HAHAHAHAHAHA!
New chapter!
I wrote this while watching Lara Croft: Tomb Raider, on TBS, and I'm sorry about any inconsistencies.
BTW: I have a completely blank, and CAN'T remember the animal of Hufflepuff. If anyone could help . . .
Chapter Twelve: The Sorting Feast
As Hermione settled into her seat next to Harry and across from Ron, Professor McGonagall set the familiar three-legged stool and worn hat in the center of the hall.
The Sorting Hat opened it's mouth-flap, but for a minute or so it was silent. Then words began to tumble forth, as if thought of one-by-one, with no recognizable melody. Each line was punctuated by a harsh accent as the Sorting Song echoed through a silence thicker (and harder) than Mrs. Weasley's fruit cake.
Hogwarts School has many a hall
They welcome students one and all
Lessons learned and awe inspired
Great events have here transpired.
Me the hat hath listened long
And transformed my message into song
Bespoken with haste my verses are
But their words heard close and far.
Founders from past and present speak
Their warnings of havoc soon to wreak
Are spelled through me to students here
So for these moments give me your ear.
Kind Hufflepuff never knew
Of the grace her house hath grew
In it lurks the power unknown
Come forth bearer and power shone.
In Gryffindor bravery rises
A new daughter found within false disguises
The sword will come to those to be found
Worthy and with knowledge sound.
Ravenclaw possesses
In her house a thousand guesses
And for those answers there must be
A question to be asked of thee.
Cunning Slytherin has burrowed deep
In another house a spy that'll reap
Glory and blood that follows her so
As she ravages all goodness will grow.
But ages ago these magical beings
Vested much in the power of seeings
So in a false message do seek lies
It is lost beneath the perilous ties
That must bind the separate
And appease the desperate.
For the first time, the Sorting Hat's song was met with silence. Although no one spoke of it, all eyes turned to Hermione. "A new daughter found within false disguises"? The Hat had never openly mentioned a student before.
The nervous first years trembled at the looks shooting around the Hall. Hermione's face was bright red, but she began scribbling on a piece of paper with a small quill the words of the Sorting Song.
As single clap rang through the hall.
Dumbledore stood, his purple robes sparkling and beard slightly more brushed than usual, and his hands moved together again. Hagrid was the first to pick up the sound, and the Golden Trio soon followed.
A loud, if somewhat delayed, applause swept through the tables, and the silent Slytherins very obvious in the wave that swirled around them.
"Welcome students!" said Dumbledore, and the applause ended abruptly.
"We begin this year on a note of sadness, at the deaths of Hannah and Michelle Abbot," he continued, gesturing a gnarled hand at the banner of black hanging over the Hufflepuff table. The Abbot sisters had been in the same house. "However, the school will not break. Lord Voldemort has ruthlessly murdered two of Hogwarts' prize students in an attempt to press this school and it's inhabitants into submission. It will not work! Hogwarts is strong!" Harry and Ron whooped enthusiastically, and they were joined by a handful of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.
"On a lighter note, Mr. Filch asked me to remind students that fireworks are not allowed within 10 meters of the owlrey, and if anyone violates this rule, they will be cleaning it until Christmas. But before anyone sets off to scare the owls – we have first years to sort, do we not, Professor McGonagall?"
The cowering group, which numbered around five less than the year before, straightened out into something raggedly resembling a line. Professor McGonagall read out the first name as Hermione spread out her rapid notes of the Sorting Song on the table.
"Oh, Hermione, can we not think before we eat?" groaned Ron and his stomach simultaneously. Hermione shot him a look of venom, and slammed her fist on the table.
"Ron! More things matter than your stomach!" A few students surrounding them shot her a nasty looks, and she lowered her voice. "The Sorting Hat warned us before to unite houses – now it's talking about spies, intrigue and everything necessary for a Nancy Drew novel!" She ignored Ron's half-muttered question ("Who the bloody hell is Nancy Drew?") and turned the paper so both he and Harry could see her neatly scribbled notes.
"There's obviously a Slytherin spy in one of the other three houses . . . Hufflepuff's heir must be attending Hogwarts now . . . Maybe the sword of Gryffindor – "
"I know what that is," cut in Harry. "I pulled it out of the Sorting Hat second year. It's stashed in Dumbledore's office now." Hermione's mouth formed a little 'O' and she hastily wrote something next to the line about a sword.
"Perfect," she said, but before they could continue the food appeared. Ron immediately dove for a plate of fried chicken, and Hermione removed her notes before they were splattered with barbeque sauce. Muttering about barbarians, she calmly scooped some mashed potatoes onto her plate.
They chattered about the DA and the possibility of setting fireworks off in front of the owlrey, all carefully avoiding three topics: Hermione's new identity, the Sorting Song, and Oliver Wood. Alright, so neither Hermione's brother nor Ron knew about the third topic. But Hermione knew that she wouldn't allow him to be brought up.
Something happened to her when she talked to him – something that needed analyzing and experimentation before she could discuss it. Hermione was logical to a fault, and her feelings about Oliver Wood were anything but logical.
In fact, they bordered on fantasy. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had felt like she did around Oliver Wood. She had come close during DADA in second year, with Lockhart, but the loss of words, quick blushing, and pounding blood were a new phenomenon.
I really like Ron, she tried to remind herself. What about the fan-bloody-tastic kiss at St. Mungo's? I'm going bloody marry the bloke who gave me that – and it's Ron. He's just too embarrassed to admit it. Ron's mouth and brain work on separate levels – he doesn't know how to tell me.
Really.
" – Hermione?" asked Harry, concerned. Hermione jerked her head up, and realized a little belatedly that she had been staring at her small mound of mashed potatoes for quite some time.
"I'm sorry, Harry. What did you ask?" she said, shaking her head to clear the metaphorical cobwebs. Don't even think the words Oliver Wood for the next few weeks, she chastised herself.
"I asked if all you're going to eat are those potatoes. You really shouldn't starve yourself." He grabbed a rib from Ron's plate, and ignoring his best friend's objections, placed it in front of Hermione. She forced a smile, picked up her fork and pointedly ate a small amount of mashed potatoes.
Swallowing, she asked, "Happy?" and although Harry didn't seem to be, he nodded.
"Don't worry so much about me," she said, and patted his arm. Then she asked, "So, what do you all think of the mysterious DADA teacher that's sitting next to Ol– Hagrid. Dumbledore hasn't named her."
They all turned to look at the black-haired woman. Her short hair was cut in a bob that angled downward in the front. Her searing green eyes were looking directly into her plate. A pale hand methodically scooped up a little rice, ate, and repeated the gesture. Although none of the trio could place it, all three silently felt that there was something familiar about her.
Oliver Wood, sitting next to the small woman, was feeling the same strange sensation.
She looked to be about thirty-five, and yet wasn't any taller than Oliver's fifth year sister, who was in Hufflepuff.
"Hello," he finally said, and the woman looked up guiltily. Her eyes immediately reminded him of Harry's. The shade of emerald was identical. But beneath the familiar color was a hint of something darker.
"Oh," she said, startled. "Hello."
"Are, are you here to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" he finally asked. At the teachers meeting the day before, the DADA position had seemed empty. Dumbledore had pointedly avoided the not-so-subtle queries ("Headmaster, have you found a replacement for Professor Slughorn?") as to who held the jinxed office.
"Yes, yes I am," she replied after a pause. "Oh! I'm Vallory Every." She dropped the fork, and pushed her left hand at him. The right lay securely in her lap.
"Oliver Wood, flying coach," he said, and shook her hand. She flashed him a brilliant, but nevertheless fake, smile.
"I've heard that there's something of a curse on my position," Vallory said, and ate another forkful of rice. The grain was the only food on her plate. The entire golden plate in front of her was white with rice.
"Did you not go to Hogwarts?" asked Oliver.
"Oh goodness, no," she exclaimed around a bite of rice. "I went to Beauxbatons. I grew up in Dijon, with my brother. Did you go here?" Her eyes were bright.
"Yes," he said slowly. "I graduated three years ago."
"Really? You're terribly young to be teaching flying." After her rude words, Vallory blushed. "Oh, how rude of me!"
"Nonsense. It's quite alright. Actually, for the last three years I've been playing for Puddlemere United. But after Madame Hooch retired, Dumbledore offered me the position while they look for a permanent replacement. Puddlemere's taking something of a break for a season."
Vallory raised an eyebrow. "I don't really know anything about quidditch, but even I know that taking a season off is unheard of."
"Well, don't tell anyone I told you this, but the team's changing owners, and no one's buying. See, the old owner died, and they have no idea what to do with it." Vallory laughed delightedly, and scooped up more rice.
Following her example, Oliver took a bite of his corn. They chattered more about quidditch, and Oliver found himself giving her a diagram of the Wronsky Feint.
As Vallory told him about a game her brother had played once, Oliver's eyes wandered to the Gryffindor's table. Hermione was staring directly at the head table.
Actually, she was staring at one person – Vallory Every. Her brow was knit in thought, and her fork missed her mouth more than once as she gazed at the new DADA professor. She wiggled her nose for a second, then bit her lip. Finally she turned to her brother, and whispered something in his ear.
He nodded, and turned to her in exclamation.
She leaned across the table, her hair almost slipping into the barbeque sauce slathered on the uneaten rib on her plate, and whispered excitedly to Ron. He started motioning at her, and she shook her head.
"RON!" she screached, and even Oliver heard her. A few disgruntled housemates grumbled at her, and she lowered to voice to whisper haughtily to the Weasley across from her.
"And we ended up winning the game," completed Vallory, and laughed. Oliver joined in, although he had no idea what she had been talking about.
"You have no idea what I was talking about, do you?" she asked suddenly, and caught off guard, Oliver nodded. Then caught himself.
"I mean, sure I do," he said quickly, she had shrugged away his comment.
"It's alright. Though I did notice who you were staring at." She motioned her fork, for once empty of the white grain, at the trio sitting at the Gryffindor table.
"That's Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and . . . who's the third one?"
"Hermione Potter," filled in Oliver, his eyes refocused on Hermione. He missed the look on Vallory's face, or else it would have warned him of future events.
"Hm . . . I could have sworn that I read her name was Hermione Granger," said Vallory pointedly.
"It was," replied Oliver carelessly. "But it turns out she's the sister of Harry Potter."
"Oh," said Vallory, and began eating her rice again.
As Oliver continued eating and staring, she unfolded the newspaper article clutched in her right hand.
She smoothed it out as she took a sip of water in her goblet.
OTHER POTTER CHILD FOUND:
A DAILY PROPHET EXCLUSIVE
Hmm, Vallory thought. Interesting.
"Ms. Potter," called out Dumbledore, appearing behind her. "If you would please follow me to your head dormitories . . ." The Headmaster's blue eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth at the look of disgust that passed between his Head Girl and Boy.
"I have to share a dormitory with her?" asked Malfoy, his voice scoffing.
"Honestly, Malfoy," said Hermione, and she rolled her eyes. Harry and Ron flanked her, slightly behind.
"Should we go, 'Mione?" asked Ron. She nodded, and they warily left, shooting looks over their shoulders. Malfoy crossed his arms, and tapped his foot pointedly.
"The distressed housewife image works wonderfully for you, Malfoy. You should try it more often," snapped Hermione irritably.
"Glad to know that you find those you above you attractive. Sorry you can't ever have this," replied Malfoy immediately.
"This being a frumpy, ferrety arsehole who doesn't know a broom from his wand? I think I'll pass," shot out Hermione.
"Well, Ms. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, shall I show you to your new quarters?" requested Dumbledore, and he swept out of the hall. Hermione followed him first, and ignored the middle finger pointed behind her back by Malfoy.
The walk to the Head rooms was silent. Hermione carefully observed the way. Eventually she gave up, and watched the portraits fall away. They dwindled, one by one, until a single portrait graced each wall. And then none.
The cold stone walls were, perhaps, the only empty corridors in the entire castle.
Dumbledore suddenly turned a corner, and a huge portrait of four animals framed in gold stood at the dead end.
As they approached, the lion stretched and stood. As the largest animal, it dominated the frame. Each animal was life-sized, and the golden mane was at least a foot long. A soft purr emerged from it's golden throat.
The animals of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw remained sleeping, curled up separately.
At the sight of the stirring snake, however, Hermione froze. From far away, the lion had seemed to be the largest animal, but now up close, Hermione realized the creature of Slytherin to be a basilisk. The golden eyes thrust her into a memory of staring at those eyes in a mirror before she had been Petrified. It was blood red, and coiled demurrely at the bottom of the portrait.
"Scared, Potter?" hissed Malfoy as he passed around her, his mouth close to her ear. His breath sweptonto her throatand down her spine, raising hairs she didn't know she had.She was too frozen to respond. Dumbledore turned to look at the two, and his eyes lost a little of their sparkle.
Behind him, the snake whispered at Hermione, "Wonderful to sssssssee you again, my dear." It opened it's fanged mouth in a parody of a smile, and the teeth were as long as her forearm. The noise that emerged was a cross between a hiss and one of Neville's potions exploding. But instead of being comical, it was frightening.
"It can talk?" squeaked Hermione. She swallowed rapidly in an attempt to soothe her voicebox.
"We all can, child," said the lion, and his voice was deep and strong. With a paw the size of a chicken, he slapped the basilisk on the head. It hissed, but otherwise didn't respond.
"How?" she asked, and her brow furrowed. Hogwarts, A History had never mentioned the Head dormitories, let alone the portrait guarding it.
"We, my dear, are the ssssoulsss and heartssss of the founderssss," said the snake, voice less taunting after the lion's pat.
"Really?" she asked, and her terror was lost at the idea of new information. "Fascinating." The lion laughed, and his was deep and soulful. Surely what Godric Gryffindor had sounded like. Dumbledore's concern vanished, and he stepped forward.
"Press this," he said, and pressed an almost invisible garnet in the frame on the left side, "and say, I am a daughter, or son" – nodding in Malfoy's direction – "of Hogwarts school." At his words, the large portrait dissolved, and through the empty frame a large room appeared.
Malfoy entered first, and Dumbledore ushered Hermione afterwards.
A large black marble fireplace dominated the opposite wall. The room was decorated in gold, silver, green, and scarlet, with drapes, tables, couches, and chairs. Over the mantle was a muggle painting of the four founders, frozen with stern smiles and laughing eyes. The room was larger than the Gryffindor common room, and thus just a tiny bit colder. Hermione missed the laughing second and thirdyears, and her familiar chair by the fireplace.
To the right was a mahogany stair case that rose in a single row, only to split into two halfway to the second floor. There, one led to a door with a silver nameplate, and the other to one with gold. They were connected with a hallway, and a single door whichhad tosignify the bathroom.
"Oh, it's gorgeous," breathed Hermione, forgetting Malfoy for a moment. The common room was huge. Large enough that surely she wouldn't have to spend much time with him.
"Humph," snorted Malfoy, and disappeared up the stairs to his room. Once the door slammed, Dumbledore turned to Hermione.
"I know that your new identity might have some difficulties for you, so if you need to talk about it, my office door is always open. The password is Cinnamon Rush."
"Thank you, headmaster," said Hermione, and with a small smile and a twinkle of his eyes Dumbledore left. The portrait closed behind him, and a drapery fell to cover the black hole.
With a sigh, Hermione tiredly stepped up the stairs into her new room.
Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh . . . . . . . . .
Whatever shall I do with the Sorting Song? Who is the heir of Hufflepuff?
Hmmm?
If you want to find out . . . . REVIEW! BTW: OliverHermione fluff next chapter! But only if I get reviews!