Chapter six: Hat Handled
Hogwarts stood ahead, as though it had sprouted from the ground and had always belonged there, it's twinkling lights beckoning us as the boats made their way across the lake. Hagrid was there, saying hello to Harry and I. It was wonderful. Hermione informed us about the castle, how it had been built by the four founders themselves, and Harry and I told her about the squid that lived in the lake.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."
Professor McGonagall was a stern looking woman whose face seemed to soften when she saw me. I tried to read what she was thinking, but she too apparently knew Occlumency. I assumed she might have actually been looking at Neville, not me. Hagrid left, leaving us in Professor McGonagall's capable hands. Paws? Could people really turn into animals?
We followed her through a grand entrance, that I couldn't wait to tell Meredith about. I wondered if Mordecai had taken pictures of Hogwarts to show her. Maybe I could. There were portraits on almost every wall, watching us and talking among themselves- pointing at some of us- but there weren't any portraits where we stopped. There was a large set of double doors, which we could hear the hum of voices on the other side where the rest of the school was.
Professor McGonagall turned around to face them, taking the time to make brief eye contact with each of them before starting. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because..."
Lilia felt guilty for zoning out on Professor McGonagall's obviously well rehearsed speech, but she kept looking around and listening to the other students. None of them knew how they were Sorted either. It seemed that outrageous stories were encouraged, as she doubted they would have to battle a troll to be sorted.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
Hermione was thinking about her hair, and how frightful she was sure it looked. Harry thought about his own, but had long resigned himself to the fact that it would always look like that. Neville was thinking about being Sorted, perhaps into Hufflepuff where the leftovers went.
I was thinking about Meredith. My hair was still as it had been when I saw her last, my face clean of smudges or crumbs, and my robes neat and smoothed out. I hoped she was wrong in her prediction of my time at Hogwarts. I hoped Harry, Neville, Hermione and I ended up in the same House. I hoped we would stay friends for the entirety of our school years at the very least. And I hoped I might find my birth parents, if only to thank them for getting me to my Meredith.
"How do you suppose they sort us," I whispered. Meredith hadn't known, but Neville or Hermione might.
"It wasn't in Hogwarts: A History," was Hermione's answer.
Neville shrugged, though he suddenly looked terrified. "Gran wouldn't tell me. Said I would find out soon enough. You don't suppose it's a test, do you?"
"I hope not," Harry muttered. "I'm pants at tests."
Behind us we could hear a boy, the rude one from the train, mention an older brother who claimed we would have to fight a troll. Neville's eyes widened, but Harry was more in awe that trolls existed.
"That's preposterous," Hermione said hotly. "They would never allow something so dangerous in a school. It's likely a survey of sorts."
"The Sorting Ceremony is about to start," Professor McGonagall said, appearing out of nowhere and peering at our group. "Follow me, nice and neat line if you please."
Every began pushing each other into line and out of line, arranging themselves. Harry was first in line out of our group, then me, then Neville and Hermione. We found ourselves near the middle of the line, the perfect place with buffer people in front and behind. I could just see McGonagall over everyone's heads as we followed her again through the double doors and into a scene I would never have imagined before seeing it.
It was lit by candles, suspending high above the room and under what appeared to be the night sky. There were four long tables lined with wonderful gold goblets and plates, another table where sat the teachers. Miss Elora was there, smiling at our group and sparing Harry and I a slight wave and another of her wonderful smiles. She wore blue today, sitting at the left hand side of the headmaster and looking like a fairy queen. The man next to her leaned over to say something and she smiled at him with a chuckle. He, was dark. He was a dark man with pale skin and a sneer ever present on his face- and dark, cold eyes. He looked at me as the line approached the front, and though I'd been bombarded with thoughts and voices in my head that were not my own- none of them were his either.
When I looked back to Professor McGonagall, there was a stool and a hat. We were to put the hat on, and the hat would sort us, according to the aforementioned thoughts. I whispered this to the other three, and Harry and Neville sagged in relief.
"That doesn't seem very appropriate," Hermione whispered back. "Or reliable. Just how old is that hat? It looks ancient."
"It's about as reliable as sorting children at the age of eleven, what will influence their view on the world and how the rest of the world will view them for the rest of their life."
The three of us slowly turned to look at him with surprised expressions. After a moment, he realized we were staring and blushed. "Unless that's not a point of topic anyone else ponders over?"
I smiled and shook my head, looking back as the musical hat finished his song and everyone clapped.
"Who is that?" He asked, nodding to the boy his daughter had just spoken to.
"Don't you recognize him?" She replied. "That's Frank and Alice's boy, Neville. I told you they met in Diagon Alley."
"Then who's the girl?"
She scoffed, exasperated. "They've just walked in, Severus, I don't know. You do recall that many friendships start on the train? You haven't forgotten how we met?"
He said nothing, only watched her. She'd looked at him when they came in. She'd been thinking about Elora, with an overwhelming sense of adoration, and had been contemplating the fact that she couldn't hear his thoughts. She did look like him, but Merlin did she ever look like a clone of her mother when she was that age. It was no wonder Ollivander knew whose child she was, though few knew even of her birth. It hadn't been safe in those days. And it still wasn't safe.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."
Severus didn't feel terrible for not paying attention to the sorting. He took vague note of who went where, but he was mostly focused on her. She was whispering with her friends, the four of them drinking in everything their eyes saw with curiosity and wonder. He remembered doing the same, long ago with Elora and Lily.
"You're staring, my dear boy."
He didn't even look over. He knew he was staring. He didn't need some old fool to tell him so. It infuriated him even more when the man chuckled at him. He could hear Elora making excuses, apologizing on his behalf. For a moment, he had the depressing thought of: When did we become an old married couple?
"Granger, Hermione!"
Ah, so that was what the girl's name was. Lilia gave her words of encouragement, as did the other two, and she made her way to the stool- talking under her breath to encourage herself. She was one of those. Ravenclaw, perhaps.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Or perhaps not. She sighed a breath of relief and went to join the others of her new house, sending back a reassuring wave. It seemed, peeking into her mind that was entirely unguarded, that Lilia had resigned herself to Gryffindor. She had no doubt Potter would be there, and she was determined to go with him. Though he never thought he would say it, Severus hoped that for her as well. Or at the very least Ravenclaw, but far from Slytherin where she might be hurt, and far from him where he might get hurt. Far from where she would find the truth.
"Longbottom, Neville!"
He bumbled to the stool. Severus remembered quite clearly the boy's father being slightly clumsy as well, though if he held to his lineage, the boy would be quite something to be proud of as he got older. He himself hadn't been friends with Frank, no, of course not, he was a Gryffindor, but he respected him and the sacrifice he and his wife made.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
They cheered, the other three, and he too joined the table. Severus watched his godson strut to the stool and hat and barely resisted the urge to scoff. He cared very much for Draco, and knew he would be in Slytherin, but thought in all honesty thought that he'd be better suited for Hufflepuff. Draco wasn't cruel like his father, and just didn't have the right temperament for what would be expected of him in the future.
"SLYTHERIN!"
Severus clapped at the announcement and bowed his head in acknowledgment to the boy as he went to his table. Next that he cared about was-
"Potter, Harry."
Whispers broke out over the Great Hall and the boy seemed to shrink into himself in false modesty. His father had it too and Severus sneered at the sight. Finally it was Lilia who nudged him towards the stool, obviously not falling for it. She was his daughter.
Then there was nothing for several minutes. Severus had a disgusting feeling, that maybe Potter would be Sorted in his house. Lily certainly had had Slytherin in her, particularly when she'd been angered. She could be quite vindictive when she wanted to be.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
There was never any doubt.
"Sterling, Lilia."
Severus tried not to appear as though he were not as indifferent as he'd been to the others, and so were a few others at the table. To most of the Great Hall, it was just another name. But she wasn't. Severus settled for tilting his head. Elora, however- Elora might as well have had it in neon lights over her head that she was particularly invested. She was leaning so far forward she might as well have been standing, with a longing expression on her face that made his chest ache.
Like her friend before her, she seemed to be having quite the conversation with the hat, looking very annoyed with whatever it was saying to her. Upon eavesdropping, the hat wanted her in Slytherin or Hufflepuff. And she was insisting on Gryffindor where Potter was. Obviously she wanted to be with the others as well, but it seemed as though she would happily part with them so long as she was in the same house as Potter. He hoped very well that she wouldn't love him.
In his experience, she would have her heart broken.
"I have to be with Harry," I argued again, "and I'm not taking anything but Gryffindor as your answer."
It was worse that the stupid hat seemed amused by my demand.
My dear, you'd be much better suited elsewhere. Brave you are, yes, but it is not the most prominent of your attributes. You are more loyal than brave, and even more cunning than the first two. Slytherin.
"Gryffindor."
There was the impression of a smile. I see. Let us make a compromise. I shall tell you where one of your parents was sorted, and if you still wish to be placed in Gryffindor I shall put you there.
I paused, frowning. I'd wanted to learn more.
"Only on the proviso that if I still choose Gryffindor, you confirm a name. "
Oh, you are perfect for Slytherin. But, I will not budge. I will tell you, though, that your father was in Slytherin. Perhaps even better suited than you are for it, though it is a rather close assessment.
My mind was still saying Harry, above Hermione or even Neville. I had promised Harry that we would be in the same house, and here I had the option but was contemplating leaving him. I reached out to his mind tentatively and found comfort.
"Gryffindor," I repeated.
As you wish...
"GRYFFINDOR!"
I tore the hat off and ran towards the table of red and gold where my friends waited for me.
Conversation was loud. Everyone at the Gryffindor table seemed to be having one large conversation from all points of the table that ranged from introductions, blood status and family stories, to exclamations of the Wizarding World's wonders- all warbled through half eaten food and laughter. Harry, I, and our new friends listened to the topics already going on and joined in where we could- offering our own knowledge that we'd learned from Meredith and Miss Elora. It seemed anytime the latter's name was mentioned, people listened.
"What does she teach?" I asked a prefect eagerly.
He adopted an odd look. "She doesn't. Miss Elora oversees the students, introduces muggle born to our world, and acts as a go between for Professor McGonagall and the headmaster."
I glanced over to who was rapidly becoming my hero to find her in deep conversation with the headmaster and the dark man next to her, with Professor McGonagall listening intently and commenting on occasion. I could get no thoughts from any of the four of them, though I had no problem with most of the other teachers. The dark man and the headmaster- an elderly and dignified looking man with a fantastic beard- had excellent mind shields, like a roaring ocean one could get caught in and drown if they weren't careful. It was effortless, and there was no possible way I could ever get through them. But Professor McGonagall and Miss Elora's shields were tangible, as though they had to consciously keep them up or I'd hear whatever important things were being hidden. Like there was only the thinnest of glass between such thoughts and I, being kept up by weak horses on a carousel.
The dark man looked over at me, still leaned over facing the others, and there seemed to be a connecting moment when I thought I knew him and he knew me. There was a ghost of a smile, not on his face, but in his mind that he purposely opened for the slimmest of moments. And I thought that was strange, but I liked him, and I mentally smiled back.
"Who's he?" I asked Percy with a small amount of curiosity in my tone.
I might have felt bad for asking so many questions and perhaps annoying an upperclassmen when he was just trying to eat his dinner without being bugged by a first year, but I had the advantage of overhearing his thoughts and knew that he reveled in it. I had no sympathy, and many questions- only some of them my own. It seemed Hermione and Neville were also more than happy to let me ask questions on their behalf as I did Harry's, sending them in waves.
He glanced over casually. "That's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but everyone knows it's the Dark Arts he fancies. He's been after Quirrell's job for years."
Professor Quirrell, this I quietly explained to the others, seemed to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor- a spindly man with a hideous looking turban that he seemed to be wearing as though it were a shield itself. He too, was a silent mind- something I was actually getting quite tired of coming across. It seemed that anyone who knew anything I might want to- was silent in tongue and mind. He appeared to whispering something, his head bowed to shield all of his face but for his lips; which were moving as though he were saying a prayer.
Odd, I thought. Meredith had once made the comment that the closest the Wizarding World ever came to having religion was its regard for Merlin and the wizards of old.
Harry gave a sharp gasp as pain struck through his scar and a shadow of it through my own head by default. I winced as he subtly rubbed his forehead. When I looked back over, Quirrell was done praying and looking back at me. I looked away, confused at the wave of something that shrouded his shield. I wasn't sure what it was, but I didn't like it. And I didn't like how it made me feel.
"Are you okay?" Neville asked me, Hermione having just asked Harry the same thing.
I glanced over at him with what I was sure was a dazed expression, blinking myself back into focus. "Yeah, I-I'm fine. Harry? Are you okay?"
He lowered his hand from rubbing the scar and nodded. "I'm okay, that was weird."
No one else seemed to notice our interlude, the conversation continuing around us seamlessly and we were on the outside of the stream of conscious discussions everyone else engaged in. It was easy to be swept up in it again, with nothing more than the off handed comment of the pretty tableware and a half-hearted smile of attentiveness.
"Aye, Fred, George, you're playing tonight aren't you?" A girl to Harry's left asked in the direction of Neville's left and my right. She had soft looking skin and a cheeky smile, sitting beside her friend who she'd been discussing Quidditch with.
The two boys in question were twins with the red hair of Prefect Percy and Rude Ronald. They grinned madly back at the girl.
"Did you think-"
"-you could play against Flint-"
"without us?"
The girl, whose name was Angelina Johnson, rolled her eyes. But she secretly fancied Fred, the identical twin furthest from me. Harry was excited at the prospect, perking up immediately.
"Play?" He asked Angelina. "What do you mean?"
"Quidditch," Fred answered, louder than he meant to.
Percy quickly hushed him, glancing at the high table. "Do you want the teachers to hear you?"
The warning only served as kindle to Harry's curiosity and mischievousness. Really, kindle for all four of us. Seeing this, Percy leaned over and explained in hush tones.
"It's tradition," he said. "Four times a year- the Welcoming Feast, Halloween, the day after Christmas break ends, and the Leaving Feast- everyone goes out to the Quidditch Pitch to play against each other."
Hermione's eyes widened. "What about curfew? What about the teachers?"
Though everyone thought she was being priggish, it seemed that she didn't mind breaking the rules- the idea invigorated her- but she didn't like the idea of being caught and a mark being added against her conduct.
George nudged her around Neville and smirked. "We have precautions against that. Come on, pidgeon, I'll look out for you."
Hermione's eyes widened and she looked away, a blush staining her cheeks as she pursed her lips. He chuckled at that, and turned to us. "You guys stick with us and we'll get you to the pitch without getting caught. We're the masters."
"Of driving the everyone insane," Percy muttered.
"We've never seen a game of Quidditch," Harry informed them.
The twins looked scandalized. "Never seen a game of Quidditch?! Why, it's an outrage!"
"A scandal!" The other one added.
Fred concluded. "Now you have to come out."
There was a hush that settled over the Great Hall as Professor Dumbledore- an unfortunate name- stood. He smiled at everyone, a twinkle in his crystal eyes that I could see from my seat. Once everyone quieted, without a word or motion from him to do so, he began.
"Just a few more words," he said with a pleasant smile, "now that we're all fed and watered; a few start-of-term announcements is all. First years should note that the forest on grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
The Weasley twins snickered. Their empathetic bond with each other oozing impishness- as Meredith would call it. I thought that she would like them very much.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch try outs will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."
Harry laughed, and so did a few others. I almost did, a half smile on my face as I eyed the headmaster- unsure of whether or not he was serious. Neville looked confused, Hermione shifted uncomfortably, and everyone else seemed to accept it as just another of his peculiarities. The twins were already making plans to investigate.
The first years all began to follow Percy to the Gryffindor common room, which was just as grand as the rest of the castle. When we arrived, past the odd portrait of the Fat Lady, Fred and George were already lounging with their friends even though we'd left before them. George winked at Hermione, who blushed.
"Alright," Percy said, "Any first years going to the Quidditch Pitch meet down here around 10:30 in your pajamas to be escorted your first time. It is at your own risk if you wander and get lost, so keep to the group. Boys dormitories are to my left, girls to my right. You'll find that your belongings have already been brought up."
The four of us parted temporarily, with Hermione and I going up one set of stairs and Harry and Neville another. Hermione and I were sharing a room, at least, with two other girls we'd seen sorted; Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. They too seemed to have made fast friends on the train, claiming beds next to each other. Hermione and I were perfectly fine with that, sitting across from each other and writing to our parents while Lavender and Parvati decided between two colors of nail varnish that looked the same.
Meredith,
As promised, my first letter being written at twenty to ten on my first night at Hogwarts. Neville, Harry and I met another friend on the train. Hermione is muggle born, and brilliant. The four of us hit it off immediately, meeting when Neville's toad went missing and we had to go find him. Though, we have met some unsavories as well.
Draco Malfoy is a git; prejudiced and blind just like you warned some people would be. We met him on the train as well, and he nearly insulted Hermione. I don't know what came over me, to threaten him the way I did when hearing in his mind the word he associated her with. What awful person even came up with that stupid word? Please don't be cross with me. Neville stopped me before I could do anything but scare him. And, he was scared.
Hogwarts is wondrous, even more so than you described from your brother's stories. I want to take pictures to send, to share with you. I wish you could see it. Miss Elora was there at dinner, and I got to see both Professor McGonagall and the headmaster. And, can you believe it?! We were sorted by a talking hat! Speaking of dinner, the four of us made more friends in a pair of troublesome twins. And tonight, though don't get annoyed- think of your blood pressure- we're all sneaking out to the Quidditch Pitch to watch everyone play a night game of it. I know you told us to stay out of trouble, but I'm told it's tradition, Mere, and you wouldn't want Harry and I to miss out would you?
Alright, calm down and I tell you. Harry, Neville, Hermione, and I were all sorted into Gryffindor, though, the hat originally wanted to sort me into either Slytherin or Hufflepuff. And I learned something. My father was in Slytherin. The hat told me, but that's all it would tell me. I have the strangest, paranoid notion that everyone around me knows about my birth parents and just won't tell me. Like it's being kept from me.
I miss you unbearably, Meredith. Part of me wishes I'd stayed home with you, snug in our cottage just you, me, and Harry. But, I love what magic I've seen. I feel like, whatever mystery is surrounding Hogwarts, this is where I'm supposed to be. I belong in the magical world, and you belong here with me.
I love you more than grapes in yogurt,
-Lilia
Once in our pajamas- Meredith added my favorite ones that I'd forgotten to pack- Hermione and I went down to the Common Room with our robes to meet the others. Harry and Neville were already there, talking to the Weasley twins who were in identical pajamas- aside from the initial letters on their tops that they'd switched.
"Hello," Hermione greeted. She was wearing a pretty nightgown that looked like something a princess might wear, but she covered it with a robe that she pulled tightly around her.
George grinned sideways at her. "Hey, pidge. We were just telling these two that you should come with us to the field instead of Percy. That way I can make good on my promise."
She shied away. "Promise?"
"I did promise to look out for you, pidgeon. And I never break a promise."
She pursed her lips and pointedly looked away, but she was fighting a smile and George seemed to know it.
"I have a name," she scolded halfheartedly.
"Do you?" He asked airily. "I don't recall. Besides, I like pidgeon better."
So did she.
Fred nudged his twin and nodded to a group of third years who were already leaving the tower, and Lavender and Parvati who were chatting about clothes while they waited for Percy. "If you guys are coming with us, we'll want to leave now."
George glanced over carelessly. "Yeah, otherwise they'll all want to come with us."
"Do you think so highly of yourself," Hermione goaded, having recovered.
George grinned at her, with another wink, but it was Fred that answered. "We're the masters of mischief around here, mate. Stick with us and you'll never get caught, and everyone knows it."
"We'd love to," Harry said eagerly.
Fred and George had a map of the school and its inhabitants, which they had decided to show us. We were the only ones who knew about it aside from the two of them and the four makers of it. Along the way we all talked, having immediately hit it off with the two older students. It seemed that most of the teachers were on an entirely different floor, and that it wasn't just Gryffindor that came out to the Pitch. It seemed that every student in the castle was on their way out to the field.
"It's the only time house rivalries don't matter," Fred explained. "It's completely neutral territory. And I hope you're hungry, because the house elves always make snacks- but don't eat Hagrid's rock cakes."
"Hagrid will be there," Hermione asked. "But I thought the teachers didn't know about it."
"As far as anyone can tell, they don't," George reassured. "But Fred and I have a theory that they know, and just leave it be. It's tradition."
There was shuffling around the corner and we came to see a boy with brownish hair and a handsome face. He was wearing Hufflepuff colored pajamas and carrying a broom.
"Oi!" George called. "Diggory!"
The boy jerked, looking over to the twins before grinning. "Twins! Ready to lose again?"
Fred grinned back. "It's not like you guys won either."
Cedric Diggory held his broom up. "This is the year, twins."
"So, the houses just play against each other," Harry asked.
Cedric looked over, recognizing we must be first years, and helped. "Sometimes. Most of the time we just mix teams. Not everyone playing tonight is on a house team, and not everyone on the house teams will be playing. Though, if they want to be on a house team, playing well on tonight could help them get a spot."
He joined us on our way through the castle, being directed by portraits and ghosts on what direction was best to avoid teachers. When we were outside, it was a sea of students all chatting as they moved to the Pitch. I thought that perhaps George had been right. I couldn't see how the teachers couldn't know about this, with almost every student in Hogwarts out of bed.
When we got to the Pitch, Fred and George gave us a last grin before going off to play. We followed everyone else to the stands, finding a seat next to Hagrid- who seemed at least as excited as the rest of us.
"You'll like this," he promised. "Rock cake?"
We declined, with the exception of Neville who was trying to be polite. Indeed, there was another feast waiting for us with junk food, pumpkin juice, and butterbeer. People grabbed things here and there, still stuffed from dinner. Down on the pitch, the people for different teams rose in the air on brooms. The lights focused on them, there was applause, and it began.
"Alright!" A voice was heard. "Welcome back, everyone, and especially to our fresh faces. I'm Alicia Spinnet-"
"-and I'm Angelina Johnson."
"-and this is QN."
"QN?" Neville asked Hagrid.
Hagrid had to bend very far for us to hear. "QN, stands for Quidditch Night."
The commentators continued over us. "For the first match of the night, we have a team of Cedric Diggory, Marcus Flint, Penelope Clearwater"-at this Percy cheered- "Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Bastien Azais, and debuting in Quidditch for the first time tonight as Seeker... Cho Chang!"
Everyone cheered for the team, the last name belonging to a small girl with dark hair and a nervous smile.
"Aaand against them we have Fred and George Weasley"-at their names the twins bowed graciously to the applause, the four of us adding to them- "Ellabeth Selwyn, Lee Jordan, Adrian Pucey, Roger Davies, and Ian Weatherford!"
There was a pause, and a few people on brooms seemed to be talking back and forth.
"I'm told they want to call themselves the Pigeons."
Hermione blushed dark, covering her face and her smile before looking back so as not to miss anything.
"And now I've just been told by Diggory and Wood that they're going to be the Bird Catchers. Bold, boys. Very bold... the Snitch has been released, and we're off!"
QN was... wild. There were three matches, teams interchanging with each one and no one played twice. Fred and George commented after Alicia and Angelina, then on the last game they came to sit with us. There were bets made, snacks ate, friends made, and I honestly don't remember most of it. But I remember the feeling. Now, so many years later, I only have to close my eyes to feel the rush in my chest, see the bright lights, hear the crowd, and feel my friends' comforting presence next to me.
It was near three by the time we made it into our beds again, and I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.
A/N: I want to explain something just real quick! QN was an idea I found on tumblr, where it was every Friday. I thought that was too often. During, characters will switch positions in play so that they can do something else, like in this even though I didn't mention it Fred, George, and Lee were Chasers. They also, like earlier mentioned, will play on a team with other people in different houses. It's one night where everyone gets along regardless of blood status and house, but the next day it's as though QN never happened.
I didn't mean to play up the connection between Hermione and George so much so soon, but it just sort of happened. It was an accident. But oh well. Also, yes. I stole him calling her pigeon from Lady and the Tramp. I hope you liked the view into Severus' head, let me know.
Percy OOC: Percy is still a wet blanket in this. He is breaking rules for QN because it's tradition. But he will follow the rules of that tradition to a T. Like pajamas. That's a rule. I was going to write more in QN, but I wanted to move on. I will add more to the next.
Hermione OOC: In this, she is still brilliant. Still worried about rules. It's not that she is against rule breaking in my story, it's that she's worried about being caught.
Thoughts? Suggestions? Let me know!
Mia.