AN: It took me a bit to figure out how to get around the weird glitch about updating stories, but finally found out about the workaround and was able to post!
Also, you'll meet some of the canon and AU siblings in this fic, some in Book 2 if I ever get there!
Also, I never liked the uneven number of students, and how you weren't sure if every house had the same numbers and there were students never spoken about? So I've added a few names to the sorting, and in my world, there are 10 students per house per year, 5 female, 5 male.
Disclaimer: Do not own HP, own my OCs. Some lines in this chapter come directly from "The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters" and "The Sorting Hat" chapters of Philosopher's Stone.
Hope you enjoy!
As Neville hastily changed into his robes, the Hogwarts Express came to a gradual stop. Floods of people excited the train out on to a tiny, dark platform. Neville shivered for a moment, but the winters of Norway would certainly prepare anyone for the fall chill in Scotland. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and a booming voice called over the crowds: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
An absolute giant of a man – Neville actually considered the idea that the man was half-giant, as he'd met quite a few in Norway, one of the few countries that stil had a substantial native giant population – was scanning the crowd, waving the lamp vigourosly at the smallest lot of students.
"He's enormous," Draco muttered to Neville and Ariadne. Then Draco yelped and jumped sideways, and though he couldn't see in the dark, Neville imagined an elbow to the ribs might have done it.
"That's Hagrid, the groundskeeper. He's as nice as they come, Draco, so watch it," Ariadne hissed at her cousin.
"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
They gingerly walked down the winding, twisting path, taking care not to tread on each other. It was hazardous, to be sure: Neville wasn't entirely sure he knew where his feet were stepping, but continued to following the bobbing lamp.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud exclamation from the students as they caught sight of the castle, situated dramatically on top of a mountain, with a vast black lack between the students and the school. The night sky was illuminated by the stars that shone brightly around the castle, creating a very impressive picture. Neville wondered what Oscar would make of it, if the approach to Valhalla was similar…
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid's voice broke into Neville's thoughts. Ariadne groaned at the sight of the small boats by the waters edge. Neville, Draco, and Ariadne clambered onto a boat, and were joined by a sandy-haired fellow first year.
"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then — FORWARD!"
And at once, they were off, cruising at decent speed on the tranquil waters of the lake. It was an extremely quiet trip, and Neville looked round at his companions. Ariadne seemed to be drinking in the sight of the castle while doing her best to ignore the water surrounding her, the sandy-haired boy had his mouth wide open in sheer awe, and Draco seemed to grow paler and paler the closer the boat got, in what little moonlight Neville could see him in.
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; everyone paid attention and bent their heads, going through an ivy fence and intopo a tunnel beneath the castle.
Reaching the rocky, subterranean harbor, Ariadne quickly leapt ashore breathing deeply. Neville, Draco, and the sandy-haired boy followed close behind as they once again reach a winding passageway. Climbing up after Hagrid's lamp, they came at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.
A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes with a critical eye and thin mouth opened the door. Neville was immediately reminded of Grandmother Longbottom, and figured she was quite strict.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
She pulled the door wide, so Neville could see the spacious entrance hall, with standard flaming torches lighting the walls and a grand marble staircase in the center. The first years followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor to a small, empty chamber off the hall. After they had all huddled together in the room, they were silent under the stern gaze of the professor.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "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, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.
"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rulebreaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.
"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."
Her eyes rapidly scanned the first-year students, as though looking for particularly unkempt first-years to frown at. Neville smoothed his robes nervously.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber. Neville and Draco exchanged nervous glances. Ariadne crossed her arms and stared into space. Neville looked round: everyone else seemed to be on edge as well, except for Harry Potter and his rude friend Ron, who were sniggering in the back corner. Neville could just catch a bit of their conversation, a great prank of some kind? He leaned towards the boys to hear more, but then the professor returned.
"Now, form a line and follow me."
It was the final pronouncement of doom: Neville would never be a Valhalla student now. He got into line behind Draco, with Ariadne in front of her cousin, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Neville was immediately hit by just how magical it was. The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.
Neville looked at Draco. "Awesome," he breathed. Draco just nodded, his eyes taking it in as well.
Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Ariadne pointed up at the ceiling, which was inky black and dotted with stars. She whispered quietly to the boys, "Mum told me it's bewitched to look like the sky outside."
It was impressive, and Neville couldn't help marveling at the ceiling openmouthed. And then, for the first time, Neville thought that his father and mother had once stood where he stood – perhaps in this very spot! – waiting to be Sorted, marveling at the ceiling. Before classes, and finding each other, and the War, and everything… and suddenly Neville found himself trying to breathe steadily and quietly, and calm himself so he wasn't shaking or crying in front of the whole of Hogwarts.
Neville focused his gaze on Professor McGonagall as she returned and silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
Suddenly the hat stopped singing. The whole hall was hushed, and Neville could see students turning to each other rapidly. Then the hat jerked wildly, as though in some sort of fit, until at last it expanded in a large boom, and returned to the stool as an overlarge black sombrero, still frayed and patched, to the astonished cries and bouts of applause of the students and faculty. Two redheaded boys at one of the tables stood up and bowed a few times.
Taking no notice of its new state, the hat resumed singing:
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
Most of the tables burst into applause as the twins raised their hands and blew kisses to the raucous students. They silenced only when Professor McGonagall's wand went off with a deafening bang. She stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the - sombrero," and here the professor gave a frosty glare at the Gryffindor table, "and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. She looked down at the scroll.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the sombrero, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause…
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat cried out.
The table on the right burst into applause, welcoming Hannah as she sat down quietly.
"Archimmel, Iris!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The skinny brunette girl shuffled to the table on the far left, which was clapping loudly.
"Beauguard, Rose!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted again, and Neville could see the ghost of the Fat Friar cheering merrily for her.
"Black, Ariadne!"
Neville watched as Ariadne paled in line, then fixed an apathetic look to her face, and walked briskly towards the stool. Her sorting took far longer than the three previous girls, going on almost two minutes. He and Draco looked at each other, unsure of what was happening, when the brim split open and yelled,
"SLYTHERIN!"
"I didn't expect that at all," Draco whispered quietly to Neville as they clapped, and the table second from the left broke into more effusive applause.
"I thought she'd be Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."
"Why not Slytherin? She said so herself on the train that she bet she'd be in it," Neville asked, refraining from clapping when Susan Bones was made a Hufflepuff. She may have been in his mother's old house, but from their interaction on the train, she certainly lacked the grace and friendliness that his mother was known for and that he supposed Hufflepuff students often had.
Draco frowned slightly. "Her father- well, let's just say he hates everything and anything related to Slytherin."
"But why?" Neville had turned to look closely at Draco, ignoring Boot, Terry and Brocklehurst, Mandy joining Ravenclaw and Brown, Lavender going to Gryffindor.
"All of his family was in Slytherin, except him. He was a Gryffindor. Thinks Slytherins are inherently evil."
Neville pondered this, looking at where Bulstrode, Millicent had sat down beside Ariadne at the Slytherin table. They certainly weren't the most friendly-looking group of people, he conceded, but nothing about their faces or posture seemed to exude "bad wizards in training."
"Do you think you'll go to Slytherin?"
For a moment, Draco drew himself up haughtily, then slumped and frowned again thoughtfully.
"Honestly, I don't know. My family's been in Slytherin for ages, on both sides, but I'm not- well, I'm not the typical Malfoy heir."
Neville wanted to reply and follow this line of thought, but Draco turned away from him, clapping politely as D'Avis, Gemma headed to Gryffindor. Neville sighed and focused his attention on the sorting.
It was pretty interesting, he decided, watching as the hat made split-second decisions for some people, while seemed to take hours for others, even when they went to the same house. Finnegan, Seamus had sat on the stool for a full three minutes, before the hat called out Gryffindor, but the girl with Susan Bones on the train, Hermione, only had the hat on for ten seconds when she followed him to the table on the far left. Goldstein, Anthony was made a Ravenclaw five seconds after the hat had been on his head; on the other hand, Finch-Fletchley, Justin had been on the stool for minute and a half when the hat finally called out Hufflepuff.
Neville did note that the other Slytherins took little to no time to be named to their houses. Goyle, Gregory and Greengrass, Daphne were both off to the Slytherin table in very little time. In fact, Ariadne's was the longest sorting into Slytherin so far.
Maybe it had to do with a person being good for multiple houses or a person suited best for one house? Neville himself didn't know what to think: he wasn't feeling particularly brave, cunning, loyal, or wise at the moment. Was it possible he wouldn't be picked for any house?
"Ow- Hey!"
Draco had elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Neville made a face, but the blond haired boy whispered quietly.
"I think you're next."
Neville looked up, the blood rushing from his face. He had completely missed two first-years being sorted, and he hadn't even heard the name of the girl currently being sorted, taking a long time with the hat. Neville swallowed, pushing his fear down his throat and trying to be calm.
"RAVENCLAW," the sombrero finally shouted. And then-
"Longbottom, Neville!"
Nervous to walk out in front of all the students, Neville shot a weak smile at Draco and headed for the stool. He caught fragmented whispers as he walked to the sorting hat.
"Longbottom, did she say?"
"The Neville Longbottom?"
"The Boy Who Lived at Hogwarts!"
"Mum said he'd left England, I can't believe I'll be at school with him!"
Finally reaching the stool, Neville sighed as he put the hat over his head. It slid down, obscuring his eyes so he couldn't see the Great Hall and the curious students whispering about him.
"Oh? What have we here? Interesting case…"
Neville was shocked at first to hear a voice in his head, but realized it must be how the hat evaluated potential and sorted the students.
"Of course: what else would everyone be doing up here? Hmmm, you've got a decent brain in there, even if you aren't exactly academically inclined. Definitely fiercely loyal to your friends and family, but only those you let in. Plenty of courage and bravery, I see. And a chip on your shoulder too. So where shall I put you?"
Neville stayed quiet, his mind whirring as he hoped the sombrero would speed up the decision.
"You're not a seeker of knowledge for knowledge's sake, so Ravenclaw's out. You could most certainly be a Hufflepuff. In fact, you have all the makings of one, except for those lurking wants in the background…the desire to prove to your grandmother that you aren't as worthless as she thinks, to be more than The-Boy-Who-Lived. You want to put it all together, and make something of yourself?"
Yes, Neville thought desperately.
"Alright. Then the place for you is GRYFFINDOR!"
Neville took the hat off as it shouted the last word aloud, making his way over to the table in a daze. He hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheers and applause yet, headlined by the Weasley twins chanting, "We got Neville!" Nor did he catch Draco's disappointed look.
He sat to watch the rest of the sorting, eager and nervous to see where Draco would end up. And sure enough, the next name called was:
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Suddenly the hall became quiet again, but was filled with whispers, much like it had been for Neville's sorting. Neville could hear the Weasley twins muttering darkly, and saw Hermione's expression turn a bit fearful. Gemma D'Avis, on Hermione's other side, snarled something unintelligible. For his part, Neville didn't take his eyes off his friend. It took a surprisingly long time, nearly two minutes until…
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat called.
Barely anyone clapped, as Draco made his way to the Slytherins. Even at the Slytherin table, applause was short and forced, which Neville again didn't totally understand but knew it had something to do with Draco's father in prison. Only a few people were really clapping, Neville observed: Ariadne, the staff table, and, of course, himself. As the clapping quickly died down and Professor McGonagall called out the next name, he found the incredulous eyes of Hermione, Seamus Finnegan, and Gemma D'Avis on him.
"What?" he asked, annoyed, before turning his attention to the sombrero, completely missing a few names.
Now the sorting flew by, Neville occasionally catching the names as he focused on Draco, who'd sat beside Ariadne looking like he'd been kicked in the ribs.
Mubarak…Ortistle … a pair of twins, Patil and Patil… Pendrake…and then-
"Potter, Harry!"
Neville's attention jumped sharply to the front, where the messy haired, green-eyed wizard that had been so incredibly rude on the train approached the stool with a swagger. Neville thought with dread, please don't let him be in-
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The hat had shouted Harry's house before even dipping over his forehead. With a broad smile, Harry put the hat down and sauntered over to the clapping Gryffindor table. Neville was in shock, gaping at Harry with an open mouth as he sat down. He shook his head, trying to focus on the sorting as Stephen Soresby was made the newest Ravenclaw, but he couldn't help bemoaning the fact that he and Draco were in separate houses and the rude boy from the train would be in his house for seven years.
His stomach growled, and he watched thankfully as the last of the first-years were assigned to their houses.
Dean Thomas came to sit beside Harry at the Gryffindor table, Lisa Turpin became a Ravenclaw, and Ronald Weasley was made a Gryffindor.
"Well done, mate! And Merlin, the twins really did it! Brilliant night for the Weasleys, I'd say!"
Harry thumped Ron on his back when the gangly redhead sat down, while the mischievious Weasley twins shot identical grins in his direction. Neville rolled his eyes, barely seeing that Blaise Zabini became a Slytherin. It was just his luck to be in the house with the two boys from the train that caused all that trouble.
His stomach suddenly rumbled: Neville realized how hungry he was, longing for a leftover pastry or chocolate from the Hogwarts Express.
"Welcome!"
Neville directed his attention to the high table, where an old, grandfatherly looking wizard had stood up. He could only guess that this was the famous headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and based on the man's long silver hair, half moon glasses, and deep purple robes emblazoned with silver stars, Neville felt he had prematurely judged Minister Fudge for odd dress sense, when clearly it was the norm for wizarding adults in England.
"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
"Thank you!" The wizard swept back into his seat as everyone clapped and cheered. Neville wasn't sure if it was appropriate to laugh at the wizard's odd words. He caught the words of the pompous sounding (and Weasley-looking) prefect down the table, addressing a question of Gemma's.
"No, don't worry. The man's a genius! A touch eccentric, but certainly not mad."
At the other end of the table, Harry Potter gave a knowing look to Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas.
"He's barking mad, my parents have been friends with him for decades. But he is quite a wizard, greatest one alive, certainly!"
Hermione Granger politely passed a dish to Neville, who had been looking at the bewitched sky of the Great Hall.
"Potatoes, Neville?"
The boy's jaw dropped as the dishes along the table were now filled up with food. He didn't recognize some of the dishes, as he supposed they were of distinctly British origin. He reached for a large roll, buttering it heavily with bread. Neville thought with some regret about the meals at Valhalla Oscar had raved about… what he wouldn't give to be next to his cousin eating fårikål, smørbrød, gravlaks, fiskeboller, pinnekjøtt and mashed rutabaga, rømmegrøt, fjord trout pizza, and sampling new Nordic dishes from Sweden, Finland, Denmark, and Iceland.
Pulling himself from his longing for familiar foods, Neville spooned a few boiled potatoes, sausages, and roast beef onto his plate. He tuned out Hermione's dreadfully boring conversation with the presumably Weasley prefect ("I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing-"), Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown's frightened squeals upon seeing the not exactly headless Gryffindor ghost's patented head flip, and the boisterous boasting by Ron Weasley about his brother's pranking skills to the delight of Dean Thomas and Harry Potter.
"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat and everyone became quiet once again.
"Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.
"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 trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for his or her House team should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Neville looked quizzically at the Headmaster, while some of his fellow Gryffindors chuckled slightly, trailing off as they considered whether the Headmaster was serious.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Groans from some of the older students told Neville this was not a favorite part of the Sorting Feast.
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.
"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"
The school lumbered through the song, Neville humming along to an off key tune of "Ja, vi elsker", the Norweigan national anthem. At the end, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march, the old headmaster conducting their last bits with his wand.
"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
Nevllle rose from his seat, cast a regretful look at Ariadne and Draco getting up with the Slytherin students, and followed the rest of the first years led by Weasley-looking prefect out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Neville was tired, stifling a yawn from the food and the travel, but kept moving in the mass of Gryffindors until at the very end of the corridor, they reached a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
"Password?" she said.
"Caput Draconis," said the prefect, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
The prefect directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase — they were obviously in one of the towers — Neville, Harry, Ron, Dean, and Seamus found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up.
Seamus was snoring almost instantaneously, as his bed was closest to the entrance. Ron, Harry, and Dean moved off to their beds, also yawning and looking altogether sluggish and tired. Neville found the bed with his trunk, and with a general goodnight to the room, unceremoniously feel asleep on his bed.
Neville did have a very strange dream his first night at Hogwarts. And Neville typically was a sleep through the night kind of person, the better to combat Oscar's loud snores down the hall. In the dream, he was wearing the sombrero, which kept talking to him, telling him he had made a mistake by coming to Hogwarts and should have gone to Valhalla, because it would be dangerous for him here. Neville asked the sombrero why it was so dangerous but never got a straight answer; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully — and there was Harry Potter and a few other boys he couldn't quite make out, laughing at him as he struggled with it — then Potter turned into Grandmother Longbottom, who told him Hogwarts was his destiny and his downfall, and laughed imperiously until the laugh became high and cold — there was a burst of green light and Neville woke with a start.
He rolled over and tried to fall asleep again. But he was kept awake by the dream that Hogwarts was dangerous. He didn't know what to make of it, but he tried to put it out of his mind, until eventually his breathing evened out and he fell back to sleep.