PARTING WAYS
Harry's seventh year had finally begun, now back at Hogwarts, he noticed how the Great Hall was filled with a more subdued raucous; students were seated at their respective tables according to their own House, but an air of tension replaced the usual excitement that came at the start of term feast. The most precarious were those of the Slytherin House, where Draco Malfoy was sitting a bit sullenly amongst his peers, with dull gray eyes cast downward in a pensive look. The past year proved bitter as ever for the Slytherins, their numbers dwindling subtly as students disappeared from their number, all rumored to have already joined Voldemort in his ranks. Across the room sat the Gryffindors, their murmuring chatter humming along with the throng of seated students, while silence came over the shy Hufflepuffs, and quiet whispers floated over the analytical Ravenclaws.
The Boy Who Lived witnessed as the despondency around him grew further and more intense along the passing months. Deaths and attacks were coming more frequent in the wizarding world and the muggle world, all thanks to the strengthening presence of the Dark Lord. The Death Eater legions were said to have been steadily weakening, however, their allies were said to have been thriving. Dementors were damning everyone in their paths, stealing the souls of many who fall victim before them; the giants were lumbering across the country, destroying everything they could bash and thrash to their hearts' content.
The Ministry of Magic was holding surprisingly well against the odds, along with the Order of the Phoenix whose efforts were far more significant, yet it was certain that if nothing were to intervene, it would be likely that either side would soon buckle under the pressures. It was just a matter of who would falter first. Once a moment of weakness is open on one side, Hell would break loose and ravage the lands like ravenous fires, consuming all until nothing is left. Not even the sweeping ashes that come with such destruction would be left.
A troubled sigh escaped from Harry as he brooded over the situation laid out in front of him. He was nothing but a child of 17 years; untamed hair of dark ebony, pale fair skin, jaded eyes of a deep emerald hue, and petite height that seemed to be swallowed up by the draping robes. An aura that resonated pure, untainted power could be sensed among his person, so strong and sure. But even with the fate of the world to crush onto his slight shoulders, he was still a child; burdened by massive losses and the guilt every survivor bears, such was linked with the infamous lightning- shaped scar carved into his forehead.
Albus Dumbledore took that moment to stand, and after motioning his Deputy Headmistress to enter with the Sorting Hat and two lists instead of one, he started to address his students. Harry turned towards the staff table with his full attention, feelings of utter hopelessness set aside, he noticed how genuinely displeased the Potions Master appeared. Well...more so than usual. The man was sitting hunched over, arms crossed like a stubborn child, unyielding, and a sour expression to currently take place of his usual scowl. Something was truly bothering the greasy-haired git, and for once Harry felt he knew that he himself was not the cause. Curious.
"Welcome to another year here at Hogwarts. I am glad that you have all been able to return safely from the summer break, but before we begin the Sorting ceremony, and ultimately the deliciously prepared feast, I would like everyone to welcome a few new seventh years." A sudden burst of buzzing conversations began, but the Headmaster patiently gestured for the room to fall silent once more. "Now, these are indeed transfer students, but I want everyone to treat them with the same respect as you do each other. They will be sorted amongst our four prestigious Houses, then followed by the first years." With that said, entering the Great Hall were five young, teenage boys.
"Transfer students?" inquired Ron, a red-haired, tall, and freckle-faced lad.
"It's nothing strange, Ron," answered a bushy brown-haired young girl, her name was Hermione Granger, and all around the perfect student. "It's been done before, though they don't look like anyone from Durmstrang or Beauxbaton, perhaps they're from the lesser, not as well-known wizarding schools."
Professor McGonagall placed the stool and hat in its usual place, between the staff table and the House tables near the front of the room, then unrolled a short piece of parchment where the list of names were scribbled on. As for the five young men, they were lined up along the front of the staff table, each taking to various stances. Harry saw how two of the newcomers were smiling happily, one a short blonde, and the other an excitable braided boy. In the center stood a rigid character, hands were folded behind his back while feet were a bit apart, an impassive stare sweeping across the room with emotionless dark blue eyes, accommodated with a wild tangle of lush chocolate. An odd combination for what appeared to be Japanese. Next stood a very tall, slim looking youth with quite the unique hairstyle; long brown bangs that hid half of his face, only one green eye stood out from an equally emotionless mask. Lastly was a stern looking Chinese boy, smooth bronze skin with mysterious obsidian eyes, and a painfully tight ponytail could be seen. Each and every one of them were wearing the casual black robes, not yet deciphered depending on House.
"Barton, Trowa," came the first name, and stepping forward was the tallest one of the group, the very same that had the long, jagged bangs. Sitting onto the stool, he gently placed the pointed Sorting Hat atop his head, and after a moment's time, the torn rip of the magical material shouted its decision.
"GRYFFINDOR!" A small cheer and clapping followed. Trowa then took off the hat, replaced it on the stool, and silently made his way to join his fellow housemates. He was welcomed with cheery enthusiasm, but remained quietly withdrawn to himself. The room awaited for the next boy to be sorted; the entire situation was scrutinized with overpowering curiosity.
"Chang, Wufei," next came the stern Chinese. Doing the same as Trowa, he had only barely touched his head with the hat when it shouted its decision.
"RAVENCLAW!" Wufei went to the Ravenclaw table after putting back the hat, only nodding curtly to the rest of his new housemates.
"Maxwell, Duo," and up came the bouncy braided boy. Grinning wide, he sat onto the stool with the hat shoved onto his head, and waited for its answer.
"SLYTHERIN!" An instant hush fell over the room, while Snape first struggled to withhold himself from gaping at the situation, then groaned inwardly in his misery. No more! He couldn't take anymore of that insufferable twit!! Wretched hat, there must have been a mistake! But the Sorting Hat never made a mistake.
When Duo was making his way over to the Slytherin table, he noticed how everyone had looked disbelieving to one another; all thoughts were the same, no way could this good-natured guy be Slytherin material. And yet, here he was, clearly a Slytherin.
"Winner, Quatre," called McGonagall. Her voice snapped everyone out of their confusion and focused on the task at hand, watching as how the blonde approached the hat.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" cried the Sorting Hat. The slightest flicker of sadness went across aquamarine eyes. A disappointed sigh came from Quatre at being separated from Trowa, but nonetheless this was how it was supposed to be, and so he left the stool with the hat once more upon it. A brief wave was sent to Trowa, and an answering smile, albeit sad, was returned.
"Yuy, Heero," was the last name called, and coming forth was the Japanese. Belying his rigid stance, he moved with a sense of stealth and danger, graceful in fluid movements that caused his robes to billow languidly as he passed, much like Snape though more ominous in its manner. Following the same procedure, he placed the hat on his head while taking his seat, and all the while among the Slytherin tables Duo sat with fingers crossed, hoping and wishing with all his might. Seconds passed, then minutes. A full 15 minutes slowly crawled by with bated breath until finally the ripped seam of the Sorting Hat opened, and...
"SLYTHERIN!"
Duo shouted abruptly with a "yes!!" and awaited for the object of his affections to make his way to him, clearing a seat for the impassive boy, he had a huge grin spread over his heart-shaped face. Taking off the Sorting Hat, Heero approached the Slytherin table while most students avoided looking at him directly, but distinctly he felt a pair of eyes lingering on him. Glancing to the source, cold sapphires met with wondering emerald.
So this is the Boy Who Lived.
TBC...
Harry's seventh year had finally begun, now back at Hogwarts, he noticed how the Great Hall was filled with a more subdued raucous; students were seated at their respective tables according to their own House, but an air of tension replaced the usual excitement that came at the start of term feast. The most precarious were those of the Slytherin House, where Draco Malfoy was sitting a bit sullenly amongst his peers, with dull gray eyes cast downward in a pensive look. The past year proved bitter as ever for the Slytherins, their numbers dwindling subtly as students disappeared from their number, all rumored to have already joined Voldemort in his ranks. Across the room sat the Gryffindors, their murmuring chatter humming along with the throng of seated students, while silence came over the shy Hufflepuffs, and quiet whispers floated over the analytical Ravenclaws.
The Boy Who Lived witnessed as the despondency around him grew further and more intense along the passing months. Deaths and attacks were coming more frequent in the wizarding world and the muggle world, all thanks to the strengthening presence of the Dark Lord. The Death Eater legions were said to have been steadily weakening, however, their allies were said to have been thriving. Dementors were damning everyone in their paths, stealing the souls of many who fall victim before them; the giants were lumbering across the country, destroying everything they could bash and thrash to their hearts' content.
The Ministry of Magic was holding surprisingly well against the odds, along with the Order of the Phoenix whose efforts were far more significant, yet it was certain that if nothing were to intervene, it would be likely that either side would soon buckle under the pressures. It was just a matter of who would falter first. Once a moment of weakness is open on one side, Hell would break loose and ravage the lands like ravenous fires, consuming all until nothing is left. Not even the sweeping ashes that come with such destruction would be left.
A troubled sigh escaped from Harry as he brooded over the situation laid out in front of him. He was nothing but a child of 17 years; untamed hair of dark ebony, pale fair skin, jaded eyes of a deep emerald hue, and petite height that seemed to be swallowed up by the draping robes. An aura that resonated pure, untainted power could be sensed among his person, so strong and sure. But even with the fate of the world to crush onto his slight shoulders, he was still a child; burdened by massive losses and the guilt every survivor bears, such was linked with the infamous lightning- shaped scar carved into his forehead.
Albus Dumbledore took that moment to stand, and after motioning his Deputy Headmistress to enter with the Sorting Hat and two lists instead of one, he started to address his students. Harry turned towards the staff table with his full attention, feelings of utter hopelessness set aside, he noticed how genuinely displeased the Potions Master appeared. Well...more so than usual. The man was sitting hunched over, arms crossed like a stubborn child, unyielding, and a sour expression to currently take place of his usual scowl. Something was truly bothering the greasy-haired git, and for once Harry felt he knew that he himself was not the cause. Curious.
"Welcome to another year here at Hogwarts. I am glad that you have all been able to return safely from the summer break, but before we begin the Sorting ceremony, and ultimately the deliciously prepared feast, I would like everyone to welcome a few new seventh years." A sudden burst of buzzing conversations began, but the Headmaster patiently gestured for the room to fall silent once more. "Now, these are indeed transfer students, but I want everyone to treat them with the same respect as you do each other. They will be sorted amongst our four prestigious Houses, then followed by the first years." With that said, entering the Great Hall were five young, teenage boys.
"Transfer students?" inquired Ron, a red-haired, tall, and freckle-faced lad.
"It's nothing strange, Ron," answered a bushy brown-haired young girl, her name was Hermione Granger, and all around the perfect student. "It's been done before, though they don't look like anyone from Durmstrang or Beauxbaton, perhaps they're from the lesser, not as well-known wizarding schools."
Professor McGonagall placed the stool and hat in its usual place, between the staff table and the House tables near the front of the room, then unrolled a short piece of parchment where the list of names were scribbled on. As for the five young men, they were lined up along the front of the staff table, each taking to various stances. Harry saw how two of the newcomers were smiling happily, one a short blonde, and the other an excitable braided boy. In the center stood a rigid character, hands were folded behind his back while feet were a bit apart, an impassive stare sweeping across the room with emotionless dark blue eyes, accommodated with a wild tangle of lush chocolate. An odd combination for what appeared to be Japanese. Next stood a very tall, slim looking youth with quite the unique hairstyle; long brown bangs that hid half of his face, only one green eye stood out from an equally emotionless mask. Lastly was a stern looking Chinese boy, smooth bronze skin with mysterious obsidian eyes, and a painfully tight ponytail could be seen. Each and every one of them were wearing the casual black robes, not yet deciphered depending on House.
"Barton, Trowa," came the first name, and stepping forward was the tallest one of the group, the very same that had the long, jagged bangs. Sitting onto the stool, he gently placed the pointed Sorting Hat atop his head, and after a moment's time, the torn rip of the magical material shouted its decision.
"GRYFFINDOR!" A small cheer and clapping followed. Trowa then took off the hat, replaced it on the stool, and silently made his way to join his fellow housemates. He was welcomed with cheery enthusiasm, but remained quietly withdrawn to himself. The room awaited for the next boy to be sorted; the entire situation was scrutinized with overpowering curiosity.
"Chang, Wufei," next came the stern Chinese. Doing the same as Trowa, he had only barely touched his head with the hat when it shouted its decision.
"RAVENCLAW!" Wufei went to the Ravenclaw table after putting back the hat, only nodding curtly to the rest of his new housemates.
"Maxwell, Duo," and up came the bouncy braided boy. Grinning wide, he sat onto the stool with the hat shoved onto his head, and waited for its answer.
"SLYTHERIN!" An instant hush fell over the room, while Snape first struggled to withhold himself from gaping at the situation, then groaned inwardly in his misery. No more! He couldn't take anymore of that insufferable twit!! Wretched hat, there must have been a mistake! But the Sorting Hat never made a mistake.
When Duo was making his way over to the Slytherin table, he noticed how everyone had looked disbelieving to one another; all thoughts were the same, no way could this good-natured guy be Slytherin material. And yet, here he was, clearly a Slytherin.
"Winner, Quatre," called McGonagall. Her voice snapped everyone out of their confusion and focused on the task at hand, watching as how the blonde approached the hat.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" cried the Sorting Hat. The slightest flicker of sadness went across aquamarine eyes. A disappointed sigh came from Quatre at being separated from Trowa, but nonetheless this was how it was supposed to be, and so he left the stool with the hat once more upon it. A brief wave was sent to Trowa, and an answering smile, albeit sad, was returned.
"Yuy, Heero," was the last name called, and coming forth was the Japanese. Belying his rigid stance, he moved with a sense of stealth and danger, graceful in fluid movements that caused his robes to billow languidly as he passed, much like Snape though more ominous in its manner. Following the same procedure, he placed the hat on his head while taking his seat, and all the while among the Slytherin tables Duo sat with fingers crossed, hoping and wishing with all his might. Seconds passed, then minutes. A full 15 minutes slowly crawled by with bated breath until finally the ripped seam of the Sorting Hat opened, and...
"SLYTHERIN!"
Duo shouted abruptly with a "yes!!" and awaited for the object of his affections to make his way to him, clearing a seat for the impassive boy, he had a huge grin spread over his heart-shaped face. Taking off the Sorting Hat, Heero approached the Slytherin table while most students avoided looking at him directly, but distinctly he felt a pair of eyes lingering on him. Glancing to the source, cold sapphires met with wondering emerald.
So this is the Boy Who Lived.
TBC...