Sorting Pt. 1
The four had split up as soon as the Hogwarts Express reached the station. Draco asked the other three to get off before him, so that he could slip out after most of the students had left already. (So no one would know who he had sat with.)
Hagrid called to the first years, beckoning them to the boats. The now-trio quickly climbed together into an empty one, and the fourth space was filled by a wavy-haired pale boy whose hands were full as he desperately clutched at his disgruntled toad. “Er- hello,” Harry said with a polite nod, Ron nodding as well. Hermione absently flapped a hand at him in hello, her mind entirely elsewhere as she dipped her coffee-brown fingers into the black lake.
“Hi, Ron,” the newcomer mumbled, watching the ripples Hermione’s fingers made in the water. “Neville, right?” Ron replied, looking taken aback as he noticed the toad. It’s not that toads were unusual, no, but Neville’s toad was rather.. large. And slimy. And being held so tightly it appeared to be, ah, bulging. Oblivious, Neville nodded.
Ron unceremoniously jerked a thumb at Harry and said “this is Harry and,” he nodded towards Hermione, “that's Hermione.” Neville smiled softly, and said “nice to meet you guys,” only doing a slight double take when he saw Harry. “You too,” was the automatic response Harry gave. His eyes were on Draco, who had just emerged with the stragglers and was making his way for the docks when the boats began to move at a clap from Hagrid. Harry stood up, and was about to cry that they needed to wait, when Draco caught his eye and shook his head, mouthing ‘I have a plan.’ Harry sat back down, and acted like he was just looking around, ignoring the weird looks he got.
Hermione was pensive, and kept her fingers dragging across the surface of the lake. Harry, Neville, and Ron made soft conversation throughout the beginning of the ride, at least until Hogwarts came into view. Awe rippled in unison over all the first years. It was like tunnel vision for the four, who were glimpsing where they could and would make their mark. In an empty carriage, Draco was doing the same. They stared in awe at the enabler to their genius, at the place where they would change the world and leave the past twisted, burning, and poisoned. And, on some level, they knew it.
The boats slowed to a crawl to lengthen the moment of united awe. The whole class was so enraptured that only those in her boat noticed Hermione’s soft “oh!” of startlement when her hand, left absently in the lake, erupted in pain. Black tendrils slowly snaked from the water and up her left arm, splitting skin and leaving boils and bruises on their paths. Harry, Ron, and Neville were horrified as they watched Hermione’s face twitch holding back what was sure to be a shriek or scream. Harry knew that all too well, and moved forward to help.
“No! Harry, don’t touch it. That’s- I can’t pronounce the name, but it’s Venomous Tentacula crossbred with Devil’s Snare, don’t go close!” Nevile shouted, telling Harry as well as drawing the attention of their fellow first-years, and Hagrid. The vines were wrapping up her arm, and were nearing her elbow. Hermione screamed then, and Harry’s mind went blank. She still didn’t move. Neville was shaking, but said “yeah- yeah, don’t move at all. It'll only go faster and dig deeper in. Try to slow your blood pressure, if you can,” Neville hastily called to her. Hagrid reached into his pocket and threw a dark purple powder packet towards them, which Harry caught a second before it hit the water.
Harry’s mind was miles away in Number 4, Privet Dr., not fully registering anything happening around him but also being far more tuned in than ever. Harry tore the paper packet open and dumped it on the vines, eyes and ears dull to the world’s pain and screams. His hands acted of their own accord.
The vines began retreating as soon as the powder hit them, blackness spilling away like a squid unwrapping itself. Hermione whimpered and held her arm to her chest, shaking. Her entire forearm was a mess of blood and bruise, a peek of bone showing through in a few places. Tears streamed from her eyes, even as she glared at Hogwarts, her world view beginning to change.
The boats sped to the docks after that, everyone huddling into the middle of their boats and as far from the water as possible.
Hermione was rushed to the hospital wing, crying harder when she found out Harry and Ron (and Neville?) couldn’t go with her. The rest of the first years were brought to the Great Hall, where none other than Draco was standing alone on the platform. His small sleek stature was set off by billowing over-dramatic robes Ron made note to make fun of, and he was talking about the outrage that he could’ve been left behind from the boats, generally causing apologies and a ruckus to be made around him. Making sure everyone knew the Malfoy Heir had arrived, even if he came off a tad whiny.
Of course, he shut up when the rest of the first years entered, especially given three of them were splattered with blood and purple dust, and all looked terrified. “What’s all this?” He asked, self-important but letting Harry and Ron see the concern bleeding through, if no one else. Concern that ramped up when Hermione was missing. McGonagall had given Hagrid an impressive I'll-get-to-you-later look, and was currently stalking towards the staff table, looking furious. She had greeted them from the lake, and handled the situation. Harry, Ron and Neville all gave her their account of what happened, and she was seething.
Harry had started profusely apologising, rattled from the screams echoing in his ears and the anger of the matron-esc woman before him. She had quickly assured him he’d done everything right, and started steering everyone into the castle, after magicing Hermione to the hospital wing. Hermione's blood was on the trio as they had huddled with her, and it had splattered onto Harry when he poured the powder.
But in the Hall, Professor McGonagall was furtively whispering with Dumbledore, as well as a middle-aged agreeable looking professor in yellow. “That’s Professor Sprout, the Hufflepuff head,” Ron whispered to Harry, watching the exchange with wide eyes. Harry was reading the lips of Sprout and Dumbledore, but not gleaning much since he couldn’t see McGonagall. “I assume the long beard guy’s Dumbledore? I read about him and Hagrid told me a little when I got my supplies.” Harry whispered back, and Ron nodded.
Draco had been sent back to the other first years, and was silent as he too watched the whispered conversation. He was stationed on the far side, not speaking to anyone.
The Great Hall was silent, save for the fires.
A few tense minutes of muffled conversation later, McGonagall stood up, and was about to welcome the first years to Hogwarts. However, as soon as she left the staff table, whispering broke out among the students. Whispering that only increased when Professor Sprout quickly grabbed her wand and left the Great Hall, headed for the lake.
Harry, Ron, and Neville were among the whisperers. “How will Hermione get sorted?” Ron questioned quietly, looking, well, unsettled. “I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow instead?” Neville mumbled, fright still clear on his face. “But- how could that happen? Why didn’t they warn us not to touch the water? What would’ve happened if I hadn’t caught the packet- it wasn’t even a good throw. What are the safety measures here if a student gets maimed on the ‘serene’ boat ride?” Harry rapid-fire mumbled, shutting up when he realised Ron and Neville were staring at him.
“I mean, surely it was an accident-” Neville began, only to be cut off by an “obviously, but that was incredibly dangerous. If the poison spread far enough she would’ve died, or at the very least lost her arm. She would have, actually, if she hadn’t stayed still.” Malfoy droned, having filtered over to them. Neville nodded, and replied “yeah, but it’s Hogwarts. Haven’t we always been told it’s the safest place ever?” Harry shook his head, and muttered, “maybe it’s a bit of a darker mystery. It’s not all sparkles and rainbows, this school.” (This world, he thought) (Maybe he could change it).
At this point, Professor McGonagall raised her wand and a chair appeared, with the Sorting Hat on it. All the students went quiet, hoping for information. The older years, of course, didn’t quite know what was happening; although they could see the blood soaking a few students. Namely, Harry Potter, who was already a subject of gossip.
“The Sorting will commence shortly, although one first-year is absent-” She was cut off by Hermione’s entrance to the hall. Hermione’s robes had been magically cleaned, but her arm was wrapped in gauze that was already soaked with blood. She was trembling slightly as she walked, but her head was held high and her steps were unfaltering. “I’m here, professor,” she spoke calmly and clearly, her voice carrying. A drop of blood hit the stone floor.
McGonagall moved to speak with Madame Pomfrey, who had trailed in behind Hermione, looking drained. Again, whispers broke out in full force.
“Hermione! Are you ok?” Harry whispered, respect for her etched onto his scarred face. “I’ll be alright. Madame Pomfrey thinks I should spend the night, maybe more, because it’s a cursed wound. I’ll go back later, but I do not want to miss the sorting. Either way, the pain isn’t too bad, I’ve.. had worse. Anyway, I was talking to some students when I was in Diagon Alley and it’s a pivotal experience.” She declared, clearly determined but obviously exhausted. Ron agreed, saying, “yeah, good on you for coming anyway.”
Draco was listening, but no one noticed. “I just think it’s outrageous. How does this school even view students, to let something like that happen? The priorities have to change,” she grumbled, but there was something darker in her eyes. (That this haven from the pain could cause her so much, so soon, even if it wasn’t a person inflicting it. That Harry was the one to save her, not an adult.) (Secondly, she was pissed she needed saving at all.)
Madame Pomfrey cast a few spells on Hermione, and then sat at the staff table and kept a close eye. McGonagall resumed her place. “So, the Sorting will begin as usual…
After “Abbott, Hannah,” was sorted into Gryffindor, and “Bones, Susan,” became a Hufflepuff, Harry just was mindlessly clapping after each student, barely listening, wondering how much of this world to embrace.
He already had so much to resent Dumbledore for personally, not to mention how Draco hated the life he lived, how Hermione looked at everything with haunted, distrusting eyes. Granted, this was not all Dumbledore’s fault, but the man stands to take a decent amount of blame for campus safety. As well as rejecting generations of Slytherins so Draco knew that the man wouldn’t be there to support him, and that he would only ever assume the worst of him, no matter what he himself did. Harry didn’t know much about the magical world, but his life led him to be perceptive. To read between the lines with more skill than most. He could understand on some level that Draco and Ron were more hesitant to branch out because they didn’t see any support, despite what they were told of Dumbledore. Harry didn’t care about being good, not right then. He cared about being free.
“Granger, Hermione,” was called, and Hermione walked tall up to the stool. The Hat flopped over her curls. The minutes stretched on, and a few whispers were exchanged over her entrance and bloody arm. After just over five minutes, the hat screeched “SLYTHERIN.”
Amid hoots and clapping, Hermione sat at Slytherin Table and admitted to herself she was terrified of what she’d walked into, and prayed that one of her newfound friends would join her, that they would understand why they needed that ambition and cunning, the more manipulative the better.