Right, so contrary to popular beleif, I am alive and kicking, just not writing. I hope to remedy that, so lets see how well that goes. OH, and apologies to anyone and everyone that was actually waiting on this story, I probably shouldn't have procrastinated so long, and for that I apologize.
On with the Story
Arthur supposed that he should feel just a tad guilty for nearly blowing up the blond idiot, though in his defense, it was an accident. Arthur had only meant to combust blondy's wand and perhaps singe his clothes and hair, however the spell had warped and fried the boy instead. Nothing was quite difficult to control-hiccups were bound to happen. At the very least, Arthur hadn't packed much power into the spell; blondy would wake up sore, burnt and confused at King's Cross station, wondering just what the hell happened. Inwardly sighing, Arthur trudged up to the final carriage, cocking his head curiously as he did so; The horses that this school used were...interesting...to say the least.
Reptilian skin pulled taut over an emaciated frame gave the 'horses' an intimidating skeletal appearance. The demonic look was completed with the large, black, draconian wings resting upon the creature's back, which had begun flexing restlessly with impatience. Noticing this, Arthur stopped examining the creatures and climbed into the empty carriage, relaxing back into the plush seats as the carriage lurched forward. As suddenly as it had started, the carriage jolted to a halt, nearly throwing Arthur out of his seat as the door to the carriage was yanked open, exposing a bloody, panting figure.
"Erm..." the figure rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, he hadn't expected anyone to actually be in the carriage. He was quite late after all.
If Arthur was the least bit surprised, he managed to hide it with ease. Raising a brow, Arthur gestured to the vacant seats around him.
Murmuring a greeting, Arthur introduced himself while the newcomer awkwardly settled into a seat.
"Arthur Penhaligon, nice to meet you."
"Harry Potter" the now-identified newcomer responded, briefly grasping the proffered hand. For the next few minutes, an awkward silence reigned.
To be completely honest, the person sitting across from him unnerved Harry slightly. It wasn't as if he felt evil-Harry's scar hadn't so much as twinged when they shook-the stranger simply felt, well, strange in a completely incomprehensible way.
Glancing out the carriage window, Harry attempted to distract himself as best he could, watching the ever-approaching silhouette of the castle looming over the horizon.
The strained silence was finally broken as the other cleared his throat, "You've been in the wars," Arthur noted as he gestured to the bloodstained robes and face of his companion "perhaps you should clean yourself up?"
It took a moment for Harry to register what Arthur meant, then promptly began fumbling for his wand as his mind finally registered the coppery scent of blood upon his person. A quick reparo and a few sourgifies later, Harry was once again presentable. Laughing insecurely, Harry babbled some incoherent excuse about him hitting his head on the way out of the train and getting a bloody nose. A very bloody nose.
The only response he got for his troubles was a quiet "hmm." Arthur knew, of course, what had actually happened, but no need to let the other know about it, right?
Once again, the oppressive silence threatened to make its presence known. For the sake of Harry's sanity, that had to stopped at all costs.
"So...erm, I've never actually met you or even seen you around before, what house are you in?" The bespectacled boy asked as he strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of any house affiliation on the other person.
Blinking owlishly, Arthur looked up, then grinned faintly, "No clue."
At Harry's surprised look, Arthur elaborated, "I'm actually new, I've been..ahh...home schooled for most of my life, and your headmaster appeared over the summer and invited me here as a sixth year"
"Hrm? Don't think I've ever hear of something like that happening before, though I guess Hermione would know more about that. Don't worry, Hogwarts is great! It's like a second home to me..."
After that, Harry took it upon himself to explain why the school was so amazing, and just as he was getting into why the Slytherins were the most ungracious, racist, and just-plain-bad snake bastards that one could ever associate with, the Carriage shuddered to a halt, and the door opened itself to reveal a multitude of people milling about, talking and whatever else it is that teens do.
Arthur was, for the most part, relieved that he would no longer have to be subjected to the other boy's rant. While he found Harry to be a decent person, the irrational hatred of his green-and-silver colleagues was something that Arthur found rather disturbing. They were teens for the Architect's sake, dislike was understandable and probably expected, but loathing? They were taking it a bit far in his opinion. Sighing and shaking his head in exasperation, Arthur followed Harry out of the carriage.
The raven-haired boy seemed to be searching for someone. Craning his neck and peering to and fro, Harry's eyes lit up when he finally found Ron and Hermione.
"Ron! 'Mione!"
As soon as he had exited the carriage, Arthur found himself promptly kidnapped by a severe looking witch in bright emerald robes.
"Mr. Penhaligon, I presume?"
Arthur could only nod speechlessly before he found himself being dragged along by the strict witch who had continued talking in clipped, rushed tones the entire time.
"I am professor McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore has informed the staff of your...unusual...circumstances, and since you have yet to be sorted, you shall be joining the first years in the sorting ceremony. I do hope that the student of mine you had been sharing a carriage with has told you something about the school?"
Finally finding his voice, Arthur chuckled slightly, " Yes ma'am, and then some. It was quite enlightening."
Surprised at the unexpected politeness, McGonagall let slip a small grin before continuing a tad less harshly, "Yes, well, my students tend to be the brash sort. In any case, as I was saying before, you will be sorted with the first years, so kindly join them, and" she glanced briefly over her shoulder as she strode away "do try to set a good example."
Left in the company of several midget...first years, Arthur awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot as he found himself on the receiving end of curious, incredulous stares. The fact that he towered at least a foot over the tallest one probably wasn't helping his cause. Sighing, Arthur leant his head back in a vain attempt to ward off a stress induced headache, and felt drops of water beginning to splatter on his face. Suppressing an even deeper sigh, Arthur attempted to walk briskly to some form of shelter before...
BOOM!
thunder and lightning rent the swollen sky and a torrential deluge of cold, fat drops of rain began assaulting the earth.
….Dammit all.
Of course, it was only natural that this would trigger a riot to get into the warm confines of the castle. A riot in which Arthur was an unwilling participant.
By the time the drenched first years (and Arthur) finally made it into the entrance hall, the upperclassmen had already situated themselves at their respective tables and were chatting amongst themselves. Harry had just been telling Ron and Hermione of the events on the train and the meeting with the strange person in the carriage. Hermione was surprised with the idea that a wizard could go for so long without proper schooling. Luckily, just as she was about to start a long winded explanation on just how and why it would be impossible to receive a decent education at home and then start criticizing the boy's parents, the entrance of the first years shut her up before she could get started.
"Hey mate, that him?" Ron nudged Harry and pointed towards the tallest figure lingering about near the back.
Confirming Ron's suspicions, Harry nodded.
"Blimey, he seems normal to me, though he is rather tall."
The entirety of the school was given ample time to profile the new sixth year as "Penhaligon, Arthur" was called and said individual walked up to the Sorting Hat. He was fairly athletic with a slim build, his movements were lithe and elegant; the physique of a trained fighter. Of course, the students didn't know that last part, it simply seemed as if the boy walked with a catlike grace, his movements fluid and easy. Brown-blonde hair loosely framed his face, swaying ever so slightly as he walked. And he was tall. Very tall.
Harry realized that the transfer was at least a head and a half taller than himself which was odd, considering that he himself couldn't exactly be called short by any means. Even Ron's tall, gangly form left him shorter than the new student by more than a couple inches.
Immediately, whispers broke out, and Harry could almost hear the rumor mills kicking into high gear. Even in his immediate vicinity, Harry could overhear the guys questioning his age and the girls questioning his availability. Harry sighed, Arthur was officially classified as a "strange person" in his head now. Sure he had thought it in the carriage, but now it was confirmed; Arthur Penhaligon was going to be a troublesome acquaintance. And Harry had the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't be long before Arthur was being tailed by stalkers and the more romantically inclined persons. After all, as the more giggly females around him put it, 'he was hot.'
Harry sighed again, why could no year be normal?
To be completely honest, Arthur felt completely idiotic as he sat in front of the school wearing the mangy, thread-worn talking hat.
"Mangy? I'll have you know that I have quite a distinguished lineage, thank you very much" an irate voice whispered into his mind.
Stiffening, Arthur's fingers twitched towards his key before relaxing once more. Tentatively, Arthur thought, "I'm assuming that you would be the hat then?"
"Naturally, I am sitting atop your head at this very moment you know. Who else could it possibly be?" Apparently the hat was still a tad miffed at being described as 'mangy.'
"Can a hat even have a lineage?" Arthur pondered
"Obviously, child, I was not always a hat. After all, just how many talking hats have you met before?"
Arthur had no answer to that.
Giving something akin to a sigh, the hat continued, "Well, it matters not, let's take a look, shall we?"
"Hmmm? What's this?" a whisper resounded throughout arthur's mind, breaking the long silence the two had lapsed into. "I don't believe i have ever sorted someone like you before...If you don't mind me asking, what are you exactly?"
The Sorting Hat had just undergone the strangest mental examination of its long and illustrious career. It had seen adventure in a land that should not exist, amongst beings that could very well have been gods, It had seen the destruction of the old existence and the birth of a new universe and it had met him. Well not met, more like encountered and observed. Somewhere in the recesses of this boy's memory lurked a figment of God himself. The creator, the omnipotent, the Architect.
"You saw?" the boy's thoughts became sharp and accusing "How much?"
"All of it. You are not human. You are something far, far greater. Though I cannot comprehend why you would be here. From what I had seen, you seem to be here because of..."
"Curiousness?" Arthur interjected, then chuckled, "Is a God not allowed to be curious? At any rate, I am not a God, merely a portion of one."
Heaving a deep mental sigh, the hat noted idly, "You do not belong." a mere statement, no ill intent, just an observation, "Regardless, it is my duty to sort you, no matter how difficult."
A moment of contemplation, then, "It may not be so difficult after all."
The hat lapsed into thought before continuing, choosing its wording wisely-it wouldn't do to anger a god, now would it? "The Gryffindors are known to be brash, assertive and full of conviction, though they lack temperance. They see themselves as the righteous and just; When they find a rival they tenaciously foster that rivalry-after all, what is good if there is no bad to stand against? You are not like Gryffindor, you know the meaning of temperance and moderation and do not see the world in black and white. You may find the Gryffindors to be rather...tiresome."
Recalling the all-too-lengthy conversation in the carriage with the Potter boy, Arthur couldn't help but agree.
"The Hufflepuffs are modest and loyal. While your loyalty is unquestionable, your humbleness is not. I sense that you, at least the other part of you, would not be happy with the complacency of the Hufflepuffs."
The hat was conflicted. This was a truly difficult desicion to make. "As it is with those destined for greatness, the final desicion is a tie between two equally reasonable choices. Perhaps you will fall into darkness, and perhaps you shall ascend to even greater heights. Regardless, the choice is not an easy one to make. One one hand you have pride and power surpassing Slytherin himself. You are the epitome of what all Slytherins aspire: power. You are capable of great and terrible things and I fear that the Slytherin house has been famous for creating several dark wizards."
Again, the hat paused before finally delivering its verdict, "You have an immense knowledge. You have seen something no one has ever seen before. You know the oldest way of magic, when something was shaped from nothing." Silence for a second, and Arthur could almost imagine the hat licking its nonexistent lips in anticipation, "within you resides the secret knowledge of the aeons, and beyond; it is a great, unattainable knowledge. It is clear that you belong in..."
"Think it died?" Ron whispered conspiratorially to Harry.
"Ron!"
"Sorry 'mione, but look at it, its just sitting there! I don't think its ever been quiet this long before"
Harry couldn't help but agree with Ron, the hat appeared completely lifeless, not even muttering like it had at his own sorting. This went on for several more minutes before a sudden jerk shuddered through the hat, as if it had just woken from a particularly vivid dream.
Muttering under its breath for a bit, the hat seemed to finally make up its mind.
Drawing itself as upright as a hat can, it bellowed out a single word, and a blue and brown clad table erupted into applause: RAVENCLAW!
For the first time in several, several years, the Sorting Hat wished it had the ability to drink again.
WHOO finally finished this chapter.
And just for clarification, I didn't make Arthur all pretty just because I felt like it, it essentially says in the book (from what I remember) that Arthur became a very pretty human. Since it never mentions what he looks like post-universe creation, I went with a toned down version of his god form. And Harry doesn't hate Arthur (yet), its just that vague sense of mistrust that you sometimes get with people.
Gah, this chapters been in the works for the longest time. I'll try to update more frequently, but no promises. And really if anyone feels like adopting this story go right on ahead, I don't mind, just message me or review with a link, I wanna see where you guys take it. Of course I will still continue (attempting) to write, but again, no promises.