Sorting
"Hufflepuff!"
The Great Hall was silent for a heartbeat, before the Hufflepuff table practically roared with applause and cheers, several students surging to their feet as Harry Potter descended from the stool, setting the Sorting Hat down gently as he did so. Apparently, he was the school's favourite pick of the year, and Steph couldn't say she was too surprised - he was Harry Potter, he would bring whatever house he was in a lot of exposure.
Not to mention, glory.
"Scamander, Stephanie!"
The hush spread back over the hall in a heartbeat, and that made the sight of the handful of steps up to the simple stool and Professor McGonagall a truly terrifying sight. But she had fed Acromantula - and they had poison that would kill you in under ten seconds flat.
Maybe I am cut out for Gryffindor..
Taking her first step away from the steadily dwindling pack of First Years, Steph swallowed her nerves and toyed with her fingers as she approached the stool, climbing up the steps and sitting down, with the Sorting Hat being placed on her head a second later.
There was immediately a brief throb at the base of her skull, and she recognised the tell-tale signs of legilimency being used on her, even without much in the way of training. After all, one of the most important parts of occlumency was simply knowing if your mind had been pierced - mother had drilled that into her over a month of painful training. Much like in that month of pain, a brief grimace flashed across her features - something that prompted a few whispers across the hall, entirely unbeknownst to the girl on the stool with two minds in her own.
"Now what do we have here?.. Oh I see.. You're very much like your parents."
"I.. What?" She wasn't even sure if she was talking in the confines of her mind, or if her words were audible to the wider hall. She couldn't have been speaking too loudly, however, at least so she thought. It was awfully quiet otherwise.
"I-... Oh. I see.. Interesting.. Very interesting. Another child of Niobe. And a Scamander at that... Where do you think you belong?"
The question threw her for a moment - so much so that she actually vocalised it in a soft whisper. "I get to choose?"
The hat rumbled with something that could have been laughter. "Well of course my dear. You've always been able to choose, but only if you choose well. I would not put a fool in Ravenclaw, nor a breaker of oaths in Hufflepuff, but I do take your decision into account."
"What could I choose?"
"Oh, my dear, telling you would be too simple. Too easy, perhaps, is the better way to put it." Steph frowned - the Sorting Hat was one of those magical items, ones that had lasted so long they gained their own personalities and characteristics. Apparently, he liked to play games.
"Games are most fun, I must agree. Sadly, I only get to have my fun once a year, so do me a favour - indulge me."
And he was in her head - yeah, forgot about that for a moment.
"Alright.. I'll play."
"Wonderful. Now tell me, what is your name."
"Stephanie Scamander.." Her tone was pensive, betraying her sudden discomfort with the swift changes in the conversation, and she could almost hear the hat smiling in the vacuum of her mind.
"What is your quest?"
"… to uh.. Get sorted?"
"What is the capital of Assyria?"
"Assur-" She forcibly cut herself short of the last annunciation of the syllable. "Sorry- are you quoting Monty Python?"
The Hat on her head physically shifted - and she was almost certain it was smiling now. A soft rumble of laughter filled her head as the hat chuckled at its own humour. "But of course, my dear. However, rather than drawing this so called 'Hat Stall' out any longer, I should perhaps ask you the real question I wanted to."
She was frowning now, distinctly aware that she had been sitting with this muggle humour loving hat upon her head for a long while. It had definitely been the longest sort of the night so far, perhaps in the past few years, she did not know. What she did know was that she was distinctly uncomfortable with how long this was taking.
"I apologise my dear, I have no intention to make you more stressed than you already are. I shall keep this brief."
Comforting, at the very least.
"Tell me - what calls to you? What drives you in life? Is it a thirst for knowledge? A lust for power? An understanding of all living things? You have many paths ahead of you, paths that your ancestors have all trodden before you."
The Hat paused for a moment, seemingly to allow her to think - perhaps even to reply. But she didn't even get to that point, caught in the potential double meanings - the clear indication of the houses offered to here in their most basic and fundamental definitions. Gryffindor was clearly left out, that much was obvious. Evidently, feeding Hendrag didn't qualify her.
"In the heat of the moment, you turn to your logic.. But you panic and flounder without information you wished you had.. Perhaps.. Slytherin? You could do great things there, but you would face great trials that would push you to your limits..."
A sudden tightness settled in her chest, one that had her forcing herself to swallow through a dry throat. The Hat was right, unsurprisingly, it could read her mind after all. The panic in the moment, that panic before logic kicked in, the mess of her mind, untrained by occlumency that she was practically required to learn. But putting the panic aside, the Hat had posed a simple offer - did she want Slytherin?
Did she want to face trials that would push her to her absolute most?
"Logic again, questioning nature and the future.. Perhaps you would do well in Ravenclaw then? Seeking knowledge is hallmark of your family, no matter its nature. It pays to be prepared, and Ravenclaw would suit you well in that capacity. However, would you be able to stop yourself?"
"Stop.. Myself?" The words barely escaped her lips, slipping through with an uneasy tone. Atop her head, the Hat rumbled softly.
"Ravenclaws are often consumed by their desires for knowledge, and leads many students to darkness. Not all, indeed most do not stray from the light, but with the world that awaits ahead of you all, I regret that many will be lost to the embrace of Thanatos' unchained fugitive, and not just those of darker ideals. Ahead of you, agony and death dance with euphoria in a symphonic arpeggio. Good and evil will cease to be sides, and darkness will wash over all."
A lump formed in her throat - how was she supposed to respond to that? The promise of darkness ahead of them all, of darkness that would loom over the whole of their society, even? Thanatos' unchained fugitive, whomever that was, and the promise of that ominous figure seducing the future of the Magical race in England, perhaps even the world?
"The thoughts horrify you, don't they? Perhaps then, you seek compassion, equality? Loyalty to your friends and parents? But loyalty is a fickle path, one that never goes well for those who abide by it. Messrs Longbottom and Potter both chose Hufflepuff seeking idealism, unknowing that their adherence to loyalty will see them suffer more than their parents."
Dread crashed down upon her shoulders - just as the words replayed in her mind. Their sworn promise in the carriage earlier that day, to change the legacies left by their parents and their fates. To abide by each other, and to avoid conflict by staying true to their ideals and to those they loved.
And now the Sorting Hat had decreed they would suffer for idealism.
When could she warn them? What was she meant to do - she was only eleven! She wasn't a trained Witch, not yet. Hell - why would they believe her? Was the Sorting Hat always, right?
"You are abhorred by the thought, and I do not blame you. But your thoughts again stray to preparation, to understanding the future and the world around you. Instead of seeking to avert the future, you try and face it... Not Hufflepuff then..."
Th-.. That was it? Just like that, that was all the Hat needed to eliminate Hufflepuff?
"You do not have to decide or answer my questions, Miss Scamander. I gauge your suitability based upon your instincts, your reactions. And you, my dear, are no Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. You possess intellect in spades, more than enough to place you above your peers for the most part, and your mind possesses logic enough to tread the narrow path to your goals, to shape the world around you."
A heartbeat of silence punctuated the pause before next words the hat spoke. "I once met a young boy who possessed similar cunning. He went on to become the greatest Wizard of his generation. With his skills, he did great things - terrible as they may have been, but great nonetheless."
".. That was the Dark Lord, wasn't it?" Her throat hurt even more now - and she could feel the beginnings of a splitting headache creeping up the base of her skull. "I.. I don't want to do that. I don't want to follow him; you know how he turned out! A monster, and a dead one at that! I shan't follow in his footsteps, nor that of his followers!"
"A monster, true. But you possess many of the hallmarks of a true Slytherin. Ambition, to live up to your legacy, known and unknown. To do your family proud. What do you say? Will it be Slytherin, or Ravenclaw?"
".. I don't want to tread the steps of a generation of monsters." Stephanie clenched her fists as the pain throbbed harder in her head. "I chose Ravenclaw."
"I see.. I must warn you, however, that this path will not be as easy as you think. The darkness is a constant temptation - simply saying no will not work, and it needs not be invited to begin with. To walk the line between light and dark; between careful moderation and reckless abandon… as many a student of Hogwarts has discovered, self-control is not easy. Especially when one considers your heritage."
A moment of clarity cut through the pain - a hushed question slipped out between unsteady breaths and trembling lips. The Hat had changed topics seemingly out of the blue. "What do you mean my heritage?"
"That would be spoiling too much - as it is, I have said too much regardless. You will not remember much it this conversation, I am afraid."
"W-Wait, what?"
"Be forewarned, Daughter of Niobe, I have offered this to your family before, and they had failed - despite having just as much conviction as yourself."
"Wait! What do you mean-"
"Obliviate."
Memories slipped through her fingers like sand, her mind drawing a brief blank as an almost.. Pleasant sensation settled in place. Despite her efforts to run the lines through in her head, she found little to grip, instead only ever drawing upon fragments - Monty Python quotes intercut with soft rumblings of the hat as it murmured answers in the void of her mind. Echoes of monsters and darkness creeping through despite efforts - of a great Wizard doing great things, bound by the shackles of the horror which he inflicted upon society.
Promises of logic and preparation - a moniker applied. Daughter of Niobe.
But even that moniker slipped through her fingers like grains of sand as eyes opened and took in the flickering candles that cast light over the Great Hall, just as the Hat on her head roared loudly - despite her agonising headache. "RAVENCLAW!"
The applause wasn't nearly as loud as it had been for Harry, but it was certainly just as enthusiastic. As the Professor walked over from where she had been standing off to the side, she plucked the hat from Stephanie's head, only for the new Ravenclaw to practically tip off the stool, gasping softly in pain as motor control failed her in the moment. It was only McGonagall's lightning-fast arm that kept the girl upright, allowing her to stabilise as the Professor practically held her upright.
"Take care, Scamander. Long sortings can be arduous to the mind. I'm afraid that, after a sort as long as yours, one tends to get used to the Sorting Hat in their head."
"I.. Thank you.." Her head was fucking killing her, the pleasant sensation suddenly long gone. McGonagall's words held true, her mind had very clearly gotten used to having the Sorting Hat in it, and had decided that it would express its opinions on the sudden absence of the second conscious in her head.
"That is quite alright, Ms Scamander. Now, you should take a seat with your house. And for your information, that was a sixteen minute hat stall - the longest I believe there has ever been."
That had been more than quarter of an hour? Obviously, time worked differently in her mind - perhaps it was a thing to do with time and the conversation they had. After all, it had been a conversation about where she would go and.. The choice..? Darkness? Daughter of... Of.. What...?
Her teeth ground against each other - frustration and gentle panic settling in as she made her way to the Ravenclaw table, sitting to the small Chinese witch, Su Li, who had been sorted before her. Why couldn’t she remember anything of their conversation?
"Uhm.. Are you ok?" A very nervous voice broke into her thoughts, pulling her eyes open and directing her gaze left, casting Su Li into her vision. Despite her caution in the motion, the dull throb of her splitting migraine still broke through, pulsing behind her eyes. With a dismissive wave, Stephanie clutched her head in the other hand, staring down at the table, and the glass of water that filled itself without her uttering a word, merely just a thought.
The dismissive wave was abandoned as she grabbed the water, downing the glass in a handful of seconds. The second she finished, she set the glass down, feeling the headaches effects recede quickly - far too quickly for it to be purely a natural process of her body. She wasn't stupid, she could tell the water had been laced with Wiggenweld by the Hogwarts Elves, but she wasn’t in the mood to protest. It had probably been the work of a Professor - and a quick glance at the staff table revealed Professor Flitwick looking at her, giving her an earnest nod, one she returned with a grateful smile.
Hogwarts would be fun, she decided as the son of Sicily's Red Countess was sorted into Slytherin, proving that Blaze Zabini had most certainly gotten his mother’s genes.
The room was extravagant - albeit not in the way many would consider.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about the room, aside from the trinkets and the tools that littered the walls and various tables in the study, aside from the animated portraits of men and a small collection of women who had long since passed on. Beyond the glass cabinets of curios, the pensieve and the foe detectors, the various magical trinkets and the so called 'de-luminator' that the man had invented for some damned reason. Aside from all that was the books.
The walls were lined with books, with nary a millimetre of space between each tome. Every one of the dozen or so rows bore a thick sheaf of paper, bound in leather and other more esoteric wraps, protecting the words written upon paper. The Headmaster of Hogwarts had spent many years compiling this collection, and several of them contained spells and thoughts too horrible to even consider in one’s mind - indeed, many of these works were bound in what appeared to be tanned human skin, with one work by an Irish Dark Witch even inked in human blood.
Albus had apparently tested that hypothesis.
But none of the books bore their names, for the names on the spines were facing inwards, so that only the sheafs of paper stuck out. He supposed it was for a good reason that Albus had done so, what with his seeming obsession with trying to save those whom breath was wasted upon.
As the severe man in the dark robes stood next to the fire, nursing a glass of fire whiskey, the cool voice of Albus Dumbledore carried across the room.
"What are your thoughts on the events of this evening, Severus?"
A scowl flashed across the face of Severus Snape, more out of reflex than anything else. A simple motion brought the glass of fire whiskey to his lips, and a gentle tip poured a healthy sip of the warm beverage down his throat. Only after letting it sit for a few seconds did he respond, his response as measured and cool as his voice.
"Do not play coy, it is obvious as to who you refer, Albus. The girl. Stephanie."
The name was almost spat under his breath, and he was aware of how the bushy eyebrows of the tall and wizened man seated behind the desk furrowed a little as he observed the young potions master standing by the fire, dark eyes lost in the flames.
"Perhaps you would prefer I use the other name, Severus?"
Thin lips curled into a soft sneer. "Must you continue with your games, Albus? Neither you, nor I, for that matter, dare utter it."
"Gentlemen, perhaps you have forgotten, but I had the distinct impression I was summoned for a reason." His voice decidedly higher pitched than either of the other man, Filius Flitwick was nevertheless, an imposing figure, even in spite of his stature. Pushing aside the simmering animosity that had emerged from the black robed Potions Master, the Charms Professor pushed the conversation back to the topic. "I had hoped to get the last of my class preparation done in order for tomorrow."
"Of course, Filius, my apologies. I actually wished to discuss the hat stall this evening with you both. Ms Scamander is now, as perhaps you may be aware, the longest hat stall in the history of this school." Severus remained utterly impassive of such a trivial remark, staring still into the hearth of the fireplace, but Filius gave a small frown at the information, offering a question even as Albus stood.
"So why, then, did you summon me here, Albus? And why is Severus here, for that matter?"
"Peace, Filius. All will become clear in short order." Plucking the old leather hat from its shelf, Albus Dumbledore set the worn headpiece upon the desk and cleared his throat, drawing the wand from his sleeve and tapping it against the rim of the hat. For a moment, nothing happened, but slowly and surely, the hat seemed the ripple, as if waves were running through the object as it slowly woke up from its magical slumber.
With a ruffle of its rim, the hat fully awoke, stretching its brim as if it were a person awakening from a long sleep and regarding the men assembled before it with a curiosity befitting its obvious age. The silent hung for a handful of seconds, before its voice croaked across the room.
"I cannot say I am used to being summoned so soon in the year, Albus. I presume you have something pressing to discuss?"
"Good evening, and yes, I confess I do." Brushing his fingers through his long beard, the Headmaster regarded the hat with a pensive expression for a moment, before continuing. "The girl you stalled on this evening, Stephanie Scamander."
"Ah, yes." The hat rumbled with what could have been a chuckle, regarding the men before it with curiosity as Severus Snape deigned to face it. "A hat stall, you always were fascinated by them, weren't you, Albus?"
The Headmaster gave a soft chuckle in turn, bowing his head and giving it a soft shake as he did so. "But of course, my old friend. Entire books have been written upon them, so perhaps you can forgive my passing curiosity in one that is by far the longest in the school’s history?"
"But of course." With a slight bow, which was probably a nod, the hat encouraged the headmaster to continue his questioning. "What was it you wanted to know?"
"Perhaps you could enlighten us of the events of tonight?" The hat gave a small noise in response, ruffling his rim as if to shrug to them all, offering a simple answer that did little to alleviate the enormity of it.
"I would inform you, however I obliviated the memories of the conversation."
Silence settled in uncomfortable, looming oppressively over the trio as the statement sunk into the minds of the stunned men. Severus was the first to recover, perhaps by virtue of being the most skilled Occlumens amongst them, drawling his somewhat astonished question. "What exactly possessed you to do such?"
"Every conversation I have with a student is between myself and them. It would be invasive and inappropriate to share the information that we discussed. With her, I was under the distinct impression that I had.. Uncovered something I was not supposed to." The Hat stared pointedly at Albus, who had the temerity to look almost chastised by the headwear, before regarding the other Professors in the room, and acquiescing a little. "I can tell you this - she was considered for all bar Gryffindor. She possesses too much guile and wit for the house of the Lion."
A snort escaped the dark-haired Potions Master at the comment - Severus had been saying as much for years. The hat continued for just one more comment, its tone measured and careful, as if it were choosing each word exceedingly carefully.
"She chose Ravenclaw. She rejected Slytherin when I told her what it could bring her, and she proved herself unsuited for Hufflepuff." As if catching the scowl that slipped on to Severus' face, the Hat's tone grew almost pointed. "I told her of the darkness it could lead her into, and she outright rejected it. But I must express concern that she will not always share that view, nor possess that resolve in the future."
The Hat ruffled its rim one final time, before its expression faded away into the folds of leather, leaving the three men alone in the office, the crackling fire the only noise punctuating the deafening silence that rug out in the open study. One by one, they downed the remainder of their drinks, measured sips fortifying what had to be flagging nerves at the almost prophetic warning issued by the hat.
The Slytherin head of house spoke first, his tone soft and contemplative, yet no less resolved. "She looks much like her mother."
"She does indeed." Albus gave a soft sigh. "Let us hope the sins of the mother do not reflect upon the daughter."
"Forgive me, Albus, but I rather get the impression you're not telling me something." The tone of Filius Flitwick carried stress annunciations, quivering with audible frustration. Severus could understand, to an extent. Much like Minerva with her Lions, Filius was fiercely protective of his Eagles. And this was no different - a stand out member of the first-year cohort, perhaps she would have been the most notable member of her cohort had it not been for Potter.
It was perhaps in sharp contrast to the cut-throat nature of the fanatically competitive, yet outwardly united, Snake den of Slytherin. Whilst he was aware that he possessed not only the authority to straighten out Slytherin, if not entirely overhaul the nature of the house, it was decidedly not his place to spare others from the rite of passage that was surviving the noble house of Salazar Slytherin.
Drawing a long-suffering sigh that made him feel several years older than his thirty-one years, Severus Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a barely perceptible nod, one that drew a soft hum from Albus. The wizened old man's voice barely shifted, but it carried just a little firmness to it, which Severus knew was the closest thing the man had to an unwavering demand. "Filius, I will require an oath from you."
Filius was still for a second, before his tone shifted, just a little unsettled. "Albus, surely that’s... A little extreme."
"Filius.. Please." The sigh of the Headmaster seemed to shift the half-Goblin's opinion, for even as Albus rested his head in a hung position, the Charms Master cleared his throat and gave a little nod, even as Albus spoke. "This could destroy us all."
Severus interceded, setting his empty glass upon the fireplace's mantle, cutting into the conversation even as the withered echoes of the Dark Mark on his forearm gently throbbed with a soft pain as he brought forth information that he had previously sworn not to share. Of course, with the Dark Lord vanquished, as Albus put it, those oaths had been broken, but the echoes of their potential pain remained.
"How much do you know about the so called 'Children of Niobe'.."
When Stephanie next saw Harry, it was from across a classroom. Charms was the first class that they had at Hogwarts, and perhaps indicative of the damage done by the war, it contained students from every house. Indeed, the entire First Year cohort was present - with students from Slytherin and Ravenclaw sitting beside Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.
The rivalry between the houses was stupid - but very obvious. Gryffindors sat at one tip of the U-shaped classroom, staring across the room at the Slytherins who, much like them, stared right back. Between them sat Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, loosely mixed, creating a strange blend of blue and yellow.
For example, Steph was sitting towards the Slytherin end of the U, with Harry and Neville to her right, and a blonde girl in Slytherin robes to her left. The room was filled with chatter as students quickly touched base with each other, learning names of those not in their houses.
Which is why it was zero surprise when the blonde girl next to her eventually turned to face her, only to seem roundly surprised as Steph already had her hand extended. "Stephanie Scamander. A pleasure to meet you Heiress...?"
The blonde girl fixed her with a look for half a second, and in that instant, all of Steph's cheeriness and resolve crumbled to nothing. She had no clue just where this girl had learned that look - that piercing stare with blue eyes as cold as ice - but that stare was utterly devastating, a look that would not have been too far out of place on a man such as Professor Snape, not some eleven-year-old girl.
And then it was gone, and an easy, yet very clearly practiced and polite smile spread across pale and unblemished features. Ice blue eyes thawed a little as they swept across her, and yet strangely Steph didn't have it in herself to comment - although she did notice as the girl locked onto her right sleeve, where her wand rested in its holster.
Her hand was soft and cool, with fingernails painted a dark green, contrasting the pale red lipstick she wore. With a gentle grip, the girl shook her hand, and by some miracle Steph had enough sense left in her frayed nerves to reciprocate the gesture. "A pleasure, Heiress Scamander, I am Daphne Greengrass."
"L-lovely to meet you." Managing to just about choke out her reply, Steph leant back a little, allowing for Harry and Neville to lean forwards and make their own introductions. What she didn't expect was for the girl sitting on Daphne's left to lean back herself and give a small wave.
"Hello! I'm Tracey Davis. Nice to meet you, Stephanie."
Tracey Davis was a girl with a very lightly tanned complexion, and brown hair tied in a long braid. Green eyes held amusement as an eyebrow was cocked in her general direction, accompanied by the girl bringing both her hands behind herself, clasping them and creating a cradle to support her head.
"Nice to meet you too Tracey." Steph gave the girl a small smile, just as the classroom door swung open, heralding the approach of Professor Flitwick, who strode in with a several large stacks of textbooks floating along merrily behind him. The conversation died in an instant, and with a somewhat disappointed look at Tracey, Steph turned to face Flitwick, only to find Daphne and Harry caught in whispered conversation.
"Stephanie - swap." In a tone that brokered no argument, Daphne stepped out from her spot on the bench, leaving Steph momentarily reeling. Still, she didn't have much room for argument, if Daphne's tone was anything to go off of, and so she dutifully slid down, watching as Daphne slipped in beside Harry, in the spot that had once been hers.
A half-muttered comment came from Tracey, the final thing before their textbooks hit the desks in front of them. "What do you want to bet that's going to be the status quo for the next seven years…"
Steph gave a final sigh as she looked down at her textbook - The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
"I'm not even going to take that out of curiosity."