1st/2nd Yrs - none
Percy stood straight and tall, his flaming red hair making him quite visible in the crowd of first years. One by one, they were called up to try on the Sorting Hat, until Percy was nearly the only one left. He puffed out his chest, determined not to look scared. He had two older brothers at Hogwarts, after all, and one of them was a Prefect.
He had nothing to worry about, really. His family had all been in Gryffindor, so it was likely that he would be, too. Percy was glad he didn’t have to fret like the other children around him. He knew where he was going. However, Percy couldn’t help but wonder. He had never identified much with his brothers or cousins. Did he really want to be lumped into the same house as them? What would happen if he was sorted somewhere else?
Before Percy had time to think about anything more, his name was called. He stumbled up the steps, forgetting his promise to avoid looking nervous as he seized the Hat and placed it on his head.
“What have we here?” the Sorting Hat said in his ear, making Percy shiver. “Another Weasley? Yes, but, oh, you’ve got mighty ambitions, haven’t you? Mighty indeed.”
Percy’s chest swelled. Yes, he had his plans. He had already determined that he was going to be a Prefect, and Head Boy, too, if he could manage. After that, of course, he would go to work at the Ministry like his father, and he could already see himself rising through the ranks, perhaps even one day becoming Minister for Magic...
“Slytherin could help you realize some of those goals…” the Hat said softly.
Percy’s stomach pinched with trepidation. Slytherin? He had his ambitions, but he couldn’t be in Slytherin. That was the house full of troublemakers and dark wizards, his father and brothers had told him so. He was a Weasley, and he was supposed to go to Gryffindor!
“Are you sure?” the Hat asked quietly. “Perhaps, perhaps. Choosing family over ambition is a very noble thing to do, you know.”
“Yes,” Percy whispered, hardly thinking about what he was saying. “I choose family.”
“Hmmmm,” the Hat murmured, and for one dreadful moment Percy was sure it was going to put him in Slytherin. “No, perhaps Gryffindor will be a better fit. But remember... sometimes it is more chivalrous to break the rules, than to follow them.”
With that, the Sorting Hat shouted his house to the whole school, and Percy took it carefully off his head, feeling slightly bewildered. He made his way hurriedly to the Gryffindor table and collapsed next to his brother Charlie.
“All right, there, Perce?” he said, clapping him on the back. “Had me worried there for a second, the Hat sure took it’s time, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” Percy managed to reply, forcing a smile. He was a Weasley. He was a Gryffindor. This was where he was supposed to be.
Upon hearing his name, the young boy with longish black hair and startling gray eyes walked toward the three legged stool and sat down. An old ragged hat was placed on his head covering his eyes from the remaining students and nervous first-years.
“Ah, another Black to sort this year, and by the looks of it, it’s quite clear which house you should be in,” said a small voice in his ear.
, Sirius thought.
But he didn’t wish to follow the family tradition and be sorted into Slytherin. He already lived in a house full of Slytherins, and they were a miserable lot.
Maybe if he concentrated really hard, the hat would put him into Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart
. Sirius didn’t care if he had to face the wrath of his mother and the rest of the ‘Noble House of Black’. He’d proudly wear the red and gold among a sea of green and silver. He wanted to be a lion among a family of snakes.
“I see a courageous spirit in you that at times borders on recklessness,” the small voice said, interrupting his thoughts. “Though both of these traits far outshine the cunning aspect of your nature, don’t you agree?”
The elation at hearing the hat see courage in him was quickly dashed at the last statement.
Cunning? I’m not cunning!
“Oh, it’s not a bad thing,” the small voice assured. “People often forget that cunning can also mean inventive and resourceful. Oh yes, it’s quite clear where I will put you, young man.”
Sirius sighed. The hope of being a Gryffindor was short-lived and quickly replaced with the dread of becoming a Slytherin. Couldn’t this old hat see that he was different from the rest of his family?
Sirius’ shoulders slumped in defeat. He was going to be sorted into Slytherin, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He knew in his heart he didn’t belong in Slytherin House, but if that is where the Sorting Hat put him, he could learn to live with it.
Sirius took a deep breath to gather his bearings, waiting for the Sorting Hat’s proclamation.
“Oh yes, definitely…GRYFFINDOR!”
: “The Black Sheep”
: 3rd-5th/Character Death,
: Sirius Black
: Lines denoted with * are taken directly from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
, which I don’t own. However, JKR does own it and the rest of the lovely Potterverse.
“Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville and run!”* Sirius shouted over his shoulder as he ran towards Bellatrix.
The rest of the world melted away. Sirius focused intently on bringing down the woman in front of him. Bellatrix Lestrange might be his cousin by blood, but she was in no way a member of his family.
“I see I have another Black under my brim.” Sirius shut his eyes tight in response to the voice whispering in his ear. “A desire to prove yourself—”
That I’m not like them
, he thought, grimacing, not like them at all
“A strong sense of defiance… I see there’s courage. Plenty of intelligence in here. What to do with you…”
I’m not like them
, Sirius repeated to himself. I won’t be like them
“The Black sheep, eh? But being in Slytherin could make you powerf—“
Sirius felt like screaming.
“If you say. Best be in… GRYFFINDOR!” The hat shouted its decision to the entire hall.
Sirius sighed as he slid off the stool, glad to be away from the Sorting Hat and its incessant prying. Polite cheers came from the Gryffindor table in an attempt to deter the silence that followed the hat’s announcement. A Black in anything but
Slytherin? Whispers shot around the Great Hall as Sirius walked to the Gryffindor table and sat down. There was one part of his Black heritage that he let show – he kept held his head high. The voices died down as the next name was called and another nervous first year approached the hat and stool.
He would keep to himself. Sirius figured this was the best course of action. It was his hope that he could avoid jeers from the Slytherins and attacks from the Gryffindors. Sirius’ train of thought was interrupted as someone tried to speak to him. He looked up to see a boy with messy black hair and glasses looking at him.
“Sirius, is it?” The boy asked, smiling. “My name’s James. James Potter.”
As he threw curses back at Bellatrix, Sirius knew who his true family was. Prongs and Moony. Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys. They
were his true family – his loved ones. They were the ones he fought to protect.
Sirius laughed. He couldn’t help it. He had something Bellatrix could and would never have. In that moment, Sirius knew he was better than her.
“Come on, you can do better than that!”* His voice reverberated throughout the vast room.
Everything slowed when he saw the green jet of light rushing toward him. Sirius knew he wouldn’t be able to escape the curse. He felt his eyes widen. Over Bellatrix’s shoulder, he could see Remus staring back at him, mouth open. At least his last image would be the man he—
A Tale of Two Houses
1st/2nd Years — None
Megan Jones (Hufflepuff)
Quite a random character, but I do hold that the Slytherpuff does, indeed, exist.
* * *
Taking a steadying breath, Megan stepped warily toward the talking hat. Her older cousin, Hestia, had told her some of what the Sorting ceremony was like, yet had taken a perverse joy in being deliberately vague. “The fun is not knowing,” she’d said. It was easy for her to say, as she wasn’t staring down millennium-old headgear responsible for determining her roommates for seven years.
Megan considered that ominous accessory before a glare from Professor McGonagall propelled her onto the stool. With a determined plunk
, the hat was on her head and covering most of her face. She looked intensely at the threadbare fabric, fruitlessly trying to remember whether she was supposed to do anything. But as mild panic wormed its way into her brain, a voice startled her.
A nervous one, are we?
It took Megan a moment to realise that it was indeed the hat speaking to her and not someone standing nearby. To herself, she wondered how it was able to talk and how she was supposed to answer.
Oh, I’d imagine you can just think aloud, if you’d like. I can see everything in your head.
At those words, Megan felt the blood drain from her face. Could it see the biscuits she had nicked from her aunt’s house the previous summer? Or the obnoxious talking doll that her sister thought was ‘lost’ but was really hidden in the attic of their family home?
Quite a devious one, you are.
“Am not!” Megan heard herself say, even though her lips hadn’t moved.
Seemingly unperturbed by her denial, the hat continued, The means to an end are but a small trifle to you, I see. Perhaps green would suit you best.
“Slytherin?” Megan thought.
, the hat added, but competition is not in your blood. You crave peace above all, to be left alone. Perhaps Ravenclaw House — no, that won’t do at all.
“What a load of waffle,” Megan grumbled, this time aloud. The more it spoke to her, the less she knew about where she should or would end up, and the uncertainty was making her queasy. Exasperated, she thought, “Just get on with it already.”
A young lady who knows what she wants. Yes... I can see it here in your head.
The more the hat leaned toward Slytherin, Megan began to ponder how her family would react. Everyone knew the kind of people who came out of Slytherin: Dark wizards, pure-blood nutters, and even You-Know-Who himself. She couldn’t help but shudder inwardly at the idea of people ever comparing her to any of them. She didn’t want to be compared to anyone.
Worried about Slytherin, are we? No matter. Better be…
Releasing the breath that had been unwittingly held hostage in her chest, Megan removed the hat and staggered gratefully to the table bearing the badger crest. While she had no idea if she belonged there, she did know that she didn’t not
belong, and that was a start, at least.