DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own many of the background characters. Some of the characters (Taseia, Faellen, Kairn, and Seth in particular) I am the creator and owner of. So hands off please. The rest are copyright to J. K. Rowling.

Author's Note: This is the first actual Harry Potter Fanfic I've decided to upload here. Any comments or constructive criticism would be very much appreciated by myself, thank you.

Mystixnight

Chapter 1 The Sorting Hat

She cowered on instinct as the rain pelted down, though none other seemed to care in the least. With a grimace of distaste she drew her ebony robes closer around her. She didn't care if it was an incredible feat of magic to enchant a ceiling to reflect the heavens outside; the least these Hogwarts professors could do was turn it off or something when the weather was so miserable. They probably didn't mind though, it didn't look like anyone else here had to worry about steaming when it rained.

Faellen paused her muttering for a moment though and took a moment to look around. It was so crowded in here. They had called this the Great Hall, hadn't they? Well if they expected to sit all of their pupils and they're great bloody tables in here with room to spare for the first years to await they're sorting, then they didn't exactly make this hall great enough, now did they? She rolled up the sleeve of her robe for a moment, a slender, though pale hand rising to smooth back her flaming hair. Usually that would imply the colouration, but at times it was a literal statement.

She herself was one of the first years, crowded in the middle of everyone else. She could feel the eyes of all the others flickering over her and the others. It sent pinpricks down her spine. What prats! Didn't their mother's ever teach them that staring was impolite! She sent a glare in the way of a few whose eyes she could feel lingering on her as they surveyed the students. They quickly looked away, as she had expected.

Professor McGonagall was reading out her instructions for the sorting process... Faellen shrugged, she knew what to do. Was it really that hard? Sit on a stool, put the hat on your head and let it send you to a table. Done! McGonagall was reading out names now... Faellen heard the name of an Abagone, Cecily first. Naturally she assumed it was in alphabetical order, then. She had awhile to wait. Might as well look around for a while then...

She was fascinated by the floating candles, grazing them with her golden orbs. Her slitted pupils, much like that of a feline's, were narrowed in her glee at the sight of them. Her lithe fingers rose once more, beckoning one of the flaming, wax cylinders towards her. She smiled slowly as the flame wavered her way, almost longingly. Obviously, something more powerful than her meager magic skills held it fast though. She scowled, beckoning further. The candle shuddered in wanting, straining towards her... Someone was nudging her side... She could feel someone's eye's on her once more. She let the candle alone and turned, brows furrowed to meet the gaze of the person, meaning to give them a piece of her mind and found herself looking at McGonagall.

"Honestly! Correl, Faellen! If you don't step up here right now, you can simply leave! How many times must we call you?" Her wrinkled face was twisted into a snarl of impatience, as one hand shot out to point at the stool. Faellen smiled meekly, skittering quickly up to the stool. "Sorry," she squeaked... She could hear a few titters from the tables, but McGonagall was in a foul mood now, and a few shooting glares from her silenced them quickly.

Faellen plopped down on her stool, lifting up the sorting hat. She paused a split second 'fore placing it on her head, noting its tattered appearance. She sneered within herself. You'd think that with all this money and fame, Hogwarts would be able to afford something a little less raggedy than THIS.

"So, first you're too ignorant to hear when you're being called and now you're too good for an age-old tradition such as myself, as you? Well, I can see what a sweet disposition you've got!" She almost tipped over on her seat as the gravely voice rang in her ears. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was just the sorting hat... "JUST the sorting hat? I'll have you know I am a vital organ of this school, plucked from the top of Godrick Gryffindors very own head!"

Faellen bit her tongue to hold a snicker. To hear indignation from a hat was so absurd it was hilarious! Faellen returned the message mentally, careful not to speak aloud. "I've seen muggle movies, you know... They have hats there when they go into space that are shiny and metallic and sleek and stuff. When I thought of a magic hat, I thought of something like that... Not some dirt-encrusted, patched up thread of a thing... Erm, no offence..."

"No offence indeed! You are by far the most insolent little thing I have ever come across... Oh, ho, ho... I know where to put you deary... It won't suit you, no, no, it won't indeed, but if this school has any luck you'll leech out some of the qualities you will find there" Faellen grew a mite nervous, she could feel, more than hear, an indignant snicker in its voice.

"HUFF-" Faellen heard the beginnings of a house, and immediately her hair burst alight in flames, beginning to scorch the hat. "Don't you DARE!" She snarled at the smoking adornment perched on her head. She could hear a few of the teachers cry out in reprimand. Just as McGonagall reached out to hastily snatch the sorting hat off of her head, it let out a shrieking cry. "SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN!"

Immediately, her hair died down, falling smoothly down her back. She slid with a pleased air off of her perch to the floor, though a mite self- conscious. She removed the Sorting Hat from her head gently, though she fancied she might have felt it shivering. With tender care, almost apologetic in manner, she placed it in Professor McGonagall's outstretched hands, though she was stone still with what Faellen couldn't tell was rage or shock. Or maybe both. Then, moving silently through equally silent rows, she seated herself sedately at the Slytherin table. A few of the others moved further away from her, obviously not thrilled to be seated next to the person who had just singed the sorting hat. They prided themselves in being 'rebels', true, but not like that. And just as true a fact was that Faellen hadn't been trying! She had wanted so badly to fit in. This had been her supposed chance. Friends, fun, learning... That had been what she had dreamed about; hungrily counting down the days until she would arrive at Hogwarts and her life would start over. But like everything else in her life, it hadn't been what she expected... Her slender shoulders sagged at the thought of seven years at this school, the entire time just as wretched as what had taken place...

"Yippee..." She murmured under her breath, as McGonagall regained her voice and called out the next name. "Weasley, Ronald"

What a wonderful way to start the year...

* * *

Taseia wrung her hands, nervously, her black robe hanging heavily on her frame. She readjusted the folds on her shoulder, shaking slightly. She watched the flaming haired femme walk slowly to her table. She hadn't thought that being sorted would be so. so violent.

She took a deep breath, and tried to distract herself by watching the others be sorted. A Gryffindor. A Hufflepuff. Another Gryffindor. A RavenClaw. A second Slytherin. What a show that one followed. The first Slytherin, she had thought was to be a Hufflepuff, or at least it had seemed like it until the flaming episode.

Taseia crossed her arms in front of her, a mite warm now. She rolled back her sleeves, revealing her silvery-peach skin. She crossed her arms again after, allowing her cool skin to relieve her of some of the heat. Her azure gaze rose to the ceiling, 'fore they closed. She took a deep breath, letting her imagination tell her that the rain truly did fall from the heavens and it was washing over her now, calming her to the core. She found it a lulling comfort.

She jumped as her name was called, and moved quickly up to the seat. She had seen McGonagall's temper and didn't fancy receiving the sharp end of it. Even in her haste she moved smoothly, a graceful figure among the jostling crowds. She took the hat with care from her Professor, placing it gently over her silver, almost blue tinted hair, and ever so subtly pointed ears. She thought she heard a sigh of relief in her mind.

"Thank god. I need this cooling comfort. In all my years this is the first time I've ever been singed! Can you believe that.?"

Taseia wasn't really sure how she was supposed to reply to that and decided that the best reply was none at all. She calmed as the Sorting Hat dutifully converted from idle talk to its purpose.

"Brains in here! Brains galore! Well, I think, or in fact I know, that you can guess where that would put you. Calmness. Kindness, too. Hufflepuff? No, no. Yours is a different sense of it. Loyalty, my girly, there is loyalty here. Surely Godrick would think you a fine member for his house. And what do we have here.?" Taseia blinked at the sudden inquisitive, almost shaming tone in which the Hat murmured in her ears.

"There is more to you than meets the eye, deary. And you were unaware, were you not? What a surprise in a thing such as yourself. Should I put you where a mind such as this could gain the power it has a right to? Where that little shred in your mind could grow?" Taseia could feel her lower lip tremble. He knew? What did he know? What was in her mind? She was growing erratically nervous. She heard a chuckle in her mind and the hat spoke again. "If you wish it so, m'girl. Have it your way. RAVENCLAW!"

Taseia almost stumbled as she slid off the three-legged stool, handing the Sorting Hat dutifully back to professor McGonagall. With a deep breath, and a sense of relief etched in her mind she made her way carefully back down the few steps and sat down at a corner of the RavenClaw table. She could feel countless hands patting her on the back and shouting congratulations in her ear. But at the moment she was too sunken into a stupor of relief and a pit of worry to bother to reply with anything other than a smile of thanks. It had been an eventful day indeed. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the night was still young and there was still a feast ahead of her. With a sigh or acceptance, she sat up straight and instructed herself to watch as the next students were sorted.

Her mind whirled, unable to concentrate on the stream of people that buzzed around the tables, while the milling herd of first years commanded the majority of attention. What had the sorting hat seen? Was race discrimination something this school suffered from, then? No. Unless they hadn't noticed already. Taseia slouched downwards, her pose looking awkward on such a refined creature as herself. If only the floor would open and swallow her whole. Anything to be away from the crowds. Anything for a mite of peace and quiet.

Her ears rang with the shouts and cries of enthusiasm. Her long fingers were jabbed quite inelegantly into her ears to block out some of the noise. Her ocean blue occuls rose in time to catch a quizzical glance from one of the older RavenClaws, before he looked away out of embarrassment at having been caught staring. With a deep breath, Taseia straightened her back, returning to attention to the sorting process. Making a further spectacle of herself wasn't going to help any. If there was something 'wrong' with her, as the Sorting Hat had implied, there was no use elaborating it. Tomorrow then.

She would wait. She always had to wait.

* * *

Kairn waited calmly. He had been prepared for this since he was a baby. Sure, there had been talk of the other schools he could attend. But in the end of every discussion it had always been Hogwarts. It was the most highly regarded school in the magic world. And Albus Dumbledore himself was the head master. There really wasn't any other option.

He was lucky. He might not have been able to afford coming here. His mother had trouble supporting them on her own. She did a good day's work in Flourish and Blotts, every day of the year except for Christmas. There was always food on the table and clothing on their backs. But ever since his father had died, things hadn't been the same. But they had never talked about it. It wasn't a common topic for discussion. The death-eaters, that is.

He shrugged non-chalantly, rolling beetle black occuli. There were pupils there, but it was an eerie gaze still, for you couldn't see them against the pitch iris. He was a solemn figure. It seemed everything about him was as dark as his mind-set. His hair, his robes, his eyes. He cut a striking figure. He watched with mild interest as student after student after student rose to the stool and the ritualistic procession continued as it had for countless years. Though, he mused with a smirk, he doubted the Sorting Hat had ever been burnt before. He pondered with a morbid sense of glee whether it could have been smoldered to a pile of cinders if it had been left to burn atop the head of the fiery femme, or if there was magic protecting it from such drastic harm.

Brow rose in curiosity as the scrawny, bespectacled figure of Harry Potter was called up to the stool. It took awhile to sort him. The Sorting Hat depicted an expression, if fabric could make expressions, of indecision. But in the end it was Gryffindor that received the boy.

Kairn felt his lips curl into a snarl as Harry sat down at his table, immediately accepted and cherished as a prize amongst them. With a grimace, Kairn composed himself; it was not his right to hate the child.

It wasn't like it was directly HIS fault. He couldn't help it that he had survived when none before him had. It had been blind luck, and blind luck alone that had saved the lad. But the persecution that followed. That was what caused the misery for Kairn. That was what had bred the hatred, the resentment within him. The persecution had broken his family.

He was forced to abandon his thoughts as his name was called. He walked forward, face emotionless. He received an odd stare from McGonagall and almost sneered, but stopped himself. What did she expect? Was he to skip up to the stool? He sat down sluggishly, placing the Hat haphazardly on his cranium.

"Well aren't we a bit of a pessimist? What's eating you? Oh." Its tone rang with sudden understanding as it probed further into the depths of his mind. Kairn scowled, but said nothing.

"Well, excuse me," the Hat scoffed. "I was unaware you were so touchy. Well, the choice is clear, not much of a choice for either of us, is there, m'boy? Even if you had wanted it another way; Slytherin it is. SLYTHERIN!" Its final word rang out clear over the hall. Mind as blank as his expression he rose, tossing the hat the short distance to McGonagall. Without a word he sat down amidst the clapping and gloating Slytherins, their claps on the back beating hollowly against him,

Why did it matter so much, anyway? Did anything really matter this much? Yes, he thought; coming to the conclusion slowly.

His father had mattered this much.