It was an ecstatic sensation: the slight resistance of the quill-tip, the soft scritch-scratching of ink being applied to parchment...

Such a simple thing.

And yet, it was just one experience of countless others that he had been deprived of for over a decade—or many decades, depending on how he looked at it, his memories of the Diary's formless void as prominent as ever. Even now, over a year after his return to power, he was occasionally surprised by the simple pleasures of life. Silk sheets, old books, fine food… yes, it was good to be alive.

He finished the letter, replacing the quill in its inkpot and sealing it in a heavy envelope with a seal of black wax. It was a note of formal congratulation to Lucius, perhaps his most useful follower. The man was a true political genius, in addition to his deadly skill with a wand. His plot had also indirectly led to Voldemort's return, and though it had likely been more by favorable coincidence than intent, Voldemort rewarded loyal service, whatever its form. He never missed an opportunity to acknowledge one of his follower's successes. Displays of his power might earn a man's respect, but shrewd words would secure his loyalty.

And Lucius was succeeding indeed. His calculated whispers into Fudge's ears had stoked the man's resentment of Dumbledore into a frenzy. Dumbledore had already been removed from his position of Chief Warlock and, perhaps more importantly, Supreme Mugwump. There would be no ICW interventions against him, now, and he even had even taken the opportunity to have some of his foreign followers begin laying the political seeds in the ICW that would one day blossom into international recognition of a new regime.

Yes, his plans were proceeding nicely. He could almost allow himself to relax.

Almost.

There was a problem, a problem that had already been his undoing once before. He did not believe for a second that Violet Potter would not return to vex him once more. The Ministry could declare her "missing, presumed deceased" until the stars winked out and still she would return, of that he was certain. Prophecy was not so easily refuted. No, her absence was not a blessing but a terrible portent. Was she being trained by Dumbledore? The thought caused an unwelcome thread of fear to blossom in his gut, which he dismissed immediately. There was nothing to be gained by speculating of worst-case scenarios. Potter would reveal herself when she did, and this time he would not be defeated by a trinket.

He needed to hear the rest of the Prophecy above all else. But he could not simply walk into the Department of Mysteries, however much he might wish to. If a prophecy known to be accessible only by a girl presumed dead and the Dark Lord were to disappear… well, even the Ministry could hardly fail to notice that.

He rose and tied the letter to a mail owl. As he opened the window to release it, he caught a glimpse of his reflection. The rituals he had performed since his return had aged him by about a decade, but he had managed to avoid compromising his appearance this time. He allowed a small smile to grace his face at the thought of how Bellatrix would react when she saw him again. She had always had a slightly disconcerting attraction to him, even when his skin was waxy and transparent. It was sure to be amusing.

As he released the owl, he felt the proximity wards surrounding his office alert him to a presence. He was not concerned; although he had no doubt that Dumbledore knew he had reclaimed Riddle Manor for himself, he was equally certain that there was nothing he could do about it. Oh, if he wished he could come himself and force a confrontation, but despite what the masses might claim, Voldemort was not the one who feared Dumbledore. Respected, yes, but the old man was far from his prime. If he came, he would not leave alive. So, that meant that whoever as outside his door must be a member of his inner circle and that they must be bearing very urgent news to disturb him in his study.

"Enter," he said, in the same warm tone that had once charmed so many.

The heavy oak door swung open, revealing a tall, pallid man, who offered a respectful bow. "My Lord."

Ah, Severus Snape. In many ways, Voldemort felt a stronger kinship with the man than any other of his followers. Unlike so many others, he followed him solely out of his own self interest. Voldemort could respect that. He was also an Occlumens of such skill that Voldemort freely admitted he could not match him. He thought that he could be certain of the man's allegiance, but he did not know, and that was an an accomplishment that no other could boast of.

Voldemort gave him a long look before returning the greeting. "Severus. Please, sit."

"I bring urgent news," Severus said. "I came as soon as I could without arousing suspicion."

"Indeed?" Yes, Severus, whisper to me me the secrets of Albus Dumbledore…

Severus shifted in his chair, taking a moment to choose his words. "This morning, Dumbledore asked me to evaluate a prospective student's suitability for Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts." He put a slight stress on Defense Against, just enough to express his feelings about such a subject. Or, Voldemort mused, the feelings he wanted Voldemort to believe he held. There really was no way to be sure.

"And?" Voldemort prompted. Severus would not have brought this to him if it were not important.

His follower took a deep breath. "My Lord… it was Violet Potter."

Shock. Fear. Hatred. Anticipation.

Voldemort showed none of his thoughts, even as they sparked off each other like chain lightning. "You are certain? This is not some trick of Dumbledore?"

"I am certain, My Lord," Severus said.

"I see," said Voldemort, leaning backward and tenting his long fingers. "Do you think that Dumbledore has been hiding her the entire time?"

Severus shook his head. "I doubt it, My Lord. He was utterly shocked to receive her owl, and I believe he would have informed me if he had known her whereabouts before today."

"Yes," Voldemort murmured. "He has come to trust you over the years of my absence, has he not?"

Not responding to the unspoken insinuation that his loyalty may have slipped—admirable, when so many of his Death Eaters would have been distraught with fear at the very thought that their Lord was distrustful of them—he simply nodded. "As you say, My Lord."

"Very good, Severus. Do you have any idea where she has been all this time?"

"Not a one," he said bluntly. "Nor does Dumbledore, as far as I can tell."

"Intriguing." Worrying. A thought occurring to him, Voldemort asked, "Does Dumbledore know you are here?"

Severus shook his head. "No. He told me to inform you only just before the beginning of term, when she would be revealed anyway." He smirked. "Unfortunately, I was not inclined to listen."

Voldemort chuckled. "Very good, Severus." He drummed his fingers over the desk. "You had the opportunity to test her, yes?"

"Indeed, My Lord, but I must warn you that I only spoke to her the once."

"Of course," Voldemort said, making a dismissive gesture. "I will not hold you to blame if some of the finer details are inaccurate. But surely you must have seen something." Severus was a master Legilimens, after all.

At that, Severus had a truly bizarre reaction, made even the stranger by the fact that he failed to hide it. Was that embarrassment?

Voldemort pushed away the thought. Surely, he was mistaken.

"Ah, My Lord," he began, recovering his composure, "I'm afraid that her mind is extremely… cluttered. I wasn't able to learn anything useful via Legilimency without risking exposure."

"Unfortunate," said Voldemort. "Still, you must have made some observations."

"Yes, My Lord. She has considerable skill in both Potions and Defense, though it is clear that she has not bothered to learn some of the more inconsequential spells on the lower year curricula. She is also seemingly… normal, for lack of a better word."

Voldemort nodded, hiding the relief he felt. It seemed that Violet Potter did not have the power to defeat the Dark Lord… yet.

"So, she is talented, but no threat? Could she have been concealing her true ability?"

"I suppose it is possible," Severus said hesitantly. "But I did not get the sense that she possesses the subtlety required. And, My Lord… she is only fifteen."

"Of course," said Voldemort. Perhaps he was being irrational. He doubted there was a teenager on the planet capable of deceiving Severus Snape. "You have done well to bring this to me. Is there anything else?"

"No, My Lord."

"Very well. Go then, before Dumbledore becomes suspicious."

Severus rose, bowed, then strode from the room. Voldemort spun his chair, facing the window. Despite the reassurance offered by Severus' report, he couldn't fully dismiss the feeling of unease he felt at the return of his destined enemy so soon after he had been contemplating that very thing. It felt like… Fate.

~#~

Several days earlier.

It was a beautiful evening. Even if Violet would always favor the winter months, she could still appreciate a beautiful summer night. With the moon ascendant, bright and full, and the shimmer of magic in the air, she could almost believe she was still in the Wyld. But she was not. She had left last night, a few weeks after her fifteenth birthday and no longer burdened by her mother's debt, and had awoken in the mortal world once more. Besides, the magic in the air was not the ethereal blanket that uniformly crossed the Wyld, instead originating from a point perhaps a hundred meters from her.

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place all but shouted its presence to those capable of hearing, the ancient wards surrounding it every bit as powerful as anything the Wyld could boast and twice as maleficent. Only a family as grimly notorious as the Blacks could justify such aggressive and potent defenses without risking accusations of paranoia or conspiracy. In the case of the Blacks, of course, it was a given that they had reason to be paranoid and were conspiring as a matter of course.

The old townhouse was weathered and clearly neglected but still stood defiant with an imposing architectural grandeur. Violet scaled the cracked steps, then lifted the heavy bronze knocker. As she did, she felt the powerful protective magics assessing her, then granting her passage in accordance to Sirius's behest.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Nearly a minute passed as Violet stood patiently under the full moon. Finally, the door cracked open, revealing a tall, broad shouldered, and dark skinned wizard who was keeping his wand leveled at her. "I don't know you," he said, his voice deep and precise.

Violet quirked an eyebrow. Had Sirius neglected to mention that she was coming? Well, she wouldn't spoil his fun. "Sirius Black is expecting me," she said.

"So you say," the wizard said, eyes still narrowed. "But you chose a very inconvenient time to pay a visit. Or maybe a convenient one."

"Oh?" said Violet lightly. "My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience. But I assure you, I didn't intend to interrupt your moment of intimacy. Sirius seems the type to have pointless qualms about that sort of thing."

"Very funny," he said dryly. "But you know that's not what I meant."

"Yes," said Violet softly. "I suppose I do, don't I? But rest assured, O Phoenix, that your order will want to speak to me. I'm told they made a considerable effort to locate me, some years back."

He stared at her, mouth moving silently as he tried to decipher her words. Even with her appearance refined by the influence of Winter, there was enough of her parents in her that he might be able to make the connection.

"No," he whispered, and Violet smiled.

"Oh yes," she said. "Now, if you please, I'd like to speak to my godfather…"

Silently, he lead her into the house. They passed through a number of rooms before he finally turned the knob of a heavy door, revealing an extravagantly furnished dining table. Perhaps twenty people sat at it, though any food had long since been cleared. They seemed slightly on edge, likely from Violet's unexpected arrival. She scanned them, picking out a few of note.

Scarred and austere, the legendary Mad-Eye was easily identifiable by his unique prosthetic eye, the subject of many a tale of the crooked figures of Knockturn Alley. Some rumors claimed that it could see through walls and read minds. Others, more extravagant, suggested that he had claimed it from a hatchling basilisk and could kill with a stare. Whether there was any truth to the tales or not, Violet could sense the danger in the old man, the threat of violence he wore like a winter cloak.

Sirius grinned and waved at her. Next to him, she noticed Jon Whitby, who looked slightly sheepish at the sight of her. It seemed that he wasn't interested in sitting this war out after all. She avoided lingering on him to avoid giving any indication that they knew each other. She also noticed Nymphadora, the blundering Auror, who was staring at her as if she recognized her but wasn't sure where from. Her unfortunate name was still a great source of amusement for Violet. Further down the table, there was a rumpled-looking man with prominent facial scars who looked like he was trying to attract as little attention as possible.

Notable above all, however, was the elderly man who sat at the far end of the table. His garish robes spoke of a deep and heartfelt defiance of the principles of conventional fashion, yet they did nothing to diminish his presence. He could only be Albus Dumbledore, the man who defeated Grindelwald in single combat. The only one the Dark Lord ever feared.

"Welcome back, Kingsley," said Dumbledore warmly, though his eyes were on Violet. "And with a guest, too." He trailed off, looking at her expectantly.

Violet cleared her throat. "Sirius, would you care to introduce me to your associates?"

He grinned, rising to his feet. "Why, of course I would. Ladies and gentlemen of the Order, it is my pleasure to introduce my goddaughter, Violet Potter."

Pandemonium.

It seemed that everyone was trying to talk at once. Ironically, such was the chaos that Violet was overlooked. She took a seat next to Sirius and gave him an amused look. "I take it you decided not to inform them in advance?"

He chuckled. "Where would the fun be in that?"

Violet laughed too and settled in to watch the chaos. Finally, things settled down to the point that Dumbledore could address her, who was looking at her with something akin to wonder. "Violet, you would not believe what a relief it is to see you again."

She tilted her head, acknowledging his words. Dumbledore's gaze flicked to Sirius for a moment. "Yet it would seem of us are less surprised than others."

Sirius shrugged, unbothered by Dumbledore's scrutiny. "It wasn't my place to say anything."

"Of course, of course, though I do confess to wondering just how it was the two of you encountered each other…"

Violet interjected, sensing that Sirius was about to say something unnecessarily argumentative. "I actually found him after he escaped Azkaban."

"Ah, I see. I take it you discovered the discrepancy of Sirius' lack of trial records. Very clever of you, if I might say so."

Actually, I just wanted to kill him. Rather than that though, Violet instead just said, "Something like that, yes."

Sirius snickered. Obviously, that wasn't quite how he remembered it either.

"Whatever the case, I must thank you for allowing us to know that you are well. I assure you, it is a great weight off these old shoulders," said Dumbledore. "If I may ask, what prompted you to return?"

Violet stared at him for a moment. "Er, that would be Voldemort.."

Several members of the Order squawked in protest, but Dumbledore merely nodded and stroked his beard. "A wise choice. Alas, I believe it is very likely that he will seek revenge against you for his failure to kill you as a baby. Of course, the Order would be honored to offer protection to you, as well as any who might be close to you."

Violet ignored his transparent attempt to figure out where she had been all these years. What she didn't ignore was the faintest tendril of Legilimency that brushed against her mind. It was incredibly subtle, even gentler than Satria, though fae mental magic had a slightly different feel than its mortal equivalent. It was an admirable effort, befitting a wizard of Dumbledore's skill.

She responded with a jab of her own, not bothering to make it gentle. He jolted in surprise, then looked away. "I apologize," he said, quite chagrined. "It's a rather bad habit I have developed over the years."

Violet shrugged. She wasn't really offended, considering she did the same thing herself on a regular basis. "It's quite all right. I can understand your perspective."

"Wait a minute," Nymphadora interjected, looking between the two of them. "What's quite all right? And why does Dumbledore look like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar?"

"Don't worry about it," Violet said. She turned to the witch and extended her hand. "I'm Violet Potter. What's your name?" she asked innocently.

She gave her a suspicious look. "Tonks."

"Really? That's all?"

Sirius coughed heavily, trying and failing to suppress laughter. "Actually, Tonks' first name is Nymph—ow!" He glared at her, rubbing his shin where she had kicked him under the table.

She sighed. "Fine. It's Nymphadora. But I really do prefer Tonks."

Violet let the innocent act fall away. "Nymphadora? Huh, sounds a bit like nym—"

Dumbledore coughed. "Yes, thank you, Violet. I assure you, we're all quite aware what it sounds like."

"Fine," said Violet. She gave Tonks a smirk that promised that this would not be the end of it.

"Will Violet be living with you, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked.

Sirius shot her a questioning look and at her nod, said, "Yes, that's the plan."

"Excellent," he said. Then, eyes sparkling, he continued, "And might you, by any chance, consider attending Hogwarts? There is no finer school of magic in Britain."

That had been a subject of significant consideration for her over the last few months. It was not at all difficult to guess that Dumbledore would want her under his aegis, especially since he almost certainly knew of the prophecy. That suited her just fine. Dumbledore's power and influence, waned though it had of late, was priceless, and that wasn't even mentioning the force he had conveniently gathered. She had no intention of fighting a war on her own, and since she had neither the time nor inclination to gather a large following of her own, that meant allying with either Dumbledore or the Ministry. The choice between those was no choice at all.

"I suppose," she said, feigning hesitation. "But I've mostly studied independently. I'm not sure how I would fit in at Hogwarts."

"Not to worry," dismissed Dumbledore, waving his hand. "Sirius can bring you to Hogwarts sometime in the next few days for a tour and placement testing." He beamed at her. "We'll be very pleased to have you join us, Violet."

She nodded. A slightly awkward silence fell as she felt the stares of many eyes on her. She was used to being a center of attention from her position in Satria's court, but this level of undivided focus was still more than a little odd. And since they clearly wouldn't go back to discussing anything sensitive as long as was with them, the awkwardness showed no signs of ending. "Sirius, do you think you could show me where I'll be saying?" she asked.

"Of course." He rose, clearly as eager to get away from the meeting as she was. "There are a few rooms you can choose from…"

Violet followed him up several flights of stairs, curiously eyeing the wide variety of magical artifacts and more mundane but still clearly valuable artworks and heirlooms. Despite the clear evidence of a lengthy campaign of cleaning, the areas underneath furniture and atop mantles were still dusty. Additionally, several of the curios and even mundane-looking furniture items resonated with malign magic, clearly cursed or otherwise unhallowed.

"You should have seen it before," Sirius muttered, noticing her looking around. "The House-elf went mad, didn't clean a thing. I threw him out first thing after getting back from Germany. Bloody wanker."

"This is where you grew up, right?"

"Yeah. Lots of fond memories with my old family. Lunatics, the lot of 'em."

They arrived at a heavy hardwood door with an overwrought silver knocker. Sirius roughly shouldered it open, creating a light cloud of dust as he forced the stuck door. Sirius stared for a long moment at the dark interior of an expansive and expensively furnished bedroom. "Used to be my Uncle Alphard's, when he'd visit. Before he bit it, 'course. Probably the best company you'll get in this place." He gave her a look, suddenly uncertain. "But there are plenty of other rooms, if this one's not to your fancy."

Violet shrugged. "Really don't care. What was this Alphard bloke like?"

"Oh, you know," Sirius said, shrugging. "He was insane like the rest of us, I suppose, but decent about it. Helped keep dear old mum under control when he was around."

"Well, the room's fine. Better than when I was staying at Jon's. How's he, by the way?"

"What? Oh, fine, I suppose. Quiet bloke. Doesn't really get on with most of the Order, but Mad-Eye likes him for one reason or another." His tone made it clear that he was not at all convinced that Mad-Eye's favor was something to be envied.

Violet hummed thoughtfully. "That's good to hear."

Sirius nodded and after a moment said, "Gotta say, I didn't expect you to agree to go to Hogwarts."

Violet gave him an odd look. "I would have thought it obvious that was the whole point."

"Really?" he said. "Don't get me wrong, I think it's great—but I always got the impression that you weren't keen on anything that might restrict you."

"I'm not," Violet conceded. "But something lost to gain a great deal? That's a deal I can accept."

"I see," said Sirius. With a chuckle, he added, "I'm pretty sure that's not a conclusion I could have accepted at your age. I suppose that means you'll be sticking around for a while then."

"Looks that way. Until Voldemort is dead and gone."

"Just that, huh?" Suddenly, Sirius snorted.

"Something funny?"

"Nothing really. Just thinking about what Fudge's face is going to look like when the first thing he hears about you being alive is from the Daily Prophet." There was a vicious element to his voice. Sirius had little sympathy for the Ministry that imprisoned him.

Violet laughed too. It would surely be a sight to see.

~#~

Visually, Hogwarts was much as she remembered it from her brief visit two years ago. The castle still gazed down from its commanding position upon a hill, surrounded by verdant grounds and impenetrable forest. Distant mountains thrust into the horizon, completing a landscape that wouldn't be out of place in a fairy tale.

And I should know, thought Violet with some amusement.

Of course, this time she wasn't sneaking into the grounds through a hidden passage. She walked with Sirius along the cobble path to the gates to the grounds, ancient, twisted things of wrought iron and burnished bronze. Someone had opened them in preparation for their arrival, and as Violet passed the gates, she could feel the air come alive with the intangible shiver of magic, the result of a long heritage of magical instruction.

"It's right strange, being here in the summer," Sirius remarked. "Doesn't seem right to see the grounds empty."

He led her into the castle. The rough-hewn stone of the floor and walls provided cool relief from the summer heat, and ever burning torches produced steady illumination, casting dark shadows over decorative suits of polished armor.

"Right," Sirius said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's see if I can still find the headmaster's office. Merlin knows I got enough practice."

Violet snorted. She'd heard more than a few stories of just what sort of escapades Sirius and her father had gotten up to in their Hogwarts days. Before long, and with only a few detours around some particularly uncooperative flights of stairs, they stood at the base of a tower. A large stone gargoyle stood in front of it, scratching its chin idly.

"Thin mints," Sirius told it confidently, then blinked in surprise when the gargoyle shuffled to the side, revealing a spiral staircase. "Wait, that worked? Normally you have to rattle off a couple dozen before you get the right one."

A deep chuckle rang out. "As amusing as that would no doubt be, one of the portraits noticed you on your way and I took the liberty of alerting the gargoyle to expect you," said Dumbledore as he emerged from the stairway.

"Should have known," Sirius muttered, then clapped his hands together. "Right! That's that, then. Violet, have fun with all the scholarly nonsense. I'm off to get pissed with Hagrid."

Dumbledore chuckled again and bade Sirius farewell. He then nodded to Violet and gestured for her to follow him up the staircase.

Dumbledore's office was large but still managed to feel pleasantly cramped in a cozy sort of way. Shelves, bookcases, and other pieces of furniture were piled high with dusty books, worn pieces of parchment, and strange instruments. At the center of the room, there was a grand mahogany desk that Dumbledore gestured for her to sit across from him at.

Silence stretched before Dumbledore finally sighed heavily, removing his glasses and beginning to wipe them with a white cloth. "I don't think that it is possible for me to adequately express the depth of relief I felt when I saw you following behind Kingsley. And now I find that I cannot decide where to begin. There is a rather enormous amount to discuss."

With a wry smile, Violet said, "I suppose we could begin by pretending that this is simply a matter of academic administration?"

"Ah yes, perhaps that would be wise. Let's see, where did I put my papers…" Dumbledore shuffled through a stack of parchment before pulling out a sheet, emblazoned with the Hogwarts coat of arms. "This is your official acceptance of late admission, pending placement testing… Quite unusual of course, but the position of headmaster retains certain privileges yet… Ah yes, just sign there—excellent, that should do it. Welcome to Hogwarts."

Violet raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

"Well, almost. There's still one more matter. Strictly speaking we should wait for the placement testing, but between you and me, you could show the magical aptitude of a troll and still be admitted."

"And what's that?" Violet asked suspiciously. Dumbledore seemed amused, as if by a private joke that she had a feeling she was the butt of.

"Why, Sorting, of course. In fact, it could even be described as part of the testing. In fact, I'm sure that I've heard it described as a harrowing experience." His eyes twinkled with humor. "Traditionally it would be done on the first day of term, but I fear you might intimidate the first years."

Violet narrowed her eyes. She knew that Hogwarts had Houses of course, and must logically have some method to divide students between them, but she hadn't heard anything about some sort of test. It didn't seem in character for mortals to make it too dangerous, so Dumbledore was probably just playing a little joke. "Well, let's get to it," she said, pulling out her wand.

"Don't even think about it," another voice interjected. It was dry and reedy but seemed to come from directly to Violet's left. She twisted abruptly in surprise, knocking several sheets of parchment and a large cloth something off the desk.

"Rude," the voice muttered. "How would you like it if someone cut off your arm and legs and pushed you around as they pleased?"

Violet looked around, searching for the source of the voice. "What in Merlin's name is that?"

Dumbledore laughed and stooped over, picking up a dirty pointed hat. "That would be the Sorting Hat. You'll have to forgive it if it's a bit irritable. Normally it has a full year to prepare for the next Sorting and we are putting it on the spot, so to speak."

An uneven tear in the hat parted like lips and it said, "'It' can speak for itself, thank you very much. Well? Put me on then. Let's get this over with."

Dumbledore proffered the hat. Violet eyed it warily. "How is this supposed to work?"

"Obvious, innit?" the Sorting Hat said. "You put me on, I take a look around and stick you where you should go. Simple, really. Say, are you any good at rhymes?"

"Not really," Violet replied absently. Then, to Dumbledore, "I hope this isn't another attempt at Legilimency."

He cleared his throat. "Ah, no. I believe I have learned my lesson in that regard. The Sorting Hat is not nearly so rigorous. The enchantments are something of mystery actually, but if I were to hazard a guess, it would be that it uses a combination of surface level thoughts and generalized personal characteristics, supplemented on occasion with direct input from the "Sortee" to form a…"

As he continued on a long-winded tangent on magical theory, Violet jammed the hat over her head, shutting the sound out. The ill-fitting hat's brim fell over her eyes, making her miss the slightly smug smile on Dumbledore's face.

This is stupid, she thought. Maybe the eleven-year-olds would appreciate it more, but a hat? Really?

I heard that, you know, that same reedy voice said, appearing directly in her mind. Rude, again. Maybe you're the stupid one.

She sighed. Dumbledore hadn't been lying; the hat's magic appeared to be completely unrelated to Legilimency, as she hadn't detected the slightest presence in her mind. In fact, she had a theory that it might in fact be a clever derivative of Divination, able to gather information without actually having to directly take it. Just get on with it, she thought.

I am, the Sorting Hat said. It simply takes a little longer with older students. Hmm. What do we have here? Well, well, maybe this will be more interesting than I thought.

Violet sat awkwardly as the Sorting Hat dithered, muttering indecipherable nonsense to itself. Finally, it said, Well, Hufflepuff is right out, for obvious reasons. Ravenclaw seems suitable at first glance, but you've never valued academic knowledge as anything beyond a means to an end, have you?

You seem to know a great deal about me.

Enough to know that I shouldn't look too closely, it groused. Really, what have you been doing to develop this sort of mindset? Never mind. I don' t think I want to know. 're quite fearless, aren't you? But you could not possibly be described as chivalrous, and fearlessness isn't quite the same thing as courage, now is it? No, the answer is obvious, really, and I think it has been since you first put me on. There's not much you wouldn't do, is there.

Violet didn't say anything, but she was starting to get mixed feelings about where this was going. Slytherin would be highly inconvenient. Just put me in Gryffindor, if that's the second best suited.

The hat made an indignant sound. That very request just makes me certain that you belong in Slytherin. Unfortunately, and here it sounded truly disgusted, it seems that I may have to compromise my principles. Although I must sort each student to the best of my ability, so too do I have a sacrosanct duty to act in the best interests of the students as a body, and it occurs to me that placing you with the children of your enemies would be in violation of that obligation. So I ask of you, should I sort you into the House that most befits you, can you assure me that I would not be placing those children in mortal danger?

No, thought Violet immediately. She could have lied and perhaps got away with it, but it suited her to discourage the Sorting Hat from sorting her into Slytherin anyway. The legend of the Savior would be tarnished by it, and the conventional advantages of the House would not be available to her as they would largely be allied against her.

Very well, the Sorting Hat said, sounding tired. Regrettably, I must sort you into GRYFFINDOR!

AN: Well, we're finally getting to Hogwarts. As always, your reviews are greatly appreciated and are a source of of motivation and inspiration. Hopefully you enjoyed!