Godrics Gift

A/N As is common in stories, there is more setup to be done. Our first major A/U point will begin here. It will be worth it! Thank you, dear readers, for your kind messages and continued reading. Drop a review for me, and let me know what you think!

JKR is my queen, and she owns everything.

Silly Songs with Sorting Hats

Harry awoke with a start the following morning. Loud bangs and clangs could be heard in the attic above Ron's room, causing Harry to spring out of bed and grasp for his wand. Remembering afterward, it was only the ghoul that Ron left inexplicably sleeping above him at night. Ron had also been awoken by the ghoul's outburst; an annoyed sigh was his reaction to the disturbance before rolling over to try to steal a few more minutes of sleep.

Harry, who had packed his trunk the night before, after a trip to the bathroom Harry dressed and made his way downstairs with his trunk. Halfway down the stairs, Harry was about knocked over by a frantic Mr. Weasley.

"Sorry, Harry, a bit of an emergency at the Ministry this morning with an old friend; Molly and Bill will have to see you all off. Have a great year and try and get Ron to study with you and Hermione, will you?" Mr. Weasley said with a smile.

"No problem, Mr. Weasley; thank you for everything. This has been the best summer of my life." Harry said.

A flash of sadness crossed Mr. Weasley's face as he smiled and continued down the stairs and out the door.

Harry made his way down the stairs with his trunk. To behold Mrs. Weasley cooking breakfast, folding laundry, and making sandwiches while Bill sat calmly at the breakfast table sipping coffee and reading what Harry assumed was The Daily Prophet. Harry moved his trunk to the entryway before Mrs. Weasley said.

"Harry, dear, have a spot of breakfast. Has Ron woken up yet?"

"He's in the process, I believe," said Harry taking toast and a few sausages from the pan that Mrs. Weasley had levitated towards him and sat down, watching a cup of coffee pour itself for him.

"Bill, would you make sure the rest of the kids have woken up?" Molly asked.

"Sure, Mum", Bill replied, setting the paper down and picking up his wand. With a flourish, an ethereal camel bounded out and made its way up the stairs.

"Bill, was that a Patronus?" Harry asked, stunned.

"Yeah, Harry, I'm impressed you know that," Bill replied.

Blushing slightly, Harry replied, "Had a spot of trouble with Dementors last year and had to learn it. Why a Patronus?"

Bill's eyes lit up as he explained, "They are dead useful spells. Not just for dementors; they can carry messages that pass through virtually every ward scheme."

"Did you whisper the spell?" Harry asked.

"Nonverbal, I thought it; you'll learn it after your OWL's year! Although if a dementor were around, it would be almost impossible to cast the spell nonverbally. Bill responded.

Damn, another thing Harry did not know; if there was one thing, Harry was realizing it was just how little magic he knew. Three years in the magical world, and it seemed like he knew nothing.

"Mum, did you finish the laundry last night?" Ginny asked, breaking Harry from his brooding.

"Just about Ginny, have some breakfast, and it will be ready to pack!" Mrs. Weasley replied, flicking her wand at the clothes, drying them out, and making them fold themselves.

Harry stared warmly at the exchange. He had done his own laundry the day before rejecting Mrs. Weasley's kind offer to do it for him. Of all of the things, he enjoyed about spending time at The Burrow, watching Mrs. Weasley care for her children was one of his favorite things. He did not quite know why, but seeing her care for them made him feel warm, even though her extending the care to him made him strangely uncomfortable.

With Bill's message passed, waking the remaining Weasleys, the morning became a whirl of activity. An hour and a half and three double backs to The Burrow later, the Weasleys plus Harry and Hermione arrived at platform nine and three-quarters.

Steam bellowed over the red visage of the Hogwarts Express. Fred and George bid a quick farewell to Molly and Bill and set off to find Lee Jordan eager to catch up from the summer. Ginny set off to find a few girls in her year. Leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione bidding Molly and Bill goodbye on the platform.

"You three have a wonderful year. We will see you before you know it!" Molly beamed, pulling the three of them into a hug.

"I may take some time off to come to watch!" Bill added,

"Watch what? Y'all are as bad as Percy," Ron said incredulously.

This was not the first time the older Weasleys let on about some event being hosted at Hogwarts this year. Ron was growing increasingly frustrated at being left out of the loop. Harry did as well but kept his peace, not feeling like pushing when he had been shown so much hospitality.

"Ohh, you'll find out soon enough! I imagine at the feast tonight." Molly said, smiling. "Now, get a compartment before they all fill up!." Molly said, waiving goodbye.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione did just that. They found a compartment near the back of the train. Ron lifted their trunks into place while Hermione and Harry settled into their seats. As they were shutting the door, a loud voice reached them.

"Father had half a mind to send me to Durmstrang this year," Malfoy exclaimed to Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"He's grown tired of the mudblood and blood traitor hero Dumbledore forcing his views on every self-respecting magical family that comes to Hogwarts. The Founders would be ashamed," Malloy prattled, casting a nasty look at Hermione.

"Her blood's a loads cleaner than your drawers were at the World Cup," Ron spat. "Shove off before you have yourself another accident."

Malfoy's eyes widened, and his hand twitched toward his wand, then stopped.

"Ahh, listening in on your betters. You'll get yourself into trouble, Weatherby," Malfoy replied with a smirk. "Father tells me your older brother is Barty Crouch's errand boy, and he doesn't even know his name." At this, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy roared with laughter.

Ron reddened. Malfoy pressed on.

"Will you go out for it this year, Weatherby? I suppose you must try to gain some sort of reputation for your family; perhaps your brother's boss will learn his name."

"What are you even talking about, Malfoy," Harry interjected.

"Wait, you don't even know? This is too good. I suppose they don't tell the riff-raff at the ministry." Malfoy laughed as he glided away to sit with his fellow Slytherins.

Ron slammed the compartment door shut.

"I'm not taking from him this year. I swear if he says one more thing about my family or you, Hermione, I'll hex him into oblivion." Ron said.

The remainder of the train ride passed relatively uneventfully. Neville popped in with a foul-looking plant that he was wildly excited about. Dean, apparently, had traveled to America and saw Brazil win the Football World Cup in America while Seamus, dressed in all green, was stopping by each compartment to ensure everyone knew that Ireland had won the Quidditch World Cup.

Rain was hammering down into the Hogsmeade station as the Hogwarts express arrived. Hermione began to cast a water-wicking charm when Harry stopped her.

"Hang on, Hermione; I want to try something."

Harry pulled out his own wand. On the back of his trunk, he carved "No Water" from left to right in the blocky Akkadian script Hermione had taught him. When he finished, he tapped his wand to the rune, and several water droplets shot from the opening. Splattering the carriage wall. Harry looked down and saw his ink bottle had burst open. It had not spilled–but was bone dry within the container.

"Well done, Harry," Hermione responded with a grin. "Be a touch more specific next time so that you can still store things with water in the trunk." She quickly corrected his work and smiled, getting out of the carriage."

As they were disembarking from the Train. Hagrid's familiar voice boomed across the station. "Firs Years, Firs Years, com o'er here to me!"

Harry was about to say hello to Hagrid when a blonde boy with a beaming smile on his face interrupted. "Harry! This is my brother Dennis; he's here too now!"

Harry smiled politely, saying, "Cheers, Dennis and Collin; I hope yall had a good summer."

A carriage ride later, Harry found himself in the great hall. Flashes of lightning illuminated an inky black sky and sparkled through torrents of rain which never reached the great oaken tables below. Harry seated himself between Dean and Hermione, with Ron sitting across them both, clearly eager for the sorting to end and the feast to begin.

On cue, the doors to the great halls burst open, an imperious-looking Professor McGonagle leading a group of soaking-wet first years with eyes as big as saucers taking in the scene around them. Of all of the first years, Dennis Creevy stood out. He was well and truly soaked; his face was slightly purple from the cold, but the smile on his face was unmistakable.

"You reckon we looked like that, Harry?" Dean asked.

"Apart from the water, I imagine so, I was terrified getting in front of everybody I remember the sorting hat singing, but none of the words," Harry remarked.

Their conversation was cut off by the hat in question opening its maw and beginning to sing.

A thousand years or more ago

When I was newly sewn,

There lived four wizards of renown,

Whose names are still well known:

Bold Gryffindor from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff from valley broad,

Shrewd Slytherin from fen.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream

They hatched a daring plan

To educate young sorcerers

Thus Hogwarts school began

Now each of these four founders

Formed their own House, for each

Did value different virtues

In the ones they had to teach.

By Gryffindor, the bravest were

Prized far beyond the rest.

For Ravenclaw, the cleverest

Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were worthy of admission;

And for the house of Slytherin,

were those of great ambition.

While still alive, they did divide

their favorites from the throng,

Yet how to pick the worthy ones

When they were dead and gone?

Twas Gryffindor, who found the way,

He whipped me off his head.

The founders put some brains in me

So I could choose instead!

But before you slip me round your head

And let the sorting start

A message, I must pass along

from one whose time has passed

That which came from my maw

Fifteen Months ago

Must be returned by winter

With the wielder close in tow.

Alas, the end of my song, so let the sorting start

Throw me upon your head and find out what's in your heart.

Applause rippled from around the great hall. Most cheering for the approaching feast, none the wiser to the cryptic message just passed along by old hat. Harry watched bewilderment cross the stern countenance of Professor McGonagle. Clearly, strange messages were not a normal part of the Sorting Hat's repertoire. After a moment, she returned to herself and unrolled her large sheet of parchment, calling the first name.

"Ackerly, Stewart"

The Sorting began, and Harry lost himself in thought.

Fifteen months ago would have been June of his second year. The hat mentioned something coming out.

"Harry, that message," Hermione began.

"The Sword," Harry finished.

The sorting hat's message was for him.

Bollocks

oOOOo

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