Right, so it's a long chapter this time, over 5000 words (including the ANs)! That's pretty good for me - maybe I'll try a 5000 word one soon. After this I'm going to post a list of every student in their year with some extra information, maybe tomorrow or sometime soon. The last chapter was very difficult to write to a degree that made me satisfied, so I'm not as ahead with the chapters as I'd like to be, so it'll likely be two or more weeks until the next one posts.
Cloakable - The ministry hasn't really considered the effects of these new laws, and they haven't had a chance to see their long-term effects yet. A lot of Muggleborns did leave in past years after they graduated and couldn't find jobs, but most of the first and second year Muggleborns haven't been disillusioned with the Wizarding World fully. A lot of Muggleborns are so astounded by the idea that magic exists that they'd be willing to suffer through nearly anything to learn how to use it. Thanks for reviewing!
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Harry Potter.
Hermione Granger
The students filed into the Great Hall, gasping when they entered it. The ceiling looked like a window into the heavens – tiny pinpricks of starlight were visible against the velvety black background, forming constellations above the students. Candles floated in midair, emitting a warm glow throughout the room. Polished wooden tables were draped in richly colored tablecloths, and the banners of the four houses were visible throughout the room.
Golden plates and goblets sat shining on the tables, students sitting on the spacious benches and chattering noisily. Silvery ghosts were visible conversing with the students, gesturing wildly. Massive golden statues sat along the alcoves in the walls, and decorations appropriate to one of the four houses hung by every table. The din was deafening, and the Great Hall was magnificent, but somehow it gave the impression of being cozy and welcoming.
The sea of faces suddenly turned in a single direction as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. It seemed that this stool had been through a lot – it was heavily scratched, burned, and even looked like it may have been chewed on – but its state of disrepair was nothing compared to the frayed and dirty wizards hat placed on the stool. It was brown, although it may have once been black. The hat had several holes, stains, rips, and even a section where it seemed to have been burned straight through and carelessly patched up. How much of the original hat remained was unclear, but Hermione was pretty sure that there was less than 10% left.
For a few moments, there was a complete silence, the entire room staring at the hat, waiting for something to happen. The air grew more and more tense, until the hat twitch. A rip near the brim of the hat opened wide like a mouth, and then the hat began to sing:
Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
Many a place with shining walls,
Hides secrets to be set free.
So you can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
Go pretend the world is pretty,
Don't heed my song at all!
Yet there's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I shall tell you,
Just where you ought to be.
Though no one hears the hat,
You all listen to what I say,
When I divide your numbers,
Split you every which way.
The Founders gave me a job,
Which I perform each year,
So sadly it seems that I must,
Simply tell you what you want to hear,
So 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 got 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 your ends.
So I shall sort as I was told
Though I've given up on meter and song,
And happy sit the masses –
Why they'll just go along!
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 whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. Apparently, horrible amd sarcastic poetry was a form of non-violent protests according to the culture of the sentient hats (though was there actually a culture of sentient hats? Hermione would have to check). Hermione swallowed weakly. A hat reading her thoughts? At least it was unlikely to report back to Dumbledore. It seemed nearly as annoyed as Hermione was at wizarding society.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." Professor McGonagall said. "Bones, Susan." A frightened looking girl with red hair that was dirty-blonde at the roots and dark grey eyes stepped forwards, looking determined, and tried on the hat. After about a minute of silence, it proclaimed "HUFFLEPUFF!" And the girl smiled as she went to sit with the students wearing yellow ties, a yellow trim sprouting out of her robes.
"Bulstrode, Millicent." A chubby girl with short brown hair immediately became a "SLYTHERIN!"
"Corner, Michael." A boy with long, wavy black hair stepped forwards cautiously, placing the Sorting Hat on his head. Within a few moments, it shouted "RAVENCLAW!"
Next, "Cornfoot, Stephen," a boy with blue eyes and short black hair stepped forwards to be sorted, and was soon placed in "RAVENCLAW!" Michael clapped him on the back and they sat down together.
"Crabbe, Vincent," the hulking minion boy from the train, became the first male "SLYTHERIN!" Right after him, a girl with light, whispy brown hair and brown eyes named "Davis, Tracey," was sorted into "SLYTHERIN!" too.
After that, "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" was called up and became a "HUFFLEPUFF". A boy with curly yellow-brown hair and grey eyes (Goldstein, Anthony) joined "RAVENCLAW!" the second the hat touched his head. Hermione noticed the last names getting closer and closer to hers. She shuddered. As long as she wasn't put in the same House as Malfoy, she didn't much care where she ended up, but she definitely did not want the hat reading her thoughts.
"Goyle, Gregory" took a long time to sort, giving Hermione even more time to worry. Her stomach almost jumped out of her mouth right before Gregory Goyle, because she had thought it was her name. She felt queasy, and her knees felt weak. Oh, how she wanted to go home. But that wasn't an option. That wouldn't be an option for another five years (or less, if she came up with something), and she had better get used to it. Eventually, the boy was sorted into "HUFFLEPUFF!" leading Malfoy to sneer in disgust. Hermione almost smirked, but she was called up next.
"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione stumbled up to the stool, feeling the entire school's eyes on her. She felt weak and hopeless, wishing more than anything to be curled up in bed reading a good book, full from the excellent mashed potatoes that her father would cook. She sat down hard on the stool, though to be honest, it was more of a collapse.
It doesn't matter, Hermione told herself. It doesn't matter, I'll be out of here as soon as I can anyway, it's not like I'm going to have any fun here no matter what I get. But even that (predictably) refused to calm her. She looked out at the rest of the school, watching her, and closed her eyes to shut out the glaring lights and hundreds of people staring, just staring at her, watching, whispering, and…
Hermione took a deep breath as the Sorting Hat fell over her eyes, plunging her even deeper into the darkness.
"Ah, what have we here? Another Muggleborn, I see. Where do you want to be placed?"
Where do I want to be placed? I want to be going to a selective boarding school for Muggles and never have learned about this horrible world. Put me wherever, not that it would make a difference.
"I see. You believe that you do not care."
I don't.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. There are many places to put you – Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, even Hufflepuff if you truly wanted. And yet, I must sort you into only one House."
Which is ridiculous, Hermione thought, because people are more than one trait. Cunning and studious. Loyal and ambitious. Chivalrous and intelligent. Hardworking and brave.
"True. And yet I must label you. You have sought an accurate label since you first realized you were different – intelligent, antisocial, and now witch, until you find that you are different, separate, even among the strange. So which label shall it be today?"
Slytherin seemed to fit perfectly – until Professor Dumbledore told me about their obsession with blood purity. I do love books, so I could be a Ravenclaw, I guess.
"But would you be happy in Ravenclaw?"
No. But it's not like I'd be happy anywhere.
"You may yet find a home here at Hogwarts."
No.
The Sorting Hat ignored her. "You are correct that you would make a very good Slytherin – certainly cunning, ambitious, and resourceful. And yet, the Slytherins tend to dislike Muggleborns even more than the other Houses."
Dislike is an understatement. They'd kill me if they wouldn't get caught.
"Not all of them…not all. They are still children."
Children have fought in wars. Some were even Death Eaters last time – it was only two and a half years ago that it all ended. Fourteen-year-olds have joined cults before. And many of the students here could have killed in the Battle of Hogwarts. I read about it in –
"Hogwarts: A History. Yes, I know. I know everything." Hermione shuddered – that sounded creepy. "I could put you in Slytherin, couldn't I? But it would be dangerous. So very dangerous. And cause you quite a lot of pain and misery for an uncertain end. Would you do that? Could you do that?"
I'm not going to stay here. But maybe in this short time…I could change things? Make it better? Five years can make a huge difference. I'm going to be miserable anyway. Going to have to constantly watch my back. Going to make quite a lot of enemies. So put me where you think I'll do the most good – no matter what the cost.
The Sorting Hat seemed to chuckle. "Very well, Hermione Granger. You have shown me who you truly are. And if you are confused, if you regret this day, if you are challenged, remember this: I am putting you where you have the chance to do the most good. For here you can change the world. GRYFFINDOR!"
Hermione was stunned speechless as the darkness receded and she could see the bright room again with all the happy students cheering. Gryffindor? Why Gryffindor? She had agreed to Slytherin, hadn't she…hadn't she?
Hermione sat down in an empty seat, pretending to be happy despite her confusion, as the Sorting continued.
Neville Longbottom
Meanwhile, Neville stood next to Harry from the train, trying not to be sick. His parents had been Gryffindors – what if he failed them? What if his Gran thought that he was worthless? What if – "It'll be alright, Neville." Harry whispered encouragingly, ignoring Daphne Greengrass become a SLYTHERIN! after some consideration. "My Uncle fought with your dad and the rest of the crowd, and he said that he was very brave."
That didn't help at all. Just another standard to be held up to, and Neville definitely didn't need more of those. "Hopkins, Wayne" went to HUFFLEPUFF!, and Neville risked a whisper while the others were applauding. "Everyone says that. Was. My dad is very brave." He insisted. Maybe Neville would get lucky – there had been no Gryffindor boys up until this point.
"But I thought –" Harry fell silent. "Sorry. My Uncle said your dad's very brave."
"I'm probably going to end up in Hufflepuff." Neville said sadly.
"And if you do, you will become an amazing Herboligist and rescue your parents. Amelia Bones was a Hufflepuff." Neville nodded, somewhat reassured. He wanted his parents to be proud of him when he finally found them, but maybe they wouldn't mind so much if he was a Hufflepuff. "Li, Sue" walked confidently up the stage, and was surprisingly sorted into "RAVENCLAW!"
"Longbottom, Neville!" Neville walked forwards, pausing nervously on occasion, until he had reached the stool. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the hat and placed it carefully on his head.
"Ah," a small voice whispered, "nervous, eh?"
Yes. Neville was certain that he would be stuttering if he had to speak, but in his mind, sentences always came out right, for a change. I want to be in Gryffindor. Please?
"And why is that? I could not see you in Ravenclaw or Slytherin, true –"
That's cause I'm not smart. You can say it, you know. Everyone does.
"Why, why are you so determined to feel sorry for yourself? You do not seem stupid to me, but you most certainly will be if you keep this up."
I thought you were supposed to sort, not give out advice about things you don't understand.
"Very well – you want a house? I shall give you one if you stop interrupting me with self-deprecating comments, understand?"
Er, yes?
"Good. So, a strong interest for Herbology and magical creatures. You are loyal to a fault, yet despite what you think, you are brave. You could do well in Hufflepuff, and you would have friends. But you also belong in Gryffindor. You have a spark of bravery inside of you, and Gryffindor would help to kindle that spark."
So where will you put me?
"It comes down to this, Neville Longbottom: it matters not where I place you, but where you choose to go. If you wish to belong in Hufflepuff, you will find countless friends there, and support. You will slowly grow as a person. Perhaps you would become a Herbologist, or maybe even an Auror. In Hufflepuff, you would work hard, but you would do well. You would be happy there, though not completely fulfilled. You would be content."
Then put me in Hufflepuff.
"But," the Sorting Hat continued, "if you wish to belong in Gryffindor, you will also find friends, though less. No, you will not be happy there, at least for now. You will struggle, and have to work incredibly hard. You may end up wishing that you had chosen differently, in the coming years, if you take this path. But you will have a chance to fulfill you dreams, to accomplish all that you wish. It will be difficult – perhaps unbearably so – but if you persist, you may yet succeed. You will need all the bravery that you have."
There was a pause.
"By choosing your House, you will choose your life – defining which House you truly are. This is a choice I cannot make for you – it is yours alone."
That's a lot of pressure for one kid. Do you know anything else?
"I am no seer, but I have seen the minds of many children under my brim. You seek to choose the right answer, but this is not a good method. Both are right, but for different people. Which are you?"
Neville thought for a moment, his mind filled with endless possibilities. He wanted to find his parents so badly. That had been his only goal since he was seven years old. It was his identity. It was who he was. And now he was being told that in order to be happy, he would have to give that up. His parents would remain alone, forgotten, imprisoned wherever Bellatrix Lestrange had left them. How could he choose? True, it was tempting. He wanted friends. He didn't want to fight, or to go through hardship, all because of a single word.
But it was more than the word, wasn't it? If he chose to work hard, to do well, and to be content, then he would belong in Hufflepuff – although that didn't seem entirely fair. Hufflepuffs had heroes too. But the Gryffindors were defined by their bravery. If he chose to take the hard, nearly unbearable path, then he would define himself by that very bravery that lead him to make his choice.
It wasn't all that hard now, although Neville was certain he would end up regretting it. He wanted more than anything to find his parents. He wanted more than to just be "content". Gryffindor.
"And why is that?"
You just explained why.
"Prove to me that you aren't choosing it just because you think you should."
I – I want to save my parents, Neville explained to the hat, trying not to cry, and I can't do that if I'm perfectly happy the way things are. Friends sound nice, but you said I'd have them in Gryffindor too. You only really need a few, good friends. More than anything, I want to find my mother and father, to rescue them. There's only one path for that, isn't there?
Neville could swear that he felt the Sorting Hat mentally smile. "Is that your choice?"
Yes.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Neville staggered off to his table, just barely remembering to put the hat back on the stool. His face turned red with embarrassment even thinking of what would have happened if he hadn't remembered. He sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione Granger, the girl he had met on the train. She seemed nice, if a bit strange and confusing.
Harry Potter
Harry clapped for Neville as the boy sat down at the Gryffindor table. Harry was certain that he would have been a Hufflepuff, but maybe this would mean that they would be in the same house. He certainly hoped so – Neville seemed trustworthy and kind. If he discovered Harry's secret, he would be unlikely to tell. At least, that's what Harry told himself.
"Macmillian, Ernest." A pompous boy stepped up to the platform and was sorted rather quickly into "HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Malfoy, Draco!" The boy with blonde hair strutted up to the platform. The hat hadn't even touched his head when it screamed "SLYTHERIN!" Harry sighed. Well, he hoped that he wouldn't end up in Slytherin, then.
"Nott, Theodore" became a Slytherin, and "O'Connor, Margaret" became the second Gryffindor girl. "Owens, Leanne!" A rather tall girl with black hair and brown eyes walked nervously up to the stage, eyes darting left and right. She was sorted extremely quickly into Hufflepuff. Next, a girl named "Runcorn, Alice" became a Ravenclaw. She seemed rather disappointed.
Harry was beginning to feel really nervous – they had likely reached the Ps. Sure enough, "Perks, Sally-Anne" was called up. A small girl with blonde hair and brown eyes who looked like she was crying had to be coaxed up to the stage by Professor McGonagall. When Harry Potter was finally called up to the stage, he forced himself to keep mechanically walking forwards despite panicking inside. The hat dropped over her eyes and Harry was in darkness.
"Hmm," he could hear the Sorting Hat's voice whisper, "Difficult. Very difficult group this year. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. You are loyal and care much for others as well. There's talent – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…so where shall I put you?"
Harry felt like he was an option on a menu that the Sorting Hat was considering. It sounded like it took great pleasure in examining his personality and comparing it to ideals.
"That's right, I always enjoy a good puzzle. And you certainly are one of those." Harry shuddered. "Now…where to go, where to go…"
Gryffindor.
"Ah, you seek to join the House of the brave. Interesting. You seem to be very worried about fitting in – perhaps you could benefit from Hufflepuff. You would find supportive friends there."
But am I really a Hufflepuff?
"Perhaps, perhaps. You seek to be great, you know. Slytherin could certainly help you on your way to greatness."
I would prefer Gryffindor, though. I don't want to end up in the same House as Malfoy, or the same House that would try to figure out all my secrets. I can't risk that.
"And you also wish to be in the same house as the heroes you admire."
I suppose. But I guess you should put you where you want to – I can't really stop that. Put me where I belong.
"You have a chance to do good, Harry Potter. Do not waste it. I shall put you in GRYFFINDOR!" The last word was shouted out to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table before sitting down next to Neville.
Only a few people were left to be sorted now. A brown-haired pureblood named "Alicia Nott was quickly sorted into "RAVENCLAW" but looked quite disappointed. "Thomas, Dean" was Sorted into "GRYFFINDOR!" and sat down next to Neville. "Turpin, Lisa!" A small girl with neat brown hair tucked behind her ears stepped up to the stool and became a "RAVENCLAW!" Finally, "Weasley, Ronald" became a "GRYFFINDOR!" within seconds. Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
Hermione Granger
Dumbledore stepped to his feet, and beamed at the students, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Welcome," he said with his voice echoing within the now-silent Great Hall, "to a new year at Hogwarts! You have come here to fill your minds with knowledge, no matter what you may think, and Hogwarts shall provide a place where you can receive that knowledge. Remember – Hogwarts shall always provide help to those who ask for it. Thank you!" He sat back down as everybody clapped and cheered. Hermione reluctantly clapped her hands together, though unenthusiastically.
Food of all sorts appeared on the dishes in front of the students. Hermione helped herself to some potatoes and began peppering Neville with questions about the classes. "I'm most excited for Transfiguration, I think, although Charms and Astronomy sound really interesting. In fact, Astronomy is the only subject here where a lot of the knowledge can then be applied to Muggle knowledge, so it's really helpful. If I ever take Muggle Astronomy, I won't have to study as much. So I really am looking forwards to Astronomy." After reviewing her textbooks, Hermione had decided that magic was quite interesting, even if science was better. Her classes be slightly fun, but she still wanted to go back home, especially after what had happened on the train. And the bigoted idiots that ran the wizarding world would make every other moment of her life miserable for her. "Which class sounds the best to you?"
"Er…" Neville trailed off.
"Yes?" Hermione prompted.
"IreallylikeHerbologyandCharmsbutmyGransaysthoseareforidiotsandIshouldlikeDADAlikemydad."
"Huh?"
"I-I like Herbology and Charms but my…my Gran says that those are stupid and I s-should l-like DADA like my d-dad."
"Oh. Well, I don't think Charms and Herbology are stupid. Not everybody likes to fight people. And what does your dad say about them?" Hermione asked. Neville immediately looked upset and started looking down at his food sadly. "What? Did I say anything wrong? Is your Dad sick or something?" Neville looked even worse.
Something clicked in her head. "You're the heir of the House of Longbottom!" She gasped. Neville nodded slowly. "Professor McGonagall told me that Bellatrix Lestrange killed your – parents…" She trailed off only now realizing that she probably should have just dropped it.
"My parents aren't dead." Neville said, now glaring at her. "They're still alive, and I am going to find them."
"Sorry – really, I'm sorry!" Hermione said quickly. "I didn't know!"
"Well, it's never a good idea to bring up somebody's parents when you know he lives with his Gran." Harry said. "Someone as smart as you should know that it's really insensitive."
"I didn't think –"
"Exactly." Hermione hmphed and began to eat. She didn't want to keep arguing on the first night. It wasn't fair, though. She hadn't remembered that, and Neville had never said that he lived with his Gran. He just talked about her a lot – for all she knew, his Gran could just live nearby and visit often. But no, that rude boy had just called her insensitive! As if! Boys were the insensitive ones. Hermione got up and sat in the empty space next to Margaret O'Connor.
"That does look good." A ghost in a ruff said sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.
"Can't you – ?" Hermione asked.
"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington at your –"
"I know who you are!" Margaret said suddenly. "My sister told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy –" the ghost began stiffly, but Dean Thomas interrupted.
"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?" Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed.
"I'm sure he meant no disrespect, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpinton." Hermione called from across the table. She didn't want the ghost to get angry at them.
"Porpington, and like this." Sir Nicholas sighed in exasperation and seized his left ear. He pulled and his whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulders as if it was on a hinge. He looked pleased at the stunned looks on everyone's faces.
When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later, the deserts appeared. As everybody reached forwards and loaded their plates with their favorites, the talk turned to their families.
"I'm a half-blood." Margaret said, picking at her Jell-O curiously. "My Grandma's a Muggle, and my Grandpa's a Muggleborn." She had an Irish accent and orange-red hair.
"I'm a pureblood, I suppose, but I'm not like them. Weasley's don't believe in blood purity. Still, everyone in my family's a wizard except a second cousin who's an accountant. Except, we never talk to him."
"Why ever not, Ronald?" Hermione asked curiously. They had said they didn't believe in blood purity.
"Ron, not Ronald, and he's real boring." Hermione nodded, happy that there were at least two more people there who wouldn't be likely to care that she was a Muggleborn. "What about you…er, Longbottom?" Ron asked.
"Well, my Gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My parents – it's fine, Harry – didn't push me to show any magic, but when I went to live with my Gran my Great Uncle Algie was the worst. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned. I didn't show any magic until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came 'round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidently let go. But I bounced." Hermione was horrified.
"They do that?" Dean also looked upset, and Hermione was pretty sure that he was a Muggleborn too. "Wow, the Wizarding World is really backwards."
"Most people don't do anything like that," said Margaret soothingly. "It's only a few of the really rich purebloods." Hermione smiled at the thought of someone hanging Malfoy out the window before feeling bad. She was supposed to be one of the good guys! "Neville's an heir – but it's still surprising that someone would do something like that."
"Oh. Still, though." Hermione said, and began talking to Percy Weasley, a Gryffindor Prefect, about lessons. He was explaining how History of Magic was one of his favorite subjects, but that the teacher was horrible.
At last, the deserts disappeared, and Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
"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." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes looked over towards two Gryffindor boys with red hair. "I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor – Professor Aslanov."
A large, muscular man with pitch black eyes stood up and sat around almost immediately, his expression remaining completely unchanged.
"And now – crepuscular, whorl, cerebral, anthropomorphic! Good night! Off to bed!" Dumbledore clapped his hands, causing the food to disappear off of the tables, and Hermione followed Percy Weasley and the other Gryffindor Prefects up to the dormitories.
Hermione wondered if he had actually done that or if it had been prepared to give him the illusion of immense power.
Either way, she was going to research all of those weird words in case he was actually giving the whole school massive hints.
Aslanov is actually a Russian surname, I looked it up to make sure I didn't just choose a stereotypical name that had no basis in reality. I have nothing against the other Houses that I didn't choose/the characters chose not to be in them, but I had to decide on something. Please review!
