CHAPTER 13

Hogwarts - Sorting Feast, 7:49PM

Amy Wilkes watched with well-concealed shock as the Sorting Hat roared "SLYTHERIN!" for Ginny Weasley! Even more shocking was the confidence with which the ginger witch removed the Hat from her head and set it down, before purposefully striding over to the (mostly) shocked Serpents table. From her vantage, Amy saw Harry Potter quickly clear a position for the young Weasley to sit next to him, across from Eurus Kolumbiko and (to Amy's lingering surprise) Luna Lovegood. Per Aunt Hecuba's dossier, the Lovegoods had historically been sorted into Ravenclaw for generations. 'There's always an exception,' thought the witch sarcastically.

"Wilkes, Amaryllis." Professor McGonagall's commanding voice rang out, startling Amy from her thoughts. She ignored the whispers of shock and low angry muttering she could hear from many students, no doubt in reaction to her last name. She couldn't really blame them. She hated her father's name just as much as they did.

Sitting on the chair, Amy stiffened a touch when the Hat settled over head, before resisting the urge to cringe at the sensation of fingers combing through every nook and cranny of her mind.

"Hello Amaryllis, welcome to Hogwarts." The voice sounded positively ancient and gravelly, echoing loudly in her mind.

"Just Amy is fine, thanks." To her surprise, she felt the Hat nod in acquiescence as it continued picking its way through her thoughts.

"Well, we have quite a bit of everything in here," it said after a few moments. "Ambition to carve out your own path, the willingness to work hard to accomplish your goals, the intelligence required to find the best strategy to achieve your goals, and quite the bravery needed to persist and persevere." Amy couldn't help but derisively snort at that last bit.

"Bravery? Yeah, I'm so brave." Unbeknownst to her, the Hat frowned at her scathing tone. "You sound like the rest of them; the purebloods who always comment on how I'm supposedly so brave to show my face out and about, given who my father was and…all the horrible things he did." Her disgust was palpable. "Just sort me into Slytherin so we can get all this over with." The Hat was silent for a few moments.

"Is that truly what you want? To be sorted into Slytherin?" Amy paused at the Hat's oddly soft tone.

"Isn't that what is expected of me?" She was as bitter as she was resigned. "To be as brave as my father was ridding our world of so-called 'muggle filth'? Am I not my father's daughter?" The Hat hummed rather thoughtfully in spite of her anger.

"On the contrary, you are no more your father's daughter than anyone else is theirs." Amy frowned at the odd statement. "You are your own person, a collection of your own thoughts, abilities, ambitions, and…morality. You are not beholden to your father's legacy anymore than you're beholden to people's expectations of what they believe your father's legacy ought to be." Amy frowned, processing the Hat's rather sage statement.

At this point, the whispers increased in volume, most wondering why the Hat was stalling in placing the Toymaker's daughter in Slytherin where she undoubtedly belonged. Greg Goyle in particular felt a thin sheet of sweat gather on his brow as his palms grew sweaty in equal measure, wondering what the hell was taking so long. Amy was supposed to be in Slytherin, where he could keep watch over her and protect her. He'd promised his mother he would do so, and Amy had promised him that she would be in Slytherin with him. 'C'mon Amy,' he thought nervously.

Back in the Sorting Chair, Amy mulled over the Hat's statement. "What exactly am I supposed to do then?"

"That choice, as with most things in this life, is yours. From this point henceforth, you and you alone have a chance to make the decision as to what you want out of this life. Do you wish to exist solely for your father's memory? Or do you live for yourself and your own potential?" Amy frowned once more, weighing her options. Unbidden, her eyes roved over to Greg, who watched her with poorly hidden nervousness. A flash of guilt stabbed at her heart. She'd promised him that they would be in Slytherin together, to be there for each other like they'd always been growing up. Greg was the big brother she'd never had, and she loved him just as dearly.

Chewing her lip, her eyes landed on the Gryffindor table, specifically on Hermione Granger. The muggleborn witch smiled, her eyes aglow in warm kindness. Amy still couldn't believe how kind Hermione had been towards her during their summer classes, even knowing of the young Wilkes' parentage. She'd been encouraging during their more difficult lessons, never wavering her outward support in spite of her own blood status. She'd been a faithful friend when none of the other pureblood children had even bothered, either too afraid or disgusted by her last name. Amy hoped (in the deepest recesses of her heart) that she would be just as good and deserving of a friend to Hermione as the witch had been to her.

"Are you truly brave Amy? Or do you want everyone else to think that you're brave?"

Frowning, Amy looked once more to Greg. Looked at the entire Slytherin table, feeling the weight of all their stares coupled with the near-crushing weight of their expectations born of her father's reputation and their own preconceived beliefs. Amy turned to look at the Gryffindor table, right at Hermione Granger. And all the potential it represented to have someone see her for just her, free of her familial expectations and the burden of her father's disgraceful actions. A path forged for her and her alone, paved of her own expectations and desires. A few beats passed before her mind was made up. The Hat hummed in satisfaction.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry's brows shot up at the Hat's proclamation, watching as a slightly pale Amy Wilkes quickly scampered over to the Gryffindor Table next to Hermione, who beamed proudly at the younger witch as she patted the empty seat next to her. Several of the Lions looked shocked and scandalized, with a fair few visibly angry at the prospect of the Toymaker's daughter being a member of their House. Thankfully, Hermione's pointed glare disabused most of them from any potential rudeness.

The younger Potter also noticed the varied reactions at the Head Table; Dumbledore looked mildly surprised, while his mum and Severus looked curious. Professor Hagrid and McGonagall (after clearing the Sorting Hat & chair) looked very visibly surprised. Professor Lockhart - who'd made the quite dramatic splash prior to the Sorting - also looked surprised, though his clapping was no less boisterous. Polite applause was all Professors Sinistra, Hooch, Babbling, and Flitwick were capable of. As usual, Professor Trelawney was completely distracted from everything going on around her, more content to stir through the contents of her water goblet.

Soon, Professor Dumbledore made his usual strange proclaiment before an impressive feast appeared. Wasting no time, Harry quickly prepared himself a hearty plate before eagerly digging in, making sure to pay keen attention to the array of conversation going on around him. To his left Theo and Blaise were engaged in a spirited debate regarding the offensive limitations of flèche vs. balestra in épée fencing. Eurus and Luna were eagerly discussing the merits of Swelling Solution-infused soil on the buoyancy and edibleness of dirigible plums. Cassius Warrington was holding court with a bevy of his own stooges, loudly bragging about the brand new Nimbus 2001 his father had purchased for him in preparation for his Quidditch tryout. To Harry's amusement, he noticed Marcus Flint subtly roll his eyes as he dug into his beef stew. Daphne and Tracy were chatting rather intensely among themselves, though about what Harry hadn't a clue. Interestingly enough, Millicent Bulstrode would occasionally lean in to give her opinion, surprising Harry when the two witches would nod in complete seriousness at whatever she said. 'Curious, very curious.' He filed the interaction away for later.

He smiled approvingly when he saw Ginny chatting quite amicably with Astoria Greengrass and new firstie Yurika Haneda about their potential class schedule, inordinately pleased that she'd been sensible enough to take his advice to pursue Slytherin. Suddenly, she paused mid-word to throw a scathing glare at Draco Malfoy when the blonde happened to look in her direction. To Harry's shock, Draco glared back just as viciously before Graham (who looked mildly alarmed at their exchange) reengaged him in conversation. 'I can't wait to find out what Theo discovered about that.' Reaching for a second helping of steak pie, Harry noticed an ashen-faced Greg Goyle distractedly stirring his mashed potatoes while staring at the Gryffindor table. He felt a flash of sympathy for the boy. Amy was a ward of the Goyles, and Harry imagined the expectation was for her to be Sorted into Slytherin with her adoptive brother. With some minor alarm, Harry realized Greg may be one of the pureblood sons whose father (like Tiberius Nott) believed in… corporal punishment as a consequence of perceived failure.

Shaking off those perturbing thoughts, Harry refilled his plate and went about enjoying his meal and his friends' company.

Prefects Row - Room 6, 9:50 PM

Miranda Bonnevie laid snuggled up in her sheets, wishing sleep would claim her quickly. Unfortunately, there were too many thoughts rambling around in her mind. While she was nowhere near an Occlumens, she'd worked very hard to develop shields that did their job in protecting her innermost thoughts from being accessed and pulled out of her mind. With slow deep breaths, Miranda went through the necessary meditative exercises that she knew to calm her racing thoughts.

The Sorting Feast had been a whirlwind, and she still couldn't believe that the Toymaker's daughter had gotten herself sorted into Gryffindor. It'd been a hot topic during the Feast with all sorts of theories lobbied about. Some believed that she was a spy, an elaborate scheme concocted by the Goyles to gather as much intel as possible on the muggleborns to use to properly defeat them. Some believed the Hat had finally lost the plot, failing to work properly to ensure Amy ended up in Slytherin. Some (like Cousin Cassius) believed that the Hat had done so on purpose, through some elaborate scheme set in motion by Dumbledore to shame the Toymaker's legacy. Miranda snorted at the sheer idiocy of that suggestion, once more wondering exactly how Cassius had fooled the Hat into a Slytherin Sorting. He hadn't displayed a lick of cleverness or subtlety of those truly deserving to be in the House.

Thoughts of her odious cousin forced Miranda to think about her 'mission' for the Family. Somehow, they expected her to uproot Harry Potter's influence in Slytherin. An insurmountable task in the least; Potter was intelligent, clever, and cunning, using his abilities to acquire powerful allies to help further his agenda. He'd somehow gotten the previous years' Seventh Year Prefects to help him get the worst of Draco Malfoy's child tyrant behavior under strict control. He'd even gotten the blonde git to apologize to muggleborn Hermione Granger, and then, somehow, secured her position as paid academic tutor for his two security lumps. Despite the near murder attempt of himself and his twin during their disastrous birthday celebration, Harry Potter had emerged as a hero who'd helped the save the life of the Chief Auror, more than likely incurring a Life Debt. Powerful leverage against a very powerful man.

"And I'm expected to go against him." Miranda just barely resisted the urge to groan at the unfairness of it all. How she wished she'd been the one selected to ally with Harry Potter. He had already shifted Slytherin House on its axis, and Miranda knew that whatever course he set the House on, Harry Potter would emerge victorious. "Cassius is going to ruin everything." Harry Potter should have been her ally to secure, protecting her position within the House. And if she was right about Harry's potential (and the strength of his allies in Lords Black, Gaunt, and Prince), protect her from…her family. Unbidden, a shudder ran down her spine at thoughts of the Selwyns.

Aunt Juliana had been trying for years to ingratiate the Bonnevies to the Selwyns, successfully securing an advantageous marriage with Antonius Warrington during her Seventh Year at Beauxbatons. A bygone relic of French magical nobilities past, the Bonnevies were ruthless money-grubbers determined to reestablish their social imminence lost at the advent of the French Revolution, utilizing the girls and women of the family as bargaining chips to buy their way into prominent pureblood families. As with most traditionalists, the witches were expected to be the pinnacle of proper pureblood wives; stay-at-home witches who lunched, shopped, supervised the nanny elves while they did most of the child-rearing, and did everything in their power to preserve the Selwyn name and agenda. And Aunt Juliana was more than willing to play her role, especially with the Selwyns' backing. And just like Aunt Juliana, Miranda was expected to play her role.

A muted scream left Miranda's lips at the unfairness of it all! She didn't want to be a stooge for a bloody maniacal wizarding family who would have no qualms murdering her should she fail in her mission. No regard whatsoever for her dreams and ambitions to be a Potions Mistress. Constantly having to dumb herself down and pretend she wasn't intelligent and capable just to fit the family's expectations of the role she ought to play. Faking perfectly average grades, faking the heavy-handed bigotry, faking the unnecessary bullying, all of the faking. That her father had had to threaten Selena Harper's family to secure the Prefect position Miranda could've easily earned on her own merits stung and enraged her beyond measure.

But it was no matter. Miranda Bonnevie did what she was told, always. And she'd been told to take down Harry Potter.

"Should be easy enough," she muttered sarcastically as she tossed and turned to sleep. "Just what could possibly go wrong?"

Firmly tucked within his bed in the Slytherin boys dorm, a sleepy Blaise Zabini felt a distinct chill run down his back, that which he only felt when someone was foolish enough to challenge the gods of irony. Snarling in irritation at the would-be fool, he hoped the gods weren't too…inventive in whatever havoc they'd inevitably wreak upon them all.

AN 1: A Slytherin Luna, has a lot of potential! A Gryffindor Amy too, can't wait to explore how that goes.

AN 2: I've been rather fascinated by Miranda's character in PoS, her coupled with Cassius. Looking forward to exploring her motivations more in AD