"No! No! Please, I'm different!"
"Of course you are, Miss Weasley. And it's your willingness to be so that makes you so similar…"
Rose looked out to the crowd, and she could see her cousins, all lined up in a row, applauding. For a moment, they looked like themselves, but before long, they were simply a blur. Red hair, hand-me-down robes, and a stupid complexion…
"You must be a Weasley."
Rose awoke with a start. All she could remember from the dream was those last five words. Checking to see if she had woken any of her roommates up, she was relieved to discover that they were all fast asleep. Hera Thomas was buried beneath her coves, rising and falling with her breathing. Sarah Abberley was snoring so loudly that she was sure the Ravenclaws could hear her, and at the bed beside her and next to Rose, Matilda Wood was muttering in her sleep – something about house elves playing Quidditch. And across the room, Helena Macmillian was tossing and turning.
Her roommates were an…interesting bunch. While Hera seemed very down-to-earth and probably the calmest, everyone else was rather eccentric. Sarah could not stop talking to save her life. She was a Muggleborn who had only just discovered she was a witch, and eager to prove herself, spewed out random Hogwarts trivia whenever seemed appropriate.
Rose had never thought anyway knew more about Quidditch than she did – until she met Matilda Wood. Not only was her father a player in the professional league, but she was constantly bragging about her own talent. She had already made it clear that she was going to be Keeper, much to Rose's dismay. But try-outs were in a week, and only time would tell.
Helena Macmillian was a shy, half-blood witch that kept mostly to herself. She moved in and out of the dorm like a ghost. Rose had tried to befriend her in the very beginning, but the best she got was a half-smile and awkward silence.
Burying her face in her hands, Rose Weasley cried. She had failed herself. All she would ever be was a Weasley. A face in a crowd. It's so easy to be forgotten, to be left behind, and it seemed her fate was sealed. Rose was left behind, was forgotten. Al may be upset over being alone, but at least he had escaped.
The tears continued to fall. Countless times, she begged herself to stop, but to no avail. Finally, after realizing there was no way she was ever going to get to sleep, Rose grabbed her housecoat and Potions textbook and descended down the stairs into the common room. She scanned the room until she found the perfect spot to read, right by the roaring fire. Setting up a comfortable spot on the sofa and grabbing a blanket, she snuggled up and was soon in her own little world.
"Rose?"
It was only then that she realized she wasn't alone. Looking back behind the sofa, she saw him.
Through the soft glow, she could make out a pair of green eyes, long black hair, and a worried expression.
"Al?" she realized, wiping her eyes. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
Albus Severus Potter took a shaky breath. "I have a plan. It's going to fix everything. But I need to act now before it's too late."
He began to walk out of the room, expecting Rose to follow him without another word of explanation. Turning back, he added, "Are you coming or not?"
Rose got up from the sofa and called out, "What on earth are you talking about? Al? Come back!"
Al turned around right by the portrait opening, a wicked grin on his face.
"Rose Weasley," he announced, "it's time for your Sorting."
0o0o0
"Do you think he'll wake up?"
"Quit giggling and keep pouring!"
"Oh God – I can't wait to see the look on his face when he –"
Scorpius Malfoy's eyes flew open in alarm. Had he been dreaming? Or did he actually hear voices? It had been such a nice dream…his parents had taken him home for Christmas. When he had gotten to the manor, there was a giant tree dressed in red and gold –
"Run! He's awake!"
Whipping his head beside him, Scorpius saw the horrified faces of his roommates – Aaron Dunbar, Edmund Fiffle, Henry Jordan, and one of the most despicable people he had ever met, Jeffrey McLaggen – each holding a bottle of Butterbeer Syrup. Scorpius's hands went to feel his hair – and he immediately regretted it, as his blonde locks were drenched in the gooey mess.
Leaping to his feet and prepared to fight, Scorpius stood beside his bed and waited for the boys to come at him. But they remained on the other end of the room, smiling cruelly.
What the –?
There was a poof of white dust that descended quickly from the ceiling. At first, he felt nothing. Then a strange fiery sensation began on his back, and before he knew it, he couldn't stop scratching. He scratched and scratched, desperate to get the powder off of him.
Jeffrey McLaggen let out a laugh. "Muggle itching powder. Pretty nifty stuff, ain't it?"
Shooting him a fierce glare, Scorpius ran in his direction – until he slipped on the syrup, which was covering the floor. He slid out the door, following the trail of slime, and down and down and down the staircase, until he fell head-first onto the Common Room floor.
He was covered in the goo – there wasn't a single inch of him that remained dry. His hair had begun to stick to his ears as it dried, and the itching powder was still burning like a raging fire down his back.
Groaning, he glanced up to see all four boys looking down at him from their room, laughing hysterically.
"Go home, Death Eater!" called McLaggen, high-fiving Aaron Dunbar. And with a final howl of laughter, they shut the door, leaving Scorpius sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs, sticky, itchy, and utterly betrayed.
0o0o0
"This way!" Al announced, leading his cousin through the dark halls of Hogwarts.
They were downstairs, a few corridors away from the Great Hall. Miraculously, Mrs. Norris hadn't discovered them yet. Rose assumed that security measures were lower than usual, given it was the first night at school. No students were expected to be out of bed, and yet, here they were.
Rose groaned, tired of all the secrecy. Her cousin had just waltzed in and –
"Wait a minute," Rose stopped him, raising an eyebrow. "How did you get into the Gryffindor Common Room?"
Al looked back for a moment, sheepish. "Uh…James might've told me the password…"
"Albus Severus Potter!" Rose scolded him.
He only shrugged. "It's not exactly the most top-notch security system in the world, Rose. God, one night as a Gryffindor and you're already getting a big head!"
Rose's eyes narrowed. "And one night as a Slytherin and you're already breaking school rules."
"Hey – you agreed to come!" he pointed out. "Here we are!"
They had reached the wooden door to a small room right off of the Great Hall. It was mainly used as storage, with shelves of unused candles and cloths for different occasions. But in the center of the room was one thing that was extremely out of place.
There sat the old, worn-out Sorting Hat on the same stool the students had used earlier that day.
Rose immediately looked back at her cousin, very worried. "Al, what are we doing here? Why's the Hat here and not in McGonagall's office?"
"Do you remember when you dragged me into Flourish and Blotts when we went to Diagon Alley last month?" Albus asked.
"Yes…?"
"Well, you went off to go find some book about Quidditch world records, and I was left wondering, 'What the heck am I doing here?' Then, I thought, I might as well make use of the time I've got. So I did a little research on the whole process of Sorting and the Hat itself."
Rose was still incredulous. "Go on," she told him.
"Right, so I was pouring over some humongous book, when I read that there's a trial period!"
"A – A trial period?"
Al nodded excitably. "Any student can be re-Sorted within the first twenty-four hours of their original assignment! Something about 'unforeseen circumstances' and blah, blah, blah. I think some Hufflepuffs were causing problems."
Rose's eyes lit up. "Wait – re-Sorted?"
Al grinned wildly. "Re-Sorted! So basically, if I put on the Sorting Hat now, and he actually takes my decision into account, I can go to Gryffindor!"
And I can leave it! Rose realized. A surprised laugh escaped her, as she tackled her cousin into a bone-crushing hug.
"Al, you're a genius!" she cried. "A bloody genius!"
Laughing, Al told her, "Don't jinx it! We're going for Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw!"
Rose pulled away, looking at the Hat on the stool in front of her. "But I still don't understand what it's doing here," she said.
"That's another thing I read," Al explained. "After the ceremony, they place it in the side room so it can replenish its magic. There're too many other magical objects that can interfere with it in the headmaster's office, so the room with the least magic works best. And what better place than a bloody storage closet?"
"I'm taking you to bookstores more often," she muttered, impressed.
"But think of this opportunity!" Al exclaimed. "We both know the Sorting Hat was wrong, and now we have a chance to fix it!"
Rose nodded, wordlessly staring at the Hat. "So…if he changes his mind…?"
"We're free," Al answered, grinning. "So who wants to go first?"
Taking a step back, Rose said, "Your idea. You go."
Nodding, Al made his way towards the stool. Thanking his lucky stars that he had picked up that book at Flourish and Blotts, he lifted the Hat off of the stool, sat down, and placed it on his head.
"Mr. Potter! I assumed I'd be seeing you again. Doubtful, I suppose?"
"Of course I am! You didn't even give me a chance to speak!"
"I didn't need to."
"Huh?"
"It was all there inside your head, and never before have I been more certain of a Sorting than yours."
"No, but – but that's impossible! I was made to be a Gryffindor, can't you see that?"
"Made to be a Gryffindor, maybe, but meant to be one?"
"I don't think I understand."
"All you need to understand is this – your ambitiousness, your resourcefulness, even your cunning, immediately pointed me in the direction of Slytherin. Would a Gryffindor be that willing to break one of the most serious school rules, sneaking out of bed and into another House, in order to accomplish his means? Would a Gryffindor have been so ashamed to write home that he would have to enlist the help of his cousin?"
"B-but I'm a Gryffindor, I know it. Please, please change your decision."
"Never once have I ever backed out on a Sorting, Mr. Potter. Even those who seek me out realize in the end how very right I was. You may not see it now, but the time will come when you all will have to face who you really are. And for you, that is a Slytherin."
"No. It's not. It can't be –!"
"Then let the decision be yours: you can go back to the Slytherin dormitory tonight, as a Slytherin, wondering when you will become your true self, or you can go back to your dormitory as a Gryffindor and a fraud, knowing you never will."
A seed of doubt began to grow in young Albus's mind. Of course, there was a chance he was, in fact, meant to be a Gryffindor, but there was also a chance that he was wrong and he was a Slytherin. The question remained, was he willing to take that chance?
To never be his true self…to become a fraud…those were things he would prefer anything to. He would rather be a true Slytherin than a fake Gryffindor.
And even if he was a Gryffindor, there would always be that small seed that would continue to grow and grow until it took up his whole being. A lifetime of chance could never amount to this single moment of sure truth.
And maybe one day he could face that truth. It might not be today, but "one day" is better than "never again."
Not today, but one day. Someday.
"SLYTHERIN!"
Albus slid off the stool, his face unreadable. He handed the Hat to his cousin, who looked thoroughly confused at his reaction, having not heard the discussion that went on. He would explain all of that later…one day.
Rose slowly set the hat on her head. Immediately, she heard the voice:
"I believe I made my decision clear, Miss Weasley."
"But I haven't. You may have, but I haven't."
"And what might that be?"
"Anywhere but here."
"So stubborn. Just like your mother…and your father, in fact."
"Wha – really?"
"Oh yes…your mother was so insistent on Gryffindor, and yet her mind was so poised for Ravenclaw. To put it simply, I believe it had to do with two boys and a gut feeling."
"So what did you do?"
"Well, I almost denied her – much like I am doing to you now – if it hadn't been for that steady, spark of courage I saw underlying all of that genius. And in time, it paid off. I've never been wrong, I should remind you."
"What about my father?"
"Much easier, much easier. While the Weasleys were already prone to Gryffindor, he had been so insistent that he follow in their footsteps, I could see the boldness right then and there."
"But…what are you going to do about me? When I have neither issue?"
"While you are exceedingly bright, Miss Weasley, I'm afraid you're similar to your mother. There is a flame of courage hidden somewhere inside of you. It's all in here, I can see it now – your job is to find it and to cherish it."
"You say that now, but in a few years you might –"
"– prove you wrong. I will prove you wrong one day. Much like your dear cousin, the matter is simply that you are denying who truly are. You're willing to compensate your identity for a mask. But if I sort you into Ravenclaw now, you would wear that mask forever…and you would never forgive yourself."
It's amazing how the truth can both sting and ease at the same time. Rose's pride was destroyed beyond repair, and maybe, just maybe, she could build it up again. But she could only do that if she was honest with herself.
"…I see. But one last thing."
"Yes?"
"What about Mr. Malf – Scorpius?"
The Hat seemed to chuckle.
"Oh, I expect that boy will be surprising us all very soon, Miss Weasley. Very soon, indeed."
Following the announcement of "Gryffindor!" Rose set the Hat back onto the stool and offered a small smile to her cousin, who returned it. Neither spoke on the way back to their dormitories, nor did they noticed Minerva McGonagall beside the door, smiling.
