An Argument of Sorts

'My name is Professor Longbottom, and I am your Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts. The feast will begin shortly, but before that happens we must sort you into your school houses!'

He paused for dramatic effect, and Nicklin raised an eyebrow at Casper, signalling his dislike for the teacher.

'Yes, well, um... Your house will become your home during your time at Hogwarts. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and each house has its own unique history, and has produced equal amounts of wonderful witches and wizards. You will sleep in your house dormitory, and spend time beside the fire of your house common room. Good behaviour will earn you points for your house, while poor behaviour and rule breaking will lose house points, so make sure you are on your best behaviour!'

He smiled, scanning the group, and Casper thought he looked slightly maniacal in the dim candlelight.

'Now form a line,' he said at last, his hand resting on the door to the great hall, 'and follow me.'

Casper gasped in surprise as the doors flew open, revealing a gigantic hall, big enough for twelve of Casper's tree houses. It was lit by thousands of floating candles that hung above four, long tables where the rest of the students sat, staring at the first years as they marched towards a fifth table at the end of the hall, along which sat the Hogwarts professors.

'The sky!' exclaimed a pig-tailed girl in a hushed tone.

Casper looked up at the ceiling, if you could even call it that. Clouds swirled above them, and Casper recalled reading that the ceiling was bewitched to imitate the sky outside.

The first years were arranged along the edge of the Professors table, facing the rest of the students, who watched them smiling, perhaps recalling their own memories as a first year. Professor Longbottom strode before them, carrying an old wooden stool in one hand, and an even older wizard's hat in the other. He placed the hat atop the stool, directly in front of Casper and his friends, and for a small moment Casper could've sworn he saw the hat twitch on its own.

Then, without warning, a rip near the brim of the hat opened to form a wide mouth-like shape… and the hat began to sing.

'Beneath your hair, your scalp, your skull,

I can see it all,

Your thoughts, your heart, your very soul,

There's nowhere I can't go.

Just set me down, upon your head,

I'll read your mind with ease,

And put you on your path ahead,

Where you'll walk with who I please.

Bravery you may hold dear,

And strength of heart you'll know,

And if I find no quarrel there,

With Gryffindor you'll go.

If you live for loyalty,

And reason is your grace,

I will dare not disagree,

In Hufflepuff you'll be placed.

Your wisdom has no boundaries,

And you wish to make this known,

I'm quite sure we'll both agree,

That Ravenclaw's your home.

Or do you value power?

Your ambition truly shines,

Then I've no doubt within the hour,

With Slytherin you'll dine.

But don't be bound by your House's traits,

And don't think that you'll be caught,

In your own way, you can be great,

And your own destinies can be wrought.'

The entire hall; students, professors and ghosts alike, burst into a righteous applause as the hat finished its song. To Casper's continued amazement, the hat then bowed to each table in turn, and then spun to face the first years.

'When I call your name, you will put the hat on your head and sit on the stool,' called Professor Longbottom, 'Ashworth, Chucky!'

A pink-faced boy with curly, blonde hair and trembling hands stumbled towards the stool from somewhere on Casper's left. He placed the hat on his head, letting it fall over his face, and sat down.

'HUFFLEPUFF!' shouted the hat.

The table on the far right burst into applause as Chucky stomped towards the Hufflepuff table. Casper watched as the boy was welcomed warmly, with many of his surrounding students patting him on the back or shaking his hand.

'SLYTHERIN!' shouted the hat, as a dark-haired girl tore the hat from her head, smiling.

Casper was doing the maths in his head, figuring he must be close to the end of the list to be sorted, along with Nicklin Stebbins, who stood confidently on his right side. 'Bones-Austin, Olive' was also sorted into Hufflepuff, much to their delight, while 'Chaff, Madison' became the first Gryffindor. The table on the far left erupted into ear-splitting whistles and chants, stomping their feet and pulling Madison into a group hug.

More and more students were sorted into their respective houses, with each house gaining an approximately even amount of students. The Gryffindor table became increasingly raucous, and when 'Georgina Finnigan' was sorted into their house, the noise became so loud that an elderly looking witch in a tartan robe and a tight bun of hair had to call out to regain order.

Casper couldn't help but watch the wizened old lady as she sat back down at the Professors table, where she shot Professor Longbottom, who was helping a clumsy girl onto the stool, a scathing look.

'Goyle, Marvolo,' was summoned to the stool next, causing the witch to frown, and cast the overgrown first year a look of disapproval. Harry Potter – his face hidden beneath a heavy hood - also looked up from inspecting his spoon, an inquisitive look on his face.

'SLYTHERIN!' called the hat at once, and the boy strutted towards his new house.

'Mahdavi, Samin!' Professor Longbottom shouted several minutes later, calling forth the first of Casper's train companions.

Samin swept the hair from his eyes, and placed the hat firmly atop his head. A minute passed, and then another, before the hat opened its stringy mouth.

'GRYFFINDOR!' it called, and Casper felt a surge of pride for his friend, mingled with a desperation that he too would be sorted into the house.

He watched Samin jealously, as a flock of students ushered him to his new seat, and then ruffled his mop of hair affectionately.

'O'Boyle, Francis!'

The second of Casper's companions, Francis, rushed towards the stool in excitement, shoving the hat on his head, much to the amusement of his fellow students.

'GRYFFINDOR!' said the hat again, and Casper's stomach tightened. Beside him, Nicklin groaned, as if sceptical that Francis deserved a place in the renowned house.

Casper began to listen attentively to the names called, as 'Pace, Dominic' was sorted into Ravenclaw, and 'Quann, Susan' was placed at the Hufflepuff table. It wouldn't be long until Casper's name was called.

'Selwyn, Quint!' called the hat, and to Casper's surprise, the Slytherin table began clapping in anticipation.

'The Selwyn's are old blood,' explained Nicklin, whispering in Casper's ear.

'SLYTHERIN!' said the hat at once, to nobody on the Slytherin table's surprise.

'Shaw, Casper!' shouted Professor Longbottom, his eyes darting from Casper to Harry, and then back to Casper.

He vaguely felt Nicklin pat him on the back as he stepped forward, nearly losing his footing. There was a snicker from somewhere in the crowd, and Casper's face reddened as he placed his bottom on the stool. The hat felt rough and worn in his hands, and he slid it easily over his head.

His face was engulfed in darkness, and the various sounds and noises of the great hall dimmed, as if muted by a television remote.

'What is this?' said a voice in his ear, a voice that betrayed its age and wisdom, 'Something inside. Something hidden, something secret. You could be powerful, you know. Your kind have a thirst for power - a need to prove themselves, and there's only one house that will help you do that…'

Casper's insides froze, and his worst fears came to life.

'SLYTHERI –'

'No!' shouted Casper, and the world fell silent once again.

'No?' said the sorting hat in surprise, 'Fine, so be it. Don't come complaining to me – GRYFFINDOR!'

Casper tore the hat from his head, dropping it to the stone floor beside him. Professor Longbottom stared at him with wide eyes. A silence surrounded Casper, it was brutal, and may have lasted forever.

Except, a heartbeat later, a boy at the Gryffindor stood up abruptly.

'Up yours, Slytherin!' he shouted, causing the hall to explode

'Silence, Weasley!' called the tartan-clad witch from the Professors table, and the Gryffindor's had the good sense to fall quiet.

Casper felt a hand on the small of his back, pushing him gently towards the Gryffindor table, who awaited him with anticipation. He smiled weakly at Professor Longbottom, who regarded queerly, and hurried to the Gryffindor table, where Samin and Francis had shuffled apart to make room for him.

As soon as his backside touched the seat, the Gryffindor awoke in a fresh bout of applause, and Casper felt a dozen hands slapping him on the back. He was seated opposite the freckly, ginger boy who had stood up to insult the Slytherin's. He grinned widely at Casper.

'Casper Shaw,' he said, leaning forward, 'that was brutal.'

'Yeah, you told them, Casper,' said a smiling Samin. Francis was staring happily up at the remaining students, where Professor Longbottom had regained order.

'Ahem,' he croaked, 'Stebbins, Nicklin!'

The last of the boys from Casper's train compartment shuffled forward, puffing out his chest as he took his place on the stool.

'Bet he's a Ravenclaw,' said Francis, 'he's well smart.'

Casper disagreed, thinking Nicklin was more talk than anything else, but never-the-less waited patiently to see Nicklin's fate. After a several minutes, the hat finally opened its mouth.

'SLYTHERIN!'

The Slytherin table once again began cheering for their latest addition, but Nicklin looked slightly discouraged by the news, and Casper couldn't help but feel that Nicklin should've been placed into Ravenclaw, or even Gryffindor.

'That's a shame, his cousin was a solid flyer, he'll probably make the team next year,' groaned the orange-haired boy opposite Casper.

'He didn't seem like a dark wizard,' said Casper as he watched Nicklin take a seat beside fellow first year Quint Selwyn.

'Probably a nice bloke,' said a girl sat beside Samin, who also had hair the colour of orange flame. 'But the whole Slytherin-dark-arts-mumbo-jumbo hasn't been relevant for years, there's good and bad in every house.'

'My cousin likes to see the good in everyone, don't you Roxy?' said the ginger boy, drawing giggles from several girls sat around him.

'Shut up Lois,' she retorted, turning her attention back to the sorting.

Only three first years remained; 'Talspout, Opal' joined the Ravenclaw table, as did 'Thumbs, Buddy', while a bespectacled 'Telvoya, Melania' rounded up the new Slytherins, much to their delight.

Francis O'Boyle was staring sadly down at his golden plate, which was devoid of food, while Samin listened curiously to a conversation Lois and Roxy were having about Quidditch. Casper stared only at the hooded Headmaster, who watched Professor Longbottom as he left the hall with the sorting hat.

At last, Harry Potter stood, removing his hood, and staring about the hall with weary, dark-ringed eyes.

'No… fucking… way,' whispered Lois, barely audible.

There were various responses from around the hall, including a shriek and a moderate amount of hushed voices declaring their surprise. Francis looked around in confusion, and Samin raised an eyebrow. Casper felt a sort of pride that he was perhaps one of the few Muggle-borns in the hall that recognised the man.

'Welcome,' said Harry in a booming voice, 'to our students new and old, I am Harry Potter, replacement Headmaster of Hogwarts,' there was a fresh outburst of noise at this point, but Harry stormed relentlessly on with his speech.

'While it isn't news to anyone, the Forbidden forest has become particularly forbidden recently, and you would do well to avoid it. Quidditch trials will begin in the second week of term, and anyone interested in applying for their house teams should seek out their house's Quidditch captain.'

Lois caught Casper's eye at this point, and winked.

'Besides myself, joining us this year are Professor Harp, who will be our resident Charms master, and a returning Minerva McGonagall, teaching Transfiguration.'

'No way!' said someone to Casper's left.

'Harry and McGonagall back at Hogwarts, who would've thought it,' mumbled Roxy thoughtfully.

'And on a final note; the position of Head of Slytherin house has been awarded to Professor Knowles –'

There was a minor uproar from the Slytherin table, to Casper's utter bemusement. Lois laughed loudly at the news, clapping his hands together delightfully as the Slytherins began to boo and hiss at Harry's decision.

Casper watched Harry's reaction; the Professors face contorted into a grimace, and in one smooth action he brought out his wand, pointing above his head.

BANG!

The hall fell quiet at once, and all eyes became fixed on Harry's wand, which smoked slightly from its tip. Casper was amused to see that Professor Longbottom, who had re-joined the table, had smashed a crystal goblet in surprise.

'Anyone who has any complaints regarding this decision may come directly to me,' growled Harry, with a glare that boldly stated that anyone with a complaint may jump head first into the great lake.

'Enjoy your feast,' he finished, sitting down abruptly.

The dishes lining the four tables became suddenly encumbered with food; roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, pigs-in-blankets, roasted potatoes, chips, peas, carrots, sprouts, gravy and mint sauce. The smell of roasted foods tugged at a memory of Casper's, one where he sat happily around a small table with his parents, who were very much alive.

'I'm in heaven,' said Francis, looking so delighted that Casper thought he may cry. He quickly helped himself to some roast potatoes.

'Bleh,' said Samin unhappily, 'English food, it all tastes the same.'

'Get used to it, kiddo,' replied Lois, who had skewered a rasher of bacon on his fork.

Casper was deep into his second helping when the conversations began properly, and the students of Hogwarts were finally allowed to discuss the events of the sorting ceremony.

'Harry, McGonagall, and that Harp woman,' said Roxy, scraping at the remains of her bowl of ice cream, 'that's more noobie's than we've ever had.'

'McGonagall isn't a noobie, Rox,' countered Lois, 'she's spent most of her life teaching, plus she's a war hero.'

'She is?' asked Casper, diving head first into the conversation.

'Even we know McGonagall, and Potter,' said Samin, 'they are on our chocolate frog cards in Persia,'

'Can't believe Uncle Harry kept that quiet, he probably didn't even tell Lily,' said Lois loudly, and Casper felt suddenly diminished; how many of those around him knew Harry personally?

'You know him?' said Francis, mouth full of profiteroles, 'the weird bloke?'

'Oi!' shouted a third red-haired Gryffindor, from a few places down from Lois, 'that's our Uncle, and he isn't weird, he's just got post-traumatic stress disorder, a shit load of it.'

'Post-traumatic what?' asked Samin.

'He killed a bloke a few months back, the press went ballistic, and he's been hiding ever since,' said Lois emotionlessly, as if that cleared everything up.

Casper fell into another silence, processing the information. He had thought Professor Potter seemed a little out of place as Headmaster of Hogwarts, not that he wasn't impressive – he was – but he just didn't seem comfortable with himself.

'Harry's alright though, really, just a bit addled,' said Roxy, giving a Lois a poignant look.

'He probably also doesn't appreciate his relatives gossiping about him at the dinner table!' said a new voice, full of pomp and bravado.

From the middle of the table arose a figure, one pearly white and partially see-through. Casper realised quite quickly that he was face to face with his first Hogwarts ghost.

'Sir Nicholas de Mimsy, at your service,' said the ghost warmly, beaming at Casper and his friends.

'Clear off Nick, you'll give them a heart attack,' chuckled the third ginger Gryffindor.

'I most certainly will not clear off, Frederic Weasley,' moaned Nick, who hovered above the table menacingly, 'I will be having words with your father!' he threatened, shooting off down the table to fill an empty spot near the end.

'This place might drive me mad,' said Francis, who was rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

'You'll get used it,' soothed Frederic, who had scooted up to join in the discussion.

'I'm telling you,' said Francis, 'this morning my dad almost wet himself when we fell through that barrier at Kings Cross,'

'Yeah, that was weird,' agreed Casper, recalling his driver wrestling him towards the wall.

'Muggle-born are you?' asked Lois, looking at Casper.

'Yeah, yeah I am,' said Casper defensively.

'How'd your mum and dad take it?' he asked innocently.

'They didn't,' said Casper, suddenly not as willing to be involved in the conversation, 'they're dead, I mean.'

'Well done Lois,' said Roxy, giving Casper a sympathetic look.

'Sorry mate,' Lois said awkwardly, 'still though, for a Muggle-born you got those Slytherin's pretty good, they'll be after you for that.'

'They will? I thought they weren't dark wizards anymore,' Casper suddenly straightened in his chair, peering at the Slytherin table to see if they were plotting against him.

'You don't have to be a dark wizard to defend your house,' said Roxy, 'we're all rivals, and we all have our own ways of protecting the house name,'

'We certainly do,' said Lois mischievously, and those around him chuckled, exchanging knowing looks, 'so did Longbottom show you around Diagon Alley?' he asked Casper, changing the subject.

'No,' said Casper, smiling, 'Professor Potter did,'

Lois fell silent, frowning, and Roxy looked at Casper in surprise, along with several other students.

'So he can take first years up Diagon Alley, but he can't pop his head into the burrow to say hello? What a waste of space,' said Lois, suddenly angry, dropping his spoon into an untouched bowl of treacle tart.

'Lois, don't –' cautioned Roxy, and Casper suddenly felt guilty for stirring things up.

'I like that Professor Longbottom,' said Francis, completely unaware of the discontent at the table, 'turned my older brother's hamster pink, and it still hasn't changed back,'

Casper couldn't help but laugh, and Roxy positively cackled. Lois himself had a small grin at the anecdote, and Casper felt that order had been restored at the table, and he gave Francis a grateful smile - but the boy had quickly turned back to look at his dessert, which disappeared before his very eyes, as had the remaining food on the tables.

The students had all turned to look up at the head table expectantly, and when Casper followed their gaze he saw the Professors looking at Professor Potter, as if awaiting a final speech.

Potter simply stabbed his fork into the table beside his plate, stood up and gave a small wave to the hall, before stalking away in silence.

'Do you think he's crazy?' asked Francis from his four-poster bed.

'No,' said Casper at once, 'He's just a bit stressed, like that girl said,'

'She's nice,' said Samin quickly, and then broke into a smile as Francis began to giggle.

'Can we go to bed?' said a fourth boy, who had been oddly quiet as they climbed the staircase to their dormitory. His name was Duncan, and he was wearing purple pyjamas. 'We've got an early start, yeah, and I've been up since like, half eight.'

'Yeah you're right, you could do with some beauty sleep,' said Francis lazily, one of his arms hanging limply from his bed.

Samin and Casper laughed, and Duncan shot Francis an annoyed look, giving the boys further amusement.

Before long they were all in bed, and most of them were asleep. All of them except Casper, who lay silently on his bed – the best bed he had ever slept on – with an unquenchable energy running through him.

It wasn't all a dream after all, he thought numbly. He thought of his wand tucked away in his trunk, and the books of spells that surrounded it. He was a wizard, and nobody could stop him, not even that old, ragged sorting hat.

He smiled, recalling the way he had interrupted the hat as it tried in vain to place him in Slytherin house.

A moment later he was asleep, the four poster bed illuminated by the crescent moon that hung moodily in the clouds.

Summer had fled, and the grounds were covered in a chilly frost, and buffeted by a strong wind that fled across the mountains and shook the towering trees of the forbidden forest. The entrance to the castle was bathed in twilight, penetrated only when the great doors swung open, revealing a piercing light that silhouetted the forms of the Hogwarts Caretaker and his stunted assistant.

'We'll catch them this time,' muttered Filch, holding an oil lamp above his head and clutching a walking stick with his other hand.

'Kreacher would rather be catching sneaking students than chasing halfbreeds with the blind squib,' trailed the thin voice of Kreacher the house elf, as he shuffled along behind Filch.

'Silence, elf!' snarled Filch, 'you'll scare them away,'

They walked in a stony silence across the grounds, the frosty grass crunching beneath their heavy feet. They headed towards the forest, occasionally growling an insult at one another, or pausing for Filch to regain his footing after his walking stick slid from his weak grip.

Stupid, filthy squib, moaned Kreacher inside his shallow mind, and his thoughts contorted and he pictured the limping, blind caretaker in a deep, dark pit at Kreacher's eternal mercy. Perhaps with hot coals beneath his bare feet, or mice crawling over his shrivelled body.

'That fool Potter won't be able to ignore me after tonight,' spat Filch, groping his way forward towards the forest.

Stupid, ungrateful, blood-traitor, snarled Kreacher, knowing that if his Master had not ordered him to be civil towards the crackpot caretaker he would have throttled him in his sleep that very night.

Kreacher's Master, who had graced Kreacher with the locket that belonged to his beloved former owner Regulus, had been very specific regarding his duties to the school, and Kreacher would honour those orders, or risk disgracing his noble bloodline – those that had served the Black's faithfully until their house and name had been erased from the Earth.

'I know you have magic, Elf,' muttered Filch as he paused before the sprawling forest, 'and when we find those evil creatures, you will entrap them in any way you know how, and we will drag them screaming back to the castle,'

Kreacher bristled, desperately craving to beat the caretaker over the head with a fallen branch, but he forced himself to remain stalwart. His master's orders had been specific, after all, and he would not shame his master, no matter how impure the caretaker's blood may be.

Oh, my poor mistress, he thought sourly, holding the dear memory of his previous owners in the forefront of his ancient mind, what would she say if she saw Kreacher entertaining this idiot-man with his foul, useless eyes.

There was a sudden crack from inside the forest, beneath the dark canopy that surrounded Kreacher and the caretaker. Kreacher found himself creeping closer to the blind caretaker, if only to help shield himself from a possible attack.

'Who goes there?' called Filch with venom in his words, 'show yourself, halfbreeds!'

They crept forward in unison, stepping out from beneath the shadows of the trees and stepping into the flickering lamplight of Filch's lantern. Kreacher peered all around himself, and realised they had been surrounded. While his elf-magic was strong, perhaps stronger than many elf's that worked the Hogwarts kitchens, he was not strong enough to repel so many wizards.

For they were wizards, not centaurs like his Master had presumed. The shabby, wild men formed a ring around Filch and the House Elf, creeping closer until Kreacher could see the feral glint in their eyes, and smell the dried blood around their mouths and in their scruffy, wiry beards.

'Big talk for a blind man,' said one of the men, stepping forward, 'halfbreeds are we? Well what does that make you, squib?'

Filch bristled, and although he may have known that the odds were not in his favour, he brandished his walking stick like a duelling sword, swinging it wildly in front of him to ward off attack.

'Stay back!' he spat, 'I am under protection of the castle of Hogwarts, and you will stay back!'

'Fuck your castle,' snarled the man, darting towards Filch and snatching the walking stick from his hands.

Kreacher fell backwards, and made himself as small as possible as the other men closed in. He watched in mingled fear and horror as the leader of the pack grabbed Filch by the hair, wrenched his head backwards, and plunged his pointed teeth into the caretaker's neck.

Filch screamed, his creaking voice piercing the night. Soon his throat had filled with blood, and his screams faded to a pitiful gurgle as the packleader threw his twitching body to the ground.

'No need to wait until the full moon, boys,' laughed the man, whose face and neck were covered in Filch's blood, 'let's all see what squib tastes like, shall we?'

The men surged forward, tearing at Filch with claws and teeth, ripping the clothes from his body and feasting on the man's flesh. He put up no fight, and simply accepted his fate, whimpering into the night until the last beats of his heart pressed weakly against his chest.

Kreacher had hoped to remain unseen, but as Filch died, the leader of the pack turned his focus towards Kreacher, fixing him with a devilish stare.

'Elf,' he growled, 'you tell your new Headmaster that this is our forest now, and for every human that steps inside it, we will send back one head,'

He laughed manically, pointing his face at the sky, where the crescent moon illuminated his frame. Soon his laugh had turned to viscous barks as his throat contorted. The men around him stopped their feast, crouched on their hands and knees, and joined in the call of their master.

Kreacher recoiled in horror, and thought desperately of his warm, safe place. His den at the bottom of the kitchen cupboard in his beloved mistresses' ancient house. With that thought in his mind, he squeezed his eyes shut, blacking out the blood and gore and chaos, and disappeared into the night with a sharp crack.