Chapter Four:
Trouble at the Sorting
Minerva simply stared at Hagrid. "A fight? Already?" She found it hard to believe that two first year students had already had enough time to have a reason to be involved in a fight.
"Yeah." Hagrid nodded.
"A fistfight?"
"Mostly name callin' and hair pullin' Some fists."
Minerva shook her head in disbelief. "And you couldn't get them to stop?"
"No, they jus' ignored me and kept right on at it."
That was the part Minerva found hardest to believe. That any student would be to busy fighting to stop when Hagrid ordered them to. Most first years were terrified of Hagrid for the first couple weeks of school.
"Do you know which students?" Hagrid shook his head. "Very well, I'll go take care of it. Thank you, Hagrid." As she left the Great Hall she wondered if the werewolf boy were involved. She shook her head. "You told Poppy you'd give him a chance." She told herself sternly. "It doesn't have to be him causing it."
And it wasn't. It was actually two boys, James Potter, and Lucius Malfoy. Several other boys stood at the edge of the fight, watching.
"What is the meaning of this?" She asked, glowering at the group. They looked up. One let go of the other and stood up.
"Well, you see, miss, this git Malfoy here called this little guy here a mudblood because he didn't know what the school houses or quidditch were, and he wanted to know what a mudblood was and this kid here said it was a term used by morons for people with muggle parents, and Malfoy said he'd show him who was a moron and pulled his wand on him and so I had to punch Malfoy in the face. There wasn't anything else I could do, really." A boy with dark hair and glasses said.
"Really?" She asked.
"Really." He shot her a winning smile.
"Well, you should both lose points for fighting, but seeing as you haven't been sorted yet, I'm going to let you off with a warning. However, it had better not happen again."
"Don't worry," Said the dark-haired boy. "As long as Malfoy isn't a jerk, it won't happen again."
The boy who had been referred to as a kid snorted. He had shoulder length black hair and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"So, what's a muggle?" Asked the 'little guy,' a small, thin boy with light brown hair almost inaudibly.
"A person who can't do magic." Piped up another, chubbier boy.
"Oh. Well, I'm not that. Or the other."
"The correct term for the other is muggle-born." Said the boy with long dark hair.
"Doesn't matter what you call it, it doesn't change what it is." Sneered the boy who had been identified as Malfoy. He had shoulder-length hair too, but his was a very light blonde.
"Don't make me rearrange your face." Threatened the boy with glasses. He looked thoughtful. "Actually, it would probably be an improvement."
"Couldn't get any worse." Added the boy with long dark hair.
"Enough!" Minerva snapped. "The sorting is waiting for you."
"Oh, right." Said the boy with glasses. "Sorry. Let's go."
And they all adjourned into the Great Hall. It was not promising to be a good year.