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A Slytherin in Red and Gold

Chapter One: Slytherin in Red and Gold

"Do you have everything, Lydia?"

"Yes, Mum," I answered.

My father laughed. "What does it matter now, Acantha? Her trunk's already onboard and the train leaves in a quarter of an hour. There's no time to get anything else!"

"I could apparate there--" she began to say.

Noting my father's frown, I interrupted, "I've got it all, Mum. No worries."

"All right, then, dearie," my mother replied, wiping away a tear. And then, to my father, "What house do you think she'll be in, Bryan?"

"Gryffindor, of course!" he said heartily. "Just like her father." I grinned; I had been brought up on Gryffindor with a hint of Ravenclaw, and I knew which I'd be.

"Unless of course you don't work, darling," my mother cautioned with a smile. "Then you'll be placed in Hufflepuff."

"I'll work," I promised. "But I've got to go, I don't have much time left."

My parents nodded, and the three of us hugged tightly. They waved to me as I ran onto the train and into the nearest compartment. Its only occupant was a blonde girl with a pile of brightly-covered books. She sat next to the window, watching the people milling about the station.

"Hi," I said to her. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"No, go ahead. I'm Lyra Wood. It's my first year. How about you?"

" Lydia Carmichael. First year," I replied, sitting down across from her. "My parents are just under that lamp, talking to those two guys."

"Is that your dad, the white-haired one? Those are my dads he's talking to. How old is he?"

"Almost forty. He and my mum are the same age, but they don't look it at all, do they?" When she shook her head, I continued, "Why do you have two dads, anyway? What happened to your mum?"

"I don't have a mum," she said matter-of-factly. "My dads are married."

"Oh, cool," I replied.

Lyra pulled out a thick book and began to read, and I stared out the window as the train pulled out of the station. The two of us were silent until the trolley rolled by.

"Anything to eat, girls?" the plump, smiling woman asked us. We both nodded, and together managed to buy half the cart. We ate in contented silence for a while, and I opened a chocolate frog.

"Oh, Jadis again. This'll be the third one of her I've gotten."

"I don't have her yet. I've everyone else though," Lyra said quietly.

"You want mine?"

"Oh, could I?"

"Yeah, go ahead," I replied with a shrug, handing it over.

She grinned at me. "I don't know what to give you in return…."

I understood her dilemma. We were both well brought up witches: we had been taught to always repay debts as quickly as possible, for they collected interest. "I don't know … what do you have? It doesn't have to be big or anything."

"I'll think about it," she said, and we lapsed into silence again.

An hour or so later, Lyra asked, "Hey, do you like Quidditch? Do you fly?"

"Yes and no. I've never been confident enough to fly."

"Do you want to … I mean, I know you might not want to, but do you want to take a ride with me? My parents are getting me a Skybolt for my twelfth birthday, and I thought as a thank-you for the card you might want to go with me on it, I won't go too high, I'm a good flyer. …" She said this all very quickly, sounding nervous.

"Skybolt? Are they the same ones who did the Firebolt and Lightningbolt?"

"Yeah, but I swear this one's safe!"

After the Firebolt, the company had come out with the Lightningbolt. Its first professional use was in the first Quidditch World Cup after the war, and it threw Harry Potter off just after he caught the Snitch. Still, no one had come out with a better broom than the Firebolt, and I was amazed they were trying again.

"Sure, then, that sounds fair. When's your birthday?" I asked curiously.

"The first of May. What about you?"

"Yesterday, actually. I just barely got in … by all rights I should be starting next year."

"Happy birthday, then. You know, you don't seem like you just turned eleven."

We chatted amiably for what seemed like ages, discovering along the way that we had what Lyra called "people in common" – my godfather was her uncle, although she admitted she didn't see him very often. Then, inevitably, the question of the Sorting came up.

"Which house do you think you'll be in?" I asked her.

"Gryffindor, I guess. Both my parents were in it, and the entire family on one side too, for eons. How about you?"

"Gryffindor, probably. My dad was a Gryffindor, and my mum was a Ravenclaw, but I don't think I'm bookish enough for Ravenclaw."

"Brave enough for Gryffindor?"

"Sure. Noble's a bit much, though…."

"Noble's always a bit much. Think the Slytherins'll give us much trouble?"

"Nah. They'd not get away with it. I mean, it was Voldemort's house, and most of the Death Eaters too. They wouldn't dare; it'd be asking to get expelled."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

It was at that moment that a prefect in Slytherin robes knocked on our door. "We're almost at Hogwarts, girls. You might want to change into your robes now. Cloaks as well; it's awful weather out." I looked out the window: sure enough, the wind was blowing and it seemed to be raining.

As Lyra and I changed into our robes, we talked about the Sorting ceremony. Although between us we had four parents, five grandparents, six uncles, four aunts, one cousin, one pseudo-uncle, and one great-aunt who had been to Hogwarts, neither of us had any idea about the ceremony itself.

"D'you think they'll make us do any magic?" Lyra asked me worriedly. "I haven't been able to do a lot, just simple things."

"No, that's silly. How would that prove anything? Unless they made us all fight together, then I guess they could tell…."

"You nervous about it?"

"Yeah, a bit."

"Me too."

"Well … it can't be too bad, I guess. I mean it's not like you ever hear of anyone dying from it or anything," I said.

It was with this cheerful statement that we arrived at Hogwarts.

"Firs' years over here … firs' years follow me … firs' years..." The speaker was a giant of a man, with wild black hair and kind-looking eyes. I could barely hear him over the wind. Veritaserum wouldn't have made me admit it, but I was terrified, and when Lyra held out her hand, I willingly took it. We walked over to him together. He led the group of first years down to the lake, where a small fleet of wooden boats stood waiting to take us across. Lyra and I found seats, and a boy and another girl came to sit with us. When the entire group was seated, the boats began to move. We huddled into our cloaks, trying to keep the rain and spray off our already-soaked selves.

When we were finally inside the castle, a tall, lanky wizard took us from the gigantic man. "I am Professor Rufford, your deputy headmaster, head of Gryffindor House, and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he told us. "In a few minutes you will move into the Great Hall to join your housemates – but first you will be Sorted into your houses. There are four: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff," – here he seemed to pause – "and Slytherin. Your house here will be like your family. You will live together, eat together, and learn together. If you would take a few moments to warm yourselves, I will see if they are ready for you."

With those words, he left us. There was a short pause, then a flurry of activity: simple drying and warming charms, quick hair fixes, nervous laughter. We weren't quite ready when Professor Rufford called us to come into the Great Hall, but we went anyway, in pairs or threes. We approached a raised platform in front of a tattered hat on a three-legged stool, spreading out to face the hat – which began to sing, describing the four houses and their histories. The hall broke into applause at the end of the song.

"Now," Professor Rufford said, "When I call your name, please sit down and place the hat on your head, and it will Sort you." I nearly grinned in relief and squeezed Lyra's hand as he consulted a large scroll. "Adams, Caroline."

A solemn-looking girl walked up to the stool. The hat hesitated only a minute before announcing, "RAVENCLAW!"

"Avery, John."

Another minute, then – "SLYTHERIN!" I felt terrible for him.

"Bagnold, Andrew."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

" Carmichael, Lydia."

Nervously, I approached the stool and placed the hat on my head. "Ah…Lydia Carmichael, eh? Ravenclaw mother, Gryffindor father?" Yes, that's right.. "I remember them well. Your father, particularly, was difficult to Sort…insisted on Gryffindor in the end. But you…good mind, tendency to laziness, mm?" You sound like my mother. "Ah, yes, well, I do try. And you've courage, yes…but ambition as well, a good deal of it. And underneath all that… a stubborn pride, and an almost dangerous loyalty. Hufflepuff, perhaps?" No! I will not be put in that house! "Are you sure? Your aunt was a Hufflepuff—" No one likes Hufflepuffs! I won't be one! "No? Then it had better be—

"SLYTHERIN!"

A/N: "Jadis" is the name of the sorceress, White Witch, and Lady of the Green Kirtle from C. S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia. I figured she deserved a chocolate frog card.

Amelie, Helena, Emily, and Julia have all beta-read this fic for me, and for that I love them.

Now, go hit the little review button and tell me how to make this better.