Chapter 7: Family Matters
The House system was established not by the founders, but by their students. Originally simply apprentices to each of the four founders, the apprentices decided to continue the tradition after the Founders passed on to allow more students to learn from their founders. A few apprentices pledged their families into service to a house. To Ravenclaw, the Peverells, Corners, and Triniths (Extinct). To Hufflepuff, the Smiths (heirs), Abbotts, and Sansors. To the Gryffindors, the Weasleys, Contars, and Potters. And to Slytherin, the Gaunts (heirs, Extinct), Blacks, and Flints. These Families swore to give at least one child the houses every generation. Those who had one heir who was heir to both oaths was bound to one of two houses, but still was honour-bound to serve. While given the option, always, to retract the family's oath, the heirs never did, for honour is everything.
- Purebloods, a History
Hogwarts is a rather amazing building. This being the only thought on my mind for the entire boat ride to shore truly proves how breath taking the place is. With the weathered stone literally glowing in the moonlight, the bright lights reflecting off of the water, making the entire place even brighter. Strong, beautiful, and powerful. Quite literally the most magically rich building in the UK, filling my ears with whisperings of power, and goodness, and home, and safety, and…so much more.
The most shocking thing, I must admit, is how terrifying the place is. There is so much power, it's overwhelming. How anyone could go here and feel entirely safe is beyond me. There's raw power in the building, and the magic of all the students…oh. Neville.
I look over at Nev, trying to gauge how he's dealing with the emotional imbalance. So many people, all feeling different things are probably giving him a headache, if my own are anything to go by.
I'm right. His face is slightly pinched, and he's rather pale. I nudge him and he looks at me. His face gets slightly concerned when he sees me, so I guess I must look as awful as he does.
"How are you dealing with the people?" I whisper as we climb out of our boat.
"It's pretty bad. They're all so nervous that it's making me nervous. How are you? With the…you know." He replies. Nev is still a little unsure about how magical sensing works. I think he's unsure how it influences his ability to sense emotions.
"It's…odd." I reply.
"You're scared." Nev remarks, and I sigh. Curse empathy.
"I…Hogwarts is…old," I say, struggling to put words to the emotions I feel. "It has so much power, and the power is nurturing. But there's so much it's…terrifying." And, I can't say any more because I can't think of anything else to say.
"I don't know how I'm going to be able to think in this castle" Nev mutters, "Much less go to class and learn Magic." I grin at him, and quickly grab his hand.
"Well, we'll struggle through this like we always do."
"Oh?"
"Together." And so we will.
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Professor McGonagall was disturbing. At first, I rather liked her no-nonsense attitude, and the way she spoke to us like we were intelligent. But then, as she was talking to us, she met every student's eyes. And when she met mine, her eyes widened in surprise. And as she spoke, her eyes kept coming back to me. I don't like being stared at by strangers.
Still, she explained Hogwarts in a straightforward way that I'll admit I like. It's like History. The facts first, and then the chance to fill in the blanks, making up wonderful stories. History isn't blank facts, oh no. History is a STORY. There are different sides to everything, people remember events differently, people's names change and they go missing until they pop up dead. History is the most intricate tale out there.
Hogwarts has one of the richest stories out there, and I'm determined to piece it together.
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The Great hall is gorgeous. I loved it the moment I saw it. The grimy hat was unappealing. And its singing voice was a tad scratchy. But it was still somehow appealing. The scratchy tone was almost Billy Joel, but less melodic. The words of the song were wonderful though. They were odd, and would make no sense in any situation other than the sorting ceremony, but that's the only place they needed to make sense. And so I will admit that when the first name was called, I was in a slightly wishy-washy mood.
Abbott, Hannah is short. She is blonde. She is the most awkward looking creature on the planet. And she is sorted into Hufflepuff.
Here's what I don't understand about the houses; how can we determine a person's true self at eleven. How can we determine their fate, decide what path in life they will take, when they don't even know themselves?
Most people never stop developing, growing, learning. Why should their personalities change? It is as if we feel that shoving someone into a little box at the age of eleven will somehow make it easier for them to fit into that box when they are older. I know for a fact that this isn't true. James is a coward. That's why he lives the way he does. He was also sorted into Gryffindor. So obviously the hat isn't the final authority on who a person will grow to be. The hat just guesses. And so, I will ignore the hat. I will go where I must, but I refuse to believe where I end up is where I belong.
When Neville is finally called up to the hat, we do our secret handshake, though I suppose it's not as secret no we've preformed it in front of the entire great hall. I give him a pat on the back, and send him up to the stool, which he walks up to looking extremely pale. He's also grinning. I think that the nerves of our fellow first years are affecting him, because the closer he gets to the hat (and the farther away from us) the more colourful he appears.
Sitting up there for nearly two minutes, Neville seems to spend most of it either mildly amused or slightly irritated. He changes emotions fairly quickly, but considering how long it takes, I don't blame him for being torn between amusement and irritation.
When the hat finally decides, he yells "HUFFLEPUFF!" and Nev is in the one house I'll never make. But I smile and laugh, and give him a quick hug as I send Nev to his new house. Because he'll be happy there, and that's all that matters.
Standing around in line for hours (Maybe a slight exaggeration) is BORING. Trust me when I say that listening as all the students around me are sorted is like staring at a blank wall. You make note of all the details (names, houses, where the plaster's cracked) and are still bored out of your mind. So when "Potter, Rebecca" is called, it takes me a split second to realize that McGonagall means me. I shake myself slightly, grin, at the thumbs up Nev is flashing me, and head up to the hat. Carefully (So as not to damage the century-old hat) I pick it up and place it on my head. The last thing I see before the hat covers my eyes completely is the stares of all the remotely politically savvy students in the hall.
The Hat is…strange, to say the least. When you wear the hat, you feel as if everything you have ever known about yourself is pushed to the forefront of your mind, and everything you are unsure of is carefully analysed. It is almost like your very being is under a videns sub, or a spell that allows you to see underneath the skin. When I finally have the feeling of vertigo leave me as all my memories stop being riffled through, the hat speaks.
You know, I am a centuries-old artefact. You treating me with as much care as you did, doesn't negate the rough treatment I've received from millions of students. Although I do appreciate the care.
Hello. I reply unsurely, you know, you could have simply said that to start off the conversation. Put student's more at ease. For someone who goes through other's heads, you have horrible social skills.
I have a constant presence, but my personality shifts from student to student. Of course my social skills are horrible. I'm on your head.
My eyebrows rise. Pretty good insult for a hat.
As amusing as this conversation has been, I believe we should move on to the matter of your sorting.
Really? That's funny. I feel as if we need to continue speaking. If only so you can answer my questions of how it is possible to decide an 11-year-old's future in one minute.
What on earth are you talking about?
You sort us into four separate houses based on our most relevant traits when we're eleven, but really, who is fully developed at eleven? You tell us we're either loyal and kind (which most stupid children equate to uselessness), smart and bookish (which most people equate with being an obnoxious know-it-all), brave and chivalrous (which most people seem to equate with being stupidly reckless), or cunning and ambitious (which most people equate with evil). You are basically shoving us into little boxes at a very young age. And we will never truly develop into our own people, we will only develop into who we think we should be. And on top of that, ONE MINUTE?!
Well… I have no control over the sorting process. You forget, I'm a hat. Besides, I try to express the fact that these aren't solid laws, but merely guidelines. I can't control the folly of humans.
I suppose that is true.
Also, time works differently in here.
What do you mean?
I mean, in here, we've been talking for about two minutes. Out there, we've been talking for 30 seconds.
That's impossible.
No, it's Magic.
Fine. Fine. But still, that only means that for every two minute sorting, you are spending approximately four minutes deciding some poor child's future! How is that any better?
It's not. But if I take too long, others get impatient.
Fine! I concede the point. But you're going to contemplate my sorting for a long period of time!
Granted. Though for the record, I spent about 30 seconds getting a full scan of who you are, because I am magic. I completely understand the inner workings of your mind. Making decisions isn't hard when that happens.
Well then what are hat stalls?
People who ask too many questions.
Really?
No. They generally are people who have yet to truly understand who there are even slightly. They're people who don't have very strong senses of self. Of course, there are exceptions. Like your Professor McGonagall. She was a hat stall. And she has always had a strong sense of self. However, her strong sense of self was a cross between two-The hat sighs fine, boxes- and we debated about which one she belonged in. Now, don't get smug!
But I was right!
Impertinent youngsters. Anyway, you belong in Slytherin.
No, I don't.
You are sly, quick, cunning, and very good at wearing masks. You can argue politics fairly well, and while your cleverness could be attributed to Ravenclaw, your other traits most definitely make you a Slytherin.
Well, I can't be a Slytherin.
Look, I know you are rather good at lying to yourself, but no one can deny. You are a perfect fit for Slytherin.
Look, I know, but I can't be in Slytherin.
Why not? If it's about your father, well, isn't this a way to get back at him?
No! You don't get it! It's a family matter! The Potters swore an oath to Gryffindor, the Peverells to Ravenclaw. I need to go into one of those houses. The Slytherin Line which married into the Peverells died out, which means I am the sole heir to the Peverells and the Potters. I have to be a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor, because family matters!
Well…Ravenclaw is the better fit.
Put me there then!
But you have so much bravery…
I'm a coward.
Someday, you will find it within yourself to face your fears head on. Cowardice is not having fears, cowardice is never facing them. Still…you are not quite there yet. RAVENCLAW it is. Although, you are wrong. Your loyalty to your family indicates I could have put you in Hufflepuff. In another world, I might have.
Thank you.
And as I slipped the hat off my head, the longest sorting of my generation, I felt relief. Because the table of Blue and Bronze beckoned, and Nev was at Hufflepuff, grinning at me like everything in the world was perfect.
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AN: Hello everyone! Sorry for the distressingly long summer wait. I am utterly incompetent at working with deadlines! I found it impossible to write Becca's conversation with the sorting hat. I re-wrote it 5 times, and at one point, Nev's sorting was in this chapter. I ultimately cut that due to my solid belief that Nev and Becca would share their stories. Anyway, Hufflepuff won overall, so Hannah Abbott was still the first student sorted. I was slightly worried I'd disappoint a lot of people when I put Becca in Ravenclaw, but ultimately, the house of blue and bronze pulled through and won Becca's contest. So random comment: I SUCK at remembering I'm supposed to be doing UK spelling, and while word check catches me, I occasionally ignore that by accident. So sorry for inconsistencies! Thank you all for being patient and thank you all for your reviews. It means a lot to me! Have a good rest of the summer. I will try (key word: try) to post again next week. Until then, just R&R!
-PerfectionJune
