Chapter Text
Rose peered avidly around the entrance hall. It had been lovely to see Hagrid, of course, and the view of the castle from the lake was superb, but nothing was quite as nice as standing inside, knowing this was where she belonged. She had read Hogwarts, A History in preparation (to her father’s dismay) but as the tome was devoid of illustrations, this was her first chance to see everything it discussed.
“Rose, you look like a hyperactive Kneazle,” Al muttered.
“Oh, hush, Kneazles are adorable,” she said, remembering beloved Crookshanks. When Neville—Professor Longbottom now—walked in, however, she did spare a moment to envy Al. He looked as stoic as always, whereas she was bursting with nervous energy. Neville had the Sorting Hat, which meant the moment of reckoning had nearly arrived, which meant she had only minutes left with her father’s unconditional love—not that she entirely believed that he would disown her if she didn’t get sorted into Gryffindor. Mum wouldn’t let him she assured herself. Dad never went against Mum, or at least he never went against Mum successfully.
“Welcome first-years!” Neville’s voice rang through the hall rather more commandingly than she had ever heard it at the Sunday brunches her family joined the Longbottoms for. “In just a minute, you will step into the Great Hall to be Sorted. It’s quite a sight, and there’s no reason to be nervous for your Sorting,” he added kindly in response to the collective paling at the mention of Sorting. “There are four houses, and you can earn points for your house through your achievements. Of course, you can lose points for your house if you choose to go down the troublemaking path. Points go towards the House Cup—the house that wins this has unparalleled bragging rights at the end of term feast, and I’m sure none of you want to miss out on that!”
His introduction apparently finished, he turned and walked into the Great Hall, motioning the students to follow. They did, some more timidly than others. Rose gasped when she saw the enchanted ceiling, and she wasn’t alone. Soon, though, attention shifted to Neville and the hat and stool he carried; the seated older students continued to chatter, but among the first years you could hear a pin drop. The stool was set down, and the hat placed on top.
There was a moment of silence before the hat burst into song:
“Hello and welcome, once again
To another Hogwarts Sorting!
You want to know where you belong
But first a word of warning:
Beware your misconceptions
Of which there may be lots
Don’t judge a house based
On which side its members fought
Not one house is free of flaws
So focus on the pros
Now you’ve heard my advice
Shall we get on with the show?
Of the legendary founders four
Let’s first look at the house of Gryffindor.
These folk are brave and bold,
Ready to push the limit
What makes this house exceptional
Is all the courage in it.
Don’t worry if that is not
Somewhere you’d fit in
T here are other options
Y ou could belong in Slytherin.
Where ingenuity, pride, and drive
Are defining qualities
The success of members of this house
Is no mystery.
But if that cunning is too subtle
You should consider Ravenclaw
Those with great intelligence
Will surely see the draw
Of valuing brains and wit
And a thinking mind
Which will never quit.
But maybe your strength lies elsewhere
In Hufflepuff perchance?
They are loyal and work hard
If they only have the chance.
And so we have the four houses
Where do you belong?
Put me on and I’ll tell you
I’ve never yet been wrong.
If you don’t know where you should be,
Do not be afraid.
I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And that’s why I was made!”
Rose clapped when she realized that’s what everyone else was doing. When the applause died down, though, her breath caught. It’s time.
“Ashton, Emily!” Neville called. Rose closed her eyes.
Scorpius had been staring determinedly at the ceiling so as not to focus on the dwindling line in front of him. He didn’t even think he had a reason to be nervous; Malfoys had been in Slytherin as long as such things had been recorded, but it was nerve-wracking all the same.
“Malfoy, Scorpius!”
Time to test that theory. He tried to walk as confidently as his father did, but he couldn’t help biting his lip as he sat on the stool and put the hat on his head.
“Oh, another Malfoy, eh? How interesting, very interesting,” the hat whispered enigmatically into his ear. “You’re quite a bit more difficult to place than your father, you know.” You don’t have to say that like it’s a good thing, Scorpius thought back at the hat resentfully.
“There you go, prove my point! Loyal to your father, unafraid to express your opinion, and no small amount of brains either! Yes, you’ve got lots of options.” Scorpius found himself rather bewildered by the hat’s summary. He had never seriously considered the possibility he could get Sorted somewhere other than Slytherin.
“So you’re interested in Slytherin then? I see that you are quite anxious to make your family proud. You certainly have the subtlety and finesse of thought. Yes, I think you’ll do well in—
“SLYTHERIN!”
Albus had been following the Sorting obsessively. So far there had been eight Hufflepuffs, five Ravenclaws, nine Gryffindors, and six Syltherins. The hat had taken the most time deciding with Scorpius Malfoy, of all people, although a Ravenclaw named Fiona Fawcett had been on the stool for a while too. Albus took this all in while standing perfectly still, trying not to panic. He just knew James was staring at him, waiting for him to freak out; he wouldn’t give his brother any such satisfaction.
He heard Neville call his name from what sounded like miles away, and he took in a deep breath. Moving slowly, as if in a dream, he put the hat on his head.
“Oh how interesting!” the hat greeted him “Not at all what I expect from your family.” Albus didn’t know whether to be indignant or worried at what seemed like a veiled insult.
“Don’t you worry, being different isn’t a bad thing. But you know that don’t you? And it bothers you that others don’t. That’s quite a desire to prove yourself you have.” Albus registered the direction of the hat’s thoughts. What? No! You can’t put me in Slytherin! He clenched his fists and swallowed the rising panic.
“Calm down” the hat chided. “It’s not so bad as that. You want to do well. You want show everyone that there are some things you can do better than your brother. You think of things a little differently, and can often find a solution when others think there isn’t one.” But wouldn’t that be Ravenclaw? Al thought, desperate to find any alternative.
“Oh, I’m afraid not. Cunning and ingenuity are completely different from raw intelligence. Slytherin is what’s best for you, you will not convince me otherwise.” But—why not Gryffindor? Am I as much of a coward as James always says? Albus could not help voicing (thinking? He supposed the action was nonverbal, after all) his insecurities with no small amount of bitterness. If he were sorted into Slytherin, he’d be doing nothing but proving James right.
“Whoever said Slytherins couldn’t be brave?” challenged the hat irately. “Courage doesn’t require bravado. You stand up for yourself—and others—but you have the ability to do it without making enemies. Or at least without being found out by your enemies.” The hat’s words reminded Albus of the times he had managed to avenge himself (or Lily, or Rose) on James (or Freddie) without his brother’s knowledge. Whereas James’s pranks tended to blow up very ostentatiously, resulting in the eldest Potter being grounded more often than not, plots orchestrated by Al could be explained away as chance happenings.
“See?” interjected the hat, following his thoughts. “You aren’t cut from the same cloth as your brother. You aren’t one to go blundering into things regardless of the consequences; you plan around the consequences, figure out how to thwart them while still accomplishing your objective. And really, if you aren’t going to stop incessantly comparing yourself to your brother, I don’t see how you can deny your ambition.” I—are you saying showing everyone I’m not the inferior brother is an ambitious task? Albus thought furiously.
“Not at all,” the hat returned smoothly, “You and your brother might as well be apples and oranges. However, getting recognition as anything but an extension of your family is going to be difficult.” Al pondered this piece of worldly wisdom. It was true that he was often overshadowed by the collective reputations of his vast family, but he received far too much attention as it was. Did it matter whether he was singled out for being Albus Potter instead of being Harry Potter’s son? I don’t need more attention, thanks, he told the hat defiantly.
“It would be hard to be the only Potter in Slytherin, wouldn’t it?” the hat mused. “That makes the fit all the better, I suppose. You have it in you to overcome that stigma, and to redeem an entire house along the way, and everyone would see you do it. Different can also mean special.” Albus tried to think of another argument. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by the hat’s proposition. James might be popular, but that wasn’t such a feat when your dad is Harry Potter, you’re good at Quidditch, and you’re in the house everyone admires. If he was in Gryffindor, he’d just be James’s little brother, the next Potter. If he were in Slytherin, he’d be different. He could, as the Sorting Hat said, show them all he was special.
“You’ve come around then? Wonderful! Have fun in—
“SLYTHERIN!”