The Resorting

This chapter was posted two days early because I got five reviews. Thanks to Artythewolf on A03 for pushing the scale.

Draco:

Draco had not taken the time the first time he'd visited Dumbledore's office to really revel in the spectacularity of it. He'd been too angry and too focused on getting out of there as soon as possible. Now, he admired every spinning instrument and every precious stone set around.

Rosalie was also busy admiring things. She skimmed the book titles, examined the sword of Gryffindor, and pet Fawkes the Pheonix's head. She looked stunning. Draco liked the new look, though he wished he'd have had more of a warning than her simply turning up with it.

Rosalie spotted the Sorting Hat set upon the mantle and pointed at it. "Is that the Sorting Hat?" she asked.

"Ho hum," The Hat replied before Draco could. "It's nice to make the acquaintance of such a beautiful lady."

"It's nice to meet you as well," Rosalie said. "Pardon my asking, but I've recently become fascinated by object sentience. Are you sentient, or imbued with a personality, or…"

"The hat contains the intelligence of the four Hogwarts Founders," A voice said from up above. Draco looked up and saw Dumbledore descending a small set of stairs. He was wearing light purple robes and a smile. "It was jointly enchanted by them." He approached his desk and sat down behind it. "Now, please, have a seat." Dumbledore gestured to two chairs with large cushions on them. "I hope you have not come to replace me as Headmaster."

Draco could not tell if the old man was joking or not. He was so shocked that he remained standing. "Erm," he said, "What?"

"I said, I hope you have not come to replace me as Headmaster," Dumbledore repeated.

"Oh, no," Rosalie said, because she could probably tell Draco's head was still spinning. "My name is Rosalie Spinks. I've come to ask about having my records transferred to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore smiled at Rosalie very candidly. "Ah, yes," he said. "I remember your letter. I have not replied yet, because…"

"Draco," Rosalie said, turning to him. "I'm sorry, but I'm feeling a little nervous. Do you mind waiting for me outside, so I can speak to Professor Dumbledore on my own?"

"Oh," Draco said, feeling a little confused. "Yeah, no worries. Let me go…" He backtracked, avoided tripping over Fawkes's stand, and made it to the door. "Just.. come get me when you're ready."

For a moment, before closing the door, Draco stared at the Sorting Hat and debated asking to borrow it so he could talk with it about his house assignment. Then he put the thought out of his mind and sat down on the stairs, feeling like a little kid when his parents needed space to talk.

He didn't see any reason for Rosalie to be nervous. She was a witch and she lived in England and she was underage. As far as he knew, that was all the requirements needed to attend Hogwarts.

He wondered what project they would work on first. Certainly, the idea of sacking Umbridge was a wonderful one. But the idea of getting Muggle objects to work at Hogwarts was one that could change the course of history. The most recent quest they'd embarked on, to learn about Horcruxes, was failing thus far. But perhaps Rosalie could breathe life back into it.

Draco's thoughts returned to the Sorting Hat after running through all of the details on the electricity problem that Rosalie had shared thus far. It was just inside. He could put it on his head and ask, "Did you want to assign me to Hufflepuff? You know I hate Hufflepuff, right?" In his head, he'd won a thousand arguments against the bloody arrogant thing. However, he'd also lost quite a few. It was almost embarrassing.

After only about seven minutes, the door opened. Dumbledore stood there, still smiling. His glasses were missing. "Mr. Malfoy, why don't you join us again?" he asked. "I'm told you enjoy Muggle Pinballs? I have a packet in here that I've been saving for a special occasion, and I believe that occasion is today."

Inside the office, Rosalie sat in Professor Dumbledore's chair, with his glasses on her nose. Almost as astonishing, she had a Muggle laptop open under one elbow, though the screen was black and she was writing instead on a parchment pinned under the other elbow. "Hiya, Draco," she said. "We just submitted my paperwork. I'm now a Hogwarts Student."

"Excellent!" Draco said, sitting in the chair that had originally been offered to him. "Have you been sorted, yet?"

"We will hold a Sorting Ceremony tomorrow," Dumbledore said, taking the chair Rosalie had first sat in. "Today, too many students will be in Hogsmeade. I have always felt that it was important for everyone to witness the Sorting, and I feel that tomorrow will be a most important day indeed."

Dumbledore withdrew a very unique wand out of a deep pocket in his robes and flicked it. Out of a drawer in the desk came a brightly-coloured bag of pinballs. It opened itself and hovered in front of Draco. He fought the urge to take every last one of the skittle-like candy, but still took as large a handful as he could manage.

Rosalie shut the lid of her laptop. "I've finished putting in the schedule," she said. "I'll copy it to paper tonight, and work out the electricity problem later."

"Please keep me updated," Dumbledore said. "There is a muggle invention I love – electric blankets. If I can get one to work here, it would be a great comfort to me in the winter."

"And toe socks," Rosalie said, which seemed a bit out of pocket. "You would like me to bring you toe socks."

Dumbledore smiled. "I do love them," he agreed. "Now, you will not have a Head of House, so for tonight only, you may choose one of the four girls dormitories to join. I will send one of my most dedicated house elves-" and for some reason, he glanced at Draco, "to retrieve your items from Edinburgh. We will also arrange travel for you as often as you need over the next week so that you can close your rental lease."

"Can I stay with the Gryffindor fifth years? I know I'm a year up, but Hermione Granger is the only girl I know."

"And Hermione Granger is one of the four, isn't she?"

Draco could be wrong, but it seemed that Dumbledore was talking about the four from the prophecy, and that made him want to choke. "Are you, er, taking about the four houses?"

Dumbledore looked at Draco. "I am talking about the four spirits who represent the houses," he said. "From the prophecy you requested."

"You've read it?"

"Well, no, I haven't," Dumbledore said in a very merry tone. "I'm not related to it at all. But I authorised its release to you and my working knowledge of it is this." Dumbledore stood and crossed to the mantle, where he picked up the Sorting Hat. "The Founders Four were not very… appreciative of politics and outside affairs interfering with schooling. It was part of the point of building the school so far away, you see. And so they said that if a time came that government, war, or anything of the sort were to come to Hogwarts and threaten the quality of education, that four would defend the school – one from each house."

"Government," Draco repeated. "War?"

"Yes, it seems as if we have both threats on the horizon," Dumbledore agreed. "If the ministry backs down, then perhaps the prophecy will fade back into inactivity. If not, well.. I believe your prophecy began with a line about haunting?" He shrugged, seeming very at peace with the idea. Then, to Rosalie, "Feel free to sleep with the Gryffindor fifth year girls. They have plenty of room for a fourth."

"Thank you Professor," Rosalie said, rising from Dumbledore's own chair and shaking his hand. His glasses floated off her nose and back onto his. "I'll consult with my head of house beginning Monday. Until then, who should I speak with for transportation and such?"

"The house elf's name is Dobby. Simply say his name and he will appear," Dumbledore said kindly. "And he loves socks, so if you could find a small pair of toe socks, I believe it would change his life."

They thanked Professor Dumbledore again and took a step towards the door. "One more thing for you each!" Dumbledore said. He was retaking his chair behind his desk and reaching for another pinball. "Please know two things. Trust cannot be understated anywhere, and Hogwarts will always be a safe place for those who ask."

"That's not good," Hermione said the next morning, when Rosalie had finished recounting what Dumbledore had said. "So essentially… we're the spirits who are supposed to defend the school?"

"I guess," Rosalie said. "Not a very new idea for you both, is it?" She sighed as she sipped her pumpkin juice, making faces every few seconds. "Hogwarts needs a pebble ice machine. And smoothies."

"A wot?" Draco asked.

"Draco Malfoy, you have not lived," Rosalie said, sounding wounded.

Draco was standing behind Rosalie, though not sitting down since he didn't want Professor Umbridge to leave the staff table and beeline for them. Instead, he rubbed a few circles on her back and sighed. "I don't like this," he said.

"Which part?" Rosalie said.

Draco stayed quiet a moment too long, thinking of the housing arrangements, and Rosalie turned around. "Draco, what's your problem with Hufflepuff?"

"It's the house of misfits," Draco replied, remembering the argument he'd won against the Sorting Hat in the mirror about twenty minutes ago.

"Yes, and?"

"Their colours are ugly."

"And?"

Draco fumed. "I want to be in Slytherin," he said, dropping his voice down.

Rosalie smiled without any teeth. "Because you're loyal to Slytherin," she said. "And loyal to your family, who are also Slytherin."

"Rosalie, you don't get it. Hufflepuff is an embarrassment," Draco said.

"Why?" she asked, like a demanding child.

"Because it is! For hundreds of years, they have taken the most lukewarm of witches and wizards. They have the least magical potential out of all the houses."

Rosalie frowned as she thought about this. "Can you prove it?" she asked.

"Prove that Hufflepuff has the least magical potential?" Draco repeated.

"Yes. Can you prove it? I understand the Hogwarts Champion last year was a Hufflepuff and he performed really well."

This was a good point and Draco did not like it in the slightest. "Hufflepuff takes in the most Muggleborns," he said. "Therefore, they have the least magical capacity."

"Hey!" Hermione said, frowning at him across the table. "I don't think you can prove either of the points you just brought up. Where's your evidence?"

Rosalie looked confused. "What does being Muggleborn have to do with capacity?" she asked.

Draco stared at her. "You're a pureblood," he said. "You have to know that purebloods are almost always stronger than Muggleborns."

Harry and Hermione were rolling eyes and steaming on the other side of the table. Rosalie, however, looked cautious. "How do you know?" she asked.

Hermione couldn't be silent any longer "There's no evidence," she told Rosalie. "It's the same argument that white people used against black and coloured people in the 1800's. You can look into it yourself."

Rosalie looked at Draco's shoes, then back up to his face. "So, you believe that you're… better… than other people because of what you were born?"

"I am," Draco said. "And you are too."

Rosalie put her hands together and covered her nose and mouth with them, breathing deeply into the space between her hands for a moment.

"That's not to say Harry and Hermione aren't powerful," Draco said, filling the silence. "Hermione is obviously the best at charms and Harry's a very accomplished-"

"Draco, do you know for certain that Hufflepuffs have more Muggleborns?" Rosalie interrupted. Her face was going quite red.

"Yes," Draco replied, recalling how his father had said so once.

"Have you counted?" Rosalie asked.

"Well, not me personally, but..."

"Has anyone counted?"

"Well, someone's had to have..." Draco scowled. This was not a great answer, and he knew it. "It's been written somewhere!"

"Draco, this is racist!" Rosalie said. "What do you mean, Muggleborns aren't as powerful as purebloods? Is this casting power? Is this memory recall? Is this precision or frequency or stamina or-"

"All of it!" Draco interrupted stubbornly. "Purebloods are better than Muggleborns in every regard! My family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. One of the last families to be truly pureblood. Goodness knows how long the Weasley's have managed to stay in this long-"

"The Weasleys are considered less-than purebloods because they sympathise with Muggleborns," Hermione interrupted across the table.

"They're blood traitors," Draco agreed. It seemed odd to him that Grang-Hermione was helping his case here. "But those families - the Sacred Twenty-Eight - are some of the most important in wizarding culture and we're the last true wizards left. Mixing with Muggles dilutes your magical potential. You're not a real wizard if you aren't Pureblood." Draco paused, recalling that he had heard that particular quote from the Dark Lord, and he wasn't necessarily on the Dark Lord's side. "And..." he stammered, trying to put his mental train back on the tracks, "Muggleborns don't understand our culture or traditions!"

"Additional context here," Hermione interrupted, "Gryffindor has the most Muggleborns. Because you have to be brave to come into a world in which you know nothing and you have to be brave to stay. The Dark Lord Voldemort believes in killing all Muggleborn witches and wizards to prevent them from becoming parts of wizarding culture - remember we told you about the diary? They look down on Muggles as animals and often kill or torture them for fun." She glared at Draco, who was caught mid-nod in the realisation that Hermione was not, in fact, backing him up.

"But, Hermione is Muggle-born!" Rosalie exclaimed.

"Well, of course we wouldn't... I mean, I wouldn't... she's an exception... I mean... Hermione's worth her salt. She and Harry-"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry said, glaring daggers at him. "I don't think your hole needs more digging."

"Yeah, I think you've made your point," Rosalie agreed. Draco didn't like the expression on her face. It was one of deep betrayal and disgust. "In summary, you're in agreement with the Dark Lord's ideas about who should live, who should die, who should marry, who should be shunned, who should work, and who should suffer?"

"I wouldn't say I'm in agreement with the Dark Lord..." Draco muttered, scowling at the floor. To say he agreed with the man who was making a mess of his fortune and family home and his parents... "But look, I'm not wrong! There's got to be lots of studies on this - Purebloods have known about this since before Hogwarts was founded!" Draco looked across the table at Hermione. She'd had to have read an eighth of the Hogwarts Library - surely she'd know at least one name. He remembered the little voice that had taunted him for saying anything to Hermione Granger months ago. For whatever reason, that voice had gone quiet now.

Granger pursed her lips tighter together. Oh, come on... that was just being stingy. She had to know he was right!

"Draco," Rosalie said, "I'm not... okay with this new information. And I'll look into it, but... I don't want to see you for a while while I sort this out."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked. "I'm your boyfriend."

"I'm not going to date a racist," Rosalie replied, looking nauseous at the thought. "So we're going to go on a break until I figure out if there's any truth to what you're saying." She got up from the table. "In fact, I'm going to go to the library right now. Please leave me alone."

Draco's jaw dropped so far that he thought it might snap off and thwack on the floor. Rosalie got her bookbag and her pen - one Muggle invention that was working at Hogwarts - and left. He was so lost in thought that he didn't realise Harry and Hermione had moved down the table to join the Weasleys for several minutes. He was so confused. He'd been taught these things by everyone important in his life. His parents and aunt and uncle... and yes, even the Dark Lord. It had to be true. It had to be. Because those people who were important to him... they couldn't be wrong, could they?

Signs were posted all around the school. "Please be seated in the Great Hall by 5:30 PM for a special Sorting Session."

Word had spread and at this point, everyone knew that there was a transfer student, that she was dating Draco Malfoy, and that she was probably going to end up in Ravenclaw.

Umbridge was a bit unnerved when he passed her in the hallway on his way to lunch, arms heavy-laden with books from which he was conducting his own research on blood purity. She was speaking to Argus Filch, who was hanging a new Educational Decree on the wall while balancing from a very old, very rusty ladder. "Of course, he didn't tell me, did he? No, no one mentions there's a new American student until after she's already enrolled!"

Draco didn't need to read the decree to guess what it stated. He felt the lines of the Bane of Hogwarts prophecy wrapping tighter around him.

That night, students gathered early and stared at empty plates. No one in living memory had ever attended a special Sorting event. They whispered as the Sorting Stool was brought to the front of the room.

Draco was with his own house for once, though it didn't feel quite the same anymore and his house had been treating him very differently since Christmas. He had grown from the centre of attention to an uncomfortable subject. Not quite an outsider, but not as praised as he had been before.

Five-thirty passed, but the doors remained upon until five forty-five, anticipating late students. Then, they closed. Dumbledore stood up at the front of the room. "Welcome, students," he said in a booming voice, courtesy of a sonorous charm. "Tonight, we are gathered together for a very special Sorting Event. For those of you who have not yet heard the gossip, I have two things to say to you. First, we have a new student who has transferred in to Hogwarts. Second, please let me know how you avoid the gossip, as I am always looking for new ways to hide from the drama of talk."

The low rumble of laughter stumbled through the Great Hall. Dumbledore held his arm to the side of the room, towards the door the Champions had exited through last year about the Goblet of Fire had spat out their names. "Professor McGonagall," he said.

Professor McGonagall appeared with the hat and set it on the sorting stool. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then, the rip in the brim opened up, and the hat bellowed at a volume Draco had never heard it speak at before. "Listen up!" it yelled, and everyone jumped – even Professor McGonagall. "You all came for a special sorting, but tonight, we are expanding our original plans. I, the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts, have put some of you into incorrect houses over the years due to political or cultural problems. However, the spirits of Hogwarts are restless with the invasions of the Ministry on the quality of your education and the invasions of dark magic into many of your homes and families. Tonight, there will be a Resorting!"

Silence followed in the wake of this announcement. Draco's hands began to shake. This could not be happening.

Delores Umbridge stood. "Dumbledore," she said. "Stop this at once!"

The hat, completely unmanned, turned on the stool. "Hogwarts will now initiate a Fidelius Charm over this conversation," it said. "No one will be able to tell anyone outside of the castle who was resorted without that person's wishes. This is to protect students whose parents have placed undue requirements on their children. Furthermore, the spirits of Hogwarts will begin to protect students from teachers, government workers, dark witches or wizards, or those who happen to be all three – Professor Umbridge."

Professor Umbridge's face turned purple. "I am not a Dark Witch!" she exclaimed. "Dumbledore, cease this at once! This is more than enough evidence to have you removed from your post as Headmaster."

"Delores, my powers as Headmaster do not cover this particular instance," Dumbledore said kindly. "The Sorting Hat, as you know, was enchanted by the Founders Four. What it says, goes."

The hat continued to point the rip in its brim towards Umbridge. "I will also be naming four students who embody the original characteristics of their houses almost perfectly," it said. "Perfectly brave, perfectly ambitious, perfectly intelligent, and perfectly loyal. Over the last thousand years, we've started looking at the house traits differently. It's time to fix that. These students will be named Heads-in-Training, and it is through them that Hogwarts will be returned to the learning institution that it once was. Free of any non-educational meddling or villainy. They will continue to exist among you as students, but they will be respected by the castle as Heads of House, able to give and receive points." The hat now turned to Professor McGonagall, who was pale with surprise. "Professor McGonagall, you may take your leave. I have the list of students written in my threads." It rotated in a half circle, as if looking around the room.

A half beat of silence. Draco's heart was thudding in his chest, causing a pain in his throat.

"Nathaniel Blake," It shouted. "Move to Slytherin."

There was an outburst of muttering. Nathaniel Blake, a seventh-year Muggle-born, stood up from Ravenclaw with shaking hands. His tie and kerchief had already changed into his new house colours before he'd even got to his feet. Draco instinctively grabbed his own and looked down. He remembered that day in the Room of Requirement, where the colour had left them. Now, he knew why. And even though they were still green, he had the sinking feeling that they would not be for much longer.

"Sophia Caldwell," the hat said and a girl from Gryffindor stood. "Move to Ravenclaw."

Two more shuffled houses before "Vincent Crabbe," was called. Crabbe looked like he'd swallowed a lemon as he stood. "Hufflepuff," the hat said. Someone began to chuckle and a few people laughed. "Now, quit that!" The hat demanded in a bellow just as loud as before. "You don't know if you'll be next." The Hufflepuffs, who were usually accepting of everyone, looked sick to have Crabbe join their ranks. But Draco understood the decision. Crabbe had no ambition. He was a follower. He had only wanted to be in Slytherin because of loyalty to his family and loyalty to Draco.

Marcus Davenport, another muggle-born, moved to Slytherin before Gregory Goyle joined Crabbe in Hufflepuff. Well, GO was probably as close to GR as anything, so Draco could guess who was next. He stared at the Gryffindor table and found Harry Potter and Hermione Granger sitting beside each other. Harry was giving Hermione a hug from behind. He let her go just in time for the Sorting Hat to bellow "Hermione Granger!"

She stood up and the Great Hall hushed with shock. No one had ever expected Hermione Granger to be moved. How many brave things had she accomplished over the years? Draco could see the Ravenclaws glancing between each other, confident and excited. They knew that Granger was a prize and everyone assumed that if it wasn't Gryffindor, then it would be Ravenclaw for the Brightest Witch of the Age.

But the Sorting Hat didn't call it out. Instead, it shouted, "Well? Get on down here! Don't expect me to come to you."

Hermione Granger squared her shoulders, straightened her back, set her chin, and marched. That was really the only word for it. She marched away from her house – her home of four and a half years – and picked up the hat and put it on her head before sitting down on the stool. The Sorting Hat rotated itself around on her head to face the crowd.

"Now, I know what you're all thinking," the Hat said. "And I know that you Gryffindors are sad to be losing her. The Brightest Witch of Her Age – and she certainly is that, for I haven't met anyone this sharp since Rowena Ravenclaw - deserves to be in the Ravenclaw house, right?"

Draco's brow furrowed. Could they have gotten it wrong? How could they have? And if Granger – Hermione – was Ravenclaw, then what was Rosalie and what was he?

But then the Hat continued. "Ms. Granger is the smartest witch in this room, by far, and she has always known she was destined for great things. Dare I say... she has more ambition than the entirety of Slytherin House put together!"

And now the Ravenclaw's faces were falling and the Gryffindors were looking sick and the Hufflepuffs were growing confused and the Slytherins were actually becoming sick.

"That is why, I think she is now ready to teach the House of Snakes a thing or two about true ambition," the Hat said. "As the new Slytherin Head-in-Training!" And with those words, Hermione's tie and kerchief changed to match the ones on Draco's robes.

"No!" Pansy Parkinson bellowed, her face going red. "No!"

"Boo!" Theodore Nott yelled. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor followed his lead, and soon the Great Hall was full of booing. Hermione showed no reaction to this as she removed the hat. She didn't waste a second on the dais, however, and quickly moved to sit at her new table.

Draco looked around, sick to his stomach, as everyone booed and put their thumbs to the ground.

Harry Potter stood up at Gryffindor, unprompted. "You'll be great, Hermione," he yelled over everyone else, cupping his hands over his mouth. "You can do this!"

His voice echoed over everyone's heads as if he had a sonorous charm (and maybe he did) and they fell silent, staring at him. For more reason than one. Because Potter had a red and gold light coming off his skin as he sat down. He didn't even seem to notice it.

Hermione Granger did not sit at the end of the table. She came to sit across from Draco, where she whispered, "That was harder than I thought it would be."

Draco felt awful for her. He knew he probably had a similar fate ahead of him, hopefully with less booing, but his heart just.. ached. Even though they'd argued earlier. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered back. "But you will be great. Here." The words felt a little hollow, but showing solidarity felt important at the moment.

Hermione nodded, then covered her mouth to choke back a sudden sob. A few hot tears escaped her eyes, but she wiped them away and straightened up. Draco understood, in that moment, why she'd been temporarily assigned to Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. She had a backbone he could only dream of having. Gryffindor had been a good match, but not a perfect one.

When Draco looked down, a dim yellow light lit around his fingertips. He hid his hands in his pockets.

"Astoria Greengrass," The Sorting Hat called. "Move to Ravenclaw." Astoria, who had sat to Draco's right, exhaled with what sounded like relief. She left without a backwards glance and was cautiously welcomed at her new table.

"Benjamin Hartman," the Hat said, and the second-year Slytherin stirred. "Move to Ravenclaw."

Now, Draco's brain was not as sharp as Rosalie or Hermione's, but he realized they were getting closer to the M's. He had no way of knowing who would be next. There could always be a lot of Johnsons needing to be reassigned, or something.

Four more Muggleborns moved into Slytherin, and then the Hat turned and looked directly at him. "Draco Malfoy," it called.

People gasped. It seemed the entire hall turned as one.

Draco used the table to push himself to stand. His feet felt like lead. His mouth was dry, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. As if he'd inhaled fifty year's worth of dust. Hermione had been right. This was hard.

He looked up and down the table at his housemates and saw mingled expressions. Blaise Zabini seemed to have predicted this. He didn't seem surprised in the slightest. Others looked at him… like he was now a blood traitor.

As he stumbled past the staff table, he saw Snape staring with his mouth ajar. Professor McGonagall was sobbing quietly beside Dumbledore – probably because she had lost her star student. He lifted the hat and sat on the chair and put it on, then felt it swivel slightly to right itself.

"When I sorted Draco Malfoy," the Hat began, "I told him that I could not sort him into the house he belonged in for his own protection. But Draco has grown strong over the years. He is able to take care of himself and he is being prepared for the dangers ahead. Draco, you know where you need to go, don't you?"

Draco paused, feeling as if he might suffer a heart attack. Then, he managed a nod.

"Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin because of loyalty," the hat said. "He sticks to his impressions and fights for what he believes in. He doesn't trust easily, but once you have his trust, it's nearly unbreakable. He stands beside people, even when they get dangerous or throw their lot in with the wrong side, and has an uncanny way of uniting everyone to his cause, which Slytherin House has been noticed for several times. That is why Draco Malfoy will step up as the Head-in-Training of Hufflepuff House."

A few of the older Hufflepuffs booed, following Theodore Nott's example, but most just sat and stared as Draco removed the hat and shuffled to the Hufflepuff table. His tie and kerchief changed colour, and he felt like crying. Noticeably, the boys in his year seemed extremely bothered. Still, Draco felt very alone, very embarrassed, and very forced into a new role. Professor Snape hung his head at the Staff Table and looked just as miserable as McGonagall.

Isabella Monroe became a Slytherin. Then, to everyone's surprise except Draco's, Pansy Parkinson became a Ravenclaw. That would be a good change for her, he thought. And he was glad to be out of her house.

His mind became caught up for a moment in what would happen to Harry. Harry was not – or shouldn't be, at least, resorted. But Harry was part of the prophecy. Would the Sorting Hat-

"Harry Potter!"

Yes, alright, apparently it would.

Professor McGonagall broke down into tears again. She didn't lose control of herself the way that some people did when they cried, but she hid her face in her napkin and sat as still as possible. Draco watched Harry get up and move to the front of the room. There was a system now. If your name is called and there's no assignment given, move to the front of the room for a public dissertation on why you belong where you belong.

"Don't worry, Gryffindors," the Hat said after Harry had sat down. "Mr. Potter has proven himself to be a Gryffindor through and through. He chose Gryffindor over Slytherin when I gave him the choice as a first year. In his second year, he pulled the sword of Gryffindor out of me and used it to slay a fifty-foot beast. In his third year, he travelled through time to save an innocent man from dying a horrible death, and last year he endured the Triwizard Tournament, the horrible ending of one of our own, and has continued to shoulder the bitter opinions of everyone around him since then."

Draco watched Professor McGonagall bring down the handkerchief from her face. Her eyes were red.

"You may also have noticed," the Hat continued, "That when Mr. Potter stood up tonight to defend his friend, he momentarily channelled the spirit of Gryffindor."

Draco wasn't sure what that meant, but he had the feeling that Rosalie and Hermione would have fifty ideas each before he would be able to talk to either of them. So he kept his mouth shut and focused as the rip on the brim of the hat twisted into something like a smile. "For you, Mr. Potter, it'd better be Gryffindor still! But now, as a Head-in-Training. Go back to your house!"

Fred and George Weasley leapt to their feet, clapping in relief. Draco was reminded of Gryffindor House chanting "We got Potter!" in his first year, when Harry had been sorted for the first time. There was no chanting now, but most Gryffindors looked relieved to be keeping Harry, even if they weren't clapping as hard.

Zacharias Smith, to his horror, went to Slytherin. Eleanor Timpan, a first-year Gryffindor, also went to Slytherin. Which left Draco very, very confused.

Where was Rosalie? She should have fallen in between the two. Spinks came after Smith and before Timpan. But the Sorting Hat continued on to Whitefield as if nothing had happened.

"And finally," the Sorting Hat said, once the tables were mostly balanced once again, "Our new student. Rosamund Wingate-Rowan. Get your butt up here."

Normally, the students would have laughed at the Sorting Hat saying such a thing. Now, they just stared at this newcomer who, in their minds, had incited so much change. Those who could do math were probably realising that the Sorting Hat had said "finally" and that Ravenclaw was still down a Head-in-Training.

Rosalie looked absolutely furious as she stood up from the Ravenclaw table, which she'd already been sitting at. She clenched her fists and did her best to control her walk as she marched up to the stool and shoved the hat onto her head. Then she dropped her head, so it was harder for people to see her angry face.

"Ah, a certified genius," the Sorting Hat said. "Ah, well, I predict I will be sorting a few more of you as the years go by. Yes, you are going to turn a lot of things on their head. Just like you always have been doing." It then addressed the crowd. "Rosamund Wingate-Rowan is one of the most brilliant minds in the world," it said. "On par with our own Hermione Granger. The thing that sets her apart from Ms. Granger is the focus. Ms. Granger is ambitious and uses her knowledge to get ahead. To succeed. Ms. Wingate-Rowan seeks only to know everything there is. She does not often plan what to do with the information. She only wishes to have it. To send it out into the world. She will serve as the Head-in-Training of the Ravenclaw House."

Rosalie removed the hat and returned to the place she'd stood from. The Sorting Hat rotated around to face the crowd one last time. And it was hard to tell if anyone was surprised or not when it quoted a line from the song it had sung last September. "Oh, know the perils, read the signs, the warning history shows. For our Hogwarts is in danger, from external deadly foes. And we must unite inside her or we'll crumble from within. I have told you, I have warned you, and this Sorting now can end."

The hat went silent and slumped a little, as if it had gone to sleep. And all the students looked up at the Staff Table for instructions.

The next chapter will be called Rosalie Declares War. I will post it early if I get five reviews, otherwise, it will be out on Tuesday.