Sarika: You take too long.

Memories: Yes, I'm truly sorry everyone; school was being bitchy again. At least review my ending for this chapter, it's my pride and joy right now.

Sarika: First they have to read a disclaimer and the chapter, you stupid author.

Memories: Of course, how would I think without you, Sarika? I am not JKR. I am not good at canon. I very much like slash, as well as support the dark side (in canon!). So if you think this is the real thing, I'm flattered but you are very much mistaken. Enjoy the chapter.

:::

The first thing that Philomel notices is the ceiling. It is an almost touchable black dotted with stars that shine like raindrops on a spider's web. "Bewitched to look like the sky outside. I wish I could make something so beautiful." whispers Philomel.

Hermione smiles and sighs, "Isn't that what we're here for, Harry?"

Philomel tilts her head and looks around without answering. The raggedy old hat that is sitting on a chair with almost everyone staring at it somewhat patiently catches her attention next, along with a strong desire to clean it. 'Someone should take better care of that hat, it needs patching and, at the very least, a good cleaning. To let something still so useful to be let go like that is undeniably wasteful. I would not have lasted through the winters if not for my sewing skills and Aunt Petunia's kind allowance of me using her needles. I wonder if I'll be allowed to sew here, I don't want to cost Professor Snape anymore time and money. And must find time to write to Gringotts, I was not able to ask for a full outlook of my account there. Wait is that hat moving?'

Philomel is shocked out of her thoughts to find that it is indeed moving. And starting to sing the Sorting song:

"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;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs 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!"

The Great Hall breaks into a loud, polite applause which quiets quite soon after McGonagall glares, as does Severus. McGonagall clears her throat and begins to call out names:

"Abbott, Hannah!"

The blonde girl scrambles up to the stool on which the Hat sits and jams it on her head. After a slight pause the Hat shouts, "HUFFLEPUFF." The table with yellow and black banners above them cheers.

"Bones, Susan!"

Another Hufflepuff was welcomed and the Fat Friar was looking quite pleased.

"Boot, Terry!"

This time it was the blue and white table that enthusiastically welcomed another into their fold.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

She also became a Ravenclaw to cheers from her new House.

"Brown, Lavender!"

This girl became the first new Gryffindor and the red and gold table exploded into cheers.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

This scowling girl became a Slytherin and was welcomed with polite applause.

Philomel became lost in her thoughts again for a bit, mostly thinking about what she would write to Gringotts and who she would write it as. She's jerked back into the real world by McGonagall calling out Hermione's name. The girl leaves her place next to Philomel to go to the stool.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Hermione's Sorting (I just wanted to add it so bad, there's a big break from canon in this section)

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

'Hello, child. I can see where I want you to go, such a thirst for knowledge of all kinds in your head. Ravenclaw would do well for you.'

Hermione, not entirely surprised by the voice in her head, scowls. 'But, in Ravenclaw, I wouldn't be special for my abilities.'

'Of course you would, Hermione. In the other Houses, your intelligence might not be as valued as in Ravenclaw. I think that you would do quite well in Ravenclaw. You might even be able to make some friends that share your interest, not that you haven't already made a good one in Michele.'

Hermione's scowl deepens then she smiles slyly. 'What about Gryffindor?'

The Hat roars out in laughter, "Gryffindor!" Hermione quickly takes it off and nearly skips over to the red and gold table. Before she even reaches halfway, the Hat calls out amusedly, "No, my dear, you belong in RAVENCLAW!" Though it adds a quiet afterthought, "Perhaps you should be in Slytherin. Oh well, no matter."

Severus hears this last part and nearly chokes on his drink. Dumbledore looks over at him, eyes twinkling more than Christmas lights, showing that he too heard.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel watches as Hermione goes and sits next to Michele, scowling a bit when he begins to congratulate her in that annoying way he had. Philomel goes back to composing her Gringotts letter, which takes up quite a bit of the Sorting Ceremony and is halted by her own pseudonym.

"Potter, Harry!"

Philomel walks quickly up to the Hat amidst whispers, stares, and pointing fingers. She puts it on her head and pulls it over her eyes to block everything out.

"Hello, Mister—Ah, no—Miss Potter. Hmm, difficult. Well, there is one thing I can see, you do not belong in Gryffindor. Very difficult. Where would you like to be, Philomel?"

Philomel is slightly shocked when the Hat speaks into her head but replies, 'Either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, I've heard good things about both.'

'Unusual, one with perspective on what truly goes on in the Houses. I must admit, you would do well in both; though Slytherin may be a little harsh when they find out.'

Philomel mentally tallies that up with the cons on the Slytherin list before answering, 'Would Ravenclaw accept me?'

'Well, my dear, don't think that I can speak for all of them, but yes, I imagine that most of the Ravenclaws would acknowledge your right to happiness. So Ravenclaw it is then. I hope to talk to you again soon; I might be able to help you with that song that plagues your thoughts.'

With the cry of "Ravenclaw!", Philomel takes off the Hat before going to sit with Michele and Hermione; amid loud cheers from the Ravens.

"Congratulations! I thought you would make a good Raven, my dear boy." says Michele when Philomel sits.

"This is terrific! I thought that you'd be a Gryffindor for sure. But this way we'll have classes together." pipes up Hermione. Michele smirks at her.

"Is that why you tried to get into the lion's den, my dear girl?"

Hermione tilts her head up to the Head Table to listen to Dumbledore speak, completely ignoring Michele.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

Philomel stares at the plates that are filling with food impassively but inside she's laughing quietly. 'I always did think the Headmaster was a bit mad when I was staying here over the summer.'

Before Philomel starts to eat, she first pulls her transfiguration book out from under her robes and resized it to its proper size. Settling it on her lap, open to her page, Philomel starts to eat delicately. Most of the elder Ravenclaws see and approve of the new Raven's ingenuity. A couple of the prefects frown on it but say nothing, noting the title.

/Missstresss, I'm hungry! Pleassse feed me, there isss food on that table, may I eat? /

Philomel glances around and gently takes the coiled snake off her arm and sets Sirrush down on the table delicately before hissing quietly, /Hurry, Sirrush. Try not to let anyone see you. When you're done, coil back around my wrist. /

Sirrush quickly helps herself to a piece of fruit on Philomel's plate. As it just so happens Hermione looks down at Philomel's plate to make sure that she's eating. To her credit, Hermione did not scream or anything but did jab Philomel in the arm quite hard.

Philomel looks over at Hermione and snipes, "Yes, what did you need, Hermione?"

"There's a winged snake eating from your plate, Harry." Hermione looks closely at Sirrush. "It looks rather like your bracelet. And," Hermione squints even closer at Sirrush, surprisingly drawing no unwanted attention from anyone, "it also looks like that girls, Philomel's, bracelet. What are the odds of you two looking some much alike and having the same taste in jewelry, or pets, as well as the same manners?"

Philomel stiffens but manages to look impassive. "I would imagine very high. Surely this girl and I have quite a few differences. But, yes, this is my familiar, Sirrush."

Hermione stares suspiciously into Philomel's eyes for a moment before whispering, "No, no, I think it would be a very slim margin with this many factors. And you two are frighteningly similar for two people who've never met. But this is quite a beautiful familiar, Harry. Best be careful no one else sees it though. Snakes aren't allowed, you know."

Philomel nods in thanks and picks up Sirrush and wraps the snake back around her wrist. "Hermione, do you know when the feast ends? I want to take care of some things that I didn't get a chance to before."

Hermione is about to reply when Dumbledore rose to his feet, silencing all conversation.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." At that Dumbledore looks over at the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year; the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

A few laughed at the last statement, but Philomel was not among them. She stared impassively up at the High Table until a tugging sensation in her forehead made her look down. By the time she'd looked back up, Dumbledore had his wand out and is flicking it, causing a long golden ribbon to fly out of it. The ribbon twists itself into words. Dumbledore says, "Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

People finished at different times. Philomel, who picked it up somewhere in the middle after she got over her shock, finished quickly, singing to the tune of her lullaby. The twins that she met on the train finished last, singing to a slow funeral march.

"Ah, music," said Dumbledore, tearfully. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The Ravenclaw first years follow an older female prefect through the halls until they come to an empty, dusty, old room just off the Library. A slight breeze whisks through the room, stirring up dust. For a moment, Philomel thinks she sees an androgynous figure in the gloomy dust, but dismisses it as pure imagination; until the prefect speaks to it.

"Doctrina, EGO fero tuli latum vos thema."1

The dust figure sweeps around the room, touching all the first years with windy, gritty fingers. A hollow voice sounds all around them, "Password, scholars?"

The prefect pronounces the password clearly so that everyone can hear her, "Herman Melville."2

The grainy figure nods saying, "You may enter." before all the dust is blown away, as well as the image of the small room; leaving in its place a cozy room with striped bronze and navy walls and light blue shag carpet. A huge fireplace is going brightly, warming the room. There are white, striped with light blue, chairs and sofas scattered about the rooms. But what really gains the attention of all the first years are the huge bookshelves lining the walls, packed with books of all kinds. Philomel's hands twitch in anticipation of reading them before she thinks, 'Surely we won't be allowed to touch them, they must be for the older students. Still, what a magnificent place to be…' Hermione twitches as well, but her hand shoots up.

"Are we allowed to read those books, miss?"

The prefect looks slightly shocked at such a question, but answers, "Why would we put them up there, elsewise? I'm sure their former owners would be appalled if you did not read their books. But, for now, I suggest you all go to bed. Girls through the door on our left, Boys through the right. Don't forget the password; you'll need it to get out as well. It'll change every month, according to the most popular author that month. Tomorrow, you'll be introduced to our Head of House as well as receiving your schedule. You lose points, you gain them back. Good night everyone."

Once most of the people had cleared out, Hermione said goodnight to Philomel and Michele, "Night Harry, Michele. See you tomorrow?"

Philomel nods but Michele waves a cheery, "Sleep tight, good night, my dear little friends." before bounding over to another door. Philomel tentatively goes into the boys' dormitory and claims her bed, the last one available; the one stuck in a corner. Philomel strips and changes into her pajamas, with her eyes closed to avoid seeing anything. After she is safely tucked into her dark blue bed with the curtains closed tight and spell-locked, Philomel removes her mother's necklace and sighs as she goes to sleep. Sirrush slithers up next to Philomel hissing softly.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel hears a voice singing from the shadows, strains from her barely remembered lullaby.

'Odd, that's not my mother's voice, is it? It doesn't sound the same…'

"Philomel, with melody,

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,

Never harm,

Nor spell, nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh,

So, good night, with Lullaby."

Crystal lightning bolts come from the surrounding shadows and trap something in a glittering cage. Though the rest of what Philomel can see is still wreathed in shadows, the figure is clear through the sparks. It turns around, but before Philomel can see who it is, a green light blinds her, throwing her back. When she pushes herself up, the ground is a mass of writhing creepy-crawlies. Surprising even herself, Philomel is unafraid, even grateful that they are there.

"Thank you…"

Then, Philomel turns over and the dream is no more.

:::

The entrance to the Ravenclaw dorms may be a little overdramatic, but I saw the dust figure in a book and just had to find some way to add it in. I've decided to make Philomel's Lullaby cover first and second year, so from now on, the chapters will cover more. This story, like all my others, will most likely be highly AU. If that bothers you, it kind of makes me wonder why you're reading things about a girl!Harry. I'll leave the canon to J.K.R. She's good at it.

The Latin that the prefect spoke means, "Learning, I bring you subjects." Trite, I know, thank you.

For those that don't know, Herman Melville wrote the novel, Moby Dick. You know, the crazy obsessed guy going after a huge white whale? Yes, that one.