that the boats had softly bumped against ground, followed by Hagrid's bellow of "Watch yer steps!" Her queasiness had nothing to do with the rocking boat and everything to do with the Sorting. As they lined up, Hagrid knocked the great door. A tiny, wrinkled wizard introduced himself as Deputy Headmaster Flitwick, gave a few words about waiting quietly while the Sorting Ceremony was being prepared; he also told the students about the houses: Gryffindor for the brave and the bold (or the reckless, seeing as that was what every Weasley had in common), Ravenclaw for the wise and studious (in James' words, the stuck-up know-it-all with zero social capabilities), Hufflepuff for the fair and loyal (again, her cousins agreed on 'the bland lot'), and Slytherin for the cunning and ambitious (or the slimy gits and family enemies).
The Muggleborns in her boat were all looking at each other in trepidation--she was pleased to know she was not the only one. Her eyes inadvertently drifted to Al, who was very white and shaky, no doubt James' taunts chose the wrong moment to haunt him; Rose would have loved to strangle James. She contemplated coming closer to Al, maybe offering whatever support she could give--
The door opened again. Professor Flitwick beckoned, and in one line they marched in--Rose rather thought her feet were moving on their own. There were four long tables--one for every House, presumably--and one table at the very front for the Professors, all of them were occupied by staring eyes, which didn't help her confidence at all. On the High Table, Neville caught her eyes and winked. She tried to smile back, but her muscles froze on their own accord.
"The ceiling!" Frieda murmured faintly from behind. Rose snapped her eyes upward: the ceiling was as dark as the sky outside. Itwasenchanted to reflect the outside, she amended to herself, feeling rather stupid for forgetting about that.
Closer to the earth, and in the middle of the room was a dirty and patchy hat which looked like it had been chucked into a fireplace. It looked harmless, until it suddenly straightened, a rip opened, and it sang.
Oh, I assure you, these are not decoration
These scars are reminder of the old
Of the war and the blood it shed
And of the divide that is caused by the blood
For peace it may be at present
War it is always between peaces
The Houses were meant to be constructive, you see
The Founders thought it'd be easier
If brave Godric reigned in the bold
The courageous and the dragon-hearted
Wise Rowena knew how to deal
With those intelligent and studious
Magnanimous Helga accepted all
Protected the loyal with her claws
Cunning Salazar kept his eyes
On the resourceful and ambitious
Years, a thousand and more
Is unity that hard to come by?
For divided we fall, but united we stand
Hogwarts shall stand when
Her four pillars should support her
And Sort you I shall
For it is my task!
And remember, do not tickle the sleeping dragon!
"That thing's going to Sort us?!" Tyson whispered under all the clapping and mutterings. Rose quite agreed--mind-reader or not, she couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that a hat was going to decide what and how she would grow into for the next seven years. The song bothered her slightly—the Hat gave an impression of an impending storm, though there wasn't supposed to be one. Her family had made sure of that.
Professor Flitwick unrolled a scroll and began reading the names.
"Ackroyd, Roger!"
A thin and slightly frail-looking boy swaggered his way to the stool—Roger Ackroyd, one of her schoolmate. It was odd seeing the normally boisterous boy being nervous and jittery. Professor Flitwick slipped the Hat, much too big for his head, and it slid down to his collarbone. Before long, the same rip on the Hat opened and from it came "GRYFFINDOR!" The Gryffindors were particularly raucous when they cheered for him.
"Avery, Marvolo!"
A small boy with button-nose and sandy blonde hair staggered, nearly throwing himself off balance as he sat down.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The Slytherin table clapped while the Gryffindors looked slightly revolted. Avery darted to his new table, looking much more confident than before. Al had said that the Hat gave choices. Did it truly? It didn't seem to take long to Sort those kids, not to mention the fact that no Weasley had been Sorted somewhere other than Gryffindor...
"Clogg, Carabog!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Cresswell, Dirk!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Dinoti, Frieda!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Dudley, Tyson!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Ellsworth, Murtaugh!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Estefan, Gracia!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Granger, Zoltán!"
Zoltán stepped forward. Granger, she wondered wildly, as in Hermione Granger? If so, how would he be related to her? Aunt Cordelia definitely was too young to have a son, and Mum didn't have another sibling. Most likely someone in the distant part of her extended relatives, especially since the only ones she knew in her Muggle-side family were her grandparents and Mum's much younger sister, Cordelia.
"RAVENCLAW!"
She mentally made it a task to include this revelation in her letter home.
"Kaminogi, Izanagi!" A Japanese boy, judging by his bizarre name, stepped up and was Sorted "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Kaminogi, Izanami!" Rose almost thought Professor Flitwick had made a mistake and called the Japanese's name twice until a girl bearing great resemblance from the new Gryffindor plopped herself on the stool. This one took much longer than the others, and when she was finally announced "SLYTHERIN!", Rose was left feeling slightly surprised. They looked like fraternal twins, so why would they be Sorted into different Houses, as different as Gryffindor and Slytherin?
She was so wrapped up in her thought that when "Malfoy, Scorpius!" was called, it startled her. She had apparently missed some of the Sorting. Not that they matter.
Malfoy was possibly even paler than his natural colour when he sat down and had the Hat slid down his head. For reasons that completely escaped her, Rose was holding her breath. Hopefully they wouldn't end up in the same House...
"GRYFFINDOR!"
No one clapped. In fact, nearly everyone wore the same gobsmacked expression. Professor Flitwick recovered the fastest; he lifted the Hat off Malfoy and shooed him to his new table. Malfoy's eyes were wide and unfocused as he made his way. He sat on one end of the table (the closest to him had scooted away as fast as possible), and then some of the older students clapped half-heartedly.
Professor Flitwick cleared his throat and called
Malfoy, the shoe-in for Slytherin, was sorted into Gryffindor. Dad would go spare if he knew.
"He is not his father."
Who were you talking about, Al? You, or him? Or me?
Again she missed some names; logically there should be at least one or two between Malfoy and "Potter, Albus!"
The Hall broke into small whispers and furtive glances. Al's fame had apparently preceded him as well. She took a deep breath and hoped fervently the Hat would be wise this time. Her shaken and panic cousin--now under the Hat--did not, and could not, resemble the description everyone gave of the Slytherins (if she wanted to be honest, Malfoy didn't either). He was actually more of a--
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
The clapping was slightly slower to start compared to the others, but once it started the Hufflepuffs made the loudest noise. She let out her breath and stole a glance at the Gryffindor table. James looked slightly shocked as his hands made to clap. Al was no longer pale when he sat down at his House's table between some older students who thumped his back repeatedly. He simpered and turned. For a second their eyes met. She felt her face loosening in a smile, before his averted gaze made her stiff glowering again. He was being stupid again. For a moment she was glad he was Sorted into Hufflepuff, because she was quite certain that she wouldn't fit.
Then again, people like Malfoy and Al had been Sorted where no one had ever predicted...
"Rochester, Jane!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Selwyn, Eleanor!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Selwyn, Iselia!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
Yet another set of twins, this time identical twins, who were not Sorted together. A policy, perhaps? Remembering that Uncle George and the late Uncle Fred had been Sorted into the same House, apparently the House didn't Sort people based on lineage. It made sense. Which would made Al correct. Or not, he still abandoned her.
"Weasley, Galahad!"
Uncle Percy's youngest son didn't look too pompous as the Hat slid down his face. It took its time--she was debating whether she wanted it to go faster or slower; he was second to the last before her. She was so nervous her mind had reached its numb state and blocked out all emotion.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Galahad joined the cheering crowd of redheads. Which meant that "Weasley, Romulus!" was next, and it would only be her.
"GRYFFINDOR!" 'All Weasleys go to Gryffindor' seemed to be the general rule of life. By then, even the Gryffindors looked a bit subdued in their cheering.
"Granger-Weasley, Rosalind!"
Like a robot the Muggles were very fond of, she strode to the centre of the Hall with equal length of strides, sat on the chair with back extremely straight, and resignedly closed her eyes when the Sorting Hat covered her face.
"What do we have here? Another Weasley, and yet...not exactly so...I didn't make a mistake with Mr. Malfoy's and Mr. Potter's Sorting, you know."
She nearly snorted aloud. Fine, so Al might be a good fit. Malfoy?
"Is as much a Gryffindor as your family. As you have realised, it is not easy to Sort eleven year olds--there are too many variables to count."
Oh.
"Yes, some of them are fairly easy, like the majority of your cousins. Some requires a bit of prediction and foraying, like your mother and uncle. Some are just downright difficult. Like you."
Now she was intrigued. People had, after all, kept trying to convince her that she was either a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw. Really? How so?
"You are quite complex. Your growth is even more complicated. You can do well wherever I put you."
So even the mighty Sorting Hat didn't know where to put her. She remembered a bit too late that it could read her mind.
"To answer your scepticism, I've been telling them this is getting ridiculous, this Sorting."
Wait, is that why you're taking so long? You're chatting with them?
The Hat chuckled. "I am biding my time. A thousand year gives me a good practice on multi-tasking. You are difficult, but I think...any preferences?"
She thought. From Grandmum and Granddad Weasley down to James Potter, nearly everyone had worn the red and gold, even Mum. This year, there were ten of them, not to mention the younger ones not yet in Hogwarts. Surely one less in their ranks would not be a great loss. Had she ever been one of them? Her hair, red as blood, had none other to match; her eyes were too indecisive to be considered bad luck—and now that she remembered it, it was her cousins who first introduced her to that horrid fairy tale.
Not Gryffindor.
"Are you sure? You can't change your decision after this."
Not Gryffindor, she repeated with conviction. She could almost feel the Hat smirking, as odd as that was.
"Wise choice, my dear. You are loyal and hardworking with the proper stimulation, but not fair and forgiving enough to be a Hufflepuff. You are clever, far too clever than ordinary, and your curiosity is quite insatiable, but you do not believe in pursuit of knowledge for its own sake."
Her eyes widened. She knew where this was going. Wait!
"I have given you your choice. You are brave and rather noble, Gryffindor would be proud to have you. But you chose not to be, and it is well. You are cunning and resourceful, proud and somewhat ruthless. You are a SLYTHERIN!"
It was getting far too long, so I cut it here. Yes, there's a bombardment of new characters. It makes my head spin, too, trying to come up with the names. The Kaminogis are there for the laugh—people seem keen on adding Japanese name on English names, so why not give some Japanese characters some really wordy Japanese name?
For more info about my sorting decisions and etc. please see my homepage from the account.