Shifting Tides
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: On her first train ride to Hogwarts, Elaine Potter, who is strongly influenced by Arabella Fig, encounters Theodore Nott, and thus spends the journey with him. Subsequently agreeable to Slytherin House, the tides of fate turn, and Albus Dumbledore's carefully laid plans crumble like a house of cards. OOC. AU. Eventual fem!HP/TN.
Rating: T, for now, because Quirrel.
Author: tlyxor1.
Prologue
Arabella Fig, although vehemently opposed to Lord Voldemort and his tyrannical ideology, was, first and foremost, a pure-blood witch. She'd been raised in an ancient, traditional household, she'd married into another, and she had the utmost respect for the customs she had adhered to for as long as she had lived.
As such, she had been greatly offended when she'd learned of Elaine Potter's circumstances in November of 1981, and had thus proceeded to rectify them immediately. She could do nothing about her living arrangements, but as a result of her close proximity to the girl, among other things, Elaine's magical guardianship was easy to obtain, and all the rights and responsibilities thus.
No doubt, her actions had made a lifelong enemy of Albus Dumbledore, but Arabella would be damned if Elaine Potter, the heiress of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, would remain ignorant of her birthright, or of the customs, values, expectations and responsibilities therein.
As a result of Arabella's magical guardianship, she had tacit authority over Elaine's education and inheritance, among other things, and it was taken advantage of immediately. Not for selfish means, mind, but to guarantee no one could ever take advantage of the toddler's vulnerable state.
The Potter Estate within Gringott's was sealed, all vault keys recalled, external heirlooms and possessions entrusted to the care of Augusta Longbottom, who vowed to ensure they would reach Elaine Potter upon her public return into magical society.
The attorneys retained by the House of Potter, Anderson and Barrett, were appointed the task of ensuring elaine's name - or any variant - wasn't used without express permission from Arabella, that the Ministry of Magic renounced their claim of the cottage in Godric's Hollow, that anything left to their employer via an unknown third party was properly investigated, and that the businesses, properties, and investments owned by their 15 month old client were appropriately handled.
And thus, time passed. Elaine grew and learned, Arabella taught, and before she knew it, the girl was 11, and Hogwarts called.
As had so many children before her, Elaine - charming, clever, confident - could do naught but answer.
As she did so, Arabella wondered if Hogwarts was prepared for the young girl Elaine Potter had become, and could not wait to find out.
Chapter One: The Hogwarts Express
"Are you ready?" Mrs Fig asked. She'd volunteered to drop Elaine off at King's Cross Station, and neither Uncle Vernon nor Aunt Petunia had thought to refuse her. It hurt, in a way, but Ellie had long ago learned not to accept any parental affection from either of them.
"Yes," Elaine replied, studied the scarlet steam engine before her, and chewed her lip hesitantly. "Do you think they'll like me?"
"I think they'll love you," Mrs Fig answered, ran a gentle hand over the intricate braid she'd done for Elaine's first day, and added, "All you need to do is be yourself. After that, everything else will fall in line."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive, sweet girl."
Elaine nodded, not particularly convinced, but unwilling to pursue the conversation further. Instead, she hugged her guardian fiercely, promised to write, and stepped onto the Hogwarts Express before she could second-guess herself. Behind her, Mrs Fig apparated away, and Ellie was on her own.
Inside the compartment she'd chosen for herself, Elaine settled on one of the bench seats, and produced a book from her satchel. She'd come prepared for a long - possibly lonely - train ride, her (magically enhanced) satchel weighed down with a couple of novels she'd not yet read, a deck of playing cards, some lunch, a drink, and snacks, and even a small travel pillow to rest her head.
The book kept her occupied until it was almost 11 o'clock, at which point, Ellie was disturbed by a knock at her compartment door. It was a boy around her age, roughly the same height as her, with a lightly tanned complexion and dark blonde hair.
"Hello," he greeted, "May I join you?"
"You're welcome to," she answered.
He smiled, stepped into the compartment, and slid the door closed behind him. His trunk was out of sight - in the luggage compartment, perhaps - but he carried a messenger bag with him that he set down on the bench across from her.
"I'm Nott," he introduced himself, "Theodore Nott."
"Potter, Elaine Potter," she replied, and offered him her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Theodore Nott."
"Likewise," Theodore answered, and took her hand in his. His hand was roughly the same size as hers, his skin a few shades darker, and as he lifted their hands to press a kiss to her knuckles, Elaine couldn't help but blush bright red. To Mrs Fig's credit, sHe'd been taught to expect such greetings, but nevertheless, she was unaccustomed to them.
Such was expected when she was more or less isolated from wizarding Britain, but that was another matter entirely.
As Theodore settled in the seat across from her, he offered, "I'm a first year, too. In case you were wondering."
"I'm glad," she answered, slid her book into her bag, and added, "I don't know many witches or wizards my age.
In fact, she'd met only one other: a boy by the name of Neville Longbottom, who was kind for all his shyness. Elaine had hoped to cross paths with him on the train, at least, but she couldn't quite bring herself to wander off in search of him in a train full of people eager to meet the 'Girl Who Lived'. Maybe she'd be lucky, and he would find her instead."
Over the noise on the platform, a whistle blew. There was a panicked rush as dawdlers scrambled to board the train, but Elaine's attention, briefly drawn by the chaos, quickly returned to her new companion.
"What house would you like to be in?" Theodore asked. "Your parents were in Gryffindor, weren't they?"
"They were, but I won't fall apart if I'm not sorted there. I mean, it's a nice thought, to be in the same house my parents were, but I don't want to spend my whole time at Hogwarts trapped in their shadow. Besides, my grandfather was a Ravenclaw, and my grandmother was a Slytherin. What about you? Which house would you want to be sorted into?"
He shrugged. "I'm not picky, either. I know my family has a history of being sorted into Slytherin or Hufflepuff, so if I'm anything like them, I'll probably wind up in one or the other."
"Maybe we'll be in the same house," Ellie mused.
"Well, 'Nott' is before 'Potter' in the alphabet, so pressure's on you to join me, wherever I go. If you want to, that is."
"Do you know how we're sorted? Maybe I can rig it."
He chuckled. "No, but with an attitude like that, you'll probably end up in Slytherin."
"Maybe." She wasn't opposed to the prospect. Mrs Fig had been a Slytherin, a peer of Dorea Black, though it wasn't until well after they'd finished school that the pair had become friends. She'd told Elaine all about her time in Slytherin House, the advantages and drawbacks, the stigma and expectations, and she'd had other people she knew do the same for Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw.
All things considered, Ellie thought Slytherin House would be the most difficult for her, if only because a lot of pure-blood sympathisers had wound up sorted there. They all had their own forms of in-house politics, focused on different things, but she was rather fond of the colour green.
"It wouldn't be the worst thing."
"You think so?" Theodore asked. "A lot of people think Slytherin is the sign of a dark wizard."
"A lot of people are stupid, then," she replied. It made him laugh. "I know there are a lot of pure-blood sympathisers there, but people seem to have forgotten that Merlin was a Slytherin, too."
"That's true," Theodore conceded, and glanced out the window. The train had left King's Cross Station while they'd been talking, and at present, the suburbs of London were passing them by.
Before he could speak further, however, their solitude was disrupted by an uncertain knock on their compartment door. It was a red haired boy with a smudge of dirt on his nose, clad in secondhand robes. He shifted awkwardly under their scrutiny.
"May we help you?" Theodore asked.
"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
Although doubtful of that fact, Elaine acquiesced with a shrug, and Theodore followed suit with a nod. He then helped the boy with his trunk, and once they were both settled back in their seats, introductions were made.
"I'm Ron," he said, "Ron Weasley."
"Nott, Theodore NOtt," Theo answered, "This is Potter, Elaine Potter."
"Are you really?"
"I was last time I checked."
"And do you have the scar?"
"No."
It had been removed when Elaine was younger, actually, in a ritual Mrs Fig had paid the curse breakers of Gringott's an arm and a leg to perform. There had, evidently, been some curse residue within the scar, and with it gone, the lightning bolt had faded into non-existence. She preferred it that way.
"That sucks."
Ellie couldn't fathom why. She was actually glad not to have a reminder of her parents' murder carved into her forehead, but she supposed Ron Weasley was entitled to his own opinions.
"I prefer it," she answered, "It wasn't pretty."
Ron looked like he couldn't fathom why that was at all important to her, and Theodore bit back his humour at the other boy's expression, his head bowed to hide his smile. Elaine didn't think he was particularly impressed by the tall redhead, but as Ron Weasley asked if she remembered anything of Samhain, 1981, it was suddenly a struggle to hide her own displeasure.
"I'm very grateful that I don't remember anything of my parents' murder, thank you for asking," she answered, tone scathing. As he flinched, Ellie opened up her novel, uninterested in further conversation with the tactless redhead.
Theodore offered Weasley an unimpressed glare of his own, produced his own book to read, and a good portion of the train ride passed in silence.
With the intrusion of Draco Malfoy, and a busy-haired, domineering muggle-born by the name of Hermione Granger beforehand, their quietude did not last.
"I've heard about him," Elaine said, tone conversational, once the Malfoy scion had left their compartment, "I was told to be wary of his father."
"He's a git," Ron contributed. It was unclear as to which Malfoy he was referring to, but Elaine didn't ask the redhead to clarify.
"It would be smart, yes," Theodore confirmed, evidently unfazed by Ron's commentary, "Mr Malfoy is a trusted advisor of the Minister of Magic, and he has recently been voted onto the Hogwarts Board of Governors."
"Ah," Ellie acknowledged thoughtfully, "I understand."
Evidently, Lucius Malfoy had grown into some degree of prominence in the decade since Voldemort's downfall, though that in itself was intriguing. Everything she'd learned about Britain's magical society indicated that the Ancient and Noble, the Ancient, and the Noble families were zealous in their efforts to retain their power, influence, and authority. It was therefore interesting because regardless of how much gold they had in their vaults, the House of Malfoy was far from being either ancient, noble, or both, and thus Ellie wondered how the man in question had obtained the amount of influence he had.
It bore research, and a letter to Mrs Fig wouldn't go amiss, either.
In the meantime, however, she wouldn't let herself brood over it. Instead, she spoke with Theodore, and more reluctantly, with Ron, about which of their classes they each anticipated most, somewhat unsurprised that their answers consisted of Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration.
"I think everyone's looking forward to those," Elaine commented. It would be the first time most of her peers would have access to their wands, and blanket approval to use them, and the three afore-mentioned subjects were the only wanded classes available to first years.
Elaine wondered if anyone else received a lecture to use their's wisely, because wands were weapons, and if she wasn't careful, she could do a great deal of damage to someone, or something, and the consequences could be dire.
There had been more, about casting intent and the like, and at the end of it, Mrs Fig's lecture had given her a lot to think about.
Theodore shrugged. "No surprise there."
"No," she agreed, "There isn't."
"Have you tried any spells?" Ron asked.
"A few," she confirmed, "Nothing too difficult."
Alongside her lessons in magical theory, Mrs Fig had not hesitated to teach Elaine a few Charms, Defence, and Transfiguration basics, and she had spent the month of August practising and memorising them, and learning others too.
Ellie didn't think she would ever grow tired of learning magic, and she wondered idly if she would turn out to be a Ravenclaw.
She supposed she would have to wait and see.
"Same," Theo contributed.
"Lucky," Ron sighed, "Mum thought it was too dangerous."
"What does she think we'll be doing at Hogwarts?" Theodore asked, incredulous.
Ron shrugged. "I wasn't about to ask her. She's ruddy scary."
"Your loss," Elaine acknowledged, "But I doubt you're the only one who hasn't tried something."
The rest of the train ride passed without fanfare. Neither Elaine nor Theodore were particularly forthcoming with personal information, but Ron was content to ramble about his family, his interests, and his opinions, and it coloured most of their remaining time on the train. A respite arrived in the form of her retreat to the girl's restroom, where Elaine changed into her new school uniform, washed her face and fretted over her hair. Before long, however, they reached Hogsmeade Station, and Ron's babbling gave way to a nervous, anticipatory silence.
Outside the train, the night sky blanketed their surroundings, and a man, alarmingly tall and bearing a lantern over his head, called the first years to gather around him.
"That must be Hagrid," Ron observed, "He's taller than I imagined."
"I'll say," Theodore agreed, wide-eyed.
Elaine, struck speechless by the sight of the man in question, and by the nerves and excitement that raced through her as Hogwarts grew close, nodded. Her heart raced inside her chest, her hands shook, and when he looked at her, Elaine offered Theodore a disbelieving grin.
"We're actually here. I can't believe it. I feel like I've been waiting my whole life for this moment."
"Believe it," Theodore advised, "This is only the beginning."
Chapter Two: The Sorting
The woman who greeted them inside the castle was a tall, imposing figure clad in sedate, forest green robes, eyes an interesting blend of green and yellow. She wore a no-nonsense expression on her face, lined by time and life, and it wasn't long before she had the rapt attention of the 48 first years gathered in front of her.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she greeted, "I am Professor McGonagall, and I will be your Transfiguration Professor for as long as you are a student here. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your respective houses…"
By the time Professor McGonagall's introductory speech drew to a close, Elaine's attention had begun to wander. It was all information she'd heard before, an explanation of the four Hogwarts Houses, the expectations of them as students therein, and a brief explanation of the rewards system the school used in order to maintain discipline. As such, she tuned most of it out, more interested in her new classmates, and by the moving portraits who watched them all with fond, knowing grins.
Before long, however, Professor McGonagall departed with the directive to tidy themselves up, and the small antechamber filled with the hushed, nervous conversation of Hogwarts' newest crop of 11 year olds.
"What are you staring at?" Theodore asked.
"The portraits," Elaine replied, "I've heard about them, but I've never gotten to see one in real life."
Mrs Fig didn't have any in her home on Wisteria Walk, and Elaine had never had the opportunity to return to her family's ancestral seat. Most public places didn't have them, and those that did - the Ministry of Magic, St Mungo's, and the like - were places Elaine had never had reason to visit.
"Really?" Ron blurted, "But why?"
"I grew up in a non-magical neighbourhood," she explained, "In the Muggle World, portraits can't talk, or move."
"Then why bother with them?" Ron huffed a laugh, though Elaine couldn't see the humour in his question. She wasn't even sure of what he was referring to - the portraits, or the muggles - but she wasn't comfortable enough with him to ask, and she didn't really want to know anyway.
She shrugged. "Why do people bother with anything?"
Before Ron could answer, they were each startled by the frightened scream of someone behind them. Elaine whirled around, to be met with the sight of ghosts - of all things - floating over their heads.
"Wow," she marvelled.
Ron glanced at her, perplexed. "They're just ghosts."
Elaine was saved from having to answer by Professor McGonagall. She was unimpressed to see the ghosts, shepherding them off with that clipped accent of hers, before she led them all - the first years - into the Great Hall, where the rest of the Hogwarts staff and students awaited them.
The Great Hall itself was enormous, with tall, arched windows, and a ceiling that was enchanted to reflect the sky outside. There were candles, too - hundreds of them - though they offered only a meagre amount of light, and Elaine wondered why the staff didn't do something about it.
That aside, the Great Hall was a sight to behold, if only because it felt as though Elaine had spent all the years of her life looking forward to seeing Hogwarts, and she had finally arrived.
"Are you nervous?" Theodore asked, his voice a low murmur beside her ear. In front of them, they watched avidly as Professor McGonagall deposited a patched, faded, frayed hat on a three-legged stool. It appeared to shift in place for a few moments, and then, without ado, it burst into song.
The song itself wasn't great, a brief history of the Hogwarts founders and the values of their respective houses, but afterwards, as Professor McGonagall unfurled a scroll to start sorting students, Elaine smiled. Her nerves had faded with the knowledge that all she needed to do was adorn an old hat, and beside her, Theodore's nerves had settled, too.
"No. Are you?"
"No," Theodore replied, "Though I hope no one has lice."
Elaine grimaced at the thought. She'd endured an infestation of them when she was six, and her hair had only been saved by the intervention of Mrs Fig, who had refused to allow Elaine's Aunt Petunia to cut it all off.
Instead, Mrs Fig had lathered her hair in a foul smelling potion for ages, and then spent hours combing out knits and dead lice from Elaine's curls. It had been a miserable time for everyone involved, and Elaine didn't ever want to experience it again.
"You and me both," she acknowledged.
Elaine watched the first few sortings with interest, as Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones went to Hufflepuff, Terry Boot to Ravenclaw, Lavender Brown to Gryffindor, and Millicent Bulstrode to Slytherin. It grew repetitive quickly, however, and her attention wandered to the four house tables, to the staff who watched from the front of the hall, to the night sky overhead, to her fellow first years.
That was, of course, until she heard a name she recognised.
"Longbottom, Neville," McGonagall called.
In the line of students yet to be sorted, Neville blanched, and reluctantly stumbled forward to the stool and Sorting Hat. He was a shy, timid boy, but he was nice and polite, and Elaine had enjoyed his company over the summer holidays. They'd spent a great deal of time talking about Hogwarts, and about the expectations that weighed on both of their shoulders, about their lives and interests and hopes and dreams.
Elaine had no qualms about calling him her friend, and as such, she was pleased for him when, after a few moments, he was sorted into Gryffindor.
"You know him?" Theodore asked. As he did, Neville ran off with the hat, to the laughter of almost everyone else.
"He's a friend," Elaine confirmed. "He was hoping for Gryffindor."
"He looks kind of…" Theodore hesitated out of courtesy, though his meaning was obvious.
She shrugged. "Just because he's shy, doesn't mean he's a coward. Plus, he's nice, and he's got potential."
"Potential for what? And how do you even know that?"
"I just do."
Theodore appeared thoroughly unimpressed by her answer, but as they spoke, Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin, and Roger Malone into Gryffindor. They fell quiet as Lily Moon was sorted, and as they waited, Professor McGonagall called Theodore's name.
"Good luck," Elaine offered.
"Thanks," Theodore answered, "I'll save a seat for you."
She grinned. "You'd better."
The hat took a while on Theodore's head, but eventually, it sorted him into Slytherin, and Elaine applauded alongside the boy's new housemates. Behind her, Ron huffed, unimpressed, and muttered mean things about the house, about Theodore, and about snakes.
As he did so, Elaine silently hoped Ron wouldn't wind up in the same house as her. SHe'd spent over six hours in his company already, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to spend the greater majority of the next seven years in close quarters with him. She wasn't that patient.
"Potter, Elaine!" Professor McGonagall called.
Amidst the shouts of surprise and the rapid-fire whispers, the craned necks and the blatant, unabashed scrutiny, Elaine stepped from the line of first years, approached the Deputy Headmistress, and settled herself on the three-legged stool awaiting her. The Sorting Hat was deposited on her head, fell over her eyes, and blacked out the hundreds of expectant, waiting faces.
Inside her mind, the Sorting Hat made it's presence known with a thoughtful hum. Elaine, meanwhile, wondered about what other surprises Hogwarts had in store, if a telepathic hat was a part of the introduction.
'The Girl Who Lived,' The Sorting Hat mused, 'Where to put you?'
'Isn't that your decision to make?'
"I see your mind, and I see possibilities.'
'Possibilities?' She echoed.
'You would do well in all the houses,' the hat declared, 'But I see your mind, your deepest desires. Best of luck, Elaine Potter. You'll need it.'
On her head, the Sorting Hat stirred, and bellowed for the entire hall to hear, "Slytherin!"
Elaine couldn't say she was particularly surprised by the deafening silence that followed. The reputation of Slytherin House was terrible, and no one had expected their saviour, the 'Girl Who Lived', to join their ranks. Rather, she had been slated to follow her parents' footsteps into Gryffindor, and the fact she hadn't was apparently unbelievable.
Determined not to laugh until all eyes were off her, Elaine tugged off the Sorting Hat, passed it over to Professor McGonagall, and made her way to her new house table. Theodore had kept his word, and Elaine settled in the space available, directly across from a brunette, blue eyed girl who'd been the second girl to be sorted into Slytherin.
As she sat, the hall belatedly clapped, a feeble, scattered thing, and she wished no one had bothered.
Elaine took note of those in Slytherin who didn't join in the applause, and resolved to learn as many defensive and offensive spells as possible. Common sense told her she would need them soon enough, because she'd apparently underestimated the amount of Death Eater sympathisers who'd be in Slytherin with her.
Theodore chewed on the inside of his cheek, expression uncertain. "Maybe we should have aimed for Hufflepuff."
Elaine didn't answer, but she privately agreed. It would be a long few years.
Author's Note: Just trying to clear out my computer storage. I'm hoping I'll find the inspiration to come back to this one day, but we'll see.