A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my stories. I love you all! *tears up*
Without further ado, here is the next chapter of Darkness Within the Light .
Oh, I don't think I've said this: The characters all (unfortunately) belong to J.K. I just like Imperiousing them to bend them to my will. *laughs wickedly*
I also don't own the Sorting Hat song.
Please review! (People who do get cookies!)
~ 4ever
Hermione seemed to be the only calm first-year, as no one else had any idea what was going on, and the little brothers and sisters of former Hogwarts students were all nervous because their older siblings had told them ridiculous stories of how they got sorted.
Ron was telling Harry some story about how they had to fight something; Hermione tuned them out after a while. They could figure it out later.
Everyone cheered suddenly. The first-years turned to the front, where Professor McGonagall held the Sorting Hat. She stood beside a rickety old stool that looked centuries old, as if it had been used for years and never been replaced in the entire history of Hogwarts.
She set the hat on the stool and it opened a flap and sang:
"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,
Yiur 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.
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 folks 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 good hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!
Everyone clapped, the Slytherins barely. Hermione decided that she didn't want to be in Slytherin, no matter her 'Pure' bloodline.
Harry and Ron had been whispering about
Professor McGonagall held up a parchment covered in spidery scrawl. "When I read your name, please come forward and sit on the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat in your head, and it will tell you where to go."
She read names, and the student named was sorted, according to whatever the Sorting Hat saw inside their minds.
Hermione's name was called, which she almost missed because she had gotten used to being called Enna by her father.
She ran forward and perched herself on the stool. Professor McGonagall sat the Sorting Hat on Hermione's head and stepped back. The Sorting Hat was surprised; Hermione could feel it.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" The Hat asked. "Miss Riddle, Daughter of the Dark Lord, hmm?"
Please not Slytherin, please not Slytherin. Hermione prayed, her hands gripping the sides of the stool.
"Not Slytherin, eh?" The Hat sounded amused. "You could do very well in Slytherin, you know. You have the loyalty and selflessness of a Hufflepuff, cunning and resourcefulness of Slytherin, daring and courage of Gryffindor, and the wit and wisdom of Ravenclaw."
Gryffindor! Hermione begged. Please!
She could feel her father's disapproval, so she slipped away from the Hat and told Tom: If I'm in Gryffindor, I can make friends with Potter.
Tom grumpily agreed, although he told her that she would do better in anything but Gryffindor.
"Well," said the Sorting Hat with a mental grin. "Better be...GRYFFINDOR!"
Severus was having a bad enough day without the further annoyance of newbies and a 'jolly' feast. He hated having to sit at the High Table and force a smile-grimace onto his face.
To make matters worse, Minerva had asked him earlier if he was ever going to stop being so rude and sulky all the time. He'd scowled, but told her he suspected something was missing from his life. He didn't know what it was, but he felt like a piece of him was missing, and he had felt like that for the past decade.
He dressed in his usual flowing black robes and swept from his rooms in the dungeons. He made his reluctant way to the Great Hall, and grimaced when he saw that the first years were already there.
He glided up to the table where the other professors sat and attempted to not look as if he was going to hex everyone, even though he felt like it.
He watched as the Sorting Hat began it's job, quickly and efficiently dividing the students into their new houses.
Severus noticed a girl with bushy brown hair standing with a Weasley and—he noted with a sneer—a younger version of James Potter, who must be Harry, the Brat-Who-Lived. Whoops, did he say Brat? He meant Boy.
Dumb-Old-Dork—the nickname for Albus Dumbledore within the ranks of Death Eaters—stood and spoke a few words. "Nitwit! Oddment! Blubber! Tweak!"
Severus started; he hadn't even realized that the Sorting was done. Potter, Weasley, and the girl, who he assumed was a Muggle-born, since he'd never seen her before, were at the Gryffindor table. Even better. Now he could take away house points from his least favorite house!
The feast began, and when Severus met Potter's eyes, he saw the black-haired boy clap a hand to his forehead, wincing.
Hermione looked up at the High Table, wondering what had made Harry's scar burn, as he'd said. She locked gazes with a sallow-skinned, hook-nosed, black-haired man, and gasped.
Instantly, the entire table's eyes were on her. "I'm fine," she said, though her voice was weak.
Everyone watched her for a few more seconds with concern, then turned back to the meal.
Hermione glanced over again, staring at her brother out of the corners of her eyes.
Father, I saw him, Hermione cried. I saw Severus!
I know, my daughter, he replied grimly. But you cannot let that get in the way of your studies.
Hermione sighed. I know, Father.
Good girl, Tom said approvingly. Now, Enna, are you allowed away from the prefects yet?
Yes, Hermione said, We have the evening off to explore the castle since the train arrived earlier than expected.
Ah, good. Go to the library, Enna, you should start studying.
Studying? Hermione complained. But I'm already ahead of everyone!
Yes, but you need to have the image of a bookworm know-it-all, Tom reproved gently. Go, Enna.
Hermione sighed, and went. She passed a giggling group of fourth-year girls and rolled her eyes.
She found the library, not hard, as her enhanced lioness senses steered her towards the large, musty room with pages rustling in the breeze from an open window.
The library was nearly empty, the first-years all out exploring their new home away from home, with the older students as guides.
She sat down with her favorite book, Hogwarts: A History, and flipped through it absently as she thought about her brother. A brother she hadn't even known about for most of her life.
What else had her mother kept from her?
As she thought this over, she noted a shadow on the page of her book and whipped her head around to find the very person of her thoughts standing silently beind her, like a black shadow.
Think of her brother and he shall appear.
"Just what do you think you are doing here at this hour?" He asked in a silky voice that implied danger if answered wrong.
Of course, she simply had to take him up on it.
"I was under the impression that we could explore the castle until half hour before curfew," she said cheekily.
Severus eyed her. He'd seen her gasp at the sight of him; he wasn't good-looking, he knew that much, but she didn't have to be so rude.
People may not know it, but the unflappable Snape had feelings too, although they were buried deep.
"The library closes in a quarter hour," he told her, then glided away. After he was out of the library, he leaned against a wall and groaned. What had possessed him to let her stay? Why did he feel a connection to her?
He shook his head and went back to his room in the dungeons.
Hermione stayed the allotted time, then made her way up to the Gryffindor common rooms. Harry and Ron were already there, along with a few other people she'd seen on the train.
"Hello," she said.
They ignored her, and Ron continued to show Harry how Wizarding Chess worked.
Hermione sighed and walked over to the staircase leading up to the girls' dorm. She examined it and grinned. It had a charm making it impossible for any boys to climb it; if they tried, the stairs would turn into a slippery ramp.
She glanced over at the boys. They were studiously ignoring her, so she rolled her eyes and climbed the steps. The girls' dorm was large, with a big bathroom and several canopy beds, each with the girl's trunk at the foot.
She found her bed and opened her trunk, taking out her thin, cotton nightgown which her mother had bought for her. She hated how it looked: white with pink frills and lace around the cuffs and hems, but her mother had refused to take it back.
Are you a witch or not? Tom asked, exasperated.
Hermione laughed out loud and pointed her wand at her nightgown, Transforming it into a tank top and silky, red and gold sleep shorts. Thank you, Father. She said gratefully. Tom's disdain for the colors, but admiration for her work, showed in her mind.
A trio of giggling girls came up the stairs then. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed; her roommates were the girly, bubbly type.
"Hello!" A girl with dirty blonde hair came bounding over. She had bright blue eyes and rosy cheeks, with an already curvy figure, something Hermione would probably never have. "I'm Lavender Brown, and you must be our dorm mate, Hermione Something?"
Hermione forced a smile. "Granger. Hermione Granger." She stuck out her hand, and Lavender snatched it, pumping it energetically.
Lavender wore a teal tunic and black leggings with a silver, studded belt at an angle on her waist. Over the shirt was a deep purple sweater, a color Hermione had never considered would go with teal, but on Lavender, it worked well.
The other girls seemed to be attached at the hip, whispering secrets in the other's ear. One appeared to be Indian, with beautiful brown skin, dark brown eyes, and waist-length brown or black hair. Hermione couldn't tell.
The other was a slender girl with light brown hair, pale skin, and rather nondescript blue eyes.
The Indian girl introduced herself and her companion. "Hi! I'm Parvati Patil and this is Fay Dunbar."
Hermione smiled politely and shook their hands as well. "Pleased to meet you," she said. Parvati seemed like a girly girl: underneath her robes she had on a frilly white dress that dipped quite low in the front, and white high heels. Her hair was done up in an elaborate french braided bun, with small curls around her temples.
Fay, on the other hand, looked like Hermione's type: she had on jeans and a Quidditch jersey under her Hogwarts robes. Her hair was up in a ponytail, with soft wisps coming undone at the neck and around her forehead. She seemed quiet and bookish, much like Hermione, so Hermione guessed they'd be better together than with either of the other girls.
"So," Parvati said brightly, "What do girls usually do when they're alone with three other girls?"
Hermione grinned. "I think we're supposed to do makeup, hair, nails, and something with clothes," she said. "But I don't know how to do any of that."
Parvati and Lavender mock gasped. "We must change that at once!"
Fay watched as the two girls rummaged through their trunks and brought out several bags of...well, whatever it was. She didn't know, and she didn't want to know. Poor Hermione!
Hermione watched as Lavender unzipped one bag, dumping the contents on her bed. Lipsticks and nail polish of all shape, color, and sizes spilled out, along with several Muggle hair devices.
Hermione spotted Fay standing off to one side, and got up, walked over, and pulled the protesting girl back to the middle of the circle Lavender and Parvati had started. Fay struggled, but in vain; Hermione had one hella grip!
"Oh, no you don't!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling Fay back as she tried to slink away. "If I have to do this, you have to, too!"
Fay pouted, but stayed still, eyeing the makeup warily.
The girls set about making one another pretty, curling hair, or straightening it, in Hermione's case, painting nails bright colors, and tossing articles of clothing to the others, who either put it on or passed it to the girl next to her.
The conversation suddenly changed to what they wanted to learn most.
"I want to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts," Fay said eagerly. "I can't wait until we can try out for Quidditch!"
"That's not until next year!" Lavender exclaimed. "I want to learn Divination."
"Me too," Parvati said. The three girls turned to Hermione, who had kept fairly quiet the entire evening. She had, in fact, been mentally speaking with Tom. "What about you, Her-Herm-Herminny—"
Hermione smiled fondly as Parvati struggled with her name. She knew her name was not common; most people wouldn't even know who she was named after. "You can call me Enna or 'Mione," she said. "Most people can't pronounce my name either."
The girls sighed in relief. "I'll call you Enna," Fay decided, and Parvati and Lavender agreed.
Hermione grinned at them. "Let's make that my name amongst friends, shall we? Or should it be public?"
Lavender thought a bit. "Let's make it public—that way people don't have to be embarrassed if they pronounce your name wrong."
Hermione nodded in agreement, and, worn out from all the beautifying, the girls changed into their PJs and slipped under the covers, mumbling sleepy goodnights to whoever was still awake. Even sleepier responses came, and soon the four young witches were fast asleep.
A/N: Drop a review, please! I would love to hear your thoughts.
If anyone wants to Beta for this story, I would greatly appreciate the help. I require someone who's first language is English, and who is good at spelling and grammar.
Please check out my community: Best of the Wizarding World. Follow, and let me know if you think your story should be in it. I am currently looking for Staff, so if you think you are qualified to read lots of fanfiction and add it to the community, PM me and we can talk.
I recently got braces, and my mouth hurts a lot, so I may not be here for a few days while I adjust.
Thanks for being so understanding, and I'm sorry for the long Author's Note.
~ 4ever
P.S. Including the ANs, this chapter is 2666 words long. Not including this PostScript. I'll shut up now.