The Wand Waver
By MJM*Mudblood
(A/N : I do not own Harry Potter, any of it's names, places or themes. But anyone who wants to give them to me is welcome to do so.)
Six
"Allie Moody." The voice seemed to sit in the air. Maybe it was because it was his own or maybe it was the high expectations. He froze for a second and then took a step forward. And then it was called again. "Allie Moody."
'I'm coming women,' his mind shouted, 'Hold your hairnet.' The teacher was ugly Moody decided as he walked to the stool at the front of the great hall. Many people pointed at him. He didn't care. Point all you want, I'm talented, deal with it. The ugly teacher (Was it professor Trent or Dalton, he had studied the latest edition of Hogwarts a history, he just did remember.) moved the sorting hat as he stood up.
'Please be Griffindor' His voice shouted.
"Oh this is difficult." The hat muttered
'No it's not, Griffindor.'
"Your very smart, a genius even, perhaps Ravenclaw"
'No, Griffindor you stupid hat.'
"But then you are ambitious, perhaps Sly-"
"Don't you even dare." Moody said, loudly, too loud. The whole hall stared at him and for the first time he felt the eyes. Really felt them like pin pricks on his cheeks.
"The it's gonna have to be..." The time stood still. 'Say Griffindor then.'
"Hufflepuff"
And the Hufflepuffs cheered. At first he refused to believe it. It was a dream. A figment of his imagination. But then as the hat was lifted and he felt his legs move toward the table he was thrown into reality and shoved, kicked and punched by his own disappointment.
***
He cried for weeks. Not in public but at night. He cried into the pillow so the other Hufflepuffs wouldn't hear. One or two of them saw the damp spots on his pillow but the assumed it was dribble. And so what if he dribbled. He was the greatest wizard at the school. Better even than most, if not all, the teaching staff and Hufflepuffs loved it. They were hundreds of points higher than Griffindor and Slytherin and with Moody as a chaser they were in second place in the Quiditch cup. He stopped crying in his fourth week. He excepted his fate. Being a Hufflepuff was nothing. He had defeated the second ever dark lord at the age of seven he was destined to succeed. Regardless of house.
By MJM*Mudblood
(A/N : I do not own Harry Potter, any of it's names, places or themes. But anyone who wants to give them to me is welcome to do so.)
Six
"Allie Moody." The voice seemed to sit in the air. Maybe it was because it was his own or maybe it was the high expectations. He froze for a second and then took a step forward. And then it was called again. "Allie Moody."
'I'm coming women,' his mind shouted, 'Hold your hairnet.' The teacher was ugly Moody decided as he walked to the stool at the front of the great hall. Many people pointed at him. He didn't care. Point all you want, I'm talented, deal with it. The ugly teacher (Was it professor Trent or Dalton, he had studied the latest edition of Hogwarts a history, he just did remember.) moved the sorting hat as he stood up.
'Please be Griffindor' His voice shouted.
"Oh this is difficult." The hat muttered
'No it's not, Griffindor.'
"Your very smart, a genius even, perhaps Ravenclaw"
'No, Griffindor you stupid hat.'
"But then you are ambitious, perhaps Sly-"
"Don't you even dare." Moody said, loudly, too loud. The whole hall stared at him and for the first time he felt the eyes. Really felt them like pin pricks on his cheeks.
"The it's gonna have to be..." The time stood still. 'Say Griffindor then.'
"Hufflepuff"
And the Hufflepuffs cheered. At first he refused to believe it. It was a dream. A figment of his imagination. But then as the hat was lifted and he felt his legs move toward the table he was thrown into reality and shoved, kicked and punched by his own disappointment.
***
He cried for weeks. Not in public but at night. He cried into the pillow so the other Hufflepuffs wouldn't hear. One or two of them saw the damp spots on his pillow but the assumed it was dribble. And so what if he dribbled. He was the greatest wizard at the school. Better even than most, if not all, the teaching staff and Hufflepuffs loved it. They were hundreds of points higher than Griffindor and Slytherin and with Moody as a chaser they were in second place in the Quiditch cup. He stopped crying in his fourth week. He excepted his fate. Being a Hufflepuff was nothing. He had defeated the second ever dark lord at the age of seven he was destined to succeed. Regardless of house.