cookyc: As of this moment, only the Potters, the Blacks, McGonagall, and Tracey know Jen was born a Potter. The Blacks and Tracey won't tell, McGonagall plans to share it on a "need to know" basis (though who's on that list is an issue), and the Potters can't without casting themselves in a very bad light.

Penny is wise: You'd think so, but everyone knows that Dumbledore turns a blind eye to whatever the Lions do, so no Hufflepuff is going to stick their neck out, and any Slytherin complaining would just be a whiny, spoiled brat (and yes, I do think that the House prejudices are that bad in canon). As soon as Harry's first year was over, I'd have turned to my friends and told them not to get their hopes up about winning the House cup for a while.

Mad Mad Reviewer: Let's just say I wasn't comfortable with even writing what Jen went through, let alone posting it. I like the idea of a powerful main character shaking things up, but I don't think I let it go too far. After all, she isn't capable of conjuring Godzilla :)

Hp-speed-reader: It was Danny who did those things. I've seen several Twin-who-Lived stories where the other sibling is little more than a squib and gets credit for Harry's heroics, but this isn't one of them. The boy's capable, certainly, but he's not the main character.

Disclaimer: Did it take Harry until book 5 to see the Thestrals? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

Chapter 10
Arrival

Halfway through the journey to Hogwarts, the clouds that had portended rain that morning finally acted upon their threat, and so it was a torrential downpour that greeted the young wizards and witches to the Hogsmeade platform. Some of the students, Muggleborns all, had brought umbrellas, while a few more pulled up the hoods of their cloaks to cover their heads. Most, however, were forced to sprint up the hill in the direction of the school.

I hope we don't have to walk the entire way there, Jen thought as she subtly pushed the rain away from herself, her magic acting like a slicker and keeping her dry, at least above her ankles. Loki, wanting to stay out of the elements as much as his mistress, huddled against the right side of her head and under her shield. There is far too much mud along the path for it to be entirely safe.

She had read that Hogwarts possessed incredible wards, and she certainly noticed when she crossed their boundaries. Just like when she entered Grimmauld Place for the first time, the castle pressed against her with all the weight its magic could bring to bear. After a moment or two, it seemed to reluctantly let her into the grounds, where her magical sense stretched out for approximately one hundred feet.

It's not as good as I am used to at home, she thought, but at least I can access a greater range than I had in Avryporth. Having the same clarity as Grimmauld would be nice, but it isn't like I'm the heir of Hogwarts. After all, I could only stay aware of everything around me because I was the future head of Black inside a Black family property and its wards.

She directed her attention forwards and found their destination. At the crest of the hill they were walking on was a line of carriages, each pulled by a large winged horse. A more focused inspection revealed them to be thin and bony, practically emaciated, though they seemed quite healthy nevertheless. A misstep caused her to slip in the mud, and only Kenneth's quick reflexes kept her from falling face-first into the road. She muttered a curse and kept her mind on the slick path in front of her.

Following another few minutes of slogging through the muck, they reached the carriages. Kenneth waved a goodbye as he made his way to a group of older students, likely friends in his year. Susan and Justin departed immediately after, which left only Tracey, Luna, and herself.

"Can we get out of this storm already?" Tracey groused, her teeth chattering. Jen was feeling a mite bit cold herself, though the mild warming charm she had placed on her clothing largely kept the chill's bite at bay. The two girls approached one of the waiting buggies, the flighty Ravenclaw following only a few paces behind, and Tracey entered the cab while Jen made a quick detour. Reaching up with one hand, she lightly stroked the side of the flying horse. It's skin was supple like leather, and it nickered softly as she ran her hand from its flank towards the neck.

"They are beautiful, aren't they?" asked Luna.

She sighed. "Yes, they certainly are."

Tracey poked her head outside. "Hey, what the bloody hell are you two still doing out there?"

"I would think that fairly obvious," she replied, giving the horse a slight pat.

"Looks to me like you're lost and trying to find the carriage. The door is about four or five feet to your left; just follow my voice."

Jen scoffed. "I know where you are, Tracey. If you can't understand what I'm doing, then we need to check which of us is blind."

"Have you ever seen someone die, Tracey Davis?" Luna said, stepping in the middle of their developing argument.

Tracey started. "And my parents say I'm tactless. You don't ask personal questions out of the blue like that! I should knock you on your arse for that comment!"

"It doesn't matter that you can't see them, you know." Jen wasn't sure if Luna truly had not heard Tracey's retort, or simply didn't care. "They are just as real as you and me."

Jen focused on the girl. "What are they?"

"Thestrals."

"Shite!" They turned to find Tracey jumping out of the carriage as if it was on fire. "Get away from them, both of you!"

"For what reason?" Thanks to Elsie, Jen had been generally informed about the magical world, but she would admit that there were aspects of the culture that she did not yet comprehend. That didn't mean she had to like it, especially when whatever it was she lacked exposure to appeared to be common knowledge.

Tracey gaped at her. "They're death omens, Jen! Get too close to one, and Death itself will soon seek you out."

"Himself," Jen corrected absently. "Tracey, I've already touched the damn thing; the only way for me to get any closer would be decidedly disgusting." I'll leave that to Siri, she joked silently.

"They don't actually cause death," Luna stated in an unequivocal tone. Her sternness caught both of the fourth years' attentions. "They just have a bad reputation because only people who have witnessed death can see them."

"And who have you seen die, then?" Tracey snarled.

"My mother. She liked to experiment, and one day one of her projects went very wrong. I was nine."

All the blood drained out of the Slytherin's face. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Luna shrugged. "You don't need to apologize, I made my peace with it a long time ago. Besides, I believe that when I, too, pass beyond the Veil, we'll see each other again." With that, she climbed into the carriage. "Are you two coming?"

Jen lightly clapped Tracey on one shoulder and joined Luna. A moment later, so did she.

The ride to the school only took ten minutes, but the trio spent their time in awkward silence, unsure of what to say after Luna's confession. As they walked through the front doors, she noticed McGonagall making her way towards them.

"Miss Black, I need you to stay outside of the Great Hall for a few minutes. The Sorting takes place before the feast; I hope that, since you are not one of the first years, you are willing to wait until they have all joined their Houses for me to call you in."

"That would be fine, Professor," she said. Once the woman had left, she turned to the two with her. "Well, looks like the moment of truth, friends."

"Oh, I've never had friends before!" exclaimed Luna. In her enthusiasm, she latched onto both Jen and Tracey and pulled them into a hug before she skipped away. "This will be ever so much fun!"

Tracey stared at the girl's back before turning to Jen and expressing her confusion with an eloquent "Huh?"

"I don't totally understand, either, but I know one thing." Jen pointed a finger in Luna's direction. "With her around, at least we won't have to worry about being bored."

"Sure…" Tracey replied. "I'm going to run to my table now and hope my sanity returns in the next few minutes. Maybe I'll see you there."

"Maybe, but for both our sakes, I hope not. It would make our networking that much more difficult." The smart-mouthed girl smirked and departed as well.

Jen thoughtlessly conjured a chair and sat down; thankfully, the other students had already passed her, or she would have been asked some very difficult questions. Loki croaked, prompting her to create a tall perch next to her for him to rest on.

How long does McGonagall plan for me to wait, she wondered. She did not know the number of first years who had to be placed in their Houses, nor how long was required for each student, and her senses did not pass through walls here like they did in London. I could be sitting here anywhere from three minutes to an hour or more! She mentally groaned at the fact that she had not even thought to ask those questions while the professor was speaking with her. I can't let opportunities slip by me like that; I have too many things to do.

Sensing his mistress's distress, Loki hopped down onto her lap and began pecking at her satchel, each poke and nip sandwiched between croaks, huffs, and burbles. This was not the first time he had acted in this fashion, so she lifted the flap and allowed him to enter the greatly expanded space. It took him several minutes, but eventually he returned, bringing with him the small mirror from her ritual kit.

"Of course," she murmured, slapping her hand against her forehead, "how could I have forgotten about that option? Thank you, dear." Her words caused him to puff up, swelling his body as much as they did his ego. She cast her 'sonar' around once more to verify that no one was watching, then waved her hand over the mirror, disabling the enchantments that held it in the small size she used to store it; where before it could fit in her pocket, now it was a foot in diameter.

She placed her palm on its cold surface and began dragging her fingers around the edge, all the while forcing magic into, not the glass itself, but the image it reflected. After only a couple of passes, the mirror softened and seemed to melt, flowing around her hand as if it were a liquid rather than a solid. At the same time, a spot of color appeared in the darkness that was her world; it shimmered and grew, rushing towards her like a wave breaking on the beach. Loki landed on her shoulder, and she obliged him and slid a tendril of thought into his mind so that he could also witness what she would see. Concentrating on the inside of the Great Hall, she fell into the sparkling pool of light.

This room is certainly impressive, she thought as her mental projection stood in the middle of the Hall. She looked around at the numerous students, several hundred altogether if every student was present, then turned towards the front. There stood the only professor she knew, but Jen could see that McGonagall was acting in her capacity as Deputy Headmistress rather than the Transfiguration teacher. The woman levitated a ramshackle three-legged stool before her, placed a patched and dirty hat atop it, then stepped back. The hat twitched, soundlessly ripping a large hole near the brim, and then it acted just as Justin said it did. It sang.

Not that it sings well, she thought. The four-line verses were technically correct, rhyming and following a consistent meter, but there was no passion in the voice ringing through the room. It's words were bland and monotone, as to be expected from an inanimate object that had been animated; to be honest, she felt that the time it spent singing could be better used simply describing the qualities of the four Houses. The end of the hat's song was greeted with applause from all viewers, though the reason was likely inconsistent.

McGonagall returned to her position near the musical headwear and unrolled a scroll. "Ackerly, Stewart," she called, and a boy staggered his way to the stool and placed the hat on his head.

A moment passed, and the hat spoke. "RAVENCLAW!"

The table to Jen's left, under a blue banner depicting a bronze bird, burst into cheers as the newest 'Claw joined them. Not for the last time did Jen wish that she still had access to her magical sense and mind-reading while scrying; she now knew where the Ravenclaws sat, but she could not match Luna's distinguishing attributes with her physical appearance. Was she the Indian girl in the middle of the table? The blonde with glazed silver eyes near the end? The short redhead sitting next to an attractive Asian witch?

A look at the Slytherin table following the second boy being Sorted there confirmed that she was equally unable to recognize Tracey. She did not bother giving Gryffindor or Hufflepuff more than a cursory glance, for she knew she would not be able to tell who was who.

Overall, the Sorting progressed more quickly than she had feared, lasting only twenty minutes or so by her estimation. When the last first year, one Kevin Whitby, was safely ensconced at the Hufflepuff table, an old white-haired man seated at the center of the staff table rose, only to be cut off by McGonagall's next words.

"Every year, there are children invited to Hogwarts who – because of finances, long-term illnesses, or other reasons – are unable to attend. Though they are always welcome to come later, we have not had a student enroll late or transfer from another school in over fifty years. Tonight, that changes."

Knowing that she was about to be in the spotlight, Jen left her scrying session. She stood, a single wave of her free hand shrinking the mirror and vanishing the chair and perch, and dropped her mirror into her satchel. She paused, unsure, then removed her bag and shrunk it, too. "Wait out here, I should be done in about an hour. Until then, take care of this for me," she said to Loki. He groaned but took the miniature bag in his beak and leapt off of her shoulder to find a roost in the hallway.

The doors to the Great Hall creaking open heralded McGonagall's call. "Now, I would like to have our newest fourth year student join us. Miss Jennifer Black, come and be Sorted."

Accepting the professor's invitation, she strode into the room with confidence, her heels clacking against the stone floor with each step. Her ears picked up a number of comments about her from the other teenagers.

"I wish I looked half that good!"

"Why is she wearing dueling clothes under her robes? Is she expecting a fight?"

"Do you think she's related to those Blacks?"

"That is what a Pureblood princess should look like."

Many of the other whispers were in the same veins, students admiring her appearance while wondering about her name. By the time she arrived at the Sorting Hat, she was elated. Her first goal was accomplished; she had claimed her classmates' and schoolmates' attention. Now came the hard part: making them respect and admire her, and by extension, the Black family.

She sat gracefully on the stool and allowed McGonagall to place it on her hair. How is this supposed to work?

"First, you have to let me in your head," said a small voice in her ear.

If she had not known that there was no one around her to speak, she would have jumped away in surprise. As it was, she simply tensed and mentally broadcasted her response. I take it you are the Sorting Hat?

"Indeed," the hat chuckled. "Now, would you mind weakening your shields? I have never before had difficulty witnessing someone's memories, but your Occlumency is several orders of magnitude stronger than even Dumbledore's. If I didn't know better, I would think that you only have one powerful wall protecting your mind."

If you cannot access my memories, why don't we have a little chat so you can Sort me instead?

"You misunderstand, child. It's not that I can't force my way in, it's just that I do not like doing so. Strong Occlumency shields can shatter violently if too much pressure is applied." She did not reply or comply, so the hat simply sighed. "Very well, if that is how you want this to go."

She felt weight being dropped on her mind, increasing in strength each time it rammed into her natural shield. Realizing that it was going to crack at this rate, she channeled more magic through her body, directing much of the additional power into the barrier.

"You do know that this is futile, don't you?" it panted, somehow tired from its exertions. "If I am not able to penetrate by myself, Lady Hogwarts will grant me the extra magic I need to do so. It would be easier if you just let me see your past."

Not going to happen. There were aspects of her history that she was quite happy not reliving, thank you very much, and if she kept them from herself, why would she ever share them with someone or something else, especially a filthy, ratty, long-winded, louse-filled article of headgear!

The hat growled at the insult. "You shouldn't have been so stubborn, you arrogant child." When the next blow came, it was far stronger than she was capable of resisting. Her head was splitting in two, blood gushing from her nose and ears, and the magic she had invested in her shield was thrown back, burning her spine and causing tremors throughout her body.

"Shh, shh, the pain will soon pass." This was not the voice of the Sorting Hat; it was instead a woman's voice, smooth and cultured. "I apologize for how Godric's hat treated you. It was most unprofessional."

Your platitudes don't do me much good when I'm bleeding all over the floor, now do they?

"Worry not. The sensations you feel are entirely mental; all anyone outside can see is you sitting here quietly. Now, my child, you still need to be Sorted, so I shall perform the duty."

Jen would have fought the presence off, but the pain, while lessening, was still too great to focus through. Her thoughts were jumbled, bouncing back and forth randomly.

"I understand now your reluctance to share your memories. You did not have a happy childhood, if what you experienced even deserves that term. Your relatives, the streets, and then the brothel; many of life's dark secrets that adults hide their children from are intimately familiar to you. Making real friends will be difficult for you, for you have a completely different frame of reference than any other student here."

Just get on with it, you rock heap! I don't need a bloody lecture right now, considering you nearly gave me a stroke! The words of the castle – for who or what else could chastise the Sorting Hat? – did have a benefit: enough time had passed for her to fight her way through the damage the magical backlash had inflicted on her and reduce her connection to the planet. She restrained the excess power and forced it into her flesh and bone, healing the various injuries it had created.

"For your own safety, you should learn to restrain that temper," cautioned Lady Hogwarts. "It is one of your worst flaws, and even you can be beaten if there are sufficient enemies before you. However, you have a point; we have taken enough of the students' time.

"It should be little surprise to you, but the worst choice is Gryffindor. You care not for honor and use chivalry only when you feel it will benefit you. Combined with your hatred for the Potter boy, you would turn the Lion's tower into a war zone.

"Hufflepuff is likewise inadvisable. Your main loyalty is to yourself, which is directly opposed to the Badger creed. You are also slow to trust, no matter how you may act, and your housemates would press you for information you are unwilling to divulge. It is not a bloodbath, but isolation that Hufflepuff portends for you; isolation that would be a disaster for both your plans and your emotional wellbeing.

"Slytherin is the best match, or it was a century ago. In recent decades, students have viewed the Snake Pit, as you call it, to be a den of treachery and evil. A true survivor, willing to adapt to changing circumstances and make appropriate sacrifices to further her goals, would be anathema to the many spoiled children who now wear silver and green, even if the blood on your hands means you would find common ground with the most violent students there.

"You are intelligent, that is not in question, and your curiosity serves you well. Ravenclaw also offers you neutrality, which you will need for success in your ventures. Perhaps you will even learn more about how to peacefully and honestly interact with your contemporaries."

Overall, this Sorting was going more or less how Jen had hoped, but one thing still bothered her. You have mentioned several times how a House would or would not benefit my goals. Why do you act like you want me to accomplish them so much, like you even give a damn?

"I care for all students who seek shelter and personal growth here inside my walls, and is not accomplishing various tasks how one achieves that growth? I only provide the necessary tools; it is up to you to bring your desires into reality." Jen could not respond, for Hogwarts's voice had departed, replaced by the Sorting Hat's.

"RAVENCLAW!"

I just can't see Tracey and Luna getting along well, at least not before they have a chance to really get to know each other; expect them to butt heads for a little while longer.

For anyone who was hoping for a copy of the Sorting Hat's song, I read too many stories that started in first year and included that same blasted song for me to voluntarily include one in any story I ever write. Not going to copy it, definitely not going to make one of my own, won't touch it with a ten-foot pole.

The Sorting was supposed to be fairly simple, just "you don't fit here, here, or here for the most part, so go to Ravenclaw". Then the Hat got offended, Lady Hogwarts stepped in, and I'm left looking at my screen saying "Where the hell did that come from?"

Silently Watches out.