Hi everyone, I apologize for taking so long to update. I'm active duty and so I go periods of time without service. I hope you'll be patient and stick with me anyways. I have big plans for this story. This chapter has some content straight from the original work, I'm trying to keep things as canon as possible. Just putting a disclaimer up there, this is JK Rowling's brain child. I would never even think to take credit for her brilliance so just know it's there. Thank you all. Please comment and critique, I'm trying to grow as a writer and a story teller. Thank you!
The day after the party we planned to visit Diagon Alley for some last minute shopping before heading to Hogwarts. I was beyond excited. Every time we went to Diagon Alley it was like there was something new to discover, a new smell, a new flavor of ice cream, a new sound even. The magic of it was beautiful and abundant with bodies flowing in streams like schools of fish. I could barely sleep that night, the anticipation a steel drum in my ear, my heart fluttering to match it.
"Lucius, here's the book list, I'll go start looking at wands, you two go get fitted at Madam Malkins' then meet me at Ollivander's." Narcissa ordered as she dusted some floo powder off of Draco's robes.
"Mum, can't I go look at broomsticks first? I don't want to start my day with some cranky old lady poking needles into my ankles." Draco whined.
"We don't have much time before Grandmother and Grandfather Malfoy get here for dinner so we need to do this quickly. If you go on and finish your errands without dallying we'll buy you a new broom." Narcissa appeased.
"Alright! Come, Elizabeth, daylight is burning." Draco grabbed my hand and dragged me in the direction of the robe shop. "I can't wait to pick out a new broom, it's so unfair we can't take it with us. Who would make such a dumb rule anyways? It has too be that fool Dumbledore, Father says he's a loony old bat." Draco prattled on and on as we half walked/ half sprinted down the alley. I tuned him out after a minute or so.
"Ah, Mister Malfoy, Miss Black. It's a pleasure to see you as always. Finally starting at school this year, eh?" Madam Malkin greeted upon our entry into her shop. We knew the drill, having been fit for robes here many times in the past.
"It's a pleasure to see you as well, Madam. How has your summer fared?" I made polite conversation as I took my stand on the podium.
"Who cares about her summer. Make this fast, we haven't much time." Draco snapped. Madam Malkin raised her nose in the air, miffed at his disrespect.
After finding a school robe near Draco's size, Madam Malkin began pinning it to accommodate for his new height when a boy our age walked in. He was small in stature with dark hair and green eyes hidden behind dorky glasses. He was wearing grubby clothes that appeared several sizes too big. I almost scoffed aloud at his audacity to come to such an establishment dressed as a homeless muggle, but managed to curb my tongue and not say anything. He was clearly muggle born, no wizard in their right mind would dress as such. Draco didn't seem to notice, or care.
"Hello, Hogwarts, too?" Draco asked, having been in a fine mood since Aunt Narcissa promised him a broom. I wouldn't be surprised if he chatted up a lamp post, in how excited he was.
"Yes," the boy answered.
"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own." Draco complained for the umpteenth time. I rolled my eyes. "I think when mum buys me a new one I'll smuggle it in somehow." He'd probably get away with it too. "Have you got your own broom?"
"No," was the short answer once again. I couldn't decide if the boy was shy or rude. I supposed Draco didn't leave much room for more than a word or two in response to his incessant prattling.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No."
"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?" Again with the houses. I shifted anxiously.
"No." The boy sounded somewhat anxious. Maybe he felt the anxiety I do over the house system.
"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" Draco drawled, giving me a sideways look. I answered with a scathing glare.
"Mmm," said the boy diplomatically. I didn't blame him. Most people, especially muggle-borns, didn't have the kind of house prejudice that Draco and the rest of the pureblood society held.
"I say, look at that man!" Draco explained, pointing at a giant, though a small one, grinning and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.
"That's Hagrid, he works at Hogwarts." The boy sounded pleased.
"Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"
"He's the gamekeeper," the boy corrected, a note of steel in his voice. I peered at him. How did a muggle-born come to know the groundskeeper of all people? I was intrigued by the boy, despite his grubby attire, at the backbone I'd glimpsed.
"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." Draco recalled a story passed on by our godfather Severus.
"I think he's brilliant," said the boy coldly.
"Do you?" Draco sneered. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," was the short, toneless answer.
"Oh, sorry," Draco lacked empathy.
"My mum's dead too." I told the boy without really thinking about it. His gaze slipped over to me for the first time. I wonder if he realized I was even there. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't.
"What about your dad?" He asked.
"I'd rather he be. My father is the worst sort of man there is, he's a traitor and a coward." The words tumbled out of my mouth of their own violation. My face flamed red at having revealed such a personal detail to a complete stranger. An awkward pause followed before Draco broke it.
"At least they were our kind, weren't they?" He asked the boy. As much as I hated the subject of blood purity, mostly because it almost always led to my lack of it, I was glad for the diversion of his attention away from me and my tasteless confession.
"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." He answered uncertainly.
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?" Draco prattled.
"Don't mind my prat of a cousin, he only parrots what is said to him. These aren't his real opinions." I interrupted, trying to save the boy from embarrassment. Draco was clueless if he hadn't figured out this boy was muggle born by now. The look he sent me promised retribution.
"That's you done, my dear," Madam Malkin told the boy, who stepped down quickly, eager to leave.
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," drawled Draco, attempting to recover from his embarrassment from my comment. The boy fled and the moment he was gone Draco stabbed me in the arm with a pushpin.
"Why would you say those things?" He shot.
I shrugged. "Because they were true."
"I am not a parrot and your father was not a coward. He did the Dark Lord's bidding and landed himself in Azkaban, and a good thing too because otherwise you would have been a disgrace to your family like he was."
"You watch your mouth, Draco. You don't even understand what your saying. That's almost word for word what your father said, Parrot. Don't talk about things you can't possibly comprehend." I spat at him heatedly. "What you said to that boy was rude and inconsiderate. Are you really so daft you couldn't tell he was muggleborn?"
"Well, then, he deserved to hear those things. He'll find out real soon how the wizarding world works, and where his place is in it. Just like you should know where yours is."
"I can't believe you." They were the last words I spoke to him until we arrived at Platform 9¾ a month later.
"Theo!" I greeted my friend. "How was the rest of your summer? Did you enjoy Bulgaria?"
Theo had sent me owls during his travels, letters and pictures cataloging his adventures. He sent trinkets and gifts and I liked to imagine I was there with him on every adventure, far away from the house I presided in that barely tolerated me.
The last month of my summer was long and dreary. Draco got the new broom he wanted and nearly always had friends over to play Quidditch. I was obliged to play by Narcissa, who refused to let me wallow in my bedroom, and Draco took the opportunity to convince Crabbe and Goyle to pummel me with a bludger. Joke was on them because I became a faster chaser for it, my skills having improved drastically over the summer.
"Bulgaria was beautiful. Very exotic." Theo answered, leading me to the compartment we would share with all of our friends. "How did yours go?"
"I haven't been talking to Draco." I admitted.
"Why? You two are good friends." Theo gave a concerned look as he raised my trunk into the overhead compartment. I gave him a small grateful smile.
"He went on a rant about blood purity and my father and knowing my place."
Theo's lips twisted. "He doesn't know any better. Imagine being fed that kind of bull all your life, he's been taught to think he's better than everyone, especially you. That's why it's good he has you, to give him a reality check and keep him somewhat humble. Don't just abandon him like that. He's basically your brother." Theo explained rationally, in a way that made me feel a little guilty for having been so short tempered. "Trust me, I understand better than anyone what it's like to be brainwashed by pureblood elitists, my father travels the world to be told how important and pure he is. Hell, if I didn't have you to knock my head in, I'd be worse than Draco." He gave me a dashing smile that I couldn't help but return.
"You are quite welcome." I teased and swatted at his head before growing serious. "But you're right. I should talk to Draco."
"Atta girl. Don't be long. I've got a game of exploding snap. Double or nothing from last time, yeah?"
"You're on." I shook on the deal then went out to the isle where Draco was blocking the way for other first years trying to find a place to sit.
"Hey Draco, can I talk to you?" I began. Draco peered at me for a moment, as if trying to determine my intentions.
"I suppose." He left Crabbe and Goyle and joined me in an empty compartment. "Does this mean you're talking to me again?" He acted as if he didn't care one way or another, buffing his nails on his robes.
"Yes. I'm sorry for being petty. And I shouldn't have said those things about you. I know you're capable of forming your own opinions."
Draco sat for a moment, as if waiting for my apology to sink in before sighing. "I'm sorry too. I know how you feel about your father and I shouldn't have said what I did. I'm honestly a little surprised you said that stuff to that kid though, it was really out of character."
"Yeah, I don't really understand it either. Maybe it was because he was muggle born and had no idea who my father was, I felt like I needed to tell him who he really is before he finds out on his own through someone else."
"Why would he care who your father is anyways? Or our aunt Bella, you have to accept that we have a lot of people in our family who have done things you might not be proud of. Father's done lots of things." Draco shrugged.
"He was under the imperius curse." I countered.
"That's what he tells people anyways."
"Wait, do you mean-"
"Forget I said anything. This doesn't leave us."
"Does this mean all is forgiven?" I ask.
"There's nothing to forgive. You'll always be my favorite cousin." Draco smirked.
"And you, mine." I wrapped him in a hug before he could protest.
"Malfoy! Did you hear, Harry Potter is on the train?!" Blaise barged into the compartment.
"No way! I've got to see this for myself! Are you coming, Elizabeth?" Malfoy nearly bolted out of the compartment, pausing to look back at me.
"No, I promised Theo a game of exploding snap. You go ahead." I answered.
"Alright, well I've got next round against winner."
"Deal." And with that he was gone, his goons trailing behind him like always. I walked back to join Theo.
Harry Potter. The truth was I didn't want to meet him. I didn't know if I could face him. Of course, I knew all about the Boy Who Lived. Our pasts were entwined into an intricate web of lies, deceit and death. It was because of my father that he had no parents. I didn't want to look the boy, who wound up an orphan because my own blood, the blood that courses through my veins, in the eye.
It was a long trip to Scotland, made worse by the fact that Draco was in a sour mood over the famous Harry Potter's rejection.
"It was the boy in the robe shop." Draco had whispered to me. "The muggleborn trailing the oaf of a gamekeeper." I had felt my blood leave my face and pool in my stomach. The boy Draco had made all those comments about blood purity to, the boy I told about my own parents. I wanted to stay on the train when it finally came to a stop and ride it all the way back to London. How could I have been such a fool? He had to be laughing at me, roiling in hatred. Why he didn't attack me that day is beyond me. Maybe he didn't recognize me for who I was.
I was forced off the train by Draco and Theo, who caught me when I tried to sneak into the loo just prior to arrival. Once I was off and faced with he looming structure that was Hogwarts all of my stressed left me, replaced by awe. I'd heard all about Hogwarts, so much so that I felt like I'd already been there before but that was far from the case. Nothing can compare to being faced with it in real life. It was awe-inspiring. I was stunned speechless and immobile.
There to greet us was none other than the gamekeeper himself, though for the life of me I couldn't remember his name. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" I followed along with everyone else and climbed into a small boat. It took us across a great lake to the castle, leading them through a tunnel under it and into an opening inside the great structure, where we disembarked.
"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said the giant, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.
"Trevor!" cried a heavy-set boy blissfully, holding out his hands.
We clambered up a passageway in the rock after the gamekeeper's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. Then we walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door.
"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" the giant raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.
The door swung open at once.
A tall, black-haired, stern-looking witch in emerald-green robes stood there.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide. Ah, that's what his name was. I best not forget it again.
We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor of the entrance hall into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We crowded in, standing rather closer together than we would usually have done, peering about nervously.
"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. I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber. I glanced down at myself, righting my robes and made a slight adjustment to my hair. It would not do to look less that 100% at my first impression.
A few people around me gasped and I looked up to see what had taken them by surprise. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -"
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.
Nobody answered.
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at us. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
A few people nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know." I peered at the friar in interest. The ghost would have known my mother then.
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.
"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me." Doing as instructed, we walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
I'd heard of the enchantments on the great hall, even seen something similar at a ball once, but nothing compared to the sight that met me on the other side of those doors. It 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 we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind us.
The hundreds of faces staring at us looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver.
Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. 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.
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 Hufflepuffis 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!"
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.
"Abbott, Hannah!" A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down.
A moments pause - "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. The Fat Friar waving merrily at her. I had a feeling I was about to follow her there.
"Black, Elizabeth!" A hush met the name, raising goosebumps on my skin. I shakily made my way onto the stage. When I turned around, the first eyes I met were green and peered at me through round lenses. Though there didn't seem to be any hate in his gaze, I gulped, sweat emerging at my hairline.
Professor McGonagall placed the hat on my head and I let the brim fall over my eyes, to block out the stares from everyone around me.
"Well, well, well. Miss Black. What a mess of a mind you have, tangled and frayed, it's difficult to understand you. Take a deep breath and relax." An unattached voice floated into my ear. My pulse quickened but then I understood what it said and did my best to relax, taking a few deep breaths. "There, that's better. My, was a conundrum you are dear girl! So much like your mother and yet so much like my father."
"I'm nothing like my father." I grit out.
The hat gave a wistful sigh. "You are more alike him than you know. If only you understood the truth, but alas, it is not my place to tell you. I believe the only way for you to figure it out for yourself would be to place you in Gryffindor!" The last word was shouted for all to hear.