Chapter Two: Of Miniature Bellatrixes and Sortings of Kind
On September first there was a big scramble to leave. People bustled up and down the staircase with trunks and Draco tripped Ron when they were both halfway down. The twins shrunk Harish's brand new Nimbus 2000 and stuck it in George's trunk. Percy started shouting that he couldn't find his Prefect badge and glared at the twins the rest of the morning when he found it behind the toilet. People pulled on clothes, combed their hair, and searched frantically for their shoes.
Finally they had all had breakfast and they climbed into Mr. Weasley's brand new (but old and dusty looking) Ford Angela. They made it to platform nine and three-quarters with five minutes to spare. When they did arrive, Harish chose a compartment along with the twins and Draco at the back of the train. Ron noticed and booked himself one on the opposite end. They hoisted their trunks on top of the rack and finally the train started moving as everyone poked their heads out of the windows to say goodbye to their families. Ginny ran alongside their car laughing and crying. George stuck his head out the window.
"Don't worry, Ginny! We'll send you a toilet seat!"
And the last thing they heard before they were out of the station was, "George!"
ONLY-JOKING-MUM—KEEP-YOUR-HAIR-ON!
Ron looked out the window at the city buildings that were going by. Finally, he dragged his eyes away and looked at his friend, Neville.
"So how does it feel to finally be going to Hogwarts?"
Neville thought for a minute. "I'm nervous. I don't know what Gran would do if I ended up in Hufflepuff, but I'm sure I will."
"Nah," Ron assured him. "I think you're plenty brave enough to be in Gryffindor. You just have to think that you can end up there."
Neville nodded.
"Scabbers!" Ron said suddenly. He pulled the plump rat out of a brown bag. "That's my lunch!" Scabbers didn't seem to notice and kept chewing on corned beef. "Yeah, you feel bad about having a toad? Try owning a dumb rat that was handed down to you from your older brother."
"Hey, where is Trevor?" Neville asked all of a sudden. He glanced around the compartment, but couldn't see his toad in sight.
"I dunno…I'm sure he'll turn up though."
Neville was in the process of searching through his trunk when the compartment door slid open. A girl with rather bushy hair stepped in.
"What are you doing in here?" Ron asked.
"I was just looking for somewhere to sit," she replied defensively.
There was a bang and Neville pulled his head out from under his seat, rubbing it furiously. "Hey you haven't seen a toad, have you?" he asked.
"Sorry?" the girl said.
"Have you seen a toad? I can't find mine…"
"No…What's your name? I'm Hermione Granger."
"Neville Longbottom."
"Oh, I've read about you! My family started buying your newspaper, and you were in several articles. I think the Wizarding world is fascinating. I didn't know I was a witch until I got my letter. But when I did, I was ever so pleased. What house do you think you'll be in? Never mind, I'll go and see if I can find your toad…" she said it all in one breath, but then walked towards the door. Then she turned back and said to Ron, "Oh, you've got dirt on your nose by the way. Did you know?" and she left.
"Whatever house I'm in," Ron said after she left. "I hope she's not in it."
Neville didn't know what to say, but Ron was his only friend so he just decided on agreeing with him.
PEER-PRESSURE—IT'S-snort-NO-JOKE
When the trolley arrived, Harish and Draco just about emptied it with all of their money they had. Then they sat talking as they ate their candy. They finally got back on the subject of Hagrid.
"I still wonder what's at Hogwarts though," Harish sighed staring out the window. The sky was clear and they were currently passing by rows and rows of fields. There would certainly be ideal weather for when that year's first years go over on the lake.
Just then the door to their compartment slid open. A girl with bushy brown hair stuck her head in and opened her mouth imperiously. She froze as she saw that she had just entered a compartment of boys; tall, thirteen-year-old boys no less. Then she asked nervously, "Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."
Harish snorted. "Neville? I don't doubt that."
"You know him?" she asked more confidently this time.
"He's our brother's—"
"Friend," the twins said.
She nodded and made her way to close the door, but Harish's smooth voice stopped her.
"What house are you wanting to go into?"
"Gryffindor. All the greatest wizards went into Gryffindor. Like Professor Dumbledore. He's the headmaster."
Harish nodded. He could practically sense the thirst that she possessed to prove herself. Yes, she had ambition to rival Slytherin himself, he was sure.
"I'm not so sure about that," he said. "I know many great men that were in other houses, but if that's where you want to go," he shrugged. "What's your name?"
"Hermione Granger."
"Oh, well my name is Harish and this is Fred, George, and Draco. Why are you walking around the train anyway?"
"I was helping Neville find his toad."
"Do you not—"
"Have anywhere to sit?"
"If you don't, you can sit here," Harish offered.
"Oh, no I wouldn't want to bother you," and she left.
Harish waited until she was out of earshot before saying, "Now that I've planted doubt in her mind, let's see where she'll actually end up."
OOH—EVIL-SCHEMING-GENIUSES!
When Hermione left Harish's compartment, she walked along the train asking more people if they had seen Neville's toad. When no toad was found she walked up to the conductor and asked him how long it would be until they arrived at Hogwarts. They were only an hour away. She returned back to the corridor as two burly boys ran past her, howling.
The bushy haired girl returned to Ron and Neville's compartment to see them two boys standing up, the red-haired one holding his rat in his hands.
"You two haven't been fighting have you?" she asked.
"No, it was Scabbers doing the fighting, not us."
"You two better change into your robes then. I've just been up to speak to the conductor, and I expect we should arrive soon."
"Well, do you mind leaving while we change?" Ron asked just as rudely.
"I only came in here because people are behaving childishly and racing up and down the corridors," she sniffed. With that she left once again and chose to sit in the compartment that was full of other girls her age. One girl, with plain hair, talked with her a little. Finally after half-listening to several conversations about hair potions, they pulled to a stop.
The group of girls were herded and pushed out onto the station where they got lost in the number of students. At least until a giant lantern came bobbing over the crowd towards them. Following the giant lantern was a giant man who was calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there?"
Hermione turned to see Neville and Ron standing behind her. Neville, who was a bit pale, nodded but didn't open his mouth. The giant had small beetle-black eyes that were nearly hidden under a mass of wild hair.
"C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
And so they all stumbled after him, slipping on particularly steep bits of pathway. It was so dark on either side of them that Hermione thought that there must be thick trees. No one spoke much. Neville kept sniffling every now and then.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Oooooh!"
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many towers.
"No more'n four a boat!" the giant called as he climbed into one himself. He took up the whole thing. Hermione looked at the black lake to discover that there were several more little boats. She spotted the blonde haired boy who was in the compartment with Harish earlier. His name was Draco unless Hermione was mistaken. The girl with bushy hair climbed into a boat after him. Draco looked at her oddly, but didn't say anything. Two girls also got into the boat with them. One had brown hair and a pug like face, and the other was the plain haired girl with grey eyes.
"Ugh, Draco," the pug faced girl said to the boy. "There's a Mudblood in our boat."
Hermione's heart sank. She had no idea what Mudblood meant, but she was sure it wasn't a compliment. Still Draco said nothing. The other girl, however, leaned forward and smiled.
"Don't mind Pansy," the girl said to her and holding out her hand to shake. "My name is Daphne."
"Hermione," she replied forcing a smile and shaking her hand.
And they rode the rest of the way across the lake in silence. They all stared up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed closer to the cliff on which it stood. "HEADS DOWN!" the giant shouted as the first boats reached the cliff. They all bent their heads down and they were carried through a curtain of ivy. The little boats floated along a dark tunnel until they all bumped to a halt at the gravelly bank. All of the children clambered out and gathered behind Hagrid.
"Oy, you there! Is this yer toad?" Hagrid called, who was checking the boats as people climbed out.
"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed gratefully, holding out his hands. Then they trotted up the path after the man's lamp, coming onto the smooth, damp grass right in front of the castle. They walked up a flight of steps and crowded around the huge front door.
"Everyone here? You still got yer toad?" and with that the giant raised a ginormous fist and knocked on the great oak door.
The door swung open at once and the giant greeted a tall witch with black hair pulled into a tight bun.
"Firs' years, Professor McGonagall."
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
The entrance hall was so big, you could have probably fit Hermione's whole house in it. All of the first years gaped and stared around as they followed Professor McGonagall inside and walked across the flagged stone floor. Hermione could hear many voices as they passed another set of grand doors. She figured that the rest of the school must have been through there. But instead of going in there, they were led straight past the doors and into a small chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing very close together, peering about nervously.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start-of-term feast is about to start, but before you take your seats you must be sorted into your houses. The four houses are called Gryffindor," Ron smiled encouragingly at Neville. "Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you points, and any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house points, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."
"The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes, I suggest you smarten up while you wait."
Her lingered a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear and Ron's nose, which was still smudged. Hermione nervously ran a hand through her hair, attempting to battle the mess of tangles that caught on her fingers. It was brown, though it was so dark that some people could possibly mistake it for being black.
"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly," and she strode out of the room.
Hermione saw Neville swallow nervously. "How exactly do they sort us?" he asked Ron.
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot but that's the kind of thing he would joke about."
"What, pain?" Neville asked incredulously and Ron nodded.
Hermione, who had no idea who the boys were talking about, turned to Daphne. "Is that true?" she asked.
"Of course not," she replied. "How could they test us if we haven't even learned anything yet?"
Hermione nodded. That seemed perfectly logical.
Suddenly several people screamed. The two girls turned around to see about twenty ghosts streaming through the wall into the room. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name, you know, and he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are all of you doing here?"
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. No one answered.
"New students!" the Fat Friar said, smiling around at them. "About to be sorted I suppose?"
A few people, Hermione included, nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" the Friar exclaimed. "It was my old house, you know."
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.
"Now form a line and follow me."
Hermione then began to feel nervous as they followed the professor out of the room and through the doors they had passed earlier. She had never imagined such a place. There were four great candles, each lit by candles that were floating in mid-air. The high ceiling did not seem to be made of stone, but the sky above. Each of the tables were set with golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers sat. Professor McGonagall led them up there and they gathered around a stool were an old, frayed hat sat.
Hermione saw several students looking up at the ceiling and she whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
Then her gaze fell back on the frayed hat. And so did everyone else's as its brim twitched and it began to sing. It sang about the four houses and about how it was made to sort the students of Hogwarts. Around her, students breathed sighs of relief. She still couldn't believe that they thought they would be forced to take some painful test. Finally its song ended and Professor McGonagall stepped forward.
"When I call your name, you will put on the Sorting Hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"
A girl with round, pink face and pig tails slipped the hat over her head and it cried out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The table that Hermione assumed was the Hufflepuff table began cheering and Hannah went over to sit with them.
"Bones, Susan."
A moment's pause—
"HUFFELPUFF!" and Susan scuttled of to sit with Hannah.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!" the table second from the left cheered this time and Terry went and joined them.
"Brocklehurst, Mandy" was sorted into Ravenclaw as well, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor.
"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. After that was "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" who was sorted into Hufflepuff.
Finally Hermione started as her named was called. She hesitated for a moment before running and jabbing the hat over her head, eager to get it over with.
Well what have we here? said a little voice in her head.
"Can you read my mind?" she thought.
To some extent. Just enough to know where you would do best. The hat answered. You are very ambitious, very smart, and somewhat brave. You could be put into any of the houses really.
"What about Gryffindor?" she asked. "Many great wizards came from Gryffindor."
But then she remembered Harish said to her on the train, "I'm not so sure about that…I know many great men from other houses."
He's right you know. The hat told her. You can't let what someone else did dictate what you do. You could be great no matter where I put you.
"Why not Gryffindor? Just to be curious."
They don't value education there. You would stick out like a sore thumb with your ambition and love of books.
"Well, could you put me somewhere where I already have friends?" she asked.
All right…better be... "SLYTHERIN!"
Hermione took off the hat and walked over to the Slytherin table. As she approached it, she noticed that there was no space among the older students for anyone to slip in. The only spots available to first years were on the ends of the tables. She wondered why that was when none of the other houses did that. The dark-haired girl shrugged and made her way to the end of the table closest. Just as she was about to sit down, she heard:
"Pst!"
Hermione looked around and saw Harish point at her before pointing across from him and then he made a summoning motion. The people who were sitting across from the third year noticed as well and the entire house moved to the sides to make room for her to sit across from the boy. Confused and wary, Hermione felt that she had no choice but to sit across from the boy. So she got up and made her way over, earning glares from other students at her end of the table. She stuck her nose in the air, determined not to care what they thought, and sat delicately in the newly vacated seat.
"I see you got sorted into my noble house," Harish said smiling.
"Your house?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, yes. Things work differently in Slytherin. Even though we have head boys and prefects, I'm still in charge."
Oh, yes. He was in charge. Normally the older Slytherins would have confronted Hermione about where she was sorted, seeing as she was a Muggle-born, but they all remembered too well what happened the last time they confronted a first year they thought to be Muggle-born. After their slip-up and Harish had gained control, he had enforced the fact that no one mentioned the word 'Mudblood' in front of him; it would be a while before they would forget it.
"Why?" Hermione asked, not knowing all of this.
"Because, I'm the heir of Slytherin."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Now, listen closely," Harish said, leaning forward, his voice lowered so that he wouldn't disrupt the sorting. "Slytherins are rather obsessed with blo bloodlines, so you could be in danger, being a Muggle-born witch and all."
"How did you know I—"
"Like I said, Slytherins are a bit obsessed with bloodlines."
"You're telling me," she muttered. Harish raised an eyebrow at her. "Sorry."
"Now, if you want to survive, don't mention life with Muggles and stick to me. No one will mess with you if you are around me."
"Okay?"
"Trust me, if you don't you'll wish you had never come to Hogwarts."
"Fine. You're the only person I know here anyway."
"Good!" Harish smiled and raised his voice slightly.
Hermione looked out at the sorting. There were a lot less students now. Professor McGonagall had just called Draco up to the stool. The hat had barely touched his head when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" and he was beckoned over by Harish to sit next to Hermione.
At first she thought that he was going to receive the same lecture she had from the teen, but it turned out that the two simply knew each other. She sighed and wondered what exactly had she gotten herself into.
UH-OH—WE'RE-IN-TROUBLE!
"Bet you a galleon Ron'll be sorted into Gryffindor." Fred whispered.
"That's not a fair bet! Of course he'll be sorted into Gryffindor as he's got the least amount of brains out of the whole family."
Harish chuckled at his two friends and watched as the boy was called forward. The red-head cretin sat on the stool shaking slightly. After a second the hat cried out, "GRYFFINDOR!"
"See?" both twins said to each other at once.
Some students around them discreetly rolled their eyes, but most laughed at them as well. Even though Harish had a good hold on most of the house, he couldn't make them all like the Weasley twins. Though some did acknowledge that maybe they had shed their blood traitor status and deserved attention. But to keep from causing too much disturbance from either side, no one really talked with them except Harish. The twins didn't mind though, it was just how they liked it.
Several of the older students craned their necks to get a look at Hermione before putting their heads together to discuss her sorting. "How did a Mudblood get in?" one boy asked.
Everyone that was a part of the conversation looked nervous. "Maybe…" one girl started, but wondered how to voice her theory. "Maybe she's not a Mudblood at all."
"Yeah," another boy whispered. "I mean, did you see the way she carried herself. It was certainly not the poise of a Mudblood."
"Besides," the girl added. "Remember the last person we thought was a Mudblood?"
Everyone nodded. "Blake," they all said together.
"Exactly, and he isn't a Muggle-born at all…He's…the Dark Lord's son."
"Plus aren't most children we think are Muggle-borns actually the last descendant of an ancient bloodline that went into hiding?"
"It is very possible. We know of several families that disappeared after the war."
"But then whose could she be?"
"Not a Lestrange…they're all in prison."
"What about a Black?"
"Don't be stupid! The last Black is in prison also."
"But, think about it. He was arrested for the killings of thirteen Muggles, right?" the others nodded. "The day after the Potters were killed."
Another student caught on. "And that was almost a year after this lot of first years would've been born!"
"Exactly!"
"What do you think," the girl asked one of the boys. "You've been rather silent."
He sighed. "I…I don't know, guys. That seems pretty farfetched to me."
"Think about it! He needed an heir, right? To not let the Black line die out. But, he was busy double-crossing everyone. He fooled everyone that he was on the Light side. Lord Black knew he was going to come true eventually, so he placed his daughter in a Muggle home to protect her. Her didn't want the Light side getting a hold of her when he would surely be arrested! Then, a year later, he came clean and was thrown into Azkaban! Plus, how else could Harish have let her break the seating arrangements and come sit with him of all people?"
Everyone at their end of the table, even the first years, had been listening to this theory by the end of the girl's speech. They all sat there silent, contemplating the possibility that she was the last Black. Then, the first year girls whispered hurriedly to each other.
"—And I called her a Mudblood!" Pansy wailed. Tracy Davis patted her consolingly, but Daphne rolled her eyes.
Several people started arguing about the plausibility of this theory, but finally Daphne said, "Oi!" they all fell silent and looked at her. "You know one person that would know for sure? The Dark Lord's son."
OOOH—DUN-DUN-DUN!
When all of the desserts finally disappeared off of everyone's plates, Professor Dumbledore stood up to give the usual start-of-term announcements. It was all regular, no students allowed in the Forbidden Forest…No casting spells in the corridors…Quidditch trials being held next week…But the last announcement the old man gave had the three mischief makers jittering in their seats.
"And finally I must tell you that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is forbidden to all students who do not wish to die a slow and painful death. Now off you trot!"
The three of them left immediately and on the way to the dungeons, Harish whispered to the twins, "This must have something to do with whatever was taken here by Hagrid." The other two nodded. Harish was silent for a moment. "I hope Granger doesn't get killed in her sleep tonight. It's practically my fault she's in Slytherin."
"Why are you even bothering with her?" the twins asked as the three of them entered the common room together.
"I dunno…" Harish replied uncertainly. "I can just feel magic coming off of her. That's not something you see in everyday eleven-year-olds. Plus she's got enough ambition to stretch from here to Durmstrang. I figured we could use her."
Just then a prefect entered the common room with the first years trailing behind her. She told them where the dormitories were before waving at Harish and going into her own dormitory. Draco went with a couple of other boys to inspect their dormitory and so did a couple of other girls. The rest of them stood huddled in a group nervously in the middle of the room.
Finally one girl, Daphne Greengrass to be specific, stepped forward and walked up to him, smiling. "We have a quick question for you," she said.
"And what is that?" Harish asked, wondering what this was about.
"We were wondering if the Lord Black happened to have children before he was arrested. We thought you might with your dad… and he was a big follower…"
Harish smiled. Oh, this was perfect. Hermione would certainly be left alone if the whole house believed this theory. And they would certainly believe it if he approved it.
"Caught on, have you?" he asked imperiously.
The little girls gasped. "So Hermione is a Black?" and they bustled off to spread the news. Harish's grin grew into a smirk and he motioned for the twins to follow him.
They walked down to their dormitory and Harish, wanting to talk to the twins without someone eavesdropping on their conversation, said, "Clear out." Instantly the boys in their dormitory were scrambling to exit the room.
"It seems," he said once everyone was gone. "That the house thinks that Hermione is the last descendant of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black."