Hermione's heart fluttered with excitement as her's, Harry's, and Neville's boat glided across the moonlight black lake to the glittering castle above. When she had first been told that she was a witch, she thought she was being pranked. Her parents were dentists, and several of the most down to earth, scientific people you would never meet. To be told that their daughter would be able to perform magic was her idea of a cruel joke. A quiet, studious girl, it wasn't the first time she had been targeted by bullies. But when McGonagall had shown her that what she had been told was true, she had a new hope to hold on to. She would be given a chance to start over, to learn skills thought impossible by science, and perhaps be accepted for who she was. From the moment she had gotten her textbooks, she had memorized them front to back, she wasn't going to let a background devoid of magic hold her back from being the best witch she could be. Confident that she knew everything she needed, she strode into Kings Cross Station determined to start the year off strong. But that newfound confidence vanished when she couldn't find the platform. How was she going to be the best in the class if she couldn't even find the way to get to the school? But then, in her moment of distress, Harry had offered to help, and sit together on the train. They had bonded, chatting about books they had read, his time with Neville, and the wizarding world. For the first time she had friends she could rely on, and who viewed her as their equal. Growing up in a male dominated society, it was nice to be recognized for her strengths and not her gender. She wasn't going to lose these friends who had already given her so much.
She noticed Harry looked more tense than usual, gripping the hilt of his sword so tight that his fingers were turning white.
"Are you all right Harry?" she asked, concerned. If anything could cause Harry to act this way, she didn't want to face it alone.
"I've never liked the water," he admitted grudgingly, "It hinders your movements and hides your foes, the last thing you want when you battle."
"But Harry, you're not battling anything right now," Neville pointed out.
"A warrior is always battling," Harry said somberly, "Even if others can not see the conflict." The trio sat in silence, unsure of how to respond to Harry's statement. Harry clearly had walked a hard path to get where he was now, and was still continuing on that same path. Their boat glided under a curtain of ivy, grinding to a halt at a gravel harbor. Harry quickly sprung onto land with the grace of a feline, clearly wanting to be upon solid ground and away from the water as fast as possible, while the others followed in a more ungainly fashion. Climbing the rough, hewn stone steps, damp with moisture, Hermione knew she was taking her first steps to achieving her dream of becoming a masterful witch.
A stern looking witch awaited them at the top of the stairs, peering down at them through her square spectacles. Hair pulled back into a sharp bun, and her pointed hat placed precisely out of place, Hermione knew that this was someone she did not want to face. The witch let out a small smile when she laid eyes on Harry, who returned the gesture, and her eyes glittered with surprise when she saw Neville carrying a sword of his own. Then the serious expression returned and any chatter the first years had engaged in was immediately silenced.
"Welcome, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor McGonagall, of Transfiguration, and Deputy Headmistress. Before the start of term feast may begin, you must all be sorted into your houses, who will be like your family throughout the course of your stay at Hogwarts. Wait here until I return, and try to make yourselves presentable in the meantime," she said, eyes falling upon one of Malfoy's thugs' too short robes and Ron's dirty nose. She swept through the doors behind her, and Hermione caught a glimpse of a large hall lit with floating candles, packed with people, which she assumed to be the Great Hall. She began to worry, what if she got placed in a house that she didn't like? Or one that she was separated from her newfound friends? She couldn't be isolated from the only friends she had made in ten years for the rest of her time at school! Then she took a deep breath, as she had seen Neville and Harry do, and told herself that she would not be the helpless female sidekick that most of her books portrayed. She could, and would, choose her own destiny.
-oO0o0Oo-
Harry strode into the Great Hall, hand on his sword, head held high. Chiron had taught him that a warrior must always make a strong first impression. To his left, there was a long table at which members of the staff sat, he recognized Professor Quirrell among them. In the middle sat an old man, with half moon glasses and a long white beard. Harry tried hard not to squint while he looked at him, the man's aura was almost blinding, outshining even McGonagalls. He put his glasses back on to make the glare bearable, but even then he could see a faint glow surrounding the man. McGonagall stood in front of the group of first years, holding a old, worn hat. To his right were four tables placed perpendicularly to the staff table, and he surmised that they were for each of the different houses.
"Abbott, Hannah," McGonagall called out, and a pale, blonde haired girl placed the hat upon her head. After a moment of deliberation, it called out,
"Hufflepuff!" Only one table cheered for the announcement. Hannah returned the hat to McGonagall, and headed off to the table which had applauded. He watched as, time and time again, the hat called out a name, and one table cheered. Neville and Hermione were sorted into Gryffindor, and Malfoy into Slytherin. As he watched, he wondered. Hermione clearly had the intelligence to be worthy of Ravenclaw, and McGonagall as well. Neville could have easily been sorted into Hufflepuff, yet only one of his characteristics was selected to determine his house. As Harry's name was called, whispers ran throughout the Great Hall. Malfoy looked dumbstruck that Harry Potter had rejected his advances multiple times and he hadn't even noticed. As Harry walked forward, he remembered one of Chiron's first teachings.
"A warrior cannot be defined as one thing," Chiron stated in the memory to a young Harry, "If an enemy knows all that you are, you have already lost before the battle begins. Train as hard with your words as your swordplay." Back in the present, McGonagall gave him the hat, and Harry knew what he had to do. He said only one word.
"No."
-oO0o0Oo-
Neville was proud to be in Gryffindor. He knew that before he had met Harry, he was probably destined to be a Hufflepuff. He had been surprised that Hermione had made it as well, but he had only know her but a few hours, so he supposed she could have bravery that he did not know of. Harry could go into any house. He was as intelligent as a Ravenclaw, having mastered the first year spells mere weeks after receiving the books, his battle strategy had enough cunning to easily place him in Slytherin, and he had shown loyalty to Neville that wasn't present in any house besides Hufflepuff. He hoped Harry would be in Gryffindor, Neville didn't want to lose his first friend, and he could tell Hermione felt the same way. He waited anxiously as Harry took the hat, and then he did the unthinkable.
"No," Harry said, giving the hat back to McGonagall. The hall erupted into noise, and he and Hermione jumped to their feet. Then the old man, who Neville knew to be Dumbledore, stood and raised his hands. The silence was immediate and unbroken; a pin drop would have been as loud as a thunderclap in the sudden absence of any noise.
"Mr. Potter, every student who has attended Hogwarts has been sorted into one of these four houses," Dumbledore spoke quietly, yet every person present in the hall could hear him as if he was sitting next to them, "If you do not partake in the sorting, we cannot allow you to stay at Hogwarts." Neville noticed that Dumbledore looked concerned, but was trying to hide it, while McGonagall looked downright horrified.
"My answer is still no," Harry said solemnly. He drew himself up to his full height and looked Dumbledore square in the eyes. The force of his gaze would have felled a lesser man. "I have trained as a warrior my entire life, and what I can tell you is this. A warrior must surround themselves with their equals, otherwise all of them will die without fail. To be strong, each and every warrior must be brave, cunning, loyal, and intelligent. Yet here you purposefully fit every person into one category, and have prepared yourselves for failure. The moment it is required for the brave to be intelligent, or the cunning to become loyal, under the system you have here, it will be the moment the enemy will triumph. That is why I can say with absolute certainty that I am the most capable fighter in this room. I will not waste my time here undoing the work I have done my whole life. I had hoped to gain new skills here, but now I know that under these rules there is nothing worth teaching. If I cannot attend here without being sorted, I will gladly return to Long Island."
Neville didn't think, he just acted. His footsteps against the flagstones rang as loud as gunshots. Then another pair of gunshots joined him and he turned to see Hermione following him, face determined. When he reached Harry, he only looked surprised for a moment then he smiled. Neville smiled back.
"Got room for two more?" he asked, seriously.
"I'm sure we can make room," Harry said, putting his hands on both of their shoulders. He then turned again to Dumbledore, "Well? Which shall it be?"
"The standards of Hogwarts must be up held," Dumbledore said gravely, "We treat each student the same, no exceptions. As Headmaster, this is my final answer."
"Unfortunately, Headmaster Dumbledore, you don't have the only say," The voice came from behind them, and with shock Neville realized it was the hat. "And Hogwarts will not let her most promising student leave without passing the standard seven years of study. Come here, Potter." No one looked more surprised than Harry at the words the hat spoke, but he did as he was commanded, and his steps were assured and confident. "Hogwarts has been waiting for many years for the one who would reject the sorting, who displayed the qualities that all four founders held dear," the hat continued, "I was instructed by Godric Gryffindor himself to carry out these actions, no matter what the current Headmaster or Headmistress wished. Hogwarts looks after her own. This is why, Harry Potter, I name you Hogwarts Champion, and grant you this blade to carry out the justice dictated by Hogwarts and her people." As the hat spoke the words, a gleaming silver sword embedded with rubies and emblazoned with the name of Godric Gryffindor emerged from the hat.
-oO0o0Oo-
Harry's mind was whirling. Hogwarts, the institution, wanted him to stay, and was naming him champion. He grasped the hilt of his sword, and a wave of confidence and conviction crashed through him. This weapon was meant for him, he could feel it in his very bones. The only thing that had compared was his wand's acceptance of him. Handing his previous sword to Hermione he said,
"You will need this if you wish to train with us, I have no need of it now." Raising the sword of Godric Gryffindor high, he announced to the room "I pledge myself to the service of Hogwarts, to carry out the justice demanded by her and her people, to the best of my ability, until she deems me no longer fit for the honor." He turned to the hat, "Are my companions granted the same protection?"
"As long as they serve and protect Hogwarts' wishes, the champion's allies may do as they wish," the hat said, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He'd hate to see his new friends get into trouble because of him. Hermione and Neville raised their swords and pledged to serve Hogwarts as Harry had. As they did, he could tell that Dumbledore, for that was what the hat had called him, wanted to do something, anything, about what was taking place, but evidently could not and the man was clearly not pleased with the idea that he was powerless. Turning his back on the fuming Headmaster, the trio collectively sheathed their swords, bowed to the hat, then strode out of the utterly silent Great Hall, into the adventures that awaited them.
-oO0o0Oo-
AN:
All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.
An exciting chapter just in time for the holidays.
Thanks for your reviews!