Mother May I
Azalea sat at home, a steaming cup of tea in her hand and tears rolling down her cheeks. It had already been two hours since seeing Harry off at the train station, yet she still felt a bit hollow inside. She'd written her grandmother and sent Daisy off with the letter already, telling her everything they'd learned over the last few days and asking her for her recipe for a special potion against dark miasma. After finishing and sending off the letter she'd started looking through the old photo albums, some moved some didn't though the one she stared at most was a picture of a young couple, not much older then she was now, smiling and laughing as the played tag around an old oak tree.
The picture was of her parents, they'd died when she was no older then four, and her grandmother had taken her in and raised her. "Oh Mama I think you would have loved him," Azalea whispered to the moving picture, "And Daddy'd of spoiled him rotten." though the picture didn't talk back the people did look up at Azalea and smile sadly, "I miss you."
She had barely finished her whispered statement when there came a suddenly loud bang on her door. Shooting up Azalea kept one hand on her dueling wand, and then slowly made her way towards the door where the sound had come from.
"What idjit went an left a trash can there!?" a thick southern drawl cried out from the street side of the door, making Azalea's eyes widen as she rushed forward and flung the door open wide.
"Memaw!?" sure enough there on the other side of the door was Lacey Rose, Azalea's grandmother.
Lacey looked up and gave a crooked grin, "Hey there honey cat," she crooned, "Figured this'd be better then any ole letter back."
As Azalea and her grandmother reunited across the street and two houses down the shadows shifted revealing the same scar faced man from the train station, though this time his companion was a scruffy haired man and not a large dog. "Who the bloody hell are these people Mooney?" the scruffy haired man hissed at his companion, who merely shrugged in response.
"I don't know yet Padfoot, I'm still waiting to hear back from that friend of mine." the scarred one replied. Soon silence returned between them.
Even further out another conversation was happening at that very moment, "Harry come sit by us!" Fred called out as Harry slowly made his way over to the still loud Gryfendor table.
"Is it always like this?" Harry asked the twins while gently clutching Flash close to his neck out of a mix of anger and fear.
"Only always," George laughed, nudging the smaller boy as he sat down, Fred on the other hand was growing slightly concerned.
"You alright there Harry?" he asked, "You're looking a bit pale."
Harry gave a half smile, one he really didn't mean, "It's a lot to take in," he stated simply, "And I really don't like how everyone's reacting to certain placements."
George raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"
At the exact same time Fred's eyes blew wide and he let out a small "Bloody hell."
"Whenever someone is sorted into Hufflepuff or Slytherin the rest of the dinning hall gets really rude," Harry explained to George, "They'll laugh at new Hufflepuff students, then laugh harder if the first year cries, while booing and hissing at new Slytherins."
Fred held up a hand to stop his brother from saying anything, "Just watch for a second George," so they did over the next six students sorted there were two Ravenclaws, a single Gryfendor, two Slytherins, and a Hufflepuff and just as Harry had said the only cheers for those last three had been from their own tables.
"See," Harry stated as he nodded towards the sniffling first years, "And none of the teachers do anything about it."
"Bloody hell," George whispered in shock, echoing Fred's thought from earlier, "How the hell did any of this happen?" he looked at both his twin and the younger boy now between them, "I can understand Slytherin that lot-"
Harry cut him off mid sentence, "It doesn't matter what anyone from that house has done in the past," he stated curtly, "If they're not currently doing it then they shouldn't be held responsible for it."
George was speechless, meanwhile Fred was looking at the stage in anger and aw, "McGonagle hates this," he whispered, "That's the same face she has when Dumbldor makes a bloody stupid decision but won't listen when she tries to say anything against it," now George was staring at his brother like he'd never seen him before, "Bloody hell George they're kids," Fred hissed when he realized what look he was getting, "What if it was Ron, or Ginny crying because they were sorted into one of the other houses and this happened to them?"
George got a thoughtful look on his face, and right as he would have answered a new name was called, "Ronald Weasley!"
The twins and Harry watched with bated breath, Harry didn't care what house his new friend was in but if anyone made Ron cry then his mother would have to get in line to yell at Dumbledor, as it was the letter he planned to send would already be implying that if she didn't hurry he would be getting there first.
Fred and George shared a look, then and there making the decision they should have made years ago, the house didn't matter, the feud didn't matter, that was their little brother and if anyone made him cry they would pay in blood.
"Gryfendor!" the hat finally called out after what seemed to be an eternity, allowing the three anxious watchers to let out the breath they hadn't known they were holding.
" Harry we need to get you paper soon," Ron insisted as soon as he sat down, a glare aimed towards the high table, "I'm pretty sure the hat sorted me based off my family and not my own personality," he looked back a new fire in his eyes, "What if I'm not the only one?"
"I have some paper on me," a feminine voice stated off to their left, the boys turned to see Hermione Granger, "But not a pen."
Harry smirked and pulled a ballpoint pen out of the inner pockets of his robe, "That I do have," he stated as the twins quickly cleared a space for him to write.
As Harry prepared to begin writing the letter to his mum, Dumbledore himself stood up and began to prattle on about how this should be an excellent new year. "Oh yes and before I forget," he stated at last, "The third floor corridor is out of bounds this year, to all students who do not wish to die an agonizing death." Harry narrowed his eyes before glancing back at the paper, he knew exactly what to write.
So with a steady hand, and several of his new friends reading over his shoulder Harry scrawled out the first words.
'Mother may I cause a riot?'