Chapter III: The Right Sort of Decision
The doors to the Great Hall loomed above the gaggle of first years. Harry felt they could have been more welcoming, but after a nervous boat ride across gloomy water and a trek up a treacherous path to get here, maybe that was too much to ask. It was increasingly clear that Hogwarts castle, for all its beauty, was every bit the fortress.
McGonagall had told them to wait, and that the 'sorting' would begin shortly, before leaving them in the care of the giant man Harry had seen in Diagon Alley the other day. Hagrid was his name, and whatever McGonagall had said to him that day had clearly stuck; he was constantly shooting Harry glances and bouncing from foot to foot, but had yet to approach or say a single word him excepting roll-call.
Then the doors were suddenly opening, and the noise of collective humanity rolled out from beyond them, before quieting moments later. The Great Hall and some four hundred students therein sat silent in anticipation. Four banqueting tables ran the length of the hall, and at the far end of the central walkway they left stood Professor McGonagall, next to a stool upon which rested a very scuffed pointy hat.
"First years," she called, "if you would approach the head table, please."
The group didn't move. Harry was loathe to be the first to step inside, and it seemed his peers shared the feeling. Then Luna's distinct voice piped up from the back.
"Ooh! Are we going in now?" She asked, skipping forward and grabbing Harry's hand, pulling him to fall in alongside her as he staggered to keep up. "What a lovely place for a feast. I do hope there's pudding."
Harry found the eyes of the entire hall fall upon the pair and then, despite Luna's most unusual behaviour, focus squarely on him. He tried not to think about it, putting his own eyes on the ceiling that had been enchanted to mimic the sky above; something he'd read about in 'Hogwarts: A History'. He was vaguely aware of, and grateful for, the sound of more footsteps behind as the rest of his year hurried to follow.
"If you would move to one side of the hall," McGonagall instructed "and wait there patiently until called forward by name, at which time you will come to sit upon this stool," she indicated the plain stool beside her, "and be sorted into your new house by the sorting hat." she concluded, lofting said hat with one hand as she held a parchment roll out in the other.
The group dutifully shuffled to one side, next to the table of students in green robes - the Slytherins, Harry reasoned.
McGonagall cleared her throat and read from the parchment, which was obviously not in alphabetical order.
"Neville Longbottom."
Neville, a pasty white boy with all too much baby fat who, as Harry had discovered on the trek up, was born just a day before him, gulped and stepped up to the professor. He took his place on the stool, sitting on his hands, and the hat was lowered onto his head where it all of a sudden came to life.
"Ooh, hello," it crooned through a mouth formed of fabric folds, "who've we here? A Longbottom boy, eh? Let me see… Oh dear." The hat sounded rather disappointed, and Harry did not envy Neville at that moment. "We'll have to dig a little deeper… Oh! Oh yes, there it is. Only one place to put you then, and that's GRYFFINDOR!"
With the hat's exultant declaration it was lifted from Neville's head, who scampered away across the hall to the red table that was applauding him raucously. Harry noted that the Hufflepuffs were clapping too, and the Ravenclaws gave a polite smattering, but the Slytherins hadn't raised a single hand between them. They looked thoroughly uninterested.
"Next," McGonagall called, "Kieran Johnson."
Kieran was placed in Hufflepuff, to muted applause and a cry of 'what?' from a girl at the Gryffindor table.
"Angelina, a little restraint if you will." McGonagall chided. "Ginevra Weasley."
Ginny took her turn, and the moment the hat touched her brilliant red hair it shouted, "Not another one! GRYFFINDOR, where else?"
Ginny looked crestfallen but resigned. Harry knew all her brothers had been, or were, Gryffindors, so she probably wasn't surprised.
"Next up, Luna Lovegood."
Luna tiptoed to the stool and took her seat, facing the far side of the hall and humming softly to herself. Her peculiarity earned a soft shake of McGonagall's head and a quiet chuckle from the headmaster as the hat was brought down.
"Oh my." It whispered, before falling silent. Seconds stretched into a minute, and not a sound was heard in the Great Hall save Luna's hummed tune. McGonagall poked the hat.
"Oh, ouch, what?" It spluttered as it snapped back to the present. "Ah yes, hmm… RAVENCLAW?"
The hat visibly shuddered as it was removed from Luna, who merrily skipped to the blue table as if nothing unusual had happened. Harry watched her settle in, and frowned as he noticed the Ravenclaws making her far more space than she needed. None of them leaned in to whisper a greeting, as the Hufflepuffs had for Kieran.
"Rachel Paulden."
Luna turned to the girl next to her and her lips moved as she spoke, but you wouldn't have known it from the total lack of reaction she received.
"RAVENCLAW!"
Rachel rushed to the table. Luna beamed at her new housemate; the smile died when Rachel slipped into a gap as far as possible from her.
"Geofric Warren."
Harry remembered a passage from 'Hogwarts: A History' and scanned the Ravenclaw table for the prefects whose job it was to look out for new students; they would ensure Luna was included.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
He didn't have to scan far. An older student almost directly across from Luna had a badge proudly pinned to their chest, and was ignoring the situation entirely. So much for that.
"Norman Stacey."
Harry felt his pulse quicken when Luna caught his eye, and gave him a sad smile and shrug. How could she just accept this?
"SLYTHERIN!"
It wasn't fair, and it certainly wasn't right. Luna had been so excited to be coming to Hogwarts. She'd done nothing to deserve the way she was being treated.
"Harry Potter."
Harry had half a mind to march over there and have a few choice words. Shyness be damned, he did not enjoy standing by and watching someone be ignored, the way he had been ignored by the Dursleys. Luna was staring at him, almost expectantly, willing him to action.
"Harry Potter."
As soon as this damned sorting was over with, he thought, he'd do exactly that. No one was going to bully his friend and get away with it. He could take the nasty response it would earn him; nothing a bunch of kids could do would measure up to his uncle's twisted punishments.
"Mr Potter!"
McGonagall's harsh bark caught his attention. The entire hall was watching him, all murmurs ceased. His cheeks started to burn, but he caught hold of his righteous anger and let it hold his chin high as he strode to the stool. He was already back to imagining Ravenclaw's reckoning when the hat was lowered onto his head.
"My word," it gasped, the words echoing directly within Harry's mind, "such fire. Such resolve." Then the hat stopped talking aloud, but its voice continued in his head. "You have all the courage and bravado of a Gryffindor."
'Ravenclaw. Put me in Ravenclaw.' Harry willed.
"No, no you're definitely not a Ravenclaw. Not half studious enough.
'Put me there anyway.'
"Oh. Oh, I see. You think you can talk me round so you can go to your friend. How loyal, how Hufflepuff of you."
'What do I have to do to get Ravenclaw?'
"Bargaining now are we? Let me see… Yes, yes you have ambition, and a certain cunning. Respectable blood to boot; You'd do well in Slytherin."
'Maybe I'll just transfer to Ravenclaw whatever you say.' Harry threatened. He didn't know if that was possible, but he knew he meant it all the same.
"Oh, dear boy, it doesn't work that way. My word is final I'm afraid, and with bluster like that my word has to be GRYFFINDOR!"
The last word bellowed out across the hall, sparking tumultuous applause from the reds, none of them more exultant than Ginny. Harry tore the hat from his head and thrust it disgustedly at McGonagall, not wanting anything more to do with the damned thing. He lingered on the stool long enough to draw a deep breath, calming his mind and steeling his nerves. He'd show that hat. He'd show those bloody 'Claws.
He stood, flashed a wink at his redheaded friend, and marched on over. To the Ravenclaw table.
Fuck the hat; what did it know? Fuck house loyalty too; he hadn't chosen Gryffindor. The only real choice he'd made in his life was who to call his friends, and right then his friend needed him. And friends don't leave friends to the cold.
He vaulted the bench into the convenient space at Luna's side. He was already beginning to regret his impetuousness, hoping beyond hope he hadn't made too much of a scene. He'd like nothing more than to disappear into the background, into the furniture.
Then he saw the tear rolling down his friend's cheek, and the fire in his chest flared back to life. 'If the hat wants me to be a lion', he thought, 'I'll show it how I roar.'
"Hey Luna," he said, loud as he could without shouting, making certain no-one would fail to hear him, "how are you finding being a Ravenclaw? I'm sure your housemates are all being lovely to you, right?"
The Ravenclaws around him looked shifty and tried to make themselves small. Harry wanted to think he was responsible, but had to admit it was more likely the sight of professor McGonagall bearing down on them that had done it.
"Mr Potter," she said, her voice kinder than Harry had been expecting, "it is expected that students sit with their house during the opening feast."
"Professor McGonagall, is it not also expected that students be made to feel welcome by their house?" he replied, sweetly. He didn't want to piss McGonagall off by sending his anger her way. 'Your house will be your family', isn't that how you put it?"
She stiffened at that, and the ever-present frown on her face deepened. "Ms Lovegood, are your fellow Ravenclaws making you unwelcome?"
"Oh, they haven't said anything nasty to me." Luna assured her with an aloof air to her voice that defied her tears. "Actually, they haven't said anything to me at all. Maybe they're scared by all the wrackspurts."
McGonagall swept her gaze across the table, brows furrowed as she declared "If Ravenclaw had any points to its name, I would be deducting all of them for such shameful behaviour. As it is: Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr Potter, for your loyalty and compassion. When I have finished the sorting, I will expect your presence at Gryffindor table."
Harry opened his mouth and started to rise, indignant, but the professor held up a hand to stop him. It was the anger leaving her visage that convinced him to let her finish.
"I encourage you to bring Ms Lovegood with you. I daresay she will find a warmer welcome there."
Turning on a heel she strode back to the head table, where she leant over for a quiet word with a very short professor. Then she returned to the stool and hat, straightened her robes haughtily, and resumed the sorting like nothing was the matter.
"Natalie Silus."
With the 'Claws suitably chastised, Harry wanted desperately to comfort Luna. He wanted just as badly not to cause more of a scene. Smiling and whispering to her was out as she was facing away from him, rapt on the sorting process, and he was loathe to speak loud enough to catch her attention. Her hand nearest him rested on the table, tapping an odd rhythm. He'd seen her do similar on the train, but this was fast and urgent. A lot like the heartbeats thundering in his chest.
He reached out a hand to hers and got halfway there before freezing at the thought of contact. Having his hand held by Ginny was one thing, but being the one to initiate? It isn't about you. He'd hardly spoken to Luna all day, if he was honest. What if she didn't appreciate it? She will. Stop making excuses. He became acutely aware of how weird he must look, hand hovering in space as it was. How long before someone noticed? Why should we care if they do? It started to lower almost of its own accord. No! Coward! His hand was right above hers now; when did that happen? Be loyal! Be compassionate! It was so close; it would be so easy. So impossible.
Be the lion!
He took her hand and the world stood still. Her tapping stopped. The hat shouted "RAVENCLAW!", but he didn't really hear it. Luna sat bolt upright. She didn't turn to him. She didn't smile. She didn't say a word.
But, ever so slowly, ever so gently, she turned her hand to fit his, and squeezed his fingers with her own.
The dreadful churning in his gut ceased instantly, drowned out by a roar of triumph that shot through every fibre of his being. The lion in him had been right, and now it rejoiced. If this was what being a Gryffindor felt like, then he owed that stupid hat an apology.
A missile made of curly locks and tan skin slammed its bum down on the bench right beside Harry.
"Heya, I'm Natalie!" It - she - introduced herself with a voice barely below a squeal.
"Um. Hi. I'm Harry." He responded, shifting back a little to preserve the tattered remains of his personal space, and take the intruder back out of his minimum focal distance. She had a round, mousy face, but was in no way ugly, just youthful. Her amber-brown eyes were wide open, sending thin eyebrows rocketing up to nearly meet the line of her tar-black hair. From the height of them, Harry reckoned they must sit high even when furrowed.
Natalie was grinning so hard her dimples could fold spacetime, and one knee bounced erratically. The term 'infectious energy' came to mind, and Harry sorely hoped whatever made her this hyper wasn't actually catching.
"Well obviously you are." she agreed.
"And this is Luna. My friend." Harry continued, leaning to let the girls make eye contact. He watched Natalie's eyes trace down his arm to where his hand still rested in Luna's, then back up to him. She cocked an eyebrow by way of lowering the other, and then her eyes flashed even wider, somehow, just for a moment, before she focused on her housemate.
"Heya Luna," she said, not coldly but with notably less enthusiasm, "it's Lovegood, right?"
"I think so," Luna replied, "but I haven't checked in quite some time myself."
"Ok…" Natalie sounded every bit as stumped by that as Harry was, which he found reassuring, but she carried on, "so, were you excited to get into Ravenclaw?"
"I was, yes."
Somehow, of all the crazy things that were happening in Harry's life, hearing Luna Lovegood stress that word with such conviction was the thing that struck him the most. It was just wrong. It was upsetting that she felt the need to.
Then, before another word could be said, the girl behind Natalie had tapped her shoulder and dragged her into a totally different conversation, which she embraced with all the vigour she had brought to the last. Harry and Luna sat alone once again, and the only thing that had changed was that Luna was looking at Harry now, the yet-to-be-sorted students forgotten.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"You're crushing my hand."
"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, suddenly aware of how hard he was squeezing. He let go at once, to which Luna frowned.
"You didn't have to stop, Harry."
"Wasn't I hurting you though?" he asked, trying not to get too distracted by the inconsistent signals.
"Yes, I suppose you would have if you didn't let go." She said, idly flexing her fingers.
"Well, I didn't want to hurt you," he assured her, "so I stopped."
"It might be inconvenient if my fingers fell off," she mused, adding, "they might get eaten by snorkacks and then I'd never get them back."
"O, well I -" Harry was cut off by the shock of Luna planting a kiss solidly on his cheek. He raised a hand to the afflicted area, defensively, as he wondered at the way it cooled from its new wetness even as it flamed with the rush of blood.
"What was that for?" He pondered aloud.
"For saving my fingers from the snorkacks, of course. Very heroic of you Harry."
Harry's mumbled and admittedly nonsensical reply was lost under the raucous cheering as another student, Selina Bott, was sorted to Gryffindor. Luna became lost in a rapt examination of her own fingernails, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
All of which lingered on the recent assault upon his face. It had just come so unexpectedly, battering through his protective boundaries to invade upon his space - upon his very person! It was far too personal, far too wet, for his liking. Holding hands had been strange, but this?
He felt utterly betrayed; not by Luna, but himself. Why had he allowed such a violation? Why didn't he hate it half as much as he knew he should? And why did his stupid heart so stubbornly refuse to stop pounding?
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
The final first year scurried over to the Hufflepuff table, escorted by the dull chorus of hands that had done far too much clapping for one day.
"And so concludes this year's sorting." McGonagall loudly declared before the susurrus in the hall had chance to grow. "Please, first years, take a few moments to settle in with your new houses," she fixed eyes with Harry and jerked her head toward the Gryffindor table, "and then I will ask you to be quiet as our esteemed headmaster speaks."
Harry hastened over to the Gryffindors, barely giving Luna a chance to keep up as she skipped behind him. I need to have a word with this girl about how not to draw attention. They slid into a gap Ginny had created just as the headmaster stood and cleared his throat.
"Welcome, first years, to the wonderfully magical Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" He announced, throwing his arms wide for dramatic effect, not that it garnered much applause; the first years were silently fixated, and the older students had been here before.
"I am your headmaster, Albus Dumbledore - though I suspect many of you knew that already," he chuckled, "and welcome of course to our returning students also! Now, I am sure you are all eager for me to get on with it and bring on the feast already, so I will be merciful and brief. First, a few announcements. The forbidden forest remains, as the name suggests, forbidden to all students. We have a new teacher for the post of defence against the dark arts; professor Lockhart."
Dumbledore swept an arm to point out a dashing yet oddly effeminate man who was taking an absurdly deep bow, and allowed a few seconds for polite applause before moving on.
"Finally, the third floor corridor is now perfectly safe, and no longer out of bounds. My apologies to anyone who wished to die a very painful death." He laughed, and many of the older students joined in. Harry clearly was missing the joke.
"With that said, I will leave you to the banquet with a few words: Twinkle! Gooseberry! Firmament! Thank you."
The assembled student body, and a few of the faculty, groaned in resigned fashion. Then they cheered as the tables before them were instantly laden with bountiful platters of steaming food.
Harry was awestruck. Not by the magic involved; that was a given at this point, and whatever part of his brain was meant to protest when the laws of physics were broken around him had long since handed in its resignation.
No, what had his jaw dropping was the disconnect between the quantity of food in front of him and the idea that it was for him. He'd been eating fairly well since leaving the Dursleys' but this was incredible. His stomach couldn't decide whether to growl in anticipation or shrivel up in disgust. It was, therefore, something of a relief when he was distracted by the girl beside him speaking his name.
"Harry?"
"That's me," he confirmed as he turned to look at her, for the first time. She had a vast mane of wild brown hair; a tight lipped but genuine smile; and a thick strip of crimson silk completely obscuring her eyes. She thrust her hand out in greeting, about ten degrees off from where it should have been.
"I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading thus far. I'll be trying to upload two chapters a week from now until... I have no idea when, because this thing will be 500k words if I find the strength to see it through.
Also, sorry Hermione.